#you exclude him from his own sister's funeral?

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Some of you might remember about two months ago when I needed to vent about my horrible bitch face cousin, Barbara. 

Well.

I need to vent again.

Yesterday was my aunt’s funeral/memorial. It was an extremely emotional day. Top off with a lovely serving of “are you fucking kidding me?”. 

Let’s start off with our arrival at the church. On the positive side, despite the pandemic, there was an overwhelming turnout. So many people loved this woman. 

The first person we’re greeted by is Barbara’s brother; let’s call him Paschall. I haven’t seen him in several years. I could be mad about that, but I’m not cause he’s sort of just an airhead who means well and has admitted that it was wrong that no one ever came to help us with our grandmother. We hug. I hold him as he starts to cry.

Next, I see Barbara’s older sister ((the oldest of the three)) who we’ll call Rachel. Rachel hugs me and tells me she loves my hair ((it’s currently violet)).

This is all in the lobby of the church where there are poster boards with pictures of my aunt. We’ll...get back to those.

Finally, we meet up with Barbara. 

This is the first time we have any interaction with her since my first venting post about the situation. But the day was not about her ((or so we thought)) and we approach her with kindness and sympathy, which she receives the way any nice person might. We hug. She tells us that we should sit up in the front bc we’re family. ((very kind of her, right?))

But we go and up in front of the altar, where the urn would be placed, were more pictures. One of just my aunt. One of her and my uncle’s wedding. And one of her and Barbara. JUST HER AND BARBARA. Not a picture of her and all three of her children. Just her and Barbara. 

The mass starts ((Catholic)) and the procession is made up of Paschall, one of Barbara’s sons...and her fucking husband. 

Now, I don’t want to just to conclusions. I think to myself, well, maybe they asked Dad if he would be part of it and he was too upset to do it. But...nope. No, no. Barbara, who basically took over and in my uncle’s grief, took advantage and just made everything to her specifications, had her son and her husband over my aunt’s fucking brother in the service. 

For those of you not familiar with a Catholic Mass/funeral, it typically involves 3 people giving readings (the first reading from the Old Testament, a psalm, the second reading from the New Testament), the Priest reading a passage from the Gospel and He then gives His homily/sermon. The first three readings, in a service such as this, are usually done by members of the deceased family. The surviving family members ask someone to read and it’s actually an honor to be asked. 

The people who read were a niece from my uncle’s side of the family, a friend of their family, and a nephew from my uncle’s side of the family.

I am 100% not saying that my uncle’s side of their family is any less part of her family than ours, but...my siblings and I are her brother’s children. I’m her goddaughter. We weren’t asked to do anything. 

And my youngest sister is an accomplished singer. She’s sung as baseball games and other events. We thought the young girl singing in church just happened to sing at the church. 

Nope. 

No, she was the daughter of Barbara’s friend.

During the Priest’s sermon, he never mentioned our side of the family once. Obviously, this is not his fault if he was not made aware of us, but he kept referring to my aunt as a wife, a mother, and a friend. She was my father’s sister. And her mother is still alive, albeit sick with dementia and in a nursing home and doesn’t even know any of us anymore, and we’re still trying to heal from caretaker burnout but...never mentioned her. 

Because of social distancing, we were sitting behind my parents and I could see how my father was visibly hurt more and more as the service went on.

And just guess who gave the Eulogy? Go on! Guess! I bet you only need one try! 

BARBARA!!!

And she continued to make it ALL.ABOUT.HER. She barely mentioned her siblings, she talked about her husband and her children, and she couldn’t even be bothered to mention my father by name the one time she said anything about him. Which was, and I quote “she spent time in the summers with her brother.” 

As if they didn’t grow up together. As if ((until Barbara changed all our traditions)) we didn’t spend holidays together. As if he was just this one-off side character in her life. 

It should go without saying that the rest of us weren’t mentioned either. 

But! She was kind enough to mention our grandmother and basically said that if she wasn’t in a nursing home now, that she’d’ve been there with us. Like...

No, Barbara, she has dementia. She’s in a place where she’s safe. And this may come as a surprise to you, but actually trying to take care of someone with a disease like that isn’t fucking easy. But see, she wouldn’t know, bc she only helped with her own mother for maybe an hour or two at a time and only if my uncle took her kids ((I won’t sell her completely short, she did help once she was in a home. Very convenient, right?)) and she never helped with my grandmother save for the one time she came to do her hair. As a hairdresser, you’d think she’d’ve come to help with her hair so that we didn’t need to, huh? Of course, not.

The whole time she was delivering her Eulogy, Rachel didn’t even look up. Not once. She was pissed. In fact, when Barbara finished, Paschall got up to hug her, Rachel did not move. Not until Barbara actually came into the pew for one. Telling. Very telling. 

Anyway, the service ends and remember those pictures in the front of the church I mentioned earlier? 

Now we get a chance to really look at them. 

My aunt’s life clearly did not start until Barbara was born. 

One picture with her and my dad. Two pictures with her and our grandmother. Zero pictures of her and our grandfather. None when she was a little girl. A few with her other kids. Her and my uncle. TONS with Barbara and her children. And...a whole lot with her and Barbara’s IN-LAWS. 

I just...

And it’s not like she didn’t have pictures to use. WE sent her a whole bunch! Before the first round of bullshit!! Us being kind and trying to send her memories of her and her mother and it was like we didn’t fucking exist. 

And that, guys, gals, and nb pals, is how to make someone else’s funeral all about you. 

Oh, PS:

She also said to my brother “I wish I could go see grandma and do her hair for her. I hate that I can’t.”

My brother, to us, was like “Thanks, Barbara, where’ve you been the last half a decade???”

[barbiewritesstuff]

Sticking with my niche here, can i get some angst where Rooster and the reader are in a really bad car accident and Rooster feels incredibly guilty bc theyre hurt real bad?

Impact

-- I took some liberties but I hope you enjoy it still!

Tw. Car crash, brief mention of injuried and death --

Hangman had been drunk when his phone rang and your voice spoke through the speaker 

"Jake? Can you come pick me up? Stacy and Ashley left me stranded at the club for some stupid frat boys"

"Shit, sorry. I h-- Y/n I have had a lot of beer. I can't drive" Jake slurred through the phone. Hell, he couldn't even open his eyes. He heard you sweare through the receiver "Hang on"

"Roos -- Bradshaw. You can drive, right? Can you do me a favour?" 

And that's how Rooster had found himself driving to the club you had been at with a vague description he had received from Hangman ("She's like not too tall but also like, not small? Got blue eyes and like blonde hair? I think? It might be a little brown. She's also like, really cute?"). 

He found you by the side of the road and Rooster had to stop himself from staring.

Whatever Hangman had tried to say with 'really cute' did not paint an accurate picture of you. The club's neon lights made you look like a damn movie character. He had really sold you short. And when you spoke to introduce yourself, Bradshaw couldn't listen to anything but the honeyed tone of your voice. 

"You are saving me, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been able to come pick me up."

"You're welcome"

"You're Rooster, right? Jake told me lots about you" 

"Oh God, what has he told you?" Rooster chuckled

"He really admires your flying, you know. And he thinks you're an overall great dude" She smiled.

An easy silence settled over the car as you fiddled with the strap of your shoe.

"So how do you know Hangman?"

"Oh it's not very interesting" you said but Rooster still urged you. 

Jake had been a friends with your older brother since diapers thanks to you moms' friendship, but being the annoying little sister meant you were excluded from much of what they did until you both hit your teens. Then, your brother got ill, Jake spent much of his days at yours trying to do what your brother couldn't anymore. He'd help with homework, listen to you talk about boys and teach you how to play guitar. You really appreciated that he was there for you. And when your brother died, Jake was there to hug you and hold you as you cried. He held you hand during the funeral, hoping you would find the same comfort in the gesture than he did. 

Since then, he was there to protect you no matter the day, no matter the time.

Rooster listened and stayed quiet. It turned out that whatever Hangman lacked in reliability in the air, he made up for with her. 

"Are you single?" Realising the suddenness of the question, Rooster tried to backtrack "I mean you and Jake --"

"Oh no, we're not dating. Just friends. I'm single" You shot a disarming smile his way "Are you, Rooster?" 

You tone had been a little suggestive. Rooster could feel the temperature rise in the car. He nodded.

Talking to you was easier than talking to anyone he'd ever talked to. You were naturally chatty and didn't mind his short answers at the start. 

Your relaxed attitude made him at ease. 

You were almost at the Hard Deck where you said you would pick up Jake and drive him home in his own car. Rooster wished the journey had been longer.

"If that's okay, i'd like to take you out sometime"

You beamed but before you could answer Rooster felt the wheel jerk under his fingers. 

You had been stopped at an intersection, the light turned green and Rooster had stepped on the gas and then your world went dark. 

The car flipped.

The corvette that had sped down the hill on your right hadn't even attempted to brake much before hitting you straight in the passenger door. 

Rooster was relatively uninjured, save for whiplash, a broken wrist and a concussion. He managed to crawl out of the car. He looked at the scene. The corvette had been turned into an accordion and the door of your car had bent inwards so much in the impact that it had snapped clean off of its hinges and was now lying on the floor.

He could see you from where he stood.

Rooster walked forward a little and knelt down to check up on you. His heart stopped. 

You were staring dead ahead, empty eyes glazed over. There was no pulse and no breathing.

The emergency crews arrived and pronounced you and the corvette's driver dead at the scene. They loaded Rooster onto the ambulance despite his pleas that he was fine, please leave him alone, to check for internal damage.

He knew it wasn't his fault. But the guilt he felt was all consuming.

How was he going to tell Hangman? What was he going to tell Hangman?

She had been precious to him, the only person he had never left hanging and on the one night he allows someone else to help, he gets her killed. Rooster tried not to imagine what was happening at the Hard Deck right then. He tried not to imagine Jake's face when the police officers entered the bar and told him that there was an accident and that his honorary little sister had been killed on impact.

Rooster's phone buzzed with an incoming call. The name "Lt Jackass Seresin" lit up the screen. Rooster didn't pick up.

[xiaotopia]

Longing For You

Pairing: Fem reader x Aether

Words: 10k+ I lost count

Genre: one-shot, platonic relationship, fuff, angst, slight crack if you squint

Cw // mentions of character death, blood

Hi! It's my first time writing on here and I just write what's on my mind I'm sorry if this is bad since english is not my first language ㅠㅠ I promise I will get better with my writing! Enjoy ^^

Lonely.

That's what you are feeling. It's been 3 days you got stuck in this unknown land. You thought it was beautiful, it really was. But will you be ready to face what's in front of you?

You manage to survive with fruits like apples and cashews, at least that's what you thought the name was, because in your world they called it cashews. Even though it doesn't really give you enough nutritions, as long as you get to live you're okay with it. Heck there were almost nothing here. You wanted to explore the place more but there are monsters everywhere, and you- with no weapon, could only run and hide in hopes of not getting spotted by them. Will you ever survive?

Sighing, "just another day like this I guess"

you said before drifting to dreamland under a tree in a secluded area of the unknown land.

----

"She's still breathing"

"Paimon! What are you doing?!"

You could hear someone whispering- half screaming to be exact, at someone but you are more bothered at someone poking your arm with a stick. Groaning, you woke up and realized someone invaded your place. Ready to fight whoever that was, your actions suddenly come to a halt when you meet a pair of golden eyes and his tiny little companion. They were as shocked as you, well... I guess you are more shocked to see a floating kid beside the blonde boy.

Quickly, you hide behind a tree. Since you don't have any weapon to defend yourself what else can defend you other than a tree?

"w-who are you?! And why you can float?!"

you shrieked, the little floating kid crossed her arms and scoffed at your question. Why would she scoffed at you?

"excuse me young lady but we're the one who should ask you that!".

You just meet her now but god knows how much her high-pitched voice started to annoy you. The blonde boy beside her started to speak up before his companion could even say a word,

"I'm sorry she bothered you. I'm Aether, and this is my travel companion, Paimon. We found a group of hilichurls around here and we already fight them off before it could reach your campsite. May we know what is your name?" he asks as his pair golden orbs stares straight into you.

"Uh.. My name is y/n..."

He smiles, assuring you that they're safe and can be trusted, you slowly got out behind the tree when he stretches out his hand for a handshake. You grab his hand, reciprocating his action. "it's nice to meet you y/n".

----

"No"

"Aether c'mon please?"

"ugh fine"

It's been a month you had stayed in Monstadt, The Land of Freedom, and a month since your encounter with Aether and Paimon. She still annoys you though, but you're really grateful that she can keep the conversation going because it always turns awkward whenever you tried to initiate a conversation with people. You learned that Aether didn't come from this world too, separated from his sister by the unknown god and now is looking for her in Teyvat. Hopefully, you can go back home too.

You missed your family of course but you're also happy that there are people who willing to take care of you, especially Barbara. She treated you like her own sister, beside Jean. You learned everything here from Lisa and learned how to fight from the cavalry captain Knights of the Favonious, Kaeya. And Diluc? He's hot, but cold as ice at the same time and you went to the Tavern once, only to see him talking to a bard named Venti, about how the bard needs to stop drinking all of his dandelion wine before he runs out of it because of him.

Now, Aether is in front of you as you manage to persuade him to bring you to one of his adventures. He never let you tag along because he told you it's dangerous outside. Both of you are no vision holders, but he has the power of Anemo. It's still a mystery to you but he's an outlander so it would probably make sense why he can have such powers even without a vision blessed by the Archons.

"But! You only have to fight the hilichurls only while I take down those mitachurls, got it?" he says. Nodding your head aggressively, you started your journey with him as an adventurer.

"Let's go to Liyue!" Paimon says excitedly.

---

"That was close, thank you y/n"

Aether pants heavily, letting out a sigh of relief as you kick off the last hilichurl with your sword. Turning around to face him, you tell him it's nothing.

You three bumped into a hilichurl camp in the middle of the road of Bishui Plans. Unfortunately, those group of monsters noticed you before you three could even hide.

You were about to follow Paimon but Aether called you, you look at him as his face expressed shocked. You asked him what's wrong only him to point at your hips. You were confused so you look down where he's pointing at. Well now you're equally as shocked as him, if not because of the shining crystal blue orb hanging on your belt.

"What... I-I swear it wasn't there before?"

You whispered, questioning yourself because how did it get there? How did you even got a vision? What did you do? You know it's a vision because Lisa has taught you at the library back in Mondstadt. How? That was all in your mind.

You hear Paimon gasped, putting her hands on her mouth, "you got a vision! Let me see!". She flew to look at your vision before touching it to get a better look. "You got a cryo vision!" she exclaimed.

"Cryo? You mean I get the power of ice?" You question her. She nodded her, "Yes! Now you can help Aether to fight enemies!". Looking down at your feet, sighing. Aether asked you what's wrong and you simply said you don't know how to fight. Like actually fighting enemies with your own power, how to use it and how to handle it. What if you unintentionally hurt people around you? Aether chuckled at your response. You look up at him, tilting your head in confusion.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you"

----

"I wish kaeya was here"

"You don't like it when I teach you?!"

Chuckling at your friend, you said it's not that you don't like it when he teaches you. It's because "it would be easier if a cryo vision holder teaches me how to control the element", you says.

He let out a puff, while you were stroking Paimon's hair on your lap. She snores softly and you swear you could hear her mumbling sticky honey roast in her sleep. Giggling at her, you wonder how can she be cute and annoying at the same time. It's unfair you think. You turned your head to look at Aether and he was zoned out, as always.

"Mind telling me what's in your mind?"

You picked up his habits quite quickly, since you both attached to the hips all the time. You would notice he always does this when he's deep in thought. The same goes for him. You both can read each other like an open book.

He looks at you, smiling. Shaking his head and tells you he always thinks the same, about his sister. You smiled back at him, you assured him that you will meet her soon. And now, you both enjoy the calm breeze as you both watched the sun set over the blue horizon at the nearby cliff in Liyue.

"S-sticky honey roast... "

----

Annoyed.

That's how you feel right now.

This guy just keeps pestering you for 20 minutes now. You got separated with Aether as he got something to do with Zhongli, the Wangsheng Parlor Funeral Consultant. Aether wanted to let Paimon stay with you but you said you're fine on your own and you would enjoy alone time in the time being while waiting for them.

But you didn't expect this.

"Can you stop following me now?"

"Why would I?"

Rolling your eyes, you bump into his shoulder, or Childe as he call himself.

"Oh don't be like that girlie-" " I have a name shut up" you sigh for the nth time. You need to avoid this man, because he's one of the Fatui, you don't want to involve yourself and Aether with them. That's why you've been running and avoiding him at all cost.

"Well you never tell me your name girlie-"

"It's y/n okay? Now go you're getting on my nerve..."

you mumbled the last sentence. He only chuckles at your reaction as he enjoys it. You were buying some street food from the food stall and before you could give your mora to the seller, someone beats you to pay for the food. You were not complaining though, you didn't thank him either.

"Okay then but can I ask you one last question, y/n?" he smiles widely while you only look at him, chewing your spicy fish cake, unamused. His question however, almost send you to you death as you were choking on your food.

"W-what did you say?!" "I want to get to know about you"

Aether is not going to like this...

----

As expected, he was mad. No, he was furious.

"Why did you talk to him?!"

"I tried not to talk to him Aether, he kept following me when I tried to avoid him! To the point he creeps me out..."

Aether sighs, rubbing his forehead as Paimon watched you two arguing. Was this the only time Paimon shuts her mouth? Excluding the time she's asleep. She knows when to silent herself because this time, Aether is different in Paimon's eyes.

"So.. Did you agree?" he questioned, not giving you a glance. You shake your head, "No, of course I didn't. He's dangerous and he could hurt us if he has the opportunity..." Which is true. Childe is a harbinger, and you, just a mortal from another world who just got dumped to Teyvat out of nowhere.

Aether engulfs you in a hug, which surprised you. You could feel your cheeks burning from the physical contact. His arm wraps around your shoulder while the other strokes your hair, calming you.

"I won't let that happen to you, Paimon and me. I won't let him hurt us, I will promise you that I will protect you both from any danger. I don't want to lose another friend..." he says and the last sentence sounds more like a whisper to you but you understand him.

You also promised to yourself that you will protect paimon and him. Because you love them.

----

"Well traveller, you're quite stronger than I thought"

"Stay away from him!"

You yelled at the harbinger, keeping yourself from falling as you struggled to stand up. Paimon tried her best to keep Aether awake while you were guarding them, ready to attack him anytime.

Childe let out a loud laugh, as if he was mocking you and your companion. Shaking his head, he came closer to you.

"You know what, you're lucky that you didn't fall for my tricks" he chuckles. You were getting antsy everytime he take a step closer to you, "no one is fool enough to fall for a harbinger, Tartaglia" you sneered.

He was about to attack you with his hydro sword but you managed to dodged it with your power and turning it into an ice. You both fight for a while and fortunately, Aether came to help you.

After hours of fighting, that's what you think, you feel drained out. Slumping on the floor, you take a glance at Aether he was panting hard, Paimon at his side to support him. And Childe, he looks better than both you and Aether combined but he's still in a good shape.

As you were trying to stand up, you saw a glimpse of a woman at the corner of your eye. You widen your eyes and tried to push Aether away as you saw the woman was about to attack him with her sharp ice.

Signora.

You made a wall of ice to protect Aether and Paimon from her attacks. However, you didn't do it for you. You didn't protect yourself and got hit by the ice. The ice wall from you melts, so does Aether's world when he saw you, bleeding from your own element.

Childe was as shocked too, he thought you were a genuine person, he really do. Is this what it feels when you know someone personally got hurt? He can't imagine what Aether feels now.

You fell, you felt dizzy as you hit your head on the solid ground.

"Y/n!" Aether and Paimon yelled your name, but why do they sound like they're miles away?

"Y/n! Keep your eyes open! Don't you very dare to close your eyes!" Your friend screamed. Paimon is holding your hand while sobbing on you. "Y/n you can't leave us! Paimon still want to have fun with you!"

All you can do is cry. You don't want to leave them. You still haven't find your way back home, you can't. But you were losing so much blood and all you could do is remembering your moments with your friends.

Aether and Paimon.

Aether holds you on his lap, you could feel his tears falling on your cheek. He cups your cheek as he stares into your (e/c) orbs. To him, it resembles the stars on the night sky. He wish he could look at them like this before.

Not when you're dying.

