#my friends call this mindset the washing machine

[yourimagines]

Most angst crying sobbing with Nick Diaz

It’s a longer one, I kinda drifted away but I hope it’s good enough.

Trauma’s

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: Trauma, Child loss, Angst, Sadness, Depression and a tiny bit of fluff

Y/N POV

Nick was out of town, leaving me all alone again in this awful place I once called home. I felt trapped, trapped in my own house but also in my own mind. The walls started to creep in on me, leaving no space for me to move or breathe. It all started when Nick got suspended for 5 years, he had no job, no income and he couldn’t help his little brother out in his fights. Nick became even more depressed by that, he already wasn’t in a good mindset but after that he lost it completely. So when that happened it also ruined our relationship, we barely talk to each other as he completely shut me down, only simple yes or no is what I get out of him. He doesn’t even know I was pregnant and that I had a miscarriage because he was never home but when he is his mind isn’t.

So I’m doing what I’m always doing when he’s away, visiting Nate’s family and be that cool auntie for those kids. I was snapped out of my thoughts as one of them yelled my name. “Auntie y/n, look!” I smiled as Nikayla held up her drawing. “That’s beautiful, who did you draw?” She pointed at the figures. “That you, that uncle Nick and that’s…I don’t know who that is.” I hummed and nodded at her. “Impressive, looks very cool. Can I have it?” She happily nods. “Yes you can.” I took it from her and smiled. “Thank you.” She giggles and went back to her drawing table. Misty was looking at me. “You’re really good with them.” I gave her a small smile. “Thank you.” I looked down at the paper, starting to feel sad as I looked at the three stick man’s she just drew.

Nick POV

I was out with some old friends in Las Vegas, drinking and partying with them. “Nick come on.” The waved at me as they had women on their sofa. “Come, enjoy yourself.” I shook my head. “Nahh, I have a wife.” They laughed. “Nick, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” I took a sip from my beer. “Nick, my wife is pregnant at the moment, I’m enjoying myself before it’s to late.” I placed my beer down and left. “Where you going?!” They yelled after me “Out.” I left the club and walked back to my hotel room in the middle of the night. ‘I don’t want this life…’ I reached the hotel and went upstairs to my room. I crashed down on my bed and took out my phone, looking at my Lock Screen. A picture of her from a few years ago, wearing my NDA hoodie with a big smile on her face. ‘My beautiful wife….I’m going home.’ I packed my bags and went downstairs to check out. “Thank you for your stay sir.” I nodded and went to the parking lot to get my car and drove back home.

Y/N POV

Nick texted me he’s was coming home. ‘Weird, he’s just got there…’ I said goodbye to Misty and the kids and went to the grocery store before I went back home. ‘Maybe he’s not feeling so well.’ I got my groceries and went back home. As the night progresses Nicks parked his car in out driveway and I heard him closing his door. The front door opens and got slammed closed and Nick walked, his head was hung low as his bag hung loosely around his shoulder. “Hi honey, how was it?” I said in a cheerful way, he gave me a nod and disappeared upstairs. ‘Not even a hello back…’ I felt neglected by him, he’s not even looking at me. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want you anymore…’ I took a deep breath and followed him upstairs. He lay down on our bed, still his clothes on as he was scrolling on his phone. I grabbed his bag and disappeared to the washroom, unpacking his bag. “Nick honey, is this everything for the washer?” No reaction, I sighed and got up, walking back to our room. “Nick, I’m asking you a question.” He looks up, no emotions are on his face. “Do you have more clothes for in the washing machine?” “No.” And he looked back at his phone. “Okay, no problem tho.” I mumbled as I walked back to turn the machine on.

I just showered and made myself ready to go to bed, Nick was still laying there on his phone, watching something as I walked in. “I’m going to bed.” I said as I walked over to my side. He was laying with his arm on my blanket and I tried to pull it loose. ‘Oh come on Nick.’ “Nick, you’re laying on my side.” He moves away, sitting right back up as his eyes where glued to his phone. I sighed and got in bed. “Nick are you coming as well or…?” He nods and gets up, he stretched his back and threw his clothes off. “How was Las Vegas? Did you have fun?” “No.” He lays his phone on his nightstand and grabs a joint, he lights it up and takes a hit. “Nick, please not when I want to sleep, you know I can’t sleep from the smell.” He shoot me a glare and exhale the smoke out from his joint. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.” “Why are you so on my business, just leave me alone.” He stood there, in front of me, looking like I was the enemy. I shook my head and turned my back to him. “Good night Nick.” “Oh, so now I’m the bad guy? You know what fuck you.” He stormed off, slamming out door shut, I flinched at the loud bang and tears fell down my cheeks. ‘I can’t do this anymore…’

Nick POV

I sat outside, smoking my blunt in silence. Thinking about life, our life. ‘She doesn’t love me anymore, always asking those stupid questions…’ I sighed and went through my hair. “Fuck.” I got up and walked back into the house, closing the door and turning the lights off before I went upstairs. Our room was dark and quiet. I saw her laying on her side, her back facing me as her shoulders moved subtle but still rapidly. ‘She’s crying…’ I felt a lump forming in my throat and quietly got in bed. I carefully moved towards her, softly wrapping my arms around her waist. She stops moving around and I pulled her slowly closer. I lay my head down on her shoulder, closing my eyes as the tears swelled up in my eyes. I felt her small hands wrapping mine. “I miss you Nick.” She whispers. ‘I’m right here, I’m always here.’ “It’s not fair, it’s not fair that you treat me like this.” She moved away, turning around to face me. Her face was wet, her eyes were red and her voice sounded broken. “Why don’t you say anything!” She raised her voice and pushed my chest. “What do you want me to say?!” I raised my voice too. “Anything! Just say it already.” She sits back up, getting out of bed. I groaned and got up as well.

“Why can’t you just understand it.” I asked as she got angry “Understand what Nick?! That you got screwed over by them. I understand that Nick, I understand how you feel.” I laughed sarcastically at her. “You don’t understand it, if you did then this wouldn’t happen right now.” I waved my hands between us. “So I’m the bad guy now?, so I wasn’t there for you, when you got suspended, when you didn’t had a job? Tell me Nick, that I wasn’t here for you…that I wasted my own time and effort in you, while I needed you….” Her voice broke down at the end as she broke down. “You never asked me how I was doing, I needed you Nick. I’ve been through hell the last few months and you just do your own thing, like I don’t matter.” She wiped away her tears but new ones were still falling. “You’re so ungrateful y/n, you have a roof over your head, you’ve been through hell because I’m not here?! I’m trying to get back into the sport and earn some money. I do this for you and you are being really ungrateful now.” She shook her head. “Y-you have no idea…” a sob came out of her and she clasped her hands in front of her face. I wiped a few tears away from my cheeks and clenched my jaw. “I’m fucking done with this conversation.” I walked away, opening our bedroom door and left her alone.

I was downstairs, angry at her but mostly at myself. “Fuck!” I hit myself a few times against my forehead. I walked back up as she sat down on the ground, crying into her arms. “Go away.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “No, you wanted me to be here more for you, so here I am. Talk to me.” She shook her head. “God dammit y/n, I don’t know what you want from me!” I run my hands through my hair as I started to get even more frustrated. She looks up, eyes completely red and swollen from all the crying. “I want that person who loved me back…I-I just told you I needed you too and you don’t even ask or comforted me…I’m your wife Nick.” She looked so hurt, in pain as she couldn’t stop crying, tears were falling and falling. “I had a m-miscarriage Nick.” My heart dropped and everything around me stood still. “What?” I whispered. “I was pregnant Nick but..I-I failed and you where.…” she broke down and hugged herself. I slowly fell down on my knees, totally in shock. “You where carrying our child?” Tears started to fall again and I crawled over to her. “Baby…I’m so sorry.” She looked up, totally broken. “I needed you Nick…you weren’t here.” Her voice sounded so small, so broken. “I’m sorry…I’m so fucking sorry.” I broke down in tears, hiding my face in the palms of my hands.

Y/n POV

He totally broke down in front of me. I really hate it to see him like this, so vulnerable, so broken. I moved closer, wrapping my arms around him, seeking some comfort for myself as well. He immediately wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close as he cries into my shoulder. “I’m s-sorry baby.” I nodded against him as I started to cry as well. “I’m sorry I failed as a husband.” I grabbed him closer, afraid he would leave me. “No, I’m sorry that I couldn’t carry our child.” He looks up, eyes bloodshot and he shook his head, cupping my face with his large hands. “No, No don’t say that…” I let out a sob as he leaned his head against mine. “You didn’t fail my love, it wasn’t your fault.” He wiped away my tears and kissed my wet salty lips. “I always love you…you are my wife, my best friend and the love of my life. I’m the one who failed not you.” I cupped his right side of his face. “I love you too.” I whispered back. He smiles with tears in his eyes. “I promise I’ll be a better husband…just don’t leave me.” I kissed his lips and moved fully into his lap. “I’m not leaving you as you promise me that you won’t leave me.” His hands holding my waist, slightly pulling me closer. “I’m not leaving you, I’ll never leave you alone again.” He grabbed me firmer and stood up, carrying me to our bed, he lay me carefully down and kissed me softly. “I love you.” I said between our kiss as I pulled him closer to me in bed. “I love you darling.” We both cuddled and comforted each other till we both drifted off to sleep, holding each other close.

[saymoretv]

This isn't so much a post inspired by Venom Prison as a band, but it's more related to do with the fact that I think I finally *get* Death Metal.

I say this aware of the fact that VP are a band that sit in a more Hardcore friendly space when it comes to Death Metal, but aside from them, there's a few DM canon records and bands which have recently finally clicked for me. I've been enjoying some heavy rotation of albums by Suffocation, Deicide and Morbid Angel. In previous listens, and aside from a few stand outs like Entombed, a lot of this stuff washed over me; whereas now, I think, I finally get how to listen to and enjoy these records. Which, weirdly for me, seems to be when I'm trying to get my head down and concentrate on work, go figure.

I think I've always been a vocals guy more so than a guitar guy which is most often why I prefer Hardcore and Punk to Metal, for the most part. However, in learning to tune in and listening more attentively and closely to the guitar sounds, sonics and riffs, (thanks in no small part to listening to podcasts like HardLore), this has given me a new way to enjoy and experience stuff like Death Metal.

When you finally start vibing with something that you didn't previously fuck with, that's like one of the best feelings with me when it comes to Art and Music. It's that amazing feeling of possibilities opening up in front of your eyes, and your own personal universe of taste expanding and unfolding. It's that thrilling feeling attached to the surfacing of thought that 'there's still loads of things to discover!' And not just out there, in the world or in culture, but within yourself, within the connections in your own mind. To me cultivating or tapping into this feeling or mindset is one of the best 'anti-depression devices' because it's the perfect example of NOT growing tired with life, of discovering new ways to enjoy, look at and appreciate being in the world.

Anyhow, before I get too lost in fluffy mindset chat let me not forget about Venom Prison and this video in particular. I could of picked two or three other excellent VP videos but I went for 'Uterine Industrialisation' because it connects with another genre that I've found a new appreciation for in recent years: Horror films.

One of the ways I've begun to better appreciate Horror has been to more clearly understand and see them as allegories or reflections of the more everyday 'horrors' of life and society. I'm probably not alone in saying that watching and thoroughly enjoying Jordan Peele's 'Get Out' had a massive part to play in this mind shift.

Without having looked at the lyrics Venom Prison, and I imagine Larissa in particular, are capturing and portraying some of said horror in relation to the way women's bodies are seen as / exploited as 'birthing machines'. In this way the visuals and the music feel more substantiative and meaningful than the typical 'scary music = scary movies' type equation.

Also, a rather naff connection / observation, and perhaps linked to the fact that Venom Prison are also a Welsh band, is that the performance shots in the Church really call to mind the Funeral For A Friend - 10.45 Amsterdam Convo's video - horrific by virtue of reminding me of some very bad fashion choices from that era!

[david908546]

Revealing the Ideal Yoga Mat Bag: A Balance of Design and Usability

Summary:

Starting a yoga journey calls for a friend who can carry and safeguard the necessities of your practice in addition to a mat. We explore the world of yoga mat bags in this article, emphasizing the importance of selecting the ideal one for your requirements. We'll discuss the value of hot yoga hand towels, the practicality of washing yoga mats, and the function of yoga towels made specifically for hot yoga along the way. Let's explore the various levels of convenience and comfort that come with a carefully selected yoga mat bag.

Introduction:

Beyond only physical activity, yoga is a path toward mindfulness and self-discovery. As we continue to practice, the significance of having the appropriate equipment becomes clear. A yoga mat bag is one of the most important accessories, as it offers a beautiful and practical way to carry our mats and other accessories. We'll explore the nuances of choosing the ideal yoga mat bag in this investigation, emphasizing the value of hot yoga mat towel, machine-washable yoga mats, and towels designed specifically for hot yoga.

The Main Yoga Mat Purse:

Choosing the ideal yoga mat bag requires careful consideration of both style and utility. To this mindset, my main yoga mat bag is a testimonial. Constructed from robust, environmentally conscious materials, it skillfully combines sustainability and style. With enough for my yoga mat and other belongings like keys, water bottles, and an extra set of clothes, the backpack is really roomy. Its adjustable straps and several pockets are perfect examples of how style and functionality combine to improve my yoga practice as a whole.

Warm Yoga Towels:

A good hand towel can really make all the difference for hot yoga practitioners. Hot yoga makes you sweat a lot, and using a special hot yoga hand towel keeps you from slipping during your practice. Through my adventure, I learned about the life-changing potential of a high-quality hand towel made specifically for hot yoga. Not only does it keep me comfortable during the exercise but it also provides a layer of hygiene by stopping the spread of bacteria on shared mats because it is absorbent and quick to dry.

Hot Yoga With Yoga Towels:

The speciality yoga towel made specifically for hot yoga sessions complements the hot yoga hand towel. These towels improve the practice experience overall by adding an additional layer of absorbency and grip. They provide a secure and cozy environment with their moisture-wicking properties and non-slip technology, enabling practitioners to concentrate on their postures without interruptions. Purchasing high-quality yoga towels for hot yoga is an investment in your practice's safety and hygienic conditions.

Sanitized Yoga Mat:

Any yoga practice should prioritize hygiene, and using a washable yoga mat just makes things easier. Conventional mats can eventually gather bacteria and dirt, which will make your practice area less hygienic. This worry is removed with a washable yoga mat, giving you the ability to keep a clean, fresh surface for every practice. For practitioners who care about the environment, the mat's longevity and simplicity of washing make it a sustainable option.

Conclusion:

The importance of carefully selected accessories in the quest of a satisfying yoga practice cannot be emphasized. Your essentials are securely fastened to a well-chosen yoga mat bag, which effortlessly combines fashion and utility. The comprehensive approach to a hygienic, secure, and cozy practice space is completed with the addition of washable yoga mats, hot yoga hand towels, and yoga towels for hot yoga. Let your yoga gear represent your dedication to environmental sustainability and personal well-being as you set off on your yoga journey. Select carefully, and with the appropriate equipment at your side, let your practice develop in harmony.

[4lph4kidz]

oh yeah you’re new here huh. anyway i’m flattered that you ask but i absolutely will not be able to provide you a concise or coherent reply here. i have too many thoughts. and i can’t be objective about this character, despite Wanting to be analytical. i’m emotionally invested in a way that surely clouds my judgement. anyway. rambling under the cut.

look. there are just so many things that drive me completely fucking nuts about dirk specifically - his thematic substance and narrative role / utilisation, the way his portrayal reflects HS’s ideas about masculinity and toxic masculinity and sexuality (wowww dirk is just so masculine and rational and doesnt use labels, not like the other silly effeminite and emotional gays), the way he embodies the relationship between creator and creation.. the meta stuff, the philosophical stuff, postmodernist themes, the weighty existentialism, the moral quandaries, the ocean imagery, the isolation... there’s whole a lot for me to dig into, analytically speaking, a whole range of ideas i personally find compelling all packaged up in one extremely fucking weird boy. a boy who i like on the surface/story level, also. i think his brand of dry humour is funny, he’s a fun combo of rose and dave’s personalities, and i like his rapport with his friends, despite their conflicts and communication problems - he has some genuinely  sweet moments. he’s pretty badass, which is cool. he’s also kind of incredibly fucking tragic. assigned self destructive @ skaia. i can’t read him as anything but tragic, same as any of the alphas, which is why i love them. they’re all fatally flawed, but i feel for them, and would like them to overcome those flaws.

i was going to get into the ways the character is flawed / morally gray / a problematic fave but i really ran out of steam and don’t feel like trying to recreate the d*rkscourse that happens in my brain on a weekly basis. just know i think the ways he is flawed and the question of responsibility wrt his splinters and the harm they cause is also absolutely fascinating, and i’m willing to indulge some critical takes on the character because i like to punish myself for enjoying things i think seeing what this guy is like at his worst is sort of... integral to what i perceive to be the core of the character? the tension between his worse traits / selves and what i see as fundamentally good aspirations...  essentially big-brother-style protectiveness, warped by a less than healthy attitude / shitty ideals wrt to heroism and masculinity, as well as communication issues partially related to a commitment to self-aggrandising and insincere cooldude posturing. i think as a defence mechanism if the breakdown on the roof is anything to go by. i’m not sure if i’m correct in that read, but it’s what made sense to me. i’m going to re-read soon though, maybe this will change?

like... essentially, in homestuck proper - he’s not a villain but he really, really could be. he is, if you want to look at hal that way. the things dirk thinks are heroic (masculine/stoic/powerful/martyrdom) ideals are very much being deconstructed by homestuck as a work, that’s more what dave’s arc is about but it goes for dirk too. those ideas, especially as handled by “villainboy diva” prince dirk, are in some ways flawed and harmful and could be putting him into villain territory if he takes them too far... idk. the tension between dirk’s multiple selves embodying his worse qualities, vs his own genuine desire to do good, do better, despite what he comes to perceive as his own totally innate and inescapable flaws... ugh, maybe i’m just also a self absorbed and mentally ill piece of shit, but jesus christ that is fascinating to me? like... it’s really hard for me to not connect some of my own personal feelings and struggles to that conflict, even if the circumstances are Obviously not even remotely similar and i don’t want to project :/ (i totally do though)

well. that was a lot of words. have fun trying to make sense of this, i guess

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Practice Makes Perfect.

Word Count: 3.2k.

Commissioned by the lovely @furudolove.

Pairing: Yandere!OC/Reader.

TW: Death, Light Gore, Blood, Graphic Injury, Mentions of Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, Slight Sociopathy/Apathy, Implied Anxiety, Obsessive mindsets.

Her smile was familiar.

Or, familiar might’ve been the wrong word for it. Cozy in the way a hotel room was, stiff and sterile, but repetitive and recognizable, too. Reassuring like a disinterested family, soothing like the buzz of a broken streetlamp, relaxing like being so utterly, completely, absolutely lost, there was nothing you could do to possibly make things worse than they already are. It wasn’t off-putting, but it wasn’t welcoming, either. She didn’t feel intimidating, and yet, you still wanted to keep your distance, like a mouse might from a docile housecat. To stay bundled up in your little corner off the coffee shop, your coat pulled over your chest and…

And then she glanced up, and something in your brain short-circuited.

