#<- yeah i should probably head to sleep too cuz its nearly 1 am

[dangerousskeletoncoptree]

nice :]

i see you are attacking me with likes (targeted) so i will attack back

[inkandpen22]

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (1/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, swearing

Word Count: 2.9k

Story Summary: Driven by the power she posses as a witch and psychic, Y/N returns to Sunnydale to pay a visit to her family after she has a vision about Dawn. She isn’t exactly like her duty first and justice before all else cousin Buffy as Y/N follows her own rules. She offers her aid to the Scoobies during their drama with Glory. Y/N doesn’t plan to stay long until she experiences an unparalleled connection with a certain vampire from North London.

Masterlist

I never imagined myself visiting a small town like Sunnydale. I’ve lived in many places, but never California. The west coast isn’t exactly my style. For one, it’s hot. Two, the hippy-dippy happy-go-lucky attitude makes my eyes roll. Finally, Los Angeles reminds me of Celia, my cousin. Buffy, Celia, and I were inseparable as children. Dawn tried to tag-along in our make-believe games, but Buffy grew annoyed with her quickly. I haven’t been back in California in a decade for this very reason. Everything about California reminds me of a time when we were just kids. Before everything went to Hell in a hand basket. 

Blasting Green Day in front of the hospital, I park my 1967 bright red Mustang. I take a minute to collect myself before barging in. Buffy and Dawn don’t exactly know I’m coming, but there’s something I have to warn them about, something so crucial that I drove here all the way from New York. The funny part will be explaining to Buffy that I know she’s the Slayer. To her knowledge, I’m just her ordinary cousin who she hasn’t seen since we were ten. In reality, I’m a psychic witch, have been since birth. Well, I’ve been psychic since the womb, the witchy part came later. Oh, and I can’t forget seeing the dead part, I always do. That little twist comes with the psychic part. Yeah, imagine a little ten-year-old me seeing my recently deceased cousin at her funeral… fun times. It explains the whole discomfort toward California. Low-key traumatized, but all good. Any who, I should probably stop the hesitation and just head inside. 

As I stroll down the bitter cold hospital hall, I grip the leather straps of my backpack nervously. 

“Hi Buffy,” I rehearse under my breath. “You probably don’t recognize me, I’m Y/N… your cousin. It’s great to see you- God I sound so stupid!” 

I follow the signs on the wall toward the Neurology unit. Hospitals, cemeteries, funeral homes, old buildings, all great places to bump into ghosts. The things I do for family, boy do these guys owe me. 

As I turn down yet another peach colored hall- geez this place is dated- my eyes land on a familiar blonde in the waiting room at the far end. Oh great, here we go. Buffy doesn’t notice me right away, being too occupied with doting on a sleeping Dawn resting her head on her lap. I take note of the blondie boy sat beside her. I’m guessing he’s with Buffy. Good for her, a strong seven out of ten. I would rate him higher, but he’s not my type, too All-American boy-next-door. 

“Looks like I’m right on time,” I determine once I’m closer, thus making my presence known. Buffy peers up at me and her eyes widen steadily. Blondie next her looks between me and Buffy. Her surprised reaction makes him tense, I nearly assure him I’m not a threat. 

“Y/N?” She gentle shakes Dawn to wake her as she rises from her seated position. “What are you doing here?” 

“I heard about your mom… ” I explain vaguely. In truth, I saw it in a vision and a lot more beyond that, but I’ll just say my mom told me for now. 

Buffy makes long strides and warmingly embraces me. I can sense the desperation in her touch. Her ora is all out of wack. I could see the mess her colors are from yards away. It seems like I did really arrive at the perfect time. Buffy needs me now more than ever. 

“Y/N!” Dawn gasps behind us. 

Buffy and I part, her eyes stare into mine pleadingly. Yeah, we really need to have a chat. Preferably somewhere we can be frank, truly frank, no bullshit like I’m spilling right now. 

“Oh my God!” Dawn squeals, rushing down to greet me.  She squeezes me like a stress ball as she rambles on about how much she’s missed me. Then, Dawn starts to ask the tough questions as usually does. The girl has never quite had a filter. “Where have you been?”

“New York mainly,” I laugh. 

“How come you’ve never come to see us before?” She rushes out as Buffy continues to stare at me in awe. It could be she thinks she’s dreaming this. 

“Dawn, I-” 

She cuts me off, “how’s aunt Lolly? Are you college? When did you get in?”

“Dawnie!” I laugh, “I will answer all your questions, promise. We’ll catch up! For now,” I look at Buffy. “I need to have a chat with your sister…” 

The girl scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course, you’re for Buffy… everyone is always here for her. No ever visit me,” she grumbles. 

“I’m here for you too,” I assure Dawn. “I just… it’s important I speak with Buffy right now. It’s about something-” 

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Blondie interrupts, his face covered with confusion. 

“I’m Y/N,” I introduce myself. “I’m Buffy and Dawn’s cousin.” 

“I’m Riley, the boyfriend,” he offers me his hand. 

Wow, quite the introduction. I’m not much of a contact-person, but this seems like the perfect opportunity to gather information on G.I. Joe. As I shake his hand, I’m able to visualize memories and emotions from him. They come as flashes before my eyes. I hear his thoughts, see through his eyes, and feel what he’s felt. All I see Buffy, moments they’ve had. At first, pleasure and immense happiness consumes my head. Then, it’s replaced with doubt and self-deprecation. The obsession with Buffy is replaced with desperate longing. He feels her slipping. 

My visual is cut-off when Riley removes his hand. I’m brought back to current moment, surrounded by chaos of the hospital. 

Dawn frowns, curiosity etched across her features. “What’s so important that you had to come all the way? Does it have to do with Mom?”

“You came all the way from New York?” A male voice questions behind me. 

What is this an interrogation? The sooner someone tells me where Buffy is the sooner I can head back home. Believe me, I don’t want to be here longer than I have to be. I glance over my shoulder, Willow and Xander stare at me in confusion. We’ve never met, but I know of them, the visions. I’ve been keeping tabs on Buffy and the family since… well… since Buffy became the Slayer. 

“Yes,” I answer Xander directly. Turning back to Buffy, I not so discretely tell her it’s urgent. “Please, Buff, do you have minute? I know this isn’t exactly opportune but-” 

“Of course,” she swallows hard. “We can uh… we can talk outside. There’s a courtyard just over there,” she gestures down the hall. 

“I’m coming with,” Riley declares next to her. 

“I’m sorry, is your name Buffy?” I sass, much to his frustration. “What am I going to do her? She’s my cousin. I’m only borrowing her for a second, then you can toss the leash back on her.” 

“Y/N…” Buffy mutters for me to stop. 

Riley narrows his eyes at me- oof, I’m real scared now! While I giggle at her boyfriend’s expense as the two of us start down the hall. I’ve missed Buffy, we used to be like two peas in-a-pod. Once all this drama I’ve seen in her future is over, perhaps we can be close again. I refuse to settle in Sunnydale though. At least we have phones and email. 

Once outside, and we’re certain we’re alone, Buffy cuts to the chase. “Not that I’m not happy you’re here, Y/N, I am but, why are you here?” She hasn’t changed a bit.

