#I don’t even know what mental Illnesses I have anymore I wish they’d stop changing my diagnosis

[chibelial]

I didn’t turn on a comedy to be called tf out, Dennis

[drpepperenthusiastsblog]

i know i don’t post much on here anymore and it’s because i deleted the app. and i know i don’t have a lot of followers, and nobody will probably see this. or if they do they probably couldn’t do anything to help me.

for starters i’m not suicidal. i don’t want to kill myself. i haven’t done any harm to myself. and i don’t want to die.

i just want to be relieved. i want to remember what being happy truly feels like without having to go great lengths searching for it. i want to live boldly without hating myself and my life every second.

i don’t have diagnosed depression. i don’t have any mental illnesses, i am just a sad person. it might be the change in weather or it could just be that sometimes i feel like i am the loneliest person in the world.

i have friends and resources. none of which that i could truly reach out to and tell them how i feel. i’m afraid they wouldn’t care. i hope they would but i can’t guarantee that they would. i like my friends. i don’t like my life. i don’t like myself. i don’t like waking up in the morning feeling dread for the rest of the day. i don’t like feeling bad about myself all the time.

my friend recently moved away as well too so i guess that’s also a contributing factor. i don’t smile or laugh as much anymore. i try to keep up the positivity because i know i wont feel like this forever. but sometimes even i doubt my own hopes. am i just trying to hold onto the thought of someday getting better just to keep myself from feeling like this? most likely. i don’t know how to stop myself from feeling this way.

i don’t trust the school counselor because i don’t want her to keep a file about my problems. and i don’t want her to tell my parents because i know they’d worry about me. they already worry about me. but i don’t want people to worry. i want people to listen.

i was fine when i had my best friend zach. he usually keeps my days going. but now i don’t think he enjoys my company as much as he used to. and it hurts. i wish he felt the same way about me as i do about him. and to be clear i do not have a crush on him. i do not have feelings for him. i just wish i was a priority to him. i wish our conversations made him feel the way they make me feel. they’re everything to me. he is everything to me.

i’m slowly slipping away from everything else and i can feel it. i can feel myself getting farther and farther from myself and who i want to be. i don’t do my homework. the weather makes me tired. i am anxious and upset at the world and myself. i am not a pretty girl. boys don’t like me. girls don’t like me as much either. i have friends but none of which really care about my personal life. i’d hate to be a nuisance to them. it’s hard watching everyone else in your life living happily, while you’re trying not to drown in the waves. and i’m slowly drowning. i just hope i can be pulled out in time.

if i get happier i’ll let you know. but if i don’t i’ll let you know that too. i’ll try to keep up. i’ll try to stay motivated.

and to whoever is reading this, i thank you. thank you for listening to me when nobody else could.

love,

izzy

[maeiso-trash]

Perfection shatters like glass

Isogai is only perfect because he has to be, not because he wants to be.

A bit of character study(?) and making Isogai cry lol.

Word count: 2,925

Ao3

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The soft glow of the sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a yellow hue inside the living room. Books lay scattered on the table, disorderly stacked. Maehara sat on one end of the couch, observing Isogai, who was positioned at the opposite end, head buried in a book. He observed how delicately Isogai handled the pages, admired how focused he was, golden eyes fixated on the story in front of him. His expressions constantly changed as he read, and Maehara could only assume he was mirroring the character’s emotions. How cute. Makes him want to call Isogai something equally adorable. 

"Hey, can I call you darling?” Maehara asked, his head in the clouds, a dumb grin on his face. 

"I dunno, try it out," Isogai replied, not bothering to look up from his book. He felt the couch sink next to him as Maehara sat beside him. 

"Okay, darling." Maehara's gaze softened, and he felt his heart melt at the taste of the nickname on his tongue. It made him feel old-fashioned, absolutely smitten with his best friend. He stares at Isogai, taking in how his eyes dart up from the book to Maehara, only just processing his words. Maehara chuckles to himself at how cute Isogai's reaction is, albeit delayed. He's way too stupidly in love with his best friend. But he doesn't mind. He admires how the light pouring in from the window makes Isogai's eyes shine. How the curve of his lips tugged up just a little. How his eyes gaze back at him, a little surprised. How his antenna sprung up with his emotions before quickly returning to normal.

Isogai felt his heart skip a beat, and butterflies in his stomach. Blush starts to blend into his cheeks, though it's faint. He can't help but smile, giggling a little inside. He rolls his eyes affectionately, used to Maehara's flirts and sweet nothings. Why he puts up with Maehara, he doesn't know. But they've been close since childhood, and understand each other better than anyone else. He doesn't want to lose that bond. "Since when did you become such a romantic?" He half-jokingly asks, putting his book on the table.

Despite their history together, they feel like inexperienced kids, trying to figure out love for the first time. It's just a simple, sweet pet name. A name that kisses the back of one's hand, makes someone feel like they're floating on clouds. It makes one feel warm and fuzzy inside. It's a feeling akin to the aroma of fresh bread, the personal thought of a handwritten letter. It’s watching the rain pelting down gently on the pavement, staring through frosted glass windows with a warm drink in hand. It’s the sun reaching through the windows at dawn, encasing everything in a warm yellow glow when the world hasn't woken up yet. 

Maehara slowly wrapped his arms around Isogai's waist, peppering featherlight kisses along his shoulder. "Ever since I fell in love with you, darling." Maehara purposefully says it again, and Isogai can practically hear his smile. 

"Pff- stop," Isogai giggled softly, ticklish from the onslaught of kisses. "Th-that tickles."

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say-" Maehara relents, kissing him a final time, "-prince charming."

Ah, that old nickname. 

Isogai doesn't really think it suits him. 

"Prince charming, huh?" he repeats, testing how the title rolls off his tongue. It's a foreign feeling. He doesn't think he deserves such a fancy title. Maybe he's just being modest. "You of all people should know I'm really not that perfect like others say."

Maehara sighs. Having been best friends with Isogai, he knows there is more to him than his charms. He's seen him frightened, and scared. He's witnessed the forgetful and panicky side of Isogai. He's helped him through his meltdowns when the weight of the world on his shoulders was too much to handle. He's seen him angry, and tired. Although, these aren't really flaws to his character. At least that's what Maehara thinks. He ponders deeper, wondering what exactly his friend's weaknesses are. 

Perhaps it's his overly self-sacrificing habits, his selfless acts and priorities. Maybe it's his perfection itself that's his flaw. His own downfall. Maybe it's the outcome of his backstory. The aftermath of the long nights and forced smiles. Taking care of others so much that he forgets to take care of himself. Thinking that he isn't good enough, downplaying his self-worth as he's used to it. He wants everyone else to be happy. He thinks his own opinions don't matter.

No. It can't be that either.

Maehara frowns a bit, and wishes Isogai can realize that he's worthy of the nickname of 'prince charming.' That he's perfect even with imperfections. 

"I do know. But you're still perfect to me. I always called you that when we were kids and you never had a problem then."

"Yeah, when we were playing pretend," Isogai says, a hint of nostalgic melancholy in his voice. He misses those days, when he was happier, when everything was simpler and there wasn't much to worry about. When Maehara would make him a flower crown ‘fit for a prince’ and pretend to be his knight. He isn't too sure how the whole prince thing started, or why Maehara would think of him as one. But that was back then, and now they've grown older. Now they have responsibilities and duties to take care of. He can't live in a world of fantasies and reminisce about the past forever. He wishes he could, but he can't, no matter how much he yearns for it. "This is reality, Hiroto. We're not kids anymore."

"Don't wanna believe it," Maehara spat out with a pout. "You just grew up faster because you had to."

Ah. 

That came out wrong.

But once the words left his mouth, it left a bitter taste on Maehara’s tongue. His throat goes dry and he regrets it immediately. Maehara never really cared for his responsibilities, choosing to fool around and have fun instead. Isogai didn’t have that luxury. 

"Oh, I. . . I see," Isogai trails off, unsure of how to respond. He knows it's the truth, and that Maehara wasn't trying to be mean. Isogai did have to grow up faster than other kids his age. He had to be someone his family could depend on, someone others could rely on. He prioritized others' needs before his own. He still does. He pushes himself a lot and it tears him apart mentally and emotionally. He's tired. He's ‘perfect’ because he has to be. Admittedly, it hurts, not having a normal childhood. Forced into maturing and growing up from a young age. He technically still is a kid, though it doesn't feel like it with the overwhelming weight of the world on his shoulders.

"N-No, Yuuma, I didn't mean. . ." Maehara panics and hugs Isogai just a little bit tighter. He doesn't want to see his best friend cry. Especially because of his own mistake. He would never forgive himself for that. "Sorry." It sounds like a shallow, half-hearted apology, just one measly word. But he can't seem to say anything else. He falls silent and stares blankly at the floor. 

Isogai doesn't break away from Maehara's hold. Maehara’s kisses linger on his skin. The feeling is bittersweet. Isogai gets a sense of deja vu, and he remembers the name he was given that day in class when everyone was given codenames. 'President poverty,' they called him. Almost mockingly, like salt being rubbed on the wound. He bites his bottom lip, remembering who gave him the codename in the first place. 

Maehara Hiroto, his best friend since childhood, the one who understood him most out of everyone. The one who he shared his secrets with, the one who’s been with him through thick and thin. Thinking about it, it almost feels like a betrayal. He glares at the floor.

"President Poverty," he drawled out, venom injected into each syllable.

"Wh-what?" Maehara questions, confused at the sudden change in Isogai’s tone.

Maehara's ignorance, intentional or not, sends Isogai off the edge. "Are you fucking dumb? Wasn't it your idea to give me that codename? My personality isn't just being perfect and poor, y'know!" He practically hisses, prying himself away from Maehara. Isogai frowns at him, glaring at him through misty tinted eyes, pale golden irises losing their shine. "You’re so mean, Hiroto. It's not like I wished to be born into a poor family, for my dad to die, and for my mom to become ill. I didn't want this. I never wanted all these responsibilities. I never wanted to be perfect." He didn't want to be perfect. He wanted to be a kid again. 

"Hey, hey, what's with this all of a sudden?" Because while Maehara knows Isogai well, he can't read his mind, can’t follow the trail of thoughts that lead Isogai to this point.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't have to work your life away just to make sure you survive."

What started from anger turned into tears, and Isogai isn't too sure himself of why he's crying. It just hurts, and he's tired of this life. His life. Overwhelmed with everything, his emotions bottled up only to crash in waves. All his life, other people always reminded him that he was poor. They’d point and laugh at something he couldn’t even control. His financial situation was always their go-to insult. And he’d always brush it off with a forced smile, trying to block the insults from his memory. It always hurt whenever he remembered them. 

Maehara never really made fun of him for being poor. Or at least, not until the ‘president poverty’ thing. It hurts now that he’s realized it. Isogai considered Maehara his best friend, and yet, it doesn’t feel like it. But Isogai genuinely can't hate him, and he hates that. 

Maehara isn't too sure how to respond, not wanting to make the situation worse, only watching Isogai cry out of supposed anger. Maehara lets Isogai cry, he probably needs it anyway, and decides to talk when he's finished. In the meantime, he reflects on Isogai’s outburst and yeah, maybe he was rather insensitive, unintentional or not. 

The air around them is still, the tension thick. Time ticks by, but to them the world doesn't move. They're suffocated by a silence filled with regret. Maehara desperately wants to reach his arms out and envelop Isogai into a tight hug, but he knows him well enough to know the other will only push him away. Out of anger, out of fear, out of pain. 

Fights have never happened between the two of them. They were always too understanding for that. Of course, they had their arguments, avoiding the other out of shame and guilt, before making up like friends do, learning from their mistakes, trying to better themselves. But it rarely happens, and sometimes they forget about the silly disagreements. But this argument isn't as silly as which one of them kills the spider or turns the light off before the monster gets them. They know you can't turn back time, hit rewind and start over. So they wallow in the pond of regret and guilt, distant from one another as they try to sort out their thoughts.

Isogai begins to regret saying his thoughts. Perhaps he should've just accepted the nickname of 'prince charming'. Maybe they wouldn't feel so awkward right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be bawling his eyes out, sobbing like the child he never allowed himself to be. Deep down, he knows it isn't selfish to speak out his feelings, tell the truth of his thoughts, but it feels selfish to him. Almost like he’s begging for help, for some sort of comfort when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. He wants to go back to a time where everything isn’t so complicated, when his mom isn’t ill, and his dad isn’t forever gone. He wants to go back to a time when he wasn’t working a part-time job, when smiling wasn’t such a chore that made his cheeks hurt, and when his wrists weren't sore from carrying trays and plates and cups all day. He never wanted these things to mold him into the person he became today, sculpted and shaved down and crafted into perfection. 

Although right now, he isn’t so perfect, breaking down in front of his best friend. His eyes all red and puffy and his tears streaming down and into his mouth, his sleeves stained with snot. His throat is hot and sore and he almost chokes on his cries. In a way, he feels relieved, letting everything out. Allowing himself to feel something, to cry, to feel human. Breaking the carefully sculpted character he chiseled himself, the one that adapted and matured to life all too quickly, the one that hid all his flaws and imperfections behind a wall. 

He cries and cries until the tears dry out, and in the end he just feels kind of pathetic. He doesn’t say anything, wiping away the last of his tears. Maehara gently rubs a hand on his back, which Isogai doesn’t bother trying to swat away. He’s just tired.

"I'm sorry, really, I am," Maehara says quietly. He feels really bad but he's mostly mad at himself and he should've just kept his mouth shut but he never learns his lesson. "I know about your situation and I didn’t really take your feelings into account. I just thought that a name like that could help you relax a bit and not worry about being perfect all the time. I was uh, very wrong on that. It's unfair that you have all these responsibilities when you never asked for it in the first place. I acted like it was your fault when it never was to begin with. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I'm. . . really sorry."

Maehara wouldn't be surprised if Isogai never forgave him. He's made a lot of mistakes in the past. Way too many, for his liking. Now that he thinks about it, he's done a lot of things he regrets. Mistakes he can't erase, no matter how hard he tries. But he never really confronted his problems, opting to move on and run away instead. 

Isogai takes some time to process Maehara's apology, wiping away his tears. He gazes solemnly at Maehara, his eyes all puffy and glassy, and Maehara's heart breaks. Right, he caused that. Maehara feels really guilty, almost wanting Isogai to be mad at him rather than upset. He repeats the word 'sorry' in his head, over and over again. 

"Please never call me that again." Isogai doesn’t really know whether to forgive Maehara or not. If he does, it’ll probably take a while. But the request should be a start, he decides.

"You have my word," Maehara mumbles quietly, stretching out his pinky finger. 

Isogai interlocks his pinky finger with Maehara and his lips stretch into the faintest smile. “You better keep it,” he laughs weakly. He almost can't tell if it was genuine or not.

"I will. Promise." Maehara began to trace gentle patterns on the back of Isogai’s hand, something he always did when the other was in need of comfort. "Do you miss being a kid again?" It was a genuine question, no ill intentions. 

"A little, yeah," Isogai admits. He almost forgot what it was like to be one. To be carefree, unaware of the harsh realities of the world in front of him. He doesn't really mind it, or at least that's what he tells himself.

Unlike him, Maehara hasn't forgotten, and he wiggles his fingers lightly against Isogai's waist in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Isogai stifles a laugh, before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Wa-wait! Stop- Hiroto stop it!"

“You’re as ticklish as ever.” Maehara says with a smirk, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“And you’re as annoying as ever.”

“Hey!” Maehara lightly punched Isogai’s shoulder. And really, he shouldn’t take offense when he insulted his best friend where it hurts most.

Isogai doubles over with a laughing fit, and Maehara is about to ask why until Isogai quickly composes himself and turns back to face him. On his face is a stupid grin as he wipes away a tear. "I love you though.”

Maehara softly glares at him, lips curving into a half-smile, half-frown. "Hmph. I love you too." He gently caressed Isogai’s cheek with his palm. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his expression softening as he gazed adoringly at Isogai. He truly doesn’t know what he did to deserve Isogai. “Could I. . . hug you again?” 

Isogai gives him a nod and Maehara practically bursts with happiness as he tackles the other in a hug, pressing their bodies close together. It’s warm. And feels like home.

“It’s okay to let loose sometimes, y'know. I know you have to work because of money issues and you have to take care of your family and all that but you should take care of yourself too. Don’t push yourself too hard, alright? I care about you a lot. Your health and happiness is just as important as everyone else's.”

Isogai is pleasantly taken aback at Maehara's words, and he can't help but smile. He returns Maehara’s hug, wrapping his arms around the other tightly. It's times like these he's glad to have put up with Maehara all these years, happy to have him in his life. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind."

[whoaffle]

Today a person of my family was complimenting and admiring Bozos' stupid-ass fucking penis-shaped rocket...

They kept talking about how it's "amazing" and "genius" and whatever... They were really impressed by the whole "show" and by the technology used and I GET that on one hand, because it IS something different and new and it is impressive (which doesn't mean it is good, I'll develop later), and this person is much older than me and they kept insisting on how, for them, in the past, this would have sounded impossible and how it's amazing that it's happening! That one person would manage to fund that by himself and not a whole country! (which again, impressive, NOT good. The fact that ONE person has the same amount of money as a large country, while others are poorer and poorer every day... The slow erasure of a middle class as social inequality becomes more and more severe every day... The fact that all this money was conquered by exploiting several poorly paid workers in shitty jobs with bad conditions... All those are symptoms of a DEATHLY ill economic system that not only has gone WRONG already but still insists on pretending to be functional while dragging down everyone along with it to the absolute limit before it collapses entirely on itself, leaving a painful scar on the people it took advantage of AND on the planet it has exploited for so long).

Going back to the point, I get it that "space travel" is a magical sci-fi dream for many people, both young and old, and that older people who think differently from most of us young adult Tumblr users would be super impressed by it, BUT... This is still so... So bad! Most of it - if not everything about it - is such an absurd scenario!

Well, knowing by previous experience that criticizing Bezos' amount of money and how he acquired it would be useless and that he'd end up defended anyways, I tried criticizing the ecological aspect of the whole thing first! But the answer I got was "Hah! A lot of stuff pollutes the world much more and no one talks about it", which, like... 1- Your point being?? That's no excuse to ignore absolutely useless shit like this polluting the earth even more just so billionaires can feel special because they can go to space while millions of people starve, die and suffer. Besides the fact that insisting on investing in this kind of technology instead of trying to prioritize Eco-friendly technologies and research is PRECISELY why a lot of other things pollute so much more - because every time someone comes up with something new they insist on not giving a fuck about the environmental aspect of their tech... So both the issues are correlated, this is not a "different thing that is less important" this is ONE of the symptoms. And 2 - Yes we DO talk about it, very often, all the time, and we hate it, and criticize it, and wish it would change. How many younger people are legit extremely worried about the environment and about the several ways governments, industries and other large-scale processes like that damage the environment? Damn, we DO complain about those!

But OK. Didn't wanna argue, so I started just using my phone instead... Then another person joins the conversation. The two of them are now like "This technology may not be put to good use now, the Space Tourism is a bad idea and it's stupid... BUT they could use the same device for other kinds of travel! Something from the technology used here could be used later for useful projects! Imagine, we could use the same rocket type tech to make commercial international flights, for example!" and I was silently thinking "Yeah right and emit even MORE useless pollution just because people wanna get to other places EVEN faster! And just because some idiots who have the money would pay THAT MUCH to be able to go faster to Paris or whatever!"

That is NOT NECESSARY and it is not SUSTAINABLE, it is not viable in long-term! Why would we use this kind of shit that is MORE expensive and MORE pollution-emitting?? Because it's faster?? Well let me tell you something then! Being faster is not only unnecessary but in this context we are living right now, it's A BAD IDEA, because our society is ALREADY deeply sick about the need to speed up literally everything and everyone has anxiety and is unable to wait a single second for anything, and so they expect faster and faster results every time, and companies - who LOVE not giving a shit about workers' mental health and well-being - expect more and more and more in less time! And this adds up pressure and stress on people's lives - which, by the way, is one of the things THIS very person from my family always complains about 'modern days'... The fact is that if traveling between continents FASTER became an actual accessible thing, that would probably just become another stupid insane standard for our already impossible-to-keep-up-with lives! Because if you travel abroad so quickly, then you are expected to get back to work on the same day and fuck jet-lag... Or anything similar! I don't know!

Anyway, I did go on a tangent here because I'm so angry and I started ranting over my rant. Let me go back to the POINT.

I was silent all the time as they kept talking about it, because honestly, no matter what I replied, they'd be like "You're too radical!", "don't exaggerate", "there are much worse things" and SPECIALLY "but the scientific advancement!"

And my WHOLE POINT HERE is that this is NOT "advancement"! It is scientific creation, development even if you will, but not "advancement"! Because it emits ridiculous amounts of carbon and other kinds of pollution in a planet that is already suffering so much environmentally and literally CANNOT HANDLE that anymore!

It is not advancement if its so expensive that only the 1% people (who hold most the money in the world) can pay for it, while billions of others just watch and starve and die in floods and fires CAUSED by that sort of shit!

That’s not "advancement"! That is fucking technological masturbation coming from egocentric morons who only want to get more money and show off!

Advancement would be coming up with actual, real solutions that help people in their daily lives! Advancement would be coming up with technologies and solutions that would work BETTER for everyone and not just to fill billionaire's asses with MORE money! It would be to find new ways to do what we do today without destroying the environment, or finding new cheaper ways to produce products and services so that more people can have access to them! And this is the absolute OPPOSITE of that! It is insisting on a way of doing things that is outdated, unsustainable and destructive, and that doesn't FIT our reality anymore and should be left BEHIND while we still have time to change!

BESIDES scientific advancement has been happening ALL OVER the world for CENTURIES and all we need is that the RIGHT technologies get attention and investment. Eco-friendly technology EXISTS we could clean the seas, we could generate free electricity for all, we could invest on lab grown meat, we could do SO much that would be actually useful and nice and helpful, but instead those sons of BITCHES only want to play in space and maybe some day run away when the planet is too sick to be fixed, leaving us - the poor ones - behind to die.

The fact is that we don't need cocky, bastard, exploitative billionaires to have scientific advancement! It would exist anyway, perhaps in better ways! And people should STOP considering technologies that are more harmful to the world than helpful as "advancements"! Because they are not, they are a problem, they are like if a man invented a flamethrower inside a house that is literally on fire and everyone found it amazing because "now we can set fire on stuff more easily and faster" yeah like, AWESOME but can we solve the PROBLEMS caused by that instead??

And honestly, I hate the excuse that "space represents hope for many people in a world that is bound to destruction" like, there would be NO need to go to space to begin with if we focused on fixing what's wrong instead of that ridiculous bullshit disguised as research or whatever when it's obviously just two things: showing off their horrible amounts of money and making MARKETING of an unnecessary service that will only benefit those who already have the easiest lives of all of us while causing issues to all others! JUST so that these billionaires can make MORE money. It's DISGUSTING.