He put his forehead on yours as he keeps repeating "please don't leave" to you. You promised him that you will protect him, but not stay with him. Did you regret it? Yes. You wish you could stay but you knew at the end, both of you will leave eventually.

But you didn't expect that you would leave them like this.

With all your might, you hover your hand over his that was on your cheek, rubbing it softly. "Promise me, we will meet someday, wether it be in our next life or in different universe, promise me we will meet again" you said, voice getting hoarse and staring to his golden eyes. You want to remember his eyes, his nose, his lips, his everything.

"Paimon doesn't want you to leave!" your little friend cried, you let out a loud sob as you pull her to your chest, soaking your bloody shirt with her tears. You three tried to cherish your last moment together, even though it was a tragic one, like now.

Aether tighten his hold on you, Paimon cries harder when she saw the colour of your vision starting to fade, knowing you couldn't make it.

"Paimon loves you, y/n", all you can do is cry, before your last breathe you hear Aether says "I promise you, we will meet again.. I love you"

Your vision faded, you fall into a deep sleep and everything turns dark.

----

"She's awake!"

"Call the doctor!"

You slowly opened your eyes, the bright light hurting your eyes, still adjusting to the surrounding. You could feel your tears were falling. Why did you cry? Then it hit you.

You were in the hospital.

You remember what happened, was that all just a dream? It feels real, way too real for your liking.

"Thank god, you're finally awake!" your mom sobs. Wait, your mom is here? You're finally back? You were supposed to be happy but why did you feel sad?

"H-how long did I... Sleep?" you asked, voice raspy as your throat lacks of hydration. Your mom gave you a glass of water and you gladly drink it, your throat still hurt.

"2 months now, you got hit by a car and the guy felt bad. He even insisted to pay for your bills", your mom says as she hold your hand. It's been a few minutes but you missed them. Aether and your little friend Paimon.

"Oh.." that's all you can say. You really don't know what to respond. You were happy that you're finally awake but you also missed people you met in Teyvat. Are they real or just your imagination?

"I forgot to tell you, the person who pays for your hospital bill will visit you. He always visits you when me and your dad is busy with work", you nodded your head, didn't have the energy to reply your mom back.

Suddenly, the door opens, revealing a tall man. You face him, only to widen your eyes as you were shocked to see the person in your dream.

"Childe?"

----

It's been a month since you got discharged from the hospital and been recovering well. You still struggle to walk on your own though, but nothing serious. Ever since you met childe, you both got along very well, not like the one in your dream.

"So... What I dreamed of during my coma was real?" You asked him, walking through the flowery path as the cherry blossom falls on the ground beside him arms clinging to his.

"Yeah. In fact, I'm still the same Childe in your dream!"

"Yeah as you wish. The only same thing is you keep paying things for me.. And being annoying"

You remarked. He only laughs and told you the reason why he keeps doing that is that it's the only kind action he could do, even now. But in reality, he felt guilty. He

"By the way, I want you to meet an old friend of mine. You won't mind right?"

"What's the point of asking me if you're going to introduce your friend to me now?"

"Geez woman, you're still the same"

you could only laugh at him. To you, he's a good friend but no one could replace Aether. If you met Childe, there's a possibility of you to meet Aether and Paimon right?

"Oi blondie! We're here!" Childe yelled, getting you out from your deep thoughts. You look up only to meet a pair of golden eyes that you've missed so much.

It feels like the time has stopped. He walked towards you and slowly, engulfed you in a hug. You were stunned, you meet him. You both found each other. You hugged him back, tightly. You let out tears of joy, he was relieved he found you that he also cried.

"You didn't forget me don't you?" You hear a feminine voice behind Aether, only to find Paimon crossing her arms, just like when you meet her for the first time. But what amazes you that she's in a different form. She looks... Like you. A woman.

Your eyes got teary again and went straight to her, giving her a big hug which she reciprocated. "I miss you so much Paimon" you burried your head into her neck. Paimon was happy she could meet her.

Childe and Aether could only look both of you with adoration. Aether cleared his throat, without looking at the man beside him, eyes still on you. "Thank you, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't find her"

The red haired man could only smile, "it's no problem. I couldn't face anyone after what happened in Teyvat. Think of this as my way to apologize". Aether couldn't answer, he only nodded his head to let him know he's listening.

You went to him only get a hug from you. You missed him so much. And you noticed Aether doesn't have his long braided hair anymore, which saddens you because you always play and braid his hair.

"I noticed that you finally got rid of your annoyingly long hair", you teased him. You hear him chuckled as he tightened his grip around you. "Can't let the annoyingly long hair distract people sweetie. People found it weird here"

"But I like it though..." you blushed at the pet name he gave you. You both just couldn't let go of each other now. He strokes your hair, enjoying each others presence. "I'm so glad that I found you", "me too, I'm glad you're here".

The other two friend only watched you two reunited again, hugging each other and won't let each other go because you missed each other so much that you both are afraid one of you vanished anytime. But it's real.

"Childe can we get some sticky honey roast?"

"Good grief, paimon.."

[ecrivant]

the station | annie leonhart

(annie leonhart x fem!reader)

that night, one marked by abject sin and rapture: annie’s single, inescapable memory.  she, forever haunted by this painfully raw thought of you.

c.w. – homophobic slurs

word count: 2.2k

a.n. – this is technically a reader insert but it’s honestly just an exploration of annie’s repression and sadness.  also, in general, i’m very wary of assigning gender to the reader, but the lgbt+ themes are important to this story, so annie’s love interest is a fem!reader.  i’m sorry if this excludes anyone, next piece will return to the usual gn!reader.  

very much an au + me experimenting with style.  

At the world’s marge lies a service station—carburant siphoned long ago, insides, bare.  Its skeletal façade abuts a backroad, a display of collapsing substructure succored by gusts of vagrants and drifters, cataracted from history’s view.  At one time, when you entered, the clerk would greet you from the left with a gaze that conveyed a hesitant familiarity—the type of trivial recognition that was unimportant in the moment but retrospectively haunting.  The lights within, garish halogen, were ceaseless, always alight, and only dared to die out once the ceiling caved, and the walls peeled, and the vinyl floor cratered like some artificial topography.  The edifice now no more than a nebulous memory only existing in the minds of those who ever once visited it.  

A memory nonetheless in the mind of the woman who fucks for the first time in a sedan parked behind the station, where the smell of sex and summer air and gasoline is seared into her brain as she breathes hard, lightheaded and high on ecstasy and fear. She feels her own death, a quiet specter which guides the touch of her lover.  Her burning skin; the eroticism of demise, destruction.  The nocturnal breeze gasps with her.

She offers to drive you home.  You—flushed and debauched, breasts exposed.  Eying her intensely.  You refuse.

“I can walk.”

She laughs.  Your name on her lips, a carnal, depraved prayer, “We don’t even know where we are.”

She is corrected. Curt.

“You don’t.”

She is gored, laid open and vulnerable and bare for this stranger who parts without another word. She watches you go, ambling towards the unlit dirt road, swallowed by a beastly darkness.  The vehicle, suffused by an amorous smog, windows opaque.  Her organs all but spill onto the floor, mixing with dust and dog hair and garbage and an old takeaway cup that was always there no matter how many times she threw it away.  

She slinks into the station and asks for a pack of cigarettes.  She pays in coins, a button among them, but the cashier never notices.

At home.

“Mama’s been askin’ ‘bout you.”

“Okay.”

“You’re gonna get an earful tomorrow.”

She’s already halfway up the stairs.  They moan beneath her.  

“She thinks you’ve been spending too much time with that Eren boy.  Is that where you was tonight?”

The stairs sound like you. Everything sounds like you—the gasp of a closing door, the sordid exhale of a creaking bedframe.  The sweat on her face: a lover’s curious tongue.

—

“Pull off here, ya’re low on gas.”

Prick prick pricks of fear smart on her skin.  Mama knows. The station, the unholy consecration. Mama knows.  This car, this place.  Mama knows.  Her brother in the back, resting on the shadow of his sister’s bare figure.  The pop of the fuel door says dyke.  The crack of the gas nozzle trigger says fag. The unseen eyes that bore through her say queer.  She enters the station to pay.  The clerk, a gaze of recognition—the only one who knows of her transgressions.  

—

She is married. Cheers to the happy couple.  She cries on her wedding night, tears staining bedsheets—her own virginal blood.  He touches her, stagnant, pale skin collied by bereft contact.  She only comes when she thinks of the station.

—

She could tell.  She could tell him and free herself, and then the kid’ll wonder why Mommy’s never around and Daddy’s a druggie and a drunk and never leaves the house anymore and the kid’ll make his way through the social services system until he’s beaten and cracked and broken like Mama’s old doll collection smashed against the wall and he puts a bullet in his head before he turns eighteen.  No, she could never tell.

—

Thanksgiving.  She stares at her sister-in-law—a city girl, with heavy lids and blush-dusted cheeks and a pronounced cupid’s bow.  The eyes of a hunter, the lascivious gaze of a she-wolf.  Her husband comments on how well they seem to get along.  

—

A loneliness begotten from her own bones, born from emptiness and the inimitable way she and death caressed all those years ago.  She only has a name to utter, breathless, when thoughts of you tenant her mind.  The first and the only fuck was truly a stranger, all but nameless in memory.  

—

Her mother’s funeral. An apathetic and unfamiliar affair. People she doesn’t know.  Her brother, his wife, their child.  Her husband, her child, her.  She could not be more distant.

Her childhood home smells sweetly of tobacco and cardamom.  

Indifference during the wake mistaken by the others for numbness.  She feels no need to mourn—her mother lived and died uneventfully, and that was it.  

“Mommy, are Grandma’s dolls going away?”

“I don’t know, we’ll see.”

“Do you think I can keep one?”

The boy has his eyes fixed on one in particular, his implicit selection.  The one that has your eyes.  The one whose gaze makes her squirm.  Mama knows.

“I don’t know, we’ll see.”

—

She sneaks away from the house with a pack of her mother’s cigarettes, the box crumpled and stained at the edges and the tubes inside wrinkled and mildewed, emitting a stench that filled her with inexplicable nostalgia.  It brings to mind her unshakable compulsion to eat cigarettes, to feel the flakes of tobacco coat the inside of her mouth like the ground dregs in a cup of cheap coffee.  She lights one instead, pushing the thought aside—if she was to ever eat one, she fears she would not be able to stop.  The low hiss of her inhalations on the ember briefly joins the sonic ambience.  She sits in her car and smokes and occasionally flicks ash outside of her window with shaking hands.  Rancid and familiar aftertaste.  Thick dust clouds kicked up by her car tires coalesce with her hazy exhalations as she drives nowhere.  Not nowhere. She needs gas.

—

The station still stands as it had before, insusceptible to time.  Always seemingly aged.  Covered in an ever-present grime.  She gets out and leans against her car and drags on her cigarette, the virulent inhalations scratching her lungs.  The road on which you disappeared all those years ago looked profoundly unremarkable during the day—just a long, dirt road in a town wholly comprised of long, dirt roads. The heat shimmers above the ground, and the afternoon sun drapes itself across her skin, and the hot breeze drags its fingertips through her hair like a lover you’d meet behind a bar—the same who would abandon that perpetually lit cigarette between her lips in exchange for her mouth on yours.

Her last drag—she drops the butt and crushes it underfoot.  

She sits in her car and smokes the rest of the pack—in her eyes, the final remnants of her mother.

She waits in the parking lot.  As if her presence alone would invoke some bygone wraith.  

Her hand reaches under her dress, between her legs, and she is touching herself to the pervasive miasma of summer breeze and carburant, and the darkness of closed eyes almost feels like the night, and her frantic digital movements are arrant pleasure until they’re not; she stops and is suddenly crying, and her thoughts are occluded by her mother’s pale, dead face, and she realizes that Mama’s death, mundane as it was, represents the furthest she’s been from that singular night years ago which was so verily marked by sin and rapture; the one that has haunted her and will continue to haunt her until she herself dies an uneventful death after an uneventful life, and her child thinks of her passing as she does her own mother’s: a nonevent among nonevents.  

She is met with understanding eyes as she returns to the wake crying.  

—

She moves to the city with husband and child.  Suburbia forgone.  The apartment is small and cramped and reminiscent of her sister-in-law’s.  The adjacent view from the living-room window is an identical high-rise—ten stories of the same brick and dirty-white AC units. She is filled with an ineffable sadness as she stares at the spare greenery in streets below, confined to plots of dry soil surrounded by cracked and potholed pavement.

Her sleeplessness often leads her to the living room long after the apartment falls to silence.  One night, she watches, captivated, as a couple in the adjacent apartment fucks on a couch, curtains wide open and shame forgotten.  The man, hovering above a body obstructed, is suddenly flipped on his back and mounted by his lover, and she swears this woman, breasts bobbing, and face marked by a concentrated intensity and unusually devoid of pleasure, looks like you.  

—

Two years in the city bypass her as if she were already dead.  The tenant who resembled you moved out the year prior.  

—

She sits in a booth sequestered in the corner of a dark and begrimed barroom.  Alone for the night.  Her husband no longer questions her bouts of silence and absences from the house and disdain for intimacy; her child, accustomed to fissure.  

She ignites a cigarette, her lukewarm liquor no longer of interest, and no one stops her.  She is indifferent to the other patrons, who were, at this point in the night, nothing more than hazy and incorporeal forms populating the shadows.

The chime of the door—jarring and tangible—cuts through the muted atmosphere and demands the attention of those there to give it.  Another specter drifts to the bar.  A woman shouldering something—a fact elucidated by a hunched posture and a quiet request for three fingers of scotch.  

And then the woman turns, and Annie sees her face.  

And suddenly she is collapsed on the scum-covered tile of the bar’s bathroom floor, hurling upchuck into the toilet.  That woman had your face—she is not you, at least not anymore, as Annie is no longer the girl who fucked and died in that gas station parking lot years ago.  But that woman had your face.  And she looked at Annie with your eyes, melancholic eyes which held no recognition for her, and turned away in the same movement.  Less than a look—a glance.  But that woman had your face.  And Annie had not seen it again before she hied to the bathroom to regurgitate four drinks and years of accrued and bilious agony.  

The bathroom door swings open.  Groaning hinges.  She knows it’s that woman who has callously co-opted your likeness.

She enters the stall next to her and pisses and flushes the toilet whose water drains slowly and weakly, and the sounds of the sink are harsh and cacophonous against the tile walls. Steps towards the exit suddenly pause. A knock on the stall door.  Your voice asks if she is alright—a voice unheard for decades, last encountered in a low, debauched whisper against her skin.

She heaves, again, but nothing is left to expel; she coughs and spits and does not answer.

“Can I at least help you get home?”

The question looms above her, looped and tied like a noose.  

“I can walk.”

A laugh.  Dry, unfamiliar, never heard.  It’s harsh and barking; a warning.  

She is corrected, curt: “You can barely stand.”

She had long been unacquainted with fear, now more often than not consumed by a vacant numbness, and she admittedly did not miss it.  It was ugly and pervasive and bore deep within her with debilitating potency.  She could do nothing but sit on the disgusting tile floor with body supported on yellowed porcelain and wait.  

She imagines she allows herself to believe this woman is you—you, as you were, unchanged—and opens the door. And you, being unchanged, ask if she would like to come home with you.  And she, apparently the same as well, says yes.  And back at your apartment, cluttered and cramped yet simultaneously vacant, you spare no time backing her into the bedroom, lips tethered to hers in lurid predation.  Touches that are lustful and intimate and familiar only to her.  She cannot bring herself to care that you do not remember her—your breath on her neck and your incursive touch efface all thoughts, good or bad.  She wants you on top of her, around her, within her, and you oblige like some prurient altruist.  Her coming is purgative and cathartic, and the pleasure of that night at the station feels archaic and antiquated in the face of this wholly new gratification, heighted by an immense and prolonged yearning.  And this time, after you are both finished, you do not part and neither does she, and she embraces you in a way that feels intrinsic, and you ask her to stay the night. And she does not think of her husband and child as she says yes.  And she does not think of her husband and child as she agrees to spend the next day with you, as she dances with you in your living room, finally and only feeling held and loved.  Finally, finally, finally.  

—

But Annie says nothing. And the woman—not you, but an apparition—softly and finally knocks on the door with the side of her fist, unfazed, and walks out of the bathroom.  And even now, as she slumps further and shuts her eyes and clutches her head, Annie can only think of that fucking gas station.  

—

hi there!  thank you so much for reading; i hope you enjoyed this piece.  it’s a little different than my other stuff, not drastically so, but still different.  i think i like it, though.

thank you to the anon who suggested I write something for annie, i really appreciate the request.  i have another request in the pipeline for reiner, so expect a piece for him soon. 

as always, feedback and criticism are very much appreciated!  feel free to drop in and request something if you want.

taglist: @flam3bird

[mymovingfingerwrites]

who is't can read a woman?

let's talk about shakespeare’s women. let’s talk about how they linger at the sides of the pages, their thoughts hidden between iambic pentameter, how their growth occurs when the audience is focused on battles and betrayals and men who command attention, who dominate the narrative so needily. even the "strong female characters" are analyzed in relation to their men. even the most powerful woman is owned – or ignored.

which fate is worse?

let’s talk about ophelia. ophelia, who was barely mentioned past her funeral scene. ophelia, who refused to take herself to a nunnery (to take herself to disrespect and shame, to exclude herself) and instead took herself to death. ophelia, who chose her father over hamlet, who chose unconditional love over that of trinkets and uncertainty, who refused to be a tangent to another’s path of growth. ophelia, who withstood hamlet’s games with a blank face carefully crafted, who left rue behind to the queen but also to herself, who understood regret. hamlet cried words, words, words and wavered between two paths. ophelia, who understood madness, chose her own. did she regret her actions, or merely that she was forced to take them? ophelia, who perhaps died from a broken branch or a vengeful queen or simply from floating herself to sleep, the pale blue sky relentlessly unchallenging. ophelia, who wove flowers in her hair as talismans of protection and hid truths behind nonsensical songs, whose strength is derived from her fragility and not in spite of her femininity. 

a discussion about fragility is not complete without miranda, so let us turn our attention there. yes, let’s talk about miranda, who knew as well as caliban how dangerous language can be. caliban learned how to curse. (miranda learned to—what, to cajole? to care? perhaps what miranda learned is that it matters what you say but also why you say it). miranda, the magician’s daughter, who understands several types of magic. miranda, the beloved daughter, who understands how to enchant, to bewitch, to delight. let’s talk about a miranda striving to maintain her femininity in a world of men. was she forced to, or was it a conscious choice – a rebellion?  miranda knows about rebellion. miranda has learned about perfidy. is her immediate infatuation with her prince an act of defiance? is her optimism insurgent? miranda, whose virginity precedes her. miranda, who remains hopeful, whose naivety is carefully maintained, who faces a brave new world without a hint of fear, whose virtue is as sharp and cutting as a sword. 

and of course, who can forget juliet? juliet has become famous (and also reviled, diminished, disregarded by those unwilling to consider a teenage girl has iron behind soft curves and lacy nightdresses). (juliet would probably not be okay with this). who can forget the tale of juliet and her romeo? hers. juliet, who was willing to fight for romeo, who was willing to lie and twist and deceive and leave the safety of her family for her love. (hers). juliet, who was willing to die for a boy who smiled at her from across the room at a party, for a boy who (was perhaps in love with another) lurked beneath her balcony and proclaimed love, for a boy who represented everything she was not supposed to desire (but allowed herself to anyway). can we consider that perhaps juliet was in love not with romeo but with the idea of betrayal? barely a full day passed before juliet escaped paris and bound herself to romeo, and if juliet wept over his prone and cooling body, will we deny that she also wept at the loss of her freedom? juliet understands that she cannot achieve freedom on her own. juliet understands that some bindings are looser than others but in the end she is always bound. juliet dies as an afterthought to her romeo, but she perhaps also dies as a preclude to the rest of her life. juliet betrays. (juliet escapes). 

we’ve talked about love. we’ve talked about love that consumes, that saves, that kills. what about love between women?

let’s talk about three sisters.

let’s talk about cordelia first. why not? cordelia is the dutiful daughter, the kind sister, the one that forgives and cares and sacrifices. cordelia, who refuses to lie in her father’s test because she does not love for money or land or approval but for its own sake, who recognizes her duty and acknowledges it but also leaves quietly when she is stripped of it. does cordelia truly love lear? no more or no less. cordelia understands this idea, this balance. it would not be difficult to imagine cordelia applying it to the rest of her life, doing what is expected of her but not compromising her ideals, building her happiness without infringing on that of others, seeking growth without focusing solely on success. cordelia is mentioned only in context of her father, first to be rejected and then to forgive. her life must be imagined.