I snicker, peering up at the sky as the sun it starting to set. Gosh, I hate the day. That sounds weird because what human hates daytime, but I do. I’m much more… in tune with myself when it’s night time. I thrive off the moonlight and stars. The sun and its rays are hot, too hot. I like the cold and darkness of night. 

“Fine, let’s get right to it,” I smirk at my cousin wickedly. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my pack of cigarettes, feeling a bit anxious. “You mind?” I ask her, not really caring but figure I should check. 

Timidly, she shakes her head. Her arms are securely crossed in front of her as she watches me take a smoke. “Those things will kill you,” she advices the cookie-cutter phrase. 

“So can a car accident, yet we still drive,” I remark with sass. “What’s life without a little risk?” I wink. 

Buffy shifts on her feet as her jaw clenches. Her aura is shifting again, Black to red, I’ve never seen someone change on a dime so fast. That’s change is funny, she’s either angry or afraid of me, maybe both. I can’t blame her, I’m not exactly a Care Bear. My black and red attire doesn’t scream comforting. 

“Then again, you would know all about death, right Cuz?” I suggest subtly. 

Her eyes lock with mine and I start to see the wheels turning her head. ‘Does she know? How could she?’ She’s likely thinking to herself. One touch and I could hear for certain what she’s thinking. 

“What are you talking about?” She mumbles, barely meeting my eye. 

I scoff, tossing my head back, why can’t this be easier? You know what, fine! Growing impatient, I hold my hand out, palm to the sky. “Light,” I verbalize and within seconds a bright orb floats above my palm. 

Buffy stares at my magic stunned. Yeah, I was sort of expecting that kind of reaction. 

“How… How…” She stutters. 

“If you’d like a mini bolt of lighting I can do that too,” I offer. “I kind of prefer them, far more powerful!” 

She doesn’t share in my excitement as she slowly steps closer still in awe. “You’re a witch?” 

“Yep!” I smile, rather proud. “Have been for a while now, gotten pretty good at it too, not to brag or anything…” 

“So…” Buffy continues to process everything. “You know about demons, vampires-” 

I hum, “all of it. Including that you’re the Slayer, congrats by the way! Fun shit,” I compliment with a snicker. 

“Not exactly how I’d describe it,” she mutters defeatedly, her eyes still on the orb. 

Closing my fist, the orb disappears and I place my hand on Buffy’s shoulder. Her eyes meet mine solemnly. 

“How long have you known?” She asks unfazed. 

“Since forever,” I answer truthfully. “Sorry I never called or have come to help. I’ve sort of been cheering for ya from the sidelines. In all honesty, I’ve been away perfecting my magic with a coven. I’ve met some pretty interesting people along the way, all dazzled when they find out I’m related to the Slayer,” I gush. 

She pays no mind to my compliments, still in a daze. “Does anyone know? Does your dad?” 

I shake my head and sternly tell her, “he can never know! He thinks I’ve been away at school in Boston. In truth, I’ve been in New York with a coven.” 

Buffy nods in understanding, though I know Joyce is aware of the supernatural world. My mom could never handle it. “Did you come all the way here to tell me that?” 

Okay, here’s the hard part, the real hard part! I finish my cigarette, pondering the last relaxing bit of it before tossing it to the ground. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” I begin. “There’s a this big nasty bitch I’ve seen in my visions- I see visions by the way-” I add in passing, having forgotten it. Then, I remember I can’t forget the ghosties bit. “Anyway, you’ve already bumped into her, Glory. Yeah, she’s a real charmer from what I can see. I’m here to help because based on my visions, she’s kicking your asses.” 

I leave out a crucial bit of information, a part of the visions I’m not sure I can share. One important thing about being a psychic is not changing fate. As much as I want to tell Buffy everything, I know I can’t, not if I don’t want to mess with the world. 

“So, you’re here to help us stop Glory?” She clarifies. 

“It gets real fucked at some points,” I tell her, hoping that doesn’t reveal too much. 

“And I take it you know about Dawn…” she insinuates. 

I nod my head slowly, “you mean that she’s The Key? Then yes, I do. She’s about as human as the Teletubbies, but of course I won’t mention that to her. Who all knows?” 

“As of right now, me and Giles. He’s my Watcher,” she explains. “Did you already know that?” She’s catches on quickly. 

“Kinda…” I answer hesitantly. “Sorry if that’s weird. I’ve tried not to pry with my visions. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know who Riley was! He mustn’t have been around the last time I checked in!” 

“When was the last time you… ya know… checked in?” She asks, unsure of how to phrase it. 

“Well, I’ve been away with the coven. I joined them right after high school, so I suppose it was when you started at UC Sunnydale. I know all about Willow and Xander, they seem nice from what I’ve seen. Angel, his in-and-out appearance in my visions was confusing for a while until I realized he was doing that in real life too,” I laugh.

“So you saw all of the Spike drama and my mom finding out about me too?” She asks. 

I frown, I saw Joyce learning about Buffy and that whole conversion, but I’ve never heard of a Spike. Based on my expression, Buffy predicts the answer. 

“Spike is the biggest pain in my ass,” she groans. “He and Angel used to be all vampy together. Then, Angel gained a soul and Spike got worse from what I’ve gathered. He’s killed two Slayers, so we’re not exactly friends. We met when he tried to kill me. He’ll show up and leave again, kinda like Angel but less helpful. Except now, he’s acting all infatuated with me and sticking around.” 

I snicker, “oof, so you have a psychotic vampire lusting after you? How did I miss this?!” 

Buffy rolls her eyes, “believe me, it’s not fun.”  

“Is he hot?” I inquire, always interested in a troubled bad-boy type. 

She stares at me with narrowed eyes of disapproval and scoffs, “oh my God… never ask me that again.” 

 “He must’ve showed up and gone between visions,” I determine. “I wasn’t able to check in much after you started at UC. Which reminds me, your roommate Kathy- not a fan of her,” I confess with a bit of humor. 

“Turned out to be a demon,” Buffy explains, much to my surprise. 

I gasp, “no way! Ugh, I saw you move-in, some interactions here and there, but that’s about it. I knew there was something up with her!” 

Buffy laughs, actually smiling for the first time since our reunion. It feels great having someone know I’m a witch who isn’t a witch themselves. Being away in New York with the coven was great and utterly freeing. They were the first people who I showed my true self to. Now, finally, someone I care about knows the real me. I have so much more to share with her! 

Buffy takes my hand gently, “I’m really glad you’re here. Lately… lately things have been more difficult than I could’ve ever imagined,” she confesses, swallowing back her tears and looks at the ground. “With Mom and protecting Dawn, I’m not sure I can do it all on my own. I mean, I have my friends, Giles, and Riley but…” she meets my gaze, tears puddling in her eyes. “I needed you, I just didn’t quite know it. I needed my other sister,” she weeps. 

Immediately, I pull Buffy into my chest and hug her tightly. I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve felt Buffy’s pain. I guess I was so caught up with the coven and I forgot to check on her, so I missed the signs. I’m here now, that’s all that matters. Now, I can help. Seeing Buffy so upset makes my blood boil. Anyone who fucks with my family gets knocked off this planet, which means Glory has another coming at her in the form of a powerful witch. 

__________________________

Masterlist 

[photochoco]

Out in the Field (pt. 1)

Black Cauldron’s newest recruit learns the ropes. She hopes she isn’t in over her head!

