#instead it reads less like they were trying to make an unrealized romance and more like the writers just couldn’t decide

[micamicster]

Ok here’s my criticism of the english: I think it needed to be either A Romance OR needed to have the romance entirely unspoken

[stormbornbastard]

The Potential In Philoise

gif credit: @vakariaan​

tw/ sexual assault, abuse, depression, suicide, julia quinn’s writing 

AN: Okay, so I said awhile ago I would explain why Phillip and Eloise are my favorite couple in the series so get ready...it’s a bit of a long one. 

I read four Bridgerton books immediately after the show ended. Skipping over The Duke and I because I wasn’t comfortable with the assault scene between Simon and Daphne and also because I had already seen the romance play out onscreen. I fell in love with each romance I encountered, mainly because I didn’t read them as they were but as the show would make them out to be. I romanticized a romance series as weird as that sounds. Yet, none of the romances struck me the way To Sir Phillip, With Love did.

It’s not a perfect book. In fact, it's incredibly problematic. Phillip rapes his depressed wife, Marina (although given Julia’s history with crossing the lines of consent I doubt this is the way she wanted us to interpret the scene. Actually, the way it was written made it seem like we were meant to sympathize with Phillip and his loveless marriage. Hence the way he immediately grows ill afterward.) Marina attempts suicide and dies due to disease later on. Given her storyline in the show and the fact that a young biracial woman is playing her was disheartening, to say the least.

(AN: I don’t consider the character to be Black representation, she’s biracial. As a black woman who enjoyed her character and arc, no part of me felt seen and represented through her because she was half black. She's Biracial rep, not Black rep and that’s okay. Just putting that out there. )

Phillip seeks a woman to take care of his children, fuck and do the shit he doesn’t want to do. His mental illness is handled in such a shitty way. The independent nature Eloise once has is almost stifled by Phillip and what he wants for some reason. He’s neglectful, erratic and he does dismiss potential negative feelings Eloise could have in their relationship because of his past relationship.

It's fucked up. The entire book.

And yet, imagining how this problematic romance would play out on screen once properly adapted for modern audiences makes me fucking giddy. All because of one, simple thing that remains the reason I am so fucking excited to see this pairing onscreen.

The unrealized potential the pairing and Phillip as a character have in the novel.

Let me explain.

Their romance is unique. Phillip and Eloise are not strangers when they meet. They’ve been writing to each other for months, picking each other’s brains every week or so. Getting to know each other in a way that other couples in the series don’t at first. Intellectually. They’re able to keep such a steady, enthralling dialogue through letters, and it's a friendship that they both enjoy. Phillip stimulates Eloise’s mind, something the show has emphasized her wanting, for months. He’s her intellectual equal, or at least...he has the potential to be. Of course, he slaves over the letters (which is cute as fuck because he really just wants her to like him) but it's still his words. It’s his voice. It is Phillip, at his best.

I hope the show can play this up. Phillip is a botanist and a scholar before he inherits his family’s estate. Eloise has a desire to learn and further her knowledge of the world around her. Bonding over their shared love of education, fun banter based around teasing the other and their individual studies, taking an interest in what the other desires to learn.  Reading books together in the greenhouse, etc. The show could easily play up the fact that Phillip was not only a gardener but a literal man of science, something Julia neglects in their book despite it having the possibility of playing a major factor in their love story.

The possibilities of it just...makes me swoon.

Moving on, Eloise choosing to pursue a possible future with this man is a big fucking deal. Running away from home to go after a future for herself IS her displaying her OWN agency. Sure, Phillip poses the question of it but she’s the one who chooses it. Phillip doesn’t demand her to come to him, he simply suggests it and she’s the one who acts. The one who pursues. And if they hadn’t been bombarded by her brothers, it would’ve remained her choice of whether or she wanted to be a part of this man’s life permanently.

Phillip wouldn’t have forced her, he could’ve easily tried to. By going to the Bridgerton house and discussing with Anthony the possibility of marrying her but no, he asks her. HE ASKS HER AND SHE CHOOSES. I fucking love that. It's like the bare minimum but given the time period and the number of couples where the man has the final say on the marriage, this just makes me giddy. The show could change this and give Eloise more time with Phillip to the point where she chooses him and isn’t forced into the marriage which I hope they do.

Also, their first meeting where neither one of them is what the other expects sounds amazing ngl. The initial confusion, shock, unease, and undeniable attraction, it's gonna serve why lie?

Despite how much it affects him, the subject of Phillip’s abuse is handled so...wrong. As someone who shares an experience with abusive parents, I understand the fear of becoming like them. Of hurting the ones you love and being angry and feeling guilty. Yet, Phillip never confronts these fears. Not really. Sure, we get the scene in the nursery but thinking of how the show could handle it and his relationship with his children makes me excited. Having him being neglectful of his children was the wrong move, especially if his fear is hurting them in an attempt to discipline them. It's clear he loves them and ultimately wants the best for them which is why he’s searching for someone to better take care of them despite the shitty bitch he already has hired. I hope the show capitalizes on that.

Have Phillip be involved but not a disciplinary figure. Yeah, I get that he’s the man or whatever but it's clear that Phillip finds no enjoyment in the act or even pondering it. But he does love his kids. Have him be overwhelmed but still involved. It just felt weird that Phillip didn’t want anything to do with his kids despite one of his main reasons to look for a wife was so that they could be properly taken care of. Have him try but struggle. A lot.

It’d be funny to see Oliver and Amanda running the house and Phillip struggling to keep up. They’re supposed to be mischievous, they should play that up in the show. Having the kids be little gremlins but instead of him ignoring them completely, he could just give in to their whims. And when his anger does get the best of him, then he could run. Be distant, wrestle with his internal struggle with abuse but also knowing he can’t let his kids run his household like this and go about as reckless as they do.

Speaking of abuse, I hope they scrap the nursery lady altogether. I know it’s supposed to show him stepping into dad mode but it just felt like unnecessary and triggering of his own child abuse. He could easily step into this role by learning to deal with his anger, learning to control it. Eloise could suggest journaling the way she does (another bonding moment that could be less cute and more intimate if done right.) Having him put his anger into gardening, I interpreted it as it being a safe place and coping mechanism for him in the book and that would be nice to see.

Having to finally put an end to his kids' tirade once he learns to trust himself and realize that he’s nothing like his father. Actual healing from childhood trauma and Eloise helping him do so. She could also suggest boxing with her brothers like...it just makes sense. As someone with a temper, boxing helped me sort through that and the opportunity to see Phillip and Simon bonding, while boxing, over their shitty dads, sounds pretty fucking cathartic (and hot).

I would just like the show to truly show that just because you’ve dealt with abuse doesn’t mean you have to be defined and like your abuser. Phillip is a pretty great candidate for it because the guy is...scarred, to say the least.

I love the physical side of Phillip and Eloise’s relationship. Like really love, it's said that they try different things and are comfortable in that regard with each other and it just...yeah, that makes me happy. Besides that, I hope they play up the intellectual side of their relationship. Two nerds in love are adorable and imagining Phillip ranting about plants and Eloise just being completely enthralled at this man and his passion sounds like the cutest fucking shit.

Speaking of intellectual, it's implied Phillip cares little about high society. Meaning, wouldn’t he care even less about societal expectations and norms? Meaning Eloise would literally find freedom with this man to just...do her. Despite the book showing how Phillip wants a wife, it never really says that he cares exactly how that wife maintains herself or their household. Eloise wants to fuck around and wear trousers? He doesn’t care. Eloise wants a private tutor and a study for herself? Cool. Eloise wants to take Amanda riding in the forest and then teach her how to shoot? All good. The man was literally proud to watch her beat her brothers in a traditionally masculine sport. He wants his wife to run his house and his entire life how she sees fit.

Julia really neglected how much agency and power that could give Eloise. She could be his equal, like really be his equal. Of course, Phillip becoming more involved in his and his children’s lives is a part of his arc but nothing leads me to believe he would want to control Eloise. The two of them being more than just lovers, but partners who allow the other their freedoms when needed sounds epic as shit.

Now some things that could easily be left out, the rape scene. It’s there to showcase that Phillip has lost his wife and there is no chance of reigniting whatever they may have had in the past. Yet, there are so many other ways to show that. Phillip could try and speak with her with no response. Hold her hand and she pulls away? He’s a smart man, it doesn’t take much to get the hint so that could’ve easily been written out and replaced with something else.

Second of all, I like the possibility of Marina and Phillip finding happiness at first. Of them trying to love each other after George and succeeding. The way Marina is written in the show, I doubt she’s quick to give up. So to see the two of them having an agreeable marriage and getting along would be nice. They could showcase her mental illness in a different form, it's clear she suffers from postpartum depression. She withdraws into herself, distances herself from her children. She’s depressed but it's not as stereotypical and easily spotted as Julia makes it out to be. Marina just gives up on her children and life without any fight? Absolutely not.

As someone who suffers from depression, the way Julia wrote it is so...??? The truth is, I would like Phillip and their family to not even realize she’s suicidal. To not see it coming when she jumps in the lake and attempts to end her own life because that's exactly how suicide impacts so many people and their loved ones. They don’t see it coming. Phillip struggling with the guilt of that rather than the anger of being trapped in a loveless marriage sounds...a lot more interesting to me. Me, personally. Considering how much buzz the show has, it would spark up a dialogue and a good one if handled properly. I’ve thought a lot about Marina but this is just how I would prefer to see it handled if they go through with her canon death (which I am not actively rooting for by the way.)

Another reason I like the potential of Philloise is Oliver and Amanda, they just add some extra spice. If fully realized characters, watching them grow closer to their dad and form a relationship with Eloise would be so rewarding for two kids who have lost a lot. Also, the amount of comedic gold in their pranks with Eloise and dynamic with each other would give the season even more humor on top of Eloise herself.

And as much as I love the line, “this-us-is heaven.” They could easily modify the love speech. Like very easily.

My point is, I think their potential outweighs the problematic factors in their story and I doubt the show will fail on realizing it and ridding itself of the problematic aspects. One could even say they already started, I mean look at the way the show made a point to show Eloise’s disgust with fathers and husbands who abandon their family, and then comes Phillip, doing the absolute most to protect his remaining family. I mean, Bridgerton did turn the weakest romance in the series into a whole pop culture phenomenon. My hopes are high. Okay, that’s all.

[heathers-wig]

come & find me - heathney hanahaki au part one

synopsis:

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

❁

Or: Heather contracts the Hanahaki Disease. Other than the fact that she’s quite literally slowly but surely dying due to flowers rooted to her lungs, she has a problem; she doesn’t know who exactly her unrequited love is for, or how to prevent the disease from worsening. Can she figure out who her “beloved” is and snuff out the floral illness before it claims her for once and for all?

pairings: heathney (heather x courtney), BG gweoff (gwen x geoff), BG izva (izzy x eva)

word count: 15,226

warnings: suicidal thoughts implications + descriptions of coughing/vomiting

A/N: there are two endings, happy and sad! feel free to choose which you deem as the true ending :) thank you for reading!

READ IT ON AO3 HERE!

i. daffodils & gardenias; unrequited and secret love

It starts with a petal. Well, if Heather were to be honest, it had started far beyond the first initial petal, but all the pieces fell into place when the very first petal fluttered from her lips.

Her science teacher was going on and on about the instructions for their next lab — something about carefully dissecting a pufferfish that had long since died, but Heather paid no mind to it.

Instead, she observes.

One of her favorite things to do was observe those around her. It was like dissecting them, similar to how her science teacher was now demonstrating on one of the pufferfish, and their internal thoughts and behaviors. Who they unconsciously drifted to, who they repelled and fought with — or, to be more precise, where the weak links in her class were located. With this frequent and diligent studying, she knew exactly how to break certain students and their allegedly tight-knit friend groups.

Take Bridgette, Geoff, and Alejandro, for instance; all Heather had done was slightly insinuate to the gullible, blonde girl that Alejandro liked her, and she was putty in her hands. Of course, Heather noticed Bridgette stare and stare at Alejandro nearly around the clock, but Geoff, Bridgette's actual boyfriend, hadn’t. She did him a favor, really — all it took was her to mastermind him walking in on Bridgette and Alejandro during a Halloween party, and Heather was satisfied.

Currently, Geoff and Bridgette were sitting awkwardly and stiffly next to one another — a huge mistake on their parts, in Heather’s opinion, to choose to sit next to one another after only beginning to date during the summer, but Heather had never had the patience for high school romances. Bridgette had tried to slide apology notes to Geoff’s direction, but for once, his eyes were glued to the board and the notes went unnoticed.

Heather noticed them, though, and she had to stifle a laugh.

The rest of the class is more or less the same. Some were pointedly looking away from the experiment their teacher was performing, and some were sketching in their notebooks, like Gwen.

There had to be three people genuinely paying attention — Geoff, for obvious reasons, Beth, because she currently had a B in the course and thought it was the end of her small-minded world, and Courtney, because she was, well, Courtney.

It’s when Heather’s eyes stay on Courtney’s head of hair that didn’t have a single strand out of place that it happens.

A scratch in the back of her throat digs into her, but Heather swallows it down instead of clearing her throat. If she did it too loudly over something so mediocre and unimportant, her classmates would just assume she was trying to stir something seeing as how it was the end of the last period of the day and, while Heather loved the occasional entertainment at the spite of her peers, she wasn’t in the mood that day.

And so, Heather waits and makes stray sketches in her notebook — repeatedly writing her name in cursive, drawing hideous illustrations of her peers, anything to pass the time until the bell rings. When the bell finally sounded off, punctuating the end of the day, students unceremoniously gathered their lump of notebooks and textbooks and scoop them in their arms, leaving the classroom in a cluttered, chatty, and hurried mess.

The first one out the door is Geoff, followed by Bridgette on his heels, Heather notes, but she can’t bring herself to follow and eavesdrop and what would possibly be one of the most interesting breakups Wawanakwa High had seen since Courtney and Duncan’s infamous split. She’d probably overhear the details of the split from somebody else, anyway.

The devil seemed to have spawned at the initial thought, as a prickly voice accompanied with a light tap on Heather’s shoulder made with the eraser end of a pencil is what tears Heather’s eyes away from the door. She has half the mind to berate whoever it was for pestering her at the end of the day, but falters when her eyes meet the other’s.

Courtney’s narrowed dark brown eyes are unamused. When Heather rises from her seat, Courtney tilts her head up to meet her gaze — Heather was taller than Courtney, even with the pair of wedges the brunette had on that day.

“I expect you were paying attention,” Courtney’s tone is sickeningly sweet and mocking, the specific one she uses around people she thinks are below her in terms of intelligence, or just in general. She has seen Courtney use it around the young kids she tutors, Duncan, jocks, Heather herself, and practically any student in their school who has managed to sour her mood, which was mostly everyone. “We are partnered for the lab, after all —”

“We are?” Heather questions dryly. She had expected Courtney to pick up on her sarcasm — Courtney had made it her job to scribble Lab with Courtney on every available space in her planner on the days leading up to the experiment, after all — but judging by the brunette’s eyes narrowing further, she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“Yes,” She hisses through clenched teeth, before frowning. “Whatever, I actually paid attention —”

“And I thank you for your service,” Heather remarks just as dryly as before, sauntering out the door.

“Wha — hey, where are you going?”

Heather snorted softly. “Come and find me,” she chastised sardonically. She had figured the answer to be obvious, but Courtney never failed to surprise her in one way or another.

Courtney scoffs and follows her, falling into place next to Heather. She fixed the headband on her head that matched her clothes as she rolled her eyes so far back Heather couldn’t help but wonder if they saw the back of her head.

“Haha, very funny,” The brunette doesn’t laugh, which makes Heather crack a smile in satisfaction. Winning with Courtney was always exhilarating and thrilling. “See you tomorrow, Heather,”

Heather hummed, waving a lazy and half-hearted hand over her shoulder, already bolting in the direction of the student parking lot. “See you,”

When Heather is finally in the solitude of her sleek, black car — her parents wasted no expense when it came to spoiling her, despite neither being the affectionate or loving type — the thing building up in the back of her throat is finally released into the palm of her hand, and all Heather can do is stare at it.

She’s coughed up bile and phlegm before, and she’s heard of blood being coughed up as well, but the tiny, dainty and crumpled thing laying in her hands was unheard of and felt unreal as it rested in her palms. She was suddenly aware of how dry her hands were as she felt the thinness of the soaked object, given that it had been resting in her throat.

Rifling it in her hands, Heather scoffs when she realizes just how ridiculous it was to believe she had just coughed up a flower in the school parking lot. However, she blinks harshly and firmly, and when she opens her eyes, the yellow petal is still there.

A foreign feeling of confusion and uneasiness settles over her like a blanket, but she instead scoffs once more and crumpled the petal, wrapping a tissue around it to keep it from dirtying her leather seats, and rolls out of the parking lot, avoiding any acknowledgment of the flower petal she’s convinced she imagined coughing up.

(On the ride home, she coughs up two more additional petals, too — one white and curved to perfection, looking much too angelic and innocent for having just been lodged up in her throat just moments prior, and the other the same shade of yellow as the first. Heather ignores both, and tosses them out the window to sink further in denial, similar to how she felt her stomach sink as she watched the petals flutter aimlessly to the ground, destined to be run over or stepped on.)

❀

That night, after finishing both her math homework and leftovers for dinner, Heather switched off the lights and settled into her bed before impulsively flicking open her laptop. It was for school purposes, her parents insisted, and was to never be used at night when she should be asleep, but quite frankly, Heather hadn’t cared much for her parents’ opinion of her considering their clear distaste for her.

Her fingers mindlessly fly across the keyboard, the same feeling of dread from when she was stunned upon the initial discovery of the petals resurfacing.

why am i coughing up weird shit

Healthline - Signs of Lung Illness

If any of the following symptoms apply to you, be sure to contact your health agent and schedule an appointment to discuss your symptoms and possible diagnosis. If you experience a burning, aching, or squeezing sensation in your chest, illnesses such as Lung Cancer, Pleuritis, etc. may be at play.

why am i coughing up petals and how do i stop it

Derrit - r/AskDerrit, in an old manga I read today, the Hanahaki disease was a plotline. Is it real? I can’t find any research indicating an answer.

BlaineleysBitch: no. the entire premise of the disease doesn’t even make sense. it’s not real.

Mr.CocoNutty: tbfh i haven’t heard anything about it? i’m sure if it were real there would be some coverage abt it considering how unbelievable it sounds

KittyKat16: yea, i don’t think it’s real, but it would be really cool if it was!!

what’s the hanahaki disease

Wikiresource - List of fictional diseases

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. The flowers in particular symbolize the specific love and relationship the patient has for the enamored, as told through flower language. Hanahaki can be cured through the confession of the victim's feelings. The response of the enamored is unimportant. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamored returns the feelings, they will be cured.

how to get rid of hanahaki disease without having to confess shit

Making sure to groan inaudibly — her parents were under the impression she was asleep, after all — Heather pressed her finger down on the backspace key with a familiar scowl on her face, her finger remaining in place atop the key long after the words had been removed. The feeling of resentment and annoyance was familiar, but the overwhelming confusion and petals she felt building up in her throat were not.

Sighing, Heather rubbed her eyes gently yet urgently. Mindlessly, she resorted back to her idle habit: observing.

Assuming she had the disease that was supposed to be fictional, somebody had swooped Heather off of her heeled feet without her even realizing it. That had to be impossible, as Heather wasn’t dense enough to not realize something as obvious as feelings for another. After all, she read people and their infatuation with others as easily as one read magazines — who was to say she couldn’t do the same for herself?

Recalling the wiki page, Heather sighed as she began to re-type. The article had said that the flowers she had coughed up symbolized her love for whoever her crush was in flower language, and seeing as how it was her only lead on whoever her supposed enamored was, Heather wanted to crack down who it was exactly and quickly exterminate any and all contact with them to execute any possible feelings.

how do you identify a flower

PlantCapture - What Flower Is This? How to Instantly Identify Flowers

If you already have a photo of a flower saved on your phone, you can also instantly identify it by uploading the photo to PlantCapture. Once you've instantly identified a flower, PlantCapture stores it in your library. You can easily go back to see how many flowers you've identified.

Heather whipped out her phone with another sigh as she begrudgingly began downloading the app. Watching the small icon load, she scowled even deeper. Even the smallest inconvenience in the entire situation was enough to dampen her mood even further, despite the fact her own alleged feelings brought this on herself.

Remembering she had tossed out her only petals, Heather just barely resisted another groan before a familiar scratchiness formed at the back of her throat. Being sure to cough quietly, Heather slipped the petal out of her mouth as she winced at the taste of copper rolling down her tongue. The article hadn’t mentioned anything about blood, Heather bitterly notes, before shaking her head at her own stupidity. Of course there wasn’t a full list of symptoms for a disease that was believed to be fictional.

Switching flash on, Heather got the results of her flowers instantaneously as promised: the yellow and white flowers she had been hacking up all day were daffodils and gardenias, respectively.

Heather’s fingers flew to her keyboard once more automatically. With bated breath, she hoped that the results would be specific enough that she could put an end to the investigation that night and stomp out whatever ties she had with her “enamored”.

But, as noted from Heather’s luck that day, things rarely went her way.

what do daffodils mean

FlowerDictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings and eternal life. It also symbolizes unrequited love.

what do gardenias mean

Flower Dictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

The gardenia is a flower that symbolizes purity and gentleness. However, this symbolism often depends on the color of the gardenia. ... Another symbol of the gardenia is secret love between two people and also joy.

Upon quickly searching them up, the results did little to ease the dread pooling in her. The test was definitely correct, as it seemed, but was entirely unhelpful when it came to figuring out the identity of whoever it was that Heather had unknowingly developed an unreturned love for.

Slamming her laptop closed — a bit too loud for her liking, but beats pass and she doesn’t hear the annoying patter of her mother’s footsteps reach her room, so she assumes she’s in the clear — Heather grunts one final time, unceremoniously moving her laptop back on her desk. Raising the petal to her line of vision, Heather has to squint to make out some of the details. This one was white, identifiable even in the dark. It was a bit crumpled from having been clutched so tightly, and still wet from her own coppery blood.

A gardenia, Heather recalls with another scowl that was deeper and more ferocious than the last were. Meant to symbolize a “secret love”... so much for a clue.

She wonders, her last coherent thought before succumbing to sleep, how big of a secret her love must be for it to have left Heather herself in the dark on who her loved one was.

At the thought, Heather wrapped her blankets tighter around herself, lulling herself to an uneasy sleep of blood, thorns, beautiful but deadly flowers, and a figure in the distance who looks so comforting and familiar whose name is on the tip of Heather’s tongue, but can’t be reached.

❀

ii. amaryllises & white chrysanthemums; pride & loyalty

Despite Heather’s praying to a God she didn’t believe in, the flowers didn’t disappear overnight. Instead, they bloomed rapidly in her lungs, and at times when she felt the familiar tickle in the back of her throat, flowers in full-bloom were coughed up.

They would be beautiful, if not for her own blood staining them, a grim reminder of what would become of her if she did not find a fix, and soon.

Still, Heather was nothing if not quick on her feet. She managed to keep her illness under the wraps — of course, her second in command was Lindsay, so it wasn’t difficult to conceal her bloody bundles of flowers as just “feeling under the weather”; any other person would be suspicious of the foreign scratchiness and hoarseness her voice now had, the way she would breathe shakily as if her lungs were rattling and about to give out, or the way she barely restrained the flowers from being coughed up after a gym class, but since it’s Lindsay, Heather can get away with her lie.

When Lindsay sweetly wishes for her to feel better, even dropping off a bowl of badly homemade chicken noodle soup, Heather couldn’t help but scoff as she shook her head at the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of her head, and the feeling of bloody flowers in the back of her throat.

❀

With every fistful of the flowers beginning to stain her clothes, Heather took responsibility for her own laundry, for the first time in her life. Her parents put on a spectacle of overexaggerated joy and relief when she announced it, saying that, oh, thank goodness their darling was beginning to take responsibility instead of pooching off of them; Heather had just forcefully smiled and nodded, as she always did now, and excused herself to hurriedly put in the first load.

Her clothes were stained red in her own blood. Some petals began to stick onto her clothes, as well, and the last thing Heather wanted was the intrusion of her parents and their nosiness as she deciphered just who she was coughing flowers for.

Interestingly, the flowers she was now coughing up were different. Amaryllises and chrysanthemums, as she had identified — the red flower was the former of the two and symbolized pride. The white chrysanthemums, wide with many intricate petals, symbolized loyalty and the truth. Thankfully, they were more of a clue than the daffodils and gardenias with their meanings of unrequited and secret love.

