#not soon because i have so many other books but someday

[destyni-is-me]

01/24/2024

This semester I am taking a class called "Form and Technique in Prose" and we have four books we'll be reading during it.

The first book for the class that I just finished reading (which I have read before but long enough ago that I forgot a lot lol) and the second book I read this year so far was Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Honestly, I've been meaning to read this one again for awhile so I'm glad school gave me the opportunity to do it. The style of the book is so interesting and pretty unique- with the first person narration in the first chapter that occasionally pops itself back in throughout different parts of the story, the constant jumping around Billy Pilgrim's life, the way that small, seemingly unimportant details are constantly mentioned throughout until they gain meaning through the repetition, the ambiguous nature of the sci-fi elements mixed with the harsh and detailed reality of war... the book is a 10/10, definitely one that people should read at least once in their life I think.

[neil-gaiman]

hello mr gaiman! this isn’t a question I just wanted to thank you for good omens and all the joy it has brought me.

I am a very flamboyant and feminine man. I use wild hand gestures, I talk loudly and dramatically, and the way I present myself often gets me a lot of strange looks and ridicule from people. Whenever I see people who look/act like me in media, they are usually treated as the butt of the joke, something hilarious for the audience to laugh at. One of the only characters who isn’t like that is Aziraphale. Aziraphale is dramatic and feminine, but not in a way that is for the audience to laugh at. He is a funny character, but not because of his mannerisms, mostly because of his naïveté and general silliness. He is not the same hurtful stereotype that I’ve been forced to watch again and again. For my whole life I’ve often been treated like this walking circus. I’ve had to hide who I am in order to be taken seriously by most people. It just feels so refreshing to see a character like me be celebrated and loved for his mannerisms. Watching him in season 1 gave me the confidence to be prouder and more true to who I am. Watching season 2 just made me feel even stronger and more confident. He gave me hope that even if everyone is laughing at me right now, someday soon I can be taken seriously.

I know you probably won’t see this, but thank you anyway. This show/book means so much to me and many others. I hope you have a good day :)

I'm so glad. I love him so much, and I know that Michael Sheen loves him too.

[honeylations]

NAKAMURA KAZUHA x FEM!READER

PART TWO

Prompt: Still not being over your ex boyfriend (Choi Yeonjun), you thought it was a good idea to fake a relationship with Kazuha, aka a complete stranger, to make him jealous.

Warnings/Notes: small angst, fake dating to lovers, g!p Kazuha for spice, eventual smut for you horndogs

Link to part 1

A/N: RAHHHH FINALLY DID A PART TWO BECAUSE I WAS INDECISIVE OF HOW I WANTED THE STORY TO GO😭 this is like my 5th draft of Part Two💀

It’s been 2 weeks since you and Kazuha began the fake relationship and you were starting to feel a little too comfortable within the Japanese girl’s presence.

There were many things you were liking alot while being with her:

Seeing her smile

Her stupid jokes

Holding her hand

Having her arm around you

Walking you to your classes

The list can go on and on.

She went all out with your pretend dates and you found yourself staring at the photos you took together during your nights out. The warm feeling you had while with her was different than when you were with Yeonjun.

But it felt too good to be true.

Kazuha was only doing all this to help you. To protect you from Yeonjun. Right?

Wrong.

If you were a mess, Kazuha was an even bigger mess.

Every night she would pray that you’d open your eyes and realise that she was willing to do anything just for you to be officially her’s.

In Kazuha little mind, she believed you just needed protection from your ex. That you didn’t need Kazuha’s deep love. That this was only going to remain as a fantasy for the rest of her life.

But with the way your angelic laughed filled her ears, your soft hand perfectly fitting into her bigger ones, your beautiful smile…Kazuha was going to enjoy every moment while they lasted.

You were sitting next to each other as always at the lunch table with your friends, hearing more nonsense stories come out of Yunjin’s food filled mouth. You were leaning your head against Kazuha’s shoulder, playing with her fingers mindlessly as laughter continued to echo from your group.

It felt so right.

Like you had almost forgotten that it wasn’t real in the first place.

Then Yeonjun showed up again, seeming a little more timid than his usual approaches. Your table went silent upon his presence, clearly unhappy that he’s here yet again to possibly get your attention.

Kazuha’s arm instantly went around you, holding tight like you were going to disappear from her embrace.

“Hey calm down please everyone, I’m not here to try anything” Yeonjun quickly said when he saw all of your cold stares on him.

He continued. “I’m here to actually apologise. Especially towards you Y/n. I can see you’re really happy with Kazuha. She’s treating you in ways I wasn’t able to. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused recently, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me someday”

Without letting you respond, Yeonjun bowed and took his leave silently, leaving your group stunned.

“Well it was about damn time he said something. We can all live in peace now” Chaeryeong sighed dramatically, applauding everyone as if it was a team effort.

“Good job on faking the entire thing guys! Really got him fooled. Such a shame though, you two make a really good couple” Yuna hummed and tilted her head towards you and Kazuha.

“Y-Yeah…We do don’t we..” You heard Kazuha mutter while retreating her arm away from you.

Your eyes darted all over the floor out of panic. Everything was ending too soon! You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want to lose all the warmth and happiness.

“Hey…” A voice broke you out of it, seeing that it was Sakura grabbing your hand. “Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good”

Sakura’s lips went into a thin line as she rubbed her thumb across your hand. “Don’t think about it Y/n. Just do it before it’s too late”

You looked at your friend with more worry, knowing that Sakura could read you easily like a book.

She knew you were in love with Kazuha but was too scared to do something about it.

As all your classes ended, Kazuha was kind enough to walk you back to your dorm, talking normally about your day and what you’ll be up to for the rest of the semester.

Then you both halted when you reached your door. Kazuha tucked her hands into her pockets while she looked at her feet like they were interesting.

“So…Is this it?” She asked with sadness.

You gulped away the choking feeling in your throat. “I-I guess…Thanks for everything Kazuha. You were a great pretend girlfriend”

Kazuha gave a half smile and nodded. “You were a perfect pretend girlfriend. Whoever gets you in the future is one lucky person”

“Same goes to you, Zu. Thanks for taking me home one last time”

“Of course. Anytime…”

The Japanese girl began slowly walking away, her feet feeling heavier with each step like she didn’t want to leave. She really didn’t. The thought of not having you by her side 24/7 was picking at her heart piece by piece.

Then the thought of you being in someone else’s arms snapped something in her head. She wanted you to be all her’s. She wanted to be the arms you fall into. She wanted to be the one you kiss and cuddle all the time.

She needed you to be her’s and her’s only.

Her feet stopped, catching your attention from the keys you were about to push into the lock. She made a U turn on the spot and sped walk back to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to her face that your lips were close to touching.

“Z-Zuha?” You gasped at the sudden movement.

Her eyes were filled with emotions you couldn’t decipher but her touch made your heart beat faster.

“Y/n. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me”

“What?”

“Tell me you don’t love me so I can have a peace of mind. Tell me you didn’t feel a thing throughout the two weeks we’ve been together” Kazuha said with determination, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the anxiety she was feeling.

“Kazuha…”

“I love you Y/n. We were two dates in and I felt pathetic that I fell in love with you so quickly, but to me it felt like I wasn’t allowed. I felt like you only saw this as an escape from Yeonjun. But please tell me Y/n, through the times we held hands, did you not feel some sort of chemistry between us?”

You stared up at her for a couple more seconds before tears escaped your eyes. Kazuha froze, thinking her words had affected you in the wrong way but she couldn’t rip out an apology before you leaned up and captured her lips as your arms hooked around her neck.

Kazuha’s eyes fluttered shut and her arms held you closely by the hips, relishing the warm feeling of your lips moving against hers.

She could bask in the warmth forever but you slowly pulled away, gaze flickering from her plump lips to her eyes.

“Kazuha I love you too. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. There’s no one else in this world I’d rather love than you”

The taller girl leaned her forehead against yours with eyes closed, sighing deeply with relief at your words. “Can you be mine Y/n? For real this time?”

“Yes Kazuha, I’d be honoured to be yours. For real this time” you giggled in response as pecked her lips.

“No more hiding?”

You snuggled your head into her chest, squishing your cheek against it that you could hear Kazuha’s heart beat. “No more hiding”

Just when you thought the day couldn’t get any better, you had led Kazuha into your dorm and to your bedroom where you were laying flat on your bed, legs spread, the space in between being occupied by your girlfriend’s mouth.

She was eating you out like she’s been starved. Her strong arms were tightly wrapped underneath your thighs, holding you in place while she switched between diving her tongue deeply into your entrance to sucking on your puffy clit.

“O-Oh Kazuha! Yes baby, right there!”

She hummed at your taste, not minding the thought of being in between your legs forever as long as your juices kept satisfying her thirst.

It felt so painfully good that you were too weak to push her head away. All you could do was pull at her hair, pushing her deeper into your wet cunt despite orgasm after orgasm.

And as good as it felt, you needed her deeper inside you. You needed her cock.

“Z-Zuha…Zuha please, want your cock baby” you sniffled, gasping for air once the girl finally pulled away to let you breathe.

“Aw but I was enjoying myself. Just want to eat your pussy forever” she gave a fuckboy type of smile with your juices literally coating her mouth and chin.

“Please baby. Want your cock and your cum” you begged, making Zuha wipe your tears away.

She leaned over and kissed your nose and the rest of your flushed face. “Okay, Princess”

You watched with awe as Kazuha removed her boxers, finally being fully naked as you, then spreading your legs wider so she could give you a view of her entering your needy cunt.

You already felt full with just the head in, clawing your sheets that they almost ripped but the feeling of familiar big hands on yours let you relax a little. You didn’t realise your eyes were shut tight until Kazuha called your name softly.

“Princess, are you okay?”

You sniffled and blinked away more tears. “H-Hurts. S-So big…”

Kazuha nuzzled her nose into your temple. “Shhh, I know baby, I’m sorry. Just a couple more seconds okay? If it still hurts, tell me and I’ll pull out”

You shook your head and ran your hands up her biceps to her back, rubbing up and down. “N-No. I can take it. Just please g-go slow”

“Of course, Princess. Anything you want”

“How are you being romantic while almost ripping me in half?” You huffed, feeling Kazuha chuckle against your cheek before kissing it.

“I’ll move now”

You shut your eyes again when your girlfriend slowly pulled out just so the tip was inside before going back in at the same pace.

You’ve had 6 inches inside you before and that hurt like a bitch. But with Kazuha, 8 inches could quite literally kill you if she wasn’t gentle.

As she kept moving, you found yourself moaning louder, wanting more, craving more. You dug your acrylics into her back, possibly drawing blood.

Kazuha’s breath was getting heavier, feeling her pant against your neck like a desperate puppy. “Princess, I love the way you feel around my cock. So tight and perfect”

“More..” you whispered, giving Kazuha’s back some rest so you could cup her jaw and pull her into a needy kiss.

Kazuha pushed her tongue inside, licking you all up and even sucking on it, earning louder moans and whines from you.

“More hm? Does it feel that good, my Princess?” She said in Japanese, causing your pussy to clench tighter.

Thanks to your online Japanese classes, you were actually able to understand your girlfriend’s words. It was so hot. Her voice sounded deeper and husky, how could you NOT get soaked?

Your moans were enough of an answer for the taller girl. With one hand on your waist and the other on the headboard, she let her animal brain go loose, fucking you crazy like she dreamt of.

The slapping noises bounced off the walls (and possibly the entire dorm) as you chanted your girlfriend’s name like a ritual. She was biting and licking at your neck, stamping as much hickies as she could, not willing to miss a spot so the world would know who you finally belonged to.

“Fuck baby. You’re all mine to love…to fuck…to kiss…All mine” she growled deeply.

“Oh fuck, Zuha I’m cumming! Don’t stop baby please please please!”

“Me too Princess. Let me cum inside”

Feeling too fucked out, you nodded your head as your eyes rolled back to your head, letting the intense orgasm hit you like a goddam truck.

“Fuck…oh fuck—ah Y/n baby!” Kazuha grunted loudly and gasped into your shoulder as she continued pounding into you.

Her pace eventually slowed down to a stop when she emptied every drop of her cum inside your cunt, groaning profanities, then sweet nothings into your sweaty temple.

After a split second, Kazuha rolled you both over so you laid on top of her, not caring that her semi hard cock was still deep inside you. You felt your mixed cum sliding out of your pussy and down Kazuha’s balls, possibly dripping onto your bedsheets.

You felt your girlfriend rub circles along your back, letting you catch your breath. “You okay?”

“More than okay” you chuckled, still panting.