Wisteria had always loved sleeping late. In a world where the night was eternal, and the city only had colored lights to indicate the time, it was easy to lose track. She often would stay up until the deep purples of “night” would slowly gradient into the bright yellows of “daytime”. People more or less adhered to the idea that yellow was for doing things and being awake, and purple was for sleeping. Though Wisty had found that the city came alive during the purple hours in a way it didn’t when the lights were yellow. She herself worked better during purple hours. 

But now, they looked more or less the same. Maybe the purples were a little darker, but Wisty didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them until she’d looked out her window. Monochrome, just like the inside of her colorful room. Had she known this would happen, she would’ve appreciated it all a lot more. She was glad the BC had told her to come in for her orientation when she felt ready. She had curled up on her bed and sobbed her guts out for what felt like hours. It hurt, not seeing any color. Sure, she could still see all the colors in her mind’s eye, but what was the point if she couldn’t see them with her real ones? Her real ones, which were now gaping, black voids. They didn’t even reflect light very much, which was probably the weirdest part. 

For the most part Wisty had stayed cooped up in her apartment, trying to figure out what to do with her artist career. She’d made her way to the BC a couple times to meet with Harvey, but most of her time was spent fighting off a creeping emptiness.

She put on her headphones, pulled out a few locks of hair on each side and looked herself over in the mirror. Perfect, coordinated, adorable. She adjusted her hood and took a deep breath. She forced herself to keep looking when all she wanted to do was shut her eyes.

You are okay.

In front of her apartment complex she wrestled on her roller blades, selected some music, and was off. The breeze as she skated along eased her mind some, and her favorite tunes in her ears eased it more.

She wondered if Harvey had finished designing it yet.

---

The bustling of activity in the cafe area of the Black Cauldron was the same as always, Cadets walking around and chatting with each other. Everyone stopped though, at the sound of something banging into the front door. A heartbeat later, Wisty practically rolled through the threshold, a pair of roller blades in her hand. “Sorry sorry! I didn’t mean to hit the door!”

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Bianca giggled, giving a wave. “You ready for your first day?” “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Wisty said, raising her arms in a stretch. “I hope I don’t cause too much trouble for y’all.”

A tall mage in a bunny mask rounded the corner, a giant calligraphy pen in his hands.

“Ah, perfect. I just finished the final adjustments to your weapon. Here.” Harvey held it out with both hands. Its tip gleamed of newly polished brass. Its long body was black and smooth as Wisty took it in her hands. It was-

“It’s perfect!” she nearly squealed in her excitement. Harvey gave a satisfied nod. “Aaaand here are your ink canisters. I took the liberty of filling them up for you already. And here are the colors in powder form, just add water. Once you run out I can make more for you. And the colors are in the order you requested so you can easily pick them without seeing the hue. There should be enough ink to last you a whole fight, but don’t y’know, go painting the entire city.”

Wisty hugged her pen and ink pack tightly to her chest like a child being gifted a new toy. “I love it I love it I love it!!” she exclaimed, hopping up and down.

Harvey’s bunny mask was stuck in a perpetual grin, but Wisty could glean from his body language that he was quite pleased with his handiwork. “You’ll get a chance to try ‘em out today during your sparring.” “My what?” “Sparring!” Bianca appeared out of nowhere and slung an arm around Wisty’s neck. “You said you don’t have a whole lot of fighting experience yeah? Plus like Harvey said, you’ll totally wanna try out your weapon before heading out there, see whatcha can do!” “Okay…” Wisty said slowly. “But who am I gonna be sparring?” It was then she was lifted bodily off the ground by an enormous hand, which wrapped around her middle as easily as if she were a doll. 

“That would be me, cupcake. You should get a feel for what it’ll be like fighting powerful enemies with a lot of physical strength.” “As ya probably know, ghouls are usually witch cronies, doin’ their dirty work. Not the smartest, but really damn strong,” Bianca added. 

“...Did you just call Pinprick stupid? That’s not very nice!” “Oh no, cupcake, she is mostly right. Being turned into a ghoul scrambled my brains, hehehe,” Pinprick replied with a wide smile. Wisty paused to consider this. “...Still! Be nicer to yourself! I’m fairly sure you’re not stupid.”

“My oh my, what a sweet cupcake you are! But no time for chatter, we must be off to the sparring spot!” 

“Oh cool!” Wisty looked down to be put down. “Where is it?” “Near the outskirts of the city,” Pinprick replied as he squeezed through the small doorframe. “Oh, are we gonna walk?” 

“Nope!” Bianca said, walking up behind them and jumping onto Pinprick’s other arm, balancing herself against his shoulder. “Rooftop hopping is much faster. Observe!” Pinprick bent his legs.

“Wha aaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

---

“Here we are!” Pinprick chirped, letting go of Wisty. “Go stand over there, and we can get started. Oh before you do though…” He held his hand out to Bianca, who placed something in his palm. He then tossed it to Wisty, who caught it. 

“All Cadets carry these bracelets. They’re a magic disrupter, placing them on witches or ghouls disrupts their flow of magic to incapacitate them. But of course, they don’t always do the job, so you all need to know how to fight,” he explained. “That one is just a dummy bracelet of course, completely harmless.” “How does it work?” Wisty asked, looking at the bracelet curiously. “Is it like a taser in bracelet form?”

“Correct! Today, you’re gonna try to get that bracelet on me. Get that bracelet on, and we can call it a day. Unless you get it on real quick though!” Pinprick snickered.

“Oh, you won’t need to worry about that…” Wisty mumbled.

“Chin up, cupcake, back straight! Cuz here I come.”

“Ok so what--” Her words were cut off as Pinprick’s arm shot towards her at an alarming speed.  “ShiT!!” Wisty barely had time to dodge out of the way, one of Pinprick’s fingers clipping her cheek. 

Geezus, he’s fast!! She hopped backwards, trying to gain some distance between them. He lunged towards her again, arm outstretched to grab her. Gripping her pen, Wisty rammed it against his arm, knocking it off course. She barely had time to feel even an inkling of triumph before she was slammed into the ground and pinned there by his other hand. “Not a bad start, cupcake. But you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Pinprick crooned. “HhHhhhffffiiiihhhhhhhhne,” Wisty wheezed. “Le’go please my lungs hhhhh-”

Pinprick let her go and she stood up, wincing. Dude could pack a punch. “Ready? Again.” He lunged.

She dodged and slid underneath him, bashing the end of her pen into where she thought the back of his knee was. She must’ve struck true; the giant ghoul kneeled with a small grunt. Wisty yelped in surprise as his entire upper half pivoted to face her. “Surprise!” Wisty barely managed to bend out of the way of his swipe. Noticing the ridges on his arm, she grabbed one and swung herself up onto his shoulders. Pinprick bucked, trying to throw her off. She impulsively grabbed the first thing she could, his hair. “Sorry sorry sorry!” she yelped as she reached for the bracelet.

Her apology was answered by Pinprick grabbing her ankle and yanking her off. Upside-down, she could see Bianca ambling up to the scene, a burger in her hand.

