#(actually yesterday its already 2am here but whatevs)

[8ripecunts]

happy anniversary to me deciding to rewatch mindhunter (ft this redraw of my very first bill tench sketch 🥺)

[nhasablogg]

Did it all to make you feel admired

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Morgan/Reid

Summary: While apart during a case Morgan tells Reid over the phone exactly how he’d tickle him if he was there.

A/N: Loosely part of the universe that this fic takes place in, but can be read independently. Thanks so much for the love on that fic btw! I might be adding more parts to this ‘verse as time goes on, so feel free to request anything you want to see! I already have some ideas of my own.

Warnings: Not really anything graphic, but kind of sexual undertones if you squint. Also tickle kinks, but it's pretty tame and not really discussed in this one.

Words: 1.5k

(Read on ao3)

“Pretty boy.”

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief and gripped the phone tighter. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He could hear the smile in Derek’s voice. “How you holding up?”

“Well, I haven’t had a fever since yesterday morning.”

“Why do you sound so grumpy about that?”

“It means I could’ve come with.”

“Spence.” He was rummaging through something, possibly his bag. The first time they’d been forced to share a room during a case Spencer had been surprised by how organized Derek was. Everything was exactly in its place. Well, until the things actually left the bag, that is. “We weren’t gonna bring you with us when you were sick.”

“But at that point I had already been sick for three days, and the likelihood of it continuing for longer than another couple of days was very low, which I told you about-”

“You’re probably better because you’ve been resting.”

“Hm.”

“Spencer.”

“Yes?”

“You have been resting, right?”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the ceiling. “Of course.”

“Baby.”

“Mm?”

“I know when you’re lying.”

Something about his tone of voice made Spencer flush. He could imagine him hovering above him, fingertips on his jawline, head tilted as he gently told Spencer exactly what he wanted him to do for him-

Well, his brain was just cruel. Derek was in fucking Seattle and he was left (alone, unattended, abandoned) in Virginia.

“I might have asked Garcia to send me some of the case materials,” he admitted, and he could hear Derek spluttering into the phone. “Hey, it’s actually really boring to just be lying here when you’re not dying.”

“I’m gonna kill her.”

“Please don’t.”

“Don’t think I won’t kill you too.”

“You’ll miss me too much.”

Derek didn’t reply. He must’ve found whatever he’d been looking for. Maybe he was getting ready for bed. It was nearly 11pm over there after all and he’d probably had a long day.

“I have some input if you guys want it,” he mumbled after a while and Derek huffed out a laugh.

“Of course you do.”

“She wouldn’t send me everything.”

“She shouldn’t have sent you anything.”

“Don’t blame her, I was pestering her for like two days.”

“Oh my god.” Derek laughed again. Spencer couldn’t help but smile. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“You knew what you signed up for.”

“That I did.”

The sound of the faucet running. Spencer turned his head and looked at the semi-illuminated tree tops outside. Being sick during springtime was just unfair.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you still awake anyway? It’s like 2am there.”

Spencer shrugged even though he knew he couldn’t see it. “Wanted to talk to you.”

“We literally talked earlier because you wanted me to talk you to sleep.”

“Didn’t work.”

“Spencer, have you spent the last few hours working instead of sleeping?”

“No.”

“Doctor Reid.”

“Oh, stop. You can’t say it like that when you’re not here.”

Derek hummed. “I’m gonna tickle you to pieces once I get back. As punishment, of course.”

Spencer blushed to the roots of his hair. After all these months he was still unused to this. “Oh, no, whatever shall I do.”

“Okay, smartass. What if I do the opposite and withhold tickles until you learn to take better care of yourself?”

“Oh, now you’re being mean,” he pouted.

Derek laughed. He could hear him get into bed, probably shuffling under the covers and lying on his back with one arm behind his neck like he usually did.

Spencer ran a hand over his chest. “Speaking of that,” he started, suddenly feeling shy even though Derek couldn’t see him. “How- how exactly would you punish me?”

“You want to know how I would tickle you right now, pretty boy?” His tone was teasing, but his voice gentle. He wasn’t making fun. He never had.

“Maybe.”

“I need you to speak up, baby.” Spencer groaned, making Derek laugh again. “Or is that too much to ask for? Are you blushing?”

“Me? Never.”

“Hmm. I can imagine it so clearly though. Your eyes refusing to meet mine. Me forcing you to look up by gently holding your jaw. How deliciously pink you are right now. I can nearly feel the heat of your cheeks on my fingers.”

Spencer covered his face with both his hands, caught somewhere between an embarrassed laugh and an overwhelmed squeal which Derek could probably hear. “Stop.”

“Don’t you want me to tell you how I’d tickle you?” he purred on the other side. Spencer could imagine his grin and it made his heart skip a beat.

He said, quietly, “Yes.”

“That’s a good boy,” Derek said. “I’d ask you to tell me how you’d want me to tickle you, but I fear we’d be getting nowhere with how shy you’re being tonight.” Spencer whined and Derek laughed once again. “Don’t worry, it’s adorable. As for the tickling.” He sang the last word, dragging it out as if to make sure Spencer didn’t miss it. “Are you lying on your back?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’d probably not straddle you or anything, but start off lightly just to see you squirm and fight against your instinct to move away. I’d trail my fingertips over your ribs-” Spencer started stroking his own ribs, his skin warm to the touch. “Watch you tense up each time I get close to your sides. I’d probably be grinning at you and you would blush, kind of like you are right now.”

Spencer’s blush intensified. “Do you have cameras in here?”

“No. But that’d be kinda hot right now.”

Spencer laughed.

“There it is,” Derek said, audibly delighted. “The first laugh. I bet it’s because I’m slowly moving toward your belly and you’re nervous about it.”

Spencer moved his hand down, his abdomen jumping beneath his fingers.

“I bet your belly’s jumping right now. That’s so cute, by the way. You being so sensitive there that your body’s fighting to get away from the sensation.”

“Derek.”

“Yes?”

Spencer breathed out, unsure whether the teasing was too much or just enough. Maybe not having him physically there made it all the more intense, since Spencer couldn’t know what Derek looked like. If he was smiling or undressing him with his eyes, or both at the same time. He could hear Derek shuffling when he didn’t reply.

“You okay?” he asked, dropping any playfulness from his voice. Spencer could picture him frowning.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, sorry-”

“There’s no need to apologize, angel.”

Angel. Derek had never called him angel before.

“Did you start overthinking?” he continued.

“Not really, I just- I didn’t know how to respond to your- teasing. It’s different when you can’t physically see my reactions.”

“You don’t have to respond, you know. I trust you’ll tell me if you think I’m overstepping or that it gets too much. You can just lie there in silence and imagine my hands on you, okay?”

Spencer nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good because I was just about to reach your lower belly and you know how much I enjoy the sounds you make when I kiss and tickle you there.”

Spencer’s breath hitched. He could practically feel Derek there, being so very gentle every single time.

“I will trace your skin for a bit, getting you all squirmy and flustered.” Spencer traced the skin of his lower belly. “And then, just as you’re starting to giggle and fight back I will pin you. Do you feel my body on yours?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. I’m straddling your hips, because while you flail a lot it’s your bucking that always throws me off. Literally.”

Spencer let out a laugh. “Sorry.”

“I forgive you only because you’re so pretty.”

“Mm, that’s shallow of you.”

Derek laughed in surprise. “I thought you were gonna be quiet? Don’t get all sassy on me now. I might pin your hands above your head and tickle your armpits and not stop, pretty boy. Actually,” he added when Spencer spluttered. “I think I’ll be doing just that. Raise your arms for me, baby.” Spencer did, even though Derek had no way of seeing if he obeyed or not. “Just like that. Can you feel my hand approaching?”

Spencer, somehow, could, and it made him throw his head back in anticipation.

“My hands are big, you know. I can cover so much ground.”

“I kn-know.”

“Oh, you’re talking again, huh?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“Not when you stutter like that.”

Spencer gripped the headboard of his bed, his phone on speaker next to his head, as if Derek was speaking right into his ear. He could almost feel his breath tickling his cheek, making his hair flutter a bit. Derek would be perched on his side with his head resting in one hand, his other hand free to roam. Maybe he wouldn’t even be tickling him. Spencer would be blushing no matter what.

“Do me a favor, pretty boy,” he was saying now. “Laugh for me.”

And Spencer, even though he wasn’t actually being tickled and it was technically impossible that mere words could tickle, did.

[thera-daydreams]

PLUS ONE

》 A TRESE TWOSHOT 《

[Maliksi x Reader]

📝 Summary: In which your beloved best friend snatches you from your apartment at dawn asking you to be his plus one for his cousin's wedding. Unbeknownst to the clueless you, everything is just going according to Maliksi's ultimate masterplan. With the help of friends and family, the Prince of the Tikbalang finally gets the girl he's been longing for. And oh, Señor Armanaz gets his dream daughter-in-law and the promise of grandchildren within the year.

📌 Warning: May contain some slight NSFW for spicy suggestiveness and cussing. No smut or anything super SPG—this girl can't write that for her life—but just be prepared. It's Maliksi we're talking about. We've got friends-to-lovers, obliviousness, pining, fluff, and a tikbalang simp. Figure it out. 😃

(word count: 7,454) ♥︎ Part Two: ?

》 AUTHOR'S NOTE 《

Not an Inday spinoff, but a lengthy oneshot in celebration of this blog getting 90 followers. Just ten more to 100, yay! Thank you so much for the love and support, everyone. I also promised that I'll be making this brainrot that @binibiningbabaylan and I have fangirled over a few days ago (find the original post here) when I finished the latest chapter of Inday. Here it is! 🥰

Before I forget, I was also inspired by the cute fic made by @crispybasil titled "Sunshowers" and the "Trese Boys As Things My Guy Friends Do" made by the amazing @smolla-than-a-bug (I bow down to your wonderful works in the Trese fandom). I definitely see Maliksi to be the type to go on spontaneous roadtrips and be the boyfriend to drive you around eveeeerywhere (while also driving you crazy). 🚘

There are also some songs mentioned throughout this work. You should probably listen to them while reading for the full experience. Ending was somewhat rushed but eh, I'm too exhausted and I've rewritten it too many times. Also, if someone makes some actual tikbalang smut, tag me please. Anyways, enjoy! 💕

The way it all started was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious. It happened like a blur. Literally. One second, you were snoozing in your bed. The next? You had a seatbelt on in the shotgun seat of a sophisticated-looking car. Your brain didn't even get to process it yet.

"... So let me get this straight," you grumbled, still half-asleep from your sleep marathon. You just finished a hugely successful project at work yesterday, got promoted, and wanted to make up for the restless nights you spent overtime in the office. Of course you were irritated from being disturbed. You were on vacation leave for two entire weeks, originally planning to go into temporary isolation by deactivating your social media accounts and reserving a beach cabana for yourself in Batangas.

Well, turns out, you weren't going to Batangas anytime soon. All because your unreasonably spontaneous bestfriend of ten hectic years stole you from your apartment at 2AM. Was this considered kidnapping? Was this him just being more in touch with his tikbalang side, taking unsuspecting women in their sleep and leading them to their inevitable death? (He was going over the speed limit, so it was a valid thought.) Will wearing your shirt inside-out save you today? Lord, masyado ka pang pagod para mag-isip ngayon.

"Go on."

"You abducted picked me up in the middle of the night because you want me to be your plus one at your cousin's wedding in Tagaytay?"

"Yup. And technically, the venue is right on the outskirts of Cavite going to Tagaytay," he corrected you as a matter-of-factly.

"Same thing, whatever," you huffed tiredly. "Your cousin's wedding is at 6AM today. In a few hours. In four hours."

"Uh-huh."

You groaned exasperatedly, "Mal naman, eh! You didn't even let me bring anything. Could've at least given me a heads-up a few hours ago. I'm practically emptyhanded right now save for my phone! Sinungaling ka, you said this was just a normal midnight drive—not a freaking wedding!"

The Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang, son of the Great Stallion, heir to the Armanaz herd, and the Top Drag Racer of C-5 Expressway—if that was even one of his Game of Thrones-like titles—grinned as he continued driving beside you. He let you continue ranting in the passenger seat while he mulled over his ultimate masterplan that would change his entire life later on. He was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, so all this wasn't his thing. But for you? He'll make plans, alright.

"Wala man lang akong dinalang masusuot o kahit konting makeup para maging presentable sa harapan ng buong pamilya mo," you exclaimed, in absolute despair. "Do you know how out of my league you are? Your rich-ass family might judge me—hell, your dad might see me as a hampaslupa if I show up there in my pambahay and tsinelas!"

"Psh, I'm not out of your league," Maliksi waved it off, smoothly turning a corner. "And calm down. We've known each other for a decade! My dad practically loves you as his own daughter. Heck, the entire family knows you and keeps telling me they want you adopted in already. Lolo Andres and Lola Perlita said they'd have the paperwork settled. You just need to sign them."

It would be even better (and easier) if you married into the family. To him, specifically (as if he'd let anyone else have you). God, he was already being so obvious in his advances, but you were just so damn oblivious whenever it came to romance. None of this needed to happen if you just got it through your thick skull that he was madly in love with you.

"That's not the point, idiot!" you slumped back into your seat, hopeless. "Do you think the bride and the groom will get offended? Shit, baka masumpaan ako kung magagalit sila, Mal. Mukha akong patay galing sa South Cemetery."

The long-haired tikbalang rolled his eyes, "Huwag kang mag-alala. Nothing's going to go wrong. Chill ka lang diyan. I've got everything under control, babe."

Babe. Yes, he even called you babe but you thought it was him being a himbo and a massive flirt. Now, it was his common term of endearment for you, but you still assumed it was him just being irksome to you and that you couldn't stop the man from saying it anymore. Thus, you let it be (the most obvious hint of his attraction to you, bestie).

"... Ugh, why didn't you ask Hannah or Amie to go with you?"

He just smiled knowingly, shrugging and making up an excuse, "Nagmamadali ako, eh. Hannah and Amie are also coming, but they already have the other tikbalang as dates."

"'Luh, ako pala ang backup choice mo?"

"Heh. Whatever you want to think."

Little did you know that you were always his first choice. Always. Even when he pursued Alexandra Trese many years ago, trying to convince himself you were just his best friend, it was always you. How did he come to that realization? Well, an international band he was a fan of released a song a couple years ago and he heard it being played in a club in BGC. The song title?

It Was Always You by Maroon 5.

Needless to say, after hearing the song and being unable to get it—get you—out of his mind at night, he stopped courting Alexandra. Unfortunately for him, that time, you'd started dating other men. Therefore, he was left on the sidelines... until your latest and most painful breakup, at least. That was five years ago. You still hadn't dated anyone since then, kind of traumatized from getting into another failed relationship like that.

In the present day, as if the fates were playing on you two, one of your favorite artists played on the radio. A very ironic song given the situation you two were in.

Best Friend by Rex Orange County.

Maliksi knew it was a favorite of yours. He knew it by the way your eyes lit up like a star brightening the twinkling night sky. Like the sun first rising in the morning at Apolaki's command. Like the moon extending its gentle rays from the magic of Mayari herself. If there was anything he wanted to ask of the old gods, it was you—everything else be damned.

"I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake," you half-sang and half-screamed happily, somewhat out-of-tune. "I can't wait to be your number oooooone! I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine—"

Maliksi glanced at you, not minding that his eardrums were probably getting microscopic ruptures from your aggressive singing. As much as he wanted to stare at you all day, he had to keep his eyes on the road. But the lyrics you were singing were wrong; the Prince of the Tikbalang was already yours from day one.

"Babe, McDo drive-through tayo for breakfast. Let me make it up to you. Gusto mo ng caramel sundae for your promotion gift? Sige. Ako bahala. Chicken nuggets din? Mabubusog ka ba niyan? I don't think they serve those this early..."

》》》

"Sandali lang!" you shouted out from inside an empty room. You'd just arrived at the venue—the Alta Veranda de Tibig in Silang, Cavite (practically the gateway to Tagaytay)—an hour or so ago. The hired makeup artist just left so that you could privately change into the outfit that had been bought specifically for you. Curse Mal and his ability to buy anything (perhaps anyone) he wanted. "Bwiset, Mal, you didn't tell me we'd be part of the damn entourage. We have to be walking the aisle in thirty minutes, simbako! You just love rushing me, don't you!?"

If only you were the one walking down the aisle today towards him.

When you exited the room, Maliksi couldn't help but let his jaw drop as he skimmed your figure, clad in the luxurious, silky satin blush midi dress he bought in one of those fancy stores in Makati yesterday. He imagined that it would look great on you, but now, seeing it on you in person... you looked divine (and frankly, he wanted to see it off your body to see what was underneath—but don't get too ahead of yourself, Mal). It was a whole 'nother level from his imagination. The deep cowl neckline and thin spaghetti straps showed your lovely collarbones... as well as a peek of your cleavage. His favorite and the best part of it all? It was backless, allowing him to gaze at the tempting curve of your spine.

He hadn't realized he had grown silent until you smiled and closed his mouth, tapping his chin.

"Lalangawin ang bibig mo, Mal," you laughed softly. Never had you seen him so speechless. You then flicked your hair back, ridiculously posing for him like you were on the cover of Vogue magazine (haba ng hair mo, gurl!). "Do I look that good? Char lang."

"... You look absolutely ravishing—I mean, uh, stunning. Hot. Yeah." That was all he could say. He mentally punched himself for not showering you with more suave compliments.

Still, your face brightened up, not knowing that the man in front of you just fell for you a thousand times harder, "Wow! Really? Damn. Ang galing talaga ng MUA na kinuha mo, ginawa akong artista. Give me their contact number later! May work event pa naman ako in two months. I'm shocked, it's like they made me rise from the dead! Even my eyebags are gone, Mal! How'd they do that?" Heck yeah, your confidence was boosted. He offered his arm to you like a gentleman, making you half-heartedly roll your eyes (you took it anyway). From holding it alone, you could tell that your best friend was a sinewy man (well, you knew that already after seeing his tikbalang form before—the little shit didn't even wear a loincloth like all his clanmates; your poor eyes were eternally scarred).

You looked him up and down. You wouldn't lie—Maliksi is and always has been an attractive man. Now? With his hair in a ponytail (pun not intended), definitely one of the hunkiest men you've ever known. "You're not looking too bad yourself, horsey."

"Ako pa!" He puffed his chest out in pride. You chuckled at his reaction.

"By the way, how do you even know my dress size and my shoe size?"

"Babe, I've known you too long. You know almost everything about me, I know everything about you."

You snorted at his confident tone, "'Di nga? You don't know every single thing about me, Mal. Assuming ka masyado."

"Alam ko nga anong cup size mo. Wala lang 'yang shoe and dress size."

You slapped his shoulder, cheeks quickly flushing red, "Huy, umayos ka! Walang hiyang tikbalang na 'to." With this guy as your best friend? You heard dirty jokes at least once a day. "Don't be inappropriate here!"

"What? It's only fair I know!" He looked down on you suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You already know I always go commando, so of course I know that your bra is a size—"

"Shhh! Baka marinig ka, 'nyeta."

"So? Let them hear. My best friend has a nice set of melons!" he shouted. You were grateful there was no one around. Hopefully.

"Oh my God..."

Your best friend chortled at how flustered you'd become. He led you to where some of his family was waiting, with a couple of his relatives already greeting you. You instantly and quite easily mingled with them, your worries of them not accepting you far from even true (they all knew how much their prince loved the innocent you).

"Kayo na talaga, pare?" one of his older tikbalang clanmates asked while you went away to be fawned over by his aunts.

Maliksi chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched you from afar, "Heh. Hindi pa."

