#ugh. the amount of time i spend paralyzed by all the things i have to do is infuriating

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Sit by the fire until... Chapter 2

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870150/chapters/81650737

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you when you get magically transformed into a bunny rabbit against your will by the corrupted darkness of the Sacred Realm: somethings, unfortunately, tend to stick.  

Now, Legend isn’t saying that he’s hiding a cotton tail under his tunic or that his soul secretly aches to frolic in meadows or spend his time sleeping in holes or whatever else it is that rabbits do when they're not busy being very confused and scared twelve year old Hylians.

No.

But that doesn't mean he was left unscathed by having his entire anatomy re-written in less than an instant.

Because of course he wouldn’t. Goddess forbid he ever catch a break for once in his life.

He was still pretty young when it happened, so Legend can’t remember if his teeth had been quite so bucked before the incident. Regardless if they were or not, they sure as Hylia are prominent now. Then there's also the fact that he never really grew into his ears, the damn things always just a shade longer than they should be for a regular Hylian.

Before he joined this wild cucco chase masquerading as an adventure, Legend would sometimes catch himself looking at Ravio wondering, Is that how I would have looked? Besides the hair and eyes, the merchant was supposed to be his mirror image after all. Zelda and Hilda were, so it stood to reason that he and Ravio should be the same.

In which case, the bucktooth thing was going to be a problem regardless.

The ears, on the other hand, are a completely different story. From the quick glances Legend has managed to steal of Ravio’s side profile, the merchant has relatively short ears himself, which just make the Veteran’s own look comically long when the two stand side by side.

And ugh, and that wasn't even touching on his… less physical changes.

 Namely, his cravings.

Noshing on some leafy greens while home alone doing some chores? A-Okay.

Getting caught by Warriors and Twilight absentmindedly chewing on the hay he was supposed to be feeding the horses? Ehhh, not so much.  

Goddesses, his ego still hasn’t recovered from the amount of jokes the Pretty Boy had made at his expense. And that’s not even mentioning the veritable mountain of carrots he found in his bedroll, no doubt courtesy of that flea bitten farmhand.

Regardless of the less than natural way he got these… attributes, Legend couldn’t say they were all bad. ‘Cuz sure, his ears were a bit longer than average, but he could also hear better than most of his companions, able to catch the sound of crunching leaves above even their loud bickering. Like wise, his eyes were sharper than others in the low light of dawn and dusk, allowing him to see things others would miss.

Frankly, both skills had helped keep him alive during his quests. He was thankful for them in a weird huh, guess that works kinda way, but thankful all the same.

But sometimes Legend wanted to wring the goddesses necks because really? Being turned into a rabbit couldn’t have fixed this particular problem?

This particular problem being his absolutely horrible pollen allergies.

“ A-A-A!”

Each rapid, involuntary inhale feels like a simultaneous punch to the gut and a gasp for breath, the air yanked into his body and then stoppered up. It leaves the veteran in a state of limbo as a paralyzing calm falls over him; lungs full of air, shoulders hiked up, muscles tensed.

For a second, everything feels lodged in place, frozen, like the Champion had used his stasis rune on him.

And–

Legend clamps his mouth shut and tucks his face into his elbow just as tension snaps and–

“- acheew! ”

Nothing but a soft, cut off sneeze slips past his lips, yet, the force of holding it back  still sends Legend bowing over. He stays there, hunched over for a breath as his body recovers, before he straightens back up, sniffing irritably as he tries to ignore the itch prickling at his eyes and the congested pressure throbbing behind his sinuses.

A chortling huff sounds next to him and when Legend glances down he can see Wolfie– or should he say, Twilight– peering up at him, mouth open and tongue lolling in a doggy grin, but icy blue eyes too pointed, too teasing, to be anything but human.

Legend's nose twitches tellingly as it begins to tickle again and the wolf gives another stuttering huff. A laugh. Legend can practically hear Twilight’s twangy, Awww. You sneeze like a bunny.

The bastard.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, dog boy,” Legend grumbles, wiping harshly at his face in an attempt to stave off another sneezing fit. “Don't you have trees to piss on or something?”

That earns him peeled back lips and a growl, but Legend just sends the other a responding sneer as strides past the grumpy wolf and out into the rolling field of tulips that stands in front of them.

Another huff, this one more annoyed than amused, sounds behind the veteran before the wolf streaks past him, loping through the flowers with his nose down and tail high.

Legend rolls his eyes.

Twilight loves to show his teeth, but the farmhand is quite literally all bark and no bite.

And besides, they both have better things to do than needle one another. If Legend is going to be miserable, he may as well take steps to make that misery as short as possible.

Afterall, they aren't out here swanning through a meadow of flowers for pleasure.

The last Dark Portal they had all walked through had, once again, separated them. Legend and Twilight were lucky enough to find one another quickly, though, now that Legend thinks about it, it probably had less to do with luck and more to do with Twilight’s nose.

After regrouping, they had tried to search for the others more that day, but a storm had them holed up in a cave overnight to wait out the deluge. They had gotten up early to start their search again today, but so far they had no such luck in finding any of the others in the forest.

Which just left the inexplicable meadow of tulips surrounding the wood.

Legend had been hoping that the rain would keep some of the pollen at bay, but nooo that would be too merciful, wouldn’t it?

If anything, the rain just made this whole experience more aggravating. Now, along with stinging eyes, a running nose, and a throbbing head, Legend also had the delightful honor of feeling the tulip stalks and leaves and petals sliding wetly across his skin, the annoying slap of his tunic smacking his thighs as it got more sodden by the second, and the disgusting squish of water between his toes with every step he took through this Wind Fish damned field.

And sure, maybe it was worth it to reunite with the other heroes, but really, would it kill the goddesses to make his life just a little bit easier.

A bark pulls Legend from his miserable musings. Twilight's dark tail stands out among the ocean of pastel pinks and yellows and oranges, wagging frantically twenty meters away. It disappears after a second, replaced by a muzzle and expectant eyes.

Twilight barks at him again.

He must have found something.

Finally, Legend thinks as he begins to make his way over toward the other, hopefully a reason to get out of this floral hell hole.

“What is it, boy?” Legend asks, voice going high and mocking as he takes delicate care stepping on as many flowers as possible, “Little Time-y fall down the well again?”

Instead of a growl for his effort, Legend gets a flurry of black flecks falling upward, like pieces of reverse snow, in his peripheral vision.

“You know,” Twilight says as he straightens to his full height, eyes half-lidded. Unamused, “You’re really not as funny as you seem to think you are.”

And before Legend can interrupt that– No, actually, you just have a dog shit sense of humor. Literally– Twilight continues, “I can smell the smithy all over this thing.” He nods down at a small tree stump breaking through the tide of flowers. “The scent is a bit old, probably from sometime before last evening, but still traceable. I should be able to find him from here.”

Legend eyes the stump for a moment, peering into the cracked hole in the top of the wood. Inside, he can see the round, red caps of several toadstools sprouting.

He can also sense magic. Close to that of the fairies– natural and glittering and smelling of moss– but not quite the same.

The Smithy’s doing?

Or a natural occurrence?

Regardless…

“Welp,” Legend says, straightening up, “Let's go find him. Couldn’t have gotten far on those little legs of his.”

“Again,” Twilight huffs, the black fractals already consuming him once more as he transforms, “You’re not as funny as you think...”

His voice distorts and fades into nothing as the magic swallows him whole, leaving Legend once again having a conversation with a very unimpressed looking wolf.

“I like you better when you can’t talk,” Legend tells Twilight as the other sets off, snuffling at the ground.

The other pauses to give Legend a look that would be more at home on a disapproving mother’s face, before continuing his tracking.

He also whaps Legend in the leg with his tail.

Hard.

The prick.

They continue on their trek together like that for a while, Twilight occasionally pausing to shove his nose into the dirt some more as he decides which direction to follow as Legend trails behind, keeping his eyes peeled for a quadripartite tunic and a head of straight, gold hair.

It isn't long before the farmhand turned canine breaks off into a light trot and then a jog, and then a full on sprint.

And stops just as suddenly.

Legend is out of breath by the time he slides to a stop behind the farmhand, but from a cursory glance around, there doesn’t seem to be a short, mouthy smithy anywhere in the vicinity.

“What happened?” Legend asks, still searching, turning circles as he cranes his neck, “Did you lose the trail?”

Twilight gives a light whine, grabbing Legend’s attention.

Then he does two full spins and sits primly, looking up at Legend.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Legend crinkles his nose at the canine. “Use your words.”

Wolfie rolls his eyes in a way that Legend didn’t think was possible for dogs and then stands.

The canine stares at him intently, as though making sure Legend’s eyes are locked with his own. And then he flicks his eyes over the yellow tulip he is sitting next to meaningfully. Then back to Legend. Back and forth back and forth, his eyes go for a full minute before he stops and stares at Legend once more.

Legend feels as his face wrinkles in confusion.

It's just a regular tulip, just like the thousands currently around them. Pretty enough, he supposes. The bulb seems to be a little wilted, like it's been weighed down by rain water perhaps, but other than that, nothing to sneeze at.

Or everything to sneeze at, if you’re Legend.

Legend gives the flower one more skeptical glance before turning to look at Twilight once more, brow raised.

“Pretty,” he assures the other. “Not sure how it helps us find Four.”

Twilight heaves another too human sigh.

And then he reaches up,  takes the sleeve of Legend’s tunic between his teeth, and yanks.

“Hey!” Legend yelps as he’s dragged down into the dirt, “Watch the teeth! The embroidery on this thing took forever to do and even longer to enchant!”

Twilight pays him no mind, pulling him down and forward, closer to his chosen tulip.

Legend tries his best to keep his face away from the damn thing.

“I swear on The Three, if your slobber stains–”

Legend’s words crumple up and die in his throat.

There’s something in the tulip.

At first glance, Legend would identify it as the Smithy's earring. The small feathered one that he takes special care of. The one that Four refuses to tell Legend the origin of, besides his cryptic, “From a friend.”

Legend would say that it was just the earring, but… but it isn’t.

Rather than being completely red with a white tip, Legend can see that this little feather is only mostly red. Right before the tip, a darker red plumage takes over, followed by purple and blue and green.

Also, rather than being attached to the small, golden chain and stud Four uses to fasten the jewelry to his earlobe, it’s attached to a body.

A very, very small body.

By now, Twilight has let go of his sleeve, but Legend both doesn’t notice and doesnt care, all of his attention fixed on the little creature before his eyes.

From what he can tell, the little creature is asleep, curled up in the bulb of the flower, his feather tail tucked up near his nose for warmth. Looking past the plumage, Legend can see that the little guy has a very rat-like face, complete with a small, twitching pink nose, long whiskers and–because the creature is shivering– long, chattering rodent incisors. Oval shaped ears stick out from the creature's head, a mix between mouse-like and Hylian.

And framing those ears is shoulder length, soaking wet blonde hair.

Blonde hair held out of the little guy's face by a green headband.

And…

And he’s wearing the smithy’s tunic?

“... Four?” Legend whispers in amazement.

And just saying the other’s name out loud is like a spell because suddenly Legend can see all signs. The little guy has Four’s bag over his shoulder and the Four Sword at his hip. That same magic that was by the stump– the not-fairy, fairy magic– completely surrounds him, dusting him in the same way he is currently dusted in yellow pollen.

“Is that you, Smithy?” Legend asks a little louder.

But rather than startle awake, the small creature– Four, Legend reminds himself– simply hunkers down more fully into the flower, curling up more fully as his shivers increase.

“He must have transformed in order to speak with the Minish around here.”

Twilight’s voice, even though it is a whisper, gives Legend a start. He hadn’t realized the other had transformed, nor had he seen the farmhand crouch down by his side.

The other isn’t looking at him as he speaks, cool blue eyes instead locked on the fitfully sleeping smithy, face concerned.

“He once told me that the Minish are insatiable gossips. He must have transformed to try and find us.”

The concern on the farhand’s face darkens the longer he stares.

“He must have been caught out in the storm,” Twilight says grimly.

Legend tries to imagine what that would be like. To be the size of a mouse and out in a storm. Tries to imagine what it would feel like for gale force winds to pull at drag at him, crushing him into the dirt one moment and yanking off his feet the next. Tries to imagine dodging back and forth between tulips, avoiding the head sized, stone cold rain drops pelting down from the sky

It's not a pretty pictograph, he’ll admit.

And ugh, Legend really isn't a fan of what it's making him consider.

He spares another glance at Four.

And fuck, the little guy shivers and shivers and shivers until the fower he is sleeping in is shaking with it.

And then, he sneezes, the sound coming out tiny and squeaky and weak.

Son of a bitch.

With a sigh that is as weary and reluctant and annoyed as he can possibly force it to be even though the vetran is feeling none of those things, Legend takes hold of the flower near its stem. As gently as possible, he digs his nails into the soft green there, cutting the flower from the ground while keeping it intact.

He hands it to Twilight, who takes it from him with gentle, if slightly confused hands.

With one hand, Legend flips open his shoulder bag. With the other, he rips his hat from his head with a motion probably a tad more violent than is really called for. He arranges the hat inside the bag, making sure to cover his items with the soft fabric while also shaping a soft bed.

Without looking up from his work, Legend extends a hand out to Twilight.

Makes a grabbing motion when what he wants isn't immediately in his hand.

After a second, Twilight slowly places the stem of the flower back in Legend’s hand and the Veteran gently lowers it in the small nest he had created, making sure the bulb sits in a place both shielded from the sun and extra comfortable thanks to the extra fabric padding beneath it.

In one smooth motion, Legend takes a hold of the strap of his bag, pulls it carefully off of his shoulder, and places it on the other side of Twilight’s neck.

And then, he reaches down and touches the dark stone hanging from the necklace around the farmhand’s throat, letting the darkness flock around and consume him.  

When Legend blinks open his eyes, Twilight is looking down at him smugly.

He is looking down farther than usual.

Also looking smugger than usual.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, shaking out his fur before hopping on all fours to get closer to the bag.

“I didn’t say anything,” Twilight replies, not bothing to wipe the smug look off his stupid face even as he lowers the bag to the ground for easier access.

“Yeah you did,” Legend hisses quietly as he clambers carefully into the satchel, settling down the nest of leather and items and hat.

He pulls the flower closer to his side where it is warm.

Inside, he can feel as Four’s shivers begin to lessen.

"Cute," Twilight laughs from above them.

"Fuck you," Legend whisper spits, though he makes no move to push Four's flower away. If anything, he pulls it closer when he hears the smaller hero start to make small, chittering snores, surprised the smithy could sleep through such a racket.

Twilight, thankfully, doesn't comment, instead pulling the top of the bag loosely closed to give them some shade. Then, Legend feels as he gently lifts the satchel back up, slings it slowly over his shoulder as to not disturb the contents inside, and begins walking, hopefully back in the direction of the forest.

Legend can still hear the farmhand laughing to himself from within the bag, but without the others' eyes on him, he finds he doesn't care.

The pollen still itches at his eyes and nose and Legend can still feel the pound of his sinuses even now.  But something about the shade and warmth and soft rocking of the bag makes it hard for him to mind.

Four gives a harty twitch, kicking a petal directly into Legend’s face.

And even that doesn't dissuade the veteran from his task.

Instead, Legend sighs and pulls Four even closer, relaxing despite the discomfort.

He’s got dirt on both Twilight and now Four, the two heroes with sticks most firmly inserted into their asses. He can get out of whatever chores and lectures they try to pin him with.

Yep, he thinks , distantly. That's why he did this.

For the blackmail.

And no other reason.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 5

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

-------

By the time the class landed in Gotham, Marinette and Chloé had enough. Their recorders, which were supposed to serve as damning evidence of blatant bullying, got ‘damaged’ when Lila accidentally splashed the two girls with a drink. Whatever it was, it was sticky, didn’t wash with water, and also ruined their hidden dictaphones. 

Of course, the liar made it look like it was Marinette who tripped her. The class almost hounded her, but they kept their distance not wanting to also get their clothes dirtied. Of course, Lila was occupying the bathroom for the next fifteen minutes, so when she finally left the drink already dried, making it even harder to get rid of. 

When the girls made their way out of the plane to meet with Sabine and their teacher, Lila pushed past them and came crying about how rude Marinette ruined her outfit, which was supposedly incredibly expensive. None of the intelligent people bothered to try and point out that it was cheap mass-produced junk. Alix was visibly conflicted, but also did not speak up in the end. 

“Marinette. I expected better of…” The teacher started, but then she saw both girls were hit worse than Lila, who cleaned most of it in the bathroom. 

“Sweetie…” Sabine started to rethink if a simple murder wouldn’t solve their problem.

“Don’t worry Maman. I can probably salvage it once we ret… get to Damian’s” Mari corrected herself. Luckily, it seemed like nobody caught her slip of tongue. 

“Ugh! Not that creep.” Alya complained. “He gives me shivers.” 

Mari glared at her former friend. She wanted to say something, but her teacher urged them to move. They were put into a small lounge. Marinette, of course, had to run them through a safety course, for reasons. She still did her best, as Gotham earned its reputation as the World’s Capital of Crime. 