“Howzit goin’?” she asked. “Pinprick is killing the shit out of me, so I’ve come to the conclusion that I will absolutely die if I go fight anything,” Wisty grumbled as she dangled from Pinprick’s hand. He snickered in response. “Hey, don’t feel too bad, this is only a baseline! Imagine how good you’ll be after me ‘n Nate ‘n Dex have taught ya!” Bianca said.

“Hopefully it’ll be a less shameful display than this,” Wisty replied as Pinprick idly swung her from side to side like a pendulum.

“Ready whenever you are, love,” he grinned widely.

“I yield.” Wisty’s legs were far past beginning to wobble. Now she could hardly keep herself upright. Pinprick was not only stupidly fast, but stupidly powerful. He absorbed all of her attacks like they were nothing and dished out brutal counters one after the other. Wisty had been reduced to blocking and dodging. At least she could safely say she was better at that now.

Pinprick raised his hands again in preparation, grinning still. “We’re only getting started, love!”

“What even determines if I’ve won anymore?!” “Simple! Immobilize me and get the bracelet on, and we can call it a day.” “Okay.” “With me at least!” “OH SCREW OOOOOOFF WITH THAT!! I’LL FRIGGIN DIE IF I FIGHT ANYONE ELSE!”

“What’s happening?” Bianca turned and gave a nod of greeting to Dex, who had strolled up to the scene and was now watching with interest.

“The newbie is getting broken in,” she said, cringing as Pinprick sent Wisty flying again. “I think she’s doing...okay…” Dex smirked. “Sure doesn’t look like it, hehe.” “Hey, go easy on her dude, she just started today! I’ve been watching the whole time, I can tell you she’s gotten a lot better already. Aw geez,” Bianca winced as Pinprick threw a punch that caught Wisty on her right cheek, resulting in her swearing loudly. “Remember your safe word!” Dex shouted to her. “My WHAT? PINPRICK YOU CHEATER, YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT THAT!!” The ghoul only cackled in response. “You never asked about it, cupcake!” “OF COURSE I DIDN’T, I’M NEW HERE! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!” Wisty screeched.

As Pinprick rushed her again, she didn’t wait. This time she lurched to meet him, jumping in the air and landing an impressive high kick on Pinprick’s chin. “Close!!” Dex shouted. “Keep trying--oof, that looked like it hurt.” 

Pinprick had slugged Wisty full force in the torso, and the girl skidded several yards away and hit some nearby boxes, sending dust everywhere. “I’ll go get the nurse bed ready,” Bianca sighed, turning to head back to the Black Cauldron.

Was Pinprick just that strong? Or did she just suck that bad? Wisty coughed on the clouds of dust filling the air. Fine. Fine.

Fine.

She reached behind herself to her ink cartridges. One, two, perfect.

“Yo Pinprick! Did you kill her, man?!” Dex called to his comrade. “Ahoho, I certainly hope not, we were having so much fun!” Before he could say anything more, though, a thin jet of orange ink fired from the dust cloud. The instant it made contact with the ground, it triggered a huge explosion. “HOLY FUCK!!!” Dex hollered as Pinprick skidded backwards, blinking in surprise.

“Oho, it seems the newbie has a few tricks up her sleeve! Good, good!” he laughed. The dust was settling, and now he could see Wisty standing with her back nearly against the brick wall. Just...standing there. “Oh come now love, you can’t be that tired already! You’re leaving yourself...wide! Open!” Pinprick sprinted forward and thrust his left arm out. Wisty swiftly jumped to the side, his right, and he attempted to grab her again, this time with his right hand. She ducked again, resulting in both Pinprick's hands smashing into the wall, sending pieces of brick flying. Wisty took aim with her pen, and fired. Black ink streamed from the tip and coated Pinprick’s hands. His first instinct was to tug--

And they didn’t budge. The ink was like tar.

“What in the--” his words were cut off as Wisty grabbed his arms, flipped herself up onto his shoulders and, using him as her own personal launching pad, leapt up into the air. She shoved another cartridge into her pen and aimed. “Gotcha.” Orange ink streamed. Pinprick was caught in a massive explosion. Dex shielded his face as the heat wave slammed into him. 

“Jeezus God, what the hell did Harvey put in those inks??” he muttered to himself.

As the smoke cleared, he could see Pinprick, still standing, his hands free from the black ink, but looking significantly more banged up. 

“Yeowzers,” Dex trotted up next to the ghoul to get a closer look at the damage. “That was pretty awesome. Might cause some property damage, though.” “But really, when don’t we cause just a little property damage?” Pinprick pointed out, dusting himself off. 

“Wait...where’d Wisteria go?” 

“Hmm...did she get blown away from the explosion…?” Pinprick mused. “She was right--”

His entire body was knocked to the ground as Wisty dropped down from above onto him. Dex barely managed to jump out of the way with a squawk. 

“You little--” Pinprick hissed, but the girl had a firm grip as she snapped the bracelet around his neck. 

“Friggin...got it...Geezus…” she huffed.

She slid off Pinprick as he straightened himself up, looking very pleased.

“Well well well, color me surprised, cupcake! You were quite clever to coax me into getting my hands stuck to the wall. So, orange ink makes explosions, hmm?”

Wisty twirled a lock of her hair looking sheepish, but very happy with herself. “Hehehe, to be honest, while designing my weapon and the ink color effects, I’d asked Harvey which effects each of you guys were resistant to or weak against. Y’know, in case I lend you a hand out in the field. I want to make sure I don’t accidentally hurt one of you.”

Dex let out a whistle. “Damn, you might even give witches a run for their money with smarts like that. But for now, howsabout we get you back to BC? You look like you’re gonna collapse. Your cheek ain’t lookin so good either.” Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, throbbing aches began to make themselves known all over Wisty’s body. Her right cheek really, really hurt, and she gingerly pressed her fingers against it, wincing as the swollen flesh protested.

“Do forgive me for goin’ so hard on you cupcake. Needed to make sure you were prepared; out there, it could be even more dangerous.” Pinprick reached out and ruffled Wisty’s hair, wiggling her whole head back and forth.

“You two got pretty banged up. How about we head back to BC to getcha patched up?” Dex jerked his thumb back to his bike, which was parked nearby. 

“See ya back at BC, cupcake. And you too, Dex,” Pinprick wiggled his fingers in farewell.

“Awwwww C’mon Pin, aren’t I a cupcake too?” Dex asked, his puppy-dog voice belied by the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not! Go on now, I’ll see you two back there!” With a mighty leap, Pinprick was off, hopping from roof to roof with ease. Within no time at all he was out of sight. Wisty slumped. “Urgh, I barely hurt him at all. Look at him doin’ parkour shit while I can barely stand--” Right on cue, her legs buckled. She was saved by Dex, who swooped down and grabbed her under the arms.  “Tracy will get you all fixed in no time. Pinprick only went so hard on you because he felt you had potential you were holding back. His method of bringing it out is to hit as hard as he can, hehe. You seem promising, rookie. I’ll have to be extra careful when we fight.” “You use GUNS.” “In the field! Sparring I use blanks. And my lithe body.” Wisty burst out laughing as Dex helped her to the bike. “You guys are merciless! I don’t wanna do anything until I’m not hurting everywhere.” 

“Nothin’ a lil magic n’ a hot bath can’t fix. Aight, get on the back,” Dex said, turning the key in the ignition. “DeeDee likes to go fast, so you might wanna hold on.”