You really should’ve stopped staring earlier.

Instantly, your eyes shot back to the wooden tabletop in front of you, to the mug you’d almost forgotten, steam still rising off the top. She was a barista, after all, she was working, and the last thing she needed was some creep staring her down for the better half of the last thirty minutes, if only because of that uncanny, unidentifiable resemblance to something you couldn’t name. You weren’t a regular, but she felt new, still awkward with the machines and robotic with costumers, but you couldn’t say you were any better. You’d hardly said a word to her, aside from your order, and you didn’t plan to, not if you could help it. You’d never been good at that kind of thing, and you had a feeling your luck wouldn’t improve with someone so…

Someone like her.

Not that you’d been all that lucky with much of anything, lately. Hell, you were only here because you’d missed your train, and the next wouldn’t arrive for another hour, at least. There were more pressing things you could focus on, like the early shift you had tomorrow, how late you were going to get home, the busted lock on the door of your apartment, but it was easier to hate the rigid schedule that hadn’t bent to your will, the sidewalk that’d been just a little too crowded let you squeeze your way through peacefully, the light snowfall that meant you couldn’t wait at the station, regardless of how badly you wanted to bunker down on an uncomfortable, freezing bench and stubbornly glare at the tracks until you found a way to turn-back time and avoid such a trivial problem entirely. It was easier to focus on the barista, how her black hair fell in front of her face as she worked, how your fingers twitched, moving reflexively to push it back. It was an invasive kind of intimacy, the type that was as unearned as it was unwanted. Irrational and irritating, despite your attempts to brush it off.

Downing the rest of your drink, you forced yourself to stand. The station would be better, and fresh air would help to clear your mind, to stop you from paying attention to things that didn’t need attention. You tried to start towards the door, but you hardly made it a full step before something caught the back of your collar, tugging you back into place. There was a brief pause, a second that stretched out just a little too long, but hesitantly, you managed to turn around, only to be met by the smiling face you’d been simultaneously inspecting and avoiding. Only to be met by her, the barista, the girl you’d been all-but leering at, since you walked in.

Reflexively, you moved to apologize, but she was already talking, already forcing another paper cup into your unoccupied hand. “On the house,” She explained, in place of a proper greeting. You didn’t mind. You couldn’t really say you expected one, not from her. “It’s cold out there, and you’re starting to look like you could use it.”

There was a playful lull to her voice, a hint of something that balanced on the line between an insult and a genuine show of sympathy. You could only bow your head, your eyes suddenly glued to the floor. “I could, honestly,” You managed, the words coming out meeker than you would’ve liked. If she noticed, it didn’t seem to dampen her mood, her grin only growing broader as you went on. “Thank you…”

“Anya,” She finished, her smile never faltering.

“Call me Anya.”

~

You recognized her eyes, too.

Dark, just teetering on the shade where brown begins to blend with back. You might’ve said she looked distracted, but that wouldn’t be right – if anything, she seemed a little too concentrated. You were better about your staring, this time, but it would’ve been impossible not to look over you shoulder occasionally, not to throw a glance in her direction as you ducked behind a rack of magazines. It was a pathetic effort, really, an unnecessary one. It was a corner store, not her bedroom. You were shopping, not setting up hidden cameras. You’d gotten here before her, and you would’ve left if she hadn’t come in, if you could just put a strange resemblance aside and manage to act like a normal, functional human being. That’s what you should do, really. It’s what anyone else would do, whether or not there was the smallest, tiniest, most insignificant chance she’d see you and think, quietly and to herself, that you were a creep.

But, you weren’t someone else. And you really, really didn’t want her to think you were a creep.

So, hiding behind the magazine rack it was.

Currently, you were staring down a display cooler, trying to blend in with the background or melt into the fluorescent lights. You wanted to make yourself less noticeable, to shrink into your jacket and disappear, but that wasn’t an option – you were sure you already would’ve abused the privilege, if you had it. You just had to wait her out. You just had to—

“Another rough day?”

You just had to die. That was it, you just had to die.

At least she didn’t seem uncomfortable, inviting herself into your personal space before you could make the mistake of invading hers, choosing to stand just a little too close, her shoulder nearly touching yours. “Is it that obvious?” You muttered, your voice still low, like you were still trying to hide. A fox, still trying to walk on the leg it’d already chewed off. “I wasn’t really planning on running into anyone, this late.”

You said it like the two of you were friends, like it even made sense that she’d taken time out of her night to talk to you. Instantly, you regretted opening your mouth at all, but Anya only laughed. “I’d offer you another coffee, if I could,” She quipped, nudging you gently, her tone still unbothered, as if she made a hobby of confronting near-strangers. She might’ve, for all you knew. She felt like the kind of person who did. “A little company can’t hurt, though. I’d like to think I’ve gotten good at this kind of thing.” There was a pause, and enviously, you scanned over a dented energy drink. “Lots of training, y’know? People say I have a common face, makes it easier for people to talk to me.”

You allowed yourself a small sigh, a wave of relief washing over you. She must’ve been used to it, the strange stares and that distorted attraction, but you still tried to keep your eyes in front of you, on the sleeve of her silver coat as she reached up, toying with the cooler’s handle. “I don’t really have a lot to say,” You conceded, reluctantly. “It’s just been a tough week. My karma’s been off or something – nothing just seems to go right. Not that anything’s gone that wrong, either.” It was one of the few advantages of living such a small life. If you had the time to worry about whether or not the same girl would recognize you twice, you couldn’t have had much to worry about in the first place. “I’m just… a little stuck, I guess. It’s like I’m treading water, but I still know I’m going to drown, eventually.”

You caught her reflection in the clouded glass, an expression similar to guilt passing across her features and disappearing just a quickly, fading into a small, understanding smile, so unabashedly sympathetic, it almost felt practiced. “Like the universe has a bounty on your head.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Things can always get worse.” It was a declaration, shameless and unabashedly pessimistic, the kind that forced the tension in your shoulders to dissolve and your nerves to settle in the pit of your stomach, if only out of respect for her confidence alone. “But, no one should have to die alone. If you want to walk me home, we could try to stave it off for another twenty minutes together.”

If it were anyone else, any other stranger, you probably wouldn’t have agreed. You hadn’t been making excuses – it was late, closer to sunrise than sunset, and if your luck was going to get any worse, wondering around the city probably wasn’t the best idea. But, there was something about the way she asked, like she already knew you’d say yes, like she already trusted you enough to know you would. You didn’t want to disappoint her. You didn’t want to break whatever golden, idealistic expectations she’d managed to form, in the handful of days since you’d met.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” You admitted, letting her hook her arm around yours, pulling you closer to her side as you fought to keep your focus on the ground, willing the heat rushing to your cheeks to cool. “If it’ll keep me alive, I mean.”

There was only a smile in response, bright enough to let you overlook that, despite already moving to drag you to the cashier, she didn’t actually have anything to buy.

“I’ll do my best, this time.”

~

You could’ve sworn you’d seen her apartment before, despite knowing you’d never taken a step past the threshold.

Admittedly, you probably should’ve made more of an effort to change that before springing at the first opportunity to move in. Despite her confidence, Anya liked her privacy, and she always seemed to prefer your place over hers, taking every excuse you offered to spend the night or hand out or, on one special occasion, try and fail to surprise you with a romantic dinner. It almost felt unreal, trying to navigate the strange, empty halls, a cardboard box in your arms and your eyes burning, a side-effect of the white walls and the hanging fluorescent lights, complicated metal fixtures she seemed a little too fond of. You’d have to ask her about that, later on. You doubted your vision would last, if the entire apartment was like this.

“Already lost, babe?”

Your heart raced at the sound of Anya’s voice, but not like it used to, not out of pure, nervous tension. This was a nice sensation, a more pleasant sort of unease, leaving your cheeks flushed and your tongue failing as Anya draped herself over your shoulders, her own crate already thrown into whichever black room she decided it belonged in. She’d wanted to help, but with the Spring heat and how much time the two of you had spent cleaning out your last place, neither of you seemed capable of getting much done. “Can you blame me?” You asked, leaning back and melting into her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you lured my back to your empty, bleached out murder den.” There was a pause, a slight hesitation on your part. “Which is not what happened, right?”

“Oh, no, not until I see how unbearable you are to live with, at least.” You huffed, attempting to shrug her off, but Anya only laughed, her arms dropping to your waist and her cheek coming to rest against your back. “I mean, I should be the scared one, if anything. After what happened to your apartment—”

“It was just bad luck,” You interjected, already embarrassed. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“An entire building burning down is not ‘bad luck’.” She sounded annoyed, but her faux exasperation was half-hearted, at best, a sentiment only backed up by her breathy sigh, all poorly veiled relief and numbed exhaustion. “It’s just a miracle you weren’t home. When you called me, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d do if…”

She trailed off, but you knew what she meant. You were still in a state of shock, honestly, still stuck in the same distant headspace you’d been in when you first saw the smoke rising into the air and the caution tape surrounding your neighborhood and the crowds, and you couldn’t imagine it was any less gruesome for her. “It’s not all bad,” You offered, reaching back, running your fingers through her hair idly. “If you hadn’t wanted to go on a date that day, I might’ve actually been—”

You didn’t get a chance to finish. Above you, something creaked, the sound of metal scraping against metal as a fuse fizzled and popped, an electrical static that fell silent just a moment too soon. You barely got a chance to consider moving before you were thrown on the ground, Anya on top of you and a mangled pile of glass and wires scattered across the floor behind her, the invasive light of the hall suddenly dulled into something grey, something absent. It took you a moment to process it all – the cracked floor tiles, the ache forming in the spot where your chest hit the ground, but Anya was quick to recover, a stifled laugh slipping past her lips before she could swallow it back. You might’ve been tempted to do the same, if your tongue hadn’t suddenly felt so heavy.

You might’ve been able to take it as lightly as she did, if the sound hadn’t been so familiar in such an awful, terrifying way.

It was difficult to speak, but you managed, the words coming out faltered and breathless. “I can’t… A-Are you alright?”

“You’re alright,” She mumbled, more to herself than for you.

“I’m fine, as long as you’re alright.”

~

Somehow, you felt like you’d heard her voice before.

Her smile was familiar, as were her eyes and the unnerving emptiness of her apartment, but you felt like you’d heard her voice before, like you’d listened to her, like you’d lied with your head in her lap and you’d heard her, not just something similar, not just an imitation you could convince yourself wasn’t the real thing. It was personal. It was real. It was Anya, even if you knew it couldn’t be. Even if you knew it wasn’t supposed to be.

Even if it had to be, and you were beginning to realize it could never have been anything else.

Anya was trying to be gentle, today. You couldn’t blame her, you’d be gentle if you found her like this, at the bottom of a staircase in a pool of her own blood, bones shattered and ribs cracked and body so twisted, you weren’t sure how she’d even recognized you. Still, there was an exhausted lilt in her voice as she crouched by your side – or, what she must’ve thought was your side, at least. “I knew this would happen.” There was a pause, a spark of agony that flittered across your scalp as she reached down, combing her fingers through your hair lazily. “Took a week longer than last time. Getting you back to my apartment is usually a turning point, but… different rules for different run-throughs, I guess.

“This isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen,” She went on, not bothering to wait for a response she knew wouldn’t come. “Car accidents are usually bloodier. You’ve gotten gutted a couple times, usually a day or two after we’re supposed to meet, and when you get caught in that fire…” She trailed off, and you tried to take a deep breath, something in your lungs ripping and spilling out, as a result. “I had to pull you out of a train crash, once. A fucking train crash. You hated trains, a few cycles ago.”

Anya let out a huff, something between a sigh and a groan, but if she had more to say, she didn’t bother offering more than a parting kiss to your bruised forehead, forcing out a whimper so cracked and so pitiful, you could hardly bring yourself to acknowledge as human. “I’ll see you next time, sweetheart.”

A blocked heel pressed against the crack in the back of your skull, and Anya’s weight shifted with a small, practiced grace.

It hurt, for a moment.

But then, it didn’t.

~

You looked a little different at the start of every cycle.

Anya didn’t mind. You were still you – beautiful, lovable, endearing you, regardless of the color of your jacket or what drink you chose, the day the two of you were predestined to meet. It didn’t matter if you were a little more jittery than you were last time, a little less willing to meet her eyes as she took your order, she could look past that. Whatever gap existed between the two, she could bridge it. Whatever hesitancy dozens of bloody, gory deaths might’ve instilled in you, she could help you overcome it, she could choke it out of you until only admiration was left, the same love she felt for you.

Of course, her goal was your survival, to protect you and get close to you and make sure you shake off whatever awful curse you seem to be under, but Anya found that a relationship was the best way to do that. She’d tried keeping her distance, manipulating individual factors rather than keeping you out of harm’s way directly, but that’d been about as effective as the time she’d locked you in her bedroom and attempted to take a more forceful approach to keeping you safe. She needed to keep a firm hand, not a strangle-hold. She needed to be outgoing, not intrusive.

Part of her was a little worried, albeit not nearly worried enough. She’d been the shy one, the first time the two of you met, stuttering and plain and completely unimportant, and you’d been confident, care-free, a far-cry from the paranoid, anxious shell you’d taken to hiding in, lately. She still loved you, obviously, she doubted she could ever stop loving you, but you were different. She was different, too. Both of you were.

But, Anya couldn’t seem to bring herself to care.

She smiled as she finished writing, reading over the number written onto your cheap, disposable paper cup, her name underneath it, punctuated by a row of hearts, for good measure. You wouldn’t call, she already knew, but Anya wasn’t feeling as patient as she usually was, she didn’t want to wait as long to skip to the fun part of her little routine. It was the least she could do to experiment. If she got lucky, you’d be desperate enough to ask for her help, after a little prodding. And, if she wasn’t, it’d be fine. She was sure of that. It’d always be fine.

She knew what to do if she made a bad impression, if she said the wrong thing, if she decided she couldn’t trust you with your own safety, anymore. You’d already abandoned her over and over again, died and left Anya to smooth over the damage…

She was sure you wouldn’t mind if she chose to be a little selfish, this time around.

[jonah-aesthetic]

Gingerbread I Zach Herron

Zach X Reader

Plot: Y/N’s successful boyfriend invites her to his to bake Christmas Cookies.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: The last bit is a little rushed, this isn’t edited but I hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas my Lovelies! 

Rating: 16+ (do you guys like the spicy scenes or no)

Moodboard

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

Inserting the brass key into the lock with a click, you pushed open your door with your shoulder. Entering your apartment on the three floor, you flicked on the lights and tossed you keys on the counter not caring where they landed. 

The entire day was stressful, the corner store was out of your favourite creamer. Next you forgot you phone at home and had to run back. You were late to work cause your hair wasn’t participating. Not to mention that Asshole that cut you off earlier. You were annoyed and ready to throw on something comfy to watch Netflix for the rest of the day.

A yellow post-it note caught your eye, Remembering it not being on the fridge this morning. Plucking it off you read the words written upon it. 

 Hey Darling, 

@ 10pm meet me at my place, we’re baking cookies. Don’t call me saying no cause I blocked you. Also there’s a gift in the fridge for you 

xx - Z 

Smiling you shook head, only Zach would make the effort of blocking you on everything so you had no other choice then to show up. You had the worst habit of denying his invitation when you weren't in the mood for it. But you’d end up regretting it five episodes in of your favourite tv show. Zach always managed to make your day better, ever since the day you meet him. 

December 10th, 2019

The aroma of the coffee shop was filled with the intoxicating smell of coffee beans and Christmas music. Third  in line all you could think about how the guy you were talking to you ghosted you. He was the first guy who found interest in you since the breakup with you ex- boyfriend. The bastard used that to his advantage just to get laid. Knowing you were fairly vulnerable and desperate to feel any connection again. What- 

“What can I get you?” The leathery voice asked, 

Without realising you moved up on the line, slightly embarrassed you wondered how many times he had to ask you. “Just a large coffee, three sugar, three cream.” You spoke with a small smile, what could you say. you had a sweet tooth and hated the bitter taste of black coffee. 

“$3.78.” His bored tone was heard, 

Nodding you reached into your purse for your wallet. searching you found two quarters, one dime, two nickles and no sign of your back card. Of course not you left it on the coffee table after buying a book online. Your dumb ass never put it back home. 

“Fuck.” You say more to yourself, but you knew it was heard my others close by. Looking up you smiled apologetically at the barista. “Funny story- 

“Here, I got it.” a smooth memorising voice cut you off,  you watched as some guy reached over your shoulder to pay. Not just any guy with that perfect bone structure a fucking god, okay maybe that was too drastic, but you didn’t think it was. 

“No, You don’t have to.” You spoke trying to push him away, but it was too late his card reached the machine chiming happily. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my pleasure honestly.”  His smile sucked the breath out of your lungs. His brown eyes were watching you, wondering what emotions were going through your pretty little head. Taking his hand out of the pocket of his slacks, reaching it towards you. “Zach” 

“Y/N” You smiled back at him, connecting your right hand in his. They were warm to the touch and significantly larger then your delicate one. The thing that intrigued  you most about him was his un-denying classic style he held. Wearing a beautiful button down, which had four different black and white patterns. Two buttons undone, just enough for his defined chest to peek through. Tucked into a pair of black striped slack as he wore black oxford shoes, pulling the entire look together. He was formal, yet he wasn’t and you found it fucking attractive. 

After Zach requested his order and paid you both caught onto a conversation. Waiting for your drinks, he was funny and from what he was telling you talented too. Collecting your beverages he offered to take a seat with you, and you definitely weren't denying that offer. Talking with Zach you forgot all about Chase, or was it Chance? Who cared he wasn’t important anymore. 

You had no idea how long you talked before the barista who served you earlier kicked you out. You switched numbers and he asked if he could walk you home. It was dark and you didn’t necessarily want to walk alone down town.

Sticking the note to the counter you hopped in the shower washing away the filth of the day, changed into leggings and a hoodie that once belonged to him. Locking up the apartment you got into your car and began driving to Zach’s house. Feeling giddy you forgot about the candy bar settling inside the fridge. 

Arriving you walked through the front, glass doors sliding open like they always had for you. Reaching into the lobby you caught the eye of Julian who had been sitting behind the hostess’ desk. Green eyes staring he smiled, “Well if it ain’t little Mrs. Herron.” Greeting you with the nickname he gave you eight months ago. Nonetheless it still made your cheeks heat up at the thought of marrying the boy one day. 

“Hello to you too Julian.” You reply, heading straight to the white elevator. Pressing the silver key card against the scanning pad. It was a gift given on the same night you planned on offering your apartment key to him. You both laughed at how connected your mindset really was. 

Dinging the elevator opening speaking mechanically to you. “Good evening Y/N, and Happy Holidays.” Walking in you whispered a small thank you like you’ve always had. You still weren’t use to how luxurious the apartment-plex was, Only feels like yesterday was the first time you agreed to come over. 