There is NOTHING wrong about space travel as a concept, nothing wrong with researching and developing technologies that may allow us to explore space! Space exploration would be AWESOME! BUT if we're gonna work on something like that, we have to develop it in a way that doesn't harm the world EVEN MORE. We have to have priorities! We have to focus on NOT destroying this planet, for FUCK'S sake! And if the only way we have to explore space right now is by damaging our already fucked up environment even more, then NEWSFLASH, BABY - this is not the TIME to do space travel yet! AND SPECIALLY NOT FOR BILLIONAIRE SPACE TOURISM.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

JBBarnesNNoble's 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021

Hello lovely people! And welcome to the 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge. The aim of this challenge is to shine a light on mental health, medical conditions, and the things that can have impacts on us. This started out initially being a PCOS Awareness challenge last year but through conversations with other writers over Discord, it evolved into a Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge last year. I’m reusing some of the unused prompts from last year’s challenge and adding in some new ones!

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The goal of this challenge is to lift each other up, and show that it’s okay not to be okay. Spread some love and light during a challenging time in the world to those who struggle with chronic illness, depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, grief, PCOS, acceptance from their families and communities for being LGBT+, and anyone struggling with insecurity.

This challenge will run through July 31st, 2021. It will run through Mental Health Awareness Month, Pride Month, and the month of July to give people time to write. You can submit it at any time. I probably have too many prompts, but I wanted to ensure that there was a wide array to choose from. Please don’t hesitate to message me if I haven’t interacted with your fic after a few days! Sometimes the tag system doesn’t work and I miss things!

The Rules:

1. Utilize resources available online if you’re dealing with subject matter you’re not that familiar with. I’m not going to go all “cite sources” on y’all, but please do make sure to do your research. Writing about some of these issues can be hard if you don’t have first hand knowledge of how it can affect you. The goal of this challenge is to write about topics that we tend to shy away from, that many of us struggle with, from mental health struggles to chronic illnesses to low-self esteem. A gentle reminder that if you think writing about a subject will be triggering for you, please look after yourself first.

2. Use #JBBNNMHAM21 to tag your fic

3. Dark!Fic- Due to the subject matter involved in this challenge, please don’t submit dark!fic. I enjoy dark fics, but this challenge isn’t the place for them.

4. Smut- Smut is welcome! Make sure you tag it appropriately.

5. No inc*st, dubcon/noncon, underage, etc

6. Ships- I prefer reader inserts, but show me what ya got.

7. NO JOHN WALKER FICS. Please. Please no. I beg of you.

8. Selecting Prompts: Just let me know which one you want to do! 2 people per prompt! The song prompts have a line from them under it. You DO NOT need to use the line in your submission! It’s mostly to help you decide if you’re interested in a song before you take a listen to it.

You also can alter the sentence and dialogue prompts as needed for grammar, be it altering the pronouns used or changing the pluralization of a word.

9. Trigger Warnings: Use warnings as needed. Fics dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or other mental health issues should be tagged appropriately to ensure that readers that may be triggered by the subject matter can avoid the fic. Trigger warnings are non-negotiable

The prompts are under the cut!

Prompts:

Dialogue Prompts:

“I feel like if I let go, if I move on, I’ll only be proving them right.”

“I don’t know. Am I? Because from where I’m standing it’s pretty damn clear that’s how you see me.”

“You don’t believe that do you? Tell me you don’t. Please.”

“It’d probably be easier if you left”

“Please leave me alone”

“Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person to have those broken pieces.” @nekoannie-chan

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll take that shake now.”

“What’s the point if I’m going to end up breaking that promise too?”

“You sure about that, moonman?”

“It made you smile though. And that will always be a win in my book.”

“That’s not true. And I will tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”

Sentence Prompts:

Feel free to adjust the pronouns as needed

It was a day. It was the only way it could be described.

Summer had a smell that reminded her of innocence and a time long since past.

In that moment, the world stopped spinning on its axis as it all shattered down around her.

Some things, there would never be a way to understand. @justrunamok

Like shattered glass, in that moment the illusion was broken.

Forever was a lie, just like everything else.

If you had another condescending doctor tell you your problem wasn’t a problem you were going to scream.

They’d say it was easy, like riding a bike. Except, you never learned how to ride a bike in the first place.

Today was going to be good. It had to be.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was going south.

AU and Trope Prompts:

Soulmate @samsgoddess

College

Childhood Friends @tellmealovestory

Friends to Lovers

Enemies to Lovers

Musicians

Writer

Professional Athlete

Teacher

Coffee Shop

Fake Dating

Accidental Marriage

Royal

Librarian

Doctor

Song Prompts:

1. Nobody Ever Told You - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “Wish you could see yourself the way I do. Nobody ever told you, nobody ever told you. Shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you”

2. Missing You - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “And if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds. I heard that you’ve been, having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts. But if you need a friend, then please just say the word.”

3. Barefoot and Bruised - Jamestown Story

Lyric Snippet: “Maybe when your sky comes crashing down, I can be your angel on the ground. If you get tired and can’t go on, I will carry you along, when the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes, when you’re barefoot and bruised”

4. Hold On Till May- Pierce the Veil

Lyric Snippet: “If were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”

5. If I Surrender - Citizen Soldier

Lyric Snippet: “If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me, will it set me free?”

6. Home - Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, Beba Rexha

Lyric Snippet: “All these miles, feet, inches, they can’t add up to the distance that I have been through just to get to a place where even if there’s no closure I’m still safe. I still ache from trying to keep pace. Somebody give me a sign, I’m starting to lose faith”

7. Broken Arrows - Daughtry

Lyric Snippet: “The best of intentions I lay at your feet. And I need you to see past the worst part of me.”

8. Used - Serious Matters

Lyric Snippet: “The wounds are gone and the pain still lingers. But this time I won’t stand by, I don’t need you in my life”

9. According to You - Orianthi

Lyric Snippet: “According to you, I’m stupid, I’m useless, I can’t do anything right”

10. Let It Land - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And everything we hate is something we just bought along the line”

11. Cold As You - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “You put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey. And I stood there loving you and wished them all away. And you come away with a great little story, of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”

12. Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift

Lyric Snippet: “Hold on, baby you’re losing it. The water’s high, you’re jumping into it, and letting go, and no one knows. That you cry but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one. And you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”

13. Human Interaction - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “I don’t know love. I don’t know hate. I am numb. Wish I could find the words to say. Asking please, as colors fade. I need to breathe. Before I turn the world to grey.”

14. Therapy - All Time Low

Lyric Snippet: “Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty, but I’m smiling at everything. Therapy you were never a friend to me, and you can keep all your misery”

15. Scars - Alison Iraheta

Lyric Snippet: “Do you know how hard I’ve tried to become what you want me to be. Take me, this is all that I’ve got, this is all that I’m not, all that I’ll ever be. I got flaws, I got faults, keep searching for your perfect heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, we’ve all got our scars”

16. Hurts to Know - 1551

Lyric Snippet: “I can’t remember what I did to earn you by my side. I can’t surrender. I’ll fight as long as you’re in my life”

17. Spinning Bottles - Carrie Underwood

Lyric Snippet: “He’s in a hotel room, with the tv on. Getting lost in the static with the curtains drawn, knowing this could be the time that gets her gone for good, he’d quit if he could. But one down, two down, three down, four, can’t even recognize the man in the mirror anymore”

18. Praying - Kesha

Lyric Snippet: “Well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come. ‘Cause I can make it on my own. And I don’t need you, I found a strength I’ve never known.”

19. Jersey On the Wall (I’m Just Asking) - Tenille Townes

Lyric Snippet: “If I ever get to heaven, you know I got a long list of questions. Like how do you make a snowflake, are you angry when the earth quakes? How does the sky change in a minutes, how do you keep this big rock spinning? Why can’t you stop a car from crashing? Forgive me, I’m just asking”

20. Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery

Lyric Snippet: “Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Oh, but they just keep on flying right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had me a, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. Give myself five more minutes”

21. Dad’s Old Number - Cole Swindell

Lyric Snippet: “Sometimes I forget, these ten digits ain’t my lifeline anymore. Every now and then I dial them up when life gets tough or when the Braves score. Sorry about the one ring hang ups, early morning and late night wake ups. It was just me. In case you wondered, you’ve got dad’s old number.”

22. The Other Side - Lauren Alaina

Lyric Snippet: “There’s gonna be a lot of sadness on a lot of happy days, I’ll try to think of this moment, this place”

23. I Was Here - Beyonce

Lyric Snippet: “So they won’t forget I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here. I did, I’ve done, everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.”

24. Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan

Lyric Snippet: “Like a shooting star, flying across the room. So fast, so far, you were gone too soon. You’re a part of me. And I’ll never be the same here without you. You were gone too soon.”

25. Amelia - Tonight Alive

Lyric Snippet: “And you will always be perfect, you’ll always be beautiful, our hearts, will never forget you. You didn’t belong here, and it’s become so clear why heaven called your name.”

26. Heaven Right Now - Thomas Rhett

Lyric Snippet: “When the whole crew gets together, memory lane goes on forever. We twist a top and pour a little Jack D out.”

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day twenty-three, part one: bedside vigil

CW: dying death dead dying yeah that, also sad sad sad, most of them have some sort of not explicit mental health issue going on, and lastly its so so so so so so so long like i’m actually so sorry how did it get to be this long i-

first half under the cut, second half here !!

He could feel the end coming. He could also feel that the time was right. It wasn’t too soon, though he did wish he could have more time. It wasn’t too late either, he felt, it really was right on time. It was his time.

He was glad he knew this, because it meant his family and friends could gather around him. It meant he’d get to properly say goodbye to all those he cared about. He knew they’d miss him, and he’d miss them too, but he’d see them again soon. And he’d never really leave them, not as long as they kept him in their memories, in their hearts.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a faint knock on the door.

“Aang?” Katara called quietly, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep.

“Come in,” he replied, his voice hoarse.

She opened the door and came in, carrying a small tray of food. The smell filled the room up and Aang smiled, looking lovingly at his wife. He didn’t get all that hungry anymore, but her cooking was a comfort he tried to enjoy in his final days.

“Bumi, Zuko, and Izumi got here this morning,” Katara said and she set the tray on Aang’s bedside table.

“And Sokka left last night to find Kya. Toph, Su, and Lin finally agreed to stay on the island for a little bit, and Suki and Ty Lee should be here by tonight,” she sat on the wooden chair that now sat by Aang’s side at all times, reaching forwards and taking his hand.

She watched him for a moment, paying close attention to his breathing as his chest rose and fell steadily.

“Thank you,” he said after a time, turning his head slightly to see her better.

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetie,” she responded, smiling and squeezing his hand.

It was after another while of sitting like that in silence that there was a hesitant knock on the door. It opened slightly and Izumi’s face peeked in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to interrupt, but, uh…” she trailed off, glancing at Aang and then looking at the floor.

Katara squeezed Aang’s hand again and stood, leaning over to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Then, she walked over to the door, opening it fully.

“You’re not interrupting anything, dear,” she said, placing a hand on Izumi’s shoulder.

“Take all the time with him you need,” she finished before stepping around the younger woman.

Aang followed Izumi with his eyes as she made her way to his side, taking the chair Katara had just been sitting in.

“This feels so unreal,” Izumi started, clasping her hands together and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“I know logically everyone has to die at some point, but it just…” she trailed off and looked up at Aang with tears in her eyes.

“I wish it wasn’t true,” she blinked and a few tears slipped down her cheek.

“You’ve always been like a niece to me, Izumi,” Aang reached a shaky hand out to wipe her cheek.

“Just because I’ll no longer be here physically doesn’t mean I’m leaving you,” he added before drawing in a raspy breath and coughing slightly.

Izumi’s eyes widened in panic and she pushed out of the chair.

“Should I get Katara?” she asked, inching back towards the door.

“No, no, I’m alright,” Aang reassured her, giving her a weak smile.

“I’d like to speak to your father, though,” he said, to which she nodded before turning and leaving him alone.

He turned his head back so that he was looking at the ceiling again, watching as the shadows shifted almost unnoticeably. He didn’t look at the door when he heard it open, his eyes remaining fixed on the shadows above as Zuko made his way to the chair and sat down.

“This feels so unreal,” Zuko muttered, causing Aang to let out a small laugh.

“That’s exactly what your daughter said,” he said quietly, finally turning to look at his old friend.

“Of course it is,” Zuko let a smile creep onto his face.

He let out a sigh, his smile disappearing after a moment. His gaze turned to his feet for a long moment of silence before he forced his eyes up to meet Aang’s.

“I’ll miss you,” he took in a deep breath.

“We all will. But I’m glad for the time we’ve had. Ah, the memories of chasing after you as a delusional teenager,” Zuko let out a small chuckle and Aang smiled, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

“But really,” Zuko continued, his face turning serious again.

“There’s so much I wish we’d had the time to do, but there’s even more that we did have time for. I’ll cherish those memories, I promise I won’t forget a single thing, until I see you again,” Zuko finished, stopping himself before he had the chance to cry.

“Until I see you again,” Aang responded quietly.

There was another knock on the door and Aang chuckled.

“It’s like a round robin of people coming in here,” he joked as Zuko stood and moved to open the door.

Bumi stood there, his head hanging down and his hands fidgeting in front of him. He looked up when Zuko pulled the door open, first looking at the Firelord and then to his father. He gasped slightly and looked back at Zuko, who placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything to the young man, instead simply stepping around him to give him space to be with his father alone for a while.

Bumi hesitated at the door, staring at Aang for a second, before walking in and closing the door behind him. When he turned back around, he couldn’t help but run to the bedside.

“Dad,” he cried, falling to his knees in front of the chair.

“Bumi,” Aang said, lifting his hand to gently stroke Bumi’s hair.

“I don’t- you can’t- dad,” Bumi stuttered, putting his arms up on the bed and resting his chin on them.

“You’ll be alright,” Aang said looking sadly down at his son.

“I’m sorry,” Bumi whispered, hiding his face in his arms.

Aang watched him for a moment before saying anything, his hand still repetitively smoothing his rowdy hair.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

Bumi looked up at him tearfully, opening his mouth and closing it again before shaking his head. He sat there for a minute more before pushing up from the ground. He steadied himself against the bedside table, the sudden change in altitude sending a rush of blood to his head. Once he could see straight again, he leaned over and kissed his father on the forehead.

“I love you, dad, and I’ll miss you, and-,” he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.

“I really am sorry,” he finished, leaving the room before Aang could question him again.

Aang let out a sigh and watched the door. His eyelids were heavy and he soon found himself drifting off to sleep. He was vaguely aware of Katara coming at some point, taking away the tray of uneaten food and checking in on him. It was in the early hours of the morning that he woke up again.

He opened his eyes to Suki pacing quietly back and forth behind Ty Lee, who was asleep in the chair. When Suki noticed Aang trying to prop himself up slightly more, she rushed around the bed to help him. Once he was seated comfortably, a pillow behind his head, she walked back around to wake Ty Lee up.

“Let her sleep,” Aang rasped, then clearing his throat.

Suki looked down at him and hesitated before nodding. She sat herself on the edge of his bed and rested her hand on his leg, looking at him with a sad smile on her face.

“You’re looking rough,” she joked, smirking at Aang.

“I’ve been better,” he responded, glad that Suki was being lighthearted about it all.

“You’ve also been worse,” Suki added, shaking her head and chuckling.

“Last time you died, Katara brought you back,” Aang couldn’t help but laugh as Suki continued to speak.

“Guess that won’t be the case this time, but hey, at least you’ll get to see Gyatso again,” Aang felt his eyes filling with tears for the first time since he’d taken ill just as Ty Lee finally woke up.

She opened her eyes groggily, turning to Aang as soon as she noticed Suki sitting on the bed.

“Aang,” she said quietly, her usually very bubbly demeanour completely abandoned.

“Your aura, it’s so…” she trailed off and looked sadly at the ground.

Suki hated seeing her like this and grabbed her hand, pulling her slightly towards the bed.

“Hey, let’s not sulk,” she said to her wife, glancing back at Aang.

“I’d rather see you happy in my last days than sad to see me go,” he added, smiling as Ty Lee peeked up at him.

“You’re right,” she said, the corners of her mouth pulling up ever so slightly.

“I’m so glad I got to know you, Aang, you helped me learn so much about myself, and have been one of the best friends I’ve had,” she added, squeezing Suki’s hand as she spoke.

“I feel the same, you taught me a lot and I always knew I could count on you,” Suki agreed, squeezing Ty Lee’s hand back.

“We’ll miss you,” Suki finished, looking back and forth between her wife and Aang.

“I’ll miss you too,” Aang replied. “But I’ll never be far.”

Ty Lee smiled at him warmly, and had just opened her mouth to say something when the door slammed open.

“Kyoshi nerds, out, now,” Toph said loudly as she stomped over to the chair Ty Lee was sitting in.

Nobody in the room could stifle their laughter as Ty Lee gave the seat up to Toph. She and Suki both bid adieu to Aang as they left the room, leaving him with a seemingly very pissed off Toph.

“C’mon, Twinkletoes,” she said, crossing her legs and leaning back against the chair.

“Dying? Now? Don’t you think that’s a little…”— she gestured messily in the air in front of her —“petty?”

“Is my timing inconvenient for you, Melon Lord?” Aang laughed.

Toph frowned and crossed her arms, suddenly overcome with the reality of what was happening. She sat quietly for a moment, her head turned down, until the door creaked open just slightly. A single tear fell from her eye as Su walked silently into the room, hesitating behind her mother before Toph shoved up from the chair.

“Whatever, Twinkletoes,” she said, roughly wiping her cheek as she stalked out of the room.

Su stared after her mother for a few seconds before looking at the floor.

“She just… needs some time,” she muttered, taking the seat by Aang’s bed.

“I see you, Toph, and Lin decided to get along for a weekend?” Aang ventured, cocking his head to one side.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. Lin hasn’t said a word to me since I got here, though, and mom’s been really distant the whole time too. I didn’t really expect any different, though, which is why I didn’t bring Baatar or the kids. They shouldn’t have to deal with my family drama,” she leaned forwards, resting her chin in her hands.

“How are Baatar and the kids doing?” Aang asked, watching Su’s face while she answered.

“Baatar’s been sick on-and-off for a few years, but he’s seeing a healer who says she can give him a lot longer to live with a number of healing sessions and some daily medication. The kids are all doing well, Opal was just born a few months ago,” she paused and looked up at Aang.

“I wish I could’ve brought them here at least once, to meet you, and everyone, but…” she trailed off and looked down again.

“It’s alright, Su. I’ll get to meet them eventually, and when I do, I’ll have all of eternity to get to know them,” Su couldn’t help but smile up at Aang at his response, her eyes stinging just slightly.

“You’re right,” she said rubbing her eyes lightly.

She shifted her feet on the stone floor and sighed, feeling Lin pacing just outside the door.

“I should, uh, let Lin come in here. She’s been… worried to say the least,” Su said standing and giving Aang one last glance before leaving the room.

Lin already had a frown fixed on her face when she walked in. She stood near the foot of his bed with her arms crossed, not letting herself look Aang in the eye. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before huffing and glancing at Aang.

“Lin, sit,” he said, making a small gesture towards the chair.

She shook her head and looked away again, tapping her foot on the cold floor.

“Do you really have to die?” she asked hoarsely.

“Lin, please sit,” Aang repeated, looking at the young woman with concern.

“I mean- you’re the avatar, right? Kyoshi lived for two hundred and thirty years, couldn’t- couldn’t you just not die? That would make a whole lot of stuff a whole lot easier, and I mean-,” Aang cut her off by blowing a small burst of wind in her face.

“Lin, you look like you’re going to collapse. Please sit,” he said, slight amusement on his face.

She looked up at him and huffed, but relented and moved to sit in the chair. She slid down slightly, her arms still crossed and her legs sprawled in a very unladylike manner. She glared at the floor as she began talking again.

“I just think it’s kind of rude of you to die right now, that’s all. I just-,” her voice broke and she let out a small sob, slapping her hand over her mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“No. No. I’m not crying now,” she muttered, taking a few deep breaths and then looking up at Aang.

He gave her a sad smile before saying anything, reaching his hand over and putting it on her knee.

“You can’t push everything down all the time, Lin, but I can’t force you to cry,” he said, bringing his hand back and putting it over his stomach.

“Do you want to talk about something else?” he asked, to which she nodded.

“Tell me how Tenzin’s doing, I haven’t seen him since I’ve been sick,” Aang shifted so he could see Lin better, though she was staring at the floor again.

“He’s… he’s not doing great,” she started, shuffling slightly back in the chair so she wasn’t so slumped over.

“He’s been pretty much locked in his room since you got sick, barely letting anyone in other than for food and such. I’ve gotten him to talk a couple times, though not much. He says it’s too much, that he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle talking to you now… but he does want to. He said he’d come in when he’s ready, but that it might not be for a while… he’s just really scared of losing you,” she paused for a second, twiddling her thumbs in her lap.

“I- I’m scared to lose you too, we all are,” she said in a near whisper.

“You’ll never really lose me,” Aang started, but stopped when she scoffed at him.

“Bullshit,” she said, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and annoyance on her face.

Aang sighed, smiling softly at Lin.

“Again, I can’t force you to believe anything, but I will stick around,” he reached out and took her hand weakly in his.

“I promise,” he said.

Lin’s eyes started to tear up again and she stood, pulling away from him and moving towards the door.

“You- you should sleep,” she said, looking back at him one last time before exiting the room.

He let out another sigh, but figured it best to follow her advice. It didn’t take long after he slid back into a lying position before he was sleeping deeply once more. His sleep was undisturbed, though he didn’t dream of anything. He was far too tired to dream, far too tired for anything really. Even so, he grinned widely when he woke up to Katara’s face by his side.

“I love you,” he whispered, trying not to startle her.

Her eyes snapped up from the brown yarn she’d been furiously knitting into a blanket. They softened when they saw his smile, her own lips pulling into a quiet grin.

“I love you too, sweetie,” she said, setting her yarn and needles on the bedside table.

“Have a good rest?” she reached over and ran her hand over the short hair that now grew thinly over Aang’s usually bald head.

“Mm, mmhmm,” he closed his eyes again as she kissed his forehead like she did every time she left the room now.

“Sokka and Kya are here,” she murmured, standing slowly.

“Should I bring them in?” Aang opened his eyes again at Katara’s question, nodding and shuffling back just slightly against the headboard.

Katara made sure he was properly situated before stroking his hair again and leaving the room. Aang looked down at his pale, shaky, bony hands while he waited for someone to come in. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but it was still off putting to see his own body so frail and destructible.

“Hey,” he heard Sokka say outside the door.

