#now I’m just- a depressive episode hits and I just.. everything stops y’know?

[whoblewboobear]

Knowing that I have to go home after an 8-hour shift at the job I hate to force myself to deep clean the depression nest my room has become while neck deep in the same depressive episode for the past 3 months on top of chronic pain makes me wanna scream like can I just smoke weed and sleep on the couch instead pls?

[hiatusdeity]

hazbin hotel characters with a partner with mental health problems

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

WARNINGS: depictions of harm to self, drugs, alcohol, depression, anxiety, burns, crying, self deprecation, sad stuff but there’s lots of comfort and love.

features: lucifer, alastor, vox

comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated <3

LUCIFER

“and then she hugged me! Charlie actually hugged me, oh it felt so nice to see her smile and she was happy to see me. it was so awesome you should’ve been there to see it, and then there was this pesky radio dem-“ Lucifer paused mid sentence, the words that were about to spout from him abruptly stopped. the door he had just opened, inhabited a lump under the covers who hadn’t yet moved.

their shared bedroom had always had happy memories, but it seemed your mind had followed you home this time, and refused to let up on tormenting you behind the closed doors of your’s and lucifer’s residence.

“Love? has something happened?” The fallen angel whispered gently, moving forward to your side of the bed, peeling away the covers from your face to reveal dull eyes.

depression had followed you all throughout your time of being alive, and even with death it had stuck to you like glue, chains bound to you for eternity. As if being in hell wasn’t enough.

“Honey? can you look at me f’me please?” He rasped, a clawed hand cupping the full cheeks of your face, feeling the lack of warmth that rested beneath your skin. Lifeless eyes dragged themselves to gaze upon the king of hell, and they almost phased straight through him. “Oh sweetie.” his heart ached, he had been aware of everything about you when you were living, never bringing up how you died or what you suffered with. and he had no reason to, you hadn’t showed any signs of falling back into depression or struggling mentally, until now.

“I’m here, i’m here for you.” Lucifer mumbled as he scooted forward to place a tender kiss on your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then both your cheeks. “can i come into bed with you?”

a small nod, devoid of any energy.

Lucifer scrambled under the covers, immediately going to scoop his lover into his arms, his strength made it easy to manhandle you as tenderly as he could into a position where your head laid softly on his broad chest. “y’know.” the devil hummed, opting to stroke his partner’s hair, “out of the billions of years of being alive. i have never, ever met someone like you.”

as if by reflex, you had scoffed, almost turning your head away from him.

a part of him panicked, his hand stilling and dipping down until it cupped your chin. “i’m serious.” he had mumbled, quieter than before, before regaining his confidence. “after i fell, i found it hard to love things around me anymore. a part of me was lost in that garden, i- the point is, i met you and my heart.” he breathed a little laugh.

“oh my dear, my heart, it has never been fuller.” he admitted honestly, his hand moving once again to caress your skin, his fingers touched you like you were porcelain. a doll, precious and fragile, but he’d have you no other way. “you are the most wonderful being i have ever met, nothing could compare to you.”

tears that had been welling up began to shed, to unashamedly trickle down his face. “nothing.”

the hands that were drawn into your body to almost cradle yourself moved swiftly, they snaked around whatever they could get their fingers on and squeezed thrice, a simple indication of ‘i love you.’

things would be alright after all.

-is very caring during episodes, finds himself almost sick with worry the more you get worse or if you don’t get better

-helps you with cleaning yourself, brings you meals if you haven’t eaten for a while, cradles you at night.

-will hide away with you until you’re ready to go out anywhere. will chaperone you everywhere if he can, stick to you like glue, always has to be touching you in some sort of way to let you know he’s there

-tries to stay awake with you when insomnia hits you, reads to you, will even sing.

-if you can’t take care of your hygiene, he takes his time washing your hair, hands massaging your scalp, humming as he drags the faucet over your head to get the shampoo and conditioner out. puts on face masks with you, showers with you, even if he has to haul you up (it’s not much effort to carry you). he lathers you up and caresses every part of you, you are his everything. will just smother you in his deodorant, you smelling like him always eases his little protective brain for some reason.

-celebrates every good day with you, a part of him breaks when good days get fewer and far between. he fears losing you, or that you’ll never get better. but he doesn’t know that being with him grounds you more than he could ever know.

ALASTOR

“hey alastor!” Charlie itched to talk to the demon, something in her eyes gave him the impression that it was urgent. Her pale hands waved at him a little too aggressively for his liking.

something was up.

he did not like that one bit.

“Charlie! what can i do for you?” His smile stretched impossibly larger, an arm sweeping to courteously gesture for the princess of hell to continue talking. he fought the urge to grit and ground his teeth, anxiety was never one of his favourite emotions to experience, for others it was.

“Alastor! Hi! Hi.” Charlie jogged to him, standing in front of the demon with a little nervousness in her step. she cleared her throat before sighing, “look i just, i noticed something off about your partner today. i don’t think they’re doing okay, and i was worried and i thought you should know so that you would have a heads up-“

“thank you Charlie.” Alastor’s words came out borderline grateful, softer than his normally charring static voice. “is that all?”

“yes! i- uh, i hope they’re okay!” She beamed, lingering for a second longer than alastor liked before getting the message to leave. As soon as Charlie’s back was turned, Alastor phased through the floor, becoming one with the shadows, after a moment of plunging into an abyss, he rose back up from the depth into his room. Nothing seemed awry, until he picked up on the sound of the shower running, the water spewed out rhythmically.

and then the radio demon noticed the noise behind the water hitting the shower floor.

crying.

The buck’s whole body froze at the foreign sound, the sobs that wracked through the air caused his smile to instantly drop. Worry clouded his senses and without feeling it, his form expanded, antlers growing larger and sharper and his eyes shone bright as he all but busted through the bathroom door, scouring the place for you. “Dear?” his voice cracked, frenzied state shrinking to his normal size as he found you curled into a ball while water hit your back.

his hands itched to scoop you up and take you to bed, but he didn’t want to make you more upset.

you had looked at him with wobbly lips and swollen eyes, “don’t look at me.” you whimpered, a fresh set of tears crashing down your red face, “i’m disgusting, i’m ugly, i’m fucking putrid to see.” you had humourlessly laughed, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before another sob was pulled from the depths of your chest.

for a second time, Alastor felt himself froze, conflicted with you insulting yourself. insulting his perfect partner. disgusting? absolutely not. ugly? what a lie. putrid? how far from the truth could you be?

his claws reached to envelop your body, he almost hissed at the temperature of the water, boiling hot, enough to burn. you had been sitting there, getting sprayed by alarmingly warm water. “come now.” he started, an unusually soft tone coming from him, “you’ll get hurt if you stay under that water my love.”

“that’s the point.” you mumbled, “maybe if i’m damaged enough on the outside you’ll see how ugly i am on the inside too.”

“nonsense.” Alastor cut through your speech with an edge of anger, without another word, the demon’s hands wrapped around you, dragging your sore body from the wrath of the water. “we are going to bed, yes? and you will tell me why you think this so horribly about yourself my dear.”

“what? why aren’t you yelling at me? why aren’t you telling me i’m right?” your voice began to raise, and your face, already branded with a waterfall of tears, housed some more, fat globs of tears raced down your cheeks. “why won’t you hate me like i hate me?”

“i could never see anything apart from perfection in you my darling.” the deer murmured honestly, shimmying a towel up and down your body as quickly as possible, he wanted to cradle you as soon as he could. “you are more than i deserve. i would do anything for you.” he finished drying your body, swiftly changing you into dry and warm clothes. “and doing anything for you, entails loving you when you can’t find it in yourself to do the same. my love for you will never simmer, or dull, or lose its intensity. it will never falter, not even for a second.” something cold was applied to the raw and sore skin that was affected by the water, a paste for healing supposedly.

“the moment i laid eyes on you, i promised to protect you.” the radio demon whispered, finally able to hold you properly. he pulled the covers up before sliding both of you in, absentmindedly he undid his suit buttons, letting the fluff of his chest puff out from under his dress shirt. he laid your head on his fur, content to have you smothered by him. “so let me protect you, let me help you fight these cruel thoughts.”

“i’m sorry Alastor, i’ll try be better.” you had mumbled guiltily, nudging into his fur defeatedly.

“no no darling, no apologies, no being ‘better’. be as you are, and let me fight these thoughts with you.” his head dipped down, a smile coating his features as he softly nipped at your neck.

an airy, wet laugh left you, “okay Alastor, okay okay! no apologies.” you had agreed, hands tightening around him in thanks.

but you didn’t need to thank him.

Alastor would do anything for you.

literally.

-unused to caring for someone, unused to love and relationships as a whole. had never had any interest until he had seen you, it had opened a casket full of emotions he wasn’t prepared for.

-when it comes to your hygiene and taking care of you when you can’t, he’s very methodical, brushing your teeth for exactly two minutes, washing your body and hair stiffly. overtime he does try and show his affection through touch more, enjoys cradling you, kisses anywhere he can get his mouth on, mostly chaste kisses, not fully comfortable with long kisses of any sort.

-enjoys massaging your scalp with his claws, how you’ll finally be able to sleep while he caters to you by caressing and stroking your skin or hair. if you wander outside of your shared room, he tries to be around as much as possible, always a hand on the small of your back or a watchful eye on you.

-gets his shadow forms to take care of you and check on you when he’s in the studio or busy. cooks for you everyday, will spoon feed you, even in bed (he’ll change the sheets the day after).

-sneakily gets you to do affirmations with him, makes you stand in front of a mirror with him and says what a great couple you guys look like. tells you that he loves you in front of the mirror while holding or stroking a different part of you each time. will begrudgingly do skin care and make you do it with him, after a while you begin to enjoy it and start just doing each other’s skin care in the mirror.

-sees you nothing short as perfect, even when you can’t get up or cry for hours or don’t want to eat, even when you give up and refuse to try anymore. he finds a way to motivate you and want to try again.

VOX

(disclaimer: getting tired around this point so writing from here on in may deteriorate or lessen in quality)

meetings had been long lately, plans for vox security were kickstarting. he was so busy and it was exhausting, news commercial here, press conference there, meeting here, new tv show there. Vox was tired and he missed you.

between all his schedule and stalking the radio demon unhealthily, it seemed he had almost forgotten about you, even though you flooded his mind at every instance.

he just hadn’t done a very good job at showing how much he had missed you these past few weeks. it left you in a state of loneliness you weren’t quite used to, eyes always trailing to the cameras around the building and in your room, but familiar light of Vox watching the cameras wasn’t there. he hadn’t been checking on in, maybe he didn’t even want to look at you.

self worth was at an all time low, and your anxiety had sky rocketed out of its temporary dormancy, coming back in tenfold. insecurities were on display more than ever, and Vox was nowhere to be seen, falling asleep at his desk or at Val’s and or Velvette’s place.

it was hard not to feel so utterly unwanted.

so you did what every other sinner would do, drink, go crazy on the town and snort some things you shouldn’t have. and at the end of the night, feverish and cold, shaky and nauseous, as you looked into a camera that belonged to vox security, the light didn’t flash on.

he wasn’t there. would he ever be again?

all the substances in your system caught up to you, your stomach began to bubble with pain and you no longer had it within you to keep up the charade that you were fine. you willed yourself to cry, to do something other than rot on the floor of an alleyway street, but no tears came.

instead blood trickled from out of your nose, a telltale sign that you had outdone yourself with whatever atrocities of chemicals you had put in your body. you threw your head back, an expression between a grimace and a smile graced your face, maybe if you fucked yourself up enough Vox would finally come back to you.

needles lay on the ground, no longer sterile but it did not matter. with already shaky hands you grasped one of them, putting it at an angle to inject, you brought it down and the moment it pierced your skin, a familiar hand pulled it straight out of you with a frenzied cry.

“what the fuck were you doing?!” Vox huffed, anger and concern battling to show through his words. worry etched into his features, but you didn’t manage to spot that, only the anger.

“i-i.” no words could come out, the blood from your nose congealed and dripped down onto your shirt, and the injection site pooled with crimson blood too. how could you explain to your partner that you had planned to completely self destruct in hopes he would care for you again?

“are you a fucking idiot? oh my fucking god you’re bleeding.” his palms glided across the blood on your nose and thigh, wiping it away on his skin, his lower lip trembled as he swore at you thoughtlessly. “do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” he bit back the yell, a sigh falling from his lips as he watched your expression morph from embarrassed to complete self hatred.

“i’m sorry, im so sorry.” you whispered, wanting nothing more than to be out of the way, “im sorry that im not good enough, ill be better, i promise, don’t leave me, don’t leave me-“

Vox’s heart, what was left of it, had shattered entirely at your words. regret punched him in the stomach, weeks of little attention and this is what he says in your darkest hour? “shh, shh, of course not, no, no, i would NEVER, never leave you.” his thumbs alternated between rubbing away your forming tears and beading blood.

“c’mere baby.” his voice cracked, he offered you his embrace silently. the look you gave him was utterly heartbreaking, doubtful that he would still love you, god, as if he could ever stop loving you. wordlessly you sank into him, trying to greedily cozy up into him as much as you could, to remember every inch of him. “please, forgive me.”

the words wouldn’t formulate, too drugged up and drunk to even respond, you slumped in his arms, barely able to blink. Suddenly fingers were pinching your cheeks, “hey, hey, don’t fall asleep, i need to make sure you’ll be alright.” he spoke softly, a complete contrast to before. “i’m so sorry, i should be the one saying sorry baby. i’m so stupid, mistreating my whole world.”

the more worked up and upset he got, the more static seeped into his voice. “i’m so sorry. so sorry babe. i haven’t been around and that’s unfair on you, ill book a few days off work okay? just me and you, and i promise ill make it up to you.” his head bowed down, nuzzling against you affectionately, “just stay awake f’me, we’ll get what’s out of your system, and ill make it all up to you, i promise.”

hearing his voice, feeling his touch was pure euphoria for you, a safe haven you had missed beyond anything. “anything for you Vox.”

-is a complete sweetheart, just struggles at first if you’ve done something harmful or destructive to yourself. anything he says in the moment is not thought about and is him panicking.

-makes it up to you every time, bubble baths, washing you and taking care of you like you’re his god. keeps a first aid kit on standby, one is in your room, other first aid kits in other areas of the building too. makes sure from then on in to reassure you, to let you know of his schedule, to bring you with him as much as he can. sometimes comes back from a meeting and just naps with you until he has another thing to do.

-cannot keep his hands off you, super touchy in public now, in meetings you’re new seat is his lap. will try to lessen his schedule more, will spend a lot of his time sleeping with you when you sleep a lot, you two fall asleep spooning or just completely intertwined.

-makes meals for you when he can, hires a personal chef to keep you fed when he’s working. makes a habit of checking his cameras in your shared room a lot more, doesn’t spend as much time infatuated with stalking the radio demon anymore, he’s better at figuring out his priorities now.

-kisses your knuckles when he comes back from work, and then kisses you properly, an intimate lip locking that won’t end until you get the point that he very much wants you. tries to work more remotely, practices affirmations with you and tries to work on his reactions to stressful scenarios so he doesn’t make you feel worse.

-work is important, power is important, but you are above them both, cherishes like you are the only thing to ever exist when you’re both together.

[noroi1000]

hi! i come here with a request for a romantic male matchup please.

female she/her. i’m a 19 year old, bisexual chilean disaster. my mbti is infj. i’m an intersec feminist, so normally things like misogyny, homophobia and racism annoy me. also, the most important of it all, i’m an enthusiastic shitpost enjoyer like “yo who the fuck is mary and why she poppin”.

i’m 5’4, i have almost a hourglass figure(?? i have hazel eyes and light brown hair or a very dark blonde i’d say? idk. it’s also short and fluffy. my love language i would say is words of affirmation and physical touch like hand holding and cuddling i like, but straddling someone’s lap or making out makes me uncomfortable tbh (not too sure, my ex cheated on me and now almost everything romantic makes me uncomfortable 💀).

i can come off as mean sometimes, and i’m very headstrong too. i say things the way i see them but i also cry whenever i get yelled at so ye, i’m just very emotional. my group say i’m really funny, that i’m loving and they appreciate i don’t hide my opinions.

i love my family and my friends. i have that type of love you can’t express with words y’know? like my parents, mis primas, mis awelos, my friends have made me the woman i am today, which i’m proud of for the most part. also i adore all types of animals and i’m currently studying along that field. i worry a lot about the people around me even if they are not that close to me, and i’m also the type of person that gets sad when i see other people sad lmaoo.

i am very dedicated to my studies and the grades i get. i can be extremely organized and i don’t give up on a subject until understand it. i just like feeling smart honestly, though i wouldn’t call myself a genius. just smart.

in large environments i get pretty nervous and that comes out with me being extremely serious and awkward. when i’m with my friends tho i can’t stop laughing, jumping around and overall just being extroverted. but i don’t hang out too much. i mostly spend my time listening to music (declan mckenna, princess nokia, baby tate, half•alive), playing minecraft or cs:go, dancing, drawing and sleeping. i also watch a lot of internet and biology documentaries. if i’m not doing that, then i’m playing volleyball which i also just fucking adore since 5th grade.

i’m interested in someone that doesn’t call me weird, that stays by my side and understands me when i get hit with depressive episodes and most important of all: they need to love humor (chilean shitpost mostly, trixie mattel/katya type shit). laughing is my coping mechanism.

and i’d say that’s about it. idk. i probably missed something 😭

I think your Jujutsu kaisen matchup is

Yuji Itadori

He is a very enthusiastic person who enjoys contacts with other people very much.

He tries his best for family and friends. He loves everyone and he certainly wants to protect them. Since someone close to him has remained, he can worry about them. He would not like to lose any more. Is it under normal circumstances or because of his own stupidity.

He would never want anyone to be sad because of him. And especially he suffered. He couldn't voluntarily hurt anyone.

He pays no attention to anything but character. He couldn't discriminate against someone. Generally, he himself will defend people who are hurt by someone else.

He's really nice. No matter who he talks to. (It is important that this person is not brutal and does not abuse others.) He tries to make people in his surroundings happy, feeling the same emotions as they do. He couldn't smile and be happy when someone cries in the corner. First, he would like to make that person smile.

Being stubborn in certain situations is good, you know? He will never give up when what he does is good for him and for the rest. Just as he doesn't like others telling him that he is doing anything wrong, even though he knows he meant well.

He is devoted to friends and family. He makes their moments nice and happy. He could do anything for them.

Every learning and training he does is such that he won't understand half of what he has to learn. He just can't learn it. However, if he knows he must do this, he will try to whatever he can. Among strangers, without his friends, and in the environment of people who are not welcome in his life for what they do mean, he can be serious and calm. He will not always smile and have fun. When he is alone, he may not even laugh. Likewise, he feels awkward when he's with someone he even accidentally pissed off. He knows his friends won't kill him for anything. But he's awkward when he wants to start talking. The same when he makes a mistake.

He may need sedatives when going out with everyone. He is unable to resist vigorous behavior.

Headcanon:

• He will not call you weird because he will say that he is weird. He just says he's weird and stupid. Some may think it's true, but he's a smart boy. It has its deviations, but it cannot be said that it does not have a brain.

• He would love to be with someone who laughs at what he does and fails to pretend.

• He could cry if you were the one who yelled at him.

He would never want to raise his voice to you in a wrong way. He wouldn't want to yell at you. He just wouldn't want you to be sad because of him.

But he never told you you couldn't yell at him. Do what you want. Yell at him, hit him. Hit pp on the face, on the head. Make him hate himself. To make him cry. But no one will ever make him do the same to you.

• He respects you very much. He respect everyone's opinion, but yours is different. When you say something, he wants to listen to you. Even if there are doubts as to whether it will be okay, he will check it for you. You may not go well or nothing. But with a smile, he will be ready for the next try.

• He is sad when you are sad. All he want is your smile.

• He would love to talk to you, you are smart for him because he is stupid. (Don't let him say he's stupid because he isn't always like that)

• He will do whatever you want with you. He is not afraid of any activities. He is young, and he certainly knows how to play games. You can play anything. If he has never played anything like this, don't be afraid. He learns quickly.

It will be harder to make him dance. He will definitely not be dancing to any quiet music or gentle steps. Choreographies and maybe something dynamic. This is what I see in him.

Everyone would like to sleep. But it's one of his favorite activities outside of meeting friends.

Also doing sports. He is ready to play any game or run or just plain training without any sense.

He loves watching TV. No matter what he will watch.

• As a very understanding person, Yuji knows very well that sometimes you have a bad time. He knows exactly that sometimes life sucks, and sometimes even he needs to disappear for a while to take a break from it all.

• His love language is certainly physical touch. Words of affirmation and spending time too.

When he loves you, he will be with you every moment. To cheer you up or keep you in the mood.

He understands your insecurity. Therefore, he will hold your hand or hug you. Nothing by force. He will try to keep you safe so that you always know that you can rely on him. He will only do everything else if you want it yourself. When you let him.

"Don't worry. I will always be with you. You can count on me. Trust me. I would never hurt you."

[ravensbug]

Glasses

Fandom: Legend of Korra

Ship: Kuvira x reader

Request: No

Prompt: No

A/N: I love this idea so much and we need more art of Kuvira with glasses. So soft, I love it.

Summary: You’ve been married for almost ten years. Kuvira’s become the matriarch of Zaofu since then, not that she believed she deserved it. You two are happy. Kuvira keeps up with her dancing and training as always, but she seems to be off. You worry that there’s something wrong and eventually convince her to go to the doctor. When the doctor says that she just needs glasses you’re both relieved. It takes a few weeks for her to wear them more often, but you love them so much. You make sure to tell her how beautiful she looks with them.

You sit outside reading a book while Kuvira trains. You keep telling her that she doesn’t need to do that anymore. She has the guards of Zaofu to protect everyone. But she refuses to go out of practice. The thought that she was still being overprotective was always in your mind, not that you hated that side of her anyway. It was nice to be reminded how much she loved you.

You were always sure to remind her of how much you loved her. No matter how many times she would shrug it off. It’s taken years for her to get over what she did with the Earth Empire and you were there for her every step. No matter how hard it got or how hopeless it seemed.

You looked up from your book to watch your wife practicing her accuracy. She strives for perfection in all things and you had to be there to tell her that she didn’t have to be perfect. This one skill she was always perfect at. And now that she was older she’s seen it get worse. She hides it from you the best she can. She doesn’t like when you worry.

This time you notice. You see how the strips of metal aren’t on the center ring anymore. How they aren’t barely touching each other. This makes you wonder if she’s alright. She’s been better at telling you when she isn’t. Especially with the added weight of being named the matriarch after Su’s passing.

You walk up behind her, letting her know you’re there before you wrap your arms around her waist. You watch as she places the metal strips down on the ground. She leans into your touch and you can’t help the smile that covers your face.

“I love you,” you tell her.

“I know that,” she smiles. “I love you too.”

“You’re doing ok right?” You stop hugging her so she can turn and face you. You gently cup her cheeks and you can see in her eyes that there’s something she isn’t telling you.

“I’m fine. I would tell you if I wasn’t, remember?” She places one of her hands on top of your own.

“I know. I just worry sometimes,” you sigh.

“You worry all the time. We’ve been married almost ten years now. That’s all you ever seem to do,” she lets out a small laugh.

“I’m your wife! It’s my job to worry about you!” you playfully hit her arm.

“I know. I know,” she smiles.

“I promise I’m fine,” she reassures you. You feel only a little better after she says that. You’ve learned when you could try and push her to talk, but this wasn’t one of those times. You hope it isn’t anything serious.

The next few days Kuvira is outside training. She’s doing the same thing over and over and it really begins to worry you. She has a schedule for everything and you know today she would be dancing. But here she is outside training, again.

This time you weren’t going to back down. You knew there was something wrong and you were going to figure out what it was. You did wait for her to finish today, allowing you to obverse her frustration. She knew something was wrong and upset you that she didn’t tell you.

When she finishes and grabs a towel to wipe off the sweat she sees you standing in the window. You can tell she sighs even though you can’t hear it. Your foot taps impatiently as she walks inside to greet you.

“Did you want to ask me something?” She tries to be oblivious.

“There’s something wrong and you’re not telling me.” You cross your arms and you foot continues to tap.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine I promise,” she shrugged

“It’s not nothing, Kuvira.” You used her full name. She knew it was serious when you used her full name.

“You follow your schedule to the tee, but you haven’t been doing that this week. You’ve been training out there for the past three days. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re off.” You kept yourself from raising your voice, but your faster rate of speech showed Kuvira the same thing.

“I don’t like it when you hide things from me. It makes me think of when you were...y’know.” It’s been more than ten years since the Earth Empire fell, since she was The Great Uniter. You still couldn’t stomach saying those words. You hated who you were back then and you didn’t like who she was either.

“Don’t...never think that. I will never, never, be that person again.” She cupped your cheeks so you would look at her. She made sure you knew that she was different. That you were different.

“I know. I just want you to trust me with whatever’s wrong.” You leaned into her touch so she could know that you weren’t afraid. A habit you two picked up together after all these years.

“I don’t know,” Kuvira sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

That made you worry. She always knew what was wrong. When she got sick or injured she knew exactly how to handle it and how long it would take before she was back to normal.

“Then we can go to a doctor. I want to make sure you’re going to be ok.”

“I-That’s ok,” Kuvira hesitated. You knew she didn’t like doctors, which is why she knows what’s wrong with her all the time. She was scared because she didn’t know and if she didn’t know then it must be bad.

“Well go tomorrow ok?” You gave her a quick kiss to calm her nerves. She only nodded in response.

She spent the rest of that day with you, mostly to keep herself calm. You didn’t mind it one bit. She wasn’t the only one nervous, but you pushed your own feelings aside to make sure she felt calm.

The next day you can’t help the feeling of dread in your heart. You can’t even begin to imagine how Kuvira feels. She didn’t sleep for most of the night, even though she tried. All kinds of thoughts were running through her mind and it was overwhelming to her. Her head had never been this loud before.

You're reassuring her the entire way to the doctor’s whether by holding her hand or rubbing her arm. Letting her know that you’re there and you aren’t going has helped with her anxiety and depressive episodes throughout the years. Now shouldn’t be any different.

The nurse at the counter is surprised to see Kuvira of all people there, at a doctor’s office. You told the nurse it was a last minute decision to come and she understood. She told you there was an opening, thank the spirits, so you two sat down and waited.

Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed how worried Kuvira was. She wore her usual stoic expression on her face. You could see beyond that expression and you saw the fear. It was there, no matter how much she tried to hide it and how much you tried to assure her it would be ok. Until the doctor told her what was wrong she wouldn’t be ok. Maybe she would never be ok.

The nurse called you two in and took you to one of the rooms. You could understand why Kuvira hated doctors so much, or at least the doctors in Zaofu. This room wasn’t very friendly, if that was the right way to put it. It felt like a hospital, not a doctor’s office. Your experiences were always friendly. The doctor’s usually had one room and it felt relaxing.

A few minutes went by before the doctor came in. She seemed to be a nice woman, smiled as she walked in, but you knew exactly who she reminded you of. Dr. Sheng. Kuvira never spoke much about the woman before the events at Republic City. But when Guan tried to re-establish the Earth Empire you learned who she was quickly.

“I’m just going to run through all the normal tests first. If I need anything after that I’ll be sure to let you know.” She had a few papers on a clipboard and a pen in her hand.

“The vision exam is first, followed by the hearing test. You can follow me.” She walks out of the door and you both follow her. You stay behind Kuvira, so as not to be in the way.

“I just want you to stand at this line here and read the letters in between the colored lines.” She pointed at the line on the floor and then at the chart with varying sizes of letters. Kuvira read the letters aloud without much trouble, but she did make a mistake. She didn’t seem to notice that.

“I want you to do it two more times, each time covering one eye.” the doctor asked. Kuvira did as requested, missing the same letter, this time on both lines. You wanted to say something, that you had an idea of what was wrong, but you kept your mouth shut. You let the doctor do her job.

The hearing test went perfectly, since you peaked at the doctor’s notes to see that. You were thankful that it only seemed to be one thing, spirits know what would happen if it was more.

When you all went back into the room you still saw how nervous Kuvira was. You were more relaxed because you could see that the doctor wasn’t worried either. Your hand went to Kuvira’s to help calm her down.

“You're becoming near-sighted,” she stated.

“It’s no big deal, often happens as you get older. Getting glasses should be able to stop it from getting any worse as long as you wear them when you need to.” you saw relief flush over Kuvira’s face. Out of all the things she was thinking about, the simple answer had to be it. She was so thankful.

“You won’t need to see an eye doctor or anything. A simple pair of glasses should do. We have lenses here already for basic vision problems and you can pick out whatever frame you like,” she explained. She handed Kuvira a paper with different frame designs on them.

“I’ll let you decide. You can tell the nurse which ones when you’re ready. She’ll be able to grab them for you.” The doctor picked up her notebook at left. When she closed the door you heard Kuvira let out a breath you didn’t know she was holding in.

“You don’t look much happier than before, Vira. Eyesight gets worse with age, that’s inevitable. Don’t be hard on yourself.” You leaned on her shoulder.

“And what if I make mistakes because I can’t see something clearly?” she asked. This was the point where all her self doubt would come bursting through the door. It was your job now to stop that from happening.

“That’s what the glasses are for. You can’t be perfect at everything no matter how hard you try. I don’t expect you to be. You’re human, you make mistakes and things like this happen. I won’t stop loving you any less because of it.” you nailed all the things Kuvira would try and argue about. She didn’t like that because it left her speechless.

“Now stop being so stubborn and pick a pair.” You kissed her. You had a guess as to which pair she would pick. Sleek and simple, much like the rest of her life. You didn’t need to ask her when her mind was made up because she squeezed your hand to let you know.

You two went to the front desk and Kuvira told the nurse which pair she wanted. The nurse took the paper away and went out of view. You could hear her looking through things to find the fame and lenses. When you heard the popping of the lenses being put in the frames you were excited. You wanted to know what Kuvira looked like in glasses.

The nurse came back and handed her the glasses in a case. She told her the basics, just to be sure, and reminded her to wear them as often as possible. Kuvira took the glasses case and nodded.

When you two got back home you couldn’t wait to have her put them on. She didn’t really want to.

“Vira, she told you that you need to wear them as much as possible. That means starting now,” you argued.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to be wearing them everywhere all the sudden,” she sighed. She took the pair of glasses out of the case and stared at them for a second. Spirits she was nervous. She didn’t know what you would think about them, even if you told her she needed to wear them.

When she put them on you couldn’t help but smile. They framed her face perfectly and accented her features. Her beauty mark on her right cheek was still visible, which just helped the glasses look better.

“Beautiful as always.” You cupped her face gently. You couldn’t stop the laugh that came out when her face went red. She was lost for words. So she kissed you instead.

“I love you,” she said when you two stopped kissing.

“And I love you. Don’t forget it.” You pushed up her glasses because they were sliding down her face. That’s what will happen a lot with you being shorter than her. She rolled her eyes when you pushed the glasses up, trying to hide the smile creeping up her face.

“They really do look good,” you smile.

“I suppose...if you think so,” she mumbled.

“You know I’ll be nagging you to keep them on right?” you asked with a smirk.

“I would be surprised if you didn’t. You like them more than I do,” she answered.

“I adore them,” you corrected her. She could care less about how insecure she felt with them. They made you happy and that was worth it. She could learn to wear them for you.

[waystobuild-blog]

Top 7 CN Shows That Would Work Better in Live Action than PPG

So I think everybody’s talked about why CW Powerpuff Girls doesn’t work, whether or not it’s a real thing or not? Who even knows. But while thinking about how this:

is kinda awful for Powerpuff Girls, I got thinking what shows that this style of a reboot would work for. In which it’s live action, the character is depressed and has sort of resentment towards their childhood now and that sort of thing. 

So what are the top 7 shows that I think this

Number 7:

Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends

At Number 7 we have Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. Seems fitting that we’d start the list with another one of Craig McCracken’s biggest hits. Why do I think the premise of “Oh, life sucks now and I kinda wasted my childhood” would work for Foster’s? For the plain and simple fact that for a few episodes of the show, there was a focus on Mac growing up and whether or not he should leave his friends at Foster’s behind him. You could play a lot with that concept combined with the live action reboot thing. Maybe an older version of the character is dealing with whether or not to let go of both Bloo and the past and move on with his life. Frankie being a young adult during the time of the original show could also be a pretty instrumental character since it was a matter of living there, caring for the friends, having that job and balancing this life with the life that she had outside of the house.

Not quite a coming of age story but a sort of “Hey, my life has gone nowhere and where could I go with this now? Do I keep the friends I loved and cherished as a child or move onto other things? Is there a way to do both?”

Only thing I wouldn’t want though is CGI monstrosity friends. Those would be kinda the worst…

Number 6: 

Okay, let’s actually talk about a real superhero show this time around. Or would this count as a superhero show? Well, they certainly do a lot of cool time travelling so I’m gonna say it’s a superhero show. Of course, I mean Time Squad.

Now if you haven’t guessed, I don’t have the most experience with this show but I know enough to think that this is something that could actually work well. I mean, Otto was a kid who was basically running around all over history protecting the balance of time with a stuck up robot and a dude who is a little too into all of this. Imagine if he just sorta did this for all of his childhood and realizing as a young adult that “Crap, I didn’t really have a childhood.” With the dynamic of the squad, the potential to expand the greater organization as a whole and just all the time travel shenanigans that could happen, I don’t see a reason not to do it.

Plus, CW already has Legends of Tomorrow and that’s awesome so even less likely to screw it up if they’ve already got a model to do it off of right?

Number 5: 

The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack

Yo ho ho, it is a sailor’s life for me. And in this sailor’s life we’re coming in with Number 5: The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack. Now this is a bit of an odd choice, right? But hear me out.

Flapjack as a child kinda had only Bubbie and K’nuckles as guides for his life. While they mostly spent their lives at Stormalong Harbor, they also constantly spent their lives looking for Candied Island. What if they never stopped looking and eventually, little kid Flapjack is a grown up now and he’s like “Oh wow. I wanted adventure but I was kinda manipulated to follow this creepy old man’s dreams of candy.” I think going heavy and hard on this sort of found family between them would be kinda fun. How K’nuckles wasn’t the best role model and how they’ve still only got each other in this world, that sort of thing.

Plus, a live action Stormalong would be sooooooo cool.

Number 4:

Ben 10

As the old saying goes, it started when an alien device did what it did, stuck itself upon his wrist with secrets that it hid, now he’s got superpowers he’s no ordinary kid, it’s Ben 10.

And unfortunately in CW’s Ben 10, he’s not a kid who just wants to have fun. Nah, he’s got a lot of emotional stuff to deal with and all of that depressing stuff. Isn’t it great? Now I do think that this could work especially if you work it in where maybe Ben enlisted into the plumbers after his summer vacation and it just kinda escalated from there to the point where here he is now.

Say what you will, but at least with Ben 10, we’ve seen it hit a more grounded and emotional place with Ben 10 Alien Force and Ultimate Alien so I don’t believe that this would be too far of a stretch with how that show worked and a lot of people happened to really like those iterations of the show.

Granted, I actually do want a CW styled Ben 10, but less edgy Arrow style and more along the lines of The Flash, but I’d still take this too.

And now before we get into the top 3, let’s get into a few honorable mentions.

First up, we’ve got Steven Universe. Now honestly, this could work really well, the only issue with that is that we’ve kinda already seen this story told and that was with Steven Universe Future. Good stuff and a lot of potential, but we’ve seen it and I don’t think we need to see it again with a live action coat of paint.

Next up there’s Codename Kids Next Door. Honestly, I think the only real spinoff we need for Kids Next Door is Galactic. That’s it. Anything else is unnecessary. Still, with this sort of concept an older KND who has been decommissioned and feels like there’s something missing in their lives that they just don’t understand would be really cool. Although maybe that would work as like a movie or special or somethin’ I don’t know.

And finally for the last of the honorable mentions we’ve got Teen Titans. While I am trying to keep this list to CN Originals, I couldn’t help but bring this one up. How Long is Forever is one of my all-time favorite episodes of the 2003 series so I think seeing a series taking place in that timeline or something similar would be a lot of fun maybe for like a miniseries or something. And honestly, anything’s better than Titans.

With those three out of the way, back to the list.

Number 3: 

The Life and Times of Juniper Lee

In a world full of monsters and demons, June is the only one who sees them. This is the Life and Times of Juniper Lee and it makes number three on my list.

Now, like Time Squad, I didn’t watch much of this show. But what I do know about this show is that June is cool and she’s got this whole legacy and destiny by being the newest Te Xaun Ze, which are basically the magical protectors of her town. Only problem, and why I think that this direction for this show would actually be kinda cool, is the whole thing that the Te Xaun Ze is never allowed to leave the town at any point in their lives and oh boy, you could actually go really hard on that with this format since it’s literally built into the show.

Juniper Lee all grown up and just straight up depressed because she’s got the cool powers and grabs all the monsters but everyone around her has moved on in their lives. Friends have gone off to college and started all their lives and she’s got nothing but her family in Orchid Bay. You’d have a story of someone who once was big on their destiny who has accepted it but wishes that it wasn’t theirs anymore. I do know the show dealt with this a bit but with a new continuity and an older version of the character you really could just go in and deep on this.

I stand by that this would actually be pretty cool and kinda want it. Honestly, I like this idea so much that I wasn’t sure whether to put this in the number three or the number two spot, but y’know what? The next show told me a little secret that gave it the edge.

Number 2: 

The Secret Saturdays

That’s right, it’s the Secret Saturdays. 

Zak Saturday went all around the world with his parents discovering ancient cryptids, protecting the world and everything. He got some cool siblings in Fiskerton, Komodo and Zon. And then to add on top of that that he’s also the reincarnation of an ancient cryptid set to rule and control all the cryptids in the world? Yeah, that’ll do it. Definitely not the type of life he asked for and kid went through a lot because of it especially after losing those powers and apparently getting them back if we’re to count the Omniverse crossover TGIS to be canon.

But having parents like Zak’s, everything with the community of Secret Scientists and not really having many friends his own age or well, his own species will do that.

Exploring Zak and maybe Argost coming back for powers he might not want anymore and learning to embrace his destiny while also trying to patch up the Saturday family would be awesome.

Number 1:

Dexter’s Laboratory

Now while I know we already have a live action Dexter and it was an incredible hit, I- Wait, not the same show.

Ahem, Dexter’s Laboratory makes the top of this list. Partially because of it being PPG’s sister series but also partially because of the whole thing of there’s a lot you could do with Dexter’s character in terms of depression. If someone with such a high intellect were to somehow lose it all or just in some way, never really got forward in life, that would do it. Dexter could be a type of character that’s too stuck inside his own head in order to move forward. Alternatively, maybe Dexter is highly successful but has found there’s something missing in life or something. I dunno.

But whichever way you decide to go with Dexter’s character, you could have Dee Dee be pretty much the opposite of that. Maybe she’s found herself a place in life that she’s content with and Dex doesn’t understand why but wants it. I think going deep on this sort of emotional aspect of his life while also having all sorts of fun crazy science stuff would be a good watch.

All in all, gimme a Dexter’s lab show but we gotta make sure he keeps some form of an accent. No accent is a dealbreaker.

Although, I think that at the end of the day, animation should really just stay animated and that we don’t need to go live action for anything. All of these ideas I’ve presented, I’d of course rather prefer as cartoons with a more balanced tone more than anything but I figured with the announcement of a PPG show, this would be a silly but fun idea to talk about rather than ranting about it like most have. Granted, I’ve got some rants of my own since I still think it’s a bad idea. Haha. But you know how it goes.

At any rate those are all the shows I think would make better CW PPG style reboots than CW PPG. When it comes to the edginess and potential for drama, I feel these shows fit the bill better than the innocent, buttkicking action that was the Powerpuff Girls.

But what do you all think? Do you have any shows in mind that I haven’t mentioned? Do you think I’ve opened Pandora’s Box and given The CW more awful ideas? 

Now, this was originally a YouTube video so you can probably see that in the way that this post, especially the ending was written, but I just still don’t really have the energy to edit stuff so have this post instead. It’s something I really wanted to discuss and just decided, hey, why not make it a Tumblr post?

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 4: If Love is a Drug

She is back! And better than ever.....

Not really, sorry it’s been radio silence/lurking, she’s had something of a depressive episode recently, but she’s getting back on her feet. So yea, I don’t want to promise anything, but I’ll try to post more.

And finally get a masterlist at some point with this series, for goodness’ sake.

So yea. 

When should I stop crediting @casafrass for this? I feel like it’s getting annoying, but it’s only fair. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

Headcanons: Based off of this one, though like, not really, just the general vomit theme. 

Words: 3,951 (woop, she’s a long one, get ready for some TEA)

Pairings: Honestly, just let me know if you would like me to put some pairings in here, because most of all of the ones that I’ve written, you can read it either way, so please, just let me know! 

Warnings: Vomit, drugs, pills, violence, swearing

“So I understand that at one point you talk about a conversation that you had with Judy Garland.” 

“Yes, she and I met, actually I don’t remember where, but it was one of those random ‘high society’ parties, and we struck up a sort of conversation. I think we found each other’s stories interesting, because, as women in the entertainment industry, even across film and music, there were some startling similarities.” 

“Would you care to expand on those similarities a little?” 

“I mean, besides the fact that so much of the focus is on our bodies, which we’ve already discussed, the zeitgeist of the time seemed to be that women simply weren’t ready to handle all of the pressures that that sort of system put on us. Of course, this meant drugs, particularly amphetamines, which were quite vogue in the US at the time. Judy and I were both familiar with that sort of concept, however, the difference lied in that Judy chose to go on amphetamines, and I was given them.” 

“Given them by...?” 

“EMI, mostly, but everyone, including me, was complicit in a way. Though, it did slip more into self-regulation in the Beatles’ later years, and I even fully recovered by my solo career. But yea, especially in the earlier ones, during our massive concert tours, a lot of it was... very strong suggestions.”

“You were known for being very strong-willed, though.” 

“Yeah, but y’know, it’s my career. I guess at the time, even if EMI had let me go, I could’ve gone somewhere else on the name alone, but I was young, stupid, and scared of non-existent threats, so I really did put up with it for quite long.” 

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

“She hasn’t come out of that room since last night.” 

“It’s called sleeping, Rings.”

“It’s past noon! She came straight up here after dinner last night.” 

“And she locked the door.” 

“Very suspicious.” 

“You think we could get Mal to break it down?” 

“What if there’s a guy in there?”

“Then we’ve got to break it down.” 

“She’s an adult!” 

“What if she’s DEAD?” 

“Someone get Mal.” 

Your eyes fluttered open. With friends like these, who needs an alarm clock? 

Through blurry eyes, you could read the actual alarm clock: 3:17. 

Everything was alright for about 20 seconds, and then all of the crappy feelings had re-settled into your wakened state. Your legs felt like they were filled with cement, your nose was congested, your hands were clammy, you were extremely sweaty even though it was absolutely freezing, and you were stilled tired, even though you had gone to bed at 7:30 last night. 

You sauntered over to the door, pulling on a pair of sweat pants over your bare legs. 

You pressed your sweaty fingers down on the cool lock and pulled it open. 

“Do not! Call Mal! I am here.” Four blank faces gawked back at you, all far more spritely than you cared to admit that you weren’t. The suits were on as well. 

“Is that what you look like without makeup?” John quipped in mock-surprise. He knew damn well what you looked like without makeup, he just couldn’t give up a chance to be his sarcastic asshat self. You sighed.

“Not now, please, John.” The light in the main suite was too bright, so you pushed your head into the doorway and closed your eyes. You wanted to sit down again. 

“(y/n), love, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is 3:30, and you’ve got to get your act together at some point.” You couldn’t see his face, but you knew that was Ringo.

“I know what time it is, I’m just... eurgh,” You didn’t bother opening your eyes, “This shit is exhausting.” 

“We can’t can-” 

“I know, I know,” you interrupted Paul, “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.” 

- time skip brought to you by I am very tired - 

“(y/n), do you want me to carry that?” George appeared at your side, holding his hand out near yours, grabbing at the guitar case. 

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You chuckled weakly. 

“Your playing was off. You missed a few chords. You didn’t smile as much, and your voice was weaker. I can tell.” 

“Rough night is all. Remember, we can’t cancel even if I am sick. But I’m fine.” Your grip on the guitar case loosened unconsciously as your arm felt weaker. 

“Sure.” George swung his hand in and grasped at the handle of your case, before taking it in his own. You sighed, but still didn’t feel like answering. 

“What a gentleman you are, Georgie.” John ruffled his hair with his free hand. 

A pattering of very angered footsteps approached behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. Only one man could angrily footstep like that.

“What the hell was that, (y/n)?” Brian spun you around to look at him. Though you could tell that there was some softness in his eyes, and that he was perhaps worried just as much for you as for your reputation, he was still fuming. 

“Whaddya mean?” You fumbled out. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice. You were out of it tonight. Well? What was it? Weed? Cocaine? Alcohol? All of them?!”

“Scout’s honor, Brian, it was just a weird night.” Brian’s grip loosened on your shoulders, as he facepalmed. He looked back up at you sympathetically.

“You’re a little pale, (y/n), perhaps you should take an early night.” You peered over your shoulder, only to catch the lads instantly trying to pretend like they weren’t listening in on your conversation. You were going to go to a very fancy club tonight, and you had been looking for a chance to dress up. You looked back at Brian, who was almost sweating. Anything to ease his worry. 

“Alright, just this night. Even though I swear I’m fine.” 

“Right, right. Why don’t you head back with the equipment, and I’ll head out with the boys?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” You sighed and could feel your eyes droop. You trudged back to the black van and hauled yourself in the back, giving a small wave to Mal in the mirror. He nods understandingly. You shut the van doors. 

“Where’s she goin’?” You hear John bug Brian like a petulant child.

“Back to the hotel, I think.” 

“Killjoy.” Paul muttered.

George just watched the van leave over Ringo’s shoulder, whom he was deeply in conversation with. 

- time skip - 

It happened again. You had fucked up again. You’d missed some of your chords, your voice had cracked at one point, and not in the hot way, and your energy on stage was no longer a bubbly bounce, but a gentle, almost sleepy, swaying. 

Your fuck-up only really hit you after, though, as you had zoned out while you were on stage. 

You couldn’t go out to face the boys. You just couldn’t. You sat in your locked dressing room, head in your hands, as you stared at your knees trying not to pass out. Everything was blurry. 

You were awakened from your thoughts by a loud thumping. You could feel your stomach drop. It was an angry knock. Why did men always have to be so angry? 

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there.” It was John. Of course it was John. It was always John. He never knew when to stop. 

You leaned back in your chair, dazed, knowing full well that you didn’t have to let him in if you didn’t want to. You shakily pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the table and it it with your delicately engraved lighter while the pounding continued. He would die out there if he had to. 

“Whaddya want?” You blew a plume of smoke and coughed.

“Why are women always so dramatic? Just let me in, damnit!” 

“Not if you don’t stop acting like a petulant goddamn child!”

“Call me a child, will you? I’m not the one who can’t handle every goddamn concert. What? Are you too tired? Awww, I’m sorry. Do you need a nap?” 

You could feel your eyes brim with tears. You put out the cigarette, grabbed your bag, and opened the window. The wind blew in your face, and it was almost calming. Using the gymnastics skills that you had honed as a kid, you slunk out the window and onto the open street, your heels clacking on the pavement. You pulled a coat over your face and called a taxi, only offering cash but making sure to keep your looks relatively obscured. Back to the hotel, where you could sleep it all off.

- Time skip - 

You slept for 20 hours, and yet, you still woke up feeling all the worse. The clock read 4:00. You were about to be late for call. There was no shuffling outside, so you could assume that the lads had already left. Awesome. 

You fixed your hair, grabbed your guitar, called a limo, and added small touches of makeup on the ride there. You could barely feel anything anymore, and your body had gone completely numb. You chunked on foundation way more than usual as to hide the cold sweat and incredible paleness that your face had broken out in. Some of the powder drifted over your lips, and you felt a welling of stomach acid churn. 

You swallowed, took a deep breath, and your stomach calmed down once more. You were backstage. 

You thanked the cab driver before slipping through the back door, barely being able to make it open. The first thing you met was Brian having a panic attack, which actually made sense for once, as there was about 15 minutes until you were on stage. 

“(Y/n)! Where the bloody hell were you?!” The rest of the lads were behind him, speaking and looking at you like some high school girl’s clique. You shot them an angry, but weak, stare.

“No one woke me up.” 

“You look like death.” Paul piped up from the back.

“You’ll meet death very fuckin’ soon-” You had no time for any of the sass anymore, but a hand clamping on your shoulder cut you off. You looked up to your left, and were greeted by the face of Neil Aspinall. 

“That’s enough of that, (y/n), we have something to do.” He didn’t wait for your answer, but simply lead you backstage. You were far too dazed to resist, so you simply let him steer. 

“So, the company, not me, heard that you haven’t exactly been on your A-game lately, and they recommended something.” You nodded, still not listening.

“Apparently, a lot of rockstars use it, they heard about it from the manager of the Animals or something, so I thought we could give it a try. It’s supposed to help you get that burst of energy that you need.” He patted your shoulder joyfully.

“Now, this is all of the company’s doing, so, if you don’t want to take them, then I completely understand, and I’ll just tell them that you did, but I am supposed to mention them.” Neil’s voice drifted off. In front of you was a table with several small white pills and a glass of water. 

“No. I’ll take it. We gotta a show to do.” You were sure that Neil said something, but you didn’t hear, as you were too busy downing the pills and the water in one determined gulp. 

- Time skip - 

That night was the most energetic that you had been. Almost too energetic. Your eyes were shot and pink, though fortunately all of the audience was too far away to notice. Your playing was erratic and very harsh, though the screaming was too loud to hear. Your vocals, well, those would not be matched until some actual crackheads took the stage later. 

None of your actions felt deliberate, everything felt at the whim of the surges of energy jolting through your body, while your actual mind just felt more and more disconnected, and your stomach churned. The lights gave you a pulshing headache. 

Three-quaraters through the show, you began to come back to Earth again, though not because the drugs were wearing off, but because something else was beginning to emerge. You could feel it. The wave rising up in your stomach. You swallowed. You shouted the lyrics into the microphone. You put your all into the song, even though you no longer felt the energy. You were not going to mess up on stage again. 

Paul gave you some side-eye. Though the fans were absolutely eating up, he wasn’t buying your shtick. 

Finally, you made it to the last number. The crowd screamed. Your heart pounded in your chest. You were sweating like crazy, and your hair was sticking to your face. Your legs felt wobbly, but you thew a hand up and waved goodbye to the crowd, as well as to any sense of calm in your stomach. 

As you shambled off stage, Ringo scrambled up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder, steadying you. Oh god, even he knew and he couldn’t see your face. Your guitar was slung around your shoulder, but you forgot that it existed, and slammed it into a poor stagehand. 

With your last sense of control left, you removed our guitar the minute that you got off stage and handed it to said stagehand, who was highly confused, while you grabbed the nearest trashcan and heaved your entire stomach into it. Mind you, since you had slept for the last day, there were hardly contents to begin with, just raw stomach acid.

Your throat burned, you sweat, and your eyes wanted to do nothing but close. You could feel gentle hands pulling your hair back, while startled screams and yells rose up backstage. You didn’t care. You had fallen to your knees, taking the trashcan with you, still completely retching your stomach into anything that would take it. 

“What the hell did you do ta her?”

“It wasn’t me, it was that stuff that EMI sent over?” 

“What stuff?”

“I don’t know, pills, something!”

“You gave her pills? She’s clearly had the fucking flu, on top of dealing with your ridiculous schedule. 

“I just did what they told me to do!”

“Brian! I want you to end the contract with EMI right now.” 

“John, you don’t mean that, sit down.”

“I second.” 

“Paul, John, why don’t we all just-”

“No! If this is how they choose to treat people, to treat (y/n), then I don’t want anything to do with them. Look at what you’ve done to her!

“What I’ve done?! This is not just me, and you know it.”

“I never said give her fucking pills!” 

“You never say anything, you just yell!” 

“Mal, can you call an ambulance?”

“Already done, Georgie.” 

The vomit stopped, and you lifted your head up, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. Ringo’s hands gently fell from your hair. 

“No, no ambulance, I’m fine.” Your voice was so raspy, like your throat had been torn out. 

John, Paul, Brian, and Neil froze in the middle of their argument while George and Mal cocked their heads to look at you from the side. John only stayed quiet for a second.

“You’re not fine, you’re on fucking drugs!” He lurched forward, approaching you. You could feel your stomach quell again. You swallowed. 