let’s talk about a cordelia who grows up the youngest of three, who watches her sisters scheme and manipulate and fight, who sees complex ties and alliances forged and then broken without a thought, and decides early on that she will not be a tool in someone else’s plan. (cordelia probably loved her sisters no more or no less than they deserved, too).

however, no woman is without flaws. could we not fault cordelia for resenting her family? could we not imagine that cordelia closes her eyes briefly in regret before opening them to meet her father’s sightless ones without a flinch? could we not imagine that cordelia feels a flash of vindication, a burning sense of victory, when she hears about her sisters’ fates? cordelia wins. cordelia endures. 

let’s talk about the others. goneril, next. if we close our eyes, can we imagine goneril young? where did she learn that she must twist her tongue if she wants people to dance to the tune she produces, that betrayal is more reliable than trust, that she must measure her worth in tangible objects because the intangible is too nebulous to be used as a reliable metric of success? the oldest daughter, who holds her head high not because she chooses to but because she has known nothing else. let’s talk about how goneril sees through her father’s ploy and is determined to win, who is cheated once again when her father’s men lay waste to her rightful inheritance, who thinks (hopes?) that edmund can match her, who uses deviousness as a carefully sharpened rapier. goneril, who loses. if we stretch our imagination, can we admit that loss is likely familiar to goneril? goneril, whose aggression is considered unfeminine and therefore disgraceful, who is compared to edmund and considered to fall short, who is ignored and dismissed even as she lashes out. it is difficult not to pity goneril. goneril, who chooses suicide in an attempt to avoid defeat once again, who is willing to accept failure for a man who is merely using her, who is not even honored with an on-stage depiction of her death, who is passed aside once more, who fails. goneril, who seeks power but also love, who refuses to submit even in death.

let’s talk about regan. continuing with our brief foray into speculation, can we imagine regan as a young girl, caught between goneril’s reign of terror and cordelia’s quiet defiance? regan’s power derives from her ability to make choices. let’s talk about how regan is often overlooked, how she is hidden behind cordelia’s virtue and goneril’s vengeance. let’s talk about how regan’s retaliation is swifter and more effective than either sister could have predicted. regan, who is practiced at the art of deception, who has several types of smiles available to parcel out to those around her, who once spent hours looking at herself carefully in the mirror to determine how raising an eyebrow or widening her eyes or quirking her lips could change her entire demeanor, who is unafraid to hide venom behind sweetness. goneril and cordelia both lacked subtlety. regan embraces it.

let’s talk about regan, who displays cruelty but also regret, who identifies edmund as the object of goneril’s desire and then carefully, slowly, slyly takes him. regan, who understands the power of perceptions, whose actions are carefully calculated. regan, who shows concern for gloucester perhaps out of genuine feeling but perhaps as a strategy. cordelia endures, goneril fights, but regan achieves. 

shakespeare wrote girls that were delicate but not weak, young and perhaps naive but not unintelligent, impulsive but also resolute, faltering without sacrificing courage. shakespeare wrote girls that understood sacrifice, who understood familial duty, who understood appearances and constraints and societal norms. shakespeare wrote girls that chose themselves, even if those choices are not immediately obvious to a (largely biased) (largely male) audience. 

however, shakespeare also wrote women. 

let’s talk about those women. they were not better than the girls – there was strife and conflict between them, yes, but girls were not pitted against women in a competition of which is better and which should you be and which is more deserving of a happy ending.

(if there was that, we will choose to ignore it. we will interpret it differently. we recognize more than one type of strength. we acknowledge the importance of weakness. we understand that sometimes you must let her simply be.)

shakespeare’s women had power. they had plot lines of their own, jealously guarded and carefully hidden and often overlooked. these women understood how to make men weak. girls know how to be underestimated. these women grew up and learned how to use this against those that dare forget that they deserve a narrative. these women fight back. these women blaze.

let’s talk about gertrude. gertrude, whose motives are left entirely unexplored, whose sexuality permeates every part of her character, who is told that this sexuality makes her weak and corrupt and shameful. gertrude, whose shoulders remain high and back, whose sharp eyes gleam beneath a crown well won, who can bind men to her with glistening lips or jeweled words or slanted glances. even her son is affected. was gertrude responsible for claudius’ death? gertrude, who has carved out a place for herself, who has ensured her own security, who has a multitude of actions and allies and alibis prearranged and ready for instant use, who remains shrouded in mystery perhaps precisely because she means to be.

hamlet obsesses over her, despises her, lusts after her – and yet manages to overlook her. let’s talk about a gertrude who could have committed murder not once but twice, who might have disposed neatly of ophelia, who maybe cleared the way for her son. let’s talk about a gertrude whose machinations never saw the light of day. let’s talk about a gertrude whose power was magnified because it was never acknowledged, whose strength was quiet and enduring and carefully planned. let’s talk about a gertrude who refused to let oppositions to her sexuality limit her. let’s talk about a gertrude who owned herself, who possessed herself, who loved herself. (did she love herself?)

shakespeare has few women in his stories, but some are more prevalent than others. 

let us turn our attention to lady macbeth. she is not so easy to dismiss. she is not so easy to forget. her schemes are not so easily hidden. lady macbeth, who is never given a first name but rather always referred to as the female partner to her husband. (lady macbeth, i wager, would not be overly upset about this). let’s talk about how lady macbeth coolly plots the murder of a king, who secures her own power by bolstering her husband’s courage, who uses words to twist and enchant and distort, who understands the power of a weapon that fires where pointed. lady macbeth understands that somebody must dirty her hands. let’s talk about how lady macbeth is then rarely mentioned, how her violence is at the forefront of the play but her remorse consumes her in the wings of the stage while her husband’s deterioration is the focus. let’s talk about her strength. let’s talk about her determination. let’s talk about her vulnerabilities, about lady macbeth wandering the hallways with bare feet against chilled stone, who only can be truthful to herself in her sleep, whose hands chafe with guilt. out, out – was lady macbeth speaking of the blood, or of her remorse? lady macbeth models herself after stone, but even stone can crack with time. lady macbeth, who rejects femininity because she rejects weakness, who would rather bash a baby’s head against her breast and stem the blood that runs through her veins than be reduced to a parenthesis, a caretaker, a mother. lady macbeth has no time for remorse. lady macbeth does not want to be lessened. lady macbeth wants to be more.

let's talk about these girls and these women and the narratives that consume them, because if we don't, who will share their stories? (who will tell ours?)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #395

“suicide? i’ve already died  /  it’s just the funeral i’ve been waiting for”

Have you ever met a famous political figure? No. Have you slept for longer than usual today? Ugh, no. I officially have my APAP mask for my sleep apnea, and I chose the one that covers my nose and mouth considering it varies which I breathe from when I sleep depending on congestion. It is very hard to get used to. When is the last time that you experienced rejection–literal or imagined? Hm. Is there an artist or celebrity whom you admire for their craft but take issue with their personality or politics? Yeah, such as Marilyn Manson. He's a pretty gross person but by god do I love his music. What’s the last thing you made out of clay? An anatomically correct heart. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yes. What do you do to celebrate Earth Day? Nothing. :/ I wish I could think of something to do for it. Have you ever had someone try to intentionally bully you to suicide? Bro what the actual fuck. No. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My nephew Ryder. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? I've kissed a girl and it felt pretty great, so. Name three things in your room that others probably don’t have in theirs: 1.) a snake; 2.) a huge meerkat collection; and 3.) an APAP machine. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? My snake, I think. Describe your feet: Ugh, the worst. My feet are horribly callused from when I used to walk all the time. I have small toes. What’s a pretty bird? Peacocks. Besides sleeping, what do you do in bed? Just about everything. .-. How do you like your hoodies? Loose/oversized. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're hideous, if you want my honest opinion. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yes. How fucked up are those, honestly... I really hate the concept of teaching children that they have to tell some random guy things they feel bad about and let him ask God to forgive you or else you're going to Hell. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. Can you do a backflip? No. Where are the last three places you went? The TMS office, a gas station, and my sister's house. Do you consider yourself a flirt? No. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? I actually don't know, but at least close to 30 now for sure. I just know we were both in high school, but he failed I think two years. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Guess who, lmao. Which YouTuber seems uber-confident? Mark is a very confident person. I envy 'im for that. What is the funniest YouTube video you have ever seen? I watch YouTube like... constantly, so I've seen thousands upon thousands by now. I really don't know. Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? No, but that's like a dream marriage venue for me. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't think I ever had a boring one. Man, I miss those. Do you enjoy watching videos of babies being born? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Does ANYBODY? Are you a hoarder? No. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? I would say liposuction, but I honestly want to lose the weight myself. If/when I lose the weight I want to, I am 110% getting loose skin removal at LEAST on my stomach because I feel hideous with it. Also if I achieve my weight loss goals, I want to get a breast lift. Weight loss-related things aside, I'm pretty serious about getting laser hair removal on my legs because I HATE shaving and my legs are VERY hairy, and the hair is dark, so I'm extremely self-conscious about it. Are you the type of person who asks a lot of questions? It depends on who I'm asking. With some people, I'm afraid to look stupid if I ask too many. How many states have you visited in your lifetime? If you're excluding the ones I've merely driven through as well as lived in (which is only one), I've visited Ohio, New York, Florida, Virginia, Tennessee, and Illinois, so six. I MAY have been to Michigan as a baby, but I don't remember. What is your biggest fear for the future? Ending up homeless after Mom passes. I'm scared my family will give up on me, which is completely unrealistic, but I'm terrified of living on the streets. Do you like seafood, or not so much? I only like shrimp. Have you ever cried from being so nervous? Oh, certainly. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Hm... of all series I've ever read, probably the Shiloh trilogy. I adored the books and the movies. Have you ever had a parasite before? NO NO NO NO NO, DON'T MAKE ME IMAGINE THIS. I am PETRIFIED of parasites. Do you have a big heart when it comes to animals? Absolutely! Have you ever put your pets in a kennel for a while? I actually don't remember? It's possible when we've gone on an extended vacation, but I'm unsure. Whenever we've gone somewhere, friends have normally taken care of our animals. Where is your favorite place to buy clothing? Hot Topic or Rebel's Market. Do you enjoy listening to older music? I love classic rock and metal. What do you think is the most stupid song out there right now? "WAP" for fucking sure. I haven't even heard the whole thing, and I don't EVER want to. As a child, did you ever want to become a mermaid? Nah. Ariel was my favorite princess, but I wasn't obsessed with mermaids or anything. Can you compose sentences in any other language than your own? Some German, yes. Mainly just the basics. Have you ever met someone who was really racist before? Yes, many. -_- Do you have any celebrity autographs? No. If you could be a Disney character for a day, who would you be? Maybe Kiara from TLK. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Black. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Oh yeah, lots of times! I sometimes even pretended they were burrows and I was a meerkat, ha ha. What kind of dog is your favorite? I have a beagle bias. Do you prefer water or land? Land. Have you ever had a seizure? No. Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? Hunny, I've been trying to since 2016. -_- I lost like 70-ish pounds through 2017-2018, but recently I've gained almost like... all the weight back and it is upsetting beyond words. Have you ever been in a heated pool? Uh, a hot tub? Yes. Are you looking forward to anything? Getting Venus' terrarium, finishing TMS so I can maybe get a job, visiting Sara again... What was your GPA in high school? Over 4.0. Do you require a lot of private time? OH yes. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I hope achieving a sense of accomplishment and becoming content with my hopeful career, marrying a fantastic partner, and having a family of lovely pets. If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? I'll go through the very few I deeply enjoy: 1.) Mozart in Meerkat Manor; 2.) probably Hyde from That '70s Show; 3.) perhaps Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist; 4.) Jerome from Ginga Densetsu Weed; and 5.) Shiro from Deadman Wonderland. Did you use to watch Blue's Clues? OH yes. I loved that show as a kid. Do you stutter when you get nervous? BADLY. Your lunch consisted of...? What DID I have... uhhh OH leftover pizza. What is your favorite kind of chips? Hot, crunchy Cheetos. What is the best way to tell someone that they stink? I wouldn't. Do you have any embarrassing usernames? Some from the past, yeah. Do you have a backpack in a shape of an animal? No. I found a meerkat one once, but it was way too small for me to use in school. :( I was so disappointed. Have you ever waxed your legs? No. I've waxed my upper lip and eyebrows, but especially with how long and thick my leg hair is, I think waxing there would be excruciating, so no thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No, but I would if it had a cool design. Have you ever taught a little kid to flick people off? No, and I wouldn't. Children generally don't have a strong enough grasp on when profanity is appropriate and not. Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? This is VERY common. Like right now, my right arm is the Sahara with how dry and raw it is. Do you always clear your history after using the computer? Nah, got no reason to. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No, because I know I wouldn't like it; I don't like lettuce on my burgers. Do you feel like you’re judged for your looks? For my weight, yes. Name one world issue that upsets you. Just one? Poverty is high on the list. Just... no one should have to live like that. Do you like Wendy’s frosties? After they thaw a little bit, oh yeah. It's physically impossible to drink them for a good few minutes because they're so damn thick.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part twelve: No Body No Crime

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally on a line to line basis both for my own sake to have it somewhere and for anyone who wants to know anything further about me.

So with that in mind, let’s get started.

No Body No Crime.

So out of all the relationships to Taylor's songs I have, this one is by far the most abstract. And yet, it still does in fact involve me being accused of killing someone. Before we continue, I am going to note that I am not the infamous murder anon given this fandom's history. I am also going to give trigger warnings now that this part of my life, and hence post, includes suicide, homophobia and rape, so if you cannot handle that, now is the time to turn away. 

As a whole, this song reminds me of 2011, and how a group of boys who called themselves my brother's friends threw my life into a loop and the cost of unwillingly losing my virginity and the life of one of my closest friends, and how, in response to this, they ended up in prison with one of them dying in there.

He did it. He did it

The actions of these boys traumatised me and has lived in my mind rent free and repeated itself in the form of PTSD flashbacks for the last decade. This was particularly the case at the time where I was an 16 year old girl with undiagnosed and untreated PTSD and Bipolar Disorder.

Este's a friend of mine

A lot of my brother's friends had siblings my age and vice versa when I was a kid. As a result, most of us just formed one big group where we all hung out, and, on occasion, dated each other. One such instance of this was a friend of my brother's who I dated and remained friends with after he came out as gay.

We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

His coming out was not easy for him with his family kicking him out over it. So out of both guilt as I had pushed him to come out, and concern, I made sure to meet up with him as much as possible.

Este's been losing sleep. Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity. She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth. That ain't my jewelry on our joint account”

On one of the last occasions I saw him, he noted to me that these friends of my brother were seemingly trying to disown this friend, and trying to get others, my brother and another ex of mine, to do the same. We spoke at length about how him coming out had really changed the dynamic of his friendships and while a lot of the female friends and my male best friend at the time had still treated him the same, this group had certainly started excluding him from things because the 'ringleader' told them to. Unfortunately this included my ex who was like a brother to this friend, and my brother who was now seen as the 'new shiny thing' that took this friend's place.

“No, there ain't no doubt, I think I'm gonna call him out.” She says "I think he did it but I just can't prove it. No, no body, no crime, but I ain't letting up until the day I die”

At the time, I told this friend that they should call all of these so called friends and that I would if he didn't want to. But as teenagers are, and especially boys in my experience, he let his ego get in the way and said he wanted to get more 'proof' before calling them out. But even as that proof came in and he was completely ousted, there was no confrontation.

Este wasn't there, Tuesday night at Olive Garden, at her job, or anywhere

Not too long later, this friend committed suicide in front of me over the harassment of these so called friends and his family. While I knew he wasn't doing great mentally, it was literally the case that one minute we were there joking around and eating oreos and the next he was gone.

He reports his missing wife

Every single person that harassed this friend over his sexuality showed up to his funeral. Though I'm embarrassed about it now and realise it was not the time or place, that was the moment I chose to call out these so called friends, and in the process, I was accused of killing this friend. To this day I'm thankful that the place this friend died in had surveillance footage to completely rule out the notion.

And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires

Despite showing up to the funeral however, it took these so called friends less than an afternoon to flip back to harassing this now dead friend.

And his mistress moved in. Sleeps in Este's bed and everything

I love my brother and always will. But he is not the kind of person who will speak up when something is unjust, and this was no different. For months he continued hanging out with these friends as if nothing had happened. Since then, I also found out that my other ex had endured severe racism at the hand of this group, and that my brother had once again said nothing.

No, there ain't no doubt. Somebody's gotta catch him out. 'Cause I think he did it but I just can't prove it No, no body, no crime, but I ain't letting up until the day I die

So the months went on, and with this and another friend's (unrelated) death also on my mind, I just got angrier and angrier. I did what I could to avoid my brother, ex and their so called friends, but the city I live in isn't that big and so of course, I ran into them (baring my brother and ex) at one point. Though I tried to ignore their provocations, they weren't having that. One altercation led to another and I ended up unwillingly losing my virginity to them. I've been told since that they were assured that they were going to get away with what they did to me because the court system is rough on sexual violence victims and proving the crime beyond reasonable doubt is near impossible. But even with how mentally distraught I was at the time, I just knew I couldn't let them get away with another crime.

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen, and I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

Most of my extended family growing up were cops. And while most of them were shitty in a ACAB way and a general human being way, I learned a lot about the system and exactly what to do and say if something like this happened. So I turned back the monetary bribes the 'ringleader's' parents offered me to keep quiet and we went through the system where they were sentenced to five months in prison, to which one of them never made it out. And while that may seem insignificant given convictions of rapes of my nature can be given up to 25 years imprisonment in my country, I'm definitely aware that it is far more than most people get.

Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me ("She was with me dude")

Within 24 hours of the rape, rumours were going around that I had willingly slept with these boys to get back at my ex and was now lying about being raped because I regretted it. However, upon hearing that from the boys himself, my ex came straight to me and apologised for everything because he knew they were lying, and that he should have left when our friend died, if not before then. Since then, we've become best friends and he's never left my side and testified at the trial to the fact these boys had made comments and taken other action to sexually harass me in the past and implied they had always wanted to do more.

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

As you can probably imagine, with everything that happened, my mother didn't want my brother anywhere near these friends. So after the rape, he was pulled away from them, and, much like my ex, excluded from the social downfall they had with not only the conviction, but people realising the role they played in our friend's death. And while my ex still blames himself to this day, my brother has never said a word about it either way and somewhat got the reputation of the boy who got away with it all because of it.

They think she did it but they just can't prove it Despite this, or maybe even because of it, these now men have always accused my brother of orchestrating the whole thing from our dead friend coming out to my rape case in order to get back at them for the racism they showed my ex. Others have also accused him of being a part of it all but using me as a shield to bail him out to not catch heat.

She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it

On the other side of it, my brother has said things over the years to imply he believed I orchestrated the rape and legal situation that followed as a way to get him out of there in fear he'd end up like our friend, especially given his own suicidal history.

No, no body, no crime. I wasn't letting up until the day he died

As things stand at the moment, I have a restraining order on the men who survived prison. In the case of the 'ringleader', this prevents him becoming a cop like he wants to. Though he has made several attempts, both through breaking the restraining order and through others, to have the order thrown out, I've refused to budge on it and will until either all of them are dead or I am.

[taliel-strykidz]

Fatality Pt2

Jinyoung had made his way over to the NCT dorms around 2 hours since no one had heard from Huannie, he'd been pacing around their living room holding his phone as the NCT boys all murmured possibilities of where she was. "It's been two hours now, wouldn't she have at least called someone?"

"Hyung i'm sure she's okay, lets try and call her again?" Johnny sighed in return, everyone had been non stop trying to get ahold of the girl with no luck, the girl had gotten off the phone with Mark two hours ago and everyone was getting angsty.

Johnny walked away from the group to call her again, only for it to go to voicemail, almost smashing the phone in response to hearing her cheery voice on the automated machine.Jinyoung almost didn't catch that the door was being pounded on until Johnny and Ten were hauling him out of the door.

"What are you doing? We've got to wait for her!" He panicked, but the two boys were not letting go of him until he was in the car next to Eunhyuk.

"Hyung it's Heechul and Huan, we need to go.”