“Kya, hey, it’s alright. Let me go in first, okay? It’ll be okay, you’re okay, just… sit here for a minute.”

There was the sound of a metal chair being placed by the door and then the squeak of the door’s rusty hinges as Sokka came in.

“Is she alright?” Aang asked, looking past Sokka at the door as he took the chair.

Sokka rubbed his hands over his face before leaning forward on his elbows, staring into space as he spoke.

“Yeah, she’s not been doing the best, but she’ll be alright. She…we’ll make sure she is,” he looked at Aang for the first time since before he’d taken ill.

It was impossible to not notice the difference. Aang’s eyes were more sunken, his eye bags bigger and darker now. He actually had hair growing on the top of his head, but he was skinnier than ever with how little he’d been eating. His eyes were duller than they used to be, their sparkling excitement and energy simply missing.

“Fuck,” Sokka whispered.

“You really are dying, aren’t you,” he muttered, examining Aang’s face.

“It’s my time, Sokka. I can feel it,” Aang responded faintly.

Sokka nodded and took a deep breath. Aang could hear how shaky it was, how desperately he was trying not to cry. He pushed slightly away from the headboard and held his arms out to Sokka with a slight smile.

“You can cry,” he said, to which Sokka responded with a quiet sob.

He pushed himself out of the chair and onto the edge of Aang’s bed, accepting the hug and returning it fiercely. They hugged for a long time, Sokka crying on Aang’s shoulder, until Aang noticed Kya’s face peeking through the doorway. He pulled slightly away from Sokka, who wiped his tears with the palm of his hand before following Aang’s gaze to Kya. He smiled at her and nodded, standing to leave but hesitating first.

He put his hand on Aang’s shoulder and squeezed, smiling down at his old friend.

“I’ll miss you,” he said before walking from the room.

Kya dragged herself over to the chair by Aang’s side. She paused for a second and looked at her father, huffing lightly before sitting down. Aang could tell immediately that something more was wrong, something other than just his passing, but had no clue as to what it could be. He turned his hand so his palm was up and looked at Kya’s expressionless face, his brows drawing together.

“Hold my hand?” he asked, prompting Kya to at least look up at him.

That she did, also lifting her hand and curling her fingers in with her fathers. He continued to watch her face, noticing that she really was showing no emotion whatsoever as she stared blankly ahead.

“Kya, what’s wrong?” he tried to tighten his grip on her hand but didn’t succeed.

She opened her mouth to respond and took a deep breath, but then still said nothing. Finally, after what felt like hours to both of them, she found her voice.

“Dad,” she whispered, looking up at him again.

He looked back at her sadly, not knowing how to comfort her without knowing what was wrong. He tried to suck in a breath but started to cough, getting himself under control after a moment but still wheezing slightly. Kya’s face was more concerned after the coughing fit, but still quite neutral. He could see how empty her eyes were, but knew there was nothing much he could offer her now.

“Tell…” he trailed off, trying to muster up enough strength to finish his sentence before continuing.

“Tell everyone I love them,” he said barely louder than a whisper.

Kya furrowed her eyebrows as Aang slid down in the bed just barely, his eyes watching her with sadness.

“Dad,” she whispered again.

“Dad,” she said louder as he closed his eyes, his face relaxing.

It was the last thing he heard.

[janekfan]

Chronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802141

Thank you @taylortut for helping me!!!

Jon looked at the clock.

537.

The glowing numbers burned themselves into his retinas. How had it been less than an hour since last he’d checked? No use for it. Better to get himself up and ready for work. But he’d closed his eyes against the headache blaring like a klaxon and he’d have to open them again at some point.

Taking advantage of his lonely flat, Jon allowed himself to indulge the noise pushing its way through grit teeth as he maneuvered his sore legs from under the quilt. He sat a moment, pressing the bare soles of his feet on the cold floor and levering his heavy body upright with a shaking arm.

Exhausted.

And it’s only--a quick glance.

544.

The hell was wrong with him?

Since just before accepting the position as Head Archivist, and rightly pissing off both Sasha and Tim on her behalf, Jon felt like he’d been constantly coming down with something. Dizzy and nauseous and unable to eat, he was chronically exhausted and while he’d never slept well at the best of times, it was evading him more than ever.

And there were his mornings. Struggling to motivate himself out of bed, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall. Deciding he could forgo a shower just once more and choosing instead to make breakfast. Forcing himself to eat a piece of dry toast with his heart hammering away in his throat and half laying on the table, panting through his tea. Mentally, Jon prepared himself for the walk to the train, automatically going for his cane because lord knew he needed the support.

He’d get to the Institute hours early.

At least that made him look good?

Taking advantage of being a cane user, Jon opted for a reserved seat, the guilt at truly needing one eating away at his insides. But there were black spots at the corners of his vision and he had to sit down before he fell down and the guilt is a far sight better than causing a scene. The trip was too short. His chest ached from the constant pounding and he pressed the hand not holding his cane for dear life against his breastbone. It didn’t help but the pressure and touch grounded him enough to stand up. To head to the cross street. To wait for the lights to change. To stagger down the stairs and into his office, to drop into his desk chair and focus on every breath of air moving into his body and back out of it.

Jon put his head down. There was no one here. Wouldn’t be for a couple hours yet and he was exhausted, shaking from it. Nauseated. There wasn’t a fever. He’d gone as far as to purchase a thermometer to be certain when the strange symptoms refused to abate no matter how often he let himself rest, no matter the meals he tried his damndest to eat, the water he drank down. He was trying. Jon couldn’t remember ever taking such good care of himself and of course it refused to pay off. In Uni, he’d driven himself into the ground with little consequence. He’d maintained those habits until a few months ago and now--

Muffled voices drifted through his door, the rise and fall of easy conversation. The kind he’d once been allowed to partake in. Laughter filled the air and while Jon wished to join them he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Why had he done it?

Why hadn’t he refused Elias?

Because you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Needy. Greedy, grasping, always striving to know answers and never satisfied with what you're given. You take what you don’t deserve.

Reluctantly, Jon stood, slowly, because doing anything quickly these days has him ducking his head between his legs or waking up on the floor without any recollection of how he came to be there. He could at least collect their research in person, greet them. Try to be the boss they deserved.

Sasha was the boss they deserved.

“Ah, g’good morning.”

“Jon!” Martin, smiling shyly. “You’re here so early!” He began to stammer and Jon’s legs began to ache. This wasn’t a good day. They seldom were anymore. “I m’mean, of course y’you are, you work very hard!” Martin was saved by Tim swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve broken ‘im, boss.” A flush rose in Jon’s cheeks. He could feel it. “No worries, Marto. He’s always been an early riser.” While it was said in jest, the tone settled heavy in Jon’s chest, directly beside the pain blossoming like a thorny rose. Luckily, he was rescued by Rosie, standing halfway down the stairs and informing him that Elias requested him in his office. Jon didn’t relish the climb, no matter how grateful he was to escape out from underneath Sash’s heavy gaze. She had every right and he would bear his punishment in silence until she chose, if she ever did, to forgive him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jon limped out of Elias’ office without any recollection of what they’d spoken about or if he’d even spoken at all. Thumping pain and panic and he knew he was rude to ignore Rosie at her desk but he wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation, fairly certain that he wasn’t able to currently speak, far too focused on trying to hide how ill he was. But every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears and he could barely remember where the door to the archives was with the way his head reeled and spun. Jon wanted to sink to the ground once he had the door between himself and the lobby but he’d never make it to his feet again after that. Push through, he told himself. Get to your desk. He allowed himself a moment, two, just to put his head to rights, to try and breathe through the battering of his pulse.

And oh god he wasn’t going to make it and he wondered if somehow Elias knew. It was as though he’d kept him standing there talking about nothing until Jon hit his limit, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his office.

But he had to try and he’d almost gotten down the ridiculously narrow stairwell before he forgot nearly entirely why he was there in the first place. Was he going up? Down? Meeting with someone? Just arriving? He could barely breathe and the panic welling in his throat was choking and the black was crawling over his eyes and the dizziness only increased and he needed...needed…

For a moment, Jon didn’t recognize where he was, the migraine, the fuzziness, conspiring against memory and reason. But he knew this color, the hideous lick of paint some contractor had splashed over the walls a lifetime ago.

Breakroom?

Wha--

“Jon!” He winced, his own name like broken glass shredding every sense to ribbons. “Christ, are you alright?” Martin, the sounds he made were shrill, grating, and if he’d been able to tell him to be silent, he would have. “We heard the noise--you’d, you fainted! On the stairs! Luckily it was only the last few.” Jon blinked, dull and dumb, forcing himself up, up, up, and through heavy mist and fog in his search for words. Weary to the marrow of his aching bones, Jon slumped on the cushions and tried to think of a way to stop Martin’s incessant chattering. Tim and Sasha, alerted most likely by all the commotion, stood over him and he craned his neck up to look at them. Tim especially looked furious.

“You could have been seriously hurt!”

“S’sorry…” And he was, between his rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing migraine, and difficulty drawing breath into his exhausted lungs, he wanted to cry with how sorry he was.

“This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself.” Jon wasn’t sure why the sting from Tim’s accusation cut so deep and he hung his head, biting trembling lips to prevent the tears threatening to spring free.

It wasn’t fair.

By all accounts he was taking care of himself. More than ever!

“Did you even eat today? Drink anything?” He nodded, miserable, unwell, and equipped with no better answers than the truth.

“Tim. He’s just come to.” The understanding was the final straw, and Jon’s sight blurred with salt damp. “I’ll make sure he eats something before going back to work.”

“Alright, Martin. If he gives you any trouble, call.” At Jon, he pointed. “And you, no trouble.” And he nodded miserably.

“Okay, they’ve gone.” The familiar sounds of the kettle heating filled the room, the clink of a pair of ceramic mugs, the rustling of the tea bags, Martin’s distracted murmuring, all combined to calm him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” Jon looked up, surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, accepting the small plate of biscuits and nibbling slowly and when he finished those, Martin offered up the tea. Sitting with him in companionable quiet, he sipped on his own cup. Nothing more was exchanged and when Jon finished he thanked Martin for the company and locked himself away.

Jon was at wit’s end. Nothing he tried seemed to improve anything and the few times he did speak with a doctor, he was sent away with the same, useless advice, or worse, told he was imagining things, making it up, having panic attacks even though he was familiar with those and this was not that.

Work was a nightmare made even more miserable with the overwhelming amount of paperwork, statements, boxes, misfiled folders and envelopes and items and Jon missed the easy camaraderie and understanding he’d had with Sasha and Tim. Maybe he should resign, try and salvage what little of the relationship they still had, or, or invite them out for dinner, his treat, but Elias would never let him quit and the very idea of entertaining exhausted him. A cuppa appeared at his elbow filled with something new, something floral and slightly sweet, accompanied, as always, by a few biscuits.

“That’s a lot of work, Jon.” He sipped, grateful, lifting an eyebrow in response.

“I knew it would be when I accepted this position.” Undeterred, Martin stumbled forward.

“Y’yeah, I mean, you would have. Of course. I just--” A breath. “I’ve finished with my other assignments, ready for round, uh. Well, another round!”

“Ah. Alright, I’ll bring something over when I pick up your translations.” Martin took back the cup, nodding enthusiastically, and Jon appreciated that it was business as usual, selecting a few he’d been putting off and making his way toward his assistants ignoring inquiring looks in favor of taking the chair Martin offered up to go over his expectations. Short, succinct. A few notes on one translation, advice to remember for next time, and Jon felt reasonably confident Martin could handle himself. It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his office that Jon realized that was the first time he’d been offered a chair. It was becoming apparent that Martin was good at noticing the little things about them. A blush heated his cheeks and he tried to rub it away, feeling ridiculous that such a small act of kindness made him feel so seen.

Jon pushed forward, ignoring the warnings his body was trying to give him in favor of plowing through his work like he’d always done, and by the time he made it home, was on the verge of collapse. Hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when Jon allowed himself to feel it. More than anything, he was used to having control over himself, working when he wanted, burying himself in the research, devouring knowledge. Now he was at the whim of his physical form. Paying more attention to it than ever before and never knowing if he was going to wake up and have a good day or a bad day and it was maddening. Managing whatever it was without knowing what it was, was impossible with no rhyme or reason he could discern.

So in the absence of both, Jon kept shoving his way through how difficult it was because if he could just be normal through pretending everything was normal, then it would be.

Jon knew Tim was cross with him and managed to avoid him for most of the day, taking breaks here and there like he’d promised Martin he would do. But his luck, while it had been holding steady, had just run out and he found himself cornered in the breakroom.

“What do you think you’re on about?” Frustration had long since turned to outrage, boiling over.

“Tim, I. I’m not sure what you mean--”

“Damn it, Jon! You’ve already taken on a job you aren’t fit for! You can’t keep heaping your work onto Martin and then swanning off!”

“That’s.” He balled his hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into his palms. How could he explain when even the doctors thought he was making it all up? Heat rushed through him, top to toe, flushing his face and he wavered, legs threatening to buckle, vision threatening to go dark. He was going to pass out a second time today if he didn’t sit down. But that would mean walking away from Tim, and he didn’t think the man would let him. At least not until he was done telling him off. Better to be silent. Try not to pay attention to how erratic the persistent beating caged behind fragile ribs had become.

“Why didn’t you say no?” Because he wanted to be useful. Because Elias made him feel like he was capable even if he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just let Sasha have this?” Because he was an awful, selfish person. “God, Jon. Why did you drag us all down here with you?”

Because he was lonely.

Because they’d been friends. Once.

Rather than remind Tim that he was free to go at any time, that he and Sash hadn’t been forced or coerced into accepting positions here in the archives, Jon pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Well?!” Sharp, strident, Tim’s shout echoed around in the space between his own hurting, agonal breaths in his ears.

“I. I, I need to si’down…” wanted to lay down. Wanted to sleep, trembling with exhaustion, about to go down.

“What?” Lashes fluttering as he gripped the thread of consciousness with both hands, he barely registered Tim’s hands around his shoulders, guiding him into a chair and pushing his head down between his knees. “Jon?”

“M’okay…”

“You are clearly not.” A wide palm settled on his back, keeping him folded over. It was helping.

“S’mm...been. S’fine.” The floor came back into focus, all the little cracks and imperfections and Jon counted the streaks in the pattern in an attempt to ground himself but kept losing track of the number. Neither moved until Jon attempted to sit up, slowly, accepting Tim’s help.

“Jon?” He looked spooked, pale. “Please, what’s going on?” His hand settled in the crux of shoulder and neck, thumb ghosting along his clammy skin, and Jon allowed himself to find a morsel of comfort in the familiar gesture, the threat of tears closer than ever. So he reached for him.

“I don’t know.” And Tim pulled away as if burned, the frustration and anger rising in his face again, and Jon was bereft. “T’truly! I--”

“Why won’t you be honest with me? Don’t you trust me?” Standing, he took a step backwards, away from him, the hurt in him a palpable thing. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

Yes. They were friends. It was most likely why for the first time in a long while, the pain in his chest wasn’t a physical ache.

“Tim, I.” Fingers folded to fists to rest on his knees. But he was already gone.

“Jon!” Tentative, Martin lifted his chin. “Oh, oh.” Having been crying, Jon figured his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he didn’t bother attempting to hide the evidence. “Alright.” Martin went about making tea, chamomile, herbal and calming, placing it before him on the table with a chocolate digestive. “Drink this down and then go home. It’s half six.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep will help.”

“Mm.”

“I could speak to them for you. If--”

“No!” All but shouted. “No. That won’t be necessary, Martin.” Carefully he stood, paused. “Thank you.” And left.

Jon called off.

Called off again.

Again.

Apologized to Elias in a curt email requesting leave and was granted it.

He ignored his phone. His texts. The knock at the door and Martin’s voice behind it. He slept when he was tired and he was tired often and it was easier besides, to finally listen to the screaming of his body. It was after hours on his fifth day gone when Tim let himself in with the spare key to Jon’s flat.

“Hey.” Sheepish, he held up his hands in surrender, a bag of takeaway from Jon’s favorite place dangling from one. “Martin said you wouldn’t let him in.” Dressed in the most comfortable clothes he had, which were also the shabbiest, Jon glared at him from where he laid on the couch. “I was an arse.” Slowly, he sat up, making Tim wait on purpose, a powerful frown still aimed in his direction.

“You were.” He was aware he looked a mess, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, but he felt a sight better for the rest he’d gotten.

“Would you accept an apology?” Folding his arms, Jon leaned back into the cushions and fixed his stare at whatever rubbish was on the telly.

“Might do.” Silently, Tim scurried into the tiny kitchen and Jon listened to the familiar sounds of him rooting around for cutlery. It smelled delicious and comforting, a reminder of nights spent together laughing at nothing on this same couch and despite himself, Jon began to relax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Tim’s face split in a wide, relieved grin, and he flopped down next to him, planting a loud kiss to his temple before urging him to eat. “Martin sent you here.”

“An angry Marto is not to be trifled with.” Through a mouthful of noodles, Tim chuffed in laughter. “Wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to stop being a prick.”

“He did not.”

“He did not. But it was more than implied!” He put his bowl on the low table in front of them, sitting forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “And he was right. I didn’t give you a fair shake and accused you of awful things. And I know you’re doing your best at this job.”

“Gertrude isn’t making it easy.”

“Neither is your health, I take it.” Jon set his own meal aside, curling into the padded arm.

“No. It isn’t.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“I know some things that help. M’Martin has been invaluable.”

“Has he, now?”

“Leave off!”

“Okay, okay.” But he continued giggling as Jon felt his face go hot, muttering.

“He really has.” This time Tim pulled him gently into an embrace.

“Then Sash and I will just have to catch up.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #529

“i’d kill to kiss your apocalips”

do you like horses? Yeah! Horses are so majestic and deep creatures. How do you feel about candy corn? I absolutely hate it. What do you find in your opinion is an absolute waste of time? Arguing with people who are clearly closed-minded. Just drop their asses. Who's your favorite philosopher? I don't have one, but I actually really wanna take a philosophy course when I go back to school! Who calls you the most? My mom. The last person you spoke to, do you know their eye color? She has brown eyes. Are you currently in a smoking environment? No. Have you ever owned a tire swing? No. I wanted one as a kid, though. Does anyone you know own a bird that can talk? No. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? I stay away from rollercoasters. Have you ever gone in a sauna? UGH NO NO NO NO NO. Those sound miserable. Have you ever been someplace tropical? Only Florida. Would you make any changes to your current bedroom? It's funny you ask, 'cuz I was thinking about that at the hospital. I've wished my walls could be painted for a long time to something light and calming, like maybe a light peach. I was thinking about moving my bed to a corner too (it's in the middle with the head against a wall), but I came to realize that the room would be imbalanced with too much center space. I've been tryna muse over other things to change things up a bit. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn't have? I wanted a ferret pretty badly when I was younger, but as an adult, I know it's unreasonable for me. They're too much work. When you lost your virginity, do you honestly feel like you were ready? I've come extremely close to that, but I still consider myself technically a virgin. Like not to get too personal, but I've never done it with both of us purely naked, so. But ANYWAY, I'd be ready now. I'm an adult and know how to be smart regarding being safe. Plus, I have mega high expectations for a partner, so I'm not gonna get intimate with people easily. I'd be confident in my choice. When you were younger, did you plan on saving yourself for marriage? Sure did. It's why my first boyfriend and I never went all the way. Have you ever had sex on a floor? Uh I've gotten close. Do you remember who you were with when you first smoked pot? I've never smoked it. What were you smoking out of the first time? ^ Do you think pills affect your sex drive? An old birth control did fucking HORRIBLY, and I stopped that shit SO fast. I was so, so, so uncomfortable. Why do you drink? I only ever drink if I want the taste. Do you like Jalapeno Cheetos? Yep! Do you wish you had a new phone? Yes, actually. I want one with a better camera and more space. Name a song that makes you happy. No song is fail-proof, but I love how validating and fun "Danny Don't You Know" by Ninja Sex Party is. Surprisingly warming for a goofy songs band. Do you know how to read music? Not anymore. I haven't been in band for eons. Do you regularly use a blow dryer? Noooo. Even with my hair short now, my hair is just way too thick and takes FOREVER to dry. It ain't worth it. Is there a difference between being spiritual and religious? Yep. I'm not religious, but I've some spiritual beliefs myself. Spirituality is more about being in touch with your soul and finding divinity in your own body. Do you carry condoms? No, I don't have a reason to. Would you date someone with braces? Yeah? If they'd feel more confident with better teeth, you go, boo. Would you consider dating a psychiatrist or psychologist? I mean yeah, though I'd be worried I would overwhelm them since helping (usually) mentally ill people is already their career. What is your ringtone? It's just one that came with the phone, but I wanna change it to something I actually like to spice things up and give me a hint of enjoyment whenever my phone rings, even though I dread talking. I also want to change my text tone to the sound effect that happens when you pick up a gem in Spyro; I had that on my old phone, and it made me happy. Does your door have a dead bolt on it? Yes. I'd feel very unsafe otherwise. If the last person you kissed asked you to marry them, what would you do? It's, uh, too early for that. I know with certainty he wouldn't ask me this early, though. Does your mom wear makeup? Only for big events. Do you kiss your boyfriends/girlfriends in front of your parents? Yeah. Do you ever day dream about the person you like? Well yeah. I like picturing our hopeful future. Do you still have any Pokemon cards? Maybe in my treasure box? I can't say I'm sure. Do you like the picture on your ID? Holy SHIT no, it's so ugly. Have you ever heard a young child swear? Y'AAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL recently when I was with my mom while she was babysitting Ash's kids, my 7-year-old niece said "goddammit" while playing a game. My eyes almost popped out of my skull because 1.) that family is VERY religious, and 2.) I don't know where in the world she heard it. Mom just calmly told her to not say that. When people smoke around you, does it make you cough? Ugh, yeah. Please don't smoke around me. Would you rather name your child Michelle or Monica? Michelle. What is your best friend's favorite relative? I'm not sure, but I know she's real close with her dad. If you found out the last person you kissed was moving to a different country, how would you feel? I'ma be real w/ you, I'd want to go with him. I don't want to lose him. I know he wouldn't do this, though; he takes care of his schizophrenic mother and wouldn't abandon her. Plus he's close with his sister and nephew, so wouldn't want to leave them either. I can't even imagine him leaving without me, either. Lastly, he's very comfortable with his job and actually might move into management in the future, so it'd be quite an unexpected decision. Do you have a playlist made on YouTube? I have more than one for different reasons. Do you like dollar stores? I mean, yeah. They're good for snacks and quick drinks. How many people saw your last kiss? No one, Mom was in her room and I just kissed him goodbye. Who has the biggest ego you know? Fuckin' Colleen. I highly, highly doubt that has changed. Do you think it's weird how babies are made? Well yeah, it's pretty damn strange. Science is wild. When you were going out with your last ex and you had the chance to date your celebrity crush, would you have left your bf/gf for them? No, honestly. I actually know Sara and was perfectly happy with her. I wouldn't leave someone like that for a person I don't actually know. Like Mark, I love u boo, but I still wouldn't. Does your dad swear? A lot. Do you sweat easily? I suffer from severe hyperhidrosis, so I do very, very badly. It's so gross and embarrassing. What is something that you think the government should legalize? Weed, nation-wide, at LEAST for medical purposes. I'm for it even recreationally if you're smart about it, but c'mon, we know the health benefits. What is your favorite song lyric at the moment? "I found asylum inside your armageddon eyes" from "Cyberhex" because it makes me think of my boyfriend, plus I'm just obsessed with the song rn.. Have you ever done plagiarism and was caught doing it? Absofuckinglutely not. I feel very, very strongly about people stealing ANY form of creative work/art. This reminds me though that Mom and I were talking briefly about my writing yesterday, and she brought back to my memory how teachers thought my senior project about snake misconceptions and myths was plagiarized; they called my mom to get information from her because it was "too advanced," but she assured that that's just... how I write, ha ha, especially for something serious. What type of lifestyle do you want to obtain, if you haven't obtained it I really, really want to be more productive and an actually admirable human being in terms of success. What was something that use to frighten you as a child? I was fucking terrified oh King Ramses from Courage and even had nightmares about him, lol. Insert interesting fact here: Uhhhh meerkats are the most murderous mammal, according to a study. Even surpassing humans. What's the most memorable video game you remember playing when you were little? I was rather young when I first played the demo of Shadow of the Colossus, and I was too scared to approach the first boss for a looooong time, ha ha. I would just play the demo up to that point because it was so entrancing. Now it's one of my faves. Who is someone you'll never ever forget even if you tried? Jason. Trauma, my friend. Would you ever watch a bullfight? No. I hope they get fucking gored. Would you ever travel to Greece? Certainly! What is a sickness you always tend to get? I almost never, ever get sick, so I really can't say. Well, it's not really a "sickness," per se, but I do get UTIs a lot. I just don't drink enough water. Have you ever sculptured anything? Yeah; I've made quite a number of clay things in art classes. Would you own a Dalmatian? They're gorgeous dogs, but I don't want another at any point in the foreseeable future. Girt does own a dog though and loves the cutie, so maybe in our potential future I'd be fine with Charlie. After he passes though, if Girt really wanted another, I'd probably be fine with it. He LOVES dogs and I want him happy. If he can accept my desire to start a tarantula collection, and I respect his desire for a dog, ha ha. What do you usually tend to do on long car rides? I HAVE to have my music, and I just really stare out the window and take things in. Have you ever seen a live orchestra? No, but I wouldn't be opposed! Have you ever had breathing complications? Yes. I've been suspicious for YEARS that I may have asthma (my mom and grandmother both have/had it) because occasionally I have a hard time getting enough air in and make a squeaking noise when I try to take a big breath; when it happens, I usually have to use Mom's inhaler for relief. Mom is quite sure it's just allergy flare-ups, but idk. Have you ever seen a comet? I don't think so. :( I'd love to. What place would you never visit? North Korea, to name just one place. Have you ever made someone breakfast in bed? Sara, actually. I made eggs once when she visited. What's the most odd, weird name someone's ever given you? UHHHHHHHHH I have no clue. The most unique was probably "Bee" from Megan (and almost Girt, but I let him know it's bittersweet to me and I'd prefer him not to to avoid the memories, which he totally respected), but I wouldn't call that one "weird." What part of you always seem to go numb quickly? My legs, if I sit too long.