That still didn’t mean that Heather had any clue of who they were for, though — she just knew that they had to be high-maintenance, and part of her refused to believe she would unconsciously fall for someone who had to be so pretentious, but seeing as how the thought sent her into another bout of coughing sloppily disguised, it had to have been the truth.

Heather was beginning to hate the sensation that arose when she felt a coughing spur coming on. She hated how she could feel a crumpled lump form in the back of her throat, squirming its way up her throat and nearly out her mouth. It feels hot, sticky, and suffocating, and when the flowers come up, Heather hates them too, and especially whoever her beloved is. However, the disease doesn’t cease even just a little, and so Heather finds herself heaving, coughing, and puking chrysanthemums and amaryllises in the middle of the night as she ponders on who it is she’s supposed to be loving.

Still, she manages to keep herself from hacking during class in front of her peers, and that’s all that matters to her, even when the flowers she chokes on splinter into her like thorns in her side.

❀

It’s here that Heather messes up. Well, to be fair, she messed up as soon as she began feeling things for whoever it was that had captured her sight unknowingly, in Heather’s opinion, but that was irrefutable and couldn’t be helped.

This, however, could have been helped.

Like many things, it started at school. Like the first petal that had been coughed up weeks ago, it started during science class, when she felt the feeling of hot bile, blood, and petals rising in her throat as Courtney bent over their lab report. She didn’t notice Heather’s discomfort, as her eyes were fixed on the report, her brows scrunched together in concentration.

At least, that’s what Heather thought, until Courtney suddenly looked up from the report and eyed her curiously. “Are you feeling alright?”

Heather barely contained her surprise at the sudden inquiry. The only person to ask that was Lindsay, not even her own parents, let alone her (unofficial) rival and (official) lab partner.

Upon seeing her confusion — had she done that bad at a job of hiding it? — Courtney sighed and looked back to their work. “To be honest, you’re quieter than normal and you look kind of sick — you look like you’re going to pass out at any time now.”

“Thanks,” Heather mutters coarsely, finding her voice. Despite her calm exterior, she could feel her heart racing, and the flowers itching their way up her throat.

Courtney squawked indignantly. “Hey! I’m just being honest!”

“Mhmm,” Heather hums absentmindedly as she rises from her seat. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She barely hears Courtney’s grumpy and hesitant “Fine,” before stalking out the room, grabbing a hall pass on her way out. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, out of sight from her peers, Heather dashed as quickly as she could to the solitude of the nearest bathroom. She slams the stall door closest to her open noisily, thankful there was nobody around, and heaves into the toilet as the blood and flowers bloom from her mouth.

They hurt more than the daffodils and gardenias, now that they’re coming out as full flowers accompanied with a few stray petals rather than just petals, but Heather shoves the thought to the side in favor of pulling her hair away from her face. The toilet bowl is filled with a hideous mixture of blood and petals, and Heather feels like a decaying corpse as the energy leaves her, crumbling to the ground as she heaved from the aftermath of the coughing fit.

Picking petals from her backmost molars, Heather spits once more, the remaining drops of blood falling into the sink. Her chin is wet and sticky with her own blood, and she’s sure her teeth are stained red as well; Heather half-heartedly debates asking her parents to pick her up as she flushes the toilet, whisking away most of the evidence excluding the blood dribbling down her chin from her mouth and a few stray petals, before deciding she’d rather vomit flowers rooted to her lungs for the rest of the day than be with her family.

As she rinsed water from the sink in her mouth, Heather nearly spits it out in surprise when she notices a bathroom stall crack open from the mirror. Then she actually spits the stained water from her mouth, whirling around to threaten whoever it was to secrecy. When her eyes meet a head of blue hair, she falters slightly, and that’s all it takes for the other to take control.

“You too?” Is all Gwen asks, having recovered from her initial surprise. She doesn’t look grossed out by the blood, and instead joins Heather by the sinks.

Narrowing her eyes, Heather recoils to what she knows best around Gwen: defense. “Excuse me?”

Gwen laughs, sardonically and self-deprecatingly, with a hint of amusement. It’s the most Heather’s seen her laugh to her since, well, ever. Then, still in astonishment, Heather felt herself stagger back and her eyes widened when pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers fell from Gwen’s blue-lipsticked lips, gracefully fluttering to the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Heather understands, but Gwen still unnecessarily elaborates. “The flowers. You too?”

Heather only hesitates for a split second before sighing and staring down at the sink bowl. “Yeah,”

“Didn’t expect it from you of all people,” Gwen chuckled humorlessly. “Didn’t think the Queen Bee Heather knew what emotion was, let alone be stuck in unrequited love,” she mocked bitterly. She turns to Heather, gaze softening. “So, who is it?”

Heather blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gwen snorted and gestured to the petals and trail of blood on the tiled floor. “The flowers, honors student,”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Heather paused before admitting, “I don’t know,”

Gwen grunted disbelievingly. “Come on, I know you don’t like or trust me, but really, who am I going to tell?”

“Hey, I’m actually being honest here!” Heather snapped, glaring at the goth. Of course, I’m told I’m lying when I’m actually being honest… she thinks with a scoff as her scowl returns.

“Whatever, have you tried…” Gwen trails off, frowning as her brows scrunch together. “I don’t know, I just knew who mine was for—”

“Who?” Heather asks curiously, having not picked up on Gwen displaying any of the usual symptoms of a horrid teenage crush. No staring, attention-seeking, stuttering, or blushing — it was the same behavior for everyone with Gwen.

The goth hesitates only for a split moment before sighing and giving one name: “Geoff,”

Heather hums, unsure what to say. Gwen narrows her eyes, seeming to just remember who she was talking to.

“Seeing as how we’re one and the same right now, if I catch you telling anyone, I will spread the news of your diagnosis, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Weird Goth Girl, your secret is safe with me,” Heather promises, the corners of her lips twitching up at the use of the old nickname. “Just help me clean up all this before someone walks in,”

Gwen nods once, before bending over the sink and coughing a few more flowers and petals in the sink, blood spilling from her mouth. Awkwardly, Heather pats her back, unsure what to do, before realizing she should probably hold her hair back.

“Thanks,” Gwen murmurs, her voice even more hoarse and tired than normal. Heather just gives her a nod before crouching down to pick up the flowers trailing the ground; Gwen hurries to grab a mop from the back closet to clean the blood.

It’s when Heather comes across the petals of the pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers that a pang of empathy spurs in her. She turns to Gwen.

“Those type of roses specifically mean joy, the white carnations mean purity and loveliness, and the yellow coreopsis means cheerfulness.”

Gwen looks up from her work and blinks, taken aback, before smiling slowly and softly. “That fits him,”

Wordlessly, the two set off to finish the cleanup of their shared death sentence in the form of flowers and blood, when the bathroom door flies open once more. Both Heather and Gwen look up, eyes wide in surprise. Before either can communicate, a thunderous voice and a ticked-off Eva enter the area.

“Get back to class, we have to clean up —” she gets cut off from her own demand, faltering at the sight of Heather and Gwen bent over the floor, cleaning blood, flowers, and bloody flowers. Her eyes flit back to the duo who are too frozen and flabbergasted to speak. “What happened?”

Heather opens her mouth to bullshit her way into an explanation as she always did when Eva’s eyes suddenly narrow dangerously, intercepting the unsaid lie. She spits out one last order before turning on her heel, leaving the bathroom.

“Meet me in the library after school. Come alone, and hurry up and get back to class so no one else walks in on you.”

After her departure, all Heather and Gwen could do was stare at one another, wide-eyed and depleted of the fluttery itchiness of their lungs and throats, for once, before resolving to hurriedly finish garnering the crumpled flowers and washing the blood down the sink.

Heather goes back to class for the remaining minutes of the day, her mind elsewhere even as Courtney berates her for the long bathroom break. Her mind drifts to Gwen’s sardonic laugh, the goth's utter defeat after finishing hacking, and the way her eyes are avoiding Geoff’s direction, instead fixated on a pink charm bracelet Heather had noticed her fiddling with on multiple occasions before.

The image of Gwen choking on her own blood and petals momentarily and the sound of her warbled snort had been seared in Heather’s memory, and all she could do was wonder. Wonder if, in due time, her own condition would mirror Gwen’s when she inevitably lost to the disease that was slowly but surely suffocating her.

❀

When Eva had instructed her and Gwen to meet with her alone, Heather had assumed that that applied to Eva as well.

What she had not expected, however, was for her and Gwen to be seated with Eva and two of the most arbitrary (personality-wise, that was) redheads Heather ever had the pleasure (?) of meeting.

She scowled. With herself, Gwen, Eva, Izzy, and Harold, they had practically formed their own little Losers Club. Brilliant.

Harold awkwardly coughed, having declared himself the unofficial leader.

Gwen scoffed, leaning back into her seat. She leaned her chair, balancing it on two legs at a dangerous angle. “What is this, Hanahaki Club?” Gwen mockingly questioned, mirroring Heather’s thoughts.

Harold guiltily smiles. “Well, no. See, Eva here —” Eva glared at the boy, scowling. Harold faltered for the fifth time that meeting, gulping — “had Hanahaki awhile ago. Last year, I think. She confessed to Izzy, and the rest is history.”

Izzy nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed Eva’s hand, making the latter blush furiously at the unprompted gesture. “Yup! Our getting together was actually like this one Romanian film —”

“Anyway,” Harold interrupted. “I noticed Eva’s symptoms and helped her, which we intend to do with you two. Now,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, casting a pensive look to Heather and Gwen, who exchanged glances. “Which one of you has Hanahaki?”

Before Heather can think to lie and save her own skin, Gwen answers truthfully. “Both of us,”

“Gwen!” Heather hissed. The mentioned shrugs.

“What, you think you’ll be able to resist coughing up flowers during this?” At Gwen’s words, Heather felt her face twist as she felt an itching in her throat. Satisfied, Gwen nods and turns to the others. “Thought so.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Eva begins. Her tone is softer than before, but just as commanding. “Hanahaki… it’s hell. But just ease your suffering by confessing. I didn’t want to risk my life when a few words could save it.”

At Eva’s words, Heather can’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at her words, her sureness. At how she and Gwen just knew who their flowers were for, and how Eva had the mind and courage to confess.

If she did know who the amaryllises and chrysanthemums that were rooted in her lungs were for, would Heather confess? She wasn’t sure, and she hated the uncertainty.

“Yeah, but, he just broke up with his girlfriend,” Gwen murmured, tracing a finger on the table as she spoke in a low voice. She seemed fascinated with the intricate design of the wood, now, refusing to meet the eyes of her peers that were softened with sympathy. “And… he just sees me as a friend. ‘One of the guys', you know?”

A beat passes before Harold frowns, a hand on his chin like some wannabe Sherlock, Heather notes, face expectedly contorted in pensiveness. “Is it Geoff?”

“Bingo,” Gwen says dryly.

Izzy turns to Heather, the hyperactivity from before dulled as she looks serious for what had to be one of the few times in her life. “And you?”

“What about me?” Heather sighs, though she knows that they know she knows what’s being insinuated.

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Eva echoes. Her face is not contorted in anger, like Heather assumed it would, but rather thoughtfulness. Neither is her voice thunderous or disbelieving — Eva seemed to seriously be contemplating the likelihood of it. She turns to Harold. “Is that even possible?”

The redhead looks just as lost in thought as Eva. He shrugs. “Maybe…” He shifts his attention back to Heather, who is beginning to feel as if she were being prodded at, dissected, and inspected by her peers. “Have you tried thinking about it?”

“Excuse me?” Heather asks, taken aback. Her scowl diminished momentarily in her surprise, before it fell back into place, more intense than before. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Analyzing the flowers and flower language like I’ve gone insane —”

“I mean,” Harold interrupts, “have you tried… I dunno, fantasizing about the people in your life? Like, placing yourself in your ideal date with them to see if the flowers spur in your throat? It worked in this one manga —”

Heather droned out the rest of his rant, frowning to herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Anyway,” Eva cut Harold off with a silencing glare. The boy in question audibly gulps, shifting in his seat and indiscreetly glancing away to the opposite direction. “What do your flowers mean?” She looked to Gwen and Heather.

“The first round were marigolds,” Gwen admits carefully. “They mean jealousy. The second had mistletoe and yellow tulips — they mean affection and longing, and the tulips meant good friendship, or something like that. Now, I have pale pink roses, which mean joy, white carnations, which mean purity and loveliness, and yellow coreopsis flowers, which mean cheerfulness.”

“My first flowers were daffodils and gardenias.” Heather found no reason to lie now. “They mean unrequited and secret love. Way to spell it out,” she chuckled dryly, and humorlessly, and pretending to not notice the varying amounts of sympathy from the group. Her throat stings. “The ones I have now — amaryllises and chrysanthemums — mean pride and loyalty.”

Eva raises her eyebrows. “High-maintenance? Wouldn’t have expected that from you,”

Heather grunted. “Shut up,” Her throat hurt too much for a better rebuttal.

“You know, it’s probably Courtney,” Izzy hums half-jokingly with a grin. Gwen barely stifles a laugh.

Feeling her face flush and a lump form in her throat, Heather opens her mouth to argue, but is silenced when Harold shoots her a look.

“So, to recap,” Harold draws their attention back in, “The flowers represent who you love and/or your dynamic with them. Heather, try finding some privacy and think of your ideal date with people you know who are prideful and loyal, okay? We’ll meet up here on Monday. Hopefully you’ll have figured it out by then.”

“Fine,” Heather agrees, clumsily gathering her things. Her throat is burning, along with her chest and she’s sure her eyes are stinging, and she desperately wants to cough, but not now, and certainly not here with this audience. “See you Monday, Hanahaki Club,” she mutters sarcastically.

Half-hearted laughs register in Heather’s ears, but she’s already out of the library and dashing to the second nearest bathroom, not wanting to be walked in on. Her focus had been shifted from her illness momentarily, but now that it had been remembered, it was all it took for her to cough up the familiar flowers to the bathroom floor, unleashing a familiar strangled and warbled choking noise, accompanied by foreign tears.

❀

At night, when Heather’s parents and siblings are fast asleep, Heather lies wide awake in bed, tossing and turning. Whoever her beloved was was causing her to be unable to sleep at night, and when she was awake, she would cough on petals and blood, and she just craved to sleep.

Part of her wondered if it was possible for her to choke on the flowers in her sleep, before concluding that it didn’t matter. She was going to die, anyway.

Her mind wanders back to the secret meeting in the library, and of Harold’s advice. She had never wanted to date any of her classmates, but seeing as how she had the disease, it was a waste of time groveling in defeat. Instead, she shuts her eyes, and thinks of her fantasy.

Intimacy is what comes to mind first. She doesn’t like intimacy with her family or friends, but maybe she’s a sucker for looking into someone’s eyes and holding hands and telling someone I love you and meaning it. It doesn’t make her a sap; it just means that her needs are impossible to fulfill.

Eyes still shut, the image of her perfect date materializes in Heather’s head. Limbs entangled around one another as she and her mysterious person cuddled on a couch while watching an arbitrary film. Sharing a cup of hot chocolate and blankets as the chilling air from outdoors was kept out from inside by the heater. Talking animatedly about their interests and such over the movie, gazing into one another’s eyes; no judgment was to be found in either. It was peaceful and isolated, and perfect to Heather. Her parents never showed affection, and couples in high school never lasted — that type of love wasn’t real, but Heather allowed herself to fantasize, still, for the sake of finding who her enamored was.

Thinking it was best to start with the girls Heather was acquainted with that fit the bill, Heather sighs before imagining the ambiguous person as her classmates.

Leshawna. She’s the most faithful person Heather knows of, and she’s certainly proud. The flowers remain still and unmoving in her lungs, and so, she decides to move on.

Gwen. Unsurprisingly, the flowers don’t itch. The goth was more of someone Heather could respect, anyway.

Eva. Still, no reaction. Part of her is grateful, as she didn’t want to face the wrath of Izzy ever.

Dakota. One of the least likely, but it was possible, Heather supposed. They had some things in common, after all.

Court—

Her dark brown eyes were the only thing that had materialized in her mind when the flowers came out roughly and swiftly. Her blood is hot and thick in her throat as she tries in a daze to not suffocate on it, but still, she chokes on it. She can feel tears springing in her eyes and the sweat piling on her back and under her armpits; she can feel her chest burning in indescribable pain that was unlike any of the other coughing fits. It’s worse than anything she’s ever endured which is, granted, not quite the resume, but nevertheless, Heather feels as if her body is tearing and ripping itself apart while simultaneously hastily stitching itself back together by the amount of pain unleashed from her floral disease.

She scrambles to the sink of the bathroom attached to her bedroom, retching into the basin. The blood and flowers look like an artful arrangement, though Heather barely registers its appearance through both the pain and the unwavering amount of hatred coursing through her at the thought of Courtney unknowingly inflicting this upon her. Somewhere, she’s sleeping peacefully, while Heather is choking on her own blood and the flowers rooted to her lungs from just the mere thought of Courtney’s eyes.

Finally, mercifully, after a few minutes, the coughing fit ceases, but all that’s left is Heather’s heavy heaves as she attempts to retain her breath. Her vision flickers as black dances across her vision, and all she can smell is an overwhelming smell of metal and cleaning supplies. Her sink looks like the delicately painted masterpiece of an artistic sacrificial seance scene with all the blood and flowers. With a sigh, Heather strips of her bloodstained clothes, tossing them in her hamper to wash in the morning. After changing into a new acceptable and clean pair that Heather is sure will be ruined in a few hours, she brings out the cleaning supplies from under her sink and begins to clean at a feverish pace in a dazed state.

Ah, Heather thinks bitterly with a crazed and forced smile on her face, scrubbing extra hard on the sink as the thought flits in her mind, I get it now.

❀

“It’s Courtney,” Heather admitted to the group with a scowl present on her face. None had to ask her to elaborate, and none mention her scowl or her cough at the name. Heather’s scowl deepens further when she notices Gwen and Harold sighing in unison, sliding money to Izzy and Eva, who gladly accept them, with defeated sighs. “Wha —! Did you guys seriously bet on this? I’m literally dying over here!”

The words silence the group before Gwen snorts, and with that, the rest join her and laugh. Heather has half the mind to tell them that they’re in a library, but realizes she sounds freakishly like Courtney. Plus, for once, Gwen is choking on her laughter rather than flowers, so Heather allows it just for once with her own small smile and laugh.

“You know,” Harold manages to choke out, eyebrows raised in either surprise or amusement, “I didn’t take Courtney as your type.”

“Me neither,” Heather mutters. “Who did you think my type was?”

He shrugs. “Alejandro was my main suspect. I thought Justin was Eva’s crush, at first, to be honest.”

The laughter dies down momentarily as the group stares at Harold in confusion. Gwen, cracking another smile, mutters, “Harold, they’re lesbians,” before collapsing in another fit of laughter.

This time, Heather joins in more easily, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The flowers momentarily disappear, along with Courtney and thoughts of her love.

❀

END OF PART ONE

[darkpoisonouslove]

I'm offering you an empty salt shaker - asks 2, 5, 6, 15 (go ahead, I know you have something XD), 16, 20, 25 (about Bloom searching for her parents storyline)

Starting this again because guess who accidentally hit the key combination for undo and lost half an answered ask! This bitch right here.

I answered 2 here.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

Not that I can think of. It’s usually the source material that ruins things and fandom is tasked with fixing them later.

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

I didn’t hate it but Bloom x Icy was incomprehensible to me. Fics helped a lot and so did other posts from here and there and I can see it now. Also, I totally couldn’t see Griffin x Codatorta but that changed, too. Though, that was less fandom and more trashcankitty12 with an ask that made me think about it a little more in-depth so it was pretty much me roping up myself into yet another ship. But ooh, I also don’t think I had considered Palladium x Avalon before fandom but, yes, indeed, it is right there in canon. And I was so puzzled over the Riven x Nabu content I was seeing but after watching seasons 3 and 4, I can totally see where this is coming from. The people are right. That is a bromance right there.

15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t (but you’re right that I have something aka A LOT) so I’ll just list my strong opinionsTM, okay? I will try not to dump on Bloom too much also because it is not a secret that I don’t like her so there is no need for me to go in too much detail.

4kids is the superior dub. That is probably the most controversial opinion I hold. But don’t worry, I’ll try to top it and up the ante. XD

I love Enchantix but it has so many flaws as a concept and even more as an execution and the thing that is really pissing me off is how obviously centered around Bloom’s arc it is. It was clearly created for the advancement of her character and the other girls’ stories came as an afterthought which is why Tecna’s Enchantix was total bullshit. And for having a transformation that is specifically created around Bloom, hers was bullshit as well. I think they should have let her reearn it in order for her to be able to use all of its functions like miniaturizing. Also also, at so many points it totally sounds like Bloom is not upset about the fact that Domino and all of its people were destroyed but about the fact that that means she won’t get her Enchantix. Which btw was a hasty conclusion because at the time Enchantix became a thing, she was still on a mission to find her parents which would have definitely been a way to earn her Enchantix and she had a sign that they were alive. So her angsting over not getting an Enchantix because of what happened on Domino was bad form on the writers’ part.

That spell for good decisions in 1x05 was one of the show’s lowest and most ridiculous moments. It was only included to flaunt in your face how naturally being a leader comes to Bloom because “See? See!!!!!! She can make a good decision without using magic to help her!” So can the majority of the population (note that we are talking about ONE good decision, not an unbreakable sequence of such). She ain’t all that special. Plus, Tecna was written wildly OOC there in order to boost Bloom’s stats so to speak. I’m sorry but Tecna would’ve known that three against four doesn’t give them advantage since they are freshmen and the Trix were seniors at the time. God, that scene was stupid.

Flora is the most boring character in seasons 1-3, fight me about it.

The writers totally had no idea what they were doing with the witches throughout most of season 1 which is why Griffin’s characterization in that season is so inconsistent. Also, wtf was that in 1x06? She straight up tried to kill a bunch of 15-year-old girls. Take a chill pill! I’m glad they figured out a much better balance with her later on.

Not using the fact that Cloud Tower is a living organism more was a fucking wasted opportunity. Especially in season 3 when Valtor took over it. That could have made everything so much better. Also, the witches should have been used more. They were interesting but deserved so much better in terms of development.

Sky should have just fucking died in 2x10. What were these resurrections and Bloom getting healing powers out of nowhere for a total of 5 seconds? You know, that could have been a good setup for a Bloom x Diaspro romance. It would have been so much better if they’d gotten together right after 1x17 and dumped Sky’s sorry ass. Also, Diaspro deserved better.

Riven is the best Specialist but he is especially better than Sky. Remember 1x22 when he was trying to escape CT? He was trapped deep in enemy territory with monsters everywhere and so high above the ground, yet he found his way out. Sky would’ve fucking died out in the open at Magix against one single monster if Bloom hadn’t shown up to rescue him. And the show has the gall to imply that Sky is a better Specialist than Riven is? Please!

The teachers should be fined and sued for emotional and physical damage they haven’t protected their students from. Especially the Alfea teachers who in 1x02 practically admitted that the witches might maim a fairy and they still won’t do shit about it. Nice one!

Griffin and Valtor is canonical subtext and I have nothing more to say about this. It is all there.

Valtor up until 3x18 and Valtor from 3x19 to 3x26 are two different people and the prior is superior in every way. The show ruined him in the last third of the season because there was no other way for Winx to defeat him.

Speaking about Valtor, his whole thing with the Trix is despicable and I hate it so much. It is extremely cringy on their part and extremely underhanded on his and I can’t stand it. Not to mention that it is wildly OOC for the Trix because they are obviously better than that.

I cannot understand saying that Bloom x Valtor is love-hate. I see only hate.

It is ridiculous how easily the Trix beat Griffin in season 6 and how they nearly take control over CT in season 2. And it is also ridiculous that she had to wait for Winx to unspell CT in season 3. She is a teacher, the headmistress of the most prestigious school for witches, a veteran and has been Valtor’s partner (and he himself admitted that together they were unstoppable which means that she has to be pretty powerful and even somewhere close to his level of power). Can the show stop acting like she is defenseless?

The teachers should have been used more. It would’ve been so much better if they were there to at least help Winx if not lead their battles. And it would have made much more sense. Also, how come Ediltrude and Zarathustra literally disappear when it’s convenient and then reappear again (like they did in season 1 when the witches went to Alfea)? That’s just bad writing.

Sky is adopted. He doesn’t resemble Erendor or Samara neither in appearance, nor in character and I hate them enough to headcanon that he was adopted but nobody knows because they don’t want to have claims that he is not an “official” heir of the throne because he isn’t part of the bloodline.