{Continued under the break}

===

Jinyoung and Eunhyuk tore through the double doors, pushing through the sea of reporters taking pictures of basically SM town as they got into the hospital. Both talking at once the second the receptionist came into view.

"A car accident-"

"-room number."

"-Where are they?"

The nurse both starstruck and overwhelmed began to attempt responding to the males. "I need you all to calm down for a moment, I can't answer you all at once I can't understand you im sorry."

Jinyoung and Eunhyuk both heaved some frantic breaths. Jinyoung was the one to start again. "We're looking for two car crash -" He faltered on the word "victims", refusing to use the word to describe the two idols, it didn't fit them and it had too many underlying insinuations behind it. "There was an accident not long long ago, the woman and the man where are they? How are they?" His intense eyes bore into the receptionists, desperate to hear the woman say that they were both okay. "We are all family." He finished with his tone wobbling along with his body in desperation.

If the nurse hadn't recognised them she usually would have raised an eyebrow at his statement, there were eight idols in the reception of Seoul Medical and if it wasn't for the fact she was aware this was a serious matter then she would have fainted. Eventually she looked down at her computer in front of her, clicking a few times and occasionally glancing up to see the panicked state of the idols awaiting some answers. "Mr Kim is in patient room four, he went into surgery the minute his manager got here for his leg. I-I can only allow two people to go see him i'm sorry."

She'd expected most of them to start moving but all of the Idol's in front of her were stood silent awaiting more, they had clearly caught on that she hadn't mentioned Ai-Huan at all.

"Miss Chang-Park is - " She trailed off looking nervously at the reporters hanging on to her every word.

"She's what?" Taeyong snapped eyeing the womans anxious posture and his heart sank, he knew he should have offered to drive her back from the funeral, something didn't feel right when she left the dorm that morning.

"Miss Chang-Park is- she's in critical condition sir, she's been sent for an MRI and an echo-cardiogram. And will be scheduled for straight into surgery after."

Everyone dropped their heads knowing this was bad, even if they didn't know medical terms or how injuries work, they knew from the way she worded it that Huannie had been the one to come worse off. Taeyong gripped and leant onto the reception desk for support. "What does that even mean?" He asked frustated that he had no clue of a word she just said, he was sure she said it in Korean but something didn't click with the sentence she just stated. He didn't really hear what she said due to his head spinning frantically.

From whatever she had responded with made Jinyoung push away from the group and pace in a circle, his hands clutching his hair digging them in rethinking over what he just heard. He froze when Lim Jae-mei placed her hand softly on his shoulder as he made his way back to the desk staring at the receptionist with strained eyes.

Yesung looked around at the group, the break down of each idol as they all pondered the 'what if', his arms drop from his neck in frustration. "Okay, okay o-okay. Where do we wait? Can someone take Momo to see hyung?" He asked monotone as Siwon stepped forward following a nurse to take her to see Heechul. Siwon had purposely volunteered for his own selfish reasons, he didn't want to see someone he counted as a little sister lay on a bed half dead.

All excluding the two going to see Heechul followed the distant figure of Yesung to make their way to the waiting room. Jinyoung and Eunhyuk walking side by side without much consiousness.

The flurescent light seemed out of place with the neatly arranged furniture. It was too peaceful to be directly behind the room of which Huannie was lay. Taeyong, with the help of Johnny, slumped into the seat, cradling his cherry hair in his hands. The ghost of him pulling her into a hug and telling her to be careful pkayed on his mind like a silent movie.

Jinyoung was beside him, his face morphed into a disgusted glare as he watched the reporters continue to film regardless of their personal space. Even after he had just blown up at every single one of them they continued filming. The catastrophe left him feeling desperate and desolate as he could hear Yang Bao try to console Jae-Mei down the corridor. He looked to Lily who was numbly playing with the NCT necklace that had been given back to her after the We Got Married show started filming as Jackson lay his head in her lap- both with tears silently streaming down their cheeks.

[projectpious]

"Where do I begin?

well, of course- the start. My earliest memory...was about when I was three years of age...I felt freezing and paralyzed- I then found as I grew up my father had put me in the garage in winter. The scum...he was a genius yet the bastard somehow thought putting a child in the cold would make me resilient...thanks to those days, I am sick, weak, scrawny. Days never stop coming, so those moments are trivial, now- another factor, I'm dead. Anyway, life went on without even a shadow- excluding a girl who I despised shortly after meeting- May Merrington. She was just as despicable as her family's business- her father Tim Merrington was a good man- in terms of achievement.....





and then I was 17. shortly after March, My parents and Takano, my older sister were assassinated. Their deaths hindered me- but never really depressed me. My father, I won't ever miss the jerk, my mother, she seemed to despise all of her own kin and never acknowledged my cry. She wasn't any better than Father. Then Rei- she ignored me her whole life,"

he chuckled.

"And mine, now. So we never had any relationship. She would feel the same about my death if I had died before her. But anyway, that year (1918) late April, I met Lisa, she never told me her last name- I called her Mistress and she was very annoyed by it. She was my caretaker and protector sent by my father who, as she put it, 'realized I was a useless idiot' and had someone in charge of protecting me. She was strange- but enticingly so. she was my bodyguard and some sort of parent, for about 5 years, until I was 22. Oh, I forgot to mention Tanabe. And Chiyo. What an eventful time it was from when I was 17. Tanabe was a small girl who I took in after I found her stowed away in my home. She was the one who killed me. I see why, although. I was not a good caretaker- I was 19 and she created my infatuation for human behavior. She was so malleable and did anything I told her- but she was stubborn all the same. She had opinions that I could not change- but I could create new opinions in her. That's what was so strange to me. Things once created could never be destroyed. Once they learned, it was set in stone and they would fight anything opposing it. But they would quickly accept an opinion they never had and the cycle would repeat. Ah, sorry I got carried away, then Chiyo. She was my first lover- she also kept my infatuation with human behavior going- mostly about desire. She was obviously a serious woman with an interesting attitude, but her fault was youth and she fell to lust. She made me wonder about how people could change. I left them both. Of course! They had things to do and they were growing. But it was unfortunate that Tanabe grew up to kill me. I'm proud of her- she grew...in more ways than personality...well, anyway after all that, I found Benjamin. He was a common enemy of my father and he had just come from a coma. And, oh so surprisingly he tried to kill me!"





he snickered and sighed.





"But he was dealt with. Benjamin was a very lion-like man he fought to no end and took great pride and passion in every move he took. He reminded me of my father. not having the entitled mentality he had although. I respected him so I didn't kill him myself. I had someone else do the deed, and then that would result in my death...then I met Etienne. His real name was Lucien Etienne Abreo. He was some sort of child of Benjamin's. He murdered the killer of the man and then came for me. But Lisa and he fought to the death- well Lisa's death. I actually shed a tear, at her funeral...she was a good person and an even better parent than...whatever father was to her, a waste of beauty too. But my life moved on...I needed something to replace Lisa so I forced Etienne to pay Benjamin's debt in a form of protection. I was also interested in the reason he didn't kill me. He said,





'I...took away somethin' important to you... like ya did me...so now we're strangers until our payment is unbalanced..."





I thought about that for days! What was wrong with this country boy? But I believe I figured out what he meant. He thought that as strangers we owed nothing to each other- but when he met me and I made our trade unbalanced- he killed Lisa to balance it. And then he was balancing his debt protecting me. Etienne was a peculiar man. Even if he was meant to entertain me and replace Lisa, I ended up very close to him. He was my best and only friend."





He looked down distantly, snapping back after a few seconds.





"Until later- a child labor camp paid me generously to bring two very special children, two blonde ones. Etienne didn't know what I was doing at the time when I bought Annie and Vincent. When I bought them he took care of them developed an attachment to them. He discovered, and when they were sold, he lashed out at me and left to go find them...I don't know what happened after that. I do know that the camp is after him, and many more as he made it his absolute mission to destroy the business. He visited me in the hospital when I was terribly ill and bought me medicine, He visited many more times after that. He said he considered us some type of friends, most times when he visited me we just sat in silence, but we said a million words to each other all the same. But then I met a small boy named Quinn who I met during a trade with Tim. He was like a child, to me. Helped me in..."





He groaned and leaned into the chair.





"Oh heavens, don't get me started on my last years. All too much and all too little happened. Many people found out about him.

Maurice Arthur Courtet. He was working behind the scenes to bring down the city. Many didn't notice his handiwork- as he did it meticulously. I was very impressed but blew it off- as the first thing I found out was there was someone from the outside undercover here, and I immediately had him killed. And I had someone track down Maurice. But the cockroach stayed under the radar. And he apparently expected the man to be killed, and he already had the information and a few more people from the outside on his side. It all ended when he found Tanabe. Before that the government of the city released the treaty from the outside agreeing to build the city and I was going to kill Connor Brown- but then..."









"Boom!"

"Tanabe killed me. December 8th, 1936. With a pistol...I died, beautifully though, on the piano."





He looked up and let out a laugh.





"And everything went on without me. The city was uncovered. I died what my father declared me to be,

A useless idiot."



-Draft

[comparatist]

Sabitribai Phule: The First Dalit Woman To Be A Teacher

Savitribai Phule, was the first Dalit woman to be the pioneer of spreading education among the impoverished section of the society by working day and night, firmly sticking to resolution of making academia inclusive. She always raised her voice against unfair segregational terms of the society. During her time, education was reserved for the dominant caste, class and gender but then, she was brave enough to breakthrough the notions of dominant hegemony and was hell bent to provide for the oppressed communities.

• Personal Life:

Born in 3rd January, 1831, in Naigaon, 50 KM from Pune, Savitribai was the eldest daughter of Lakshmi and Khandoji Neveshe Patil. She got married to Jyotirao Phule at the age of 10 in 1840. The couple started living in a Dalit working locality. Jyotirao took interest in educating his wife and trained her to become a teacher. Shakharam Yashwant Paranjpe and Keshav Shivam Bhavalkar (Joshi), his two associates took the further responsibility of helping in the progress of Savitribai's education. She went through the formal teacher’s training at Ms. Farar's Institute in Ahmadnagar and Normal School of Ms Mitchell in Pune.

A Voice Of Dissent Ensuring Social Justice:

Savitribai was the first person in the country to become a teacher and headmistress as a woman. The couple started their first female school and set up a Native Library in 1863. They also built a ‘home' in their own house, which was a safe haven for tortured widows and pregnant women, meant for the prevention of infanticide. Together they established the Satyashodhak Samaj which preached of marriage devoid of dowry and extravaganza, supporting widow remarriage and protesting against child marriage alongside. Savitribai and Jyotirao had no child of their own, so they adopted the child of a brahmin widow, educated him, and arranged an inter-caste marriage for him.

Their constant resistance against the brahminical hegemony was a ray of hope for the Shudra and Atishudra women. She started a school for Mangs and Mahads but then a lightening struck their fortune when Jyotirao's father threw them out while the training was going on. Govande immediately arrived Pune and took the responsibility of Savitribai. When she returned, Bhavalkar looked after her education requirements. Throughout the training process, the couple encouraged vocational and the practical form of learning for both sexes, so that the students can flourish their own independent thought process. The believed in the attachment of an industrial educational sector along with the school so the children can learn useful trades and acquire craftsmanship to lead a comfortable life. Education should provide the agency of free choice, they preached. The school they created had special zones for children’s creative freedom. The planning and their dedication sprouted shoots of success when the parents of girls studying there, complained about the ‘overindulgence' of their daughters in studies.

• A Staunch Personality Overthrowing Obstacles : She was one of the flagbearers of gender justice during that time. Women weren’t allowed to access education then. She went forth against the normalised patriarchal set up enough, to make men wait for her in street, passing lewd comments, pelting stones or cow dung at her. She always kept 2 saris with her and change into the cleaned one after reaching the school, which would again get soiled on her way back. This happened everyday but she refused to back down. The guard who was appointed for a safety had in his memoirs written about what she would say to those men who teased her for making education available for women, “As I do the sacred task of teaching my fellow sisters, the stones or cow dung that he threw seemed like flowers to me. May God bless you!”

In July 1887, when Jyotirao suffered from massive heart attack and got paralysed from his right side, she nursed him from dawn to dusk and was always by his side. Her intense support made him recover quickly. However the financial system of the family was in tatters by that time. Mama Paramanand, a well known political sage and a well wisher tried to help them the most. In the letter to the King of Baroda, Sayajirao Gaekwad, Paramanand mentioned the historical ground breaking work the couple was doing and said the following about Savitribai, “More than Jyotirao, his wife deserves praise. No matter how much we praise her, it would not be enough. How can one describe her stature? She cooperated with her husband completely and along with him, faced all the trials and tribulations that came their way. It is difficult to find such a sacrificing woman even among the highly educated woman from the upper castes.” The couple had literally spent their whole time working for the marginalised sections.

Students living in their hostel had praises for the couple for their contributions. Laxman Karadi Jaaya from Mumbai said, “I have not seen another woman as kind and loving as Savitribai. She gave us more love than a mother could.” Another student named Mahadu Sahadu Waghole wrote, “Savitribai was very generous and her heart was full of kindness. She would be very compassionate to the poor and needy. She would constantly give the gift of food, she would offer everyone meals. If she saw torn clothes on the body of poor women, she would give them saris from her own house. Tatya(Jyotirao) would sometimes say to her, “One should not spend so much.” To this she would smile and ask, “What do we have to take with us when we die?” Tatya would sit quietly for some time after this as he had no response to the question. They loved each other immensely.”

When Jyotirao passed away, she was present there. As municipality had refused the burial of his body with salt as he wished, the last rites were performed in the pyre. Savitribai had courageously approached for the earthen pot to be held, then, and consigned his body to the flames. It was the first time in the Indian history, that a woman performed the funeral rites. Savitribai later erected ‘Tulsi Vrindavan' with his ashes on the spot where he wanted to be buried. After his demise, she took the reins of Satyashodhak movement in her own hands and was the chairperson of the Satyashodhak Conference in 1893 at Saswad, Pune.

• Her writings:

Poems that she had pinned down, along with other forms of creative outlets, are full of anti caste hegemony sentiments and provide boost towards harbouring a thought of attaining a gender equal society. Her works continued to be an inspiration to many, not only in the present time, bearing the reflection of struggles of past, but in the near future too.

The list of her writings is presented here:-

1. Kavyaphule- Collection of Poems, 1854

2. Jyotirao’s speeches, Edited by Savitribai Phule, 25th December 1856

3. Savitribai's letters to Jyotirao

4. Speeches of Matoshree Savitribai, 1892

5. Bavankashi Subodh Ratnakar, 1892

• Death: The year was 1897. The plague had overtaken the city of Pune. People were dying in clouts. The Government assisted by the officer Rand went out for helping the needy. Savitribai with the help of Yashwant set up a hospital and would herself go to pick up people, hospitalise them and ensure treatment. She continued to serve selflessly in spite of being fully aware of the contagious nature of the disease. The son of Pandurang Babaji Gaekwad from the Mahad community was affected by the plague. As soon as the news reached her ears, she wasted no time, to rush him to the hospital, carrying the sick child on her back. This way the disease reached her too. On 10th March, 1897 she passed away at 9 PM.

• Teacher's Day:

Go, get education

Be self-reliant, be industrious

Work-gather wisdom and riches,

All gets lost without knowledge

We become animal without wisdom,

Sit idle no more, go, get education

End misery of the oppressed and forsaken

You've got a golden chance to learn

So learn and break the chains of caste

Throw away Brahman's scriptures fast.

Since 1962, 5th September is regarded to be the Teacher's Day and calls for apparently an unanimous celebration on the birth anniversary of independent India’s 1st Vice President and 2nd President, Dr. Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan. The popular understanding of teachers, educators and gurus has been moulded by upper caste brains and has been always represented through the upper class and patriarchal lenses in the form of Dronacharya, Manu etc. The ‘meritorious' men shaping the history with their social-political and economical dominance over the forsaked is just a version of excluding the contribution of the marginalised and emphasising on the insurance of the right to education for the privileged only.

For a counter, a section of people are already speaking up against such dire injustice and celebrating Teacher’s Day on January 3rd as Education day or National Teacher’s Day, on the birth anniversary of Savitribai Phule.

Our academia, nation has disregarded her works in the context of societal upliftment, to a great extent, by erasing her contributions from history books, nationalistic discourses and our memory. Her resistive stamina against brutalities performed upon the non-dominant sections is a stain in the brahmin dominated and appropriated knowledge system in India.

[dogbearinggifts]

“Dad Sent Me to the Moon” vs. “Because Dad Made Me”

How Luther and Vanya Talk About Trauma, Part One

In this fandom, I’ve heard a lot about Luther and Vanya. 

Most of the things I’ve heard about Luther are negative. He constantly whines about his time on the Moon. He won’t shut up about how he had it worse than everyone else. He invalidates his siblings’ trauma. Meanwhile, Vanya is spoken of as if she’s his polar opposite: a kind, timid woman who genuinely did have it worse than everyone else but suffers nobly in silence while quietly ensuring her siblings are okay. I wanted to see if these perceptions were accurate, so I decided to take an empirical approach. During my sixth rewatch, I noted every time Luther mentions the Moon or Vanya mentions her exclusion, as well as how each of them responds to hearing of someone else’s trauma.

I want to stress that I am not out to throw one character under the bus. I’m not out to prove that Vanya is the actual worst and that Luther is the literal best, or that Vanya is amazing and Luther is awful. I’ve just heard a lot about both characters from within the fandom and I want to see how strongly the show itself supports the fandom’s perceptions. I won’t be examining every quote they have, and I won’t be looking at every scene they’re in. A deep study of both characters would certainly be fun, but for now, I’m only interested in how they address their own trauma and how they respond to the trauma of others. 

Note: I’ve chosen not to include Vanya’s book as a mention of her trauma. While her book does indeed bring it up and examine it in detail, I wasn’t sure how to quantify it for my own purposes. Do I count it as a single mention, because she only wrote it down once, and thus risk underestimating its impact? Do I count each sale as a separate mention, guesstimate the number based on how many copies sold it takes to reach bestseller status, and therefore grossly inflate her numbers? Because the book is impossible to quantify with any sort of accuracy, I’ve chosen to leave it aside. Rather, I will keep my trauma counts limited to what Luther and Vanya say to friends or family members. This also means I won’t include her voice-over while we see her writing her book, or the moments where she reads excerpts aloud. 

I’ve also chosen to write down the exact quote each time Luther or Vanya mentions their respective trauma or respond to someone else’s trauma. I’ll share my analysis, but I also want to give you all the chance to see each quote for yourselves and make your own judgments. You’re welcome to disagree with my conclusions and take or leave them as you see fit.  However, because these analyses will become lengthy in places, I plan to do only a few episodes at a time.

Episode 1: We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

No explicit mentions of trauma from either Luther or Vanya. It’s established that Luther lived on the Moon for a while and that Vanya was raised to believe she had no powers and excluded from the family dynamic as a result, but neither one addresses what they went through. 

Episode 2: Run Boy Run

Following the episode opener—a flashback to the day Five time-traveled and accidentally got stuck in the apocalypse—we hear Five share the harrowing details of his time there. Eating cockroaches, subsisting on scavenged food, learning the hard way that Twinkies do in fact expire—it’s pretty awful stuff. After Vanya takes it in stunned silence, we have this exchange: 

Five: You think I’m crazy.  Vanya: No, it’s just…it’s a lot to take in.  Five: Exactly what don’t you understand?  Vanya: Why didn’t you just time-travel back?  Five: Gee, wish I’d thought of that. Time-travel is a crapshoot. I went into the ice and never acorn-ed. You think I didn’t try everything to get back to my family?  Vanya: If you grew old there, you know, in the apocalypse, then how come you still look like a kid?  Five: I told you already. I must have got the equations wrong.  Vanya: I mean, Dad always used to say that time-travel could mess up your mind. Maybe that’s what’s happening? 

This is our first onscreen mention of trauma, and Vanya invalidates it. However, there are some factors to consider: 

Five’s story is pretty bizarre. “Yeah, after I ran away from home and time-traveled, I got stuck in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, lived there for 40 years or so, ate cockroaches and bad Twinkies, and then I jumped right back here but because math failed me almost as much as Dad failed at parenting I still look just like I did the day I left. You got any booze?” 

There is no evidence to corroborate his story. He looks exactly the way he did when he left, and he has no way to prove he visited the future at all. The most logical conclusion here is that he spent a year at most figuring out how to return and wound up jumping ahead to 17 years after his disappearance.