[misedejem]

Date Nights

Series: Persona 4 Ship: Kannao (Kanji Tatsumi/Naoto Shirogane) Word count: 9196

If ever Naoto was feeling low, Kanji would try harder than ever to show her how much he cared. Little gestures of good will and love that would go towards easing the pain. It had been that way from when they first met, and was still the case after over fifteen years.

So when Naoto found herself with Kanji in a slump and a few hours to spare, she took it upon herself to do the same.

(Basically lots of domestic future headcanon shenaningans~ As a note, Naoto is genderfluid in my fics, and this one uses she/her. AO3 link in the notes)

It had been an awfully long time since the Shiroganes had been working away from home at the same time.

Kanji had become unemployed almost two years ago and had been pooling his resources into his online store since then. And Naoto had been on leave a full year now, because of Chihiro, and then the upheaval and transfer of half the Shirogane agency from Tokyo to Yasoinaba. Save the odd local case, she’d effectively been forced to hang up the detective cap until life calmed down enough for her to return.

It was… a much-needed break. They could mutually agree on that.

Then, less than a month between moving into a house and the agency reopening, Yu Narukami had appeared on their doorstep one evening with ‘encouragement bentos’ and a request. The middle school he worked in as guidance counsellor had suddenly lost a teacher temporarily due to illness. The art teacher. She’d probably need at least six months to recover, but the new semester started in September and it was far too tight a deadline for the board to submit a request for a replacement.

“I mentioned you used to work as an art teacher in Tokyo, Kanji, and they said to ask you as soon as possible.”

Neither of them could have foreseen such a thing… But in a week, their situation had changed from both of them being at home, to both of them returning to work just a day apart from one another.

One day.

What a rare commodity that was.

As much as she adored it, Naoto’s career had always been taxing, keeping her late at night and seldom offering her a chance to catch her breath. After all, the Shirogane agency was lauded all across the country. Grampa had made such a name for it before he had died, and the attention she had gained from the media as the ‘first Detective Prince’ had only served to bolster the Shirogane name’s shining reputation once she’d taken over. That, and the fact that it was the only remaining detective agency in the country that specialised in Shadow-related incidents. They’d become ever more prevalent since the mental shutdowns and the Phantom Thieves incidents a decade ago had made knowledge of them more widespread in the seedier depths of society, and the Shadow Operatives had ensured to keep her busy when the cases grew too complex for them to handle.

That’s why they’d come back to Inaba of all places. With the TV World still very much active, it was the most potent place for illicit Shadow activities to occur in all Japan. And with the murmurings of new information cropping up, the higher ups had figured it may be a good idea to have a team of investigators to hand.

The detective had a lot of work waiting for her when her leave expired.

So, for her to be the one left with the house instead of Kanji for a full day… Well, she couldn’t exactly waste such an occasion.

“Momo, no -!  Don’t… climb in there…” Naoto sighed, watching as her orange tabby clambered her way into one of the cardboard boxes at the far end of the room. She knew it was a fruitless effort to try and stop her. Their other cat didn’t house much love for boxes, but Mochi had been found in one as a kitten and clearly had developed a natural affinity towards them as a result. Half their move had been spent trying to keep her out of them long enough to fill them.

“If you wish to help, the very least you could do would be to climb into the ones I haven’t yet searched,” she told her, crossing over to the box and hoisting Mochi out. “That way, I won’t be wasting any time by delving into boxes twice when I retrieve you.”

Unfortunately, Naoto’s request was not met with much approval. The cat just mewled indignantly, clearly unimpressed and unwilling to cooperate, and scampered behind the large pile in the centre of the garage, leaving the detective to continue her investigation on her own.

It was frankly impressive that all the miscellany crammed into these boxes had fit into their Tokyo apartment; big though it was, it had been severely lacking in storage. Half their belongings – all the stuff they didn’t desperately need - were all packed up in this room, waiting for a spare moment to be put in their rightful place. They’d had five weeks to unpack, and perhaps if they’d still been living as just the two of them, they’d have made more of a dent in it. That would certainly have made Naoto’s current task a considerable deal easier. But all the free time they had now was devoted to Chihiro. She was only just coming up on her first birthday, and she was still very much dependant on her parents every moment that she was awake. Even now, Naoto was only able to search the room because the infant was taking her midmorning nap.

She was looking for a binder Kanji had put together, containing a collection of their favourite recipes that he’d found online or written down over the years. Somehow, it had gotten separated from the recipe books when they had packed away their kitchen, and it had not yet resurfaced. This was a major blockade in her plan for the day. She needed that binder. Desperately.

Kanji had seemed rather perturbed as he’d prepared for work that morning. In fact, he’d seemed uneasy about it from the moment Yu had asked him to take it. It was… unlike him. He’d worked as an art teacher in a middle school back in the city for four years, and he’d loved every minute of it.

“Hmm? Course I want the job,” he’d told her when she’d questioned him about it over breakfast. “I miss this kinda shit, you know that.”

He had a smile on his face as he tried spooning a blob of mushed fruits into Chihiro’s mouth, but it was a strained smile if nothing else.

“You just seem tense, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well… So do you. Goin’ back to work after havin’ a kid is s’posed to be kinda rough.” He shrugged.

“I can’t deny that…” Naoto sighed. “Even knowing that your mother will be there for her, and that you’re only doing part time hours, the idea of leaving her alone at all is more taxing on me than I could ever have expected… That’s all it is though?”

Naoto could think of several other reasons Kanji might have to be nervous about this particular job. But on the off chance that they hadn’t crossed his mind yet, she refrained from bringing them up. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel worse.

There was a pause, filled only by Chihiro’s babbles and the sound of the cats zooming about the living room after one another in a burst of energy. As he scraped the last of the baby food from the pot and offered it to their daughter, Kanji’s face began to fall ever so slightly, and before long he was sighing.

“I really gotta… stop overlookin’ that I’m married to a detective.  I am scared shitless of leavin’ Chihiro for the first time. If anythin’s wrong, it’s that most of all. But uh… Otherwise I’m just a little weirded out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Middle school – this middle school – is kinda… where I started to get a bad rep… What… I dunno, what if they take one look at me and realise who I am and kick me out? Like, they don’t realise ‘Shirogane Kanji’ is actually ‘Tatsumi Kanji’ an’ once they do they won’t want me anymore? They don’t know why I resigned from my last job either, what if they think I did something bad an’–”

As his voice grew louder and more sporadic, his panic becoming so apparent that it was palpable, Naoto scooted her way over to him and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head gently on his chest.

“You left on your own terms because you disliked the way the school was being run. You don’t have to disclose why. And Kan-chan… you don’t mean to tell me that I’ve kept you from your hometown for so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like? Inaba isn’t overly massive – rumours spread fast. I daresay there isn’t a person here who doesn’t know that the Tatsumi boy married that Detective Shirogane person. Especially not with how much your mother talks about us.”

She held him close for a while, rubbing her hand across his back even after his heart stopped pounding so hard, and his muscles began to relax.

“Yeah… I know… I know it’s a stupid thing to worry about, an’ that there ain’t no point in getting’ worked up about it…”

“Well, it’s not… stupid. I’d say it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to be concerned about, given the impact it had on you in the past. But I can assure you of this: they wouldn’t have hired you if they thought you were unfit for the position.”

He nodded, and a smile appeared on his face again – a genuine one, this time. For the rest of the morning, his dour disposition had dissipated somewhat, and his spirits certainly seemed higher when he had left the house.

But even if she had managed to cheer him up, Naoto knew the day would be a challenge for him no matter how many positive sentiments she sent his way. Returning to a place you had been mistreated, even after nearly twenty years had passed, was difficult enough as it was, without the thought of leaving your baby for the first time nagging at you as well.

That’s why she needed that binder. It contained the recipe for one of Kanji’s all-time favourite curries, one she believed even she could produce, and she figured he might need something like that when he returned home.

He often did little ‘date nights’ from home for them, for birthdays or anniversaries, or even just when Naoto was struggling with a tough case and needed a distraction or treat. They would put on whatever was comfortable, sit down with a meal and a drink, and more often than not, end up in a snuggled-up heap on the couch with a movie flickering on in the background. She hosted her fair share of them as well, but admittedly hers often involved an expensive night out at a restaurant. Kanji was the better cook, and he considered it a hobby more than simply something one needed to do to survive, but Naoto lacked the skill or drive to make a hand-crafted date night even without her long hours.

But this night would be an exception. She suddenly found herself with eight hours at home without him, and she would be a fool not to use that time to surprise him in the same way he always would with her. She’d throw him a date night so damn enjoyable that he’d forget all about his anxieties, no matter the cost.

That was… if she could find the damned recipe she needed to carry out her plan.

And so, she perused box after box in her investigation, leaving not even one overlooked. Old case files she’d had sent over from the Shirogane estate that had once belonged to her grandfather. An assortment of holiday decorations that really needed separating by date. Kanji’s miscellaneous box of scrap material. A box marked for charity of Naoto’s old clothes that had stopped fitting since she’d had Chihiro. Plushies. More plushies. Even the container of extra crockery, things that had come from the kitchen itself, bore no sign of the item she sought. An hour passed as though it were seconds, yielding nothing of value.

Had Kanji already moved it? It wasn’t as though she could ask him… Had they forgotten it? No, that apartment was spotless when they’d moved out. She’d triple checked it herself.

She foresaw herself spending all day searching at this rate… but she didn’t have all day. He’d be staying late for a debriefing, but even so, Kanji would still probably be home for five o’clock, and she still had to go to Junes to fetch the ingredients she was going to need.

Perhaps she could look it up online again? That was where Kanji had found it originally…

She sat herself, cross legged, on an old rug and pulled out her phone, plugging in the name of the recipe into a search engine, lifting her arm so that Mochi – tired of hiding – could come and curl up in her lap. And then, running the fingers of her free hand through Mochi’s fur, she began to scroll and click every site she could find.

But she recalled vividly the constitution of the page she was searching for, and none of these were it. She’d never read the words herself – having never made the recipe – and Kanji had decided to crop the name of the site it was from to maintain the ‘aesthetic’ of the folder, but she knew what it looked like. The colours, the typeface, the accompanying picture.

Nothing.

It was entirely possible the site had been redesigned or deleted. In which case she was out of luck online… It wouldn’t work for her to try a different recipe, it had to be that one. If it wasn’t that one, it wouldn’t taste the same, and then it wouldn’t be his favourite. Irritation began to swell within her as her endeavour began to look more fruitless, and she had to take a few moments to breathe and calm a little before moving onto her last resort: checking with Mrs. Tatsumi, with Yakushiji, and the Investigation Team on the off chance that maybe Kanji had lent them the recipe at some point.

Nos all around.

The irritation grew stronger.

And then, as though a timer had gone off signifying the end of her allotted time, the baby monitor sprung to life.

***

“Are… You even listening?”

Naoto huffed and folded her arms, wearing her most devastating expression of disappointment as she shook her head. She’d been talking for a good ten minutes, and she was beginning to wonder if any of it had been heard at all.

“’Course we are. You want to do something cute and romantic for the big guy, because you’re secretly a massive softie, but your first idea went bust.”

Yosuke offered her a cheeky wink and raised his soda cup in a mock toast, before turning back to fawn over Chihiro in Chie’s arms.

“But I dunno how you expect us to concentrate on anything else when you’ve brought this adorable little muffin along,” Chie added, putting on a baby voice and ‘booping’ said muffin on the nose. Chihiro giggled, her tiny face absolutely beaming with delight.

“Oh, I expect you to manage perfectly. If I can – if Kanji can – despite seeing every cute thing she ever does, then it should be no problem for somebody only exposed to it for a short while.”

A couple of hours had passed since Naoto had given up her search for the original recipe and had elected to change tactic. She would simply have to find… a different meal entirely. One that would still mean as much to Kanji. But a quick scour of the recipe books they had on hand in the kitchen yielded nothing.  And so, once Chihiro was fed and dressed appropriately for the late summer warmth, she walked her over to Junes to grab some supplies, hoping that by some pure miracle, looking at the ingredients on offer would spark some form of inspiration within her. Only, out of sheer coincidence, she had managed to time her visit perfectly with the end of Yosuke’s shift, and Chie’s day off.

The two of them could often be found talking in the food court on their off-hours. It had been that way since high school, through all the changes and remodels they’d made to the layout of the store over the years and would likely continue to be that way as long as Junes stood and they remained in Inaba. It was the secret headquarters of the Investigation Team, after all. It wasn’t a place you could so easily give up.

So, guided by tradition, they all sat together, sharing a Takoyaki selection in the summer breeze – a welcome change from the mustiness of the Shirogane residence garage – Yosuke and Chie completely spellbound by the baby while Naoto explained her predicament. She had hoped they’d be a little more attentive, and frankly more helpful, but… she supposed she couldn’t fault them. Chihiro was effectively their niece, and she’d been in Tokyo for the past year.

But at least they were making her happy. Seeing her so ecstatic, despite Kanji being gone for so long, certainly helped ease some of the anxieties she had been feeling about leaving her. Getting her acquainted properly with the people who would likely be babysitting her until well into her teens was certainly not a bad thing… although… Naoto was on a tight schedule.

“Aaanyway.” She rapped the table lightly with the tips of her fingers. “Regretfully my first idea – the one that was ah… ‘bust’, as you said – was also my only idea. I’m currently running at a loss on where to proceed from here…”

At the very least they were nodding along now, and looking at her as she spoke.

“…Chie-chan, do you have date nights? What do you usually do?”

“Hmm? Yeah, of course we do! But, uh… Yukiko and I always go out for ‘em. You know, because the inn keeps her so busy and I –”

“Can’t cook anything without it coming out tasting of cardboard?” Yosuke supplied, grinning. Chie shot him a mean look, but nodded nonetheless.

“Pretty much…”

“In most instances, that would be my go-to as well,” Naoto said, holding back a grin at Yosuke’s comment. “Hand-crafted anything is Kanji’s forte, not mine, but… we both agree the ones at home are more enjoyable, no matter how good the food may be in a restaurant.”

“You’re like… the most private people I’ve ever known, so that isn’t surprising.”

She gave an affirming nod. Lovely as it was to go all out sometimes at an expensive eatery, there were always… stares. No matter where they were, people would see them and notice. Sometimes they’d simply recognise the Detective Prince, and that was all they’d see. But other times their eyes would linger longer. They’d take note of Kanji’s piercings and spikes combined with the cute animals and soft colours, analyse Naoto’s dedication to old English fashion and deliberate lack of conformity to any gender, and then keep their gazes trained on the two of them as they attempted to pick apart every contrasting aspect. The way they looked and dressed alone, the way they looked and dressed together… it made going out in public difficult for two people who both struggled to some degree with social anxieties and a history of being scrutinised for the way they were.

Kanji had left the house worrying he was going to be judged. She didn’t want to put him through that twice in one day.

“Well, is there anything else you’ve made before that you know he likes?” Yosuke asked, helping himself to the Takoyaki  

Naoto frowned. “Well, yes, but all of it is rather… typical? I have a small repertoire, you see.”

“So you want something different? Hmm… Why don’t you just go ham?” Chie suggested with a genuine smile. “Grab stuff you think’ll go together and make a totally new curry. Heck, doesn’t even gotta be curry.”

“That’s how you end up with Mystery Food X: Redux,” Yosuke warned, and Chie’s smile instantly vanished. “Though actually, Naoto… In your sensible hands you’d probably be okay. You actually know how to cook.”

“If I wasn’t holding a baby right now, I would kick you.”

“Without a recipe at all…?” For a moment, the detective was left perplexed. But before long, a thought came across her mind, and that irritation from earlier came grumbling back into her periphery. “Yosuke-kun. Please. I simply don’t have the time to spare for your… japes and mockery. I need you to be serious.”

She expected him to laugh, as he often would when she caught him out while he was joking. She didn’t do so very often, loathe as she was to admit it, and it had become something of a game to Yosuke to see how long he could keep pushing her buttons.

But this time he threw up his hands instead, with… was that his face now contorted in confusion as well?

“H-hey, I am being serious. Promise. If you genuinely have no other ideas, then I begrudgingly accept that Chie might be onto something.”

“And I’m supposed to do that without instructions?” She asked incredulously, raising her eyebrows. Was she being foolish and naïve? Or was Yosuke the one reeking of inexperience? “You act as though you believe I have time to memorise every food combination, and how to make them work. I am a detective, not a chef, Yosuke-kun. Recipes exist so that I don’t have to preoccupy my brain with trivialities such as cooking from memory.”

“Hey, it was Chie’s idea, not mine!”

“You should know better.”

The raised voices and snipes were a staple of any conversation involving Yosuke and Chie, and at this point Naoto had come to learn that it was largely performative. They ‘fought’ with warm regards. She’d even reached a point where she was able to go along with it without utterly deflating the mood. But to Chihiro, with no grasp of the concept of banter, it was all just loud, frightening noises coming from people she didn’t know all too well. The conversation very quickly had to switch courses when a crying spell threatened to rear its head.

“You know… you never asked me what I do for date nights,” Yosuke pointed out once the baby had been settled. She now lay propped up on Naoto’s lap, nodding off with her little head resting on her chest. Naoto constantly considered herself fortunate that Chihiro wasn’t especially fussy. Sometimes on a good day all she needed to calm right down was a cuddle.

“Hmm?” she looked up. If Yosuke had said anything before that, she had been too preoccupied with gently coaxing her daughter to nap to hear it. “Oh, no, I suppose I didn’t…”

Chie, who had moved into the more comfortable position of resting her chin on her hand now her arms were free, scoffed slightly.

“Dude. Maybe because you don’t have anybody to date?”

“Well… No, but I’ve been on dates. More than one with the same person. I have experience, I’m just… not experiencing it right now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, casting his gaze off to the side. “Dinner dates aren’t really my thing though…”

“So, why’d you even bring it up?”

“Hey! I’ve been on… like, one dinner date. I’m just not the guru of them!” He shrugged. “It’s an interesting story actually… I got set up a few years ago by my bandmates, and it turns out the guy isn’t my type at all. But I didn’t want to say no without at least giving him a chance, so… Y’know. He wants to go out to this fancy French place, but we get there and they’re closing early because of… Uh, I think the kitchen flooded or something like that? So, he takes me back to his place and leaves me there, runs off to go shopping, and comes back and cooks a three-course French meal himself.”

“And you didn’t marry him on the spot?”

“Nah. We did a couple more dates but it didn’t really work out. We weren’t super compatible...”

“Is this why you get Rise to vet anybody you’re gonna date now?”

“Pretty much. You guys know me best, so…”

The two of them continued to talk, but from Naoto’s perspective, their voices had been drowned by her thoughts into a dull and distant murmur. From the moment Yosuke had finished his story, the gears in her brain had whirred into motion, working their way into fabricating a plan formed from his words.

It had hit her at last. A wave of inspiration and relief, tantamount to the feeling she would have when she’d finally cracked the secret to a particularly arduous case.

A plan. Followed by a conjured image of how Kanji’s face might look when he saw it.

“Yosuke-kun…” she began, standing slowly so that she did not wake the baby and gently lowering her into the buggy she had parked next to her seat. “Would you be able to look something up for me? While my hands are full.”

***

January 19th, 2025. Little over a year and a half ago. London, England. They’d been abroad for a few weeks at that point, Naoto on a case for the Shadow Operatives, and Kanji taking advantage of her hotel room to table at an artist’s alley in a convention.