“Okay...uh where…” Wisty hesitantly gripped Dex’s shoulders. 

“Here we go!” The bike flared to life and Dex squeezed the handle.

The inertia as they took off was unexpected and Wisty had to momentarily throw her arms around Dex’s middle to keep from tumbling off the back. But soon enough her hands were back to his shoulders as they drove along, buildings and power lines passing by in a blur.

It was exhilarating. 

“Not too fast for ya, newbie?” “It’s awesome! I love going fast!” “Heh, hang on then!”

Wisty closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, lost in the music from her headphones and the feeling of the wind as they drove along. This was giving her an idea for… She opened her eyes. Ah. Right. What she would’ve given to see what this all looked like in color. The blurred buildings. The bright moon. Dex’s scarf as it fluttered and danced behind them. He had told her it was red, but what shade of red? What shade were her inks? What if she forgot the colors she knew? Her mouth twisted as tears again stung her eyes. Not that any would fall, the wind was drying them up. 

“Hey just so ya know, you might wanna actually hang on to my middle or else you’ll fall off!” Dex called over his shoulder.

“What?” Wisty shouted back right before they went over a bump. She yelped and clung to Dex again. He snorted.

“Soooooo, have you thought about partnering up with anyone?” he asked her. “Uh...no, not really.” “Would you like to? Newbies usually tend to, though I don’t think Alphus ever did, heh.” “I dunno. I mean, I...” The truth was, she’d loved to partner up with someone. Maybe then she could stop that cycle of loneliness before it even started. 

But… “--It’d be nice to have someone show me the ropes!” 

What kind of person just went around telling others how they struggled with loneliness and just wanted to be included? It wasn’t their problem. It was hers, and she didn’t need to be included just so as to not be rude. Even if it hurt, a lot. Still… Please let this be different. Don’t let this be a repeat of every time I’ve tried to join a group. 

Her grip tightened. If Dex noticed, he didn’t say anything as he rounded a corner hard, tires screeching. 

“Y’know, you should really wear a helmet, especially driving like this!” “Naaahhhh, I’m too cool for one!” “No one is too cool for head safety, my dude.”

“This hair is!”

He weaved easily in and through the crowd. Wisty could see people staring as they flew by. What a strange pair they must look, a boy with glowing white eyes and a girl with black voids for hers. If they could even see them. “...Hehehe.” 

Wisty stood up suddenly, her arms spread wide. “Whooooooo!!!” “WISTERIA SIT DOWN! You’re gonna fall off!”

“My balance is really good!” 

Luckily for her, and Dex’s blood pressure, the Black Cauldron was within sight now. He pulled into the corner and Wisty hopped off as he turned his bike off. “That was awesome! Can we do it again sometime?” she asked excitedly.

Dex twirled the keys around his index finger. “Sure! If you can beat me when we spar.” “Oh--that is so unfair!! I can’t do that, change your conditions you meanie!” 

“Take it or leave it, sweetheart!” Dex smirked. 

“The only thing I’m taking is a nap, cuz--” Wisty’s legs gave out from under her. “Everything is hurting right now.”

“Let’s get you to Tracy, rookie.”

--- ---

And then Wisty slept for 44 years, content that her character arc was beginning. The lil spinoff series continues! What awaits the newbie? Probably a coupla witches and sprayin’ ink everywhere.

[corystssides]

Bottled, Part 6

Words: 3823

Summary: They’re finally free, but there’s still questions needing answering and discussions to be had.

Warnings: mild descriptions of injury care, mild verbal arguments, some yelling

Tags: @yep-another-fander, @softlogic, @tssanderssidestrash, @literallylogic, @diplomatic-arsonist, @saltequeen, @fallingineternity, @satisfied-sanders-sides, @vixenneko, @the-strange-universe-of-cake, @fangirlfiles1, @winds-and-stardust, @the-laarmy, @pfftwhatnoimhuman, @gaysaxaphone, @mira-jadeamethyst, @frustratedwaffle

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Roman had just gotten his hands on a small bottle of healing potion when Patton summoned him to his house.

“Seriously?!” he asked, stumbling into the living room--and into Anxiety.

“Wow, now that I see you in the light, you look like a trainwreck,” Anxiety said.

Roman scowled. “At least I don’t look like a Hot Topic threw up on me.” He pushed himself away from Anxiety and started walking toward the bathroom to take care of his injuries.

“You need to borrow a pair of pants?” Patton asked. “Yours are kinda ruined.”

“Thanks, Patton,” Roman said.

Patton ran off to his room to get a pair of pants while Roman headed for the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and started running the faucet in the bathtub, waiting for it to warm up. Patton knocked and then opened the door just enough to set the pants on the floor, then shut the door and walked away. Roman started undressing the wound, using the warm water to get the sticky blood to let go of the fabric. He got the sash off of his leg first, sighing as he saw its condition. He’d never get the stains out of it. He tossed it aside. The pant leg took more work, and Roman had to be more gentle with it. Finally, he got it all disconnected from his leg, and went to work with the healing potion. Once that was done, he looked himself over for any other injuries. He found several small cuts on his arms that he hadn’t noticed before, and nearly cried over the bloodstains on his white tunic. He knew it didn’t matter, he knew he had others just like it at home in the palace, but it had been a long awful day (days? He still wasn’t sure) and this was the cherry on top. Frustrated, he took off the tunic, so he was standing only in an undershirt and his soaked, ripped pants. Not only were there cuts, there were also dark, banded bruises all over his arms--and when he pulled up his undershirt, his torso, too. For a moment, he was confused, because he didn’t think he tied the ropes that tight when he was on the staircase. Then he remembered the Seed of Doubt, and everything made sense. He regretted using all of the healing potion on his leg.

With a sigh, he searched Patton’s bathroom for bandaids. The only ones he found were brightly colored Steven Universe ones, obviously meant for the kids’ enjoyment. He stuck them on to cover the cuts anyway. He thought about putting his tunic back on, but decided against it, not wanting to chance getting blood on any of Patton’s furniture. Besides, it wasn’t like Patton hadn’t seen him bruised and battered before. He changed pants and tossed his discarded clothing into the bathtub, where they would be out of the way.

Upon walking back into the living room, he saw Anxiety, sitting at the counter between the kitchen and living room and looking at him with genuine alarm. Crap. He’d forgotten about Anxiety.

“I thought you looked bad before--” Anxiety started.

“Shut up,” Roman said, flopping onto the couch, where he promptly passed out.

This did not make Anxiety any less alarmed, but Patton just covered Roman with a blanket and said, “Don’t worry, kiddo. He’s usually like this when he’s hurting.”

Before Anxiety could say anything, Logan popped up. “We’ve been gone for only twenty-two hours,” he said. “Thomas was sleeping for most of them, but not all, so it appears that he can function at least a bit without us influencing him.”

“Twenty-two hours is a bit long, but still in the range of typical time we spend in the bottles,” Patton said.

“Last time we were gone for four days, though,” Anxiety said.

“Yeah, I can’t help you there, buddy. It’s never happened before, I don’t know why it did.”

“Wait, when was this?” Logan asked.

“During the time Roman said they were in the Nightmare realm,” Patton said.

Logan looked to Anxiety for confirmation. He nodded. Logan looked confused. “Why would you two lie to us though? Do you not trust us?”