Mike and Vanessa are much more parents to Bloom than Marion and Oritel are, especially when the latter were first released from Obsidian, and the fact that Bloom starts calling them Mike and Vanessa instead of mom and dad after she learns she has other parents is abysmal. Also, they are literally the best parents ever and I love them to death. (I also like Marion and Oritel but Mike and Vanessa are definitely the superior pair of parents if we’re ranking them. I like the idea that the two couples are actually super close and love each other like relatives, in fact.)

What the fuck is up with the magic in this show? There is literally, like, NO FUCKING CONSISTENCY WHATSOEVER! You can’t blink without the rules of it changing in some way. But what am I saying? That would imply that there are any rules which is just not true. Also, there is no clear distinction of how powerful anyone is after season 1. The balance of powers especially between Winx and the Trix is pretty much whatever works for the episode. Same for Winx vs Valtor. The fuckery on that account is unreal. Plus, some of Bloom’s major power explosions happen due to her getting angry. According to the official Wiki - “While practicing or harnessing positive magic, one must keep a compassionate heart, primarily by keeping their thoughts and feelings clear of all negativity, making them capable of attracting positive energy more easily. Thus, if one is plagued with negative thoughts or feelings such as sadness, anger or fear, then their magic will grow   weaker until they may even be left incapable of casting magic until said feelings pass.“ Read that and then read it again, let it sink in. According to the rules of the Winx universe, during some of Bloom’s most powerful moments she was actually using dark magic, not light such because it was fueled by rage. Way to keep it fucking consistent. And that is not just Bloom! FLORA out of all people attacks the Trix in rage in 3x12 when they hurt her sister aka she was also using dark magic at that situation (and then you have Wizgiz scolding Mirta for it in SotLK like it is a sin to use dark magic, smh). In some instances I would argue that it was more of determination to protect rather than anger which I would say would still result in light magic. But The Flora thing, Bloom vs Stormy in 1x09 (Bloom even says she got so angry so that was not a case of protectiveness), Bloom vs Icy in 1x26 and Bloom vs Valtor in 3x14 were definitely rage aka dark magic. And then Bloom is all “fairies don’t have any demons”. Guess again, bitch! Also, writers, you need a dictionary to start comprehending the words you are actually writing?

Now that I think of it, the whole arc in the Resort Realm was bullshit. If it is a magic-free realm, nobody should have any magic in it, period! What is this bullshit that you can use Charmix and Gloomix there because they have higher magical energy? That absolutely doesn’t matter! If there isn’t any magic in the entire realm, having a higher amount of magic in you will not matter because you still can’t use it... because there isn’t any in the realm!!!!!! What the hell! Honestly, the writers can’t comprehend what words mean and that is not the only instance in which it shows.

Someone told me that SotLK is better than Magical Adventure and I don’t mean to offend but that is simply not true. Magical Adventure is leagues above SotLK even if it has some structural problems. Like, literally everything is better. Bloom and Sky are even likable and communicate!!!!!!!! Literally when have you ever seen a better moment for their relationship than in Magical Adventure? If it had been all like that, I would have liked them as a couple.

I think I got everything that comes to mind rn out. Might think of more at some point. I was done and then came back to rage some more because I remembered I had more material.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

I would have them make smart decisions because 99% of the shit they pull is so stupid it is unreal. I literally cannot tell how they are still alive. Oh, no wait! Plot armor. Yep, that’s it.

But if I had to pick something specific? Bring Nabu back. I sure as hell wouldn’t have killed him. That was an asshole move and I have no idea what the hell the writers were thinking when they wrote that.

And my second choice is - implement a magical system into the series because there isn’t one. Magic always works the way the writers need it to work to pull off their bullshit plot even if it contradicts everything that we’ve seen before. Please, for the love of god! Consistency is already dead; stop stabbing its corpse!!!!

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?

Purest ship? Lmao, asking me this question is underhanded. XD If you mean no drama, then Flora and Helia Mike and Vanessa. But I think my actual answer would be Griffin x Faragonda because they have been through so much that we know of or we can deduce and they still stuck together. Sure, they had their ups and downs but it is obviously a love for life that has lasted through so many obstacles and keeps lasting. The reason why I can’t say the same for Mike and Vanessa is because we don’t really know that much about their relationship with each other. But anyway I love both these ships so much.

If you’re talking about a canon ship, though, then Brandon and Stella (I do not recognize the stupid relationship drama in season 4 as canon). He did lie to her about his identity in season 1 but it was for his friendship with Sky (alternatively, for his job and duty as Sky’s squire). I just love how obviously in love Brandon is with Stella and how much Stella doesn’t care about anything but him. She didn’t care that he was a “commoner” and - one of my fave moments - in 1x08 she only cared about his well-being rather than the competition. It was adorable and they are adorable and I love them so much. Pure serotonin, right there!

25. How would you end the Bloom searching for her parents storyline/Would you change the ending?

I would certainly change the logistics of the whole thing because, boy, did it make no sense at all. As for the actual ending, I’d argue that physically finding them is not the end of that storyline and she needs to “find” them emotionally as well which would definitely take more time than SotLK cared to address. Like, she got them out of Obsidian and boom, everything’s fine! She literally doesn’t know them! Those are her parents and she doesn’t know anything about them! Their touch and their voices are unfamiliar to her even and they have missed on so much that they will never be able to get back and you’re saying that everything is fine? Yeah, right.

I would have had her spend a year on Domino with them before season 4. The school year that started in SotLK? She spends that with them. Possibly even the one that starts in Magical Adventure as well. She learns everything she can about them and the family history. She also learns how to be a proper royal because she is the Crown Princess now and she has no idea what the fuck she is doing. I would have made seasons 4 and possibly 5 about that and added more politics in it. Layla and Stella are also princesses who will run their kingdoms one day so we could have had adventures in political relations with Winx Club. They are pretty famous so I am sure there would be rulers of other lands that see them as threats and don’t like them. There could have been tension about that and the whole thing with Domino being the planet of the Dragon Fire could have been addressed. Who would dare oppose them when they are the most powerful force? Are they the most powerful force after the 17 years the planet spent as an ice block? Are there old alliances to be reforged? What is the political climate in the Magic Dimension? All absolutely fascinating questions that would have helped the worldbuilding and made place for Marion and Oritel in Bloom’s life and in the show. We could’ve gone back to the feel of season 1 when they also had other things going on besides the big baddie of the season and it could have been a little more episodical with a loose theme to connect the season and the overarching story of Bloom finding her parents and her place in the world she was born in. That could have been positively epic... And a great way to retain the cast because the Company of Light were allegedly friends so we could have seen Marion and Oritel reconnecting with Griffin, Faragonda, Saladin and Hagen. There could have been resurfacing debates left over from the war. Kingdoms angry at Domino for something that happened back then in order to include flashbacks with the events. AND that would work out with the fact that the Ancestral Witches were still around and could have led to another epic battle that wouldn’t end with the destruction of a whole planet. Like I said, there were amazing possibilities... and they were all wasted.

Well, this was long... and just what I needed. I hope some (civilized) discussion will spark out of that because I am tired of screaming in a void and I want people to talk to me.

[curiousconch]

The Moments in Between (Part 2)

Book/Pairing: Open Heart 2 / Rafael Aveiro x F!MC x Bryce Lahela

A/N: This is my shot at a love triangle, because I always found the book lacking in acknowledging the dynamics between the LIs as well as the impact to the chosen LI where others are interested in the MC. If you're reading this hoping for a full-on Bryce, my apologies, but you'll probably be disappointed. It’s supposed to be sprinkled with smut, but I ended up writing fluuuuuffff.  If you haven't read Part 1, click here.

Music Inspo: Jealous by Nick Jonas

Raphael looked on while Casey giggled against Bryce's lips.

He knew Casey was just experimenting on her curiosity. She and Bryce had a sibling-like bond. But as he couldn't stop himself from averting his gaze, he thought of how Bryce hadn't been exactly discreet about his flirtations towards the same woman Raf has just declared his love a few weeks back.

This bucket list tour around Boston was simply meant to be one last ride of the gang together. But things took a really wild turn when Aurora decided to streak across the park, and now Casey's making out with someone else as he stood close by.

He never wished for something to be so unreal as this moment in his life.

His fists clenched, very much unnerved by the feel of this heaviness in his chest. He questioned himself, wanting so much to contradict the constricting pain he felt. It was as if he wasn't the one who gave Casey the go ahead anyway.

He was never one to feel possessive. Yet the knowledge of her being wrapped around someone's arms made him shiver.

His mind wondered - was this the way Casey felt every time she saw him with Sora a few months ago? Did she feel the the same stabbing pain when he held another's hand? Did her eyes almost shined with tears when she saw how his ex kissed him?

Raf tried his best to shake off the upsetting knots beginning to form in his stomach. But he just can't.

Well, Superman has finally found his Kryptonite, he thought.

The sound of Casey's approaching nervous laughter pulled him out of his reverie. She stepped towards him, and he struggled to paste a smirk on his face. It was futile, knowing very well how she can see right through his facade.

Looking down at his shoes, he shoved his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, suddenly conscious of all of their friends staring at him.

"Well, I won't be doing that again," she mumbled as she leaned close, so that he's the only one who can hear.

"Hmm..." Raf exhaled, careful not to let slip any hint of bitterness.

Her left brow raised at him questioningly, her arm looping around his, nevertheless.

Was I too obvious? His inner voice questioned.

Instead of saying that aloud, he shook his head lightly in response, intent to dismiss her doubts. It was more of an effort to dissipate his own insecurities before it imploded. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, while his thoughts waged a silent war with his emotions.  

"Well, that's a wrap!" Kyra finally broke the uncomfortable silence, everyone else agreeing to call it a night. Relief then coursed through him.

After saying their respective good nights, their group began to disperse in separate directions.

He let his arms fall across Casey's shoulders, guiding her to the direction of his apartment. He wanted nothing more than to settle the conflicted feelings he had with an inconspicuous night cap - they originally planned to spend the night together, after all.

Peace was beginning to calm his heart, but it was cut short by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He immediately knew who it was.

He turned as Bryce looked at him intensely, his brows furrowed.

Raf looked at Casey, and as if reading his thoughts, untangled herself from him and walked a few steps ahead before stopping at a distance, certain she was out of earshot.

Once the two guys were alone, Raf crossed his arms and waited for Bryce to speak his piece.

"Look, I mean no disrespect. You know me, bro. I didn't think much of it, and that did not mean anything." Bryce spoke with an edge in his voice, rubbing the back of his head.

He hesitated, but invoking no reaction from Raf, he continued.

"Honestly, I was really interested in Casey before she shot me down every time I asked her out.  It boggled me, man. I finally found out why when I saw how she looked at you, when we all had dinner together. I backed down and moved on ever since. I see her as nothing but a good friend, now."

Raf listened intently to Bryce's revelation. He thought back to the time before things actually started between him and Casey. Once upon a time, he stumbled upon them exchanging flirty remarks. He dismissed them as just part of his nature, a behavior he thought that Bryce commonly expressed to other girls around him.

Later on, he noticed that she was very close to him, but he attributed it as affection similar to that of siblings. He never entertained the possibility of how dangerously close she was snatched by someone else. It turns out he had more to process.

He finally mustered the strength to nod to Bryce, offering his hand. His friend took it, his posture finally relaxed. However, against Raf's better nature, he didn't say anything further.

Sensing his unease, Bryce took this as his queue to let go. With a friendly salute, he walked away, knowing that he's done his part.

Raf rubbed his temple, closing his eyes for a few moments as he wrestled with himself. He can't help being upset, uncertain as to how he should respond to these very foreign emotions rising within him. He struggled to accept the only possible reason of his unrest.

It was when Casey walked back to him, inquisitive of what just went down between the two guys. As she neared him, she immediately saw the creased lines of his forehead, the same expression he had earlier that evening.

She knew that facade, it was Rafael's contemplative frown.

His whole body jolted as arms wrapped around his waist from behind, breaking him out of his lost thoughts, the familiar scent immediately invading his senses.

"I thought brooding was Batman's thing?" muttered Casey with a playful voice, her head leaning on his back, her hands laced together. "Care to share the meaning of that frown on your face?"

This girl really knew him inside out.

Defeated, certain that Casey was giving him the chance to come clean, he pulled free from her embrace and spun her to face him. His thumb rubbing on her cheekbone, caressing her with so much gentleness, afraid he's going to break her.

He looked down at her, pausing for a few moments, then kissed her. His eyes shut close as he meditated the feel of her mouth crashing on his, her soft lips gifting him the same intoxication he always tasted every time he did this.

And as he broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes remained closed, lost in thought.

"Earth to Rafael..." her voice snapped him out of his own trance, an amused look stamped on her face as she gazed up at him, a single brow raised.

"I'm sorry, Casey." He sighed, pondering if he should express his innermost thoughts.

Is this love too fragile? Am I going to cross a line, steering them to a point of no return? Is it the right direction, wanting to let her know that he wanted so much to claim her for himself? They haven't been able to talk about that part yet, knowing that Casey's career is at a crossroads. It wasn't just the right time.

He can't ruin this, not again, he decided.

"I'm still trying to process this myself, I've been contemplating a lot of things in the past few days, and tonight seemed to push me to a tipping point," he resigned.

She cupped his face in her hands, knowing that the man she loved is currently buried in his conflicted feelings.

"It's okay, Raf," she assured him, hoping to quell the building guilt in her chest. "I'm sorry too, I didn't really think that through."

Aware of the mess that she's just made of things, she perceived how careless it was of her to choose to act on the mundane notion of kissing a brother. Well, a brother figure, at least. She thought of it as some kind of experiment, being caught up with the daring mood everyone else was in.

So selfish and so stupid, Casey, she thought, mentally punching herself.

She realized how Edenbrook closing impacted the status of their recently-renewed romance, only just fully-grasping how their relationship might now be hanging by a thread, with the possibility of her moving away from Boston.

She wondered if that's what Raf was thinking about earlier, when they were both standing in front of the hospital where they first met.

Sensing how Casey was now tormenting herself with what happened, he felt compelled to tell her his truth.

It's time I man up, bear my own weight in this relationship, he determined.

Not wanting to let go of his resolve, he took Casey's hands in his and began his admission.  

"I never thought I would be this kind of guy," he whispered, breaking free from her own thoughts. "...but when I saw you and Bryce..." He paused, contemplating the best way to continue.

He sighed as he leaned against her, his head nestling against her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, taking in the sweet scent of her hair.

"I know I said I love you, but I just can't help myself. I feel numb just thinking about how other people will hover around you, when I'm no longer near you." He brushed through his hair, conscious of the heaviness of his confession.

"You can call me obsessed, I know I might not have the right to be... " He faltered for a bit, but with a powerful shove of willpower, he continued, "So yes, I guess, I just got jealous."

"But I've spent a long time holding back, Casey." His current sentiments echoing the very same words he told her at the gala. "It's time I own up to it, because I know you deserve nothing less than 100% of me. So this is me, facing you, facing all of my feelings for you, even the bad."

He wondered if he should stop, but decided to conclude his speech with one last statement to make it clear.

"I guess it's just that I'm so crazy about you, how much loving you changed me. I'll never be the same person without you."

There, I said it, his mind exasperated, yet instantly relieved.

Casey was stunned, her eyes widened with surprise. It wasn't with Rafael's admission of jealousy though, it was in the acknowledgment of how worried he was about her leaving Boston. It is the vulnerability that this man in front of her willfully showed her, despite the uncertainty of their future.

It was his version of telling her: I don't want you out of my life.

In a moment of clarity, she was able to comprehend that Rafael's jealousy was not coming from a place of mistrust. It was his reassurance that he intended to stay beside her, no matter what was required of them. It didn't matter which path she chooses in her career. Whether she stays or she goes, he chooses to be with her.

It may mean braving a long-distance relationship, maybe something more. What's important was he's telling her loud and clear: he's in it for the long run.

And at that moment, she was certain she wanted exactly the same.

"Aha! So the Clark Kent gets jelly too..." she exclaimed, unable to restrain her chuckle.

He smiled despite himself. Give it to Casey to always lighten up the mood.

She gave him a light pat on his back, comforting Raf.

"Thank you for being honest. But it takes a lot more than jealousy to beat down the most stubborn person you've ever met!" she declared, sticking her tongue out as she released him from her embrace, gazing him.

Rafael can't help but laugh, grateful for how easily she  figured out how to disspell the conflict between them.

She then pointed at the lamp post above them, apparently inviting him to a callback of perhaps one of the earliest fond memories they shared.

"My samba moves are a little rusty. Mind if you help me shake it off?" Casey's broad grin was infectiously bright, even in the dim light that surrounded them.

He took her hand, kissing her fingertips and twirled her once. He pulled her to him, letting his hands fall on her hips,  as she leaned back against his chest.

"Don't mind if I do, my Lois."

And as their bodies swayed, all the worries sashayed away. For in that moment, they remembered that night they once danced in the streets, and the odds that they were able to overcome since then.

It's more than enough of an assurance that they will always find a way.

Their love will.

[sign-from-god-complex]

things are better here with you

or, the three times Virgil almost proposed and the one time he did

Summary: Patton deserved the perfect proposal. Virgil only hoped he could give them that.

Pairing: Moxiety with background logince

A/N: This is a sequel/companion piece to better things are here with you!! You probably don’t need to read that to make sense of this but it would probably give you some helpful context. Anyway, I’ve been working really hard on this fic for almost a month so I really hope you all enjoy it.

AO3 Link

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Virgil flopped onto the bed, burying his head into the pillow to muffle a groan.

He’d received Roman’s text last night—a welcome and long-awaited confirmation that he’d finally pulled his head out of his ass and realised Logan was as in love with him as he was with Logan. Unfortunately, that text came with some fine print. The bet they’d made, tipsy off of strong spirits and an even stronger sense of love—one that both would barely admit to if asked—had two sides: a confession and a proposal. 

And given the confession Roman had already undergone, it wasn’t hard to guess which side he stood on.

Virgil hadn’t necessarily intended to procrastinate the proposal for as long as he had, he’d simply been nervous—nerves he knew, as always, weren’t entirely justified.

Patton loved him. Virgil had less reason to doubt that love than he did the world ending tomorrow or the boat they were on sinking or Roman burning the house down while they were away or any number of other things Virgil worried about on a daily basis. 

A proposal was just so permanent, so serious, and despite knowing in every part of his being that Patton was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he wasn’t prepared for Patton to not feel the same. Logically—god, listen to him, he sounded like Logan—he knew there was no reason for that to be the case but he and logic hadn’t always been on the best of terms.

“Honey? You alright?”

Virgil pulled his head up to watch Patton slip into the room, towel wrapped around their shoulders and skin still glistening with moisture from the pool. He swallowed, his mouth dry, and attempted to give a response through the very gay haze that had overtaken him—preferably one which wouldn’t make Patton suspicious. If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it right; he couldn’t spoil the surprise so soon.

Sitting up, Virgil ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking away the last drops of water. “Uh, yeah, I think I was just getting a bit overwhelmed? There’s a lot of people around, you know?”

He cursed himself for sounding so unsure but luckily Patton just smiled—kind and sweet and gosh, he was so in love with them it was unreal.

“Well, you could have just let me know, love,” Patton murmured, taking a seat on the bed beside him. They placed a kiss on Virgil’s forehead, alighting his face with a blush and making warmth bloom in his chest—soft and glowing. “I would have come out and joined you sooner.”

“Yeah, uh, I know, you just- I don’t know, you looked like you were having fun. Didn’t wanna ruin it.”

They sighed lightly. “You could never ruin anything, promise.”

The way Patton was looking at him was so gentle and loving, the entirety of their soul bared in that gaze as if they had nothing to hide—not from Virgil; not ever. It almost made him want to propose right now, to get down on one knee in the cabin they were in and try his hardest to explain to them that their love was returned tenfold, that he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without them.

Patton deserved better though. Patton deserved… Well, frankly, if you had asked Virgil, more than he could ever give them but certainly more than that. Patton deserved an emotional, well-planned speech; Patton deserved to be wooed and romanced; Patton deserved the entire world and more.

If Virgil was going to propose, he was going to do it right. So, instead of falling to one knee, he pulled Patton in close, pressing their lips together and tugging them both to lay back on the bed beneath them. 

And Virgil started to scheme.

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“I just feel like it would be nice, you know?” Virgil said, slipping on a dark purple blazer. It was one of the few dressy pieces of clothing he’d brought with him on their trip, knowing that this exact situation was always a potential outcome and wanting to be prepared. “We’re here, so we might as well take advantage of everything.”

Patton screwed up their face a little bit but didn’t argue. “If you’re sure, love.”

Virgil knew his partner was just looking out for him—the main restaurant on the boat was frequently busy and definitely more upmarket than either of them were used to—but if he was going to propose here it had to be somewhere nice. That's what Patton deserved.

He’d spent all his free time in the evenings—after Patton, ever early to bed, had fallen asleep against his chest—brainstorming and planning for the perfect proposal. He had a speech written out, a few different locations and settings theorised, and he did it all without Roman’s help, thank you very much. All and all, he was feeling pretty accomplished.

Zipping up Patton’s dress for them, Virgil pressed a soft kiss to the back of their neck, delighting in the way they giggled at the action.

Patton’s laugh was joy personified, no shame or fear or distrust hidden within it. He was in awe of them, every single day of his life—almost jealous of the way Patton loved with every fibre of their being and yet too enamoured with them to ever articulate as much.

Once Patton had assured that their hair and makeup looked alright, Virgil took their hand and pulled them out the door of the cabin, trailing them towards the ship's restaurant. 

Small talk on their way was almost stilted—the ring box tucked away in his pocket all that Virgil found he could focus on—and when they were finally seated, Virgil had worked himself up into something of a state. Tense muscles shifted, pulling open the menu and scanning the wine list as if he knew even the slightest thing about wine.

"Honey," Patton began kindly, pulling Virgil's gaze up from the menu he hadn't really been processing anyway.

They looked hesitant, almost, their mouth twisted and so, so pretty—painted in that perfect shade of pink which made Virgil want to tug them in and ruin all their hard work. Reaching out across the table, they took a hold of Virgil's hand, turning it over and trailing patterns over his palm in a way that was far too distracting.

"I know you wanted to take advantage of the fancy restaurant and everything but this is all a bit much for me, I think.” They gave a small smile and Virgil felt some of his nerves melt away. “What about we just go back to the cabin, order room service and watch movies on your laptop instead?"

Slowly, Virgil nodded. He wanted to feel disappointed but, in reality, he was simply relieved. The idea of proposing in front of so many people was terrifying and though he was willing—for Patton, Virgil found there wasn't much he wasn't willing to do—he didn't think getting down on one knee in the middle of a panic attack would be very romantic.

Possibly not one of his best ideas.

Patton smiled softly, watching Virgil's shoulders drop as he let out a breath and relaxed for the first time that evening. Grabbing his hand properly, they dragged him past the front desk and out the door—not even bothering to explain their absence.

And as Patton fell asleep on the bed beside him that evening—halfway through a Harry Potter film, clad in onesie pyjamas they always insisted were essential for movie nights—Virgil figured… well, there was always tomorrow.

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It was early in the evening as Patton and Virgil strolled down the ship, breathing in the beginnings of the cool night air.

Despite this being a proposal plan, it wasn't quite in the forefront of his mind—Virgil far too distracted by the peaceful look on Patton's face. They had their eyes shut, hand clasped gently in his, trusting him completely to lead them to wherever their destination was.

Their pace was slow, one foot in front of the other. Virgil didn't want to rush them—this was all about taking your time and being in the moment, after all—but at the same time he was slightly anxious that he'd underestimated how long it would take them to arrive and they were going to miss it and everything would be ruined and Patton would break up with hi-

"Love?" Patton questioned, "Are we there?"

Virgil realised with a jolt that in his panic he’d stopped walking and picked up the pace again, pulling them in through a doorway and further towards the front of the ship.

"No, just- just a little bit further."

Patton squeezed his hand reassuringly, humming their response.

It was less than a minute before Virgil pulled them up to the door, dark wood obscuring what lay beyond—for Patton, at least; Virgil had been integral in setting it up. He dropped their hands between them, still staying close enough to them that he could feel the warmth they exuded radiating against his skin.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now. It's just through this door."

Patton's eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times to adjust to the light before focusing back on Virgil and giving a nod. "Mmm, okay, ready."

Pulling open the door, the two of them were greeted by almost a little cove, fairly lights borrowed from the restaurant strung up around them making it feel almost magical. Everything was cast in shades of pink and red from the sun just beginning to set on the horizon in front of them, pulling long shadows across the ground and illuminating the look of complete amazement on Patton’s face.

It was breathtaking. 

Whether Virgil’s awe was due to Patton or the view, of course, it’s entirely impossible to say.

"V, oh my goodness!" they gasped, taking a step forward, so, so cautiously, as if this was nothing more than a hallucination that could disappear before their eyes, "How did you even organise this?"