It was something of a special occasion. Kanji’s 29th birthday had been the original cause for celebration, but to him at least that was very much an aside. It was, what, only three hours prior to reaching the restaurant that they’d found out Naoto was pregnant.

There had been several sources for the reasoning behind Naoto’s choice in establishment, and unlike most of her destination picks while they’d been in London, none of them had a single thing to do with Sherlock Holmes. The ones that stood out the most: a churning in her stomach – simultaneously a mental and a physical reaction to her current condition – and a particularly mournful image of her mother-in-law from a few months prior.

“There was this little place my late husband and I would always take Kanji when he was young, if we had to travel to Okina. Italian, it was, family run. I just heard from a customer that it was recently shut down because the owner passed. It has me a little down to think of, that’s all Naoto dear.”

A precious memory from Kanji’s childhood was no small matter, harrowing as such a thing was to think. And Italian… parsing through her options in her mind as she browsed the local restaurants on one of those food apps, Naoto took note of how the one being advertised made her insides turn the least at the thoughts of it. It was one of those smaller, more community-based places, while the others were either going to be full of too-rich smells for her poor stomach to handle, or full of classy, antiquated rules and stares that she didn’t feel up to taking that day.

She didn’t want to make her husband eat hotel food on his birthday… And nor did she want to worry him all evening by being exceptionally edgy. So it didn’t take very long at all for her to have dialled the number for the family-run Italian place, and had booked them a table for two that evening.

The food had been… good. Standard fare for that kind of place. But Naoto was a harsh critic – even without feeling deeply unwell, she had been to Italy. And yet, in all the fifteen years she had known Kanji, she could not recall a single meal out where he seemed to have enjoyed himself quite as much as that. The rush of euphoria from learning he was going to be a father had apparently been enough to turn any experience he may have had that night into the best date night of his life. And Naoto knew the kind of man he was. Sentimental, perceptive, prone to dwelling on the little things. He’d remember, starkly, what he had eaten then.

It was just a pasta meal. She recalled it being made with chicken and a creamy, pesto-based sauce, and Yosuke’s internet search had quickly pulled up a recipe for something along those lines. It wouldn’t be the same – these places kept their recipes close to the heart – but that didn’t matter. Her plan had now become a case of finding something symbolic, over finding something that tasted good.

“I think he’s really starting to rub off on you,” Yosuke had noted as Naoto had prepared to rush off to grab the ingredients from the recipe he had found. “Kanji, I mean. In a good way.”

She’d queried him on that. Her own sharpness didn’t exactly extend to analysing herself.

“I just meant that five years ago, I don’t think you’d ever have thought to do something like this. I always took you for the… less cliché of the two of you. Didn’t you propose to him spontaneously in a cat café? If you don’t mind me asking… why is this the first thing you thought to do for him?”

A pause for Naoto to collect her thoughts. One that, much to everyone’s surprise, didn’t last nearly as long as it might have.

“It’s… because this is logical to me. A dinner date – it’s the simplest, most common activity in the books. It’s a cliché because its effective. Because food is one of those love languages that transcends barriers, and to somebody who struggles in most social situations, like Kanji, like me, you must understand that something like this is a life saver. It’s a change to our routine that really doesn’t change all that much.” She smiled to herself. “Kanji does this to make me feel happy. So many people do, for the person they love. It only makes sense to me that I follow their lead.”

It was that way for most matters of the heart, she thought to herself as she balanced a packet of chicken on the hood of the buggy. She had never known how to act in these situations, how to express the feelings she had. And while she’d devised some unique little ways that she had managed to convey to Kanji, oftentimes the most effective means of telling him that she loved him was to simply use another person’s idea as a foundation. She had her own experiences as proof that it worked. After all, Kanji was a person who had been so starved for and scared of affection as a child that now, almost anything that said ‘I care about you’ was enough to draw him to tears. And Naoto was no different. He was more physical than her, and really that was the only major way in which their feelings towards romance diverged. The things that made one of them happy was sure to leave the other in the same state.

***

Naoto loved Kanji more than she hated cooking. That was really the defining fact that made this entire plan of hers possible at all.

Because she really hated cooking.

“I’ll prolly be home in like… forty minutes,” Kanji had told her over the phone when she’d given him a tentative call at just gone four to gauge how long she had. Pasta wasn’t exactly something she could make well in advance – just the thought of reheating it or overcooking it made her skin crawl. It was one of those things she needed to be perfect. Kanji, thankfully, didn’t have a preference.

So, she’d had to leave making the actual meal until as close to Kanji’s arrival as she could predict. But it wasn’t as though she had time to spare… She had to make the table, feed the cats, feed the baby, put the baby down for a nap…  

Then she had to cook the chicken and the pasta… that was fine, it just… radiated a lot of heat for a day that was already rather warm. Inaba’s houses were old, and they didn’t yet have much ventilation or air conditioning.

Then was the sauce, and she had to do some vegetables, but she had to keep stirring the sauce so it didn’t ruin the consistency, and she had to keep turning the meat and the veggies so they wouldn’t burn, and oh, the pasta might stick or become overdone if she wasn’t careful. Then it would just become stressful. Every meal, every time. No matter how methodical she tried to be, it would always devolve into this.

It was a focus thing, she was sure. When she homed in on a task or a detail, it became quite difficult to switch gears on the fly. A useful skill for analysing a murder case. Not so much for cooking.

It was why, when they were both at home, she and Kanji would often just cook dinner together.

But occasionally, and for the sake of somebody she cared about, it was worth it.

She was just at the stage where she was plating up the food, trying to get it to look as it did in the picture on the website, when the familiar sight of an old, dusty car that had at one point been purple staggered its way up their driveway, starkly contrasted with the shiny motorcycle it had pulled up next to. As Kanji climbed from the car, Naoto carefully studied his face, trying to glean from his expression how exactly he was feeling in that moment. But Kanji had a naturally angry look to him, so such a task was often difficult to undertake.

“You makin’ garlic bread, Nao?” he called from the porch almost as soon as the door had slid shut.

“You’ll see,” was all she said in response. With Kanji just moments away from seeing what she had done, she found herself buzzing with anticipation.

“Wuzzat s’posed to mean?” he asked, sticking his head around the door into the kitchen.

For a moment, his forehead crinkled as he took everything in, his eyes lingering on the table made up as closely to that of a restaurant as Naoto could manage, with cloth, candles, and an arrangement of Kanji’s favourite red roses (albeit that was rather haphazardly done).

And in that moment Naoto felt as though her heart had somehow managed to stall.

But the tension was brief, quickly dissipated by the biggest, goofiest grin taking up a huge portion of Kanji’s face.

He strode into the room and pulled his partner into a powerful hug all in a motion that was so fluid, you wouldn’t think it was Kanji performing it.

“I can see you’re ready to reopen the agency, huh?”

Naoto smiled and shook her head, before snuggling her cheek into Kanji’s chest. “Don’t mistake this for a fit of boredom – I’ve been anything but. Welcome to our first date night back in Inaba.”

“Huh? W-wait, hold up… Date night? You did this… fer me?”

His eyes threatened to grow wider than his smile had those few moments earlier, as the realisation of the circumstances slowly began to dawn on him.

Then, as was customary for Kanji whenever Naoto would do anything for him ever, his face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, and he began stammering unintelligible gibberish.

“Quickly now, before it cools down!”

“Y…Yuh…”

This was… odd. Kanji seemed unequivocally, unprecedentedly broken. His movements as he crossed to the counter and grabbed his plate, were mechanical, shaken, even. They weren’t unheard of for him, but it was as though they had suddenly been transported fifteen years into the past once more. Before they had fallen in love, before they’d even been close friends, when Kanji was so overcome with embarrassment whenever they spoke that he would be unable to function.

Now they were married, it wasn’t exactly commonplace.

Had something happened to him at work which had left him overwhelmed?

“Kanji?” Naoto called out tentatively as they took their seats.

“…huh?”

“You seem… Rather out of it.”

He blinked a couple of times and shook his head. “Right. Yeah… Sorry…”

He cleared his throat and repeated the process of shaking his head.

“It’s just, uh… ‘M kinda at a loss for words. This is… Wow.”

A tension she hadn’t recognised until it was gone suddenly flooded from her body with a sigh of relief.

“For a moment there I was concerned that something was wrong, so –”

“More like… everythin’ is right. I never pegged you fer someone who’d do date nights Tatsumi style.”

“…Tatsumi style? So this…” she waved an arm across the table. “This is something you observed… what, from your parents?”

He nodded. Naoto didn’t realise it was possible for him to turn redder until just then.

“Ain’t really a lotta options for fancy restaurants like what you do out here. Ma and my old man always improvised at home. I know cookin’ yer partner a meal ain’t somethin’ my folks made up, they just ended up callin’ it that… Nickname kinda stuck.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“Well, I suppose I have rather adopted a Tatsumi way of behaving today. Our roles have been utterly reversed. Why, I daresay after dinner, I shall take up a crochet project, and you’ll lull our Chihiro to sleep by reading her more of ‘A Study in Scarlet’.”

“I love you, Naoto.”

“Eh?”

But instead of elaborating, Kanji simply left his partner to turn an equally furious shade of red while he took a bite of the food. Naoto found herself so flustered that she didn’t even have time to be nervous about him trying the dish.

But, she supposed, she didn’t really have anything to worry about. This was Kanji.

“…I better never hear the words ‘I’m not very good at cooking’ comin’ from yer mouth again.”

“Well… Regardless of the quality of the food –” she began, about to launch into a spiel about how the mess she made, and how stressful it was for her, suggested that she technically wasn’t exactly on the level of a master. But all it took from Kanji was a single glare, and she stopped herself.

This was supposed to be a pleasant evening. And he did hate when she was self-deprecating in any capacity.

“I’m glad you like it Kan-chan.” She smiled, taking her own first bite. Hmm. Not bad. She wasn’t sure how this was supposed to taste – she’d been feeling far too unwell that night in London to eat much at all, so she’d ordered a lighter dish – but how it did taste was pleasant.

“Better than it was on my birthday that one time. Dunno if you remember, but at that one Italian place when we were in England –”

“Where do you suppose I gained the inspiration to make this particular meal?”

“Huh? Well shit, haha. Last time I ever doubt yer memory.”

“Hm, well… I don’t think I’m capable of forgetting that day…”

Kanji slid his free hand across the table and placed it atop hers, rubbing his thumb soothingly over her knuckles. Strange, she noted, that the nail was still painted black; she was sure the school would make him take the colour off alongside his piercings.

A nagging feeling in her chest, her stomach, her mind was begging her to ask him how it had gone. But it was not the only train of thought on the feeling that she had. What if Kanji didn’t want to talk about it yet? What if it was best to simply… enjoy the meal in ignorant bliss? Was he waiting for the right time, or for her to say something?

He looked as though he were about to speak now, was that the subject he was going to bring up?

“How has Chihiro been today?”

No. Of course not. The subject of work would have to wait.

As with… most of their conversations over the past year, the rest of the meal was largely dominated with Chihiro. Naoto describing, in detail, exactly what she had done, and Kanji’s expression growing fonder and fonder with every word. By the time they were done eating, he looked as though he were going to cry.

“Kinda sad that this is our lives goin’ forwards…”

“Hm?”

“Nothin’… just been missin’ her at work is all.”

The nagging feeling was very quickly becoming anxiety. The first mention of his day all evening, and it was something negative.

“Kanji, was everything –”

A sound suddenly stole her words before she had the chance to finish. A baby crying, as audible through the walls as it was the baby monitor on the counter.

“Prolly needs changing, huh?” Kanji smiled, rising to his feet. “Mind if I take this?”

“Please… She probably misses you too.”

In the time that Kanji was attending to the baby, Naoto managed to load everything that needed cleaning into the dishwasher, and found her way to the living room, and then to the couch. But her mind wasn’t exactly responsive as she did so.

Kanji… was worse than she had anticipated… More than just a simple meal could possibly hope to fix. Why on earth… What delusion had she been under to think, with how he’d been these past few days, that a little romantic gesture would be all he needed to feel better.

Amidst the haze that was buzzing in her mind, she vaguely registered her hands clenching into fists.

At some point, goodness knew when, Kanji had reappeared in the room and had sat down next to her, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“She’s back down. Heh… Wanted to play as soon as she saw me, the little tyke, but could barely keep her eyes open long enough to do it.”

“She’s had… a busy day.”

“Ain’t we all?” he said with an air of exhaustion about him, placing his glasses gently on the kotatsu in front of them and then sinking back into the couch. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“I’ve been ready for weeks. Waiting on other people…” Naoto mumbled in response. Her gaze had fallen as she’d spoken to her socks, and she could not bring herself to remove it until Kanji nudged her with his arm.

“Hey. You good, Nao?”

“…Are you?”

That brought the conversation to a standstill.

“Would ya believe me if I told ya I was jus’ tired?”

“Only… partially.”

He gave her a half smile and repositioned himself so that his head lay on her shoulder.

“It was… a pretty exhaustin’ day… Lotta new stuff. Lotta old stuff too… that school ain’t changed in twenty years. Amazing it’s managed so long.”

Naoto just made an affirming noise and let her hand come to rest on his shoulder, pressing her cheek onto the top of his head. Best just to let him speak, she thought.

“Ain’t none of the people I knew still there but… they knew who I was. Course they did… didn’t expect any different. An’ you know what?”

“Hm?”

“Most of ‘em just complimented me on the plushies. They knew me ‘cause of the shop, not… ‘cause of the delinquent shit.”

“Well, that’s… good, is it not? That’s what we hoped would happen.”

She felt him shift his head as though he were trying to nod. His arm had worked its way around her waist, and she felt him bunching up the fabric of her dress shirt in his fingers as he spoke. It was an unconscious habit of his. Most notable when he was nervous.

“Yeah… Never said it weren’t good. Jus’ that I was tired. And that I missed my kid. And you.”

Naoto drew a deep breath. “It seemed like something was wrong, that’s all. I’ve been worried about you. All day. All week.”

“…That why you’re not okay?”

“Yes! Effectively!”

Another brief standstill.

“Sorry ‘bout that… Really… Last thing I wanted was for my bullshit worrying over nothing to affect you too.”

Naoto squeezed his shoulder slightly.

“You should know by now that such a thing is impossible. The same can be said of you, to me. We’ve been in this partnership since we were in high-school, Kan-chan, we can’t simply… hide our true feelings any longer. We know each other too well to be caught out.”

“Yeah… s’pose you’re right… I did appreciate it though. Back before I went in today and realised my worries were a load ‘a crap. I… I dunno, I guess comin’ back to Inaba after so long had me thinkin’ that everythin’ was gonna go back to the way it was.”

“Kanji… You weren’t… Please don’t tell me you’ve been thinking that way since we first planned to come.”

Silence. Naoto’s heart dropped. Obviously, that meant she was right on the mark.

Good lord, she had still been expecting when they’d first discussed moving back! Their daughter was one in a week!

“’s in the past now though. All of it,” he said eventually. “Physically this place ain’t no different, but I guess the vibe has changed since we were kids. Maybe… Enough time has passed now that I ain’t gotta worry about… the guy I was.”

“Kanji… I rescind what I said earlier. About how it’s impossible to hide our feelings from each other. Please… when it’s something serious like this, I implore you to tell me.”

Her eyes stung, but she refused to cry. If she did, he’d try to make this about her, and dammit, she was tired of it being about her. The entire point of everything she had done that day was to make it about Kanji for once in his life.

“…’M sorry, Nao…”

After that, for a long while neither of them spoke. They simply adjusted themselves into a position where they could more easily cuddle and sat there, snuggled into each other as the dwindling oranges and purples of the twilight sky gave way to darkness.

Kanji was the one to break the silence, his voice so slick with sleepiness that it was demure in a way which was much unlike him.

“Hey Nao… Yer still awake, right?”

“Mmhmm…” she responded. It was… mostly true.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’. I got a new goal now we’re back here… I wanna be able to look that bastard in the eye and tell him he ain’t me. Not because I’m denyin’ anythin’, but because he ain’t.”

“Him? Your Shadow?”

“Yeah. Like you can, y’know? If your Shadow popped their head back up and started sayin’ the same shit as before, you could just tell ‘em: ‘you’re wrong.’ ‘Cause they would be.”

“But they wouldn’t say something like that. My age and gender no longer cause me grief to the level they had in my youth, so my Shadow wouldn’t bring them up.”

Of course, they wouldn’t. Naoto thought that was obvious. She was thirty-one, very much an adult, and any doubt she had about whether she was a man or a woman were significantly eased when she had learned that she could be both and neither. She had no lack of confidence in those aspects of herself, regardless now of what other people thought, so there was no way the Shadow could use them as ammunition if they were to reappear.

But based on Kanji’s next statement, suddenly full of more vigour than his words prior, she wondered if perhaps she had misunderstood where he was coming from.

“Yeah, but that’s what I’m saying! The stuff your Shadow said back then… It ain’t even crossin’ your mind anymore. I wanna be the same… I mean… It’s not that I ain’t happy with who I am. I like cute shit, and sewing, and all the stuff like that. Shit, I’m bi as hell. I can say that stuff proudly. It’s…” he huffed. “For some reason, it’s like I can be confident in myself all I want, but in my head it don’t mean shit unless everyone else feels the same way. An' as long as I got a history as 'the guy who beats up bikers', it's like that day ain't gonna come... I’m… still scared shitless of bein’ rejected after all these years... It’s like… every time I meet a new group of people, I just end up wonderin’ how long its gonna be before they brand me a thug and cut me and everyone I care about off. Think that’s kinda the reason it’s been weighin’ on me again so much more recently. I start comin’ up with scenarios in my head where it gets outta hand and Chihiro gets hurt ‘cause of it.”

As he spoke, his hug became tighter.

“Kan-chan…”

“So, my goal is to get to a place where I don’t constantly worry about that stuff. Where if that bastard showed up again and said that kinda shit, I could deny him with my whole heart and know for certain that I’m right an’ he’s wrong. An’ before you say shit, I know that ain’t how Shadows work. That’s jus’ the image I use in my head to try an’ visualise what I’m itchin’ to do.”

He added that last part with a hint of a laugh to his tone.

So that was why he took a job he was so caught up about? As some concrete way of proving to himself that he would be okay if he did?

A self-destructive means of gathering evidence for a hypothesis… hm… perhaps Naoto’s inheritance of Kanji’s traits over the years had gone the other way as well.

“I didn’t realise it was possible to be so unbelievably proud of somebody, while simultaneously thinking them a fool…” Naoto ensured to keep her own tone bright, so that he would know she spoke in endearing terms. “You know I would have supported you through this if only you had told me –”

“Hah. Yer actin’ like you take me for the kinda guy who thinks this shit through… this ain’t exactly something I’ve been plannin’ or nothin’, it just sorta… came to me now.”

Oh, so it was a subconscious instinct?

Then perhaps he would be safe from her bad influence for just a little while longer…

“Well… regardless of how much preparation has gone into it… it is a good goal to have in mind, so long as you’re comfortable with the pain it may bring in the process.”

“Yeah. No problem. Anyway…” he sat up and looked her in the eyes. “What was that you were implyin’ with the whole ‘you know I would have supported you’ bull you just said?”

Naoto frowned. “It’s the truth –”

“Yeah, I know it’s the truth. Because you have been supportin’ me, dumbass. You ain’t ever stopped.” He thrust his arm in the vague, general direction of the kitchen, a wild delight dancing in his eyes. “You spent the last day of yer maternity leave makin’ sure I’d have a good evenin’ because you thought I needed cheerin’ up.”

Naoto felt her cheeks heat up. “I… I only did what you would do for me…”

“Yeah, but it ain’t like I made you do it. You still made the decision. It’s amazin’, an yer incredible, and adorable, an’ you make a freakin’ awesome pasta, an’ I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

She knew she was blushing harder and harder with every word, to the point where all she could think to do was bury her face into his shoulder.

“Feel kinda bad that we kinda got side-tracked from the ‘date night’ though… Sorry if you had anything else planned.”

“No, no, don’t feel bad. I did this because I thought you needed it, Kanji. And I don’t suppose I’m wrong in suggesting that you very much needed this talk as well?”

“…You ain’t wrong… Not at all.”

“And do you feel any better for having it?”

“Mmhmm.”

Naoto lifted her head and gave him her warmest smile. “Then I can safely declare this date night a resounding success.”

“Damn right, you can! But uh… I don’t wanna take away from anythin’ else you mighta wanted to do, so –”

The heat in her cheeks returned as quickly as it had vanished, and she sheepishly averted his gaze. Right. Date night was usually more than a meal.

“Uhm... About that. Kanji, I’ll be perfectly honest with you, I… I was so caught up in trying to find a recipe for dinner that it never even occurred to me to look for a movie or something to do afterwards.”

She offered him an apologetic look, but his immediate response was only to laugh and hold her closer.

“Don’t think I coulda made it through a movie anyway… I’m beat…”

“As am I. I think I may drift off here…”

It quickly became apparent that each of their ideal end to the evening would be to turn in early and hope to gain a restful night – something that was near impossible with a small child. Whether such a thing was an indication of how eventful their day had been, or whether it was simply a sign of them getting older, neither really cared to consider. Instead, they just ensured the house was secure, called the cats to follow them, and moved upstairs as quietly as they could so that their footsteps wouldn’t cause Chihiro to stir.

It wasn’t until Naoto had switched her outfit for one of Kanji’s old shirts and was brushing her teeth in the upstairs bathroom that it dawned on her: there was still one aspect of her day that had yet to be cleared up.

And now that it had come to mind, she feared she may be unable to sleep until she had an answer.

“Kan-chan?”

“Hm?”

“You know the binder you keep with recipe print-outs…? Do you have any idea what box it’s in?”

His face was mostly buried by the bedsheets by now, but she could tell from the part she could see that he was thinking hard.

“Uh… Oh! My car.”

“…Your car?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want the other kitchen stuff to squash it, so I put it separate. I see it every time I go in there an’ I keep saying I’ll bring it in and never do. How come…?”

Naoto heaved a great sigh and flopped on the bed besides him. It wasn’t until her face hit the pillow that she realised exactly how exhausting her day had been. “So you had it all along… I never would have found it.”

“You were lookin’ for it?”

“I was. I wanted to make you that curry instead, the one you called your favourite.”

“Ohhhh. I getcha now." He laughed. "That woulda been a good choice. But y’know anythin’ would have been fine. I got a real soft-spot for Italian food, hehe.”

“I like that curry myself though,” she added, as she shuffled under the covers. “It’s rare to find something spicy that you can handle as much as I…”

“You do, huh? I see.”

There was silence for a while. And then…

“Hey, Naoto…?”

“Mmm?”

“When’s your next day off?”

“My next day off…? That would be Sunday… Why?”