“Just realised we did that raw. I’m sorry”

You lifted your head up and planted lazy kisses across your girlfriend’s face. “Don’t be. I love it raw”

“As much as I love the thought of getting you pregnant, we have yet to graduate” Kazuha pouted, letting you kiss it away.

“I know, don’t worry. I’m on the pill anyways”

“Oh ok good” Kazuha sighed with content.

She thought she could sleep and have a cute lovey dovey moment with you but you abruptly sat up and placed your hands on her shoulders, giving her a mischievous smirk.

“After all that fake dating, you think one round is enough?”

“Eh?”

“Oh don’t worry, baby. Just lay there and I’ll do all the work. You know, as a thank you for saving me from all those times” you winked and slowly lifted yourself up before sinking back down.

Kazuha instantly got hard, holding onto your waist for dear life.

“Goddamn it Princess. I’ll make sure you pass out from how good this cock is”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You tilted your head, moaning in between as her length reached your womb.

You were definitely going to be missing your early morning lectures tomorrow.

[suplicyy]

"Wanna Be Your Muse..."

Artist!Reader x Karasuno [Part 2]

Summary — He discover by chance that you love drawing him, maybe even too much...

Characters — Tanaka, Ennoshita, Sugawara, Asahi, Daichi.

— Fluff

— Gn! Reader

You've been together for a month now, and him going to your house and vice versa was starting to become a routine. That day, he was the one who went to your house to spend the afternoon.

You were in your room watching a series, when you said you were going to the bathroom and left the room, leaving him alone there. While you were gone, he watched your room, looking at some posters on the wall, books on the shelf, a notebook open on his desk... – a notebook? - he thought. You usually left your desk tidy, so it was rare to have anything "dropped" on it.

He knew it wasn't good to see your things without permission, especially when you weren't there to let him or not, but he thought about taking the notebook and putting it on the shelf with the others. So when he went towards your desk to get the notebook, he didn't expect to see some drawings of him.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

This man is in love with you more than ever, but now that he has seen your drawings, he is already sure that he would spend the rest of the days of his life with you.

I swear, he almost passed out right there.

As soon as you come back from the bathroom, get ready, because he will praise you until the end of the day (but it's not like he doesn't do this every day, but on this particular occasion his compliments would increase by 100%)

At that moment his eyes almost turned into hearts.

Whenever you would do some of his art, he would offer to be your model; doing poses, gestures, expressions, everything you can imagine.

Chikara Ennoshita

He honestly never thought you would draw him. Among so many things you could observe and put in your notebook, why him?

But other than that, he was quite happy, his cheeks turning pink and an affectionate smile appearing on his face as he watched your artwork that you made with so much affection.

When you got to the room, he would tease you in an affectionate way.

He would try to help you with his opinions when you were in doubt about something.

Draw on paper or digitally? What colors to use? He would try to help you choose these and many other questions.

Sugawara Koushi

He would be so proud of you, I swear.

That definitely made Suga happier than he already was (he always say to you that just being in your company is enough to make him happy).

He would give you lots of kisses all over your face as a thank you!!

There would be times when he would see you drawing, and Suga would sit next to you with a sheet of paper and a pencil and try to draw with you. Even if his aren't as pretty or detailed as yours, you'll have fun together.

He would definitely paste the art you gave him on his bedroom wall. And he would always look at them when he was feeling down as a way to cheer him up a little (and it almost always works).

Asahi Azumane

Someone call an ambulance please, he just had a heart attack...

I'm serious, he was so nervous at that point that at any moment he could let out a not-at-all-manly scream.

Asahi would definitely keep your drawings for life, and always checking them out from time to time.

And if you asked him to draw him someday, he would say yes but he would definitely be a blushing mess.

And I don't know why, but in my mind Asahi is a pretty great artist. He would also draw you, but he would never have the courage to show you because he thinks you won't like them or because they aren't good enough.

Please give him some kisses and praise his drawings, he will be extremely shy about it but his heart will warm with so much love!!!

Sawamura Daichi

He would find the drawings very cute!! If you saw his expression when he was looking at the drawings of himself, you would see a big smile on his face.

Daichi would give you the most comfortable hug you had ever received in your life, and kiss the top of your head affectionately.

He already knew that you drew, and even saw you doing some of them, but he didn't imagine that you would draw him too.

I imagine he would ask you and Yachi to make posters for the volleyball club, with you doing the arts and her doing the designs!

And one of the reasons he did this was not because he wanted to show everyone how well his partner draws, no way... (yes, he did!)

A/N — I barely started writing here and I already disappeared, I'm really sorry guys!!! This week has been really busy for me, so it was a little difficult to finish this one...😭😭😭

And also... THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!!! I never imagined that in such a short time so many people would read what I'm posting, I'm really very happy!!

— Read part 1 [here] !

[door]

i wanna take a minute and talk about my friend coleman.

coleman and i have been buds for a long time! when we both moved to the same city we achieved a bond that many service workers do: that of mutual discounts. coleman was a barista across the street from where i was a bookseller, and we passed each other as many free/discounted books and coffees as we could get away with. i always felt i had the better deal, however, because while i got cheap lattes i also got a glimpse into what coleman was thinking about and working on.

"do you have any patricia highsmith" he'd text me, and i'd raid the mystery section and think what story is going to come from this? he got very into oskar schlemmer's Triadic Ballet and i started checking any books we got in about the bauhaus for new images and texting them his way, knowing i was going to see it reflected in art someday soon. because the thing about coleman, maybe my favourite thing about him (among many, many things) is the way he will pursue a set of interests and then synthesize them all into a work of art that is entirely new and entirely him and like nothing i've ever seen before.

coleman makes comics. you might have seen his art in steven universe issues, or on tapas, or here on tumblr (like this one, about creating a personal color palette for himself, which literally changed my life). most of them you haven't seen, however, which kills me. i've edited a number of graphic novel pitches for coleman and i can tell you the stuff he comes up with is GOOD. it's weird and queer and earnest and original, all of it, every time. i really hope y'all will get to see some of it someday. but my point is that you can see this one thing right now:

coleman has been working on stone fruits for months and as of january 1st it's updating every day. it's a love letter to newspaper comics and early webcomics. it's about losing the spark of creativity and having to keep going anyway, and queer communities and weirdos and going home. this thing is so lovingly crafted, from the hand-drawn buttons (which change on certain days) to the fact that the website is .net. No element was too small to be considered, and it has been a joy to watch coleman consider them.

i want coleman to find his audience. he deserves it, and so does the audience. read stone fruits.

[holybibly]

Object of Desire | OT8 | Preview

Pairing: otx8 x reader

Genre: sugar daddy au, dark romance, smut, vampire au,

Word Count: ....

Summary: Caught in a web of deceit and forbidden pleasures, Nabi quickly learns that some obsessions can be deadly and love can bite.

WARNING: only!18+ Blood drinking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, voice kink, daddy kink, master/pet game, pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, seduction, BDSM, polyamory, mirror sex, marking, voyeurism, power play, and more.

Disclaimer: I do not support themes of violence, obsession, possessiveness, or emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: Another vampire ot8 that no one asked for. Someday I will learn to stop being seduced by random ideas.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Part 1. Do you want to make a deal with the Devil?

Now going out of town in the middle of the night with Yeonjun seemed like a bad idea.

A very bad one, I thought.

God, what was I thinking when I agreed to do this? Yesterday, this whole venture seemed like a great way to solve my problems, but now the prospect was not so rosy.

Sometimes I feel like a complete idiot, and this is one of those times.

Outside the window the dark landscape was sweeping by at high speed; the bare trees were shrouded in an ominous gloom, and only the dim light of the tall street lamps over the road was the only source of illumination to guide us in the darkness.

It seemed that the darkness around us did not stop Yeonjun from driving. His posture was relaxed and his hand was sure as he turned the wheel in the right direction, the diamond bracelet on his thin wrist sparkling with starlight. One of the many family jewels that Yeonjun treated with special affection.

In contrast to him, I couldn't relax and kept fidgeting on the leather seat made of black Iberian leather, no less.

Every part of my body was begging me to stop and come home before it was too late.  Not so, I had imagined that we were going to an elite club. I knew that we would be there late at night, but the fact that the club was way out of town came as an unpleasant surprise.

At the moment it's an hour's drive from Seoul and more than an hour and a half to the destination on the GPS.

The whole thing was strange and made me dizzy, or was it the thick smell of Yeonjun's perfume? It was a dense, smoky scent with a hint of vanilla. Powerful enough to draw the eyes of everyone around to its source, and sexy enough to make you want to kiss the naked skin of the wearer of this tantalising scent.

It would be several days before I was able to wash off the remnants of his perfume after our meeting, so much of it had eaten its way into my skin.

I glanced at Yeonjun; a stray yellowish-white light from the lantern momentarily illuminated his face, and a shadow of long velvet eyelashes fell on his pale cheeks. His black raven hair was streaked with flashes of platinum and gold. He looked otherworldly - I would even say demonic.

I felt a palpable shiver run through my body, as if someone had just dipped my heart into a bucket of icy water.

"Jun." My voice was terribly uncertain. "I don't think I can do this." I said as my fingers pulled down the hem of a short dress. The expensive material looked luxurious in a perfect shade of white and was decorated with a sprinkling of crystals. Yeonjun insisted that I wear it tonight and said that I would be grateful for it as soon as we got to the club. I don't think I'd ever choose something like that for myself, and not just because of its crazy cost; Jun's fashion preferences were so different from mine. He was a fan of overt sexuality and bold lines; I, on the other hand, preferred neutrals and comfort. "I have changed my mind; this proposal does not suit me at all. Maybe we can go back..."

Yeonjun smiled softly as he turned to me, but in the darkness of the drawing room the smile was more ominous than reassuring, his lips the most breathtaking shade of red I had ever seen.

Warning bells began to ring in my head. There are times when you can sense danger even before you are faced with it.

"Nabi, my dear, there is nothing for you to be worried about. We have already discussed this. Remember?" His hand was cold as he laid it on my knee. "I will take care of everything. You're my guest tonight, which means you're under my protection." The long fingers shrank a little, a kind of confirmation of his words. His fingernails were painted glossy black, and his fingers were adorned with several silver rings.

I would like to believe that nothing is going to happen to me, but my insides are tied up in a tight knot of fear.

Miss Kim Seoyun's words echoed in my head like thunder: "Humble yourself and surrender to destiny; you are where you are supposed to be.

When did I start believing all this? This is no time to panic, Nabi.

Everything will be fine.

To be honest, Yeonjun was never my first choice when I needed help, and I always tried to keep a certain distance from him for a number of reasons. There was something so predatory about him, almost animalistic, that lit up the red lights of danger, but I was desperate; student loans, rent, insurance and food were starting to pile up. I was in desperate need of money, and preferably a lot of it, fast.

The threat of being left out on the streets and being thrown out of university has never been as real as it is now.

The only thing that gave me the slightest bit of confidence was Jimin's assurance that I could trust Yeonjun completely and how carefree he was.

Damn, Jun looked like we were going on a spontaneous romantic trip instead of a closed elite club outside the city in the middle of the night.

I asked myself again, "Why did I agree to this?" Oh yes, money. A lot of money.

A few days ago, Yeonjun contacted me and offered to help me with my money problem. Of course, Park Jimin couldn't keep his big mouth shut and told him about my problems. He told me that one of his friends at the private club had a good deal for me. I could make a lot of money out of it.

The income was enough to pay off all my debts and the number of zeros on offer was enough to turn my head.

It was an unequivocal and desperate "YES" and at that moment I did not think at all about the consequences or the characteristics of this proposal.

Jun also promised me a lot of fun but after I signed the NDA and read the multi-page contract with its veiled meaning and rather vague wording of some specific points, doubts blossomed in my chest, and I began to understand what kind of fun was being discussed.

Looks like I made a deal with the Devil.

The dress was delivered on the eve of our trip, a few hours before Yeonjun's chic Ferrari pulled up outside my dorm room. The all-white gown, richly embroidered with blue topaz and opal, was incredible. The plunging neckline of the corsage barely covered the lace bralet of the same colour as the dress.

I have never seen my breasts look so full and so soft. I would even call it seductive. Everything I moved had to be clean and graceful; if I moved too sharply, the soft pink halos of my nipples would start to show. This was beyond the limits of my modesty. At one point, I could even feel Yeonjun's searing gaze resting on my cleavage. It was a carnal look with a shadow of hidden lust in the depths of the dark, shining pupils. It was the first time in the several years of our dubiously friendly communication that he had shown such a desire for me.

