#Sorry I’ve got illness in the mind right now and I thought of Jinx and Spinel while writing this

[mangysah]

It’s funny to me how people think their favorite insane characters from drastically different medias would just somehow get along because they’re both crazy in crossovers. Like no actually they (allegedly) wouldn’t. They’d join forces for a short while and be chaotically fun to be around, but then by the next time they meet they’d be hissing at each other like two stray cats.

[evelynnendless]

Drenched

Disclaimer : hint of semi-NSFW(?) ,  Also maybe a slight spoiler, don’t really know since I got spoiled from a stream! Just beware. You can replace Jinx with your name, it is a female but I do plan to make more that are both genders don’t worry! I wrote these stories mostly based on one or more characters already. 

“I swear if he makes up another shitty excuse I’m not going on a commission with him ever.” Jinx cursed as she brushed her wet hair out her face. “Miss, we should head back before you fall ill.” Warwick advised as she laughed softly. “ Fine, thank you for your assistance today. Rest well.” Jinx said before dismissing him before she felt her chest tighten. She coughed harshly as she felt her forehead, “Fucking asshole, I swear he cancels 95% of the things last minute.” As Jinx teleported back to Liyue, she was looking around making her way to the place. The Fatui members looked at her, “ Look I’m not in the mood to argue today. If you don’t mind me coming in to drop these commissions, Childe was supposed to do it with me.” They loosen up before one opened the door for her. The girl at the desk looked over to her, “ Oh Childe is-“ “ Please I don’t care about his whereabouts now, I finished these for him since he abandoned me.” Jinx said as she coughed into her hands after giving the papers. “Miss, are you sure you are okay??” The girl went around as she held her shoulder. Another member came to check as he felt her forehead, “She's burning, go get her into a room near Childe. I’ll go get a doctor.” 

They helped her up and into a room as the female help her get changed into warmer clothes . “ I’ll take care of your clothes and get the doctor.” Jinx nodded as she was breathing heavily from the heat. ‘Why were they helping me…’ She thought as she passed out. 

Childe was coming back as he shook the water out his hair, “ Ah, I swear I had to collect debt and deal with so much more. I wonder if she got back safely .” He talked to himself looking out the window. The doctor was coming downstairs as Childe raised an eyebrow, “ Excuse me sir is someone hurt ?” He asked as the doctor was getting his umbrella. “ Oh no, someone got sick from the rain so I just gave her some medicine and instructions to stay in bed.” The doctor said as Childe’s eyes widen realizing before thanking him rushing up the stairs. “She’s resting, keep it down okay?” The girl said getting up before she walked out the room. Childe looked at Jinx laying in bed as she was cuddled up into a pillow. His heart stung a bit knowing she was only sick because of him, he walked over quietly as he felt her forehead when he changed the towel. “I’m sorry.” Childe whispered as he sat down looking at her resting figure only hearing her breathing and occasionally coughing. He frowned looking at the time, “I’ll be back,” he said petting her head softly before leaving to shower and eat dinner. 

Jinx woke up to someone shaking her softly sitting up, “ Thank you…” she said in a weak voice. “ You can leave, I’ll take care of her.” Childe announced as the girl nodded before excusing herself. The door shut as Jinx kept eating her soup slowly, “ Look I’m sorry I left you again,” “Can we talk about this when my voice is actually working?” Jinx croaked out as she drank her warm tea after. Childe looked disappointed before nodding, “ Just .. Just listen okay?” He asked sitting down on the end of the bed. Jinx didn’t reply but he took it as a chance to explain himself. “I know it’s a shit excuse but I've been trying to handle everything going on. So that my brother doesn’t have to come here, we don’t want him to not see me when he’s here. To get a chance to spend time with him and pay attention to him. I am sorry letting you handle everything by yourself for the past week, now you’re sick.” Childe explained as he brushed her hair back. “I’m really sorry.” He whispered as Jinx placed her tray on the nightstand. “It’s … it’s fine , I guess I understand. At least tell me prior, I was going to cuss you out the second I saw you today.” Jinx said as he chuckled looking at her weak state. “Don’t tell me you’re about to cry seeing me like this, you big baby. What happened to the fighter I met when we had our battle?” Jinx giggled softly seeing him hold her hands kissing them softly and holding them there. “Come here you must be tired.” She whispered as her throat hurt pulling him into her arms laying down. Childe laid on her chest as he wrapped his arms around her tightly after getting under the sheets, “Not as much as you are, I’ll take care of you.” He whispered as she nodded playing with his hair. “Mm, I know. Let’s just sleep for now…” Jinx whispered as they fell asleep like that. 

-A week later-

Jinx was getting ready at Childe’s place, “I can’t believe that idiot lost my clothes..” she muttered as she took the outfit that the girl gave her. She took a look in the mirror as she fixed her hair tying it up before walking out. There were some glances that she noticed but kept walking towards the harbor to meet with Childe to help gather some things, ‘Wonder what he needed today…’ Childe was waiting for her as he told some of the members to start gathering already. His eyes caught the black-hair styled into a ponytail as he waved, “ Darling! I was wondering if you were going to bail one me to..” He paused in awe at what she was wearing. “Don’t ask and also I wouldn’t do that since I get my shit done.” Jinx said, walking past him as he caught her arm pulling her back into him. Childe leaned down into her ear, “What are you trying to pull, sweetheart? From what I can tell these used to be my old clothes before they shrank” he whispered as Jinx blushed turning her head away. “She lost my clothes so she gave me these, would you let go we have things to do…” she muttered. Childe laughed as he stood back up keeping his arm around her waist, “We sure do, but …” He leaned back down. 

“You’ll be staying with me after this right?”

[writing-fool]

mlqc | special kind of sadness

I’ve been having strange dreams lately. Maybe it’s because of the quarantine, or maybe because of my messed up sleep schedule. I don’t actually have severe nightmares, but somehow an idea for Victor + nightmares came up. It was going to be very short, so I included other types of comforting scenarios. Ahh...besides that, you might have noticed my url is writing-fool, right? It’s actually based off of a Korean song called Swimming Fool. But I think it fits with MLQC too, what with Lucien calling us ‘his little fool’ sometimes~ What a happy coincidence...

Love,

R.

Warning(s): TW! Lucien’s scenario includes a panic attack. 

Victor

You’re all about showing the world that you’re a grown woman with big girl pants on. You’re especially keen on proving to Victor that you can handle yourself, thank you very much. Even though he’s supposed to be your soft, loving boyfriend, he seems to grow stricter the longer you’re together.

“Really? You’re not capable of being a producer if you can’t even get these reports done.” Ouch. Your life doesn’t seem to be getting easier anytime soon.

So...you chalk it up as a grave, grave moment of weakness when you instinctively call his number at three in the morning, after waking up in a cold sweat. By the second ring, you regret your rash decision. What if he’s asleep? What if he thinks I’m some kind of weak child?

By the third, he answers.

“What. Why are you still awake?” His voice sounds as strict as ever. ‘Why are you still awake?’ is a question you would’ve asked if you were in a clearer mindset. Alas, this situation allows little clarity.

You decide against hanging up. I’m bothering him already, might as well apologise. “I-I must’ve misdialled. Sorry to bother you,” you mumble. You hate how your hoarse voice and ragged breaths betray the sobs that have barely subsided.

“...I’m coming over,” is all Victor says before abruptly hanging up.

It’s a twenty minute drive from his luxurious penthouse to your apartment, but you know he’ll make it in fifteen. Running to the bathroom, you try to fix your appearance to make you look more like a successful producer, and less like a woman gone mad. But while your hair can be combed down and your tears can be wiped away, nothing works against your bloodshot eyes, shaking hands and pale complexion.

The doorbell rings, and you’re in full panic mode. You really don’t want him to see you like this. But without him, you’re probably not sleeping tonight. Also, he’s here already. Wiping your sweaty palms on your pyjama pants one last time, you open the front door.

Even when he has his sleeves rolled up, shirt partly unbuttoned and hair mussed from running his hands through it, Victor is handsome. But today, you can’t bare to look at him. Your apartment floor suddenly seems incredibly interesting.

A small gesture encourages his entrance. The door is barely closed again, and he’s already got his arms wrapped around you, your face pressed against his chest. The warmth of his hug and his rapidly beating heart open the floodgates again, and while your boyfriend strokes your hair, you sob your fears out on his black dress shirt.

Later, when you’re both huddled in your queen-sized bed, he asks you why you didn’t tell him about the nightmare right away. “I thought you’d think I’m pathetic or something. You’re always so strict.” You look up at him, mouth formed into a small pout.

For a moment, he’s dumbfounded. Maybe he never considered the idea? Victor hesitates, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I’ll be more considerate from now on.”

And as Victor rubs your shoulder, legs intertwined with yours, you doze off under the cloudy night sky. But not before hearing his sweet whispers. “Lean on me more, next time. I’ll always be by your side.”

Lucien (TW: panic attack, minor mentions of death)

Disclaimer: I know this could be taken wrongly. I have no intention to romanticise mental illness. It isn’t something that makes you broken, nor is it a ‘fun’ or ‘special’ thing. The story is partially taken from my experience, so I know how this feels. I wrote this as a way to bring awareness in a light manner, and to show that sometimes, panic attacks can be alleviated with someone around. I hope it brings comfort to those who wish they had someone in moments like these.

Listening to Lucien’s lectures tends to transport you back to the time when you were still a university student. Ah, it is a nostalgic feeling. A part of you misses being in school; going out with friends, listening to the teachers drone on about various subjects, eating in the school’s cafeteria.

But if there’s one thing you don’t miss, it’s the immeasurable amounts of stress. So why is that the thing I’m reliving right now?

As a young adult, you struggled with anxiety and spontaneous panic attacks, rendering you vulnerable to a work overload. You’d think it’d gotten better, especially since you have to deal with a lot of projects as a head producer nowadays. However, it seems as though old habits do die hard...This week has been particularly taxing—emotionally, what with your father’s death anniversary, and mentally; an important and popular show just got compromised by one of the actors’ companies. All that, and the prospect of an even tighter schedule during Christmas season has sent you into a full-blown panic attack. 

Your initial plan was to just...ride this one out. That’s what you always did as a child. In an hour or two, your hands will stop cramping, your tears will stop falling, your breathing will return to normal, right? But it seems fate, and Lucien, disagree. I forgot I gave him the key to my apartment.

Lucien senses something is wrong when you don’t come out to greet him by the door. 