When they were finally cleared and the class left the airport, there was a bus waiting, ready to take them to the hotel. Marinette and Chloé were about to board when a limousine pulled next to them. 

“Angel, Bourgeoise…” He greeted the girls. “Since you’ll be staying with us, my father decided to send a proper escort.”

The class stared in disbelief. The guy with a sword was loaded? It definitely looked like it from the car. 

“I bet his gramps just works as a driver and borrowed his work car,” Lila whispered to Alya and suddenly everyone was repeating the lie. “Or maybe even stole it…” 

A blade was suddenly pressed into Lila’s neck, a hair width away from drawing blood

“Tt. I will tolerate many things, but if you try to insult Alfred one more time, your end will be painful.” The class backed away in fear. Marinette immediately went to try and drag the boy away from a very pale Lila, but he wouldn’t budge. “Am. I. Clear?”

Lila was too paralyzed to answer, so he pressed the blade further. Now it was in contact with her skin and a moment of inattention could have fatal consequences. “Am. I. Clear?” He seethed.

“Yes…” She managed to whisper. 

“Tt. Good.” He sheathed his blade just as two security guards came outside to check the commotion. 

“Arrest him! He tried to murder Lila!” Alya immediately screamed. 

“No. If I did, she would be dead. I only explained certain values.” Damian deadpanned. 

The two guards looked between the class and visibly angry Damian Wayne and scratched their heads. They could report it, but they only had the word of some foreigners against the word of the son of the First Citizen of Gotham who was also the fifth richest man in the world. The cameras here stopped working, hence they came out to check what happened. 

“Children. We should be going or we’ll miss lunch at the hotel,” their teacher urged. That was enough for the guards. If the chaperone did not press charges, they wouldn’t bother. 

“But… But…” 

“Lila. Be a bigger person here and apologize to Damian.” Sabine grinned. 

“But he…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” The woman cut her off. “You must show our host some respect.”

“I didn’t…” The glare Sabine sent her and the murderous expression on Damian’s face made the words freeze in her throat. “Fine. I’m sorry Damien.”

“Tt.” Was the boy’s only response. 

Marinette and Chloé were about to leave when Rose protested. “Why are they not going with us to the hotel!?”

“Because as one of the host families, I’m allowed to welcome the students I choose to my house for the stay.” Damian did not care enough to elaborate more. Instead, he just jumped into the back seat of the Limousine. The girls followed, with Chloé going as far as sticking her tongue at the class. 

Once the doors closed and Alfred started the engine, Damian lowered the windshield and leaned outside. “By the way, it’s Damian. Damian W…” He didn’t get to finish because Marinette covered his mouth with her hand and dragged him inside. The windshield closed. 

When the car entered the main road, the girl finally let him go. 

“What was that about, Habibti?” He glared at her. 

“You were about to reveal that you’re the Damian Wayne.” She accused him.

“Tt. It’s time that liar learns who she’s dealing with.”

“It would only blow up in our faces. She would make it worse for all of us, including your family.” Seeing that both her best friend and her husband (still hard to get used to) were looking at her with no small amount of curiosity, she elaborated. “Damian Wayne is supposedly her ‘ultimate price’ from this exchange. She will want to sink her claws into you with all her skill.”

“Tt. She can try.” He huffed. His hand instinctively went to his sword. 

“You do know you are quite murderous for a Robin?” Chloé quipped.

“And you’re bratty for a lady.” 

“Bird-brain.”

“That’s Drake. Spoiled princess.”

“Daddy can afford it so why not? Trained monkey.”

“Grayson. Try harder. Talentless heiress.”

“I’m helping Marinette start her own company. Emo McBroodyPants.”

“Where did you even get that one?”

“I read.” She huffed. “And looks like I won.”

“Tt. As if.”

Marinette just sat back and watched her best friend and lover bicker there and back. It was nice that they were warming up to one another…

-----------

When Sabine finally arrived at the Manor, she was dead on her feet. Alfred was, of course, waiting for her at the entrance.

“Eventful day, Madame?”

“Don’t.” She cut him off.

“I assume it went worse than anticipated then?”

“Where is Tom?”

“Master Tom is in the kitchen. He decided to prepare some baked goods for the afternoon.”

Sabine stormed to the kitchen where she found her husband. He was clearly busy preparing the dough. After a quick greeting, she went to help him. 

“That bad?”

“Worse.” She sighed. “I really don’t understand that woman. How… She cut me whenever I tried to rein those monsters in.”

“Oh… Hand me the pin.” He interrupted himself. Sabine gave him the item, which she already had in hand when he started speaking. 

“I’m not sure if I can survive until school starts again. And even then there will be occasional afternoon trips. If it continues, I might just… I will get a jam. You did bring it?”

“I’ve put it on the counter,” Tom replied while still preparing the dough. “And don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll get better.”

“I hope so…”

---------

In the evening, Marinette, Chloé, and Sabine were introduced to the Batcave. It was indeed impressive, but Sabine was mostly interested in the training ring. She would lie if she didn’t want to test herself against the famous Batman. And she didn’t fancy committing crimes to do so. Well, for now. The class was making it more and more appealing.

“So you’re the girl that tamed Robin?” A redhead in a wheelchair rolled over to Marinette. 

“Tt. Shut up, Gordon.” Damian managed to spend a beautiful afternoon without any teasing from his family. Sadly, nothing could last forever.

“Come on baby bird. After the show you gave us on Christmas Eve, you can’t expect us to just drop it.” Dick was there, smiling cockily. 

“As much as I too want to tease that couple, I hoped for some sparring matches.” Sabine decided to save the teens. For now.

“Well, Madame, I’m happy to oblige.”

“Who’s with you?” She asked once Nightwing entered the ring.

“Um… I didn’t think you wanted a team match?” He replied, slightly confused. 

“No, no. I just thought I would have some challenge.” She smiled brightly. She was dressed in a dark-pink judoka and wooden sandals. 

“I… want.” Cass chimed in. She gracefully jumped into the ring before turning to Dick. “Alone.”

“Of course Sweetie. But I won’t go easy on you.” 

“Did not… expected.” 

The two women watched one another, neither moving from their spots. Both seemed relaxed but ready to react. Cass was first to start circling, with Sabine following. Neither could find any obvious flaws to exploit. Finally, Sabine lunged forward, only to jump to the side before getting in Cassandra’s range. The girl didn’t lose the bit and with a quick spin kicked her aunt, only to be deflected. Sabine tried to capitalize on the opening, but Cass followed her failed kick with another, launching herself in the air. Her target ducked low before trying to deliver an upper-cut punch toward the flying girl. It did connect, serving to push her back. She used the momentum to get some distance before landing on her hands and doing a double backward cartwheel and ending in a ready stance. 

“Not bad, Cassandra. I’m impressed. That boy would probably already be crying on the floor.” Sabine smiled genuinely. There was no need for banter between them. 

“Weakling.” The girl blew Dick a raspberry. 

Two women watched each other for a moment. This time, it was Sabine who initiated the actual fight. She delivered three quick punches that Cass blocked, but it created a small opening. She tried to deliver a side-kick to the girl’s head, but her opponent had the same idea. 

Their legs clashed by the shins. Sabine landed her leg firmly on the ground, but Cass once more lunged in the air, trying to use the momentum. She did two more kicks that her aunt blocked before she tried to put the older woman in a grip. Sabine, seeing the attempt, jumped back and tried to grab Cassandra’s hand, but instead, the girl spun around, delivering a powerful kick to Sabine’s side. 

The woman felt the kick, but she used the opportunity to timely grab her opponent’s foot and twist it. Cass, to avoid an injury, also had to spin in the air. She managed to attempt a kick before falling on her stomach. Her kick did force Sabine to let go of the foot to avoid having her head hurt. The girl quickly jumped on her feet, just in time to block an open-palm strike, which was followed with a kick. She did not get to respond, because Sabine made a low-sweep. Cass jumped in the air, only to find herself pushed away by another open-palm strike that, this time, connected with her chest, pushing the air out of her lungs. 

The woman followed Cass in the air, so she did not get a chance to stand up before getting pinned and rotated on her stomach. The grip that Sabine used effectively made it almost impossible to get out of before her aunt delivered a mock game-ending strike to her head. 

When Sabine stood up and helped her niece, both were panting heavily. It did not affect the accuracy with which the older of them made a back-kick, right below Jason’s belt. 

“Next time you try to sneak on either of us I will hit harder.” Sabine didn’t even bother to turn around and watch how the man curled on the floor, crying. “Good fight.” She focused her gaze on Cass, who blushed slightly.

“I lost.” 

“Well, depends on the criteria. You got the first hit, which is often decisive. And an achievement.” The woman cheered her with a broad smile on her face. Cassandra couldn’t help but also smile. “We could both use some more practice. I definitely would’ve taken you when I caught your foot and if you capitalized on the initial advantage you could’ve ended the fight.”

“It is an honor… training… with you.”

“Thank you, my dear. I also enjoyed it.” Sabine then turned to the gobsmacked group. The fight must have looked more impressive than she thought. 

“Did you just… defeat Cass in less than five minutes…?” Tim asked, unable to form a smooth sentence.

“Well, Sandra always said that I was the better one in unarmed combat. She does rock with swords though. And you should’ve seen her in that club in Tokyo. She’s definitely the dancer of the family, or rather was. I enjoy Cass’s ballet more.”

The great moment was interrupted by Batman speaking to everyone over the comms. 

“Suit up. We’ve got a hostage situation at Gotham Plaza.”

“For the love of Kwami… Please tell me it’s not my class.” Marinette groaned. 

“Tt. Of course it’s them.” Damian pulled his phone, showing her a live feed from the news helicopter. On the rooftop, there was a clearly visible group of teenagers, surrounded by goons with guns aimed at them. Near the edge stood a guy in a two-color suit. Half white and half black, with a red and black tie to complete the mad image. Half of his face was badly damaged and purple. 

“If Batman doesn’t show here to save his precious sidekick soon, we shall see if the little birdie can actually fly.”

Everyone who met Lila groaned. 

“I assume we can’t just let him deal with her?” Marinette asked hopefully.

“Sadly, Angel, it would be bad for our image.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“The two of you are sitting this out.” Batman walked into the cave, already in his suit. “We can’t risk any of them recognizing you two and it’s too early for Ladybug and Chat to appear. It would be too easy to associate their appearance with you two coming to Gotham.”

Seeing Damian’s irritated face, Marinette decided to intervene before she had a fight on her hands “Let’s do a movie night. I’m sure you have a theatre room somewhere in here.” 

Immediately, the boy brightened. “No Bourgeoise?”

“I think Chloé has other plans for the evening.” She nodded toward where the blonde was talking excitedly with Cass, trying to convince her to train her.

“Good.” Damian offered his hand and the two left the cave.

“Damn! I didn’t get the chance to tease him about the proposal.” Jason looked really dejected. 

--------

Masterlist // Next

[skylanders-after-the-end]

Culprits and Witnesses

It was a peaceful morning in Skylands. A scenery of pinkish and yellow clouds illuminated by the rising sun. Snap Shot and Wolfgang were enjoying that moment together. They were sitting underneath the cherry blossom tree where they used to train and bond. Lying on top of the soft green grass, their arms around each other and a light breeze brushing past them. Everything was perfect.

“I wish it could always be like this.” Wolfgang’s eyes were calmly set on the sun. “Just you, me and the endless skies.”

“Me too.” Snap Shot sighed and turned quiet. “As gorgeous as this view is, you know what it means.”

Wolfgang sighed as well, only more annoyed than calm now. “Yeah.”

Not a second passed before a giant version of Dreamcatcher appeared in the sky right in front of them. “The sun is rising you guys, you know what that means.”

The couple rolled their eyes before lovingly looking at each other one more time.

Snap Shot opened his eyes to find himself back inside his cell at Cloudcracker Prison. It was all a dream. However, he’s not upset about it. Him and Wolfgang made a deal with Dreamcatcher so that every night they could meet each other in the dream realm and enjoy their time together, even if it’s not real.

The reptile got out of his cell and on his way to the cafeteria for breakfast, he felt a large fluffy arm wrap around his shoulder.

“Hey sleepy head.” Wolfgang smirked as he joined Snap Shot and they could spend some time in the real world, only surrounded by other villains.

Before the cafeteria entrance, Dreamcatcher appeared in front of the two once again, this time in her regular size. She didn’t say a word and just stared at them with expecting eyes.

Wolfgang shoved his hand inside a pocket of his pants and pulled out a small plastic figure of a unicorn, their end of the deal. “This is all I could find around here.”

“Sir Blueberry Twinkles!” Dreamcatcher used her telepathic abilities, which have been reduced to only lifting small objects inside the prison, to hold the toy in front of her. “Finally I can reunite him with his sister! Thanks, tonight I will take you somewhere special.” The floating head winked before flying off whilst enjoying the small toy horse.

The couple giggled before finally entering the cafeteria to fill their hungry stomachs.

Later that morning, the paralyzed Tuff Luck was found. She was brought into the hospital immediately where Whirlwind would take a look at the strange trance the feline was in.

“I have never seen anything like this before.” Smolderdash was as appalled as everyone else to see the lifeless, cloudy blue eyes of the Life Skylanders. “What happened to her?”

“Maybe this has something to do with Hex’ curse?” Stealth Elf could only think of the witch when she saw those eyes, despite the fact that Hex’ curse turned them pitch black. “Perhaps some kind of side effect?”

“That can’t be it. Everyone was freed from Hex’ curse when she surrendered, and this isn’t undead magic anyway.” Whirlwind has been studying all kinds of injuries and even curses for years, but this was new to her. “This is something completely different.”

Unaware to them, Tuff Luck was currently trapped inside her own mind experiencing her greatest fear. There was no way for her to give any sign through her body, she had no control anymore.

As the Skylanders continued to speculate, a deep voice emerged from the shadows. “May I take a look?”

Everyone turned around to see the dark dragon Blackout standing behind them, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. “Of course, maybe you know more than us.” Whirlwind moved aside for the dragon to join the group.

Blackout moved his head closer to Tuff Luck and squinted his eyes while staring into hers. Suddenly the horn at the tip of his snout began to glow in a dim green light before he backed off. “Whoever did this must have access to some kind of psychic powers.”

“We figured that much.” Stealth Elf thought about some possible suspects. “But that color and her completely frozen body… we’ve never seen that before.”

“No… not in this form.” Blackout closed his eyes and focused for his horn to glow brighter. “She’s fighting. She’s trapped inside her own mind and there is no way for her to break free.”

The others gasped upon hearing that shocking revelation. “Is there a way to help her?” Smolderdash didn’t hesitate for a moment and was already looking for answers.

“I’m afraid not.” Blackout opened his eyes again and his horn stopped glowing. “She’s under the influence of some force very similar to dream magic. A so-called nightmare prison.”

“Dream magic?” Stealth Elf wasn’t hearing that term for the first time. “Then I think I know who did this.”

“Oh, yes of course I did!” Dreamcatcher just finished placing her most recent toy horse on the ledge of her window, adding it to her collection. It’s a hobby she discovered ever since she’s been locked back inside Cloudcracker Prison and found an abandoned unicorn toy.

“How? You’re behind bars and your powers are limited, there’s no way.” Stealth Elf glared at the floating head through the bars of her cell before she turned around to face the elf and Blackout who have come to question her.

“Oh no, I didn’t do that. I mean I did see your friend in the dream realm. The poor thing was so lost and afraid, but unfortunately I was too busy helping those two lovebirds so I couldn’t do anything about it.” Dreamcatcher’s dirty grin made it clear that she was being sarcastic.

Blackout was standing behind Stealth Elf and didn’t say a word yet. He was trying to use his advanced knowledge to figure out what was going on. “If you were able to see her then others can enter the nightmare prison, so she can be saved.”

The Air villain turned to the dragon and gained a curious look. “Hey, I know you.” She was staring at Blackout who kept his dead serious expression. “Weren’t you one of those creepy dragons that spread nightmares all over the realm? I hope you know by now that that’s my thing.”

“I don’t associate with that clan anymore.” Blackout remembered the Dark Stygian. It was a clan consisting of gargoyle dragons just like him who would give nightmares to villains until they started to abuse that power. “I stopped them just like we stopped you, but there’s another force out there.”

“So, you’re saying it wasn’t her?” Stealth Elf’s eyes went from Dreamcatcher to Blackout.

“No, I keep watch over her at night. She can manipulate dreams to an extent, but not this drastically and not to the point where it gets dangerous.” Blackout kept eye contact with the accused.

“You’re stalking me? Ugh, creep!” Dreamcatcher scoffed at the two Skylanders once more before turning around. “But he’s right, I have nothing to do with this.”

Blackout didn’t ask any further questions and left while Stealth Elf spitefully stared at the back of Dreamcatcher before going as well.

Meanwhile Smolderdash went to get some advice elsewhere. She entered the Magic Realm where she stumbled upon Déjà Vu who was happy to help. The two made it to one of the highest magical towers in which many Skylanders of the respective element reside in. They were looking for someone.

“Are you sure she’s here?” Smolderdash floated across a long wine-red carpet along the blue stone floor leading inside.