The dress and underwear came with four-inch heels. Of course, if my life had been in danger and I had tried to escape, there would have been no chance of success. Incidentally, I'm a terrible runner; I bet I couldn't have run more than ten meters before I collapsed with breathlessness. I should have gone to the gym when Jimin offered it to me.

Oh my God, Nabi, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Jun's silky voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"You have such a tense look on your face, my darling." He purred. "We'll be there soon, Nabi. Try to relax; you're going to love "Crescent", I'm sure."

Why did it have such a sinister ring to it? "Crescent" - the name was sweet enough, I would say poetic, but the way Yeonjun rolled the word over his tongue as if he could feel its taste - thick and viscous - made the name something forbidden and sinful. Well, the idea of the cult was not so absurd to me. And that stupid prophecy never left my mind.

"You're where you should be..."

In the reflection of the small mirror in the car, I met my gaze. My pupils were dilated like those of a hunted prey. And though I tried to calm down, I could feel the cold, predatory touch of Youngjoon's hand all too well. Baby, it looks like you're going to get caught.

I ask myself again. Why did I find myself in this situation?

Dressed in the most luxurious designer clothes, like a real doll. Ready to become an exclusive blood donor for a very wealthy private community whose clients needed this kind of service, accompanied by one of Seoul's wealthiest heirs.

Now I can say: "Hey, Nabi, you really screwed up."

To be continued…

[vesteneris]

I'd adore any finnick hcs you have!! i love how you draw him

awwww, thank you Anon, I'm really happy you like it, I'm very happy with his design too

and here some headcanons, like I don't really have much, but I'll put some!

He can't read well. I think career training is like special schools and doesn't focus on things like reading, writing, history, etc. as much as they do on physical training. I would say like (polish) ballet schools. I also believe that in most districts that allow what is basically child labor (D4, D8, etc.) you only have to go to school until you're 16, you can continue it if you want until you're 18, for example, to become a teacher, clerk, or do other white collar jobs, but most kids leave school as soon as possible to go to work. So combined with the fact Victors don't really need to continue school after winning, he never really taught how to read very fast and correctly.

He didn't mentor Annie, and he doesn't really mentor very often, nor does he like it very much. He also gets some sort of guilt as his older with just interacting with any male tribute from D4 bc he feels like bc of him any other boy can’t really win bc they are not as good looking or skilled or have the personality good for entertainment or are not as young as he was, so they really don’t have good chances to begin with.

When I did that old comic, I had a storyline for him that he had a conflict with another D4 victor, mainly about the fact that the other winner was mentoring a D4 girl who went to the games with Finnick, and he was sure that they (he and Mags) should put all the support and choose to help the girl win, and because of what Finnick did in the arena, the girl died. So the old victor is still a little salty that Finnick is not the winner he wanted (connected with how much D4 is career district)

his family lived with him in victors village, but bc Annie’s family wasn’t allowed to move in with her (according to Capitol psychiatrists, "their presence increased her hysteria and mental instability") to her new house he moved to her house to live with her after less than year of dating

He’s not that much taller than Annie, I headcanon that she is like 1.78m and he is like 1.86m

He was the one who cut Johanna’s hair short when it was most styled after her victory (I'll post that fanart someday when I'll be done with all that school bullshit)

he has 3 ways of dressing: dressing just for himself (very baggy, oversize clothes, not shaving at all, looking kinda messy), dressing himself for capitol (still more of an oversize fit, skirt over pants, more creative than previous one, but kinda modest and trying to „hide” himself, face shaved and hair combed) and totally capitol (mostly see-through clothes, no visible body hair, makeup and nails done, hairstyle)

He didn’t really had a real hobby before started dating

He’s annie-sexual. Like maybe it is my romantic soul speaking, but I can’t really see him attracted to anyone beside her. He would be like this one guy on TikTok answering „my wife” after any question. What’s your type? My wife. How would you rate this person? 0, cuz they’re not my wife. If you could be with anyone who would you choose? My wife. He would love her if she was a worm, he would love her in every lifetime. She was his first real girlfriend and first real everything.

Remember when I first get into fanfics after reading books for the first time and seeing that he is usually described as the person who has to do everything and is involved in so many things (especially the 2QQ plan) my reaction was like „oh he for sure does drugs to get all of this shit together” and I still kinda like that headcanon, but now I would say that he is taking aderall as if they are gummy bears

He was such a brat, but eventually grow out of this around his early 20s

[jennay]

That's my Spot

An: Just some cute fluff no warnings.

Summary: Jolly and Reader keep running into each other at a local cafe.

If you want to be tagged in Jolly stuff let me know!i

For a week, you had been caught in a silent flirtation. Every day, you would enter the coffee shop, plug in your laptop and phone, and order your usual drink.

He would be there, too, sitting by the cozy fireplace with a book in his hand. He had long, straight hair that fell down the sides of his cheeks and a black sweater with a band logo that gave him a rock star vibe. He always wore sunglasses when he came in but would take them off as soon as he opened his book.

You wondered what color his eyes were and what kind of books he liked to read. You also wondered what his name was and what he did for a living. Was he a student, a writer, a musician, or something else?

Sometimes, your eyes would meet and linger, but neither of you would say anything. You had work to do, and he had his reading. You wanted to talk to him, but you kept telling yourself that he was just a fellow coffee lover and only being friendly because you saw each other so often.

You didn't want to make a fool of yourself by approaching him and finding out he had a girlfriend, or worse, he wasn't interested in you. You were too shy to make the first move and hoped he would do it someday.

Out of the corner of your eye, you admired him. You thought stupid things like, how long did it take to grow his hair that long? Why did he always come in looking like a rock star? Why did he wear sunglasses inside until he started to read? What was his choice of drink, and who reads as much as he does?

You imagined he was a deep thinker, a passionate reader, a mysterious stranger. You wanted to know more about him but didn't know how to start a conversation.

You quietly giggle, hiding your face behind your laptop as you read your emails. The most silly part was he made you think all these things without even saying a word to you. He had a power over you, a magnetic attraction that drew you to him. You felt a flutter in your stomach every time you saw him and a warmth in your cheeks whenever he looked at you.

You stood up, leaving your things unattended; you'd been here so many times you weren't worried about people stealing your things. You'd been going here off and on for over a year. You were addicted to the atmosphere and how the Barista always knew your name. You loved that they could have your order going when they saw you. You mostly loved that you always got your seat by the window to watch everyone walking by; you were curious about their lives even if you'd never know.

"Vanilla Latte?" The Barista asks.

You nod your head, "Of course." You smile, "Can I have it iced today?"

He smiles widely, "Oh?" He questions, "We're switching things up I see. What's the occasion?"

You shrug your shoulders, "I just feel like being spontaneous. Maybe I'm sick." You joke. "That was a bad joke." You nervously laugh, "I don't have covid or anything like that." You take a deep breath, "I'm gonna stand over here in shame now." You shake your head, thoroughly embarrassed by your actions. You wondered if people could tell you didn't get out much. You heard snickering from where your mystery guy sat, but he dug his nose back in his book when you looked over. Cool. You thought you made an ass out of yourself, and people heard it.

The Barista calls your name, and you thank him for your drink. Your cheeks are red as you walk back to your spot; you hide your face in your laptop, never wanting to be seen again. You sip your iced vanilla latte and try to focus on your work, but you can't help stealing glances at him. You wonder if he thinks about you outside this place like you did about him.

You returned to the café, as you did every weekday morning, following your unbreakable routine. Today, you skipped the coffee line. You skipped everything, even though you had planned on treating yourself to a latte as soon as your meeting was over.

You only had about five minutes to set up your laptop and join the online chat. You couldn't afford to be late, even though you desperately craved your caffeine fix.

You froze in your tracks, seeing him sitting at your table. The one by the window, with the power outlet and the cozy cushion. The one that you always occupied, without fail. The one that kept you sane in the midst of your hectic schedule.

You had difficulty adapting to change, and it was about to show. You didn't have time to confront him. You didn't have time to politely ask him to move, not that you would. You were not the type to cause a scene, and you didn't have any claim to the damn spot.

Instead, you settled for the table across from him, feeling panic as you tossed all your belongings on the table and hastily plugged your laptop in. You put your headphones on and press the speak button on your mic. "Yep, I'm ready when you guys are." You said in a rushed tone. "Go ahead whenever you're ready. I'll be in the background and let you know if I hear anything odd on the recording." You assured your coworker.

You tilted your head back, staring at the ceiling. You felt like a fool as you shifted your legs around; you even attempted to put your legs over the chair beside you and lean against the wall while you listened to them talk. You gave up on sitting comfortably. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a small smile, finally noticing that his eyes were a deep shade of brown. "Nope," you said. "It still sounds clear on this end."

You tap your fingers nervously on the table, feeling restless and annoyed by the people standing behind you and everyone who keeps passing you. It was distracting. You couldn't focus on the meeting, which was already boring enough. You wondered why you had to attend this online conference when you could have just watched the recording later. You had no interest in the topic and didn't know anyone else in the virtual room. You felt like you were wasting your time.

You put your hands in your lap and close your eyes, trying to ignore everything as you continue to listen. The speaker droned on and on, using jargon and acronyms that made no sense to you.

You wished you could mute him or, better yet, leave the meeting. But you had to stay because your boss expected you to. You sighed, hoping the session would end soon.

Your eyes snap open when you hear something set on your table. You stare down at the cup in front of you and see him walking back to his table.

You peek over your laptop to see him smile as he sits down again. You smile like a child, thankful for your gift. You mouth thank you to him and take a sip of your coffee; he knows your order.

It shouldn't feel as special as it did, but no one seemed to remember small details about you, and this was new.

He had never done anything like this before. He had never acknowledged you except for the occasional eye contact and nod. He had never spoken to you or even asked your name. He had never shown any sign that he noticed or cared about you.

But now, he had bought you a coffee. He had made a gesture that said he wanted to connect with you. He had made you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time. He had made you happy.

It's not until fifteen minutes later, when you're ending your meeting that you see writing on the cup, not just an order but something he'd written. "Sorry, I took your spot. Come sit with me?" You read the words, and your mouth slightly drops. Was this actually happening? Was he inviting you to join him? Was he interested in you? You bite your lip, hoping he'll be there when the meeting ends.

When the time comes, you take a deep breath, thankful to be done, and you see him still sitting there; this time, he's scrolling on his phone.

You feel excitement and nervousness as you decide to approach him. You quietly pack up your belongings and head towards him. You stop at the table before sitting and say, "Is it still ok if I sit?"

He looks up and smiles, his eyes sparkling. He nods and gestures for you to join him. "Of course, please sit. I've been waiting for you." He says, his voice warm and inviting.

You feel a glow in your chest when he smiles at you. He gently puts his hand out to introduce himself to you. "I'm Joakim, but my friends call me Jolly." He says, his name sounding exotic and charming.

You quickly notice his accent. You extend your hand and feel electricity when he touches it. "I'm y/n…and that's what everyone calls me." You say, trying to sound casual. You laugh nervously. "Thank you for the coffee."

His brown eyes watch you curiously as if he wants to know everything about you. "It's the least I could do for taking your spot." He says, his tone is playful and apologetic.

You shrug and smile. "It's ok, it's not like it has my name on it or anything." You say, pretending to be cool with it. You set your bag next to your feet. "But please don't make me sit over there again." You say, pointing to the noisy and crowded area where you had your meeting. You laugh, hoping he'll laugh with you.

He nods. "I promise I won't. I'll save this spot for you if you want." He says, his eyes twinkling. "Or better yet, why don't you sit with me next time? I'd love to have some company." He says, his voice lowering and his smile turning into a smirk. "You know we could even spend some time outside of the cafe together."

You feel your face heat up and your heart race. You bite your lip and look into his eyes. You see a hint of nervousness and a lot of interest.

You nod and smile back. "I'd like that."

You think this might be the beginning of something extraordinary. You think this is fate.

[markantonys]

episode 5 thoughts!

heartbroken by no mat, but i was expecting it since min wasn't credited for this episode on imdb, and there was so much other amazing stuff going on, so i can cope. i do think they must be gearing up for a mat-heavy episode soon because his content has been so sparse thus far! we also didn't have lan this episode, which i'm good with since he got so much last week.

(minor imdb casting spoiler: ayoola isn't listed for ep6, so i'm guessing we may have no perrin next week. they definitely do have a lot of different groups to juggle! but IF mat & lan soon join the cairhien crew, we could condense things)

also sad at not much elayne, but again, the remaining episodes will probably be pretty big for her! same with egwene, that storyline didn't progress as fast as i'd thought it would in this episode, but OOF the preview for next week looks like A Lot!!

back to the beginning! falme looks SO COOL!!! and the opening scene with the seanchan was fantastic, it showed off so many different aspects of their culture in just a few minutes (namely their various Ceremonial Things and ideas of who's allowed to speak to whom)

lanfear just whispering "bitch" the second she revives killed me djkfjg what an icon. and we get confirmation that it is indeed the True Power that she used to revive herself.