Virgil bit his lip. "Uh, it took… some convincing, yeah, but… you know. You're worth it."

The shy smile that spread across Patton’s face was accompanied by a blush, soft and pink and delicate as a dusting of icing sugar across their cheeks.

Entirely unable to help himself, Virgil pulled them in closer, cupping their face and pressing a kiss against their lips. It was feather-light—almost nothing more than the suggestion of physical contact—and Patton giggled, filling Virgil's chest with sunlight and his heart with love.

Hand in hand, the two made their way over to the sofa that he’d set up for them earlier, piled with cushions and champagne set out on the table in front.

He poured them both a glass, noting the way the fizz didn’t even compare to the bubbling feeling in his chest, the feeling Patton inspired in him each and every day. Distantly, he thought about saying as much but at that moment Patton leaned into him, tangling their limbs together and resting their head against him; it sent a wave of affection crashing over him like the ocean in a storm—unexpected and strong enough to knock him off his feet—and he found himself unable to speak at all.

The sun was dipping down beneath the horizon now, the silence calm as the water beneath them.

Virgil was swirling slow patterns into Patton’s skin, listening to their breathing as it melded in with his own. The wind chill was slight and yet even as the stars appeared, lighting up the night sky, Virgil couldn’t imagine anywhere warmer than this—wrapped up in his partner, blanketed by the love he was so grateful to know.

Snaking his hand down into his pocket, Virgil thumbed over the top of the ring box, tensing ever so slightly and yet so aware that Patton could probably feel every motion he made. Finally—the night covering them, keeping him safe yet edging him on—Virgil took a breath.

“Patton?”

There was a beat. No reply.

Drawing his eyes away from the night sky, Virgil glanced down at his partner. Patton’s eyes were closed, eyelashes barely fluttering and lips gently parted. Undeniably asleep.

There was a moment where Virgil wanted to laugh, to break out into hysterical giggles mere inflections away from sobs, but he didn’t want that to be what his partner woke up to—just thinking of the concern they would undoubtedly display already making his chest ache. Instead, he sighed softly, the breath just barely moving strands of hair away from Patton’s face and he untangled himself from their embrace.

It took Virgil a little bit more effort than he would like to admit to bring Patton into his arms, lifting them up from the couch so they could return to their room undisturbed. He also was not quite as smooth as he had hoped he would be and as soon as he’d reached the door—barely managing to open it without dropping them entirely—Patton squirmed in his grip, making a slightly discontented noise as they became vaguely aware of the situation.

“Shh, I’m just taking you back to our room,” Virgil whispered, words barely an echo in the space around them, “Go back to sleep.”

This seemed to satisfy Patton as they buried their head further into their boyfriend’s chest, gripping at Virgil’s hoodie and causing his brain to short-circuit in the wake of just how cute Patton was.

“This was good,” they mumbled, words muffled and slurred from exhaustion, “Love you s’much."

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling slowly and deliberately. His eyes were shiny when he reopened them and he blinked a few times, trying to keep any tears at bay.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

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Virgil ran a hand through Patton’s hair, smiling as his partner responded with a sleepy whine, shuffling further over in bed to wrap themself around him. They were like a little octopus or a koala bear, clinging on so tightly as if Virgil could disappear at any moment—as if there were anywhere in the world he’d rather be.

It was the last day of their cruise. Later, they'd be pulling into port to Roman's overexcited welcomes and Logan's dry snark and Virgil would have to explain that no, they weren’t engaged and yes, Virgil was exactly as much of a coward as everyone thought he was all along.

It had been stuck his mind since the moment he woke up—Patton’s chest still rising and falling in time with their breaths, leaving Virgil alone with nothing more than thoughts.

He knew it was ridiculous but he couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was all a sign. None of his proposals ever seemed to go right so maybe it was for a reason; maybe they weren’t supposed to be married, maybe Patton was destined to find someone better than him—someone who could match his sunshiny disposition in a way he deserved.

The grip on his torso slackened slightly and Patton pulled away to meet his gaze, sweet and loving and still on the edges of sleep.

“Virge, darling, what’s wrong?”

The words were soft and quiet, settling lightly in the air around them. It felt so tender and so gentle that Virgil could almost feel himself folding, softening into Patton’s grip with tears in his eyes, mumbling his explanation but he refused to let this be the way he proposed. 

“It- it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Patton frowned—not mean but upset nonetheless—and Virgil felt something in him tighten.

“No, not just right now, something’s been on your mind for days at this point. You don’t have to tell me, hon, I just… I worry about you.” After a beat of no reply, Patton sighed, almost abashed—as if they had any kind of reason to be embarrassed. “I know it’s silly, you’re supposed to be the anxious one in this relationship, I should-”

Virgil held up a hand, cutting off Patton’s nervous rambling. “No, no, just- give me a second.”

There was a beat. Patton just lay on the bed, gazing up at him with so much love and concern in their eyes Virgil felt breathless with it.

“All this time I’ve just- I’ve been trying to make this perfect for you, you know?” Virgil asked, knowing perfectly well that Patton couldn’t understand what he was talking about and yet feeling like he had to get something out there or he’d simply explode. “You deserve perfect.”

Patton giggled—fond and a little confused. “Silly, I don’t need perfect; I’ve already got you.”

And what could Virgil possibly say to that?

“Marry me?”

Patton’s expression changed in the blink of an eye, their eyes widening, mouth dropping open in shock—shock but not revulsion, not horror; they loved him, he was sure they did. He had no reason to be afraid, no reason to be scared and though it was intrinsically his nature to be anxious, all Virgil could feel was all the love he had for them in return.

“What?” they asked, their voice hoarse and disbelieving, tinted with shades of hope Virgil prayed he wasn’t imagining.

He scrambled up, reaching to grab his hoodie from the edge of the bed and, from its pocket, Virgil retrieved a box—a small, black, velvet ring box.

And on the floor of their cabin, Virgil got down on one knee.

“Oh.”

The exclamation was breathy, awed, a smile spreading across their face and tears filling up their eyes. Pulling themself up from the bed, Patton moved to sit on the edge—clearly trying to resist falling to the floor to join him before he’d even finished speaking.

“I had this whole speech planned out, you know? Cause I’d been thinking about this for ages, even if I’d only worked up the courage to actually do it recently. God, you’re just-” Virgil cut himself off with an incredulous laugh. “You’re amazing, Pat. You’re my best friend, the person who knows me better than anyone else ever could—ever tried to. I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can even remember being alive and I don’t want there to ever be a time where that isn’t true; I don’t ever want to be without you.

“So, Pat—sunshine, love of my life—will you marry me?”

It would be a lie to say Virgil had never seen Patton smile this wide; Patton smiled all the time for more reasons than Virgil could possibly count. Little kids playing on the street to a bumblebee landing delicately on a flower outside their window could inspire a smile from them and truly, Virgil adored that.

There was just something about this smile.

Maybe it was the way it was coloured with incredulity—brown and blue and white and gold, shimmery and unwavering—or the way it was focused solely on him like the single beam of sunlight on a cold winter day.

Maybe it was the way Patton was dropping to the ground in front of him, cupping his face and kissing him with that smile again and again, bright and giggling. Maybe it was the tears in their eyes, the choked off sobs from too much emotion and too much love as softly, sweetly, Virgil wiped them away.

Maybe it was just Patton.

“Is that a yes?” Virgil asked, the smile in his voice entirely evident. The ring box was set off to the side now, Virgil’s want to cradle Patton’s face in his hands, to hold them in his arms and never let them go obscuring his sense of order in situations like these. 

Patton feigned thought for a moment, their hand coming up to rest on their chin. “Hmmm, I don’t know…”

At Virgil’s joking glare they simply laughed, bringing their faces so close together Virgil would barely have to surge forward to kiss them. They didn’t move though, just looking into Virgil’s eyes with an expression of absolute adoration and maybe it was a little silly, a little ridiculous, to be gazing at each other like that but Virgil could not find it in him to care.

“Yes,” they sighed—soft, breathless and so in love, “Gosh, yes. There isn’t anything I could want more.”

Later, when his fiance’s head is resting on his chest, their ring glinting softly in the light streaming in through the curtains, Virgil would only have one thing left to do.

To ‘Prince Pining’: hey, buy some champagne. i think it’s time to celebrate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @kee-and-co @autistic-virgil @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @thomassandersenthusiast @localagendergrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel@idosanderssidespromptssometimes

and @max-is-tired you asked to be tagged in this one too!

[laws-hat-headcanons]

*runs into the ask box* PLEASE LET ME ONE SPOT, PLEASE !! *Threw a Pokeball* Did I got one? I mean, yes, you opened the ask box like 10sec ago so... I probably got one...

Ahhh of course you got one @lucynnamonroll you were one of the first!! Thanks for asking, hope you like it!!

I Match you with...

Smoker!

The thing that first attracts Smoker to you is your sense of justice – your ability to see the best in people and defend them, even when you know doing so might land you in hot water. You know what you believe in and you stand by it. For a man like Smoker who has his own strong beliefs that don't always follow what everyone else agrees with, that's a big plus.

He might not always agree with you, but he always respects you.

Smoker is quite a hard person to be romantically involved with. He's not very good at romance and he takes his job very seriously, so sometimes it will feel like he is putting his work before you. He needs someone who is going to be patient with him, to help him get used to his feelings and how to accept them instead of just pretending he isn't feeling anything. With your kind and calm personality he'll start to open up to you in a way he never did in previous relationships.

Your rather dark sense of humour is a bit of a mystery to him, he just doesn't get where you picked it up from. But that isn't to say he doesn't enjoy it, letting out a little amused snort when you say something overly macabre – especially in company that doesn't know you like her does.

Smoker likes to think hes unshakable but your tendency for innuendos and dirty jokes makes him so embarrassed it's unreal! Just one off hand comment and he's hot under the collar, a blushing mess no matter who is around. He'll try and brush it off but he's just so unused to that kind of talk. Sometimes he thinks you do it on purpose – just to embarrass him.

He's probably right.

Neither you or Smoker are very social, so when he isn't working he wants nothing more than to cuddle up with you while you both relax. You can read a book and he'll read the paper and just enjoy your time together.

He also likes when you come and see him while he's working on office stuff – it's such a boring job, though important! So whenever you come to check up on him and make sure he's not working too hard Smoker is always pleased. He doesn't mind if you stay in the office with him either. If you want to work on writing while he's working on mission reports it's fine by him!

Smoker is less inclined for you to hang out with the rest of G5 though. They're a rowdy bunch and he knows you aren't a huge fan of socialising – and he is astute enough to notice when you copy the behaviours of those around you, and would definitely prefer you didn't emulate his crew.

All in all the two of you are quite different, but you bring out the best in each other and fit together perfectly!

Other Possible Match Ups:

Robin – Being the bookish sort Robin is a good match for you. She enjoys discussing books you've both read. On more controversial matters she loves having debates with you, really fleshing out a subject and voicing your opinions. Obviously you both have a very dark, dry sense of humour – so beware to anyone that happens to be on the receiving end of it when you're both together. Robin is very cautious about caring for people. All the people she has ever loved have been taken from her, so she isn't inclined to let her feelings get the better of her. Again, your patience and kindness will be invaluable in a relationship with her.

[tiffgeorgina]

fuck it black monday soulmate au

this one goes out to brit pricevore and that damn quote rt about hating soulmate aus. also to all the time i wasted in the shower last night thinking about this. brit if you’re reading this i have done my part. 

this fic is sponsored by the hyuna and LE collab that i cannot stop blasting. it’s called blacklist and it kind of invented music

-ok so im starting with mo and dawn because of fucking course i am

-mo spends like four years in prison starting from when he’s 20 or 21 or sum shit. around this time, dawn’s getting her MBA from northwestern. as soon as mo’s out of prison, jammer stakes the jammer group and hands majority ownership over to mo. alright so mo needs some employees he can’t do all this by himself. so he schedules an interview with dawn and meets her and realizes that this is His Soulmate. 

-im not really certain what the exact soulmate au would be for this because frankly i don’t care, i don’t want to get into that rn lol. but it’s something obvious and clear-cut, like seeing color for the first time when you make eye contact with your soulmate or smth. Actually i rly like that idea so im gonna roll with it. Fuck it you see color the first time the first time you touch your soulmate (i’ll get into the general implications of this some more later on, maybe after keith/mike’s part stay tuned xx) i love me some ambiguous soulmate aus but all the relationships in this show are ambiguous enough so i’ll pass in that regard this time. also in this universe, your soulmate isn’t necessarily regarded as your romantic partner for life. some conservatives/evangelists/fundamentalists/traditionalists will consider any marriage/sexual or romantic relationships with people other than your soulmate to be an abomination or w/e, and the 80s were pretty conservative, but they were also pretty weird, so a lot of people give zero fucks and will date/fuck/marry whoever. these people tend to regard soulmates as the most important person in your life, regardless of the nature of your relationship with them. some people’s soulmates are like a parent to them, and could never imagine being romantic/sexual with them. lots of people never meet their soulmates due to distance/death/etc. basically fate is not as all-knowing in this soulmate au as it is in some others. there is more to a long-lasting, successful romantic relationship than just love. back in the 40s or whatever, people would meet their soulmates and marry like two weeks later, never having had sex or a romantic relationship with anybody else, and then two days into the marriage they realize how devastatingly incompatible they are and the relationship crumbles under the strain of resentment and confusion within a year. people in the 80s have started to learn the lessons the people in the 40s never had time to figure out, so most people have some romantic/sexual experience before they meet their soulmate. besides, who wants to wait that long to have sex? not me tf

-ok back to the plot now that we got the background is down. mo and dawn meet and know they’re soulmates. so they get to know each other, but their main focus is work bc they’ve got a lot of work to do if they want to get anywhere. the company is young, dawn’s just out of school, and mo’s just out of prison. there’s a lot of ground to cover and they’re impatient asf to be rich and powerful. 

-the romance sort of happens naturally, given how much time they spend together, and they fall hard. they start dating, and when it’s great, it’s great. but when it’s bad, it’s fucking horrible. they’re both really underdeveloped as people (should i mention that they both literally just entered the workforce lol) and they just. can’t. get. along. 

-they hire some more people, like keith and yassir and wayne, and even they can tell that their relationship just sucks. they fight all the time over petty shit, and their fights always go way too far and never get properly resolved. sure, the sex is good and they want pretty similar futures (lots of money and no kids), but emotionally, in the short term, they are as incompatible as it gets. they have the same argument that they’ve had a gazillion times about promoting dawn to partner, but this time it goes a little too far. the things they say are a little too hurtful, and at this point, the relationship is a little too broken to salvage. they both know that when dawn storms out that night, it’s the last time. she moves out the next day.

-but she can’t really quit, can she? at this point she’s put in like three years of work at this place, and it’s moving up the ranks, and she’s head trader. she’s not taking a pay cut because she’s too immature to work with her ex-who-is-also-her-soulmate. so she sticks around. it’s a little awkward at first, but she and mo just come to an unspoken agreement that they’ll spend less time together and let themselves detach as much as possible, because at this point, a romantic relationship just seems so impossible, so why try? they can be each other’s most important person without being romantic partners, right? of course they can! Yeah, maybe they were just destined to be platonic soulmates. this will definitely work.

-so dawn meets this guy. his name is spencer. they hit it off right away too. of course, they’re much less compatible (in terms of long-term plans and all that, especially regarding having a family) than she and mo ever were, and the chemistry is nowhere near as electric, but at least they can have a conversation about something other than how much they hate the lehman brothers without screaming at each other. despite how much she knows she doesn’t love him like she still does used to love mo, she thinks she can live the rest of her life like this. they get engaged after dating for a year, and then married after a six month engagement period.

-mo stays single for about a decade or so. the most serious relationship he has isn’t even monogamous and it’s like, barely a year. he tells himself that he’s not looking for love, and he’s much happier to just sleep around and count his money and focus on that. everybody he ever talks to knows this is a bald-faced lie. they choose not to bring it up.

-(IM REALIZING HOW SIMILAR THIS IS TO THE CANON BACKSTORY/PLOT OF BLACK MONDAY IM SCREAMING SHGLKSDFHGLKSDRGHLS WHATEVER IM HAVING FUN) so mo and dawn are still working together and their relationship is... getting better. time heals all wounds right? well, not if you keep rubbing salt in the wound by literally working with your ex-who-is-also-your-soulmate and seeing them everyday. they know subconsciously that they could’ve been really fucking great, if only they hadn’t been such idiots in their 20s. but now that chance is gone, and they both just have to accept that. they still get into fights and shit, but it tends to be over much more superficial stuff. of course, people without fifteen years of history don’t get into screaming matches over tiny shit like they do. but that’s the territory of working with your ex-who-is-also-your-soulmate.

-so mo has this stupid fucking idea that he doesn’t even run by dawn before throwing $60 mil on it, because of course he does. so she has no choice but to go with it. they hire this kid, his name is blair, because they need him to pull this off. blair finds out that mo and dawn are soulmates who used to date but don’t anymore, and he’s really not even that surprised. of course, it’s weird to find out that your bosses whom you’re weirdly close to, who seem to hate each other, used to be in love and date and the whole nine yards and all that, but it makes a lot of sense.

-so they go off to the predator’s ball bc even rich people need money sometimes. you know that scene where they’re walking back to their rooms after that wild ass night, and mo’s like “you want to call it, or?” and dawn’s like “would if i could but im married” and then they get into a fight over collateral shares? fuck that scene entirely. let dawn find out about that 30% collateral shit like the next day or some shit idfc. instead, dawn’s just a smidge drunker than she was in canon, or maybe she was thinking more clearly than she has in a while, and she just fuckin goes for it. she kisses him, and of course he kisses her, and they... sleep in the same room that night. lmfao you know what i mean. and so starts this sort of friends/business-partners-with-benefits thing. 

-they are next level awkward when they get back to NYC, and blair and keith notice the fuck out of it. they aren’t exactly on speaking terms, so they don’t bring it up to each other, but fuck if they don’t bitch about to their respective soulmates (which i will get into)

-dawn feels soooo guilty it’s unreal. But she rationalizes the hell out of it. Her relationship with spencer has a textbook dead bedroom (which is actually sort of canon), and she signed up for monogamy, not celibacy. it’s not her first example of fucked up morals for sleeping with somebody other than her husband, anyways; there are worse things she can do (and has done) than cheat. It’s not fair that he gets to have all the sex he wants while she has to suffer in silence. So she keeps hooking up with mo even if it’s the worst thing she could do for her relationship with him (and her relationship with spencer, who doesn’t even know that she’s met her soulmate, let alone that her soulmate is her fuckin business partner [canon divergent, spencer does not find out about her and mo in 1x02])

-mo feels guilty in theory but really he’s just happy to be with dawn again in some way. They’re never in dawn’s apartment, so there’s no chance they can ever be caught ever. This is fine. They are fine.

-as one can expect, they are not fine and spencer notices dawn acting differently. Eventually she has a couple drinks one night and the guilt overwhelms her so she ends up coming clean. Safe to say she and spencer get that divorce.

-around this time, mo is telling blair about the georgina play, and blair is telling him to go fuck himself. Also around this time, tiff is getting kidnapped.

-dawn immediately suspects that mo did some stupid shit when she finds out mo told blair everything. So she goes to find him, only to find him at his lake house, spreading ashes. After he tells her he knows nothing of tiff’s kidnapping and he’s spreading the ashes of a friend, she relaxes and they spend the night together, just talking over all the shit they’ve been through. They don’t have sex that night, but they feel what they used to feel when they were together 15 years ago.

-in the middle of the night, blair calls dawn in a blind panic, talking about how tiff’s parents arranged her kidnapping for the press without telling her. Blair says, “Let’s you and me run the georgina play. That’s right, i know you knew, you’re too smart not to” and dawn says “no.” she doesn’t give excuses or anything, she puts her foot down because she will not let this kid she’s known for barely a year convince her to fuck up the most fulfilling relationship she’s ever had as soon as they get to a good place again. She tells him she’ll run the play with him, but it’s not gonna be against mo. either all three of them are fucked with mo and dawn $60 mil in the hole and blair out of a job, or all three of them can be filthy rich and successful. That’s the deal. Blair says he’ll call her back tomorrow.

-the next morning, mo and dawn are talking on the doorstep, and mo brings up the georgina play and how the kid fuckin hates him now, and there’s no chance of pulling off the play bc he quit. Dawn’s like “yeah, about that… we need to schedule a meeting with him” and mo’s like “what for?” and dawn’s like “i spoke to him last night, his fiancée’s kidnapping was a sham that her parents pulled off and he might be in the right headspace to fuck them over right around now” and mo’s like “holy shit you miracle worker” and they make out and when they walk back into the office, they’re hand in hand. 

-they call blair into the office and they basically just yell at each other for three hours. Keith, yassir, wayne, and ronnie do not know what is going on and frankly they are too afraid to ask. Eventually, they reach an agreement: blair will pull hand over 6% of georgina jeans in exchange for 20% of the jammer group, and another 25% to dawn (after they use blair’s algorithm to grab that last 30% from the lehmans). They shake on it, but none of them leave happy.

-blair’s not exactly happy to fuck over his parents-in-law, and mo isn’t happy to lose majority control of his own company. Dawn lucked out, gaining more power and losing little in the play, but her relationship with both of them is so on-the-rocks that she can’t imagine upholding a business partner relationship with them. This is gonna go so great after blair gets married in *checks watch* like two months.

-so blair gets married and the georgina play is a thing that happens (successfully might i add) and everything is kind of shitty because there are at least two relationships to repair here, and one that’s coming back from the dead. But little by little, they all get to a better place until they’re more or less back at where they were before mo told blair everything and they were all just friends except this time mo and dawn are dating xx

-WHEW and that is that on that. And by that on that i mean that on mo/dawn for this au. Dw im gonna get to blair/tiff and mike/keith and im super excited to write those too but i’ll make sure to put those in a separate post because i don’t think tumblr could handle a +7000 word post lmfao (since this post is nearly 2500 words jesus christ)

-i hoped y’all liked reading this as much as i loved writing it!! Again i love feedback and i read everything y’all say in the tags so please put stuff in the tags bc i love that shit!! Gn xx

[sumeshi-t]

higanbana;

A/N: Okay, a bit late I guess but I started writing this 19th July. Didn't make it in time. Also I forgot which blog I saw the prompts from lmao this is also kinda self-indulgent but hey what’s the use of making self-inserts for your self right

Pairing: OikawaxReader

Wordcount: 3,303 trash

Genre: angst??? try-hard angst yeah im sorry got lost in how to end it i--

*higanbana = red spider lilies. they are associated with final goodbyes, and legend has it that these flowers grow wherever people part ways for good.

tagging some cute lil haikyuu friends :( @floofwrites @akaashit-baeji @sportanime-maniac

•》》》》》》》••《《《《《《《《•●•》》》》》》》••《《《《《《《•

"(y/n)?" Iwaizumi's voice sounded strained, tired even, as he spoke to you through his phone's mouthpiece. You ask what was bothering him on such a fine weekend afternoon. 

"It's been... bugging me for days now, it's such a pain in the ass." 

You hum, taking your time chewing the chips you've put in your mouth. You were binge watching movies on your free day when he called. "Well, you know, that isn't really part of my job. But congratulations on devirginizing your ass, I guess." 

Iwaizumi stutters, and you could clearly see the image of horror and embarrassment on his face in your mind. "T-That's not what I meant!" He clears his throat, before continuing. "Just... I feel like playing again. And I think I've become rusty for the past year."

He hears you gasp, and he wasted no more time in setting a meeting place before completely hanging up on you.

Warmth spreads throughout your chest at his sudden call and the reason why he wanted to meet up suddenly made you giddy. 

You and Iwaizumi go a long way back—way back middle school. By the time you graduated from college, he finally got accepted to play and be part of the National team. So you mustered enough courage and confidence, gathered some experience before applying for the team's physical therapist.

Luckily though, you got hired, and even received compliments from the coach saying that they have never seen the players perform to "such an extent".

It was a fun experience, the team had a great run during those times but one day, Iwaizumi decided to quit. Until now, you never knew why, but soon after he did, you also bid farewell to the team and began working in hospitals or nursing facilities.

So hearing that he wanted to play again set you in a good mood; you even start rummaging through your old files for the training regimen you used to give him, and brought it along with you.

You passed by a convenience store, grabbed two bottles of a light alcoholic drink, the celebratory mood getting to you.

Until you felt utter disappointment, confusion, and even a little annoyed at seeing who was there on the bench, waiting.

"(y/n)-chan~!" 

It was him. 

You suddenly wished that aliens were real so they could just take him. 