“It’s where she spends most of her time as far as I know.” Déjà Vu turned her head left and right to observe countless shelves filled with books, potions and other ancient relics.

The inside of the building was much bigger than the slim exterior led to believe. The two Skylanders turned and pushed many objects aside in search of a specific one. “Hello?” Smolderdash finally exclaimed, hearing an echo throughout the giant circular room.

Déjà Vu was searching on the other side. After some brief scans of every corner, she finally spotted something. “Smolderdash, look!”

The fiery humanoid hurried to the timelord, who was staring at a pink bottle with cyan, oval-shaped jewels on the side and a diamond cork on top. “That’s it!”

Neither of them knew how to approach the relic. Finally, Smolderdash decided to just grab the bottle before shaking it. When nothing happened, she placed her other hand onto it and gently rubbed. The bottle reacted by trembling, which caused the Fire Skylander to drop it and back off. Finally, the cork flew off and the bottle emitted a dazzling cloud of purple smoke. A slim figure emerged out of it and grew larger with every passing moment, casting an enormous shadow on the Skylanders looking up in awe.

The being reached the point where it was so big that it hit the ceiling. After a painful hiss, it proceeded to shrink instead and adjusted itself to a size more suitable for the room. When the smoke ceased, the giant Ninjini finally appeared in front of the visitors. “Who has summoned the great Ninjini… oh it’s just you.”

Déjà Vu’s eyes curved underneath her mask, indicating a smile, while Smolderdash remained rather baffled. “Ninjini, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The fellow Magic Skylander was excited to get a chance to talk to one of the most skilled Skylanders of all time.

“Sorry about that, I just discovered a new spell which can warp reality, so I had to retreat into my bottle to concentrate.” Ninjini, and genies in general, were known for their great amount of power. They can grant almost any wish and thus hold the power of infinite creation. “How can I help you?”

“There was an incident last night.” Smolderdash wasn’t sure how to best describe the situation, but she just needed to know if Ninjini was more knowledgeable regarding the issue. “Tuff Luck was put in some kind of trance, they were talking about dream magic. Her eyes were completely light blue and foggy.”

“Dream magic?” Ninjini knew a good deal about that. “Genie magic does have a lot in common with that, only that there’s an entirely different realm for dreams.”

“Do you know any way to manipulate it?” Déjà Vu was curious. “I would use my time powers, but that would most likely lead to way more problems.”

“You shouldn’t do that, you’re right.” Ninjini pointed her finger at the sorceress while looking into another direction. “I wish I could help you, but unfortunately I can’t access any sort of dream magic. While wishes often stem from dreams, ultimately they are what someone wants in reality. Dreams are far more… unpredictable.”

“I understand.” Smolderdash wasn’t disappointed, but she did wonder what else she could do. “If it turns out that it wasn’t Dreamcatcher then there must be someone else with the power to manipulate dreams.”

“And create nightmares.” Déjà Vu reminded her companion of the dark side to that special kind of magic.

“Right…” The Fire Skylander looked up to Ninjini and nodded with a smile. “Thanks for your time.”

“Always. I will let you know if I find out anything else.” The giantess turned around to pick out some more books for her private studying session while the two Skylanders made their way back to the Academy.

The sun has set and there were no clear answers as to what happened with the unfortunate Tuff Luck. The Skylanders gathered once more to discuss another strategy.

“We have no idea what happened, and our main suspect seems to be innocent.” Stealth Elf spoke to the group in front of her, not realizing how glum she sounded. “I suppose we will have to take other measures.”

“Like what? I don’t think the perpetrator will just show up and tell us.” Spitfire joined the discussion after seeing what had happened and wanted to find a solution. “All we can do is hope for Tuff Luck to snap out of it and tell us herself.”

“She’s not snapping out of it, not that easily.” Blackout’s deep voice traveled through the crowd like a wave. “If even Ninjini can’t reverse it, then we have to catch the enemy and force them to do it.”

“Or perhaps…” Smolderdash announced an idea that just popped into her head, drawing all the attention towards her. “Kaos has something to do with this.”

“Kaos never did something like this, I doubt he even could.” Stealth Elf didn’t even consider the small tyrant despite him posing a serious threat numerous times. “I can’t stop thinking that this has something to do with Hex.”

“Hex’ powers were all absorbed and stored safely where no one can find them.” Spitfire had to remind the elf of what happened a week ago. “And besides, her magic is undead, so dark and scary. Not exactly dream magic if you ask me.”

“Guys!” The conversation was interrupted by Whirlwind soaring towards them with a worried manner. “It happened again!”

The Skylanders followed the hybrid to the inside of the library where Gearshift was on the floor with the same cloudy eyes as Tuff Luck. She was all alone, and no one was even nearby, so there were no witnesses.

“How could this happen?” Stealth Elf was shocked and her eyes were glued to the motionless body of the robot. “And why her of all people? Can she even dream?”

“I cannot.” Everyone jumped up in surprise when Gearshift responded. The Trap Master blinked and suddenly her eyes went back to their normal navy, silver and red colors.

Whirlwind couldn’t explain to herself what just happened. “Gearshift? How did you-”

“Break free from the trance? Magic usually does not show great effect on my systems, so in the case of a trance, hypnosis or other forms of paralyzation, I can simply reboot myself.” The robot stood back up as if nothing happened.

“Well, do you know what happened? Did you see anything?” Smolderdash didn’t fully believe that everything was completely fine, but Gearshift wasn’t one to lie.

“I did, in fact.” Everyone listened eagerly as the Tech Skylander recalled the event. “Before I fell into that trance and blacked out for approximately twelve minutes and twenty-one seconds, a cloaked figure ambushed me.”

“A cloaked figure?” Spitfire tried to think of a villain who could be capable of something like that. “Did you see their face?”

“I saw a mask inside the hood, not the face.” Gearshift described the intruder as precisely as she could. “They are using it to curse their victims. Whatever you do, do not-”

“Up so soon? Didn’t you enjoy the nightmare I made for you?” A mischievous voice echoed through the library, and everyone frantically looked around themselves.

“There!” Smolderdash pointed to the cloaked figure they’ve been looking for. He was standing on top of some wooden platforms near the ceiling.

The mysterious figure jumped down while the heroes all pulled out their weapons and were ready to strike. “You’re the one who’s doing this, aren’t you?” Stealth Elf hissed through her mask while tightly holding her daggers.

“Guilty as charged.” The voice was deep, too deep almost. It didn’t sound natural, more like a distorted recording. Everyone could tell that it was a man talking, yet they didn’t recognize him. “I should’ve known that the robot wouldn’t fall prey to my curse, what a waste.”

“Do not look into his eyes, that is what puts you under the curse!” Gearshift remarked before the figure got closer and purposely attempted to look into each pair of eyes.

The Skylanders tried to turn their eyes away, but they still managed to catch glimpses of the mask. It was a frightening twisted grimace painted in dark and cool colors. No one thought much about it until Smolderdash took a closer look, avoiding the eyes. “Wait… that’s the Mask of Power!”

Everyone stared at the Fire Skylander and then again at the mask before gasping when they realized that it truly was the powerful relic. “So, you recognize it. No wonder since you tried to steal it from me years ago!” The foe was walking around the group like a predator circling his prey, turning his head trying to get a look into their eyes.

“Who are you?” Spitfire looked down to the ground as the intruder passed him.

“You know who I am. I’ve spent eons trapped in my own kingdom, unable to fulfill my plan to rule the Skylands with my rightful powers!” The figure was now in front of the group again. He began to levitate with blue energy underneath him and towered over the Skylanders with a mighty aura. “I am the Nightmare King!”

Just before he could launch an attack through the eyes of his mask, a fireball hit him from the side and he fell to the ground. Spyro arrived alongside a few other Skylander to aid their allies. “And you won’t get the chance to do anymore damage!” The leader glared at the enemy who turned away from the heroes.

Instead of surrendering, the Nightmare King began to cackle. He swung his arm and unleashed a powerful wave of magic, throwing everyone to the ground. “You won’t defeat me. Even if you try, I will turn your greatest fears into reality. The one you will have to fight is yourself!” The villain was certain of himself and already knew his plan. “I’m not in a hurry, eventually you will all surrender to the horrors that plague your minds. No one can escape.” With those words the Nightmare King turned around and vanished in the blink of an eye.

The Skylanders looked everywhere, but he was gone. “Perfect, yet another new villain.” Spitfire sighed and waited for Spyro to come up with the next plan to take the threat down.

“I’m afraid so.” Cautiously, almost paranoid, Spyro looked behind himself to see if there was something there. “Skylanders, there’s a new villain in town and he once again wants to take over the Skylands.”

“He also carries the Mask of Power.” Smolderdash remarked.

Spyro’s eyes opened wide, but at this point nothing could surprise him anymore. “Well, then we will need to find a way to take those powers from him. We all know what a single fragment of the mask was capable of, I don’t want to find out what the whole thing can do.”

As Spyro discussed the plan, Gearshift noticed that something wasn’t right. She blinked and her eyes suddenly shifted back to the nightmare state. Inside her mind, or rather system, she saw something familiar, then she heard a deep scream. She couldn’t make out what it was and before she got the opportunity to look closer, she was back in the real world. The robot didn’t think much of it and continued to listen like nothing happened.

In the meantime, at Cloudcracker Prison all the villains were in their cells and supposed to be asleep. Obviously almost none of them were, but they were all quiet so they wouldn’t receive a warning from the guards. Snap Shot and Wolfgang were no exception. After asking the Trap Masters time and time again they were finally allowed to get cells next to each other. Now they could chat as much as they wanted, despite a crystal wall being in between them.

“Did Dream tell you that she was interrogated today?” Wolfgang was using the bones of the chicken he had for dinner to drum against the bars of his cell as so often.

“For what?” Snap Shot was scratching the floor with his sharp gloved claws.

“Apparently a Skylander was found under some kind of dream spell.” Wolfgang did know what the mischievous head was capable of, but he also knew that her powers are very limited within prison walls. “They thought it was her. Shows how much they trust their own energy fields.”

Snap Shot smirked. “You guys did always find a way around that.” After a few seconds the reptile’s smile faded and his scratching along the floor stopped. “Wolfy?”

“Yeah?” The werewolf interrupted his drumming session since he could tell that Snap Shot was about to ask him something more serious.

“What will you do when you get out?” Snap Shot has been thinking about life outside of prison a lot lately, and he can’t help but wonder what it will look like. “We have two more years, but after that we’re free to go.”

Wolfgang was quiet. Unlike Snap Shot, he spent many years behind bars. At this point it felt more like home than any other place in Skylands. “Well, if the queen is really out of the picture, I’ll just try to get as far away from here as possible. Lay low, y’know?”

“Yeah.” That reminded Snap Shot of Wolfgang’s attempt to flee when the Skylanders found them and the other Doom Raiders on that abandoned island. Back then he would have never dared to run away, but things are different now. “I honestly have no idea. I thought I’d be with the Skylanders until I retire before settling down in some swamp and spend the rest of my days shouting at youngsters who are trespassing through my property.” Wolfgang laughed as Snap Shot paused and thought further. “But now I’m here. I have to get away once I’m out, they won’t want me around.” Snap Shot took a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh. “I can never go back.”

Wolfgang could almost feel Snap Shot’s disappointment through the wall. He knew how respected he used to be among the Skylanders. The leader of the Trap Masters with a track record of catching more criminals than anyone else, including the wolf himself several times. The crocagator told him to not feel guilty about that loss, even though it was his fault. The least he could do now is help him figure things out. “I know what that’s like, losing the life you once had and all the people in it. It’s scary at first and you’re all alone, but eventually you find something new, something that keeps you going. For me it was music and with the Doom Raiders I thought I had discovered my new purpose. Now I realize that wasn’t what I really wanted, not in that way.”

Snap Shot was listening carefully. He loved listening to his partner go on about music, he could tell how happy that made him, but he never expressed anything about his purpose before. “Then what do you want?”

“I want to be free.” Wolfgang’s lips formed a gentle smile as his mind wandered through all the possibilities once he’s out of prison. “No more tyranny and pressure from some greedy ol’ hag. I just want to get out there and share my music, even if no one enjoys it.”

Snap Shot nodded. “That sure sounds like a purpose to me.”

“And I won’t go alone.” Wolfgang added. “I’ll take a grumpy old crocagator with me and maybe, just maybe, he will get into music too.”

“In your dreams!” Both let out a heartfelt laugh before sinking back into their thoughts. “That does sound like something. Getting out there, seeing what no one’s seen before.”

Wolfgang was glad to hear some perspective from the reptile. “And you know the Skylanders; some of them won’t be able to let you go without at least saying goodbye.”

“You’re right about that.” Snap Shot’s sight moved up and out the window. Seeing the star-filled sky gave him a comforting feeling, almost like a spark of hope. “To the future.”

“To the future.” Wolfgang yawned before crawling into his small bed, which has been starting to feel comfortable after so many dreamy nights.

Snap Shot went to bed too and realized that maybe, despite the circumstances, the stay in the prison was exactly what he needed.

[inkofamethyst]

January 7, 2022

Heyooo so I’m just clearing out my drafts tbh but I noticed a common theme throughout a bunch of things that I’ve come here to write and then just never continued/posted and they’re kind of just taking up space, so I figured I’d just put them out there (apologies for the run-on sentence).

[aug 7 2019]

how on earth am i going to survive in the real world when the slightest inconvenience puts me on the verge of tears

[feb 3 2021]

me, on the verge of tears: yes, I do indeed wish to become a biologist and that is the only thing I want out of life haha I really just wanna work learn and teach until I die and nothing more haha please believe me

[feb 9 2021]

and see the PROBLEM is that I don’t even really want to do any of this

I just wanna try my hand at doing art.  Theatre.  Writing.  Fiction Podcasting.  Video Producing.

I want to do those things without feeling ashamed for not putting time into the things that I feel like I should be doing instead

so I spend so much of my time paralyzed because I refuse to make a decision one way or another most times.

I’ve spent so much of my life in this feeling of being paralyzed

[today]

And that’s just scratching the surface of the drafts stored away.  There’s one I read about me pretending to be ace which,,, these past few days I’ve been circling back around to the whole “oh god oh man oh boy what if I actually am aro/ace that would really suck I really hope I’m not I hope it’s just that I’m afraid of messing up even though incredibly large amounts of evidence point to the contrary” and that would be okay or whatever if I hadn’t already gone through a similar line of thinking six or so years ago.  Back then I came the the conclusion of “oh no I’m just cynical about love that’s all” and left it at that assuming I’d grow out of it and now it seems like I’m about to brush it all off this go round with “oh no I’m just scared” and there surely cannot be that many more excuses that I can come up with before I have to face facts.  Just because I can relate to (a suspliciously large amount of) aro/ace things doesn’t make me aro/ace, does it?  The same way tiktok tried so hard last summer to convince everyone and they mama that they had adhd when like,,, bruh no it’s just that a lot of those experiences just happen to be relatable,, doesn’t make it that 86% of gen z has adhd for crying out loud.  And I know it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing to be aro/ace, but it sure would feel like I was missing out.  AGH I HATE THIS.  (I think I’d be more upset about being aro than ace though.)  And then (and maybe this will be my excuse when this thought process pops into my head the next time who knows) I have to consider whether this is me or if I’ve just hyperfocused on the whole “no sex before marriage” thing to an extent that’s made me indifferent to the whole thing.  I mean, I’ve heard stories of women who felt guilty while being intimate with their own husbands as a result of purity culture.  So maybe it just runs that deep, I don’t know??

Anyway I just wanna say also that I really could’ve gone off yesterday about those two youtube channels, but I’m really glad I didn’t.  I know I said that I wanted to get better about hate-watching stuff, but over the past year, I actually think I have?  It’s become easier to recognize when I’m heading down into that headspace, and then I can pull myself out of it.

I started working on mashing up Battle and Battle II (mostly Battle II, but I think I want the brassyness to build from the beginning), but it’s a lot harder than Drippy.  Mostly because there aren’t really any additional covers I can consult online for more arrangement inspiration.  This makes it my first time truly arranging something on my own.  At this point I’m just glad I managed to pin down the time signature right lol.

On a happier note, today I’m thankful that I enjoyed Pitch Perfect lol.  It was my first time seeing it and it was really cute.  Ugh I’m loving all that time that I have to just watch movies.  Only two more weeks until the next semester starts, and I need to make use of it and relax as much as possible, you know?  Though the freedom has been screwing with my sleep schedule and that’s not fun.  Luckily I don’t have any early classes next sem.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Do No Harm Take No Shit Chapter 3 - A Class-y Return

Luckily there were no akumas that weekend, so Marinette was free to relax and heal and enjoy hospital ice cream. Though, she was ever determined to go to school on Monday.

“I can’t let this keep me down, Adrien, I’ll be fine.”

Adrien at least managed to get her to agree to a ride. No way was she walking to school with a cast and a bruised rib!