Letting the elevator engulf you with hushed Christmas music. There were no buttons embedded on the side. All the information it needed was packed into the chip within the card. All that was plastered on the wall was a screen, counting down the seconds it took to reach his pent house.

Zach’s success as an artist never bothered you, never made you feel less then him. He’s never once made you feel that way with him, especially when you two fought in the dead of the night. He’s even asked for you to move in, but you liked you place. Liked your own space.The luxury of his life could be a little much for you at times. 

Dinging the elevator door exposed Zach’s apartment, lights were dimmed showing off the string of Christmas bulbs scattered about. Home Alone displaying on the t.v above the crackling fire place. Candles lit emitting of the scents of pine and peppermint mingling perfectly together. Christmas decor still intact from when you placed it with Zach’s help last week.  Staring at the atmosphere your boyfriend created you wondered where he was. 

“Zach?” Your voice travelled through the pent house like a maze. With no response you decided to look for him yourself. Entering his room you spotted pyjamas atop his silky black duvet, Another note rest a top. 

Just put these on for me 

xx -Z

Plucking the note you unfolded them, a white crop top and a pair of red pyjama bottoms. With all nine of Santa's reindeer’s names written in white all over them. You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, he had a chill night planned for the both of you. Since he knew you weren’t one for big crowds, you were blessed to know he understood that. 

Stripping in the middle of his room you changed into the Christmas pjs. Tossing your clothes into the corner of the room you ventured off to find him. Wasn’t too long before you spotted him in the kitchen, in matching Pyjamas dancing to the Christmas music. That right there was the love of your life and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

“Hey hot stuff!” you holler over the music, he stopped instantly at you voice, looking up he breaks into a stunning smile. “ I didn’t here the elevator.” His brown eyes a little apologetic, “You also didn’t here me call for you. Too busy lost into the Christmas feel.” you tease him. 

“Here, I made you this.” Grabbing a red mug off the counter he stalks towards you. Towering over you small height, he places the hot coco in your hands. The hot beverage topped with whipped cream, cinnamon, and a candy cane melting into the side of it.  You didn’t think your words could manage the gratitude you felt from him. Placing you unoccupied hand around his neck bringing him to your lips. You kissed him, a soft and slow one. He tasted like hot coco and candy canes. 

“I could never get use to the way you kiss me in appreciation.” He says after you let go of his neck. 

“I Don’t feel like my words are enough, not like the way you sing them.” 

“Your words are everything to me, but I’d definitely prefer the kissing.” Zach winks, flirting with you like you two were still best friends. Walking backwards to the island he did a once over of your body, and a second time. His brown eyes travelled from head to toe drinking every inch of you in. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head a little. He always flirted with you, he never saw the reason to stop. Zach found you breathtakingly beautiful and wouldn’t let you forget it. 

Drinking the glorious hot coco he made you, your eyes watched at he started prepping the ingredients. His moments were sly and simple yet attractive, you still couldn’t grasp the thought of him being yours. The man practically got on his  knees till you said you’d be his girlfriend. 

“So are you just going to stare at me the whole time or help me?”  His eyes never lost focus as he caught you red handed admiring the way this hands moved. Your cheeks flushed, trying to hide yourself behind the cup of hot coco. The man could flirt with you but the moment he catches you staring you burn up like a tomato. 

“I wasn’t.” You mumble into your beverage, hoping it hide the quiver in your voice. It failed. 

Dark chuckle emits into the air, “I love the way I affect you.” Still trying to hide into your cup, you couldn’t see the way he prowled over to you. His brown eyes a little dark and his expression a little sharper. You gasped once his hands came in contact with your skin. Goosebumps arisen on your waist as he backed you up against the counter, lifting you atop it. 

You let him pull the mug away as he looked into your eyes, seeing every piece of you. Separating your knees he slide between your legs. Pulling you closer against him, you locked your ankles around his waist. He held your chin in his hands you felt every muscle, every vein, and every bone in his left hand. Placing his thumb on your chin he pried back your bottom lip. 

Your core throbbed between your legs feeling the sexual energy flowing in his blood. You were putty in his hands like you’ve always had been for him, only him. You released a whimper at the growing tension, wanting him to do something, anything. Moving closed to you, his mouth swerved past you lips and to your ear. Breathing against your neck sending shivered down you spine.

“I want to fuck you, but right now I want to make cookies with you.” He whispered softly and you could hear the teasing smiled on his lips. Just like that the burning in your core vanished like thin air and replaced with disappointment. That fucking brick, he’s done it multiple times before. yet you still haven’t learned. 

“Okay lets go.” You grab his hand, hopped of the counter and pulled him to the kitchen island. Showing no weakness, no emotion, no trace of the way he affected with his prickery.  Zach was bewildered by your response, nonetheless let you lead them. 

There was no effort needed into making the dough as Zach had measured everything out correctly.  While slinging along with the Christmas music you combined the wet ingredients and Zach did the dry. You’d never forget this moment with him, sneaking glances while you made gingerbread cookies with him.  

Wasn’t too long before combining both mixing bowls into a larger one, placing that one under the mixer. Watching the dough as it mingles everything together creating a beautiful brown and soft cookie dough. It was mesmerising to watch honestly. 

Distracted with the dough you couldn’t feel the tight hold of Zach’s eyes on you. Watching every muscle, the way your lips twitched with happiness. How your calm breathing expanded your chest. The motion of your fingers riming the brim of the mixing bowl. The way the light in the kitchen beamed off your hair, making the shade brighter. 

“I love you.” His voice sounded hazy, lost in the thought of you. 

Surprised you whipped your head in his direction, a giddy smile upon your lips. He leaned against the counter, sipping hot coco out of a forest green mug with ‘Merry’ written in white. You realised your mug and his had been a matching set, as yours had the word ‘Christmas. 

“I love you too.” It was as if the words were yanked from your soul. Maybe it was in the moment or you knew that you truly loved this man with your whole heart. But you let yourself say it and you didn’t feel the need to apologies. Zach responded with an ear to ear smile, no words and you were thankful for that. 

From there it didn’t take too long before the dough was plop on the island and rolled out. Gingerbread cookie cutters dug into it softly, before they were laid down on a cookie sheet. Then pushed inside the oven to be baked. 

“Speaking of cookies, I got you a gift.”  Looking into his doe brown eyes you held in a laugh. “How do those even connect?” You asked him, raising your eyebrow and crossing your arms accusingly at him.

“They don’t, But I got you one.” He pulls a small white box with a stunning red ribbon on top from behind his back . Small meant it was either a give card or jewellery, with him it always had been expensive. Which you were grateful for but you’d rather the small gift. Deep down you didn’t want to feel like a burden, Zach has done so much for you already.

“It’s not Christmas yet.” You managed to get out. 

“Does it have to Christmas for me to get my girlfriend a gift?” He asked his voice smooth and sounding like home. Shaking your head gently you say “No, I guess not.” It would making you feel less guilty if it had been. 

Taking the small box into your hands you watched his brown eyes light up. Starring at the little bow atop, you pulled the lid Revealing a gift that was neither what you assumed. Inside was a golden card sitting on green velvet, Not just any card, a card that was identical to his pent house key card. Grasping it into your grip you saw the small detailing. Matte background with a shinning luxurious car and letters that spelled your name. 

“What’s this?” You ask having a good idea, but you wanted confirmation.

“Key card for the parking garage.” You could spy the hesitation and anxiety swimming in his eyes. You wondered how long he’s had this tucked away. Waiting for the exact right moment to ask you again. 

“Yes.” 

“Will you move in with me?”  his words were forced from his lips like he was awaiting your denial. “I made my office into one for you, your own space. It’s all yours if you want it.” He continues not hearing your answer over his hammering heart. That explained why he kept it locked for the last two months, you never questioned it since this was his house.

“Yes” you smile, knowing you made the right choice for the both of you.”...but you didn’t have to do that Zach.”  He engulfed you in a hug and you latched onto him like it was the last time you would see him. Holding you tight to his chest you could feel his lips kiss the crown of your head. 

“Really?” His slow question vibrated against his chest where your head was laying. you moved to catch his eyes with yours, to make sure he heard you. “Yes, You’re my forever Zach.” 

[retiredteabag]

What Happened To You?

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Genre: angst with fluff :)

Word count: ...

Synopsis: You were a very positive girl, but when you have one of the hardest weeks ever and break down, who will be there to comfort you?

——————————————————————————

This week was so great, perfect justttttt perfect. <— that was sarcasm, it was most definitely not perfect. :(

Y/n was a very positive girl, not only for others but also herself, if she was struggling she would focus on the good. She would constantly go to bed and try to clear her mind, de-stress and not talk to others about negative stuff because she knew it would bring her down and make others worry. She would wake up everyday with the idea that no matter how busy she was, she could make the day great.

This week was no different, but as you know, time carries on, stress builds, it can wear a person down. Exams were coming up, y/n’s family had been really busy and although y/n loved her family she just couldn’t talk to them right now. All of her clothes looked weird these days, thank goodness UA had a uniform. Her classmates seemed so cheerful, she didn’t want to ruin that, so she carried on.

She would run everyday, it became a routine and it helped her cool off, today was just like other days. She tied her shoe laces, pulled up her hair, stretched a bit, and got on her way. She usually went the same route and she knew her way well.

She was running when she lost her footing. Ouch, what the heckkk, that never happens. She had twisted her ankle, she could tell, not from the pain but from the grossly worrying ✨crunch✨ she winced, couldn’t even feel the pain yet but she had fallen too. As she tumbled down the hill the earphones in her ears were ripped out, covering her head she came to a stop.

A large sigh escaped her mouth. ‘It’s alright, it’s okay’ is what she said to herself, she got up and it was very apparent that the adrenaline rushing through her body was basically gone now because her ankle hurt like hell. ‘It’s alright, it’s okay’ she mumbles to herself. She can walk, she can. It just ~really really hurts~ and she can push through.

She’s almost up the hill when she remembers her earphones weren’t with her. Another sigh. She turns and waddles down the hill again. ‘It’s okay, you can get you music going, make it back, get a hot shower, and then sweatpants. :) sweatpants.’ and that became her motivation.

She bends over, grunting loudly, much like a hippo, and gets her earphones, she’s plugging them in as she makes her way up the hill and starts her music.

?? Starts her music. ?? ‘What the hell?’ Pressing the volume button, she turns it up. Pauses and unpauses the music, checks her data, even wastes one of her precious skips on her free Spotify plan 😩 The next song was her favorite-most recent add. She unplugs her earbuds and presses play, the music loudly booms out.

‘It’s alright, it’s okay my earbuds are broken it’s cool it’s not like their expensive’ and she carries on. Tosses them in a public trash bun and makes her way back to the dorms. Smiling and waving at people on the street and ❤️boy does her foot hurt❤️ She’s just back at the building when she sees Momo.

“Hey y/n!! How was your run?” She smiles at you and you smile back.

“It was good, how are you?” Momo says she’s well and they go their separate ways. A very tiny part of y/n is sad that Momo didn’t notice the pain she was in, but then again, it’s not like she gave any evidence of the ache in her ankle. This was her fault.

She opened her dorm room door and closes it up. She sighs and takes off her shoes, her socks are sweaty and gross as she removes them (🥵) she had missed dinner and she groans in disappointment. Hopping in the shower she stretches her back.

Update: the water never got hot enough and she had run out of conditioner.

‘It’s okay some people don’t even use conditioner, it’s fine...’ she thinks, but her hair already felt uncomfortable. The idea of her favorite soft sweatpants she bought from the men’s section is all she wants right now, and luckily for her she had cleaned them that morning. Her ankle is crying at that point and for some reason her shins and thighs really hurt. Maybe she can text and ask Jirou to get them for her :D

“Heyy Jirou 👋🏻”

“What’s up?”

“Your dorms right by the washing machines 🥺 I was wondering if you could get my sweatpants from the farthest right machine, their pretty big and dark blue.”

“Oh y/n, the machines broke, the water pipes burst this morning 😯 I can’t believe you didn’t know, all the clothes were soaked”

“What? oh my gosh :( well it’s okay, how are you?”

It wasn’t okay, things were getting progressively harder for y/n to be positive and now she can’t even be comfy while she stresses out about exams. Y/n spent another hour and a half going over school stuff while icing her ankle. And she’s embarrassed to say she went through a few toilet paper squares whipping away her angry tears, her tissue box empty as it was also allergy season.

She went to bed stressed and sad. But she still went to bed with ‘it’s alright, it’s okay, tomorrow is a new day, I can do this’ her eyes closed and luckily got some shut eye.

She did not wake up from her alarm, nor the sun, nor a villain attack, no, it was the 🙂throbbing pain🙂 in her ankle. But heyyy it’s alright just choke down a few ibuprofen, probably some acetaminophen since she finished off her ibuprofen last night and God knows she doesn’t have the extra $$$ to buy name brand meds right now.

And dangggg did her legs hurt, she shimmies up her skirt and tucks her shirt in, she’s looking in the mirror as she ties her shoes when she notices her bruises, ya know the purple and yellow globs of skin all along her knees. Great.

It was hard to keep a positive mindset that day. She was really struggling to keep it up. And it wasn’t hard for others to tell. She smiles as she takes her seat in class, Ochaco immediately notices her bruises.

“Y/N WHAT HAPPENED?!” She wails, y/n shakes out a laugh sorta sound and shrugs,

“I don’t know, like they just come outta nowhere, it’s so weird, I probably got them on my run or in training.” She smiles at Ochako.

“Y/nnnnn” she wines, “you gotta be more carful!” And then she turns around to respond to iida calling her.

Y/n sighs, you were tired, unmotivated to even focus on the lesson, your normal happy vibe wasn’t there anymore and you were definitely not the only one who could tell.

Kirishima was a really observant guy, he knew from past tests how worked up you got over you’re studies but this didn’t seem like the same stress. You looked overworked and tired, not to mention the bruises, ᵂʰʸ ʷᵉʳᵉⁿ’ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵃᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠˀ :(

He spent most of the lesson focused on you, the frown on your face made his stomach hurt.

“Hey y/n! :D” Kirishima dances over to you.

Your face immediately brightens up, “Hey Kiri, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, I just wanted to check up with you.” He has a kind of concerned look on his face, a cute eye smile but his eyebrows furrow together.

Y/n pauses, but then smiles, “D’awe Kiri that’s so sweet, I’m doing well, thank you for asking”

Kirishima isn’t dumb, yeah he’s not the smartest book-wise, but he’s really good at reading people.

“Oh, okay, just making sure.” He’s disappointed and a little sad you didn’t confide in him. He rubs your shoulder and gives one last smile.

As he leaves your hand traces over the phantom chill of his lingering touch. For some reason his concern brings a tinge of tears to your eyes. ‘Geez get over yourself y/n’

In other news, your ankle was doing terribly 😁.

——————————————————————————

There’s a certain line for you, a certain line that if crossed you just can’t help but break down. At this point you were close, but not in the danger zone. You shoulda known better than to spent the night studying again.

You wake up feeling terribly rested but what did you expect? There was a noise at the window and you thought you were imagining it at first but it continued. The blinds screech open and you make a mental note to try to never provoke that noise this early ever again. But all thoughts leave you at the sight of a baby bird.

Laying on your window ledge is a baby bird, probably not a week old, there was nearly no fuzz on the innocent creature, definitely no wings yet.

Y/n is kicked into action. The baby was hurt, barely moving. Y/n’s tentative hands scoop the lil guy and he’s cold, shivering, and still as loud as ever, a strangled noise comes from y/n. She did not care if she was gonna be late, this bird was gonna die.

And this is the part I hate the most because there’s nothing, nothing she coulda done, nothing. And she just watches as the little bird wiggles slowly and then just stops. Her mind is as silent as ever and her lips are sealed, her eyes water and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do, just let it sit there? Does she bury it?

As tears roll of her cheeks she sets the little bird in an empty shoe box, she sets the box on the window sill and then she leaves.she leaves as if nothing just happened. She’s still taking it on okay? That was literally he most sporadic thing she’s ever done, there was no plan, no thought in that event, she just watched a creature die. ‘It was just a bird, it’s alright, its okay y/n’

But tears are still rolling off her cheeks and she knows it’s not just about the bird, it was about everything, not talking to her family, her friends, stress over school, her bad days piling up, it just crashed. She hid herself in the bathroom and washed her face with the sink water. There were no towels so she had to dry it off with tissue paper that stuck to her face. Her tears never stopped, though her eyes clenched painfully, and her hands kept rubbing and she kept taking those deep breaths it seemed that nothing helped and then she sniffled and then a choked squeak left her. Her eyes kept watering and her head ached. Her legs ached. Her bandages foot ached. Her heart ached. She cried loudly, she can’t remember the last time she cried audibly, but she’s gasping and wailing.

At some point she picks up her feet and splashes her face again, this time drying it with the bottom of her tucked shirt. Her eyes are red and swollen but if she walks into class with her hair and head down nobody would notice.

People noticed. She was late, Aizawa scolded her and she cleared her throat before apologizing. Nobody could tell yet as she took her seat. Froppy pokes her back from her desk,

“What happened, ribbit?”

Y/n clears her throat loudly and coughs a bit, she leans back and tilts her head, “I just slept in.” Her voice does ~not~ sound like her. And everyone can tell. Bakugou is staring and from the back of the room kirishima watches carefully again.

By the end of class y/n’s head is down and covered by her arms, her eyes are closed-the light only worsening her headache.

The girls whisper about her, nothing malicious, just about their worries, she wasn’t herself, y/n was a morning person, never late, never. She always greeted the class and today she sounded so distressed.

“Hey y/n, lets head to lunch, todays lesson was so boring I was just thinking about how hungry I was all lesson.” Ochacohad a smile on her face as she looked down at your sunken form, your head still on the table.

“Nah, Ochaco, I’m not too hungry today.” You mumble.

“You okay y/n? you seem kinda down.” She squats down to try to look at you.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath to fix your voice, “yeah I’m just tired is all no worries, you lift your head up and smile at her. Her face only grows more concerned at your swollen eyes. “O-oh okay, hang in there y/n we’re here for you.”

She walks sideways to share glances at the other girls and also look at you. They leave to the cafeteria and you scold yourself for worrying them. Everyone else is gone, you sigh and tug on your hair.

The noisy drag of rubber on stone fills the room and you flinch up, full attention. A chair drags it’s way in front of your desk, a mop of vibrant red hair clears your view. Oh. Well... that’s a thing.

“Hey.” He says

“Hey.” You say, trying to sound little congested as possible, but your nose is just so clogged and your throat is a bit scratchy. “We’re you not too hungry? You should still get something, I have somthing in my bag if you want- oh well maybe I don’t but I have some cash for a vending machine.” You spew out, he doesn’t respond.

He just looks at you, and he feels the guilt he felt yesterday once again, he should pressed kn more, her shoulda made sure you really were okay, he could tell you were upset yesterday but he shrugged it off and now you were pretending to not care and offer him snack money.

You had obviously been crying, why? It had to have been this morning, what happened, were you stressed again? He doubts you would’ve cried about sleeping in, so what was going on, why didn’t you confide in him? Did he make you uncomfortable?