“Any drug that I was on,” you breathed deeply, “is in there.” You pointed to the trashcan. 

“You’re being ridiculous, I-” 

“No! Fuck you! You don’t get to say shit!” that come out far louder than you expected. You stood at your full height, willing to handle the discomfort if it meant telling him off. You’d even surprised John/

“How the fuck can you pretend like I’m the one acting ridiculous right now considering all the shit that you said to me yesterday? How far does your fucking double standard go? Of all the sins you’ve committed, John Lennon, I never thought that hypocrisy would be one of them. Get a grip, goddamnit! This is just as much your fault as it is mine, and I know you know that, so look me in the eye and for a goddamn second confront the consequences of your actions!” You were breathing very heavily now, whether with anger or exhaustion, and you could feel a surge of energy come through you yet again, though this time you weren’t sure if it was the drug.

You lunged at John, aiming your fist at his face. Everyone suddenly shifted into action all of a sudden, with George and Ringo holding you back and Paul pulling John away, though you noted that Paul refused to look John in the eye. 

“Woah, woah, (y/n), take it easy. Calm down. It’s alright, it’s alright.” You could hear George softly try to calm you, though your heavy breathing continued, and at some point along the way, you ended up crying into his shoulder as Ringo patted your back. 

“Come on, you’ve done enough.” You heard footsteps shuffle away, followed shortly after by another pair, leaving you, George, Ringo, and a very awkward Mal.

You cried until there were no tears left to cry. Your legs got tired from standing at some point, so you simply sat down, with George and Ringo joining you as Mal left to explain to the ambulance that they wouldn’t be needing their services today. 

You swallowed, and you could feel the tears begin to stick to your cheeks.

“We should probably go back to the hotel.” You leaned against George’s shoulder pensively.

“If you’re up to it, Birdie.” 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

You stood up weakly as Ringo wrapped his jacket around you. The three of you returned to the hotel without another word.

- Time skip -

You, George, and Ringo, slowly creaked open the door to your shared massive suite. Paul sat in the middle of the room, a beam of moonlight illuminating his face, legs crossed, just as he was waiting for you. John was nowhere to be seen.

“There you are!” he said in a stage whisper, “I was worried sick!” He rose from his chair and approached your trio. 

Before you could even anticipate what he was doing and protest, he wrapped you in a very warm hug. He was always good at those. He held you like he was afraid to lose you, and you used what strength you had left to return it with all your might, as if you were afraid to lose him. The two of you stayed like that for a minute, without words, before he separated. 

“You best get some sleep. All of you.” His eyes traveled to George and Ringo, and it was clear that there was no more room for negotiation.

The three of you gently drifted into your rooms with Paul watching you all leave. The minute your face touched your pillow, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

- Time skip -

God only knows how long you had slept, but the growling of your stomach woke you up next morning. You felt a lot better, at least, and the mothering of Paul, making sure that you ate and drank enough, and that you didn’t need anything, made sure that you were gradually on your way to some form of recovery. 

Paul, as you had learned, was originally the one who had postulated that you had some form of the flu, and the symptoms proved his predictions correct. Thankfully, he was well equipped to care for people with the flu, having done so for his family growing up, so he knew all of the common remedies. 

John was still nowhere to be found, but George and Ringo emerged from their rooms one by one, and the four of you lazed around, reading papers and watching the news, for the rest of the morning. 

When you finally asked where John was, Paul answered that he had gotten up early and gone for a walk. Pretty long walk, you guessed, but didn’t pry. 

At noon, there was a gentle knock on the door. Paul admitted a very sheepish looking Brian into the suite. He approached the table. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You took a long sip of water.

“I’m alright, better than yesterday.” 

“That’s good.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck. There were other things on his mind. 

“Um, I wanted to apologize, on behalf of me, and Neil, who is speaking to the company at this point, he’s trying to-” 

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, pausing to gather your thoughts, “No, really, it is. You didn’t know, and neither did I, and neither did Neil. And I’m alive. Now we just know not to do it again.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you shifted in our seat to grab the tea pot, though Brian shook his head, “No, no, I must be going, we’re traveling again today. But, enjoy your tea, and I’ll see you in a few.” 

You nodded sagely. Brian began to take his leave, but halfway through the door, he turned around to look at the solemn crowd.

“You know, you all really do mean a lot to me. I promise you that. Not as clients, but people. This will not happen again.” And with that, he left.

- Time skip (last one, we’re almost done folks) - 

“I’ll take that.” John grabbed the large box off your hands, and you squeaked with surprise. His face twisted into an unfamiliar expression of damaged concern almost instantly.

“Oh, sorry, I just didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Yeah, I was on a walk this morning.” He continued to struggle with the box. You’d finally had enough of it, and leaned in to help him haul it to the top of the shelf in the crate. 

The two of you stood there awkwardly, both refusing to look the other in the eye.

“I-”

“You-”

You both began speaking at the same time, interrupting eachother. 

“You go first. “ He offered.

“No, no, I’ve said enough.” You waved your hands defensively.

“So have I.” He chuckled. 

Another awkward silence. 

“I guess,” he began, “I’m sorry for saying that shit to you. I was stressed, angry, and I know that’s not an excuse, but then you got on the drugs, and I was so worried, and I guess I just never realized...” he trailed off, realizing that he was just on the verge of not making sense. He took a deep breath. 

“I guess, what I”m trying to say is that I would never, ever, want you to do what you had to do there. It wasn’t fair of me to put that kind of pressure on you, and everyone else. And, you didn’t hear it from me, but I’ll try to do better.” 

You chuckled lightly. 

“That sounds like a plan. And, I guess I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. I just let you get worried about me, stupidly thinking that I could handle it all by myself, and I just totally forgot about everyone else. It’s kind of ironic that I, uh, snapped at you about how  your actions affect others, when I did the same exact thing. So, uh, I’ll work on that too.”

You swore you could see the smallest bit of a smile on his face. The first one in a while.

“Well then,” he thrust out his hand, “let’s make that a deal. Mutual forgiveness, and hopefully, mutual progress”

You took his warm hand in yours.

“You got it, John.”

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

sorry, everyone. this is totally off topic in terms of trek, but since i rejoined this fandom to write and spent a lot of my time......uh, suffering over words/complaining about that here...i just wanna talk about what i did in september. it gets a little personal but i don’t mind sharing.

tl;dr: i did a writing challenge that proved i *could* write on a regular basis since my adhd diagnosis, but bad self esteem killed the good vibes. i proved it could be done however so... stfu, brain.

on the last day of august, an awesome friend of mine posted a month-long writing challenge. the minimum we were supposed to shoot for was 500, i believe, but she said she’d aim for at least 150. she absolutely smashed her goal. i didn’t even have a goal and yet.....i wrote 63k in one month. i didn’t miss a single day. sometimes, i wrote over 5k.

me @ me: who the fuck are you my brain: this is you with your adhd treated, asshole me: OH SHIT!!1 RIGHT. NICE.

the wc was rounded down to the nearest hundred to keep things neat, and the avg word count per day based on that was 2.1k.

all of these stories except for 3 are about oc otps/ot3s. topics range from fluff to angst (ken, my oc, met his demise and i’m not even sorry) to just full out pwp. proposals, fights, breakups, fluff fests, ken getting told off when he deserves it...every day was something new.

i posted all of them in docs and shared with my friends who made these characters.

naturally, you can treat your attention and focus issues but that won’t stop bad self esteem from ruining your day plenty of times. day 7 was rough. i was feeling depressed and like everything i write is irrelevant and futile. (it kinda is but i’m more accepting about it rn and not as emotional.) i almost gave up on day 12 but i refused to let such low hanging fluff fruit like “blanket” be my demise. ups and downs, ups and downs....and then day 25 was awful. i hit 51k that evening and fell into a major depressive episode. who gets depressed over writing 51k? me, i guess. it was just...y’know, writing all these stories and tossing them into the black hole of docs for a few people to read if they please....and then to never be seen again. i started second guessing everything and sounding like the old, pre-diagnosis me where everything is horrible and i’m worthless and i can’t write for shit and blah blah blah. but day 26 was better, and i finished out the month feeling stronger.

30 days of writing is hell and i really would not like to do this again. but i did it to prove a point to myself. i can actually get things done. i still struggle with concentration sometimes, especially in the afternoon, but evenings work best of all for me to sit down and get words out.

i still feel shitty that all i’m apparently capable of writing is one-shots. there’s nothing at all wrong with one-shots, don’t get me wrong, but they’re what i write most of all. that’s really...still the capacity of what i can handle. i can’t write long things without having a day 25 every day. or maybe i can and i just haven’t tried since being on medicine? idk. maybe someday i’ll figure it out? (*paths in the starlight looms threateningly overhead* go away, you 90k wip monster from hell.)

anyway, i feel lucky because i got a diagnosis that helped me see actual progress. i’m sorry i haven’t produced anything for this fandom. the husbands aren’t speaking to me, but i just wanted to kinda document what i went through.

the things i learned were: a) month long challenges are fucking HARD but not impossible. b) writing that much in a month should feel like a great accomplishment because i worked so hard, but self esteem issues and blah blah i hate my writing, etc. my brain ruins everything. c) it helped having multiple characters and relationships to be inspired by. i’ve attempted several otp challenges in the past and failed every single time. d) i’m damaged goods. i appreciate any and all feedback so much, but because of a past abusive relationship, i have a hard time accepting praise. i don’t think anyone is lying to me. i just think i suck. lmao there’s no way to sugarcoat it, that’s the truth. but just writing and throwing nearly an entire novel length into the void made me wonder what i was even doing. so, while i have trouble accepting compliments and have always always always appreciated feedback, i appreciate it even more now.

[bambisfuneral]

Ｅｎｔｅｒ ｐａｓｓｗｏｒｄ： ＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

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Tendou clicked through the few tabs skimming over the information presented in front of him, “so this is all we know about her?” He mused with a displeased look on his face. Ushiwaka stood behind him stiffly with a quiet nod, he inhaled lightly before speaking up, “they said she’s been going through a depressive episode for the passed two weeks. Although, Semi said it’s just due to the fact that she’s been feeling isolated, but she hasn’t been putting in the effort to socialize”. This caused Tendou to swivel around in his chair and stand up with a wide grin on his face, “well then I guess this is a good place to start then huh?”

He patted Ushiwaka’s back on his way out the door with a little bounce in his walk, Tendou had seen that she had group therapy today was 1:30. Okay well that was about fourty minutes ago, so she should be back in her room by now. What’s the plan today miracle doctor Satori. A small but confident smirk appeared on his face as he paused in front of a light colored wood door. Room 354 assigned to Y/N L/N. Well sweetheart.... let’s see what you got. He knocked on the door just loud enough for the person inside to hear, and he peered into the room when he heard a somber “come in”.

Tendou shut the door softly upon entering, he studied the room as soon as he walked in. Pretty plain, but kinda homey for what it is I guess. It was a white painted 12 x 14 room with a twin sized bed in the corner, a rug, and an open window next to it. The window let the sunlight and a light breeze creep into the room. On the opposite side of the bed was a desk with a form sitting in front of it, her back was facing towards him and she had her head down on the surface as she was writing on a piece of paper.

“Y/N L/N?...... I’m Dr. Tendou but you can just call me Satori, I’m gonna be spending some time with you for the next month or so” He spoke softly but he had a wide grin on his face, he kept his distance by the bed awaiting a response. She stopped writing to look over her shoulder at him for a brief moment before dropping her head back down muttering a “that’s fine”.

Tendou’s grin dropped and he squinted at the girl before clapping his hands together which he quickly regretted when he visibly saw her jump, “So how was your group talk today? Make any new friends?” He plopped down on her bed running his hands across the smooth beige sheets, typically the patients’ sheets would be filled with crumbs and have different stains on them, but she kept her space clean and organized like him...... sort of. To somebody new, they would think his work space is a complete mess but he knows where exactly everything is. Tendou snapped out of his thoughts when he could feel eyes piercing into him, and when he looked up he made contact with striking (e/c) eyes.

“So what tests are we gonna do today...... Satori?” Wow, straight to the point huh? Tendou cleared his throat before shrugging, “Honestly? None today, and there probably won’t be any for a while. Right now im just trying to spend time with you so I can get to know you and so you can get to know me! Y’know..... like friends?”

Y/N’s face scrunched up and Tendou’s eyes scanned the minor physical features she had, she inhaled and opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off by mimicking her voice. “‘i CaN’t MaKe FriEnDs hErE’. Of course you can! Why can’t you? This isn’t prison, and if we’re being honest here, you’d be better off with at least one friend. So this would be a good place to start, and if we don’t become friends, at least you’ll have an associate” he posed with his arms out like he accomplished something big. It was quiet for a while but he could tell that she was analyzing the situation. “So?..... what do you like to do for fun Y/N? I’m guessing you like photography at least, or it interests you enough for you to have a camera”

Y/N looked off to the side where she had her (f/c) Polaroid sitting on her desk, she pulled out a bulletin board from one of the drawers next to her leg and then got up to sit down on the bed next to him. She placed it on his lap and Tendou’s eyes did a once over Y/N’s face until he gazed down at the board. There weren’t very many pictures, there were only two actually, but he found them real interesting for some reason.

The first one was in the activity room, there was a row of chairs in front of a big window but it focused on the chair most in the middle. It was empty but there were people sprinkled around the area, and if you looked out the window, the sky was a light grey color with some feathered clouds. Then if you pay attention close enough, the sunlight looks like it’s pushing through the clouds and hitting just the chair. The second picture was of Y/N and a small group of people, they all seemed pretty happy to him but he noted how Y/N was looking off into the distance. It didn’t look anywhere near the psych ward though, then his eyes wandered down and seen a date written in sharpie.

This was eight months ago. His head tilted slightly before he smiled at Y/N who was already staring at him, “y’know, I could use a couple command strips and stick the board to the wall. Then we could get some more pictures to pin up for you” This caused Y/N’s eyes to light up and she sat up straight as her eyes pierced into his, “you think so? But what could I take pictures of here?” Tendou bit the inside of his cheek before grinning, “The ward’s thinking of starting a new program, since we got more staff, the higher ups were thinking of creating an area outside for you guys to hang around. I could help you sign up for it if you want”

Y/N pondered on the idea for a moment before she nodded and smiled back at him, “But I need you to do a favor for me first”. He just snorted and lied back on the bed so that his back was against the wall, “sure thing doll, I’ll see what I can do”.

Ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｓｕｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｗｏｕｌｄ

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[looselucy]

Epilogue

August 22nd – Harry’s POV Thirteen years of living with her, and I still wasn’t quite accustomed to how it felt to wake beside Alfie every morning.

Each day was met with this quiet elation, especially when I was lucky enough to wake up first, watch her peacefully slumbering. I would simply lay on my side and embrace those few moments of harmony, playing with her hair and not taking my eyes off her for even a second. It was exactly how I’d wanted to spend my Monday morning. It had been how I’d spent most of my mornings for thirteen long years. I’d only been back in Rosebury for three months before I asked her to move in with me. She had been adamant that we take things slowly, go about things as though it was a brand-new relationship, but I wanted to live with her so badly. She was round at mine most of the time anyway, so to me it had made sense to just ask. And though she said no the first time I asked, after a few more months of practically begging her, she moved into the home I had initially bought for my mother, and we made it our own just in time for Christmas. Thirteen years and I was still in awe of how it felt to wake in our bed, to know I had a life with her. I leaned into her, placing the softest kiss I could upon her lips in the hope of not waking her, but as I pulled away, I noticed there was a smile on her face, proving that I hadn’t quite managed it. She opened her eyes, the morning light unforgiving as she blinked in the new day. “Morning.” Her voice was sweet, fractured. “Morning, Fee. Happy Birthday.” “Oh shit. It’s my birthday?” She whined, turning her head into the pillow. “Yep.” I chuckled. “Another year older, still as beautiful as you were the very first time I saw you.” “What, in my neck-brace?” She looked at me again and laughed. “Well it’s not hard to be, is it?” “Fair point.” I snickered. “You still looked good though.” “You talk shit.” “M’serious!” She didn’t have to believe me because I knew it was true. Even with her neck-brace and her gym-wear on, nothing could have covered how beautiful she was. She caught my eye so quickly, and I knew she’d always thought that was because I’d spotted her injury, but I wasn’t sure that was entirely to blame. She went all shy, rushing to give me a peck on the lips before she went back into hiding, burying her pink cheeks into the duvet. “You should’ve stayed asleep. M’gunna make you breakfast in bed.” I said. “Hm.” She didn’t seem too impressed by the gesture. “What?” I queried as she revealed herself to me again. “Y’know what’s better than breakfast in bed?” She smiled. “Cooking breakfast with you.” That’s what I loved about her and our relationship. There was always this sense of teamwork, solidarity, cooperation, support. There was no more give than there was take on either end, we simply worked together as a unit and that was what made us happy. She knew that she’d get more pleasure from spending her time making breakfast with me than she would simply receiving the breakfast. There was more to gain that way. “Alright, let’s make breakfast together then.” “Kiss me first.” She demanded sweetly. “You needy thing.” I hushed, leaping to lay my body on top of hers and kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed; with every ounce of strength and love I had in me. It felt incredible to see her so bright, so happy. I could feel the way she smiled as I kissed her, something I didn’t think I could ever tire of. Every day with her felt exciting. We were settled with one another and our lives together, that much was clear, but there was an exhilaration there that I was confident would never fade. Maybe it was partly to do with the fact we’d lost each other at one point, like there was an appreciation there, an awareness of what life was like without the other, how bland and meaningless. Or maybe that’s just what happens when you’re with the right person. Maybe real love never loses its light. I kissed her until she was breathless, then swiftly I clambered off her, smirking and watching her whilst I grabbed our dressing gowns from the back of the door, throwing hers over her happy little face before putting mine on and fastening it tight. “C’mon then!” “Okay, I’m up, I’m up!” She cried, throwing herself out of bed and putting her gown on before she started chasing me out of the room. She caught up to me and grabbed at my hand, rearranging my fingers so that she could slot her own between them, my stomach still leaping due to the contact. Thirteen years, and my body still burst with giddy glee at the most minor of touches, everything from hand holding to how she would sometimes search for me in her sleep, her mind trapped in dreams and her physical form finding me, as though I was the embodiment of her subconscious fantasies. I loved the life I’d built with her. After she’d moved into our home, we spent some time debating over what we should do with her old apartment above the shop, and we’d eventually realised that our best option was to turn it into a gallery. I kept my most precious pieces there, the few I didn’t want to sell, and people would travel to Rosebury to see them, wander up into that small space and immerse themselves in what I regarded as my favourite pieces. It was a wonderful space. I still painted and Alfie still worked in her shop when she could, and other than those times where I’d need to travel for work, we spent most of our time together. Whenever we were apart it physically stung. I always rushed home to her. “You make the brews.” I grinned as we walked into the kitchen, lightly smacking her arse as she headed towards the kettle, laughing at how she squealed delightedly over my touch. In my younger years, especially my darkest years – at university and my first time living in New York, I hadn’t ever really thought about my future, how it might look, what I wanted. I had been so lifeless and lost that considering how things might be down the line had never been something that entered my mind. The only time I ever started thinking about the future was when I’d met Alfie. I should have known instantly that was because she would be the centre of my life from that point forward. From the very first fucking time we’d met, she had eclipsed my life then and every day since. I knew that wasn’t ever going to fade. I knelt down and opened the cupboard door ahead of me to get out all the necessary equipment. “So what do you fancy?” I asked her, continuing when she didn’t answer. “Summat little or Full English? I feel like we should go all out. With it being your birthday. Fee?” I turned to her, noticing her blank expression, the way she just stared forward like she’d seen a ghost, zoned out and empty. I dropped everything that had been in my hands, the pans and cutlery clattering on the floor as I practically jumped to her, standing in front of her in an attempt to grab her attention, snap her out of it. “Fee?” I tried again, but there was nothing. I really didn’t want to panic. I really didn’t want to expect the worst, but I could feel her fading. I could see a haze clouding her mind and taking everything away from her. I could fucking see it. The mug she had been holding fell from her loosening grip, shattered across the kitchen floor, and that’s when I couldn’t hold in my fear any longer. “Fuck, Fee, stay with me.” I grabbed at the side of her neck, pressed my forehead against hers, holding her as steadily as I could when she stumbled due to my strong hold, but she was still completely blank. “Please stay with me. Listen to my voice, okay? Listen to my voice, I don’t wanna lose you.” It wasn’t working. Slowly, she was fading away again, right before my eyes. Everything I loved about her, all our memories, all of who we were, just disappearing into nothing. My bottom lip began to tremble, fighting tears. “Alfie, do you remember who I am? Can you tell me my name?” She didn’t have an answer for me. She didn’t have anything other than the drop of her brows, which was almost an answer in itself. It told me she was confused, desperately searching for the correct, or any, response to my question, but she was unable to find one. It told me she didn’t know my name. It told me that her Alzheimer’s was flaring up once again.

2 years earlier… “No. No, that can’t be right.” Harry blurted from beside me, keeping desperate hold of my hand. “Please tell me that’s not right. She’s only thirty-six! That can’t be right!” “I’m really sorry.” My doctor replied simply. “I know you were both hoping for better news.” It was the worst-case scenario. It was the exact news we’d been dreading. It had started with really small things that Harry had noticed before even I had, how I would misplace things, struggle to find the right words. Then my memory really started to fail me, and even things like my vision took a hit, and that’s when Harry forced me to book an appointment with the doctor. I think he’d done that in the hope that we could rule Alzheimer’s out for good. But the opposite had happened. “Well… What can we do? How can we stop it?” Harry wailed as I sat in silence, attempting to let it all sink in. “I’m afraid there’s no known cure at this moment in time. But what I need you to do is have a good routine,” He addressed me. “Keep your mind active, and for now that’s all we can do.” “But-” “I’m sorry, Harry. Maybe further down the line if she’s having depressive episodes or struggling to sleep, there are things we can do and medications we can prescribe. But other than that, the best you can do is take it day by day and keep her happy.” I had no idea what to say. All I could do was hold his hand as tightly as I could, prove to him I was still there with him even though I couldn’t say a word. Maybe I’d been expecting the diagnosis in some ways. I knew it could be hereditary in some cases, so it was something I’d worried about sparsely since my mother was diagnosed, but then I’d always pushed it to the back of my mind, told myself that it wouldn’t happen to me. It was terrifying to have to acknowledge that it was already happening. “H-how long do we have?” Harry asked next. “It varies. You could have many, many happy years together. Just because she’s been diagnosed, doesn’t mean that it’s the end. Best-case scenario, this is the extent of it. It might not get any worse.” “And worst-case scenario?” Harry hadn’t needed to ask that. It had been a matter of months between my mother’s diagnosis and her moving into that home for assisted living. That’s all it had taken. Harry knew that already; I don’t know why he needed to hear it from my doctor. I guess it was disbelief more than anything. A refusal to face what we both knew. As scared as I was, I couldn’t imagine how that felt for him. If and when my mind began to truly disappear, I wouldn’t even know about it. Harry was the one who would have to watch it happen, to witness my demise, to lose me in the most painful way. He would be the one handling the most agonising repercussions of my illness and that made it even worse. I didn’t want him to go through that, ever. I couldn’t imagine how he felt then, having to acknowledge the possibility that in just a few months’ time, I might not even be able to recognise him. “Maybe… a few months…” My doctor managed to say, before Harry broke completely, dropping his head into his free hand and sobbing. And still, I sat in silence, hoping I had more time than my mother had, hoping that this illness wouldn’t be something that ruined Harry’s life as well as mine. I hoped he could be more selfish than my father had managed to be, but I knew he wouldn’t be. It would be history repeating itself all over again. I kept tight hold of his hand as he wept, still unable to find any words to share. I was terrified.