Marinette was discharged on Sunday and Adrien, Nino and Alya were there to help her parents carry her stuff – not that there was a huge amount to carry. In all honesty they were mostly there for support. Left with nothing to hold, Nino resorted to carrying the weight of his defeat. Marinette was beautifully flustered as she insisted she could take her bag, until Adrien scooped her up in his arms.

“You looked dizzy.” He explained innocently to Marinette and their staring friends. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall over.”

Marinette paused before mumbling, “I am a bit dizzy,” and snuggling into his chest. Adrien counted that as another win. He grinned as he proudly carried his Lady to the car.

That was Sunday. Bright and early on Monday morning Adrien knocked on Marinette’s door and her father answered with a cheery smile. “Good morning, Adrien. Marinette’s just coming. Thanks for taking her into school today – I would, but the bakery-”

“I understand.” Adrien nodded. “Besides, it’s – really nice to spend time with your daughter. It’s my pleasure.”

Tom beamed. “She is a delight, isn’t she?”

Hurried footsteps sounded behind him. Tom looked around, then stepped aside to let Marinette through. She darted past with a wave.

“Adrien, hi! By Papa, see you tonight.”

“Goodbye sweetheart. Have a good day at school.”

“See you later, Mr. Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien said politely, only to be quieted by Tom’s head shake.

“You can call me Tom, you know. By the way, if you come by the bakery this afternoon after school there’s a complimentary pastry for you as thanks for all your help. Do you like croissants? Or I was thinking about making some macaroons if you prefer…”

Somehow Marinette got them away from her father’s endless attempts to feed Adrien – which he was both pleased and disappointed him – and they piled into Adrien’s car. The Gorilla grunted a gruff hello and started up the engine.

Marinette shot Adrien a nervous smile. “So.”

“So.” He echoed. Marinette bit her lip and looked away. Well that wasn’t going to slide. Adrien racked his brains for something to cheer her up. “Your dad really wants to fatten me up, huh? I guess I’d breader get used to it.”

Marinette snorted, and Adrien grinned. Gotcha.

“I’ll just have to bake the most of it. At yeast I have you by my side.”

“Ugh.” She complained, trying to hide her smile and failing. That only spurred Adrien on.

“I’m sure I can rise to the occasions. I crust stay strong.”

“Where do you store these?”

“Ah, as you know, puns are stored in what’s usually known as the good-decision-making centre of the brain. I cake the most of what I have.”

Marinette cackled into her hands. Adrien grinned at her triumphantly and she shook her head, still snickering. “Those are so bad.”

“I know! That’s why you’re laughing.”

“Do you just spend all night coming up with these?”

Adrien winked. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Ah, cat puns!” Marinette poked her tongue out. “My one weakness. Leave meowt of it.”

Adrien stared at her. Ladybug just made a cat pun. And she was laughing. This was a dream come true.

“What a purrfect moment. And here I thought my puns bugged you!”

“Adrien.” She snickered.

“Ah, you know I’m just kitten you.”

“Adrien.”

“Alright, alright, I concede. I can spot the time to stop.”

“Adrien!”

  He thought he’d prepared for this moment. But he could barely stop from hissing when he slipped out of the car and caught a glimpse of her. Standing on the front steps, talking with a group of students, probably spilling more lies… It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Marinette took his hand. Adrien hadn’t realized he’d been shaking. He carefully unclenched his fists and squeezed her hand, and they walked up the front steps together.

After teary greetings, the class settled back into its usual weekly pattern. Classes came and went. Projects were (sometimes) done. As long as they stayed away from Lila – a duty Adrien took as his own and diligently made sure that they didn’t cross paths with the liar for the whole week – things were okay. Adrien did his modeling and fencing and, when his bodyguard permitted, walked with Marinette to her house after school.

“You don’t have to do this you know.” Marinette muttered as they walked through the busy Parisian streets, having bid farewell to Alya and Nino at the school.

“But I definitely want to.” Adrien turned his face away to hide the embarrassment on his face. “You know I love spending time with you, Milady.”

Marinette stopped – they’d reached the bakery already. She hesitated for a moment before blurting out, “Do you want to come inside for a while? I – I have cookies and Mecha Strike 2.”

Adrien groaned. “Oh I wish. I have a photo shoot today and father wants me to arrive early. I’m lucky I got this time at all.”

“Oh.” Marinette looked crestfallen. He hastened to continue.

“But I’m free tomorrow, is that okay? I can bring ice cream to sweeten the deal. Though it can’t be much sweeter than you.” He added, delighting in Marinette’s blush. She snorted.

“Puns again? Really?”

Adrien gave a mock gasp. “What, do you not like my puns?”

“Of course I do.” Marinette’s smile was wide and genuine. Beautiful. “See you tomorrow, chaton.”

‘Now’s your chance, Agreste. Ask her out. Properly. You’ve done this before, remember? And this time she might actually say yes.’

Adrien opened his mouth.

Marinette darted forward to kiss his cheek, leaving Adrien paralyzed as she hurried inside and closed the door behind her.

Marinette… kissed his cheek. He brought a hand to his face as if to confirm it was real. Marinette kissed his cheek because she wanted to, not because there was an akuma or he was brainwashed or anything.

Plagg snickered at him from inside his pocket. Adrien shook his head quickly and turned to wait for the Gorilla’s arrival, unable to keep a big, goofy grin off his face

Marinette kissed me.

[donnerpartyofone]

how do i tell someone

that i will never talk on the phone with them, ever, in the course of our entire relationship, unless there is a legitimate crisis of their mental and physical safety?

now is probably the main time of my life when i need this skill. i should have saved all of my notepads, from the era where i was talking on the phone more, to demonstrate to people that even when i’m going to have a conversation with someone i feel very close to, i need to write down talking points ahead of time, for everything i might say to this person, in case i just spaz out and become totally paralyzed due to the pressures of performing on the telephone. today, i still have to get kind of drunk to handle the pressures of the phone, almost no matter what time of day the call is, or who it’s with, which is not good. maybe i could just send pictures of the bottles/cans/glasses that were required for the call, to get the point across. but, all that said: in reality, my aversion to the phone is just a symptom of my greater social aversion, which is a much harder thing to communicate to people who you want in your life. this morning i am thinking of a friend i love and don’t want to lose, but whose every text or email racks me with nervous electrical shocks, because i know that it is going to involve SO MUCH MORE than just saying hi, even if there is no central topic like a major life change or a request for advice or some similar guideline that helps me along. i can’t ever just send this friend a note or a picture they would like, just to say “thinking of you, hope you’re good!”, because it instantly provokes like 50 questions plus some kind of homework assignment (e.g. explaining that i don’t make everything on my blog, or finding out a bunch of background trivia about a meme i sent and where it came from originally because they “need” to know about it now), in addition to an attempt to schedule a call or a hangout. they are genuinely a pretty intense person, so it takes extra effort on my part to remind myself that at least half the problem is with me--that it’s not abnormal for people to want to spontaneously check in with their friends, especially now, and moreover it IS somewhat abnormal to want to control the exact amount and type of attention that you receive from others and be the sole arbiter of when they get to talk to or look at you based on the rare conditions under which you can stand it. it kind of sucks that i can’t get this person, and persons like them, to just NOTICE after all these years that for the most part i only socialize in short and/or discreet spurts, and sometimes they need to let me send them a little token of my esteem, just for fun, without it exploding into a whole interrogation of our entire lives including scheduled calls and meetings. i do tell people explicitly that i’m an introvert, that even pleasant social contact exhausts me quickly, that i don’t like to be touched, etc, but the truth is that this rarely lands with anyone besides other introverts who already know exactly how i feel without an explanation or instructions. no matter what i say or do, i still have to put up with a whole lot of “awww, i know you said you don’t like to be touched but i’m just gonna hug you ok LOL that’s just me that’s just how i am oh well c’mere AAAAAAWWWWWW! (makes full-body contact with me including the face)”, because people who aren’t like me can’t imagine what it’s like to be like me, to the point that actually they don’t even believe me, they won’t even take me at my word about how i prefer to be treated, they think that SECRETLY all human beings like to be touched so when i say “don’t touch me” i really mean that i’m just too shy to ask to be bathed in the showers of hugs and kisses that my heart truly desires. people just trying to talk to me is a little harder to define as a problem, though, because who is supposed to automatically know when i’m ready to have a conversation and when i’m not? it’s too tiring and too complicated for me to just reassert my boundaries over and over again, so i usually just let people manipulate me into whatever amusement they think i owe them, if i can’t avoid them entirely for whatever reason. so in the spirit of all this, i’ve been sitting here giving my phone the hairy side-eye for as long as it took to type out this entire blog post about the text message i just received asking me to either call or have a socially-distanced hangout, because it’s much easier for me to spend 40 minutes producing pages of brooding self-analysis while my coffee gets cold (and i haven’t even gotten to the exciting topic of how my mother was so rejecting and withholding that it socialized me to make everybody prove that they’re worth my time!) than it is for me to either JUST CALL THE PERSON; say “sure i’ll call you next week” and then ghost the person; or find that mythological perfect way to say, “look, i love you, but i can’t call you. it’s too confusing and it makes me too nervous. i know it’s hard, but you can’t take this personally; it’s entirely about me. why don’t you email me when you get a chance and tell me what you’ve been up to, or else i’ll let you know when i feel comfortable traveling to your neighborhood or vice versa. hope you’re good!” another solution, as my worst shrink once suggested, is to somehow transform myself into a person who LOVES crowds and phone calls and parties and attention and constant platonic touching and rubbing. but like i’m 39 now and i don’t think 40 is going to be the year that i discover that evil alchemy. UGH.

[apex-academy]

Chapter 4: Six Chambers, One Loaded (#25)

I grab an apple and wander out of an empty kitchen. No one in the cafeteria, either. Good time to cajole Otoya into grabbing something. As long as I can fend off any Ichirikis trying to follow him.

“...”

What’s Ichiriki’s problem, anyway? I can’t figure him out, but that might be the whole point. Whatever it is, he's not a great human being.

I step back into the hallway and pause at the door to the dorms. Part of that is just my old habit, but I think I hear someone, too. After a moment of standing there frowning, I turn around and make my way to the main hall.

Mahavir’s halfway across, just about pushing his face into the mural. He has both palms pressed against it but isn’t trying to push himself away. At least, he isn’t succeeding at it if he is.

“Mahavir? You okay?”

“Ah...”

He lets out a breath.

“Yes... Apologies.”

With that, he finally gets himself off the wall, though he keeps a hand near it for balance. He starts plodding forward, but I don’t have to struggle to catch up.

“Where're you headed?”

He doesn’t respond for a while, but I don’t know if it’s from stubbornness or exhaustion. Quite possibly both.

“Nurse’s Office. I’m fine, I just... think it’s time to change out the bandages...”

“Let me help.” 

“Say whatever you want, but you look like crap. If it’s a matter of getting a deadly infection or not, I can’t say I trust you as a medic right now.”

“......”

Well, better than a no.

I pick up the pace a bit. “Come on.”

Don’t want to rush him in this state, but it might wear down a little resistance. Make him feel like he’s pushed himself enough. I’m not sure he ever feels like that, but whatever. It’s worth a shot.

We make it to the Nurse’s Office without any incidents, and I tell him to sit on one of the cots. He complies.

I start opening drawers to get my bearings. “Do you need ointment, or just more bandages?”

“Both would be best, if there’s enough...”

No one else has serious burns, so that shouldn’t be a problem, right?

I set my apple down somewhere clean-looking and find what I need. Seems like this should be a simple operation. I haven’t had first aid training, but Mahavir should be able to help if I can’t figure it out. Someone else may have doctored him up initially, but it’s been a while, and he kept his hands bandaged up before he was even injured.

“All right. I’ll start unpeeling the old ones, so let me know if I need to slow down or anything.”

He nods and holds out an arm. I adjust my nitrile gloves before finding the edge of the bandages. Okay, here goes... Hopefully they’re not stuck to him, or this is going to hurt.

...

He doesn’t flinch as I expose the base layer on this arm, so that’s good.

“Oh, uh... Is anything besides your arms and neck bandaged, actually?”

“Torso... Legs, not as much. I can handle it myself.”

“It'd be hard to wrap up your own torso, wouldn’t it?”

“...”

“I mean... I’m fine with helping, but only if that’s okay with you. You shouldn’t have to do this yourself, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“...”

“Do as much as you like.”

All right. Cooperation is nice, but I’m a little worried Mr. Prude isn’t objecting to the concept of a girl taking off his shirt. 

You know what, I’m just gonna stop that train of thought right there. This is awkward enough already.

I’m probably doing this slower than necessary, but I don’t want to hurt the guy. 

I don’t want to know how much pain he’s in already. The burn ointment is supposed to help, so there’s that, at least. And the stuff reeks of herbs, so I’m sure it’s potent.

I finish his arms and move on without comment. Even without the shirt, he has about the same amount of coverage in bandages.

“Why are you up and walking at all?”

He shrugs without meeting my eye.

“...”

Guess he needs another lecture on resting. He’s gotten enough of it from me. Maybe I could talk Kanagi into it. If her ankle is in such dire condition, she has to know how recuperation goes, right?

Or is he even talking to her after the whole gambling escapade? If not, I should look into that, too. Everyone has disagreements, but when we have so many incentives to actually hurt each other...

Ugh. I’m so done with this place.

I start unwinding bandages and get a few winces in return, but Mahavir assures me it’s nothing. I can’t really assess the damage just by looking, but... Nothing’s bleeding, at least. Is that what I should worry about with burns? Maybe I should look for a good book on it. There’s nothing in here that comprehensive.

I’m putting down a fresh layer of bandages when the door slams open.

“Ack!”

“...”

“Otoya? What’s wrong?”

“N... Nothing!”

He swings his head around to scan the room, lunges for a bottle of painkillers, and flees again.

“...”

“What was that?”

“Guess he has a headache? It didn’t look like he was injured.”

Granted, I barely got a glance at him, but if it was something serious, he would have stayed, right? 

I look at the counter he raided, but my gaze drifts to the clock mounted to the wall above it.

“Ah...”

4:25? I’ve been in here longer than I thought. I don’t want to keep the girls waiting, but I don’t want to rush this, either...

“Um, Mahavir? Do you mind if I get to your legs later? I’ll still finish up this part, but I don’t want to be too late for cooking lessons, if that’s okay.”

“Understood.”

He’s a very punctual kind of guy. He’d probably just be more upset if he knew I was already late for something on his account.

I do as good a job of doctoring him up as I can and hurry to strip off my gloves and chuck them in the trash. I still rinse off my hands. I swear some of the smell made it through.

“Okay, see you.”

“If you’re staying in here for a while, you can always lock the door, just in case.”

“Right.”

I jog back to the kitchen. Looks like it’s just Yuki hanging around.

“Sorry I’m late. Did Aki already leave?”

“Oh... Is it time already? She hasn’t come yet...”

“Oh. Okay.” Makes me feel better, at least. “What are we making tonight?”

“I thought udon sounded good...”

“Fine by me.”

We spend a little time chatting about spices, but Aki still doesn’t show. I check the cafeteria, but no one’s hanging around there, either.

“Have they been betting today?” Maybe she got stuck up there.

“A little? We wrapped up a while ago, though...”

“...”

“Do you think something happened...?”

“I’m sure it’s fine. She probably just overslept.”

“She does nap a lot...”

I give it a little longer. All I get is a growing knot in my stomach.

“I’m going to see if I can find her.”

“Oh, I’ll come, too...”

I nod but don’t wait for her to keep up.

Knock, knock.

“Aki? Are you in there? It’s time for today’s lesson.”

Nothing. I knock again.

“Akiiiii...”

“Guess she’s somewhere else.”

“Hummmm... Maybe the auditorium...?”

“Yeah, let’s try it.”

Empty.

“...”

I run back out.

Empty.

I’m back in the hallway before Yuki catches up with me.

“Oh... Checking the study hall?”

“Yeah. She’s not there.”

I... I’m worrying for nothing, right? I’m just stressed out from everything, and Aki’s worrisome to start with, and—and it’s not that weird for a teenager to show up late to things! It’s fine! It doesn’t mean she’s dead! Or that she found someone else dead and is paralyzed at the scene...

“Where else to look...”

We check back in the kitchen, but if Aki showed up late, we must have missed her.

“You check the rest of this floor, and I’ll try the second.”

“Okay...”

I run up the stairs again, heart pounding. Where else would she be? A different study hall? Exercising? Just vegetating somewhere?

I scour the second floor. There’s clinking in the weight room, but when I try to open the door, it’s blocked.

“Who’s in there?”

A thud too loud to be any weight Aki would be lifting.

“M-me?”

Otoya. Okay. That’s normal.

“Just you?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay. Sorry.”

So at least Otoya’s not dead.

No one’s dead. Calm down.

I check the aerobics room, but no one’s there. I hurry back into the stairwell.

“Kakumi...?”

“Ah, Yuki!” Sounds like she’s coming from downstairs. “Did you find her?”

“No... You didn’t...?”

“No. Do you want to take the third floor?”

“Okay...”

“Meet you back in here.”

Without waiting for a response, I hurtle up to the fourth floor. I start at Aidan’s study hall, just to make sure I didn’t miss her there, but no dice.

...

...