Another one of his clanmates—a younger one—laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "Talaga? That's cap, bro. You two are like a married couple already and you guys still aren't a thing?"

"Ilang taon na ba kayong magkakaibigan?" the older one asked him.

"Almost ten years," Maliksi responded, a smile unconsciously pulling his lips up as he remembered your moments together. He watched you converse with his female relatives (who adored you the moment Maliksi brought you to a family event many moons ago).

The two tikbalang snickered as they saw the look on the Great Stallion's heir.

"You're down bad," the younger one said, snapping a photo of his lovestruck kuya. "You've got it so bad for her, dudeparechong!"

"Balak mong ligawan anytime soon?" the older tikbalang inquired.

"Heh. Balak ko na ngang pakasalan. Kung pwede, ngayon."

They looked at Maliksi as if he was crazy. He was very much serious, though, even if there was a huge, lopsided smile on his face. The Prince of the Tikbalang raised a brow at them.

"What? Don't give me that look. Our ten years of being best friends is practically the courting and the dating stage already."

"Eh... you're right. Don't waste anymore time. Go and marry her today, dude. Suporta kami sa'yo, basta groomsmen kami sa kasal niyo, ha!"

"Ge. Without question."

Meanwhile, on your end with the ladies of the family, they started pestering you on your love life (like all typical Filipino aunties). Chismis everywhere.

"O, iha, single ka pa ba?"

"Kailan ka magpapakasal? Malapit ka nang pumasok sa thirties mo."

"Do you want kids? How many?"

"Are you and Maliksi a couple? You look good together! Kayo na, 'di ba?"

"Will you be getting married next? Are you engaged? When's the wedding? Invite niyo kami!"

Before you could get overwhelmed by their questions, Maliksi swept you off your feet to lead you to the entourage that was lining up outside the chapel area. Again, it happened like a blur. He laughed at the partially nauseated look on your face.

"You okay there?" he asked, grinning.

"Your family thinks we're together," you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes. You weren't sure why you felt... tingly about their statements.

He tilted his head at you curiously, gently setting you down on your feet and helping you stand.

"Do you hate the idea?" It hurt him to ask you the question, but he wanted your thoughts on it. Perhaps doing this was a bad idea. Maliksi was competitive in many things, including wanting you to be his, but if you were so opposed to it, he would never force you into something you didn't want. He let go of your hand; you didn't even notice he'd been holding it until he let go. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Your wide-eyed gaze snapped back to look up at him, "No! No, it's not that! And... it's not bad." Your hand felt strangely empty now that his was gone. Biting your lip, you disclosed, "You're not making me uncomfortable, Mal. Don't ever think that."

With that, you shyly interlocked your arm with his, tearing your eyes from his to mask the growing warmth you felt spreading in your veins. You two didn't say anything else when the ushers let you walk down the beautiful, petal-covered aisle together.

The man beside you was starstruck. Hopeful. Maybe both of you did have a chance. Maybe somewhere in the depths of your soul, his feelings for you were being reciprocated. For the rest of the sacred ceremony in the gorgeous main pavilion, both of you relished in short, comfortable, and low conversations. He even cracked jokes every once in a while—really funny ones that made it challenging for you to you stifle your laughter.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Maliksi fervently prayed to Bathala that he'd experience the same opportunity he was seeing with you someday. One day.

Even while the sun was brightly out, the sky began showering down light rain onto the land. You were in awe as you looked out the window.

"Hala, totoo nga pala! Tignan mo!" you laughed, tugging Maliksi's suit sleeve, pointing at the window.

"Na ano?" he curiously inquired, not understanding what you were referring to.

"Na kapag may tikbalang na kinakasal, umuulan habang may araw pa," you replied, eyes filled with childlike mirth and wonder. A rainbow had even begun to form by the clouds. "Look, it's magical! Ang ganda pala ng view dito kasama ang old Spanish architecture. Timeless na timeless. It's so pretty, 'no? Picture tayo 'maya, Mal."

Unlike you, it wasn't the sky outside that the prince was looking at. Amidst the loud cheers for the newlywed couple and the bubbles the guests were blowing, his vision could only focus on how magnificent you looked while being amazed. You were his best view. (Ed from 90-Day Fiancé, kabahan ka na, may katapat ka sa pickup line mo.)

》》》

"Smile for the picture!"

You giggled as Maliksi was dragged into a photo-op with the bridesmaids and the important older wedding sponsors a few feet away (funnily, he looked a little constipated around them). All of a sudden, when he was heading back to your direction, you were roughly pushed into the said man's arms. When you turned around, there was nothing (except maybe a gust of wind that came out of nowhere).

"Ooh, gotcha. Careful," the tikbalang steadied you, strong hands holding your biceps. "Natapilok ka?"

"... Huh, hindi naman," you wondered suspiciously, looking around. "I think someone pushed me? Parang tinulak ako... but wala namang tao."

"Weird. Maybe it was just the wind."

It actually was. Really. Maliksi knew for a fact that it was those two taong hangin who were spying on you from the corner, trying to pair you up. He gave them a thumbs-up while your back was turned in the opposite direction. Hannah and Amie returned the thumbs-up before vanishing. Suddenly, the two wedding photographers had moved on from the bridesmaids and were right beside you.

"What a lovely couple you two are!" she praised. Before you could correct her, she held up the black contraption she held towards you two. "Pose for the camera, lovelies!"

And so you did, the photographer guiding you two on what to do. Maliksi wrapped his arm around your waist and you leaned on his side, looking sidewards to the camera with one leg cocked in front of the other. Her assistant, who was holding a polaroid camera, printed out two photos for you.

"Thank you," you told him, taking the photos from his hands then flicking them rapidly to make the images develop. You and Mal were about to walk to the reception area when the photographer stopped you, handing the male beside you a business card.

"If you two need a photographer or a videographer for your wedding, call me," she signaled to both of you before running to another guest, bringing her assistant with her.

You gawked, "Mal, did you just hear what she said?"

"Loud and clear." A grin was on his face. He seemed very pleased at what he heard.

"... How can she even tell if someone is married or not?"

Maliksi's free hand took your left hand, tapping the ring finger, "Nothing here."

"Ooooooh. I get it now." Your brows creased. "Huh. This is like the fifth time today the people here have mistaken us for a couple."

Maliksi shrugged, teasing you, "Who knows? Baka may potential tayo, babe."

Before you could ask him what he meant, he was hurriedly towing you to the reception venue. While he was doing that, you stared at the now-developed polaroid photos you were holding. Huh. Maybe you two did look like a couple.

"Come on, they're serving some snacks at the welcome reception area. Peach pie and mango float-flavored. Paborito mo, babe."

》》》

The rest of the night went by without a hitch. You were actually enjoying the event—the host was great, the food was great, the music was great. Everything was great... that was, until the games.

"Alright! Now that the bride's garter has been removed, let's have the bouquet and garter toss... starting with the females!" the host announced. "Dear bride, please stay here in front. And all single ladies—and by single I mean ready to mingle and are not married—please rise and stand here on the dance floor. Let's play matchmaker tonight, everyone!"

"Uy, single ladies daw," Maliksi nudged your side. "Sign mo na 'yan." You snorted like a pig.

"Nope, ayokong madamay sa bouquet toss," you whisper-yelled at your best friend. "Do you know how embarrassing that is?! Besides, they won't notice if I don't join! Special tactic ko 'yan sa weddings: pretending I'm not single. Katabi naman kita."

More women came to the front, making you feel assured that you didn't need to participate. The host was about to say something, when the bride interrupted to whisper something into his ear.

"Hala, halaaa! Sabi ko all single ladies, pero may isang single lady na nagtatago pa!" he announced, making you freeze. Please don't let it be you. "What's her name, beloved bride?"

"Y/N L/N." You nearly spat out your champagne. You? Did they just call out your name? How did they know?

"Oh fuck," you cursed quietly.

"'Di ka makakatakas dito, babe," Maliksi jabbed, making you stand up. "Tinatawag ka na."

"Baka may ibang Y/N L/N dito," you resisted, attempting to sit back down. "I can't do this, Mal."

"'Sus, ikaw pa. And it's just a symbolic ceremony!" he encouraged, as if he didn't have any underlying intentions. "I doubt the bouquet will go to you anyway."

Sheesh, what a big fat liar you are, tikbalang prince.

You expressed your dissatisfaction with the situation, "Bwiset, fine. I'll just... dodge it. Or evade it. God, I swear..." You calmed down, confident. "I'm not going to worry. I've never caught the bouquet at my own friends' weddings anyway."

When you were at the dance floor, Maliksi snickered, seeing the bride—his cousin—wink at him. After all, he had thoroughly bribed her earlier.

《《《

"It's about time you settled down with someone, Mal," the bride commented while he slipped her the newest Hermés designer bag filled with a bunch of jewelry (plus some bills) two hours ago, right before the reception began and while you were in the restroom freshening up. "Hehehe, this is why you're my favorite cousin."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Of course. I'll make sure she participates. I'll also try to throw it in her direction."

"Good. Thanks."

"You better invite me to your beach wedding. I can tell how much you love her."

"Not a problem. I'll even make you a sponsor."

The bride stared at her bouquet, already practicing how she was going to throw it, "Tito's going to thank me so much for ensuring that he's going to get grandkids soon, hihi."

》》》

Back to the present, on the other end of the room, Maliksi saw a familiar duo give him a sign that they were ready. Bingo. Time to execute the most important part of his plan.

《《《

"I don't care how you do it," he told the two wind elementals after he bribed the bride. "I've already instructed the bride on what she should do, pero siguraduhin niyo lang talagang lumipad sa kanya ang bouquet."

"Mmhmm," Amie flipped her hair, a hand on her cocked hip. "And what do we get in return, oh great Señorito Armanaz?"

"Sagot ko bar-hopping niyo for one month."

The two girls pretended to think about it, making Maliksi roll his eyes. He had to pull out the big guns, huh?

"Fine. Magbibigay ako ng cash deposit plus pwede niyong gamitin ang black card ko for a one-week shopping spree in Ortigas." There. Bullseye. That's what they liked.

"Deal!" they exclaimed excitedly.

Hannah let a cool gust of wind enter one of the nearby windows, testing out how they're going to do this. "Ano pa bang pinaplano mo for Y/N mamaya?"

Maliksi hummed, "Basta."

》》》

You tried your best to hide within the densest part of the group of women. The bride seemed to have her eyes on you, weirdly enough, and she looked almost feral wanting to throw her flowers into someone's face.

That someone being you. Most likely.

"Target locked on," you saw her mouth move. She positioned herself like she was about to throw a football at someone (ahem, you). Holy shit, was she talking to you? Miss ma'am, it was a bouquet toss not a bouquet throw. The bride seemed to notice this, and once more regained her elegant composure.

"3, 2, 1," the host counted down. "Go!"

Surprisingly, the bouquet flew very high into the air (it was a wonder it didn't get tangled in the ceiling decor), but quite a distance away from you. You grinned, knowing it was too far to even touch you. Squeezing through the crowd of women eagerly awaiting the bouquet, you went to return to your assigned table.

Ah, what a wonderful evening.

Sike!

Something painfully landed right into your face, leaves and flowers getting into your hair and mouth.

... Wait, leaves and flowers?

Before you could comprehend it, the bouquet dropped right into your arms. What kind of ungodly, inhuman force allowed this to even happen?

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our lucky girl for the night!" Everyone clapped, with some—those guests you knew—even cheering your name unbelievably loud. The host approached you, a glint in his eye which you couldn't understand. "Miss Y/N, kindly sit here while we await the lucky guy who catches the garter from the groom."

What just happened?

"All single gentlemen, please proceed to the dance floor. Remember, the man who gets the garter gets to slip it onto the lucky lady's leg later!"

Oh, God. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What you'd give to be back at home or to be in that resort in Batangas you'd planned on going to for a solo vacation.

"To make this even more exciting," the host stated, handing you a black blindfold. "Our lucky lady has to keep her eyes closed until her lucky man for the night captures the bride's garter! When the music plays, only then can she uncover her eyes."

See? Humiliating, just as you expected. Still, you wrapped the blindfold around your head (albeit hesitantly). You attempted to guess who it might be, thinking of all the tikbalang friends Maliksi had introduced to you back then whenever he invited you to his clan reunions.

"Groom, are you ready?" the host asked, microphone loud and clear.

"Ready na ready!"

"Single gentlemen, are you ready?!"

"Ready na ready! Awoo, awoo!" they loudly chorused, exactly mimicking Spartans about to engage in battle. You sweatdropped in the seat you were in. This was actually kind of scary. Maybe you felt a bit objectified.

"3, 2, 1, go!"

There was a brief moment of silence, which made you concerned. Ba't ang tahimik? Then, everyone erupted into roars and bravoes much louder than when you caught the bouquet—perhaps even louder by tenfold. What the heck was happening?!

The music played. Very raunchy, spicy, babymaking music. You expected it to be the typical Careless Whisper by George Michael or Pony by Ginuwine (corny songs which you could probably laugh at, at least), but no. Nuh-uh, this was probably worse. The DJ must be pretty young, the song of their choosing being a slowed, bass-boosted, sexier remix of Earned It by the Weeknd.

Ano 'to, bold? Fifty Shades of Grey? The hell was this?

Alright. This was embarrassing. Thank the heavens there were no children at this party. From the music alone and its implications, this was strictly for adults.

You removed your blindfold (that was okay now, right?) as the guests whistled playfully. You peeked one eye open reluctantly, then inwardly groaned. Oh, no. You should've expected it to be him of all people from how loud the reactions were. And all those yells from the crowd were from his family.

Son of a—

"Well, this has proven to be a very interesting arrangement!" the host proclaimed. "Our lucky man for tonight is none other than our great clan leader's heir, Maliksi Armanaz! Congratulations, sir! You get to slip the lacey little garter on Miss Y/N!"

The said very smug tikbalang stood a few feet away from the chair you were sitting on, smirking at you. His hair was no longer in that mesmerizing ponytail—instead, he'd tied it into a more sinfully attractive man-bun, loose strands framing his face and accentuating that sharp, angled jaw of his (say yes and thank you to Manny Jacinto's jawline, besties).

"Let's cheer him on in his new mission, everybody!" the host pushed. Was this that glint in his eye earlier? And was that a one thousand peso bill sticking out of his pocket?

The groomsmen, Mal's cousins and uncles whom you've met before, hollered words of encouragement to the tall man (who was, oddly enough, not one bit fazed). In fact, Maliksi seemed like he was famished as he stared you down.

You swallowed, feeling like you were going to get eaten (heh, say that again). Maliksi had shrugged off his dark suit blazer to the beat of the song (holy fuck, he also unclasped the suspenders attached to his pants right before your eyes—asdfghjkl). Were you prepared for this? No. Will you ever be prepared? No!

"Mr. Armanaz, before you begin," the host interrupted. "We have an additional challenge for you in this mission. Kaya mo ba? It was a request of the newlywed couple."

"What is it?"

"Use your teeth!" the bride and the groom cheerfully shouted, clapping with the other guests. Whatdidtheysaaaaay???

The cocky bastard didn't even hesitate, his smirk at you growing wider; those pearly whites of his on full display. Was it just you or were his canines a little sharper than usual?

"Anything for the newlyweds. Challenge accepted," he dashingly replied, winking at you. You sputtered indignantly. Pisteng yawa. Putangina. Putek. Pakshet. You swore you thought of every swear word in the book at that moment. What did that YouTube parody song about Filipino mythological creatures say again? About the tikbalang? Ah, yes. Half-macho dancer and half-stallion. Maybe the joke was true, especially when you saw what Maliksi did next.

He bit the shred of lace, loosening his necktie (bestie, you good there?), unbuttoning some top buttons, and rolling up the sleeves of his collared white undershirt up to his elbows (consequently showing off his toned, veiny forearms—those lucky bridesmaids behind him nearly fainted). Honestly, you felt like you were about to lose your mind from embarrassment. With how tantalizing your guy best friend was being? Let our response be: San Pedro, kunin mo na ako. Was he doing all this to tease you? To rile you up?

Because damn it all, it was working. In your ten years of knowing Maliksi Armanaz, withstanding all his daily dirty jokes and flirtatious attempts, never had you seen him like this. So... wolfish. Ravenous. Like he was a man that hadn't been fed in years.

He stalked closer towards you, falling to his knees in front of your legs. Your gown had a long slit that extended up to an inch or two below where your left leg began—your best friend was eyeing his target already, knowing where to place the garter. Normally, you would never even wear something as revealing as this gown. It just wasn't your type, but Maliksi was the one who bought this for you for this specific occasion, so you had no choice. It was this or your pantulog he stole you in just hours ago. At first, you were confident in the gown. Now? You felt too... naked.

Somehow, in the heat of it all, you'd muted out the noise of the venue. Maliksi teasingly lifted your foot up, fingertips slyly grazing the thin shoe straps around your left foot—his calculated touch leaving fire in its trail. Once the garter had been successfuly inserted past your high-heeled stilettos, the man kneeling in front of you kept his hands to himself. Despite the fact that now there was absolutely zero skin-to-skin contact between you and this man, your body felt hotter than it ever was before as he expertly slid the lacy bit of cloth up your ankle at an agonizingly slow pace.

Maliksi's warm eyes had turned dark, his pupils blown, a tinge of red in them—of his true beast—while he maintained striking eye contact with you, pulling the garter up your calf with his teeth. Smoothly tugging... tugging... tugging. Tangina, it was like he was undressing you with his eyes alone; like he was telepathically telling you to keep your eyes open.

To keep your eyes on him, where he was knelt inbetween your legs, his hands intentionally locked on his back. Did you ever imagine this? Him between your legs? Maybe. Once or twice. But you never thought about it seriously; Maliksi dated girls left and right in the past.

His lips... his lips were so close... so close to your leg that you could feel the heat of his breath along with the lace. Were you about to die? Perhaps you already did. Maybe you were in heaven. Up... up... up... snap!

Suddenly, he stopped, grinning up at you mischievously and letting the elastic bounce back to the skin of your left knee.

"I'm not going any further, don't worry, babe," he whispered, noting that your eyes had become misty and glazed over. Internally, he grew worried. "That's enough." Did he think it was from discomfort? From you being uncomfortable? Bitch, no. It was the exact opposite. You had never been this turned on in your entire life.

You felt like your soul had left your body at that moment. Did you just have a heart attack? Was your blood pressure okay? Before you or Maliksi could stand, however, someone bellowed from the wedding sponsor tables.

"Higher! That's an order!"

Fucking hell, it was Maliksi's father who shouted. He wasn't in the huge tikbalang form you'd normally meet him in, but he was still very intimidating in his humanoid form, commanding attention and subservience wherever he went. You could tell where Maliksi got it from.

Instantly, the other guests—already half-drunk and wanting the spirit of partying to continue on—joined in.

"Higher! Higher!"

The host cheered, "You heard Señor Armanaz! Higher!"

Maliksi gave you a questioning look. Even if it was his father who spoke up, he still wouldn't do anything you didn't want. Well, you two made it this far; there was no point in getting embarrassed now. You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding. You probably couldn't erase the redness on your skin with how much you'd blushed from this night. It was as if the heat was tattooed onto your skin.

"Go on, Mal," you whispered to him, bending your torso down closer to his face, eyes half-lidded from want. "Finish what you started, babe."

With those sultry bedroom eyes he'd never once seen you show him before—plus you turning the tables with that familiar term of endearment, how could he refuse? Like a switch had been flipped inside him, he immediately complied, taking the frilly scrap of stretchy lace between his teeth once more, moving it further up to your thighs until where your high slit ended—centimeters below the warming juncture between your legs.

Your legs felt wobbly... boneless, as you stood up from the chair, the fabric of your gown cascading over where the lace sat securely on your upper left thigh. The party was still going strong even after you two finished the garter wearing tradition.