“My love? Are you alright?” he yells out. Hearing little besides your irregular breathing, he kicks his shoes off, speeding towards the living area. You’re sat on the white sofa, knees to your chest, shoulders heaving and thick tears streaming down your face. 

Lucien’s brows furrow in deep concern as he kneels down by your form. Even though he’s right in front of you, your eyes do not meet his. You’ve gone too deep in your own shell to even be able to acknowledge his presence. A tentative hand removes one of yours from its tight grasp on your other arm, and Lucien lets out a sigh of relief as he feels your hand clutch his. He takes it as a sign to lift you fully into his arms, and takes a seat on the sofa.

“Breathe. In,” he mimicks a deep inhale, “and out.” Lucien blows out, repeating the motion a couple more times. He rubs your back and your hands, constantly alternating between helping you breathe and gently uttering soothing phrases. 

“Easy, I’m here with you. Do you feel my heartbeat?” When your hands have finally relaxed out of their cramped up form, he presses one of them against his chest. The slow, rhythmic thumping grounds you. Lucien. A stiff nod from you makes a soft, wry smile appear on his face. “Good girl. You’re getting there, my dear. Just stay with me, here. You’re doing great.”

You don’t know how much longer you stay like that. All you know is that he stays with you through the entire attack. Hours later, you two are having a steaming cup of tea at the dinner table. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t want you to worry,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Don’t be ashamed of yourself,” Lucien’s violet eyes bore deep into yours, “Besides, how could I not worry when someone so dear is having a hard time?”

You shrug, a defeated look on your face. Your fingers fidget with the wood of the dinner table, until Lucien swiftly takes your hand in his again. 

He sighs. “Take tomorrow off. I’ll take care of you.” Even though his tone is soft, Lucien leaves no space for argument. You know you should agree. There’s no way you could function properly if you were to go to work tomorrow.

“...Thank you.”

Lucien brings your hand to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses on your knuckles. “No thanks needed. You can be greedier with me.”

Gavin

There’s perhaps no person in the world who enjoys rejection. Sure, there may be those who bounce back quickly, those who see rejection as a new opportunity. But rejection, failure in itself, doesn’t evoke positive feelings. 

As the producer of Miracle Finder, you’ve gotten used to rejection; it was hard to get the show back on track during the first year or so. Maybe you were arrogant, thinking it’d get better, or less painful, the more often you got rejected. 

Things did get better, and last week you were even offered a deal with Loveland TV for a second weekly show. The company had seen the success Miracle Finder had, and had offered you the chance to come up with something wholly original. Something...you. That night, a mere week ago, you took the girls out for dinner and drinks. You were on cloud nine that day. In hindsight, maybe it was karma. Maybe I jinxed it. Cheered too soon, and all that. 

This morning, you got a devastating e-mail that stated, in polite (but somehow still rude) terms, that your new show would not be broadcasted. The relaxed mood at the office rapidly turned somber once you mentioned the unfortunate decision. Your employees decided to give you some space afterwards. Not being able to stand the sadness, and feeling somewhat bad for them, you sent everyone, yes, including Anna, home early.

By three p.m., you’re the only one left at the office. You sit at your desk, head in your hands. I know it isn’t the end of the world...but right now, it almost feels like it is. With a deep sigh, you push yourself up, heading to the small kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. Maybe you’ll have a biscuit too. Anything to cheer yourself up. 

Your mind automatically goes to Gavin, and without thinking it over too much, you dial his number. After a couple of rings, your call goes to voicemail. Stupid. He’s probably working. I’ll just leave a message.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I-uh, the thing I mentioned last week? The new show deal with Loveland TV? Yeah, that’s not happening,” your voice cracks halfway through the last sentence as you try to push down the disappointment that bleeds through, “I’m staying late today. Need some time to-to process things. I’ll be fine. Love you, hope you’re safe.” 

Time passes agonisingly slowly, so slowly you might as well think Victor’s behind it, while you dive into a mountain of work. It distracts you from today’s events. but the lingering sadness is still present in the back of your mind. 

Around eight, you start cleaning up your desk, shutting down your computer and gathering the papers. A knock on the window catches your attention as you’re about to head out. You turn around, noticing a tall figure on the balcony outside. Gavin! You hastily run back, opening the sliding door for Gavin to enter.

“Hi,” That’s the most awkward thing you could say. “I didn’t know you would come. Did you hear my message? You really didn’t have to...” you trail off when Gavin wordlessly opens his arms to you. His golden eyes look anywhere but you, and a slight blush is visible in the dark room, only illuminated by the bright lights outside. 

You gingerly step into his arms at first, clutching the back of his signature denim jacket tighter as time goes on. A couple of stray tears that you’re not able to hold back create wet splotches on his shirt. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the soft fabric.

“No biggie. Are you feeling alright?” he asks you. A non-committal shrug is all you respond with. “I know it was a big project for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what to do now.” 

Gavin bends down a little, kissing the crown of your head. “You move on, and you don’t give up.”

You fall into comfortable silence. Gavin’s thumb rubs up and down your waist, soothing you. “...Have you ever been rejected?” you suddenly ask him.

Gavin chuckles. “Sure I have. I got rejected by my very first love.”

You raise your head to look up at him. Gavin sees his own reflection in your large, teary eyes, and smiles. “And what happened then?” you ask, your voice lightly tinged with jealousy. Who was his first love?

“Well, she’s in my arms now, isn’t she?” Even though he’s embarrassed to say the words, Gavin forces himself to look at you. At those eyes that shine with love for the world, for him. 

Bonus:

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” you pull out of the embrace to get your coat by the coat hanger, opening the door to head out again, like a normal person.

“How? You didn’t come here by bike, did you?”

Gavin’s already facing the window again, but he turns back with a smirk, holding his hand out to you. “I never said we were going by bike.”

“Gavin, no, babe, no, no, nonononononono—Aah!!” Your protests are cut short as Gavin swoops you into his arms bridal style and flies off. The wind rushes past your ears, almost making you miss Gavin’s gleeful laugh. “Gavin! I didn’t lock the doors!”

Kiro

On many occasions, you’re envious of Kiro’s Evol. But even without his Evol, Kiro is so bubbly and kind, you can’t help but like him. You sincerely wish you had that ability. And I know I’m supposed to make my own wishes come true, but I can only do so much to make people like me. I’m not going to bend over backwards and become a pushover just to be liked.

Still, it hurts when people are purposely mean to you. Especially during high school reunions. You were by no means a popular kid growing up...but you didn’t think that some people would still be stuck in a high school mentality. You held your own during the reunion, ignoring the backhanded compliments and blatantly condescending insults in favour of catching up with your old friends. Yet, all you can think of on the drive home are the negative comments.

“Oh, you still can’t drink alcohol? Seems like ‘someone’ hasn’t grown up yet!”

“You’re the producer of Miracle Finder? I hate that show, it’s so unrealistic.”

“Isn’t that a kids’ show?”

“My, you look adorable! My daughter also likes to wear those types of clothes, you know, to go play at the park.”

I can’t believe I missed game night with Kiro for this. With a terrible mood, you shuffle into the house. Kiro’s on the sofa playing A Chinese Ghost Story, a bag of chips on the coffee table in front of him. He turns to greet you with a smile, but it quickly falls after seeing your somber expression. 

“Welcome home Miss Ch—eh? What’s wrong?” Kiro takes his headphones off to stand up in front of you. His hands instinctively move to your waist to pull you close.

“How was the gathering?” he asks carefully. His eyes are big, just like a puppy’s. Had you felt better, you would’ve commented on his cute appearance. 

It’s as if that question flips a switch. “It was horrible!” you sniffle.

“Wha—Miss Chips!” Kiro grows panicked at your sniffles and sobs, and roughly pulls you to his chest. You retaliate by hugging him tightly, crying all your frustrations out on his shoulder.

Somehow, you move into a cuddling position on the living room sofa. You straddle his slender legs and his arms are wrapped around your torso, rubbing comforting circles on your back. Pulling away from his embrace, you start ranting about the terrible evening.

“...and I don’t even know why I’m this upset! It’s so frustrating. I’ve worked so hard to become who I am today, and the moment someone says something to me, I just break down. Maybe I am a child,” you look up at Kiro, eyes wide and brimming with tears, “Kiro, am I a child to you?”

Kiro chuckles. “Well, Miss Chips...sometimes you can be childish,” you jut your lip out in a pout, “b-but I’m childish too! And there’s nothing wrong with that. Some people want to grow up too fast, so they drink alcohol and dress up in dark colours and stiff fabrics to feel properly imprisoned in the ‘harsh adult world’. But most of us could be happier if we just...let our inner child out.”

He cups your cheek. “Never be ashamed of being childish, Miss Chips. It doesn’t make you a child,” a mischievous grin appears on Kiro’s youthful face, “Besides, I wouldn’t do this if I thought of you as a child!” 

With the hand on your cheek, Kiro draws your face closer to his. Your lips meet in a swift kiss that takes you by surprise. He swallows the startled gasp that escapes your mouth, retaliating by slowly swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You can feel him smile into the kiss as you lean into it, closing your eyes. Your tears are long forgotten as you tangle your hands in Kiro’s blond locks. Slowly, you part your lips, allowing Kiro’s tongue to slip into your mouth. The teasing flicks of his tongue make you go weak, and he chuckles when your grip on his hair loosens. 

Kiro notices you’re growing light-headed, so he gives you time to regain your breath while he peppers little kisses on the corners of your mouth and on your swollen lips. You kissing demon. 

His satisfied hum is disrupted by a vicious punch to the chest. “Ah! Miss Chips, why would you hit me?” It’s Kiro’s time to pout now.

“Who told you to do that?! You’re so sly, it’s unfair!” you scold him, cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Yes, yes,” he pets your head, “but it helped, right? You’re not upset anymore, right?”

Your face scrunches up. “I guess not...I’m still mad at you for surprising me like that,” Kiro giggles, “But thanks.” His smile is contagious, and soon you’re both in a giggling fit.

When the giggles have subsided, Kiro pushes you back into his chest. As he snuggles into your shoulder, he whispers in your ear. “Don’t worry. Every time you feel sad, I’ll be there to cheer you up.”

I’m not saying dark clothes are bad! I have a black wardrobe myself...but we all need to remember that we don’t need to be so hard on ourselves sometimes. 

For some reason I’ve never properly depicted kissing like that in my writing. Ehhh, forgive me if it’s bad. Little note...do you guys know what Chinese drama ‘A Chinese Ghost Story’ is featured in?