I opened the door to Robert, saw the way his smile dropped as soon as he’d noted the exhausted look on my face. He had planned to come around and spend the day with his daughter on her birthday, but he could tell instantly that he wouldn’t be so lucky. The sun was no longer shining, dark clouds hanging so low I thought they might be touching the tops of the trees that surrounded our home. It sometimes felt as though the sun couldn’t shine without her. “How is she?” He asked before he could even greet me. “Not so good.” I answered, stepping aside to welcome him. “What’s happened?” He asked as he entered, taking off his coat. “I dunno, I just lost her.” I tried to stay calm, to hold in my tears. “She was fine and then she just… She just disappeared.” “Where is she now?” “She’s upstairs sleeping.” “Okay. We’ll leave her to it. Hopefully she’ll wake up feeling more like herself. Let’s have a cuppa, eh?” I liked having Robert around. He understood my situation better than anyone else, though I’d gotten much luckier than he had with Rita. It had been over two years since Alfie was first diagnosed, and most days she was okay. It wasn’t often she completely vanished like she had that morning, whereas Robert had all but lost his wife in a matter of weeks. Rob was never condescending, he never compared my situation to his, and as agonising as it was losing my Fee that way, I could never imagine how he felt. To have lost his wife to that disease and now his daughter, I couldn’t even comprehend it. To have had to witness them both slowly fading away. He always remained resilient, positive, trying to make the most of the horrific hand he had been dealt. No one had my respect in the way he did. “You sit yourself down, son.” He demanded once we were in the kitchen, heading towards the kettle. “Talk to me.” “I… I don’t even know what to say.” I sighed. “It’s good to talk. Not so easy, but good.” He knew I wasn’t much good at talking. Alfie had always been the person I wanted to talk to, the person who I was most comfortable expressing my feelings to. When it came to everyone else, it didn’t come quite as naturally, even after all the therapy I’d had over the years. Fee had helped me to see that just because I’d stopped seeing my therapist in New York didn’t necessarily mean I should stop altogether. So, after moving back to Rosebury, I did some research and travelled fortnightly to our closest city to see a therapist, to continue learning and growing. I’d done that for a few years, until I truly felt in my heart that I was ready to stop. I knew how beneficial talking was, even though it was difficult. I couldn’t talk to her, not about this. I had to confide in someone else. Robert was the best person for that. “I’m angry.” I admitted, ignoring his instructions to sit down and instead washing up the items I’d used that morning, still making breakfast in the hope of bringing her around, but I’d failed. “Okay. Angry about what?” “So many things. I’m angry on your behalf. Aren’t you pissed off?” I asked him. “Uh… I try not to be. But… sometimes. Yes, sometimes it makes me angry.” “You don’t fucking deserve this. No one does, but least of all you.” I rambled. “And doesn’t it piss you off the way that people try to… own things that are fucking traumatic?” “What do you mean?” “When something bad happens, somewhere or to someone… people really latch onto it. They use it like it’s their own. Talk about how well they knew them. Or how they’d been somewhere where something bad happened, y’know? You wanna see the way Chloe talks about Alfie. They haven’t been close for years and yet Chloe talks about her like she’s lost her best friend and it makes me so fucking angry. Like someone else’s pain is her opportunity to gain some sympathy, it’s fucking twisted.” “Mm.” “People try to own trauma for their own gain, and I keep seeing that happen with Alfie and it makes me so, so angry.” Tears began to fall, my voice began to quiver. “Bu-but when you encounter real fucking trauma, that’s when you know you don’t want anything to do with it. You want to stay as far away from it as fucking possible, you don’t wanna fucking claim it and draw yourself towards it. Why the fuck do people do that? I don’t fucking want this.” I lay my hand on my chest, crying heavily. “If people want that pain so much, take all of it. I don’t want an inch of this, it’s fucking awful.” “I know it is. I know.” I loved Alfie with everything I was, everything I ever could be. She meant everything to me, and I would stick by her through anything, but it didn’t make our situation any easier. It made it harder, if anything. Some days I’d look in her eyes and see her fucking soul, but when her Alzheimer’s sparked that way I would see nothing at all, no sign of recognition, no love, no evidence of the woman I had been with and built a life with for so many years. The agony of looking into her eyes and seeing nothing was beyond any pain I had ever experienced in my life. That sort of loss is something I had never been able to imagine and would never be able to describe. And I was so frustrated by the way people had started using her as a pawn for attention and cruel compassion. Only a few weeks earlier, myself and Libby had been having a quiet drink in The Tin Mouse when we’d overheard someone talking about her, some lad who barely knew her, talking about how they’d been friends, how sad it was, talking about her mum like he knew anything. I was glad Libby was there to calm me down, tell me not to listen, drag me away from him. She’d had to lure me away from a fight that evening, my first in years. I was so close to snapping. No one can speak openly about things like that if they really hurt them. You don’t just nip down the pub and express your darkest sufferings, talk to whoever’s around you about it like it’s nothing. If they really wanted that pain, they could take all of it as far as I was concerned. “Pay them no mind.” Robert simply said. “You’ve got enough to worry about here without concerning yourself with how everyone else is dealing with it. Just focus on how you’re dealing with it.” “I don’t think I’m dealing with it well. I know I’m lucky. I know it could be worse, but like… even now, I miss her. I miss her so fucking much. I miss her presence. I miss her knowing my name. Because it’s not just her memories that go, it’s all of her.” “I know it is, Harry. I know.” “How did you do this?” I wept. “How could I not?” He simply stammered through a heavy breath, and it made perfect sense. It wasn’t necessarily this feeling of responsibility, like I had to do it because I loved her and I’d told her I would spend my life with her. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that I felt obligated to stand by her, or that Robert had felt obligated to stay with Rita even when she reached the stage where she really didn’t know who he was. It was because I loved her. That was why there was no other option than to just do it, to face it head on, to be there with her and for her through everything. She was the person I wanted to spend my life with, whether or not that was a life she recognised or remembered, it was the life I wanted. She was the person I wanted. I had to stand by her through everything. How could I not?

12 years earlier… We swayed one way as the room swayed the other, my arms hung around Harry’s neck as he lay his hands on my waist and we stepped side to side slowly. “Look at ‘em.” He grinned, nodding towards the newlyweds. I looked to my left, the way Libby lay her head on Louis’ shoulder, a new place she could call home for the rest of her life. He just held her, the two of them dancing close-by, central to all the couples who were on their feet slowly dancing to Across the Universe. “M’so happy for them.” I sighed softly, laying my head on his chest. “Mm. I know. Me too.” He kissed the top of my head, the two of us dancing in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “Do you want this?” “Want what?” I lifted my head to look at him. “Y’know. Marriage.” He looked down. “All this stuff. Is it something you want?” I took a few minutes as I considered his question, looking around the room and taking in the sights, thinking over what we’d witnessed that day and what it all meant. As wonderful as it was, I knew my answer hadn’t shifted. As wonderful as Harry was, I knew I didn’t feel any differently about marriage than I always had. “Not really.” I answered honestly. “It’s a lot of fuss, innit?” “Yeah,” He sniggered. “If you look at it that way.” “I dunno. I guess it’s just another one of those things. I don’t have that desire in me. I don’t really want any of this. I mean… I want you.” I told him, noticed how he blushed like he wasn’t already well aware, gnawing his lip shyly. “But I don’t really need any of this additional stuff to prove anything, or confirm anything. M’happy just being with you, y’know?” “Mm.” “Unless… Unless you want this stuff?” “I don’t.” He grinned. “You don’t?” “No. If it was something you needed, then I’d have proposed in a heartbeat. Anything to be with you, anything to make you happy, you know that.” Now I was the one blushing. “But I feel the same way. I get why it means something to people, and I love that. But… maybe m’just one of those cynical people who thinks it’s just paperwork.” “I know exactly what you mean.” “I don’t need that to promise I’ll be with you through everything. I’ll just promise it. Out loud. I’ll… scribble on a piece of paper. I’ll paint it on every canvas I own.” He was making me laugh, in this weird way of endearment, somehow. “Because it’s definitely not through lack of commitment. That’s not why. I’m committed to you more than you’ll ever know. But… I don’t need this.” “I don’t either.” I loved that we felt the same way about it. It was like how we’d always felt the same way about not having children; it just made our lives so much easier. It’s topics and things like that which can ultimately tear couples apart, bring an end to good relationships. When there are fundamental differences in what each person wants and desires at their very core, it can break love down. We didn’t have to worry about that. We wanted the same things, felt the same way. Sometimes it truly felt like we were perfect for one another. “I promise I’m yours.” I whispered up to him. “And I promise I’m yours.” He whispered back. “Forever. Through everything.” It was so extraordinarily wonderful to hear that and not immediately question him or have any doubts. Since Harry had come back into my life, he had proven to me in every single way he could that the promise he’d made then was one he intended to keep. He had instilled this confidence in me that I might have thought was impossible during the earliest months of our relationship, taken away those doubts I’d had. I didn’t think he was going to disappear, I didn’t ever feel like I was trying to work him out or figure out who we were as a couple, I didn’t feel distant from him in any way. I had always thought the world of him, and he knew that, but there had been parts of our relationship that I really struggled with, things I wanted to change so we could be better and work better as a pairing. Those changes had been made. “I love you.” He told me quietly as we continued to dance. I closed my eyes, lay my head back on his chest, listened to the beat of his heart. I didn’t need any more of a promise from him than that.

By the early afternoon when Libby, Louis and Niall arrived, the rain outside was relentlessly unforgiving, meaning they’d driven the short distance to get to ours, but even the walk from the car to my front door seemed to have left them all drenched. “Uncle Harry!” Ronan squealed as he leapt up into my arms. Niall and Sean had adopted him only a few days after he was born, meaning the little lad had been brightening up my life for over three years. Me and Alfie had never wanted our own kids, but it was amazing to have Ronan there, a little one we could look after and love without that full, lifelong commitment that neither of us had ever desired. But there is something incredibly warming about children. Having him leap from Niall’s arms right into mine, to wrap himself around me like that, it was the first thing to make me smile for hours. We loved being Uncle Harry and Auntie Alfie. The three of them let themselves inside and took off their coats as I continued cuddling him, feeling comforted. “Y’alright?” I eventually asked them all. “Yeah, good.” Louis answered. “Where’s the birthday girl?” “Um… She… She’s not doing so good today.” “Shit.” He knew what I meant straight away, and unsurprisingly, his first concern was me. “You alright?” “Yeah, m’fine. Rob’s here, so… y’know. That helps.” “Is your mum coming?” “She’s here too. She’s upstairs trying to talk to Fee.” She’d arrived around an hour earlier and then gone upstairs to try and get some sense out of Fee about fifteen minutes before they’d arrived, but due to the fact I hadn’t heard a peep from either of them since, it didn’t seem like she was having much luck. My mum definitely saw Alfie as her own, the daughter she’d never had. They had this bond that I couldn’t describe, like they’d known each other their whole lives, like they connected on a level I couldn’t even see. I knew that had only deepened when Jack died. It had happened around four years earlier, when she’d received a call saying he was in a hospital not far from her. Despite everything, she called me and we had both rushed to him, forgetting all the suffering he’d put us through, all the bad things that had happened, the grief he’d caused. He was still her son and my brother. That was one of the few times I could clearly see just how strong love and forgiveness could be. It was the first time since I was a child that my family had felt strong in any way shape or form. We felt like a unit again, like people who wanted to help and heal one another rather than abandon and tear each other apart. But we’d lost him. He was only thirty-seven when he’d died. Jack’s lifestyle hadn’t changed much since we’d both seen him last, when he stole from me and my mum without either of us knowing, targeting the two of us in just matter of days. He’d still been in and out of prison, he was still on the dark path he’d chosen for himself and refused to step off, but that path had lead him into the belly of the beast. He’d crashed his car when fleeing a home he’d broken into, and though he’d put up a decent fight, two days after the accident his body had surrendered, and he’d passed away with me and our mum by his side. It had been so much more trying and upsetting than I could have ever anticipated. He’d brought me nothing but anguish for so many years, and he’d done nothing to change or better himself since before he’d even reached his teenage years, but we both still felt this inordinate guilt, similar to how we had when my dad Billy had taken his life. There was this unpleasant and unsettling sensation, that thought of what might have been different if we had done more for him, supported him more, helped him to help himself instead of wanting to run from him for our own sake. I wasn’t sure we would have ever been able to get through to him, but maybe there was more we could have done, but it was too late to ever know. Thankfully, this loss brought me and my mum closer together, unlike when my dad had died. I’d half expected us to shatter again, but we’d thankfully learnt from our mistakes and allowed the harm to bring us this new bond. We knew we couldn’t lose each other again, not after everything. We were the only part of our family left and we needed to cherish that in every way we could. “You lot get settled,” I sighed, handing Ronan back to his dad. “I’ll go check on them.” “Do you need anything?” Libby offered. “Nah, m’good.” “Tell her I’m here.” Niall forced a grin. “She’s bound to remember her favourite person.” Niall had always been soft, covering his insecurities and fears with humour, but he seemed to struggle that little bit more when it came to what was happening to Alfie. Even then, he’d tried to make some sort of joke, but I could tell how much it was actually breaking his heart. He didn’t cope well when she wasn’t herself. None of us did. They went through into the living room to join Robert as I headed upstairs to see how my mum was getting on, rushing up to our room to find Alfie sat on the edge of the bed and my mother crouched at her side. “Hey, look who it is!” My mum was overly cheery, trying to bring some life out of Fee, who sat despondently staring into the distance. “You know who this is, don’t ya?” I got down on one knee next to my mother, right in front of Alfie, catching her eye and her attention, smiling as brightly as I could and taking her hand in mine, acting like nothing was wrong even when I saw the way she looked over my face, trying so desperately to place a name to my face, trying to recall the millions of memories we shared, but it was as though they were no longer there. If death was the belly of the beast, that disease was the mouth, the enlarged jaw, the sharpened teeth, the thirst for blood and the saliva it drew. Losing her was like being devoured alive. I gave her the most encouraging smile I could, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, boss.” I tried. “I’m missing you. You wanna come downstairs? Everyone’s here to see you.” I wasn’t getting through to her. I could see it in her eyes that what I was saying did not make sense. She withdrew her hand so that it was no longer mine to hold, looking down to her lap. “M'sorry, I have such a bad headache.” She trembled. “Can I be on my own for a while?” “Fee-Fee-” I started to shake. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling myself.” “I know.” I gripped her hand again, becoming frantic, even though I knew that wouldn’t help. “I know you’re not, b-but I think if you just came downstairs and saw everyone, you’d-” “When’s my mum getting here? I shouldn’t be here without my mum.” Tears poured over my eyes as rain crashed unremittingly against the windows in our bedroom, my heart breaking all over again. I just wanted her to go downstairs and talk to the people who had been in her life since she was a child, because maybe that would make sense to her. Maybe that would bring her back to me. I always thought back to the theoretical bookcases she had, what I’d learnt about Alzheimer’s when she’d first told me about her mum. It helped me to make sense of her mood changes, the things she said and the way she acted when she was going through a particularly bad spell. When things got bad, I would picture her bookcases in my mind. The bookcase on the left; old, feeble, holding her memories. And then the bookcase on the right; strong, secure, in charge of her emotions. Every time she vanished that way, I took it as though an earthquake had hit, rocked each case, and the books on the left had fallen from their place, leaving her with only the option to pick books from the lower shelves. She seemed to be talking as though she was young, like her mum was still alive and should have been there with her holding her hand through this. She was lost and confused and sad and it killed me to see her like that. That was why I wanted her to go downstairs, talk to her friends, talk to the people who had been in her life since she was so small. Her and Louis had known each other since they were babies, and if her mind could only pluck at her earliest memories, I knew that he would be there. And if he was there that might calm her and that might keep her happy, which was the most important thing. Nothing mattered more than keeping the bookcase that shelved her emotions filled with books of joy and content, even if she didn’t remember where they’d come from. I wanted to bring her back to me. I just wanted my Fee-Fee back.

13 years earlier… During his first few weeks back in Rosebury, Harry hadn’t really made himself known. We’d stayed sort of cooped up in his house, figuring things out, falling in love all over again, catching up with one another and deciding how our relationship should look moving forward. But over the past week or so, he’d started to reintroduce himself to our little village, make himself at home again. He’d been to the pub with everyone, told them he was planning on moving back, that he even wanted to start running his classes again. That night, the two of us were in The Tin Mouse, sat side by side, waiting for everyone to arrive so we could break what I felt was some of the most important news Harry had to share with everyone. “Lincoln’s gunna hate me.” He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “He won’t. He’s not like that.” “Y’know… me and Lin proper got on when I first moved here. Proper got on. But then as soon as I clocked on that he liked you, I got all weird about him.” He turned his head and looked at me. “I dunno why I’m like that. I don’t wanna be like that. And I don’t want him to hate me.” “He kinda already knows, y’know. About us, I mean.” “He does?” “Yeah. He guessed before you came around to mine that morning, when he was there.” “When I told you I loved you?” “Mm.” I nodded. “And Louis knows. I mean, they don’t have a clue we’re back together now, but they know we were together when you lived here before.” “What about Niall and Libby?” “Clueless. I mean, both of them had little inklings back in the day, but nothing more than that.” “They had inklings too? Shit.” He huffed, picking up his pint and taking a sip. “We really mustn’t have been as sly as I thought we were. Like, I thought we hid it well.” “M’not too sure.” I chuckled. “Maybe it was too big to hide.” He acknowledged profoundly, then snapped. “Also, I go proper doe-eyed when I look at you, which is probably very noticeable.” “You should try and get that under control.” I smirked. “Trust me, I’ve tired.” He grinned. “It’s impossible.” I leaned towards him and kissed his cheek, which spurred him to turn his head and grab my jaw so he could pull me back to him and leave a luscious kiss upon my lips, lingering his love upon my pout. When he pulled away, he looked at me with those exact eyes he’d just been speaking about. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone about us. I couldn’t wait for everyone to know and to finally be in a relationship that wasn’t happening behind closed doors. What I had with Harry was the most magnificent thing I had ever experienced in my life, I was bursting to talk about it with the enthusiasm and joy it deserved. I didn’t want to admit it to Harry, but I was pretty apprehensive about Lin finding out too. I imagined he already had an idea since Harry was moving back, and the same could be said for Louis, but everything that had happened with Lincoln was still really fresh. He didn’t have a bad or bitter bone in his body, I knew that, but it was bound to be strange for him. He was the first to arrive, stepping into the pub only a few moments after mine and Harry’s kiss, but I was glad he’d caught us in a less compromising position. I’d asked him to get there a little earlier than the rest, just so we could tell him without the others being there. As soon as he saw us, his face dropped somewhat, before the door had even closed behind him. He knew. I shot an encouraging smile his way, noticing the way he took a deep breath in as though to prepare himself, before he came over to our table, sat himself down across from us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harry drop his gaze, looking down to the table rather than at him. It seemed like this was in my hands. “You okay?” I asked Lin. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He sighed. “How’re you two?” “Yeah, we’re fine. We just kinda wanted to… chat to you.” “Yeah. I think I know what it’s about.” He sniggered dejectedly. Harry still couldn’t look at him. I should’ve known he’d be like that, all defensive and jealous and ridiculous until it got down to actually facing Lin, acknowledging his feelings. Harry wasn’t a bad person; in fact, he was incredibly caring when it came to others, incredibly conscious of other people’s feelings. He was good at picking up on things and going out of his way to make others feel better. It was why he’d always been so good with those self-defence classes. Beyond the jealousy, when it actually came down to Lin and how he was feeling, when it actually came to sitting down in front of him that way, Harry’s anger and arrogance was nowhere to be found. “M'sorry, I hate doing this, it feels so weird, but after everything’s that’s gone on recently, I feel like I should.” I got straight to it. “Me and Harry have been talking a lot since he came back and figuring stuff out and… we really wanna try and… make this work.” “As in… you’re getting back together?” “Yeah. We… We have a lot of history, and we-” “Yeah, I uh… I saw that coming.” He smiled. “As soon as Harry said he was moving back, I figured. It’s fine.” “I just-” “Alf, as long as you’re happy, that’s the main thing.” He interrupted, but I actually felt the main thing he wanted right then was to avoid the weird sympathy we were giving him. I imagined that didn’t make it any easier for him. “Look… I-I knew it was a risk when I asked you out and I wasn’t expecting it to work out, genuinely. It would have been a bloody miracle, to be honest. I just wanted to try, and we did, and it wasn’t meant to be. I’m not mad that you’ve found the person that’s gunna make you happy, Alf. I’ll find that too. It’s all good, I promise, you really don’t need to explain yourself to me or worry about me. As long as you’re both happy.” Harry lifted his head, scoped Lin out for a few seconds before he turned his head to me. “Are you seriously picking me over him?” He was somewhere between joking and being completely serious, forcing a laugh out of both me and Lin. “I feel like that’s a poor decision on your part. He’s a better man than I am.” They finally looked at each other, sharing a smile, this strange acknowledgement that I couldn’t quite understand, but it seemed like a positive thing. “I’m sorry.” Harry said to him. “Don’t be. It’s all good.” “And if I was ever off with you or anything-” “You were.” “Yeah, I know, shit.” Harry shook his head, smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry. It’s just because… I just love her so much.” “Then don’t fucking leave again, alright?” Lin grinned, reaching his hand across the table. “You won’t find a better girl if you do.” “M'not going anywhere.” Harry reached back, the two of them shaking hands over the table. I imagined Lin wanted to forget the whole thing, frankly. I really hated the thought of him regretting asking me, but looking at how it had all unfolded, I couldn’t blame him for just wanting to forget that he’d ever proposed a date in the first place. As long as he was alright, that was all I could hope for, and he seemed to be. It seemed more than anything, he just wanted to move on. He and Harry got chatting, returning to normal, the atmosphere much nicer than I’d been anticipating, but I really shouldn’t have been surprised. They were both just incredible men, I was lucky to have them both in my life. Not too long later, the rest of them arrived. Louis and Libby hand in hand, with Niall close behind, shooting a wink to Sean behind the bar before they came over to the table. “Right, what does everyone want to drink?” Niall offered. “I’m going to the bar to flirt with Sean, so I might be a while getting the drinks back to you, but still. It’s the thought that counts.” “Mate, it’s barely the thought that counts when your thought is that you want to go to the bar to flirt with Sean. You don’t wanna get us drinks!” Lin laughed. “You make a fair point, Crosby. I barely wanna sit with you lot, to be honest. I just wanna sit at the bar and make eyes at him all night.” “Okay, before you do that then,” I yelped, wanting to keep him with us. “Can you sit down for a second? I’ve got some news.” Louis’ eyes lit up in a second. I hadn’t told him exactly what had been going on, but the last time I’d spoken to him about it properly I’d said I was going to go and talk to Harry, and since then I’d been very coy about the whole thing. He’d have been a damn fool not to figure it out, but he’d given me my space to let me announce it in my own time, and I could tell from the giddy look on his face that he knew that time had finally come. Libby didn’t look so excited. “What’s happened? Are you okay? Do I need to kill someone? Who hurt you?” “Lib, it’s fine, it’s nothing like that. Just… sit down a second, I’ll tell you.” They all pulled up a stool and sat themselves down, Harry tensing beside me. These were incredibly unfamiliar waters for him to be treading. Harry had lived his life in lonesome shadows he had created, hiding in the darkest corners he could as a way of protecting himself. He wasn’t used to being open about any section of his life, especially a part as intricate and evocative as love. Though it was clear the therapy he’d experienced since he’d left had helped him, there was a difference between him being open and honest with me, someone he’d been so close to and shared with before, compared to sharing such delicate truths with everyone else. This was new to him, it was bound to be scary. I reached for his hand beneath the table, squeezed it tightly. Eager little faces awaited the news I was about to break. “Okay… so… as you all know, Harry’s moving back.” “Woo!” Niall cheered. “Cheers, Niall.” Harry grinned and winked at him, laughing a little. “And uh…” I tried to continue. “I guess I’m kinda extra happy about it, because… Well, before he left, me and Harry-” “WERE YOU FUCKING?” Niall screamed, interrupting the entire pub as he did, cringing and then turning to address our fellow pub-goers. “Apologies! Excuse my French.” I had to drop my head onto the table, everyone else trying to hold in their laughter in an effort to show a little respect to the old blokes who were sat drinking and genuinely unhappy with Niall’s language. “For fuck sake, Niall!” Libby scalded. “Keep your voice down! If you wanna yell shit like that, we’ve gotta spend more time at The Royal Rose.” “I’m right though, aren’t I?” He pretty much ignored her, eyes darting between me and Harry. “Tell me I’m right?” “We were together.” Harry worded it much more eloquently. “SHUT THE FUCK UP, NO YOU WEREN’T!” Libby yelled. “Oh my god, Libby, shh!” I cried once I’d whipped my head back up. “Who needs to go down The Royal fucking Rose now, eh?” Niall huffed. “Sorry, everyone! Sorry!” Libby bellowed around the room before she turned back to us and whispered harshly. “Were you really?” “Yeah.” Harry smiled. “Were you in love?” “We were. We are.” “Alfie! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” “Sorry, we didn’t tell anyone.” I shrugged. “But that’s why we’ve kinda gathered you all, because… well, now Harry’s moving back… we’re getting back together. I mean… we’re already back together.” “Knew it.” Louis smirked. “What do you mean you knew it?” Libby turned to her fiancé and gave him death eyes. “Did you know about them being together last year?” “Sorta.” “Wow, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. The wedding’s off.” “What? I’m good at keeping secrets! If anything, that should make you want to marry me more! I’m very trustworthy.” The two of them started sweetly squabbling between themselves, Harry and I moving our attention across to Niall who still had questions. “So, wait… you two are serious about each other? It wasn’t just sex?” “Nah. It was never just sex.” Harry said, to my surprise. I didn’t know why he’d said that, but I wondered if he might have done it as a way for compensating for the things he’d said to me when I’d told him I loved him the first time and he’d told me he only saw us and our relationship as sexual, nothing more than that. But knowing what I knew then, being aware of how he actually felt about me, maybe he really hadn’t ever seen it as just sex. Maybe I hadn’t either. Maybe we’d always meant more to one another than we’d known. “That’s wild. Why’d do you leave? Did you break up?” “Uh… Sort of, I guess.” Harry choked. “But that’s not gunna happen again. This is it now. It’s me and her.” Niall was beyond excited, happily asking Harry every question he could think of, even the ones he must have known Harry would find awkward to answer, but he answered regardless. It was yet another way I could see Harry stepping up for me, doing things and removing himself from his comfort-zone because he knew it would make me happy. It was nice that I knew it would make him happy too, he merely needed to get used to the change. We both did. Being in an open relationship with Harry was going to be different, but I’d never been so excited about anything. Our future seemed, so, so bright.