Nothing in this wing. I check the bathroom—no one—and hurry on to the library. Not a weird place to hang out, right?

I peer inside. There’s a broken chair, but otherwise everything looks normal. And empty. Maybe one of the study rooms? She wouldn’t hear me knocking, I don’t think. I can still try the knobs.

But when I approach the first door...

“What the heck?”

I try the knob—it turns, but the bent hinges won’t let the door open. I slam my fist on the wood a few times, anyway.

“Hey! Is anyone in there?!”

No response. I check the other study rooms, but they’re empty. Hands shaking, I try the first one again. No luck. Someone did not want this door to be opened.

I’m trying not to panic, but there’s only one reason I can think of for that.

I turn on my heel and sprint back towards the stairwell. Second floor.

“Otoya! Get out here!”

He doesn’t reply, but only a second passes before I hear the scrape of weights leaving the floor near the entrance. I start pushing the door open before he has the chance to. He flinches.

“Sorry, just—”

“Follow me! Now!”

“Okay?”

I take off for the stairs and lead him to the library. By the time we make it, I’m panting too hard to speak, but I sure can point at the dented hinges.

“Is—is that new? Wh-what am I supposed to be doing?”

“O... Open the door!”

He frowns but walks over and tugs on the doorknob. There’s a nasty creak from the hinges, but I’d managed that much myself.

“Force it!”

“I—Can I?”

“YOU BENCH LIKE 400 POUNDS JUST OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!”

“I don’t mean that!”

“More like... May I.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I would be forcing a room open, wouldn’t I? Isn’t that a-against the rules?”

“.........”

Is it?

“MONOCHAP!”

[BACK] [NEXT]

[glmtwnbrtz]

Sanders Sides | Human! Hogwarts AU

One of my first fanfics I ever wrote! Hope you like it.

Time spent: 7:40 pm to 8:30 pm (a day after initially writing it)

Ships: Prinxiety, implied Logicality

Word count: 1297

~~~~~~

Logan wasn't a rule breaker, that wasn't any of their jobs. Yet he found himself sneaking out of the Ravenclaw common room, giddy with excitement to finally see his friends after a few weeks. 'I'm going to get in so much trouble for doing this.' He thought, nearly getting caught by Filch. He sunk into the shadows, wary of the changing staircases and teachers. He had fallen incredibly ill, having hallucinations and constantly in between the state of consciousness and sleep. He was in the medical wing for quite a while, and was aching for his friends. He soon passed the Weasley Twins, sneaking around the castle. The three exchanged curt nods, Logan definitely not in the position to scold them for sneaking out. He finally got to the Room of Requirement, slightly sweaty and breathless. He paced in front of it, thinking of a room where the five friends could relax and hang out in. He opened the door, and was suprised by the room he conjured in his mind.

-

"Where are you going?" Draco Malfoy drawled, crossing his arms. Virgil sighed, turning around to face the blond prefect.

"I'm going to play hopscotch with Blue Diamond and bake cookies with Aladdin. What do you think, Hair Gel?" Virgil snapped, staring down Draco. His gray eyes flickered with confusion, then was back to his normal glare. His eyes narrowed at the nickname, his posture getting straighter (unlike his sexuality).

"Well, I'm a prefect, and you're not. You can and will be reported to Snape for breaking the rules, and talking back to a prefect." He said, making up the last part.

"Not if you're frozen and your memory erased." Virgil whispered, quickly whipping out his wand and cast a few spells. In a few moments, Draco Malfoy was propped up against the couch, paralyzed and had no memory of Virgil sneaking out. The purple haired boy smirked, then left the room in a rather extravagant manner. 'Princey's rubbing off on me.' He thought with a shudder, then blushed at the thought of the boy he's crushing on. He stuck to the shadows, stealthily moving through the shadows like he did this a thousand times. In reality, this was the only time he did this, along with the other sides and Thomas.

-

Soon, all the sides and Thomas were inside the room. The room was a wonderfully unique clash of colours, blue for Logan, red for Roman, yellow for Patton, purple for Virgil, and rainbow for Thomas. It was a perfect blend of pastels, dark, and bright colours along with comfortable furniture. There was two couches facing each other, a table in between them. There were shelves upon shelves of books, numerous Disney DVD's, albums from Panic! At the Disco and Fall Out Boy, and a large book of dad jokes.

"Whoa." Patton breathed, summing up everyone's thoughts. They all made a beeline for the couches, Patton and Logan on one couch, Virgil, Roman and Thomas on the other.

"Hey Virg." Thomas said with a smile, Virgil giving him a tiny smile. They all began talking and arguing about various things. The conversation soon shifted to what they should do.

"Truth or dare?" Patton suggested after Virgil suggesting UNO. They mostly agreed, Virgil grumbling that the game was dumb.

"Who's going first?" Roman asked after a moment of silence. He glanced at everyone, blushing slightly when Virgil met his gaze. Logan reluctantly raised his hand, Roman nodding at him.

"Okay.... Patton! Truth or dare?" Logan said, turning to the Hufflepuff next to him. Patton thought for a moment, then smiled widely.

"Dare!" He exclaimed, bouncing in his seat. Logan rolled his eyes at his friends behaviour, then a (possibly) bad idea popped in his head.

"I dare you to mess with Filch. You can cast some spells, or do some old school pranks, just don't get caught." Logan said, his small grin turning into an evil smile. Roman began to grin wildly, Virgil attempting to hide the smile on his face, Thomas looking at Patton in sympathy, and Patton pale-faced. The Hufflepuff sighed in defeat, then looked at all of them.

"Remember me if I die." He said simply, getting up to go to the door. The rest of the boys followed, heading out the door and stuck to the shadows whilst Patton looked for Filch. The squib soon passed the corridor the five of them were hiding in. Patton made his move.

"Wingardium Leviosa." He whispered, pointing his wand at a vase of flowers. He slowly tipped the vase over Filch's head, and a small amount of water poured out of the vase. They stifled a laugh when Filch looked around, looking for a student. Patton whispered a spell under his breath and suddenly a small, harmless fire appeared at Filch's feet. Filch must have jumped a meter into the air, then ran rather awkwardly down the corridor. Patton extinguished the fire then ran back to their hangout spot, the others in front of him.

"Did you see how high he jumped?" Roman exclaimed once they were on the couches. Roman and Thomas were cry laughing, Logan smiling, Virgil letting out a small chuckle here and there, and Patton laughing.

"Forget how high he jumped, did you see how he ran?" Virgil said, smiling behind his hand. They all started laughing again, and continued for a minute or so. When they finally composed themselves, they continued the game.

"Okay, Roman. Truth or dare?" Patton asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. Roman smiled confidentially and sat up straighter.

"Dare! A daring prince never turns down a challenge!" Roman said, staring off into the distance. They all shook their heads at his antics. Thomas, Logan and Patton huddled together, coming up with the dare they desperately wanted to do. They broke apart, going back to their respective places.

"I dare you to kiss Virgil, on the mouth." Patton said, looking Roman dead in the eye. Roman and Virgil looked shell-shocked, both blushing profusely. They slowly faced each other, refusing to look each other in the eye, much to the others amusement. They locked eyes for a moment, then slowly leaned forward. They closed their eyes and suddenly their lips touched. Patton smiled so large that his face muscles were starting to ache. Logan cringed but grinned at how Patton seemed so happy for Prinxiety. Thomas was smiling, his little gay heart happy that his two oblivious friends finally kissed each other.

"Logan, look at how happy they look!" Patton whispered to Logan, grasping his hand. 'Ugh, feelings. At least they're Patton's feelings, then I'll tolerate them.' Logan thought, blushing when his friend squeezed his hand. Virgil broke away from the kiss first, his face red and heart fluttering. Roman frowned slightly from the loss of contact and warmth yet coldness of Virgil's lips.  They continued playing the game, Thomas noticed that during the rest of the game, Roman and Virgil sat very close to each other. At one point, Virgil was almost on Roman's lap until Thomas snickered. When they felt like it was time to leave, they stuck with each other until they had to split up.

"Hey Virg?" Roman asked, fingers intertwined with Virgil's. The smaller boy hummed in acknowledgement.

"You know, you don't... have to go to the Slytherin common room yet. You can spend the night in my dorm." Roman suggested, making Virgil look at him wide eyed.

"And what will we be doing?" Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow and smirked. Roman smiled mysteriously, then rushed to the Gryffindor tower. Virgil followed close behind.

-

Let's just say that the Gryffindor table was very confused to see "dressed to impress" Roman Sanders with messy hair, hickeys and a silver and green tie.

~~~~~

I'll leave you to imagine what Virgil and Roman did ;)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[cheeseeatingtrashmonster]

Camp Counselor AU

Nelix Week day 5: Roommates.

Read the whole month on AO3

Roommates

“Why are you doing this, again?” Gabriel asked as he and Felix followed the Gorilla down a dirt road surrounded by pine trees.

"Work experience. Because it gets me out of the house. Because the program came highly recommended by my guidance counselor at school. But to be honest, the thought of seeing you surrounded by nature while dropping me off was more than enough."

"This is a waste of your time. You could have spent your summer studying or practicing your violin."

"Yes, seeing you, saying that, with actual trees behind you is worth all the sunburns and bug bites and screaming children this summer could possibly give me."

At the door to Felix's cabin Gabriel said his goodbyes.

"You'll be calling for a ride home within three weeks," was Gabriel's last words before leaving with the Gorilla.

The cabin was small, six sets of bunk beds lining the walls with lockers and a clothes hanging bar against the back wall. Felix took the top bunk in the back left corner and unpacked some of his things into one of the lockers. He was reviewing his schedule for the rest of the first day when the door banged open again.

"Why are there rocks everywhere?"

Felix looked up to see a very frustrated young man lugging a pair of suitcases and a sleeping bag behind him up the steps into the cabin.

"Are you Nino?" Felix asked, reaching to hold the door open for the newcomer.

Nino looked up and forgot the toe he had stubbed on a rock outside the door, and how tired his arms were from lugging his bags around, and that the sun was giving him a headache. The exact words that entered his mind the moment he saw Felix Agreste were, "Oh no, he's hot."

"Here, give me a bag," Felix said, reaching to help. Somehow this resulted in both of them dropping all of Nino's belongings on the floor.

"Well now I'm glad I left my laptop at home," Nino muttered, picking up a bag and lugging it to the top bunk in front of Felix's.

"I would hope so," Felix said. "There's no internet signal in most of the buildings and we weren't supposed to bring them anyway."

"Why not? I didn't bring it because I didn't want some punk kid breaking it. I didn't know we weren't supposed to."

"You seem ill-prepared," Felix said, setting Nino's second bag on top of the row of lockers.

"This was not my first choice summer activity," Nino said. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"I would have given it if you had answered when I asked yours."

He's hot and kind of a jackass, Nino thought. "I'm Nino. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," Felix said, trying not to roll his eyes at the obvious sarcasm from his co-counselor. "I'm Felix."

"Well, Felix," Nino said, climbing up on top of his bunk and starting to make his bed. "What did you do wrong to spend a summer in Hell?"

"I'm here voluntarily." Felix climbed to his bed to see Nino better. "I like working with kids. I want to be a teacher someday."

"Fair enough. Ugh, is it always this hot in here?"

"I brought a box fan, but it won't do much," Felix said. "But I hear it cools off at night. Why are you here, if it wasn't your first choice?"

"My parents basically said that I needed to get a job and get out of the house more, and most of the places I applied wouldn't take me, so here I am." Nino sat back against the wall behind him. "It's not that I don't like kids, and I get to teach some of the music and drama classes, which will be fun. But I'm more of an air conditioning and wifi guy than campfires and swimming in lakes."

Felix nodded. Maybe this grouch he was rooming with wasn't quite as unpleasant as his first impression would have him believe. "I'm sure I'll have trouble adjusting to the accommodations, but I'm just as happy with a book in the sun as a book inside."

"I'm a Kindle guy myself," Nino said. "You ready to head down to orientation?"

"Sure," Felix said, grabbing his sunglasses. "I look forward to working with you this summer."

"You too."

/*****/

“Felix!” Nino yelled from the middle of the cabin. “You are the only person in the entire camp who irons their clothes. Why are you also the only one unable to understand that you can’t leave wet towels in the middle of the floor or open boxes of candy in your luggage?”

“My personal appearance and the amount of experience I have keeping my own environment aren’t in any way related.”

“I’m pushing you in the lake at the swim race tomorrow.”

“Jokes on you, we have opposite schedules tomorrow. I’m at the crafts table while you’re at the lake.”

"Then who's gonna remind you not to glue your hand to your shirt again if I'm not there?"

/*****/

"Nino," Felix whispered, trying not to alert the cabin full of half asleep nine year old boys. "Are you awake?"

"No."

"Nino, there's a spider over my head and it's horrifying and I seem to be paralyzed by fear."

"Fine, give me your book," Nino said, dragging himself from his sleeping bag to climb across the gap to Felix's bunk.

The loud "thunk" of the book smashing into the spider made three of the boys scream.

/*****/

"What are you doing?" Felix asked, holding out the ice cream cone he had bought for Nino.

"If I stand in exactly the right spot on top of this picnic table I get enough of a signal to check Twitter."

"You have a problem."

"I'm aware." Nino felt something cold hit the side of his hand. "When did I get ice cream?"

"You have a serious problem."

"I know, dude."

/*****/

"Sit with me at the bonfire."

Felix had crept up behind Nino and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Nino didn't jump like he'd hoped, but he did shiver when Felix's breath hit his skin.

"And why would I do that?" Nino whispered back, watching two of their campers try to skip rocks while two others competed to see who could scream louder.

"I'll share my s'mores with you."

Nino wasn't sure if Felix was being intentionally suggestive or if his mind was making everything dirtier, but he knew there was no way he was sitting with anyone else that night.

/*****/

"It's been four weeks," Felix said, leaning over to Nino's bunk. They now slept so that their heads faced each other, making it easier to talk without disturbing their campers.

"It's the middle of the night, Felix," Nino said, squinting at him through sleepy eyes.

"My father said I'd never last three weeks."

"We'll celebrate this weekend when the kids are gone," Nino said. "We'll plan it in the morning. I swear I'm excited for you, but I'm going back to sleep now."

/*****/

"Why are you even here if you can't follow basic instructions?" Felix snarled. "Did it not occur to you that despite how dull your job is, it is actually important to get it right?"

"Felix what the hell?" Nino said, trying to be quiet so he didn't get in trouble for swearing in front of campers again. "You can't speak to people like that."

"She almost handed Greg a plate with strawberries on it," Felix said. "Even after he handed her the meal card that said he was allergic. Even after he said out loud 'no strawberries'. I still had to turn around and see her almost hand him a plate with strawberries."

"Okay, go take a walk," Nino said, putting a hand on Felix's shoulder and guiding him to the door. "No harm was done, and I've got this from here, okay?"

"Watch her," Felix said, glaring back at the lunch lady.

"I will."

/*****/

"How is it that every Friday I can't wait for the kids to leave, but every Sunday morning I can't wait for the new ones to get here?" Nino asked, sitting next to Felix on a log overlooking the sun setting on the lake.

"I don't know, but Saturday evening is definitely the magic spot between the two," Felix said. He stole a glance at Nino's profile before looking back at the oranges and reds and purples before them.

"You need to up your sunscreen game, bro," Nino said, reaching a feather-light finger over to brush against Felix's cheek and down his nose. "You'll be a lobster before the summer's over."

"Maybe you're just making me blush," Felix said, catching the hand and holding it between them.

/*****/

"Felix, stop buying me ice cream," Nino said, flopping onto his back in the grass of the athletic field. "I'm going to get fat."

"You swam so much today, I seriously doubt that," Felix said, not looking up from his book. "Bobby, don't throw the ball at people's faces!"

"Are we supposed to be teaching them anything right now?" Nino asked, looking at the group of campers running wild with a variety of kickballs, soccer balls, and baseballs.

"I now declare this free play time," Felix said with a sweeping gesture with the hand not holding his book. "The ones that need to blow off steam will tire themselves out, the ones that need to rest will sit in the shade and gossip." He looked up from his book to sweep his gaze over Nino's form next to him in the grass. "You're definitely not getting fat. And I enjoyed watching you swim today."

"Yeah?" Nino pulled his hat over his face but it didn't hide his smirk. "Maybe we should go swimming together on Saturday."

"Maybe."

/*****/

"What's the first thing you'll do tomorrow when you get home?" Felix asked as they packed up as much of their belongings as they could on their last night, the last set of campers having left that afternoon.

"Nap, then eat something that doesn't smell like the kitchens here, then go online and become a lump on the couch until my brains fall out my ears. You?"

"Shower in a shower that has water pressure, nap, and then go to the library."

"Cool," Nino said, zipping his bag halfway shut. "And what about the day after that?"

"After that?" Felix asked, stretching idly as he pretended to think. "I was thinking of you."

"Cool," Nino said, crawling up to his bunk.

"Cool," Felix said, walking over to shut off the light.

Nino reached out and pulled Felix to him by the front of his shirt for a kiss.

“Cool.”