"'Atta boy! That's my son!" Señor Armanaz blazoned, standing up and raising his glass for a toast. "Cheers to the newlywed couple! May they last forever!"

You guys weren't the newlyweds, but it did sure feel like it. If the clan leader was hyped up, everyone was hyped up. Heck, the groom and the bride didn't mind one bit what had just transpired on their dance floor. In all the chaos, Maliksi took you out of the reception area and somewhere quieter. More private.

You would need to have a serious, urgent talk with your boy best friend.

》》》

You two silently sat on a stone bench in a gazebo somewhere in the reserved venue for the wedding, trying to cool down and get yourselves back together (at this point, you needed ice from that steamy, half-scandalous event you just went through). Here, there was no one else except for the chirping of crickets, the lush trees surrounding the area, and the golden fairy lights strewn all over the roof. Awkwardness was something you'd expected after what just happened, but somehow, you still felt comfort in this man's presence. For the past thirty minutes, both of you just stayed still, lost in your thoughts and reflecting.

"Mal?" you finally spoke up.

"... Hmm?"

"Ano tayo?"

"Whatever you want us to be."

Your fingers instinctively reached out for his, just like they always did when you were anxious. Sensing this, he grasped your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Soothingly. He massaged the skin of your fingers, distracting you from your nervousness. It seemed like both nothing and everything changed between both of you. The gesture was the same, but so different at the same time.

"Mahal mo ako." It was not a question. It was a statement. A truth—one that you'd been too blind to see before. One that you only discovered while you stared into each other's eyes in that party not as best friends. You realized with a jolt in your heart what he really felt for you, and now, what you really felt for him. In those thirty minutes of silence, you knew. You just knew.

"Yes. I do."

"... Just as a best friend?" you probed.

"..."

Finally, you gazed into his eyes, previously so dark and full of hunger. Now? Just reluctant. Vulnerable. Open. Unsure of what to do next.

Seems like you had to be the one to take initiative tonight. Taking out your phone, you opened your music app and pressed play on a certain song. Ikaw at Ako by Johnoy Danao. You removed your heels (which were starting to blister your ankles and toes), then pulled him up to stand.

"Dance with me," you murmured, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist. He was stiff. Tense. What was he to do when the woman he's been pining after for so long let him hold her? All his gallantry and ability to romance disappeared out the window the moment you let him touch you so intimately.

You two weren't even waltzing. Just swaying. Slowly, you leaned your head on his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"... I love you," Maliksi admitted in the middle of it all, feeling like he was dreaming. Your head on his chest kept him grounded to reality, however. "More than anything in the universe. I fell for you ever since you patched me up when you were nineteen and I was a reckless drag racer who didn't have a purpose in life. 'Nung dinala mo ako pabalik sa Armanaz Tower on the verge of death. Simula noon, ikaw lang."

"I realized that," you smiled, reminiscing the old memory. You were just a broke college student that time, coming back to your dorm from making your group thesis at a classmate's house. Imagine your panic when you found a half-man, half-horse bleeding out by some bushes on the way home at night. Despite your fear and your little money (only enough to feed you for the week), you went out of your way to buy a first-aid kit at the nearest 7/11. It was scary, but you managed to mend the creature's wounds by the side of the road. When he was finally able to speak, turning fully human (which you admit, freaked you out initially), you arduously carried him back to his address—to his father and his clan, even if you had classes the very next morning. Because of your heroic deed of saving their precious heir, the tikbalang clan had become indebted to you: a teenage girl on the verge of a mental academic breakdown, just making her way through the cruel adult world. How old of a memory that was, you thought, yet you still recalled it in perfect detail. "Just a while ago."

"Ah." He swayed you gently.

"Lahat ng ito, plano mo?"

"... Yes," Maliksi fessed up. "Except for this part where we're here dancing in this belvedere. Wala sa plano ko. Gusto ko sanang magconfess doon sa may fountain para sweet, pero..."

You lifted your head off his chest, smiling at him with one brow raised, "You know, between both of us, you're supposed to be the spontaneous one. Planning isn't usually your thing."

"I know. It's a failure, huh?" Maliksi sighed.

"Nah." You shook your head, then suddenly locked lips with him. It was so fast and surprising he didn't even get the chance to return your first kiss. For once, you caught him off guard. You pecked him on the lips again. "It's not a failure."

"Wha—"

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Maliksi. Ten years. We're twenty-nine now, and only tonight do I realize how blind I've been. We've been going around in circles, wasting so much time. Ayoko nang mag-aksaya ng oras," you whispered guiltily against his lips. How could you have been so blind? Andaming nasayang na taon. Making up your mind, you told him, "Yes. Sige, I accept. I'll be your plus one."

The tikbalang was flustered and baffled from the kiss, as well as your revelation, "... But, you already are?"

"No, silly. I meant that I'll be your plus one for life. For as long as you'll have me," you laughed, now processing that you were currently dancing barefoot with your boy best friend and had just kissed him in a wedding you didn't even plan on going to. The universe had a mysterious way of doing things. "Guess I'm the spontaneous one now, huh?"

Maliksi was tongue-tied. "Seryoso ka ba? Is... Is this a marriage proposal?"

"Whatever you want it to be," you echoed his words back to him. "Best friend, plus one, girlfriend, wife—mmpf!"

He kissed you so hard your lips bruised. After an impromptu makeout session which was definitely more in character for Maliksi, you both pulled away, panting heavily in search for air, still desperate for passion. He cupped your cheeks, giving you a sweet, featherlight Eskimo kiss.

"You're missing one more title."

"Hm? What do you mean, Mal?"

"Love of my life." He kissed you again, this time lifting you off your feet and spinning you around (his sneaky right hand was resting on your bum, too, giving it a tight squeeze). You know in the Princess Diaries where the main character's foot just... pops whenever the prince charming kissed her? Yeah, that happened to you on that humid summer night. This was right. You two were meant to be together. Everything was falling into place.

The bungalow you reserved for your Batangas vacation leave ended up being the site of your very eventful honeymoon with the Prince of the Tikbalang (with his libido, it wasn't that difficult to continue where you'd left off in the garter toss; that scrap of lace came off your leg the same way it went on). Actually, nauna pa ang honeymoon sa actual wedding (it was definitely spontaneous). Right after your confession in that alcove, you two went to Maliksi's father to ask for his blessing (which he gladly gave, cackling and saying that it took you long enough) before you guys went driving off to Batangas that night. You and Mal indeed had lots and lots of fun in that resort (I'll let you imagine the rest). More beautiful memories were made from that point on—this time, not just as best friends.

All that and your small, intimate wedding occurred in early April. Just when you thought that it'd be impossible to fulfill Maliksi's life goal of having a baby within the year (nine months of pregnancy meant that the earliest you'd give birth would be January next year), the impossible happened.

Exactly thirty-two weeks later, on New Year's Eve, the Armanaz herd welcomed one prince and two new princesses into the world. Triplets who were instantly adored by everyone in the clan.

Señor Armanaz had never been happier, and so were you and your husband. Your best friend. The love of your life. Your forever plus one.

Maybe being spontaneous wasn't so bad after all.

Taglist: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @methehipster @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie

[i-simp-for-gintoki]

Telling Gojo you’re bisexual

“gojo with fem reader coming out as bi?”-anon

Aha its 2am, hopefully this is done well

You and Satoru have been together for a decent amount of time now

Its been an amazing few months of your life, even if he is out on missions a lot

But its time you told him something that sadly many do not accept, and you were nervous

In the back of your mind you knew he probably doesn’t care but there was still that annoying ‘what if he does though’

Between teaching students, secretly teaching a student whos supposed to be dead, and long away missions, there wasn’t a whole lot of time where you guys can just hang out and have fun

You needed to tell him as soon as possible or else your anxiety was just gonna continue building up

You were already nervous enough as it is

You guys don’t exactly live together but always are at one of your guys’s place when your off of work

Its usually gojo just inviting himself over

But today you sent a text in which he gave lots of emoji’s in response too

He was late from the time he said he’d arrive at, but when is he not late?

Currently you guys where relaxing on the couch, you in his arms while a show quietly plays in the background

Well atleast he was relaxed

Your heart was going at like 900 mph

You thought saying it would be easy but now that he’s actually here what do you do?

‘Do i just casually say it? Make it as a joke?? Try to be serious with satoru?? Actually does he even know what being bisexual i--’

“So whats on your mind?” he asks interrupting your train of thought

“Huh?” “this whole time you’ve been actin pretty weird” you sit up a bit and tilt your head back to look at him

“You noticed?”

“Nope!” he states proudly

‘This guy ticks me off sometimes’

“I thought you were tired at first but i just talked for 10 minutes about my day and didn’t even get a single hum in response. Plus you were glaring at the tv like your brother was just murdered” “oh...well...uh..you see”

You fully sit up and satoru tilts his head a bit as he looks at you behind his sunglasses

“I have...i have a confession to make…” you start

“Oh are you finally confessing that you ate the mochi i bought yesterday?” “What? No..well maybe i did, but thats not--” “cause i was really look--” “Satoru please.” you say in a more serious tone and he shuts up

“Now i know many people might find this distasteful, or weird, and that you might even want to break up over this…” you start, voice cracking a bit and you faintly notice how he’s sitting up fully now, attention completely on you

“...and...oh whatever, Satoru. I’m...i’m bisexual” you say looking towards the floor, you didn’t have the courage to look up at his face

A moment of silence passes and he laughs “wait, seriously that’s what was bothering you??”

“Huh?”

“You think i care if you like girls or boys? That hardly matters. It would be a different case if you only like women, which would make our relationship kinda awkward but-” “you really don’t care?” you ask finally looking at him, but he was just smiling like an idiot

“Course not. If anything, it just means i have more competition. Not like they’d stand a chance, since im perfect in everyway after all” he says pulling you a hug which you gladly accepted

“Thank you” you say and he nods before kisses the top of your head

A peaceful silence passes before he speaks up

“So about my mochi you ate-”

[cyoza]

1. :(

Helllooooo

I’m so so so sorry this has taken me so long. At first I couldn’t find my footing with this request and didn’t wanna just rewrite what i’ve already done so it took me a while to figure out how I should go about it and then it got super hectic at work and I’ve only managed like 3 days off in the last month so long story short, its been a Time. 

But I felt like this is a bit of an angle I haven’t done yet. It kinda follows on from another fic I have (Part 1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674324 and Part 3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674324/chapters/74814246 ) but you shouldn’t need to read that one to get this one (I hope) so I hope you can enjoy it and I realise the actual request isn’t in it but I will be doing a second (or third if you’ve read the first one) part with a little smut. I just realise it’s been a long time and didn’t want to make it longer.  

Anyway, thank you for your request! Enjoy the first half! 

‘I cant’t do anything right.’ 

- 

By the time Dick had let himself into the Tower that evening, it was purely the power of God that got him through the door. It had been a long night on patrol and his body was really feeling the effects of it. 

He ignored the ever present dull throb in this chest as he crossed the threshold and hung his jacket and backpack on the coat stand. 

It had been 5 years since Kory’s death and although managing it had gotten easier, the pain was still as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. It had taken him a while after her death to get his head on straight; a few years of a while. It wasn’t until Donna essentially hosted an intervention that had felt the need to kick himself into shape. 

‘Is this what Kory would have wanted for you?’ She had said, pity coating her words. 

And she was right. Dick had become nothing but a disgusting shadow of his former self, and Kory would have been ashamed of him. So he had begun therapy, upon Donna’s suggestion, and slowly but surely returned to the leader the team all needed. 

His heart still clenched every time he saw something that he knew she would have loved and the holidays were always difficult but it now felt like he could survive day to day without her physical presence. 

He always made sure that it was clear that although Kory wasn’t with them physically, her spirit was always present in their life. And he honestly believed it was. Whenever he was having a difficult day and he would get a comforting whiff of her perfume, there was something in him that knew it was her doing it. He wasn’t sure when the time had come where any memory of her stopped feeling like a personal attack on him, but he was glad it had happened. There was no way he could continue to exist the way he was. Slogging through each day with no end in sight; every reminder of her setting him on fire. 

Now, it finally felt like he was healing. 

It was 2am before Dick had finished his nighttime routine and his head hit the pillow but the sensation couldn’t have been more welcome. It wasn’t long before his mind began to switch off and he fell into unconsciousness...

- 

Dick opened his eyes to find himself in the middle of his childhood kitchen. The sudden nostalgic surroundings had his heartbeat drumming in his ears. 

He scanned the room briefly, landing on a figure sat at the distressed oak table that sent his heart rate thumping so fast, it would probably be heard as a hum. Although she had her back to him, he would recognise the cloud of scarlet curls even if he’d been blindfolded. 

He felt his knees give way as they buckled to the ground, the cold tile thwacking against them but he never felt the pain come. 

‘Kory?’ Her name came out as a breath of disbelief. 

Dick watched as she rose from the table and  turned to face him. He felt as if everything was suspended in the air as he gazed on her face for the first time in 5 years. Liquid sprung to his eyes as he observed her, her frame becoming distorted by the tears. He quickly blinked to get rid of them, not willing to give up the sight of her. 

‘Hello, Richard.’ 

He felt a sob bubble up from the sound of her melodic voice. 

She wore a strappy blackcurrant, chiffon, floor length gown and she’d never looked so beautiful. She could have been wearing a bin bag for all he cared and looked just as beautiful. 

‘Wh-what-’ He swallowed. Where could he even begin? 

‘Come sit with me.’

She swished over to him appearing to glide in slow motion. He felt his heart shoot through the ceiling as he felt her fingers slide through his own and she led him leisurely to the oak table before she made her way to sit on her own chair. She folded her arms on the table, saying nothing as she merely looked at him, a soft smile gracing her face. Dick had never felt a silence so intensely.

‘What’s happening?’ He asked, the ability to speak coming to him as a surprise. 

‘It’s a long story.’ She waved his question off casually, as if this was an everyday occurrence. ‘Aren’t you happy to see me?’ 

‘Of course!’ He reached forward to clutch her hands. ‘I’m just-.’ 

‘Confused.’ She interrupted. ‘I know.’ 

Dick felt the distant flash of irritation he always got when she interrupted him, his throat tightening at the long missed emotion. 

‘Well, aren’t you going to show me around?’ She deflected, her eyes twinking in a way that made his stomach churn. 

She stood to make her way to the framed picture of a 5 year old him holding a crab as his mother stood behind him that sat on the granite countertops. Dick felt a familiar, separate pang in his chest at the sight of the photograph. The picture encapsulated one of his favourite days; he couldn’t remember a time where he’d laughed more than he had that day. 

‘What’s the story behind this one?’ She questioned, picking it up with a gentle grin. 

Dick had a funny suspicion he had already relayed the events of that particular day to her before but he simply sighed and began to regale her with the story of how he had gotten bitten by a crab. 

‘Um yeah, it was a trip to the beach. We had a really good day actually -’ 

‘Dick.’ 

He was interrupted by Kory who placed the photograph back onto the counter and came to stand in front of him. She grasped both of his hands in hers and pulled him up so they stood toe to toe. 

‘Relax, please.’ She told him, releasing one of his hands to cup his cheek. 

Though he revelled in the feel of her lithe fingers against his skin, he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. 

‘How can I relax, Kory?’ He asked rhetorically. ‘I have no idea what’s happening. Am I asleep? Cos this feels like a little more than just a dream. You feel so real but yet I’m afraid to touch you in case you disappear.’ 

The hand that was still on Dick’s came up to join the other so his face was bracketed in her palms. 

‘I’m here with you, Richard.’ She said with conviction. ‘I’m not going to disappear. For now, at least, okay?’ 

‘How do you know?’ 

‘Because I just do.’ A mischievous glint appeared in her eye. ‘Kiss me, if you don’t believe me.’ 

Dick felt his heart lighten, just as she’d intended it to but he couldn’t stop the sliver of skepticism that pulled at him. Still, he figured whatever was going to happen couldn’t have been worse than the 5 years he’d already experienced. 

So, he wrapped his arms around her waist and did as she’d asked. However, instead of being met with the low buzz of his alarm clock, sure enough, it was Kory’s lips that he had met. The velvety feel of her lips under his own had him feeling like he could have burst into song. Forgotten were the last 5 years of disappointing early mornings and soulless late nights. 

All he could be was there with her. 

His skin blazed with heat as Kory’s arms travelled up his own and across his chest to land at his shoulders, her fingers sifting through the hair at the nape of his neck. The gentle tug she gave it prompted a gentle moan but left Dick feeling bereft when she pulled away from the kiss slowly to peer at him through glazed eyes. 

‘I’ve missed you so much, Dick.’ Her voice sounded thick with emotion. ‘So much.’ 

Dick felt his own throat tighten. 

‘I missed you too.’ Never had truer words been spoken. ‘You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry, Kory. I’m sorry I let you go. I’m sorry I-’ 

‘Don’t worry about that now.’ She told him, her eyes shining with intensity. ‘Just kiss me.’ 

He didn’t need to be told twice.

[cerealandchoccymilk]

[I wrote this long ass post at 2am yesterday and I’m not sure how I did it but it was in my drafts so here you go]

Okay but like. For reals.

I think Promare did a really good job dealing with the gay scene(s) especially for a movie made in and for a country like Japan which is not very inclusive to LGBT people.

Of course, the characters’ sexualities are not said outright at any time, nor do I think any/most of the characters are actually canonically LGBT, but the fact that they made two guys kissing not weird or unnecessary is a pretty big thing in my opinion and I’m pretty sure it was deliberate.

If there was a similar situation in another work, the character(s) would most likely be like “oh no, I kiss another guy!! I sin!!” OR it would become all too unnecessarily romantic and it would become apparent that it’s either catering to fujoshi or queerbaiting, or both, or a combination of “sin”/fujoshi/queerbaiting.

But in Promare, Galo barely hesitated at all. He first did chest compressions, went “FUCK IT,” munched the fire, and gave it to Lio. The kiss was about 25-30 seconds long, but it was actually necessary for the plot to move forward (it took that long for Lio’s body to regenerate). Beforehand Galo saw Lio doing the same thing to a girl to try to keep her alive, so they both know it’s a life-saving technique, not just some magic Disney stuff. After seeing Lio wake up, the first thing Galo said was “WHAT!!! you made me light a fire!!! but im a firefighter!!! nooo how dare you!!!!” This is not only very on-brand of him, but also highlights that the kiss wasn’t... gross. To be honest, I was amazed by how this scene was executed. I already knew beforehand that there was a kiss scene in the movie, but I didn’t expect it to go that naturally.

Also, (I didn’t notice this detail the first 2 times,) when the two operated Galo de Lion, the fire explosion was in a heart shape. This needs to be deliberate since it was drawn by hand. I don’t care if it was actually to symbolize romantic love, friendship, comradery, bonding, whatever... trigger put that heart in despite it being commonly associated with romantic relationships. They don’t fucking care if people go “GASP ITS A HEART THATS GAY” or “oh cool, there’s a heart, platonic love maybe?” or anything of the sort. And don’t tell me they didn’t know; if you see two characters next to each other with a heart between them, everyone would think it’s romantic.

That’s how all of my ship fanart looks like. Anyways, in this essay I will

[stephhannes]

one year.

“I realize as I write this that I do not want to finish this account.

Nor did I want to finish the year.

The craziness is receding but no clarity is taking its place.

I look for resolution and find none.