“Harry!” Louis’ voice was loud, sending shockwaves through my body as I bolted upright, cursing, my heartbeat racing. I looked around, agitated and anxious, noticing we were in the reading room, noises coming from the distance proving I still had a good number of visitors. Thunder and lightning crashed outdoors, light splitting the dark skies whilst the thunder bellowed its dominance as I came back around, a little woozy and lost for a few moments but gradually, things came back to me. I could recall I’d gone in there to give myself a bit of space after me and my mum had tried to speak to Alfie, but I must have nodded off at some point. “You alright?” He was concerned. “Uh…” I was still half asleep, my hands resting firm on the chaise beneath me as I gathered myself, reintroduced myself to the literal world. “Yeah, sorry, m’fine. Sorry.” “Don’t apologise, mate. I can’t imagine how you feel.” I budged up and tucked my knees closer to my chest so he could sit himself down at the end of the chair. Louis had become for me what he was for Alfie. Since I’d moved back to Rosebury, we’d gotten much closer, and he possessed this aura that made him incredibly approachable. Sharing felt easy when it came to Louis. Alfie had always used him as the person she went to when she needed to talk about anything, and I felt a similar way. He could sense that I needed to talk. “Sorry our little ones aren’t here.” He started gently. “They’re getting harder to control now they’re older. They’d rather spend the day with their grandparents on the farm than with us.” “It’s alright. Kinda feel like… the less people the better.” “Mm, I bet.” It wasn’t long after their wedding that Libby told us she was pregnant with Ben, their eldest. A couple of years later, they’d welcomed Amelia to the world, two more kids who referred to me and Alfie and their auntie and uncle. They were good kids, but how could they not be with their parents? “You’re handling all of this really well, Harry.” Louis was kind, encouraging. “Better than most people would.” “The thing is, I’m lucky right now.” I rubbed over my eyes. “With Fee… this isn’t happening often. This is the second time this month, and that’s the most it’s been since she was diagnosed, y’know? She struggles with the little things, and small lapses, but this sort of thing is rare, and I’m so, so lucky that that’s the case two years after her being diagnosed. It could’a been so much worse.” “It could, you’re right.” “But when this does happen… I can literally feel myself falling apart. It fucking kills me. To know she looks at me and… she see’s nothing. It’s agonising. It’s a physical pain, I can’t describe it.” “She doesn’t see nothing, Harry.” He tried to comfort me. “She might be a little lost, but you’re there, deep down. She could never look at you and see nothing, I know how much you mean to her.” I hoped he was right. I knew I’d comforted Alfie with similar words when it came to her mother, and I’d meant it, but it was so much more difficult to see that as the truth when I was so directly involved, when it was me losing the love of my life. “It’s probably gunna get worse. How am I gunna cope when it gets worse?” I asked him rhetorically. “We’ll be here for ya, the whole time. Whatever you need from us, whenever you need it.” I knew he was telling the truth, and it was incredibly comforting. “And maybe your luck won’t run out. Maybe this is how it’s gunna be for her, maybe she won’t deteriorate more than this. Don’t write her off yet, you know how strong that girl is. She’s got a hell of a lot of fight in her.” I’d barely realised I was smiling over his words, nodding. He was so right. She had so much strength in her, I’d known that since the second we’d met. She’d never really been able to see it herself, but she had such a desirable sustainability, this power and fire in her gut that had seen her through some really difficult times. I loved every part of her, every inch of her body and every piece of her soul, but that strength was something really special, something that had always drawn me to her in ways I couldn’t fight. “You gave her some really incredible years, Harry.” “But I want to give her an incredible life.” I explained exhaustedly. Her Alzheimer’s had made it seem as though that was no longer an option, that any life I could provide or that we could build would be lost, either in the depths of her mind or quite literally, if she maybe had to go into care as her mother had. I’d struggled to understand Robert when I was younger, when I saw what he did for his wife, the way he upped and moved to be with her, altered his whole life to be at her side, but now it was happening to Alfie I completely understood it. It no longer seemed preposterous, it no longer seemed like something completely heroic that he’d done. It was the only option. If I had to, I’d do the same thing, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt. But I wanted to keep her at home for as long as I physically could. I wanted to give her a life full of love, a life worth fighting for. “You still can. You will.” Louis smiled. “Do not waste these years worrying about losing her completely when she’s still here. I know it’s easy for me to say that, and with how she is today… it’s fucking awful. She’s my oldest mate, it hurts me too. But right now, like you said, this is rare. So fucking cherish her whilst she’s here. Do whatever you can to keep her here. Think of ways to bring her back. If anyone can do it, you can. I have every fucking faith. Don’t start to let go when she’s still holding on.” He commanded. I nodded, absorbing his words in every way I could. There was something incredibly special about the love between me and Alfie. When I’d fallen in love with her all those years earlier, she’d made me realise that love could truly do some remarkable things. I had to hope that love could keep her with me for many years to come.

9 years earlier… I wrapped the towel tighter around my frame as I anxiously approached the red curtains, nervously hiding from Harry who sat in room ahead of me, canvas and colours all set up in preparation, sun setting between the trees, exactly how he’d wanted it to be, the light breaking into the room and projecting the most fascinating shadows. I peered through the small gap in the curtains, not moving any closer. “C’mon, Fee-Fee. I’ve seen you naked a million times.” He said without turning to look at me. “This is totally different!” I cried. “It’s not!” “It is! This is nude! Which I feel like is not the same as naked.” “It’s exactly the same.” He cackled. “It’s different! It’s a different sort of experience entirely. No one’s ever painted me nude before.” “Good, I should fucking hope not.” He laughed. “This is my privilege.” “I feel really nervous.” “How can I make it better?” “You can’t, it’s not you, Harry! You make me feel very comfortable in my own body, there’s nothing more you can do.” I explained truthfully, standing in silence for a few seconds before I spoke up once again. “What kinda painting is it gunna be? Is it gunna be abstract, or are you gunna be able to tell it’s me?” Harry had been painting everyone of recent, actually asking them to sit for him. He’d already painted me plenty of times since we’d gotten back together, but he’d branched out, painting Louis, Libby, Lincoln and Niall. He’d even done one of his brother, though that hadn’t been in person. He’d gone off memory alone, but I knew he was hoping to reach out to Jack at some point, try to help him and mend their relationship again. It was just a matter of plucking up the courage and tracking him down. He'd even painted Chloe a few weeks back. Her and Sam had recently split up, which meant for the first time in years, she’d attempted to spend time with us all, get herself back into the group, but things had changed. It almost felt as though it was too little too late. I had no bad feelings towards her, I’m not sure any of us did, the water had passed under the bridge years earlier, but it just hadn’t felt the same. It didn’t even feel genuine coming from her, like she’d only come back to us because she felt we were her only option. It was disappointing and it truly was a shame, but it just hadn’t worked. I think that was why Harry had wanted to paint her; not because of the friendship, but more the lack-thereof. But the thing with Harry’s recent work was that they had been varied in style. His older work was entirely abstract, pieces in which I’d barely been able to see myself even when he’d tried to point out exact features. His recent work wasn’t like that though, with some pictures being the most detailed portraits I’d ever seen, so lifelike it sometimes felt as though they could start talking. He kept them all in the gallery above the shop, a collection he continued to add to. “M’not sure yet.” He confessed. “Depends how I’m feeling once you’re in place. If you think it’s too detailed, I won’t put it anywhere. It’ll be your call when it’s done, alright?” With that confirmation, I finally felt comfortable enough to step into his most creative space, shuffling past him and heading over to the podium he’d set up, balancing my knee on it first so I could climb up and sit myself down as gracefully as possible, knees bent, legs to one side, body as upright and straight as I could make it, clutching at the top of the towel, holding it against my chest. I took a deep breath in, steadied myself, made one final request. “Will you make my nipples nicer?” “Your nipples are perfect as they are, idiot. I wanna paint you, not some idealised version of you. There’s nothing wrong with you right now, as you are. I promise.” Harry made sure his voice was warm, the sound alone making me feel at home, like I should be proud to just be myself. “Whenever you’re ready.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, tore the towel apart and then dropped it to the ground. The first thing I could concentrate on was the way he took a deep breath in, his chest swelling with the intake of air, like he needed to calm himself down as his eyes ran all over my body with care, slowly moving over every inch of me. I felt so exposed and yet it was overwhelmingly intimate too, like my body belonged to his eyes, like I would be invisible to anyone else. I was infatuated with the way he looked at me, because it was all there in his eyes, every emotion and every memory and every loving feeling he had towards me. After figuring out how to remain somewhat calm, he spoke. “Okay. Could you… have one knee up? Just lift your right leg, have your foot pointing right at me.” He instructed and I altered my stance accordingly. “And just link your fingers together and hold around your knee. That alright?” “Mm.” “Are you comfortable?” “Yeah.” “Good.” With that acknowledgement, he began, mixing a few colours and studying me in silence for a few moments before he put his brush against the canvas, proceeded to paint me. From what I could tell, from his point and with my position, my body would be both hidden and revealed. I imagined the shadows that were casting on me only added to the affect, and maybe that was why he’d chosen that time of day, when the sun was going down, when the world was glowing and yet infiltrated with tenebrosity. He had a vision, and I was the centre of it. Strangely, I’d predicted that I would be totally conscious of the time, that the clocks in my mind would strain and my body would ache and tire with speed, but that didn’t happen. Though we didn’t speak whilst he worked, the time flew. Occasionally, he would purposefully catch me eye, smirk at me, bite his lip, probably as a way of easing me, because when he did that, I’d notice my body relax even though I hadn’t realised I had tensed. Harry knew me so well. He knew my mind and my body and my soul in ways that were way beyond my understanding. He saw things in me that I couldn’t, loved parts of me that I hated, understood conundrums within me that I could never comprehend. I loved him so much. “You look amazing.” He said after almost three hours. “I-I dunno. Sometimes it feels like you’re the inspiration I’ve always needed. Proper little muse, aren’t ya?” I tried to keep hold of my position, stay quiet, not blush too much, but it was a complete honour to be his muse, the perfect stimulant for him to be able to create some truly beautiful pieces, none of which involved blood. Wine had been his calling for years, finding its way into most of his paintings, especially the ones of me. But he often got creative too, not always because it worked effectively as a substitute for paint, but as interesting addition. He used fruit juices, my perfume, put petals within his paints or blades of grass. He took his surroundings, pieces of Rosebury, and he made art. More time passed, Harry concentrating intently on each stroke as I slowly began to rearrange my limbs, but he didn’t notice until my legs were both dangling off the front of the podium, still facing him. “Alf-” He began, but I managed to stop him talking when I slowly opened my legs. That was how much confidence he could bestow upon me. I’d gone from being nervous to even walk in the room, to spreading my legs for him, letting him decide what he wanted to do with the woman ahead of him, whether that was painting her or otherwise. Harry looked almost dizzy, eyes transfixed on my core and plump lips parted. He stepped to his side so that the easel and canvas didn’t block an inch of me from him or vice-versa, so I mirrored him, dropped my eyes down to his crotch and saw how much he appreciated the sight. He was rock hard. I bit at my bottom lip, hoping to lure him closer to me, hoping I’d inspired him beyond the canvas. “You’re something else.” He was breathless, a look of amazement clouding his eyes. And yet he remained still, purposefully building the heat. I didn’t realise us saying nothing and not even touching could do that, but I was sure I’d never wanted him more. I had never felt such intensity between us. My whole body quivered the moment he finally snapped, storming towards me. His hands went to his belt as soon as he started walking, the jingling of the metal he was fiddling with sending shockwaves through my body. He was still working on it when he reached me, taking one hand and pulling harshly on my hair to make my neck snap back, forcing me to look up to him. His other hand continued to loosen the leather from the slack trousers he was wearing, the two of us panting even though we’d barely done anything, looking into each other’s eyes. I could feel his hand moving, hear the pleasing titter of the buckle rattling. That alone got me worked up, those two senses sparking a million sensations. Then before I knew it he’d pushed into me, so much force behind his hips that I almost fell backward before he pulled me back to him, shot his head down so that he could bite my bottom lip. His touch was strict, severe, strong. Even with my lip still gripped between his teeth, he managed to smirk, aware of how much power he had in those moments, but it was my power that had brought him to me. He let my lip loose, his hand moving from my hair to my jaw as he began to kiss me, surprisingly gentle, his hips beginning to wind, gradually moving in and out of me. I loved how he could feel so tough and unforgiving whilst also moving with such a gentle ease. I didn’t understand how he could be both and yet he was, and he was with ease. He was the light and the dark. The night and the day. The sun and the thunderstorm. The fighter and the artist. My fingers clung frenziedly to his t-shirt, possibly puncturing holes through the thin material, closing my eyes and breathing him in, barely able to kiss him with how ethereal I felt just being with him. “You feel so good. Fuck, you’re amazing.” He wheezed. I wrapped my legs around his, my heels digging into his backside, pushing my chest up and putting my arms behind me so I could keep myself propped up, Harry slowly taking his kiss away from my mouth trailing it down my chin and then over my chest, causing pretty palpitations that skipped through my body, his hands lowering to my backside and yanking me closer to him. Ever since the day I had seen his paintings for the first time in person, there had been this magnetism between me and his captivating work. Being around his pieces, touching them, breathing them in; it was fascinating and overwhelming and it always brought out such powerful emotions from me. So when I actually became a part of his art, that intensified, took all those feelings to an entirely different realm. That was one of the reasons I felt we had gotten carried away in such a physical sense. We connected when he painted. He took hold of my legs, curving his fingers behind my knees and gripping tight as he picked up the pace, head lifting so he could gaze down between our bodies, watch the way he worked in and out of me as I watched him, the way he bit his lip, even scrunched his nose, concentrating all his strength on me. I moved one hand so I could touch myself, stealing his focus. He watched my fingers move over my clit, the sight bringing new groans from him, and I could tell I was leading him to his finish. I knew all the signs, his giveaways. Nothing turned me on more than seeing him unwind that way. My moans were getting louder and louder, my eyes closing just a few seconds after I noticed a grin spreading across his lips, smug over my pitch, like he always was. “Oh fuck.” He seethed piercingly as he came, and I was able to feel the way his whole body trembled, the ripples riding against my heels and the parts of my legs that came into contact with him, moving my hand until he gasped. “Please finish. I wanna you feel. I wanna watch you.” So I moved my hand back, touching myself for those final few moments before it happened, Harry watching me in awe the whole time. As soon as we were both calm enough, Harry took my neck in his hand once again so he could bring me closer to him, kiss me with enough passion to knock me out completely. I slung my arms around his neck, feeling his smile grow against my lips. “I love you.” He gasped as we kissed. “I love you so fucking much.” “I love you too.” “You’re fucking bliss, I’m so obsessed with you.” He was rambling, spewing his thoughts, and it only made me smile more, my cheeks genuinely hurting even though I was still trying to kiss him back, butterflies in my stomach and rose tinted glasses perching on my nose and altering my vision. When our kiss ended, he stayed close, rubbing his nose against mine, closing his eyes and breathing steadily as I just watched him, just as obsessed with him. I stroked the backs of my fingers over his cheek, transfixed. “You make me so, so happy,” I whispered to him. “I feel like my heart is gunna burst.” “Nah, fuck that.” He sneered. “I need you. No heart bursting, please.” “I’ll try.” I giggled. “I make no promises though.” “I’d be lost without you. I’d hate it. Stay with me, okay?” “Okay.” He kissed me again, lightly gliding his tongue into my mouth, so tender with me I thought I might cry. I never wanted him to feel lost. I would always stay with him.

Everyone had stayed with me for a good few hours, keeping me company on Alfie’s birthday seeing as she couldn’t quite do that herself. Lin and his wife Jessica had shown up eventually too, all of them being upbeat in their attempts to lift my mood, and temporarily, it had worked to the extent it could. But then as soon as I had closed the door on them, all my sorrow had come flooding back. My only aim then was to make sure that Alfie was happy. That was why I’d thought up a plan. “Just follow me, okay?” I encouraged her, finally having gotten her downstairs, though I could tell she was still confused and wary of me. “Where’re we going?” She asked, tracking my steps as the two of us tiptoed through the living room. I was walking backwards so I could keep my eyes on her, conscious that she might cower or run at any second. She glued her eyes to me, as though she was slowly teaching herself to trust me, a flicker of recognition darting through her eyes. I smiled. “Alfie, I just wanna show you something. It’s something you’ll like.” “Uh-” “You can trust me, I promise.” “Ca-can I hold your hand?” At first, I couldn’t even find it within me to reply to her, in a state of shock that she’d even asked that of me. But what it told me was rousing. It told me that I wasn’t entirely a stranger to her. It reminded me that even when she couldn’t quite place me, there was a sense of trust between us that remained. Even though it wasn’t immediate or obvious, it was still there. “Uh- Fuck, yeah, of course you can.” I held my hand out for her to shyly slot her fingers between mine, almost bashful when she did, like it was the first time we’d held hands, like we were giddy teenagers who were dating one another. And I wondered then if that was how I should start viewing it, when her Alzheimer’s attacked her that way. Maybe it would help if I started thinking of it as though I had to win her back and win her over, as though she was someone I needed to charm and woo, a girl I really fucking wanted but needed to earn. Slowly, I lead her through the kitchen and then into the conservatory at the back of the house. I took her to my paintings. Her pupils blew up in seconds, a new galaxy appearing in her eyes, looking around the room in wonder, gazing at all the art in there, the abundance of canvases that still sat in that room. There were paintings of her, paintings we’d done together, paintings of her friends and loved ones, paintings that had been in there the very first time she had been in there. It had the potential to be a really good space for her. She let go of my hand, unhurriedly exploring her surroundings. “Did you do these?” She enquired. “Mm.” “You’re talented.” “Thank you.” I nodded. Her fingers played over a painting I’d done of her, but she was clueless, unaware she was the inspiration behind almost everything she could see. Under the guise that she was a guest, she worked her way around the room like blood running through veins, oblivious to the fact that she was actually the beating heart. I didn’t want to tell her that she was a part of so many of the paintings she was looking at, because I didn’t want to obscure her reality and upset her. Sometimes it was just better to go along with however she was feeling, whatever she felt was real. She spent her time leisurely wandering and inspecting the work that grabbed her the most as I headed towards the prime piece, the painting I had wanted her to see most. Earlier, I’d propped it up against the back window, central, ready for her to inspect. I pulled the cloth that had been covering it away, hurling that tattered throw to the ground beside me. She was so engrossed she didn’t even notice. “Alfie?” I caught her attention, watching her spin on her spot. Her face dropped. I’d captured her attention entirely. It was the Blood Sun. Before my mum had left, I’d asked her to keep an eye on Alfie whilst I rushed to the gallery and grabbed the painting to bring back. Me and Louis had covered it to protect it from the rain before throwing it into the back of his car and getting it to mine and Alfie’s house as soon as we could, hoping for the best. That painting was hers. It belonged to her, and as its owner, I knew the emotional reaction she had to it and how that never tired. Every time I’d seen her around that painting, it had affected her in such severe ways, like it spoke to her, as though it could touch her both physically and mentally. My gut was telling me that connection would still be there. I watched her intently as she took steps towards the Sun, seeing the familiar look of awe that she always had when she was close to that painting, blinded and dazzled and struck with wonder. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered as she stopped ahead of it. “You… You should feel it.” I suggested. “What? Touch it? I can’t do that.” “Course you can.” I grinned. “It’s mine, and I say you can.” She stared at me like I’d gone mad, but I just nodded, willing her to do as I’d asked. She had this beautiful, dastardly look in her eye as she reached her hand outwards, the tips of her fingers only grazing the red for a moment before her hand retracted, like it had stung her. It was rather fascinating to watch her. Within seconds, she was touching it again, and I could see that her mind was whirring. I couldn’t even begin to guess what might be going on in her head, how she might be feeling, what she might be thinking. It might have been an entirely new experience for her, or it might have been shining a light to parts of her mind that had spent that day in darkness. I moved so I was standing right behind her, my body only an inch from hers, admiring the way she let her fingerprint distinguish the paint like brail. I reached out, lay my hand on top of hers, gently guiding her touch. She inhaled heavily, my touch affecting her, my stomach twisting. “Tell me how you feel.” I was quiet, hanging my head just over her shoulder, able to see the profile of her face. “I… I feel sad.” She explained. “There’s so much sadness here.” When she said that, I found my eyes looking at the hand that I had resting on top of hers, seeing the scars that were still so prominent, even after all those years. Looking back, I couldn’t even imagine feeling that way, being able to cut myself like I had. Seeing those scars reminded me of how lucky I was to have wound up with such a wonderful life, so full of happiness that harming myself that way was almost incomprehensible. Seeing those scars was a reminder of my current wellbeing. Alfie had helped me build that life, she had been the one that pointed out just how harmful my old technique had been, and that was why she’d always been able to sense the pain that would forever remain trapped in that painting. “But…” “But what?” I tried to spur her to say more. “There’s something else, I don’t know.” “Tell me. Just tell me how you feel.” “It’s like… home, and warmth. I… I don’t know.” “Like us.” I hushed. She closed her eyes, and I noticed a tear pool over, stream down her cheek. Something was happening. I was rapidly short of breath, keeping my eyes on her. “Fee? Please talk to me.” “I remember the first time I saw this in real life. I remember.” She trembled. “I remember the feeling. I remember crying.” “What else?” I begged, tears beginning to build in my eyes. I could hear my heart beating, observing her memory reform and construct in her mind, filling her drop by drop when all I wanted was for everything to flood into her consciousness again. I adjusted our hands so that I could squeeze hers, resting my forehead against her temple, whispering, pleading with her to search a little deeper. She took a shaky breath inward, overwhelmed. “Harry.” She whispered, and I thought I might collapse to the floor, simply hearing her speak my name. “Yes! Look at me.” I cupped her cheek, not pushing but trying to encourage her to turn her head. “Fee-Fee, please look at me.” She turned to her right, eyes sparking as soon as she looked into mine. She knew me. “Harry?” She questioned. “Holy fuck, Harry!” She scrambled so that she could wrap her arms around my neck, throw her body against mine and take me into her. I’d never held her so tight. Though there had been a few similar occurrences since her diagnosis, none had gone on for that long. I’d spent the entire day wondering if that was it, if she had reached her breaking point and her memory just wouldn’t come back. It was terrifying and excruciating. But she was with me. She was home. My body was frail, using all my might to hold her, but it was as though that meant strength was retracted from elsewhere, my legs giving way beneath me. I crumbled down to the floor, taking her with me, first landing on my knees and then falling back, Alfie straddling my legs, the two of us still gripping onto one another. I pulled my head back so I could look in her eyes, grabbing her cheeks. “Are you okay? Do you feel okay?” “Wh-what’s happened?” “I lost you. I lost you, I’ve missed you so fucking much. It’s been so hard without you. I hate it.” I sobbed, brushing some hair from her face. “How do you feel?” “I’m okay. I’m sorry.” She wept. “Don’t be sorry. You don’t have to be sorry, Fee-Fee. M’just so glad you’re back.” We kissed, another way of coaxing her back to me. I knew from previous experience just how disorienting it was for her, coming back around like that, I couldn’t even imagine how it felt. All I could do was talk her through it, be there for her, kiss her, remind her of her life in the kindest way I could. I kept the kiss brief then pulled away, eyes darting across her face and keeping her close. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. “I’m fine!” She cried, clinging onto me. “Please don’t be upset, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Another horrific addition to her illness was the guilt she felt when she came back around. All she would focus on was my feelings, how it would have hurt me, as if it wasn’t fucking bad enough with everything else it did to her. She was strangely selfless about the whole thing. “Fee, you’ve gotta stop apologising to me, please. You’re here, that’s all that matters.” “I love you.” She wept. “I love you too. I love you so much.” I’d only recently realised the importance of being there for her when she found herself again. Every time, I was elated that she was back, and she was all I could focus on, but I had to be caring and present and not just break over how difficult I’d found it. I kissed her tenderly, breathlessly continuing to tell her I loved her at every opportunity, the words losing themselves upon her lips and swelling within in her mouth before hopefully finding their way to her heart. She was all that mattered. Doing everything I could so that she could find herself and fight that disease was all that mattered. I saw it as my responsibility to give to her and help her to sustain the best life I possibly could, and I wasn’t going to give up on that or give up on her. That disease was venturing to steal our happiness, and though it could gain temporary success, I refused to let it consume us entirely, to rob us of the sublime life we had created. Our love had more fight in it than any disease ever could. “I missed you.” I shuddered when our kiss soothed. “When I touched the Sun… It’s like I saw your face.” She enlightened me. “I saw your face and heard your voice and you were telling me you loved me and then everything started coming back to me. Everything.” Though I had been there physically, it was her mentality that had needed to alter, to shift and shake and align once more. When she had touched the Blood Sun, I had re-entered her mind and memories, my voice calling upon her soul and willing it back to the present. I could never underestimate the power of us. I could never underestimate the power of her mind and just how engrained I was within it. “You were there. You brought me back.” She whispered, laying a loving and gentle kiss upon my lips. “You brought yourself back.” I told her. “You’re so fucking strong, Fee-Fee. Keep fighting it.” “I will, I promise. As long as you’re here-” “M’always gunna be here, Fee. You know that.” She dropped her head. “Hey!” I placed my thumb beneath her chin, lifted her head back up so that she was forced to look into my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, I’m yours. I’m here. We fight this together, okay?” “Promise?” Her bottom lip quivered. “I promise. It’ll always be us. Just me and you.” “Just me and you.” She repeated back to me. She needn’t fear that I might leave, that I may tire of the tumultuous routine of our lives, that her illness wouldn’t merely steal her memories but it would eventually take me from her too. She didn’t need to worry for even a second. I wanted to be her support system. I wanted to be her life, her lover, her confidant, her centre. No matter how difficult things got, even if one day she disappeared indefinitely. I would never love another person the way I loved her, no person would ever compare to her, no life would ever come close to the one we had. I was with her, skipping through fields during the days of sun or sailing with her through the eye of the storm. It was just me and her through everything, always. That was my promise.

[shinneth]

SUF as a whole just left me with an empty feeling.

I feel you there, anon. In Dreams aside, I could take or leave the rest of this series (and in most cases, leaning well towards the latter sentiment). 

But I guess that’s to be expected when 90% of SUF focused squarely on Steven’s PTSD and need for therapy and the many, many red flags shown as early on as the beginning that signaled his eventual breakdown to where he ended up in the climax.

Especially with the fanbase itself constantly screeching that Steven needs therapy, Steven has PTSD, Steven’s gonna corrupt, et cetera… like, it was all laid on far too thick. So when we got to Growing Pains, it really didn’t move me like it did so many others because it came off as such a “No shit, Sherlock” moment for me when Priyanka finally addressed the underlying issues the show itself really didn’t even bother trying to be subtle about.

Don’t get me wrong; a lot of people who have suffered (or are presently suffering) from the same problems as Steven irl have been helped a lot by these kinds of episodes, and I do appreciate that.

But from my personal standpoint, yeah… I knew from the start that Steven’s underlying issues alone were not gonna be enough to sustain a full series, and sure enough, it wasn’t. We got to see some bits here and there with the other characters, but we also had a few choice characters be really shitty people in season 5 that never got properly addressed before it concluded, and with the timeskip in SUF, all of that just got handwaved off as “dealt with offscreen”, which is the laziest BS ever. 

And worst of all, at the end, they really didn’t stick the landing well at all. I’ll at least say SUF’s resolution wasn’t the mega levels of offensively terrible as Change Your Mind - but then again, it’s hard to out-do giving totalitarian space dictators with countless lives lost under their watch a fucking FACE-TURN out of nowhere. 

Like, really, the Diamonds’ presence (White especially) in SUF actively made my viewing experience even worse towards the end. Yes, I should be glad they’re establishing that the Diamonds are at least starting to use their powers for good and rebuild some of the lives they ruined.

But, y’know… doesn’t change the fact that they’re all responsible for multiple counts of global genocide. Like, any living creatures native to their colony planets? They’re still fucking gone. And the Diamonds themselves just come off VERY unnatural as “nice” guys - and in many cases, they’re even creepier now than they were as villains. Good god, White’s blubbering in the climax was fucking insufferable, though. 

Partially I think this comes from SU being a “kids show” so there’s this pressing need to end things as cleanly as possible. I’m more miffed that in the end, Steven still got pretty much everything he wanted.

They had some admittedly good set-ups to Steven’s growth, like having him accept that people grow up, change, and move on with their lives. We see the clear evidence that Steven’s got an unhealthy clinginess towards his human friends - and Connie’s no exception. 

And considering they took the time to establish that:

Connie has friends other than Steven. She gets along with them just fine, so it’s not like she’s totally lonely or isolated without him.