[ener-chi]

Update time.

I’m finally done with school! Mann what a crazy term it has been. This has by far been the most difficult semester of my life; work, friend moving, allergies, illness due to the vaccine, depression, and the retrograde made it difficult. Not to mention all of the astral hi-jinx that I’ve been up to at the same time.

It’s over; but something else has been happening. About a week and a half ago, right as finals were coming to a close, I felt a major shift coming on very suddenly.

Once I began down my Path, my everyday mindfulness grew as I started meditating. Even if I would only meditate occasionally, my mindfulness was there throughout the day, for the most part. That is another part of the long-term effects of meditation; this daily mindfulness is where the benefits come from.

Anyways, for whatever reason, the past like month or so, my mindfulness has increased dramatically. At first my anxiety spiked because of it - being aware of the discomfort that I would feel, etc. But now... I just. I don’t really know how to put it into words. I am extremely mindful - more than I’ve ever been. And I’m not really sure why. I haven’t been meditating - I haven’t had the time with everything going on. And yet... here I am.

The other thing that has happened is a dramatic shift in my energy, as well as my view. Over the course of like... 4 days, I suddenly found myself feeling like I was in a COMPLETELY different place. Like... my world that I was in, my desires and habits, and the energy around me - completely shifted.

I also have found myself suddenly completely engulfed in Buddhist thought. That is the other big thing. Buddhism primarily deals with suffering, and its’ sources. There is a lot to talk about with this, but in a major nutshell, there are three major sources of suffering: Outright Suffering (pain, illness, etc), All-Pervasive Suffering (like existential suffering), and Suffering caused by Change.

There is also something called the Eight Worldly Concerns - things that cause us suffering. They come in pairs, and are as follows:

Hope for pleasure/Fear of Pain

Hope for praise/Fear of Blame

Hope for gain/Fear of loss

Hope for fame/Fear of insignificance

For whatever reason, these have finally “clicked” with me. Due to my increased mindfulness, I’ve been astounded to find just how much of this I do. For example, I find discomfort in myself - whether it be due to stress, tiredness, anxiety, or even just a general feeling of malaise - and I’m averse to it. Just like the worldly concern; and I do SO MUCH to try and get rid of this discomfort... whether it be trying to address it itself, or through escapism through like TV or video games, or even seeking out pleasure to cover it up - none of which really work, temporary fixes that leave me grasping more than before, instead of just accepting and sitting with the feeling.

This is just one example; but it’s been soo interesting seeing all of this about myself, seeing this suffering, and understanding the source of it. But I’ve also been seeing it everywhere around me as well; it underlies pretty much everything in this world. It doesn’t help that (at least here in the West) our capitalist society lends to and even takes advantage of some of these sources and ideals, making it the standard to consume, buy things, have a high-status with money, etc.

This has caused some change in me and my behavior for sure. After all - I’m becoming aware of the sources of my own suffering; it would be kind of silly of me if I continued to do things that I knew caused me suffering. I’ve been feeling a very strong desire for change - at a soul level.

I’ve been getting rid of things that are excess that I don’t need; I happen to be moving to a new apartment in a few weeks, which is providing me the perfect opportunity to do this. My hobbies have completely changed. I no longer want to participate in hobbies that are more a means of pleasure-seeking and escapism. There are a bunch, but the most notable one that I’m purging is video games. I actually found myself laughing; when it comes to like competitive online games, I am literally coping with suffering by escaping into something that causes more direct suffering xD

I also have been really feeling the need to like... withdraw,,, from society a bit. Spend more time by myself, meditating, pursuing my Path. This is why I went and cleaned up my Tumblr dash earlier - there were lots of inactive blogs that I followed it turns out, but for the most part it was because I wanted to change the content of my dash. I’m tired of mindlessly scrolling and consuming; I got rid of my Instagram for the same reasons. So you can expect to see more spiritual and personal stuff on my dash now ((:

If I’m being honest, this definitely blind-sided me. When I was thinking of this summer and how it was going to go, I definitely never could’ve imagined that this is the direction that my Path was going to take. But I’m grateful. My understanding has increased immensely, and the changes that I’ve been making have resonated with me on the deepest level; so I know that I’m doing the right thing. I already feel much lighter than I did two weeks ago.

Anyways, sorry for the long post! But I wanted to share the most recent development of my Path, as well as my thoughts and observations on things. There will be more to follow, certainly.

That’s it for now. I hope that everyone has a wonderful evening!

Blessings!

[missjanjie]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered | (2/?)

Title: Signed, Sealed, Delivered Summary:   Jan is in love with her French pen pal, Nicky. Her roommate, Crystal, is in love with her best friend, Gigi. A (perhaps ill-thought out) plan emerges: give Nicky a reason to visit by inviting her to Crystal and Gigi’s wedding. With a month to pull the scheme together, no one knows how this will end up. Word Count: 2.9k (this chapter) / 5.8k (total) Relationship(s): Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode Rating: T (so far)

Read on AO3

and thanks to @janssports for beta-ing~

-

Crystal had spent two days trying to figure out how to explain this new situation to Gigi. She considered testing the waters by joking about it, then thought maybe she should just rip the Band-Aid off and tell her outright. But any train of thought drove her right into a wall. And Jan wasn’t much help either.

“Maybe you could text her,” Jan had mused offhandedly. She was trying to help as much as she could – her suggestion was made while she was sitting in front of her laptop researching what actually went into planning a wedding, method acting, if you will. They were committed to this lie now, it seemed like there was no choice but to go all in.

“Text her?!” Crystal’s eyes were wide, she couldn’t possibly be serious. “I can’t just be like, ‘Hey Geege, Jan told Nicky we’re getting married lol T-T-Y-L and hope for the best.”

“Well, obviously not that, no one says T-T-Y-L anymore.”

“Jan!”

Jan sighed, spinning her desk chair around to face her. “I’m sorry, but I already have a lot of ground to cover. Telling Gigi is your job.”

Crystal threw her head back and whined. “But I don’t wanna.”

“Would you rather I do it?”

She quickly put her hands up in surrender. “No, no, I got it,” she assured. “She’s still at the studio, I’ll just… go there and tell her when she’s finished. I’ll call you if I need backup.”

“Get it done, sis.” Jan hummed before turning back to the screen, mumbling under her breath about how unreasonably expensive wedding bouquets are. “They’re flowers. Why would you pay that much for fucking flowers?”

And Crystal had hoped the walk she took from there to the studio would help her build her nerve, but she was hit with a new wave of anxiety the moment Gigi saw her.

Gigi waved her over, not straying from her work station. “I’ll be about another fifteen minutes or so, but you can just hang out if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Oh, yeah, no that’s fine,” she assured, sitting at one of the empty stations. On a normal day, she would enjoy watching Gigi at work. There was something almost magical about watching someone create art they were passionate about that Crystal found absolutely entrancing. Plus, it was Gigi – she could watch her read the phone book.

“So, what’s up with you?” Gigi asked casually, holding up two different types of lace against white fabric.

Crystal wasn’t sure what she opened her mouth to say, but she ended up blurting out, “We need to pretend to be getting married when Nicky comes here to visit Jan.”

That stopped Gigi in her tracks. She set the lace down and turned to face her friend. “I’m sorry, what?”

Crystal took a deep breath, feeling almost relieved that she had ripped the bandage off, but still worried that she wouldn’t be able to explain herself in a way that would actually get the other girl on board with this charade. “So… here’s the thing. Jan obviously really wants to see Nicky in person, but they haven’t been able to commit to a plan. So I, being the super smart person I am, suggested she tell her there’s an event coming up that she should fly out for. And… long story short that event is our wedding and now we’re along for the ride.”

Gigi blinked, taking the time to digest the information she received. “What the fuck, Crystal?” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Well, when’s the ‘wedding?’”

“In like, a month. Maybe two.”

With her lips still in a fine line, Gigi let out a strangled noise of frustration. “In a month or two,” she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “You know what? Fuck it, let’s do what we have to do.”

Crystal felt a massive weight lift from her chest and she exhaled deeply. “Really?”

“I mean, I’m never gonna let you hear the end of it, but yeah. Sure. Why not?” She shrugged. Glancing over at her dress, she decided she’d done enough work for the day. “I guess we better reconvene with Jan then.”

As she pushed herself back to her feet, Crystal still felt a little lightheaded. Sure, she was thanking every possible deity that Gigi was on board with this half-baked scheme, but now she would have far fewer chances to suppress and ignore her feelings. “Yeah, she’ll definitely appreciate that.”

When they did return to the apartment, Jan was still on her laptop in her room, deeply immersed in her research. It took Crystal and Gigi getting right in front of her for her to even become aware of her presence. “Oh, hey guys,” she greeted, setting her laptop next to her on the bed before looking at Crystal. “Did you tell her?”

“Very subtle, Jan,” Crystal retorted flatly. “But yes, I told her.”

“When did you tell Nicky to come here?” Gigi asked.

Jan shrugged. “I didn’t give a specific date yet. So, you know, work that out amongst yourselves. Also, you guys should get registered at some stores. At least that way if someone stumbles upon it, you could get like… a toaster or something.”

“I do love toast,” Gigi mused. “But I wanna know just how far we’re taking this. Like, are Crystal and I gonna pretend to get married? Do we break up? Or are you gonna wait til after you get Nicky in bed with you and then tell her the truth?”

“I… haven’t actually gotten that far yet,” she admitted. “I don’t think we should stage a fake wedding, though. Because then you guys are just gonna have to keep up the act indefinitely or get a fake divorce. We’ll work it out as we keep going.”

Crystal leaned against Jan’s desk, finally coming to terms with the fact that the three of them were definitely not backing out of this, that there was no chance of just scrapping the plan and calling it a day. “So other than that, what do we need to do?”

Jan picked her laptop back up. “We need to make a couple of invitations, I figure we could just get one or two free samples, just to send one to Nicky and keep one for our own records. Crystal needs to rent or borrow a dress, and we should probably go through the motions of planning a wedding without like, going fifty thousand dollars in debt.”

“Rings!” Gigi suddenly exclaimed. “What are we gonna do about rings? That’s a pretty fucking important part of being engaged.”

Crystal and Jan looked at each other, both of them searching for an answer, but there was the slightest bit of amusement in their expressions when it became clear that Gigi was now taking this as seriously as they were. “I’m sure we could get some convincing fake ones online. It’s not like she’s a professional jewelry appraiser,” Jan suggested.