I did not want to finish the year because I know that as the days pass, as January becomes February and February becomes summer, certain things will happen. My image of John at the instant of his death will become less immediate, less raw. It will become something that happened in another year. My sense of John himself, John alive, will become more remote, even “mudgy,” softened, transmuted into whatever best serves my life without him. In fact this is already beginning to happen. All year I have been keeping time by last year’s calendar: what were we doing on this day last year, where did we have dinner, is it the day a year ago we flew to Honolulu after Quintana’s wedding, is it the day a year ago we flew back from Paris, is it the day. I realized today for the first time that my memory of this day a year ago is a memory that does not involve John. This day a year ago was December 31, 2003. John did not see this day a year ago. John was dead.”

—Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

this day a year ago was august 4th, 2018. nathan did not see this day a year ago. nathan was dead. 

it doesn’t feel like it’s already been one year without nathan. it feels like just yesterday we were in philly together. 

the more i think about the last day we spent together, the more i feel like i was a make-a-wish child getting a trip to disneyworld. the last day we spent together was what i would consider to be a dream day in terms of what my favorite days with nathan looked like. 

any day that we actually spent time together after he got off work was a dream day. once he started work, we were still trying to get into a routine, so for the first few weeks, we really didn’t see each other that much. he would get home from work at 4, go to the gym, eat dinner, hang out by himself for a little bit and then come to bed- where we’d usually talk for 30 minutes before he fell asleep. for that period of time, those 30 minutes were basically all of the real quality time we’d get together. but finally, we settled into a routine that allowed for more time together. 

the week before nathan died, i was out of town pretty consistently. i was in stewartstown from july 27th to the 31st, and then i went to new york on the 1st & 2nd of august. i got home late on the 2nd, nathan picked me up from the bus stop, and we immediately came home and went to bed. 

on august 3rd, nathan got to work from home for most of the day. i ran errands most of the morning and afternoon. i got home and he got done with work at basically the same time. he went to the gym, and i started cooking dinner. for some reason, this was the day that i was finally getting my life together after having a month-long nervous breakdown. i had gone to the grocery store earlier in the day and got things to cook something other than a “depression meal.” i’d also gone to the library, so i spent a lot of time that evening reading while sitting next to nathan as he was on the computer and eating dinner. 

we took a shower and then got into bed relatively early that night. i finished my book around 9:30 and we sat in bed and talked for a little bit. and then he fell asleep. i was on my laptop next to him for a little bit. the last time i touched him while he was alive was when i leaned over and kissed his shoulder when i noticed he was asleep next to me.

he was kinda half awake half asleep, and around 11 i was finally ready for bed. so i closed my laptop, and walked around the bed and closed his laptop for him, sat it down on the floor, and then went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. 

and that’s when it happened.

it all happened so quickly. i thought he was just sick. i didn’t realize he was dying. and then he stopped breathing. and i called 911. and he was dead. and they tried to revive him. and he was dead. and i couldn’t get in contact with anyone. and he was dead. and they took him to the hospital, and i followed behind the ambulance. and i got to the hospital and i waited in line at the ER because that’s what you’re supposed to do in the ER. and they told me they had no record of him. and i knew that meant that he was dead. and they told me to wait. and i waited. and tried to call people. i was so scared and so alone. and i sat in that waiting room on the phone with cody and i told her everything that had just happened and i wasn’t crying yet. not yet. 

and finally they took me to a consultation room. and finally a doctor told me that he was dead. 

and they let me see him. and i sat next to him for 30 minutes. the time they put on his death certificate as the time of death was actually a time when i was sitting in that room. i knew he had been dead for a couple of hours at that point. but bureaucracy runs slowly. he was dead at 11:08pm on august 3rd, but according to the certificate it was 1 something on the 4th. at 1 something i was crying in a chair next to his hospital bed, i was crying because they wouldn’t let me touch him. all i wanted to do was hold his hand.  

i finally left the hospital at 2am. 

i got home shortly after.

our apartment had never felt more empty, and just six weeks beforehand we hadn’t moved any furniture in yet. 

i walked in and every single light was on. earlier that night nathan had literally gotten on to me about my habit of leaving lights on. our bedroom was a still-life of what had happened a few hours before. one of our grey towels was on the floor, where they had laid him down to do cpr. the blankets were all on the floor, where they’d been thrown off when nathan collapsed out of bed. the fan was still running, laying on the bed, where i’d put it after nathan knocked it down on top of himself when he fell. 

i cleaned up the vomit. i picked up all of the scattered plastic that littered our rug from everything the paramedics had unwrapped. i grabbed one of nathan’s t-shirts that i knew smelled like him. i crawled into bed. i didn’t sleep.

no one else knew that nathan was dead until august 4th. just like every other big event in our relationship, there was a period of time where it was just ours. when we started dating, we didn’t tell anyone for a couple of days because we wanted to have it to ourselves for a little bit, and when we got engaged we waited a day to tell everyone because we wanted to keep it just for us for a few hours. and even when he died, it was just ours for a couple of hours.

i didn’t sleep for two days after nathan died. 

i haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since nathan died. 

i still remember the first thing i ate after nathan died. on august 7th i ate one biscoff cookie, the ones they give you on american airlines flights. i was flying back to texas and was so weak that i had to eat something. i remember forcing myself to eat again a few days later. i wasn’t even hungry, but i knew that i had to eat something. 

+++

one of the very first things i did after nathan died was write a eulogy. i never intended on actually verbalizing it, i just had a lot of feelings that i wanted to write down. i sat and wrote it when i came home that morning after the hospital, and a very un-edited version of it ended up being what i read at his funeral. 

i thought that maybe this one year post would be as effortless to write, but it’s been hard trying to decide what i think is the most important thing to say. 

i wish that i could sit here and say that i’m doing great and i’m coping well, but that’s just not the case. i still miss nathan so much every single day. i still wake up every morning weighed down by such an insane amount of guilt that i’m the one that gets to wake up every morning instead of him. 

i think a lot about the time that nathan told me that i’ve “never needed him for anything,” and how i also believed that to an extent for a long time. i’ve been such an independent person for my entire life, and when nathan and i got together, i relinquished a lot of that independence- even if it didn’t really seem like it to either of us. now that he’s gone, i can’t help but notice this gaping hole in my life. i’m really realizing how much i did rely on him, mostly for emotional support. the hardest part about losing nathan is knowing that the one person who knows how to make me feel better is him, and now there’s no one that gets me like he did. 

one time when nathan and i were apart for a few weeks, he said “i just haven’t learned how to get by without you yet,” to me, and that’s exactly how i feel. i just don’t know how to get by without him yet. 

i still haven’t learned how to cook for just one person. every night when i come home from work, i feel this weird emptiness because i don’t have anyone to tell about my day. i get that i’m 24 years old and i should know how to self-soothe at this point but it’s been hard not having anyone to talk me down from my weird breakdowns at 3am. and it’s been hard not having someone to force me to get out of bed on my days off. i still can’t fathom my life without nathan in it, because he’s so intwined in how i exist from day-to-day. 

i still don’t know who i am without nathan. it feels like such a huge part of my identity revolved around him for more than half of my life. i’ve been having a hard time finding a purpose. when i was in high school, everything i did circled around taking care of nathan, being there for him when he was upset or stressed. when we started dating, it was the same thing. all the decisions i made for myself revolved around how i could best support nathan. now that i’m out here actually making decisions for myself and myself only, i don’t know what i want. nathan was the artist and the scientist and the athlete and i was the loyal sidekick. it feels weird to have my own identity now. to be more than the puppy at nathan’s feet. 

+++

i always think of this line from the letter nathan wrote me right before he moved to nyc- “It doesn’t feel fair at all that we could somehow find the one person in the universe that we truly want to be with, only to have to be separated again.” it still feels so unfair that we’re separated again. i still can’t believe that this is my life now. i can’t believe that i have to do this for the rest of my life. 

+++

the question i get the most now is “so what brought you to austin from new york?” and i’ve stopped doing that thing where i try to skirt around the truth. i tell the story the exact same way every time. “after i graduated from UT, i moved to new york because my fiancé was finishing up his master’s at columbia. when he graduated we moved to philly because that was where he got a job. then he died. now i’m here.” but even that story still doesn’t cover the entire last year of my life. 

when people ask what i did for the last year, i usually just say “i was on sabbatical.” i’m thankful that i got the opportunity to spend the last year doing whatever i wanted to do. for the first time in my life, i had a little bit of freedom. for the first time, i was able to travel and see my friends that i hadn’t seen in years, and go back home to nyc, and be there without worrying about if i was going to starve or be able to afford rent. i was able to lay in bed for like 6 months without the pressure of having to get a job. 

there are some days where i feel like i’ve made no progress. but i have to remember that i spent the first few months after nathan died literally thinking i was going to die from being so sad. 

i still cry a lot, but at least i feel like a human again. i’ll never forget how awful i felt after nathan died. 

for awhile, i thought i was going to get out of this without any sort of lasting ptsd or trauma, but boy was i wrong! lately i’ve found myself with more anxiety than i’ve ever had before. i’ve been having these consistent nightmares of everyone that i care about dying, and even in my waking life i’ve started having a lot of anxiety over the concept that “oh, everyone i know is going to die and knowing my luck it’s all going to happen very soon.” i’ve gotten more obsessive over small things- i’ve been having a hard time coming to terms with my lack of control. until nathan died, i felt relatively in control of everything in my life, but i lost so much control when nathan died and now i’ve just realized that i have no grasp on anything and it’s been a lot to cope with. 

anyways hopefully i’ll get a job with health insurance soon so i can go to therapy but until then i guess i’ll just be crazy, whatever. 

+++

i spend a lot of time thinking about what this year would have looked like if nathan hadn’t died. we would have been married by now. we would probably have a dog (or at least 2 cats) by now. we would probably be packing up to move a little further into the suburbs. we would have survived our first PA winter, i’m sure it would have been 3 months of him not letting me turn the heater on. i would have been even more in love with his dumb face than i already was. 

this last year wasn’t how i imagined it would be, but it was better than it could have been. i’m thankful for everyone that’s let me sleep on their couch, and everyone that’s checked in on me periodically, and everyone that’s spent time with me over the last year. i’m thankful for the new relationships i’ve built with people from nathan’s life that have now come into mine. part of the reason that i was so excited to marry nathan was an excitement for finally being a part of a family- and when he died i was so afraid that i was going to lose all of that. i’m glad that hasn’t been the case. 

from what i’ve read, the general consensus seems to be that the 2nd year is the hardest as a widow. so uhhhhh cool, can’t wait. 

[daydreaminghaven]

I needed a rant

I'm just going to write this down because I don't know how else to deal with this at the moment. My roommate is an asshole, it's gotten to bad that at this point I'm literally on the verge of tears. She is inconsiderate and rude and I don't know what to do. Sometimes my gut just tells me to go fucking punch the shit out of her but I wont because I'm better than that. I know for a fact that she could never beat my ass and it's not like I'm scared of her it's just that I'm scared of losing this home. I don't want to move anymore and if I do result to violence I'll be out and who knows where I'll be next? The last thing I want or need is too be in another fucking group home which will be right where I'm headed if I lose this place. '

And what could make me come to all of this? When I first met my roommate I knew we were not going to become close friends it was like I could see the future. You know when you meet someone and you just feel their negative energy? Well it was like that with her. Nevertheless, being that I just came out of a hellish rehabilitation program it was a miracle that I somehow was given a foster home. Foster homes are very, very rare for someone my age- especially coming from someone who was currently in a rehab. All anyone wants are little kids, and as a matter of fact my foster parent even admits she wasn't going to take me because she herself only wanted young kids. The only reason she took me is because I have an interest in church, quote me.

If I had to go to a group home then so be it, but now that I'm here I don't want to lose what I have. The problem with group homes is that they occupy too many people. Just imagine what its like to be living with 5-9 teenage girls mixed in with 3 or 4 tired, angry under-payed, overworked staff members (that switch out 3 times a day) all under the same roof. It's not pretty. There's ALWAYS fights, there's ALWAYS drama, ALWAYS something weather it be someone running away, two or more girls not getting along or a staff member not doing their job, or overstepping boundaries; there is constant stress. All. The. Time.

For someone who likes solitude, quietness, this kind of environment is- it's just horrible. It's already bad enough but then mix in someone who can't handle that kind of lifestyle and it can worsen their mental health, it can lead to self harm, suicidal ideations or worse. 

Once upon a time I used to be able to handle group homes, I just moved along when the drama happened, it was frustrating definitely (not just for me but for everyone), but it wasn't unbearable. But then I moved... And I moved again. And again. Then I started getting more fed up with it, then I started breaking down more easily, and self harmed, attempted suicide. I started to runaway, and use drugs... And every time I moved the staffs/therapists/supervisors seemed to care less and less and it was so frustrating. There were so many rules but so much unacceptable behavior slipping right under the rug!

And there was pretty much nothing you could do about it.

Then I got put in that rehabilitation and residential program which was some of the worst times in my life. It was like a bad group home to the max. You thought 9 teenage girls was bad? try 18-29. Together, all fucking day. No phones or internet, you had to be cut off- you couldn't even have a diary or pass notes without it needing to be checked everyday. You can bet there was fights and drama all the time, you couldn't leave the campus at all until months after you arrived. Not even mentioning that there was a strict schedule when to, sleep eat, shower, have mandatory groups that everyone hated. The staff in these places was even worse, virtually EVERYONE hated their job, and the staff in programs are allowed to put there hands on you if deemed necessary, and oh-fucking-boy did they. That power was abused way to fucking often but you want to try to run away? Straight to jail for 90 days just to get sent back and have to start all of your progress over from scratch... or possibly get sent to an even longer program.

These programs are technically 6 months but most people end up there for 8 to 9 months. You are given a set of 5 'levels' or 'phases' that you have to complete in order to get discharged from the program. Some kids are lucky and their insurance runs out and their parents can't pay to keep them there. I wasn't that lucky considering my parent is the state of fucking Florida. I'm grateful to be able to have good insurance and all but fucking hell that place was bad. Due to having to move to a switch different program 5 months after I was sent to my first program (over something that wasn't my fault, it had to due with medication issues which is a whole other story), I had to start all of my progress over and start the levels off from scratch. I spent 8 months in my second program making 13 months completely cut off from society (did I mention you weren't even allowed to watch the news?). That’s where I spent Christmas, Halloween, Mothers and Fathers day, even my birthday. I was discharged just two fucking days after my birthday. Just two. Anyways, the point is, I worked really, really hard to prove that I was responsible enough to get a foster home and I did. Even though my roommate is a fucking asswipe dealing with one girl is better than 9. At least I can kind of ignore her. But It's just so hard to act like it's not that bad she’s always

-touching and stealing my belongings -throwing actual garbage with bloody tampons in it over my ART SUPPLIES -always calling me disgusting and dirty when this bitches side of the closet -smells like fish -talking dirty to boys late at night (I don't want to hear about how you want to eat his ass. Stop it. Get some help.) -using my towel that I bathe with to clean the floor with BLEACH FUCKING BLEACH -USING MY LOAFERS AND WASH RAGS -plays loud angry rap music, or movies at full volume all night, usually until 2am, -or really early in the morning to wake me up WHEN SHE OWNS FUCKING HEADPHONES -Talks shit about me to everyone that comes through the door of this house (and loudly)

and I’m over here basically kissing her ass because anything is better than those fucking group homes. And I've tried to ask her to stop, or turn down her music, I've tried confronting her- and peacefully and respectfully but she either ignores me or gets violent. I've tried tried telling the foster parent, my therapist and no one is doing anything. I'm backed up into a corner. Like I said before, I'm not scared for my life, this bitch is like 5'3 (no offense to short people) but like I could kick her punk ass any day- and I would if I number 1.) wasn't trying to better myself and number 2.) cared about this home so fucking much. I just don't know what to do except pray and try to focus on other things. I wish I could just sleep in the living room. I keep breaking my headphones because I have to sleep with rain noises or something to drown out whatever she decides to play. Can you believe she has the audacity to wake me up just tell me to turn down my headphones when she tries to sleep? Like they aren’t even big headphones they are 6 dollar earbuds how loud can they be?! I do every single time though because I'm trying to 'stay blameless in Gods eyes' because I believe in karma and also if I didn't she would probably do something really petty like purposefully play loud music to wake me up even earlier or play it all night so I can't sleep. 

It really sucks. I have to live with this person for 110 more days (and, yes, I have it marked on my calendar) but one day she'll be gone and I wont have to deal (or smell) this person again. So hopefully I'll have some more learned patience by then. 

The whole reason for me even righting this is because yesterday she asked me to turn the light off in our room when I'm not using it (which is understandable, except you're never home anyways nor do you pay the bills) and of course when she came home the next day I made sure the light was off (did I mention the reason I'm not in the room when she comes home is because I avoid being in there when she is? My foster parent apparently thought that was important enough to report to my therapist like I have problems-But when I tell you whats actually going on you don't do anything about it so like...). Then today when came home I asked her to close the door when she goes in the room, while she was going to the room (because I can still hear whatever she plays from the living room). Guess what? She looked right at me, then walked to the room which is right across the living room and left the door wide open ON PURPOSE. Later on she said that basically it's not her job and that if I want it closed then I need to walk over and close it every time she leaves it open. It pissed me off so much that I just needed to write my feelings out because there isn't anything else I can do about it. Maybe when I'm older I'll look back on this and think 'wow look how strong you are now' and hopefully by then I'll be in a position where if someone is being an outright dick I can punch the shit out of them on the spot- I mean deal with them professionally.

just 110 more days Jasmine, you can do it. Do it for yourself girl do it for your boo thang

[vacationcalendar]

8/7/21

Hi boyfriend~

Just took a weed gummie in honor of Bonnie’s birthday weekend. My present for my friend is that I’ll suck it up and be an active participant in their life for a change. I’ll be game for a whole weekend. I got up early today and tagged along to volunteer at a charity 5k. We grabbed some coffee and wandered to the halfway point of the course (thus walking an entire 5k in the process! Not too shabby ;D), and then camped out a water station that I’d say should be very grateful I actually showed up to work its sorry ass. Bonnie didn’t have to do any managing/delegating, they just got to post up and chatter at the runners-by. I’m pretty sure if I didn’t go, and I promise I am not tooting my own horn, that water stand would not have been the fun water stand that it was. They would have had 2 dunces making it go worse, and only 3 people managing 4 tables of water cups. Volunteers man, what are you gonna do? I’m sure that’s why they were looking for 8 people per water stand, just to statistically ensure that SOMEONE with half a brain would be around to help out.

Great morning though. JUST a little too hot, but that’s how you know you were doing solid work out there. The proof is in the pits, baby!

Ok, 40 minute bathroom break is over. Man, nothing like starting the blog to make me SO productive in the mornings! It’s such a cheat code. I did laundry, dishes, pooped; my whole day is bright and available now! But now I’m tired and I don’t want to write anymore. I had about a 6 minute where I wanted to do this today and I actually hit it for a second before I had to stop and do ANYTHING ELSE I guess. So, fuck. What do we write now?

I had to get up suuuuper early for this 5k thing, and I only got like 4 hours of sleep because I did not factor in the early wake up until like 6pm yesterday, and I had already slept like 14 hours that day :I That’s right, I woke up, immediately crushed the blog, went back to laying down, played League, and watched tv and shit until I felt tired enough to sleep and get ready for the 5k, which was 2am. So now I have a weed gummie digesting in me and I have a nap climbing up my priority list and this is why I don’t like weed. I feel like I have to plan my fucking shit around it, and I’m not good at that. Part of me thinks I can crash right now and wake up before the drugs make me sleep for 2 hours longer than I want, and give me weird, unpleasant dreams. I can’t possibly pull that off, I’m not sleepy, I’m just like sluggish. So basically what I have to do now is power through into the “trip” (maybe I’ll luck out and miss it and I can just pretend I’m high, which I won’t do, but hey we’re brainstorming here), and let that smoothly transition me into a nap. And THAT would mean that I have to entertain myself for the time being to get me into a good place to start being high...? And then I can like power up my activities WHILE high, and that would be fun. Playing video games, great. Playing video game high? That’s the whole point of it. I mean like, that’s the whole point of life, right? And then I can be like NAPTIME BITCH, and that would be fun also, in theory. And then I can go put a podcast on and go to the movies? Ugh, I don’t want to go the movies anymore. I’m to tired :( This sucks.