Connie is ambitious with many goals and aspirations when it comes to her education and potential career paths. She’s shown to have put a lot of thought into her options and at no point comes off as feeling pressured by her parents or friends into this.

Connie knows she has to work hard and often to achieve her dreams, and despite that rigid lifestyle, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. That would imply she really wants to reach these goals she set for herself, whether or not Steven’s in the picture at all.

Connie and Steven’s dynamic is a far cry from how it was when they started out in the original series. You can tell Steven has no clue what Connie’s talking about when it comes to her goals and just plays along, pretending he understands anything coming out of her mouth.

Connie, despite what her speech would lead you to believe, has been every bit as insufferably dense as the gems in SUF when it comes to Steven’s issues. In Bismuth Casual, Steven’s very specifically-worded concerns were misconstrued as a fear of skating (or his inability to, whatever) - and in the end, they just became Stevonnie rather than properly talked things through. You know, something PERIDOT 100% did in the prior episode.

Connie is very firm about wanting to live her life as herself. She’s not against being Stevonnie from time to time, but like hell does she want to be Stevonnie for the long term. 

Connie knows marrying in general at her age is a stupid-stupid-stupid idea, even if it is Steven. And considering her well-established commitment to her studies and reaching her lofty goals, Connie - at least at the time - seemed to know a relationship with anyone just wasn’t in the cards for her at this point in her life. There’s no need to rush that shit, and she won’t compromise her life just to give her needy friend this thing he wants that he doesn’t even fully understand truly is. 

Or, you know… just have Connie backpedal hard on a good chunk of that and date Steven so that he won’t become a monster again. I’m mostly kidding with that - but by kissing his monstrous self and that triggering his restoration, then soon later we see that even though Steven and Connie can only have a long-distance relationship at best, she’s dating him right now anyway even though this needlessly makes her life way more complicated than it needed to be - like seriously, how can I not take that as Canon Connverse being founded on the condition of “Okay, if it’ll keep you from losing your shit, going pink, and turning into a monster, I’ll date you”?!

And in the end it yet again gives Steven more-or-less exactly what he wants, even if it isn’t something he really needs. 

I’m glad Rebecca clarified that Steven would still visit Beach City often, because I had a very hard time buying him just traveling by himself on the road. And maybe it would have worked better if he was just doing it short-term to “find himself” or something along those lines, but nope! They’re basically saying this is what Steven wants to do.

And honestly, even that is dampened with his clearly-stated intention of visiting Connie way more than he intends to visit the gems. Even though Connie’s gonna be busy. With college.

This just… wasn’t a good ending. It had plenty of good moments - his goodbye to Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot especially was very well-executed and the closest this finale came to drawing out any real emotion out of me. I loved the scene of Steven giving Greg his room; that was adorable. The last meeting with Tsundere Jasper was amusing.

But everything else… ehhh.

I mean, what can we really take from this season that I haven’t already outlined? The biggest takeaways were the plot points everyone saw coming a mile away that weren’t even executed all that well. 

In Dreams, as great at is was, might as well have not even happened - because what really carried over from that episode through to the end? Even though Peridot was the only one who got through to Steven, legitimately comforted him and addressed his fears, and the episode for once ended with Steven being happy with no underlying concerns about his problems - immediately he’s back to being awkward and depressed and frustrated by Bismuth Casual.

And I get that shit like trauma shouldn’t be resolved so easily, but for what In Dreams accomplished, I expected there to at least be a semblance of progress. Steven’s known since that episode he can hang out with Peridot and talk to her about whatever without needing a reason to do it, but he never ever takes her up on that again. 

So again, what was the point? 

You really get the impression that the quality of writing took a backseat just to emphasize the symbolism of an issue people commonly have, but SUF’s execution stretched my suspension of disbelief far beyond its limits. 

And nothing stretched that farther than Connie’s insufferable fucking speech in I Am My Monster; that pretty much completely made In Dreams feel like it never really happened in SUF’s continuity. 

In some ways, I just prefer to believe In Dreams was just a dream itself. An AU offshoot in SUF itself. Considering it’s so ridiculously good compared to the other nineteen episodes and by far the most pure and wholesome, maybe that’s the best way to see it. 

In Dreams was too good for its own series. That’s literally the only thing I personally took from SUF as a whole (at least in terms of lasting impact). 

So yeah, I guess for only one episode of twenty to really hit me in the feels, “empty” is an apt way to describe the series, anon. 

Seriously, if I didn’t have my own massive SU-AU to mess around in and do things properly, this probably would have upset me more. 

Instead, I just chuckle at Rebecca’s Monster Steven and raise her to what I’m putting my version of Steven through in my current story. Where I’m pulling all the stops to make other characters matter even though the stars are undoubtedly Peridot and Steven. 

And I’m actually making actions yield serious, lasting consequences.

(yeah, part of me wishes Jasper wasn’t revived - or alternatively, have Steven accidentally shatter White Diamond instead of Jasper since he came awfully close in canon

or even better, shatter Jasper and revive her, then accidentally shatter White and not be able to revive her since Steven used up ALL that diamond essence on Jasper…

yeah I’m kind of a monster)

Your pain is mutually felt, anon. So I’ll prescribe you endless refills of better-written and better-executed SU fanon to heal the emptiness SUF left inside you.

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Remarks: Oscar’s Talk with Ironwood (RWBY V7 CH7)

This isn’t going to be like one of my usual posts. Let’s just say that this squiggle meister really, really loved the scene between Oscar and General Ironwood from today’s episode---RWBY V7 Chapter 7. I enjoyed it so much that I’m going to be that nerd and quote all of it in this one post for future analysis and reference because that’s how much I loved it. I’ll also share some of my thoughts on this particular moment since…as I’ll reiterate, it was REALLY GOOD!

 (Oscar and Ironwood down in the Vault of the Winter Maiden)

 Ironwood: It’s right behind that door.

Oscar: The Staff of Creation.

Ironwood: I hoped bringing you down here might jog some memories; after all it was your idea to use the staff to life Atlas off the ground.

Oscar: I thought gravity dust kept Atlas afloat.

Ironwood: That’s the public story. But with the staff, we have a constant, seemingly limitless energy source. Ozpin speculated it could take us as high as we wanted. To tell you the truth, that served for the inspiration for the Amity Project. Get a communication tower up in the sky, higher than the Grimm could survive so we never lose contact with each other again.

Oscar: But…you’re not using the staff to raise Amity.

Ironwood: The staff could only be used for one purpose at a time. We’re going to have to do Amity the old fashioned way. Dust and all.

Oscar: Feels strange; knowing a part of me helped come up with all of this.

Ironwood: You’ll get used to it, I’m sure. Eventually, you won’t even know who’s who anymore.

Oscar: …Right.

Ironwood: We…didn’t always see eye to eye but…I wish I could ask Ozpin what he thought of all of this.

Oscar: Well, I can tell you what I think. The path you’re heading down, where you’re the only one with the answers, where you do the thing you think is right no matter the cost, it’s NOT going to take you anywhere good.

Ironwood: We have to stop Salem. Nothing matters more.

Oscar: Some things matter more. I think. Keeping our humanity. It’s what makes us different from her.

Ironwood: Sometimes I worry that’s her greatest advantage. Without humanity, does she still feel fear? Does she ever hesitate? When Salem hit Beacon, even with all my ships, all of my soldiers, I was no match for her. I’ve never felt so helpless, the way she told me she was there.

Oscar: It’s okay to be afraid. You can’t just let that fear control you.

Ironwood: I am not going to end up like Lionheart. Do you believe in me?

Oscar: I do believe in you. But not only you. I think the best thing you could do is sit down and talk with the people you’re most afraid to.

Ironwood. Now you are starting to sound like him.

Some Squiggly Thoughts on This Scene:

 “I do believe in you. But not only you.”

Gosh I f***ing love that line and I love Oscar even more for saying it! Tell ‘em my BOY!

As a matter of fact, I love this whole scene. Tattoo it on my back. It’s that good, well at least in my opinion.

“Now you are starting to sound like him.”

…Jimmy, my boy you couldn’t be anymore wrong:. 

Oscar is something else. He’s different from Ozpin. Different from all the other wizards and I believe even more now that his perspective on things will make his experience as the new Wizard a whole lot more spectacular. 

Sorry to waste a post on this but I needed to caption this entire conversation. Not just for future analystic reasons  but because I loved it so much. There is so much to gather from this one talk and it’s sad I can’t muse on it right now.

But what I will say from what I’ve gathered is my concern for Ironwood. Fear really is his Baobab like I had theorized and if he doesn’t remove it soon; it’ll lead to him losing his humanity. 

With the exception of Glynda Goodwitch, I believe, each member of Ozpin’s Inner Circle---at least the men---- had a particular qualm about them that they succumbed to, based on the Oz character they draw inspiration from.

Qrow, I guess in his depression over learning the truth, succumbed to his alcoholism which you can say is a habit of his carelessness. Sometimes people who act careless commit foolish acts and we saw that with Qrow last season in V6 where he spent most of his time drinking himself into a stupor instead of banding together with the children to come up with a better solution. 

I guess in a way, this shows that Qrow is no different than the kids? Qrow was only a child---no older than our young heroes---- when he met Ozpin and he spent most of his life following in his wisdom and guidance. 

And after Oz “disappeared”, Qrow was left without a voice to guide him too like a scarecrow without a brain.

Lionheart succumbed to his fears. And now, Ironwood is at the risk of losing his humanity which is synonymous with the tin man needing a heart. 

I don’t wish to imagine how James would be if he didn’t act with empathy and compassion. The irony is that you can sort of say that he is  doing this already---sure he’s been looking out for the People of Atlas but he hasn’t even considered what his actions are doing to the People of Mantle. 

Imagine what it would be like if James just stops caring about anyone all together and the only thing that mattered to him was stopping Salem. 

I think this is what today’s episode is alluding to. At some point, I believe James will fall prey fully to his Baobab and will plot to go stop Salem---not even thinking about how the consequences of his actions might affect EVERYONE.

In the end, no one will matter to James. Not Winter. Not Penny. Not Pietro. Not even the People of Atlas. Not even the People of Remnant for that matter.

I think his goal of stopping Salem will become his main focus and all the humanity that he once had where he cared about people and trusted in others---all that won’t matter to him anymore. It’ll be all what he thinks is right. 

 This now makes me wonder what will happen if ‘this version of James’---a one driven into his own paranoia of one primary goal---one primary programming to stop Salem at all costs---how would he feel when he learns that the thing he’s been obsessing over to the point of losing himself to it, is all for not?

How would James feel after realizing that he can’t stop Salem at all…especially after he’s given up everything---meaning his humanity---to stop her?! 

I’m actually REALLY FREAKING INTRIGUED AND EXCITED by this now.

And we wouldn’t have gotten this conversation if it weren’t for Oscar lending his insight. Speaking of, can I just reiterate again how much I loved this episode particularly for this scene---this talk between Ironwood and Oscar.

I think I’ve said it a couple of times before, right? 

THIS is what I’ve been wanting for the longest while! This is what folks who often criticize Pineheads like myself who want Oscar to have more focus in the series don’t understand.

When I say I want RWBY to focus on Oscar, I’m not just asking for the Writers to give him more screen time or have him do cool things or just act cute for the entire episode. While any moment with Oscar is great, that’s not really what I’m looking for as a fan of his character. It’s fine if that’s what other Pineheads want but speaking for myself mostly here, I look for more than just the small “breadcrumb moments” for Oscar’s side of things, y’know what I mean?

When I say “CRWBY please give Oscar more proper focus”, I’m NOT asking them to kill off all the other characters in the series and quote, unquote, “Make Oscar the main character of RWBY”.

Honestly, I don’t know where some folks get the impression that “focus” is tantamount with being the main character of something. Not every character in a show has to be the main character just to have focus. As a matter of fact, I often find myself being impressed by shows that are able to provide good writing and development for its side or supporting characters just as much as the main ones. But then again, that’s just me. 

In the case of Oscar, this is what I mean when I say FOCUS ON HIM. Allow the audience to see and hear what he’s thinking when the story demands it. Allow him to challenge other characters on their perspectives with his own and let the audience see all of that rather than have it happen off-screen and Oscar has to then tell us about it in a later scene while no one really reacts to what he’s saying. *coughsV6CH9coughs* 

This is what I have personally been wanting to see. I want Oscar to talk to other characters and give his own opinion on things and let the plot focus on that because when it does, that’s when we get the gold, people!

Gold comes out of this boy’s mouth every time the story allows him to and no I’m not just saying that ironically because Oscar’s name is synonymous with the colour gold.

But you just know when the story focuses on Oscar in the right way---meaning let us see and hear how he feels---it’s good. Better than good. It’s freaking great and this is why I clapped for this scene with Ironwood. 

This scene was my favourite scene from the episode and probably my best moment with Oscar for V7 so far.

Oscar’s talk to Ironwood reminds me so much of his V5 Dojo Scene with Ruby. I actually think I like Oscar’s talk with Ironwood more since we get to hear more of what Oscar is thinking and see Ironwood react to it. This moment was GREAT, you guys. I cannot stress this enough. 

Oscar was really, really great in this episode and his stance with Ironwood made me feel so proud of him as a fan of his. Having Oscar spend more time with James---I was worried about where that was going to but I’m glad that this is the direction they went with him---showing Oscar being the opposite side to go toe to toe with Oz. He is like Ozpin in this manner but at the same time. he’s also his own person because Oscar is advicing James from a person who saw where Oz’s path eventually took him and how he’s doing his best to guard people he care about from walking down the same path.

Oscar was talking more as himself in this scene and....I LOVE IT.  I hope there is more.

I want more moments of Oscar talking to people. This is what I want to see above anything else. More than any Rosegardening Rosebud moments he’ll have with Ruby. More than him even unlocking his semblance. I want to hear Oscar’s thoughts on things that happened to and around him within recent times and I want to see him challenge other characters with his ideals and see how they react to what he’s saying.

I still want to see Oscar challenge Ruby on her stance with keeping the truth from Ironwood. I think Oscar has a greater incentive to do so now.

That line---that piece of advice that he gave James about “talking to the people you’re most afraid to”, I don’t think that advice was just for James. I wonder if we’ll have Oscar approaching Ruby again and the two resuming their talk from V7 CH3? I think it will happen soon, especially with how things are shaping up for James.

That Baobab man. It’s going to consume him. Not unless the little barn prince convinces the little red rose withholding secrets to help him remove the tin man’s baobab seeds before it’s too late. At least that’s what I’m thinking.

That being said, I’m curious to see where Oscar and James will be for the next episode. Will we go straight into the dinner? Overall, I am hyped for CH8. I don’t think I’ve been this excited for an episode to come for this season.

I just want to see how everything is going to play out. Especially for James and how Oscar is going to react to it. I’m sure Oscar will be watching James very closely for the next episode to see if he will take his advice. I doubt Ironwood will take Oscar’s advice. As a matter of fact, I think CH8 will be the first sign of Ironwood’s Baobab completely taking over and….it’s going to result with him having bad blood with not just Jacques Schnee or the Council (because I think we might see them too since Ironwood will be fighting for his seat on the Council) but everyone.

I think Ironwood will take the step towards losing his humanity next episode and I’m curious to see how Oscar will react to it. Maybe he might approach Ruby again on the subject matter and after James…dips…Oscar might look to Ruby who might finally come to the realization of what she had done. Because ironically, Ruby isn’t the only one walking Oz’s path for this season---James is too. The really, really bad one and maybe seeing James might help Ruby with her own qualms.

I dunno. Like I said, I am so excited for next episode!

 ~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)  

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 5

Well. Last episode was a thing. I’d gathered that there were some dark parts about this show, what with Mr. Freeze killing off military police by literally boiling them, and then Lust stabbing Cornello. But I wasn’t expecting something as dark as Shou’s actions. It’s interesting, Tephi mentioned that we seem to be getting themes in our shows. She gets “this is so weird!” with man-eating giants, macho drill power, fan service, ect. I get “look how fun NOPE HORROR AND HEARTBREAK”. Wonder if that’s going to continue. Actually, since the last post-credits said they boys would encounter Scar, I’m not that optimistic.

Narrator’s recapping Ed and Al’s failed study group, how Ed’s grief-stricken at his powerlessness. Episode 05: “Rain of Sorrows” House in a field? Wait. Ah, captions are saying it’s Ed (Age 5), calling to Mama Elric. Flashback? Aw, Baby!Ed transmuted a little horse statue for his mother. That’s cute- NOPE NOT CUTE NOT CUTE SWEET LETO MAMA ELRIC JUST TURNED INTO CHIMERA Aw hell no, this is a nightmare isn’t it? Ed’s seeing his failure to bring his mother back, Nina and Alexander melding- And he wakes up. Leto, but that was disturbing. Why do I keep watching this show at night again? Al asks if Ed’s alright, waking up from a dream like that. Right, since Al’s in the armor I guess he doesn’t sleep, so he doesn’t have much to do while Ed’s out for the count except read. Cut to Central (or is this East Command?), Ed hesitates to knock at a door until Riza opens it, surprised to see the Elric Brothers so early. They’ve stopped in to ask what’s going to happen to Tucker and Nina. Riza reports that Tucker was supposed to be decertified and stand trial… but both he and Nina are dead. The Elrics are shocked to hear that they’ve both been murdered. Riza says they don’t know who did it (hmmm, maybe this “Alchemist” was killed by that guy who you know’s been going around killing a bunch of alchemists, hmmm?), so she’s heading to the scene of the crime. And she tells the brothers to not go, because they don’t need to see it. At the house, Armstrong and Hughes are once again unfortunately serious as they examine the scene, Hughes complaining that he’s always one step ahead of them. Colonel Roy appears, asks why it sounds like they were expecting this. Did he not know about Scar? Wait, what? Cornello? Didn’t you get Extreme Acupuncture? What are you doing, preaching to the people of Liore who should really know better by now? Oh dear, “Cornello” is preaching to his wide-eyed followers to rise up and attack the people who can rearrange matter at will with farm tools. That’s gonna work out grrrrreat. Hey, good for you, [Man C], pointing out the crazy-talk! But unfortunately the others shout him down. Oh, Lust! So it’s a Corrupt Priest Hologram? However the trick’s being done, it’s turned Liore into a battleground, people beating the crud out of each other as a little girl cries off to the side, in case we didn’t realize that this was Bad. Lust and Gluttony are watching the chaos from on high, as Fake-Cornello walks up and says he’s got his own responsibilities to get back to. More talk about how humans are simple-minded, violent creatures, then Lust asks for ‘Envy’ to lose the costume. And hey, it’s the third Goth from the into sequence! Glad to finally have a name for the guy. Whoops, the Assistant Pastor saw the transformation, and unfortunately reacted loudly rather than run away. Envy takes offense to being called a ‘monster’, and then Gluttony has a snack. While there’s some unpleasant chewing going on, Envy mentions that Tucker is dead. And that they should care because it was “him” that was responsible for the murder. Lust does not seem to like Scar, bad history? And the Flame Colonel and Fullmetal Alchemist are there too? Seems all their enemies are gathering in one- Wait, what? “As furious as I am that he interfered with our work here, we can’t very well let him die.” Whoa whoa whoa, what’s the story here? The Goths are actually working to protect Ed? Why? Why would these people who just gleefully drove a town to riot be protecting our protagonist? Ok, that line just opened up a plethora of possibilities, I’ve got dozens of half-baked theories to try and sort out now. Do they work for someone who would not approve of Ed being harmed, Monkey D. Dragon style? Are they scouting him out as a potential recruit, ala Slaughterhouse Nine? Do they want to get their hands on Al’s collected recipes? Why do these Goths want Ed unharmed? ...oh. OH. Ok, hit pause too soon, another line just threw out my old theories and replaced them with new ones. “He’s an important sacrifice.” So it’s not that they want him unharmed, it’s that they need him to die at a future time. Why? What do they gain out of killing Ed? While my poor head is spinning, Gluttony finishes his meal as Lust and Envy work on their plans, starting with the man they’re discussing back at Command: Scar. The State Alchemists don’t really know anything else beyond the name, which they’re just using because of his picture. Literally, the only information they have is he has a large scar on his forehead. Roy’s heard stories about the man, it seems. Hughes just complains that following this order from the military police means his other work is piling up. Scar’s killed five State Alchemists in Central, with a nationwide count up to ten. And a few days ago he took down Grand, the- Brigadier General? Wow, didn’t realize the guy had such a high rank. And if Scar took down such a powerful Alchemist that easily, disregarding how cocky Grand was acting? Probably best for our characters to increase their escorts and lie low. After all, with Roy and Tucker as the only State Alchemists of note around… Roy has the same reaction that I have: “Oh no!” Out in the rain (man, this storm is going on for ages), Ed and Al are sitting at a statue, Ed repeating something: “Alchemy is the science of understanding the flow of matter and its laws… the process of comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction. The world flows, too. It must also follow laws. Everything circulates… even Death is a part of that circulation. You must accept the flow.” A lesson drummed into their head by Teacher. Right, we saw a scene of her teaching the brothers in Ep 2, didn’t we? Ed says he thought he understood it, but now says he didn’t. First his mom, now Nina? And heading out into the rain hoping it would “wash away some of the gloom”, but it’s not working. Al then doubles down on the depression, talking about how he can’t even feel the raindrops. Would somebody please give these poor boys a hug? Gah! Not you! Scar’s here! “You, boy, you’re the Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric, correct?” NO. NO HE’S NOT! Well that was abrupt! Without another word Scar goes for the kill, it’s only Al grabbing his big brother out of the way that saves his life. Ed snaps back, Transmutes a quick stone cage around the attacker. But Scar easily blasts his way out, and the Elrics make a break for it. Or they try to, but Scar’s easily keeping up, shattering stairs and pillars as they flee. “Damn it, what the hell is this guy’s problem?! Making enemies isn’t something that I- Well… I never really avoided it. But there’s no reason someone should be trying to kill me!” First off, humor! Glad to see it back in the show! Second, yeah! What’s your problem, Scar? They race into an alleyway, but Scar calls up a wall to block them off. Ed demands to know who their attacker is. “As long as there are ‘creators’ like you in the world, there must also be destroyers.” That explains nothing, dude. Ed and Al get ready to fight, but Scar only smiles as they charge. Please get past him, please get past hi- AL! NO! Scar just dodged them both, then blew a Leto-damned hole in Al’s armor! Go away, commercial-break cards! Not now! Scar’s distracted for a moment at nobody being inside the armor, but still easily counters Ed’s attack and zaps him. But thank goodness he grabbed his arm like every other baddie. Although now he knows the weakness. *gulp* Y’know, as terrified as I am for the brothers right now, I have to respect Scar’s analysis ability. He instantly figured out that Ed’s making a Transmutation Circle by pressing his hands together, so his first target is his “abhorrent right arm”. And SWEET LETO he does, instantly! Ed’s arm is, just, gone! Oh, this is bad. This is really bad. Al’s collapsed in the alley screaming for Ed to run away, Ed’s trying to move back in shock, but falls to the right without his arm, and now that Scar’s prevented Ed from using his “heretic’s alchemy” (and just what are you doing, you hypocrite?) he’s going in for the kill. Aw, but he offers Ed a moment to pray. That’s nice of him. Ed? Ed, what are you doing? Aw. Aw, no. Ed’s clarifying that he’s Scar’s target, not his brother. And trying to make Scar promise that he won’t hurt Al. Ed, no. Ed, run! Get up and run! RUN! Gunshot? Hot damn, the cavalry has arrived! Shoot that murderer! Or arrest him, whatever works. Just get him away from my poor Elrics. Oh, what the heck. Scar’s spouting about how Alchemists alter things from their natural form, profaning the true creator God, saying that he’s here to hand down God’s judgement. *Sigh* Buddy, really? You’re gonna go the “unnatural” route? Not to bring religion into it, but I couldn’t help but notice that you’re wearing sunglasses and clothes. You don’t exactly find those things growing on trees. So no, your “natural form is best form” isn’t gonna work with me. And yeah, tell the half-dozen people holding guns on you that you’ll eliminate them if they interfere with you killing a kid. That’s gonna go over grrrreat. Roy? Roy, what are you doing? Come on, buddy. You know the saying “The man who wins a fist-fight is the one who brings friends with guns”? Why are you ignoring that, handing your gun off to Riza and telling everyone to stay out of it? Aaand I just remembered that Roy’s Flame Gloves don’t work when wet, and it’s raining. What are you planning to do, taunt him? Well, whatever he’s planning, it distracts Scar, he steps away from Ed and charges at the higher target. Scar charges, Roy prepares his plan, Riza runs forward… five seconds later ...ok, let me process what just happened. Scar lunged forward for his insta-kill Face Grab, and what did Roy do? He snapped his fingers, and there was a pathetic *pop*. Yeah, what I just said about Roy having a plan? He didn’t, he actually tried to do his Flame Alchemy. In the rain. He really forgot that his gloves are worthless when wet. But thankfully, Riza seems to have the brains of the duo, and managed to knock Roy off his feet in the split second before Scar’s hand connected. I just… wow. Roy, you are an idiot, and you had best thank Riza for saving your life. I managed to pause at just the right time to capture the incident. Here’s a screenshot, I’d say the last two words best describe Roy’s actions.