But Kanji didn’t answer. Instead, he just leaned over to kiss her goodnight, and then, with a sleepy smile, he rolled over and went to sleep.

[vesuvianmess]

Second Guessing

・・・・ ・・・・ ・・・・ ・・・・

Character(s): Apprentice Drexxel | Julian Devorak | Asra Alnazar

Rating: Mature - Contains depictions of sickness, bodily fluids, mental illness and mentions of death

The Red Plague had Vesuvia in its grip, ever tightening and refusing to let go. The numbers are rising and time is running out.

I had come to Vesuvia many years ago after my clan had sent me north, a story I will save for another time, and with much resistance I had finally come to call it home. In the beginning of my days here, I spent my spare time hiding away, simply watching the foot traffic flow through the streets through my window. I was a stranger here, an outcast hiding the wrongs they had committed. Hiding the guilt and shame of my past. I wanted nothing more than to see my mother’s face again… But I’m getting off topic. 

At first it was just whispers. Hushed tones and sideways glances. There was talk of an unusual death in the city. Supposedly it had been one of the palace servants. But this was soon forgotten in mere weeks. That is, until another was found. And another. And another. Whispers became buzzing like the thrum of an angry hornet’s nest. The people were uneasy, as was I. It wasn’t long before a dear friend had arranged a meeting at the shop when my aunt was away. They sat me down in my room, pacing in front of me. 

“What’s this about, Asra?” I asked, watching them go from one end of my room to the other. “You’ll wear a rut in the floor at this rate.”

“We need to leave the city.” The magician held their thumb and forefinger to their chin, eyes focused on the floor. “It’s not safe here anymore. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I know you can. But this...this isn’t something you can control Drexxel. We need to go somewhere safe, far away from Vesuvia.” 

“Asra, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving my aunt here to fend for herself.” I shook my head, leaving her alone wouldn’t be right. Too many loved ones left behind already. 

“There’s been another ten down just since morning, Drexxel. People are beginning to drop like flies!” They ceased their pacing, standing instead directly in front of me. “Please, I can’t let you stay here.”

“I said no.”

“Pack your things, don’t leave anything important behind. We must be off as quickly as we can.” The magician insisted. “I’ll help you.” They started for my things, grabbing clothing from my drawers. 

“I said no.”

A steady flickering flame was beginning to build in my chest. I had already said no twice now and they weren’t listening to me. My patience was wearing thin too fast. I had been running the nail of my thumb under the nails on my opposite hand as we talked, a nervous tick I had developed in early childhood. I watched as my friend continued to ignore my words, instead gathering up my belongings. I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped, standing from my spot on the bed.

“Asra, I said I’m not going!” 

The magician stopped short, eyes locked with mine. The purple hues stained with a solemn heartbreak. It hurt me to see. But I had made up my mind. Heaving a sigh, I sat back down, keeping my eyes trained on the hands shaking in my lap. The hurt in my friend’s eyes was too much to bear. I couldn’t look at those eyes again. It would break me. Without looking up, I broke the silence.

“I think...I think you should leave.” My voice began to shake, a knot forming in my throat. I was losing my friend. “Go without me. I will follow when this is over.” I bit my lip this time, choking back the tears threatening my eyes. “I promise.” 

・・・

The coming weeks were filled with more and more death. The city’s residents had begun to call this the ‘Red Plague’ due to the horrid leeching red veins that weaved spiderwebs across the face, hands, and feet. I sat alone in the tavern, listening to it all. There were somber ones trying to drown the loss of their loved ones in spirits. Others huddled together, chattering in nerve wracking tones about who would be next. Even though I was listening, everything seemed distant, foggy and unclear. My own thoughts began to mix together with their words until eventually everything else didn’t matter. A heavy weight nested itself in my chest, my hands grasping tighter around my cup. 

Not long after Asra had left, the plague pulled my aunt down with it. I watched her collapse on our doorstep, her life fading away as she struggled to breathe. Everything I had come to love now was gone. I ruined my family for the second time. Part of me wished I would just disappear. That way, at the very least, I could put everything I’d done behind me. There would be nothing left to tear myself up over, nothing to lay awake about at night wishing it had gone differently. I wanted out. Out of this life. Out of this crushing sadness and guilt. 

My chance came when I was invited to work under one Dr. Julian Devorak, a tall and lanky man who looked like sleep had evaded him since the day his life began. I was to work under him as his apprentice while he helped research a cure for this plague. This meant I would be up close and personal to this epidemic. If I played my cards right, I could use this as my out. I would simply be another number on the charts, the stroke of a pen on paper. Another body for the fire. 

In our spare time, Dr. Devorak and myself would drink together at the Raven, going over paperwork at first. Before too long though, we would be up on the tables dancing and singing while others looked on with a glimmer of hope. The doctor began to treat me as more of a friend than an underling. I couldn’t fathom why. I was merely pretending to be happy. A thin veil concealing my intentions. But I liked him nonetheless. He was kind, sincere in his own right, and the stories he could tell always got a weary smile from me. In what seemed like no time at all, I would call him my friend. I would almost regret leaving him behind. 

I’d been given a new task. With a leatherbound book in hand, I was to keep a record of those fallen in the streets. Their names, locations, occupations and the like were all written in the book. Each day I went through more pages than the last. I was beginning to fear that Vesuvia would soon run out of names to fill the blank spaces. In these times, Julian and I had less and less free time to spend together. Our times of singing and dancing in the flickering lights of the tavern were quickly becoming fever dreams I wished I could live through forever, never waking to see the light of reality. Instead, I went alone as I had before. I danced by myself, singing songs only I could hear in a language not spoken by locals. My songs were never happy. On this particular night, I found myself far too deep in the grasp of exhaustion to put on my shows. My body ached and my head felt like static. I left for home early. I must have worked myself too hard. Between my daily counts, records, and tavern visits I had surely expended nearly all of my energy. Leaving my mask on the shop counter, I made my way upstairs. I needed rest. I crawled into bed without even changing my clothes. When the sweet embrace of sleep finally took me, I dreamt of my mother and her soft lullaby.

Snapping out of my sleep with a wretched cough, I shot up and immediately doubled over, an arm wrapped around my abdomen, the other covering my mouth with the back of my hand. When the fit finally ceased, I had to take a moment to gather my breath. My joints ached and my head was spinning. I tried to stand, only to fall back among my pillows. From the edge of the bed I felt the eyes of my companion watching me with worry. I turned to look, offering him a weak smile.

 “It’s okay Bentley, I’m just tired.”

Walking to the bath on shaky legs, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’d never seen myself so pale. My eyes were sunken in with heavy dark circles from top to bottom and they stung in the light. I swallowed hard and put the sight from my mind. I still had work to do. There was something in me that wanted to find this cure now. Call it curiosity. But this didn’t overshadow my goal. Overworked as I was, I clung to the hope that this disease would take me. The pain I had seen those taken already trudge through seemed immense. I thought that maybe somehow this pain would serve as payment for the years of guilt and lies. Lying about being happy. Lying about being okay. I needed this to be my end. 

Three days passed, leaving me worse for wear by each morning. On the morning of the fourth day, I was wracked with another intense coughing fit. My lungs felt like someone had crushed them under the wheel of a carriage. Breathing was a struggle and standing took all of my energy. My sheets were soaked with sweat and I had, once again, not changed my clothing from the day before. Moving to the edge of the bed I was hit with another coughing fit, this one worse than the last. I felt acid rise to my throat. Ignoring the pain the best I could, I rushed to the bin. Nothing but bile came from me. I sputtered and gagged until it stopped. Without care I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and stumbled my way to the bath. My eyes were unfocused, not looking at anything. I slumped against the countertop, trying to straighten out my vision. I blinked hard, holding my eyes shut for a few heartbeats before opening them. When the haze cleared, I felt something in me churn. 

My hands, pale as they had been before, were now painted with red as if they’d been dipped in dye. Crimson red veins ran from my fingertips like cracks in porcelain. I could barely feel them. Bringing a hand to my face, I turned to look myself over in the mirror. My eyes were an eerie shade of red, watery and horrific staring back at me. Those sickly red veins fell from my eyes like lightning bolts. All those days I had felt so sick… I had my wish granted. But then… Why was there this knot in my chest? I had gotten my wish. I had gotten what I wanted, my way out. I could finally escape everything I’d been hiding from. And yet, I stared at my hands, eyes tracing the patterns against reddened skin. I should have been overjoyed, right? This was my goal. I’d wanted this. In an instant my head was swarmed with memories. Meeting Bentley for the first time at the docks, morning tea with Asra, the smell of the baker’s bread in the market, the thrum of the central square...the nights spent with Julian at the Raven.

Was I...was I crying? 

At that moment I knew. 

I’m going to die today.

I had to tell him. I had to see him one more time. I pushed past the pain the best I could, gathering all of my files, all of my own independent research in my bag. Pulling it over my shoulder I made for the door. I stopped short at the end of the stairs. Bentley was on the shop counter, staring me down. I bit my lip, fighting back the urge to scoop him into my arms again and tell him everything would be okay. I couldn’t lie to him. 

“Bentley….I’m dying.” I could feel his pain as I spoke. “Watch the shop for me okay? Tell Asra...tell them I’m sorry.”

Wiping red stained tears from my eyes, I left the shop behind me. There was no need for my mask now. I didn’t need it. Not where I was going. I used every ounce of strength in me to break out into a hobbling run. I needed to make it to the palace. I had to say my goodbyes. The further I got, the harder it became to breathe. My body burned as if set aflame and my head throbbed like a jackhammer. I caught my foot on an uneven stone and found myself laying face down on the street. When I tried to get up, my arms gave out underneath me. 

“I have to… I need to see him.” I said aloud, as if saying it would make it happen. “I lied.” The tears wouldn’t stop coming. I drug myself forward on sheer willpower alone, clinging to the foolish idea that I might make it out of this. My lungs were filled with blood and each breath felt like razors clawing their way up my throat. “Please! I don’t want to die….I never…” 

That’s right...dying wouldn’t solve my problems. I knew that from the beginning. And still, I craved it. I thought that maybe, just maybe I could find some solace in it. There was no comfort here. I never wanted to die. Not truly. I only wanted to start over, and I didn’t know how.

I never even made it to the palace gates.

[barrybluejeansandbestjeanist]

Notes on the Artemis Fowl movie by yours truly.

Bear in mind I wrote these while watching the movie. There’s a lot of them.

1. If you think the police and/or reporters would ever be anywhere near fowl manor you’re wrong.

2. Mulch isn’t bad so far but he’d never be caught by police. 

3. Is our first introduction to Artemis him running? I think not thank you very much. 

4. Plus it looks like he’s going to do some water sport. Also wrong.

5. Surfing!!??!!?

6. Artemis doesn’t have even close to the coordination to do that.

7. I don’t even think he knows how to swim. 

8. He doesn’t love Ireland.

9. Of course he doesn’t love school! Have you seen his teachers’ remarks on him? They aren’t nice.

10. It was a boys-only school but that’s definitely one of the smaller offenses.

11. He did do the chess thing if I recall correctly.

12. Same for the opera house.

13. He didn’t clone a goat or name anything Bruce.

14. Unusual is an understatement. 

15. Dr. Po?!

16. Fake chair! Yeah!

17. That exchange from the Arctic incident wasn’t a bad choice to include. Too early though I think. We’ll see how the rest of the movie goes. 

18. He’s got blue eyes. At least there’s that.

19. He doesn’t have a biography!

20. His mom isn’t dead! Disney is just scared of showing mental illness.

21. If you think Angelina Fowl can’t control Artemis you’re wrong. She calls him Arty for god’s sake. He loves his mom.

22. Mysterious absences my ass. He’s the one that should be presumed dead.

23. “This is a sensitive area doctor” sure.

24. Fake chair ftw. 

25. The burden of his father’s name?! He’s proud of that name.

26. This scene wasn’t so bad. We’ll see how the rest of the movie fairs.

27. Who does he think he is? He Artemis freaking Fowl!

28. Skateboarding! I’m about to have an aneurysm.

29. Also, why is he wearing jeans? Get this man a suit!

30. He did not like being at home with his dad. Not in the first book anyway. His parent being out of the way allowed him to do what he did.

31. His dad’s actor looks good for the part.

32. His father is a criminal. World-famous. He did not just deal with antiques and rarities.

33. His dad also didn’t care for fairytales.

34. Music’s nice I guess. 

35. Why is arty wearing a hoodie?! He would never!

36. Artemis was not taught about fairies. He discovered them himself with basically no help.

37. So much physical contact between Artemis sr. and jr. No.

38. His dad did not believe in any such legends.

39. They shared only a passion for crime and that didn’t even last.

40. He wasn’t determined about any such thing. See point 36.

41. He wasn’t preparing Artemis for anything like that.

42. Fairy stones? What are those?

43. There was no peace made between humans and fairies.

44. Tuatha De Danaan? What is that?

45. Artemis would want to get to the point I guess.

46. His work was not coming to an end. What is going on? Can we meet Holly soon?

47. I’m ten minutes in and suffering.

48. Artemis wasn’t really one to smile unless things were going his way.

49. You are a child! You are still a kid! You’re like a literal baby still!

50. The whole point of him being 12 in the books was that he could still believe in magic as well as science. Wtf is going on?

51. I do know the Hill of Tara.

52. I take issue with “all I really want is to believe in you” but I don’t have time to get into it here.

53. He’s still wearing a hoodie. >:(

54. Hugging his dad. No.

55. I will accept the helicopter on the front lawn if only because it seems one thing that could’ve happened in the books. 

56. Where are the Butlers? Why are neither of the fowls being guarded? I need more Juliet and Butler in this movie NOW.

57. And Holly.

58. Pretty sure they don’t have a lighthouse. Also, pretty sure fowl manor wasn’t next to the ocean.

59. Might’ve been near a Forrest. I don’t quite remember.

60. Legos?! LEGOS?!??!!

61. Also, star wars? I don’t think Artemis has ever seen a sci-fi movie. He’s too busy making them a reality.

62. Artemis would also not sleep with a book.

63. Why did Butler’s name in the subtitles appear as Domovoi? You know there’s a whole thing about his name and why Arty doesn’t know it right?

64. So his dad disappeared. Not bad. A little late but okay.

65. Everyone has already aired their grievances about Butlers actor so I shall refrain from doing so as well. I’ll just say one word and leave it at that. Eurasian.

66. Also, fowl manor doesn’t look bad. I can accept this house.

67. No no no. No one should be calling him Domovoi. Only Butler.

68. Also, that isn’t the training he had.

69. He is the butler though? I mean. Only sort of but like. ???

70. No. You could not call him Dom or Domovoi. 

71. Very large man in a suit is slightly acceptable.

72. He could totally snap you in half but not without good reason. Come on, guys. He’s a nice guy. Scary, but nice.

73. Like, the dude cooks and gardens and whatnot. How is that not nice?

74. Also, I’m still hung up on the goat thing. Like I don’t deny that he could clone a goat but why on earth would he name it Bruce. Is it a Batman reference or something? I don’t understand this movie.

75. World wide manhunt? Pardon my doubt.

76. Superyacht? Owl star?

77. I get it. It’s a stupid pun.

78. I guess the South China Sea is close enough to Russia.

79. Again. Not an antiquities dealer.

80. Robberies? He ran a criminal empire!

81. Not sure how one would go about stealing the Rosetta Stone or why but sure.

82. I’ve never even heard of Boru’s Harp.

83. Nor the book of kells.

84. Why are you calling Butler Dom???

85. Yes! He is a criminal mastermind! Thank you for slightly acknowledging that!

86. Also, Artemis is not that rash.

87. He’s your dad and a criminal.

88. Why must Disney do this to my boy? He was an incredible character, smart, cunning, and a criminal and now he’s just a sort of smart kid. Lame.

89. I swear if this “raspy voice” is opal I will be so disappointed.

90. What is this? Artemis is supposed to be kidnapping fairies, not the other way around!

91. What is this Aculos and why should I care about it?

92. Also, why isn’t it Christmas? You could at least set it in winter. For crying out loud.

93. That isn’t word for word Artemis. I know you can remember it exactly.

94. I’m starting to think Orion is better than this fool.

95. Why is he wearing a hoodie?!??!???!

96. Just going to have a secret basement full of whatever secret stuff shoved in there because of course.

97. Also. As if butler would know about any of this.

98. Bunch of bottles of water. Okay.

99. ‘Cause Artemis Sr. totally knew about the fairies. 

100. This is a stupid basement.

101. I’m so done with this.

102. Ah yes! An important journal! Predictable.

103. Stupid poem. Stupid way of finding the journal.

104. That was opal I see. I’m dying.

105. Beechwood. Isn’t that guy related to Holly or something? Also, not from the books.

106. Yes, Arty fairies exist. Surprising no one.

107. I like how they made the city look I suppose. And they kept the name the same. Of course, it must be noted that not all fairies live in haven. There are other cities.

108. Why is holly a baby? She shouldn’t look like a child. Also, tons of people have already spoken on holly’s appearance as well so I won’t say anymore.

109. Koboi mentioned. It was totally opal.

110. The fairies don’t look bad either. Though I don’t know if the little things are supposed to be goblins or what?

111. I guess not. These goblins also seem way too smart.

112. “You and I would make a great team” foreshadowing.

113. I do think mulch being taller is kinda funny.

114. Briar Cudgeon looks about how I expected. Do you think he’ll get his face melted?

115. Opal and Cudgeon working together. Unsurprising if a bit early.

116. You spy or you die. The CIA’s motto.

117. L.E.P. Recon. Nice.

118. I’m also not going to address the changing of roots gender and the fact that Holly is supposed to be the first female officer because again, many people have spoken at length about that. Still upset though.

119. Kelp and Verbil are around I see.

120. What is the Aculos? Like I get that it’s a weapon by why should I care?

121. Also, I think Root should be smoking.

122. Holly’s father? Why should he matter or even be a part of this?

123. They kept Holly 84. Good.

124. Reinforcements? Juliet?!!!!

125. She’s 12? She’s supposed to be sixteen! No!

126. Niece!!!! She’s supposed to be his sister.

127. Also, screw Disney for changing the fairy alphabet so we can’t read it.

128. Artemis should be able to decode it though. He’s not much of a genius, is he?

129. Foals needs a tinfoil hat and should look way way nerdier.

130. Troll! Time! Yeah!

131. Yeah! Lava chutes!

132. Foaly’s CGI is a little wonky but whatever.

133. So that’s why Holly’s father is important. Stupid.

134. The executors. You mean the council.

135. Don’t just fly over the surface unshielded, you dolt!

136. Butler your camouflage sucks ass.

137. Butler wouldn’t complain.

138. Butler’s eyes are freaking me out. No one’s eyes look like that.

139. The LEP helmets are stupid looking.

140. That isn’t what a troll looks like. Stop it, Disney.

141. Time Stop. Not a time freeze.

142. The magic looks cool.

143. That’s not how a time stop works. But at least it looks cool.

144. I suppose I can accept that’s how they do mind wipes.

145. “This is a strange wedding” is the best joke so far.

146. Why are none of the fairies shielded?

147. Holly has such boring motivation.

148. You shouldn’t just read your dad’s journal Arty. It’s rude.

149. I’m so over arty’s dad already knowing about the fairies as well as this beechwood fellow.

150. Why does this Aculos exist? If it’s so dangerous, why not get rid of it?

151. Opal Koboi. Finally. 

152. Like Arty would ever dress like that. He’d still be wearing a suit and be spotless.

153. “They’re real.” No kidding!

154. Fox!

155. I’m surprised they included trying and succeeding to shoot holly.

156. Kinda wish they’d kept the bury an acorn to get magic thing but small fish and all.

157. Now it’s starting to remind me of the real Artemis Fowl story.

158. Cudgeon is slimy and annoying and I’m here for it.

159. That’s a shitty looking cage.

160. “Not happy” I wonder why?

161. Reflective glasses! Yes! Give me the fowl crew in cringey reflective sunglasses.

162. The Mesmer is done nicely. Love Juliet’s glasses.

163. A flannel and reflective sunglasses. That classic Artemis fowl look.

164. So he did decode their language.

165. The acting isn’t terrible. 

166. Most humans are afraid of gluten how do you think they’d handle goblins is a good line.

167. Again. Not how time stops work but okay.

168. So let me get this right. Instead of the fairy bible which Artemis poisoned a fairy to get they just replaced it with his dad‘s journal. great.

169. Don’t give Artemis a weapon! He’s gonna cut his own arm off!

170. The time freeze does look cool though.

171. I can appreciate them gathering on the beach. That’s kinda cool.

172. Finally a suit! Get this kid properly clothed!

173. Though that tie is a little sus. Why’s it so skinny?

174. That fight scene wasn’t too bad. Again Arty is definitely not supposed to be good at anything physical but it’s whatever.

175. Flair for the dramatic? This is hardly as dramatic as the book.

176. I hate opal’s voice.

177. Waged war on your people? That was 10,000 years ago!

178. Opal’s motives are also super boring.

179. I’m sad we don’t get to see arty practicing his evil smile in the mirror.

180. In one of those pots. From under the rainbow. Fun.

181. Glad they kept the whole while I’m alive stipulation. 

182. Glad to see the goblins still have fire powers.

183. These goblins really shouldn’t be so smart.

184. I hope we get to see mulch unhinge his jaw soon.

185. I do like mulch.

186. This heart to heart is stupid. Artemis wouldn’t trust holly just like that me thinks.

187. I like that mulch is up on all the human pop culture. I do wish he’d make a Gordon Ramsey reference though since he likes him.

188. Mulch not wanting to be tall is excellent character motivation though.

189. Now this is the heart to heart I needed.

190. Is he gonna unhinge his jaw?! I’ve been waiting for this the whole time!

191. Yeah!!!!!!

192. Eat that dirt!

193. Mulch!

194. “What would your parents be?”

195. A really really big dwarf.

196. Sick safe. Nothing mulch can’t handle.

197. That definitely isn’t what I expected from mulch’s hair but that’s okay.

198. Yeah! Holly punched Artemis! Now there just needs to be a lollipop remark.

199. Is that the Aculos? It looks stupid.

200. Also, I do appreciate the inclusion of the iris cam.

201. Opal, you’re so boring.

202. Cudgeon is taking over. Kinda wish it was of his own will because that’s more interesting but whatever.

203. Troll time part two. I doubt butler is going to almost die fighting it. Maybe he’ll wear a suit of armor though. That’d be cool.

204. How is it we’re an hour in and only just now get a d’arvit? Surely many other scenes warranted that.

205. I do like that mulch pickpocketed butler.

206. Don’t just stand in front of the door when A Troll is about to be sent in!

207. The wings do look really cool though.

208. Also, Juliet really shouldn’t be trying to fight a troll.

209. I mean. None of them should but you know.

210. Mulch eating the Aculos is very in character. I’m glad Artemis’s bedroom is being destroyed. It was terrible.

211. While I don’t care for the way the troll looks (Far too human, not enough claws and venom) the amount of destruction it’s causing is appropriate I feel.