“Y/n.”

“Yeah? What’s up?” You quickly answer, trying to clear the air and make it as little awkward as possible.

“What happened?” His eyes hone in on yours, his deep rooted compassion always shines through his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks quieter.

You would be lying if you said this didn’t make you want to cry again. “Ahh yeah I’m just so tired these days, but it’s really-“

“Nah” he breaks you off, “nah that’s not it, I’ve seen you tired, we’re classmates y/n, this isn’t like you.”

It stresses you out even more to have to talk about this and years are vèrÿ ćłôšē to spilling out. Nevertheless you mumble out, “what do you mean? It’s me, Kiri.” The pained smile you wear hurts him physically.

“No, no, y/n I can tell. What happened to you? Why are you so... sad?” He weighs his words, questions wether or not he should be saying anything at all. “You would light up a room, what happened? What made you like this?”

And bam. Wow kirishima, thanks, you have officially made y/n cry, do you feel good about yourself?

Tears slip over your cheeks and he doesn’t look up until they hit the desk. He pulls his legs together and suddenly is on his feet, “oh, oh no!!! Y/n I’m sorry, what’s wrong, hey, hey it’s okay.” Officially freaking out®

He dashes over to the back of the room to grab some tissues while he violably hits his head, ‘why did you say that??? What’s wrong with you? You made a girl cry!’ He internally yells at himself.

“Here.” He hands you some tissues and awkwardly rubs your back. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you... upset.” His feet fiddle and his knee bobs on up and down with the pitter patter of his shoes.

“No, I’m sorry, I never meant to worry anyone, I want to go back to normal, this-“ you swallow, choking on air, “this week just, just sucks.”

“Hey.” He bends his knees and balances on the balls of his feet. At your eye level, he yanks your chair towards him, pulling you in so you’re facing him. “No, don’t apologize, I want it.”

What. The. Fwak. Is you saying kirishima?

“I want you to worry me, I mean I don’t enjoy worrying about you but I want you to be comfortable with me, and tell me when your stressed or bothered by something, or when you’re excited about something or when your sad about something, it’s not a burden you know? I want it, I want you to be close to me.” ̶L̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶c̶k̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶w̶e̶

You just stare at each other, his eyes are dead serious, he doesn’t break eye contact for a second.

“Y/n?”

You look at him again, not having found your voice quite yet you simply nod.

“There is no pretending in friendship, in any relationship, y/n. We have to be honest with each other, you need to- to let others care about you, ya know? The girls were really worried, we all were, so when you feel like this you gotta tell us. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

And for the first time that week, it really was alright, it really was okay, and just like always, tomorrow was another day, and even though today wasn’t the best y/n now realized the incredible importance of her friendships, the increasing admiration for Kirishima and the growing hope for today’s tomorrow.

——————————————————————————

(Unedited) I’m not the most happy with this, I wrote it so quick because my original writing of this was deleted suddenly and I had to rewrite it and I didn’t want to forget anything, anyway, I’ll make it better in the future, hope you enjoyed it, even just a little.

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

The Color of my Soul(mates) [2]

[First oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. New oneshot yaaaay!! Just a quick reminder that both Virgil and Patton’s mindsets are bad. They can work, of course, but only for a certain expense. Worry not. They will both start to go to a therapist and take care of themselves, even though this will not be heavily shown in the oneshots.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Moxiety and Past Moceit and Past Virgil/Remus (no idea how it’s called dfghjdfghj) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Swearing, depreciative thoughts, losing someone (not death, just stopping to be soulmate), anger issues, anxious thoughts and nightmares. It’s hurt/comfort.

* [~*~]  Means passage of time

* [...] Means change in the focus of the narrative 

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 5.300 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                          [~*~]

Loneliness is an island with missing boats.

Missing is when the moment tries to run away from the memories to happen again and can’t do it.

Memories are when, even without authorization your thinking re-presents a chapter.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hey, Dee! It’s been some time, huh? Nothing really happened around here, so I have no interesting news to share today. Buut, I learned a new knock knock joke! I would finally get you to laugh with this one! It’s like that:

Me: Knock, knock.  

U: Who’s there?  

Me: Ice cream.  

U: Ice cream who?  

Me: Ice cream if you don’t let me in!

Funny, right?!

… It feels silly to continue to talk with you through those letters. I can’t-

I don’t even know where to send them! That is stup- not great.

I just… I just miss you, Dee. A lot. My uncle says that I should get your old representation out of the bed and hide it so I can start moving on, but… It feels empty, you know? Everything.

I really miss you.

Love, Heart.

[…]

“No.” 

His words echoed in his mind, the strap of his backpack slipping from his grip, his body throwing itself forward, heart jumping in the back of his throat as his steps inevitably brought him even closer to the faded green, almost white, shark plushie in front of him. 

“No.” 

He repeated, as if this was a spell able to make the scene before him change. His hands trembled and failed in touching the so loved object, a silent scream slipping from his slightly parted lips. Yet, he still tried to think of something. Anything that would erase his choices. He knew it.

He should have known. He read about it before, the butterfly effect. Any choice, any movement, any little thing you did could change drastically your future. It could make events – people – which would happen in your life just…

Disappear. 

[The stuffed animal remained quiet on his hands, it’s blank face staring superficially, not really seeing him. Not like before.]

He knew it. 

“Rat?” He knew it. He knew it. He knew, knew, knewknewknew it! “Ree?” His soul searched desperate for an answer. But he got none. No thoughts, no feelings, no small touches, no acknowledging sparks, nothing. 

That word seemed to ring unbearably in his ears. There was nothing there. Nothing except for the silence and the void which filled itself with despair at every that went by.

“This better not be a prank or this time I will throw you in the washing machine for real!” Virgil’s eyes were stinging. He should have done better, should have thought in another way or another anything. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t! 

“Ree, stop. That is not funny.” Ree actually preferred when Virgil called him Rat, and as his chest was scratched by an agonizing, crescent fear, deep down the young boy wished his soulmate would jump – his thoughts always felt like that, excited, uncontrollable jumpy frogs just playing around – from somewhere and demands Virgil called him by it. “Answer me!!”

His fingers squished the soft fabric, a short, unexpected wave of anger pleading for at least a shout of pain before Virgil realized what he was doing, immediately lighting his touch, tears shining in a sad gloom in the corner of his eyes. His breathing started to hurt.

He needed to do something.

“MOM!!”

Virgil opened his door with a strong slam, running through the wooded floor of the corridor, stumbling his way to the stairs, coming down at the highest speed he could muster. The adult figure was already standing in the living room, the Tv blasting a show in the background, probably the activity his mother was concentrating on before his cry. A frown painted her face and her dark eyes stared at the boy when he stood in front of her, holding his stuffed shark in her direction.

“Fix him!” 

[‘it’ a quiet whisper from his brain corrected his sentence.]

Her analytical eyes danced around the toy in front of her, looking for any teared fabric, any stain or hint of what happened to it, the confusion in her actions becoming more and more prominent as no visible result was found.

[And, as her analysis occurred, the quiet whisper in the back of his mind wondered if this was the original color of the shark before it became a representation of his soulmate. They were together for so long Virgil didn’t even remember what it used to look like.]

No! The boy with heterochromatic eyes firmly gritted his teeth, head shaking. This was NOT the shark’s real color. Its real color was a dark, deep, enthusiastic green full of chaotic ideas and dumb jokes and sparks and grins.

He refused to let everything end in this way.

Realization fell in her face, a soft gasp coming from her open mouth. “Oh, Virgil…”

“No, no, no! You- You need to fix him!” But her eyes… “Mom, please,” the way her arms opened to involve his small, trembling form… 

“Please, he is my best friend.”

[‘Was’]

She hugged him, cradling her fingers in his hair and lightly rocking Virgil and his sobs, her sweet words muffled by his cry. Then the younger one wiggled out of her touch, getting the plushie and running back to his room, the door slamming one more time.

He refused.

“No! No!!” He kicked his backpack, its content spreading across his carpeted floor. The shark was placed in his desk seconds before the Virgil focused his anger on his bed, throwing everything on the floor. His pillows hit the walls and the toys on his shelves. The cacophony of sounds made his head hurt, but he ignored this in order to kick and throw more things. 

Seconds, minutes, countless pieces of time passed before he stopped, panting and with stinging eyes in the middle of the room, his only possessions left untouched was his guitar and Ra- His shark stuffed animal.

Because he loves playing guitar. Because he loves Ree.

His fingers pet its soft fur, wandering in every detail, trying to burn in his soul how alive and colored it used to be before today.

Virgil felt like crying, felt like hugging his old-representation with all his might and just spent the rest of the day like this, pleading that Ree would come back and Virgil would do better and everything could be back to normal again.

But he refused.

He refused to cry like a baby. He refused to let this happen to him. He refused to be made a fool by the Soulmate System or whatever sadistic creature that observed him right now. He refused to go through all of this again. 

Ever again.

Virgil opened his closet and got up on his chair, hiding the shark on the highest shelf under a bunch of old comforts he never got to use.

They wanted him to be a Colorless? Very well, then.

[~*~]

Anger is when the dog who lives in you shows its teeth.

Sadness is a gigantic hand that squeezes your heart.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hiya, Dee.

Some days are better, some are worse. 

It hurts.

But, hm, good things, right? Today was sunny and refreshing, I love when this happens. A ladybug landed in my hand yesterday, it was so small… I also found another beautiful feather when I went to the park last weekend, very fluffy and a baby on the bus smiled at me after I made some funny faces.

I hope you’re also receiving and giving some beautiful smiles there. Aunt just called me for the movie night so… See you later!

I miss-

Love, Heart.

[…]

Virgil woke up sweating. A tight feeling clutching the back of his mind. However, he managed to catch himself before his eyes opened, the back of his hand pressing them, as if to make sure they wouldn’t open against his will.

Urg… Not this again…

Virgil pressed harder the pillow curling around his head, the pressure easing the irritation as he groaned in protest, wondering how much more time it would take before he finally grew used to this routine. An annoying sensation banged rhythmically on his chest, hammering together with his heart and flying along with the butterflies on his stomach over and over again until a slightly nausea almost leaded the one in pajamas to give up and just find the nearest stuffed animal so his soulmate’s bond could finally be initiated, his representation showed up and then the exhausted teen could finally get some freaking rest  and then proceed to turn a blind eye to his soulmate for the rest of their lives.

Who would say that ignoring the Soulmate System would be so hard?

But, damn, even if this shit always came back at the right moment when the first ray of sunshine hit his face, usually Virgil had at least the freedom of the night to sleep!

His hand wandered clumsily, hitting the bean bag next to his bed and looking for the small device he always left there for the night. He sighs when his fingers make contact with the cold of his phone, quickly bringing it up to his face and making sure nothing else could get in his eye field. On the third try he succeeded to put the right password, ignoring the video shining on it and quickly lowering the brightness of his screen until it was almost nonexistent. 

Four in the morning. What the heck was his not-for-much-longer-soulmate doing up at this hour??

Ok. It didn’t matter, Virgil murmured to himself, his words slurring, completely engulfed by the fog of sleepiness which continued to involve him. It didn’t matter because Virgil was sure he would manage to win that battle, just like he did on every other occasion since Ree. Of course, he never had a perfect receipt for this, only a group of superficial orientations as focusing on something else, tossing around the mattress until the exhaustion took over his body or doing anything that guaranteed his suborn nature to fight until the bond faded away with some hours, maybe one or two days. 

However, this one was about to complete a whole week and his resolution was beginning to weaken, escaping between his fingers regardless of how much he fought to hold it with tooth and nails. The mild headache growing on him was the proof of this.

He flipped his pillow, letting its cold surface rest on his face, adjusting himself to lay starfished onto the bed. 

He needed distractions. 

Songs. He liked to listen to music a lot, something he would be very much inclined to do now if it wasn’t so late and his earphones were so far away. But, stopping to think about it, it was crazy how sounds work, like, even if they’re far away they manage to be heard. Pretty much like that weird sound captured by that boat who was only minding its business… The Bloop. Heh. The Bloop. Such a stupid name… He wondered if it was a Jurassic animal doing that and when humanity would be finally able to answer his question. If it is really an animal will they call him Bloop? That is a horrible name to give to something probably gigantic and scary… Bloop… Bloopers… blooo...

His muscles from his toes to the tip of his fingers began to relax, his breathing becoming more erratic as the trail of nonsense thoughts led him away from reality and straight to the cloak of Morpheus. Bit by bit he started to be unaware of his room. First the faint sound of his spider quietly scraping the sand on her terrarium, second the sensation of the pillow on his face, then the cold of his phone as it slipped away from his hand…

And, unsupervised by the teenager's eyes, his index finger hit the ‘play’ button on the video, and the blasting of Aquiles Priester’s drums filled the room in a hot shot, followed in the same second by Virgil’s hoarse scream. The confusion and sound making the one with heterochromatic eyes stumble to a sit position, blankets and pillows falling from him as his astonished movements tried to be coordinated enough to turn off his phone before his mother woke up and decided to know why and what her son was doing up at four-darn-morning. 

The button was hit and the silence was faster in cover the room all over again, being only broken by Virgil’s shaken gasps, his trembling fingers laying on his adulterated heartbeats, taking large, wobbly deep breaths in order to normalize it, his attention entirely focused on hearing any hint of muffled step outside his room.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

He was fine. Everything was fine. 

This was only a scare.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

Okay. No sound. Virgil allowed himself to fall on his bed, stretching and humming in attempts to ground him to reality, not taking too long to let the sleepiness begin to slowly crawl to his mind again, his body feeling surprisingly much lighter than it had been in days. A yawn escaped from his lips. What the hell he was doing with his cell phone anyway?

For the second time in the night his body fled to a sitting position, the sudden calm and coziness which hit his senses now having a slightly sour taste on his mouth as the teenager realized what it meant.

His soulmate bond was complete.

His gaze flew to the small pile of fabric on the floor, a glint of a sky-blue color shining amidst it. He pushed his blankets away and his breath hitched when the full form of his soulmate’s representation was shown.

Oh no. Nononono. That was- 

That wasn’t normal. Nor supposed to happen. Oh shit. Shitshitshitshit. What could he do?

Virgil dropped – carefully, even if the cold on the bottom of his stomach screamed for him to run! – the object on his bed, getting across the room and right in front of his closet in a blink of an eye. The door flung open, his gaze scrambling through all his possessions in search of that specific teddy bear his mother gave him a year ago, telling it was going to help him to heal, grabbing it firmly and plopping it next to the blue fabric calmly laying on his mattress. He bit his nails while his eyes ran from an object to another, waiting for the color to somewhat jump on the plushie, where it was supposed to go in the first place.

Virgil stared inquisitively at his pillow- no, his soulmate’s representation, as if he could scare the reality into changing itself. His fingers ran through his hair, feet pacing on the floor.

 Ok. His soulmate was a pillow. A literal pillow. That was not good.

Before he could fall on his parasitizing thoughts or hide the pillow and pretend nothing had happened, a badly muffled sound reached him, making his body freeze as his brain immediately recognized what it was:

Crying.

[...]

Before is a caterpillar who didn’t become a butterfly, yet.

Indecision is when you know very well what you want, but you think you should want another thing.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[...]

Hey, dear! Heart here again! It’s been a time, huh? I discovered a new Pet Shop nearby and a very nice old lady let me play with the puppies after school. You really should see the hamsters there! They’re the cutest, most precious soft things!!

They don’t have any snakes, sadly.

I… I hid your teddy bear and I’m getting used to not stare at the right corner of the mattress, looking for you. 

I still miss your smooth thoughts, your warmth, your advice and receipts and… you.

I think I’m getting better. The sensation is starting to feel… normal.

Remember we-

I used to-

I know you won’t really read this, but I’m trying to keep taking care of myself. 

Hooray?

Love, Heart.

[…]

Patton loved stuffed animals and this was a fact that anyone who got into his room for barely two seconds would realize. Small plushies of multicolored frogs rested on his shelves. A big polite giraffe sat on his desk, proudly showing off her new necktie and his older ones were in the closet, guarding his favorites clothes. His soulmates, of course, had a special treatment, receiving a seat on his bed, closer to him and within his research at any occasion, emergency or not.

And that was an emergency. Well…technically. 

Maybe…

Perhaps not. 

The teenager changed to a sitting position, his fingers trapping the mattress in a deadly grip, tears falling from his eyes, which was firmly focused on the moon shaped night light across his room, trying to kick out the too cold, too hot feeling the nightmare left on his skin. 

His brain felt fuzzy and his thoughts were all mushed together, way too messy to properly fight against the memories of his dream replaying on his head. The sensation of pure despair still running on his veins as the monster – tall, fast, its shadow hovering over his small form – chased him and his friends. Patton still felt his throat dry after running for what seemed hours, and for when he realized they would never manage to actually escape from it. He could feel the betrayed eyes of his loved ones as he made each one of them trip, the small period when the monster got them giving him enough time to escape, the screams ringing on his ears.

He muffled his sobs, slapping his hand on his mouth and getting up, going to his closet and grabbing his panda. It was one of the fluffiest stuffed animals he had and he could use a bit of softness right now. His steps were tired and he hid his face on the plushie even before laying on his bed again, curling around the bear as if it was the core of safeness, as if it would make all the bad thoughts and feelings go away.

As if it could erase all the nightmare and convince the part of his mind which said that if it was real life, that would be exactly what he would do, that it was wrong.

It was! It was completely wrong! Patton would never, ever, betray his friends, or hurt them, or go away when they needed most! He wouldn’t. He would fight, if it was needed. He would do his best every single time to help them! To be there. He wouldn’t just run away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t be alone. He didn’t even bear that thought.

[A part of his soul struggled, firm on its position. It kept holding into a bond that directed to another soul who kept pushing him away, both refusing to change their mind.]

Bear. Patton let go of a weak, barely audible, forced giggle, squeezing the panda on his touch tighter. Panda was a bear. Heh. His tears began to calm themselves, falling slower from the corner of his eyes, a strange and sudden wave of strange, but welcomed calmness hitting him.

A sudden warm touch laid on his forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Patton gasped, his wide eyes flying open to stare at the now purple plushie on his grip.

Purple. Pandas weren’t purple. He was sure this one was always white with black dots and tiny glasses on it. Definitely not purple. Not unless it was-

Oh. 

Ohhh.

Oh no.

For a moment his breath was taken, adrenaline exploded across his body and his mind went blank, his face stumbling forward to press his lips on the panda’s forehead, a completely lack of words, especially when a flow of sentences began to appear running over themselves and leading to his very tired brain to struggle in order to try to grasp their meaning before another phrase came and took its place.

[His body seemed to relax, letting go of a ball of tension Patton didn’t even realize he had in the first place.]

“Fuck, sorry, that was pretty dumb. Of course you’re not fine, why else would you be crying? What I was trying to say is: Can you get better? No, wait! That sounded harsh and it’s definitely not what I meant- wanted to say. Ehh, shit. Okay. Uhh. Breath, okay? Breathing is a good thing. You have to breathe to stay alive so I think it’s already a good start. Keep breathing, please do not die. Oh god, wait, that is not a dangerous situation, is it? Are you in danger? Are you dying? Oh, fuck I can’t hear-”

A startled giggle made a run from Patton’s lips, making his new soulmate to be quiet.