As we see in the flashback, Five has always been arrogant and headstrong, growing angry when corrected. His anger and impatience toward Vanya’s insinuations that he’s lost his mind are not a reliable indication that he’s telling the truth; if anything, Vanya is well within reason to assume she’s edging too close to a truth he’s not ready to face. 

Reginald Hargreeves was a terrible parent. But he was also a very smart man who knew more about his children’s powers than they themselves did. When he said that time-travel could mess up one’s mind, Vanya had every reason to assume he knew what he was talking about. 

Reginald often used “YOU CHILDREN MUST ONE DAY SAVE THE WORLD FROM AN IGNOMINIOUS END” to scare his kids into doing the dishes. Not only has Vanya probably had enough of that talk to make her decide the world is going to die a natural death billions of years after hers, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to assume Five’s time-travel-addled mind latched onto those doomsday threats and twisted them into something truly strange. 

So, yes, Vanya does invalidate Five’s trauma, suggesting it’s all in his head. But when your choices of explanation are “my brother time-traveled before he was ready and it messed up his mind” or “my brother time-traveled to an apocalypse that’s going to happen in 8 days, lived there for 40 years without ever trying to get back, and now looks like a 13-year-old kid because he got the math wrong,” the former is easier to believe than the latter. 

Additionally, we see she genuinely cares for Five. His sudden reappearance, his talk of an impending apocalypse, his story that to her has holes large enough to drive a Volkswagen through—all of that has got to be terrifying. It’s clear she’s not invalidating his trauma out of any sense of malice, but rather concern. If he’s a victim of time-travel messing up his mind, she wants him to get the help he needs (as evidenced by her recommending a therapist later). Her invalidation of his trauma isn’t right, but it’s also a human response that comes from a place of genuine concern and good intentions. 

It’s also worth noting that, the very next day, she returns to the Academy to apologize for how she responded to his story. She does recommend a therapist, but only when Five says “Maybe you were right, maybe it was all in my head.”

A few scenes later, we get Vanya’s first mention of her trauma. 

Allison: No offense, Vanya, if I wanted advice, it wouldn’t be from you.  Vanya: What’s that supposed to mean?  Allison: You don’t have a child. You’ve never even been in a relationship.  Vanya: That’s not true.  Allison: So you know what it’s like to love someone like this? Like, when you’re apart from her, you can’t breathe? Like you would die—and I mean, actually die, to know she’s okay and happy? I mean, you separate yourself from everything and everyone, you always have.  Vanya: Because Dad made me.  Allison: Did Dad make you write that book about us, too? Pause You’re an adult now, Vanya. You don’t get to blame your problems on anyone but yourself. 

The first thing to note about this exchange is that, although it’s Vanya’s first mention of her own trauma, it’s Allison who brings it up first. The second is that when she brings up her trauma, it’s as an explanation for her behavior: I separate myself from everything and everyone because Dad made me. 

Vanya is definitely sympathetic here. I’m not going to argue she isn’t. She tries to be nice to her sister, catches her when she’s distressed, and gets reamed out for the attempt. That’s a shitty thing for Allison to do, which she later acknowledges. 

However, there’s also their history to consider: Allison is a movie star. As I’m sure we all know by now, image is everything to the rich and famous. I don’t mean that as a jab at their vanity (although vanity is certainly involved, more often than not) but as a fact: They are the product, and their image is part of the advertising. Everything they do in public (and much of what they do in private) is pounced on by the paparazzi and spun into the next big story. And this isn’t always fair to them; a single misspoken word can set off rumors that come back to bite them in the ass. 

And Vanya wrote a tell-all book about how Allison treated her as a child. 

As we see from the intro sequence in Episode 1, it seems Vanya’s autobiography hasn’t kept Allison off the red carpet. But it would have certainly hurt her public image. While it’s true we don’t know everything Vanya put in her autobiography, we do know Vanya harbors a lot of bitterness and resentment toward her family. We know she sees her siblings as near-strangers who had an easier time of it than she did at best, superpowered copycats of their father at worst. From the reactions we see later on—Diego taping Vanya’s author photo to a punching bag, Ben saying “I can’t believe she said that!” as Klaus shushes him—it’s safe to assume she did not say kind things about her siblings in that book. 

If the things Vanya said about Allison matched the things Allison later says about herself—that she used her power to get everything she wanted as a kid, that she grew up spoiled because of it—then that would not have done any favors for her public image. And the paparazzi would have gone apeshit for it. Yes, Allison is an incredibly popular actor, but that doesn’t mean the press wouldn’t have turned on her the second they got a juicy morsel about her past. I imagine her having to field many uncomfortable questions from trashy reporters while out for lunch with friends, having an interview about her upcoming film suddenly turn tense when the interviewer said “Now, Allison, your sister—who none of us even knew existed up to this point—wrote about you in her book, and I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say I want to know more about….” There’s even a chance Vanya’s autobiography contributed to Patrick’s continuing antagonism toward her, since reading a book detailing Allison’s childhood power abuse could have convinced him his wife had always been bad, right from the cradle. (Or it could have fostered suspicion toward his wife and led him to keep a closer eye on her and therefore is the reason why he was close to Claire’s bedroom the night he saw Allison Rumor her, but that’s another theory for another time.) 

You might say she deserved it. You might say she’d set herself up to fall and that all Vanya did was push that first domino over. You could even say her house of cards needed to topple, since part of her perfect life involved running roughshod over her own daughter’s free will, and possibly even Rumoring her husband into falling in love with her. Those arguments are absolutely fair, but they’re not my point. My point is, Allison’s harsh words to Vanya in this scene don’t come on her out of the blue. There’s a painful history there—painful for the both of them—and Allison harbors a lot of unresolved anger toward her sister for what she wrote in her book. And I don’t think that anger is unfounded, just as I don’t think Vanya’s resentment toward Allison is unwarranted. What Allison does in this scene is shitty, but Vanya has already done something shitty to her, in retaliation for shit she went through as a kid, and on and on the chain of pain goes. Vanya is far from guiltless in their relationship, but that does not make Allison’s lashing out at her okay. 

And this is getting pretty long, so I’ll cut things short here. I’m going to list the count for trauma mentions/reactions below—and since I’ve seen this show multiple times over, I know it’s going to change; so don’t take the fact Vanya’s count is higher than Luther’s as an indictment of her. It’s just where we are at the end of Episode 2. 

Own Trauma: Vanya 1, Luther 0 Trauma of Others:  Vanya 1, Luther 0

Enjoying this series? Read on to Part Two. 

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 4 - Thumper The Rabbit 

…in which Harry tries to mend the past, but Y/N wants to let it go.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 3: His Muse - Y/N is finally happy again, but Harry realizes it’s not because of him.

Omg, this is probably the best chapter I’ve ever written in my life. Just ignore all the mistakes you see because I haven’t edited this, but I’m so proud. After this chapter, you’ll see why this Harry is the most difficult character development I’ve ever written.

wattpad link

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"We need to talk. Now."

"Now?"

"Now."

"I don't think so."

Harry and Isaac both turned to Y/N, who had both hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised at the two of them. She had no idea what was going on, but she refused to be excluded from whatever those men had going on between them. Without a second look at her date, the girl took Harry's wrist, and it was the first time in six years Harry had seen her fuming with rage.

"We need to talk," she told him. "Excuse us, Isaac."

"I'm gonna go...wait by the car," said the blond as he exchanged cautious looks with Harry and walked away to give the other two some privacy. Once Y/N was sure Isaac had walked far enough and couldn't hear them anymore, she turned back to the other guy. Harry wanted to comment something about her looking the same as the 9-year-old he used to know, but he thought that would only drive her angrier.

"What the fuck?" She scoffed, widening her eyes at him.

"Language, young lady."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Well, never mind then, Harry thought as he swallowed hard. "Why were you so rude to my date?"

"Because he's not just your date. He's my best friend." The man furrowed his eyebrows, pointing to Isaac, who was texting on his phone and wasn't paying attention to them.

"How the fuck could I know which one was your friend to stay away?!" The younger girl swung her arms in the air, and Harry knew she would only use that much body language when she was seriously pissed off. He then realized, though it was too late, that he should better shut up and just listen.

"I don't understand you, Harry..." Y/N stomped her feet, arms crossed just like her 9-year-old self would. Harry didn't know why he suddenly thought of that while she was scolding him now. "You should be happy for me because that's your best friend! At least now we both know my date is a nice person!"

Now that she'd pointed it out, Harry didn't understand himself either. Isaac was a nice guy, otherwise, they wouldn't have been friends, no, best friends, since their first year in university. He should be happy for Y/N, and Isaac too. Why was he mad? He had no reason to be mad, yet he couldn't help but feel that way, and no excuses his brain had made up could justify for all those emotions inside of him at this point.

"He's older than you," he blurted without thinking twice. As soon as he'd let out those few words he could guess her reaction immediately. Her eyes could pop out of their sockets if she continued to stare at him like that.

"So? I've fucked men older than you and Isaac."

Harry dropped his jaw but no sound escaped. He watched her catching her breath, and this time he had to think twice before he dared to ask, "have you slept with him?"

She took a short pause, which only lasted for two seconds, but those were the worst two seconds Harry had ever experienced.

"No," she said at last. Her voice was lower now. "But even if I had, you would still have no right to say anything about my decision. I'm not a kid anymore, Harry. Maybe in your eyes, I will always be a kid, but to the others, to him, I'm a grown woman who makes her own choices and mistakes." She looked at him in the eyes and took a deep breath. "And I will be with whoever I want as long as that person makes me happy. If you care about me, you should respect that."

Once she'd finished, another paused soon followed. She was looking at him, and he was staring at his feet. Harry knew she was right, yet the uneasy feeling in his chest was still there and he couldn't get it to go away, just like he couldn't convince her to cancel her date with the man who made her happy.

"I'm going now. See you some other time," she said and attempted to leave, and once again he told her to wait by holding back her hand.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, loud enough for her to hear. "L-Let me know when you get home okay?"

It wasn't a request. It was almost like him begging her.

Y/N pressed her lips into a forceful smile and nodded her head once. When she withdrew her hand from his and walked back to her date by his car, Harry felt hollow inside. The scene in front of him was familiar, he'd seen it before, and as he watched Isaac open the car door for Y/N to get into the passenger seat, he began digging up his dusty memories to recall that sunny afternoon. He had to watch a 9-year-old little girl walk away, and she also gave him that look of disappointment. And Harry had never hated himself more than that.

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Y/N didn't own a lot of toys because her parents were always too busy to buy her new ones and most of the ones she'd got had been too dirty or broken. That was why on her ninth birthday, when she received a purple stuffed bunny from her grandmother as a gift, she treasured it so much. It became her new best friend, and she believed it brought her protection and good luck. So she could never fall asleep without the rabbit in her arms.

Harry came over one day and found the purple rabbit sitting on her bed, he picked it up but she didn't let him hold it because, "your hands are dirty, Mr. Rabbit doesn't like dirty hands."

"Mr. Rabbit?" Snorted the 13-year-old. "That's the lamest name ever!"

"I...I don't know what else to call him," she said with a pout.

Harry thought for a moment, tapping his forefinger on his lips, his eyebrows knitted together. All of a sudden, his eyes brightened up as he pointed to the ceiling and shouted out his brilliant idea.

"Let's call him Thumper. Get it? Because you're Bambi!"

"Who's Thumper?"

"The rabbit in Bambi. Gee, have you ever watched that film?" He rolled his eyes and his comment made her feel so dumb. She'd watched Bambi but she was too young to remember every character and details.

"You must've watched it a thousand times then," she said to Harry with a smile, but the boy assumed she was teasing him so he started blushing hard and denied having watched that film "a thousand times" because "only girls would do that."

"So?" He crossed his arms, smirking at her. "Thumper?"

The boy was very proud of himself for coming up with that name. And he got even smugger when Y/N said she loved it, and declared her purple stuffed rabbit's name was now Thumper.

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Harry switched on the lights as he entered his living room. Usually, he would enjoy the comfortable silence after returning home from a long tiring day. Today, however, was different. The silence surrounding him was suffocating, it only left room for his thoughts to be more vocal. He thought about everything that had happened today, about Ruby, about Isaac, about Y/N, but mostly just Y/N.

His phone screen lit up with a new text message. He grabbed the device in less than a second, hoping it was his Bambi and that she was finally home after her date. And he was disappointed when he saw his manager's name instead.

⌲ Jeff: Get some rest. Big day tomorrow.

Big day?

Right. How could he forget?

The BAFTAs was tomorrow night. And he was nominated for Best Actor.

How could he forget?

Harry had been waiting for that night ever since they announced the nominations. Just two days ago, he was on the phone with his mum, ranting about him getting nominated for Best Actor. Ever since he was a young boy, he'd been dreaming of winning that award, and he’d had a whole speech prepared, because he was ready to step on stage and receive what he'd worked so hard for. But even if he went home empty-handed, he would still be so proud. However, ever since Y/N came back into his life, she'd taken up most of the space in his head, and he couldn't even remember something as big as a BAFTAs nomination.

The young actor quickly typed down two words and sent it back to his manager:

⌲ Thank you.

⌲ Jeff: I have bad news though.

⌲ Jeff: I know Ruby was supposed to walk the red carpet with you. But her assistant told me she wanted to walk with her fiancée.

⌲ Jeff: You know, for publicity.

⌲ Ok. Tell Ruby I wish her good luck.

⌲ Jeff: Sure thing. I believe both of you will win tmr.

Harry should be bothered by his manager bringing up his ex-lover and the fact that she was gonna attend the award in the arms of her future husband. However, Harry didn't feel the sadness he was supposed to feel. He didn't feel as hurt as the moment he saw that announcement. The only thing that had him on the edge of his seat was the fact that Isaac and Y/N were out on a date, and he didn't know where they were or what they could be doing now. He couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of his best friend and his...

The voice inside his head suddenly paused.

There was no appropriate word to fill in that blank space.

What was Y/N to him?

He honestly didn't know. He didn't see her as a sister, because he didn't feel that way about Gemma. She wasn't his girlfriend, obviously. She wasn't even his friend, because they had just returned to each other's life after six years apart.

What was Y/N to him?

He repeated the question to himself, and decided that she was just the childhood friend he cared too much about, too much to even think about something else.

Sighing, Harry untucked his shirt and rose from his seat, about to head to the shower, just in time a new text message arrived. This time, it was the one he'd been expecting.

⌲ Bambi: I just got home. Don't worry about me.

It was like a sigh of relief for him to know that their date had ended early. But to make sure, he had to ask:

⌲ Is Isaac still there?

⌲ Bambi: No, DAD. I'm home alone.

⌲ Dad is very proud :)

Harry was reluctant to type down another line, yet he couldn't keep second guessing.

⌲ How was your date?

⌲ Bambi: I'll tell you tomorrow.

⌲ Bambi: Are you free tomorrow night?

No. He had to attend the BAFTAs. Harry thought for a moment as he typed down 'I'm not :( Sorry', yet before he could press send, another text from her popped up on the screen.

⌲ Bambi: I'm having dinner with my dad and that woman.

Then came two more.

⌲ Bambi: I need you there. I can't do this alone.

⌲ Bambi: But if you're busy, I totally get it.

Harry had no idea why he could make a decision that fast. He didn't bother to ask what the dinner was for, where would it take place, how long would it last. He only knew she needed him.

Quickly, Harry deleted what he'd already typed down, and didn't even think twice as he sent:

⌲ I'm free.

⌲ What time?

⌲ I'll pick you up.

Bambi is typing...

The sound of doorbell pulled Harry's attention away from his device, back to reality. He wasn't expecting any guests this late at night, so there'd been a moment of hesitation before he walked to the door as the person outside rang the bell again. This time, a familiar voice spoke up, "It's me. Isaac."

Harry unlocked his front door and found his best friend standing outside, in the same clothes as before. So he guessed Isaac had driven straight to his place after dropping off Y/N. Without saying a word, Harry stepped aside for his friend to enter, and closed the door as the blond headed straight to the sofa.

They sat in the same spots they had that very morning. But their attitudes towards each other had changed tremendously. Isaac was the first one to speak.

"You wanted to talk. Let's talk."

"I think Y/N has told you quite a lot about how we know each other," Harry replied, leaning back against the sofa and tangled his hand in his own hair, staring down instead of at the man in front of him.

"Not really," said Isaac. "All she said about you was that you two used to be neighbors. So I can't understand why you reacted that way earlier, like a fucking child."

"Me? 'A fucking child'?" Harry scoffed. "You're the one dating a 20-year-old."

"So? Are you jealous?" Isaac's question got Harry tongue-tied. He just stared at his best friend with his lips parted, letting no sound escape. "In the last six years I've known you, you never once mentioned her to me. She was done waiting for you. You don't have the right to declare your ownership on Y/N because she's never been yours."

"Don't talk like you know everything about us."

"I think I do, Harold." Isaac nodded fast. "I've been your friend long enough to know how competitive you are. Even if you don't want her, you still want her to want you. And now that she's moved on, you cannot accept that because you're a fucking narcissist."

Harry chuckled wryly as he lifted his eyes to meet Isaac's. "You've known her for two days. I've known her since she was nine."

"Really? So you're just gonna pretend like the last six years didn't happen?"

Harry didn't say anything. A part of him had faced the fact that Isaac was right, and that he was a fucked up human being who no longer had control of his own words and actions anymore.

His best friend didn't wait for him to reply and just went on still, "You're like a brother to me. I care about you, a lot. So if you feel like you want to change for her, then just say the word and I will step aside for you to be with her." Then came the hardest question Harry had ever received. "Do you have feelings for Y/N?"

He was an actor, a skillful one, and he had plenty of awards to prove just that. He'd been born to pretend, to fake feelings, to act against his real emotions. He'd faced many challenging interviews and had always managed to lie his way out of them, yet now, when there were just him and Isaac, and it was just a simple yes-no question, he took a lifetime to ponder over it.

"No," he finally said, sounding so certain, yet he was anything but.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." No, he wasn't.

"Okay, then...Good night, H." Isaac said as he stood up. Harry said no other word, and just like that, he watched his best friend make his way back to the door.

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On Friday that week, Harry had football practice. It was not just any ordinary football practice, because there would be a test that Friday, and the coach would pick out the team captain based on the performance of each player. Last year, Harry had been told he was too tiny to even compete for the captain armband, this year, however, he'd made the shortlist. The boy told himself to try his best to outperform all the other team members, and win that captain title for himself.

"Are you nervous?" Y/N asked Harry as she walked him to school that morning. On the days that she didn't have class the little girl would just walk with her neighbor to his school, then they would say goodbye and she would go home. But Y/N loved doing that because she got to spend more time with him. That morning, she was carrying Thumper in her arms.

"No, of course, I'm not nervous!" He boasted, but his heart was racing and his palms were sweating. Of course, he was nervous.

The little girl could see him through, yet she decided not to point it out because doing that would only discourage him. So as they arrived at his school, she handed him the rabbit with both hands.

"Here. Take Thumper with you."

"Why?" He looked at her in surprise. The last time he asked to touch it, she didn't even let him.

"I can't come with you, so keep Thumper by your side and imagine I'm there to cheer you on," she said.

That little girl's smile had given Harry more energy and confidence, and filled up his heart with happiness. Taking a deep breath, he took Thumper into his arms, then promised her that he would take good care of the stuffed animal and bring it back to her later with the captain armband.

But it wasn't that easy.

"Whose toy is this?" Max, the biggest kid in the football team said as he picked up Thumper from the locker room floor. It was not until then that Harry realized he'd dropped the rabbit when he was too busy looking for his towel.

The scary fat kid approached Harry and held up the stuffed animal by the neck as he asked, "is this yours, Styles?"

The smaller boy should've said yes. He should've protected Y/N's favorite toy, like his promise to her. However, for a 13-year-old, what people thought of him mattered more than what he thought of himself. So he ended up saying what he would later on regret.

"I don't know. I just saw it there on the floor."

The boys dissolved into laughter and started making assumptions about some 'gay kid' on their team who played with stuffed animals. Their mean words made Harry's blood boil, but there was just him against a bunch of bigger kids, he would've got beaten up so hard had he said a single word to defy them. With clenched fists and bottom lip bruised from him biting onto it, Harry watched Max shake Thumper and slam it down onto the dirty floor.