"You still call me that? Stop it. Where's Hajime?" You still weren't sitting, tempted to throw the bottles to his good-looking face before he could answer your question. 

Oikawa pouted, scooting over to make space beside him for you on the bench. "First name basis? You two that close already?" 

You didn't even try to understand the underlying tones that statement had. "None of your business. Now if you're not gonna tell me where he is, I'm gonna have to leave. Nice seeing you," 

As you turned around to leave, Oikawa stops you by saying, "I had him call you so we could meet here. So obviously, he's not coming." 

You hesitated, but with a deep sigh, you wordlessly made your way to the bench, placing all the stuff you brought between you and the brunette. He looks down at what you did, and when you weren't looking at him, Oikawa pops open both bottles with a little trick, trying not to smile that you decided to stay. He places your drink next to you, as he holds his own and takes a sip.

Oikawa just looks at you in silence, as your eyes focus on the red spider lilies before you; lined in a straight path, some surrounding the tree nearby. Both your face and his was unreadable, and when you couldn't bear the silence much longer, you took a breath before speaking.

"You didn't have to do that." your eyes narrowed, still refusing to look at Oikawa. 

"Do what?" the way he was feigning innocence got on your nerves a bit but you decided to settle things as mature as adults could be.

"...this whole thing, making Hajime set this up. There's actually, absolutely, no need for it."

"I just need an excuse to hang out with you." He answered immediately, gauging your reaction. Oikawa takes another sip of his drink, "It's been a while since we last talked, (y/n)-chan. I tried texting or calling you but I figured you probably changed numbers."

You bit your bottom lip, looking down on your feet. You take a single gulp of the alcohol and leaned back on your seat, trying to at least relax and feel more comfortable in your own space.

"Why? Felt bored?" You finally spare him a quick glance, and your ex had a long leg over the other, both hands now inside the pockets of his jersey jacket. There was a small flag of Japan by the chest and only then did you remember that he was now also a member of the volleyball National team; perhaps even their captain—you didn't know. Ever since leaving the team, you didn't bother catching up to any news about them. 

When Oikawa didn't answer your question, you mumble, "I heard... you were doing good." 

He shrugs, "More or less... and you?" The brunette sighs, scratching the back of his head. He turned to you with a  slight pout, which you couldn't tear your eyes off of. "Why are we talking like we have sticks up our asses? Iwa-chan sure is rubbing off on you real good." Oikawa whines, his nose stuck in the air after grunting. 

You didn't know why but you found it ridiculous, that you were reminded of the times when you were younger. A chuckle escapes your lips, making his brows raise at your sudden reaction. "God, are you six or something? Trying to be all cute and whiny?"

Oikawa smirks, "So first it's 'nice seeing you'; and now you're saying I'm cute? (y/n)-chan, I'm very flattered. But there's no need to tell me what I already know." He even had the audacity to wink at you and stick his tongue out.

You lightly punch his shoulder, rolling your eyes at his display of narcissism. "Hah, some things... really don't change." 

Oikawa's short burst of playful attitude came to a progressive stop, his calm demeanor slowly resurfacing. "Yeah... guess you could say that."

He then rummages through the files you brought along for Iwaizumi, and he hums in acknowledgment. "So you did become a PT." Oikawa was mumbling to himself, and you didn't even try to take back the folder he was holding. 

'It's better to have minimal physical contact as much as possible.'

You notice his brows scrunching together, and assumed that he was trying to read through the small fonts you used, as Oikawa wasn't wearing his glasses. But what you didn't know was that he was actually glaring at Iwaizumi's photo.

He returns the folder to you, "Think you can be my therapist?" Then, his other hand pats his bad knee thrice.

The question caught you off-guard; just as quick as the good memories flashed by, the bad and painful ones that replaced it were the hardest to ignore. It triggered the memory that began the downfall of your relationship with Oikawa.

See, you and him had made the relationship work through  some similarities and despite of your differences.

You were understanding and supportive of his passion and commitment to his volleyball career. You went to his games and cheered him on no matter the results were; when you had free time, you'd wait until night for him to be done with practice. Meanwhile, he never felt as though you were dragging him down; he even learned to appreciate classic rom-coms because of you and had some of your favorites next to his sci-fi stash; and of course, he fueled the drive you had for achieving your dreams of becoming a doctor.

The amount of selfies you've taken with him is unreal; your gallery also full of memes you both send to Iwaizumi even during dead hours of the night. You hated his gut sometimes, and he doesn't like it when even you nag at him; you were both stubborn, had a little pride here and there—but you knew you felt the happiest when with him, and he always told you that he felt the same.

College came. You were in different universities, but was in the same one as Iwaizumi's. When you were still a freshman, you still had some time to spare; meet up after practice, or him waiting for your class to end. 

It was interesting: you knew one way or another, a match between your university and his would be inevitable.

And Oikawa's team always won. 

But as the semesters went on, both of you spent less and less time together, talked more on occasion than how it used to be. 

For you that was fine, you understood that careers must be prioritized than relationships because both of you were at that age which would decide your individual futures. 

Sometimes you'd get jealous at some of your friends when they're gushing about their own adventures in the romance department that you even mockingly ask yourself if you're actually single.

The relationship just came to a point where you felt like you were the only one trying, making it an effort to meet or hang out.

You had to admit to yourself: it was tiring. And all these, you had no choice but to rant it all out on Iwaizumi—which was part of the reason why you two became much closer. It was completely platonic for you though, no doubt about that.

There was a particular match, you finally had some spare time from your busy schedule and brain-draining program, that you managed to watch it. Though, you were a little late, having arrived halfway through. 

Every step you took closer to the stands, the more you became eager to feel the rush of adrenaline through your veins, of having your throat going dry from screaming and cheering—

But you didn't expect that you'd instead have to swallow a lump in your throat and push back tears. 

When you arrived, the first thing you saw was your boyfriend, Oikawa, lying on the floor of the court, clutching his knee, teeth gritted, sweat and probably some tears on his pained face. And Iwaizumi, on the other side of the net, frozen in shock at what was happening to his bestest friend.

Next thing you knew, you were in the hospital.

It was a bad fall they said.

Probably the court was too slippery. A little misstep.

The worst was that maybe it was the beginning of the end of his career. 

The following days, weeks, weren't really the best. You could say bad things turned to worse things. 

The doctor was a bit too pessimistic for your liking, saying that Oikawa might never be able to use that knee again for volleyball, post-surgery. 

"Since when did you know about this? Was it after the Karasuno match? Or during your freshman year in college? Tooru... please..." you asked him, as he stared ahead at the wall, the usual cheerful dork now seemed to have aged ten more years at the hurtful words of his own doctor. 

Oikawa didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer and he felt that everything came crashing down as he began building his walls higher, keeping everything and everyone out—even you.

You reached out to caress his knee, and you noted the flinch he made under your touch. "Hey... I know it's hard right now, but... trust me, I don't think what the doctor said was true." You pursed your lips; still no reaction from him. 

"I mean... this is why rehabilitation medicine exists! I believe that this could still be worked on and you'll be in your best state in a few month's time, Tooru." You were speaking from your little therapist-to-be heart, the passion, the blood, sweat and tears you've shed so far serving as fuel to strengthen your resolve in wanting to help heal your boyfriend.

You pulled your hand away when Oikawa let out a scoff. 

He gave you a ridiculing look, "What do you know? I don't see you having any problem with your knee."

"T-Tooru... I—"

"Why? Just because you're a student now, you honestly think you could be my therapist?"

Were you hurt? Very. But then there was a voice in your head saying that Oikawa was in much more pain than you could imagine. And so you waited. Patiently. Diligently. 

You didn't want to let him see you crumble at his mere words that only stemmed from his self-loathing. This isn't him, this isn't him. It was your new mantra. 

You could only take so much. 

You still end up crying it out on Iwaizumi. He was able to provide you with the head space you could breathe in. You didn't realize that Oikawa could sense this. That was your mistake, you knew that but only after the split.

"Why don't you leave me alone? All I see from you now is pity. Guess what, (y/n), I don't need any of that from you. Right? I don't make you happy anymore right? You think I didn't know you've already found someone better?" 

This was his mistake. 

The memory of your tears, of your trembling hands, and voice breaking—still stung in his mind. 

"Not once did I pity you, Tooru, because that's not what you need. All this time, I've endured every word you hurled at me like I'm your least favorite person in the world." You sniffed, swallowed. 

"But if that's what's going to make you better, make you happier—then I'll go. I hope you understand how much I've exceeded my limits, only for you to throw me out over and over again."

You gripped hard on the doorknob, and said your final words. "And leave Iwa-kun out of this. I didn't think you would actually doubt a friend and your own girlfriend." You bitterly smile, causing the tears that pooled in your lids to fall.

"Maybe I was wrong to assume that I could become your stronghold through this. I'm sorry for disappointing you, Tooru. Get well soon,"

"And we never talked after that." he murmured, eyes reddening, jaw clenched in an attempt to fight his own tears from falling. 

And you?

You've downed half of your bottle in one go. 

You refuse to look at him because you knew your heart's wounds would reopen and be like onions to your eyes. You let the alcohol spread to make you numb. More, more, you said.

"It's embarrassing but... since you left I have no one to talk to. The days I spent in the hospital was a lot bearable when you used to visit me." 

You took another swig of the alcohol. Another bitter smile  on your lips more bitter than what was burning your throat. "Then don't talk to me now like you're coming back."

"Don't you want me back?"

Your heart ached at his question. You bit your lip, sniffing, trying to find the right answer—your heart wanted yes, but your mind wanted no. "Did I even mean anything to you? Was that all I was to you—just another person you could talk to?"

Oikawa winced at your words. "(y/n), I—I... of course not! You're worth more than that to me!" there was a shaky exhale, and a quick intake of air right after. You figured that he was choking on his own fought back sobs. "I... I'm sorry but I just miss you so, so, so much."

This time, you tried looking him in the eye—and all you could see was a mirror of your own pain. His ears were already red, indicating the emotions he was holding back on you—a trait of his that you can't seem to forget.

"There's a difference between missing someone and missing having someone, Oikawa." He flinched at how much you tried to put distance between the two of you for calling him that way. Oikawa tried to answer but you continued, "I, for one, miss you because I..." you gasped, letting the tears stream down your face. "Because I never stopped loving you, Tooru."

Oikawa was frozen in his seat, watching you as you harshly wiped tear streaks from your face, finishing your drink then gathering your things and standing up to leave. You quickly walked away without looking back, and that was the only time the brunette finally found how to move his limbs. He was so at a loss that he forgot his own unfinished drink on the bench.

"W-Wait, (y/n)-chan! (y/n)," Oikawa chased after you, unable to control his own strength once he grabbed your arm, making all your things fall to the grass. You pull your arm away but he holds you by the shoulders.

"Why are you leaving? I'm not going to push you away anymore, (y/n)." His grip on you got tighter, as if he was restraining himself from pulling you close to him and capturing your body in his. 

You look down, avoiding his stare, seeing red spider lilies once more by your feet where your things were scattered. 

His hands slide down to grasp your hands in his. They're still as warm as I remember them to be. 

"...Real feelings don't just go away."

"So why did you let me leave?" Your lips trembled, voice coming out in a whisper, voice cracking in the end. 

"(y/n), I know that what I did and said was wrong. I let my pride get in the way between us; I let my sadness eat me away." His hands were shaking now, a bit sweaty too. He sniffed, "You saw the messed up parts of me and stayed. But I was a jerk, a big asshole, for pushing you away. It was selfish of me... I... I didn't see that my in-actions would cause us to fall apart."

To your surprise, he pulled you in, burying his face near the crook of your neck. You could feel something wet seep into your shirt. "My biggest mistake was thinking I could live without you."

"But... I can see you're doing well now without me. Because you only waited this long to try and reach me? Why now when you could've done it before?" 

Oikawa hugs you tighter, shaking his head. "I just don't want to lose you; not again, not anymore. I love you (y/n), I never did stop."

Soon, he pulls away, eyes searching yours. You look up at him, and he wipes the tears from your face. "Can I be selfish one last time? Please give me another chance—I'll make it up to you."

You all but gently removed his touch from yours, and suddenly the air around you grew cold. 

"Tooru, I... I love you, I miss you, I forgive you. It was nice meeting you but... I don't think I'm ready to open my heart for you again. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. Because I've made up my mind long ago to love you from afar."

You smiled softly and used the back of your hand to wipe his tears. Then, you stood on your tiptoes and placed a peck to his nose before turning away. 

Oikawa could only watch in silence at your retreating figure, wondering if this was the best thing for one or both of you. Everything now was even more unsure for him; except for the fact that a new-found determination sprang in his chest. 

Oikawa Tooru was going to win your heart back, no matter what it takes.

[bunnymaknaereacts]

모해 (Mohae) - 하나 (one)

Pairing: Reader x Wonho (ft. Reader’s friend x Changkyun)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fansign!AU

Warnings: Swearing, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 2k

(Anything said in Korean will be in italics. I don’t want to chance translating it wrong and people getting mad at me. I’m still learning.)

“I can not believe you talked me into this,” you said with a blush as you and your best friend stood in line outside of the concert hall where a fan meet of one of your favorite kpop groups, Monsta X, was taking place.

“What do you mean? We’ve worked so hard to get here,” she answered. You had always planned on visiting Korea. Both you and Y/F/N had been saving for over a year. You were almost fluent in the language, although Y/F/N had only studied the basics required to get around. But now that you were here, about to meet some of your favorite idols, you couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

“I know. It’s just... unreal.”

“Well get used to it. Fast. You don’t want to sit down and not be able to speak, especially not in front of Wonho.” She nudged you with her elbow, giving you a flirty look. You laughed. She was right. You needed to chill out.

You stood in line for another hour or two before they finally opened the doors to let people in.You and Y/F/N had been in line since 3:30/4 am so you were near the front and would be able to meet the boys fairly early in the day. You both had everything you needed for the event. Your favorite albums, yours being The Connect and Y/F/N’s being Shine Forever. Your gifts for each of the boys, Yours being handmade bracelets with each member’s first initial and Y/F/N’s being a keychain from a shop in your hometown. Your questions for the Q&A after the signing. Songs from Monsta X’s latest album, We Are Here, played over the sound system while the fans found their seats and got settled. The event space was huge, the bleachers pushed back to allow more seats on the floor. Adverts for We Are Here and the upcoming world tour hung on each wall, along with a few for other events happening later that week. Another hour went by before the doors were closed and an announcement was made that the event would be starting shortly. Y/F/N squealed excitedly next to you as you dug your albums out of your bags.

When Monsta X finally entered the room erupted in cheers from Monbebe from around the world, the loudest being the person sitting right next to you. You winced, grinning as you watched the idols find their seats, waving to their fans. When the boys sat down their managers explained how things were going to go. The fans would go up one row at a time. You got five minutes with each member. You weren’t allowed to have your phone out at the table. You could give one gift per member. When the five minutes were up, say goodbye and move on. When the signing was over there would be a two hour long Q&A. You were allowed to have snacks as long as you didn’t leave a mess behind. Photography was allowed as long as you kept using flash to a minimum. 

You and Y/F/N were sitting in the fourth row from the front so you had to wait quite a while, but not too long. While you waited you discussed what you would say and how you thought they would act. Every once in a while your eyes wound scan the stage, watching the boy’s smiles as they signed someone’s album or tried on a silly hat. One time you looked when the second row of fans were meeting the boys and you could have sworn you made direct eye contact with Wonho. Of course you were too shy so you looked away quickly, your face starting to feel warm. A few minutes later though, Y/F/N is insistently poking your side.

“Yah! What? What is it?” you ask, smacking her arm away.

“Wonho is totally staring at you, jagiya.”

“What?” Your head snapped towards the stage and she was, in fact, right. While waiting for the next fan, Wonho was straight up staring at you. And the second you realized this he winked at you. Wonho, Shin Hoseok of the Monsta X, fucking winked at you! “Oh my!” You immediately looked away, the most embarrassed you have been in your entire life. You tried to avoid looking at him after that, just in case you caught his eye again. Of course it was pointless because eventually your row was up and you were standing near the stage, waiting to meet the boys. Y/F/N was in front of you, something you were only half thankful for. While she was talking to Shownu, you couldn’t help but let your eyes roam down the table. Avoiding Wonho, for obvious reasons. Eventually though five minutes were up and it was your turn to meet everyone.

Shownu, aka Hyunwoo, was exactly as you expected. A total teddy bear. He was so incredibly sweet. All you wanted to do was pinch his cheeks and hug him. And his voice was so much deeper in person, it nearly made you swoon. Minhyuk was so much fun. He was very animated. He talked kind of fast. Trying to learn as much about you as he could in those few short minutes. However last question was interrupted when Jooheon next to him did aegyo for Y/F/N.

“This one does aegyo all the time,” she said, pointing to you.

“Really?” Jooheon said, looking at you. “Can we see?” Your eyes went wide as you looked around. Half of the table was looking at you, at first. It wasn’t until you agreed and did it that you had everyone’s attention, even Changkyun at the end. You decided on your favorite, which you did all the time. That thing Wonho does where he points at his head and says ‘ang!’ Then to be extra cute you also did Jooheon’s signature ‘kkukku kkakka!’ From there you heard various sounds. From laughter to squeals of joy to clapping. People ‘aww’ing and Y/F/N groaning as she cringed. Immediately regretting everything, you hid your face in your hands, embarrassed as all hell. You didn’t dare to look at who was doing what. All you wanted to do was pull a Hyungwon and curl up into a ball on the floor. And at that moment, just to make things worse, it was time to switch members. You thanked Minhyuk, taking your album and moving on. You’d later read it to find an additional note that said, “Sorry about Joohoney. Your aegyo was great!” You sat in front of Jooheon, handing him your album while blushing furiously. “That was really good! Almost as good as me.” He smiled, his dimples making you feel a little better.

“Thank you,” you replied, secretly proud to have been complimented by the Aegyo King. He did apologize for making you embarrassed, though, which was really sweet. He also asked about your history of liking kpop. What groups you liked, who your biases were.

“What about Monsta X?” You chuckled breathlessly, nervously glancing around, your gaze landing on your answer to his question for half a second, turning away the second he looked at you. When you looked back at Jooheon he chuckled, very obviously understanding. You gave your best pleading look, begging him not to say anything, to which he thankfully nodded, handing you back your album. You prayed as you got up that Wonho wasn’t paying attention to your conversation, before finally sitting down in front of him.

“Hello, my name is Y/N,” you said politely.

“Wow! Your Korean is so good!” You laughed at his excited reaction. He was so cute, you could hardly stand it.

“Thank you.” You blushed as he smiled that smile that nearly made your heart stop. ‘It should be illegal to be this handsome,’ you thought.

“How long have you been speaking Korean?”

“Three years. I taught myself.” His jaw dropped with surprise.

“Wow! That’s awesome! I feel bad for not studying English harder now.” You laughed as he signed your album, pulling the bracelet you made for him out of your bag. The other members had loved them so far, but you were most nervous to give your bias his. Wonho looked at you curiously as you turned the bracelet over in your hand, his head tilted slightly to the side. “What’s that?” You had to remind yourself to breathe as you finally looked at him, and again when his hand lingered on yours as you handed him the bracelet.

“I-I m-made these for you guys,” you stuttered, struggling as your heartbeat raced out of control. “I added the initial to your first names to them, instead of your stage names. I hope that’s okay.” You were so nervous. He nodded, handing back your album with a smile. Your time with him was about up. Before you got up Wonho took your hands in his, staring into your eyes with the kindest expression, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.” You were too stunned to reply so you just nodded, moving on to Hyungwon, who had a suspicious smile on his face that you immediately ignored.

Hyungwon was your bias wrecker, so it was almost as nerve wracking talking to him as it was to Wonho, but you managed better. He started off expressing his sympathies for your embarrassment that resulted from doing aegyo. Knowing how he gets doing it made you feel a little better about it. Like Minhyuk, Hyungwon tried to talk to you as much as possible, find out about you. But his questions were more current.

“How long (has this been going on. ... sorry. had to lol xD) are you staying in Korea?”

“One month. Well, actually, we’ve been here for two days already so slightly less than that.” He looked surprised at your answer, compelling you to explain that you had been dreaming of this trip for years. You wanted it to be one to remember. You talked for a few more minutes before he wished you luck. You made sure not to miss his high five before moving on to Kihyun.

Kihyun immediately apologized for Jooheon. He was another victim of aegyo, like Hyungwon, although he wasn’t always embarrassed by it. You talked about your plans for the rest of the week and he gave you recommendations on where to go. Unfortunately your five minutes with Kihyun flew by. It was a shame. Hopefully at the next fan meet you’d get to talk to him more.

Changkyun was very laid back, which you found very refreshing. It made you glad that he was the last one you were talking to. He helped you wind down from the excitement of the others. He also spoke completely in English, even though he knew how good your Korean is, which was nice of him. It was like talking to your best friend who you haven’t seen in a while. You almost cried when it was time to go back to your seat. Everyone was so nice. You wanted to stay. But others deserved to have the experience you just had, so you reluctantly got up and joined Y/F/N back in the fourth row.

The Q&A flew by pretty fast. A few random people were called on to ask the boys questions. After about half an hour they took questions from their Twitter. For the last hour they turned the radio on at a low volume and goofed around. Every once in a while you and Wonho would catch each others’ eyes at the same time, which resulted in you blushing and hiding your face when he wouldn’t look away. You knew you should worry about people noticing. There’s probably a chance you could both get in trouble if they did. But you knew this was they only time you’d get to see him so you didn’t worry about it too much.

On the way back to your hotel, you thought about the long and satisfying day you had. You already missed them, especially Wonho. Still lost in the dream, you even let yourself wonder if he missed you too.

“Aaaahhh,” Y/F/N sighed with pleasure as she collapsed on her bed. You turned away from your position at the window to yell at her.

“Yah! Don’t fall asleep yet, fool! Go take your makeup off first and change.” She sat up, rolling her eyes at you.

“I know! I was just thinking about Changkyun.”

“I bet.”

“Oh don’t pretend you weren’t just staring out at the city view longing for Wonho.” You laughed. She knew you too well. You were in the middle of taking off you own makeup when you got a text message from an unknown number on the phone you bought for while you were in Korea. Confused, you opened your messaging app, nearly dropping it when you saw who texted you.

It was Wonho.

[davidmann95]

Some Kingdom Hearts future thoughts

Have to get ‘em out! Went into some thoughts with my psuedo-review of III, but I’ve got others and stuff worth expanding on. I’ll put them under the cut since it clearly goes into spoilers, except for my boldest, most controversial guess: along with being announced either this year or next (since Kingdom Hearts has never reached the end of a calendar year after a release with nothing on the horizon) I think Kingdom Hearts IV is going to be a 2022 release. I recognize that sounds like an intensely generous timeframe, but I have several reasons:

1. Above all else by far: once again, Square Enix and Disney are going to be on Nomura’s ass, nose to the grindstone, to get him to start delivering these on a consistent basis again. Do you think they’re looking at Kingdom Hearts III topping sales charts and thinking “well, it sure was worth the wait”, or do you think they’re going “gosh, these are some nice sales, sure would be nice if it came out years ago and we had a bunch more similarly-selling titles by now, let’s try and aim for something closer to that in the future”. Especially-especially since Nomura and the actors aren’t getting any younger and the series is at a point where the core fanbase for the franchise as-is is going to be the primary target rather than new audiences, which means it has to wrap up in a timeframe where that’s still a viable market. So rapid, priority development and few if any more spinoffs. I mean, not as if there’s really a handheld platform for them to be on anymore.

2. My understanding (and this is going somewhat into the technical side of things, so I’m going thirdhand here based on what I’ve heard from others) is that the lifecycle of the current console generation isn’t going to run out for quite a bit yet, so they can reuse a lot of the assets and whatnot from III.

3. A big deal was made about Dream Drop Distance coming out on the 10th anniversary of the franchise, and given 20 is a much wilder number for this series than most equivalents when it’s about a single cast of characters going through a single story, I can’t imagine they won’t want to push that as at least a similarly big deal.

4. Finally, when things don’t go as catastrophically off the rails as III did, these games seem to have a fairly consistent 3-4 year development span (even III, once they announced the beginning of development in 2013, would have come out 2017-early 2018 if not for switching from Luminous to Unreal Engine), and for the reasons I listed above I think this is going to be on the speedier end of that.