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Find Your Purpose Before It’s Too Late

Daryl x Reader / Reader x Carol / Reader x Rick

Part 1 of 4

Song Prompt: The Scientist by Coldplay

Warnings: Language, Depression

Word Count: Approx. 5K

The dream came again; really it was more of a memory. Being held at the hospital in Atlanta had been awful. You were a prisoner, and even with all that happened to you there before the arrival of Beth, and then Carol, it was the day you met Rick and his group that was currently haunting you in your sleep; even sometimes during your waking hours.

Tossing in your sleep, your subconscious replayed the day when they showed up at the hospital to retrieve Beth and Carol. You were right behind Dawn’s group of cops when you watched as Beth dropped dead to the floor by way of Dawn’s gun. You hadn’t known Beth and Carol long, but you liked them; you even had helped Beth get the meds she needed to save Carol’s life. Watching the young girl die sent you into a deeper emotional hole than you were already in after being kept prisoner at the hospital for many, many months.

When another member of Rick’s group raised his gun and immediately shot Dawn in the head, you were paralyzed with fear. The sound of the two shots echoes throughout Grady, causing a loud ringing in your ears. It took a second, but when Rick spoke up saying anyone could join them, you didn’t hesitate.

You stepped forward and cautiously walked through the uniformed officers clustered around Dawn’s dead body. Half afraid that the man who shot her might turn to shoot you too, you held Rick’s gaze as he motioned for you to come to him.

“It’s alright,” he said as calmly as he could. His icy blue eyes were a wild mix of anger and sorrow, but never wavering from your own. Despite the tension in the air, Rick’s hand was steady as it took yours, guiding you behind him protectively. No one else came. All the others stayed in their respective doorways; mouths still hanging in shock as to what just happened.

You turned back to look at this group of strangers, armed with guns and looks of despair. Meeting Carol’s eyes, she looked at you with tears spilling down her cheeks and her lips trembling. Her gaze then cut back to the wild-haired man beside her with his weapon still raised. He finally lowered his gun and absent mindedly passed it to Carol. Bending down, Daryl picked up Beth’s lifeless body and slowly turned to leave the bloody corridor.

That’s how it ended every time. You didn’t jerk awake or feel afraid. Yours eyes opened slowly to a pitch black bedroom and then your mind began to wonder to how life had been since leaving the city.

Since the day you walked out of Grady Memorial hospital with Rick and his family, you’ve followed him faithfully. Even when there was no food, and the road was long in front of you; you walked by their side and did what you could to help protect the group. No one spoke much, certainly not at first. The days on the road were hard and quiet; no one exactly in the mood to get to know you.

After a few days, you realized that your blue scrubs were a lingering reminder of the friend and sister they just lost. Carol made sure she found you a change of clothes and took time to walk next to you, even if it was in silence. Besides Rick and Carol, Noah was the only person you felt completely comfortable with. You hadn’t spoken much at Grady, but the shared experience of what you both went through was enough to bond you down the long road to D.C.

It had been two months since Alexandria became home, and just about that amount of time since Noah was killed. Continuing to lose people became harder and harder on you, until there was just nothing of you left.

Things had been quiet in Alexandria for a couple weeks, but you had yet to be able to feel at home. Everyone was finally falling into a routine, except you. The weight of sadness you carried was starting to become too heavy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you even bothered leaving the hospital.

After Noah died on the run with Aiden and Glenn, you became completely withdrawn and wouldn’t speak to anyone. Losing people, especially ones you cared for wasn’t something you had much practice in until now. With each life lost, you found it harder and harder to come up with a reason to get out of bed each morning.

Slowly, you drifted back to a spotty sleep and were back at the beginning of the dream again. Same loud gun shots, same bloody corridor.

 There was a rustling of sound in your room, but you refused to open your eyes. You knew who it was and didn’t care. Carol wasn’t trying to hide her presence in your space, quite the opposite. She purposely rattled around and made noise as though you were a stubborn teenager she was trying to raise from the depths of sleep.

You heard her yank back the curtains and bright, rigid streaks of light brought the bedroom to life. You grunted and rolled into your pillow, but Carol only pulled the covers off your head.

“Rise and shine!” she sung cheerfully, “Time to get up and be among the living.”

“Go away,” you grunted and pulled the covers tighter.

“(Y/N), you can’t do this anymore,” Carol said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not healthy. You need to get up and outside. It’s time to start helping out around here.”

You sighed and reluctantly sat up. “Really, guilt?”

“Someone has to do something,” Carol said with a nod to make her point. “No one else wants to deal with you. Even Carl thinks you have an attitude.”

“Ugh,” you said crashing back to your pillow.

“Look, I know that it’s been hard. But,” she paused and seemed to reconsider her point. “You have to find a way to press on. We’ve all lost someone; many someone’s. You can get through it if you make up your mind to do so. Being weak isn’t an option, especially weak minded.”

Carol stood up and gave the covers one final yank. “Now, get up, get dressed and get downstairs. Breakfast is in five minutes.”

Making your way into the kitchen, Carol had three bowls of oatmeal sitting on the island counter. She smiled when she saw you shamble into the kitchen. You had done as she asked and gotten dressed into a pair of ripped up jeans, blue tank top and boots. As you grabbed a bowl of the lukewarm oatmeal, you heard voices coming into the kitchen. You turned to see Rick and Daryl walking in amid a conversation.

“Yeah, but I don’t really want to have to go that far out if we can help it. Supplies aren’t too low yet, but if we don’t find something soon it could start to become a dangerous situation.” Rick said as he picked up a bowl of the oatmeal.

Carol smiled at them and handed Daryl the last bowl.

“Carl up yet?” Rick asked. “He promised he would be up early to go see Denise this morning, said his wound has been hurting. I want her changing his bandages for a few more days.”

“He’s there now. Was up and out an hour ago,” Carol said and looked directly at you with raised brows. Daryl caught her look directed at you and snorted a laugh. You flipped him the finger and went back to your oatmeal.

“Play nice, kids,” Rick said shaking his head. “Carol, when he gets back ask him to look after Judy. I’m taking Daryl and (Y/N) out on a run today.”

Your head snapped up and looked at Rick. “Wait, why am I going?”

“Cause, I need you. Everyone else has something happenin’ today ‘cept you. Daryl and I are heading out to hunt and try to scare up some more supplies. Meds are low and foods getting there too. It’s an all-hands-on-deck situation.”

You felt your body slump in the chair. A tightness began to grow at the center of your chest at the thought of going beyond the walls. You hadn’t stepped foot out there since you arrived in Alexandria and even with the promise of Rick and Daryl at your side, the thought of breaching the walls was terrifying.

Along with the fear, was the anger you still carried. It was mostly directed at yourself for not being strong enough to be a productive survivor. All that happened before the outbreak and then during your time of imprisonment at Grady had left you a barely functional train wreck. Sure, physically you were healthy, but mentally and emotionally, not so much.

“Rick, I…” you started but stopped and looked at Carol. She didn’t say a word, didn’t need to because her expression said it all. The worst of it was you knew that everything she wasn’t saying was true. You did need to get off your ass and find a way to move on; to live. “I’ll be out to the gate in about fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Rick said, satisfied with your lack of resistance. “Daryl, you comin’?”

“Yeah, gonna finish this then grab my gear. I’ll meet ya out there.” Daryl shoveled the rest of the oatmeal into his mouth and whipped his lips against his sleeve. “Thanks Carol,” he said jumping up from the table and heading up to his room.

“Stop staring at me,” you said to Carol without looking at her. “I’m going, okay?”

“Okay,” she said simply and put Daryl’s bowl in the sink. “You should go up and get your stuff. He won’t wait long.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said pushing back from the counter.

“(Y/N), try and make the best of it out there today. Maybe learn something from Rick and Daryl.”

“Learn something?” You asked. You could feel the familiar anger begin to rise at her snappy judgement of you; and it wasn’t the first time. Everyone had always made assumptions about you and what you could or couldn’t do. It happened before, and it happened after; you started to feel like it would never stop happening.

“Yeah, hunting, fishing… scavenging. You said you didn’t spend much time out there after the outbreak. You could pick up some things from them. Doesn’t hurt to stay sharp and ready.”

Trying not to be offended, you considered the fact that Carol really didn’t know much about your life before the outbreak. None of them did and if you had your way, none of them would. To keep the peace, you just smiled and nodded before heading up to get your gear.

  Twenty minutes later you were riding in the back seat of the ugliest car still running in the apocalypse with Rick at the helm. Daryl rode shotgun and you overheard their plans for the outing. Since all the shopping centers had been picked over, they decided it was time hunt a new area for some deer and rabbits, maybe even a wild boar if they got lucky.

Canned goods were dwindling, and the woods around the walls were becoming scarce with animals. Unless the scavenger teams going out found a big score of food, hunting was their only option.

Rick had pulled the car over to the side of the road and Daryl hopped out immediately, readying his crossbow in case of a stray walker or two.

When the coast was clear, you opened the back door and went around to the trunk. Rick was already there holding out a rifle to you. You hadn’t held one since you got off the road from Georgia; the weight of it felt odd in your hands.

“That alright?” Rick asked when he saw your look of hesitation. He always seemed to have your well-being at the forefront of his mind, and it made you feel simultaneously safe and stupid. You could take care of yourself. That was the funniest part. You knew how to hunt, fish… how to survive. What you couldn’t do, was find that part of yourself that could find the will to do any of it.

“Yeah, its fine.” You said and turned towards the woods.

“Hope so,” Daryl grumbled. “Certainly don’t need anyone out there that can’t handle that rifle.”

“Fuck off Dixon,” you snapped. Daryl hadn’t been the most welcoming person in the group, and even after all the time that had gone by, he still found ways to make your blood boil. Not that you gave Daryl much thought, but when he did cross your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder if the hostility he had towards you was because you were alive, and Beth wasn’t. You were a stranger to him, not the one he planned on leaving Grady with.

“C’mon now,” Rick started, clearly unamused by both of your behavior. “(Y/N) is fine with the rifle, and Daryl trusts you to have his back, right?” He asked Daryl with a stern look.

“Yeah, sure,” Daryl said flashing you a look of uncertainty. “Let’s go.”

  Fanning out, the three of you scoured the woods for some time. After several hours, the sun started to make its decent to the west and you whistled for Rick’s attention.

“Maybe we should call it,” you said in a loud whisper.

“Ten more minutes,” he responded and motioned to keep going.

You saw Rick flank off to the left, gun raised with hopefully something in his sight. You looked right, towards Daryl’s position and saw he was gone. Concerned, you looked around and saw that his tracks went to an overgrown trail that disappeared into some thick brush. As quietly as you could, you followed his tracks into a small clearing. Daryl stood on the fringe of the brush; his crossbow pointed at a buck about fifty yards ahead.

It all happened so fast. Daryl was about to release the trigger, sending the bolt into the buck’s neck. At the same time and without any warning, three walkers pushed through the brush within an arm’s reach of Daryl’s vest. You saw them in time to raise your rifle, aim quickly and take out the closest one to him with a head shot. The sound of the firing rifle startled Daryl as the bolt flew wildly at the buck, causing him to stumble backwards over a fall tree on the ground and landing on his back.

You lunged towards the other two walkers as they fell on top of him, gnashing their teeth and clawing at the leather arms of his jacket. Without missing a beat, you had your knife unsheathed and plunged through their soft, decaying skulls. Jumping up, you pulled them off Daryl one by one and extended a hand to help him up.

He got to his feet and tried to let go of the massive surge of adrenaline that raced through his body. Visibly shaken, he locked eyes with you, and gave a slight nod of thanks before picking up his crossbow.

“You alright?” You asked, not seeing any tears in his jacket or scratches on his hands.

“I’m good.” He said and looked out into the clearing. “Even managed to still get the buck.” He said and flashed a rare smile. You shook your head and turned back to see Rick standing at the edge of the trail.

“See, I knew she’d be fine out here,” Rick said to Daryl, smiling his best ‘I-told-you-so’ smile. “Now, let’s get that home and call it a day.”

 You got home just as dusk became dark. Rick pulled right inside the gates and killed the engine. Getting out, he tossed the keys to Spencer who went to work getting the deer from the trunk. You were already out and headed back to the house you shared with five other people; just longing for the quiet comfort of your small bedroom.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Daryl called out. “Wait up.” Daryl caught up to you and gently touched your elbow. You instinctively pulled your arm away, then felt immediately guilty for having that reaction.

“Sorry, you caught me off guard,” you said trying to make an excuse.

“It’s fine,” he said, “You okay?”

You shrugged, “Yeah, great.”

“I wanted to say thanks. You saved my ass out there.” You were surprised how genuine he managed to sound.

“Yep, anytime.” You turned to walk away, but he stopped you again.

“You’re good out there you know, we could use more of that.” He is tone seemed sincere. But if he was it was the first time, ever. He tried to read your face, but you cast your eyes down to the asphalt not wanting to meet his gaze. You just nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Whatever’s going on in there,” he said pointing to your head, “you’d be best to get it straight. I know it ain’t easy, but it also doesn’t have to be as hard as you let it be.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile, and continued towards home. Suddenly, that was the last place you wanted to be. The house would be full of life this time of night with dinner being served to nearly the entire group, including Daryl and Carol. You knew Carol would be watching you; she was always watching you these days. It was getting tiresome.

You returned the rifle back to the armory, and walked down to the lake taking a seat under the gazebo. The sound of footsteps approaching made you turn around to see Rick standing there.

“You comin’ for dinner?”

“Nah, just gonna sit here a while.”

Rick started to speak and you held up a hand stopping him. “Before you ask, I’m fine.”

He gave you a single nod and turned towards home. Rick stopped and turned back to you, “Going out again tomorrow. You in?”

“Why not. Don’t have much else going on. And I doubt Carol will let me alone if I don’t so… might as well.”

Rick smiled and turned to head towards home.

    Carol placed the casserole dish down and surveyed the faces around her table. It took a little while, but she found her stride here in Alexandria. Now that Rick was in charge, and she didn’t have to wear her mask, Carol had started to form a new version of herself. One that could fulfil her need to be the mother she knew she was; nurturing and taking care of everyone. But, she could also be the person that can also handle the shit that needed handling.

She squinted in frustration when she noticed you weren’t at the table. Carl was busying cutting up his sister’s food, Rick and Michonne were discussing viable options for the next run beyond the walls, Daryl was making faces at Judith and Maggie was busy scribbling notes on a pad.

“Daryl, Rick, do you know if (Y/N) is coming home for dinner?” Carol asked.

“I saw her in the gazebo, think she’s hanging there for a while,” Rick said before turning his attention back to Michonne.

“Hmmm,” Carol said and turned to go back into the kitchen. She went about getting the rest of the dishes, when Daryl walked in behind her.

“You need help?” he asked, picking at a salad of garden greens she was tossing.

She smacked his hand away, “Did you wash up?”

“Yes mom,” Daryl said sarcastically, stealing another carrot from the top.

“Wonder why (Y/N) isn’t joining us,” she said, hoping Daryl might offer some insight.

“Dunno. Had a sorta close call today. Maybe it shook her a little more than she let on. Gotta tell ya though, she was a hell of a lot better out there than I thought she’d be.”

“I’m worried about her,” Carol said, furrowing her brow. “We should do something.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe, just talk to her more; try and get to know her better. We really never learned anything about her life before she wound up at Grady. Even those details are sketchy at best…” Carol trailed off, lost in thought.

Daryl was quiet and contemplative for a moment.

“I wonder if she ever talked to Beth about…” no sooner did her name escape Daryl’s lips, did he stop, and sigh. He knew better than to think back to that day, even months later it was hard to remember. Daryl’s gaze stayed on the floor until he felt Carol’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, let’s go eat.” She said, and carried the salad out to the table.

  Once the dishes were clear, everyone went their separate ways and Carol started to shut down the house. Daryl was on the porch smoking a cigarette. She thought about leaving him be, and not pressing the conversation anymore, but she felt in her heart that Daryl would be the one who could possibly break through to you.

Carol pulled her sweater tighter as she stepped out onto the porch. The chill in the air was brisker than she realized and felt a sliver of a chill run down her back. Smiling at Daryl, she leaned against the railing, watching him thoughtfully inhale and exhale the smoke.

“What?” he finally said, knowing she had something to say. “Out with it.”

“I want you to try and spend some time with her,” she said, brushing off his immediate annoyance.

“Carol,” Daryl started and moved to where she stood at the railing. He leaned his forearms on the rails and looked up at her. “Why? Why me?”

“Because, you’re the one that can help her. Help her like you helped Beth.”

Her name again. Daryl’s head hung low, “Why you bringin’ her up?”

“You’re the one that brought her up before. And because… you helped her. When the prison fell, you two were out there. You said that. You said you were out there and she changed. She grew strong and capable. You helped her do that.”

“No, I didn’t,” Daryl said finally meeting her soft blue eyes. “Beth did that on her own. She made up her mind that she was gonna be a survivor. So, she became one.”

“Until she wasn’t,” Carol said a bit callously. “I don’t want that happening to (Y/N) too. I won’t lose her to another stupid decision.”  Carol looked up at Daryl thoughtfully. “Haven’t you noticed that besides me and Rick, you are the only one she even looks at.”