I’m trying to go see Green Knight. I’m sure that sentence won’t matter at all in even like 4 months from now, but I think it should be a fun time. So much more productive than anything I can do from the desk. And it’s not summertime like this forever. You gotta get that shit in so you don’t think you miss it when the weather turns. You want to be sitting inside on a cold autumn day thinking “good riddance, being outside is entirely overrated.” And I’m not there yet. Man I don’t know. Well how bout this? Let’s do a little more brainstorming while I’m trapped here writing to your dumb ass. If you ever read these again this part will be like a little prank on you lol. Ok: 1: Stay here, no movie. Let’s lock that in. that should make having to navigate being high so much easier. Let’s let the pipe dream of doing everyone’s favorite thing of being at a theater high wait just a little longer. Today can be a trial run. We’ll walk around today and think about what it would be like if I had biked 20 minutes to a movie theater and watched a 2 hour movie and biked home. And when we suss out that it would have been unenjoyable, we’ll feel like geniuses for making this call. So that’s out of the way. LOCK IT IN

2. I don’t know yet. Let’s just start simple. Food. What’s up? We have almost no groceries. We have no bread for a tuna salad sandwich, but let’s put that in the to-do list. We need more english muffins too. That was an A+ 10/10 move last month. Just muffins w/ strawberry jam, and egg McMuffins whenever the fuck I wanted, which was always. Frozen Veggies like Corn or Beans would be good. Bag Chop Salad kits. They weren’t on sale last week, and it’s goddamn highway robbery when they’re at full price. So this week would be the perfect time to check in on ‘em. And I’ll commit more to an equivalent substitute this time if I can’t find a good deal. Let’s see, what else? Oof my wpm and accuracy is starting to take a hit. The first and only symptom! Nice! Miku. Meat. Spaghetti and meat sauce? Gotta check out what ragu shit you have in the house before you do that. Consider this your reminder! I know you’ve never successfully pulled that off, but I have full confidence in you. Oh fuck, now I’m starting to worry a little bit the coherent quality of this is about to start dropping. Well, another fun little prank for ya bitch! Fruit leathers? I just have no fucking idea. Ok, so shopping can 100% wait for another day. This isn’t anywhere close to a cohesive trip. So we can eat out somewhere! Great, lock it bitch. I’m starting to swear more; it’s because I can’t find the right words anymore. Oh boy, the weed smelling burps are happening. This really is so gross and difficult. Beer is just a more bitter version of soda. It’s actively refreshing. Damn, if only I’d been a little more exposed to peer pressure at an earlier age. I’d have been past this awkward uncomfortable phase of weed, like how I (and basically everyone) was with alcohol. You slam Natty Lites with your nose closed until you start to realize life is little more pleasurable than the absolute Kelvin zero you had come to be familiar with. Uh, ok, I’m starting to let my mind wander. He’s daydreaming, chief! I suppose I could just transcribe the dialogue of the daydreams, but I can’t keep up. This is just break o’clock.

3. What do I fucking eat!? I had to make a whole nother numbered point, and I still don’t have the plan. Jesus H,. Ok here’s what AROUND. Chex Mix, unopened. 1 Grape Soda. Cookie Dough Ice Cream (w choc sauce). Raisins, PB, Ramen, meh. Reese Cups! I just looked behind and was like, “oh yeah! Nice”. If that’s not everything, that’s REALLY close. So what’s calling my name? Pizza? Chinese? Damn, I might just have to play this by ear. Nothing at all sounds interesting, and I’m not the slightest bit hungry (we got free Dim Sum after the 5k. It was called the Dim Sum and Then Some 5k). Ok, so other options to keep on the back burner for later would be: Kebab, Chicken Sandwich, go get Pizza Rolls and Chippies at the store. Ok that’s enough options, that fuckin really took it outta me, I can’t believe it. My hands are kinda feeling heavier now too. I better think of a #4 thing to write about quick or I may lose all my inertia.

4. UMmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Movie time? I watch arrival and turn off all the lights and pop popcorn and have my soda? Where sunglasses and pretend they’re 3-D glasses? Maybe. Ugh, I can tell right now my eyes are gonna get bloodshot, or dry out or whatever. They already kinda hurt :(. It’s fine. I feel more good than not. Like I’m wrapped up in a blanket, even though I’m not. Maybe OH- Maybe I lay out on the beach chair and read in the sun with an ice coffee? Oh fuck that might actually be perfect. Then I can go no shirt and just feel nature, and maybe bugs are less troublesome when you’re high. And then I can pop Doughboys on and shower! Shower high, seems like a guaranteed home-run. Ok, I like it a lot. I have to do SOMETHING away from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum or I’ll go crazy this weekend, especially if I have to tag in on occasion and “participate” for Bonnie’s Birthday. Which, let’s be clear, is the least I can do. It’s a gimme. I owe Bonnie AT LEAST this much, even just as like backpay for holidays or yore. Like if I have the zhuzh to punch in for birthday shtuff, I better do it, right? I just looked it up, it might officially be zhoosh, not zhuzh, but zhuzh appears to me to be the best way to do it. And there’s like 5 accepted spellings of it. Stupid, not helpful. Just because it employs a sound that has no [conformed] applications in the english language? Poor excuse! Oh man, it’s so early I can’t believe it! That 5k feels like a day ago, wild. Well, hey! Point 4 is finished. Moving on!

5. What to do tonight? Who gives a fuck. Figure that part out when you get there, it does not matter at all. There, numbered list over.

Ok so, let’s just wrap this up I guess. I’m cracking an hour here, that’s plenty. Maybe tonight you do a little PRE-WRITING before bed, so this isn’t so “chore-y”. Let’s just remember you seriously considered letting yourself down completely and bailing on the blog earlier this morning. So we need to keep our expectations at appropriate levels still. It’s this NEXT week that should be very interesting. Just in terms of output. A little more practice, and little more muscle-memory. A little less crap to distract me (I have been burning through non-stop crap youtube/tv this last week since coming home, it’s fantastic. I was gonna say it was sucky, or disgusting or something, but that’s a lie I tell to myself to pretend I’m more diligent than I actually am. ACCEPT who you are and love yourself for it)

I accept you and love you Max. Ok, I have to go, I feel like I’m gonna puke... awesome 

bi

[survivorgalaxysedge]

Episode 5 | Forgive Me Cowtown For I Have Sinned - Ari

ohhhhh i found something JUICY tonight!!! so yesterday the hosts got tired of me constantly asking how many fuel i have and gave me the command to view it, and i knew i was outta points so i was like ok cool we'll check it out tomorrow. TURNS OUT the scorekeeper bot shows you not just your personal points.... but the points of everyone in the game.... and WHOM is number two on that list with 36 entire points? that's right. my best friend keegan. my first thought was wtf ew how did he already recover from my sabotage, i feel zero percent guilty about doing that now! and then my second thought was WAIT...... this is PERFECT. so you can bet i ran right to all three of my allies to be like "hey omg i found something shady :0 didn't keegan say all his fuel got blown up the other day? well i pulled some receipts and it turns out he still has all of it! why would he lie about that??? so sus!" and now i'm laughing because there could not be a more perfect excuse to get him gone!!! i'm not gonna push it any more than that right now - for all i know, we'll prob win the next challenge again - but i've tucked the ammo away in my pocket, planted the ari seed in jonathan and zoe's heads, and i'll let it sit pretty there until i need it. also, i ended up telling ali what i did to keegan simply because he is 100% not going against me and i needed someone to tell me i'm funny, so i also let him know about this plan o mine and that we could use this against sir keegan, which he's so down for. god. i cannot wait to tell mj about all this shit.

Jacob being voted out of NuTrian is the second best thing that could have happened. Preferably Nathan but my OG Andro and Jessie are safe so that’s very good. Now we’ve got a Guess Who challenge which is okay. I don’t care if we get first or second, I just really really don’t want to get last. Let’s keep the good vibes going and be safe for a fifth straight tribal council. Ali told me he scored 11 points, I scored 10. I hope Zoe can whip out her survivor magic with a score of 8 or 9. And then hopefully Jonathan can pull out a good score as well. Nathan and Zach have both scored 12 on this challenge before, so I can only hope they keep up with that and score high again. Gotta make sure those other tribes flop. I’m still incredibly uncertain about how to play this steal a player advantage. It’s possible we ride this 3 tribe split all the way to merge. My guess is merge at 11 or 10. That would be quite a few tribals to go without another swap but it’s certainly possible. Though I could absolutely see a swap now at 12. Two tribes of six, and then merge at 10. A final 3 with 7 jurors perhaps? Either way, I think I’ll hold on to this advantage until it seems likely that I’ll need it. No sense in causing some chaos if it isn’t necessary.

ok so i'm doing well in challenges rn, as best as i can at least, and i feel like that's the only thing keeping me alive bc.... nobody talks to me. i feel like i'm starting every one on one conversation and desperately trying to keep it alive and not be left on read. idk if they're like this with each other or if its just me but !!!!!! it doesnt make me feel good abt potentially losing a challenge. so i will just keep carrying my weight and keeping my cute little head down and pray im just being paranoid<3

WELL We lost the immunity challenge which is the first loss after four straight immunity wins. That was a nice little break while it lasted. The obvious choice right off the bat is to vote for Ali. Keeps the OG Andro tribe fully intact, and avoids the most possible drama. However, I worry he might have found the Circi idol from his original tribe. Plus whatever advantage he may have gotten from the first challenge of the season. So the alternate thought is to maybe vote for Jonathan or Zoe. I adore Ari would not want to vote them out. It's tempting to throw a vote on one of them in the event of Ali playing an idol, just to keep myself safe. But if Ali doesn't have an idol, that could cause a whole world of issues. On the flip side, I wouldn't be entirely surprised if some or any of my tribe mates decided to throw my name under the bus. I haven't been the most social person and while I have definitely pulled my weight in the challenges, I could see them having their own little group that's willing to throw my under the bus and make things as painless as possible for the rest of them, especially considering they've all said they like Ali a lot. Ahhh this is all so much worse considering I have the hidden immunity idol. I don't want to waste it, but I also don't want to pull a Kellee Kim and go home with it in my pocket. 

it's kind of ridiculous how well this is all going???? why havent they voted me out yet i am running this shit -talked to ali, told him he's gonna be fine we just need to get people to vote for keegan -talked to jonathan, convinced him keegan is the most logical vote "because he's shady" and because it also means we can vote ali easily next time (versus going down to andro 4 and having it get much more messy) -jonathan was like "should we tell ali right before the vote?" and i was like i think you should call him and see where his head is at and we can go from there, jonathan said ok good point, if he says he wants to vote keegan and he also tells you that without any prompting from either of us we know he's real about it -yeeted myself into ali's dms the very second jonathan hung up like OK LISTEN HERE IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY WHEN HE CALLS YOU, HE CANT KNOW I TOLD YOU ANY OF THIS -ali called me half an hour later like "omg we had such a good talk i love jonathan now deadass, i told him exactly what you said to say and he's so down" -presumably in the morning jonathan will call me and say "wow had a great talk with ali he seems cool and great and he said he'd vote keegan, what did he tell you?" and i can say "yeah same he mentioned keegan so i think we're good!" and jonathan will feel like we Did This Together and ali will feel like i Did This For Him and everyone will be in love with me -all i have to do tomorrow is make sure zoe is on board & that she doesn't feel pushed, and prob call keegan and make him some vague promises about working together long term, and then cross my fingers that i don't get blindsided during my editorial meeting at 9pm est i am having so much fun

i just keep thinking about how funny it’s gonna be when we get to merge and mj tells me to vote out all these people i’ve been making f2s with and i’ll be like “okay!!!!<3”

Not to go back to INV this round, but not much has been going on. I've been keeping up socializing but since we're not going to tribal it's been more quiet than it has been last round. I'm really glad we won though bc I feel vulnerable if we go to tribal again. Cindi seems close to Nathan, and Nathan and Jessie seem closer to each other than they will be to me so I'm worried I'd be an easy vote. So I'm really hoping for a swap or merge tonight, or at least a challenge we can excel in. Don't want it to come down to one point again.

^_^ Okay, so no important updates with this tribe! It's freaking QUIET. I haven't talked to Zach or Silver at ALL since being with this tribe. I've talked to Jules a lot and Asya some, though. I'd like to work with the two of them if possible and if we ever go to tribal here, which I don't want to do because uhhh it's worrisome! Anyway, the only actual update I have is that I found the legacy advantage!!! Randomly at like 2AM I found it. I don't remember what I was doing exactly... I think I just went to watch the Circi round 3 tribal and then the Trian round 4 tribal... and then I think I went to watch the Tribe Swap video to see if there was some sort of announcement made regarded the Oxygen Tank amounts because I was confused why that number was changed more than double. I guess I was also thinking that since the hosts didn't make an announcement that the adventure was resetting at the swap then MAYBE there would be a new twist/advantage inserted elsewhere for this next phase of the game? Now, being the crackhead that I am, of course back on original tribes, I SEARCHED everywhere on the blog that I could think of. Extenders URLs, the source code, hidden hyperlinks - everything. Nothing was there. But in this case, my brain said, hmm, let's just scroll down and see if there's anything in the description of the Tribe Swap Youtube video...and... there was!! I didn't really know what it was at first but when I opened it everything CLICKED! Finally the Reem Cameo from launch night serving a bigger purpose made total sense. After seeing this link in the description though and realizing it was calling back to something we were told about night one, I went back and checked to see if this had been hidden all along, and of course it's literally in the description of the Cast Reveal video!!! and every other video after that!!! Keeping in mind that I found this 11 days into the game, I was like, oh there's definitely some nerd that found this instantly on night 1 so I'm probably just gonna get a message saying nothing here or something like that. Obviously that wasn't the case though. I think nobody found this because I lot of people operate via mobile in these, and Youtube descriptions require an addition click to reveal what's there. Alternatively, for desktop users, who the hell is scrolling down for any reason while you're watching videos from your ORG?? It's nothing something anyone does naturally. So that explains that. Anyway, I'm happy I found it even though it has absolutely no use until Day 39. I will say though that having this and knowing that, it has really motivated me to get to the end of this game. Coincidentally, HOURS before I found this, I had a conversation with Jules about how quiet this tribe has been and that I'd like to start working towards bettering our positions moving forward seeing as there are people here with more/stronger connections than either of us. I just love that I found an advantage that motivates me to start playing this game, exactly how I'd voiced to Jules about feeling a desire to start doing SOMETHING. We love a live narrative!!!! Anyway, I'm not gonna tell Jules about the legacy advantage because it's an advantage that incentivizes people to vote out the owner and have it passed on. I trust Jules, we go YEARS back and have to successful runs as allies under our belts, but this is just something I'd like to keep to myself. Earlier today I also decided that I'm probably never gonna tell Ari about it either if our paths ever (hopefully) cross in this game. I wanna surprise my bestie! At any rate, Jules did tell me that Zach and Asya seem like the type of players that only play on tribal days (at least in this case of this game) which is fine, but I've played a few super intense, intimate, and high-stakes ORGs in the past couple of years which has made me prioritize personal relationships with people over barebones game relationships. This makes dealing with people who aren't that interested in getting to know me or revealing themselves to me a SUPER off-putting experience and a drastic change of pace from what I've become accustomed to. But I'm totally capable of adapting to this environment... I just don't necessarily prefer it. I feel like I have room to connect with Asya on a personal level if given the chance. Zach and Silver I don't know. Although, I do think that if we ever lose immunity here I could for sure spit some game to Silver that would make him believe I want to work with him. I already have an idea of how that conversation goes, and the potential negative consequence of it is practically non-existent on this swap tribe, whereas it could have backfired on me if original Trian lost that third challenge. Anyway, I'll get into that whenever we lose or if I get bored and initiate that chat just to feel something lol

No tribal ever again until merge or swap please. Jessie would be the one I'd want out and I assume Jay would as well but she has Nathan's shard so, like, he'd lose that and then I lose my hope of getting both their shards and misplaying my first idol because I'm not good at survivor

Yayyyy we won immunity. Idk what much else to say except that I got 40 fuel tanks

today i am mad and sad. lost the challenge, was my fault bc purple not pink. no i will not elaborate. now ari jonathan and i have decided to save ali and vote out keegan. i hope it goes well. i am filled with anxiety. i don’t even want keegan to go, we just have to make the decision based on the fact that we don’t want to be seen as a tight alliance going into merge, and keegan can make it look like there was a crack therefore not making us look strong. but he is just sacrificial unfortunately. but we’ll see how it goes. i’m still anxious

Wow we won what a concept See what happens when we don’t throw comps ? Anyways yeah that’s it I guess lol

Honestly I I'm done with these hoes I'm ready to vote off Keegan 

This is definitely a very stressful and emotional tribal. I hate that we’re voting for Ali because he is a genuinely fantastic person and under different circumstances I think we could have worked really well together in this game. But when there’s a 4-1 tribe swap and the four of us have absolutely no beef with each other, there’s not a whole lot that can be done. None of my other 3 OG Andro players come across as big move players either. So unless I’m being straight up lied to and am about to get completely blindsided, it’s looking like a unanimous Ali boot. Which is incredibly sad. I really wanted us to win out until merge so we wouldn’t have to vote him out. But such is the game. Keegan signing off (hopefully not for the last time)

[another-spn-obsessed]

Chapter 1 - Unsteady

Unsteady

Terrified of the nightmares that plague him, Sam has been having trouble sleeping. He thinks maybe Dean is the answer but summoning the courage to actually ask for help might be more than he can do. Find out what happens when he doesn’t have a choice but to seek out his brother.

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rated: Explicit

Sam started awake, heart pounding. He took a deep breath and stared at the glowing digital face of the clock near his bed.

3:17am.

He looked around the room as he tried to shake the cold fingers of terror. The shadows warped into ghostly shapes reminiscent of his time in Hell.  

He stretched his long limbs, legs hanging off the bed's edge. He'd gotten used to the fact that most beds couldn't fit his long frame, so he didn't even notice anymore. He hugged his pillow and sighed. There's no way he was going back to sleep.  

'Guess it's time to get up.' He knew it was just a dream but in that moment it felt too close to reality. He needed to distance himself from the truths it whispered.  

He sat on the edge of his bed and ran an absent hand through his disheveled hair.  

'I can start cataloging that book on Mayan sacrificial magics.' It was as good a place to start as any.  

He padded down the hall to the library, barely noticing the cold floor as he lost himself in his plans for the day.  Their sole aim, distract him from the demons clawing at the corners for his attention.

---

Sam refocused his attention on his surroundings when a steaming cup appeared in his periphery. Immediately the scent of a rich dark roast stole his attention and his stomach clenched in hunger.  

"Dude. How long you been here?" Dean asked, looking at all the scattered books on the wooden table.  

Sam shrugged. In truth he really didn't know what time it was. He'd forgotten to take his phone with him.

Dean gave him a brief considering look when he took another sip of his coffee before shrugging himself. The kid was weird.  

"Hungry?"

Sam nodded absently. His book had already recaptured his attention.  

"What you feel like?"

"Whatever you make is fine." he said distractedly.

"Really." His tone was heavy with disbelief in the way only Dean Winchester could pull of.

"You're not gonna ask for something douchey like a Kale salad? You feeling alright?"