“I’m not wearing something that’ll turn my finger green,” Gigi warned with a grave deadpan. “I’ll see if my mom has anything we can borrow. She has a collection of vintage and like, random, unique jewelry. I’m sure she’ll let me temporarily poach something off of her.”

Jan arched her brow. “So you’re gonna rope her into this too? Or are you gonna give her some other excuse?”

That gave Gigi pause, and she realized she was either going to bring another person into the party or dig all of them into a deeper hole. “I should probably just tell her,” she decided, the other two girls nodding in agreement.

“I would really like to watch this conversation take place,” Crystal piped up.

“Well, why don’t you guys do that? I’ve got a call with Nicky in ten,” Jan chimed in, looking at her phone.

“Well, far be it for us to interrupt your sexy Skype session,” Gigi retorted with a soft laugh. “Come, Crystal,” she curled her finger, and the two of them left Jan to her own devices.

Jan waved them off before getting up to fix her hair and makeup in the mirror, then moved her laptop to her desk so she could look at the screen dead-on. When she saw Nicky calling, she beamed brightly as she answered it. “Well damn, what sort of runway are you dressed up for?”

Nicky laughed and looked down. Her hair was styled up in a bouffant and the normally straight locks were in gentle waves. Her makeup – which Jan knew she did herself – was immaculate beyond reproach. “Don’t jinx it, I had my friend take some headshots for my portfolio today. So, fingers crossed there are runways in the future.”

“It’s basically a given, I can just tell,” Jan grinned, her elbows propped on her desk and face in her hands. The look in her eyes was full to the brim with enamored adoration; even she was surprised that Nicky hadn’t picked up on her feelings. “And then I’ll get to say I knew you way back when.”

“Bitch please,” she scoffed. “If I ever get famous, you know I’m flying your ass out here first class. It wouldn’t be fun without my sweet Janice by my side.”

She blushed, her hands moving from her face to stroke her ponytail. Hearing Nicky call her ‘hers’ in any capacity had her heart ready to leap right out of her chest. It was times like that that made her wonder if it would’ve been that crazy for her to profess her feelings, if she was building all of this fear and anxiety over owning her feelings for nothing. It sometimes felt like a declaration of love was dancing on the tip of her tongue, threatening to slip past her lips.

But nothing was ever enough to get her over that hurdle. Her stubborn fear of rejection outweighed even common sense. So, instead, she kept it sweet and vague. “Well, you know I’ll always be there whether you like it or not.”

“I’m offended you think there’s a chance I wouldn’t.” Nicky scoffed playfully. “Anyway, what have you been up to today?”

“Oh, just… helping the girls with planning and stuff.” It was technically true, so she counted it as one less lie she was telling her. She found that the easiest thing to do was to just keep the focus off herself until she felt more confident in this charade. “It’s just boring details really. Have you been working on learning any songs lately?”

Nicky shook her head. “Actually, I was hoping to convince you to sing for me,” she cooed, batting her lashes in an over-exaggerated manner.

It was a look that Jan was an undeniable sucker for that look, and she was certain that Nicky had figured out that much. “I suppose I could do that. Any requests?”

Nicky tilted her head, taking a moment to think. “Can you do that one from Grease? The magic one?”

Jan giggled softly, knowing she meant ‘Those Magic Changes.’ The song had been buried in her repertoire for ages until she’d stumbled upon a clip of her performing it in her freshman year of college. She’d sent it to Nicky, just thinking it’d be a cute throwback of sorts, but her penpal absolutely loved it, and brought it up every time she could. She didn’t quite get it, but she was thrilled that there was something she could do that would make her so happy. “For you? Of course.”

Once Jan found the karaoke version of the song on her phone, she played it and sang along, serenading Nicky as she’d done a number of times. While it was night time in France, it was still late afternoon for her, so she wasn’t concerned about the volume. Though, even if it had been later, she probably would have risked it – it just wouldn’t be the same if she used her ‘neighbor friendly’ voice.

Nicky applauded cheerfully when Jan finished. Her eyes were bright and warm with the enthusiasm of a child who just heard their favorite bedtime story despite getting it every night. It simply never got old for her. “You’re going to have to sing me to sleep every night once we’re in the same time zone,” she mused.

“You know I will,” Jan smiled softly, her mind conjuring up the image of the two of them laying in bed together, cuddled up close after a long day. Nicky would hold her in her arms while she sang to her, then fall asleep in her embrace, knowing she would sleep soundly because she got to wake up in her arms. She already knew what she smelled like, thanks to her scented letters, and longed to be able to wake up to it lingering on her skin instead of soaked into paper, she just yearned for the day where none of her senses were deprived of the other girl.

“You’re so good to me,” she cooed.

“That’s right, now I’m going to remind you to take that makeup off.” She chuckled. “It’s like, a quarter to eleven where you are, I don’t want you falling asleep with all that on.”

Nicky snorted softly. “There it is.” She rolled her eyes fondly, then reached across her desk. “I came prepared for this,” she explained, holding up a pack of makeup wipes. And, just to assure her she was actually following through, she took a wipe out and began cleaning off her face.

Jan grinned triumphantly. “See? I knew I’d start to rub off on you sooner or later.” Of course, she was guilty of just as many bad habits, if not more. But that was beside the point as far as she was concerned. Either way, she watched until Nicky had finished cleaning off her face, and she almost found it unfair that someone could be even more flawless underneath the makeup.

“Okay, I’m going to get ready for bed before you lecture me about that too,” Nicky teased. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, bye!” She blew a kiss at the screen before they ended the call.

After the call ended, Jan closed her laptop and got up to look in the mirror. She stared at herself, silently questioning why she was like this, so hopelessly taken with someone that it clouded her judgement, that she let thoughts of her cloud both her waking thoughts and her dreams. It was as frustrating and painful as it was intoxicatingly addictive.

The only thing that pulled Jan from her train of thoughts was her phone ringing, and she nearly dropped it as she got it out from her pocket. “What’s up, Crystal? Please tell me this isn’t a crisis call.”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Crystal quickly assured. “We’re at Gigi’s mom’s house and she invited us to stay for dinner. So I won’t be back for like… another couple hours, give or take.”

“Oh, okay, cool. I take it the ring issue was taken care of?”

Crystal beamed, admiring the ring on her finger as if Gigi had actually proposed to her with it. “Everything’s fine on that front, trust me. I have to send you a picture of this, you’re gonna die.”

Jan laughed lightly. “I’m sure I will. Go ahead, then enjoy your dinner. Tell Mama Goode I said hi.”

“Can do,” Crystal assured before hanging up, her eyes still trained on the ring. The ring itself was rose gold, the band carved with vine-like design. The diamond at the center was square-cut and surrounded by tiny, round diamonds. While just towing the line of being over-the-top, it had the sort of unique, quirky vibe that made it perfect for someone like her.

“It’s like it was made for you,” Gigi had told her when she picked it out. “It’s actually kind of spooky.” She had picked out a ring for herself as well, one that had more of an antique aesthetic that she appreciated. It was gold with diamonds embedded along the band, centering an ornately-bordered radiant-cut diamond. It wasn’t as flashy as Crystal’s, but she was drawn to the details in the ring.

When they put their left hands on the table next to each other, they noted that there weren’t any significant similarities between what they’d chosen, but both of their personalities seemed properly represented. “We should have a little hand-modeling shoot for this,” Gigi mused, figuring she could ask her mom for help with that as well. They had explained their circumstances right away, and much to their relief, Gigi’s mom had found their story to be very funny and agreed to help however they needed under the condition that she could retell the tale once everything was over with. Crystal was happy to agree to these conditions, while Gigi did so more reluctantly.

Crystal wouldn’t admit as much, but as she sat down for dinner with the Goodes, it felt all too right. Like she was just having a meal with her future wife and mother-in-law, the energy that flowed among the three of them was always so calm and natural, even-keeled and even quiet at times. It was a stark contrast from her own family dinners in both positive and negative ways. But when it came down to it, what stood out the most to her was that she felt so perfectly at home with them, she couldn’t help but wish this at least felt fake. It would be easier to bear when it was all over.

[burnt-tomato]

Hey, so ngl University got me hella stressed atm, i was wondering if i could get a oneshot with Daichi where their s/o is struggling with the uncertainty of university and are drowning in work? And he tries to like take her mind off it etc?? Just reallyyyt fluffy stuff feel free to roll with whatever your feeling! I really appreciate u thank u🥰🥺🥺

♤: aye aye sorry for hella late answer yeeee, hope you feel better soon

Daichi x Reader

Anime: Haikyuu!!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: cursing

»»--------------------------------------------------►

Fuck homework. Fuck this shit. When will teachers give us a goddamn break?? All week, every single fucking day, they give us homework that obviously can't be done in a fucking day. School ends at 7 fucking PM, and they give us what? 3 assignments per subject? And don't even get me started with fuckin English, that stupid Professor wants us to write 2 1000- worded essays? Are you for fucking real? And maths just looves to torture children who can't keep up. History is going to fucking end me, the teacher doesn't even want to discuss it properly because she keeps saying "You all need to learn to be responsible and independent" and shit.

You decided to stand up and actually do something despite there being like 8 more to go and it's fuckin 2 AM. You knew that ranting to yourself won't change anything, since there's no one really to talk to. Every college student is on their own, and helping someone will mean yOUR ass getting shouted on by the stupid ass teachers.

Your phone starts to ring.

Of course alot of people are still awake by now. No one barely gets sleep. You're lucky if you even get 30 minutes.. This fuckin university I fuckin swear I'll-

"Oh? Daichi? Why the fuck is he calling me at this time?" You ask yourself in surprise. You were confused. Daichi was never the type to get distracted especially now bc.. college.. plus he concentrates really hard on his studies. Damn I sure hope I also have the same patience he has. So getting a call from him this late plus all this fucCin homework, this is quite the surprise.

Turns out he was done [ ♤: ha. NeRD ]. And asked you if you needed any help. You were jealous of him, no, you ARE jealous of him.

How does he remain calm during college? Clearly every student is hella stressed and is on the verge of breaking like me.

The next day you arrive to School, it's the usual. All the students either face first on the table and snoring,or still doesn't have the will to continue on anymore. You're both.

"Uh, y/n,, wake up. Class is about to start. The teachers are gonna be mad again. I'm still trying to wake up the others who fell asleep." Says a familiar voice. You didn't have any energy to lift your head but it sounded like Daichi.