"Let's practice with this thing!" A kid suggested, and Harry watched them kick the rabbit away like a ball.

Harry walked home that day with his head hung low, and the captain band on his arm. Y/N had been waiting for his good news on her front porch. The second the little girl spotted her neighbor from afar, she rushed outside and started bouncing and cheering for him when she saw the armband. Soon she realized another thing.

"Where's Thumper?" The smile on Y/N's face slowly faded away when Harry told her the truth that some other kids had taken the rabbit and there was no way to get it back.

"You're lying, right?" She asked him with tears in her eyes, but he shook his head no, unable to look at her now. The next thing that happened was what Harry hadn't seen coming, she jumped forward and started hitting his chest while weeping uncontrollably.

"You promised to take care of him! Bring Thumper back to me! You're a liar!"

"I...I'll buy you another one."

"You can't! I want Thumper, get him back!"

"Stop being a brat!" Harry shouted and his loud voice got the girl to stop punching him immediately. She was much smaller than him, therefore, couldn't cause him much pain. But Harry was mad at himself and he didn't know what to do so he blamed it all on her trusting him with her stupid rabbit. At that moment, even himself knew it was wrong, but he was just a 13-year-old boy, he couldn't think bigger than that. Harry wished he'd stopped when he saw that frightened look on her face, yet he still went on.

"Grow up and forget about that dumb rabbit!"

Harry instantly regretted those words when Y/N looked at him in fear and immediately took a step back. Without saying another word, she turned and walked back to her house. The boy watched his little neighbor leave, and he wished he'd begged her not to go. She didn't even look at him once. He saw her mother open the front door and ask her why she was crying. But Y/N didn't say a word. She could've told her mother how mean Harry'd been to her after he'd lost her rabbit, but she chose to stay silent. And Harry had never hated himself more than that.

.

.

.

"Do you have feelings for Y/N?"

Harry kept replaying that one question inside his head. He'd said no. The voice in his head had also said no. Why was he still contemplating it? Quickly, he shook off those thoughts. Now sitting side by side with her in a restaurant, waiting for her father and future stepmother to show up, he had more important things to worry about.

Harry had seen Y/N in all states of emotions before. He'd seen her sad, nervous, happy, excited,...yet he couldn't remember the last time she was scared.

She had always been a strong girl. When he was fourteen, he caught a lizard in his backyard and tried to scare her with it, but ended up getting bit and she was just rolling on the grass and laughing at him. She wasn't afraid of the dark either, he would always cling onto her when there was a blackout. Scary movies? She loved them. In fact, he'd never seen any 13-year-old who watched scary movies for fun.

But now, she was scared. Y/N was scared of facing reality. She was scared of meeting that woman who had cruelly replaced her beloved mother and the man who had betrayed her all those years. She was scared of confrontation. She was scared that all of her old wounds might be opened again. She didn't have to tell him. He could see it in her eyes, and the way her hands which were hidden under the table, resting on her knees, were trembling.

He didn't say a word and just reached out to hold them tight. She turned to give him a smile. He hoped she knew he would always be there for her from now on.

Her father and his fiancée arrived fifteen minutes late, blaming the traffic for their tardiness. Harry hadn't seen that man since his wife's funeral, and of course, had never met the other woman. According to Y/N, she also hadn't seen her father in person since she'd moved to London, and just like Harry, this was her first time meeting her future stepmother.

The woman, whose name was Marcy, was the same age as Harry's sister Gemma, four years older than him. The beautiful blonde had been smiling ever since she arrived, her bubbly personality and great fashion sense seemed to be the complete opposite of Y/N's father, who was nearly fifty years old and owned a hardware store. Harry couldn't see how they could be a couple, but unfortunately, they were already engaged.

It started out quite awkward. The four of them named their orders and just sat there in utter silence. Harry took a few quick glances at Y/N, who hadn't made eye contact with her own father ever since he got there. The young man tried to read her facial expression, eventually, he gave up because she didn't show any kind of emotion.

"I'm so glad you agreed to meet us, Y/N," her father broke the silence at the table at last. "Harry, thank you for joining us."

"No problem, Mr. Y/L/N."

The silence once again took over and continued until the waiter brought out their food. This time, it was Marcy who attempted to start a conversation.

"Harry, I love your movies. I'm a very big fan."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, please, call me Marcy. I'm old enough to be your older sister."

"Finally someone said it," Y/N mumbled under her breath. Harry wasn't sure if the other two had heard that, but he spotted a secret smile on her face, and couldn't help but smile along.

"So Y/N," Marcy said to the younger girl. "How's life?"

"Fine."

"Oh...You must be popular for being friends with the famous Harry Styles."

Harry and Y/N exchanged looks and tried hard not to burst into laughter. They didn't know why it was funny, they probably just had an equally bad sense of humor or they both found Marcy's poor attempt to be accepted hilarious. Whatever it was, Harry was glad he'd got to see Y/N smile.

The dinner only lasted for two hours, but it felt like two centuries for the two of them. As soon as they walked out of the restaurant and watched Y/N's father got into a taxi with his future wife, Y/N heaved a long sigh as if she was releasing all of her frustration from earlier.

"She seemed nice," Harry began as he walked her back to her flat, which was just a few blocks down the road. "Maybe you should give her a chance."

"Psst, she was just pretending. She's a husband-stealing witch. He's a shameless cheater. Wait, maybe they do belong together after all," she cried out, making him chuckle.

"If you hate them so much why did you agree to go?"

"After talking to you I thought I might give the other people in my past a chance...But I guess you're just an exception. I really couldn't stand the two of them." The girl scoffed as she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes in annoyance. She was too busy ranting about how much she hated Marcy to even notice the way he was staring at her. Harry secretly wished she could see how glad he was now that she'd fully accepted him back in her life.

"...and she's the same age as Gemma but now she's gonna be my step mum, that's fucking weird."

She'd just cursed again. Maybe he should really get used to it.

"Relax, kid. Age is just a number."

"What did you just say?" Y/N stopped walking and dropped her jaw, gawking at him. It took Harry a moment to realize how ironic he'd just sounded, so he just started grinning at her. "I can't believe that really came from you, Mr. You're-younger-than-me-so-you're-still-a-kid."

He didn't comment on what she'd just said, instead, he breathed out a slight laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" She glared at him as they resumed walking side by side.

"You look cute when you're mad."

"Cute? I don't wanna be cute." She shook her head fast. The pout on her face only made him laugh harder. "Stop laughing! You're a terrible person, Harry."

When she jumped onto his back and pretended to fight him, they were both drowning in laughter to realize they were being followed. It wasn't until Harry saw the camera flash that he turned around and saw a bunch of young girls with phones in their hands. Y/N freaked out and immediately jumped right behind the man so he could shield her from his intrusive fans.

"Hi...Harry..." Said one of the girls, who were too taken in by his presence to even move.

Harry was clearly shocked, yet he remained calm and walked towards the three girls, giving them a friendly grin.

"What are your names?" He asked.

"I'm Jessica."

"I'm Nadine."

"I'm Carey. We love you and your movies so much! Can we take a photo with you?"

"Sure." He nodded. "But would you mind deleting those pictures you just took of my friend and me?"

The three girls exchanged looks, and the one named Nadine asked Harry, "is this your girlfriend?"

"No, she's my friend. That's why I don't want her to get into trouble if people see the photos and think she's my girlfriend."

The fans seemed to understand so they handed their phones to Harry so he could delete the photos himself. Y/N was still amazed by her first experience with famous actor Harry and not the Harry she'd always known. So even after taking that group photo for those fans with Harry, she still couldn't believe what happening was real. She handed the phone back to one of the girls, and they apologized again for those sneaky photos.

Before saying goodbye, the black-haired one named Carey remembered something as she asked Harry, "why aren't you at the BAFTAs?"

"The BAFTAs?" Y/N widened her eyes at her older friend, who wasn't even looking at her.

The young actor didn't say a word, so Jessica jumped in, "you just won Best Actor!"

"Wow, I did?" Harry seemed calm, yet surprised, like he didn't even expect to win.

"Yes!!!" Nadine clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing up and down. "We were so disappointed when you didn't come on stage to accept it! But thank God we ran into you here!"

The girls walked away after saying goodbye to Harry and Y/N, and thanking them for the second time. Once left alone together again, Y/N immediately grabbed Harry by the arm and spun him around to face her. She was too appalled to even speak right away. It took her a second or two to release the proper words.

"You just won your first BAFTA."

"I did." He chuckled.

"But you weren't there to accept it."

"Yeah, but there's always next year," Harry said as he urged her to keep on walking, yet Y/N refused to follow and just stood there, looking extremely stunned.

"But it's your first BAFTA."

"I know, kid. You already said that." He couldn't help but laugh louder now that her mouth was kept open.

"Why did you agree to go with me? You should've been on stage to receive that award!"

"It's just an award." He smiled. He couldn't read her mind though he'd tried a hundred times or so. However, he hoped a part of her would believe that his words, this time, were entirely genuine. "I could get another one next year, but if I lose you again, I can't get you back."

"Why would you lose me?" She asked him after a long moment of silence. Her voice was soft, the softest it'd ever been. "It's just dinner."

"But you said you needed me. And I wanted to be there for you."

.

.

.

It'd been a week since the last time Y/N spoke to Harry. The 13-year-old boy kept telling himself he had his friends and he didn't need her. He held his pride, refusing to be the first to apologize, but every time he saw her on her front porch and tried to get her attention by walking back and forth in front of her house, she completely ignored him and just went back inside. He waited in the treehouse every day, but she didn't come anymore. For the first time in Harry's life, he'd finally learned what it was like to really miss someone.

Friday came, and so did his first football practice as the team captain. He arrived earlier that morning to get ready. Surprisingly, the big kid Max was also there.

Hiding behind his locker door, Harry saw Max put the purple stuffed bunny into his locker, and he felt the heavy weight lifted from his chest because at least now he knew the rabbit was still 'alive'.  The boy didn't know what had gotten into him at that very moment. For a second there, he thought of Y/N, and the look on her face when he shouted at her.

That was all it took for him to walk up to Max, and said aloud, "give me back the rabbit."

"Excuse me?"

The fat kid towered over Harry. Max was a whole head taller and twice bigger than him, and he could easily knock down the curly haired boy with one single punch. However, Harry didn't run.

He repeated, only louder this time, "I said, give me back the rabbit."

"Is it yours? Harry Faggot Styles? You're the gay kid who plays with girly toys."

"Yes, it's mine and I want it back," he asserted, looking at his enemy in the eyes like how he'd seen the heroes did in comic books. Max, of course, wasn't intimidated by Harry's attitude though he was a bit surprised the wimpy kid had actually got the nerves to talk to him that way.

He gave Harry a shrug and leaned one shoulder against his own locker. "I tossed it away already."

"Liar. I saw you put it in there."

"So? You can't have it back. Grow up, fag."

He pushed Harry's shoulder, causing the boy to stumble two steps backward. The next thing Harry did next was out of his imagination. He jumped onto Max, causing both of them to drop down onto the floor with him sitting on top of the bigger kid as he started throwing punches. Max screamed in pain, but he managed to flip them both over and have Harry pinned down beneath him. Now the smaller boy was the one to receive hard fists in the face. Harry didn't give up. If he walked home that day without Thumper he would lose Y/N forever. He would never give up. He kicked Max right in the crotch and while the fat boy was growling in pain, he managed to escape and crawled five feet away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Max screamed at him, now astonished by what Harry was capable of.

With a black eye and bleeding nose, Harry struggled to rise from the floor and straightened his own clothes as he said to Max, "give me back the rabbit and..."

His brain told him not to say it, but his heart told him to go on. And he did.

"...and you can get the captain band."

"Are you joking?" Max scoffed, wiping the blood on the corner of his mouth as he sat up. "The coach would never allow that."

"I'll convince him. You have my word."

Max stared at Harry like the kid was insane. "You want to give up the captain band for a stupid toy rabbit?"

"The girl I love loves that rabbit," the smaller boy said after thinking for a couple seconds and catching his breath. "I'll do anything to get it back for her."

Max called Harry a 'pussy' and said it was gross to love a girl. Harry didn't understand what 'pussy' meant and why it was gross to love someone. Maybe Max just didn't know it because he didn't have someone like Bambi in his life, eventually, he would learn. The most important thing was, Harry got Thumper back, though he got a black eye as a bonus and lost the captain title to the big bully.

That Friday afternoon, he walked home with blood still on his shirt and his face beaten up. Of course, he'd got detention and his coach wanted to speak to his mother at the principal office on Monday. But he wasn't ashamed. He was proud. He held the rabbit in his hand like a trophy, and the moment he saw Y/N playing with her broken dolls in her front yard, he waved the stuffed animal in the air to grab her attention.

"Thumper!" Y/N screamed in joy and hopped towards Harry, nearly tripping on her own two feet. She hugged the rabbit despite how dirty it was, and was about to thank Harry when she saw what he looked like.

"What happened to you?" She gasped, reaching up to touch his black eye, but he swiftly pushed her hand away.

"I fell from a tree."

"You climbed a tree without me?"

The look on her face was priceless, and Harry swore he had to try very hard not to burst out laughing.

"Sorry."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore." He gave her a shrug and a broken smile because his upper lip was bleeding. The girl looked at the rabbit, then at Harry again. The beam on her face soon turned into a frown when she realized something.

"How did you get Thumper back?" She questioned.

"It doesn't matter..." He sighed sadly. He could lie to her however he wanted, but he couldn't hide the fact that the band on his arm was missing.

"Did you trade your captain band for my rabbit?"

He didn't even get a chance to say no as the girl walked off without saying a word.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna see your teacher to trade it back for you." Then with a pout, she mumbled, "I want you to be happy."

The boy hurriedly rushed to her side as he held onto her shoulders and looked at her in the eyes. Smiling, he said, "you're not mad at me anymore and we got Thumper back. I'm very happy!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I can be captain again next year, but if I lose you now...I cannot find another Bambi."

With that answer, he made her grin like a Cheshire Cat again.

"Don't worry," she told him. "For me, you'll always be number one."

.

.

.

"Tea?"

"You drink tea before bed?" Harry asked as he watched Y/N walked to the kitchen after locking the door to her flat.

"Always," she said to him with a smile.

After a cup of tea, Harry followed Y/N into her bedroom, where they lied on her bed side by side and just stared at the ceiling. They used to lie on the grass and looked at the stars together, but you couldn't really do stargazing in the center of crowded London so right now they had to use their imagination and pretend the dirty old ceiling was a sky full of stars.

Harry turned his head to look at Y/N. She had her eyes closed and she was smiling. He wished he knew what she was thinking of. That was when he spotted a familiar object sitting on top of her closet, hidden in the shadow, an old, torn up purple stuffed bunny.

"Is that Thumper?" He asked, pointing at it.

Y/N finally opened her eyes and laughed once she saw the stuffed animal. "It's been so long since I heard that name."

"You used to love him so much."

"I grew up." Y/N snorted as she rolled over to face him. Harry didn't know why he felt heartbroken after hearing her say that. Maybe it wasn't just Thumper. She'd stopped loving a lot of things as she grew up, one of which was him.

Harry also rolled over to come face to face with the girl. Her hair was covering half of her face so he reached out to tuck those few strands behind her ear as they smiled at one another. They held each other's gaze for a little while, enjoying the silence in that small bedroom. It was then that Harry realized he hadn't felt that way in such a long time. He couldn't describe that feeling nor recall the last time he'd experienced it. He just knew it was like no others.

"You were gonna tell me about your date?" He suggested, making her smile.

"Right." She snorted. "It went so well until he dropped me off. I thought he was gonna kiss me, but then he just leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. Then he wished me a good night."

Harry could see a fraction of insecurity in the way she looked, therefore he knew that date with Isaac was still bothering her.

"Do you think..." She was reluctant to continue, yet she did eventually, "Do you think he likes me?"

"Yes, I know he likes you." Harry smiled. Those weren't exactly the words he wanted to say.

"Do you think he's too good for me?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together as he exhaled. "What are you talking about? You're an amazing girl."

"Thank you," she mumbled, tired eyes looking into his. "For going to that dinner with me, and for choosing me over the BAFTAs."

"Don't thank me, I—" Harry couldn't even finish that sentence. The sound of Y/N's ringtone pierced right through his brain and got her sitting up in a blink of an eye.

"It's Isaac!" The girl exclaimed when she saw the caller ID. "I gotta take this!"

Harry propped up on his elbows to watch Y/N hop out of her bed and flee to the balcony to answer the call. He could see her from over here, through the glass door. She had one arm folded, the other holding the phone, and a huge smile displayed on her pretty face as she started to speak. It was the only moment that night he didn't wish he could read her mind.

She seemed overjoyed. And for the first time, her happiness made him sad. Harry switched his eyes to the purple bunny she'd left in the dark corner of the room, the one who'd protected her from her parents' fights and all of her bad dreams. Thumper used to be her number one, but as a grown woman Y/N didn't need him anymore.

Now sitting on top of her closet, Harry could finally see it through.

[ljungfrun]

Bleach, From Pilot to Ch. 423: Things I Forgot Or Were Excluded From The Anime

Turns out I had forgotten a lot of things tho they might not seem that important. Anyway, the list is long so I’ll keep it under the cut. It’s a bit messy but I was just writing it as I was reading and then I somehow expected myself to remember what I was talking about. Posting it for anybody else who could use the reminder.

Please keep in mind that I’m pretty sure the translation I was reading wasn’t a 100% correct but I couldn’t be bothered to find a better one. Seems like it improved later on but I’d still take it with a grain of salt. (Like I’m pretty sure this translator couldn’t read hiragana properly, and some names were really messed up.)