Just… wow, dude. You were an idiot. Time resumes as Riza goes guns-akimbo at Scar, who dodges into the alley. The alley with Al still in there. Uh oh. And oh my Leto Roy, don’t you dare complain at the lady who just saved your life. “Useless on rainy days” indeed. Scar’s back to ranting at the people with guns. Someone shoot this guy already. NO WAIT, EVEN BETTER! “I’d like to see you try it!” The Mighty Armstrong has arrived! Punch… to the ground. Good try! Armstrong keeps up the boasting as some other Alchemists run by and gather up Ed. “We’ll see how you fare against the Strong Arm Alchemist, Alex Louis Armstrong!” [Adventure String Music] has started up, it is on! As Scar is not backing down, The Mighty Armstrong will give him a demonstration of the art of alchemy that has been passed down the Armstrong family for generations! Punch to the stone to make an arrowhead, that narrowly misses the murderer. ...uh hey, all you guys with guns? Scars looking away from you now, rightly distracted by The Mighty Armstrong. You wanna put a bullet in his leg, or something? No? Just gonna stand there and watch the show? Ok, whatever. Ed’s informed that this is the guy who murdered Tucker and Nina, and then the Alchemist yells at Armstrong for his property damage. Armstrong what. What are you doing? When did you take your shirt off before spouting about destroying to create? The other State Alchemists question his decision to strip, even as The Mighty Armstrong continues to manly-glint. The Mighty Armstrong notes that Scar understands the truth of that statement, and the onlookers catch on to Scar being an alchemist who stopped at the ‘destruction’ stage of ‘construction, destruction, and reconstruction’. And they call him out for his hypocrisy, while wondering why he’s targeting other alchemists. Meanwhile Scar and Armstrong continue to brawl, Scar thinking about how Armstrong’s unusually coordinated for his size. Oh, Scar’s cornered! Armstrong’s got him! Wait. Oh no. No no no. Scar’s doing his analysis thing again, he’s identified a moment when Armstrong's swing is too wide. Armstrong, get back before he grabs you! Hey, he did it, Armstrong jumped away! And… ah, finally! Riza proves she has the brains of the Alchemists as she starts shooting at Scar again. Did she get him? No, even with all that he was quick enough to only graze him. But at least you got his sunglasses. Wait, what’s with the surprise? Red eyes, brown skin? That means he’s an Ishvalan! Will we finally get some information about that backstory war? Nope, not this time it seems. Scar finally recognizes he’s outnumbered, and blasts a hole into the sewers to get away. Roy thanks Armstrong for buying them time to surround Scar, Armstrong remarks that it was all he could do to keep from getting killed. The perils of CQC against someone who can kill with a touch. Hughes, where were you in all this? What the heck, you were cowering? And what the heck are you doing, calling them a freak show pack of pseudo humans?! I thought you were cool, dude! Ed comes to it (again, he’s been dropping in and out of focus this entire episode hasn’t he?) and runs over to Al. The State Alchemists are looking on- Al, what the heck?! No need to punch Ed! I get that you’re upset that he didn’t run away, but he was trying to protect you! Gah, stop punching him! “Making the decision to die is something only an idiot does!” “Survival is the only way, Ed. Live on, learn more about alchemy. You could find a way to get our bodies back and help people like Nina… you can’t do that by dying! I won’t allow you to abandon the possibility of hope and choose a meaningless death!” Wow. That’s… “Oh, great! And now my arm’s come off because my brother’s a big, fat idiot!” Have I praised the writing of this show/manga lately? Because I should be doing that more often. That was pure gold, right there. Oh my Leto, did you just make a “falling apart” pun, Ed? Hughes gripes that he’s stumbled into an extra-special kind of freak show. Give it up Hughes, we know you love them. And the State Alchemists are agreeing to not pass on Al’s state. Daw, you guys are the best! Well, Scar’s made his escape. But now they know he’s Ishvalan, and the Elrics are still alive. Things are ok. Oh, information on the Ishvalans, finally! Roy’s saying that the Ishvalans were a race of people who lived to the east, believing their god Ishvala was the one, absolute creator. So that’s who Scar prays to, not Leto? Map of the area, give me a sec. Looks like our character’s country is a rough circle, split into five areas (north, south, east, west, central), country named Drachma (isn’t that an ancient Greek coin?) to the north-west, another named Creta (like the island?) to the south-west, and along the eastern border is a Desert Area. Ishval was annexed to the country, giving me another concern about the government our protagonists work for. Then, thirteen years ago… *picture of a small bloody hand by a teddy bear* A military officer accidentally shot and killed an Ishvalan child, sparking a civil war. Shot of military police shooting as an Ishvalan man armed with a knife yells, the map shows the conflict covering the entire eastern sector. That led to military high-command… ordering the extermination of Ishval. Wow. Ok, um. I gathered that the government was a bit overbearing, but… did Fuhrer Bradley really order a genocide? We’ve got a shot of State Alchemists marching, I recognize the late Grand in the center. And is that a younger Armstrong marching in front of him, sans mustache? He’s got that tiny sprig of blond hair and is built like a tank, so I’m assuming that’s him. Marching next to him is a much skinnier black-haired guy with two bangs in front of his face, smirking. Yyyep, I’mma say that I don’t trust anyone who smiles while committing genocide. Camera pans down to three more Alchemists, I recognize Roy and Mr. Freeze but have no clue who this dwarf with a mohawk is. Manga character? Now it’s shots of Alchemists using their powers, Grand throwing out chains and Mr. Smiles apparently blowing up a crowd of screaming Ishvalans. Charming. Roy also snaps his fingers at a village. “Needless to say, the State Alchemists produced striking results.” Roy recognizes that in a sense, as an Ishvalan survivor Scar’s revenge is justified. Ed disagrees, saying that Scar’s attacking people who had nothing to do with it. Regardless, Scar’s trying to kill our characters, so next time there won’t be any talk. And no forgetting how your powers work, either! Roy. So, what’s the plan for the Elrics? They’re gonna keep moving, and before they progress with fixing their bodies they have to get their busted parts back to normal. Time to visit the mechanic. Hey, Winry! Guess we’ll see you next episode, then! “In order to repair their injured bodies, Ed and Al set off for their former home in Resembool, where they are met by their mechanics Winry and Pinako. On the way there they happen across-” Hold everything! Is that Armstrong I see in these shots? It is! We get an episode of Armstrong traveling with the Elrics! Yes! “-they happen across a doctor with a troubled past who may have clues to offer in the brother’s search for the Philosopher’s Stone. Next time, on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood-” Episode Six: “Road of Hope” “What would young Ed discover, and how many questions will still remain to be answered?” Hey, you showed a picture of the Elric family with the father’s face covered. Rude. Pretty sure it’s the blonde bearded guy in the intro, but half expecting a twist like Scar being their actual dad. Who knows given this show.

[maximumkillshot]

I Need Help

Warnings: Mental Breakdowns, mentions of Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety, depression, and other illnesses, small bit of cursing, fluff, angst, y’know the common roller coaster!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader, Jack

A/N: Hey so... I had an episode. This what I know Dean would do for his number one girl... if she lived with what I have...

“All I Could Do” Masterlist- CLICK HERE

Overall Masterlist- Click Here

“When You Call” Masterlist- Click Here

“The Situation” Masterlist- Click Here

This is never going to end and you know it, I feel my depression scream  at my heart, chilling my bones. I don’t even know why it hits like this.

Maybe it was that argument I had with Dean. The things he said, they ripped me down to my core. It was so bad I ran to Jack’s room and started crying in his arms. He insisted that I couldn’t be alone and I damn sure shouldn’t be in Sammy’s room, because lord knows how defensive Dean gets. Jack let me sleep with him in his bed, ever few hours waking me up because I was crying in my sleep.

When I woke up I tiptoed past mine and Dean's room, going to grab some cereal. I can’t believe he said that my feelings cripple me, but is he wrong?comments my anxiety. I start to feel fresh tears prick at my eyes as I scurry back to my safe place… Jack’s room. By the time I’m in the door Jack’s on his phone, texting.

“Is it Garth?” I ask.

“No”

“Who else would text you at 10 am?” I asked.

“Dean, your husband.”

I froze at that.

“What’d he say?”

“Asked if you were okay… said he couldn’t sleep without you by his side.. said he messed up.”

“The only times he messed up was when he proposed and actually married me. I’m a wreck.” I said as I wiped tears away. “Everything he said was right, I shouldn’t be hunting because I’m mentally unstable. I let my emotions cripple me, I’m worthless in a battle and I get too attached. He’s only holding onto me because he doesn’t want to research.”

“Y/N, you can’t be serious, right?” Asked Jack.

“Does it look like I’m kidding Jack?” I asked, “my Bipolar will never go away, my depression will never disappear, my anxiety is stitched into the fiber of my being, Dean was right when he told me that I was a psycho who only hunts to feel like I belong somewhere.”

“Wow…”scoffed Jack.

“What?” I defended.

“Lying to yourself, that sounds like you. Lying to me? That’s new… Y/N, you are not a psycho, you’re completely sane and dealing with things that are out of your control. There’s a difference.” Said Jack.

“What do I do?” I started crying even more.

“Talk to Dean.” Said Jack as he wiped my nose…

“ I can’t” I stammered, “I… I failed him, I failed you.”

I heard Deans gravelly voice, “stop it…” I heard his voice crack, the way that it does when he’s trying to hold back tears.

Jack smiled at me and walked out of the room as I turned to see Dean, eyes red and brimming with tears. He turned to Jack and muttered a “thanks for taking care of her, kid.” As Jack walked passed him.

“I don’t want you see me like this,” I started quivering.

“Why? You’re beautiful.” He said as the door shut behind him.

“No I’m not. I’m a unique type of fucked up, Dean. You were right.” I tilted my head down, my heart feeling crushed in my chest.

“I’ve never been more wrong. I was scared of losing you and because of that I hurt you. I triggered you to have this… episode.” I watched a tear roll down his face.

“How do you know what these are called?” I asked.

Dean started walking toward me, “The minute you told me what you had I immediately did all of the research I could. I recognized just now, because I’m an idiot, that your illnesses have triggers… and I pulled one of them. I’m so sorry. I was just scared, baby. You battle harder battles in your mind every single day. More than I could ever dream of winning, and you do it. You win, every single day and I never recognized that, because I can’t take seeing you in pain.”

“ Dean don’t, you don’t have to make me feel better.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Dean asked as he grabbed my face, slowly tiling it upwards to his gaze, “I’m not trying to do that, I’m trying to tell you that I was the one that messed up. Calling you a psycho, that you only hunted because you wanted to fit in, all of it is lies, Baby. I said it because I was scared. Having to patch you up, because I didn’t have my brothers back, then seeing you trying to calm me down… it was all because of me.”

“But you’re right, I’m going to snap one day and I’m not going to be useful, Dean. If I have a panic attack in the middle of a hunt…”

Dean cut me off, “then I’ll calm you down”

“But if I have a depressive episode”

“Then I’ll be with you through it”

“And when I’m manic? What then?”

“Then I’ll find shit for us to do…”

“If I don’t wanna take my meds.”

“I’ll convince you to take them… and if you feel like crying, I’ll be there to hold you, if you feel like destroying something, I’ll tear something apart with you, if you feel like dying, I’ll remind you that I’d die without you… Y/N… I LOVE YOU… and your illnesses only make you stronger and more beautiful, more passionate…”

“You can not tell me that you wouldn’t rather have a normal wife...” I went to turn away from him, but he caught my shoulders.

“I am not normal… and I never wanted normal. If I wanted that I would still be with Lisa, but when I met you I knew that I was never...EVER leaving your side. To hell with all of the other people that want normal. Fuck normal, I only want you.”

“Even if I’m like this?” I nearly screamed.

“Especially because you’re like this! Without this… I don’t know who you’d be. I love this you. I don’t want a plain Y/N. I want you! The bubbly, emotional, loving, happy, complex, funny, Y/N. I would never ever ask or want you to change, because if you do… you wouldn’t be you. And I love you, I’m so sorry I hurt you and I brought you to the point to question that.” He said, now tearing up.

“You can’t love me!” I screamed.

“Why?! Why can’t I?!” He yelled

“Because I don’t even love myself, Dean. How can you love someone that doesn’t even love themselves?!”

“What?” He said, confusion all over his face.

“What makes me so different from a shifter, from a werewolf, huh?! I’m a monster, I’m not in control Dean! And I never will be! What makes me different from Amanda, from Ruby? You deserve someone who is normal, not a monster.” I started to hyperventilate. That did make sense… I was the monster.

His face broke “ you are nothing...NOTHING like what we hunt. You aren’t a demon, or a werewolf or a shifter. You are Y/N…. Y/N Winchester, married to Dean Winchester. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known and I was lucky enough to marry you and stupid enough to make you believe that you were anything different. You’re a kick ass hunter, an amazing wife, the perfect friend and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I don’t deserve you…I’m a failure,” I started to weep and collapse, but Dean caught me, cradled me in his arms as I quaked with tears.

“You will never be a failure, Y/N… You saved my brother and a whole family yesterday, including a 9 month old baby. I can never thank you enough for that. Those thoughts, they aren’t yours, Baby.” He gripped onto me as he said the last sentence, almost like he’d lose me.

“Then who am I? I don’t know anymore.” I said as I gripped onto his flannel.

Soon I felt one of his hands leave my body and I heard his phone unlock. After a few minutes he said. “You want to know who you are… look at this.”

When I looked it was a video only having Dean in it. In his room, from before I moved into his. It looked a few years old. When he pressed play I heard him talk..

“Okay, I never do this but tonight was too perfect. Today is February 12, 2013, and I went out with Y/N. She told me about her illnesses and I read up on them. I wanted to make this for her. In case she needs to hear it. Sweetheart, today I had the best night of my life. We tried to go to a fancy restaurant but they didn’t feed us right, so…. we dined and dashed and we spent out money at the old diner off of pinewood ave. We laughed the entire time, trying to get each other to start snorting out of laughter… I won, of course.”

I immediately started to giggle and looked at Dean, who motioned with his head to look back to the screen.

“Anyway, there was this one moment where you looked at me, your eyes sparkled and your smile was so big… I know that I’m going to marry you. I can’t live a day without that smile and every single time it disappears I work as hard as I can to bring it back. I’ve loved you for years and I can’t tell you how amazing you are, I know this was only the first date, but I love you… I love you so fucking much.”

He then pulled the phone away  and in a few minutes he showed me his phone again. This time he was in a suit.

“Hey Baby, today’s March 9th, 2017… and today’s the day I married the woman of my dreams. You’re in the other room, having some whiskey with Sammy, drinking him under the table…” I then heard myself giggle in the background, “god I could listen to that laugh for the rest of my life… and I will. You look so gorgeous always, but today… you’re literally an angel, Y/N. Your vows made me cry, too. Thank god Sammy didn’t grill me. But my god, Y/N… you are perfect… and you always will be perfect. I can’t wait for everything else we’re going to do.”

I heard myself yell, “Dean.”

Then he smiled and said, “ I’ve gotta go, my wife’s calling me” He said with the largest grin I’ve ever seen… “I love you baby.” Then the video cut out.

I heard Dean from behind me, “that’s who you are… you are the most amazing woman. A woman that made a man who wasn’t meant to love anyone fall for you unceremoniously. The same woman that gave me everything I didn’t even know that I needed.  Someone I’d be lost without… you are Y/N Winchester… and you are my everything.”

I looked into his eyes and I finally saw it. A glimmer of light in the darkness I was feeling. A spark that otherwise would’ve been non existent. Then I found myself saying it… “Dean… I need help… please don’t leave.” I started to tear up again.

“Say no more Sweetheart. And I’d never leave you… never.” He said as he pulled me into his chest and kissed my forehead, We got this Baby, you’re not alone.”

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[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Finished ANF ep1 again.

Some random thoughts as the episode progressed:

Before I even hit the start button, I’ve made up my mind to do something that I’ve never, ever done before for the sake of continuing the path of doing something new: I’m gonna romance the hell outta Kate. I never go along with her forced romance because I don’t like it, but this time around she’s gonna be so romanced that she’s gonna croak. Literally, because I’ve also decided to get the ending where she dies. 

AND on top of that, I’m also gonna try and be as nice as possible to David and side with him on most things. This’ll be conflicting but I’m gonna have my cake and eat it, too. Don’t know how that’ll work but it’s not gonna stop me from trying.

I’m super curious to see if just giving in and romancing Kate with actually enhance the story or if it’ll just annoy me. 

Oh Javier Garcia, you beautiful man. 

Fun fact: I’m an only child so whenever I see siblings presented as hitting each other and then turning around and saying “I love you” is so bizarre to me. 

One thing I love about Javi, and really Lee when you think about it, is that they’re not “heroes” y’know? Like, just from this introduction we’re told that Javi hasn’t been around even though his father’s dying, he’s lost a lot [his baseball career as we find out later] and how he’s made several broken promises before. Like Lee, even though he’s not a bad man, he’s far from being a good boy scout.

“Grandpa’s cup was empty.”

“You don’t have to fill his cup up anymore, baby. Grandpa’s... sleeping.”

“No, Yaya... Pipo’s awake.”

Every time, no matter how many times I’ve watched this intro, that still does something to my stomach. 

And really, this intro is so great. I absolutely love it. 

Smokin’ weed with Kate... the start of my downward spiral into her romance...

Mari’s too precious for this shit. Every bit with her just makes me wish she had survived until the end. I know why the killed her off and all, but still... can you imagine her living throughout the season and even meeting up with Clementine and the others in s4?? 

Javi just knocked the head clean off of that walker with a crowbar and now I think I’m in love with him.

Mari would get along with Aasim. She wants to write down everything she remembers from before and he likes to keep a record of everything that’s happened so far. These two could’ve been writing buddies!

“Augh that’s gross.”

POKE IT

Gabe is so angsty it’s hilarious

It’s not even that annoying yet, it’s just funny.

“I fucking love pudding.”

The classic, sensational Javier quote of the game. Why wasn’t this slapped on the box art?

JAVI WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DROP THE GUN AUGH

And how the hell did Clementine cut down an entire tree? 

Also, she’s so edgy and it’s hilarious

CONRAD❤️❤️❤️ 

Seriously, Conrad’s one of my “problematic” favorites if you will, since yeah he does pull a gun on Gabe and threatens us to bring Clementine along ... but he does grow as a character AND he has one of the best kills of the series imo so I’m keeping him alive. Judge me all you want, I don’t care. 

Aaaaaaaand Clementine just killed another man. Oops.

Ugh Eleanor... haha, she’s not a favorite of mine...

Oh my... what did they do to Jane’s face...???? Why does she look weird??? 

I do like the idea of Clementine having a tattoo, though. I guess that’s another perk of going with Jane’s ending. And, of course, AJ’s full name is now Alvin Lee Jr. because duh. 

Aaaaaand Jane’s dead. I actually remember theories going around after s2 that Jane might be pregnant with Luke’s baby and being amazed that they turned out to be correct. So much for never abandoning me, huh Jane...

And I miss Big Brother Luke so much.

Well... I guess I have to kiss Kate now... 

“Gross.” Turns out, Mari would also get along with Mitch haha

Mariana’s dead and now I’m back to making depressed whale noises of despair.

I’m crying because Mari’s dead but I’m also wheezing at Gabe’s angry run I’M CHOKING

Siiiiiiigh. Great episode. I find that all the seasons have a great, strong start. I can’t remember where this one begins to get a bit iffy for me down the line, but it’s not nearly as bad as s2. I still really like this season, even if the whole thing with Kate and David drives me nuts.

And romancing Kate so far is... eh? Let’s just say I don’t get as happy seeing Javi and Kate kiss like I do witnessing a cute clouis kiss.

Looking at my stats, it’s interesting to see that the choice between going with Tripp vs. Eleanor is nearly a 50/50. 

However, it’s not surprising that most of the choices dealing with Clementine are significantly in her favor. 

[8147]

reading hamlet for the first time (act 5: the finale)

masterlist

none of you told me it was going to be this painful . none of you.

a5s1

“Ophelia’s dead.” “Enter CLOWNS!”

Like im sure this has a different meaning in EMA but im gonna make fun of it because it’s fucking hilarious. (future (present? (now past once more (?))) antares coming back to say i did look at nfs and yeah theyre gravediggers)

“First Clown: What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown: The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.” damn not even just this one quote but these are some depressing clowns

hamlet and horatio!

okay there’s something about all of hamlet’s skull talk that makes me uneasy. like, not even the topic, just something in the words and how earnestly and (pardon my pun) gravely hamlet’s speaking about this. and it’s almost a mournful tune, too. it’s a huge difference from his “we’ll all be eaten by the same worms” speech to the point that it’s almost haunting.

“HAMLET: I will speak to this fellow.” C O N F R O N T

“HAMLET: I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.” (incomprehensible scribbling)

HAMLET, NOT IN ENGLAND: oh yeah lol he was sent to england huh u know why lmao

wait. did the. did the pirate situation get resolved. before act V.

I mean i think hamlet mentioned something about three years but the pirates are so fucking glossed over like what the fuck

“First Clown: 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he.” HOLY SHIT ROAST THEM JFC

“HAMLET: Let me see. (Takes the skull)” THIS IS THE SKULL SCENE! I fucking KNEW it was bullshit that holding the skull was in the to be/not to be speech. I saw it being presented as such like once or twice while reading and I KNEW IT

hm okay so hamlet picks up this guys skull, of someone he used to know, and sure maybe i could ignore the “those lips i have kissed” but then he goes on to mention alexander the great and i mean come on

but jesus like i feel like im not doing justice to the stuff hamlet’s saying. just, the gravity of it all. Its kinda hitting home a bit hard bc like ive had a crippling fear of what happens after death and being forgotten etc since i was like in fourth grade and this is @ing that phobia

like, with that julius ceasar thing. “O that that earth which kept the world in awe / should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw,” it’s so strange. like, every fucking human who has lived, whether they be emperors, murderers, inventors, peasants, or philanthropists- as long as they weren’t blind, they’ve all looked at the same sky. like. It doesnt matter what the fuck you did or didn’t. It’s wild.

“First Priest: No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.” hey i get that there are cultural taboos around suicide but like this guy’s a dick it isnt even clear if it was suicide, like, she was so fucking crazy she might not have even known she was, y’know, in a lake or w/e

laertes, dude, my guy. maybe jumping into a grave is cosmic foreshadowing for something you don’t want to happen to you. js.

“HAMLET: [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. (Leaps into the grave)” hamlet is NOT one to be out-extra’d (posting-antares here to say, wait, ‘whose phrase of sorrow conjures the stars? is this my aesthetic-speeches-summon-ghosts theory? probably not, but i havent mentioned it for a while)

“LAERTES: The devil take thy soul! (Grappling with him)” IN A FUCKING GRAVE. THEY ARE FIGHTING. IN A GRAVE.

all because hamlet doesn’t want to be out-extra’d. my god.

“QUEEN GERTRUDE: This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.” Ah yes gertie just talk about the distraught and angry madman as if he isn’t there. that’ll diffuse the situation.

You know what? We still haven’t discussed the pirates.

a5s2

“HAMLET: So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance?” If this isn’t gonna be about the pirates im gonna. scream.

“HAMLET: My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.” god, though. imagine that. being exiled to another country by the person who killed your father, only to find out that they were going to have you killed, anyways. that’s fucking terrifying. jesus christ.

Damn this idea that pretty handwriting is ~beneath~ nobles confuses me so fucking much. I got called haughty once just because my main handwriting is cursive. I mean, they were right, but their evidence was circumstantial at best.

“HAMLET: That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd.” Hamlet’s Revenge. 

but also, what the fuck, dude. two wrongs dont make a right.

damn i kinda lost myself while reading but it really doesn’t sound like hamlet’s insane anymore. Like he’s… tempered himself. he doesn’t feel insane, just solemn.

“OSRIC: Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET: I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?” goddamn ROAST HIM HAMLET (also what a fucking mood)

Osric put on your fucking ha--

The wind is

The wind is northerly

“HAMLET: No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.” I remember someone saying that this is important

Okay here: “HAMLET: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.”

oh no

Osric just wear ur fucking hat u doof

“OSRIC: Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET: I beseech you, remember-- (HAMLET moves him to put on his hat)” excuse me a WAGER

but alas all hamlet cares about is osric’s fucking hat

“HAMLET: What's his weapon? OSRIC: Rapier and dagger. HAMLET: That's two of his weapons: but, well.” hamlet u sarcastic little shit i love you

I mean so is horatio. I love him too.

This stuff with the competition is. not gonna end well. not at well.

“HAMLET: I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter.”

hamlet no. listen to your heart or whatever. jesus christ don’t do it.

“HORATIO: Nay, good my lord,--” HAMLET LISTEN TO HORATIO

Ohhh hamlet

okay reading what laertes said, you know what? i’m giving laertes one last chance. please do not prove me a fool, laertes. 

everything is giving me mad anxiety. e v e r y t h i n g.

claud’s speech is insanely sketchy

“KING CLAUDIUS: [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.” One, so that’s why it was sketchy. Two, the POISONED CUP?

IT’S TOO LATE?

Gertie’s. Dead.

Shit, shit, shit

“LAERTES: [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.” YES! SO PLEASE! STOP FIGHTING!

“LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES.” Oh no oh no oh jeez eheu they’re hurting each other, shit, fuck,

“LAERTES: ...woodcock…”

“KING CLAUDIUS: She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE: No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. (Dies)” one, i love how claud is desperatley trying to stick to the plan, its almost adorable in a childish sort of way. two, oh god. ohhh god. gertie. 

Oh no. 

this is the bloodbath. THIS IS THE BLOODBATH.

BODY COUNT: 1

“HAMLET: The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. (Stabs KING CLAUDIUS)” ...

BODY COUNT: 2

wait and hamlet’s on death row, as with laertes. Oh no.

“LAERTES: He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. (Dies)’ oh my god already??? I haven’t even really accepted king claud’s death?? jesus christ??

My friend just sorta nudged me and asked if i was alright and i. I’m not. i’m in shock. goddamn. what?

BODY COUNT: 3

goodness thats three in like less than thirty seconds JESUS CHRIST

“HAMLET: Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.I am dead, Horatio.” that’s chilling. just, the poignancy. that’s so fucking spectral. i’m not okay.

“HORATIO: Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left.” No no no on no nononon NO NO oh my god are you going to-

“HAMLET: As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. … If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.” hey i’m crying in study hall. i’m actually crying. what the fuck. I don’t cry unless i’m thinking about that one pair of 18th century shoes with the really good photo quality (transcribing-antares here. I fucking love those shoes. I’m looking at them right now and they’re so fucking beautiful. they look how velvet feels, which is odd, bc they're apparently silk. I don’t care they’re just so fucking lovely)

F O R T I N B R A S?

“HAMLET: O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit.” I’ve identified my emotion. Dread. pure, unadulterated Dread.

for all of you that’ve listened to the penumbra podcast: do you remember the concierge, right before final resting place, saying “you do realize you can just like, leave, and everything will be hunky dory and you won’t have to deal with the emotional consequences this episode will bring you” because i’m seriously considering doing that right now.

“HAMLET: The rest is silence. (Dies)” shit. (posting-antares here to say that i forgot to do the body count but honestly im crying while formating because of this goddamn fucking 400 year old play)

“HORATIO: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince…” oh god. horatio.

“Good night sweet prince…”

(yet again tis transcribing-antares here to say that im fucking sobbing right now, the shoes are no match for this, and ‘goodnight sweet prince’ is actually never going to leave my head.) (editing-antares here to say im fucking crying again god fucking damn it) (posting-antares back again saying that this fucking line. this line. my god.)