Mmmmmm of coursee, the teachers are going to get mAd because we fall asleep during classes yAY. Just what we all fuccin needed, another session of teachers screaming their vocal cords out for nothing and they know that this doesn't do any good. Students who're excited for school don't exist anymore, so they should stop getting their hopes high that we still have the will.

Math comes and shit. You were planning on doing math last, but you fell asleep on your desk this morning. You didn't have the homework to pass in. All you could think about was fuck I hope I'm not the only one. And you just jinxed yourself. Everyone planned on doing math first, and you were the only one who doesn't have anything to pass in. Just great. Like I didn't need more screaming. Just wow, as if I'm not getting anxiety from all this homework, now Im getting humiliation and private screaming from the teacher.

I wouldn't even elaborate what he said. It's what he says to the students who didn't do their homeworks, it's just the same. The usual "You should learn to be responsible for once!" No shit Bimbo.

You felt like disappearing. [ ♤: but ain't that what we feel on a daily basis? ]. It's a different kind of anxiety when you're being shouted at and everyone's either staring at you or minding their own businesses. And they say school is a place to make you feel comfortable and accepted. Amazing. After Class you didn't even feel like lifting your head for the next class. Actually, you just passed in the homeworks and placed your head on your desk. You were facing your right, where Daichi was seated. He was 2 seats away from you. You shot him a look that he understood quickly.

[ I was lucky enough for someone like Daichi to have mutual feelings for me honestly. Despite this hell of a School, we still have each others backs all the time. He was that one reason I still go to school. What worries me is that he's picked me up when I fall countless times, and I've barely helped him emotionally and mentally at all. Maybe I'm being to dependent on him... wow the teachers are right for once. ]

Holy shit finally fuckin lunch comes. Took that long enough.

You both climbed the stairs to the rooftop for lunch. I feel sick in my stomach.

You felt really sick and ill. You were on the verge of crying, and Daichi noticed.

"Hey, hey y/n, are you okay?" He said softly as he brushed your hair aside. You tried to keep it all in. You've been trying so fuccin hard to stay strong. You didn't want to break down, especially infront of him, because that'll just mean that he'll have to pick you up again.

"..." You stayed silent. You tried to avoid eye contact, which was hard because he had both his hands on your cheeks, trying to catch your eyes.

"Is this about awhile ago? Look, it's not your fault that they got mad for you not being able to do you homework. It happens to everyone, even to me. The pressure got to you and there was just too much work." He said. You couldn't pay any attention to what he was saying because the only thing on your head was to 'hold back'.

Fuck.. you bit your lip. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.. not now.. please.. don't let this happen now, not to him. I'd rather do this alone, but not now please.. hold back y/n.. please hold back.. please.. don't do this now. Hold back hold back hold back hold back hol-

Pathetic. You started to cry quietly, tears running down your cheeks. You were worried because your tears were making his hands, still cupped to your face, wet. But he didn't care. You started to cry a bit louder, your hands running through your own hair, covering your ears and eyes shut.

You felt someone's hands travel to your back and pulling to closer, your face then buried on his chest.

"Let it out. I'm here." He said. "I'm here to listen. Don't worry it's just the 2 of us here, so it's fine. Cry as loud as you want, say all what you want, I won't leave." His words slowly calmed you down overtime. One arm on your back and one hand on your head, your face on his chest. You started to not care getting his uniform wet. He pressed soft kisses on your forehead, and you understood what it all meant.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for crying so suddenly. You've picked me up so much, and I've barely done anything for you. I'm.. sorry. I just-"

"And what makes you think that? Youre enough and you make me really happy okay? I can't really say that the school is wrong even if they are, but I'm here to comfort you okay? You can always open up to me. Regarding School, how 'bout I stay over to your dorm to help you with your homeworks and schoolwork in general? And we can open up to eachother too.." His voice trailed.

You felt bad making him deal with you being so pathetic and weak. Sure school sucks and you're sick and tired of it, but at least you both have a shoulder to lie on.

Whenever he stayed by your place, you'd sit on his lap while working on calculus lol. He also hugs you all the time when he notices you getting stress. He was also dependable when it comes to accidentally falling asleep and waking you up. You'd take small breaks when you finish a subject, like a long as heck hug or a nap. As time flew you sort of stopped cursing your school tho you still do it lol because he kept you calm and happy.

That day he started to stay in your dorm alot and with both of you helping each other, you got passed everything you thought was a job alone. You still get anxiety and other problems because of School, but at least now you knew, that There's someone to help you stand up again

There are also times that'd when you'd get way too pressured, he'd ask you to play something with him to keep your mind off school even for s short amount of time.

You were happy. He made you calm. You weren't afraid to open up to him anymore.

»»--------------------------------------------------►

Yeeeeeee sorry ik this is bad lol I'm not that good with comforting and stuff lol Also sorry bc it's short lmao

Aye aye feel free to request anything requests are still open lol

-♤

[longneckreach]

Lightning Rod

“Sir?” Alumette bounced and weaved anxiously at the big Wildclaw’s side. “Did you want to look at the chainmail repairs you ordered, sir?”

She dodged the retaliatory snap of teeth, and managed to make it look accidental.

“Idiot! Can’t you tell I’m busy?” he snarled.

“You look very busy, sir,” Alumette acknowledged, twitching her ears back apologetically as she dropped to all fours. “I can tell you’re taking the guards their dinner and I wouldn’t want to annoy you later, when you’re off-duty and trying to relax. So I thought, maybe you might want to get it over with now, instead of—”

His sickle claw twitched, and she cut herself off with a polite cringe.

“You did say you’d be very angry if you had to wait longer than tonight,” she whispered.

“Fine.” The Wildclaw set his heavy pail of stew down with ill grace. “Get it fast.”

“Yes sir, right away sir.” Alumette bobbed her head so fast she gave herself motion sickness. “Oh! Here, sir.” She grabbed the stained leather tarp covering her materials and hauled it over the top of the bucket. “To keep the dust out.”

He didn’t react except to roll his eyes, and followed her to the back of her little unofficial area. Alumette didn’t have a space of her own, exactly; she was a prisoner, really a slave in everything but name. But since they’d started to view her as a convenient source of small repairs she’d found it useful to have a central location where they could usually count on finding her; it made them less angry when they finally did. 

Her “spot” was—okay, it was actually what had once been the trash pit. Slightly to the right of, to be precise. That way she could scavenge and salvage whatever got thrown out in order to make her repairs. It was nearer the warmth of the cooking fires than she would ever otherwise have been able to get, too—the smell wasn’t so bad once you got used to it.

(That was a lie. The smell never got better. But she didn’t freeze to death either, and nobody wanted to spend much time loitering near her, so it served a purpose. She really, really wanted a long shower.)

It wasn’t a large space, but it let her keep her materials and projects organized and accessible. So it was very easy to find the chainmail tunic she’d been repairing for the Wildclaw whose name she couldn’t remember.

Impatient, he used a wing to push her aside and shook it out.

“You said there wasn’t enough darksteel to replace the broken links,” he snapped immediately.

Alumette’s ears pricked forward, eager despite herself. “There wasn’t, sir,” she said. “See? Look closer. I didn’t have darksteel, but I was able to find the materials for Mr Bladewing to blacken standard steel. It’s not a perfect match, but I thought you might like it better.”

“Cosmetic,” the Wildclaw grunted, but he seemed less angry already. “Not worth the time you wasted on it.”

“I managed to collect the reagents before Mr Bladewing reached your tunic in his queue,” Alumette assured him. “I know your time is very valuable. Are there any issues with the stitching where the mail connects to the leather? I reinforced the seam with shed Imperial antler, but some people don’t like the added bulk.”

The Wildclaw felt along the reinforcements, but it was clearly just for show. “Good enough. Not just a pretty face. Gods know you’ve had the time to do it right, though. Take it to my tent.” He gave a vicious, mocking grin. “Feel free to wait there.”

“Yes, sir.” Alumette wavered. “Sir, would you like to take it now? I could take the dinner pail out to the Pit. Then you could be finished for the evening.”

She got a hard, suspicious look. “Yeah? And what’s got you so accommodating, brat? Carrying secrets? Weapons? You stay away from the other prisoners unless you want to join them for good. You’ve got no reason to be near the Pit, your meatshield’s not there. And he won’t be again, either.”

Alumette allowed her pain to show as she shrank away.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that I know my brother isn’t coming back.”

He bared his teeth at her. “I knew you were up to something. It’ll go worse for you if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“I just…” She let her voice tremble. “I’m going to need all the friends I can get.”

One of the other guards had said that to her once. A different Wildclaw. But they were all pretty much the same.

What mattered was that her lie worked. The guard’s suspicion faded into derisive amusement, which was exactly what she wanted.

She tilted her ears forward, looking up at him hopefully. “I’ve heard the guards complaining about that delivery, sir. I know it’s long and boring. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? You could eat early yourself and relax. Or—or I could bring dinner to the Pit, and then—if you wanted me to bring you your armor afterward, so you...wouldn’t have to carry it…”

The Wildclaw got that glint in his eye again, baring his teeth in a way somehow less friendly than a growl. “Subtle. I won’t give you protection, lightning rod. Bring that armor tonight anyway, unless you want to make enemies instead of friends. And take the pail out to the guards, if you can even lift it.”

Pretending to miss the viciousness under the words, Alumette brightened and twitched her head in some kind of salute.

She dove under the nearest corner of the tarp, and prayed.

This was the hard part. Oh, not the slight-of-hand; she was a tinkerer, anything that required clever paw work was second nature. And not the design, either, that had been easy. The hard part was deciding which deity to pray to.

In the end she prayed quickly to the Stormcatcher, because she was born under his mark, and because her entire plan hinged on the mass of wires and junk contained in a pilfered slop bucket that no one but her would ever have noticed, tucked under its filthy weatherproof tarp next to the garbage pit. And the wooden bowl she’d fitted perfectly inside it, a false top hiding her Plan inside.

(She made a point of grabbing the full dinner pail between her teeth, so that as she lifted, the Wildclaw would see her holding it; so that, as she turned and the tarp fell back into place, she would create a tent effect with her horns, where no one could see exactly what she was doing. She had planned this. She had done a lot of thinking.)

She prayed to the Shadowbinder, for just a few seconds of cover in which to pull off the kind of trick she’d never attempted before, the kind of acting she’d never needed to be good at. 