Lanfear Unleashed is SO much fun oh my god, i love seeing her in full forsaken mode

moiraine telling rand that he can't sleep because lanfear will get him, girl don't tell him that he's going to internalize it and not sleep for the next 6 seasons. this season is really Wheel Of Time Origins: Rand's Various Emotional, Mental, and Physical Health Problems

elyas saying the ef5 aren't perrin's pack HOW DARE!!! i feel like they're making elyas even more standoffish/human-averse than he was in the books, which makes for an interesting dynamic and contributes to perrin's sense that his human & wolf sides can't coexist.

but hopper follows perrin!!!! the goodest boy!!!!!

AVIENDHA IS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE'S EVERYTHING!!!!! although ngl her fake accent does sound a bit Fake to me lmao but i'm sure i'll get used to it after a few more scenes

hot dain bornhald is also here! he kinda compels me and i'm furious about it. if whitecloak why hot? in all seriousness, i can see already from his intro episode + the basics of his book story that he has the potential to be quite an interesting character if fleshed out more and given more screentime compared to what he had in the books, sort of a liandrin-and-alanna-like Main Secondary Whitecloak for us to follow

also he totally wants to fuck perrin you can't change my mind. buying him drinks and giving him a Cute Nickname, boy you ain't subtle! and then aviendha briefly hits on perrin later and also perrin stops her from killing dain. wake up babe, insane new WOT polycule just dropped djkfjfg

OB!!!! FREAKING!!!! SESSED!!!!!!!! with verin's detective subplot!!!! it is SO much fun, it delivers a ton of great exposition (namely about the black ajah), and it gives us a bigger peek into the brown ajah than the books ever did. i love this squad!! also katie leung was probably my first Girl Crush (not that i was aware of it) when i was like 8 so i was thrilled to see her show up here, god bless

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, IT GAVE US CONFIRMATION THAT GAWYN EXISTS IN SHOWVERSE!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH when i tell you i came extremely close both to screaming and to falling off my bed!!!! i'd been hoping for a gawyn namedrop all season but having it here was SO unexpected! my current theory is that he'll be introduced in caemlyn next season along with elaida and galad, and all 3 of them will head to tar valon to look for elayne because they're worried after not hearing from her for a long time.

also now i want a fic where the wondergirls actually do get special permission from mommy morgase to leave the tower just so that they can attend gawyn's birthday party

anyway, someday gawyn and egwene are going to kiss with tongue onscreen and haters can die mad about it <3 oooh now i have a brand-new meetcute for them to look forward to since they didn't meet at the tower!

liandrin & nynaeve's convo in the ways was so good! they continue to do amazing work with that relationship and liandrin's character. AND WHEN SHE SUBTLY FREED THE GIRLS RIGHT BEFORE LEAVING HOLY SHIT i gasped!!!!! the LAYERS they have given this character!!! because yes she serves the dark BUT she still feels loyalty to her sisters (as seen in s1 too when she appeared genuinely upset over kerene's death) and can't stomach the thought of any of them, even the light-serving ones, being collared!

suroth saying with her whole chest "oh sure you're a forsaken but you're not even of the blood soooooo" god grant me her confidence. also another great illustration of the insane heights to which seanchan high blood take their superiority complexes. good god, what's tuon gonna be like?!

avi's fight scene was just as amazing as i'd been hoping and expecting!! 10/10 no notes. can't wait to see what she can do when she has weapons at her disposal!

and later avi tells us that she is out in the wetlands Looking For Her Man (that she doesn't yet know is Her Man) <33

moiraine saying "get rand some nice new clothes" and barthanes immediately offering to dress him, Sugar Baby Rand lives on! also, anvaere and barthanes definitely thought rand was moiraine's sugar baby after they cleared the warder possibility, you can't change my mind

also also, barthanes is so surprisingly sweet! i wonder if he'll still be a darkfriend, or if anvaere will be instead

lanfear making ishy dream about caressing rand's face in bed is something i will go insane thinking about every day until i die. like oh my god i don't even know where to START with unpacking that, so i won't even try djfkjg

like for real, they ALL BUT made it explicitly canon that ishy had/has a crush on LTT/rand LMAO it's what we deserve

and we get forsaken namedrops! moghedien, graendal, and "the boys." it could be that semirhage did still make it and lanfear just chose not to go on and on listing every single one (slash the writers wanted to give themselves some leeway in specifically naming forsaken in case they don't get enough seasons to deal with all of them), or it could be that one of the statues from last season was actually a man and/or stepin's statues aren't accurate, and we've got 5 men instead of 4 (in which case i'd imagine ishy, asmodean, sammael, demandred, and rahvin)

i'm gonna have to watch this ishy & lanfear scene again to pick up more because i was FAR too distracted by the initial homoeroticism to keep focusing lmao

aww i'm kinda sad not to get elayne & nynaeve hiding out in falme completely on their own, but for their sakes it's nice they've found (been found by) some Real Adults to help!

LANFEAR'S OUTFIT IN THE END SCENE LMAO this season really just went off the WALLS with horniness and kinkiness, and i am here for it. it's what rj would've wanted

now that moiraine and rand are indeed staying in cairhien after all, i really think we might get a cauthor reunion next episode!!!! fingers crossed!!!!

[kimyoonmiauthor]

HWA writer is doing a vote on Artificial Intelligence and a round up on what graphic designers actually do and why you shouldn't shoot your foot.

So writer news the HWA is voting about AI use, both in writing and covers. Most of my social media bubble is saying NO. 'cause obviously, it's stealing other people's work, but there is also this guy...

I get it, a lot of people don't understand the process that graphic designers have to go through. But it's harder than people think and some of the cost is BUYING LICENSED PICS TO USE IN YOUR COVER.

Unlike AI, graphic designers pay the photographers, etc OR have really expensive equipment to make high res images for book covers themselves. My cheap camera was 600 bucks in 2019. That does not include background, lights, etc. If you're complaining about the cost of custom covers from graphic artists, think about the cost to hire models, costume, and the camera equipment.

But it's more than Oh, snap pretty pictures or pay for it, there are other principles that go into art which include composition (which I covered many times), color and color theory knowledge (which AI can't always do well because there is also psychology per culture that one has to put in.)

There is also typography and knowledge of the market and psychology. You're paying for a lot more than Oh, just slapped pictures together. You're paying for a human who can create something unique that shows off the elements of your book in maybe ways you didn't think about.

Graphic artists are artists because we do things like arrange your websites for you to maximize psychological interaction. Graphic artists are not on the same par as AI.

So, no, this is a horrible take. I use traditional and computer media. But you can't unite if you think, OMG, you drew that in a computer v. you drew that on paper versus and think the first one is invalid. OMG, you wrote that in a computer. You wrote that on paper. The principles the human is applying are pretty similar.

Many graphic artists also draw. Many people use both media.

When Will up there can explain the positives and negatives of what a tangency is and how to color adjust a photo digitally on levels+curves, and how those things can affect the psychology of people interacting with their final product, then he can talk about OMG, how digital art is ruining covers.

Graphic Designers also know how to typeset your covers, who usually do it digitally, so don't eff with them by slamming the people that work with you. Because lemme tell you, the thing that makes your covers and the back of your books look excellent is that tight yet quite difficult art of typography. If that graphic designer really cared, they put that little extra work into eliminating the rivers on the blurb for you to make sure it was that extra bit more readable. They cared about the color of the type and the type face. And those people too are graphic designers. Psychologically, great graphic design is chef's kiss and when typography is done just so, the potential reader *feels* it through the design and the emotion your book is promising to give them.

So don't disparage graphic designers. Even for the fraction who cannot draw, when they are good they HELP with your marketing that much more.

General advice: Don't disparage platforms. Don't disparage your fellow true artists/creatives. Because it's likely you'll have the opportunity to work with them someday, and do you want to cut off the roads to making your book/product the best it can be? Uplift. Graphic designers are not the same as AI. Graphic designers pay other artists for licenses to their work.

Add to that the HWA is holding a vote about AI writing, etc. And yeah, we kinda need to spread this info around.

Dear HWA Members, An open comment period will be coming soon on the drafted Horror Writers Association Al Policy which has been diligently crafted since March. Members, please look for a Special iMailer in your inbox by the end of the month with instructions on where to send your feedback. The feedback period will be open for open for 25 days. The Board of Trustees values art and artists and looks forward to the comments from its membership. Sincerely, Maxwell Gold Executive Director, HWA

[hooked-on-elvis]

Hi!! Just wanted to leave this to ask how you are :)

How are you? You've been a bit quiet lately, of course if it's personal issues it is totally understandable but well...to just say for me at least, I've been missing your long rants about our man🥺🫶

Here's some pictures of our Pookie

Cake for dayssss😩

You're so sweet, darling. 🥹 I can't say how your DM has brighten up my day, @jhoneybees. ♥

So, I have a way in writing my posts in which I research for hours, write down my thoughts and then I go through it over and over again just to make sure there's no typos (or many) and confused info in the articles I write. I have quite a few interesting posts to share but I don't feel like sharing those drafts of mine yet because I've been dealing with a low-energy phase in my life and I can't focus for too long in a task such as writing, but I've never stopped being curious and writing about our sweet Elvis. Every little thing I learn about him I save as a draft so I can work on it when I feel like it. Little by little those posts will be finished and ready to be read, hopefully soon.

I have to say, tho, that for now I am much more into writing about Elvis' music rather than his personal life stories and other general topics on him, but someday I'll be back to sharing more books excerpts too.

To sum up, I've been quiet because I'm a little bit lazy lately. :( But I'll try to be more frequent in sharing content of my own instead of just sharing pictures of Elvis like I've doing recently. But hey, Elvis pictures are never enough, right? And damn!... those pictures you shared... 🥵

Anyway, dear, I appreciate very much you being here for a while now, for your sweet kind words and support. I've also been in debt in reading the amazing fics you write, but I try to support it whenever I see a new one being shared. Thank you, thank you, thanks a million, friend! You're the best! I hope you're doing great. ♥ ✨

[demigods-posts]

Reasons why My Grand Plan from The Lightning Theif Musical is an amazing song:

1.) "If you don't go, you'll never know if you'll ever be good enough." She wants to go on every quest to prove that she is good enough because, as a child, she was never "good enough" for her mortal family. They neglected, ignored, and belittled her so much so that even though she's away from that environment, she feels the need to prove herself worthy of remembrance. like, sweetheart, you were already deserving of all things good. you musn't dwell on the opinions of the shitty people in your life.

2.) "Always been a tough girl, 'cause most girls never win if they're polite." I think it's safe to assume that Annabeth stumbled upon this lesson while on the run, before she met Thalia and Luke - and, I don't think the books specified on how long Annabeth was on her own before them. I can't imagine being seven years old and having to find yourself food, shelter, and a place to sleep. I doubt asking nicely got her anywhere, so she had to resort to more intense, manipulative, and violent acts to get by, and that's just so heartbreaking. I have no doubt that even as a seventeen-year-old, she still carries this lesson, amongst many others, with her.

3.) "And someday soon, the world will notice me." I think it's important to note that in the first chorus, she dreams of someone noticing her, but now that hope expands into the entire world noticing her. It's safe to assume her desire to be remembered only strengthen with time, and I think it's amazing that the writers shined a light on it.

4.) "And your stepmom treats you like some freak. And your dad won't give you the time of day. And your mom won't trust you with a quest. So, the best thing you can do is runaway." There are not enough words in any language to express the heart ache and anger that I feel on behalf of Annabeth. I will never understand how Annabeth, even though it's her choice and I respect it, even forgave her mortal family for all of this. This is abuse, and I will defend this girl with my life.

5.) "And someday soon, I swear. I don't know how or when, but I promise you, I'll never be invisible again. Someone will notice me." I am so happy that we can say that Annabeth Chase, indeed, achieved her grand plan of being remembered. She deserves it so much and I hope the rest of her life goes the way she hopes it does.

6.) I also feel the need to add this post here. It goes along with the topic of the song, and, I think, capitalizes on the important role Percy plays in her life. Just felt it was worth mentioning!

Is it clear that I love Annabeth? I think she's legit becoming my favorite character out of the book series. Like, I feel like the fandom often portrays her as this intense, badass warrior, and she is, but often forget to remember why she is that way, you know? Anyway, we stan.