“We just spent four days in a bottle that got bigger or smaller depending on my emotional state. Seems like a pretty interesting little experiment, doesn’t it?”

It clicked. “You thought I invented the bottles...to see how you would react in them? Oh, Anxiety, I would never make anything to hurt or endanger any of you. Patton may be the one who embodies Thomas’s morals, but that does not mean that I am devoid of them!”

“Yeah, I know,” Anxiety said. “But I had no idea what was going on, and at first I thought it was Roman, so when it wasn’t, the only other options were you, Thomas, or Patton. Patton’s the most unlikely of any of us to cause harm, even unintentionally, so then it’s just you and Thomas, both of whom were right there when we got out. I panicked and Roman covered for me. Of course, now that we know that it’s not any of us, that means it’s definitely Thomas, which is almost more concerning, especially considering that he has a different trap for each of us.”

“There’s still not enough evidence to conclude that it’s ‘definitely Thomas.’ It’s possible that it’s a self-defense mechanism that created itself in order to keep any one of us from having too much influence. It might also be a result of one or more of our parts of the mindscape running amok. Perhaps the Nightmare Realm and the Fairytale Realm have a boundary where they poorly react to each other.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“I did not say that. As Patton said earlier, it might also be ‘the column in the middle of all of us,’ and serve some sort of protective function. The point is, all of this is speculation and without further evidence, such speculation is pointless.” Logan turned to Patton. “Is there any possibility that you might have written down anything related to these traps?”

“I don’t think so, but I can look,” Patton said. He hurried up the stairs to parts unknown.

“I don’t suppose you have any information about them?” Logan asked Anxiety. “Patton said you forget every time.”

Anxiety pushed his right sleeve up to expose an arm covered in notes. “I wrote down everything I know about the last couple times. Anything before that…” he shrugged. “...and if I knew anything at any point in the past and wrote it down, the Fears and Insecurities have probably eaten it by now.”

“You should take care of those things,” Logan said.

“Well I could dump them at your house,” Anxiety said back, glaring. Logan glared back, but refused to get off topic. There were more important things to do right now.

“I’m going to go get a whiteboard, so we can consolidate the data,” Logan said. He snapped out.

Anxiety sighed and rested his head on the counter. Now it was just him and the sleeping Prince.

“Heya, Cuz.”

...And Patton’s children, who he had forgotten about. “I’m not your cousin,” he said, automatically.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” the young teen said. For all he tried, he could not remember her name. She sat down next to him. “Hey guess what?”

“What?”

“Guess.”

“You and your boyfriend broke up.” Anxiety had nothing else to go on. He was rarely at Patton’s house. Her boyfriend was the only thing she’d talked about last time.

“Oh please, that was ages ago. Guess again.”

“I’m not good at guessing. Just tell me.”

She sighed. “Fiiiine. I got to go to that white room place you and Dad and the others always hang out in. Me and Jimothy got to battle a monster teacher before Princey sent us home.”

Anxiety picked his head up and looked at her in disbelief. “...What?”

“Oh yeah, it was really fun. Like, there was this shadow demon thing that was like, possessing one of the subs from school, and I got to use a sword, and Princey banished us but I know I would have won. Jimothy was useless though.”

“And why were you there, exactly?”

“Dunno. Princey said something about daydreams, but it was boring and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Does your Dad know about this?” Anxiety asked, wondering why she was telling him this.

“No, and you’re not gonna tell him.”

“I’m not?”

“You can’t! Dad’ll never let us out of the suburbs again!” Anxiety briefly considered doing it out of spite, but shrugged that impulse off. He had no reason to cause family drama. He wasn’t even part of the family.

The kid took his silence for assent and changed the subject. “I think Professor Logan ships you and Princey.”

Logan popped in, with two large, rolling whiteboards, instead of just one. “I have returned,” he called out.

The kid smirked, and mumbled, “Speak of the devil,” then ran off. Anxiety was confused by the entire exchange. Patton’s family was weird. They got weirder every time he visited.

“Making friends?” Logan asked.

“No,” Anxiety said.

“Pity. Rebecca’s a nice girl. I would think that you two would get on like a house on fire.”

“I feel like those two statements are contradictory.”

“Not at all. You wouldn’t believe how often she talks about her ‘favorite older cousin’ in my physics class.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

Logan looked like he couldn’t believe Anxiety had just said that. “...You. She was talking about you.”

“But I’m not related.”

“Patton considers us all part of a family, and therefore so does his children.”

“Right, so, so, what? Does that make you and Patton the gay dads, and then Roman’s like, uh, the vodka aunt, and I’m the emo cousin or something?”

Logan’s cheeks flushed. “Patton and I aren’t dating,” he said.

“Really? I have several pages of evidence that say otherwise.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and then he realized that Anxiety was teasing him about earlier. He threw a marker at Anxiety, who ducked, laughing. “Asshole,” Logan muttered.

“Real mature, Teach.”

“We were going to consolidate all of our available data, were we not? Let’s stay on track.”

Logan pulled out his notebook and started transferring notes to a whiteboard. Anxiety got the other whiteboard marker from where it had landed in the kitchen and started doing the same thing with the notes on his arm.

Logan glanced over at Anxiety’s writing. “Wow,” he said.

“What?”

“I can barely read that, and I’m a teacher.”

“You know what? The English language wasn’t designed for lefties.”

“I’m left-handed too, and I write perfectly legibly.”

“You write in all capital letters.”

“And it is legible, therefore your comment does not strengthen your argument. The real question is: why is your handwriting so much worse on the whiteboard than your arm?”

“I’m trying to make the letters not erase. I can’t put my hand on the board. Also, this is bigger than I ever write normally.”

“...Have you never written on a whiteboard before?”

“Why would I have?”

Logan “hmmm”ed but didn’t respond. He supposed that made sense. The Fears and Insecurities didn't seem like the type of creatures that would enjoy free body diagrams.

He left Anxiety to his notes, and on the other whiteboard, he drew a diagram of each of the other traps, with everything he had observed about them underneath. There wasn't much, though that made sense since they had only encountered the other traps for a short amount of time, and only once. Plus, the other traps only worked on one or two people, as opposed to all four of them. He also added a section for the grayspace itself.

“I'm back!” Patton said, coming down the stairs. “I didn't find anything except this paper that I can't read. It's not mine or the kids’ handwriting though, so I thought it might be important.”

Anxiety took the paper from him. “This is my handwriting,” he said, confused. He scanned through the page. “I don’t remember writing this though...it talks about the bottles...but it doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know.”

“It does, though, doesn’t it?” Logan said. The other two looked at him blankly. “It tells us that at one point, Anxiety knew about the bottles and remembered what happened after he escaped.” He took the paper, reading it through. Once he was finished, he added, “Also, if you read this, it mentions that Patton was the one who broke the bottle and didn’t remember anything afterwards. Thus, it can be theorized that there is a correlation between breaking the bottle and forgetting the whole event, though without more data it will remain only a theory.”

“Wait, really?” Anxiety asked, snatching the paper back and reading it over. “...huh.”

“Patton, would you read over our notes and determine if there’s anything that we overlooked or that you noticed in addition to these?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” Patton said. He started with the whiteboard for the bottles, and immediately turned back. “I can’t read half of these notes, though.”