* Firstly: the main discussion I’m seeing at this point regarding IV is “it’s gonna be a Kingdom Hearts/The World Ends With You/pseudo-Final Fantasy Versus XIII crossover!”, and I really expect and hope that isn’t the case. Not that I’ll be pissed if it is, I’m sure it would still be rad, but it strikes me as both unlikely and the lesser outcome. I don’t know that I see the powers that be diverting resources in one of their biggest cash cows towards a sequel to one of their minor games - one that’s already been in Kingdom Hearts, meaning its inclusion here wouldn’t reasonably be a huge enough deal to base a lot of the full story on - and a way to reimagine another project. And for that matter it strikes me as conceptually small-scale given the setup. Nomura went with a name in Yozora that doesn’t just have the bent meaning of Sora’s name but actually literally sounds like him, went with a setting that aside from the one cameo sign mainly screams to viewers “Sora’s suddenly in the real world, holy cow”, and unless I entirely misread it Verum Rex was presented as a total self-roast in Toy Box. It doesn’t strike me as spot-the-reference (even though that’s 100% in there) nearly so much as establishing a tonal contrast to Kingdom Hearts.

I joked initially about this being a Flash of Two Worlds! (linking to a description for non-comics readers who are here because I tagged Kingdom Hearts)/’Kingdom Hearts goes to war with its own gritty fanfic’ setup, but...I actually suspect that’s pretty close to what’s going on here? This seems like a send up of Final Fantasy’s relative self-seriousness and over the top Super Cool characters, as a contrast to Sora’s goofy open-hearted sincerity and optimism. It’s the Secret Movie aesthetic that some want not just more prominent but as the actual main tone of the series morphed into an entire universe all its own, and Sora, out of place, has to find his way through and back home even as the real threat mounts, and probably has to save this world and get through to its heroes who aren’t likely prone to grinning through off-the-cuff monologues about the heart. That is not only entirely my kind of ridiculous meta jam, it feels like a logical next step for the series: if the first trilogy was in part about growing up, the next (and I suspect last, as the Master of Masters and his Foretellers have been set up as the primordial antagonists of the entire mythology and this is where they’re coming to the fore; my old theory of Eraqus being the big bad of an intermediary trilogy looks solidly shot to hell) could very well be about reaching adulthood, in which case it makes sense Sora would have to pass through a near literal fire of Adolescent/Adult Cynicism.

* Speaking of where Sora ends up: I kinda doubt he’s literally dead, or that if he is it’ll last past the opening of the game. They’ve already made a big theatrical production of Sora dying twice now, the second time in the most literal way possible and just a few hours prior to this, so while third time’s the charm I think there’ll be more to it than that. The again common thing I’ve been seeing is that he’ll have to play the Reaper game to win his life back (not something I’m much familiar with but I think I’ve got the basics), but again, while it’ll certainly be part of the game I don’t think TWEWY is going to be the big thing here (like they’d really make that a bigger deal than the Final Fantasy elements have been), and he just dealt with the afterlife and had to essentially play a game to win his soul back, and this wouldn’t even be a game he’s unfamiliar with. My impression is he’s incorporated back and whole - if likely powered down from the ordeal to justify him being back at level one - and the mystery is less whether or not he’s truly alive so much as how he ended up here and how to get back.

* On the other end of things - and I realize it’s a risky prospect to suggest after her getting a shockingly small role compared to everyone else in III was the damning weak aspect of its otherwise basically perfect finale - I think this is where Kairi is actually going to start to come to the forefront. She and Riku would be at the head of a search that everyone would be a part of (they were there when it happened, they know death is negotiable in their world, and they’re good people who all owe him), her especially since he’s her boyfriend - they may not declare it outright but there’s clearly no ambiguity between the two of them as to their situation anymore - and the one he sacrificed himself for, and she’s out there fighting now even if she’s inexperienced. And Riku seems like he’s going to end up lost himself on the search, leaving her behind as the sole Destiny Trio representative. So even if she isn’t a playable co-lead I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one going on a more traditional Kingdom Hearts adventure searching with the rest while Sora and later Riku deal with the genre mindfuck. On the bright side if nothing else, she’s died twice now too and they’ve both been presented as dead in a “maybe this time for real” way for a finale, so while again third time’s the charm, I figure she and Sora are relatively bulletproof from here on out.

* Speaking of Riku, while this seems more like an old-school proof of concept trailer from I and II rather than the more recent actual scenes, meaning his appearance might well change just as Kairi was different in I’s Secret Movie than she really was in II, it’s very notable that he hasn’t aged at all. So likely instead of another tragic I to II scale timeskip of Sora being lost from his friends, it looks like IV will be picking up immediately and the search for him won’t take long to succeed. Also speaking of Riku, I seem to see people thinking he’s with Namine now? Not that that seems impossible, but while the scene as a whole is romanticized in that it’s basically a princess being carried away by chariot to her happily-ever-after, it reads to me less as an actual romance than Riku fulfilling his ‘brother’s promise. Though if Square/Nomura does want to really get into romance with the next trilogy, since Sora/Kairi is locked down maybe they’ll just say fuck it and do a whole Riku/Namine/Xion/Roxas Love Square situation.

* Actual prediction rather than analysis of evidence: I suspect this is the last major time the Destiny Trio is going to be split up, at least in the searching-for-each-other, not-knowing-if-everyone’s-alive sense. I was the search for Kairi, II for Riku, and now IV for Sora - that cycle looks to be completing. Wouldn’t be surprised if V and/or the finale was finally the three of them as the adventuring party as fans have wanted for so long, with III as the grand finale to Sora/Donald/Goofy.

* It seems early to predict the main villain, but at the same time everyone was accurate in assuming a Keyblade-wielding Xehanort would be the final boss of the trilogy circa 2006, so I’m gonna go ahead and say Xigbar/Luxu is gonna be the end-all with IV. The Master of Masters is still the end of the road, and perfect for it because he’s a real-world normal savvy guy who can manipulate this world of straightforward classical adventurers with ease, while Sora at the opposite end of the scale is silly and sweet even by that world’s standard. But Luxu addresses the same ideas in a way that’d be perfect for this game in particular as it seems to be set up, he’d be the villainous connective tissue as this game moves from one trilogy to another, and he has the dangling personal thread of the ‘reward’ he suggested was coming for Sora. Or hell, since now it looks like she’s at least somewhat privy to what’s going on, maybe Maleficent will finally step back up.

EDIT: Ooh, just remembered, speaking of what Xigbar says to Sora, his Olympus conversation also predicts Sora’s fate? The whole “if you leap in to save somebody, you might just end up in the clutch needing to be saved yourself” lecture, i.e. the premise for IV. Maybe his teach isn’t the only one privy to future events?

* Not both, they’ll wanna space it out, but I’m like 70% sure this is where Marvel or Star Wars are gonna happen.

* Finally, while I’ve heard speculation that the Mystery Star is one of the Foretellers or the person who died in that Union X game, I don’t think she’s one of them given it’s a new voice actor and she cites a name Sora knows. More likely she’s ‘Subject X’ (I went ahead and looked up the Secret Reports, haven’t gone back and done all the bonus challenges myself yet and won’t I imagine for some time), who does seem to be from that time but is I think someone new.

[elenajohansenauthor]

Fictober18, Day 1: “Can you feel this?“

OCs: Introducing Shannon [no last name yet], a magic shop owner, and Noah Hargrove, an old friend of hers.

Project: [New Untitled Paranormal Romance Thing I’m Totally Winging for Fictober]

Potential Triggers: general mentions of scary monsters, and also needles in a sort-of-medical sense.

Word Count: 1,532

About: I’m setting aside the WIP that was sucking up all my depression and failure issues to work on something new, (hopefully) fun, and totally unplanned, based every day on the Fictober prompts. Ideally I’ll be writing the scenes in order, but if I end up posting something that’s clearly going to be later in the story, I’ll mark it somehow so it won’t be as confusing.

A ghoul was listlessly banging on the door to the shop. I’d lost track of time doing inventory, and darkness had fallen early because of the storm. I turned the lights out in front. If the thing lost interest and wandered away, I could still make it home tonight. If I was careful.

But if I were stuck in the shop overnight, I could finish the inventory and get a head start on next week’s orders. Ghouls and ghosts and other foul beasties weren’t the only reason I kept a cot, some canned food, and a clean set of clothing in my office.

An hour later, the darkness outside was near total, but the random door rattling was gone. I peered through the blinds, trying to check the street by the blinding brilliance of lightning flashes. Every inch of my shop was so intricately warded that it was a magical Switzerland, so staying put was by far the safest option. But I was craving the leftover Chinese in my fridge at home, and I was only halfway through binging the latest season of Real Housewitches of Miami. I’d never been to Florida, so I was watching as much for the beaches and bikinis as I was the catfights and petty hexes.

Something darker than shadow broke free from the brick wall of the bank across the street. I backed away from the window. Chinese food and reality TV were bad reasons to risk getting killed, no matter how much I longed for the comfort of my own bed.

I was halfway to my office when the door shook in its frame under a much heavier, more deliberate pounding. Definitely not a ghoul.

I turned back, like I could see through the door and make out who, or what, it was. I waited for a lightning flash, but all that got me was the vague outline of something tall and humanoid.

Nothing evil could walk into my shop unless I let it in. Sure, some of my customers probably used the components they bought here for less-than-trustworthy purposes, but they came by daylight, and they paid cash.

At night, the only way something could get in was if I opened that door.

Behind me, my phone rang. I’d left it on my desk, and I had to hurry to get to it before it went to voicemail. Noah Hargrove calling, the screen declared.

Noah. I hadn’t seen him for six months? Seven? As I answered, my eyes went straight to the shelf of random jars on the back wall, all different materials and sizes, some with metal lids and others with cork stoppers.

“Hey.” Usually I sounded more cheerful when I spoke to old friends, but usually there wasn’t something unidentified standing outside my door.”

“Can I come in?”

He asked with no lead-in and no hesitation. “You know the rules. Prove it’s you.”

“Shannon...” His exasperation was obvious, but he was the one who’d helped me develop my system of safeguards, when I’d opened the shop.

“I’m not budging.” I didn’t really think he’d been body-snatched by some unnameable power, or even by a garden-variety vampire. But with Noah, more than the others, I had to be careful.

“It’s October, so that’s, what, biggest regrets?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.” But he was right. Time to cough something up, something I could read.

“Letting Larry Wilkinson take you to senior prom. He totally ruined the night for everyone.”

His choice surprised me, but I sensed the truth in his voice. The emotion didn’t have to be deep or secret, but it did have to be real. “Can’t get puke stains out of satin.” I stalked back to the door and starting the complicated process of undoing the night locks, both physical and magical. “This will just take a minute.”

“What would you do if something were after me? Or whoever?”

He didn’t know who else I helped out, after-hours, but he knew he wasn’t the only one. I could never tell if there was jealousy there, either personal or professional. Noah was always the hardest to read.

“I’d stand here working on the locks while you got shredded like overcooked chicken. Or whoever. This can’t be rushed, not if I don’t want the wards to snap.”

“That’s harsh, Shannon.”

Hearing his voice through the phone and not through the door, even though only a few inches separated us, was odd. It shouldn’t have been, not with how heavily protected I was, but it made him feel unreal, or at least farther away. “Your fault for being tailed, if that ever happens.”

When the final lock released, a flare of blue sizzled across the door frame. I turned the knob and stepped back.

Noah came in, hanging up our call and pocketing his phone. “Thanks.”

I always forgot how big he was, when I hadn’t seen him. I backed up a step. “Thanks for taking me home early so I didn’t have to spend the rest of prom smelling like rum and stomach acid.”

He shook his head. “That kid was such a jerk. What did you see in him, anyway?”

“Honestly, I don’t even remember. Maybe his smile. He had the best smile.” I started toward the back. “But you’re not here to catch up. What do you need?”

A flash from the window showed his shadow towering over me, and I hoped he couldn’t see me shudder. But his night vision was better than mine, so probably he did. I tried so hard not to let him know how much he frightened me. I never wanted him to feel unwelcome here.

“More blackwort and bonemeal.” That was standard, they helped with his cravings, though seeing him casually nibbling on mushrooms poisonous enough to kill me five times over never got easy. What he said next, though, wasn’t. “And a place to hole up for a few days, if you know of one. My last hideout here gotten taken over by wolves.”

I sighed. “That turf war between the clans got messy before it was over.” And I’d spent half a night digging silver-laced shrapnel out of Sophia Summers, my old piano teacher from long-ago lessons in elementary school. Her husband had gotten turned in an attack, and she’d petitioned Clan Northriver for voluntary infection for her, and entrance for them both. She’d survived the war, but her clan had lost a third of their territory.

“I can find something new over the next few nights, I have some ideas. But that storm has got the ghouls riled up something fierce, and I can take a few, but I don’t want to spend all night killing instead of apartment hunting.”

He followed me to my office, his large frame filling the doorway. The lights were on here, but I tried not to look at him too closely. I pointed at the cot. “Sit.”

“Shannon...”

“You’re such a baby about this.”

“I hate needles, you know that.”

Because that was what I’d drawn from a kit I kept in my desk drawer. Made from gold, which soaked up enchantments like a sponge, and blessed in turn by every priest, witch, and healer I knew. “Give me your arm.”

He shrugged off his leather jacket, the same battered thing he’d had since high school, and rolled up the sleeve of his sweater. The veins stood out on his muscled forearm as I checked his pulse—strong, healthy, if you could ignore the fact it was a single beat when it should have been doubled. And the gray undertones of his skin, which was definitely more mottled than the last time he’d been to see me.

I dragged the point of the needle from the inside of his elbow to his wrist. He flinched, but I still asked, “Can you feel this?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Goddamn it, Shannon. You can’t know how much that hurts.”

No, I couldn’t, because I was still human. The needle didn’t do a thing to me. The first time I’d poked him with it, pricked the tip of one finger, he’d passed out the instant it touched his blood and didn’t wake up for five hours.

“More or less than last time?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, trying to remember, maybe. “More,” he finally whispered. “A little more.”

“Okay.” That wasn’t good, but it had been six months. Or seven. I should expect his condition to have progressed. “You’re not hungry, are you?”

“No, I...I ate on the way. Why?” He looked up at me, and I couldn’t ignore the fear in his eyes, or the pleading.

Or the way his brown irises were speckled with black. Eventually there would be no color left. No humanity.

“Because you’re staying with me for now. I wasn’t going to try to make it home tonight, but saddle up, because now you’ve got to get me there safely.”

He smiled, and I hated myself for the nervousness that shivered through my body and made my hands tingle with numbness. I had lied about Larry, of course. Noah had always had the best smile.

[wolf-with-a-pen]

Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door Part 5

TW: death, unreality, more dirty flirting

Previous, Masterpost, Next

Ok, so if you read the original A/N for this, then you would know I am a liar. I didn't do any of that. Well I'm back for this moment, and I am going to try and give you more content, and what was promised. So, enjoy the edited version of this for now because I despised the end.

Enjoy!

Word Count: 4087

IT HAD BEEN 3 MONTHS since Edward had arrived, and not much progress had been made. Since they had met Riley, they hadn’t seen or heard from them again, despite giving him their number, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in Edward’s eyes, but at the same time, they wished that he had at least used the number once. While they were waiting, they had continued working for Dick, and had managed to meet quite a few new people- some of which were able to help, some of which had no clue what was going on behind the wall. It was to be expected- they couldn’t expect everyone to be an angel or demon, there was still a large amount of humans on earth after all.

But they had found a few. Most were regulars that saw them arrive that day. Some were just passing through. These were the better ones to talk to- they were travellers, always had a good story to tell, and could better spread the word. They never stayed long. Honestly, at this point Edward’s contacts were a mess. They had acquired so many numbers that they couldn’t tell who was who anymore. The only thing that mattered was that they were all able to help, whether they wanted to or not. Somehow, without realising it, Isi had managed to find one of the few places in the city that was a meeting place for the dead. It would come in useful for them.

Meanwhile, Isi and Vanny had been looking for suitable schools and Universities to either apply to join as a student at or become a teacher at, to spread themselves out more and be exposed to more people who could be allies. So far they had visited three different ones, with not much luck, but the second they managed to get Edward back in school, they believe they would have better odds- 3 people are better than 2 and they could cover ground quicker. Unfortunately, they didn’t want to re-join school. Who would? Especially since they had already gone through it all and managed to finish it. Somehow. The only one that hadn’t was no longer there. And plus, they were getting more allies every day.

It was a normal November day for Edward, with business being at its worst for people staying at the bar, mainly due to people only popping in for a hot deink on the cold days, and it being in-between the main rush seasons. It gave them rest at least, with calmer days, but it also meant that less people were recruited. They tried as many as possible, but it was hard for them, especially when they kept saying the wrong things to the customers, and there was nobody really that they hadn’t talked to. However, they didn’t realise that that day would go horribly different to how they were expecting.

The first sign that something was up was when nobody entered. All day it was quiet- almost as if the shop was invisible. By 11am everyone was a bit worried at the sudden change in people’s routines. Especially when the regulars that barely leave the bar never arrived. And to make things worse, Dick hadn’t arrived. He said he would arrive earlier than usual but Edward had to open up for him. And finally, whenever a shift ended, all it meant was they would lose a member of staff from the place, due to none of the others arriving. It was stage and they did not like it one bit.

So, when they saw someone enter, they were almost relieved at the sight. Until they saw his face. That smug looking face. They knew he had done this. They didn’t know how, but they knew. Suddenly, the urge to punch him in his handsome face hit them, and the despised the very sight of his beautiful red shoulder-length hair. “Wait, what?” they thought, “I don’t like him, he is not handsome, why am I thinking like this? Just ignore it and him and they’ll go away.” Unfortunately, that plan didn’t work. Edward stared as he entered the room, shortly followed by Sprite and Salami, both locked in a flirting battle. Again. If they were brutally honest, they didn’t mind seeing the three again, but they would never admit it, and were never brutally honest. So, they didn’t say anything. “What’s up?” they asked.

“Why don’t you come and look?”

They sighed, wishing they’d have predicted that. “What did you need handsome?” they asked, flirting to distract him, and hide their nerves.

“Oh, nothing much darling,” he replied.

“Then why has the shop become invisible so we have had no customers at all, the entire day, because I am sure it has to do with you.”

“Oh, come on, you got a break, didn’t you want one? And so what if I did? I needed the privacy before I could come and talk to you.”

“So, I’m guessing you’re also the reason for the power failure to all of the cameras in here then?”

“Yes I am.”

“Bastard,” they muttered.

“Now, that’s not very kind, is it my dear? Especially since I was going to give you information for the rebellion.”

“Wait, what? Seriously, we’ve been doing fine on our own the last 3 months.”

“Yes, well, we may know a way you can find even more people for the cause. That is, if you agree to give us something in return. We will even help you get it, instead of just telling you where it is, all we need is a favour in return.”

“Before I decide, can Vanny and Isi be here?”

“Sure, but I am not entirely sure Vanny will see us.”

“Nor am I, but she will need to know as well if we agree.”

“Fine, call your friends. I don’t care.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything, Mon Cherie.”

By the time Isi and Vanny got there, things had… progressed. A normal conversation turned to one of constantly trying to better each other, only willing to stop when the other is a mess. Neither was winning currently. “Are you a sea lion? Cause I can see us lion in your bed tonight.”

“I love my bed but I’d rather be in yours.”

“I like your outfit but can I talk you out of it?”

“And that t-shirt looks great on you, and honestly, so would I.”

“You look uncomfortable in that; can I help you out of it?”

Isi cleared its throat, dragging the attention to it, and stopping the flirting fight, believing it would get further. “You said that he had information for us. Can we get on with it? You two can continue later.”

“Sure.” Riley replied, before beginning to explain.

“So, if we agree to do a favour for you, you will give us info on a way to send messages to only those who are dead, and help us get this thing? I think it sounds ok, just depends on what you’d have us doing, and how long the favour would be redeemable.”

“If you don’t like the sound of what we are doing, and are completely unwilling to do the favour, we will not force you, and we can redeem it at another time. As for time scale, you aren’t going anywhere I’m pretty sure, so if we say, I don’t know, 100 years’ time?”

“Alright I agree to it.”

“Thank you. And your girlfriend?”

“I also agree.”

“Wait, you can hear us, and see us?”

“You’re a bit transparent, but yes.”

“Ok, how on earth did you find yourself a veil-seer this early on?”

“We did not know she was a veil-seer until now, I’m surprised we hadn’t known before, but most of the people around here have the jewels we do to keep us solid.”

“Alright.”

It was at this point that the cat from 3 months ago made a surprise appearance. They ran to Sprite, rubbing against them before running and laying down next to a cat basket that Dick had in the corner for the occasional visitor they had in the place.

“Ahh, Spooky, I was wondering where you got to.” Riley said.

“So that’s their name, Spooky.”

“You met her before?”

“Yes, we saw her the first day that we were here, and simply couldn’t resist petting her.”

“Right, so that was you that they saw. Anyway, you’re all willing to swap information for something that could potentially help, for an IOU to us?” Riley confirmed. All of them looked at each other for a second, Edward then confirming. “Alright, though this will be a long story.”

“An old legend goes like this: once in a time, there were 2 lovers- one a veil-seer, one a demon. Both were smitten; however, their romance was illegal, and forbidden by Satan at that time, and the demon girl’s father- mainly because said father was homophobic, but we didn’t know that then. Anyway, despite this, they still talked as much as possible, but it was becoming increasingly hard to visit each other or get someone to smuggle love letters between them, due to not being allowed to be in love. However, they didn’t say they couldn’t be friends, so the demon spent all day and night trying to find a way to create an invisible ink that only the recipient and the writer could read. And so, she found one, pretty easy to make and to use. So, they used that. However, nobody but her knew the way to make it. Since then, she has been lost, alone in hell, since her lover died and ended up in heaven. And so, I am telling you this, because we can go to heaven, find the lover, take her to hell, and convince the demon to tell us the recipe for the ink, and you can use it to just create messages visible to demons and angels, and veil-seers on earth, that aren’t the guardians.”

“Cool plan, but did you forget we’re outcasts and are unlikely to be allowed back into heaven while we stay as angels?” Edward asked.

“No, and that is why we are going to hell first. Satan said he could make you all fallen angels. Then you can’t be turned to guardians, and are still allowed in heaven.”

“Wait, really? This would mean we can recruit people still in heaven, and maybe venture to hell and recruit people willing.” Isi exclaimed.

“Yep, and you’d get the ink to use on posters and leaflets on the ground, and you can say it’s to advertise the bar.”

“Ok, that sounds amazing, when do we start?” Isi asked.

“Whenever you are ready.”

“Ok, should we meet back here at 7pm and go from there?” Edward questioned all of them.

“Sure. It’s a date.” Riley announced, focusing on Edward, bringing their hand up to his mouth before kissing it.

As promised, all of them had returned to the shop by 7pm, some definitely more stressed than others- the two angels knew that they would most likely have to make a good impression in order to be turned to fallens, and to not instantly be killed by Satan. They didn’t know what he was like so they had prepared for every eventuality. Isi was dressed in its “formal wear” and it was much fancier than its casual wear- something Edward wouldn’t have believed possible. It had a black shirt, red tie, and black trousers, with white suspenders on them. Edward was wearing a red shirt and black trousers, but refused the tie. Riley certainly didn’t mind from the look he was giving them. Vanny was wearing a short redress, tights and boots, and had done up her hair. However, Riley, Sprite and Salami were all wearing more casual outfits, almost as if they were all going to the shops or on a walk around the city, not going to see their boss. Neither side remarked on that fact.

So, there they all were, staring at the wall around the back of Dick’s. The angels were all apprehensive, not knowing what was going on. “6 for hell,” Riley announced, and the wall began to slide out in front of them, collapsing at the ends as it moved. Where it was covering, a grey glowing light shone out, with steps in an alternating lighter and darker colours of light, so they were visible but not out of place. “Come on, let’s go before the portal closes. Edward, since you’re the most handsome, why don’t you go first?”

“Hey!” the others protested, but still let them go first, following him through, the portal closing behind them, as they caught their first glimpse of hell.

Edward was in awe at the sheer scale of the place, it looked massive in comparison to heaven, mainly because you could see all of it. It was full of mountains and hills, and quite a few small cities dotted around. The thing that they all instantly noticed was the massive spire reaching up to the top of the world: you could barely see the tip of it, it was that tall. And imposing, made in black and red, and looking like a knife in the middle of the place. “Welcome to hell! We need to head up to the tower, to the very top. We might have to wait a while for Satan to be ready, we didn’t exactly tell him before we came. So, we can go and tell the doorman we are here, and if you want, we can go sight-seeing.”

“Sure, I’d like to see what it is like here.” At that, they all set off along a winding brick path to the right of them, heading towards the massive spire that was towering over them.