Tags:

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 18: Maybe I Don’t Quite Know What To Say

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Michael and you finally talk.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of child death, description of child abuse, mentions of murder, cursing, PTSD, panic attack, crying

Word Count: 7.5k

A/n: I apologize for how long this is. I go a little too into detail about the child abuse, so proceed with caution! It's angst, but at least they're together now. And of course, they can’t talk about everything in one night so I made a little cut at the end. Also, I gave you some protective Mikey again. You’re welcome.

As a child, there came a time when you realized that if you did everything right, followed rules and instructions, and took care of the people around you, you would receive at least a sliver of love. It made you worthy.

By shouldering everything, you seemed to prove yourself, and by not fighting back and being the obedient good girl, you could forego the punishment and get the attention you craved. You had to be good, so you tried to be good.

There was no space for your own problems. You got into a habit of pretending the bruises were a part of you. You believed that the punishment you received was what you deserved.

You accepted your fate. 

You never cared much about yourself. The first time you had to actively talk about yourself in front of someone else, you panicked and you didn’t know what to say.

There was not much time for you as a child to figure out who you are, so you turned to fiction. You weren’t allowed to keep many books, so you often went to the library to get your fix. You saw yourself in fictional characters, related to them, and tried to be like them so you would feel less alone. 

You picked traits you thought suited you best and ran with them. You picked up behaviorisms from book characters to make friends, but you often failed. 

At home, you pretended to be the girl your father wanted you to be, and you took his punishment wordlessly when you did something wrong; back then, you truly believed that even coming home five minutes late from school was something you should get punished for. It became your normal. 

It’s needless to say that boys never looked at you. You were considered a freak. You didn’t have friends or hobbies, you just existed to function and take care of your mother, please your father, and occasionally do the homework for others because kids at school soon realized you could easily be toyed with. They walked all over you, but you ran with it because no one taught you that you deserve better. So you did what you had to do to survive in the hopes you could get out someday. 

And then Maya was born. 

As a teenager, you made a lot of mistakes, and the punishment got worse, but you couldn’t help it. You ran with the wrong crowds because you wanted to belong, and your father wasn’t happy about that. You used sex, drugs, and alcohol as a coping mechanism. For a short while, it worked.

When your sister was born though and she became the star of the family, the child everyone loved, even your father, you found yourself in an odd position. 

Part of you resented her for getting the love you never got, but the other part, the bigger part of you felt responsible. You started feeling like she was a part of you. You couldn’t shake that. 

You soon had no other choice but to take over parental duties because your parents sucked at it. You were expected to play the part of a mother even though yours was right there, and you put your life on hold for this child that you never wanted to join the family in the first place. 

Your childhood wasn’t happy, but you did what you had to survive. You took care of everyone but yourself, and you accepted that your feelings just didn’t matter as much as those of the people around you. 

You figure that’s why you try to do right by everyone now; you grew up thinking you had to please everyone to be worth something, and even then you were never worth enough. Your broken heart ruined relationships and made you choose men that didn’t deserve your kindness, but they reminded you of your father, of the treatment he told you that you deserved, and you fell down the rabbit hole. 

Even in therapy, you never talked about how you truly felt or what happened in the past. To be fair, a lot of memories were blacked out by you a long time ago, but some things will never fade, and those are the ones that left the biggest scars. You never talked about them, not even in therapy, and that’s where you suspect the problem lies. 

You never got the help you needed because you always believed you didn’t deserve to be taken care of, and it made you even more miserable. It made you delusional. 

You feared the day someone would come around and wake you up. 

Then, Michael stepped into your life. The one thing you didn’t want to happen happened. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. But to be fair, when it comes to him, neither did you. 

He woke you up from your daydream, forced you to face reality and so much more. Meeting him led to a chain reaction of events. The wounds you tried to hide from the world never had a chance to heal, and he tore the bandaid off.  

It’s the butterfly effect all over again. Chaos theory. As a child, you were obsessed with it–everything that somehow managed to explain natural phenomenon fascinated you–but you never thought it would personally affect you one day.

To be fair, you never thought much about a lot of things before that happened to you lately, and it drove you straight into a wall. You crashed and burned. Your life is in shambles, and that is precisely why you didn’t want to confide in Michael before. 

You were scared because you were never taught how to be yourself with someone who cares as much as he does. You never learned how to be yourself, period. You thought he would get hurt or you would get hurt, or maybe you were simply scared of falling in love because you never considered yourself worthy of a happy ending, it doesn’t really matter in the end.

You hurt him because you were insecure. That’s not something a good person does. A damaged person, maybe, but even then it’s no excuse for being ignorant and hurtful for no other reason than because you felt backed into a corner. It wasn’t fair on him. Part of it was trauma, the other part cowardice.

As you’re sitting on the couch with Michael now, a steaming mug of tea between your legs, you find yourself cornered again. You want nothing more than to run, but you’re an adult now and things are getting serious. That’s what happens when you’re an adult and push all your problems away until they have no choice but to come back twice as hard to haunt you.

Truth is, you’re just a barista. You’re nothing special or no one exceptionally physically strong. You didn’t grow up in a crime family or grew up boxing. And you hate confrontation. Your father could wipe you out in one hit if he wanted, and he asserted his strength many times before.

Out of all people in this world, he is probably the best equipped when it comes to helping you. And if you end up getting yourself in danger, he’s the only one you trust with saving your life in time.

You were too stubborn to see it before, but Michael cares about you deeply and he would do anything to assure your safety. You needed someone like him when you were a child, and you need him now. 

You may not be able to make the scars of your childhood go away, but you can fight for justice and seek revenge, and that’s where you should have asked for help a long time ago. 

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Your fingers linger over the small scar on your temple; it’s not very obvious, but you know it’s there. Where do you even begin to explain?

Michael sits across from you, his legs crossed, and his brown eyes focused on your quivering frame. He reaches out, his hand hovering over your thigh. “May I?” he asks. 

You nod, allowing him to touch you. His palm lands on the soft skin of your thigh, and he instantly squeezes the flesh. He rests his hand there, making sure you know he’s not going anywhere. 

You watch the steam rise from your mug. The silence threatens to suffocate you. 

“Ask,” he breaks the silence. 

With a frown, you meet his eyes. “What?” you ask. 

“If there’s anythin’ you wanna know about me, I’ll tell ya. I wanna let you in,” he adds your name in the gentlest tone, and you realize he is taking a step toward you. 

At the beginning of your relationship, you were the one who put in most of the effort. You took the lead. You shouldered every last responsibility. You wanted his attention, and you worked hard for it.

You wouldn’t call it love at first sight or obsession–it was something else that drew you to him. Maybe this is it. His unwavering support attracted you because deep down, you were craving someone like him to finally pick up the pieces your family broke, and now you’re here.

Perhaps there is a God after all, and he sent Michael your way to save you from drowning–because even when you aren’t with your head underwater, dry drowning is a phenomenon that exists, and there has been enough water in your lungs over the years to slowly kill you from the inside. 

Michael takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I called ya ‘cause I knew you’d understand and you’re one of the few people who would never judge or expect anythin’ more than I can give,” he says. “It’s why…why I started fallin’ for ya in the first place.”

This is the first time he has phrased his feelings that way, and it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but not in the way the heat of your pain is burning you alive. It’s a gentle heat, almost. It gives you hope.

He’s falling for you. That’s something good to hold on to.

“I know it’s hard, but I need ya to trust me. So ask whatever you wanna know, and I’ll answer. My heart is yours,” he says.

You feel small and vulnerable under his gaze, but his hand on your thigh remains steady. He reminds you that you’re no longer alone.

It’s hard to be vulnerable when you’re not used to it. You don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, but he trusts you and you should give him the same level of trust back. You have to get over yourself and face the truth. Better now than when it’s too late. 

It’s not just about you, it’s about your sister and anyone else that might suffer if you don’t get your shit together.

Speak now or forever hold your peace, isn’t that what they say? But holding your peace might as well cause a lot of casualties along the way when it comes to your father’s wrath. He’s a ticking time bomb and you’ve been living on the edge for far too long; the consequences are going to chase you down some day, and it seems like the day may come sooner than you originally thought.

Now that you’ve got your nose buried in the same kind of business he threatened to kill you over, there’s not many ways this could go. You have to realize that.

Michael takes a deep breath. “Hey–” Lifting your chin, he urges you to meet his eyes. “I know ya probably have so many questions. Not tha I can blame you for bein’ curious,” he says. “You researched me and my family, but I’m sure there’s more ya don’t understand. We’ve spent a lot of time together, but not enough t’ know all the truths ‘cause…I kept a lot hidden. Not because I don’t trust ya. I think I was protectin’ myself and you, in a way. I don’t know. It’s confusin’. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time, but I wanna try. I wanna try with you.”

You shudder. He wants to try with you.

“I know ya have questions. I can see it. Just tell me if I’m wrong.”

You blush slightly. His eye contact is intense. It doesn’t waiver once, but his thumb brushes your chin in a way to reassure you that he’s not trying to hurt you, and you manage a small nod as an answer.

He wasn’t wrong; you have questions. A lot of them, but not many make sense right now.

“I never meant for ya to get involved. It’s dangerous. People die, but–” He shudders, Jamie’s face flashing before his eyes. “But you’ve been there for me more than anyone ever has. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for ya, and you deserve t’know the truth. So whatever it is that’s on yer mind ‘bout me, I’ll tell ya.”

You bite your lip. The breath in your lungs rattles and your shoulders quiver when you exhale. Hesitantly, you reach out to take his hand, the one that is holding your chin. You don’t look away this time.

“The holes in the wall,” you prompt, your voice barely above a whisper. 

You glance at the fireplace. Michael follows. His hand tightens around yours. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “What about ‘em?”

You hesitate, but you decide to ask anyway. “What exactly happened to your wife?” you ask. “You told me you didn’t shoot her, but…there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

He looks away.

Your grip tightens. “There has to be more, Michael,” you say. “I understand why you didn’t tell me your entire life story back then, but I guess I’ve always been curious about what happened to her. And being here now, seeing that it’s real, it’s…it’s unsettling. But not in a way that makes me scared of you,” – you have to make sure he understands – “It’s more like human curiosity and a need to understand what you went through. You lost so much, I…I just can’t imagine what it feels like to stay here.”

His body stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away from you. His eyes remain glued on the bulletholes, and you can see the unshed tears welling up again. You feel bad for asking, but he told you to and you want to know. 

You have been more than curious from the beginning, and no Google search in the world could have satisfied you. It’s a painful topic and you didn’t want to push him for it. Some people don’t like to talk, including yourself, and you could have lived with it. But now you know about Jamie and you met Amanda and you have started piecing the timeline together. What’s missing is his wife’s death, and the picture you painted before doesn’t make much sense to you. Not that it would change anything, but knowing would still feel better than not-knowing. 

Michael takes another deep breath, taking a sip from his tea before he turns back to you. “I was high,” he admits.

You scoot a little closer, your hand finding his shoulder. “High?” you question. 

“That night. I’ve had some…some cocaine–” He chuckles sourly. “I was high, and when I got home I…I was confused. I would’ve never purposely hurt her. I loved her. But that night…I don’t remember everythin’. Some shrink in prison said tha it’s ‘cause I’m traumatized or some shit, but I was so high…I blacked out. But I confessed. I confessed ‘cause I could feel her blood on my hands. It was the only right thing to do. I fucked up. I thought no one else should go down for tha but me, so I plead guilty in hopes it’d make me a better man, but I realized it doesn’t. Nothin’ can make me a better man ‘cause I’m not. I killed her. It was my fault.”

You should run. Your common sense screams for you to leave, but we all make mistakes, and you’re no saint either. You know him. He isn’t cruel. And you physically can’t be mad at him.

You seem unable to wish him anything bad. You love him so much, it transcends what’s right and wrong in your mind. You’re conscious. He isn’t manipulating you. You simply don’t see it as something you would want to lose him over.

“My prints were on the gun,” he states before you can ask. His teary eyes meet yours. “I tried ta remember, but nothin’ worked. I was out of it. My prints were on the gun, I was confused and…and it was an accident. I don’t…I thought I was doin’ the right thing and Allison suffered the ultimate price, and that’s wha makes me hate myself every second of every day ‘cause I know I could’ve prevented it if I had been just a little more lucid. I don’t have all the answers and I hate it. The official story is tha I shot her while I was under the influence ‘cause I thought she was an intruder, but…but I can’t tell ya more than I know–”

“You don’t have to,” you cut him off. 

He meets your eyes. “I never wanted her t’get hurt,” he whispers, his lip trembling as he speaks, and you cradle his cheek softly. 