- I did not know there was a pilot chapter so yeah... that entire thing I guess. - Orihime being that open about her crush from the beginning - Orihime’s parents being such cruel people - Orihime’s hairpins being a gift from Sora - The backstory of the mod souls - Chad’s crazy about cute things - Keigo is from Naruki City, not Karakura - Mizuiro being really popular with girls - Renji and Byakuya with weird hoods, idk if that was part of the anime and so far there’s been a part from the anime that wasn’t in the manga (The part with Ichigo seeing Rukia fight a hollow in town before she comes into his room) - Orihime is bad with electronics - Ishida is poor - Tatsuki told Orihime that she is probably at the level of a black belt in karate (I don’t know if she was honest about that but she said it) - Orihime is really dang smart - I forgot Nemu was technically Mayuri’s daughter -Also Mayuri is awful, he belongs in worst dad club with Isshin (I also didn’t remember Isshin being SUCH a creep but I guess I forgot to write that earlier. Or I just decided not to since reviewing this list afterwards I realize I left some other creepy things out.) - Mayuri can turn into liquid - Zanpakutou Materializing Dolls, and other artefacts. So many artefacts. Never to be mentioned or used ever again. - Kira feeling super guilty over raising a sword at Hinamori. - Orihime just chilling with Yachiru, Ikkaku, and Yumichika after the was separated from Uryuu. Oh and Zaraki’s there too. - Hisagi having been accepted as a shinigami before he passed the exams, expected to become a seated officer - Rukia idolised Kaien’s wife - That Komamura was that loyal to Yamamoto - I remember Kenpachi fighting Komamura and Tousen, not picking a fight with Komamura, Tousen, Iba, and Hisagi. Neither did I remember Ikkaku and Yumichika joining in, it’s just entirely gone from my memory - Byakuya’s scarf is a really expensive heirloom. - Byakuya was really cold in the beginning, supposedly not caring about his subordinates (idk if he really changed later on but this stood out to me in the moment. Also speaking of Byakuya, I think he seemed older to me when watching the anime because of the voice.) - Really I had forgotten a lot about the animosity between Byakuya and Renji - Rukia doesn’t refer to Gin as “Captain Ichimaru” and he doesn’t mind since they’ve “known eachother for so long”. Apparently she’s deathly afraid of him. - Kaname got his zanpakutou from the grave of the lady he liked? I’ve always wondered how people get their zanpakutous anyway ‘cause I don’t think Zaraki had any training and I’m pretty sure it’s the same sword he had when he met Yachiru, yet Zangetsu comments on how the sword is crying. (I’m also curious about if people could potentially wield other zanpakutous, which I think is a thing in the quincy arc but I’m talking like... normal people. I think it’d be neat since there’s already two people that have just... picked up a zanpakutou before they even became shinigamis.) - Rikichi! He’s such a big fan of Renji! He got Hanatarou out of jail just to help Renji. He didn’t only get him a new uniform but also a hair tie and a bandana. I’m a little sad that he never seems to show up ever again? (At least I don’t remember him being in the quincy arc but that’ll have to be it’s own list I guess) - Ukitake and Kyouraku stopping and destroying Soukyoku - Kiyone calling Isane sister. - Soifon getting ready to take out Kiyone and the other vice-captain. - Kyouraku being praised for being the best at seeing the true character of anyone he meets, and Ukitake always being the centre of a crowd although (frail, but affable and kind) - Yamamoto thinking of Ukitake and Kyouraku as sons - Katen Kyoukotsu and Sogyo no Kotowari are the only zanpakutous that exist in pairs (allegedly) (I don’t remember why I wrote allegedly but I had some thought behind it......) - Soi Fong’s name was Shaolin Fong until she inherited her grandmother’s code name. - Soi Fong not being angry with Yoruichi because she ran away, but because she didn’t take her with her - Iba having been part of the 11th division, but becoming Komamura’s vice-captain (supposedly for his mom) - Iba wanting to get a chance to fight Ichigo - Byakuya only showing Senkei Senbonzakura Kageyoshi to people he wants to kill personally, Ichigo being the second person. I can’t recall if the first person was ever revealed? - Kira going along with the scheme and leading away Hitsugaya and Matsumoto from the Central 46 chambers. He was told they wouldn’t do anything to Hinamori - Hinamori joined the Gotei 13 because she admired Aizen, which would imply she met him before the soul burial training accident, but idk if that’s a translation mistake - Unohana confronting Aizen in the Central 46 chambers and calling him a treacherous reprobate - How Kyoka Suigetsu works. I forgot that for it to work on someone they need to see the release, and that after that the person who saw it will be completely hypnotised every time he releases it from then on. - Aizen was certain that he could use all three of Kira, Hinamori, and Renji back when they first met, but Renji was problematic so he was sent on to squad 11 while Kira and Hinamori were made Aizen and Gin’s vice-captains - Ichigo and Renji trying to fight Aizen together - Ichigo being a fucking monster! Who stays conscious after having their stomach cut open like that? In the anime it was just a really bad slash but since the manga is a but more graphic I’m only now like “oh wow that is really fucking bad” - There were names for the four basic types of combat for shinigamis. Zanjutsu(sword skills), Hakuda(hand-to-hand combat), Hohou(foot work), and Kidou. - Hollowfication is brought up this early, but I guess it makes sense because he’s explaining the Hougyoku. - Urahara, not Aizen, hid the Hougyoku inside Rukia. - Urahara was exiled for creating an intractable gigai? I don’t think so Aizen, but okay. Also he was trying to turn Rukia into a human soul. Hm. - Komamura coming in to destroy Aizen mid-monologue. Thank you. (After reading Ichigo’s last fight with Aizen I am so tired of him talking aaahhhhh!) - All the gate guardians except for Jidanbou are traitors, Kuukaku shows up with Jidanbou (was this in the anime???) - I remember Ichigo hanging out with squad 11 after the whole Aizen thing, but I did not remember Iba being there too which is nice. They didn’t get to spar tho. - Matsumoto and Kira getting drunk and venting about Gin, though it’s portrayed pretty comically. Matsumoto proceeds to invite pretty much anyone who passes by, except for Kyouraku. - Ryuuken is part of the shitty dad club. - Shinigami Isshin was revealed pretty much right after Shinji, I didn’t remember it being so early. - Also I didn’t remember the protection charm either but hey it worked. - Did- Did Orihime really only get to use Tsubaki ONCE?? - Also that entire fight with Yammy and Ulquiorra is just so much bloodier than in the anime - That moment when Ichigo tells Chad to leave D.Roy to him and Chad runs away, that hurt, ow my heart - Keigo being there to watch Ikkaku fight Eduardo. Also Keigo having a chat with Yumichika. - Ikkaku losing his molars in the fight with Eduardo is. - Yumichika going “oh and btw, make preparations for Ikkaku’s funeral” - Flashback about Ikkaku fighting Zaraki in the past. - Ikkaku being determined to fight and die under Kenpachi’s command. - Ururu kicking Ilfordt in the face- I mean Ururu going in to exterminate Ilfordt. - References to Toshirou’s bankai being incomplete. - Shawlong being the first arrancar to be created. (Allegedly? Supposedly? Succesfully? It depends on a lot, it’s a bit of an assumption.) - The power limit that is placed on captains and vice-captains when they go to the world of the living is symbolised by the division’s symbol. Oh and it takes away 80% of their power. Motherfucking damn bitch Ikkaku. Also good job Rukia. (I don’t remember what these last two sentences are refering to tbh) - Tatsuki watching the fight (I’m assuming the first) between Ichigo and Grimmjow, or at least part of it. - I guess I forgot to mention this earlier but Orihime being jealous of Rukia and her relationship with Ichigo - Tousen really not liking Grimmjow because he causes discord - Ichigo trying the beat the answers out of the Vaizards. - Goddamn Ichigo has a lot of attitude. - Urahara telling Orihime that she would be a burden in battle and Rukia talking to her afterwards. Orihime and Rukia need more talks. - Orihime getting kidnapped by Hiyori. - Hachi having similar abilities as Orihime. - Hachi also suggesting against Orihime fighting the war. - Orihime being so determined to fight. Goddamn I wish Tsubaki wasn’t her only way of doing damage. Give her one of those funky artefacts for fuck’s sake. - Yumichika not getting along with “Fujikujaku”. - The trees in Hueco Mundo are made of something quartz-like - Ulquiorra complimenting Orihime on her looks (Tbh I’ve forgotten about this scene again but I don’t think I intended to lie to my future self so I’m assuming it might’ve been something vague) - Orihime planning to reject the Hougyouku with her powers to destroy it, why don’t I see more about that?? - Wonderweiss being fond of Tousen. - Szayel sending out the execution squad after Dordoni - Only Grimmjow ever uses Gran Rey Cero (Idk if I ever really thought otherwise but it’s on the list so I guess it’s a confirmation I wanted to make) - Tesla threatening to destroy the Shun Shun Rikka - Nnoitra using Nel as a shield when Ichigo attacks at one point - Nnoitra and Neliel didn’t even fight after he tore off Dondochakka and Pesche’s masks in the flashback wtf. Now that I think of it, I’ve never seen manga screenshots of that part so I guess it’s only in the anime. Well that’s disappointing. Then what did Szayel even do? (Still sad they don’t fight more in the manga, bluh. Also I’m still not sure what Szayel actually did.) - Nnoitra thinking it a shame that they (him and Neliel I think) won’t get to fight again. - Mayuri observing Uryuu through bacteria, and Uryuu calling him out for violating human rights - Szayel rebirthing himself from Nemu, wtf. I’m not sure if that was in the anime. (Okay it was, she just didn’t get straight-up pregnant) - I also forgot about Szayel taking over Konjiki Ashisogi Jizou - The Jesus Szayel and Baphomet Mayuri chapter pages were new to me - Mayuri to Nemu: “Good job, keep suffocating Uryuu with your tiddies. If he dies, he dies.” - Nnoitra, after releasing Santa Teresa: “Kinda sexy, isn’t it?” (I don’t trust this translation a 100% but what was written was “I look sexy, right?”) - And Zaraki responding with “your reiatsu is making me hard…” - The Living World as seen through the Garganta in Las Noches is upside-down - Hikifune and the Royal Guard being mentioned during Turn Back The Pendulum - Hiyori looking up to Hikifune as a mother - Urahara being Commander of the Detention Unit in the 2nd Division, and the unit keeping people who wanted to withdraw from the Gotei 13, not just criminals. - Urahara making Mayuri his Vice Captain in the research institute - Barragan’s fraccions having packed together his throne and brought it with them - I can’t believe Charlotte’s magical girl scene was only in the anime but I suppose it makes sense - Hisagi’s fight with Findor  was also shorter in the manga which is… kind of a shame? Idk it was pretty well made in the anime, but I guess it’s because they were just coming back from a break and all. - Hisagi and Kira stopping Yumichika from rushing in after Ikkaku was beaten, Komamura stepping in to take care of the arrancar… whose name I’ve already forgotten once again. - Iba calling Ikkaku out for not using his bankai and punching him in the face. Good. I like Ikkaku but the pillar did get destroyed because of him so it was a pretty bad move. - Hinamori making a kidou net - Kira used to be in the 4th division, did I already write that? - The Gran Rey Cero being forbidden to use inside of Las Noches but leave it to Grimmjow not to care about any of that - Kyouka Suigetsu’s ability can be cancelled by grabbing the blade. - They sent Aizen to Avici, or I guess a prison named after Avici - Yamamoto scolding Byakuya, Shunsui, and Kenpachi for losing their captain’s haori and they proceed to insult it - They actually mention Mayuri going back to Hueco Mundo

[wovensims]

CLAUDE FAUSTINE PIERCE TAYLOR for @steinsims​ Bachelorette Challenge! 

+Warning, lots of reading! Hints of misogyny, ableism, dead bodies.+

A letter addressed to Mr. Floyd Faustine, written in lemon juice. While invisible to the eye, the following text appears once slightly heated over a candle.

Mr. Faustine,

I wonder if you are even reading the messages I send you. Perhaps as soon as you realized this “Mr. Taylor” was your wife’s bastard, I am sure you have been using them to light your fires.

But I know how much you cared for your daughter. And writing has given me some peace. So, I hope that the words I give you end up burning well.

I have only ever visited the asylum grounds twice, each time only giving me more questions than answers. It seems the only time they would allow some other entity to prepare the body is if the family happens to live here, and would cause a fuss. They have their own doctors on the grounds, with much better use for a cadaver than a funeral.

If only you had kept Philomena home. 

But, despite the troubles, the opportunity I stumbled upon was simply too good to ignore. The local undertaker stands on his last legs with no heir to his company. You understand meaning of legacy, and how much he would hate for the business he spent so long building to whether away in unqualified hands. How unfortunate for him. He was too quick to read through my qualifications to notice the inconsistencies between the degrees and doctorates. He is too kind and answers all the questions I ask. Who knows, perhaps God has given me a path in life.

And I will have to ignore it. 

Are you pretending Philomena’s death has no ill-effect on you, then? I suppose I see the logic in that. She’s gone, but you’ll have your heir soon enough, if the child hasn’t been born already. Give Mother my love.

But, I remember how lovingly you would watch her come home, barefoot with mud between her toes. When you’d share in laughter over small things, like mismatched socks and fires that last too long. You understood her. If I could get one answer from you--Why did you send her away? Was it at least as hard for you as it was I, when I learned of her stay only after finding out she had perished? Taken her life, they say.

I’ve written far too much. A hefty letter has a larger chance of the wrong person opening it. 

Yours.

FACTS

Pierce studied the arts, until his father excluded him from the household after his suspicions that he was not of his blood had been confirmed and confessed to by his mother. 

Despite this, he still considers Mr. Faustine his father, although now only refers to him under Mr. Faustine or some other variant.  

His younger years were spent studying under Mr. Faustine, and thus has been introduced to the business world. It was here he honed a skill in the forging of documents, that continues to help him as he drifts from place to place. It’s also another reason to keep his name secret. Most other rich, wealthy men really hate the Faustines--they’re known as scammers. 

He truly only wishes to give his sister a form of goodbye, they had been so close growing up and she was the only one who would reach out to him once he was exiled from the family. 

He now lives with his mentor, an old undertaker in the local community. While he’s conned his way into it, he’s grown to start appreciating the practice.

Given the stressful situation he’s under, he’s a bit of a flight risk. He's good with people, a nice man, but if he feels himself getting caught, he will flee first and think second. He doesn’t mean to abandon or hurt people, but this mission is very important to him.

Due to his own exclusion from his family, and his experiences with his sister, he feels a great amount of sympathy for the patients of the asylum. He is disgusted, but one track minded, and that mind is focused on finding his sister. This is why he hasn’t done much for the other victims, or really even talked to them before.

Bonus Stuff I Like To Throw In

He used to be pretty consistent about keeping his face well-shaven, but due to the unusual circumstances, it’s fallen to the wayside. 

His painting skills are better than most perhaps, but he studied namely as a member of a company. He’s not exactly getting any awards for the pieces he completed. Still, he did love studying art and maybe once he settles down he’ll actually paint more.

His dream would be to live in a large house, and have some children of his own that he’d raise and love and never abandon as his fathers have. But, it’s a dream he’s mostly given up on. At the very least, he’d settle for having a little more money. 

He’s had a lack of sleep and definitely has fallen asleep in the morgue. Which, is very ill-advised. 

Thanks very much to steinsims for hosting this unique challenge, it’s my first time doing ANYTHING like this but I had a lot of fun creating him! Also can’t stop relistening to Emilie Autumn now. 

[bellumventurusest-rp]

Emma Vanity - Twenty-Two - Code White - Pureblood

Wand: Swamp mayhaw wood, with a rougarou hair core, 13″, unyielding.

Patronus: Dolphin

Boggart: Herself, as a housewife.

Job: Recruited in her final year of Hogwarts, Emma started playing for the Montrose Magpies as a Chaser right away.

P E R S O N A L I T Y   T R A I T S

Positives: Adventurous, Charismatic, Loyal, 

Negatives: Mischevious, Hedonistic, Overindulged 

H I S T O R Y

The Vanità family of Italy was renowned in Pureblood society for three things: their perfectly pure lineage, their excessive wealth, and most importantly — their fertility issues. For years, the family became smaller and smaller, the problem not much helped by how they refused to marry outside of their circles, or heaven forbid, someone who’s blood purity couldn’t be traced back for at least a century. When Emma’s father, Giuseppe, was born, his twin sister following a few minutes after, the family considered it nothing short of a miracle.

Treated like a young prince, forced into etiquette and manners, and always told to pull up his nose at anyone lesser — it was surprising to all of his family that the boy turned out to be a bit of a dreamer. The House of Vanità was one of tradition, one where publicity, good or bad, was a death sentence, and most of all, they were incredibly rooted in their home country. The connotations to their name were only known in the most coveted circles of high society, their wealth was shrouded in absolute secrecy, and they were seclusive, to say the least — though not enough that it did not strike a chord with most regular members of wizarding society. Both fear and awe was something they cultivated.

With their fertility issues and desire to keep the line pure but without inbreeding, the Vanità’s had soon learned to seek their betrothals outside of the country, which is how Giuseppe wound up with a young, French woman named Camille. They did not meet until a month before their set wedding date, but while Giuseppe was definitely surprised at the beauty of his wife-to-be, what definitely set her apart was her personality. Cultured, sophisticated, and manipulative — though he was unaware of that final one, he definitely felt the effects. Camille heard his whispers of dreams, of raising his family out of that secrecy they so craved, and return it to glory. A name everyone knew. A name everyone wanted to be associated with. They were grand now, grand and ancient and splendid, but they could be so much more. Camille heard it all, and then she went to work.

Not until after their wedding was official did she tell him the truth. Camille’s father had fallen in love with a Veela, and she had been the offspring of that union, though he had kept it secret. It was considered almost normal in France, but there and across the world, it was not. Luckily for her, he did not see it as a downside, but instead as an opportunity, not realizing that she used the gifts of her heritage on him too. She got him to promise her a great many things, but the most important was this: that they would not let their family die out in Italy.

Giuseppe Senior, his father, passed on the exact day they found out Camille was pregnant with their first child, thus making him the next great patriarch of the Vanità family. Tears of joy and tears of grief mingled, as people touched the expecting mothers’ belly at the elaborate funeral — though his own was surprisingly dry. His mother had been born in London, a Yaxley by birth, before leaving to marry in Italy, but she had held onto her connections back home and had made sure her son had done the same with the children of her former peers. And as a few of them showed up for her husbands’ funeral, they whispered of a rumor that made Giuseppe’s eyes go wide — not with fear, but with opportunity.

Knights of Walpurgis, a wizarding society where the purebloods ruled, a Dark Lord promising power to those who searched for it. Once the funeral was over, he told Camille all he had heard, and though her husband looked at it mostly in terms of social status, she saw something else, too — power. Giuseppe was a little hesitant, but she was not, and with all the sway she held over her husband, they started making plans for their move the very next day.

Despite their plans to have her born on English soil and make sure the next generation was firmly rooted in that country, Emmanuella Vittoria Vanità was born two weeks before her mother was due, climbing her way out kicking and screaming. It was much to her grandmother’s delight, who had disagreed with the move, wanting to follow her husband’s wishes, despite his death. She had reluctantly agreed to come with them to the United Kingdom, to reunite with her own family there, and to help them in raising little Emma. And even though she was early, even though she was a girl, even though she’d upended all their plans — her parents were overjoyed with the birth of their child.

It had taken them three years to get to this moment, three years of seeing magical fertility specialists, three years of countless potions that made Camille sick more often than not, but finally, she was there — Giuseppe’s coveted heir, his little Emmanuella, tufts of dark hair sticking up from her head as they wrapped her in the pink blanket and handed her to him. Despite her birth, Giuseppe had no plans to wait more than another week on their move.

Exhausted and holding onto their newborn, the Vanità’s finally arrived in London — and after hearing official after official horribly mispronouncing their surname, they made yet another bold move. An anglicized version. Vanity. His family, being horribly insulted by the change, was smoothed over by lies from Camille. It would make them fit in better, people would accept them, their anonymity would remain. The last one was especially powerful. But when they moved into that enormous estate in Virginia Water, all bets were off.

Attention from the English pureblood society was drawn quite quickly — especially not when you were also related to one of their Sacred Twenty-Eight families through your mother, or considering the fact that your wife had some sort of a supernatural charm about her, or that your daughter was just so impossibly adorable. Camille and Giuseppe found themselves with a stack of invitations to every pureblood ball, charity gala, or even social event a week later, something they took advantage of greedily, leaving their newborn in the care of either her grandmother or one of their various hired helps.

Emma Vanity grew up in the lap of luxury, with absentee parents, but a gaggle of tutors and nannies chasing after her at any given time. Whenever her parents were home, they were loving, doting even — it was just that they loved their social life more. She was left in good hands, they would have no less for their only child — especially when it was so unlikely they would ever have another, but they still left her.

Raised the same way most of her pureblood peers were, her life consisted of tutoring ( both magical and other ), fittings for her clothes, and a variety of events that her parents deemed appropriate for her to attend. That was of course until she spotted the broom one of the cooks standing in their foyer. Emma was immediately intrigued by the object. She’d heard of brooms, of course, but Vanity’s did not use that kind of transportation.

So, she climbed onto the broom, and for thirty seconds — it was like everything was right in the world. And then, of course, she fell on her ass. But Emma Vanity was and never will be a quitter. As a child of extremely wealthy parents, she’d never learned the word consequence, so she took the broom outside without asking the owner, and continued her efforts. It took almost the entire day, complete with a lot of hiding from her tutors ( which was easy when they weren’t looking up ), but at the end of it, she managed to zoom around the estate like she’d been doing this for years. Of course, at the exact moment she attempted to do a dive, her father walked into the gardens and saw her hovering there. Giuseppe and Camille forbade her from any more flying, to instantly return the broom, and chastised her for the mud she’d gotten all over her robes. But the next day, Emma found the brooms stacked in the kitchen closet, and she tried again.

It took her a while to find a decent balance between sneaking off to fly and attending all the activities her parents wanted her too. Mostly, she skipped out on the clothing fittings — asking one of the staff members’ children, who also joined them for tutoring on the estate, to pretend to be her instead. Either the two of them truly did look alike, or the tailors simply didn’t care, but it worked, Emma’s clothes still fit, and she managed to get a steady hour of flying in almost every day — longer, if she got the chance. It was no surprise that when some of her friends returned from their first year at Hogwarts and told her about the Quidditch teams, she immediately knew that she would aim to join one as soon as she got her chance. No one could deny Emma was a natural, backed with almost three years of practice whenever she found a moment — she should be able to get in, right?

But when she got to Hogwarts, and they sorted her into Slytherin, the Quidditch captain saw that excited first-year smile, and even without letting her try out — told her not to even bother until next year. Emma, quickly found out that most of the subjects in school had been covered in her tutoring, and now with her also excluded from the team for at least another year, was not just angry — she was something much worse than that. She was bored. And the school soon learned to fear whenever Emma Vanity was bored. Dubbed a troublemaker from the moment she entered Hogwarts, she started fights, pulled pranks, and insulted teachers. Luckily for, but unbeknownst to her, the Veela nature lurking in her blood made her charming, able to sweet-talk her way out of most permanent marks, and when that failed, her parents and their endless supply of money never did. Ironically, her misbehavior also made her popular — the attention of older years quickly drawn by this young upstart, and they invited her to their parties, if only just for the entertainment she brought.