“It is not that bad!” Anxiety said.

“It is that bad, kiddo. Who taught you to write?” Patton asked, with actual concern.

“You could read my handwriting just fine in the bottles!”

“Yes, but it was legible in the bottles,” Patton said.

“Also, for the most part, it was me reading it,” Logan said. “Start with the other whiteboard, Patton. I’ll rewrite the notes over here.”

Patton went to the other whiteboard. “I notice you have the ‘cube’ and ‘bear trap’ sections empty except for their pictures,” he said immediately.

“That is because I know nothing about them.”

“Well the bear trap snapped at you when it got too close,” Patton said. “You didn’t even set it off, it just jumped up and tried to bite you.”

Anxiety handed Patton the other whiteboard marker. “They also went off when I put a Seed of Doubt on the trigger,” he said. “But they don’t snap around you or me. Dunno about Roman, though, since he didn’t get anywhere near them.”

“The cube things didn’t react at all,” Patton said, starting to write underneath the ‘bear trap’ category. “Of course, we didn’t really go near them, but they didn’t do anything.”

“Perhaps they aren’t traps,” Logan said. “We don’t know for certain that--”

“LOGIC!”

Logan vanished, along with his marker, called away by Thomas. Patton and Anxiety glanced at each other nervously, but only for a second.

“MORALITY!”

Patton and his marker vanished too. Anxiety sighed irritably. Now he couldn’t even carry on without them.

“ROMAN!”

Roman didn’t vanish. He barely even moved, except to stir a bit and say, “Go away, Thomas.”

There was silence for a moment, and then, “ROMAN?”

All Roman did was groan irritably.

Anxiety snapped into Thomas's living room before he was called, worried that Logan and Patton would screw things up.

“Anxiety!” Thomas said, surprised. “I was just about to call you.”

“What do you want, Sanders?” Anxiety asked irritably.

“Well, first, I would like to know where Roman is.”

“Oh, I think you've had quite enough of his influence for now. Remember yesterday?” Technically, that didn’t answer the question, but Anxiety didn’t want him to know they had all been conspiring together at Patton’s house.

“Yeah, that kinda leads me to my next question: What's been going on lately? It feels like my entire brain has been conspiring against me! What is up with you guys?”

The three traits looked at each other. Logan couldn’t lie; his existence was based on facts and logic, and lying was a direct contradiction of both of those. Patton couldn’t lie either; lying was immoral and he simply couldn’t do it. Anxiety could lie, but he was always too afraid of getting caught to focus on doing it convincingly.

“Us? Conspiring against you?” Anxiety asked.

“Yes!” Thomas said.

“Are you sure it isn’t the other way around?” Anxiety asked accusingly.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “Wait, what? Why would I be conspiring against you? You’re a part of me!”

“Sure, but maybe you don’t want us anymore. Maybe we’re villains to you. Maybe you feel the need to trap us, lock us away.”

“Look, if this is about the last video--”

“Maybe you feel the need to bottle your emotions.”

“Yeah, I sure have been doing that a lot lately. Wait, why did you say it like that?”

“Why do you think, Thomas?” Anxiety asked. He was losing control of this. Gosh, he did not plan this out well. Or at all.

“Does me bottling things up affect Patton?”

“He’s not the only--” Wait. Crap. This was not what he wanted to happen. “Dammit, Sanders!”

“Wait, does it affect you too? Both of you?”

Well, so much for not confronting Thomas about this.

“It would appear that when you get upset, you literally bottle up your emotions,” Logan explained. “And sometimes the rest of us with them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was trapped in a stupid champagne bottle with Princey for four days, Thomas!” The game was up. Might as well get all his frustration out with it.

Roman finally popped in, yawning. “You called?”

Thomas looked horrified. “What happened to you?”

Roman squinted uncomprehendingly. “What?” Then it clicked. “Oh.” He popped out, and popped in moments later, wearing a stainless tunic, and still wearing Patton’s pants. “Better?”

“No, not better! You looked like you went through the apocalypse!”

“You know, my appearance has been insulted all day! Not once has anyone called me pretty or handsome, it’s all ‘disaster,’ ‘trainwreck,’ ‘apocalypse!’”

“You look pretty,” Anxiety said, and as Roman turned to him in delight, he added, “...awful.”

“I do not like you!”

“Guys! Not helpful!” Thomas said. “Roman, what happened to you?”

“I almost died in a heroic attempt to save Logic. No biggie,” Roman said.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Anxiety said. “Patton said the traps won’t kill us.”

“The bottles won’t kill you! I am made of hopes and dreams! I’m very certain that that could have killed me!”

“Boys!” Patton snapped. Both of them looked at him. “Calm down. You’re scaring Thomas.”

“Good,” Anxiety said. “After everything we’ve been through for the past few days, he deserves it.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on but I want to fix it guys!” Thomas said. “Please, just help me understand!”

“Perhaps it would be best just to show him?” Logan asked.

“But he’s not a shapeshifter!” Anxiety said. “Who knows what might happen?”

“Well, he’s managed to summon us out of the grayscape,” Roman said. “Surely we could do the same for him, especially if we all work together.”

“Besides, he’s not part of the mind,” Patton said. “He’s a real person in the real world. I don’t think he can be trapped in there.”

“Ever heard the phrase ‘trapped in your own mind?’” Anxiety said. “What if we can’t get him out? Something bad could happen!”

Roman was about to tell him how ridiculous he was being, but he saw Anxiety’s face. Genuine worry. He realized this wasn’t just idle, anxious complaining.

“You have a point,” he conceded.

“No, don’t go to his side,” Logan said. “He’s being illogical!”

“Is he?” Roman said. “We, while being the cores of Thomas, are not all of Thomas. Even combined, it’s possible that we won’t have the power to summon him back. Also, consider how many other phrases have turned literal in the grayspace. ‘Bottled emotions,’ ‘Seeds of Doubt,’ uh, ‘creative block,’ and...honestly I got nothing for the bear traps, but I’m sure it’s something. It’s not unreasonable to think that Thomas could be trapped inside his own mind within the grayspace.”

Patton made a worried noise that Logan knew meant that Roman had convinced him.

“All right,” Logan said. “What do you propose we do instead?”

There was silence for a moment. Then Anxiety said, “We could show him the whiteboards. That would work, wouldn’t it? Everything we know about everything is there already.”

Logan thought about it for a moment. “Acceptable,” he said, and snapped.

Suddenly, the five of them were in Patton’s house. “Whoa,” Thomas said. “This looks like my dream house.”

“It is your dream house,” Roman said. “Well, as far as your realistic, domestic dreams go.”

“Sit down, Thomas,” Logan said, gesturing to the couch. Thomas sat down. Logan wheeled the whiteboards in front of the TV.

Logan was the one who primarily did the talking, with all of the others--who were scattered across the living room furniture--chipping in whenever they felt necessary. Roman chipped in a lot, especially when they got to the non-bottles board. He’d been asleep during the original note-taking, but he’d experienced the most inside the grayspace, since he’d had to traverse it alone and had wandered all over trying to find them.

Once they were finally finished, Thomas said, “Okay, I see what you guys are nervous about, but I just don’t know how to fix it. Here and the mind palace that Roman created are the only actual places within my mind that I’ve ever been, and I certainly don’t know how to manipulate it. I really want to help, but I’m not sure what I can do.”