“I know,” you say. “And I’m a strong believer in the good, so I don’t think you did. Maybe someone else did and you just don’t remember. Or you did, but as you said, you had no idea what you were doing. Either way, speculating is of no use. It doesn’t make me hate you.”

“But I killed a lot of people. It wasn’t just Allison…there’s more.”

Before, you would have thought he might be trying to make you hate him, but looking into his eyes, you can tell he’s tired and he just wants to tell you. 

You swallow, but you knew what you were signing yourself up for when you found out what it means to be a Kinsella–what it means to be a part of this family. 

A heavy silence settles between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air. It takes all your strength to maintain eye contact, to let him know that you're still there, still listening and that you won't turn away. You've seen the darkness that has consumed him, but you've also witnessed the flicker of light that resides within. And you really don't care. You should, but you don't.

With a shrug, you answer, “We’re all a little damaged.”

“It’s more than just a little. My family…We deal drugs for a livin’. There are guns. People get killed. On purpose and on accident. I’ve torn families apart. You need ta understand tha.”

“I don’t care,” you blurt out. “I only care about you.”

Michael huffs. “That’s so foolish,” he says. He meant to sound stern, but his voice is rather breathless. 

You were the innocent barista that liked to wear butterfly clips and fantasize about a better life from fiction, and that version of you would have minded and tried to change him, but you don’t seem to have a care in the world left for the injustice his family is caught up in. 

Your past must have hurt you badly, and the memories tore you out of whatever world you were living in. Now all that counts is him and whatever your agenda is. But with what happened tonight–the shooting, and Jamie’s death–there seems to be an even bigger storm coming, and Michael doesn’t want to be alone. You have been in danger from the second you chose to pursue your relationship, and it seems as if you have come to terms with that now. 

You really don’t care, he can even see it in your eyes. 

“You should be repulsed,” he tries again. 

You wave him off. “I love you,” you say. “I love you, Michael. That won’t change. You did what you had to do. There’s a reason, and when there’s a reason, I believe it. All I care about is that you’re safe. That you come back home to me. I don’t need anything or anyone but you.”

He meets your eyes, and the words die on his tongue. You brush your thumb over his cheekbone. He sighs. Your touch is tender, more than he believes he deserves, but you soon enough lean your head against his and your heartbeats align without a question. 

You’re so attuned to each other, nothing could break you apart. It’s something that doesn’t come around often, and not everyone gets to enjoy love like that. It’s deep and vulnerable and it makes you question everything in life, but it’s real, and that’s what matters most because if it’s real, you can overcome just about anything. 

You found each other when you needed it most and now you can use that to heal each other. 

“You know, I’ve been with bad men before,” you confess. “And they treated me in a way I know I shouldn’t have let them. That’s how I knew they were awful–by the way they treated me. But you…you don’t treat me like that. You treat me like I’m deserving of love, like I’m the most important thing in the world to you, and that’s how I know you’re not a bad person.”

“Why?” he asks into the silence.

You look at him. “Why what?”

“Why’d you choose men that didn’t treat ya right?” he asks. “You deserve so much better. The men you’ve been with should’ve made ya feel like you were the most important person in this world to them. It’s the bare minimum. You shouldn’t have settled for less.”

“I know,” you say.

“Then why did ya?”

You knew the conversation would switch and the focus would return to what you bared to him before. The truth. He gave you what you wanted and now it’s your turn. But how do you talk about something so painful without breaking apart? 

The lid on the glass was closed for a reason. You’re not sure you can survive, but you have to try. For him. For yourself. And if you want this relationship to survive, you need to fight for it, too. You have to be honest so he can catch you the same way you caught him when he needed it. It’s about time someone did the same for you. 

You sit up, placing your mug on the coffee table. Michael follows you with his eyes. Your head and gaze are turned away from him as you glare holes into the air. Tears well up in your eyes. You close them, not wanting to cry, but of course, your body betrays you. 

You wipe your cheeks. “Um, it’s…My father. Or I guess it’s his fault. He’s a bad man,” you begin to explain. Your voice is fragile. “And he made me believe that this is how men are allowed to treat me. I always had to please everyone around me, be good, follow the rules, and be obedient. It’s how I grew up. Can’t shake that so easily.”

He reaches out slowly, brushing the hair from your face and revealing the scar you thought he never caught. He traces it with his thumb. “What happened?” he asks. 

“Glass,” you answer. 

“Glass?”

“He threw it at me one night after he caught a stain on the dishes I was supposed to wash. I got lucky it crashed against the wall and missed my eye instead of breaking directly against my face. That…that would have sucked.”

“Fuck. Jesus–”

“And then he made me clean the entire cupboard with a tiny toothbrush.” Your eyes are vacant as they continue to stare at the wall next to the tv. “All night. I wasn’t allowed to sleep,” you say.

His cheeks have paled completely. There are a lot of parallels Michael could draw between your pathetic excuse of a father and his own, except that his father couldn’t keep his wandering hands to himself when it came to little girls either, and Michael had someone to fall back on as a kid when his father went away; you were all alone in an abusive household and no one cared. 

You continue, “After I failed the exam I had the next day, he…he, um, made sure that this scratch–” You point to the scar, “Would turn into an actual problem. And then it scarred. I was bleeding a lot, but I hid it because I never cut my hair when I was a child–he didn’t allow that either,” you say. “When people asked, I just told them I took a tumble down the stairs. But after failing that exam, he left me with a concussion and locked me in my room to study for a few days, so it was already healed enough for the lie to work when I got back out. You know, apparently, it was the best thing for me and I owe everything to him, even my education.”

His thumb continues to trace the scar on your temple, his touch a gentle reminder of his presence. It's as if he's silently promising to be there for you, to help heal the wounds of your past in any way he can.

“He abused me. He abused my mother. He still does. That’s why she developed this condition that comes with her PTSD, the one that gives her seizures. He sometimes takes her meds away, so they get worse, and she has to get new ones. It was the same back then, only that now I’m not there to fix it anymore. I don’t know what her condition is called, but I wasn’t lying when I said I know what it’s like to take care of someone who gets seizures–” You take another sip of your tea to stop your tears.

“And that’s why medication is so important,” you add. “You could get seriously hurt. I saw the damage an uncontrolled seizure can do and it’s no fun. Then again, it was always my fault, so what the hell do I know, right?”

He curses under his breath, his fingers beginnings to paint patterns on your lower back. He might be in shock for all you know, but if that’s all it takes to shock him, he has a big storm coming. 

You shake your head. You can’t deflect, no matter how badly you want to. “I always had to take care of her. I had to be good, and when I failed, I would get punished. Sometimes, he’d just hit me, but he also liked to use his belt or find other ways to make me suffer like locking me inside for days, or locking me outside, starving me, degrading me, I…there’s too much,” you whisper and your voice breaks when you finally look at him again. “It hurts.”

Michael pulls you closer wordlessly, still facing you, but his hands are cradling your face now. “I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice equally as quiet and broken as yours. “He had no right to touch ya…”

“I don’t remember a lot,” you tell him, “but I remember the days that left scars, and I remember the days I had nothing to eat. He made sure not to leave obvious scars, but I still know where they are even when others don’t, especially the ones inside, and I’ve felt guilty for so long, I started believing it was my fault.”

The tears are spewing freely now. You gave up on stopping them. You’re tired, you’re weak and the glass is more than full. Your body ejects what isn’t supposed to be there, including all the pain and the unshed tears, and you crumble in the arms of the man you love.

He tries to catch your tears, but there are too many of them. All Michael can do is offer an open ear and prove himself worthy of your trust. He doesn’t push you, he lets you go at your own pace. 

But he doesn’t even need to ask before the next wave crashes in and you sob as the words tumble from your lips. “It’s why I always put others first. It’s why I’m a people pleaser,” you say. It’s a self-analysis, but it’s not wrong. “And when I fail, I hate myself so badly and try to fix it until the bitter end, but it never feels like it’s enough, so I find ways to punish myself the way my father taught me I deserve. I know it’s fucked up and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner so you could have picked someone who isn’t as disturbed as me, but I never had anyone to talk to, and there is so much more that I don’t even know how to put into words. I–”

You’re cut off by your own sobs, and you lean forward to press your forehead against his. You need to feel his breath to calm down. While he doesn’t guide you through it this time, he’s right there if you need him. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against where you curl your fingers around his shirt, and you focus on that. He knows you can do it; all you need is a presence you know you can trust, and it seems like you do.

You take deep breaths until you’re not on the edge of insanity anymore. Michael offers you a smile in return. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to get so emotional.”

“You were abused by yer own father. You have every right to feel like this. If ya haven’t noticed, I want ya to let it out. Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

“I just wish I wasn’t so fucked up. It would be so much easier if I weren’t such a mess. I ruin everything–”

He stops you. “You’re not fucked up. And you’re not a burden t’me,” he says. “You were hurt by the one man every child should be able ta count on to protect ‘em. You had no one to save ya, and tha’s not somethin’ you have t’apologize for.”

“He hurt me,” you whisper. It sounds like a realization. “And I just pretended it was okay. I believed that I deserved it. I…I let it happen because I was so scared. I’m still so scared and I don’t know why. But I can’t keep thinking–a part of me, at least–that I deserved it.”

“But you didn’t,” he finishes.

You exhale. “I didn’t?” 

“No,” Michael wipes your tears once more with a gentle smile that is only meant for you because it is full of a love you’ve never experienced before, “You didn’t.”

“Then why does it always feel that way?” Your eyes are begging for an answer only a psychiatrist could give to you, but Michael is trying his best at calming you down enough to pull you away from the edge.

“You didn’t deserve what this man did to ya,” he says. “It’s not yer fault. You had no control over it. He abused you. It’s never the victim’s fault, I’ll tell ya that. You are not to blame for the actions of your father. He made tha choice and it’s his fault, not yours.”

His words seep into the cracks of your wounded soul. You listen intently, yearning to believe in the truth he presents to you.

“You were just a child,” he continues. “You had no control over the situation, and ya did what ya needed to survive. The fact tha ya carried the weight of his abuse for so long shows how strong you are. You were there for everyone but yerself, and that’s remarkable, but it wasn’t your job. You didn’t deserve any o’ it. And if I ever get my hands on him, so help me God, I’ll–” 

He stops himself. He stops the anger coursing through his veins. Not because it’s misplaced; your father deserves all his wrath and more, but his anger is not what you need. 

His thumb caresses your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. “I want ya to know tha you don’t have t’pretend anymore. You’re not fucked up. You’re a survivor. Yer so much stronger than ya give yerself credit for, my love. Believe me.”

You take in his words. Michael’s unwavering support and love are starting to chip away at the walls of self-blame and guilt you’ve built around yourself.

You sniffle, nodding along. Your defenses are down. He can see all of you now. You’re naked and vulnerable and the need to hide grows stronger with each passing second, but Michael holds you right where you are so you can both face the reality of the situation. You’re forced to stare the truth into the eyes after ignoring it for so long, and while it hurts, you also feel less alone now that you have him, which is the whole point. He told you that you’re not alone anymore, so you really aren’t. 

You lean into his touch. He sees you for who you truly are and he loves you unconditionally. The burden of your past feels a little lighter in his arms. It counts for something, at least, and it gives you a little bit of hope. 

“The file you found,” you begin, “It’s what little information I have on…on my sister’s death. Not…not Maya. She’s the one I was talking to on the phone. She’s sixteen, that wasn’t a lie, and she’s in London. But–“ You swallow.

“Livin’ with your father?” Michael questions.

You nod. “Yeah. She’s…she’s stuck there.”

“So, ya had another one?”

“Yeah.”

“Eleanor?”

“Eleanor,” you repeat her name back to him almost bitterly. It hurts even more, the truth. “She would have turned nine this year. She died when she was three. Car accident,” you say. “And…and I kept the file because…my father was the one driving that night. They got into a collision with a truck. She was brain dead.”

His eyes soften. He wants to touch you, but he’s not sure if he should go further than he already is. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You shake your head. It doesn’t make sense, you tell yourself. It’s not him, it’s the recollection of what happened, and even now it doesn’t make sense.

“The M25 wasn’t on the way to her dance studio,” you tell him. You’re sure of that. “He never took that route before, even though he claimed he did. He was lying. I drove her to rehearsals so many times and no one would take the M25 there because it makes no sense,” you say, “and that’s why I could never believe his story of not seeing the truck coming because the timeline doesn’t add up. It doesn’t…something isn’t right. I know it isn’t.”

He tilts his head, trying to come to a conclusion on his own, but he’s confused. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs.

You do so, but you’re still shaking. “He killed her,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “My father killed my little sister by waiting in the middle of that godforsaken road where the truck wouldn’t have seen them.”