Emma returned for her second year with a vengeance. They had tried to send her away from try-outs again, but she forced them to let her join, to watch her fly. And then when they realized she hadn’t been lying last year about her abilities and let her join as a chaser, she grinned and told them that by next year she’d be their captain — earning laughs. It was no surprise that after her first Quidditch game, Emma’s popularity skyrocketed. Not only was she an extraordinarily gifted player, but she had also gained a trouble-makers reputation, and she knew for a fact that most of her peers were jealous that they invited her to all the parties they were still deemed too young for. And truth be told, their decision on that was correct because Emma was also too young for them, too young and too impressionable, she did not take well to it. Of course, she loved it, being popular, hanging out with seventeen-year-olds, and even being offered alcohol — but that doesn’t mean it was any good for her. At only age fifteen, Emma had fallen into a life filled with nothing but debauchery, frequently receiving howlers from her parents and grandmother — with her only saving grace being that excellence in Quidditch, which they finally chose to see as a positive.

As she’d promised, she’d become Quidditch captain in her third year, riding it out until her final year. It was the one thing she was actually serious about, showing up to the Pitch every single day, hangover or no hangover, and pushing herself and the team for nothing but perfection. It was the one constant in her entire academic career, despite the fact that her tutors had definitely done their job well enough to make sure her grades were still up to par, it was the one thing that offered her any kind of future aside from partying every single night, spending her family fortune, and dying an early death. Quidditch forced her not to go too far, to make sure she still had something she should be prepared for. It was her heart and soul, something that made her trainwreck of a lifestyle better by heaps. It was no surprise she was scouted by the Montrose Magpies during one of her final matches and joined the team fresh out of school.

Her career forced her to make sure she had her life a little more under control, to make sure she had some semblance of restraint, to make sure she passed her drug tests, but mostly, to make sure she did not lose this beautiful opportunity. To make sure she was not going to lose out on her life’s dream. And then, of course, there was the other thing. A war, raging all around. It followed her around wherever she went, and though her parents allied with the Death Eaters ( even though they were too cowardly to be more than just supporters ) she did not, actually, give a shit. She agrees somewhat with the Death Eater philosophy, largely based on her upbringing and circle of friends, but Emma does not feel strong enough either way to join the fight — and she frequently quips that the only side she’ll ever stand on is her own. But when it’s happening all around her, with the battles that happen in the street, and wixen being carted off to Azkaban every single day, for how long? How long until she has to pick a side, pick up arms and leave her problematic but comfortable little life?

She tries not to think about it. Emma Vanity has better things to do.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

Andromeda Black - Former Friend - During their Hogwarts days, Emma and Andromeda were quite close, but nowadays, she finds herself more drawn to her other sisters instead. She disagrees with Andromeda’s decision to leave, but still sometimes misses the friendship they used to have, even when she refuses to acknowledge it now.

Emmeline Vance - Tense Friendship - Another friendship that started in Hogwarts, Emma struggles with her relationship to Emmeline even more than Andromeda. At least the latter made the line very clear. She worries about her friend often, trying to stir her onto what she thinks is the right path, but is unsure if Emmeline feels the same way.

Evan Rosier - Bad Influence - Emma has always been attracted to danger, and Evan is exactly that. She enjoys spending time with him, learning about the darker things in life. Still, she’s grown closer to him as a friend and now feels worried about his obsession with Dorcas, fearing that it hurt him a lot more than he is letting on.

Amara Greengrass - Close Friend - Her friendship with Amara has always been about fun. The two of them could light up a room, having the best time. She was worried when Amara momentarily strayed from the path with Alastor but is glad to have her friend back. Though, she can’t help but admit she has a small crush on the other girl too.

Vincent Mulciber - Betrothed, Annoyance - She had hoped her parents would never force her into a betrothal, let alone with someone like him. Emma thinks Vincent is a brute and his treatment of Dolores wasn’t promising much good. Her only hope now is that he thinks the same way and will help her break the engagement.

Faceclaim: Elizabeth Gillies Status: TAKEN

[tsukishima44]

The Other Side of The Storm

Warnings : child abuse, starvation, self-harm

The day after Green's failure, Daisy almost never saw her brother in their home. She only knew that Prof. Oak locked Green in his room and there was nothing she could do other than placing a tray of food outside. After a week, she knew Green was never allowed to go outside ever again.

Daisy saw it all. She was afterall, Green's (the shortest champion ever) sister and also one of the famous Prof. Oak's grandchildren. So she knew the immediate change in what remained of her family.

The day after Green's failure, Daisy almost never saw her brother in their home. She only knew that Prof. Oak locked Green in his room and there was nothing she could do other than placing a tray of food outside. After a week, she knew Green was never allowed to go outside ever again.

In the night, she couldn't help hearing the muttering from the wall beside her where Green's room was. Even when she was awoken at three a.m, Green's incessant murmur still continued. It lasted until 6 a.m and Prof. Oak awoke her at 7 o'clock, Green at 6.15.

The next time she saw her brother was when the Professor went to an event in Unova, two months after Green's "study" started. She bravely asked a neighbourhood's ferrow to fly her to Green's window. Daisy gasped a loud when she saw how thin Green was. She saw black bags under his dimmed green orbs, Green's ginger spike was depleted like he didn't care much about appearance anymore, and the purple shirt he loved so much looked baggy on his stature. Daisy knew it was his favourite shirt because she had bought it for him on his 8th birthday. It was supposed to fit his brother's body. But now it hang loosely on one shoulder. The little fat Green had had disappeared, like he hadn't eaten anything while she always refilled the empty tray with new food everyday.

Did he vomit it? Or throw it away?

Daisy felt tears rolling her cheeks when she saw Green's wrists. The lavender sleeves was rolled up, so she could see the aftermath of Green's decreasing mental status.

He was not only went into starvation, he had depression. A deep one as the suicidal tendency was on sight.

She knew she had to do something.

The next day, she went to their neighborhood's house. Daisy was greeted with Red's mother cheery smile but her own lips could only lifted itself a bit before they turned into a frown again. It might be her mother instinct, but Daisy was immediately ushered to the small house cozy living room. Andrea didn't bother to offer Daisy a drink. She sat on the sofa opposite her and gently asked

"What happened Daisy and how can I help?"

She broke down there.

She told her everything, about their family's circumstances, the dynamic changes, Prof. Oak cold attitude, Green's well-being, anything she had withold for 7 years long. Andrea had embraced her and softly rubbing her back, patient when she went into another outburst when describing her brother's physic and mental.

When her crying had subdued, Andrea gave Daisy a box of tissue and a glass of water before sitting back beside her.

"I-I really am sorry for my earlier crying"

Daisy felt the warm arms enveloping her being again

"Oh, honey. You should never apologize for it. I should have met you and Green since a long time but I never had the courage" then Andrea's arms migrated to her shoulder "I will help you filling a complain to the police about this and I will be there to see him went into jail"

Daisy was taken a back by her determined and protective side.

She shook her head.

"Thank you for the offer. However-" Daisy stopped for a breath "I just n-need one thing"

"What is it?"

"I need Red's contact"

-chapter break-

Mt. Silver, the living place for many wild pokemon, has never been a place for human. Many trainer had tried to capture some strong pokemon in the snowy mountain. Until now, only few of them survived. Red, the current Kanto region champion, has been living in Mt. Silver for two months. He had told her mother, Andrea, about him leaving once again because he couldn't handle the sudden attention upon him. He was never an extrovert since his child phase and he will never be one. Red had felt guilty for leaving his mother once again, but Andrea had understood him. She gave him a hug and made her only child promised her to call whenever he could. Due to her DNA, she couldn't stay long in the cold area. So she prepared a pidgeotto to deliver food and supplies once a week. Sometimes a letter because they were one of those family who saw the effort and aesthetic behind a handwriting. His mother never once told anybody about his current living nor cracked under journalists who went to their house for his location. All they knew was the pokemon champion had disappeared and nobody knew about it. Red was happy and glad for his mother.

Currently he was training a lapras he found injured a week ago near a small lake. He had addressed the small gash and gave her potions. In a night she was good as new. Today he had released her from his pokeball, but the lapras kept trailing him to his cave. Red smiled at the increase companion on his team. Snorlax had let Lapras leaned on his side, Charizard and Venusaur played cautiously, Pikachu helped her hunt some berries, and Blastoise often helped her learning a move or sparring. All of Red's pokemon had learned that he was selectively mute and steadily saw his small quirks in commands. This not only gave them advantage in battles as their opponent didn't know what his move, but also enhanced their instinct to small movement. They lived in wildness, they must always on their guard.

As he gave the sign 'waterfall', he felt vibration coming from his cell phone. Red took the small device from his pants pocket and saw her mother's number. What's wrong? They had just exhanged letter two days ago.

With an eyebrow lifted, he took the call.

"Mom?" He asked

"Red, this is Daisy"

Red's memory immediately recognized her voice. It was his best friend's sister name and voice.

"Is something wrong?"

Red was sitting in the snow as he heard Daisy's story. Lapras had went to his side as soon as she realized her trainer was busy with something. When she felt her trainer's hand tensed, she immediately surged into defensive position. Her trainer realized and quickly petting her neck, his arm slung on top of her. Several minutes later, Red stood. His hand made a signal to come back to their home. The moment Red stepped through the small cavern, his pokemons attention was on him. He only spoke one word, one word and everyone understood.

"Green"

-chapter break-

Green didn't know what had he done to deserve it. He had been a good boy since his parents died in an accident and they were placed under his grandfather, Prof. Oak,'s care. He had learned everything about pokemon the morning after the funeral. He was the next successor in line. He had limited his friend to one, the neighborhood kid who has selective mute. The three of them, Red and Green and Daisy, had been friends. Green realized early that his grandfather had preferred Red more than him. He was jealous and angry at Red. So he went to become a pokemon champion. Unfortunately for him, Red also went to a journey. They had clashed again and again and Green always asked for a match. Never once had he came out as the winner. Even when he had chosen Charmander to Red's Bulbasaur. Speaking of Charmander, he wondered what had happened to his Charizard after Red beaten him at Indigo League. He really hoped he didn't died in his grandpa's hand, just like his raticate.

Ever since he had lose his title in a matter of minutes, Prof. Oak demeanor had changed even colder. The next day, he had been locked up to his room. At 6.15 he would be awoken, 8 a.m to eat breakfast, 1 p.m for lunch, 7 p.m for dinner. The rest of the hours were spent on studying. Each day he would be given one book to read and understand for a whole day. At 10 p.m Prof. Oak would come to give him 20 questions from the inside of the book. Each false answer meant a strike, and if he had 10 mistakes, he wouldn't had breakfast until he could answer all questions perfectly. However, the lack of food meant lack in focus and lack of studying. Green forgot the last time he touched the rice Daisy had prepared for him because his stomach had stopped grumbling after two days. At first he had tried to whisper while studying as not to disturbed his sister. After a while, he didn't bother anymore. The reading and his own voice kept him from falling asleep. When he had received his 238 hits, Green was tired. His back had lacerations, fresh and old, littered and still he had to read the same book, which meant no dinner, again. He had cried of course, but his tearducts had dried after his first week. He never wanted to look into the mirror ever again, afraid to see a human failure as his reflection. When he saw a small swiss army under his sink, he was happy. He could finally ended his torture. But suddenly he heard the laughter from outside. His eyes glanced at his sister lithe body playing in the grass with other neighbors he didn't bother to know. His sister. Daisy. He must live for Daisy. If he leave her alone, he was afraid his burden would transferred to her shoulder and Daisy, his beautiful sister, should never felt this. He would do his best to protect her smile, even if he needed to sacrifice his own happiness. That day, he tucked away the device and bandaged his wrist. When he almost lost hope, he would placed several slits, never to deep, redressed the wound, and hidden everything again.

Yesterday, Prof. Oak had told him that he was going into a conference in Unova and will be back in three days. He had placed 6 books on top of his unread books (3 books; 2 thick 1 thin) to a total of 9 books, his current book excluded. He wondered what would happen if he didn't finish everything. Would it be more belt strikes? Maybe no more food for a week? He wondered when will he died out of starvation? If he die, would Daisy cry for him? Would anybody cry for him? A piece of human garbage chosen to be the genius Prof. Oak's successor. No wonder he couldn't do anything. He would never surpassed Red, he was afterall just a trash.

When the moonlight shone upon his bedside, he was on his third book. When he opened the next page, he remembered the last page was about the weakness of a pokemon...which pokemon was it?...he heard a knock on his window. He looked to see a blurry figure on top of....a flying pokemon. The pokemon looked familiar, but he had forgotten what its name. Green tried to rub his eyes, it might clear the fog in his sight. But to no avail, he still needed to squint. Then he saw the red hat. Oh he knew that. It was Red's hat. Years of growing up with his friend had made him easily distinguished Red's signature hat from the others. What was he doing here? Wasn't he gone? It also seemed like he tried to open the glass window.

So Green had tried to stand, only to fall to the floor. His head hurt and everything spinning, even if he closed his eyes. He knew that Red had frantically knocked on the glass now. But Green had no more strength to walk, not even to sit. All he could do was lying on the floor and seeing Red's figure hitting his window and slowly slipped into darkness.

-chapter break-

Red was shaken when Green just lied there unconscious after trying to stand. He could see how little energy left upon Green's battered body. Daisy had been right about everything. Green had been suffering and he knew nothing about it. As he was helplessly calling for Green from outside, Prof. Oak had left with Green's room key, he realized that Pikachu had poked his shoulder again and again. He looked to his precious pokemon to see him pointing to a small opening of Green's other window. Red understood and without directing, Charizard had moved them. Red helped Pikachu slipped to the small space and the mouse pokemon managed to open the window latched. Red came in through the medium window space to Green's side. He placed a finger to his friend's neck to find a weak force pushing into his finger. He gave a relief sigh. Then Red took Green's old sling bag and stuffed several clothes inside it. He ran to the toilet for a first aid box beneath the sink. Some bandage and medicines he deemed worthy was placed inside the bag's pockets while the box was left behind. Red slung the bag on his body before taking Green's fluffiest blanket on the cupboard to cover its owner's body. Red easily lifted Green's body to his arms, realizing how thin the man was. After everything was ready, he climbed back, this time slowly as not to lose his hold on Green, into Charizard's back. The fire pokemon descended them to the ground. Daisy had been waiting for them there and hugged her pale brother for awhile. Then she kissed his cold cheek before Red moved him back to his earlier position, head on his shoulder.

Daisy then handed him things, another bag and pokeballs. The bag turned out containing light foods and the pokeballs, as Red predicted, was Green's pokemons that had been kept in Prof. Oak's room. Red gave her a sad smile and Charizard lowered his neck so Daisy could placed the bag on his neck while Pikachu holding the pokeballs which placed in another bag. His mother was also there, giving both boys hug and then Charizard flew back to their home in Mt. Silver.

Red exhaled as he felt the usual snow on his skin. He was adapted to Mt. Silver's extreme weather. But the figure on his arms trembled and curled itself in attempt to chase the cold. Red murmured an apologize. His hold on Green's body tighten as they neared the cavern.

-chapter break-

Green felt warm. His mind still loading from the overwhelming warmth which was enveloping his body. He slowly recognized the soft material of his blanket. His eyes glanced down to see green clothe surrounding him. Did he fall asleep? He still had 7 more books to read and the Professor was going home tomorrow! He didn't have enough time to sleep!!

His body caught up with his brain and he managed to twitch his hands. But his body. Wouldn't. Move. At all! What-What happened? His body wouldn't cooperate at all and he was afraid he couldn't even sit. Why didn't he fallen sleep on his desk, preferably on top of his book. That way he could still read it. Maybe, maybe the answer would come from there. He might be able to eat! But no! His treacherous body had decided to stop working. He felt tears pooling before they poured to the clothe in front of him. His body shuddered from his fear and he curled, trying to hide his tears.

"Green?"

Green's silent cry stopped. That was Red's voice. What?

"Green, are you awake?"

Then a hand cupped his hollowed cheek and lifted his face to stare into a familiar face.

"Red?" He called.

Was he dreaming? Or dead? Because Red had been missing for two months and nobody knew where he was. Was he finally kicked the bucket?

Green felt a thumb swiped his tears away.

"I'm sorry"

Then Green was embraced, the warmth was from his favourite blanket and Red's body covering him. Green could only laid there while Red rubbed his back through the flannel.

After a while, Red helped him sat in front of him, Red's leg on each side, his head tucked on Red's neck crook, and his back could lean on Red's warm body. Green sighed contentedly.

Then he saw a yellow figure stumbling to them from the corner of his eyes. Green felt Red took something from the pokemon, he guessed pikachu, fumbling with it, and Green's nose smelt Daisy's miso soup. It smell heavenly. Unbeknownst to him, his stomach gave a pitiful sound at the stimulate. His cheek immediately redden in reply but Red just gave him a smile, pecked his forehead, and spooned some of it. Green saw the plastic spoon moved to the front of his mouth and continued up away from him. Atop him, Red blew for a bit then lower it down to Green's lips. Green opened his mouth and the liquid poured gently into his parched throat. It felt good. Before he knew it, another spoonful of miso had arrived again. Green obediently closed his lips on the spoon and let Red's deft fingers took it again. It continued until half of it was gone. Even though it was a small portion, it had been awhile since his stomach had food inside. He still ate pieces of crackers and small cup of water Red offered. Feeling content, Green slipped into another sleep.

Their routine continued for a month before Green's mind finally cleared enough to work. That day, Red retold Daisy's story while Green laid beside Red on Snorlax stomach.

"Since then, you have been asleep and woke up to eat for 28 days. Prof. Oak had went into custody  two weeks ago and jailed after his trial two days later. Daisy had moved into my house. We had been keeping in touch"

Green nodded slowly.

Does that mean Green was free? He didn't have to study anymore? He was allowed to eat when he was hungry? Did he have to go back to the 'house' after he was healthy?

"Daisy told me-" Green halted his mind "-to take care of you. Whether you want to be here or in my house in Pallet Town is up to you, I will still take care of you whichever you choose"

Green thought for a bit. If they went back to Pallet Town, he would finally be able to meet his sister and give his gratitude to Red's mother. Yet his body still trembled thinking he would be near Prof. Oak's house once again. It was quite obvious.

"A-Am I allowed to be here?"

He could see Red frowned at him. Did he ask wrong? Was he tricked? Afterall this time and Red didn't want him to add his burden. Oh, how wrong he was to think everything Red did was because he care. Red himself should've realized how big their difference. Red DID beat him along their journey and-

Red pulled his body to him

"I want you here"

It was the second time Green breakdown in front of Red.

The days after, Green slowly build back his physic, he still loved to make Red fed him, and mental (Red praising him when he learned new things when they were sparring). His pokemons had hugged him the second they were released from pokeballs. Charizard followed his original trainer since day one. Each day, Red taught him how to live in the cave. Unexpectedly, the place was quite homey. You need fire? They have Charizard. Water to drink or bath? Blastoise to the rescue, and lately they found a hot water source on the deeper side of the cave. Some earth type pokemon had helped them build a pool after Red healed their injuries from other trainers. Food was readied by Pikachu, Venusaur, and others to pick near the forest when their supply had diminished. Not to mention they have a weekly parcel of food and potions and two pieces of letters both eagerly wrote back. Their bed was several rugged clothes on Snorlax side to protect them from the wind near Charizard and whoever pokemon wanted to gather near. Green had shared his blanket for they both use. Red had refused at first, saying Green hadn't adapted yet. But the previous champion was stubborn and Red reluctantly use it. Each day their body had migrated to each other and Green often found himself spooned by Red. Sometimes his eyes opened to see Red's black shirt in front of him and Red's arm slung over his waist. When he realized the condition he was in, he couldn't help the blood rushing to his cheeks and even more when Red awoke to kiss his nose, muttering a 'good morning, Green'.

He doesn't have to study excessively anymore, he eats and sleeps regularly, his sister safely living with someone he can trust, and he is always near his Red, his champion, and his partner. He is free. Green has never been this happy in his entire life and he is proud of who he is.