212. I guess that’s how the fight can go. 

213. Also, Juliet is so smart and strong yet she can’t pull herself over a ledge? Pathetic.

214. Don’t move butler to a completely different room! He’s got a back injury! You probably just made it worse!

215. Butler isn’t going to die. This is stupid. 

216. Trouble doing the lords work. 

217. I told you butler would be fine.

218. One of the times Butler would nearly die. If we’re following the books then more should follow.

219. Also what is this room they’re in?

220. Butler would not be ashamed to cry.

221. I’m living for everyone’s reactions to where mulch stored the Aculos.

222. I like the way it looks when they get grabbed by the time stop. 

223. She’s gonna save Artemis. Obviously.

224. I like the way it looked when the time stop broke.

225. “Breaking every rule in the book” we haven’t even seen your book! Just his dad’s stupid journal.

226. He and holly should not be friends yet. He kidnapped her!

227. Ooh, forever friends how sweet! Get fucked. Both of you.

228. Now are we in Russia?

229. Opal annoys me so much.

230. So are you trying to tell me that this Aculos is the movie’s version of the book? Holly’s saying that poem.

231. This isn’t how magic is supposed to work.

232. >:(

233. I will admit it looked cool. Begrudgingly.

234. Your dad isn’t dead.

235. He’s in the secret basement that still exists for some reason.

236. Also, I didn’t note this before, but I doubt Arty ever called his dad, dad.

237. Opal is thwarted. 

238. Why she so ugly looking? Pretty sure she was supposed to be pretty.

239. This is so stupid.

240. Opals accomplices, you mean those two dunderheads she had helping her?

241. How are there still fifteen minutes of this torture left?!

242. Again. Butler would not be ashamed to cry.

243. Just wait until Artemis gets magic of his own.

244. I’m so tired. It’s 12:14 at night and I just want this torture to end. Please god just let the credits roll already!

245. And now they’re famous. Whoop de do. Just tell us how mulch gets captured and escapes and end the movie. That’s all I ask.

246. You know he hasn’t been referred to as Artemis Fowl the Second throughout this whole disaster. What a slight to him.

247. Ray bans.

248. Oh yeah. Brag to opal. Great idea. 

249. Criminal mastermind. Juvenile Genius. Same difference.

250. Why is his tie so skinny? 

251. Is he gonna fly the helicopter?! Finally something in character!

252. Now just let mulch escape and finish this godforsaken nightmare!

253. Fowls? Protecting us? Pardon me while I laugh.

254. They do the unhinging of mulch’s jaw nicely.

255. And now they mission impossible him out of there. Perfect.

256. I’m dying. Let it be over. Please.

257. No more!

258. Fly off into the sunset. Of course.

259. Thank god! Credits! I’m free!

260. And another thing! They didn’t have the follow-up scene with Dr. Po! That would’ve been a way better ending! And you can’t just have one scene without the other!

[mitsuaziel]

Solomon x GN! MC

Warning! Death, angst

*****

Solomon, a powerful wizard, is your lover. How you manage to acquire his love and attention is beyond everyone else and even you sometimes, but you're glad that you're his and he's yours. Unfortunately, your medical background doesn't paint a pretty picture for you.

It's been at least three months since you and Solomon has been together, madly in love. How you wish that you didn't have to break news to him but you must since he will find out sooner or later. You have informed the seven avatars and angels that your condition is deteriorating with Lord Diavolo and Barbatos already knowing beforehand. As much as you wanted to live, knowing what happened to their sister, Lilith, you didn't want to cause more harm than you've already done.

"Hey, MC." Mammon starts up a conversation while you're watching both him and Leviathan play a game.

You hum in response. With much hesitation, the greedy demon asks, "When are ya' going to tell him?"

Silence. Leviathan elbows Mammon in the guts as you thought of a response, finally answering his question with, "Tomorrow. It'll be cruel if I continue this charade with him."

A dry laugh emits from your starting to pale lips. "I'm so cruel to him, aren't I? He deserves someone better, not someone who's dying so easily from a disease."

The moment the words rolled off your tongue, Mammon and Leviathan abandon their game, not caring that their characters are getting killed on screen. The secondborn grabs your shoulders and gently shakes you, saying, "Are ya' crazy? It's us and him that don't deserve ya'!"

"For once, Mammon's right. Don't ever say that again, MC!" The envious demon said in turn.

But they only receive yet another short and dry laugh. "I only have one month left to live. No one can help me now nor will I ever live as long as Solomon hoped. I... I'm such a terrible partner and friend."

This time, it's the thirdborn who shakes you by the shoulders. "No, you're not! You're the one who managed to keep up together! Without you, who knows what would've happened to us! To Belphegor even!"

A sad, small smile manage to make its way to your lips. "I don't know what have I done to deserve you guys but I'm glad to have met you."

*****

The next day arrived quicker than you've had anticipated. Handkerchief in hand, you cover your mouth with the small cloth as you cough into it while mentally hoping that blood doesn’t stain your handkerchief. Lucifer and Satan, who are by your side, only looks at you with concerned looks, feeling useless and helpless since they can't do anything to help except be there for you.

"MC!" A familiar cheery voice is heard from behind. Oh, how have the Fates become to cruel.

You quickly hide the cloth in your pocket and turn to Solomon with the same lovely smile you always give him. "Yo', Solomon!"

Taking their cue to leave, Lucifer and Satan leaves you with your lover. Once you two stand face-to-face with each other, your lovely smile is slowly replaced with a sorrowful look on your face. The wizard quickly took note of this and questions about your sudden change in expression.

You tightly grab his hand as if your life depended on it, staring into his eyes. A barely audibly whisper 'follow me' left your lips as you drag him to somewhere private. After checking that nobody will eavesdrop on your conversation, you let our a sigh and your heartbeat begins to pick up its pace.

Your silence only makes Solomon worry more and a million negative thoughts occupy his mind. Do you want to break up with him? Did you not love him anymore? Did something bad happened? Unfortunately, what you said only made him stare at you with both shock and horror.

"Solomon, I have to tell you about my... My health. It's getting worse the last few months and both Lucifer and Lord Diavolo tried their best to find the best doctors from each realm to try and help me but... There's no cure. There's... Not much time left for me."

Solomon refuses to believe those words. He takes a step back and shakes his head. "Th-This is n-not funny, M-MC. P-Please t-tell me it's a joke."

But you shake your head. "I wish it was but it's not a joke. I'm dying, Solomon. I only have one month left to live."

"N-No. No, no, no. M-Maybe I can learn a-a healing spell o-or whip up a-"

You shut him up by grabbing his hands and placing your head against his chest, hearing his rapid heartbeat. "Please, Solomon. If Lord Diavolo or Simeon can't do it, what can you do? We're only humans, Solomon. We're the weakest of the three realms. What makes you think you can find a spell, much less a cure for me? My time is almost up, Solomon. At least let me spend my last moments with the people I love."

Still, he refuses to believe you but... "Fine. Fine. I-I'll respect that."

You feel wet droplets soaking your scalp but you couldn't care less. The both of you stayed like that until the bell rung. Unfortunately, your classes with Solomon are very little and limited so when you exit the room, he hugs you tightly before sadly parting from you.

Ever since that day, Solomon tries to spend as much time with you and even sleeps with you with Lucifer's permission. When your condition worsened however, Lord Diavolo has declared that you no longer have to attend school and is issued to be moved to his castle so that Barbatos can take care of you.

The week of the retreat that is held at Lord Diavolo's castle has came around. How unfortunate can you be? It's also your last week here. Upon finally meeting you, Solomon is quick to engulf you in a tight, warm hug.

Your last week is spent with everyone you loved, like what you've requested to the wizard but time doesn't wait for no one. Your body is extremely weak to the point where you sometimes would fall and pass out. Your coughing fits have become a frequent and daily thing, much to everyone's dismay. Your energy is slow to replenish, your health deteriorating quickly, your face looks like you haven't slept in days and your life force quickly fading away.

Today is the last day of retreat and also your last day on Earth. You wish you hadn't been chosen for this exchange program as you knew that you've hurt everyone but at the same time, you're glad as well or else you would never meet such amazing people, especially Solomon.

In your temporary room, Asmodeus does your makeup to make you seem more lively than ever before for everyone. Your tired eyes only stare out of the window, the dark sky decorated by sprinkles of lights and a crescent moon. Breathing has also becoming an exercise for you, only receiving oxygen through your mouth. As Asmodeus works on your blush, you suddenly have a coughing fit.

The fourthborn quickly grabs your handkerchief and hands it to you to which you quickly snatch it from his hand and cover your mouth with. After a few moments, you wipe your mouth and look at the pool of scarlet that the cloth had manage to absorb. Asmodeus only sighs at the sight, quickly applying the blush for you before you could have another fit.

"There we go." He stands up and smiles at you as if you were a piece of priceless artwork. "You look stunning."

"Thanks, Asmo." You stand up and approach the mirror provided in the room. In the mirror, you do appear to have more life.

"Let's go." The demon opens the door for you and helps you walk towards the ballroom.

When you arrive to your desired area, the wizard is quick to greet you which prompts Asmodeus to leave the both of you. "You look amazing as always, MC. I wish the makeup is real..."

You only offer him a small smile, your croaky voice uttering out, "I'll be fine. Let's enjoy this final night."

Solomon's eyes are filled with sadness and despair but for you, he's willing to be happy for you. Music fills the room and your lover extends a hand for you to grab and you did. His other hand gently wraps around your torso as you hold onto his shoulder, the both of you start to dance despite your weak body but he did slow down his movements so that you could keep up with him. Unlike last time around, only the demons, angels and humans alike are present in the room, the other two species watching as the both of you sway with the melody. In that very moment, so many thoughts had pop up in his head.

How he wished that he was more powerful. How he wished that there was a cure for your illness. How he wished that Simeon had the power to help you. How he wished that you can remain in his arms forever. How he wished that this moment will last forever.

How he also wished that he had never met you.

Yet here he is, dancing with his partner, desperately trying not to tear up for their sake. When the music stopped and the way you fall into his arms, he knew that you only had moments left to live so he hugs you once again, placing his lips on your forehead. His soft lips linger on your skin for a few moments before looking at you. "What else do you want to do?"

"Play... Play something on- on the harp for me, S-Solomon." You requested, your exhausted eyes starting to droop.

He nods his head. "Whatever you want, my love."

The wizard slowly guides you towards the instruments provided in the room, taking a seat on the small bench with you sitting beside him. Everyone else only watches both of your movements, not making a ruckus like how they'd usually do.

"Solomon..." You breathe out, placing your head on his shoulder as you make yourself comfortable next to him. "Play... Play that song."

Your voice becomes quieter the more you speak. Solomon closes his eyes and takes a breather. He wanted to cry, he wanted to hug you, he wanted to see your face one last time before you permanently close your eyes but he holds himself back. His shaky hands make their way towards the strings and his fingers start plucking the strings, a beautiful melody you had always loved plays.

Though, not even a minute through, you started coughing which made your lover stop and check up on you. Luckily, it wasn’t as severe so you said, "Continue no matter what. I want to hear you play one last time."

His lips quiver but he fulfills your request nonetheless. His fingers never stop plucking the strings even if you had to cough. Midway through, you close your eyes, your breathing starting to become slower. Everyone else in the room senses that your life force is fading rather quickly but doesn't utter a word about it.

Solomon notices the sudden weight on his shoulder but doesn't stop. Though, this time, he doesn't deny his tears and lets them flow down his face. When he finally finishes playing your favourite melody, he immediately wraps his arms around your limp body. He places his head on your shoulder and his tears soak your clothes.

Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Luke are also crying, knowing that you're now gone. Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor and Simeon only watches from afar, everyone's hearts crushed when you're finally out from your misery but hurts further when they hear the loud, sad and ugly cries from Solomon as he grips onto your body tighter, desperately trying to get you to wake up when you won't.

-END-

I hope you enjoyed this small story. My favourite headcannon of Solomon is that he plays the harp and I had to include that here. Anyway, here’s the song he played.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

I haven’t written to you in a long time, it’s been over a year. A lot of stuff has changed but I can’t really say for the better. I’ve written and rewritten this too many times and I don’t feel like telling you all the bad shit that’s happened because it would be too much. I don’t feel like explaining all of the things that got me to this point because nobody cares. I guess the gist of it, as it always is with me, is that I’m sad. I’m so fucking sick of having to say that but there’s nothing else. A lot of the time since I’ve first written to you, I’ve been sad. All the contents of the letters I’ve sent you have been about me being sad. I wish there was something else for me to tell you and I wish I wasn’t running out of ways to say the same thing. I guess I can give you the short version, if that’s possible, about what’s happened.

The last time I’d sent you a letter, I had stopped taking my medications. I didn’t like how I felt on them because they made me feel like a zombie, even though I’d been on them for almost four years (I’m angry it took me that long to figure it out, but that’s another story). I stopped taking them completely cold turkey — no weening or tapering — and hadn’t talked to my therapist in months because she closed her practice (another different story).

I was manic after they were out of my system, so I thought I felt better. When I went back to school in the fall, I ended up spiraling about a month into the semester and barely ended up passing my classes. I’d be too depressed to leave my dorm or really do anything that wasn’t lying on my bed and staring at nothing. It might’ve been the worst depressive episode I’ve ever had, but I can’t really say that because this time I didn’t go to the hospital for swallowing four bottles of pills (even if I’d been planning it). Either way, I dropped out of college.

At the time, I just thought I’d withdrawal for the spring semester. I told my family how shitty I was doing — well, just my brother because he was the one who talked to me most when he’d drive me back to campus after weekends home — and they said that I should do whatever I need to feel better. They didn’t say it, but I think my parents were angry.

I’ve been living at home since. I got a new therapist and I’ve been seeing her for about six months. Recently, she had me book an appointment with the psychiatrist she works with and, let me tell you, having a competent psychiatrist makes it all the more obvious of how incompetent my last one was. Seven years of therapy, medications, and hospitalizations but I could never get a solid diagnosis that felt right until now. It took him a thirty minute session and the notes my therapist gave him — he had a diagnosis by the time I finished explaining my history of mental health. He thinks I have Bipolar Type II — I didn’t even know there was different types but, after he explained, it made a lot of sense to me. I know it might take a while to find a medication or three that can even me out. We’ve already tried one prescription and that ended up making me feel worse, but at least he knows his shit.

There’s other stuff I’m leaving out, either because I forget or I don’t feel like going into it, but that’s the gist. I know the last letter I wrote talked about Jack. Rereading it now makes me feel stupid and talking about it makes me feel weird, but I don’t love him anymore. It’d be downplaying it and invalidating to myself if I said I never loved him at all, but I do feel that way. Things are good with him though, we’re still friends and nothing’s really changed. We kind of just pretend that the whole “I got high one night and confessed to being madly in love with you over text at 3 am” thing never happened and, I have to say, I’m glad.

Everything else is pretty much the same, so I guess this is gonna sound like every other letter I’ve sent. Except, this time, I don’t have the energy to make it sound beautiful. I did that a lot, I know. I would type out every ugly thought in my head and tried use words so beautiful that maybe people reading would forget how horrible what I said was (if people could even stomach to read such depressing shit). I wish I had the energy, I really do, and I’m still going to try; it might not work, but it’s entirely possible that it never did.

You ever talk to your siblings and find out they’re way less traumatized by the way your parents raised you than you are? Because I did recently. My sister and I tend not to talk about personal stuff, but the conversation sparked up anyway. It turns out that, of the three of us, I’m the only one who has a constant, underlying resentment for our parents. I already knew it was different for my brother because he only started living with us when he was sixteen, but I didn’t know that it was different for my sister.

She forgives them for way more and gives them the benefit of the doubt whenever she can. I’ve never been able to do that, at least not for about ten years. I know she has different experiences than I do too, but I thought that she was angrier than she is. That’s just me, I guess. Her relationship with them is good, if not great now; her and mom are the closest they’ve ever been and she’s in an alright place with dad since she was stuck in Virginia for a few months during quarantine. I feel like I’ve never been in such a bad place with them. Ever since I started talking to my new therapist, I’ve started realizing how fucked up the way they raised me was and that it still manifests itself in the things I do. How do I not resent them after that?

She suggested having the three of us sit down with my therapist and talk about it — and that’s just about the last thing I wanna do, but it’s gonna end up happening because I don’t want to hate them. They aren’t bad parents. It’s hard for me to say that, but they aren’t. Lately, since I’ve started thinking about all this, it’s been difficult. I have a really short temper with them now, the littlest things they do can piss me off and it’s next to impossible for me to be in a good mood around them. This didn’t used to happen. Who can say if they notice too? You’d think they would pick up on a sudden, negative change in their kid’s behavior but, then again, they were oblivious to the fact that I was depressed until I told my gym teacher I was going to kill myself.

It can go one of a few ways — either they surprise me by acknowledging what they’ve done is horrible and apologizing whether they remember doing it or not, they cry and make me feel guilty, or they defend what they’ve done and we’re left off in a worse place than before. Either way, they’ll know how I feel and I don’t care for that shit at all. She suggested I write a letter and is holding me to the fact that I wanna do this before the month ends (except I forgot that mom’s going on a week-long vacation starting Monday and then dad is going on a different vacation the same day she gets back, maybe I’ll just do it separately, it’ll probably be easier that way).

The thing is…I feel like, even if they did apologize, I wouldn’t stop being angry. They’ve traumatized me in ways I don’t know if I can heal from and I’ll never know what it’s like to not live like that. What makes it worse, at least to me, is knowing that I’m the only one. They didn’t treat either of my siblings the same way they treated me. I’m the only one they first started calling a slut at age ten. I’m the only one they accused of being pregnant each month  I’m the only one whose stuff they went through and journals they read. I’m the only one they accused of doing drugs for trivial shit like an empty ziplock bag under my bed or going to a costume party. I’m the only one whose messages they’d “sneakily” read. I’m the only one they instantly and consistently assumed was doing something wrong and then punished because of it. I’m the only one they shamed about their weight or humiliated after puberty started. I’m the only one whose interests got made fun of or invalidated when I got excited about them. I’m the only one who was (and still is) held to ridiculous standards for school, even after it was known that I was mentally ill. I’m the only one they’d complain about not having friends, but turn around and refuse to let go to a friend’s house when I’d ask. I’m the only one they’d get angry at for being depressed.

I’d still be angry if I knew they did that to my sister too, because that’s just a fucked up way to treat a child, but it makes me even more angry that it was just me. Because, what the fuck? I never gave them a reason to not trust me. Shit, the craziest thing I’d done as a kid was make a “potion” out of rainwater and berries in the backyard (and it’s not like that’s an exclusive thing, I know tons of people who did that too). The craziest thing I’d done as a teenager was want to die, but that was after all this had started — even if it wasn’t, that’s not an excuse, they shouldn’t be mad at me for having mental health issues.

But, I’m still dealing with the repercussions of all this. I can’t think about sex without feeling so guilty I want to hurt myself, I can’t see them near any my things without being paranoid they’re going to go through them, I can’t fucking do or say anything when I’m around them without being worried their reactions will be to humiliate or try to punish me. I’m twenty fucking years old and I still think like that.

So, I don’t want to talk to them. I know I’ll never stop being angry without an apology (if I can stop being angry at all), but that’s the thing about instilling communication issues in your child because they’re so afraid of how you’ll react that they decide never to share anything at all — they don’t wanna talk to you about anything! I don’t wanna talk to them but I know I have to, because my therapist said, eventually, I’ll hit a wall that will prevent me from ever moving forward with them. I already see it happening, but I’d be lying if I said that helps at all.

Love Always, The Reversed Star 07 | 24 | 20 P.S. yeah, I’m using a new pseudonym again

[vincent-frankenstein]

Sugared Strawberries

inspired by this prompt by the amazing, talented, wonderful @aliferous-ly !!! thanks for letting me write this bro i had a BLAST

Summary: Before — before there was a divide between the light and dark sides, before the mindscape split in two, before Virgil was alone — Patton made sugared strawberries. Virgil loved them, not for the taste but for the memories they made, his family gathered in the kitchen around him, love and light and warmth.

Then he became Anxiety, and everything changed. Patton stopped making sugared strawberries.

But redemption brings a lot of things — some new and some old and some so familiar he can barely stand it. When he walks into the kitchen one morning to find Patton covered in sugar, a tray of strawberries in his hands, he finally realizes:

He has a family again.

Pairings: platonic LAMP, platonic moxiety, just fambly feels

Warnings: deceit, remus/the duke, angst and self-hatred

Gen Taglist: @joygaytrash @ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account @aliferous-ly @im-crunchie @triton-bear @emiisanidiot @jemthebookworm

Virgil didn’t remember much about his childhood.

That whole thing about childhood mental illnesses causing memory problems? He was a childhood mental illness. That held doubly true for him. He remembered parts, bits and pieces, and knew of others, a patchwork mess of information given to him by the others that he couldn’t even trust, fully, because more than half had been stitched together by Deceit himself.

He knew that there hadn’t been such a divide between the light sides and the Others, once. He knew that there had been sleepovers and movie nights and birthday parties, that they’d all been a family, each of them, light and dark and everything in between. Patton still had pictures hanging in his room; Deceit in a snake onesie, wrapped in blankets, and Remus with a tiny, drawn-on mustache, and himself, open and smiling and unafraid, surrounded by love.

He knew that, the moment Thomas hit middle school, everything changed forever. The Great Schism, Roman called it, ignoring Logan’s lectures on the historical and religious significance of the title. A divide, a split, cleaving one world into two.

He knew that everything changed the moment Caution became Anxiety.

Because that was when the world went from scary to bad wrong terrifying — and that was when he decided he had to keep Thomas from it all, keep Thomas safe, no matter what. That was when Thomas realized some parts of his personality weren’t “good,” and they woke up to find the mindscape split in two. 

He didn’t remember much from before that moment, that split — but there was one memory he refused to forget, one that you couldn’t pry from his cold, dead fingers: sugared strawberries.

They had been Patton’s favorite, way back when. He used to gather all the sides in the kitchen and present them like they were the greatest treasure on earth, crystalline berries as valuable as gold. Roman — just Imagination back then, a tiny spitfire in a Disney prince Halloween costume — even made up a song for them; he’d dance around the kitchen, twirling any sides unlucky enough to be within reach.

Virgil would stand in the doorway, shoving as many strawberries as he could into his mouth at once. Patton would laugh, handing him more and more. “They’re not going anywhere, kiddo, no need to rush!” he’d say.

Then the Schism happened.

Patton stopped making sugared strawberries.