You’d vouch for that any day.

“Oh,” he realizes. He connects your previous words with what you told him, and it makes sense. “He caused the accident on purpose?” Michael asks. “Tha’s what ya think?”

You nod weakly. “He was overwhelmed with having another child running around, I think, and my mom…she was of no use. I basically raised Ellie. I did the same with Maya when I was younger. I mean, my father liked her, so he didn’t touch her. He likes to control her, but he never…he did with me, but never with her, and never with Ellie. Until that day–” You sob.

His hand cradles your cheek a little tighter and he runs the other through your hair, pulling you close enough to hear his heartbeat once again.

“I was already in college when Ellie was born, but I raised that kid. I came home and I made sure the kids were taken care of and that my mom wasn’t so alone, and I avoided my father for as long as I could, but…Three years later, I get the call that they got into an accident and that…they declared her brain dead. And he was such a coward,” you say, your voice dropping an octave as the bitter poison of your pain takes over, “because he couldn’t even finish it himself.”

“Breathe,” he has to tell you once again. “Deep breaths, love. There you go.”

You inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth, the dizziness dissipating for a second, but as soon as you talk again, the oxygen fails and you get dizzy again.

“He made me sign the papers and make the decision to turn the machines off,” you say. “It was me all over again. It’s always been me. I had to do everything. And then they forced me to move back home because everyone was grieving and he just needed a punching bag to get rid of all his guilt, and that’s when…when it got really bad. Oh, God!”

He catches you when you crumble, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you into his chest. Your sobs echo in the room. You feel pathetic, you want to pull away, but he won’t let you.

“Shh,” he shushes you as he starts swaying you like a baby in his arms, a treacherously soothing motion. “It’s okay,” he coos. “I’ve got ya.”

You whimper, gasping for oxygen once more. “I just wanted to be there for my sister and my mother,” your voice breaks, “to protect them from suffering even more, from Maya turning into me, and he used me so he could have someone to blame. I didn’t do anything and yet he made sure I suffered. I never got a chance to grieve–” And that’s probably the part that hurts the most. 

You got used to the abuse, but not being able to grieve is a feeling you won’t ever forget because it haunts you, still, up until this day. 

He holds you close. His fingers paint soothing patterns over your skin, and you lean further into him. You sob until your voice is sore, your body overcome by shivers and hiccups, but you’re starting to calm down a bit. Your mind is a confusing mess. Your body reacts on its own, and the tears are out of your control.

You wipe your cheeks, Michael’s arms still keeping you caged, but once you’ve calmed down a little, he allows you to pull away enough to look at him again. 

“I wasn’t lying when I told you about me hearing that book reading in the library,” you say, your voice steadier now. “I did hear the author read from her book and it was her that made me realize that I couldn’t stay trapped any longer. I love Maya, I do, but I was suffering and I just had to save myself.”

“So you left?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I packed my things. I fought with my father, but I stood my ground. I even threatened to call the police. I don’t know where that confidence came from, but it was about time.”

It was a rare moment of confidence, but you couldn’t fight back when he raised his hand again. He left his mark before you left, but you fought back. It was the middle of the day, everyone was crying and if it hadn’t been for Maya’s screams to leave you alone, he would have chained you down. But you knew you would have witnesses next door if she kept her screaming up, and that was your way out. 

You tell him the whole story about that day and a little more. He listens without trying to fix anything. You tell him about Maya, and you go into detail about the kind of person she is and how well she’s holding up even though her childhood has never really been great, even without physical abuse. He nods, but he doesn’t interrupt you; this is your time to talk and his time to listen. 

You tell him about the calls and the texts, and how her field trip was the reason you needed money. It dawns on him. He makes sense of it with the newfound information, and he seems almost glad that he can sort your behavior now. 

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “When I packed my things that day though, my father... he threatened me,” you tell him. Your voice is only loud enough for him to hear. “He told me that if I ever came near Maya again, he would find me and kill me.”

Michael's eyes widen, his grip on you tightening instinctively. “He said wha?” he asks.

A switch flicks inside of him. His demeanor changes completely, and it shows in the tone of his voice.

“He meant it,” you whisper.

He calls your name, but he’s so far away. The spiral has dragged you too far down already.

“He's capable of anything,” you say. “Anything, I…That’s why I tried to get custody of Maya. I tried to get custody of them both when Ellie was still alive, but there was no chance for me to get custody of any child in the financial situation I was in. I was too young and…and I gave up. And Ellie died. She was just a baby. I was a coward and she died.”

What kind of sister does that? You think. The guilt is a strong enough current to drag you under.

“Just…Okay–” Michael takes a deep breath. If he freaks out, you will freak out. “Let’s not go there,” he tells you. “It’s not your fault. You were tryin’ to survive. You couldn’t have known yer father would do somethin’ like tha. But…why do ya even have the file on her death?” he asks, trying to keep his anger contained for your sake, but inside, he’s boiling. “Why torture yourself with the details?”

His fists are already clenched, but he can’t change anything from here anyway. He would have to take a plane.

But he would do it in a heartbeat for you, he has no doubt in his mind about that. You didn’t deserve any of the things that happened to you.

“Research,” you admit.

“Research?” he frowns.

“Yeah. I–I kept it with me in case I ever found the needle in the haystack so I could end him for good. I investigated, that’s why I have the file, not just to hurt myself or–or find answer for myself. That’s not the only reason. I've been trying to gather evidence against my father for six years, to prove that he's responsible for Ellie’s death, and the evidence just kept piling up,” you say. “But I've struggled to find solid proof anyway. Maya told me not to, but I didn't listen, and now...now I'm afraid that it might all blow up in my face. And hers, too.”

His sigh sounds almost exasperated. “Jesus–” He curses your name, or maybe it’s meant condescendingly, you’re not so sure. After dropping his face in his hands momentarily, he lifts his head to look into your eyes. “Yer not safe, are ya?” he asks. But the question is self-explanatory.

You shake your head. “I never was,” you answer. 

“And Maya?”

“Right now, she’s physically fine, but my father…he’s a ticking time bomb, and I need to put him behind bars so I can get her out of there. She’s…she feels like my child, and I know that’s not how this works, but I raised her. And yet I still gave up on her for months. I was so stupid–”

Michael’s eyes soften. “I get it. Don’t even…I get it. But you can’t do this alone,” he interrupts you.

“What d’you mean?”

Michael's eyes meet yours. “I mean I won't let you face this alone. We'll do it together,” he says. “I'll help ya gather the evidence you need, and we'll make sure your father pays for wha he's done. I...I get how yer feelin’ and I want ya to have a chance at gettin' closure. After tonight…There’s a lot that’s gonna crash into us, but that’s why I can’t let ya endanger yerself without havin’ someone to fall back on. So, you’re not doin' this alone.”

You never expected to find someone who would be willing to go to such lengths for you and your sister. 

“But we have to be careful,” his voice is tinged with caution. “We need a strategy, plan our steps carefully, everythin’ to assure yer safety. I have resources and connections that can help us. My family is not perfect, but we take family matters seriously, and wha we do best is gettin’ rid of what’s in the way. So I’ll find a way. I promise.”

“Michael–”

“No. I don't want anythin’ ta happen to ya. I love you more than anythin’, and I can't stand the thought of you suffering. If keepin' ya safe means helping you gather evidence and bring your father to justice, then I'm in. I don’t have ta like it, but yer gonna do it anyway, so I’d rather have you safe while doin’ it rather than let ya destroy yourself. You’re not alone.”

“What about Jamie though?” you ask softly. “Your son just died...Shouldn’t you focus on that instead of me? It matters too, you know. Maybe more than my father.”

He grabs your wrist when you cradle his cheek. His forehead drops to yours. “I’ll grieve,” he tells you. “In time. And I’ll be there when they bury him. But…but I can’t do more than tha. I won’t go back.”

“You don’t want to seek revenge?”

“I dunno what I wanna do. It’s a lot right now. I can’t think straight.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“I have Anna. I have the meetin’ with my solicitor to think about, and I have my job…” Michael nuzzles closer to you. “And I have you. Without ya, I would’ve gone crazy by now. Yer keepin’ me alive and sane. That’s all I need. It’s enough. It has t’be.”

You nod, wiping the stray tear from the corner of his eye. “But you have to let it hurt,” you remind him. “You can let it hurt tonight and tomorrow and for as long as you want, as long as you don’t bottle it up. I’m here for you as long as you need me to.”

Another tear joins the one he already shed, and he sniffles. “It hurts, but I don't understand it. I don’t understand why it hurts so much,” he whispers. “I’m so confused. That’s why I can’t let it get to me.”

It’s a kind of pain he can't describe. It runs deeper than a broken bone or losing someone close to you; it runs deeper because Jamie wasn’t just anyone, he was his son, and that’s a different kind of pain. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair. “You don’t have to get it,” you assure him. “You just have to let it happen.”

“Says the one who kept her feelings bottled up for decades,” he tries to joke, but his voice doesn’t really come across as if he means it. 

You give a weak chuckle. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you pull him a little closer to feel his pulse beneath your fingers.

As the tears continue to flow, resting in each other’s arms, you find strength in the fact that you're not alone.

“We'll be there for each other,” you say. “No matter what happens, we'll lean on each other and find the strength to keep going. Okay?”

He sniffles, and his answer is clear, “Okay.”

You help each other to bed when it’s already the early hours of the morning. Your limbs tangle beneath the sheets, your bodies pressed closely together. There is not a piece of paper in the world that could fit between you. 

The room grows quiet, and the rhythmic sound of your breathing lulls you both toward much-needed sleep. 

Michael doesn’t waste time sleepily whispering, “I love ya.”

You snuggle closer to him, your head resting just underneath his chin on his chest and you tell him back, “I love you too.”

“We’ll talk more in the mornin’, alright?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“G’night,” says Michael.

“Good night,” you say.

In each other’s arms, you finally find a moment of peace, and you allow yourselves to rest as you succumb to the claws of restless sleep. 

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @acharliecoxedfan @glowstick-lesbian @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle

[memories-of-ancients]

this human document was written last Summer by a Japanese captain of infantry. the introduction and conclusion have been written by his American friend Seymour Gordden Link, dean of liberal arts at Andrew Jackson University in Nashville Tennessee.

When I attended Columbia University sometime ago I was fortunate enough to be one of two Occidentals admitted to intimacy with two Chinese students, Chang and Kim, and two government - fellowship scholars from Japan, Tatsuo and Mitsui. The latter's true name is not given because identification would doubtless lead to his immediate execution as a trader to his government.

We have corresponded for years. Our correspondence has dealt largely with the arts. Although Mitsui is a great mathematician, he is also a great lover of painting and poetry, of flowers and comparative linguistics. This multiple development is more frequently encountered among the Japanese intellectuals than anywhere else on earth. Most of what I have been lucky enough to absorb about the intricacies of Japanese grammar on honorifics and social usage, I owe to Mitsui. All that he knows of contemporary art and literature outside the Orient comes, he has said, from my letters. And we have exchanged mutual references to our Chinese friends Chang and Kim.

But the other morning came a letter more moving than the others, and more disturbing. While I hold it to be a thing of personal and sacred to me, I offer it in the hope that readers will profit from the small glimpse into the heart of " a thousand Mistuis" and will refrain thereby from too hasty a surrender to the drums of jingoism - S. G. L.

Tokyo, Japan

July 15, 1937

Link sensei,

Writing this I do now in great and lementable haste for the fear is that soon no letters will go out. War has no respect for the things of the heart. And here is War. And here soon one small unwilling captain of infantry will wake from a night of rest and look around to discover he no longer is honored by the friendship of his great friend and teacher in America.

For war enters into the heart where it is not welcome and makes a strange chemistry; and my American friend who once said he had a great love for one small Japanese scholar, will think only of many small captains of infantry making many unpopular battles. He will hold on to the last and say all men are brothers and that he thinks the same thoughts and loves the same poety and speaks the same languages with his former Japanese brothers. but he will remember these things better of Chang and Kim then he will remember them of Mitsui.

For Chang and Kim will be in the war on the side where the heart leans and mitsui will be on the side that the heart is turned against. And he will forget that not a thousand Mitsuis can make a war or stop a war. he will forget that Chang and Kim and Tatsuo and Mitsui and Larson and Link once walked together beneath the shade of trees of the Columbia campus and ate together at the cafeteria and read poetry together in many languages.

And what of Chang and Kim? they who once called Mitsui brother now join their countrymen and blind hate of a thousand Mitsuis. And Mitsui dare not send them a letter full of his ancient love. It would mean the firing squad.