“Urg, sorry.”

“No, no. I was not laughing at you!” He adjusted his grip so the only part touching the purple bear would be him holding one of his paws, realizing he forgot to stop hugging him earlier. “I am okay. I just… didn’t want to cry on you, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t, huh, care.”

“Crazy how bonds happen nowadays.” Patton attempted a joke, feeling suddenly a bit vulnerable, internally wishing the other wouldn’t ask about the reason for his tears. “It-It’s hot today, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, with the Sun and everything.”

“Yeepp.” Patton sniffed, cleaning the tear track left on his cheeks before resting his back on the bed’s headboard, a beginning of a headache after that waterfall of emotions shining in the horizon.

“...Do you want to listen to a song? It helps me to calm down when I’m, ya know.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m already a bit better.”

“Ok, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Maybe it was sleepiness or the excitement of having a new soulmate, but before he could think much more about it the hidden truth was slipping from his mouth, “I’m grounded. No phone for the week.”

“That sucks.” The teenager just shrugged, hoping his soulmate would understand the action by his movement. 

Silence impregnated the room, spreading and filling his system, his eyelashes closing bit by bit.

“I know how to play guitar. I can… play a song for you. Onlyifyouwantofcourse.” The thought was quick, quiet and disappeared as soon as it arrived, leading Patton to almost believe he imagined it.

A good feeling bloomed in his chest, a smile flourishing on his face as he held his soulmate’s free hand, carefully squeezing them in what he hoped it showed his gratitude.

“I would love to.”

“’Kay. Uh, cool. Give me a second.”

And then a few minutes later his form was engulfed by warmth. Patton let go a sigh of relief, basically melting in the so caring touch, don't having the heart - that word gave a hurtful tug in his chest - to remember his new soulmate he couldn't really hear the accords, only the shy, calming humming rumbling on his chest and lullabying them to a peaceful sleep.

[~*~]

Feeling is the language the heart uses when it needs to send a message.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings.

[~*~]

"How can I call you?" 

Patton stopped his voice before that old nickname got out, scratching his throat. He should try to move on, right? 

Baby steps. 

"Pat." 

"Pat?" 

"Pat-Pat!" 

Virgil rolled his eyes, denying the small smile which appeared on the corner of his mouth.

“You can call me V.”

[…]

“So, you’re a pillow.”

Patton blinked, a surprised snort filling the room. “V, I know I often say I’m soft but if you wanted to rest on me all you needed to do was ask!” He added some shadowing on some feathers, giving the drawing of the Bem-te-Vi more profundity. He was really happy he found that site about the birds of America. 

“No, I mean literally. Like… your representation is not a stuffed animal, it’s a pillow.”

“Oooh…” He blinked a few times. “I didn’t know that still happens.”

“What do you mean with ‘still happens’? This happened to you before?”

“Not with me, but I saw a video about this! Before the plushies became famous due their shape being easier to be seen as human-like, the bond would form in anything that could be quickly dyed, just like clothes, pieces of fabric, pillows… I think if they showed it to a doctor, he would describe their condition as ‘comfortable!’” Patton shook lightly the panda’s shoulder, smiling. “Uh? Got it? Comfortable? Because they’re soft?”

“Pat, that was horrible.”

“Awww, come oon.” Patton rested his chin on V’s head, forgetting his drawing for a while. “Puns are harder than knock knock jokes! You have to wait for the perfect timing to make them.” Virgil huffed. “Not even an itsy bitsy giggle?”

“Nope.”

Silence.

“Pat?”

“No. I am pouting.”

He felt a couple of pats (ha-) on his head, the touching going away in a few seconds. “You will get there some day.” The other answered his soulmate with a raspberry, giggling a bit of his own silliness before going back to his hobby. He really was planning to finish this bird today.

“The thing is… Since you’re, ya know, a pillow. I was thinking… okay, I know that this will sound weird but… I was thinking of putting some clothes on your representation so I can… try to see you better.” 

“Ah.”

“Only if you’re comfortable, sure!”

“No, no. I am! It’s just…” Patton bit his lips, lightly squeezing the shell of his ear with the hand that wasn’t holding the pencil, adjusting his body to a better sitting position. “What clothes do you have in mind? Not that I think your taste is bad or you don’t know how to choose good clothes or something like that!”

“No, it’s cool!” The thought came in the moment Patton forced himself to stop his nervous talking. “I wanted to ask you because of that, I, uh, have black t-shirts, jeans, an old grey hoodie, PJs, clothes when I was a kid, onesies, maybe I can get a dress?”

“Gasp. Do you have onesies?? Aww, I want!”

“Everyone has a onesie.” Virgil mumbled in defense, feeling his cheeks getting hot. “I have a skeleton one, a raccoon and the Toothless from How to Tra-”

“OHMYGOSH YOU HAVE TOOTHLESS!” Virgil had absolutely no idea how Pat managed to make a thought so high pitched and excited to the point the words themselves were barely understandable. “HE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS, CUTE LIL DRAGON…” and then a bunch of squeaks and mumbling took over his brain just as he has hugged and then lightly bounced before suddenly everything disappeared.

He decided it was safer to let the silence prolong itself a bit longer.

…

“Pat?”

“You might need to give me a few more minutes, kiddo.”

“You need to chill, dude.” Virgil remarked, a ray of fondness shining in his words. He gathered his onesie. It was his favorite one when he was fourteen, now it didn’t even fit on him anymore and it clearly wasn’t made to be used by a pillow, as well, but it would suffice until he thought of a better solution. “Ok. Got it, you might want to use your Blocker now.”

“Okayy, it’s somewhereeeeee...” Patton rummaged the content of his backpack, looking for the earphone-shaped object. He hadn’t the chance to buy the wireless prototype, so he struggled a few seconds to untangle the cables. “Here! So, see you in fifteen minutes?”

“Ok. If you hear or feel something just touch my arm and I will immediately stop.” 

“Right!! Bye!” Patton waved, more a habit than anything else, plugging the Blocker on his ears and the cluing its ventosa behind his head, right where his cerebellum was. A few pieces of time went by before his head became partially empty, only his thoughts filling it. He put the panda away. 

It was a strange feeling, to use this outside his school, nor parallel conversation of his classmates or a teacher’s voice filling the air to distract his attention for the fact that he couldn’t hear or feel his soulmates anymore. He hummed, wondering how Lo was and writing a self note on the corner of his paper that he should check on him later, ask for him to finish that story with the smart detective he was telling him on Sunday before Patton fell asleep due the other’s habit to keep petting his hair, probably a revenge for Patton’s constant need to hugging, holding or actively interacting with his serious soulmate’s representation, more often than not receiving fond-exasperate pokes in return.

He looked through the window, mind wandering as the wind hit the tree in his neighbor’s yard, messing with its leaves. It was a bit lonely to have your thoughts all to yourself…

But not entirely bad.

[…]

“Sooo, howz does it looks like?” The naturally excited voice asked. Virgil just pressed his hand firmer on his lips, his other arm hugging his middle. His gaze fell for what it felt the umpteen time in the blue dyed pillow before him, the sleeves of  his onesie folded inwards in a poor attempt to cut half of its original length, the ‘legs’ were criss crossed and all of this ignoring, of course, the unnatural rectangular shape of the whole thing.   

‘Like shit.’ It was his first thought, but he decided to not send it to Pat.

“Weird.”

“I am looking at my pillows right now and-” giggles, “but come ooon, it’s Toothless! There is no way it isn’t at least a bit cute!”

‘You have no neck.’ He internally panicked, looking at the few, sporadic tiny blue hearts appearing amidst the black onesie, showing the representation was getting used to the new fabric attached to it. ‘A probably-head, shoulders but no neck. It’s like a reverse freaking giraffe!’

However, Virgil decided against sharing this particular vision with the other. 

“I guess. Are you… breathing well or whatever?” His tune was a mix of nonchalant and nervous, the choice of words making him wince.

“I am. Why?”

“No. Nothing. No reason.”

“Oookay.” The teenage signed at the confusion on his soulmate’s tune, why did he had to talk in the first place or be so weird making a such big deal of something stupid like that? Urg. He stared at the blue object one more time. Damn Soulmate System. Damn destiny. Damn lack of socialization skills.

…………

But, dude, really, the guy has literally no neck here, there is NO WAY he isn’t feeling nothing because of that. Pat is probably lying because he pities him after a so horrible, futile attempt of fixing what he caused. No. Wait. He can’t just assume his soulmate is lying because of his overthinking, the other part of his brain retorted. Was he overthinking? He probably was. He always did it. Or perhaps this was a correct inkling of Pat. Soulmates were supposed to do that sort of thing after some time, right? One week was enough time? What he-

“Hey!” Pat’s thought cut his own. “Sooo, now that you can ‘see’ me a bit better… hug? You can say no if you want, sure!”

Virgil blinked one, two, three times.

“Ok. But you let go when I let go, got it?”

“Sure thing, V!” Warmth bloomed in his chest when he heard his nickname, Virgil wasn’t sure why.

He embraced the representation, feeling a bit silly, the same feeling that was fast to go away as Pat hugged him as well, firm but careful. The sensation overwhelmed his senses, but in a good way, leading the one who loved guitars and got a strange hyper fixation on drums to let go a sigh, body relaxing.

He patted Pat’s back two times before finishing the touch. “There you go.”

“Thanks! Sooo, see you later.”

“Sure thing.” He agreed, wanting nothing more than a good hot bath after so many feelings in such a small period of time. 

“uwu”

“How the fu-” 

“NO SWEARING!”

“-did you do that?”

Virgil snorted, the warmth still spreading on his chest and maybe - only maybe, - having a new soulmate wasn’t an entire bad thing.

[lyssismagical]

peter has a bad mental health day, forgets that it's lab night. tony helps out.

{TW for mental illness/mental health}

His phone rings.

It’s obvious from the moment he opens his eyes that it would be a Bad Day.

On Bad Day his brain feels like it’s rotting. It’s so dark, so heavy, and the world is grey.

He should answer his phone. He should go to school. He should pretend to exist. He should try to find a way out of the darkness his mind has shrouded him in.

But it feels pointless.

Everything around him feels pointless.

The idea of even trying feels pointless.

So he tugs his blankets over his head, wishes the warm air that he traps around him would suffocate him, and lets his phone ring.

Time doesn’t exist beneath his blankets.

His phone rings endlessly, but he doesn’t have the strength to find it. He just listens to the ringing, over and over again.

Probably his school, May, Ned, maybe MJ. Maybe even Tony if the school was worried enough.

Eventually, the rumbling of his stomach is too much to ignore and it grates at his ears, wishing everything would be silent so he could float and let time slip through his fingers.

He tugs on The Bad Day Sweater. It was one of Ben’s, a stupid blue sweater he’d won in a contest or something. Peter used to wear it to therapy after Ben died and May thought it was a good idea until money went tight. Now, it’s his Bad Day Sweater, worn and dull in colour, though Peter can’t tell if it’s really dull of it just looks dull because it’s a Bad Day.

Dry Cheerios are eaten tastelessly. Slowly, every bite like it’s as hard as lifting a bus.

Soft music plays out from another apartment, old 70s music. It’s nice. It reminds Peter of easier days when May and Ben used to dance around the kitchen to music like this.

His phone rings again, a constant in the world that spins recklessly around him.

He leans over the sink, knuckles white as he clutches the edge of the white basin.

He doesn’t recognize the person in the mirror staring back at him with dark, sunken eyes.

The face shifts and twitches, eyes widening and staring lifelessly. The figure’s mouth is downturned, glassy-eyed, slow blinks.

He doesn’t like the person in the mirror, the boy who looks dead or might as well be. The boy with the fear filling his dark eyes, matching the tears that well up.

Quick to turn away from the image, Peter sinks to the bathroom floor, phone ringing in the background.

Sobs escape his throat, an uncomfortable headache already forming behind his eyes, the paint of the world muddling together.

But all he can think about is the crack in the baseboard. It travels up through the white into the pale blue of the bathroom wall, an imperfection. Like he is.

He watches from outside his own body as he falls apart at the seams, nothing he can do to pull the pieces of him back together.

Eventually, he drags himself up off the floor, into his bedroom, and hides from the world beneath his blankets.

His phone continues to ring.

“Peter?”

That’s his name, he thinks, brain slowly whirring along like a broken machine. He knows it’s his name, but he doesn’t respond, burrowing further into his cocoon of blankets. His Bad Day Sweater still smells like Ben, covering the bottom half of his face.

“Pete?”

His phone rings.

His Bad Day Sweater smells like Ben – but not of metallic blood or cold rain like the last time he day he saw him.

“Kid?”

A gentle hand touches his shoulder through the blankets. It’s not grounding enough, not enough to pull him back from the floating place he’s receded to.

His mind is rotting.

His Bad Day Sweater is heavy, but not as heavy as his head feels.

“It was Lab Day today, kiddo. Went to pick you up from school and found out you didn’t go to school today.” The voice is quiet, soft, but it echoes in Peter’s head, cutting it’s way through the thick vines that’s encased his thoughts.

The blankets are peeled back from him and if had any more strength, he might’ve tried to grab them back. But even breathing feels like lifting the warehouse off of him.

“There you are, buddy.”

His mind is rotting.

His head is heavy.

Every breath feels like running a marathon.

His phone is ringing.

His Bad Day Sweater smells like Depression.

Tony sits above him. Realer than Peter could ever be. He helps Peter into a sitting position and one hand stays on Peter’s shoulder, like it’s trying to alleviate some of the pressure that fills his head.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Tony asks, so carefully like Peter’s made of glass.

He opens his mouth, but nothing escapes him, vines in his head tightening and everything’s so heavy.

Tony offers a smile, gentle and easy in a way Peter wishes he could pull off. He’s just so tired.

A hand is offered to him, and there’s no repercussions when Peter can’t find the strength to take it. Tony just grabs his hand anyways and tugs until Peter’s feet are on the ground. He sways, listing into Tony’s side when he finds himself too tired to hold himself up.

Luckily, Tony just wraps his arms tighter around Peter and leads him off to the living room.

Soon enough, Peter’s on the couch, curled up in the corner, his Bad Day Sweater pulled up over his nose, and one of May’s quilts over his legs.

And before he knows it, there’s a mug of hot chocolate in his hands along with a bowl of fruits sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey, kid, I know… I know it isn’t easy, but I hate being out of the loop like this,” Tony says, trying to play it off nonchalantly, but the worry is evident in his voice. “Is it just…”

“Bad Day,” Peter says, voice hoarse. He can’t imagine how much the neighbors hate him after the crying he’s been doing and the ringing phone. He hopes Tony understands the capitalization.

Tony’s face turns down in a frown, worried eyes scanning over Peter’s face.

“Peter, do you- are you depressed?”

It feels like a strange question to be asked, but he can, from what he can remember from being in a Good Day mindset, understand the confusion. He’s always been a bubbly, cheerful kid. It’s easy to assume there’s no underlying problems.

Peter nods slowly, takes a sip from his hot drink and tries to focus as best as he can.

His mind is rotting.

His head is heavy.

His thoughts are in vines.

He’s floating.

His phone in ringing.

“Your friends won’t stop calling you,” Tony says, looking towards Peter’s bedroom where the ringing is coming from. “They’re worried about you and so is May. She had no idea you stayed home from school.”

Peter doesn’t bother answering.

“Please, kid,” Tony’s saying, almost desperately. “You have to talk to me. I don’t- I don’t know how to make everything better. This isn’t the kind of thing I can just buy my way through or ignore. But I- I’ve never…”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says. He wishes he knew how to make it better too. “Bad Days just are. It is what it is.”

Tony shakes his head, nearly too fast for Peter’s blurry brain to make sense of. “This isn’t okay. This isn’t just whatever. You don’t deserve it. I know what it’s like, kid, and it’s not fair for you to feel like you can’t do anything about it.”

Peter finally meets Tony’s stare, lifeless and heavy and rotting. “What am I supposed to do?”

Running a hand through his hair, Tony sighs without an answer.

“I used to go to therapy,” Peter says suddenly. He remembers it vaguely. He remembers being angry while there. His Bad Day Sweater still smells like that time in his life. “After Ben died… His name was Craig and he was nice enough. But money got tight.”

“Peter-”

Tears fill his eyes and he coughs, trying to hide the lump in his throat. He wants to get better. He wants to be okay. He wants to stop having Bad Days. He wants Tony to just erase all of the mental suffering he’s been enduring. But he knows it takes time and effort, and now, a Bad Day, he doesn’t have either.

Tony seems to realize this and his whole demeanor relaxes. “That’s okay, kid. We’ll figure it out another day, yeah? Come here.”

One of Tony’s arms wrap around his shoulders and draws him into a tight hug. His breaths are even and steady, hand steadying and warm.

Peter sniffles, tiredness washing over him. He lets go of the heaviness that sits in his mind, let’s Tony bear some of it. Lets Tony’s life and strength wash away the rot in his brain.

It’s a Bad Day and there will always be bad days, a hug and a strong force at his side will make the Bad Day’s easier, but it isn’t a permanent solution, it never will be.

But for now, it’s enough.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the easiness of following Tony’s.

“You’ll be okay, kid, I promise you.”

His phone rings.

[pilot-boi]

Five Injuries Hidden: Chapter One

A little look into the extents that Jaune would go for his team, his friends, his family. Did he maybe go a little too far at times? Maybe. Is it really necessary for him to get medical attention and actually heal his injuries? Probably. Will he ever stop gladly throwing himself on top of the wire to protect even one of them? Definitely not.

Maybe he should actually let them help him when he goes too far and gets hurt in their stead. But for that to happen, they’d have to know about the hits that he keeps taking for them, which they don’t and never will. And what they don’t know won’t kill them.

But… It might kill him if he isn’t careful.

((I keep forgetting Aura is a thing, so don’t mind me giving him injuries that he shouldn't really be able to get. Set vaguely between V5 and V6.))

Oscar

Jaune’s never had a baby brother before, so he can be forgiven for being just a little bit more protective than he really needs to be, right?

AO3 LINK

It was pouring

Not an innocent little sprinkle either, oh no. It was a torrential downpour.

The water kept getting in his hair and washing it down into his face. Who needs eyesight anyway? That wasn’t necessary, right?

And to think, he had been having such a nice day, too.

A wild shout snapped Jaune out of his thoughts, and he snapped up his sword to block the clumsy swipe of the Ursa’s paw, the resounding clang leaving a faint ringing in his ears. A grin made its way onto the  soaked knight’s face as he batted the offending limb away with his shield and slashed across with his blade to decapitate it.

Whipping his head around, Jaune quickly scanned the impromptu battle field for his friends. His family. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Yang’s joked in the back of his head about counting heads like a teacher on a field trip, but he paid it no mind.