“Yeah, usually when she’s callin’ me an asshole or flippin’ me off,” he said not without a little humor.

“Exactly, at least it’s a response. Maggie and Glenn have all but given up trying to reach her, Sasha too. I am afraid at what happens when she finally gives up on herself altogether.”

“What I don’t get is, why the hell you care so much?” Daryl asked, trying to understand Carol’s motives.

“I have my reasons,” Carol said looking down at him. “Will you do this for me… please?”

Daryl couldn’t say no to her, and she knew it. He would do anything she asked, no matter how much he didn’t want to do it. She knew that too.

“Fine,” he said standing up straight. “I ain’t promisin’ you a damn thing though. If she doesn’t want me around, I ain’t gonna force it.”

“Fair enough,” Carol said smiling. She took in a deep breath of the crisp air and looked out over Alexandria. She saw your silhouette standing in the entrance of the gazebo looking up into the sky and wondered what it was going to take to bring you out of the dark place you were currently living in.

 ***   ***   ***  

That night you stayed in the gazebo until the full moon hung high in the sky. You could see the windows of home you shared shining bright with life and family. While you waited for the lights to be turned out one by one, you looked up at the stars and searched for the Big Dipper; the constellation that you were supposed to look for when you were lost. The one that helped point you to the north star. Once you had that in your sites, you should always be able to find your way home.

That’s what your dad used to say anyway. He would say things like that when he had sober moments and remembered that he was supposed to be taking care of you and your brother, and not the other way around.

Trying your best to block the memories from revealing themselves, you stood up and started towards the house before the tears started to burn hot under your eye lids. In the distance, the glow of a cigarette floated on the porch and you knew Daryl was there.

Unable to avoid another interaction with him, you strode up to the house and walked up the porch, offering him pleasant smile and nod hello. Hoping he would just leave you be, you tried to just go inside and upstairs, but Daryl had other plans.

“Hey,” he said, exhaling a puff of smoke, “hang out a sec.” He emerged from the shadows and motioned for you to come sit.

“Any food left?” you asked as he sat on the steps next to you.

“Yeah, I think Carol stuck a plate in the fridge for ya,” Daryl exhaled again then looked at you. You got the feeling he was working up the courage to ask you something. Feeling like you might scream if one more person asked you if you were okay, you decided to once again make a preemptive strike.

“I am fine, you don’t have to ask.”

“Wasn’t gonna. Well, wasn’t gonna ask that anyway,” Daryl said and snuffed out his cigarette on his shoe. He knew better than to toss them in the yard, Carol would have a fit. “Besides, I know you ain’t fine. So why bother askin’.”

You appreciated his honesty and let him continue.

“Don’t think I ever got to ask you…”

“Ask me what?”

“The questions. I mean, I guess they’re kinda pointless now, but I’m curious,” Daryl narrowed his gaze at you, the weight of which started to feel heavy on your skin.

“What questions?”

“How many walkers you killed?”

You snorted a laugh. “Really? Um, I dunno… more than some, not as many as others.”

“How many people?”

That question made your skin grow cold. When you hesitated to answer, Daryl repeated the question and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew that Daryl and Rick have had to kill people. You saw it firsthand. But would they accept your answer?

A half-dozen possible answers swirled through your head. You could lie, you could tell him a partial truth… and before Daryl repeated it for a third time, you finally answered.

“Too many,” you said and hugged your knees tight to your chest. All the emotions that you’ve tried to shove down into the depths of your being suddenly sprung free.

Daryl gave you a sideways glance and swallowed hard. “Why?” he asked, his voice low.

“Because I wasn’t paying attention,” you sighed, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“What does that mean?” Daryl asked

You turned and tried to read his expression. The moonlight gave enough illumination to see concern on his face, and you knew that you had to tell him. You could’ve lied, but now that it was out there, you had to lay out the rest as well.

“It means that before the outbreak, I was responsible for the deaths of a lot of people because I was too wrapped up in my own misery to stop someone from doing something stupid.”

“How’s that your fault?” Daryl asked, wincing at the pain he saw distorting your face.

“He was my responsibility, and I failed him. I failed everyone.” Your throat thick with regret.

“Who was?” he asked.

“My brother. He was sick, mentally. He had a lot of problems. Right before the outbreak he…” your words cut off by the onset of tears. Suddenly you felt tired of trying to hold everything in. Not having had the chance to grieve for all that was lost before the outbreak, now coupled with all that you’ve endured since, your emotional damn finally cracked and everything spilled out.

Daryl sat next to you unsure of what to say as you buried your head in your hands and let your body convulse with silent sobs. He had just agreed to try and get to know you for Carol’s sake. The questions were an ice breaker, a way for Daryl to learn a little more about you. He never expected this type of reaction.

For the first time since Grady Memorial, he looked at you and realized how harsh he’d been. Daryl was beginning to feel the wall he had up between the two of you show the first few signs of fatigue.

He slipped a few inches closer, and tentatively put his arm around your shoulders. His thumb began to lightly rub your arm and you were surprised at how welcome his touch felt, the weight of his arm and leather jacket made you feel safe, even if it was just for a second. You thought back to earlier that evening and how you reacted to his hand on your elbow and felt bad all over again.  

You let yourself have a half a moment of consolation before pulling back from him. You offered Daryl a grateful smile through your tears, but you could read his discomfort like a giant sign.

“Thanks,” you said, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were expecting.” You stood up trying to spare him anymore of your tears, “I’m gonna go in, it’s getting cold.”

“Y/N, wait,” Daryl stood up on the step so you were eye to eye, “I know I ain’t been easy on ya. After Atlanta… well, shit was just hard. So, I get it, and I’m sorry for that. If you need… anything, you can always come find me. I’m around.”

You had a choice: you could stay and maybe start to open up to someone, or turn tail and run like you had always done. His gaze never left your face, and for a split second you had considered sitting back down and just letting everything go to this man you barely knew.

But, giving into your fear of it, you simply said ‘thanks again’ and went back inside. When you crawled into bed that night you had already made up your mind that you were done trying to feel sorry for what happened. Carol was right, you needed to find a purpose to wake up and live, if for no other reason to then to prevent another breakdown like you just had in front of Daryl.

 ***   ***   ***

 The next morning you were up before Carol could come into your room. You were already in the kitchen starting the coffee and warming the water for the oatmeal. Carol stood there staring in disbelief and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, this is a welcome sight,” she said a tad sarcastically, looking past you at the coffee pot and tea kettle already on the stove.

“Was getting a little tired of my new alarm clock,” you returned in kind, flashing her a smile. “Besides, I figured if I didn’t start to get off my ass, you were going to sic Daryl on me again.”

“All I asked him to do was be nice,” Carol said making her way to the cabinet to grab a coffee mug. “He just needs time to warm up to you.”

“Anyway, you don’t need to make him talk to me. I am really ok,” you lied through your teeth.

“Well, if not Daryl, then someone…” Carol paused and turned to face you, “Y/N, you need to find something, or someone, to give you purpose. Without that, without having something to fight for, you will just fade away. I don’t want that to happen to you too…” Carol trailed off deep in thought for a moment. Shaking it off she looked back to you.

“No worries Carol, I’m on board, ok? No more sleeping all day and being a louse. I promise.” You held up your fingers in a mocking eagle scout gesture and smiled your best ‘fake-it-till-you-make-it’ smile.

Out by the gates Rick and Daryl were talking to Denise. From a slight distance, you could see concern on Rick’s face and his gestures getting animated. You hurried over and stood next to Daryl who seemed to be deep in thought.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Carl’s got an infection,” Rick said and looked back at Denise, motioning for her to continue.

“He had an allergic reaction to the antibiotics we had. I told him to stop taking them. That lot of meds you found last week is fine for others, but Carl can’t take them. I don’t know if he goes into anaphylactic shock that I have what I need to save him.”

“Alright, so where do we go look for other meds he could take?” Daryl asked looking from Denise to Rick, to you.

“Actually,” you spoke up, “there’s an industrial park about seventy miles north of here. I don’t know exactly what’s up there, but I remember Aiden saying something a possible pharmaceutical building in there somewhere when we were out with…” you paused at the memory that included Noah and forced it aside. “It was one of the places they wanted to get out and scout. Never made it though...”

“Did he mention if the path was cleared?” Daryl asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rick said, “it’s our only play. Can’t let the infection get worse. Besides, we need the meds and whatever else may be left behind. So, let’s go now and hope the way is at least a little clear.”

Daryl nodded. “Alright, I’ll grab a ride and gas up,” he turned a gaze to you. “You comin’?”

“Yeah, I’m in.” You said, feeling good about it. Maybe Carol really was right, having a purpose that’s bigger than yourself could be the key to lifting the fog of regret and shame you’d been carrying around.

Just as Daryl pulled up with the car, Tara came running down the street from the infirmary.

“Denise! Rick! Come quick, Carl’s fever spiked… it’s high,” Tara called.

Rick turned to Daryl in desperation, and before he could say anything, Daryl spoke up.

“Go, take care of the kid. Me and (Y/N) got it,” he said looking to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, absolutely. Go, we’ll go get what we can and get back,” you said walking to the passenger side of the car.

Rick gave you a nod and a grateful smile, “Be careful, but hurry back.”

Daryl jumped into the driver’s seat and waited for Eugene to open the gate. He let out a deep breath of adrenaline and looked over at you. “Never a dull moment, huh?”

“That’s an understatement,” you said, and suddenly found yourself smiling a little. “You really think you can pull this off? Find the meds, I mean…”

Daryl was thoughtful for a moment. He finally looked over at you and nodded, “Mhmm. I do. We,” he said moving his finger back and forth between you and him, “are gonna pull this off. We can do anything if we all do it together.”

PART 2

[fenton-bus]

'Unsuccessful' is not the adjective Iris would use to modify the shiny, abrupt, hellscape of an evening whose debris she currently stands amidst. 'Terrible' is too kind. 'Unfortunate' suggests that there some course of action she could have taken to prevent this. The phrase 'Dumpster fire' is a good start, 'study is the subtle art of wtf' is better.

"Disaster having unprotected sex with catastrophe and popping out the apocalypse" is disqualified, mostly because Cisco is saying it aloud at about the same time Kara starts applying her laser vision (and yes, that is a thing that currently exists uncomfortably close to Iris's entire life) to what was once a wall in her apartment and now mostly resembles a canvas on which some experimental artist does her least inspired work.

It should not be this difficult to come up with something. Words are her weapons, they can topple empires, and comfort the downtrodden, and on rare occasions ignite the soul and ugh, no. If she has more than three Long Island Ice Teas there's always a point in the evening where she comes very close to crying over Christian Amnpor. Damn it. Anyway, words do her bidding on a daily basis, so it's a little disappointing to find herself mentally flipping through her tragedy specific Thesaurus unable to come up with a single descriptor.

It's a testament to Cisco's dedication to their friendship that despite being properly drunk and a little blown away, he's sitting up on the couch and earnestly attempting to make words. Iris would help him out but she's still a little...

(Kara, with whom Iris shares a fifteen by twenty foot cubicle for a year, bashfully apologizes for essentially setting Iris' kitchen on fire then walks out on the balcony and proceeds to fly the fuck a way.)

The food she spends a large percentage of the evening preparing-all of which is completely edible and not at all burnt-is decorating the dinning-room floor. Well, that's not entirely accurate. Some of the more ambitious chunks of macaroni and cheese have rolled into the living room to huddle in a weird semi-circle around the couch legs. Her dining-room table is in two relatively even pieces. It's not an IKEA refund but there is something to be said about the precision of lasers.  Fun fact: Five minutes after Iris opens the wine (is it weird that opening wine makes her feel like an actual adult?) and ten minutes before she no longer has a table, the twitchy dude Kara insists is a friend from trivia night pulls out his guitar from seemingly nowhere and decides their previous conversation about women's rights should be punctuated by a Jason Miraz cover. Said dude is now glaring into the middle distance while absentmindedly strumming his g-chord. Barry is standing in her dining room making what looks like a sincere and heartfelt speech that Iris can't hear a word of.

Maybe it's the overhead fan.

Maybe it's the repetition of that horrible g-chord.

Maybe it's the steady roar of Kara taking off into the Manhattan sky like a 747.

And Barry is a genius, so it wouldn't be too difficult for him to draw a causal relationship between the specific way her casual Friday get together went down in lasers and her sudden allergy to the spoken word. It should be noted that his attempt to be a calming influence is somewhat undermined by the fact that he's wearing what look like scarlet pajamas.

Oh, with lightning bolts.

Iris would totally believe that he was attending a Greek God-themed slumber party as Hermes if she hadn't just recently seen him appear in her doorway as a blur and materialize from actual beams of light. So again, if any part of what he's saying involves the words "calm" or "stay" in relation to her Iris just might have to scream. Post-traumatic T.G.I.F.-event Cisco, who pre-games in his apartment and arrives a bit tipsy, glances between Iris and Barry wearing the heartbroken expression  that clearly communicates he thinks his parents are divorcing. Jumpy Goatee Guy allegedly adept at bar trivia (what is his name? what is her life?) is still glaring like that middle distance did something terrible to his ancestors. Barry is making all kinds of conciliatory hand gestures, which is still a little irritating and a lot baffling because his hands are kind of vibrating? Yeah.

She thinks she might need to sit down. Maybe.

It's feasible, the couch is only a couple of feet behind her. She's already lifted her right arm to take two solid swallows from her wine glass so she's no longer paralyzed with fear/shock/disgust/wonder cocktail. So that's...something.

The thing is Kara doesn't just fly away like a bird or a Boeing 747 or Newton's Laws of physics, she flies away in pursuit of someone else. Who was also flying. Meaning that there were two (2) individuals with the capacity for flight in her apartment at the same time. Iris West currently has the monopoly on flying persons, her neighbors, nay the entire Upper West Side should probably start rationing their laser-inclined flying humans because wow, market cornered. In less awesome news, some unknown person with a soft spot for flight was in her house (where she does some of her best sleeping) for an unspecified amount of time that could have began any time between her pulling her comforter over her head in silent protest against the very idea of consciousness and when she kicks her door open at 7:30 wither hers full of grocery bags and a bottle of '74 Mount Blanc sporting a leak that wouldn't make itself apparent until Iris went back out to collect the neglected morning Times and finds Mr. Welman's Shitzu on her way to properly smashed.

In the hours before running downstairs to greet her guests, Iris had taken her shoes off, checked her messages, complained to herself aloud about Aspiring Office Asshole Todd Garret, disliked eight Facebook posts made by mutuals who only remained so out of her desire for family gatherings to remain peaceful affairs, taken a nap, considered buying a plant that's genetically bred to die more slowly, listened to music, avoided calling her mom, got a few chapters farther into Going Clear, pre-heated the oven, threw her Bird of the Valley into the trash shoot, started dinner, danced to the entirety of Lemonade in her kitchen, finished dinner and enjoyed a pre-dinner snack of olives and cheese. All of this to say she could've died while listening to Sia. At the close of Iris' harrowing tale (sans airborne reporters and dudes turning into energy) Linda Park will grab Iris' hands consolingly, then spend the next hour detailing horrifying hypothetical's about her home invader going through her closets and smelling her bath salt. (She'll preface it with "I'm so glad you're alive!" but only because Linda's biggest fear is some stranger going through her stuff. Not even taking anything just...handling it.)

So to summarize: Iris' Friday is ruined, she has all manner of flying, laser-y, pajama-d, oh-hey-I'm-actually-made-of-light individuals coming in and out of her place like it's Grand Central Station for X-Men and hey look at that, her wine is gone. Barry is still talking, gesturing first to the broken table, then to Cisco with those diplomatic communication hands and Iris doesn't actually have time to wonder in what way Cisco is like a broken table because Twitchy Goatee Jason Miraz decides this is the perfect moment to take a running leap off of her balcony.

∞

Her hands are shaking so badly she has to push the elevator button four times before it lights up. A week later, she'll remember all the particulars of this elevator ride. Leaning against the wooden panels, trying to catch her breath, the guard rail digging into her back, titled upward toward the number panel but seeing nothing, nothing, the incessant buzzing of her phone in the right hand pocked of the coat she'd grabbed for blindly, feeling her fingers close around the two small, sinewy objects and a thin filmy scrap, registering dimly that she saw The Avengers in this coat and her breathing grows so loud in her ears that she can't hear anything else.

∞

Iris thinks she might have to retire her fingers.

The fight with the lock is ugly and she's earned the scratches on her knuckles by the time the door finally relents.

Future Iris will return to this moment and remember the way Linda Park and Patty Spivot jump apart like the most 90s teen cliché' there ever was, with a fond eye-roll. The amount of noise she's just made gives them plenty of time to adjust themselves but robs Linda of the opportunity to try really hard to look casual while also having a heart attack.

Present Iris is a little busy kicking the door down to fully appreciate the pure sitcom gold inherent in the situation. Linda must have taken her distressed expression as some kind of personal indictment because she manages to yell "I thought you gave me your key!" and "We're dating?" in a way that feels like one statement.  