(With the tent hiding her actions, she quickly set the pail down and flicked her tail, sending a basket of odds and ends rolling. Just loud enough to be audible, she mumbled, “ow.” In the few seconds in which her observer would assume she was tending a bruise, she grabbed a ladle she’d hidden and tipped the top fourth of the stew into the false top of the Plan.)

To the Windsinger, the god of freedom. The Arcanist, because he knew her brother, and also because she was going to do something flashy and really stupid and he seemed relevant.

(She left the dinner pail tucked between two crates where it wouldn’t leave a silhouette, and dragged the Plan, now overflowing with stew, back into the sunlight.)

And one final prayer—in the part of her mind not whirring and sparking and calculating how to pull this off, she called to the Plaguebringer.

Part of that was just polite, after all—Alumette was on her land. But she was also pinioned and hungry and scared, and she didn’t want to die. Alumette didn’t really pay much attention to religion, but she did remember what other people told her. And she’d heard from Plague dragons in the past that their goddess might be ugly and vicious, but she was also the patron of dragons who wanted to survive and were willing to fight for it with everything they had.

Hello, ma’am, she thought awkwardly as she maneuvered the Plan out from under the tarp. I don’t know if we’ve met, but I’m trying very hard, and so is my brother. I don’t think you really help people, exactly. But if I’m wrong, I could use some help. I know I’m not really one of yours, though, and some of these dragons are. I really do think I’m fighting harder than they are. They’re awfully lazy, ma’am, no offense. If you just could please not help them, I won’t ask you to help me, if that sounds fair. I really think I can do this on my own. I just need a chance.

She managed to extract herself from the Wildclaw guard without him noticing anything, and began the long walk toward the Pit as the sun went down.

Belatedly, she remembered her manners, and thought in the vague direction of the Wyrmwound: Thank you for your consideration.

From there, the Plan went...well. She was trying not to jinx anything. 

It was actually pretty simple to talk her way around the Pit. 

The first pair of guards were the toughest; they were the ones positioned at the controls to lower the bridge into the arena, without which nobody could get out, so they had to be smart and observant. And she wasn’t a good actor, so she didn’t try to lie to them. She just asked them, politely, whether they wanted the good stew or if they wanted to eat right away.

They hassled her over it, of course; but she just blinked in feigned surprise and said she didn’t mean to annoy them, ma’am, sir. It’s just that (and cue hunched shoulders, rapid blinking) I got clawed really bad last week for offering the head guards the first serving instead of saving them for last, ma’am. I know it’s hotter now, but the really good meat settles near the bottom as it gets stirred by serving it out, so the last servings are better. I’m not disrespectful ma’am, I swear, I just didn’t know until last week so now I ask.

She’d been prepared for either answer, but it was still a relief when—always looking to get one over on each other—they fell for it and said they’d wait.

The next guard she actually knew; he was the one who kept dropping all those hints about protection and friends that made her scales want to crawl off her body to get away from him. For that one, she dropped her eyes shyly and claimed to be giving him a bigger portion. He was willing enough to believe it.

Aluetted tugged hastily at the cape of the next guard in the rotation, hastily whispering, “Don’t take any. I saw Spinner put something in it when she heard Erund was out here. I tried to tell Adder but she said she’d—just please don’t take any, they’ll blame me!”

And so it went. About halfway around, the guards in the rotation started to notice the pail was still full, and Alumette could stop trying to act, which was a relief. She could just look anxious and unhappy, which was very easy right now in the current moment all things considered, and tell them she didn’t know what was going on but when she told the shift leaders what the stew was they refused to eat it, which was weird, and I don’t know why they laughed when I said I’d see if the others wanted any, that was weird too...but there’s plenty of it, if you maybe want a double portion?

For some reason, none of them were taking her up on it.

And all around the Pit, getting easier and easier as it got dark, unnoticed beneath a Spiral’s tangled body and Alumette’s own restlessness and the clink and flash of her chains, a copper wire spooled from the bottom of her slop barrel.

She’d carefully tarnished and blackened the first several hundred yards of it, so that no light would glint off the surface in her wake, counting on sunset to save her later on. Carrying the pail between her teeth gave her a few precious seconds to tug the slack loose with her paws, and trample the wire into the dust with her hind feet. So far, so good. So far no one had seen it. She’d found that if she kept talking, and moving, and generally being blindingly bright and also nervous, people didn’t notice what was happening near her feet.

Maybe she shouldn’t be a clockmaker, Alumette thought idly as she circled the Pit. Maybe she should be a thief! That would be funny. Aspis probably wouldn’t think so, but she could make him laugh about it if she tried.

If he came back.

No time to worry about that. She was almost back to where she’d started.

The extreme end of the thin copper wire she’d been laying had been kicked under the shift lead’s tail, with a black iron fishhook on one end. Alumette wasn’t exactly a talented fisherdragon, but she didn’t have to aim very well. It had snagged on the chain for the bridge pulleys. From there, she’d been following close along the edge of the arena where she could wrap her wire around the pegs where the jagged net over the arena was anchored to the earth. 

“Hi!” she called, setting the pail down about fifty feet from the shift leaders. Carefully, she moved her paws from the rubber-padded handle and placed them against the bare iron bands running down the sides. “I saved you guys some of the big pieces!”

“You better have!” The reply wasn’t angry or aggressive, but it wasn’t quite joking either. “Never doing this again, I’m starving. There can’t be that much of a difference in the taste.”

“Get over here, lightning rod,” her partner agreed. “Or I’m taking a bite out of you, too!”

“Yes, sir,” Alumette chirped. “Just a minute. It’s still heavy, I think there’s a lot of marrow in these bones.”

The promise of a rich treat won her patience for the last few, precious seconds.

Alumette was a Lightning child by birth; but she’d never gotten any magical training. She could call up her element, of course, but not with any real power or consistency.

That was what engineering was for.

Electricity crackled along her spine, from the tips of her horns down along her wings and racing along the ridge of her back. A lot of it, too much, discharged from her tailtip. But more than enough power raced through her claws and into the iron bands of the slop bucket.

And from there, into the jumble of metal, wires, a silver bracelet she’d slipped from the pocket of a waistcoat she’d been set to mend, several feet of chain, and an only-slightly-rusted metal spring from a discarded mech that she’d spent the past week turning into a rudimentary, unstable electromagnet.

For a few terrifying seconds, there was nothing but a low, uninspiring hum.

And then copper wire began to glow.

[banacafe]

What I think of Jinyoung

[Semi-Long Post] This is my personal opinion, assumptions, and speculations about the current situation with Jinyoung. Remember that these are just my opinions which can be different from yours, so if you have any comments, please feel free to discuss.

Jinyoung deciding to open Link8

I’ve seen a handful of BANAs being angry and hurt at Jinyoung and his actions, thinking that he’s selfish. I, personally, don’t think Jinyoung is selfish (well, partially, which are some points I’ll cover). Jinyoung’s a person who has a strong will of motivation and ambition. We have to think about Jinyoung when he first became a trainee until now. Was it really his dream to be a singer and promote in an idol group? Being in an idol group and having crazy schedules is tiring. I cannot imagine the pain of what an idol has to endure, waking everyday and giving your best to the world and eventually asking yourself if this is the right path? Jinyoung admitted that when he was younger, he knew that he wanted to create and make things, which is why he stuck with composing and making songs for the B1A4. Maybe being in B1A4 wasn’t what he thought it was supposed to be. That was when he started questioning if he wants to continue to be in the group. WM probably didn’t do well to promote Jinyoung like how he wanted, so he wanted to become his own boss. And I saw this happening right after “Who am I” Era and coming to “Sweet Girl” Era.

I have worked hard and long enough to understand that dreams (ambition, dream careers, and hope) can die as you work too long or too hard. Sometimes, we get no results, and it becomes hopeless and worthless, which is why I admire people like Jinyoung or others who still has a sense of hope in their dreams. Jinyoung opening Link8 is a part of new dream he has. And it’s ok to have new dreams and desires and leave your old ones when you realize it doesn’t work out. Unfortunately, B1A4 is probably the old dream he had but gave up on it.

About Jinyoung posting on Social Media

With Jinyoung and Link8 actively posting, Jinyoung releasing his own song, and creating a season greeting, these are just ways to promote himself and the company. I don’t think it has to do with competing with B1A4. This really reminds me when I first got into Kpop with H.O.T, and they disbanded shortly. Many people were saying that Kangta, Heejun, and SM tried to release albums in order to compete with JTL who became a big hit with their song “A Better Day.” Even then, I was young and naïve, and of course, even though I did support Kangta and Heejun, I was really biased and sided with JTL because I was really hurt of why the two members didn’t leave SM. On this note, I am not trying to say that you guys are young and naïve, but it’s easy to say that it’s competition because of the separation. When separation happens, we can’t help but have these ideas of competition and feud between the members (especially when CNU took it really hard). If Jinyoung release songs at the same time as B1A4 in the future, yes, in the world of the industry, they are competing, but I don’t think it is his or Link8’s intentions.

Also, many BANAs were upset of why Jinyoung decided to post a photo of him and Beullie on the day of CNU leaving. I think Jinyoung just wanted to simply update about his day, not to take away the attention from CNU. CNU already has his attention when he was trending the entire day (and I was so happy for him ;;_;;). What Jinyoung posted online will never take away the attention from CNU or any other B1A4 members. He is just living his life day to day and trying to update his fans who are still following him on his activities. Jinyoung is petty, but I don’t think he’s that wicked and capable to do that. It seems easy to believe that Jinyoung will take away that spotlight from CNU and B1A4 because he went on his own. I think Jinyoung still has respect for CNU regardless of the status of what has been going on. About Jinyoung not showing up to see CNU leave, like most BANAs and I assumed, why would Jinyoung bother to show up if there is a disconnection? It’s not easy to come and see him off because Jinyoung probably is sorry to create such pain and sadness among the members and to BANAs. Jinyoung might feels that it’s not his place to come nor he doesn’t have the face to come back after leaving WM. He is probably ashamed and truly feels responsible for everything. There is a lot of weight and pressure on Jinyoung’s shoulder that we all do not know of. What if CNU doesn’t want to see Jinyoung? What if Jinyoung is embarrassed to show up in front of A3? What if they know it’s not going to be the same anymore? These thoughts, assumptions, and questions we all have is between them.