Despite the large distance that they had to cover, it didn’t seem like it took too long. All the way through they were talking, getting to know each other. Most of it was spent flirting or arguing, but some was spent comparing worlds- the demons had a chance to find out how bad heaven really is. All they knew was it is corrupt; they didn’t know to what extent. Whereas, the angels found out how much of a safe haven hell is. Anyone can do what they want, be what they want. Both appreciated the fact they were not in heaven. The one thing that was near constant was Riley trying to pick up Edward, clearly refusing to give up on them. It was working, but they made sure not to show that.

The instant that they arrived at the tower, they were greeted with “What are you doing here?” and “Why did you bring a bunch of angels and somehow a human to hell?”. Very tiresome. They were all led into the tower, and taken half way up the building, into some sort of meeting room, before being questioned. “We would like an audience with Satan, it’s about our mission.”

“Fine, I’ll ask him, but first I need to check none of you have trackers, mics or cameras on you, especially the angels.”

“Alright.”

And so, that is how the whole group ended up being inspected by a bunch of demons, even going so far to pat them down like they do at airports, and even use x-ray machines. Definitely overkill. But at least they all knew the guardians wouldn’t be watching them. It took way too long in their opinion, and so, the second they were all done, they were taken the rest of the way up the tower, all the way to Satan’s penthouse. They knocked, and tentatively entered, well all the angels did, the demons strode in like they owned the place. Mainly because they had been there way too often.

“Hello, Sprite, Salami, Riley, Vanessa, Isi, and Edward. Now, what are you doing here, and Riley, Sprite, Sal didn’t I tell you not to make contact yet? Explain, why are they here?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For Merlin it was what could be considered a normal day. At least, as normal as his life had been over the past 12 months. He had been chased out of his hometown, by pretty much everyone except his parents- the one thing he was glad about. His parents saw him as their son. But it had caused problems. For months and months, people had slagged him off, avoided him, tried to break him, all because he was different to the others. “Different.” That wasn’t the only way they described him. Most of them were too offensive to repeat. And because of that they had no help back then. But now things were looking up.

A few months ago, Merlin had managed to convince his parents to move. Not that it took much once they found out how he was treated. They were more than willing to let him start over in a new place- they had spent the last 6 months trying to find a new place, and sell their current one to make him happy. And they had managed it. Today was the day- they were moving city and county. Part of him was sad to leave, but he was excited that he finally had a chance to be himself. The house looked strange- it had been stripped nearly bare in preparation for the new owners. Everything he had was in boxes or bags, and they were just finishing putting everything in the cars before leaving. Well, that and getting his dog ready to go.

She had been a 7th birthday gift, and quickly became his best friend- the only real friend he had ever had. Back then he was popular. Everyone wanted to be his friend. Or date him. Either way, everyone was always sucking up to him. Boy had that changed. But throughout it, Midnight had been a good friend. He had trained her and everything. All he wished was that she would no longer be his only friend. At least he had a chance. A clean slate.

And so, they set off, 3 people and a dog in a car for the 5 hour journey to their new home- scary and exciting. Merlin stared out of the window at the gradually greying outer world, watching the cities and woods and fields zoom by, eventually watching the raindrops fall on the window and rest there. Some streaming down the window, leaving pretty patterns of streaks. Barely slowing down, barely noticing the time pass. That was, until the sky became not just overcast, but dark and full of stars- his parents took the scenic route, knowing it would be quieter and most likely quicker. He was glad. Most of the time he didn’t see anything like this due to the pollution in his town. Eventually they arrived, tired and restless but still needing to do the hard work of moving everything back into the new house, even if it was just to stay in its boxes all night, so they could free up the moving van and send it back where it came from. It took hours. Afterwards, completely and utterly drained, Merlin dropped onto his inflatable mattress, (after getting changed of course) and despite himself, fell asleep almost instantaneously.

It was the next morning, and Merlin was excited to see what the place had to offer, especially since he was told how different it was to his home town. He got dressed, wearing an oversized pastel blue hoodie and ¾ length white trousers, throwing on a pair of shoes and running a comb through his short mop of dirty blonde hair. Grabbing his phone, headphones and a bag to stuff them in, he ran downstairs, grabbing a bowl of cereal and eating it quickly. “Can I go explore?” he asked his parents.

“Merlin, you are 19, you know you don’t need to ask.” They had replied.

“But we need to unpack so I thought it would be better to get permission,” he explained.

“You know you can go anytime.”

“Thank you!” he answered, grabbing his bag, and making his way to the front door.

“No problem, just be back for lunch, it’ll be around half one.”

“I will, thank you.”

Looking around the city, he was in awe of the size of the place- in comparison his hometown would have looked like a village or town, not a city. It probably was. Aimlessly, he wandered, not worrying about anything but exploring the are and finding out what the area was like. Mainly residential, but there were quite a few suspicious alleyways, all of which he avoided subconsciously. He turned off the road his house was on and walked down a side road, which widened into a path, leading directly to what looked like a little cottage. Then he noticed the sign, big and bold- “Dick’s Dicks (And Drinks)” it exclaimed at him. Then he glanced at the flower beds, all different pride flags, and nearly cried. Already he had found somewhere he would be accepted for who he was. Walking up to the building, he pushed open the door.

The inside was as pretty as the outside, making the place feel like home to him, and despite the people inside all looking at him, he didn’t mind it for once. Instead of the original stares of disgust, they were fond stares, happy to see someone new in the place. Most of the people in the place looked older than him, at least in their thirties. But there was one, one that he spotted from the corner of his eye. One of the bartenders, and they looked around his age.

Said bartender had eyes you were just drawn to- an amber colour, reminiscent of caramel, and harsh but welcoming. Their hair was a chestnut brown, and pretty long, nearly to their shoulders, even with the slight wave that it had, framing their face perfectly, and contrasting it. Pale as a sheet, and emphasized by their hair and clothing, which was dark enough it was noticeable. Their face was sharp and defined, with a strong jawline and most people would say they were attractive. From what you could see over the bar, they were wearing a navy blue button up, with a badge of the place’s logo attached to their left pocket. Carefully, Merlin approached them, sitting down on the stool closest to them. On the badge was a name, Edward, which he assumed to be theirs and a “they/them” written underneath.

“Hey, what would you like to drink?” “I’ll just have a coke please.” “Coming right up.” Edward replied, turning around to grab a glass, before returning to a pump just next to them. “I haven’t seen you around before, you new to town?” “Yes, we just moved in yesterday down the road.” “Really? Cool. May I ask why you moved here?” “Yes, my parents found a better job here, and in general the area is more accepting so we moved.” “Bully problem?” “Yeah.” “I understand, I had the same,” they replied, placing the glass on the bar. “Really? You look cool to hang with, why wouldn’t people like you?” “Preferred to spend time alone, so people avoided me.” “Right. Can I ask how old you are?” “22, how about you?” “19, but I’ll be 20 in a few weeks.” “Cool. You going to the University down the road when term starts up?” “Yeah, are you also going?” “Hopefully.” “So I’ll see you there then.” “Probably. Do you want to exchange numbers? It’s ok if you don’t but you seem cool to hang with, and I thought it’d be good to help you settle in here.” “Yes, of course. Thank you.” Merlin said, grabbing a piece of paper and pen stashed in his backpack, writing down his number, before handing the sheet to Edward, along with the pen. Quickly they wrote their number on the other end of the paper, tearing it in half and handing the side they had just written on back to Merlin. “Thank you.” “No problem, it’s the least I could do for you. How would you like it if I gave you a tour of the area?” “That would be wonderful. Thank you. I’ll text you later to arrange it. I’d probably better go now before my Mum gets worried.” Merlin replied standing up. “Yeah, sure, talk to you later. Have a nice day.” “Bye.” He replied as he walked back home. Maybe this wasn’t going to go as bad as he expected.

[casual-lip-bites]

Prologue and Chapter 1

To Everyone in the Whole World. Every small thought or action or choice every single person has ever made has warped the universe into what it is now, and for that I thank you.

Prologue I bet you thought that this was going to be an insightful book or something. Well, you were wrong. This book really sucks. No one thought it would ever get published, much less finished. Not even my mom believed in me. But as I kept writing it, I thought of all the stupid teen romance books I’ve read and thought, hey, if those could get published, why can’t I publish a book too? So I’m really sorry if you decided to buy this or something. I hope you kept the receipt, because in truth, my book probably isn’t worth the five dollars or however much it cost you. Not in this economy. Unless, of course, you borrowed it or got it from the library or illegally downloaded it online or something. I hate writing. My vocabulary is passible at best. I never thought that I would write a book, like, ever, but look at me now. Just to let you know, I did not write this whole thing. I had help from my best friend and a Mexican kid who has told me multiple times that he wishes I was dead. These are literally the only people I ever talk to. I’m warning you right now: I don’t know what they’re going to write. Personally, I’m going to try to be PG-13, but I’ve been told that have a swearing problem, so that’s not always going to be possible. You know it’s bad when you have to Google “what does it take for a book to be banned”. It’s right there in my search history. Right above “why are teenagers so smug” and “when can I legally drop-out of high school”. Nothing really matters to me anymore. I’m just here to exist for as long as possible. I don’t like putting effort into anything, really. College is out of the question. I mean, someone has to wipe down gas station toilets. I only agreed to write this novel because there’s not too many realistic YA novels out there. Not everyone can have their dream relationship. (I’m going to marry a trashcan.) Not everything ends happily, and sometimes things don’t end at all. (My story begins at the end.) I never really have any deep thoughts. (At least, not in the way that it’s shown in teen books.) And most teenagers have boring-as-hell lives. (Either that, or I just assume that everyone else does too.) Really though, the deepest thought that I’ve had in a week happened when I dropped a bowl of soup and thought “oh shit son” and then wondered if soup has the ability to understand the concept of gender identity and family relations. Truly deep thoughts come and go. It’s usually only the stupid things that I remember long enough to write down. I’m just going to go ahead and warn you, some of the insightful stuff I try to write comes out like it’s supposed to, and other times it will just look like: boop boop boop Are trees vegetables? Exact words are not my forte. I’m lucky that I came up with “forte” right then. I’m really not sure how this will turn out at all. I haven’t even read most of this. I’m not allowed to read what Lily and Ethan write, and they’re not allowed to read what I write. We’re basically publishing it without proofreading each other’s work. It’s supposed to “encourage honesty” or something. So we’ll see how that turns out. Yeah. There’s probably a reason why books like this don’t exist. Again, sorry. Anyway, I wrote this for you because I care a lot about you as a person.  I needed this book to exist because I need you to know something. I don’t care if it’s cheesy. You need to hear it. Things can and will get better. Do not kill yourself. I wrote this for you, so you’d better learn something from it. I have bled and suffered and bled some more to get this book out. If you kill yourself, I will murder you. Someone is always ready to listen. Sometimes we forget about people we can count on. There’s always that one person that you forget about. Like siblings. No matter how much you hate each other, no matter how horrible to you they are, no matter how shitty the personality, your sibling(s) will listen to you if you seriously need someone to talk to. Another thing I didn’t consider, until just recently, is talking to someone who has a crush on you. If they like you, chances are they probably don’t want you to hurt yourself. However, if he/she is one of those freaks that crawl in your window at night or design you-inspired sex dolls, you should probably think of another option. Like a guidance counselor. They’re legally obligated to care about your feelings. Don’t forget those people. Someone will listen. There’s always someone. I know this because I was forgotten. Wait, what was I writing about again? I have a really untraditional writing system. I first write out a bunch of BS that I really can’t use and then scan over it the next day. I delete little sentences that don’t make sense here and there until I’ve deleted the whole chapter. Then I re-write it and then ignore it all for a month or two if I’m getting behind on schoolwork or something. Sometimes in the middle of the night I take it out, read it, and type little scraggly messages on it to daytime me. They look like they were typed out by a toddler. I can’t even tell what most of them are supposed to mean, so I spend a lot of time trying to decode things like “bread water” instead of writing the actual story. My favorites are: “com on grill u cans rite better than that” and “higher than meth”. Oh yeah. I also hate it when authors get you attached to a character and kill them off right at the end like they’re actually trying to ruin your emotions forever, so I’m going to go ahead and warn you now so you hate me less for making you read this book. My sister dies in the first chapter. No amount of character deaths in YA books could have prepared me for what had happened. That’s another reason why I needed this book to exist. The suddenness and finality of death is unreal. It’s kind of like a text message ding going off and then the sound cutting out right in the middle of it. And then a random electrical wire snapping and burning and suddenly everything’s on fire and you’re on fire and your pets are on fire and it’s painful and even though you embrace death and dying and enjoy pain this is too much. Another thing: You’re probably wondering what gender I am. Even if it wasn’t at, like, the fore-front of your mild, you were probably subconsciously trying to figure it out. I won’t make you play “Guess That Gender” until my name appears in dialogue or something. This isn’t Walmart. My name is Kirsten Bloom. I also hate it when authors write shit like “his dark, leaf green eyes looked at me, comforting me and giving me memories of summery afternoon walks in the woods with my father” to describe how people look. Like, no. My face isn’t the type of face that could be described in poetry anyway. So here’s what I look like most of the time: I have brown hair. I would have black hair, but my mom won’t let me dye it. I have washed-out green eyes. I’m pale. I dress kind of gothic. (Eyeliner, 90’s choker, black leather boots, black lipstick, black/purple shirt, black skinny-jeans, black jacket with a skull on it.) My style is basically “economically disadvantaged girl trying to act cool and gothic but failing hard”. Just so you know, I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to write this just yet, but I’m sure that it will be really horrible for at least the first two or three chapters. I’m sorry about that, but believe me; it will be so worth it. If you’re anything like me at all, I guarantee that this book will save you from some shit. I have one hell of a story to tell you. And so it begins.

Chapter 1 Katherine Bloom is dead. She killed herself. I can’t believe that she’s never coming back. She was alive just a week ago. She can’t be gone. But she is. Her death is one thing that I have accepted. Once a person is pronounced dead by medical professionals, there’s no way around it. But my heart feels like it’s been ripped to pieces. She was my other half. I never fully comprehended how awful deaths are until I saw my sister on a cold, metallic operating table, her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Seeing nurses in lab coats covering her thin frame in a sheet, gone forever. Watching my mother choke and sob in front of me. Not being completely sure if the screaming sound I heard was coming from my vocal cords or if it was just the sound of my brain collapsing in on itself. After three days of pure depression sprinkled with rage and denial, I know that my little sister is never coming back. Death is permanent. Death is unshifting. Death is cold. And I don’t love. [I warned you it would be like this. Just roll with it.] It’s as if she never existed, except she’s more here than ever. I can actually feel her absence. It’s heavy and empty at the same time, especially in her room.  All of the Christmas lights that she always kept in there have been packed away into a little box, just like all of her other things. Mom said earlier that we could donate it to charity, but she hasn’t followed through on that. I have a feeling that her things will stay here forever. My little sister will always have a place in our house. But right now her room is mine. I’ve been sleeping here since I basically smashed everything in my room into a trillion pieces. It has a depressive presence in it, though. This place is so empty without her. I spend most of my time in here drawing invisible circles on her bed that’s been stripped bare, and think. She slept on rosy red sheets, which are now packed away in a box. It was her favorite color. Now her ashes rest in a rosy red urn. It was originally for grandma. We were hoping that she would die. I really wonder about what my sister was thinking about during the afternoons that she spent locked away in here, wasting away. A lump grows in my throat, but I can’t even cry anymore. I’m just done with it all. I still haven’t figured out why she would kill herself. No matter how many things I try to decode from days I can barely remember, I’m no further along than the previous hour. She wasn’t a depressing person. She smiled a lot. She had lots of friends. The only thing that was different about her attitude was that she stayed in her room for extremely long periods of time, listening to music. I didn’t find that alarming, because that was one of her favorite pastimes. Only she usually did it for less than five hours at a time in a locked room. I thought that she was just becoming one of those teenaged girls who like to keep to themselves. Like me. I guess it was more than that. And now she’s dead. I put my head down on the flat bedspread. I am determined to find out the truth. I need to know the truth more than I need oxygen. Someone rings the doorbell. What the hell do they want? I force myself out of bed and trudge over to the front door and open it. My heart starts fluttering and I just can’t believe my eyes. It’s Katherine. She smiles at me and I hug her so tightly that I just might kill her. I’m shaking so hard right now. “I missed you so much. Please don’t hurt yourself. Ever,” I say. When I stop hugging her, I see that she too is tearing up. There’s a bright glow around her. She starts to say something, when- And then I wake up. My sister is dead. And I’m still lying on her bed. I just dreamed it all. I’m ashamed to say that that was not the first time that I had done that. There’s nothing I want more than for my sister to come back. But she’s gone. All that’s left are bittersweet memories. Ashes can’t dance. Ashes can’t sing. Ashes can’t ride bikes. Ashes can’t feed birds in the park. Ashes can’t sit under the stars and watch them twinkle all night. Ashes can’t smile or love. They can’t do any of the things that my sister loved to do. I know for a fact that she didn’t just randomly decide to kill herself. No sane kid just looks in the mirror and goes: Hey. Today was a fun day, but I think that I should just hang myself now. She is, was, a very cheerful person. I secretly envied her for that reason. She was great. We had near perfect childhoods, but for some reason she was the only decent one out of us. The only conclusion that I can come up with is that she was bullied. And once I find out who caused this, I will kill them. All of those bastards are going to die tonight. I’ll stab them over and over and over and over and over and over and over again with the pocket knife she harmed herself with, after I make absolute sure that they feel guilty for their actions. Blood will be spilt tonight. And I hope those faggots rot in hell. I found her pocket knife in her bedroom closet yesterday, when mom and I were cleaning out her room. We were deciding what of hers we should keep and what we should ‘’give away”. We were just expecting to find old toys and stuff like that. Then I found that thing. Actually, it really wasn’t that hard to find. It stabbed me in the kneecap. I gave mom the knife. I didn’t give any explanation at all. The knife said more than any words could say. Apparently, that was a bad idea, because she didn’t say anything after that. She just got in the car and left me there, holding out the bloody knife. Now, that said more than words could say. For a wild moment I thought that she had abandoned me to start a new life. Wouldn’t be the first time someone did that. Apparently, mom went to the liquor store to drown her feelings in alcoholism. But she might as well leave, with all the support she’s given me. It’s like her soul was sucked out of her eyes. I hid the blade in my jacket pocket the minute she left Katherine’s room, assuming that she would take it from me eventually. But she never intended to, for reasons that I already covered. Katherine was just a kid. What did she do to deserve this? What did I do? There’s no way that she hung herself. But she did. She left mom and me. She didn’t leave a note or anything. There was no warning. It just happened. Everything reminds me of her. I’ll have to get used to it, considering the fact that I live here. I shut my eyes. I hate everything in this house, especially the mirror, which I can’t stand to look into. My face isn’t my face anymore. It’s Katherine’s: the same Katherine who was hanging by her neck in the bathroom, staring at me blankly. My make-up probably looks really runny and shitty. I decide to brave looking in the mirror. I look for only half a second, and then shut my eyes. My chest feels heavy. I lose my breath. When I say I can’t stand how I look, I mean it literally. Anyway, my eyeliner looks how I thought it would look. I look like a raccoon going through a gothic phase. I’m never going to heal if I stay here. Sometimes I just think about getting in the truck and leaving home forever. Like in every non-supernatural YA novel ever. But then my mom would have no one, except her liquor. Sometimes I think if I got drunk maybe I could experience whatever magical delusional feeling she’s experiencing, but I come from a long line of people who ruined their lives with alcohol, so I’m not going to take that chance. I am the generation that finally gets it right. I smoke instead. I strip off my jacket (aka security blanket) for the first time all day and walk right out the back door. The night air feels warm and cool at the same time. Crickets are chirping. The wind feels amazing. I’ve always preferred night-time. Usually in the summer I change up my sleep schedule where I wake up at 3:00pm and go to sleep at 5:00am so I can mostly stay up at night, but still do stuff with friends in the afternoon. Plus, going out and doing whatever at night means that there’s zero chance of getting sunburned, and everyone’s asleep, so it’s like I live in my own little world. It’s just me and the sky. I’ve decided to not do that this year, because I need as much stability as I can get. I get out my lighter and cup my hand around it. The flickering flame illuminates the cigarette just before I light it.  Contrary to popular belief, smoking is actually a great way to cope. First of all, it’s fun. Second, I can get a nice buzz going without losing my mental facilities, and not just because I lost it all beforehand. Third, you get to light things on fire. That’s always fun. And fourth, you can slowly kill yourself by doing it. Then I’ll die slightly after my mom so she won’t have to outlive both kids. Drag. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Exhale. Repeat. Drag. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Exhale. Repeat. Drag. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Exhale. Repeat. I got these from a place some of my friends call “the tube”. I found it by accident a couple months ago. It’s where all the drug-addicted teens at my school hide their drugs and alcohol. They’ve apparently created their own complex mini-black market. I used to be friends with some of them, but now they’ve turned into bitches. Not from drugs; just from being themselves. I would tell you where the tube is, but I promised not to tell. We made a deal. If it was stuff like meth I would report it, but why ruin my joy of having all those people owe me? When I wanted some of their cigarettes, the deal got that much more complicated. I had to make a little trade. You see, in the tube, there’s something they always need. It’s worth its weight in gold, and it’s the same color. It’s pee. They love pee. They have to like it, if they still want to keep their drugs. Each person that trades there keeps a small plastic bag of clean pee on them at all times in case of random drug testing at school. Clean pee is hard to come by for them, though, because mostly everyone who knows about the tube is high as fuck on all the drugs, and therefore do not have clean pee. I am their source of security. I agreed to trade with them. One gallon of pee buys two packs of cigarettes. I think it’s a fair trade. What would I do with all my pee anyway? A car zips down the road. The wind and dust hit my face a few seconds later. I gag and spit out the dust. Smoking by the road really isn’t safe, but at this point in the game, I really don’t care if I die. Actually, I care just enough to live just so I don’t inconvenience others. I wish I could end it all sooner. Ever since the suicide I sometimes notice my breathing and go: why? Why did she die instead of me? I’m not going to rush anything, but if I got hit by a school bus tomorrow, I don’t think that I would really care at all. My stomach jolts in a funny sort of way. Tomorrow is the last day of school. I hate school, but I always miss it when it’s gone. Sure, it’s shitty and stuff, but it does provide stability. I need to go back, even if it only is one last day. School will hopefully bring something normal back into my life. It will also give me a chance to spend time with my friends before summer break, if you can even call them friends. They’re basically just the people I hang out with at lunch so I don’t look stupid sitting alone. They seem to like me enough to tolerate me, which is nice, I guess. Those people are very, um, interesting. First of all, there’s Molly. She’s the smartest person at our school. Everyone wants to be her friend. She helps people she likes with their homework and stuff. After spending so much time around people who are brown-nosing her, I forgot the stereotype about nerds having no friends. I honestly have no idea where that came from, because at my school, we treat the smart people like royalty because we depend on them for, like, not failing. There’s this kid named Jacob who also sits at my table. His stupid hairstyle has not changed in sixteen years. He’s strange and vaguely fucked-up, but I guess we all are to some degree. He gives off a weird sexual vibe, but not really a rapist/child molester one. It’s softer and seems more obscure, like maybe he’s sexually attracted to goats. I really should stop his description here. And then there’s Lily. She has the weirdest stories. I read one of them and my eyes nearly bled. It was a Twilight fanfiction in which the characters were all gangsters. Her face is always really flushed and she laughs at everything. Except when she’s on her period, which in that case she turns into the nastiest, loudest, bitchiest person you’ve ever met. A lot of weird shit happens at that table. My favorite was when we created a match.com profile for a burrito someone dropped on the ground. It was the most amazing thing in the world. “Burrito1230345 looking for a one-night stand. Bring candles, incense, and lots of lube.” Lily tried to reposition it so it would look as sexually suggestive as a burrito could possibly be, but she failed horribly. Jacob took over and did the job right in less than a minute. How he managed, no one knows. It all started when Jacob’s crush dropped the burrito on the ground as she walked to her table. Jacob started staring at it because, of course, he’s a freak. We started to joke with him about him wanting the burrito, because Jacob just has the kind of pervy face that makes him look like he wants to screw everything. He said that he didn’t want it. We felt bad for this little burrito, because not even Jacob would make love to it. Somehow, ten minutes later, we created a full profile for our burrito. Those were good times. I’ve laughed a lot a that table. I miss those little fuckers. I haven’t seen another human being besides the local news and the pee collectors in a week. The news people did a story on my sister’s suicide. I remember watching it. Our story was the second to last thing on there. The day before the news report, they interviewed Mom. That did not go over well. When they tried to talk to me, I turned away and walked into the house. I don’t need their sensationalistic crap in my life. I thought I was through with them, but then they entered my house WITHOUT PERMISSION and asked me “WHAT MY MOOD WAS”. Take a fucking hint. What did they think? Did they consider it a possibility that I was elated that my sister committed suicide? Did I look like I was jumping over rainbows and skipping through meadows or something? You know, this is why I am no longer considering journalism as my career. I now hate the media. This whole thing has really opened my eyes. They didn’t show either of the failed interviews, thank God. I will give them that. Even so, the newscasters had blank, empty faces when they were giving the report about the suicide. Then, not a moment later, they were smiling and talking about a baby animal that was born in the local zoo. It’s clear that they don’t really give a damn about anyone’s feelings. About a second before I fall asleep (I collapsed on the rocking chair we have outside), my mom pulls up into the driveway, back from her midnight run to the liquor store. She ran into our trashcan pretty hard. That’s just wonderful. She’s driving drunk. Actually, she’s probably not even drunk, but depressed slap-happy. It’s a good thing that I have my own car so I can drive to school without chicken bones flying off the hood. I got mom’s old one about three months ago after I got my driver’s license. I always hated the school bus. I’ve seen some shit there. Mom got a new Honda a year ago. She was supposed to get a used one. To be fair, Hondas aren’t the most expensive cars, but still. She’s going to run that thing in the ground if she keeps that up. I hope that the car insurance will cover the damage. But I have a really bad feeling that the car insurance is actually my college fund. Bye, college. Mom gets out of the car, kicking out some wine bottles in the process. I don’t really want to witness this. I snuff out my last cigarette and go inside. My lungs were starting to struggle anyway. I crash on the couch and quickly fall asleep, praying that my brain won’t force me to relive my sister’s death again like it usually does. I wake up at what feels like seconds later, but it is pitch black outside, and the sound of thousands of horny cicadas chirping is louder. I’m thirsty and covered in sweat. My dead sister didn’t revisit me again, so that’s a plus. Forcing myself off the couch, I get a glass of milk and put it in the microwave. My head spins, due to either the smoke, the alcohol smell coming from mom’s bedroom, or how fast I moved in a short amount of time, or all three. It takes me a minute notice Mom, in her room, passed out. I suddenly wish that microwaves had a “silent” option. Mom would never hurt me intentionally, but you know. After the infernal beeping sound ends, I quietly get the milk out and slowly trudge over to the table. I sit down, taking quiet sips from my glass. Mom herself said that it was unhealthy to have addictions. But here she is, passed out, wine running through her veins instead of life. I wish mom was happy again. I wish that she would go to work and pay attention to the last daughter she has left. But wishes are empty. We are not happy. It’s like we all died that awful night. In some ways, I did die. My dreams are rotting away. My sanity is hanging by a single string of skin. The better half of me is gone. I’m ripping apart at the seams. Emotional pain is probably the worst abstract concept ever. I would burn off my right hand to see my sister for one more day. I would walk across hell if it would give her one year on earth. I would die a thousand painful deaths to make her happy. If only I cared enough about her before the suicide. Forget walking across hell. I couldn’t even walk to her room. A lump grows in my throat. What sort of things did my sister experience? Does she still remember it? Whatever it was, I hope that she’s stopped suffering. I really hope she didn’t go to hell. She couldn’t have, though. She’s too pure. Everything is temporary. That’s just one harsh fact of life and the workings of the universe. However, it would have been nice if the universe was kind enough to allow my sister to be a little less temporary. I look at the pictures on the table. You know what’s funny? Family photos are funny. They’re like little windows into the past. It takes me back to when I dressed normally, Katherine was little and not dead, Dad was here and still loved my mom, we lived in this big house by a river, and life was generally just, like, better and stuff. It sickens me, the fact that the happy people in those pictures have no idea about what the future holds. I chug the rest of my milk, accidentally spilling half of it on the table and my chest. I’m not cleaning that shit up. Stretching, I quietly go back to my sister’s room and fall onto her bed. I stare at the ceiling fan and watch it spin around and round. Just like my brain. I shut my eyes. Rain lightly taps on our metal roof. How long was it raining? I tilt my head to look out Katherine’s window. Water falls gently upon the water-starved ground. It runs and runs until it finds a low area to rest in. Then the soil draws it in like a slow breath. My eyelids close once more and I focus on the rain and nothing else. A boom of thunder wakes me. Unfortunately, I’m the type that stays awake all night if I wake up. Now I’m alone with my thoughts. I’m just tired enough to not be able to grab my phone. I wish I could play some music to drown out my thoughts. My brain won’t shut the hell up. I’m being reminded of everything I’ve ever said or did with her. I miss my sister so much it actually physically hurts. I wish I killed myself instead of her. I really have no idea why she killed herself at all. I can’t think of any conversation or anything that could even slightly read as “suicidal”. She’s not even that good at keeping secrets. What am I missing here? Is it just really obvious or something? I’m so frustrated. She didn’t even leave a suicide note. I really wish she had. I mean, isn’t that something that you just do when you kill yourself? I mean, I guess there’s not really a rulebook or a protocol for that sort of thing, but yeah. I have to go to school tomorrow. Maybe that would help me sort out my thoughts. Maybe I can consult with Jacob and Lily and Molly and see if they might know anyone who can help me. I need to find out what happened to my sister. It just doesn’t make any sense at all. I wish I could just find something that would answer all of my questions just like that. It’s probably going to take a while to know the whole truth, but I will do everything it takes. Mark my words.