Sam smiled to himself. Dean had a habit of making him seem more picky than he actually was. Most people would probably find this annoying but Sam loved it when they teased each other like that. He usually won anyway.  

He pushed his book away and gave Dean his attention. He could already feel his features moving into what Dean liked to call his bitch face but he couldn't help it. It came from being the little brother for 34 years.  

"Well, Dean," he said smugly. "Do you know how to make a kale salad?"

"Sam, it's a salad. What's to know?"

"Actually unlike the other leafy greens, kale needs spec-"

"You would know this," interrupted Dean.

"Fine." Sam said, getting annoyed. He settled into a more relaxed pose in his chair, his body fully turning to Dean. "Do we have kale?"

"Well. No but..." Dean trailed off.  

"So whatever you make is fine," he answered with a self satisfied smug smile.

"So whatever you make is fine," Dean mocked over exaggeratedly but Sam could hear the smile in his voice so he refocused on his book knowing that breakfast would be delicious.  

In the corner of his mind he registered the brief squeeze Dean gave his shoulder as he left.  

---

Gasping, Sam fought his way to wakefulness as the remnants of his dream struggled to keep its hold on him. He could feel the panic trying to take over. The dark walls of his room closing in around him.

He forced himself to sit up. The thin covers sliding off his chest unchecked. He took deep calming breaths, hoping that that would stave off what could be a massive attack.  

"It's not real."

Deep breath in.

"It's just a dream."

Exhale.

"Everything is fine."

It had been a week since the first nightmare. He'd had one every night since and they kept getting worse.

Taking a few more breaths he got up, ready to face the day.  

--

Sam's eyes flew open, his pupils dilating as they desperately searched to identify his surroundings. He could feel the mounting panic as his eyes darted around the dark and unfamiliar room.

He heard a deep breath and rustling to his right and immediately settled.

Dean.

The memories came pouring back in. He was on a hunt with Dean. They were in Louisiana, dealing with a simple salt and burn. So simple in fact that they arrived yesterday night and were able to dispatch the ghost last night.

Barely worth the drive really. He turned over to look at Dean and immediately regretted the action. It was like his brain refocused its full attention on his shoulder and throbbing pain started to radiate through his body.

Clenching his eyes shut, he froze as the waves of nauseating pain pulsated. All he could do was breathe through it until it passed. Eventually he was able to focus on other things as the pain lessened to a maddening pulse.  

The case had been an easy one but for one complication. He was distracting the ghost while Dean applied the salt and accelerator when he'd miscalculated and the ghost had thrown him into a headstone.  

Luckily, he blocked his fall with his shoulder. He was so filled with adrenaline at the time that he'd simply gotten up and kept running. A hurt shoulder was definitely better than a dead one.  

He had taken a really good pain killer when they were done, figuring it was just a minor injury but he was starting to think it might be worse than he originally thought.  

He gingerly reached for the bottle of pills near his bed and swallowed one dry. There was no way he was going to be able to get up fr water at that point.  

'If it still hurts this badly in the morning,' He thought, 'I'll tell Dean.'  

Already he could feel the waves of pain ebbing and sleep soothing through him.  

Dean firmly in his sights, his eyes drifted closed, nightmare completely forgotten.  

--

Sitting against the headboard, Sam stared into the empty void that was the darkness of his bedroom.  

He had not slept for four nights now and was starting to feel like a zombie.

The morning after their hunt in Louisiana, he woke up in so much pain that Dean had rushed him to the hospital.  

Luckily his shoulder was not broken but it was bad enough.  

The doctor, all five foot three inches of her, gave him such a quelling look when he tried to throw bullshit at her about how he got hurt, that he was more than willing to follow her instructions of sick leave and light or no activity for three weeks.

His job was fighting monsters and completely voluntary so it wasn't really a hardship. And the way Dean was nodding raptly at the doctor's instructions told him that he wouldn't be doing anything much anyway.

For the first week it was fine.  He was completely drugged and Dean was at his beck and call. The second week though was a little more strained.

Sam was an addict. He knew it and so did Dean. So that second week, Dean cut him off from the pain meds. Only allowing him one before bed.

He became more irritable because of the pain and as a result they were getting on each others nerves to the point that Sam found Dean a case and chased him out the bunker.  

Dean's been gone almost six days now. This is the fourth night that Sam has been awake in his bed.  

The first week back, he'd been so drugged and loopy that he didn't remember dreaming. The second week he was so busy being annoyed with Dean, so focused on Dean that he'd forgotten completely about his nightmares.  

The first night Dean left is when it all came crashing down. It's been years since they'd gone on separate or solo hunts. One was always with the other to watch his back.  

Sam was always there to save Dean and vice versa. But he wasn't there this time.

As he laid in his bed that first night his brother, thousands of miles away, the stray thought, what if something happens and I'm not there, wiggled its way into his mind and wouldn't go away.

He'd had the worst nightmare yet. To the point where he ended up calling Dean at 2am in the morning just to make sure he was still alive.

Turns out Dean hadn't even arrived yet.  He was still driving. He was only able to relax slightly when Dean promised to call him again in the day time but sleep was definitely out of the question.

Dean did call the next day and of course teased him mercilessly.

This had led him into a false sense of security and if he thought the nightmare before was bad the one he had that night rocked him to his foundations. And that was the last straw.  

He couldn't take it anymore.

Dean continued to call him everyday despite his earlier teasing but Sam knew that he wasn't going to be safe from the nightmares until he could see for himself that Dean was indeed alive and well.

It's been four sleepless nights. The first two nights he spent working in the library but by the third night he lost the ability to retain any of the information he was trying to absorb. He could feel just how tired he was but his mind refused to shut down.

Dean was driving back right this moment and would be home sometime in the afternoon . He could wait a few more hours to sleep. Besides this was getting ridiculous. He needed to solve the problem once and for all.

And so he stared into the darkness waiting, thinking.

[maoxmeowx]

4.The abnormal child

{next scene} "Honey.I’m here!" said a  mum in her 50s well dressed with a long dress wearing a pearl necklace with a red high heels as she approached Lacros."Mummy!" and Lacros give a major hug to his mum,Mrs Quditch. 

"My poor baby,must be a having a shock from all these." said Mrs Quditch consoling Lacros. "Mum,this is the girl whom I want to get marry to."as Lacros tried to pull Gelare out of her bed. "Hi,Mrs Quditch." as Gelare tried to get up with a tired expression. Mrs Quiditch ignored her and continued to wipe her boy strings of sweats and she noticed Chaperone at the corner of the room."Who is he?" Gelare said "He is my friend." Chaperone had no idea as he was being dragged into by Mr Dora to visit Gelare. Chaperone smiled to Mrs Quiditch,but she could not care less other than her boy. She quickly glanced at Gelare "You are the dumb ass who can revive the dead huh? This is where i do not want to come back to my hometown. All sorts of ridiculous superpower rumors. I dont know why this boy wanted to go back here so much." "Its my childhood. Mummy." "Your childhood is nothing but a disaster. And, whatever Mr Quditch says,i object to the marriage.And Lacros Quditch,you better behave!" And Mrs Quditch dragged Lacros out of the room. "And Gelare,I hate your family. I hate how you look like.Your eyes especially" snapped Mrs Quditch before leaving And thus left Chaperone and Gelare. "Do you really want to get into this marriage.It don’t seem promising to me. And since when I am your friend?" "You are always my friend. Of course,dummy.Come!" as Gelare opened her arms to Chaperone. And Chaperone reluctantly hugged Gelare,

{next scene} Chaperone was seen at the study room at 2am,taking down notes. He seemed to be back to at his police days where he was there to solve cases. And he wrote down in his notebook actual Gelare murder? and Xandre entered the room end up to make a flustered Chaperone to close his notebook. "So,reviving dead huh?" as Xandre remarked who seemed to be unable to sleep. "Dont tell me you believe that bullshit. It could be she had amazing CPR skills,or maybe that damn room had some advanced medical equipment. Dora family is super rich,they would have something like that.There could be even a Doctor hiding inside. Dora family owns a hospital themselves." exclaimed Chaperone "Oh, What are you? When do you get the information from?" said Xandre asking the same question Chaperone previously asked. "Its a intellectual guess" while he press the back button on his whatsapp chat with his officer friend on the phone. There was a background noise of things crashing. "Oh that Lacros is staying on top of the study room.See,destructive disorder." said Xandre Chaperone tried ignoring the sounds,but it was getting louder and louder,soon there was a female voice crying. So Chaperone hurried up the stairs and went to Lacros's room and true enough he saw glass pieces all over the floor. And an injured Gelare who was picking up the glass pieces. Chapereone immediately ushed Gelare away from the glass pieces and to the balcony. {next scene at the balcony} "Are you really that dumb. Why would you pick up the glass pieces on the floor."as Chaperone was seen cleaning the wounds of Gelare. "Painful,it is super painful." and Gelare cried and Chaperone tried to calm her down but he said."Is there a doctor in your house?” "Oh yes. Dr Belgium is in the room." as she pull her hand away from Chaperone. But she said he had left at this timing. Chaperone looked at her and smiled gently."Looks like it going to be me treating your wounds." {Next scene,Chaperone on the bed} Chaperone looked at the ceiling and thought that one thing for sure,Gelare was not what she seemed,she was definitely not dumb as what everyone said and this house was hiding something and the one whom know the most could be Gelare as he slowly close his heavy eyelids. {Next scene in the morning} Gelare was seen dragging Chaperone out of the bed. "Gelare,didnt you learn your lesson yesterday. Do not disturb people while they were asleep.This is why Lacros was making a fit over nothing." "But Chaperone,it is the morning already." "6 am,it is 6 am!" as Chaperone fall back to the bed.

{Next scene Chaperone on the car with Gelare and Lacros} Lacros and Gelare was playing and throwing stuff to each other. And Chaperone was just rolling his eyes.

"Its ok.I forgive you,I should not have disturb you in your sleep."said Gelare "Sorry,my sunshine.I did not know what i was doing in sleep too."said Lacros

"Hi my sunshines! Can you guys tell me again why am i here at the dumb dates with you two?" said a frustrated Chaperone. And soon they reached a bamboo forest. And the two kids dashed across the bamboo forest. It was said to be the last land owned by Lacros Quditch family and they moved away from Draco village. "Stay away from the deep woods!" shouted Lacros,pulling away Gelare. "There are wild animals around that area,mum and dad hated it if people walked in there." as he pointed to the area where it seemed to be deep inside the forest. Gelare nodded and followed Lacros. "So why am i here again?"said Chaperone looking at the scene and yawning towards the sky. {next scene} And 3 of them sat down for picnic with a few guards standing with them. Chaperone was munching a egg sandwich and Gelare started to lean towards him and whisper to him,"The reason i choose to marry him is because his family had this bamboo village,it is my favorite place." Chaperone shook his head and thought to himself what had he got himself into and he suddenly choked on the egg sandwich and exclaimed "Isn't this area usually out of bounds? I mean i remember my parents said before." "Not if we had a Quditch with us! Dummy!" replied Chaperone. Indeed,this bamboo forest is a place who is remarkably beautiful.As a kid,Chaperone always tried to enter the grounds and played but was being chased out by the guards here.There is a lot of beneficial medical herbs around,which could be the reason the Quditch refused to sell the last piece of their land despite losing their wealth at a alarming pace. Chaperone looked around and realized there was only a few guards comparing to the past.This could be reflecting Quditch family wealth was not as used to be. {next scene} They are back at the Dora's mansion and the place was starting in having the decoration of wedding. And all the gentlemen started to leave one by one as they announced Gelare was to wed Lacros Quditich and Dora's family actually allowed them to stay and join the wedding party. And Chaperone stopped Gelare in her tracks,he pulled her into a corner,carefully not to let any guard to notice. "I cannot believe what i am trying to say.Don't get married to Lacros. I am not an idiot,you are not an idiot too ,I know you are trying to make me stop the marriage You keep trying to lead me to go somewhere and just refuse to tell me. That guy,he is not just retarded,he had a defiance side to him. He is just opposing to his mum,the moment his mum come here,he started to break things.And just now,he asked us not to go to the deep woods because his parents said so,he was the one who went to the deep woods. And he is a physco,he could have hurt you. I swear I heard that he torture his pets.."

Chapter 4 end

[l-a-gage]

Billingsley The Working One - An Archaeology Story

Disclaimers So Pay Attention

This is a work of pure fictional satire.

It is not my intention to offend anyone or any academic field

This is just a shit post I wrote on a caffeine high of which I took inspiration from my Anthropology/Archeology professor (The story events not my caffeine addiction, I did a fantastic job myself with that one)

This is an exaggeration. None of the field techniques/operations in this are accurate. Obviously it takes much longer to excavate and date an entire site and several factors are involved in dating. I know this isn’t how this all works. I just dramatized it for entertainment so chill. (I’m looking at you Archeologists)

If you are sensitive, highly offended or an Anthropologist/Archeologist that cannot just relax, chill out and laugh at your own field for some fun then it’s easy as scrolling away or clicking the back arrow. I repeat just walk. Away.

If you’re still here the most important thing is this is just for fun. I am not being woke, or critical, or political, I don’t have an agenda. I’m just having fun combing two of my passions: writing and anthropology.

This is written in the format of a TV script so speakers are in front and any important descriptions are in asterisk. Now I will shush and please, enjoy and don’t be afraid to poke fun at the things you love in good spirit sometimes. It’s good for the soul every once in a while.

Billingsley The Working One

Marshall: Welcome to MainStream 27 After Hours. It's currently 2am on this lovely misty Monday morning. Tonight, we have a special segment on a piece of history of our very own little town. If you've been by Pickle's BBQ Pit, I'm sure you've seen the fences and crowd of college students. Turns out those kids in khaki shorts and baseball caps haven't just been standing around but uncovering part of our town's history that no one asked about. Local journalist Bailey Bales went out to the site earlier today to investigate. Stay tuned after the commercials and enjoy this pre-recorded interview. 

Bailey: Thank you, Marshall. As he explained, I'm at the site of a recent archaeological excavation being run by staff and students at Willinington University located just down the road from their proud football sponsor Pickle's BBQ Pit. Go Salamanders! *laughs* Anyways, here's Willinington's professor of archaeology to bring light to whatever is happening right now. 

*Camera pans to the right. A man stares into the camera. The frame quickly zooms out, framing Bailes and Andrew.*

Andrew: Hello people of Willinington!

Bailey: So what exactly are you doing here?

Andrew: Yes, my name is Andrew Niles. With a "U."

Bailey: A "u?"

Andrewu: A-n-d-r-u. Andru Niles. Head of the Archaeology department at Willinington University.

Bailey: Great. Why don't you tell us about yourself?

Andru: I'd be delighted. I'm the head of the archaeology department at Willinington University, 2 months and running.

Bailey: Where did you teach before?

Andru: I actually have never taught. I earned my P.h.D in London, traveled the world with my partner, wrote a bestselling book. I'm sure you've heard of it: The Anthropology of Archaeology: Get Your Story Straight.

Bailey: No.

Andru: No? It was a best seller for two hours.

Bailey: Where? New York Times?

Andru: You know what, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn't anything that big. I'm sure you'd rather know more about what we're doing here.

Bailey: If you wouldn't mind, I actually have another appointment in an hour.

Andru: Oh! Uh, right. *gestures to the building behind him* This my friends, I think needs no introduction. As you have proven to us over the past couple of weeks with your eager enthusiasm is the very dearly beloved cabin and statue of Billingsley the Working One.

Bailey: One of our town's local figures.

Andru: Indeed, a statue thought to be dated two hundred years ago which is around the founding of Willinington. In fact, did you know that the statue is said to be the first structure of the town before any houses? It's amazing to see what people valued in those days, hard work and the sweat and blood on their skin. They would sacrifice warmth and comfort for this statue of honor.

Bailey: I thought it was dragged over from the old neighboring town that burned down when the towns merged.

Andru:...Really? Where-where does it say that?

Bailey: On the cultural heritage website. Under the "about" section.

Andru: Ah well that makes much more sense about why we're here. Anyways, for the past couple of weeks the graduate archaeology program of Willinington University-

*Something cracks near the building. Andru suddenly turns around and shouts something at a group of students.

Andru: As I was saying we have been excavating the building behind it.

Bailey: Not the statue?

Andru: Oh no no, we already know plenty about the statue and that can be moved with no problem. It's the structure we're interested in. That's what's going to tell us whether or not Pickle's BBQ can open another outdoor eating area.

Passerby: Get the *redacted* off of our land! You have no *redacted* right!

Andru: Lovely to see you too Jimmy! That's Jimmy, he's very fond of this building.

Jimmy: My great great grandpa and his father built that damn hunk of wood!

Andru: I remember! *Turns back to Bailey* So essentially Pickle's BBQ is wanting to expand their dining into this area. Well, this is federal land so we were called in to excavate the site. If that building is truly from the settlement of the town it has to stay. If not, we're going to disassemble it.

Jimmy: We don't need no damn Indiana Jones to tell us what we already know!

Andru: Jimmy! What did I tell you yesterday?

Jimmy: I'll be back!

Andru: I don't doubt it. Jesus Christ, where were we?

*Bailey looks up from phone*

Bailey: Oh! Uh, you were mentioning something about Pickle's BBQ.

Andru: Yes, so Pickle's BBQ wants to use this land. We're here to verify or debunk the authenticity of the building that is said to date back to the war, further back than Billingsley the Working One.

Bailey: And how will you do that?

Andru: Through free student labor. Grad students make for wonderful workers.

Bailey: What?

Camera Man: What?

Andru: *Laughing* I'm joking, just joking. Of course we don't use them for free labor. That would be illegal. It's just a bit of a joke between professors. We don't make them work for free. We pay them with a doctorate.

Bailey: Right. So really, how are you going to determine the age of Billingsley's Cabin?

Andru: Well, we've actually decided to take a different approach. University funds only last for so long as you know and I don't want to make the students spend their entire lives out here. *chuckles* That would just be cruel.

Passing University Student: I missed the birth of my first son because of you.

Andru: The pictures were beautiful! She looks just like your wife.

Passing University Student: *Redacted*

Andru: I really do love being out here with them, so youthful and full of energy. I really couldn't ask for better students.

Student #1: Dr. Niles! Peter passed out!

Andru: Call Jackson! Tell him it's Peter again.

Bailey: Do we-do we need to call the ambulance?

Andru: Jackson is our special paramedic on standby for Peter. This happens a lot.

Bailey: With the students?

Andru: No, with Peter. Poor chap, he's like my son.

Bailey: Oh. Um, should you go check on him?

Andru: He should be good, tough boy. So back to the building, we're currently waiting on Dendrochronology results to get a relative date.

Bailey: How long should it take?

Andru: Well, actually we just-

Pam: How are we doing Andru? Any closer to getting rid of this eyesore?

Andru: Pam, wonderful to see you! This Miss. Bales is Pam.

*Camera pans to a small crowd. The front lady waves. Several other enthusiastic people wave as well.*

Andru: *Offscreen* These are Pickles BBQ's biggest supporters. Well, some like Pam just want the building wiped off the face of the earth but there are some who are genuine supporters of small businesses.

Bailey: *Motions to cameraman* Let's get some interviews.

*Camera pans to crowd and follows Bailey over*

Bailey: Anyone interested in an interview?

Man #1: For what?

Bailey: For MainStream 27 news.

Man #1: I'll be on TV?

Bailey: Front and center. We'd love to share your enthusiasm and patriotism for your local businesses with our viewers.

Woman #1: Do we get a discount for promoting Pickle's BBQ?

Bailey: I'm not sure actually. This is just for the news.

Woman #1: No thanks, I don't advertise for free.

Pam: I'll do it!

Bailey: Great. So if you'll just-

Andru: *Off-screen* Hanna, call security. He's back again!