Relief swept through him as he saw that they all had their battles well in hand. Yang and Nora even seemed to be making a game out of it, shouting out the number of kills to each, both trying to one up the other. Their partners were taking it more seriously, but Jaune could see Blake smiling in amusement and hear the laugh tinging Ren’s words.

Ruby and Weiss were dashing around each other, working like a perfectly oiled machine. Glyphs would appear for Ruby to run on, perfectly timed for her to take out a truly obscene amount of Grimm with one strike. As he watched, he even saw Oscar take out a Beowulf singlehanded.

Jaune couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest.

Shaking his sopping wet out of his eyes -in vain, apparently, as it simply slid right back after he swept it away for the millionth time- a movement in the trees caught his eye by complete chance. Red glowing eyes and feathers flickered from branch to branch. 

Whipping his head around, Jaune zeroed in on a hidden Nevermore. It must have been drawn by the strife of the combat. With a screech it launched itself from the trees and reared back its wings to launch its feathers like throwing daggers.

Aiming directly at Oscar. Oscar, who still had trouble remembering to keep his Aura up. His brother. His baby brother.

Everything seemed to slow as his mind’s eye worked out just what he was seeing. He quietly pushed away the rage that bubbled up, and sought the cool planning mindset that had saved him and his friends time and again. Jaune would have time for anger later -because how dare that monster even think of laying a feather on Oscar Pine- because he had more immediate problems.

For one, and most immediately, that he would not be able to warn Oscar in time. No, the stupid bird was already locked and loaded onto Oscar, and by the time he warned him, there could be a feather a foot long skewered through his chest.

So, that brought his options down to only one. One acceptable solution. If that arrow was going to hit anyone, it was going to be him.

As he came to that conclusion, everything rushed back into full motion.

The Nevermore loosed its feathers like a hailstorm.

Oscar heard the noise and turned to see what was flying towards him.

Their friends yelled out in warning. Weiss threw up a wall a moment too late. Ruby jumped into a cloud of petals.

And Jaune slammed Oscar -his little brother, dammit stupid bird would pay for that- out of the way, his momentum carrying them both mostly out of the path of the barrage. Mostly.

Jaune was never so happy to have a soaking wet red sash tied around his middle than at that moment. It hid injuries quite well.

Hiding a grimace of pain as something just short of agony raced across his lower ribs, Jaune quickly checked over Oscar for injuries. His Aura flared up in his hands, liquid light pouring down into any possible imaginary injuries the boy could have. “Are you okay?! It didn’t get you, did it?”

Oscar shook himself out of his shocked stupor, blinking dazedly. “N-no. I’m fine. Thanks Jaune.”

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping, before they raised back up rigidly and his shield spiraled back out to cover them both. “Wait, what about the Nevermore?!”

Ren laid a calming hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “Not to worry. Ruby and Weiss are taking care of it. Are you alright, Jaune?”

A sharp sting lanced across his ribs. Couldn’t spare Aura for an injury he didn’t know the extent of. What if he needed to heal someone? “Yeah, sure, I’m fine! Do you think you could check over Oscar to make sure that it really missed him?”

Ren tilted his head to one side in confusion and crouched down beside them both. “I saw you using your Semblance, but it you’re sure-”

“Guys, I’m fine! Not even bruised anymore thanks to you,” Oscar reassured him.

“You got him to the ground before the others even took off after the rest of the Grimm,” Ren reminded Jaune, ignoring the knight’s skeptical expression. “You did well, Jaune.”

“My ‘good enough’ almost wasn’t good enough.” Jaune slumped tiredly, resisting the urge to sling his arm across his torso to cover the angry welt he could feel. “I’m just relieved I saw it in time.”

Oscar punched him lightly in the arm, and then shook out his fingers from punching his metal armor. Jaune didn’t even notice the hit, but he noticed the reprimand. “Come on, stop that. Please! You saved me, you made it. I’m right here, on the ground, safe and sound.”

“Yeah, what he said!” Ruby called as she waded through the semi-dense brush, the tell tale smoke of dead Grimm dripping and seeping off the scythe leaning on her shoulder.

Good. The thing was dead. Jaune tried not to feel so satisfied about that.

Nora bounced out from behind her and slung an arm across Jaune’s shoulders, unknowingly aggravating Jaune’s side. “C’mon fearless leader, cheer up! Everything turned out a-okay. Now, what do ya say we all finish up here and go get something to eat, huh?”

Jaune heartily agreed, and soon they were all back in Mistral proper. Qrow, slung across the couch with one arm covering his eyes, grumbled when their troop stomped inside covered in mud and shouting to each other. 

Excusing himself with the plea of exhaustion, Jaune snagged the first-aid kit from the kitchen and sequestered himself into his and Oscar’s shared room. And with a wince, he finally took in the extent of the damage.

The less said about the torturous removing of his armor and soaked through clothing, the better.

A long, angry red mark was gouged across his side, right under his rib cage, and a dark, grim looking bruise covered from just above the severe laceration all the way down to the top of his hip. 

He stared at it for several long seconds, debating whether to heal it or not. Who knows what they’d be doing over the next couple days. Could he afford to leave it? Or could he afford to siphon off precious Aura to heal himself, when he might need it for the others?

After far too long, he settled on cleaning it out first and figuring it out later.

Biting back the few curse words he knew, mostly from Yang, he quickly balled up the cleanest, least muddy piece of his shirt before biting down on it, effectively blocking any yelps that would be sure to somehow slip past the firm barrier he had paced against them.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, his side protesting fiercely, and gathering up all his courage, Jaune tore open a sterile package and applied the large antiseptic patch found within.

The world whited out.

Suddenly, in some part of his brain that was untouched by overwhelming agony, he was very, very glad that he had taken the precautions to stop anyone from seeing or hearing him. Locking the door behind him had been an afterthought born from years of sibling life, but now he was so very glad that he took the second to do so.

After all, he couldn’t have someone walking in on him feeling like he was dying, now could he?

He used to like rainy days.

Somehow pulling himself back together out of the sheer force of will, he finished cleaning out the gash. He channeled a sliver of Aura into the injury and watched as it stitched himself up into a barely healed slash, still surrounded by bruising. Just enough to stop the bleeding.

Taking a moment to center himself, he spit his shirt out of his mouth and finished up by wrapping a loop of gauze around his middle and over the still extremely tender wound.

Finished. Now he could die in peace. Didn’t they say that death was eternal rest? Yeah. He could go for an eternal nap right about now.

Sadly, that wasn’t in the cards for Jaune at the moment. Briefly mourning the fact that he couldn’t stay seated on his bedroom floor with stray medical supplies strewn about forever, Jaune mentally shook himself off and begrudgingly started cleaning up any evidence of this little escapade. 

His dirty shirt got tossed right into the laundry, along with the bloody soaked and slightly-more-tattered sash. Hopefully nobody would notice the extra holes in the latter.

That done, and knowing that Oscar at the very least would undoubtedly be coming by soon, Jaune quickly pulled a new shirt over his head to hide the remaining evidence, i.e. his injury. 

It was quick for him, but really he walked slowly with shuffling steps, as his side strongly rebelled against the thought of doing anything fast other than sleeping. So he shucked off his soaking wet jeans, tossed them into the pile with his shirt and sash, tugged on a pair of sweatpants, and collapsed painfully into his bed.

No training tonight. Sorry, Pyrrha, but he didn’t think he’d manage to wake up to his alarm no matter how loud he set it. And setting it loud enough to wake the others was a no-go. Jaune felt so exhausted that he doubted even his nightmares would be enough to wake him.

Don’t get him wrong, Jaune didn’t regret what he did. He never would. You could scour his soul for eternity, and you would never find even a slightest shade of remorse for doing what he had done to save Oscar, the little brother he’d never had. 

This result was the optimal one. That’s what he did, he crunched the numbers. And the numbers would always come to this result, without question. Jaune would gladly relive this entire horrible, muddy, rainy day a million times if it meant that Oscar would come out of it uninjured. 

In fact, he would willingly do this for any of his friends, his family, the family he’d found and made and cobbled together. This family that was a little damaged and cracked, but that had dragged him out of the darkest time in his life without a second thought and without asking for anything in return. 

A debt that Jaune could never begin to repay. Not that he’d ever stop trying. He hadn’t been grateful enough when they’d been doing it, so he was doubly grateful for them sticking with it and not giving up on him like he’d so dearly wanted them to.

So he’d do anything for them. Anything at all. With absolutely no hesitation at all. If any of their lives were on the line, there were really no numbers to be crunched. This decision was a no-brainer.

Hands down, no questions asked.

[tr4ggot]

(personal rambling below about my transition btw, scroll if you’re uncomfortable with discussions about dysphoria, etc.)

i made a thread about this on twitter but i wanted to post something here too because i have mostly trans followers on this account whereas my priv twitter is mostly my close friends and they’re mostly cis, and i wanted to see if maybe someone was in the same place as me concerning building a family as a trans guy.

i was thinking tonight about my transition and where i am dysphoria-wise and i really don’t feel like it’s an issue for me anymore. there’s been very, very few times in the last year since i had top surgery where i felt dysphoric, and they were mostly immediately post-op when i still had to wear the surgical vest because it reminded me so much of a binder. like i was SO afraid that my chest dysphoria would turn into bottom dysphoria after surgery and it hasn’t! which is great! it wasn’t as strong as my chest dysphoria was to begin with, but also, when i started t, all the dysphoria i had about my voice and face and shape all seemingly transferred to my chest dysphoria and made it 10x worse. i think i’m at a point where the only time i’m really bothered by what i have is when i’m in a public restroom and i have to use the stall to pee, but that could be solved if i got an stp (don’t know if that would make it worse though since it emphasizes what i don’t have but that’s for another day). i don’t say this to brag or anything, i’m just giving context as to why my thoughts on having a family have changed over the last few years.

i was thinking about how much i wanted to have a family when i’m older and how i’ve envisioned myself doing that over the years. like when i was little, i never saw myself as anything like my mother if i was going to be a parent, just that i wanted children. at the beginning of my transition, especially pre t and pre top surgery, that kinda shifted into ‘i obviously will never have children biologically so i need to think about adoption or surrogacy or a sperm donor if i end up marrying someone comfortable with carrying a child’ and like that was all well and good, all families are family regardless of blood, but it also felt really limiting for me, especially given how expensive all of those processes are. my family is not well-off (i currently live with my parents and grandparents in one house) and the only money i will ever inherit comes from (the other) grandparents, but i was always planning on using that for a house or kids college funds or paying off student debt. it always really depressed me to think of how much time would be spent and debt i’d have to go in to even conceive a child. idk, it just made me upset that some people have it so easy having kids and i just felt like that door was closed for me.

the reason i’m writing this is that since having top surgery and being on t for close to 2.5 years, i’ve been able to think about my future in a more nuanced way than before. pre t and pre top surgery, the thought of carrying a child make me genuinely suicidal. like i would rather have jumped off a giant bridge than even put myself in that hypothetical situation because it made me so dysphoric. when i was a hardcore, hardline transmed, i used to be so confused and upset by trans guys who chose to carry children. i would be so baffled by their decision, because it felt like, in my dysphoria-clouded view, that it would be so invalidating to that person that they couldn’t possibly be actually trans if they chose to put themselves through that. like, i couldn’t comprehend a world in which someone would actively seek out pregnancy as a guy. i guess it’s a testament to the wonders of transitioning in regards to treating dysphoria because i can genuinely picture myself taking that route now.

i mean obviously, this is a still a hyper-hypothetical situation. i am not even close to having kids. not even slightly. i am afraid of the washing machine and i ask my dad to kill any spiders in my room. i was watching this docuseries on netflix about this hospital in new york and they were showing these couples having their children in the ob/gyn ward and i was so struck by how i wasn’t just repelled by that anymore. it makes me think that, in the future, if i end up with a man or someone else that can produce sperm, or if i end up with a woman who doesn’t want to carry children, i really wouldn’t feel like carrying my own kid is totally off the table. i know that this is something that would make me freak out if i heard this as the past version of me, and i’d likely question my own manliness for even considering it, but i really think i could do it. i mean, obviously, i don’t doubt that i’d be really dysphoric during and i have no idea how i’d begin to explain it to any coworkers i might have, but idk. i really, really want children in the future and to be a fucking awesome dad and i think that if it means carrying my kids, i could probably do it. i like how people call them ‘seahorse dads’ too.

it feels like such a foreign idea to me right now because i was always planning on getting a hysterectomy and bottom surgery, but i don’t feel that sense of urgency like i did with top surgery. after i started t, it was like ‘how fast can i get top surgery now’ so i always thought it would be that way with a hysto after i got top surgery, but it really hasn’t. i’m really, really hesitant to get a hysto now that i don’t feel so disgusted by the idea of carrying kids. i’m glad i don’t have that same weight of dysphoria, obviously, but this just also opens up more concerns for me in the future. idk. i’m tired. i had an epiphany earlier and i felt like i needed to share it somewhere and maybe talk about it with another trans guy who might feel the same way.

thanks if you’ve read this whole thing, and if you’re also in a similar mindset, i’d really love to talk about it (you can reblog this with a comment or send me a dm or an anonymous ask if you don’t want to talk about it publicly, that’s cool too, i just want to know i’m not crazy)

[girlmeetsliv3]

The Letter Series: Epilogue

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and implied descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

- Finale -

“I know what it looks like, but I swear if you just let me explain.” Jung Hoseok stood shaking nervously at the bottom of the old oak bridge. His body was tackled to the ground by the chief of police, the blood-stained clothes getting dirtier with the mud. “Please. You have to listen to me, I didn’t do it.” The sergeant ignored Hoseok in favor of reading him his rights. A crowd of people had unfolded at the scene, watching with anticipation. The sun had begun to set, but even in the twilight hour, the horror of the scene could be seen in perfect detail. There were blood spatters all over the muddy ground and shreds of clothing scattered under the bridge. No one had ever seen such a thing, nor would they be able to forget it. As Hoseok was dragged into the cop car, he desperately cried out. “I swear it wasn’t me! Please. Believe me.” His eyes met that of a bystander, standing at the very edge away from the crowd. They communicated with each other until the door was shut in Hosoek’s face and the crowd was cleared to properly inspect the scene.

“Do you think it was him?” Jimin rolled his eyes and continued cleaning the dried coffee spots on the machine. “I mean he was at the scene of the crime.” Though his coworkers had always been gossipers, this was getting out of hand. The two prefer to discuss a situation they were warned by their supervisor, not to discuss instead of attending the customers. The cafe was usually a pretty calm place, but after the media had caught wind of the stalker case and y/n’s disappearance it had been packed tight for nearly twenty-four hours. Reports trying to catch a caffeine break before going back hounding the sheriff's office for information. “Hey Jimin, you were neighbors with both of them. What do you think happened?” Jimin dropped the rag, though slammed it down against the countertop was more appropriate. “I’m neighbors with everybody, it's a small town. What does it matter what I think anyway? Crimes aren’t solved with opinions or by gossiping around.” His tone was snarky and there was a dark gleam in his eyes. It worried his coworkers as Jimin was typically all smiles, but recently he had been on edge. “We know, but aren’t you curious? Weren’t you and y/n close?” At that Jimin scoffed, “I went over to her house once to drop off something she left behind. That doesn’t make us close.” Not seeing the point in losing any more brain cells conversing with them Jimin headed towards the back to restock, letting the door swing closed on the customers and whispers of his coworkers.

“We’re going to have to start looking for a new tutor.” Jungkook’s mother smacked his father upside the head. “Now is not the time to be having this conversation.” Jungkook was leaning against the wall with his eyes peering through the small opening of the kitchen door. “If now isn’t an appropriate time then I don’t know when is.” His mother sighed, her shoulders slacking downward. “You know he won’t like that.” His father frowned but still walked towards his mother to lay a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll find someone else. Someone who can help him.” Silence. It was several minutes later when one of them actually spoke, “You don’t think?” The question hung in the air. Simultaneously both parents turned towards the door, but Jungkook was quick enough to pull his head back before they saw him. “They had one session and the next day, she goes missing.” He didn’t miss the way his mother’s voice cracked when she said that. “And he was the one who insisted it be her. That they got along.” Jungkook’s throat began to dry out and tears brimmed in his eyes. “Darling, I know Jungkook can be a bit strange sometimes. Our Kookie would never hurt anyone.” It sounded like his father was trying to convince himself rather than speak the truth. It didn’t matter. All the tears dried and Jungkook stood up, walking away from the kitchen into the darkened hallway.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t see any suspicious activity whatsoever?” Kim Taehyung sat in the interrogation room with an unopened brand of generic soda on the metallic table in front of him. “No. I saw what I see every single day. Nothing out of the ordinary.” The investigator in front of him shook his head, “I just don’t understand how you fail to see someone lurking around.” The man’s tone clearly showing his disbelief. “Is it not your responsibility to keep watch over the neighborhood?” Taehyung slammed his hands down on the table, “I’ve been doing my job. My job is to watch over the neighborhood: to make sure there are no fights, accidents, or animals sneaking into trashcans. Not to ensure there is no letter writing psychopaths that go around kidnapping women!” After his outburst Taehyung slumped back against the chair, grabbing the soda and opening it before chugging half of its contents down. The officer remained impassive but chose to sit down in front of him. “I spoke with town residents. They told me, you and Mr. Leuh had a brawl of sorts the night he died.” Taehyung rolled his eyes, “We didn’t have a brawl. We had an argument, I could hardly even call it that.” The policeman's eyes scanned the file before replying. “It states here that you threatened to beat him to a pulp if he didn’t stop blabbing.” Taehyung clenched his teeth and reminded himself to breathe, “So what because we had a disagreement, I suddenly killed him. Give me a break. Leuh didn’t get along with anyone, the man screamed old school toxic masculinity with every breath he took.” It appeared that nothing he said would be taken seriously so Taehyung chose to shut up, stating he would no longer speak until a lawyer was present.

“It was purchased at this store was it not?” Yoongi nodded. “You were the one who sold it to her were you not?” He smirked, “I’m the only one who works here so if it wasn’t me, then maybe it was the ghost in the back.” The two uniformed men showed no interest in his joke. “Yes, I sold it to her. What about it?” Though his business was never beaming, the few customers he did have were driven away the moment the cop car pulled up outside. “The ink used to write the letters was the same ink used by the typewriter which she purchased here on the first day she moved to town. See what we’re getting at?” The bald oversized man was everything Yoongi hated about authority figures and reminded him of his old principal. “If you think I’m the one who killed her or sent the letters, you’re mistaken. It would be pretty stupid of me to write the letters on something that so clearly points to me, don’t you think?!” The fact that oversized failed to properly articulate a response, let Yoongi know that the man had simply been bluffing. “Don’t you have another one?” The shorter stockier man beside oversized spoke up. “Pardon?” Yoongi frowned and underneath the desk, his leg began to tremble. “I’ve shopped here before with the Mrs and know you always carry two of everything. An heir and a spare you call it.” Yoongi swallowed before answering the best he could, “That was the spare. The other broke a while ago and since I couldn’t afford to repair it only kept the other one.” The officers exchanged a look. “I can take you to the back if you’d like. Show it to you.” The men agreed before following Yoongi towards the back of the store where the ghost laid.