[life-w-liv]

My mind is anxious, but my soul longs for peace

I know my anxiety may annoy you, but imagine being the one with it. 

If you have anxiety you know how absolutely soul crushing it is. You know how it feels to think you are a burden to everyone. How annoying you must be asking the same questions a million and one times because you just want to make sure that the answer is the same as before. It reassures you that it's okay. 

I've had anxiety for as long as I can remember. When I was little I wouldn't be able to eat sometimes because I had anxiety about not being able to swallow and I'd choke. My mom and I went to the movies to see Spirit; yes, the cartoon about the horses. Well, the mom dies and after that, I had separation anxiety from my mom & eventually had to go to counseling because of it. I was in counseling until I left for college, mostly for my anxiety. I get anxiety about such little things, it's like, I know they are little things, but my anxiety makes me believe that it's such a big deal. It takes the fun out of things I've been looking forward to, or things that shouldn't be a burden, but they become one because of how worried I am. Laiton has a work party in the city tomorrow, it's at the World War 1 museum. I love the museum and haven't been since middle school. I was so excited, until Laiton told me yesterday that the party was in the banquet room and that we'd have to ride an elevator to get there. Ugh, seriously? anyone who knows me know I hate elevators. I don't know why, nothing has every happened in an elevator, I've never got stuck in one, I just get so claustrophobic in them and my anxiety literally paralyzes me. It's so bad, I haven't stopped thinking about it since he told me. Things that should be relaxing never are, for example- I have thought about going and getting my nails done this weekend, but of course it can't be just a "yeah i'm gonna go relax and treat myself." It has to be "should I spend the money? what if I don't like them? do I really need them? what if they annoy me?" Yes, I've got my nails done before, and this is always the routine I go through. I know it sounds pathetic, and it might be to you, it is to me too, but I can't help it. 

Anxiety is such a nasty monster. It comes in and takes a grip on your soul, it controls your life, your thoughts, your happiness; if you let it. Which I do. I try really hard not to, but it always wins. I'm still trying though. 

I do feel bad for the people in my life that have to put up with it though. I couldn't tell you how many times I call my mom a day. Venting to her or just going over all the worries in my head. The amount of time we are on the phone, I repeat myself at least a 100 times, just trying to validate what I'm saying, and convince myself that it's going to be okay. She always listens though, and tries to help the best she can. She has anxiety too and she understands what I go through and understands why I need to repeat myself a thousand times. My husband on the other hand, does not get why I need to repeat myself so much, even though he tries... he really does. But to him it should be as simple as "quit worrying about it" "If you want to do it, just do it." Man how I wish it was that easy. 

A lot of people don't understand why I can't be that way, and I wish I could explain it to you, but I can't because I don't understand it myself. It's so stressful not being able to explain what's going on in your head. 

I am actively taking steps to reduce my anxiety. Because I have the power to stop this and my anxiety does not control me. 

Stay tuned.

xxx, Liv

[morelifeangel]

How I learned to stop worrying and set better goals

Setting goals is something of a hot topic right now.  From motivational speaking to discussions about ‘adulting’, we’re pretty obsessed with setting and meeting goals.  We want to exercise more, spend less time on the computer, finally write that story—but despite our best efforts, we keep failing to meet those goals.  Over time, it becomes a self-perpetuating cycle where we’ve failed in our heads before we even get started.

Over the past few years, I’ve been able to meet a couple of big, fairly tricky goals, and I feel like I’m starting to work out some of the ‘secrets’ to setting and meeting goals.  I’m not at all perfect—I’ve probably failed as many as I’ve attained—but I think some of what I’ve found may be useful to others.

Before I get into it, though, a trigger warning.  Because I’ve achieved some goals related to fitness and to weight loss, I will be discussing both in this post.  This may be triggering for some readers who struggle with body image or with eating disorders.  If that describes you, that’s okay!  I would suggest not reading this post.  I have tagged it with “dieting”, even though I wouldn’t describe what I’ve done in that way, to make it easier to filter out content that may be distressing.  If you feel okay with reading this, click to read more.

For those who are still with me, I think it’s useful to discuss both some of the goals I have achieved and some of the goals I haven’t achieved.

 I have been able to:

Go from being pretty much totally sedentary to working out 5 times per week, with a noticeable improvement in my endurance and lung capacity

Lose a significant amount of weight (about 25%), and keep it off for over a year

Teach myself HTML, CSS, and JavaScript (not an expert, but good enough to manage)

I have failed at:

Writing a long-form fanfiction (50,000 words+)

Learning to sew

Learning back-end web development

I mention some of both to be honest about my failures, but also because a lot of the times, your failures teach you as much as or more than your successes.

With that in mind, let me talk about the three main mistakes that I think trip people up the most when they’re trying to set goals.

Let me paint a picture for you.  Tell me if this seems familiar.

You wake up on a weekend with a burst of energy, feeling great.  Dusting off your proverbial to-do list, you remember that you’ve been meaning to learn Spanish.  Well, this is the time!  You’re going to do it.  You run out and get some books, index cards, maybe a subscription to Duolinguo.  You’re going to practice for thirty minutes, five days per week.  In three months, you’ll be able to chat with strangers in Spanish.

Two weeks later, the books are gathering dust, you know only a handful of words, and you’ve given up on the entire project.

Sound familiar?  It’s okay, we’ve all been there.

But it illustrates the single most common problem I’ve seen and experienced in setting goals.

Mistake #1: Setting goals that are too aggressive

Look, when you’re trying to change a habit or set a new habit, you aren’t going to be able to go from zero to sixty in one jump.  In my observation, that’s one big reason most diets fail.  If you try to go from eating fast food three nights per week to eating nothing but whole foods and smoothies, you’re going to fail.  It’s too much of a change.

Moreover, when you fail, you feel bad.  Feeling bad makes you more reluctant to try in the future.  Conversely, every time you win a small victory, you feel good, and that makes you more eager to try again.

This isn’t at all original to me, by the way.  This is the principle behind Dave Ramsey’s Debt Snowball plan, which calls for you to pay off your debts from smallest to largest.  On paper, that’s actually not ideal; if a higher debt has a greater interest rate, you pay more with this method.  But psychologically, when you pay off that first debt, even if it’s small, it starts to teach you brain that you can do it.

To shamelessly steal a quote from Jeff Haden, “Small successes are fun—and motivating.”  (From his book The Motivation Myth, which I highly recommend.)

There’s still the problem of getting those first few successes, though, and in my experience, it’s the beginning that’s the hardest.  (And by the beginning, I mean, the early part of a new habit or routine after the initial shiny has worn off but before it’s part of who you are.)  That leads us to:

Mistake #2: Relying too heavily on willpower

Here’s the deal.  If your plan relies on willpower or ‘just doing it’?  It’s going to fail.

It’s not you.  You’re not a failure or lazy.  You’re just human.  Humans are hard-wired not to waste energy unless there’s a pretty immediate reward to get or threat to avoid.  And it needs to be immediate; people will run away from a house fire but they’ll struggle to quit smoking.

Especially when you’re setting your first few goals, you can’t rely on willpower alone.  Your desire to achieve a goal isn’t strong enough to motivate you when the going gets tough.

The good news is, there are ways to get around that.  I’ve found two methods that work extremely well for me. 

First, use inertia to help you.  Inertia is a property of matter is your tendency to keep doing whatever you’re doing.  It’s why you have trouble turning off Tumblr and going to bed at night, even when you know you have work or school in the morning.  But this can work for you!  When I wanted to start working out, I rented a locker at the gym and stored some things I needed for work there.  That meant that I had to at least go to the gym every morning before work.  Once I was there, it felt sort of silly not to work out.  Getting up and out the door was the hard part, but I didn’t have a choice.

Second, bribe yourself.  Some people get sniffy about this, but let’s be real—it works for animals and humans are just very smart animals.  The trick here is the length.  Too short and you can’t use it effectively.  Too long and the reward is too distant to be worth it.  For rewards, then, I find that between ten and twenty days is the sweet spot.  It’s feels like long enough that you’ve really earned something nice, while also getting you on the road to making a new habit.  For instance, I just set a goal of doing a moderately difficult exercise routine for ten consecutive days.  When I hit that goal, I rewarded myself with some conlang books I’d been eyeing.

Even with this in mind, though, you are going to fail—both at steps along the journey and sometimes at entire goals.  Which leads me to:

Mistake #3: Giving moral weight to your goals

There’s a lot of baggage tied up in setting goals, and this is particularly true if your goals are related to fitness or weight loss.  We tend to describe food as ‘good’ or ‘bad;’ eating that doesn’t align with a current diet is often referred to as ‘being naughty.’  While it’s most noticeable in food-related goals, you see the same weight placed on other goals.  We tend to treat a failure to meet a goal as a moral failing—that we were insufficiently determined or hardworking.

There are a two issues with this.  First, it makes us feel guilty when we fail, and guilt is paralyzing.  When we feel guilty, we tend to run away from something.  We don’t like feeling guilty, so we avoid situations where it might come up.  Shame also makes us less confident in our ability to achieve our goals.

Second, it’s simply bullshit.

Unless your goal has to do with not harming others (e.g. someone who has a temper and is trying to stop lashing out at people around them), your goals are value-neutral.  That is, it does not make you good or bad to read a new book every week, take up running, or learn to play the piano.  It can be highly satisfying, but the vast majority of goals have no moral dimension.  They’re something you do for yourself.

When you shift your mindset away from thinking of meeting your goals as ‘good’ and failing in them as ‘bad’, you can better focus on the details.  Instead of thinking, “Ugh, I didn’t write at all this week, why am I so lazy,” you can think, “Hm, I didn’t write this week.  What factors caused that?  What can I do to adjust those factors so I succeed next week?”

That’s it!  Now go forth and make some (modest, achievable) goals!

[magnaturbaestinurbe-blog]

'Unsuccessful' is not the adjective Iris would use to modify the shiny, abrupt, hellscape of an evening whose debris she currently stands amidst. 'Terrible' is too kind. 'Unfortunate' suggests that there some course of action she could have taken to prevent this. The phrase 'Dumpster fire' is a good start, 'study is the subtle art of wtf' is better.

"Disaster having unprotected sex with catastrophe and popping out the apocalypse" is disqualified, mostly because Cisco is saying it aloud at about the same time Kara starts applying her laser vision (and yes, that is a thing that currently exists uncomfortably close to Iris's entire life) to what was once a wall in her apartment and now mostly resembles a canvas on which some experimental artist does her least inspired work.

 It should not be this difficult to come up with something. Words are her weapons, they can topple empires, and comfort the downtrodden, and on rare occasions ignite the soul and ugh, no. If she has more than three Long Island Ice Teas there's always a point in the evening where she comes very close to crying over Christian Amnpor. Damn it. Anyway, words do her bidding on a daily basis, so it's a little disappointing to find herself mentally flipping through her tragedy specific Thesaurus unable to come up with a single descriptor.

It's a testament to Cisco's dedication to their friendship that despite being properly drunk and a little blown away, he's sitting up on the couch and earnestly attempting to make words. Iris would help him out but she's still a little...

(Kara, with whom Iris shares a fifteen by twenty foot cubicle for a year, bashfully apologizes for essentially setting Iris' kitchen on fire then walks out on the balcony and proceeds to fly the fuck a way.)

The food she spends a large percentage of the evening preparing-all of which is completely edible and not at all burnt-is decorating the dinning-room floor. Well, that's not entirely accurate. Some of the more ambitious chunks of macaroni and cheese have rolled into the living room to huddle in a weird semi-circle around the couch legs. Her dining-room table is in two relatively even pieces. It's not an IKEA refund but there is something to be said about the precision of lasers.  Fun fact: Five minutes after Iris opens the wine (is it weird that opening wine makes her feel like an actual adult?) and ten minutes before she no longer has a table, the twitchy dude Kara insists is a friend from trivia night pulls out his guitar from seemingly nowhere and decides their previous conversation about women's rights should be punctuated by a Jason Miraz cover. Said dude is now glaring into the middle distance while absentmindedly strumming his g-chord. Barry is standing in her dining room making what looks like a sincere and heartfelt speech that Iris can't hear a word of.

Maybe it's the overhead fan.

Maybe it's the repetition of that horrible g-chord.

Maybe it's the steady roar of Kara taking off into the Manhattan sky like a 747.

And Barry is a genius, so it wouldn't be too difficult for him to draw a causal relationship between the specific way her casual Friday get together went down in lasers and her sudden allergy to the spoken word. It should be noted that his attempt to be a calming influence is somewhat undermined by the fact that he's wearing what look like scarlet pajamas.

Oh, with lightning bolts.

Iris would totally believe that he was attending a Greek God-themed slumber party as Hermes if she hadn't just recently seen him appear in her doorway as a blur and materialize from actual beams of light. So again, if any part of what he's saying involves the words "calm" or "stay" in relation to her Iris just might have to scream. Post-traumatic T.G.I.F.-event Cisco, who pre-games in his apartment and arrives a bit tipsy, glances between Iris and Barry wearing the heartbroken expression  that clearly communicates he thinks his parents are divorcing. Jumpy Goatee Guy allegedly adept at bar trivia (what is his name? what is her life?) is still glaring like that middle distance did something terrible to his ancestors. Barry is making all kinds of conciliatory hand gestures, which is still a little irritating and a lot baffling because his hands are kind of vibrating? Yeah.

She thinks she might need to sit down. Maybe.

It's feasible, the couch is only a couple of feet behind her. She's already lifted her right arm to take two solid swallows from her wine glass so she's no longer paralyzed with fear/shock/disgust/wonder cocktail. So that's...something.

The thing is Kara doesn't just fly away like a bird or a Boeing 747 or Newton's Laws of physics, she flies away in pursuit of someone else. Who was also flying. Meaning that there were two (2) individuals with the capacity for flight in her apartment at the same time. Iris West currently has the monopoly on flying persons, her neighbors, nay the entire Upper West Side should probably start rationing their laser-inclined flying humans because wow, market cornered. In less awesome news, some unknown person with a soft spot for flight was in her house (where she does some of her best sleeping) for an unspecified amount of time that could have began any time between her pulling her comforter over her head in silent protest against the very idea of consciousness and when she kicks her door open at 7:30 wither hers full of grocery bags and a bottle of '74 Mount Blanc sporting a leak that wouldn't make itself apparent until Iris went back out to collect the neglected morning Times and finds Mr. Welman's Shitzu on her way to properly smashed.

In the hours before running downstairs to greet her guests, Iris had taken her shoes off, checked her messages, complained to herself aloud about Aspiring Office Asshole Todd Garret, disliked eight Facebook posts made by mutuals who only remained so out of her desire for family gatherings to remain peaceful affairs, taken a nap, considered buying a plant that's genetically bred to die more slowly, listened to music, avoided calling her mom, got a few chapters farther into Going Clear, pre-heated the oven, threw her Bird of the Valley into the trash shoot, started dinner, danced to the entirety of Lemonade in her kitchen, finished dinner and enjoyed a pre-dinner snack of olives and cheese. All of this to say she could've died while listening to Sia. At the close of Iris' harrowing tale (sans airborne reporters and dudes turning into energy) Linda Park will grab Iris' hands consolingly, then spend the next hour detailing horrifying hypothetical's about her home invader going through her closets and smelling her bath salt. (She'll preface it with "I'm so glad you're alive!" but only because Linda's biggest fear is some stranger going through her stuff. Not even taking anything just...handling it.)

So to summarize: Iris' Friday is ruined, she has all manner of flying, laser-y, pajama-d, oh-hey-I'm-actually-made-of-light individuals coming in and out of her place like it's Grand Central Station for X-Men and hey look at that, her wine is gone. Barry is still talking, gesturing first to the broken table, then to Cisco with those diplomatic communication hands and Iris doesn't actually have time to wonder in what way Cisco is like a broken table because Twitchy Goatee Jason Miraz decides this is the perfect moment to take a running leap off of her balcony.

∞

Her hands are shaking so badly she has to push the elevator button four times before it lights up. A week later, she'll remember all the particulars of this elevator ride. Leaning against the wooden panels, trying to catch her breath, the guard rail digging into her back, titled upward toward the number panel but seeing nothing, nothing, the incessant buzzing of her phone in the right hand pocked of the coat she'd grabbed for blindly, feeling her fingers close around the two small, sinewy objects and a thin filmy scrap, registering dimly that she saw The Avengers in this coat and her breathing grows so loud in her ears that she can't hear anything else.

∞

Iris thinks she might have to retire her fingers.

The fight with the lock is ugly and she's earned the scratches on her knuckles by the time the door finally relents.

Future Iris will return to this moment and remember the way Linda Park and Patty Spivot break jump apart like the most 90s teen cliché' there ever was, with a fond eye-roll. The amount of noise she's just made gives them plenty of time to adjust themselves but robs Linda of the opportunity to try really hard to look casual while also having a heart attack.

Present Iris is a little busy kicking the door down to fully appreciate the pure sitcom gold inherent in the situation. Linda must have taken her distressed expression as some kind of personal indictment because she manages to yell "I thought you gave me your key!" and "We're dating?" in a way that feels like one statement.