*Crowd screams. The camera whips around and zooms in on a figure leaping over the fence surrounding the excavation site. They grab an ax from their backpack and charge for the building, shouting something unitelligable.*

Bailey: Oh my god. What the *redacted*?

Andru: Everyone stay back! Protect Peter. He's helpless right now!

Pam: Get em, Victor!

*Two officers in blue rush out of nowhere. The figure takes a swing at the side of the building but Andru seizes his hoodie and drags him backward. "Victor" stumbles and swings at Andru. But he dodges just in the nick of time. The officers tase and tackle "Victor." A few boos and cheers come from the crowd. The officers carry "Victor's" unconscious body away.

Bailey: *Off-camera* This just got so much better. Marshall is gonna be so mad he dumped this segment on me.

Andru: Everyone okay? Check for any injuries. What's the status of Peter's ambulance?

*Camera Cuts to Bailey and Andru. Several officers are pacing around the site in the background. A few are stopping and talking to students.*

Bailey: That was quite the heart racer. Do you guys usually have to deal with such dangerous people?

Andru: Uh, it really just depends on the situation I suppose. Each site provides its own challenges.

Bailey: Have you ever been attacked like that before?

Andru: We should-should be getting back to the site. I'm sure the viewers would rather know about our progress.

Bailey: Did you go into the field expecting to one day have your life threatened?

Andru: Isn't your life always threatened every waking moment, really? Anyways, we're in the most critical part of Dendrochronology dating. We've called in a brilliant specialist Dr. Lui to date the wood of the building to see if this building is as old as the Billingsley the Working One statue.

Bailey: Yes, of course.

Jimmy: *Off-screen* I'm back and I've brought the historical heritage council!

Andru: *Waves to off-screen* Everyone's here then. It truly is inspiring to see a town come together like this. Whether or not they're on opposite sides of opinion, values, and ideology, this single building can spark such brilliant passion. It goes to show just how important our heritage is even on a global scale. It reminds me why I dropped out of seminary and booked it across the ocean with just my name and the bag on my-

Student #3: Dr. Niles! It's done! Dr. Lui finished her dating!

Andru: Brilliant! What is the conclusion?

*Andru jogs over to the tent beside the building and enters. The camera pans up to the top of the Billingsley the Working One statue.*

Bailey: *To cameraman offscreen* Should we pack it up and have them send the results to the station or just wait?

Camera Man: *Off screen and zooming into the statue's face* I say stay. I want to know if there's gonna be any more ax-wielding enthusiasts.

Bailey: *Off-screen* Hey-hey they're coming out.

*Camera zooms out and pans over to the tent. Andru, Dr. Lui, and a student walk out of the tent talking with each other. Andru nods and shakes Dr. Lui's hand.*

Jimmy: What's the prognosis Doc?

Pam: It's going down right?

*Crowd starts talking over each other. Andru raises his hand and the crowd falls silent.*

Andru: Well, through the work of these hardworking students, officers, myself and Dr. Lui, we can confidently conclude that the building isn't more than 100 years old. Meaning the building was built after the statue was moved.

Jimmy: Mother-*redacted*.

*Pam and a small group start cheering. The rest turn away slipping various weapons away.*

Andru: *To students standing around the site* You did brilliant work here this summer but as all good things do, it must come to an end. I will cherish these last few weeks forever. Now time to clean up and don't forget to turn in your journals.

*Camera pans to Bailey*

Bailey: Well I suppose that's it for this segment. What an exciting turn of events and you Barbeque fans will be excited to know that new outdoor seating filled with warm sunshine and fresh air will be expanded soon. Back to you Marshall.

*Camera cuts to Marshall in news station*

Marshall: Local restaurant Pickle's BBQ has decided not to expand it's seating by demolishing the building but instead to use the building as another area to dine in. Owner Mr. Jimmy Pickle expressed he believed in the heritage of our town no matter 100 or 200 years ago and has decided to preserve the local heritage spot. A wonderful turn of events. This has been Marshall Marshall on MainStream News Channel 27, have a great day folks.

[niapeiris]

It is going to rain

Toby

It is going to rain. The sun has eloped with the small amount of patience that I had left, off to a place far away, leaving me with nothing but troubles and rain. It is a matter of minutes. I watch the sky darken, the sea of black rippling above me, and I wait. And just before the first droplet connects with the ground, she runs into the restaurant. How typical of her. All disorganization and chaos but never lets it spill over the edge. I’ll never know how she does it. She sees me and casually walks over to the table, as though she isn’t half an hour late. But despite my annoyance and lack of patience, I stand and envelope her into a hug, because I know, that behind that picture-perfect smile and those glistening eyes, that half of her world just shattered into a million little pieces.  

Lorrain

As soon as I see him a weight is lifted off my shoulders. He is ok. He is picking up the pieces, his hands covered in cuts and scars like mine, but he is putting them back together again. Last time he was too afraid, too broken. But this time I think he was prepared, he knew what was coming. I guess we all did. Seeing him reminds me that I can do this; I got through it when dad died, so I know that I will resurface again. But these fresh wounds are sore, and I know that even when they heal, their scars will always haunt me.

Toby

We sit in silence for a while. The food comes but I am not hungry. Lorrain doesn’t appear to be either. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Normally Lorrain will have made some sort of conversation by now, being her dazzling social self. But today it’s different.

Against all my natural instincts, I decide to break the silence. And the small talk begins. The usual “I might get a cuppa” and “how’s work”, “terrible weather today” and other British stereotypes to break through awkwardness. I like to cut to the chase. But it took me until the end of the meal to muster enough courage to bring up the dreaded subject.

“How are you coping Lorrain?”

She does not respond seemingly engrossed in the delicious steak on her plate. The steak which she would not touch a few seconds ago.

“It’s getting better,” she says, “What about you?” “I am sorry I didn’t come to mum's funeral. I wasn’t as close to her as you were but now both of them are gone.” “So you shut yourself away from the rest of the world again?”

I don’t respond because I know that it is true. We don’t talk until the bill has come and gone and we are getting ready to face the torrential downpour outside.  

“Any plans after this?” she says knowing I don’t but asking anyway.

“No, you?” “Not today. I can walk with you to the station,” she offers. She lives around here, in the heart of London. I prefer calm and convenient, a pair that rarely comes together. So I live in the outskirts.  

As we walk, Lorrain gets a phone-call.  

“Hello, Lorrain Martins speaking --- How did you get this number? --- The lab gave it to you? --- Ok then --- oh? --- But that is in Turkey? --- It isn’t uncommon --- I’m not sure --- Things have been a bit hectic at the moment --- I guess I could use the distraction --- ok --- I’ll be there at 11am tomorrow --- yep --- no worries --- bye!”

I knew that it wasn’t right that she didn’t have any plans. But of course, now she is going to Turkey, presumably flying out at around 2am on the last plane that will get her there for 11.

“You’re going to Turkey!” I say in such a forced, unenthusiastic voice that I wonder if it even came from me.

“And you are coming too!”

“Um, no. I have work to do!” I respond. There is so much to be done as I haven’t been in since mum died.

“It’s not as though you are actually going to go to work for another week. I know what you are like Toby Martins, and I don’t need your excuses.” I don’t reply because I know that she is right. Again. Despite my greatest efforts I won’t be able to drag myself to the office for a while. But still, I am NOT going to Turkey

Lorrain

I am so glad that Toby came along. He could really use the distraction. So could I. An air-hostess walks down the aisle offering refreshments. Toby is in the outer seat, the one next to the aisle and is in a place between awake and asleep – 2am flights aren’t his thing.

I tried to explain to Toby what the trip is about, but he was too stressed about almost missing the flight. So far I have been regarding it as an escape, to get my mind of things. But now that I think about it, I find myself wanted more than a getaway. A refugee camp. Each night a new corpse found. Each corpse covered in a black gooey liquid.  I want to know why. I want to solve this. Stop this.

It was all a blur after that. The past few hours were made up of me puzzling over the possible reasons behind this case. Toby seemed very uninterested and soon grew irritated as I was reciting these theories aloud. Being his little sister it is my duty to wind him up, no matter how old we get.

But now we are in a taxi and we are sitting in silence because we can see it. The rows of huts and tents. The dirt track roads crawling with foxes and rodents. The people. It is a graveyard for the living. Refuge from the past but a horror in the present. After parking, we are shown to another part of the camp, the part where the managers and staff live. It is solely made up of a tall tower, littered by windows, topped with a cylindrical level, presumably a look out point over the camp. As we are led inside the tower, it appears that all the windows are the rooms for the staff, quite like a hotel but far from it. A tall, Aryan featured man appears to be scolding two other workers. He looks up at us and smiles with blinding white teeth and comes over. He introduces himself as camp manager Asil Orun, the man who rang me and asked that I would come. He seems very out of place; a man of such features should not correspond with refugees, or so society implies. He leads us through to a room on the ground floor, taking care to hold the door politely for me and taking even more care to let it swing in Toby’s face. There he explains more about the case. I glance over at Toby, who is sitting next to me with glazed over eyes and pursed lips; a sure sign that he has more than a few things to say to Asil. After we have been briefed, we are escorted up to the topmost floor where our room is.

Toby

I don’t like him. And it isn’t just that he has taken an inane interest in Lorrain, but it seems that there is more to him than what meets the eye. I don’t trust him, something about him isn’t right. But I just can’t put my finger on what it is.  

But now I must return to the moment because we are walking into the other side of the camp – the refugee side. I smell them judging me, I wince as they stagger away, afraid. Lorrain isn’t comfortable either. I look at them, bony and mistreated, wondering the terror of what they must have fled to call this place a “sanctuary”. We stop outside one of the shacks and Asil shows us in. As we enter the shade of the place, my eyes grow accustomed to the light. And there it is lying on the bed, gender indistinguishable due to its front being covered in a sticky substance. Lorrain steps closer to the body. She looks it up and down and then opens her briefcase and lays it on the floor. She gets a wooden stick and takes a sample of the substance covering the body. Lorrain investigates the sludge, mixing it with various liquids. Hours pass as she examines the body, prodding and poking, testing and what-not, while Asil and myself sit intently around her.

“Toby. Toby wake up.” I feel warm air hiss into my ear as I fight to open my eyes. I must have fallen asleep. I look around. It is night time and the shanty is empty, spare Lorrain, her briefcase, a body bag and myself. No sign of Asil. Lorrain helps me up. I check my watch. It is almost midnight. We leave the cabin and walk towards the tower, leaving the body bag behind.  

“What did you find?” I ask, still drowsy.

“Various bits and pieces that don’t fit together at all.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I am now certain that the gunk covering the body was in fact blood.”

“Blood? It was too dark to be blood. Black almost.”

“I am sure that it was blood – it had the correct reading and concurred with all of the tests. But very few things could turn blood so tar-like.”

“I assume that she coughed it up?” I say.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I am not sure, there is a small incision at the back of her throat, where I initially suspected that the blood had come from, but it is nowhere near large enough for all of it to have come gushing out of. But I don’t think the cut is significant.”

“I see. Did you learn anything else?”

“Yes, I also discovered something, the faintest of traces but it proves to be both vital to the case and thrilling at the same time.”

“And what, may I ask, is this insight?”

“There were traces of poison in her blood.”

Lorrain

It is only 8am in the morning but we are already out and investigating another body. Asil found it quite far away from the body I looked at yesterday. Whatever is happening to them isn’t contagious. I look down at the body. At first glance I presumed that it was a replica of the first, the same liquid covering the body, the same incision in the throat. But now I see that the substance is indeed redder so presumably healthier than the first; the incision in the throat is much smaller and the traces of the poison I found yesterday are gone. I run the same tests again, inspecting the body for any more clues. Toby is slumped in a corner, half-asleep. I don’t think that this trip is very interesting for him, but he is definitely getting more sleep than he would have at home.  

It is raining. And the fact that the roof of the hut is poorly-thatched does not help. I watch the body as it rests idly on the floor. It was a boy this time. A young boy around the age of 6. It broke me when I saw him lying there, helpless as the world turned away from him, time and time again. Toby just glazed over.  

After a while of examining I find something else in his blood. After digging into it I discover that it also seems to be poison. A different one to the one I saw yesterday. Some sort related to the digitalis genus. I asked Asil to question the food producers of the camp and I haven’t seen him since. I don't know much about poisons, being a forensic pathologist, but I know that there is no connection between Digitalis poison and blood disease. No, Digitalis is commonly used as a medicine for heart deficiency. I have come across many cases when one has overdosed on the drug which has led to heart failure. Heart failure. The person could have died from heart failure. But how would they have had access to the pharmaceutical in a refugee camp?

“I can hear your brain churning from over here,” Toby startles me. I thought he was asleep.

“I think I am onto something,”

“And what does figuring it out involve?”

“Cutting open the boy’s heart.”

Toby

I am trying to sleep but the sounds don’t help. The slicing and squelching. But I hear another noise, footsteps. Of course, the camp is littered with people, so I am bound to hear footsteps. But the refugees tread carefully, quietly, not wanting to be noticed or even to exist at all. These footsteps are different. Loud. Purposeful. And as they draw closer, I hear that there is in fact two sets of footsteps.  

Two men enter the shack. One is Asil but that does not make me feel any more settled. Asil introduces the man beside as the caterer of the camp, Yusuf. I study the man. He is muscular, tall and wears a dirty apron around his waist, as if to back the fact that he is the food chief. He exchanges greetings with Lorrain and myself and then goes on to talk about the food that he produces. He claims that the main component of the refugee’s diets is broad-leaf plantain due to its accessibility and low price. They eat it with a small portion of rice once a day, twice if they are lucky. He seems sincere, unlike Asil who stands there, smiling nervously while he talks. Lorrain is deep in thought. She has already examined the heart and has exclaimed continuously that the boy had died of heart failure. Quite a few times I had splash water on her face or tug her hair to get her to stop thinking and tell me her thoughts. But I have just realised that I know something that I need to tell her. And I need to tell her soon before her brain explodes from over-thinking, because this case might just be easier than she thinks.

Soon Asil dismisses the man, but he himself stays with us. He claims that the man is a new employee. He says that Yusuf has proved to be reliable and moral, and that he wouldn’t doubt him at all if it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t known him for long, thus hasn’t enough time to figure out Yusuf and see if his outward friendly behavior is just a mask. Funny. That was exactly what I was thinking but about Asil.  

Asil then leaves. Lorrain and I sit there in silence while I think about the best way to phrase what I am about to say.

“Lorrain I have something to tell you.”

“Mmm.”

“Lorrain stop thinking and listen,”. She looks up from the body and at me.

“Sorry,” she says.

“Broad-leaf plantain. The most eaten food in this camp.”

“Yes.”

“While you were talking, I got out my laptop and did a little research myself,” “Oh wow you actually helped!” she says playfully.

“I am serious. I found something. Broad-leaf plantain shares the same genus as the so-called poison that you discovered today. It is a Digitalis plant,”. She sits there for a few moments and processes what I just told her.

“So there might in fact be no poison, no murderer, and the genus I have found is just from the food.”

“They might have been fed some faulty or highly concentrated leaves by accident which has led to this.”

She looks plainly disappointed. It was clear that this case excited and intrigued her, but the most logical answer does not seem to satisfy that. I stand up to go back to the room. She doesn’t say anything so I know that she will stay and look into what I said, still doubting and eager to prove me wrong; that she may still have a case yet to follow. I had best leave her to it.  

I leave the tent silently. And as I creak my way to the exit, I hear thumping footsteps running. Running away. I look outside quickly but everything appears to be normal. Or as normal as it gets in a refugee camp. It could have been anyone. I continue back to the room.

Toby

I wake up to the breaking of glass. I sit up abruptly and look around. My eyes are blinded by the sudden exposure to the light and I can barely make out anything. At first, I think that I am alone in the room but I hear shuffling coming from the toilet. I quietly make my way there. I push open the door with a shaking hand and find … Lorrain. I let out a sigh of relief. Lorrain is scrambling on the floor trying to recover bits of glass that she has broken when she dropped what used to be some sort of measuring utensil. After helping her clear up and exclaiming that she cannot scare me like that, I go back to me beside table and check the time. 7:00am. I should get ready. I tell Lorrain to hurry up in the bathroom and use the time while I wait, to go back to sleep.  

Lorrain

Yesterday was disappointing. I was really interested in the case. I thought that maybe this one time it might not just be some sort of illness, maybe something mysterious or unexplainable. Oh well. At least we have a pretty certain cause behind this. We’ll be able to stop more of these deaths. That’s the boring truth. I went back to the first body to run some tests and to look into the poison that I discovered on the first day. However the body wasn’t there. It was at that point I just gave up and went back to the room.

We are sitting inside another shack. It was a girl this time, thirteen years old. Her situation is identical to the boy’s. I have utilised the past few hours back up this new theory. I have run many tests and the reason behind this appears to be the result of a parasitic broad-leaf plantain. Nothing more.  

Toby stands up. He is growing impatient. He thinks that we should be home by now – the reason behind this case being obvious. He leaves the tent stating that he is going back to the room. There is no arguing with him when he chooses to be assertive, which is very rarely I might add.

Toby

As I walk back to the room I see Asil walking towards me. He smiles as he walks past and I force an imitation of the notion. After I am about a dozen metres away, I turn to see if he has gone into the tent that Lorrain is in. I would never leave her alone with him. But he walks past the tent and carries along done the dirt track. I look at where his footsteps have met the mud. And there I see it, a white letter on the floor not far from Lorrain’s tent. I pick up the letter, debate showing Lorrain or giving it back to Asil, but then decide that I will take it up to the room and read it. Maybe it will tell me something about Asil, maybe clue me to the reason that he seems so untrustworthy. But here is not the place to exploit potential secrets so I pocket the envelope and head to the tower.

Once safely inside, I pull out the letter and turn it over. There are no markings on the envelope, so I proceed to open it carefully. Inside is an equally as white piece of paper with all but a few sentences on it:

04/04/2018

A

That is good to hear. Use the same ratio this time. It seems to be leading her in the wrong direction – this is good. Give her two more and then eliminate. Burn this when you have read it.

M

The first thing I concur is that there is something going on, something desired secret. My brain runs through the list of things that this message could be a reference to. Some key words dance around me displaying secrets just out of reach. When would a ratio be used in this camp? What is leading who in the wrong direction? Why must this be kept behind closed doors? I puzzle over it for a half hour until I realise that I had been over-looking the smallest and most significant detail. Her. Leading her in the wrong direction. Over the past two days I have only seen male staff around the camp. I presumed that women were not employed due to the lack of safety here. In fact, the only woman that I have seen, who was not a refugee, was Lorrain. With that in mind I read the message again.

A theory develops in my mind – Asil is behind this. The ratio must be something to do with the Digitalis genus. This case isn’t over, it wasn’t caused by any plant malfunction. But pieces of my puzzle are still missing – what is the wrong direction. What does it mean give her two more? Two more what?  

Bodies.  

And suddenly a chill runs down my back. Eliminate? This message was sent last night. Two more bodies. So that was one last night and one more tonight. Then eliminate. We need to get away from this place. Fast. I throw all my belongings into my rucksack, do the same with Lorrain's stuff, pocket the letter and dash out of the room. I don’t know for sure if the letter meant what I thought that it did. But either way. Eliminate still means to kill.

I run to the tent of the dead girl where Lorrain was, but to my utmost horror she is not there. I find her briefcase and the body instead. I look around hoping that she has left a note; that she has just gone to the toilet, but I realise that she wouldn’t have left a note because as far as she knows, I am just lazing around in the hotel room. I run out of the tent and right into Lorrain.  

“Lorrain!” I can’t do anything but hug her tight. I was so scared for her.  