“Have you posted the house on the market yet?” Seokjin laughed as he threw back another shot. “Are you insane? How would that make me look if I sold the house a girl was stalked and potentially murdered in.” His friend laughed, “Not as bad as being the man who sold her the house. As well as the maintenance manager.” Seokjin chuckled slightly under his breath, “Don’t say it like that. I hardly knew her.” His friend was so drunk he failed to notice the way, Seokjin mood radically shifted. “Come on man, weren’t you always at her house fixing something. For as put together as the girl looked, she must’ve been a total klutz if she kept breaking everything.” Seokjin simply stood quiet and observed the man bordering on alcohol intoxication. “I mean I don’t think you did it man, you're incapable of hurting a fly. Maybe the stalker made a copy of your set of house keys. He’d have to go through lengths to get them though.” The drunkard’s laughter eventually subsided to that of a small chuckle, when he noticed Seokjin was clenching the shot glass tightly. “Man are you okay?” In an instant, Seokjin began to laugh and pretended to be drunk. “Just thinking how ridiculous the guy would have to be. I mean he’d have to like break into my office, make a copy of the keys, and return them back before I could even notice.” The other man began to laugh once again, “Like something out of a Tom Cruise movie, yeah?!” Another round was ordered and the men clinked their glasses together, determined to wash away the tragedy around them with some alcohol. While they still could.

“How did he manage to do it? How did he manage to create the perfect crime?” Namjoon spoke as he stared at the Bulletin board in front of him. Every piece of evidence is carefully interwoven by strings of various colors. “There is no such thing as the perfect crime. Only idiotic cops that can’t solve it.” The chief spoke as he chugged down his sixth water bottle that day. “You should try coffee sir, I’ve heard it helps.” The elder smacked his lips together and grumbled, “The only decent cup of coffee one can get in this town is in the cafe and it's being hogged by the reporters.” Namjoon looked back at the older man whose wrinkles were once again settled into a deep frown. “They’re just trying to do their job, sir.” The chief scoffed, “They keep me from doing mine.” Seeing no point in continuing the conversation, Namjoon focused his attention back on the board. Pretending to over everything when in reality, his eyes moved around robotically. “How’s Hoseok doing?” He repeated his question when it became obvious it hadn’t been heard. “Oh, I heard he’s doing better now. The doctor allowed him to return home once he declared him healthy.” Namjoon nodded, “Got to say it's pretty smart. Drugging him up and decorating the entire scene with pig’s blood. That way our only witness it useless, even smarter if he does it to himself.” The chief stopped glancing at the board to turn his attention over to the rookie cop, “Sounds like your impressed by all of this son. Any particular reason why?” Namjoon merely shrugged, “What can I say, sir. I’ve been reading a lot of thrillers lately, need to get into the mind of the criminal in order to play his game.” His left eye dropped into a wink before he claimed he needed to use the bathroom and walked out of the room.

“Hurry the fuck up Steve, we can’t miss this or both our assess are on the line!” The cameraman named Steve hurriedly set up the stand and made sure everything was working whilst the young reporter adjusted her blouse and mic. “And we’re live in three…” Steve held up his hands counting down with his fingers until he reached the one, giving the signal for his partner to commence. “Hello, This is Alex Mei reporting live from the scene. It appears a new development has been made in the Y/n Y/l/n case. Earlier this morning, police discovered a set of letters in the windowsill of the victim’s bedroom. Investigators have no knowledge of how these letters could have gotten there, as the entirety of the downstairs area of the house was locked. These letters are important, as they are believed to be the original letters the perpetrator wrote to Miss y/l/n. The ones that went missing on the eve of Y/n’s disappearance on June 15th of this year. Authorities have yet to speak, but everyone here is anxiously awaiting news.” Steve gave the signal that the transmission was done and the reporter let out a sigh. “I just want this to be over already.”

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

 Dear y/n, 

      I’m sorry its come to this. I hope you can understand. I love you too much to let you go. I love you too much to let you know. So this way it shall remain, until your final days. 

Love, 

    Your well-meaning neighbor. Your new best friend. Your loyal protector. Your man. Your purpose. Everything you need us me to be.

P.S. You should’ve known better than to lock your window at night. Only served to lock you inside. 

[dasfuzzy]

This thing still exists...?

So...I guess I'll start off by saying that the main reason for this post is because I got the Tumblr app a while back and have periodically gotten the notification that someone has liked my blog (hello, by the way), so this is twofold:

1) Give an update because, y'know, I haven't touched this thing in a long time, so there's a lot to update, and

2) Find out who's been liking my blog and why. So I guess comment, message, note, or whatever the hell people do here and let me know what got you interested in my ramblings.

I guess the three main things I would discuss here were my job, my love life, and my situation in general, so those'll be the primary focus for now. I guess I'll start with my love life just to get that out of the way as it's typically the focal point and most salacious content here (and possibly the most interesting to y'all).

Well, I'm gonna tell you right off the bat that things have changed drastically since I last was here. I will say that if you're expecting me to tell all, you're gonna be disappointed. I know in the past I never really held back on my feelings and about dishing out the truth, but this is a different situation than any in the past. All I'll really say is that since August of 2017 I've been in a committed relationship with someone that I truly love and can see myself being with for the rest of my days. Our relationship hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows, however, mostly due to nagging injuries and surgeries stemming from a work-related injury on her part (she used to be a physical therapy assistant), but I've done everything in my power to accommodate her and make things work. It hasn't been easy and it's taken it's toll on me, but at the end of the day I try to remain optimistic that things will get better with time.

Regarding my job...er, jobs, I've bounced around a bit since I was last here. I think I was still at Dave & Busters, but I was able to leave there to become a preschool/toddler teacher at a highly-accredited daycare center called Bright Horizons. It wasn't the easiest job and with me being who I am (profane and a fan of mature content, a la Game of Thrones, Walking Dead and wrestling) I felt like I was walking on eggshells at times, especially because the director was a bit of a prude, but I really enjoyed it. I was one of only two male teachers in a facility of approximately 30 teachers, so the kids really enjoyed the change of pace. I learned a lot being there, especially since I only had a few early education courses under my belt beforehand and I had some great mentors guiding me along.

Unfortunately, I made the decision to leave after 18 months for a couple of reasons:

1) The landlady finally sold the house, so my mom and I had to move (more on that later), and

2) There was an incident where I might've let slip a bit of profanity on the job. Basically it was nap time and most of the children were sleeping. I was in one of the preschool rooms at the time and at that age, some children just don't want to sleep, so we have to either try to soothe them or at least do what we can to keep them quiet so they don't wake the other children up. So I'm with another, younger teacher sitting with the non-sleepers, one of which was on the autistic spectrum and had an action plan in place that inform us of what we can and cannot do in certain situations that normally wouldn't apply to other children. Anyways, that particular child was not having any of nap/quiet time and decided to start walking around the room. In my frustration, I might've uttered under my breath "what the fuck". A few days later, I get a call from the director and she asks me if I used any profanity while in the classroom. I tell her that I don't recall doing so; she tells me that another teacher informed her that I had and she would need me to type up a formal statement of what I recall from that particular event. I stuck to my guns and said that I honestly don't recall doing so and, after submitting that to her, I was put on an indefinite administrative leave. As much as I loved that job, I took that as a sign that maybe it was time to find another job, something that pays better because I knew I was going to be moving within the next few months.

On the first day of my "leave", I asked friends if they knew of any good-paying jobs that had openings. I was only making $12.40/hr, which is only $.40 over minimum wage, so I was definitely open to suggestions. My best friend told me to apply to where he worked, Fitzgerald Tile, because they were looking for warehouse workers. He said they could start me at $18, so I leapt at the opportunity. I went down that Monday and met the warehouse supervisor to have an interview. I'll give you an almost word-for-word retelling of how that interview went:

Him: "Do you know how to drive a forklift?"

Me: "Yeah."

Him: "Great, you're hired."

Me: "Oh...okay."

Okay, that might be stretching it a bit, but that was more or less how it went. Really, he outlined some of the basic duties, asked if I was able to lift up to 50lbs unassisted, know that I'm expected to work 50 hours a week, then had me fill out the application, mostly for the sake of having it on file. He told me that I would just have to meet with the HR person to finalize the paperwork and discuss pay and my schedule, then I'd be good to go. Here's the thing: I never got to talk to the HR person. Ever. I was waiting for over an hour then told that we could do it another time, so I just went home. I should've noticed how sketchy the whole thing was. I should've picked up on all the red flags, but I didn't. So I go home, call my boss, and tell her that I'm giving my two weeks notice. She obliges and I ask if I could come visit down the road. She says that it would be in the best interest of the children that I stay away so they don't get the wrong idea. Basically I haven't been back there besides one time when I stopped by after hours to catch up with my favorite colleague and mentor, Jen.

Anywho, here I am on November 19th at the asscrack of dawn starting at the tile warehouse. I meet with the warehouse supervisor (I don't fucking remember his name; he's honestly not worth remembering) and he asks if I know how to drive a forklift. Uh...we talked about that when you hired me, but anyways, I say yes. "Great. Hop on, drive around a bit, get a feel for it, then get to work." Um...I dunno about those guys, but when I was at Lowe's where I learned to drive a forklift, we had to be licensed to operate one. Not to mention if they bothered to do a background check, they'd learn that I was fired from there for getting into an accident on a forklift and causing damage to a bay door. But I do as they say; I grab an order sheet ("grab the biggest ones first", they tell me) and get to it. Basically the way they run things is they put the sheets out on a table, everyone grabs one, gathers everything up on a pallet, then drop it in the outgoing delivery area, then do it all again until every order has been filled. I should also mention that I started right as they were moving warehouses to North Reading, so after the orders were pulled, we had to get other pallets ready to ship to the new place. Remember how I said I was never able to talk to the HR person? Well, I was never given a schedule because of that, so I guess it was understood that I would come in at 7 in the morning and work until everyone was done, which typically wasn't until 8 or 9 at night. I adhered to that mindset for maybe a week and a half; after that, I started sneaking out after at least doing my 8 hours a day. One day the supervisor caught me and said that I can't do that again. I didn't give a fuck. Another day he tells me that I'm not working fast enough and need to step it up. Maybe if someone took the time to train me on the other lift that was smaller and had forks that extended, I'd be able to be more efficient, but no; the only machines I could use were the huge lifts that are barely able to maneuver in the narrow fucking aisles and the order picker, which is basically a standing lift with a small tray-sized platform that you could place stuff on and lower it back down. That thing was kinda fun because it had controlls that kinda felt like piloting a mech and it was fast as hell.

Fast forward a few days and a few hours into my shift the supervisor tells me that I'm being let go and he hands me my last check and a pamphlet for unemployment benefits. No reasoning, just that I'm gone. Probably because I was "working too slow" and would leave when I felt like it, but I could give two shits; they never cared about me and I was tired of working under those unreasonable conditions. I manage keep my composure and start heading out, telling the few friends that I made there that I was fired; they wished me well and said I'd move onto something better. No shit. Once I get to my car, I burst out crying, trying to comprehend the gravity of my situation. I text my girlfriend and she asks if I want to come over to her house; I do partly because I needed the emotional support and partly because she was only 5 minutes away and my drive home would've been about 30 minutes. Honestly, I probably could've reported them to OSHA since they were in violation of god knows how many rules and regulations (hell, during the first week at the new warehouse, someone managed to destroy an entire bay: 3 shelves with 4 pallets each, totalling I believe over $6000 worth of product), but I just wanted to wash my hands of that place entirely. Since it was mid December, I decided to just take time to enjoy the holidays before looking for a new job, especially since I had made enough money there to keep myself afloat for about a month.

So, regarding the move, mom and I spent the last few years looking for places nearby for when the time came, but a lot of places were either in undesirable towns, were too expensive (this is Massachusetts; rent prices suck balls), or didn't meet our needs/standards. Ideally we were aiming to find a small house or even duplex to move into since we'd been in a 2-story, 3-bedroom house since January 2001, but we ended up settling for a 2-bedroom apartment in a small complex in Reading. It's been a bit of an adjustment for many reasons, but we've made it work. One of the biggest annoyances is that we don't have any laundry machines in our unit or even our building, so if we have to wash our clothes, we need to bring our stuff to one of the neighboring buildings that has a credit card-opperated laundry room with seven washers and 8 dryers. Kinda obnoxious to have to go through all that trouble and pay to do it, but condidering heat, hot water, and facility maintenance and snow removal are all covered in our rent (which is $1750/month), it's a small price to pay, I suppose.

Once we got all settled into the new place, I started job hunting again. For years I've wanted to do something technical, like be a plumber or maintenance engineer, but it's nigh impossible to find entry-level jobs like that. I somehow managed to find a job posting on Craigslist for a preventative maintenance engineer at a hotel in my old hometown of Woburn (ironically it's across from my old Dave & Busters), put in an application, and about a week later I had the job. Basically what I do is go through the guestrooms and make sure everything is in working order and is clean. I do about 2 rooms a day, repairing things as needed, be it electrical, plumbing, painting, or whatever else. I started back in early February of this year and in April the chief engineer was unceremoniously fired, leaving me as the sole engineer at the hotel. We had outside help come in periodically, but generally speaking I was the one keeping the place together until we hired a new chief this past October. I had to learn how to take care of an outdoor pool and how to take readings on it daily. I had to represent my hotel at engineer trainings normally meant for chiefs. Hell, I was very close to being promoted to chief myself until they found the new guy. But my efforts weren't in vain: our scores from our guest surveys for maintenance and upkeep were always above expectations and everyone at the hotel appreciate and respect what I do there. They raised my pay as high as they could go because of the amount of work I was putting in. My boss even got me two $75 tickets to a Ring of Honor show since he was a wrestling fan like myself. I think it's safe to say that I definitely bounced back from Fitzgerald.

I guess that about wraps things up. It's currently two weeks until Christmas, so I've got that to look forward to. I'd apologize for the lengthy rant, but I think that's par for the course on my blog. Again, if you're new (or even if you're not), feel free to leave a comment, note, message, or whatever and let me know what brought you to my blog or if there's any questions, comments, or suggestions for things that I could discuss. I figure I've been away from this thing for a long time, why not be a bit more active. Anyways, that's all I got for now. Hope y'all are well; take care of yourself!

[futurestrong]

Self Awareness and Self Love: ‘What about me?’

By Dr Kathryn Murray

Education specialist, Author, Public Speaker.

“What about me, it isn't fair I've had enough now I want my share Can't you see I wanna live But you just take more than you give”

The words of Australian singer Shannon Noll resonate with many of us. I remember thinking this when I found myself without a job, broke after having to sell my house, car and more. My life had turned upside down – I found myself in a desperate financial situation because I trusted someone! That trust meant I had to sell everything to pay off debt—and some of the debt wasn’t even mine! So, many, many times, I found the lyrics of this song running through my mind: “…it isn’t fair! I’ve had enough now I want my share!”

We humans commonly default to blaming difficult times on the actions of someone else. We believe that it’s all their fault. I wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for them! Then we begin to beat ourselves up over what could or should have been. The self-recrimination tape plays: I should have known better. I should never have trusted him. I’m smarter than this.

Does any of this sound familiar?

There seems to be a common pattern that I’ve noticed in myself and in the process that my friends have gone through when “stuff” happens. It’s almost like a grieving process on our journey to a happier time.

In my experience, it went something like this:

1. Disbelief, fear and confusion. The acknowledgement of the situation coupled with the feeling that this is all a nightmare that I will wake up from. Such mixed feeling or disbelief and realisation. I must have misunderstood! How could he have done that? What does this mean for me and my future? How can I support my kids when I can’t support myself? I’m such a failure.

 2. Anger and betrayal.  A few swear words may or may not have been said! That feeling of getting even came over me. I felt determined not to be beaten. In this stage, I tried to remind myself: I am strong and can deal with anything. I have the whole universe working with me. That helped a little but didn’t change the reality.

3. Hurt and tears. I struggled to understand how someone could make such a negative impact on my life when I’m a nice person, and I’d never treat someone like I was being treated. I tried to understand his reasoning for the decisions he made and tried to identify my own part in this. In some ways, I didn’t want to face this and went into denial.  This can’t be happening to me!

4. Victim thoughts. This is where the Shannon Noll song came back on repeat: “It isn’t fair” along with the feelings of shame, foolishness, embarrassment, and disappointment for allowing this to happen. If I’m honest, there was probably a bit of self-destruction going on at this point. I couldn’t see that things would ever be better. I was always going to struggle, be poor, never trust anyone, and I never, ever wanted to date or have a partner again—ever! Poor me. It isn’t fair!

 5. Blaming and shaming. Then I started to throw blame in his direction, allocating him as 90% responsible for where I was in life! I felt as though I’d been taken advantage of and control over my life had been taken from me. Now, I was at the tricky part of my journey. I had to recognise the victim behaviours and the blame mentality that was leading me to think, choose, and make decisions from weakness, not strength. I was living in a deficit mindset, focusing on all that I lacked.

 Realisation of the implications of the situation. Reality and a sense of urgency set in as I watched my financial and emotional state get worse. I started to recognise the type of role model I was being for my children. Ok, get a grip. This is REAL! This is how things are now, so what am I going to do. I need to pick up what I can and move forward. Being angry isn’t helping to get back on my feet. I don’t want to be that angry, bitter, and twisted woman!

6. Knight in shining armour. Because I was in such a down state, I yearned for someone to save me, help me, fix things—it didn’t matter who. Maybe I’ll win some money… someone has to, right? Maybe a friend will sort out the legal issues for me. Subconsciously, I was thinking that if I just ignore this long enough then someone or something will happen and sort it out for me.

 7. Self-empowerment. It seemed to take a very long time to get to this point, but it was actually only months to get to this realisation. Guess what - No one came to rescue me and nothing happened! I didn’t win any money, and all the problems were still there. This realisation created a shift inside me. No one is going to fix my life for me. Time to take back my power! Yes! Then came the turn around that made be grow and get better and better within myself. I became a powerhouse!

I’ve always been spiritual, very self reflective, and self-aware. I realised that I had all the tools within me to deal with this situation and deal with it for the best possible outcome for all concerned. I was reminded of the statistics that our actions are based on 10% of what happens and 90% of how we respond.

I chose to use my brain to work out a solution, even though I was very fearful of how to move forward. I was frozen with fear some days. I had to face some unpleasant tasks, deal with people I’d rather avoid, speak my truth, be assertive, navigate financial and legal issues, and more. None of it was easy or fun. It made me anxious and nervous.

Slowly, though, I began to see just how strong I was. My women friends became my cheerleaders and sounding boards. I began to go to business networking events and met some amazing people who had also dealt with difficulty and risen above it. I began to do more public speaking gigs with different audiences, customising the topics so the messages related to them.

I began to see ME! I realised that I quite liked ME!