Virgil remembered what came after with all the clarity he wished he had for the memories before. The cold, the quiet, the emptiness that came with being banished to the dark side of the mindscape. Deceit grew distant, furious, and blamed Patton with all his might. “He’s right and wrong, Anxiety!” he used to rant, every opportunity he got, and he’d lie and say the tears pooling in his eyes were from fury, not sorrow. “Sure, he’s definitely not the cause of Thomas thinking we’re wrong.”

And Virgil — Anxiety couldn’t, couldn’t believe that Patton would do such a thing. He’d always been so… so nice. Even when Anxiety’s warnings turned from cautious to borderline cruel, he’d always been patient and loving and kind. Unless he was faking it — maybe he was, maybe he’d been faking it the whole time, sunshine and sugared strawberries to hide hatred for a side that he didn’t need anymore, didn’t want anymore — and suddenly Anxiety believed, believed with all his heart that he was wrong and Patton had done it on purpose.

The worst part was that Anxiety couldn’t even blame him.

The Others tried, for a while, to maintain the same level of warmth they’d had before — but they just weren’t built for that sort of thing. After all, how could something so wrong pretend to be right? Even Deceit couldn’t manage that for long. It was too hard to stave off the cold and the dark, and the creeping feeling of wrong that never quite left them alone; eventually they just gave up.

Anxiety retreated into himself. He ignored Deceit’s futile attempts at keeping them together, and avoided Remus like the plague — without his brother there to reign him in, the Duke became unhinged, distant, terrifying in the worst kind of way — and pretended like he didn’t care. Like he didn’t miss the warmth, the happiness, that he knew he’d once had. 

But he did. It was like a part of him had been torn away, and he ached with every memory that faded, every bit of warmth he lost. He missed watching movies with Imagination and listening to Curiosity read aloud, and he missed missed missed Patton’s hugs, and his smile, and —

He missed sugared strawberries.

Years passed. Curiosity became Logic and then became Logan; Imagination became Creativity and then Roman. The world became bigger, scarier, as Thomas was thrust into adulthood, and Anxiety forwent any and all chances of being loved in favor of being feared. He had to protect the one thing that still mattered to him. And if that meant he had to be too scary to ignore, then… so be it.

Sometimes he snuck down into the common room, late at night, and tried to recreate the sugared strawberries. He never could. Patton had made them with love — and Anxiety, he didn’t have any of that left to give. They never tasted the same. He always got it wrong.

Eventually, he stopped trying.

He just didn’t see the point. Even if he got the recipe right — which he never, never would — he’d still be alone. They’d never taste exactly as he remembered if they didn’t come with a bright grin from Patton, or a one-armed hug from Roman as he danced around the kitchen, or the warmth and light and happiness he knew he’d never get again. 

That was just the way things were. He was Anxiety — a villain, a dark side, an Other, hated by every person he’d once loved, hated by the one person he was supposed to protect. There was nothing he could do to fix that. There was nothing he could do to change that.

The one thing he could do was leave.

And then — to his great, great surprise — he was proven wrong. Things changed. Anxiety became Virgil and Virgil became wanted, needed, loved in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He woke one morning to find that his room was back in the light side; that instead of the silence he’d grown so used to, he could hear Roman and Logan playfully arguing downstairs, and Patton singing to himself as he bustled around the kitchen. 

He made sure to wipe the stupid smile off his face before he went downstairs. He couldn’t let them see how happy they made him. That would ruin his Aesthetic™.

“Virgil!” Roman cried when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Virgil, would you please tell nerdmione over here to turn off his nerd show so I can watch Lilo and Stitch?”

“Roman, you have a television in your room,” Logan interrupted before Virgil could speak, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am not turning off my documentary so you can watch your nonsensical Disney movie for the hundredth time.”

“‘Nonsensical?’ How dare you! Lilo and Stitch is a cinematic masterpiece! And I’ll have you know, I’ve seen it at least three-hundred times!” Roman scoffed, offended. “Besides, you’re all down here and my room is up there! I want to watch it here.”

“Then you will have to wait.” Logan shot Virgil a look — can you believe this guy? he said with a quirk of his brow — and Virgil rolled his eyes, a fond smirk slipping into place. “Why don’t you try watching this with me? Maybe you’ll learn something. Newton knows you need it.”

“B-to-the-oring!” Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes and throwing his whole body into the action, hip jutting out to the side. Then he blinked. “Wait, what was that last bit?”

Virgil snickered into the back of his hand and moved on into the kitchen, where he leaned against the doorway, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Patton stood at the counter, bouncing in place to the happy tune he hummed as he made… something. Virgil couldn’t see past him. “Morning, Pat,” he said, and Patton whirled around, his bright smile lighting up the whole room.

“Virgil!” he said happily, beaming. “G’morning, kiddo! How’re ya doin’?” His hands were covered in something white and powdery; it fluttered to the floor around him like snow as he flapped while he talked. Virgil shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I’m alive,” he said. “You?”

“I’m doin’ great!” he said. “Making a certain sweet surprise for someone I love berry much.” He winked, giggled, and turned back to whatever it was he was making. Virgil blinked, pushing away from the wall to go look over Patton’s shoulder, but before he could Patton turned around, holding a tray laden with small berries.

Virgil forgot how to breathe.

“I haven’t made these in forever,” Patton said, his grin warm and welcoming, “but I remembered how much you used to love ‘em, and I figured I’d whip a couple up to celebrate your growth! To let you seed how berry proud I am of you.”

“Oh,” Virgil managed, and he knew he should have said more, he knew he should do something, but he’d forgotten how to exist in the face of something he’d wanted, needed, for so so long. Sugared strawberries. Patton had made sugared strawberries — for him, Patton made sugared strawberries for him, and he knew he’d been accepted but it hadn’t hit him, really, until that moment. 

He had a family again.

“Kiddo?” Patton’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m — I’m good,” he said, and meant so much by it that he almost choked. “I mean — I’m —”

Shit shit shit — he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve and looked away, face burning. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes faster than he could wipe them away. Patton made a small noise of understanding and put the tray back on the counter, rushing forward to scoop Virgil into a hug.

And that was too much. The dam broke, and suddenly he was sobbing into Patton’s shoulder, even as every instinct in him screamed at him to stop, stop showing them how much it means to you, stop giving them power. Patton rubbed soft circles across his back and whispered comfort into his ear. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, softer than Virgil had ever heard him. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

Virgil heard Logan and Roman come into the kitchen and he clutched the back of Patton’s shirt harder, burying his face in his shoulder. He couldn’t — couldn’t face them, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t push away the burning hope eating through his lungs, try as he might. He had a family again. He had a family again. The thought refused to stop running through his mind, a mantra, neverending. He had a family again.

Eventually, finally, the tears slowed. He could breathe again. He pushed out of Patton’s embrace and swiped his sleeve across his face, cheeks burning bright red. “Sorry,” he managed, his voice gruff. “I’ll just — I’ll just go —”

“Oh no you don’t, Green Gay,” Roman said, blocking the doorway. “We’re having an emotional moment here!”

“Ew,” Logan and Virgil said in unison. 

“Kiddo, it’s okay,” Patton said gently, setting a sugary hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

“Right — yeah.” Virgil cleared his throat, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. He searched the room for something, anything to say to break the tension building in his chest. “You… you got sugar on my hoodie.”

Patton giggled. “Now it matches your sweet personality!”

“Lies and slander,” Virgil said. “I’m not sweet.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re covered in sugar.”

“That’s —” Virgil cut himself off, pressing his lips into a thin line to keep from smiling. “Yep.”

Roman slung an arm over his shoulder, squeezing him in a one-armed hug, and Patton grabbed the tray. “You want some?” he asked with a warm smile, as Roman reached over and grabbed a handful.

And Virgil took a breath and reached forward, gathering a pile of strawberries in his hand. He shoved them into his mouth and nearly burst into tears again at the taste — or, rather, at the memories it invoked, at the warmth that once again surrounded him, enveloped him, filled him. 

“No need to rush, kiddo!” Patton said with a laugh, as Virgil shoved more strawberries into his mouth. “They’re not going anywhere.”

And this time, Virgil knew they weren’t.

[thekpopgossip]

Mina and Jimin...

Former AOA member Mina dropped a bombshell on Instagram when she posted about being bullied by one of the members for 10 years, and cited her as reason for leaving the group. Fans quickly figured out who she was talking about, since Mina mentioned that the members father had recently passed away, and then Jimin posted the word “Fiction” on her Instagram, basically calling Mina a liar. She later deleted that post while Mina directly messaged her and said she wants an apology for all the things she has done to her. She even posted a picture of her self-injured wrist and doesn’t seem to be in a good state mentally. I hope she has some people around who can watch out for her, because we know someone with severe depression and suicidal thoughts needs a lot of love to slowly heal again. (If you are suffering from such things, please reach out to family/friends/teachers/emergency hotlines)

FNC Entertainment (Mina told them about the bullying) and the other members have not officially said anything yet. Some fans are now wondering whether Choa left for similar reasons as Mina, and whether other members and Seolhyun, who is best friends with Jimin, really didn’t know about what was going on for all these years. I’m sure Mina’s father passing away and FNC not letting her take a break also did a lot of damage. I hope Mina can heal from all of this and talking about it publicly will have a positive not negative effect on her. The following post from Mina is a lot to take, but she described a little of what she went through in those 10 years:

UPDATE:

Mina says all of the AOA members and managers visited her house and talked. Jimin apologized and Mina accepted the apology but said she will work hard and continue with treatment. She can’t forget the past 10 years in one day but won’t make a “fuss” over it in public again. Full translation (x).

FNC stated that Jimin has left AOA.

You (Jimin) must be finding it difficult to just come and apologize to me. Every time we got a new manager, you’d say that I was scary and just  pretending to be stupid. Why did you say I was scary and pretending to be stupid? You’d say I was acting stuck up just because I went to auditions and when I worked hard to diet so my face would look nicer, you’d say, “Mina, what’s wrong with your body? I hate seeing it. Gain some weight.” When we were trainees, you’d hit me and say it was because I was at the front. We’d have to say, “Did you have a good night’s rest?” “Yes, I’m sorry,” and “Thank you” in a formal tone to you.   Everything had to go your way, you could bring anyone you wanted to the dorms. It was so noisy that I went to the practice room to sleep. You’d say things like, “Hey, hasn’t so-and-so changed these days?” and go around targeting different members. Oh right, remember when I didn’t greet you first at the hair and makeup shop and I got an earful, or don’t you? That’s only the light stuff. There are so many things that were so much worse over 10 years. But thanks to you, I have nothing to lose and I’m not afraid of anything? Because my source of fear was you, your existence caused me stress. You couldn’t have seen that from my previous posts till now, right? It just became a part of my life and now, I’ve forgotten it all and all I’m left with is mental illness. Along with some harsh words.

Every time I wrote a will, I would include your name. I thought maybe when you read it one day, you’d feel guilty. I’d have stress-induced convulsions and collapse, I’d attempt to commit suicide and collapse, my mom would cry, and my sister is battling cancer, but they’d have to keep going to the emergency room because of me. I’ve never talked back to you, and have I ever done anything wrong from when we were trainees to when we debuted and promoted? If I did, tell me. Did you not like me because I wasn’t good at flattery? But I still did my best. Whether I was told off or not, I would smile and keep approaching you, putting aside my pride. I was amazed to hear that you were taking prescribed medication for your mental health and were having  a hard time. You said everything you wanted to say and did almost  everything you wanted to do, you were so selfish. I was so envious of  you. Of course, everyone has struggles but at least you were able to freely express that? I always had to push it down. I’m not in the right  state of mind right now. But the person who made me like this is you. The person who made my family suffer is you. I used to be strong  mentally. When I was a trainee, I’d say it was because you’re the leader and told myself to pity you. But it’s still the same after all these years. I couldn’t tell anyone that I was suffering because of you.

Things finally exploded when it came time to renew contracts and that’s when my family found out. Did my family ever say something to you? Even when their daughter was attempted to commit suicide because of someone, they never got angry. You were able to cry when you wanted to and you received so much comfort. I was worried you’d tell me off again so for 10 years.. How did I spend that time? By the end, I had almost 200  sleeping pills because of you. I collapsed and I have no memory of that. I wrote your name on an A4 piece of paper and told my mom that I was sorry, and that’s how I still live every day. I’m broken as much as I  can be broken. Because of me, my mom is also suffering from depression, did you know? You are the one person who makes me not want to live, I’m  serious, you’re the only reason. Even if you came and sincerely apologized to me, I’m already broken so I collapse, I suddenly start  crying, I take out a knife, I write ‘Shin Ji Min’ down on a piece of  paper. I’m so broken and I’m so full of anger that my heart aches and I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m sorry to my mom, dad, and sister.

Can’t  you at least tell me why you hate me? With everything you did to me, you can’t say that you didn’t hate me. I’m so upset. I feel upset whenever I open my eyes. I feel like I’m going crazy. It’s so difficult. When you were sitting in the front passenger seat and turn back to us, my heart  would start racing because I thought you’d say something to me. I want  an apology from you. What will that do? I don’t know. But I feel like I need to something because I’m so angry. There’s no reason for why you tormented me, is there? Shin Ji Min, huh? I wish you could feel what I feel for just one day, I wish I could go back in time and change one day with you. You’ve had a comfortable life. Say something. Let’s hear it.  What did you hate about me that much? Huh? I really hate you too. If it  wasn’t for you, what would I be like now? At least I probably wouldn’t be crying every day, having nightmares every day, and trying to attempt suicide, right? Because I did nothing to do, I honestly want to go  around talking about you and telling people that I have a mental illness because of you. That’s why I’m like this now, sad, isn’t it? It’s  finally boiling over after being pent up. I can’t hold it in anymore, I can’t hide it anymore.

I heard you took medication and fell asleep, must be nice. I’m dunking my head in my sink and trying to not cry. I can eat  more than ten sleeping pills and not fall asleep, amazing, isn’t it? I’ll stay up for days so I can sleep. Even if I slit my wrists and the  floor of our house is covered in blood, I zone out. I blankly think about when I’m going to die, and some people have come running to save me, right? Why does there have to be so many people who are suffering because of me? Are you sleeping well? As soon as I heard that, I got angry again, teared up, and filled with rage. I’m strange, so strange. Try living a life where you have to dunk your head in the sink all the  time. It sucks. You are such a bad person. You have to know that. I want  to sleep too. I want to get a proper night’s sleep too. Why does  everyone around me have to suffer because of you? Why did you make me  such a bad person? I want to stop worrying people. But I’m so angry, I’m  so upset, I feel like I’m going crazy. Stop sleeping and apologize. Wake up, let me stop feeling broken anymore. Wow, I’m so angry.

My dream probably won’t come true, right? But if you’re a  human being, you shouldn’t act like that. And FNC Entertainment, I told  them everything at the end. I was half out of my mind, I couldn’t even open my eyes properly, and I stuttered. I hadn’t fully recovered from  taking hundreds of sleeping pills but I told them it was because of Jimin and they wouldn’t listen to me. Who should I talk to? I shouldn’t get angry? I’m like this every day. I’ve been living like this every day and you just didn’t know because I didn’t talk about it. From when I was 21 years old [Korean age reckoning], I’ve been hiding my medicine bottles and secretly taking medication so I could hold on. I’ve lived like this. Shin Ji Min, because of you. Because of that person who is sleeping so well right now.

To all those who are suffering because of someone...Fight. Don’t hold it in. Or grab someone and tell them. Sleeping pills?  Don’t take them. It will never end. Don’t live like me. Don’t hold it  in. Do everything you want to do and express yourself. Please live like  that.

[fanfoolishness]

Rambling thoughts for Little Graduation/Prickly Pair

My heart can’t even handle it, you guys.  I just... I can’t.  *cries forever* Thoughts behind the jump for spoilers/length, and please feel free to yell at me or reblog with your own thoughts!

Steven is singing along to an old Sadie Killer song because it’s old and familiar

Really the only time we’ve seen him sing this season

Because his feelings are too muddled up and painful to dare put to song

So he sticks to others’ music instead, safer that way

OMG he adds a little “Hey” to “Teens by day” so cute

OMG he does a falsetto part to the first Sadie Killer and Suspects and then a goofy as FUCK deep voice for the second Sadie Killer and the Suspects

I just… Zach Callison’s voice work this season has been so good and it sounds like he’s having such a good time at the silly parts and he’s been so emotional on the rough parts, if he doesn’t get recognized for his work on the show by the end it’ll be criminal

This is gonna be the last time we really see Steven happy for a long time, isn’t it? And it’s so sad because it such a joy to see him that way again for a second, no eye bags, no stress. My heart.

Aww Sadie got a neck too!

YEAH STEVEN REALLY DID DIAMOND EYES FROM EXCITEMENT, not stars!!!

I’m sad for Lars and Sadie that their growth took them different places but I’m so proud of them too!!!

“Don’t you wanna try something new?”

“Well, hm.”

“Except for me! I’ll still be… right here.”

Steven is losing control of his floating powers. Tried to be cool guy floating around with his friends and failed. This is really concerning. The last time he couldn’t float well was way back in season 4. Stevennnnnnn….

Shep DOES seem so cool!

Look at Rebecca Sugar, they truly just be out there like “last season, what are they gonna do to me if I put non-binary humans in the show, that’s right, they won’t do jack SHIT” bwahaha

And it’s lovely that it’s just no biggie

Steven your ship didn’t sail, I’m sorry but you can’t write AUs for real people

Lars is more worried about the cake than about his ex

“Are YOU okay?”

Finally someone is asking and of course Steven is like”what? My problems are visible externally? WHAT problems???”

“Everyone but me…”

Buck got into medical school??? Holy shit, so he was in college before? Dang. Also his bedside manner will be soooooo weird and cool

Actually I can see him as one of the weird internal medicine doctors who’s super smart so you want them on your case but he only says the occasional weird thing like “your gallbladder is an illusion” or “your hormones are like, totally out of sync. Lemme fix that” or wow, I don’t even know, I may have to write a drabble of an intern just being wowed by how weird he is

Classic Steven would definitely buy a jacket for his phone

Awww Sadie you should have told him 😭😭😭

Lars watching Steven slow motion self-destruct like “oh god is this how I was”

“Ah, well… you should have asked me, I’m-I’m really good at naming bands…”

Jesus Christ Steven that sound was my heart breaking for you

What the fuck is Shep’s instrument? Anyone know?

Okay this is actually a really good graduation song and while Sadie Killer is still awesome I love that Sadie can also tap into more personal emotions for her work now, she’s just so good!

I know how Lars feels, sometimes those big events are just overwhelming

I love his leather jacket!

So uhhhh maybe Steven doesn’t control Diamond Mode as well as we had thought given the last few episodes

It’s really fascinating because it’s clear in the animation and voice work Steven’s struggling with so many feelings right now

He’s scared Lars and the others are slipping away

He’s ashamed he feels so aimless beside them

He’s angry that Lars isn’t listening and is going to leave him

He’s sad that everyone’s changing

The way Steven yells at Lars to stop is just so fucking desperate, his shaking fist, holy shit kid you do not do goodbyes well do you

Aaaaaaand that’s new. What the hell is it??? We’ve never seen this from any other gem or Diamond before. DAMMIT STEVEN THIS IS NOT HEALTHY

It shredded the stage and the banner 😭

Digging that scary as fuck musical motif

It has the Diamond mode machine noise in the background — that flickering humming power sound

Seriously Steven!!! How the hell would Lars’ feelings— so much denial

“When did this happen, I didn’t see any of this!”

I love that he touched on this, like of course people don’t have to live their private lives in front of you, dingbat! But so much of his life has been lived with the Gems who did display all their trauma and problems that he can’t help but feel he’s entitled to see how things work out

It’s also concerning because it suggests he is having some trouble viewing people as independent to him, as having their own agency

WHITE DIAMOND ANYONE

I love that Lars is so excited to be back in space with his friends!!

Oh man the way everyone stares at Steven like “bro, clearly you are the only magical pink person in the room”

Some really gorgeous frames of Steven’s face here, wish Apple TV let you cap them 😢

“I can’t help it if my dumb heart misses you guys” I’m CRYING FOREVER

AMAZING use of “squash and stretch” Disney animation theory here hahahaha

Lars and Steven hug gives me so much life waaaaaah

I still can’t get over how grownup that boy looks behind the wheel. I love his hand tapping on the wheel.

So pensive. Poor Steven.

And now Prickly Pair, if you thought your heart hurt before well lemme tell you what!

How much time has passed since Snow Day?

Dammit, I predicted in one of my fics that Steven would feel weird about gardening magically and want to do it all the old-fashioned way…

But I haven’t finished it, alas. And Steven is doing much better emotionally by that point in MY story thank you hahahaha

Also it’s Connverse and adorable

Okay really should work on it

Well, okay, Connie is a cute smart blue flower so at least Steven’s still thinking of her? I really wish she had been here but I guess she’s gonna have to save Steven from himself soon enough.

I’m now kind of uneasy about the idea of them dating… I really wanted them to get together but Steven isn’t healthy right now. He’s really messed up and kind of worse than I was even thinking with all my angsting. If they try to get together now Steven might be weird and controlling and secretive and that is not the Connverse I want! Maybe we’ll get something cute and sweet after Steven starts recovering and getting mentally healthier?

Because not to say you can’t be in a relationship and be mentally ill… but the low point of your illness is NOT a time to START a relationship, and if they’d really been dating this whole time I have to imagine we’d have heard about it. So my guess would be not dating, Steven was too busy to hang out a lot of the time, but still friends.

Dammit I really wanted cute date episodes and the big dance from Chille Tid 😭

DON’T NAME YOUR PLANTS AFTER PEOPLE

Garnet tried to warn him… I wonder how the cactus acted in other timelines.

Does Zach voice the cactus too?

Yep: confirmed, Zach is a cactus.

FINALLY we’re in Steven’s head and it’s an uncomfortable place to be

“I used to be helpful, but the Gems don’t need me anymore! Why do I need to be needed? Stevennnn, pull it together!!!”

And again with the head clutching and yeah it really seems like White’s pulling a Steven in the intro doesn’t it???

Oh god I assumed the cactus was going to be a monster because of repressed feelings manifesting in Steven’s spit but it’s so much more painful that it repeats after him and THAT’s what makes it upset waaaaaaah

Cactus Steven screaming why do I need to be needed!!!

The Gems are finally asking the right questions but Steven is so paranoid he can’t help but view them in the worst way

Steven venting about the gems hurts but he DID have to deal with them at their worst

Oh no, he went diamond mode on Cactus Steven!

The powering up noise diamond mode makes is so ominous, I love it

I can’t believe Steven didn’t almost lose an eye from his own shield right then and there

“Those are my real private thoughts! I can’t let them hear!”

Noooo his house!

Nooooo Steven the Gems can take listening to you a lot better than a magical cactus could, you’ve GOT to talk to someone or this will get SO. MUCH. WOrse.

Yeah. It’s gonna get so much worse. ;_;