Once upon a time, so long a time it seems, Link sensei wrote in Mitsui's book English translation of a poem, because Mitsui showed him a scroll with a painting of long green plains that led to Fuji. This is written in the heart as War approaches. it says:

All that comes to pass

Of the warriors proud dream

Is this summer grass.

Because the scroll is beautiful and because it has memories in it of the happy years in America it is now enclosed as a parting souvenir of Mitsui who will fall in battle with a bullet from Chang or from Kim and his heart. Please to someday inform these brothers that their bullet entered Mitsui's heart only to find there love and brotherhood and great sorrow.

Here is the death song of Mitsui:

These grasses that bent

Underfoot will lean as soft

Over the cleft skull.

And in the deep roots will drain Love and peace that filled the brain.

Sayonara brother.

Mitsui

I shall never see my "small unwilling captain of infantry" again. He will lead his troops into action and then with his arms at his side walk calmly into the drum fires, thinking as he dies of his Chinese friends, Chang and Kim, and perhaps, I hope, of his American friend whom he did the honor to call sensei, teacher. Thus he will pay homage at once to his ancestors, his Emperor, his friends, and his dream of peace on earth, good will to men. S.G.L.

[sumire-no-nikki]

To Be Here

October. My beloved October. The kotatsu blanket is back on, the indoor plants don't need as much watering, the fallen leaves in the backyard need sweeping and the Summer clothes have been put away. Funny how many friends I've recently chatted with about the bliss that comes with October. It's a burst of orange ochre and apple red in my head. When the season turned, the sun who has since made herself scarce is a warm embrace whenever she pokes her head out. The wind and clouds are constant companions. The evening is perfect for mysterious reads under candlelight. What a splendid month.

As I am typing this, however, October is nearly done. Something this good always leaves too soon, doesn't it? I love the first taste of cold after the pesky Summer heat and September’s false promises of colder days. October is where it really gets going. But it's always nearly done before I feel like I can properly savor it. How melancholy!! But isn’t that how it always goes? Love is more deeply felt after only the crater it left is the one thing you’ve got to remember it by? Love defined by the lack, the absence, the loss? There will never be enough Octobers for me. I’m a creature of want in this way, yearning is an instinct for me. I watch the days go by and the thought that there won’t be another October until next year is like quicksand for my mind.

That said I’ve spent the month working diligently and on the whole being rather productive in both work and personal matters. There’s this project I’ve started and making good progress on! Once completed I promised myself a trip where I can apply what I’ve learned and I’m so excited to reach that goal. I’ve also read a lot this month. I really surprised myself. I’ve read six books and the month isn’t over yet! I read two Agatha Christie books, all three of the Toshikazu Kawaguchi series (the fourth one is coming out next month!! And I’ll have to read the fifth one in Japanese because I don’t want to wait for the translation to come out!!!) I also read Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library as recommended by a friend and I'm so glad she brought it up! I've had a copy of it for ages but just never managed to pick it up due to associated memories (it was given to me by someone during a bad period in my life!!) I swear that book might've just saved my life. I also finished two manga volumes in Japanese this month. It's a series called Yotsuba&! which is just the most wholesome series. Maybe I'll talk about it someday on here. But that series is such a light in my life. I picked it up on one particularly tough day last week and it instantly revived hope in my heart that there's still good out there no matter what.

Other things I've been up to: I've been running a lot these days and I'm actually surprising myself with how much I enjoy it. Earlier today (I'm typing this before bed) I went on a run while it was drizzling. I felt like a kid playing in the rain. I couldn't stop smiling!

Also, the podcast show I mentioned some entries ago!! Case 63!! It has a season 2!! Actually, I found out it's originally by a Chilean writer, so the version I listened to is an English adaptation. Anyway, I'm so happy there's more of it. Season 3 is the final season in Spanish so I expect the English adaptation of that will also be made (since they went so far as to continue with season 2). Fingers crossed! I'm so intrigued as to how it will end!!

As for TV, I started and finished watching HBO's Barry in like a week. I was absorbed!! All four seasons! Mind you, each episode is only 30 mins so it wasn't really that long. It's such a funny and dark show I love it so much. I've heard good things about it through the years but I never found the time to get into it. Plus I have this terrible illness of "I-Can't-Get-Into-Things-When-It's-Super-Mainstream-I-Need-To-Wait-Until-The-Hype-Dies-Down-itis" lol. No, seriously I just didn't feel like getting into a new show until this month apparently. But I'm so glad I watched it. The show is a goldmine, the best Hollywood/LA culture satire I've seen in ages. The way it highlights the gender gap in the workplace, how a writer must compromise on truth in order to sell something, even the way a woman needs to be a "perfect victim" in order for her story to be worth anything! It's so witty!! And the central question of can people truly change--I'll be thinking about this show for a long time. It's so good. Watch it if you can.

Early this month I also managed to sneak a quick trip to Croatia and Slovenia which was so relaxing and peaceful. Trips can be quite stressful for me especially when it's a big city full of tourists due to my OCD (I'm looking at you Paris, and literally all of Italy smh... jk jk) But this trip was restorative and gave me a genuine sense of discovery and wonder, which is what I aim to travel for.

I've been listening to the new Mitski album and rethinking my home library's organisation system! I haven't decided yet but I mainly want my Classical Mythology books, both fiction and non-fiction in one area. Also wishing I bought two Caryatid statues in Athens last year instead of one! Would've been nice for her to have a buddy!!

Now, the title of this entry comes from a realisation I had this month--a very important one. As someone whose nature is to think and think and think, it's difficult to be in the present. I'm always in agony over the past, and anxious about the future. I can be quite dismissive of what's in front of me as a result. This is a chronic issue of mine. But while reading The Midnight Library, tucked in my reading chair, savoring the scent of a pumpkin pie candle, all the pieces of advice I've read both online and in person suddenly clicked.

When writing a first draft of a novel, it simply needs to exist.

When making art, it simply needs to be there.

When yearning to do something, I must attempt it

When wanting to exist, I simply am.

I just need to be here in the most literal sense. To be. Not in the past tense, not in the future tense. There's no need for qualifiers. There is no standard to fulfill. I know this is neither new nor revolutionary, but in the embrace of an October evening, digesting this advice and accepting it made me feel so brave.

It hit me like a sucker punch. I thought, I need to untangle my sense of self and my worth from anything external. I cannot keep on doing this to myself. Because the truth is if I don’t stop this constant self-flagellation, I have simply replaced my mother in adulthood. I will have been no different from her and her constant need to criticise me. This is something I've been actively trying to improve recently and I can feel myself getting better. I feel, somewhat ironically, that by being present, I'm regaining a sense of hope that I haven't felt since childhood. Like somehow my past is healed and my future is assured.

So despite how much I've gone on about loving October at the beginning of this entry, as much as I know I will miss it, I have to be where I am. That means accepting that all things end--good or bad. That means being in November when it comes. That means understanding that what I've lost, while dearly missed, is out of my grasp now. That means what will happen to me is tomorrow's business.

This entry's song I've repeated to death (which is a very good thing) this month. It's by an artist I really enjoy. I cannot wait for new material from her and this new single is a sign of really good things to come!

I leave you with a photo of a friend I made while out on a walk. What shall I name him?

Have a wunderbaaahhh rest of Octobaaaahhh! 🐑

[the-banana-0verlord]

Answer some or all I wanna know more about you 👁️👁️

Do you have freckles? 

 Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? 

What was the last song you listened to? 

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? 

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? 

Do you prefer drawing or writing? 

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? 

What’s your favorite band/artist? 

When is your birthday? 

How tall are you? 

What color are your eyes? 

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? 

Fears? 

What’s your favorite color? 

What’s your favorite season? 

Want any tattoos? What of? 

Want any piercings? Where? 

Who is the last person you texted? 

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? 

What/who do you miss? 

How was your day today? 

How much sleep did you get last night? 

Do you believe in aliens? 

When was the last time you cried? Why? 

What’s your favorite decade? 

What are some seemingly childish things you like? 

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? 

How are you, really? 

Does it take you a long time to make decisions? 

What are you looking forward to in the near future? 

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? 

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? 

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? 

What’s your favorite flower? 

Do you currently have a squish? 

Do you like your middle name? 

Do you prefer dogs or cats? 

Do you have any phobias? 

Do you stay up late?

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? 

What’s your favorite cartoon? 

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

Do you have siblings? How many? 

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? 

Is there anyone you would die for? 

What do you need when you’re sad? 

Have you memorized your phone number? 

Who’s someone you can trust with your life? 

What does your last text say? 

Wild Card. Any question, ask away. 

Alright, ill try lmao

1.no, i dont have freckles!

2. I WISHED i found Coffee and tea good because its so aesthetic but it tastes bad imo

3. I checked my spotify and its girls just wanna have fun by cyndi lauper so i suppose its that

4.i move a lot but i usually end up on my side.

5. I move too much to sleep with a lot of them because they always end up on the floor. Although i do sleep with my malleus plushie.

6. Thats a hard one, because i do both. Though i think of writing as my primary hobby/eventual job, i definitely have more fun drawing(until art Block comes knocking that is)

7.depends on the thickness. Right now i have three eith two being thin and one being medium, but i could sleep with one really thick one.

8. Mitski!!! I love her so much. Otherwise I like mother mother and marina

9.the third of november!

10. 154 cm or 5 feet. No that is not short

11. Blue-grey-kaki. I like to think of them as blue.

12. All my mutuals, all my irls, my mom, my dad, and my little sister

13. Abandonnent, failure, the future in general.

14. Yellow and light blue!

15.fall! Its so pretty

16. Im not sure yet but i can maybe have someday a small tattoo. Im not a fan of qhoel body tattoos for myself.

17. Well my ears a pierced but im not gonna get more.

18. My two irls! Talking about not getting neuvillette in gneshin ;-;(and murder)

19. I dont have a best friend per se, although i do have a closest friend. Weve been friends for at least three years(already? Damn)

20. Honestly i miss my first mutual on here. I hope they come back soon ;-;

21. It just started but its been pretty good up til now!

22. About 9-10 hours?

23. I mean, there is bound to be other forms of life in space, just thousands of lightyears away.

24. Monday cause my friend said she didnt think we were friends.

25. Id say 1890 to 1900? Though the living conditions were meh i like the aesthetic

26. Generally being silly ig? I suppose i act childihs as a comic relief.

27. Currently my favorite book(s) is the Truly Devious series by Maureen Johnson! It's been clawing it's way into my brain.

28. I'm actually doing quite fine. I'm a bit stressed since i'm going to boston soon but i can push out the bad thoughts!

29. I usually procrastinate decisions as far as possible. If it's a small one maybe like 2 minutes but if it's bigger ones it'll take longer(with the answer being no a lot)

30. Something i'm dreading but also am excited for is summer! Bye school but hello summer job ;-;

31. My irls and i(can i really call them irls? i met only two of them irl and once or twice. anyways-) are planning a roadtrip after we're all 18(aka in a bit more than 4 years)!

32. Either my friend's (irls+ moots) houses or in paris. I've always wanted to see paris.

33.open, my cats need to be free to walk in and out!

34. sunflowers and roses(i have a list on the meaning of each rose color) daisies are also cute.

35. i...guess? i own a banana shaped stress ball(that is very dirty i dont use it much) but idk if it counts as a squish.

36. yes, almost more than my first name. although my first and second name are kinda in the same name. it's like first name-second name.

37.cats!!! I have two(named chicken nugget and nebraska)(my family also owns dogs but oh well)

38. I'm a bit scared of heights but i wouldn't say i have a phobia

39. i usually go to sleep at 10:30 pm on weekdays, and 11:00-11:00 on weekends(when i don't have to wake up early due to sunday class)

40.Although i haven't been to a real beach a lot, i like it! And i always prefer sunny days so sun it is(to experience sunset on a beach... must be the dream)

41. I'd say the owl house! It's so colorful with two of my main kins.

42. @xen-blank @thehollowwriter @quartztwst @boopshoops @saionjeans (so sorry for the tag non-moots! Also i would've included all my moots but it said five ;-;)

43. Yes, i have five siblings! One oldest sister, two older brother, a little brother and the baby of the family, my little sister. i have middle child syndrome.

44. Either my mom or my little sister. I hug and say i love you to them very often. Or i said it to malleus last. One of them.

45. Tbh i have no idea in which circomstances i would die for something. maybe if i could trade my life with someone's close to me. or for peace on earth idk.

46. a big ol hug from my malleus plushie. it's a real emotional support.

47. no i have not. or maybe i did. i will probably forget it soon.

48. my two parents absolutely.

49."I wish to expérience it someday" (speaking of old lady gossip)

50. can i send you the same questions? :3