While dealing with a rollercoaster of emotions during the past few years, I hadn’t given myself time to enjoy life. I was too busy surviving, or so I thought, stuck in a victim mentality while I waited for someone to rescue me. When I look back, I think that I was really just hiding from the world and avoiding what I knew I must do to clear this situation. I continued to work and no one would have known about the internal struggles I had with myself, trying to deal with things I just didn’t want to, or didn’t think I should have to.

Falling in Love!

So, I decided to date. I was ready. I wanted to go out into the world. I thought that I still had a reasonable figure, still looked ok, had a lot to offer, enjoyed lots of activities, and I really love people and love to laugh. Unexpectedly, I met this amazing person. We went to the movies, out to dinner, camping, on picnics, and this summer we will go snorkelling and spend a lot of time at the beach. Just like I used to before the rollercoaster ride. The person I met is a lot like me. I feel appreciated, loved, wanted, respected, and I look forward to our dates. I don’t feel alone anymore. It’s wonderful. I’ve found love!

Who have I found? Well… I found ME! I’m dating myself!

I’m showering myself with self love and appreciation. I choose to use positive words when I describe myself. I find the best features of me and focus on that, even though I acknowledge all of my features. We all have them, don’t we – the bits we’d rather hide? And it’s what makes us real. I tell myself how smart I am. I share my knowledge and skills openly. I give gratitude every day for the little, wonderful things in my life, like the washing machine that washes my clothes, the candle that smells divine, the dog who is always happy to see me, the sun on my face, the coffee in my cup—the simple things. I give myself time, care, and consideration. But most of all, I give gratitude for me. I love me! I’m so glad that I have met me again because I’m pretty awesome!

That childhood game that we have all heard when plucking flower petals from the stalk—“loves me… loves me not?”—doesn’t apply to me anymore. Because I know I love me. The anger has gone. The thoughts and actions of the victim, blamer, and martyr sometimes surface again, but my love for myself generally keeps them under control.

I have found that my change of energy is drawing people to me. Clients seek me out, people smile at me in the street, people want to be around me—and I want to be around me! One day, I might date someone else, but right now I am very happy with my date, my constant companion—ME!

Does this self-awakening sound like a journey you also want to take? Do you love yourself? Feel free to use my story for your own inspiration. 😊  

Give me a call. I’d love to chat with you.

 If you want to know more, then I’d love to connect with you! Contact me through my website www.futurestrongeducation.com OR join me on our Facebook page – Future Strong Education.

Dr Kathryn Murray has worked with children and families for 35 years as a teacher, researcher and university lecturer. Kathy is the CEO of Future Strong Education supporting parents and children through workshops and speaking engagements.

[somethingvaguetodo]

Signals Crossed Pt. 2

A lot of people asked for a Part 2 of this, so here you go!

Adrien sat in his trailer, wringing his hands together and unable to focus. Marinette was due to arrive at the photo shoot any minute, and he still didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw her. He had never been more thankful that it was summer and he was off from school, otherwise he did not think he would have lasted these few days seeing Marinette in class and not saying anything.

But now that the moment was upon him, he had no idea how to proceed.

Plagg seemed to think that it would be best to just come out with it, and tell Marinette the truth, but Adrien wanted Marinette to figure it out for herself. His half formed plan was to let her see the Chat Noir in him and come to the conclusion on her own, but he still wasn’t sure how to do that without cluing the rest of the crew in as well.

Before he had a chance to think about it any more, Nathalie knocked at his door.

“Adrien,” she called, “Your guest is here, and Vincent is ready for you.”

Silently thanking whichever deity that was listening that he wouldn’t have to be alone in his trailer with Marinette, Adrien took one last look in the mirror. Even though it was a warm and sunny summer day, they were shooting fall clothes, and he was wearing earth tones - brown trousers and a tan shirt, with a hickory colored trench coat over it. Already sweating from anxiety and the heat, Adrien stepped out of his trailer.

Today, they were set up in a small park alongside the Canal Saint-Martin, a quiet area in the 10ième. The small crew was milling about; Vincent was playing around with his camera, assistants setting up the lighting, and Marinette hovered uncertainly at the outskirts. She was looking distractingly pretty in a royal blue jumpsuit and a wide brimmed white sunhat with a blue ribbon. Even before discovering that Marinette was actually Ladybug and the love of his life, he found her distractingly pretty. Adrien waved to her, and she waved back, a light blush dusting her cheeks. Adrien felt his heartbeat speed up, but it helped him feel in control. Taking a deep breath as he walked toward her, he reminded himself of his goal. Just be calm, act natural, and show her that you are Chat Noir.

“Hey Marinette,” he said, coming to stop right in front of her. This close, he could see her whole face under the hat, the light dusting of freckles across her nose, her bright blue eyes. How he never realized she was Ladybug was incredible.

Marinette smiled shyly. “Hey Adrien! Thanks for inviting me!”

“Of course...” he trailed off as she reached forward and touched his jacket, right above his heart. Adrien was pleasantly surprised with her directness.

“Is this suede?”

Adrien took a second before responding, disappointed that they were talking about his clothes. “Ultrasuede, actually. Père thinks it’s making a comeback.”

Marinette’s eyes were intensely focused on his coat. She pinched the collar between two fingers and felt the fabric. When she took a step toward him to closely inspect the stitching, Adrien stopped breathing.

But somehow, Marinette did not seem to be as affected by their proximity as he was. “Wow, I didn’t think ultrasuede could drape like this…” she muttered, flipping his coat open to feel the inside and completely oblivious to the way that Adrien’s brain seemed to have short circuited. “What material is the lining?”

“Adrien!” Vincent called before Adrien could answer her question. Marinette jumped as if burned, dropping his coat and taking a giant step away from him. A bright red blush bloomed across her cheeks, and Adrien was glad to see that he still had some effect on her. She pulled down the brim of her hat as if trying to hide underneath it.

Adrien cleared his throat. “I better go model.”

Marinette giggled. “That’s what they pay you for.”

Adrien nodded rapidly, trying to figure out what to say. Finding out that Marinette is Ladybug had clearly crippled his ability to interact with her. “Why don’t you go over to Nathalie? She can find you a place to sit while I…” He struck a playful pose, trying to remind himself that he was supposed to be embodying Chat Noir. Marinette giggled again.

He watched her walk away, mentally shaking himself to get back in a professional mindset. Vincent called out to him again.

Adrien went through the motions of modeling, changing his pose when Vincent requested it, his smile easy as he watched Marinette. She watched him for a while, the blush still on her face, but quickly became distracted by talking to Emmanuelle, his stylist, and Claude, his dresser.

When Vincent stopped to check the shots, Emmanuelle waved him over.

“Your friend had an interesting idea,” she began, but Marinette cut her off.

“It’s missing something,” she said, practically bubbling out of her seat. “I would say it needs a pop of color, like a burgundy or even a forest green, but then I was thinking you need a pattern.” She jumped up. “Can I see what else is in your trailer?”

Barely waiting for his confirmation, Marinette grabbed his hand and pulled him toward his trailer, leaving Adrien to wonder if she had somehow figured him out and was just trying to drive him crazy. He stood by the door as Marinette rushed to the rack of clothes inside, rifling through the items on their hangers.

“No… that won’t work… maybe if I had my sewing machine…” Marinette muttered to herself, dismissing every item. Adrien watched her, so enthralled with the fact that she looked like Ladybug trying to work out the use of a Lucky Charm that he almost forgot he was supposed to be acting differently around her.

She held up an olive green shirt as he walked closer. “Hmmm… this doesn’t really match your skin tone,” she commented.

“I’ve heard I pull off black pretty well,” he said, an admittedly paltry clue. Marinette didn’t even look at him.

“Black would throw off the earth tones.”

Adrien sighed, almost defeated.

“See…” she pulled a black vest out of the rack and held it up to him. Suddenly, she gasped. “Wait, Adrien, that’s perfect!” She yanked the vest off of the hanger and turned it inside out. The lining was a leopard print: tans and oranges and browns and blacks.

“A cat print?” Adrien asked, smirking as he shrugged off his jacket and took the vest from Marinette. “It’s almost like Chat Noir! Get it, because it’s black on one side and cat on the other?”

Marinette hummed, but didn’t show any sign that the comment meant more to her. “Leave it open?” she asked, pulling at the two halves. “Or close it? Because the buttons are now on the inside.”

Adrien was starting to get a little upset. He clearly didn’t stand a chance next to the allure of fashion.

“I can button it,” he assured her, but she was already reaching for it herself. Her fingers were quick and nimble, but it was tricky to close from the inside out. Adrien felt his heart rate pick up again. Her knuckles brushed against his stomach as she coaxed the buttons into their holes, and he shivered, unable to stop himself. Despite all of his fantasies of turning into a suave superhero to gain her attention, Adrien knew that most of the time, Chat Noir was a wreck around Ladybug. Why should this have turned out any differently?

Marinette finished the last button and smoothed the fabric down, both hands running down his abdomen.

“How does that feel?”

“It’s purr-fect,” he said, a last ditch effort to hold on to his plan to reveal himself to her.

Marinette looked up at him, her eyes wide. She seemed to finally stop and think about what he was saying, curiously bright in her gaze. Adrien weighed his options, trying to decide what to do next, and trying to talk himself out of just leaning down and kissing her.

The door burst open behind him, and they sprang apart.

“Let me see what you’ve done,” Emmanuelle said, totally oblivious to what she just interrupted. “Vincent wants to finish this outfit and move on.” Marinette squeaked, clearly embarrassed, and pushed past Emmanuelle in her haste to leave the trailer. Emmanuelle looked at Adrien, confused.

Adrien sighed, completely defeated.

By the time the photo shoot ended and Adrien bid Marinette goodbye, he was more than a little upset. The drive home was silent, and even Nathalie could tell that he was not in the mood to hear about his schedule for the next day.

Adrien rushed into the house, ignoring the fact that his dinner was probably ready for him in the dining room, went immediately to his room. He slammed his bedroom door behind him, paying no mind to how annoyed his father would be for his actions. Despite his best attempts all day at showing his Chat side, far more than he ever dared to as Adrien before, Marinette didn’t seem to notice at all. In fact, she was far more preoccupied with everything fashion and technical about the photo shoot that she didn’t even seem to notice him at times.

“I don’t understand, Plagg,” Adrien whined, throwing himself down onto his bed, his face landing in his pillow. “What should I have done?”

Plagg landed on the pillow beside him. “Maybe you should have just told her.”

“Told her!” Adrien shot up, his torso twisting uncomfortably until he was in a sitting position. “I can’t just tell her my identity! That’s the one thing that she has been so adamant about all along.”

Plagg made a remarkably skeptical expression for a being without an eyebrow he could raise. “But it was her fault for revealing her identity. She should have been more careful with the messages if she didn’t want you to know who she is.”

Adrien thought about it, having to acknowledge that Plagg was right. Ladybug really couldn’t fault him if he revealed his identity, because she did it first. Actually, she really couldn’t fault him if he revealed his identity in the exact same way.

“I think I have an idea,” he said, grinning. “Plagg, claws out!”

Before Plagg had a chance to respond, Adrien’s transformation washed over him, and Chat Noir vaulted out of his window. He traversed the rooftops quickly, coming to a halt on the roof of his school building. It gave him a perfect view of Marinette’s parent’s bakery, and their adjoining house. The round window on the top floor was brightly lit, indicating that Marinette was inside. Chat pulled out his baton.

From: 0000M0000D0000 To: Marinette Dupain-Cheng Hey Marinette! I’m so glad that you were able to come to my shoot today! I don’t remember the last time I had so much fun doing a work thing :) Hopefully you can join me again sometime, or we can do something else?? I love having the time to hang out with you outside of school xx Adrien

Chat reread the message twice, making sure there were no spelling errors. He made sure there weren’t too many exclamation marks that would make him seem strange or overenthusiastic. He considered adding a kissing emoji at the end, but left the two x’s.

He crossed his fingers on his left hand, hit send, and put his baton away. Chat settled comfortably onto the roof, closed his eyes, and decided to try those deep breathing exercises that Ladybug was so fond of.

Chat was sure that even without his enhanced hearing, he would have detected the high-pitched scream that emanated from Marinette’s room two minutes later.

[trashboatprince]

Based on this hilarious/cute drawing by @doberart and more of a continuation of the au she’s letting me write for.

Linda, meet your new, inky son! :D

Based on my own little headcanon that each cycle that Henry went through repeats itself, so the visit literally goes back to the beginning, Henry is stuck trying to reach August 31st, the only day that isn’t generated by the kitchen calendar and is the only day circled on the living room one. So him going home means he broke the cycle and left on August 31st.

On with the fic!

--

Linda was alerted to the sound of the front door opening as she was washing dishes in the kitchen. She froze up, trying to hear for anything. She heard a quiet, familiar voice whispering something but she couldn’t make it out.

That didn’t matter, she heard the voice of her husband!

But she also heard something else, a sound she wasn’t familiar with, and that had her worried. Quickly, she dried off her hands and grabbed a hold of the frying pan she had just finished cleaning.

She hadn’t expected Henry to be back tonight, he said he’d be gone for a bit to deal with whatever it was that Joey wanted to talk to him about. From past experiences with Joey’s meetings, she knew not to wait up.

But something had been bothering her about this trip the whole time. As if Henry was gone a lot longer than just a week and a half.

Linda stepped through the living room and into the foyer, where she found sight of her husband, looking exhausted and a little roughed up, but fine. “Henry?”

The man turned and smiled in relief, there was a look on his face, the tone of his voice as he said her name, that screamed ‘you have no idea how much I’ve missed you’. He rushed over and hugged onto her tightly, as if he was scared that if he let go, she’d vanish. “Linda, oh, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, dear. You sound so upset, did something happen? Oh great, what did Joey do this time?” She frowned as she stepped back, before she noticed something standing at the door.

She hadn’t seen this strange sight when she was walking from the kitchen, there was a divider wall between the living room and the front entrance, and this... thing, it had been hidden just out of sight until Henry had pulled her in for a hug.

Behind her husband was a massive, hulking beast that reeked of ink.

Linda let out a yelp of fright before she held up the frying pan, her eyes narrowing. “Henry! Get away from that thing!” She swore that the creature’s expression, somehow, went from curiosity to shock and hurt.

Henry’s eyes widened and he stepped back, actually standing in front of the thing in their house! “Linda! Wait! Wait! I can explain!”

She just gripped the frying pan tighter, ready to swing. “I certainly hope so! You better tell me what that thing is, Henry!”

There was a quiet pause before Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Put down the frying pan, Linda. Let me explain everything in the kitchen because... well... I’d like to eat something, haha, you have no idea how much I’ve missed your cooking after eating nothing but soup for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Linda blinked, lowering the pan. “You’ve been gone for ten days?”

“Ten?” He looked shocked before looking at the creature. “Hm, feels like longer, doesn’t it, pal?” The demonic being nodded in agreement.

Linda frowned and headed for the kitchen. “I can make you something to eat, but... uhh... does your... does it eat?”

“I’m not sure, I think he does. We can give him something and see if he likes it.”

“Alright.” Linda nodded, looking over her shoulder to see Henry following, the creature trailing behind as it seemed to study the living room in wonder. With a little shifting, it fit through the kitchen doorway and moved to sit on the floor, watching as Linda quietly prepared sandwiches.

She couldn’t help but to shiver as she felt it’s ‘eyes’ on her back. “Henry... do you mind explaining what’s going on?” She asked as she looked over at her husband, who was starting the coffee maker.

“Well, I guess I should address the demon in the room. Linda, this is Bendy. Bendy, this is Linda.”

This caught Linda by surprise. She looked over at the demon, who seemed to have picked up a little kitchen decoration, studying it as it carefully turned it about in his large hands.

How was... how was this Bendy? “Do you mean Bendy as in your character?”

“Yep.”

“But how is that possible? And why does it-he look like that?”

“Joey.” Henry frowned deeply. “Joey used a machine to make him and this form is... I’m not sure what to think of it, I call it his ‘beast’ form. He seems unable to get out of it, but it’s alright, at least he isn’t worse than this.”

Linda bit her lip as she set a plate down on the breakfast table before nervously grabbing the second one. “Uhh... Bendy?”

This caught Bendy’s attention and he looked up at her, tilting his head. She quickly set the plate on the table and pointed at it. “This is your meal. Do you mind eating it in the living room? I need to have a discussion with Henry.”

Bendy looked at the plate and she watched as he outstretched an arm, gently taking the plate between his fingers, pulling it close to himself. He looked over at Henry, as if asking a silent question.

“Hold on, follow me.” Henry smiled, motioning for Bendy to follow him to the other room. Linda quietly watched as Henry had Bendy sit on the floor before turning on the television. This seemed to get the other’s attention with interest. “You just sit here and watch this, if you need anything, just get me, okay?”

Once Bendy gave him a nod, Henry returned and sat at the table, taking his plate and digging into the sandwich as Linda moved to get their coffee ready. Once she had their cups, she sat down, able to look at her husband but also at the living room.

So far, the demon was just gently tearing off chunks of his food and dropping them into his mouth with some slight chewing. He seemed to like it just fine, guess he could eat. “Alright, dear, start explaining to me what the heck is going on.”

Henry finished his bite of food, took a drink of coffee, and started to tell his wife a tale that sounded to amazing to be real. Ink demons, evil angels, living cartoons and ink, and a machine that made it all possible. What was Linda suppose to make of this?

And it didn’t help that Henry explained the loops, the constant restarting of his adventures in the studio, of all the times he fell and was knocked out, of having to fight his dear friend Boris over and over and it hurting more and more each time.

She watched his hands shake, his voice tighten, his expression looking so tired as he told her of all the times he fought Bendy. Linda gently touched his hand, giving it a small squeeze as he told her about the viewing device, something he placed on the table.

Henry told her about his allies, about what happened to his co-workers, about Joey Drew himself.

In a quiet tone, he even told her how he has figured out how to ‘rewrite’ the script, to fix the cycles and to break free. He explained what he did to fix Bendy, to return him to the mindset he was meant to have, what he originally had, not this angry, hurt demon that had chased him around because Joey needed a villain that wasn’t himself.

“I wasn’t going to leave him there, Linda.” Henry whispered as he looked at the living room, seeing that Bendy had curled up on his side, looking to be asleep. “He has suffered just as much as I had, and for longer. He was scared and didn’t want me to leave, he had no one else, everyone fears and hates him. He may look like a monster, but I know my Bendy anywhere. He’s there, under all that ink. When I told him he’d be coming home with me, he hugged me and cried.”

Linda looked at the sleeping demon as well. “So... he’s not going to do anything to you? To us? He’s fixed?”

“He’s returning to his old mindset, but it’s a long journey, neither of us are going to get over what happened in the studio.”

She squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Take all the time you need, dear. And... and if you trust Bendy, I suppose I can as well. It’s going to be a big adjustment, having a demon in the house.”

Henry smiled as he, squeezing back. “I promise, he’ll be on his best behavior.”

Linda felt like this was going to be a lot to take in, heck, she was still getting over the idea that they had a living toon in the house, let alone the circumstance of his existence and what happened to her husband!

But she will adjust, and take care of him with Henry, it seems like the best idea.

And she can start by getting him a blanket and a pillow.