[megadarkbouquettidalwavethings]

The Best Wedding-Proposal Stories in 2017

Two days later, Ms. Tang shared the good news with Wilhelmina, and Mr. DeLuca followed by promptly dropping to one knee, again, this time to explain to Wilhelmina the significance of an engagement ring, “and how it is really about a commitment to one another,” as he said to her. He then surprised Wilhelmina with a tiny ring of her own, made of hearts and diamonds.

”In the same way that the ring I gave to your mother represents my commitment to her,” Mr. DeLuca said to Wilhelmina, “this ring represents my commitment to you.”

That left the outspoken Wilhelmina with just one question: “Are these real diamonds?”

Her mother and Mr. DeLuca were married Sept. 9.

2. Uzezi Abugo and Jacob Alderdice

Mr. Alderdice did not want anyone else to know about a secret proposal he planned for Ms. Abugo back in April 2016, so he took an old ring and a picture of her to a jeweler. From that, he picked out a diamond-encrusted double band as an engagement ring he thought would fit her.

A few days later, having enlisted the staff at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx to assist in his plan, he got down on one knee and proposed, with “Marry Me Uzezi” spelled out in wooden letters covered in flowers behind him.

She said yes, but the ring was not as accommodating.

“It didn’t fully fit,” Mr. Alderdice said. “But we had to have the picture of the ring in the proper position with the flowers in the background, so she kind of pushed it on.”

Unbeknown to him, Ms. Abugo’s ring finger was a size 8½. The ring he gave her was a 6½.

A few minutes later, Ms. Abugo realized that the blood had stopped flowing to her finger, which was turning a dark shade of purple, and after trying and failing to remove the ring, they jumped into a cab and headed for the emergency room at Montefiore Medical Center.

Continue reading the main story

“I told him, ‘If you don’t get this ring off soon, I’m going to lose my entire finger,’” Ms. Abugo said, laughing as she recalled the incident. “I told him, ‘I can’t marry you without a ring finger.’”

When they arrived at the hospital, “everyone thought it was hilarious,” Ms. Abugo said.

Though the ring needed to be cut off — leaving her with a scar now hidden by a resized ring — Ms. Abugo’s finger was saved, as was the painfully amusing memory of the day she got engaged.

They were married June 17.

Photo

Ariana Austin and Joel Makonnen.

3. Ariana Austin and Joel Makonnen

Mr. Makonnen, an actual prince who happens to be the great-grandson of Haile Selassie, the last emperor of Ethiopia, and Ms. Austin, who is of Guyanese descent and is the maternal granddaughter of a Lord Mayor of Georgetown, the capital of Guyana, were engaged on Valentine’s Day 2014.

Their marriage had been more than a decade in the making when Mr. Makonnen bought a princess-cut diamond ring and showed up at the home of Ms. Austin’s parents with the bauble in one hand and balloons in another.

Perhaps a bit nervous, he knocked too loudly, leading Ms. Austin to think the house was being burglarized. She called her parents, who were returning home from a dinner party.

“She thought somebody was trying to break in,” said Bobby Austin, Ms. Austin’s father. “And it was just the poor guy trying to propose to her.”

Ms. Austin eventually opened the door, letting in her future husband.

“We always seemed to be in different cities following our ambitions and dreams,” Mr. Makonnen said. “But despite those long separations, I felt like I had proposed at exactly the right moment in our lives for us to make such a wonderful commitment to each other.”

Ms. Austin put less of a fairy tale spin on getting engaged to the prince. “It’s about time,” she said.

Continue reading the main story

They were married Sept. 9.

Photo

Megan Prichard, left, and Amanda Rubenstein.

4. Megan Prichard and Amanda Rubenstein

Ms. Prichard and Ms. Rubenstein were engaged to each other twice, in a span of 17 days.

Ms. Rubenstein proposed first, on Dec. 10, 2016, sweeping Ms. Prichard off her feet with a surprise proposal on the beach in Laguna, Calif., complete with a gallery of pictures of their travels together and a guitar player singing their favorite songs. After returning from a trip to Bali on Dec. 27, Ms. Prichard “counter-proposed” as she put it, surprising Ms. Rubenstein with a treasure hunt around their Corona del Mar home that ended with an engagement ring served on a plate with freshly baked cookies.

“It was really important for both of us that we proposed to each other, so that we each had a full say in the matter,” Ms. Prichard said. “She’s the love of my life, and I wanted to be sure she wanted to marry me, just as sure as she needed to know that I truly wanted to marry her.”

They were married July 22 at the Seven Degrees Art Gallery in Laguna Beach, Calif.

Photo

Lisa Bridge and Gilad Berenstein.

5. Lisa Bridge and Gilad Berenstein

Ms. Bridge was sitting at her desk in Seattle one Saturday when she received a card from Mr. Berenstein that featured a pair of matchsticks hugging along with the words “A perfect match.”

The card read: “Hey babe, change of plans for today. Please Uber to the Fairmont Hotel’s Georgian Room for a surprise. Enjoy! Love, G. Please arrive at 2 p.m.”

Her heart racing, she got into the Uber and told the driver, “I think I’m getting engaged.” She arrived at the Fairmont, “shaking slightly,” she said, and “expecting to see Gilad.” Instead, she saw her two closest friends waving her over to join them for tea.

She was soon handed another card, this one adorned with an image of a fluffy white cat in between chocolate and graham crackers that read “I want s’more of you!” Inside was another note: “Hi babe, I hope you enjoyed the tea and stories. I can’t wait for our next tea adventure! Your next surprise awaits you at 1427 5th Ave. You’ll know it when you see it. Love, G.”

She made her way to that address, which turned out to be her favorite nail salon, and there she saw two more friends who had flown in from Dallas. As they chatted, Ms. Bridge was Facetimed by yet another close friend who shared a few memories. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she was given yet another card: “Congratulations for being sexy and intelligent at the same time.”

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That card also recalled the night Ms. Bridge helped Mr. Berenstein celebrate his 30th birthday at a nearby favorite restaurant, where she found two more girlfriends, who had flown in from Los Angeles.

Ms. Bridge was soon handed a final card that read: “You are my bucket list.”

The card instructed her to return to the bar where she and Mr. Berenstein had their first date. Once there, she found him holding two glasses of Champagne. He escorted her to a private room with Frank Sinatra songs playing in the background and red roses set on a table for two.

“He looked at me with tears in his eyes,” Ms. Bridge said. “He told me how much he loved me and that he wanted to spend his life with me.”

With no more instructions needed, Mr. Berenstein dropped to one knee and proposed.

They were married Oct. 7.

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Dr. Michael Flaherty and Dr. Danielle Saly.

6. Dr. Danielle Saly and Dr. Michael Flaherty

In June 2016, four years after meeting at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, Mass. — where the groom was completing his intern year, and the bride her third-year medical school rotation in pediatrics — Dr. Flaherty invited Dr. Saly to a purported screening of an independent film at the Regent Theater in Arlington.

Unbeknown to her, he had actually rented the theater just for the two of them to show a 30-minute video he had created of friends and family talking about their relationship.

The owner of the theater, who pretended to be an usher, said to the couple: “Business is really tough, it’s hard being an independent theater, but we actually have two other people coming, so you guys go ahead.”

Just before the movie started, Dr. Flaherty excused himself, but Dr. Saly was still alone when it began. She knew something was in the works when an R rating — “for romance” — appeared on the screen. Then came the movie’s title, “The Making of the Flalys,” a combination of their surnames, and soon after came a parade of family and friends onscreen, including a cameo by her grandparents, who live in Israel.

“I was completely overcome with emotion, laughing one minute, crying the next,” Dr. Saly said. “It was unreal.”

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As the final credits rolled, Dr. Flaherty was back in the picture, dropping to one knee to propose.

They were married Nov. 4.

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Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator of “Hamilton,” with Leah Michalos, left, and Rachel Pitkin.

7. Leah Michalos and Rachel Pitkin

Ms. Michalos and Ms. Pitkin also took turns proposing to each other, albeit with a heightened sense of drama.

Ms. Michalos, a theater director, decided to make her pitch on the stage of “Hamilton,” because Ms. Pitkin, a history teacher, had a special affinity for the musical.

Ms. Michalos enlisted the help of a colleague who worked with Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator of “Hamilton,” and when the time came for the event, Mr. Miranda led Ms. Michalos and Ms. Pitkin through the backstage of the set. Then, Ms. Pitkin recalled, Mr. Miranda discreetly left them alone on center stage after giving a brief description of Alexander Hamilton’s marriage proposal to Eliza Schuyler.

“I did not get down on one knee,” Ms. Michalos said. “I could not for the life of me remember what I actually said — my heart was coming out of my mouth and pounding in my chest.”

After the couple left the Richard Rodgers Theater, they had a glass of Champagne in a Times Square boîte, and then Ms. Pitkin, rather than going to the restaurant that Ms. Michalos had reserved for their engagement dinner, insisted that the two set off on a different route.

As they neared the Walter Kerr Theater, Ms. Michalos turned to Ms. Pitkin and said: “I don’t know if you know this, but the Walter Kerr, that is the night I first realized I loved you.”

They proceeded about 20 feet farther down the sidewalk and there, in chalk that had only partly been obliterated by rain, Ms. Pitkin had inscribed almost exactly the same words Ms. Michalos had just uttered: “This is where I knew I loved you.”

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And, having not known that Ms. Michalos’s proposal would precede it, she’d added her own: “Will you marry me?”

They were married Sept. 16

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Charles Bentley, left, and Drake Carden.

8. Charles Bentley and Drake Carden

When Mr. Bentley proposed to Mr. Carden in May 2016, he brought along a 3-year-old named Al who carried the ring, which was attached to his bow tie. Al was neither a family member nor family friend. He was, in fact, a terrier mix, the couple’s dog.

“Yes, our dog was wearing a bow tie,” Mr. Bentley said. “Yes, this is ridiculous.”

As it turned out, Mr. Bentley had beaten Mr. Carden to the proposal punch.

“I had planned to propose at the end of the summer,” Mr. Carden said. “We were taking a vacation at the beginning of August in Central Europe, so I was hoping to do it there. He really did just beat me to it.”

As for Mr. Bentley, he never let on that a proposal was in the works.

“I thought he might be plotting something with this romantic weekend away, but he was very calm the entire day, Mr. Carden said. “He takes a lot of pictures so it wasn’t that odd that he set up a tripod to take a photo of us on a timer, so I didn’t think he had anything up his sleeve.”

If only he had searched Al’s bow tie.

They were married May 13.

9. YJ Fischer and Daniel Schwerin

In September 2017, Mr. Schwerin, who was the director of speechwriting for Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign, finished helping Mrs. Clinton with her new memoir, “What Happened.” The day after the book was published, he and Ms. Fischer left for a vacation in Italy.

Not usually an avid social planner, Ms. Fischer insisted on choreographing their first full day in Rome. She decided to string together several romantic events — a picnic in the Villa Borghese gardens, a Rossini concert in an old church and dinner in a charming neighborhood trattoria in Trastevere — so there would be a few opportunities to propose.

No moment seemed quite right until the end of the night. After a full day and a delicious dinner, she pulled Mr. Schwerin into a narrow cobblestone side street in Trastevere and got down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” she asked in a bit of a role reversal, rendering the speechwriter momentarily speechless. It took him a minute to realize what was going on, but then he laughed and said yes.

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They were married Nov. 24.

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Mansi Snehal Kothari and Sushil Raja Atmakuri.

10. Mansi Snehal Kothari and Sushil Raja Atmakuri

In December 2015, the couple visited Central Park and stopped at a bench behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art that Mr. Atmakuri’s family had donated in honor of his grandparents — and by virtue of what they both called “a double proposal,” they became engaged there.

A small crowd gathered when Mr. Atmakuri, a gold wedding band in hand, went to one knee to pop the question, but the crowd grew considerably larger, and noisier, when Ms. Kothari, also holding a gold wedding band, took a knee of her own and returned the favor.

“At that point, people started coming over wondering what was going on,” Mr. Atmakuri said. “We are firm believers in gender equality, and I really feel that there is a gender imbalance when it comes to traditional wedding proposals, where the guy also asks the girl if she wants to marry him.

“But I have so much respect for Mansi, I felt she had the right to ask me the same question. Fortunately, we both had the same answer.”

They were married May 29.

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VINCENT M. MALLOZZI

The post The Best Wedding-Proposal Stories in 2017 appeared first on dailygate.

[bitsofbliss]

Annie’s First Thoughts

Hi there world. So, not that anyone is actually going to read these, but I've decided to sort of make my own little blog on here to keep myself both creative, and busy. I’ve recently become very lonely... and it’s made me realize how important it is to document time and profound moments while we can. Life is a big fluctuation of uphill and downhill experiences. Things might be going good.. really good..for week’s, months, or maybe even year’s. But soon enough.. before you know it and are able to soak it all in, you’ll wake up to see that everything that was once good in your life, has changed. In country music terms, it’s why Kenny Chesney says ‘don’t blink’, and Trace Adkins tells us ‘you’re gonna miss this’. For me I'd say my period of uphill experiences, (where the happenstance of happiness was granted my way), had been on a steady track for 3 years before rearing off course. Starting my sophomore year of High School, my life was really just a tick north of perfect (well, to me at least). I had an amazing group of friends, ones that made me cry from laughing so hard, and who bottled me up with so much joy. We were constantly doing something every weekend, racing around our community going on adventures together. Then heading into my junior year, where my hopes had at first glance rested in wanting to do a semester up in my home town on Swans Island, Maine, turned into another year in Austin, Texas at Lake Travis, where if I hadn’t been.. I would’ve never become a sideline reporter for our school’s football team with my good friend Maddie Davis. Whichhh.. also means I would have never fallen utterly in love with a boy named Cameron Dicker on the team, who is today half the reason for this post as we became full blown infatuated with each other that Fall of 2015. Then entering my senior year these two blisses of friendship and romance merged together, forming one great big picture-perfect year for me. I loved going to school, not only because it meant that I got to see my friends and my love, but also because I got to see the beautiful faces of random classmates and teachers who I would end up also growing close with as the school year dwindled on, and thus would birth even more friendships.

 I remember feeling as if I was floating, I was so consumed with happiness that life felt unreal. At the same time though, things going so well made me simultaneously uneasy as I remember thinking “I'm so happy with my life right now that I'm just clenching every inch of my body wishing and hoping nothing screws it up”. I always remembered the verse Romans 8:18 which states “The pain that you've been feeling, can't compare to the joy that's coming”, which just always made me realize how everything is temporary; something we usually only tell ourselves as a crutch to keep us going when times are lousy and hard. But for me, the fact that everything is temporary maintained it’s truth just the same for any emotional state I was in, even when I was floundering around life in great glee. So much so in fact, that I found myself re-wording Romans 8:18 into “the joy you've been feeling, can’t compare to the pain thats coming”, and I don’t mean to be a pessimist, but I was just constantly on the edge of my seat, afraid of my joy being robbed because I knew that life couldn’t always be smooth sailing. It’s as if I felt my happiness had an expiration date. I remember being amid a wonderful moment where sunshine, love, smiles, exhilaration and all that good stuff consumed my surroundings, but instead of being present in the moment I was in, and enjoying it, I was only able to wonder in the back of my head, when the bad was going to arrive. I was amped up with the subtle fear of something happening that would rain on my parade and impede me of ever experiencing the joy I knew I had in that moment, ever again.  Life can’t be all sunshine and rainbows, so when is the storm going to come? And ironically enough, when the storm, or I should say storm(s) did come, (Hurricane Harvey & Irma), so did the trial in my life. And I gotta say, even though I say all this, and had anticipated that the periods of hardships would eventually roll in, doesn’t make it suck any less now that these difficult times are actually here, encroaching on my pursuit of happiness. I know that there are people out there who would love to have my bad days, and I am still counting my blessings everyday, but that still doesn’t help shake the feeling inside me that my life’s happinesses are slowly disintegrating in front of me, one piece at a time, and just watching them crumble does, inevitably, make me so sad. 

First it started with my friends all parting for college, then my sadness took form in the shape of my new school life, and now it creeps up on me and belittles my once firm love by eliciting the feeling that I'm a worthless girlfriend, whose relationship is now on the brink of failing as well. Those times where I was constantly thanking Jesus for the beautiful days I had had when I was bursting with happiness, I should have also been asking Him to prepare me for the ones where beauty and love is not as lavish. But so now here I am fighting to try to see the good in my everyday life, and I'm holding on so tight to the memories of the past good times, wishing I could go back in time and re-live every moment. And while I know that my happiness does not have an expiration date, I can’t help but wonder if my relationships do. I feel like I'm losing everyone or that all the people I love are forgetting about me or moving on. It’s like i’m running a marathon and all the relationships I once had are running the race and moving at their own pace, while I'm just stuck at the starting line with my legs glued together. I’m such a hopeless romantic and I definitely can’t bear the thought of losing the boy I've been hopelessly in love with over the past two years. I thought that I had found the love of my life at 16 and the sudden idea of getting my heart broken sends me into an instant mode of depression where any ambitions, dreams or goals I have ever had are now cold empty rooms with closed doors where I honestly just want to curl up in a ball and die. My old memories are now the architect of my identity. Holding on to my past happiness as if the bits and pieces of these memories are lightning in a bottle. They are the only thing keeping me sane right now, as they act as a daily reminder of the kind of joy I hope to attain again some day once these times are past me and I'm back in good, fruitful spirit. I've never rested so much hope in the verse Romans 8:18 more than I am everyday now. And though I could continue this post, writing on and on about my self pity and how bad I think I have it, I’m not going to. My situation right now sucks, but ya know it’s about time that I wake up realize that I can’t touch yesterday. Or last month. Or last fall. Or the last few years. While I need to document those moments and sentiments so that I can always cherish them, I can’t cling to them anymore. All I can do is move forward, and if I want to see how many once in a life time moments I can squeeze into a life time, than I need to still fall in love with as many things as possible. The world IS my oyster, it’s YOUR oyster, and what we see depends mainly on what we look for. Like Abe Lincoln once said, “we can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or we can rejoice because thorn bushes have roses”. It’s all perspective. I know that satan is trying with all his might to get to me right now while i’m down on myself and vulnerable. All these emotions I'm feeling of insecurity, weakness, and worthlessness, are all what he takes pleasure in instilling. But there’s only so many tomorrows, and I can’t sit here my whole life feeling sorry for myself. Yeah, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but a good amount of it actually is depending on our perspective, and yeah, everything in life is temporary. So if things are going good, enjoy it because it won't last forever. And if things are going bad, don't worry. It can't last forever either. Because when you actually think about it, ‘how beautiful is it to live in a world where nothing lasts forever? We must learn to fall in love with the love inside us because only then will every moment living, be worth dying for.’ I need to still just blast everyone with love today, and still look to collect beautiful moments. If I want love, I need to be love. If I want light, I need to be light. It’s my life. It’s your life! So let's love it. From the hurt to the wonder. From the bone to the flower. Theres so much life on one little earth, so theres no time to be bored or sad or sorry for yourself in a world as beautiful as this. There is no such thing as a perfect season, adversity will always try to break us down when they see things are going well. But whatever you believe about yourself on the inside is what you will manifest on the outside. I guess good and bad things will happen in life. You can’t get a “get out of a heart break free card”, you just have to keep living and not stress over what you can’t control. So if you’re like me right now, just relax. You will become an adult, as scary as that may be right now. You will figure our your career. That lonely hole in your heart will get filled. You will find someone who loves you.. REALLY loves you. Jesus will always be there for you when you need to rest. You have a whole life time; time takes time. The only way to fail in life is to abstain.