Conclusion

I am not supporting everything Jinyoung does nor I am against him because I am a little disappointed when Jinyoung keeps saying that he doesn’t believe the 7 years jinx and say that B1A4 will continue. That—yes—I’m a little upset because it gives BANAs false hope, but again (I am playing devil’s advocate with myself), what can Jinyoung or the rest of the members say to make everything sound ok when they know it’s not. They don’t want to upset BANAs. Regardless if it’s a “we’ll continue” knowing that B1A4 is coming to an end or release an article by the time of their contract ending that Bayoung’s leaving WM, at the end, someone will get hurt. All of us are hurt. A3, Bayoung, and BANAs. B1A4 separating and going their own ways hit all of us at a different angle.

Is Jinyoung selfish? Yes and no. It’s an obvious “yes” if you’re thinking of him going on his own, opening a new company, and “giving up” on B1A4, but it is a “no” as well. Why? Eventually, when you are pursing or in the process of pursuing a dream (not just a wish of “wanting to go for your dreams” but to really do it with your entire soul), there will be a time when you really want to strive for your dreams. There will be precious things—like the people we love, our time and commitment—we have to sacrifice, and the most precious thing Jinyoung gave up was B1A4. Making this decision probably wasn’t easy for him. I am sure there were many things going on his mind. Just because Jinyoung doesn’t show his emotions, we think he is happy being his own boss and doing what he wants. But he’s probably dying inside, crying by himself, and constantly beating himself up. Opening a whole new company isn’t easy. Thinking about all your fans, will they still be there to cheer you on even after the decisions you made? Did he made the right decision? All the efforts he is trying to self-promote and work his way to be where he’s at or go even higher is something he has to do in order to succeed. These are probably in Jinyoung’ s mind every day. He has always been a person who is strong, never showed his weakness and emotions, and always stayed positive. Jinyoung being confident and promoting Link8 is just a persona he wants us to see. Jinyoung is really in pain, much like the other members and BANAs. Again, we do not know what’s going on with them in person. To be honest, without Jinyoung writing all these songs for B1A4, they wouldn’t be where they’re at. Same goes for Jinyoung, without the help of the members, Jinyoung wouldn’t grow into the artist he is now.

It’s ok to be angry and hurt by Jinyoung and his actions. If you need to unfollow him or not see him for a while, do it if it makes you feel better. If you need to hate him for just a bit, feel it but don’t act on it. Do what you can to help heal yourself. I am not here to advocate on hating Jinyoung or make you guys feel empathetic for him, but I am here to tell you that feeling what you feel is ok—but under one condition—do not send hate to him and wish him nothing but misery. Do not go to his SNS or official page and starts bashing and blaming him for all the troubles A3 went through. That is unacceptable. If you truly love Jinyoung and B1A4, at least wish him happiness regardless all the pain that had happened. Also, come to us—to other BANAs—and rant and pour your entire soul out. It’s better to share your emotions among us, but do not use your emotions as something to attack Jinyoung. If you choose to support him, stick with it. If you don’t know what to feel, let your emotions marinate in your mind and follow your heart. Again, most of us are hurt and don’t know what we’re feeling, and our emotions will change as time goes on.

To those who actually read this whole thing, thank you for reading my rant. I have so many things going on, and my ideas are all over which doesn’t make any logical sense. If you want to discuss anything, please send me an ask (and if you want it answered in private, please let me know). If you choose to not support Jinyoung, don’t.

At the end, am I wrong to not have ill-feelings towards Jinyoung?

[zrtranscripts]

Season 8, Mission 8: Seal My Fate

Deck Shoes

~

[rain pours, boat engine rumbles]

SAM YAO: [shivers] It's been a long time since it's been just me and you, hasn't it, Five? It's nice. Well, I mean, it's not nice. It's raining buckets. But now and then, I like having you to myself. [laughs] At least it's not another storm today.

So this is Shipwreck Cove. Pretty amazing, isn't it? The ships rusting away, half sticking out of the water. They must have been running aground on the rocks here for years. Look, look, there's one over there that looks like something out of Captain Hornblower. Or you know, Pugwash. 

Tom was right. If we can make our way across them, we should be able to get to the small island unobserved. Although it doesn't look like it's going to be easy. But you'll give me a hand if I need it, won't you, Five? Yeah, of course you will. You haven't let me down yet.

Yeah, okay, we're getting a bit close to the shoals]. You'd better cut the engine. Tom reckons you can hitch a ride from the small island on the automated boat that takes supplies from there to the scientists on Dearg. He's getting to the rendezvous by scuba diving because... because that's the kind of thing he does. And I think he thought that the fewer people travel together, the better. But we need to keep that radio equipment you're carrying for me dry. And then hopefully you'll find something that will help Janine.

Did you see her this morning? [sighs] I mean, she's walking again, but you can see from the way she winces that every step hurts. Paula's analyzed her blood. She might have as little as two weeks left. But we're going to make her better, which means we need to catch that boat. Which means we need to jump over to that first hulk and run across it fast as we can. Come on Five, let's go!

~

[rain pours, waves splash, metal creaks]

SAM YAO: Bloody hell. This ship's more rust than metal. Oh, we'd better get across it quick as we can before it falls apart completely. What do you think it used to be? Fishing boat, I reckon. You can still smell that kind of salty, rotten whiff. There's so much stuff like this now, isn't there? So decayed, you can't even tell what it was meant to be for.

You know that building in [?]? The big red brick one that used to be a school? All these cheerful colored swings and this one wall where so many kids had chucked a ball against it, you could see the dent! Anyway, just before it all went pear-shaped with Sage, I sent Runner Fifteen on a mission down that way. And the school's just... crumbling away. There are trees growing up through the courtyard, and the wall with the dent's fallen down. In 10, 20 years, you won't know there used to be a building there at all.

I don't know. Stupid. With Janine so ill, and after... after Ellie, I keep thinking about it. What we leave behind when we're gone. I mean, there's Sara, and that's amazing. But I want to make a difference. Everything's decaying away, and then there's Abel. And I really feel like we're building something. Or maybe just laying the foundations for other people to build it. 

Well, that's good, isn't it? Nothing lasts long without good foundations. But I don't think we'll be able to get any of it done without Janine. [laughs] She'd raise an eyebrow and look all schoolmarmish if she heard this. But I think she's the heart of us. So we have to save her. We just have to.

[metal creaks] Crap. I think I jinxed it with all that talk about decay. The hull's cracking, can you see? We need to get off here, make for the next ship along. Run!

~

[metal creaks, water splashes]

SAM YAO: Oh wow, look at that, Five! We only just made it across in time! I've never seen a ship just - just fall apart before! At least this one's less rusty. Huge, too. And it's the last one before we get to land. Yeah, I can see the shoreline up ahead. And – oh my God, are those seals? They are, look! Lots of lovely fluffy seals with big sad eyes! Well, not that we can see the eyes from this distance. We've still got quite a lot of deck to cross. I think this was a cruise ship. See? Over there, Five. What used to be the swimming pool. Full of algae and frogs now, but the deck chairs are only a little bit rotten. Can't have been wrecked that long ago.

What was a cruise ship with a swimming pool doing north of Scotland? Do you think it came here during the apocalypse? Trying to find somewhere safe from the zoms? [laughs] I remember there were all sorts of stories flying around then. How there were no zoms at all on Hawaii, or how if you played a zom a recording of its own voice, it would turn back into a person. We were desperate to believe what was happening wouldn't be forever.

Maybe that's the sort of thing that got stuck in Jones' head. He thinks that if he's the king of the rocks, then everyone will like him again and he can go back to being a happy kid. Do you think it was the Edda that did that to him? Like, he read it and something in it sent him over the edge? I mean... well, you'd have to be an expert in Old Norse to read the original. On the other hand, he is very single-minded.

Did you ever read it? It does break off at that very tantalizing place. [deepens voice] "When that the circles shall grow upon the bay of five arches - " [returns to usual voice pitch] They reckon that might be a reference to [?] Bay near Exmoor, actually. The Far Hebrideans were big traders and they might have seen it. Anyway, yeah. [deepens voice] "When that the circles shall grow upon the bay of five arches, then the day is come and the only road to stop its progress is to - !" [returns to usual voice pitch] and then it breaks off. Well, that's where someone nicked the pages from the only surviving version before anyone had thought to make a good copy of it. Cliffhanger, eh? Like Netflix for the post-apocalypse age. What do you reckon?

Oh crap. See up ahead, Five? A life boat's fallen down and blocked the deck. Uh, yeah, we'll have to try and find a way below. Um, how about this door that says crew entry only? [door creaks open] Oh wow. That's a lot of tartan. Almost enough to cover up the bloodstains. It's creepy, isn't it? Yeah, it's the places that are meant to be fun that are the worst. All the gold trim, and the pinball machines. And look, over there. A ball pit for the kids. And all totally empty.

[zombies growl] Can you tell where that growl came from, Five? Was it ahead or behind? How many zoms do you think are down here? No, doesn't matter. We have to keep moving forward. We have to get to that island before the boat leaves. Look, here's a schematic on the wall. If we go through those double doors, we'll reach the dining room – [door opens, zombies moan] Oh crap! Crap, crap! Someone must have got infected during dinner. I've never seen so many zoms in black tie! Look, there's a door on the far end that leads back out onto the deck. If we run really, really fast, we might make it before they catch us. Let's go.

~

[rain pours, zombies moan, water splashes]

SAM YAO: Well, I said dry land. More like razor-sharp seaweed-covered rocks. And uh, oh yeah. The zoms are still coming. The rocks are actually going through their feet. Oh, it seems to be giving them a better grip! You know, I was having a chat with Morag Brown, the baker, the other day. I think she's the sort of me for these islands. She knows everyone. Everyone knows her. She's always telling everyone's business. Not that I'd tell anyone's business.

Anyway, sorry. What I meant to say was Morag says Chief Macallan's been keeping a tally of zombie sightings. They're still going up even though Jones doesn't have any way to make new attractors. Maybe you and Tom missed a few components. Or he's worked out some other way to do it.

[sighs] You know, Five, I really do try to see the best in everyone, but it's hard with Jones. I mean like, either he started out killing the Laird's brother here, or he didn't. Morag reckons the brother might have just slipped and fallen, and Jones was so weird, everyone blamed it on him. But either way, he has kind of leaned into that murder persona.

I really thought we were going to be here for a few days, you know. Find Jones, cure Janine, get the Edda, eat some porridge, go home. And it's not like it's not pretty here. I'm starting to think we're going to be here for ages. But I miss my home. I don't think I've ever gone this long without seeing Maxie and Sara. It's lovely talking to them, but it's not the same.