“I have found something -” I cut her off.

“Never mind that. We have to get out of this place. I don’t know what is going on but we, you especially, are in great danger.”

“Wha-,”

“I found a note lying on the floor that Asil dropped. It was addressed to him from someone titled “M”. Here read it. I thrust the letter into her hands while she looks at me like I am mad.  

“It think it is about you.” I whisper in her ear as she reads through it. Her eyes open wide as she scrambles to read it again.

“I was right,” I hear her whisper under her breath.  

“What do you mean?”

“You need to come with me. It isn’t far from the tents down the far end,” she starts packing up her briefcase.

“What?! We need to get out of here. Do you not understand what the letter meant?”

“I do. But I need to show you something. With what you have just showed me and what I have just discovered, I think we are very close to solving this case,” “Never mind the case. Do you not understand what eliminate means?”

“You need to calm down Toby.” “DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN. DAD IS DEAD AND I JUST LOST MUM. I CAN’T LOSE YOU TOO!” I yell. She stops. I never yell. I never get mad. But I am scared.  

“Toby. I -”

“I didn’t mean to shout,” “I am sorry,”. Neither of us speaks until she has fully packed up her things. In a hushed voice she talks.

“Toby. I understand what you are saying. But listen. We have a chance to save lives, not just examine their dead bodies. As you say –  we have to play this carefully. I need you to come with me now,” I nod my head and follow after her, exhausted by my outburst.  

We walk through the stitches of the camp to the very borders where the tents begin to fray away. Soon we have left it all behind. It appears that we are just walking in the green. But in the distance I see a change of scenery. A change of colour. I see purple. And as we draw closer that purple begins to take form. Low to the ground but hundreds of them. Plants. Flowers. And soon I realise why Lorrain was so keen on showing me this. For this, this is a field of foxgloves.  

Lorrain

I look at Toby’s face as he takes it all in, watch his face calculating and concluding.  

“Foxgloves. Foxglove poison. Heart failure.”

“Yes,” I respond.  

“It is of the same genus that you found in the body. The broad-leaf plantain fiasco was the “wrong direction” mentioned in the message. It was just a cover-up,”.

“Yes.”

“Asil. I knew that I didn’t trust him. We need to take this to the police.” I say, even more frightened than before. But I can’t let it break the surface. I need to be like Lorrain.

“No. We need evidence first. Whoever Asil is working for has to be high up if they can afford this,” I say gesturing to the foxgloves. “They will be able to wriggle their way out of our grip unless there is hard proof,”

“Tonight we will follow him. Record it all. Then we will show it to them,”.

“Agreed” I respond. We make our way back to the camp. We have a theory, the best that we have yet. But there are still some holes in it. We think that Asil is behind this. That he is feeding these refugees foxglove poison (the digitalis genus that I found) and framing it as a broad-leaf plantain parasite. But we don’t know why or how. And that is what we will find out tonight.  

Lorrain

It is late. Now around 10:30pm. We are closely huddled together, Toby and I, in a failed attempt to fight off the cold. We sit silently by the exit of the tower, waiting and watching. But mostly listening. I never thought that it could be so quiet in a refugee camp. And though the world seems to sleep, I somehow hear more than ever before. The wind; a ribbon wrapping around the place. In the day-time it was like a whip – clacking and striking in a furious rage. But now it flows gently, whispering dreams of grandeur to the hopeless refugees who lie asleep. I hear the soft pattering paws of animals. The gentle singing of lullabies in a foreign dialect. So quiet.

But then I hear something else. Footsteps. Coming from the tower. Treading carefully, as though the outing is desired secret. And soon we see the slender figure of Asil fall into the night. He carries what appears to be a small briefcase in his hand. We follow him, quite far behind. Every corner he turns he checks behind him in a cautious, guilty way, and we have to dart to some bushes or round the back of a favela. We follow him for a while as he seems to randomly sneak through the paths.  

However, when we enter a different part of the camp that we haven’t seen, he begins to peek in and out of the tents as if looking for something. Or someone. After a while of this hide and seek, he enters a wooden shack and does not come out of it for a few minutes. We tread closer and peer through the cracks of the structure to see what he is doing and I get my camera out and start recording.

Toby

It is going to rain. The moon has fled with all of the courage that I had left, off to a place faraway, leaving with nothing but rain-clouds and fear. It is a matter of minutes. I sense the sky darken, a sea of black rippling through me and I watch. It is the most unsettling thing, not watching Asil, but the fear that we ourselves are being watched. We see as he opens his briefcase with the light of a small lantern. It is lined with test tubes full of various substances topped with a cork aside some surgery-like tools. He pulls out a pipette and proceeds to transfer some of the test tube substances into it.  

Use the same ratio this time.  

It fits again with the letter. When he decides that the pipette is full, he pulls a thin, razor tipped utensil from his case. He then tilts the chin of the refugee backwards and we rush to stifle a gasp as he opens the person’s mouth, trying to do so without out waking them up. However half-way during this process the victim awakes and starts to struggle. They fight silently, Asil with a look of fire in his eyes, pinning what is now revealed to be a man of Toby’s age down and opening the man’s mouth. We watch in utter horror, both of us jerking to stop this atrocity but pulling each other back knowing what the consequences may be. Asil gets a window of opportunity and he takes it, moving the razor into the man’s throat, feeling around and making a cut. The man is now flitting in and out of consciousness. And then Asil takes the pipette and squeezes it into what we imagine is the incision. The man does not move, in a deep sleep he won’t wake up from.

Asil puts out the lantern. We stare in lament at the poor man. Thousands of thoughts run through my head. Now that we have this on tape we can stop this from happening to other people. We did the right thing, even if it did involve letting one go for the good of others. But I can’t help but feel guilty for just watching. And as I look at the body with tears in my eyes, I forget about anything else. And so does Lorrain. And we stand there. Still. Warring with ourselves. Until we see a flash of fire from the entrance of the shack. And as we turn abruptly we become face to face with it and freeze. For even without the light of the lantern we can see it screaming at as from those eyes I thought were blue. And we run.  

Lorrain

Run. The only word that pops into my mind. And I do. Toby follows close behind. Asil is getting closer. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Not only did he see the camera, but he also saw us. And at this moment, losing the camera or the video does not bother me. But he can’t get rid of what we saw.  

Unless he gets rid of us.  

We push onwards. Toby tries to alert the refugees and to get them to help but I stop him. We don’t know who else is on Asil’s side, and we don’t need more people hunting us down. Soon I begin to gain my bearings – we are getting closer to the tower. I know where we are. It should be any minute now. We take a tight turn and I pivot, hauling Toby and myself into a staff-cabin. It is empty. We dash away from the door and to the window and look for Asil. We hear his footsteps slow down as he decides whether to turn or not. Then he stops altogether. The sound of silence rings through my ears. And I realise that it must ring though Asil’s too. He won’t hear our footsteps because we have stopped. And now he knows that. We hear him walk slowly towards us. We are going to get caught. He is going to ki-.  

No.  

I won’t let that happen. Think Lorrain. Think. I risk a glance through the window. Asil is walking in a circle looking at the huts and cabins surrounding him, wondering where we are. I need to play this carefully. I reach up to the window. It is fastened shut with a latch. I carefully undo it and at once the wind creaks the window open a fraction. I hear Asil’s steps coming towards us and feel Toby’s fear and outrage. The footsteps are right behind the window now. And just when he is about to peer inside, I jump up and smash the window with my fist. The glass goes flying into his arm. He falls down, groping it as we run back to the tower.

Toby

I shook hands with death that night. I was terrified. I don’t think that I will ever feel safe again. After we had reached the tower Lorrain passed out. I had to make the calls, tell the information, get the police. We solved the case. But hearing it being said aloud repeatedly does not help.

“So you admit to being the person behind the murder of the refugees at your own camp?” an inspector queries for the umpteenth time.  

“Yes” Asil replies. His eyes are grey. No mask of blue. No anger or fire. Nothing.  

After hours and hours of sitting there, listening to him give dismissive, brief answers, he has finally admitted it. The man behind it all. Or so it seems.

“I invite Ms Lorrain Martins to describe her opinion of the happenings, and then the convict will consolidate her statement, if he wishes to.”

“The way that he killed the refugees was using a poison. Foxglove poison. He would make a small incision in the back of the victim’s throat and squeeze the poison into there. Once the poison was inside the victim, they had minutes to live. He would then leave the body there and the next morning, would claim to have found the body in such a state.”

“Thank you. And do you admit to this Asil?” “Yes” “Ms Martins, you previously mentioned that he worked closely on the case with you. Would you care to reiterate it so that we may add it to an official document?” “Yes. He contacted me some days ago via phone call, saying that random refugees at his camp were dying for no apparent reason. He wanted my help. My brother and I flew to Turkey. He was with us most of the time, listening to my theories. Now that I think about it. I can assume that you were also listening to Toby and my self's private conversations. But why Asil? Why?” Asil sits there for a few minutes. Opening his mouth and closing it. Deciding what to say and whether to say it or not. No-one dare moves, scared they will stop him from opening up.

“I had to wipe out the entire refugee camp. I had to kill them all and frame it as something else, some natural cause. But I didn’t want to release this poison only to find that is could easily be tracked and identified. No. That is where you helped Lorrain. They wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for you. Each time you would say what you found. So I would fix those areas and use a different ratio. Until I got it perfectly balanced and you didn’t think that there was a poison at all. And if I could bluff you, I knew that I could bluff the rest of the world.”

We all sit in silence, thinking hard. Understanding. It is ingenious really. But why would he want to kill all of these people? “Why?” I say, startled at myself for speaking up.  

Asil just smiles.

Lorrain

Weeks have passed since the refugee camp ordeal. Not long after Asil’s confession, a Turkish politician was arrested and thrown into jail. Apparently, he was the one who was funding it and who was in charge. He wanted to free Turkey from refugees for economic and racist purposes. Toby and I have been spending more time together since. We have cleared out Mum’s house. It is going to be hard to leave behind, whenever it is sold. It is going to be hard to leave the memories of the case behind, whenever it blows over. Right now, I am studying the poison at work. We know that foxglove was in it but there were other components that we can’t identify. And we still do not know where the black blood came from. I am scrolling through some data a co-worker has emailed me, not really reading through it.  

Suddenly I hear a shout from the lab next door. Then whoever is working in there calls for me. I swiftly move through the door to see what that commotion is about. My colleague is there looking ecstatic to say the least. She shows me a piece of paper from a freshly opened letter and I read it. And then I understand my co-worker's excitement. We have solved the case. And I ring up Toby.

“Toby?”

“Hi Lorrain. How are you?” “Toby you’ll never guess what I just found out.”

“What is it?” “So you know we still don’t know why the refugees were covered in blood, right?” “Yes …"

“Well now some results have come back. It was so obvious Toby, I don’t know how we didn’t get it. What few things cause vomiting of black blood?” “Lorrain you know I don’t know these things.”

“I was right at the very start. Remember when I found that poison in the very first body. Not the foxglove one but the other one. The faintest of traces?”

“Yes”

“It was arsenic Toby. It was arsenic.”  

His confirmations and excitement poured through the line but I am not really listening. Instead, I am looking outside, through the window, and the heavy clouds gathering above. It is going to rain.

By Nia Peiris  

14/02/2019

[gaiatheorist]

“Reintroduction of apex predators.”

(My head is playing the 2am game again, there are dozens of things I should be concentrating on, but I’m busy going mad. It’s fine, I usually come back eventually.) 

2am-ish. “Bleurgh. Ick. Cold. Timesit?”

Yes, ‘Bleurgh’, and yes ‘Ick’, that’ll be the wine. Yes, ‘Cold’, because I’d fallen asleep on the sofa again. ‘Timesit?’, bollocks, I didn’t put my phone on charge, so there’s an on-screen reminder that a pending update couldn’t be installed overnight. I hate phone updates, I always worry that something will go wrong, which is ridiculous, because I haven’t ‘always’ had a mobile phone, and there must, logically, be a way to un-install an update if something does cock up. It’s just after half past three now, so it’s taken me about an hour and a half to convince myself that ‘nothing bad will happen’ if I update my phone. Not that updating my phone would stop OTHER bad things from happening, I’m not THAT mad.

The sensible thing to do if you wake up at 2am on the sofa would be to go to bed. I’m not sensible, and, since the brain haemorrhage, there’s been even more of the “Ping! Wide awake!” malarkey. It is a behaviour I need to change, and, yet again, I failed to do so. (Side-thought about setting up a GO TO BED screen-saver on my phone?) I’m differently-mad to my friend, who called around for a cup of tea after his eye test this week, we share some similar traits, and we’re open-ish with each other. He wakes up every single morning crippled by confusion, processing the fact that he’s one of billions of bipedal beings on the surface of a spinning rock, and, every day, it takes him ‘hours’ to shake off that confusion, and regain some semblance of functionality. In a way, I’m glad I just wake up in the middle of the night, with hundreds of fragments of nonsense-thought running through my head, because his existential anxiety every morning sounds awful. (Waking up at 2am, knowing it’s going to knock-on my sleep pattern again, and immediately checking the internet to see if anything has happened is awful, too, but I’ve normalised it to an extent. It’s my awful, I’m used to it.)

We’re similar in that I knew where his post-vasectomy anecdote was going as soon as he started it, I guessed the ‘masturbating with a bag of frozen peas clamped to his testicles’ part, but the ‘while the police raided the house next door for cannabis’ twist was a surprise. We talked non-stop for an hour, about what utter chaotic twats we were two decades ago, about the times he’d driven the ex and I home out-of-his-mind drunk, bouncing off kerbs, that I couldn’t remember, because I was also out-of-my-mind. He couldn’t remember the time he’d stayed at our old house, and put his foot THROUGH one of the stairs. We both remembered disgusting days of just not going to work, and arsing about. We both remembered the Ouija board, his unflattering nickname for one of my friends, and how unpredictable-unstable our weird little pre-bubble group was. We’ve concluded that we were twats, and we’re trying not to be any more.

Part of his twattery was multiple affairs, his wife is an absolute stoic, and keeps taking him back, they’ve divorced twice. He’s married her 3 times, and she was his third wife, I think. Other people’s business, isn’t it? After one of the affairs, she banned him from associating with us, like she was a grown-up, and we were teenagers, leading him astray. I became ‘Her!’, and the focus of her hate, more so than the ‘other women’ he was having affairs with. (To clarify, there was never any of that between us.) I’d forgotten about being ‘Her!’, but, apparently she hasn’t, and still resents me. I’ll live, but now sort-of-understand why I don’t have his actual mobile number, he only ever contacts me on Fakebook, AND he deletes the chat-messages. “She’d go mad if she knew I was here.” For fuck’s sake, unwittingly duplicitous-complicit in a married man’s sneaking-about.

I went the long way around that, didn’t I? There are several escaped crickets having a little adventure on my living room carpet, I really ought to pick them up.

OK, I woke up at an unreasonable time, and did what I shouldn’t have done, in checking the news, to see if anything had happened. With me, that’s a hang-up from September 11th, I’d been ill with a migraine, and missed the news, I plunged into obsessive-panic about not missing ‘The News’, which, back then, was on the TV, there was one computer in the house, which took about a century to boot up, and then the rest of your life to connect to the dial-up. How times have changed. I’m not the only one doing it these days, logging on, and hoping for the best, but acknowledging that there is the possibility that something catastrophically ominous is on the horizon. Please, please, let me find something in the news that’s not Him, or Her, like the lovely nun yesterday. 

Lettuce? I don’t buy it as a matter of course, the father-in-law used to plant millions of the ‘butterhead’ bastards on the allotment, horrible, floppy-limp things, full of mud and slugs, for years my fridge was guaranteed to contain mud and slugs. “Here, lass, I’ve fetched you a lettuce!” I don’t like lettuce all that much.

Wikipedia? OK, it’s a side-swipe at people telling huge great big massive lies, but the ‘many hands make light work’ approach is encouraging. A chain is only ever as strong as its weakest link, but so many links could effectively knit truth-chain-mail. Too relevant, though, too linked to real-time events.

Bullshit Barbie? No thanks, I read that yesterday.

I flicked through, looking for something that wasn’t ‘that’, ready to be witty, or engaging, or insightful before some knobhead invariably weighs in with “How is this news?” That’s the fucking point, knobheads, we’re aware of the news, which is why we’re also looking at “10 ways to tuck in a shirt.”, or whatever, with courses as heavy as these ones, we absolutely need palate-cleansers as well. The ‘breaking’ banner will pop up if something happens, in the meantime, we’ll read the fluff, and the filler.

It would appear that it’s not working, though, the distraction-method. I clicked on an article about a proposal to reintroduce lynx in Northumbria, thinking that couldn’t possibly have any “We’re all fucked!” connotations. (Except if you’re a roe deer, apologies to any roe deer reading this...) I can see the logic, the lynx would be brought in to control the roe deer population. The deer haven’t done anything ‘wrong’, they’re just being deer, you know, making more deer, eating leaves, making more deer to eat more leaves, when the tree really needed those leaves, to photosynthesise, and keep us all breathing, and such. The local farmers don’t want the lynx, because they worry for their livestock, and I’m relatively certain there’s probably some knobhead setting up Fakebook pages that say lynx eat babies. (Note ‘relatively’, and ‘probably’, I talk shit, but I’m not Bullshit Barbie.) 

It’s not the ‘people refusing to accept science, because it threatens their lambs’ thing, it was one phrase, used repeatedly. ‘Apex predator’ (Food-chain, chain-mail, my head is misbehaving, but that’s why I’m rattling it all out here, to purge my cranium of these thought-snippets.) Apex predator, top of the food-chain, it’s nature’s way, because most creatures on this revolving rock don’t have access to family planning. Oh. The thing at the top of the food-chain, or food-pyramid, or food-web, depending on how they’re teaching it now eats the things below it. (Fucking hell, woman, park THAT Gaia Theory, this potential catastrophe for the planet ISN’T a global phone-update, move away from the rats-and-cockroaches ideation.) 

Nature does its thing, or, at least it did, until we started trying to boss it. We’re twats, some more so than others, we kill things we have no intention of eating. We kill each other. We bugger about with the environment, and then complain about lettuce. We, in the UK have eradicated most of our apex predators, what chance do a handful of nappy-eating foxes have of controlling the rabbit population? (Especially if people in silly clothes carry on with their ‘sport’.) We ate all the dodos, and all of that particular kind of turtle, we’re killing the fucking BEES, and we all know how that ends. (Removes tinfoil hat.) 

We have new apex predators, and we need to figure out how to keep ourselves as safe as we can, because these new apex predators don’t behave in exactly the same way as the ones we’re used to. The ‘bubbles’ are electronic versions of stone-age tribes’ perimeter-spikes against sabre-toothed tigers. (I don’t know, I’ve already told you I never paid attention in History, sometimes I used to pick my ear until it bled, so I could get out of class to see matron for a plaster.) I’m dithering around a vague notion that our greatest weapon is the truth, but also dabbling with the idea that our strength is our number,  not in the same way as animals produce ‘spare’ young, because they know some will be eaten, though. We are little, but there are lots of us, aside from good guys always coming last, we DO need to remember that we’re human, in the face of this inhumanity, the first big collection of little things that stoops to the level of the new predators is on a very shaky foundation. 

This thing will run its course, as all things do, we just need to remember to show our arses to bears, and punch sharks on the nose, not the other way around. Personally, I’d prefer this fuckpuddle to be mopped up with paper rather than projectiles, and soon, because this limbo-uncertainty is exhausting us, and sending us mad. Nobody’s going to pop out from behind the sofa with a hidden camera crew and shout “Fooled you, you’ve been part of the biggest reality TV experiment ever!” We need to watch and wait, keep ourselves and each other safe.