“HORATIO: What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.” oh, horatio. god. that isn’t something said without tears staining your skin and a bitter tone hard-won, not that its possession is a victory.

oh my god. this can’t. no. this can’t end like this. What. no. people must have rioted. No. no!!

i typically hate it but i would GLADLY accept a deus ex machina right about now!!

okay my friend just took my phone away from me and shut it off because i kept on trying to scroll past the end

jesus christ

okay so i’m not going to be okay for like, several eternities, so im going to play the sims until i. until i die, probably. my god.

masterlist

[lil-lycanthropy]

Belong

Words: 5,250 (or something like that)

Parings: None??? This can be read as platonic or romantic idc

Warnings: Angst, Dissociation, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Flashbacks, slight Blood (nothing gory really), slight Burns (once again, not really bad or anything), Self-Loathing, Negative Thoughts, I think that’s it?

Summary: Everyone’s trying to accept Parker, and Parker is trying hard to be accepted. But the fact of the matter is, he traumatized the sides and they’re not coping well.

Notes: This is for @parkersanders​ as my SAD entry. It’s late (I’m so sorry) because I’m a depressed procrastinator who has to edit things 434753947 times and rewrite all the chapters. Also sorry it’s so long I have no self control, and go big or go home so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Anyway, hope you like it! I’m in love with your verse and hope you have a happy birthday!

Disclaimer: The fic is based on @parkersanders​‘s fic Silence and Duality (read here), and I use one quote from it in here somewhere, I think in the fourth part? Yeah. Enjoy.

Roman was lounging on the couch when it happened.

Everything was fine, until he thought about Parker. The new living situation wasn’t as fear-mongering as he thought it would be, yet there were still tensions. They were all still slightly worried as Parker settled in, but were trying to hold it together so they wouldn’t trigger anything.

Parker was...interesting, to say in the least. With all their history, it was surreal with him back in their lives now. Dealing with his absence for two decades to having him be sleeping next door felt unreal. It would have been unimaginable even a couple weeks ago, and yet that was their reality now.

Then there was the whole drama of Parker escaping his prison, only to put the other through the same hell he experienced—if only for a much shorter time span. Usually Roman was more than okay with drama, but the things that happened in there, only for Virgil to be the one to save him. It left him feeling very defeated in a way he hadn’t ever been before. The shame, the fear...

Suddenly, Roman’s breath started coming in short pants and he could no longer feel the couch beneath him, the pillow under his head, or the clothes he was wearing. He couldn’t feel...anything.

It was like he was having an out-of-body experience, except that didn’t make sense, because as facets of Thomas personality, they were not capable of such things.

He went completely limp on the couch, not having the strength or mental presence to hold his body upright anymore. Focusing on one thing became impossible, his eyes darting back and forth without taking in any information. Roman didn’t know what was happening.

Roman...

Was that even his name? He couldn’t remember. Why did he even have to have a name? It’s not like he even existed...

Roman continued thinking everything and nothing at once, thoughts crossing his mind so quickly, little bits of nonsense that meant nothing.

After a time, Logan walked into the scene—the Prince, sitting on the couch, limp except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest and his eyes flashing a mile a minute.

“Roman?” Logan said, rushing over and kneeling down.

Roman glanced over, barely acknowledging the presence of the other side. “I-I don’t—”

Logan took a breath to steel his nerves. “May I touch you?”

Roman looked confused, then gave a jerk of his head that passed as a nod. Crouching down, Logan took one of the Prince’s hands and placed it on his chest. “Okay, we’re going to go through some grounding exercises to get you feeling calmer. Can you breathe in, as deep as you can?”

A shuddering breath, then a slower exhale.

“Good. Now, repeat.”

They carried on until Roman was breathing fairly regularly, but he was still far from his normal rambunctious self. “Roman, could you do me a favour?” Another nod. “Can you name five things you can see?”

The Prince looked anxiously around the room. “Um, you, the-the TV, the, uh, carpet, table, and-and the blinds over the window.”

“Four things you can feel, now.”

“Your h-hand, my shirt, the couch, and...exhaustion.”

Logan cracked a smile. “Yes, that I can imagine.”

They went through the grounding exercise until Roman was sitting up and didn’t look quite so pale. Logan summoned a glass of water, which Roman chugged gratefully.

“I know I’m not the best at dealing with emotions, but I am curious—do you know what exactly triggered the attack?”

Roman put his head in his hands, mumbling something incoherent.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t catch that.”

Roman raised his head and said, “Parker.”

“What about Parker? I know our situation is going to take some getting used to, but what about that would cause something this bad?”

Hands now shaking again, Roman brushed back his hair. “I was thinking about, how, y’know, we did all this horrible stuff to him, and then he put us through all that when he got out, and it was terrifying. I’m not saying we didn’t deserve it, but, god—”

“Roman, please calm down. You’re rambling, and I know you well enough to recognize when it’s not coming from a place of stability. You’re right; we have done some unacceptable things in the past. We’re all guilty—”

“Virgil’s not.”

“Well, I’m not going to contradict that statement. However, we’re trying to make things right. As for what you faced in there—Parker preyed on our fears. All of us. But fears are often irrational, and even if they’re not, almost any problem can be solved in some way. As long as you remember that, your fears will have no power over you.”

Roman gave a slightly tearful nod, trying to hide the drops through a smile.

Across the room, hidden by shadows, another figure was also trying to hide his tears. Not with a smile, though—with the sleeves of a faded hoodie and the long edges of his sandy hair.

Parker sunk out, retreating back to his room. Just another day where he was to blame.

There was no shortage of those.

A crash broke the relative silence in the mindscape kitchen as Logan dropped the coffee pot, spilling its contents all over the floor.

It was still early—only 9:00, still an hour before regular scheduled time to go to bed—but Thomas had once again decided to procrastinate on a video, so it was likely they both were going to be awake for awhile yet (Roman, too—no video could exist without his input).

Prolonging the inevitable was fruitless, so Logan decided he may as well start early and get some heavily-caffeinated bean water into his system to give him the energy he would require to get through the night.

Making a pot of coffee was pretty much second nature to all the sides by now. With the amount of times Thomas stayed up late, they had all gotten used to rapid-heart rate, shaky-hands, slightly-nauseated feeling. While drinking coffee in the mindscape was more of a habit than actually useful, they all still did it whenever Thomas would be up late. It was really the only way they would function (except Patton, who preferred hot chocolate and was bubbly around the clock).

However, sometimes things go wrong. Logan was distracted, thinking about both the video and Roman. He had been better since his his dissociative episode three days ago, but it had still bothered the analytical side. He was thinking about how Roman’s own mental state might affect the quality of the video (along with the worry for his friend, not that he would admit that) when he dropped the full pot of coffee, shattering it all over the kitchen tile.

As the coffee flooded the floor, they soaked Logan’s fuzzy socks (he was going for comfort rather than appearance. Just this once. One-time thing. Definitely). It began burning his feet, but worse than that was how Logan’s breath stopped.

Being a side meant not having to shower or bathe. It meant not having to go swimming or step in puddles or going in the rain. Being a side meant that dealing with water was a complete rarity, unless one enjoyed baths for leisure (like Virgil sometimes did. Roman had found that out one day, promised to keep it secret, then proceeded to tell Logan, Patton, and Thomas about Anxiety’s guilty pleasure). The last time Logan had been in water was...

The flashback was the only thing occupying his vision. He could vaguely take in his surroundings, but his immediate thoughts were get out you’re going to drown if you do not find a way to GET OUT YOU’RE GOING TO DROWN—

Gasping for breath was a painful affair as Logan forced his lungs to take in oxygen. He wouldn’t be able to escape unless he could think rationally and come up with a solution, but no matter where he stepped, water squelched between his toes and he knew he was still in danger.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure wearing loose clothing, a hood draped over its head. His mind immediately went to Death.

As he tried to get away, his back hit something solid. He slid down, landing in the puddle on the ground.

A wall, it’s a wall, you’re trapped and you’re going to drown and now you’re cornered—

“Logan? Logan! Can you hear me, kiddo?”

Yes, I can hear you. Who are you, though?

“Are you okay? Logan?”

Please, stop pestering me with questions. I need to think of how to escape this torturous flood.

“We’re gonna go to the couch now, okay, buddy?”

He was abruptly pulled upright, his one arm draped over someone’s shoulder. Shuffling forward, he eventually dropped onto something soft—and dry.

Dry? Soft? No water, no flooding, no walls, what—?

“Can you hear me, Lo?”

Logan looked over to see a gentle face, with worried eyes peering behind a thick pair of glasses.

“Pat-Patton?”

“Yep, I’m here.”

Logan leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. He was slowly coming back to reality, but everything still felt wrong. He was the logical side! He wasn’t supposed to succumb to irrational fears! A flashback, of all things...

But it felt so real.

“I thought I was back...in the place, the one where Parker put me when he was getting out of his own prison...”

Patton’s brow furrowed, and he placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it? Now, I know you don’t like all this ‘emotional crap’ stuff, but I’m always here for you. As your dad.”

A small smile crept out against Logan’s will. “You’re not my dad. And no, I don’t need to talk about anything. It’s stupid.”

“Kiddo, it’s not stupid. I know you think you have to be 100%, all the time, but all of us know you have emotions. Especially me. I know you, Lo.”

Logan shook his head. “I dropped the coffee pot—oh no, it probably made a mess, I should go—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s fine, we’ll get it later. No use crying over spilled milk—er, coffee, right?”

At that moment, Logan realized how much his feet hurt. “I think it burned me, and I need to go remedy that now.”

“No, let me! Be back in a jiffy!”

Someone else suddenly appeared in Logan’s line of vision.

Patton spoke up. “Oh, Parker’s here, too,” he said as he raced up the stairs

Parker looked distraught, then pulled off the hood on his dark sweater. “I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.”

Logan nodded mutely, regretting opening up and being so vulnerable, not only in front of Patton, but Parker, too (though inadvertently). He felt slightly remorseful about having Parker hear what he’d said, but he was still trying to pick up the pieces.

Parker sunk out, leaving Logan alone for only a moment before Patton popped up with a first aid kit. While he could’ve easily summoned one on his own, Patton liked to have some realism in the mindscape. Said it “made things interesting”.

He flipped the top open, bandaids spilling all over the couch. “Nice socks,” Patton said, before shimmying them off.

Logan’s feet were bright pink. Patton looked them over, but it was all superficial. He slathered on some aloe vera, and put Logan’s socks back on.

“That was one of the most unpleasant things I have ever experienced.”

“Are you talking about my first aid skills, Lo?”

“Of course. But putting my socks back on after? That was low.”

“-gan.”

“Stop.”

---

Parker reappeared back in his own room, which was still almost blank, and he threw himself on his bed. Was he being selfish, making Logic’s breakdown all about him? Of course he was. Logic was the one struggling right now, all because of him.

Guilt washed over him. Even Logic was crumbling because Parker had decided revenge was better than compromise or forgiveness. At the time, he had wanted to break them, but now...

Parker knew what he did was wrong. He wished for some way to undo all the damage.

But what’s done is done. He just has to keep trying.

A couple days later, Patton was laying in bed, looking up at the fairy lights on his ceiling. The little patterns resembled stars, which usually relaxed him. He had designed his room entirely for comfort. Patton was a homebody, and his room reflected that.

However, tonight was different. His mind was replaying Logan’s little breakdown on the kitchen floor. He’d said it was a flashback.

“Triggered by dropping the coffee and getting liquid all over my feet. Roman also might’ve helped with the intensity—he had some trouble a few days ago. My best guess is dissociation. I suppose that was on my mind, distracting my focus.”

That prospect was terrifying. The most logical, grounded side falling victim to the mind’s whims? What chance did the rest of them have?

The lights dimmed as he closed his eyes, falling into an uneasy slumber.

---

Several hours later, Parker awoke to screaming coming from down the hall.

Even with Anxiety, Thomas was a pretty chill guy. Screaming in pure terror was not a very common thing heard around the mindscape, especially not this late at night.

Heart racing, Parker leapt out of bed and threw open his door.

Morality. It was coming from Morality’s room.

Parker burst in, catching sight of Morality thrashing about wildly on the bed, tears streaming down his face from his scrunched-up eyes.

“Morality, wake up!”

Parker rushed over and began desperately shaking Morality’s shoulder. “It’s just-it’s just a dream!” Tears began to flow from his own eyes.

The Heart’s eyes flew open, and he gasped in horror, shoving Parker away with a choked gasp.

Virgil appeared behind them, pushing past Parker in an urgent, but not unkind way, and gathered Patton in his arms. Usually, he was vehemently against physical contact, but he couldn’t leave Patton like that. The moral side needed comfort, and judging from how clingy—er, loving, he always was, it was safe to assume physical contact was what he needed at the moment.

Patton clung onto Virgil, bunching up the darker trait’s shirt in his hands and sobbing into his shoulder. Virgil tentatively wrapped his arms around Patton while Parker stood off to the side, looking distraught.

“Um, I got this...I think. Can you, uh, make sure Logan and Roman are still asleep? I don’t want to overwhelm Pat right now.”

Parker left gracelessly, stumbling into the doorframe on his way out.

“Hey, Parker?”

The side reappeared at the door.

“Thank you, for trying to help him.”

Parker gave a meek nod, then disappeared from view.

Virgil turned his attention back to Patton. His tears were still coming, but his breaths were at least slowing down. “I’m s-so sorry you have to see me like this, kiddo...”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, you’ve seen me during some pretty rough times, and you’ve always helped me through it. Least I can do is return the favour, y’know?”

Patton sat back up, and Virgil summoned a glass of water. He handed to Patton, who drained half the glass in one go. “Thanks, Verge.”

Virgil gulped a little, then nodded. “So, what happened? Was it, like...a nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Patton said softly after a beat of silence.

Nightmares were nothing new to Virgil. Heck, Patton knew that. Ever since he became more comfortable with the other sides, he had still really only opened up to Patton about the nightmares. He was sure Logan and Roman knew about them, but they never brought it up. But Pat said his door was always open for Virgil, any time. So Virgil had taken to going to Patton for comfort after night terrors.

Virgil leaned back, waiting to see if Pat would open up or not. Oftentimes, all Virgil wanted was some comforting after a nightmare without having to relive it. He wondered if Patton was the same.

Eventually, Pat sighed and looked up. “It was about Parker.”

Virgil’s interest was immediately piqued. “Parker?”

“Well, not Parker exactly,” Patton rushed to clarify. “Just...going through that prison again, and the others’, too. Like a mix of the nightmares Parker made for all of us.  Logan and Roman told me about what they went though, so it was like a...mega-terror-extravaganza thing. I can’t really figure out why theirs were in there, I don’t exactly have the same fears as them or anything.”

“It’s because you’re an empath, Dad.”

Patton smiled at him. “Thanks, son.”

“I’m notcha son,” Virgil said, hiding a smirk behind his hand.

“Ok, whatever you say.”

The tension was broken, and even though Patton still had drying tear tracks on his face, the twinkle that was usually in his eye had returned.

But not everyone could recover so easily from emotional turmoil.

Stupid. You should’ve done better. Helping people is easy when you’re a good person, which is why you’re still struggling with it. You only ever bring bad things to the table. What’s even the point in trying to help if everyone’s just trying to push you away?

Parker curled up as his mind realized how hopeless he was. No matter how hard he tried, he would never measure up to the other sides. That’s why they locked him away in the first place, wasn’t it? He contributed nothing. Even Anxiety had a purpose, to keep Thomas safe from harm. Thomas definitely didn’t need another side helping with that.

What exactly was Parker’s purpose now? How could he make it up to the other sides and prove he belonged?

Virgil was having a bad day.

This in itself wasn’t unusual. With him being the embodiment of anxiety, he was always feeling as if his emotions were heightened in a negative way—which is why he was almost always on edge. Then there was the messed up sleep schedule, unhealthy eating habits (whether it was a “physical” feeling or just a placebo effect, the sides all felt happiest when they stuck with somewhat healthy eating, along with cookies where Patton’s involved), and a reliance on caffeine.

He was not exactly a role model regarding self care.

Since a few months ago, after they did “Accepting Anxiety,” he did feel like he belonged with the group more. They made an effort to make him feel welcome, and it did help.

However, that didn’t mean Virgil never had issues anymore.

Today was one of the days his “issues” were making themselves known. He hadn’t slept in over 36 hours, and in that time, had been drinking coffee almost non-stop. Even his body, ever used to being heavily caffeinated, was struggling. His pulse was racing and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The worst was that Virgil’s mind refused to stay focused, and turned to negative or intrusive thoughts rather than the task at hand. He had been flitting around all day as a result of the caffeine, but he still felt completely drained.

He remembered how Patton would cook or bake while stressed, as a way to take his mind off things.

And that’s how Virgil ended up standing at the counter, trying to slice up a red bell pepper with a giant santoku knife for his homemade ratatouille (alright, yes, he was thinking of the movie the entire time).

But shaky hands and large knives don’t mix. One wrong move, one second of attention being elsewhere, is all it took for Virgil to miss the pepper and instead slice straight into his thumb.

Blood began to flow out of the wound, dripping onto the counter. Virgil stared at it, fixated on the deep red colour.

He looked like Thomas, in a demonic sort of way. His hair was dark, yet paler than when they were young. His skin was tinted blue and the shadows danced around him like a hazy mirage. His nails were long and black like they belonged on a monster’s hand, not his. His eyes were the scariest: black where the whites were supposed to be, the pupils a deep red instead of black.

The same crimson colour that currently flooded out of Virgil’s hand.

Panic overtook him, spiralling him into the all-too-familiar anxiety attack. This one was worse than any he had ever experienced. Along with the rapid heart rate, the growing pressure on his chest, and his throat closing up, he began to feel lightheaded at the sight of the blood.

The red that looked so much like Parker’s eyes when they first met again after fifteen years...

Tears pricked at his eyes, and every time he tried to catch his breath, it was knocked out of him again as if he had been punched. He collapsed to the floor, wheezing, desperately trying to breathe. When he couldn’t, that just made him more distressed.

It was a never-ending cycle when he got like this. Alone, Virgil was powerless to stop it. His breathing would become more useless until he passed out and his body reset itself. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except when his attacks were that severe, it usually incapacitated him for days while he tried to recover.

Passing out never did seem like a good option in these times of distress. His primordial reaction was to get out of the situation, which would make sense except he couldn’t move, he couldn’t escape the situation, he was helpless on the ground. Thoughts of death always crossed his mind because he couldn’t breathe...

A slight whimper came out against his will, using up what little oxygen he had left. He was truly, undeniably going to die like this.

“Anxiety, please, breathe!”

A voice. A voice belonging to a person. Someone familiar, maybe.

Virgil turned over and was greeted with the face of Parker.

Despite Parker’s appearance being drastically different than when they first saw him a few weeks ago, it was still him. And at that moment, him was a threat.

Rather than hyperventilating, Virgil’s breathing screeched to a dead halt. A tiny part was saying Parker’s fine, Parker’s safe, Parker’s changed for the better, the larger, instinctive part was screaming danger. Absolute danger.

“No, no, no, no, no, please breathe, don’t stop, don’t—”

“What’s happening?” a new voice boomed.

“He—he—”

“What did you do to him?! Never mind, just get out and let me deal with this!”

A face appeared in Virgil’s line of vision, close to the ground. “Verge, bud, I’m gonna wrap this towel around your hand and I need you to take some deep breaths. What’s that little pattern you do? 4-6-8?”

Virgil jerked his hand away as...Roman? Roman bundled up Virgil’s hand, holding the towel in place.

“Sorry, but I need to stop the bleeding, and...Ah! 4-7-8! We’re gonna do that, okay, Finding Emo? Copy me; in for four...”

Roman counted as he took an exaggerated breath, and Virgil followed, choking a bit at four.

“Good, Verge, now hold,” Roman said, silently counting.

“And out.”

They repeated it several more times, and Virgil slowly sat up. He clutched his hand with the towel still on it close to his chest, blood soaking through the fabric.

With a flourish of Roman’s hand, a first aid box appeared next to the pair. Roman popped it open, pulling out some antiseptic, gauze, a butterfly bandage, and the medical tape.

He held out his hand, and Virgil hesitantly placed his own in it.

Roman got to work, applying some antiseptic and the butterfly bandage to hold the edges together. He wrapped it in gauze and finished by taping the edges down.

As he was putting everything back in the kit, Virgil spoke up for the first time.

“You shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“Who?”

“It’s ‘whom’, and—”

“Ok, I’m going to have to ask you to stop hanging around Logan so much.”

“Anyway. Parker. You shouldn’t have yelled at him. He didn’t do anything wrong; he just wanted to help.”

The Prince huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’ll go apologize to him in a bit.”

Looking displeased, but too tired to argue, Virgil nodded his assent.

After being shoved out of the kitchen, Parker had sprinted up the stairs back to his room. His knees buckled and he pitched forward onto his bed, his weak resolve crumbling. Great, heaving sobs made their way out, his chest clenching painfully.

Everyone hated him. He made everything worse, and everyone was suffering because of his actions.

The grief was too overwhelming, and Parker didn’t know what to do. His body shut down, and he fell into a deep sleep.

---

As soon as he was unconscious, Parker’s mind flashed back to all the damage he’d inflicted.

Not only on the other sides, but his host, too. He had almost gotten Thomas killed because he couldn’t control his fear. Then, after escaping his prison, forced him to go though those horrible hallucinations when Thomas had done nothing wrong.

Pitting Creativity against an unbeatable enemy, making him think Virgil was in danger, coating the prison in blood.

Giving Logic a problem with an impossible solution, drowning him in cold water with no escape.

Putting Morality through emotional turmoil, which would be so much worse for the Heart, then falling for eternity.

And Virgil...

Virgil had stood up for him. He had refused to put up a wall, and the other sides had just thrown him in with Parker. Torturing him for five long years, going through unimaginable horrors. Virgil escaping, then having to go through that same hell again to rescue the other sides.

They all hated him now. His purpose, originally to protect Thomas and give him courage, was abolished. He had changed, going from Fear to Sadness.

In reality, he was a traumatized kid that didn’t know what he did wrong, so he was punished for it. His revenge for that had been petty and cruel.

No wonder they never wanted him around.

Parker awoke with a jolt, an unbearable pressure on his chest. He wasn’t breathing, he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t deserve to breathe.

In his mind, he was straddling the border between sleep and consciousness. Enough that he could see is surroundings, but not make sense of what was happening.

He couldn’t feel his arms, or his legs, and even the vice on his chest began to seem less important than before. It was like he was floating away from his body, back into the prison, reliving all the pain he had inflicted on himself and others. The hellish hallucinations swirled around him in his mind, feeding his panic.

It was as if he was still in a dream—no, a nightmare. He wanted to disappear, and he already felt like he was fading away, being stretched too far by regret.

A voice permeated his thoughts, but they sounded muffled for some reason.

“Parker, can I come in?”

He gave no answer. He could give no answer.

“I know you’re in there, I just wanted to, ah, apologize for my un-princely behaviour. If you need your space, I’ll go, but—”

Parker let out a gasp as he choked on air, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t think, and suddenly his door was being pushed open by the frantic hands of Creativity.

It was like Parker was watching things happen from an outside perspective. He could hear Creativity calling his name and shaking him, but he couldn’t respond.

“Parker, c’mon, stay with me here—Pat!”

Someone thumped down the hall, and Morality appeared at the door. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I walked in and he was like this!”

Tears poured out of Parker’s eyes and he was trembling even harder. His mouth open and closed like a fish, but nothing came out.

“Oh, crap, Parker, honey, can you hear me?” Patton grabbed one of Parker’s hands. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

Parker continued to heave, making no move to squeeze Patton’s hand.

“Shoot. Can you get Logan, please?”

Roman raced off, then returned with a slightly dishevelled Logan in tow. “What’s going on?”

Logan caught sight of Parker on the bed. “Oh dear. No, that’s not good.”

“What do we do?”

Suddenly, Virgil popped up at the door. “Geez, Princey, you were just supposed to say sorry to him, what could you have possibly done—”

He was cut off when he saw the situation. Parker was spasming in bed because of how hard his muscles were shaking, his face turning blue (due from lack of oxygen, not as an illusion), and he was barely breathing. The other sides were huddled around him, with Patton holding one of his hands.

“Guys, what the heck?” Anxiety said as he rushed over. “Parker, listen if you can; we’re gonna sit you up because, believe me, laying on your back makes it harder to breathe when you’re like this.”

Parker couldn’t respond, he still felt as if he was dying, and no one was trying to do anything to help. They were going to let him die.

Two pairs of hands gently hoisted him up so he was against the headboard of the bed. The pressure eased somewhat, but his body began falling forward.

“Verge—”

“I’ve got him,” said Patton.

The emotional side wormed his way in next to Parker and slipped an arm around his shoulders, holding him up. Morality’s thumb moved back and forth in mini circles, attempting to soothe Parker’s distress. Creativity grabbed one of Parker’s hands and squeezed it, trying to ground him. Logic did the same on the other side.

Slowly, Parker came back to himself, fresh tears spilling from his reddened eyes. He sobbed, utterly exhausted and full of loathing. He took his hands away and buried his head in them, his shoulders shaking with every cry. He mumbled something through the noise, then curled in even further.

“What was that?” Anxiety asked softly.

“I-I’m so sorry. F-for everything. I was h-horrible to you, to everyone, to Thomas,” he gasped out. “I’m sorry.”

Morality wrapped both arms around him. “We forgive you, kiddo. Always.” Logic and Creativity both nodded in agreement.

Anxiety grabbed both of Parker’s hands, gently pulling them away from his face. “Look at me.”

Parker glanced up, fear in his eyes.

Anxiety placed his hands on either side of Parker’s face, and brought their heads together. They rested for a minute as Parker continued to cry silently.

“We forgive you, alright? All of us. We’ve all made mistakes, we’ve all done crap we shouldn’t have. Hell, it was a mistake on these guys’ part to lock you away, and mine for not helping you get out when I did. It’s in the past, okay? And we’ll work things out. Got it?”

“Got it,” Parker sniffled.

“And we’ll always need you. You’re not unnecessary, you’re not evil, you’re not a burden. You’re you, and that’s all we could ever ask for.”

Parker began crying harder, and Anxiety placed a kiss on his forehead. The other four wrapped themselves around them, forming a cocoon of safety.

Creativity, Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Sadness.

Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, and Parker.

Wanted. Good. Loved. Safe.

Enough.