“Just try,” Roman said.

“Yeah, kiddo!” Patton said. “Just try not to bottle us up or keep us down anymore, okay?”

“Any of us,” Anxiety said forcefully.

Thomas nodded solemnly. “I’ll do my best,” he said. “I promise.”

“That is acceptable,” Logan said.

~

As Roman was getting ready to spar one day, he realized that he’d misplaced his shield. He looked all over the armory for it. Then he remembered where he put it.

He summoned himself into the grayspace, curious to see if it was still there. Surprisingly, it was. He picked up his shield from where it still lay against the wall, and turned around.

He saw nothing.

Curious, he walked further away from the wall, confident that he could escape from anywhere in the room. The only things he found were the bear traps. Those pointless, pointless bear traps. They were everywhere, probably the same amount as what had been when there were other traps as well, but they seemed more plentiful when compared to the absence of the other traps.

He made it to the stairs, and out of curiosity, climbed up. Once he reached the top, he looked around. Up here, there were still a few bottles, a few dandelion heads, one block trap. And so many bear traps. However, there were not as many as there had been, and none of them looked like they had been used in a long time. It seemed that Thomas really had been trying to make sure that none of them got trapped anymore.

Roman smiled, changed into Terrence, and popped out.

It was acceptable.

[citrus-feline]

lets be real tho. depression? not getting any better. my fault? yeah. but uh. what do i fuckin do about that? all the shit i need to do to make my depression “better” is shit i can’t do cuz of the fuckin depression i got. im like tryin to think about ways around it and like dude i am making steps to try to get outta this pit but it really doesn’t seem to be working at all. the only things keeping me from sleeping all day is my dad and jordan. and even then its like still “hhhh i like. want to talk to you. but i also wanna nap...... nah, i should keep talking... its good for me...... *5 min later* hey im gonna go take a nap.”

like. i used to think that the absolute bottom of depression is suicide, but like, YEAH, i think about that stuff a lot, but im like. used to pushing those thoughts away. im easily in one of the worst depressions of my life rn and i’ve realized that, huh, maybe being depressed as fuck doesn’t require wanting to actively commit suicide every minute? like sure, i think things would be better if i did just like have a heart attack and died, but like. i’ve got systems about dealing with that now at this point in my life. i say that kinda shit and its like “yeah, thats true, but only for part of me. some things are really good, and i love people who love me back. it would be shitty for me to leave them like that”. like, i dunno man. part of how bad it is rn is my apathy with shit like suicidal thoughts. like, hey, i feel like hurting myself. whatever, im too depressed to get out of bed to do anything anyways.

like im not as bad as possible. i could never leave my room. and some days i don’t. but for the most part i make myself at least go upstairs and try to drink something and maybe eat if im up for it. i force myself to take my meds every day cuz i know im 1 million times worse without them, also i dont wanna deal with withdrawal headaches. i could like, avoid eating or taking meds all together. but that doesn’t mean im not bad. like. i can laugh and have fun with activities every now and then, but thats like the only thing keeping me from going completely numb. if it wasn’t for other people helping me laugh and gently pushing me to do stuff like shower and eat i would literally be my worst, lying in bed all day and leaving only to go to the bathroom.

i feel shitty about it, cuz i want to get better, i do. i just feel like i can’t. right now is a tough time for me where motivation is at an all time low. i might get a little excited and say “im gonna do this and this”, but inevitably i probably won’t do that unless someone else is there to push me. and even then i may still just give up. my depression will fuckin catch me when im having a good time, it will say “hey im here” and then my mood will just plummet again. ill be laughing and having fun talking to friends online but then BOOM, you’re sad as fuck. go take a nap, shithead. and i will. i go take a nap. even tho i know i shouldnt, i do. cuz like. what obligations do i have? in nearly all ways i am like the ultimate burden / freeloader. i try real hard to not feel shitty about it and like justify it with “you’re very mentally ill and can’t help it” or even “people like having you around” but like? fuck if i actually don’t believe that in the end.

i was talkin about hospitals today and like. i just thought. is that where i belong? i live my life like a very sick person. and i am “sick” in my own way, but is it really real? is it really justified for me to exist for the sake of existing? am i really okay with this? no, im not. but i would feel even worse if i made myself suffer by getting fired from another job. are things bad? in my environment, absolutely not. people support and love me and fucking do all this shit and take care of me for absolutely no gain for themselves, and yet i am still this fucking huge burden on the fucking lives of the people i care about. “you’re doing your best” “we love you” yeah, i know, and that just makes me feel worse, cuz you gotta love a shitty person like me who can’t do anything even when they are doing their fucking best.

this post went in a different direction than i expected, but whatever. im like. angry at myself now. i want to grit my teeth and fucking punch something. but if i do that i know ill feel worse cuz i do that shit where i always pull the punch last second, even if i REALLY don’t want to. my hesitation is what makes this all worse. if i had the nerve to commit to shit i feel like i wouldn’t be in the situation. even for shit that doesn’t matter like punching a fucking pillow, i can’t do that right. i try, fucking believe me, but that doesn’t matter. im still just shitty me living my life filled with great shit that i fail to appreciate. and its so easy to fucking say “yeah, it’s my depression” but is that really fucking true? or am i lying to myself so i don’t just wait in my bed until i die? its getting to the point where i can’t tell if its depression or my inherent weakness. is it the chemicals in my head, or is it actually me as a fucking person that is seriously fucked up? what if my brother is right and im just a fucking loser that makes the excuse of depression so i dont fucking kill myself right now? like, what the fuck? what am i doing? shit isnt bad at all for me, and yet here i fucking am, screaming into the void about how much i fucking hate myself.

i want to blame people for this. i want to blame my mom. i want to blame my sister. i want to blame my brother. i want to blame the kids at school. i want to fucking blame everyone for why im like this. but i think im just meant to be broken. does a god really exist if i live like this? is there really a plan for me? is there meaning to my life at all besides being a burden on the people i love? i want to run away just so they don’thave to fucking deal with me anymore. im such a waste of space time and money. i dont care if im a “good person”, does tha treally make it okay for me to just freeload and kill the people i love just by fucking existing? i iknow they love me, and ilove them too, more than youcan fucking imagine, but odes that really justify it? does that make it okay?

i keep thinking im okay with this, im getting used to being this fucked up shell of a human being, but im not. im not. im not im not im not im not. i hope that if i get ssi i might stop feeling like this, and i might believe that people actually want me around, because ill be able to carry my own price at least a little. but with how things are, i don’t know. i don’t fucking know. im so fucking scared. i want things to go well but i just know they wont. what happens if they dont believe me about my depression? what happens if they push me away and tell me to get off of my ass? will i? no. i’ll kill myself. its literally that fucking simple. but what kind of fucking nerve do i have to do that kind of shit? i DONT. im a piece of shit who is so fucking ruined that i can’t even kill myself. im such a fucking mess. i wish i didn’t have to be this way. i wish i was fucking normal. i wish i could live up to the expectations they had of me. i was so smart and talented. but now im just a shithead ranting on tumblr about how i want to die.

what the fuck is wrong with me

[evil-maryland]

yeah, a few.... theyre so floofy

i see you are attacking me with likes (targeted) so i will attack back