And I didn't like what Maxie said in her last message. They think someone might have got infected by the red fungus on the beaches. Like, not from a zombie bite. Turned zom from touching the fungus with a cut on their hand. It is new and weird and I don't like it and I want to be with my family! Oh God, those zoms are fast. Still, we're nearly at the beach now. Just one more push. Come on!

~

[rain pours, zombies moan, seals honk]

SAM YAO: Oh, we made it! Actual proper dry land. Also, seals! [laughs] Um... have they always been this big? Oh yeah, of course. They're elephant seals. Zoe told me about them once. It's amazing how much one woman can talk about animals. She said they can grow up to 20 feet long and weigh 8000 pounds! The zoms are giving them a wide berth.

Bloody hell, the seals are actually heading towards the zoms. Do you think they want to make friends with them? [zombies splatter] Oh my God. They're - the seals are just tearing those zoms to shreds. That seal over there headbutted one and it burst like a ripe melon! Go seals! [laughs] I don't believe it. They've wiped out every single zom that came ashore! The beach is basically just zom sushi!

Those seals are amazing! They're so strong, they're – oh crap. They're all looking at us. Um, why didn't Zoe told me they could move that fast? Oh. We need to get away from them, Five. And from the zoms that are still on the rocks. Come on, run!

~

[rain pours, seals honk]

SAM YAO: We made it! I mean, we're still being chased by huge angry seals and slightly smaller hungry zoms, but they're all behind us. Although they don't seem to be slowing down much.

TOM DE LUCA: Over here! Lead them towards me!

SAM YAO: Oh, thank goodness! It's Tom on the rock up ahead. He'll know what to do. I don't know what you and Tom are going to find on Dearg Island. So far, most of the scientists we've met have been either power-mad or homicidal or whatever the hell Moonchild was. But they can't be as dangerous as Jones. 

It's worrying how quiet he's been recently, right? He's plotting something, and we all know it's coming. And until we figure out what it is, there's nothing we can do to stop it. [sighs] I hate that feeling. [gunshots] Oh my God, Tom's shooting the seals. Tom! Stop shooting the cuddly animals!

TOM DE LUCA: Rubber bullets, Sam!

SAM YAO: Oh. Oh, oh, right, yeah. You've scared the seals off. Oh, and now they've turned back on the zoms. They're ripping into them with their - ! Ugh. Actually, I don't think I want to watch any longer.

TOM DE LUCA: You've arrived just in time. I can see the automated boat through my binoculars heading towards shore. Sam, if you set up shop there, you'll be close enough to remain in radio contact with us through the mission. Everything else is down to us. Are you ready to head off, Five? My sister's life could depend on the success of this mission!

~

[5hfanfiction]

our sinking boat - 2

wattpad @ longerr_hours

If you told Camila her saturday night would be spent this way she would’ve hopped off a cliff when she had the chance. 

“I can’t believe this,” Sinu had been ranting for a while. 

“Under my roof, while I’m in the kitchen?” she isn’t going to stop anytime soon. 

It’d been almost twenty minutes of this, whenever Camila went to interject Sinu would continue ranting to herself, pacing back and forth and barely sparing a glance at the two girls since they made their way downstairs. 

Camila didn’t want to look at Lauren.  She didn’t really think she could after what had just happened, but she was sure the other girl felt the same. They just needed to get through this, avoid eye contact, then maybe never do anything again ever for the entirety of life that includes interacting with anyone. 

“It’s been what, twelve years since I’ve been-”

Camila had a plan to spend the rest of her life in her room already. She wouldn’t do it to ignore Lauren, but she needed to stay away fem everyone. Her mom being the main subject she’s talking about. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to look her into the eyes again after having been caught ramming into her friend with-

“I mean really? Did you think I would be mad about you being together? Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

and she saw Camila- wait what?

Brown and green eyes snap up at that in sync and finally connect to share a look of confusion. 

“What?” Camila asks after a second of hesitation in which her mother continued to pace and rub a hand over her forehead. 

“What, what?” Sinu replied, finally looking to face the girls who try to keep eye contact despite the awkwardness. 

“That’s why your upset?” Camila asks, baffled by her mother’s response. She hesitates before adding, “because we didn’t tell you we’re dating?” and she feels Lauren tense up next to her but doesn’t risk looking at her right now.

“That’s why I’m- what do you? Obviously!” Sinu exclaims, throwing her hands up into the air. “Sure I’m a bit disturbed but like come on ladies, everyone gets it on sometimes,” she continues and Camila thought she was used to her moms quirkiness but this is an ultimate plot twist. 

“Oh my god,” Camila mumbles in reply, burying her face into her hands. She’s surprised in the moment when she feels Lauren’s hand land on her knee in a comforting gesture, but Lauren’s always been around and they’ve always been like this, so she adjust to the gesture almost immediately. 

“Of course I’m going to have to set some boundaries but, come on you two, why wouldn’t you tell me about this?” she’s less mad sounding and more left out and sad sounding now, and Camila would laugh if it wasn’t an important moment. 

“Mrs. Cabello-”

“Sinu,” her mother interrupts Lauren’s shaky voice with a snarl, “damn it, now you’re too nervous around me! I thought we were friends Lauren- or should I say Ms. Jauregui.”

Camila’s mom is like, a five year old. 

“Sorry, Sinu,” Lauren starts again earning a nod from said woman, “we… haven’t been together for too long now- I know, I know it looks like it,” she adds at the knowing look Sinu’s shoots her, “but we just didn’t want to… jinx anything,” and Camila lets out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding when Lauren goes along with the plan. 

“But me?” Sinu shouts, not waiting to see if Lauren has anything else to add, “You could’ve told me! I’m the cool mom!” And she continues like that, Camila finally glancing at Lauren who’s barely holding in a laugh as they watch the show. 

It’s about five more minutes of this rambling, the mood much less scary now before Camila interjects. “Okay, mami, we’re dating. Me and Lauren are dating. Happy? You’re the first to know and god, please don’t ever bring up how you found out, like please I’m begging-”

“I’m sure you were an hour ago to,” Sinu smirks and Lauren gets an elbow to the ribs when she snickers along mumbling “true." 

"Look honey,” Sinu starts again, “I’m glad I know, and I won’t bring it up but I will punish you both by banning closed doors." 

For a couple who isn’t actually dating their groans of annoyance sound pretty convincing. 

"Children, I know, cool mom and all, but I can’t get that image out of my mind so you gotta face some sort of even and out,” Sinu continues and both girls are far past embarrassment after all of this but they kind of want to be anywhere but here. 

“Mom,” Camila starts, “can we like, please please please drop this topic?” Camila asks again, needing to escape. 

Sinu purses her lips, makes a show of making up her mind before finally letting her eyes settle on Camila. “Don’t be so rough with your girl next time, you’re going to leave her bruised and sore for weeks-”

“MOM!” Camila yells back, face red and eyes wide and Lauren is blushing but laughing as Sinu smirks again. 

“I’m just messing with you, learn to laugh at yourself because I got a lot more jokes,” she continues, and Lauren is too busy chuckling at Camila with her mom to feel embarrassed herself. 

“We’re going to go upstairs,” Camila says, standing and reaching a hand to grasp Lauren’s and help her up. “We won’t shut the door, we obviously need to discuss some things,” she says and manages to pull Lauren to the stairs. 

“Thank you for understanding Sinu,” Lauren calls back as she’s led up the stairs. 

Camila doesn’t talk so neither does Lauren as they make their way up the stairs then down the small hall way until they’re settled in her room. She doesn’t talk then either. They’ve been sleeping together for a few weeks, and Camila has always been comfortable and happy and safe with Lauren. Somehow though, having her mom walk in on them h and what followed has felt more personal and made Camila more vulnerable than everything else they did. 

“So…” Lauren drawls as she perches herself on the edge of Camila’s bed, the younger girl opting to sit in her desk chair, unable to look at that bed without flushing. “Were you going to tell me we were dating? Or was that the big reveal?” she teases and Camila finally looks up at her.

Laure is the prettiest person she knows, always has been, but the butterflies have yet to leave her stomach when the green eyed beauty smiles in her direction in the way she is now. 

“Can we be friends for a few?” Camila asks after another moment. They’d been using those terms lately, defining when they’re friends and when they’re fucking. Using direct sentences to differentiate whenever they felt the need to switch into the other mode. 

Lauren nods and taps the bed next to her, pulling the blanket up slightly so they can like back on the comforter and hiding Camila when she makes it over to the bed. 

“Thank you for going along with that<” Camila says after a moment of allowing hereof to be helped by her favorite girl. “I mean, we didn’t have much of a choice, but the way I saw it she gave us an out and I should’ve asked before but I couldn’t really and-”

“Camz shush, it’s fine babe I’m glad you did, it would’ve been too awkward to explain that we’ve just been fooling around to your mom,” Lauren interrupts, knowing full well how her girl likes to ramble. 

“Now we just have to put on an act for a little while, think we can handle that?” Camila sighs, pulling Lauren’s arm tighter around her and turning so she can look up at the girl, head on her shoulder. 

“If I can handle how rough you’ve been lately I can handle anything,” Lauren smirks, earning another elbow to the rib, feigning injury. 

“Get used to it babe,” Camila grinned, resting fully against Lauren and closing her eyes, “it’s gonna be a while." 

This is mad short but i wanted to pts something and i didn’t want to fort this

I also umm so i might change the title of this because i decide to not make it angst and juts make it smutty and fake dating and shit, and i mitt edit this chapter later this week so keep on the lookout (Ill try to post if i do add to this chapter)

alsO GUYS I MET CAMILA CABELLO TODY and i fuckingggg didedddd i legit can’t believe it I’m dead and lie she’s so sweet and i only got a few seconds with her because we were running out of time and she wanted everyone to gt a chance and she’s so fusing sweet i love her and she called me adorable and sweet and omg i love her 

[rachelfizzyhizzy]

Less Than Pure Blood Pt.1

SUMMARY: It’s Y/n’s first day back at Hogwarts for her fifth year and she’s dreading having to see Draco Malfoy. Y/n began avoiding and ignoring Draco at the end of last year after realizing she developed feelings for the blonde Slytherin. But what will she tell him if he asks why?

WORD COUNT: 1.4K +

WARNINGS: Mentions of sex.

A/N: Hey! This is my first ever fic. It’s probably really bad so be nice please.

  The great hall was packed. It was the first day of y/n’s 5th year at Hogwarts. She sat at the Ravenclaw table trying each of everything set in front of her. Gosh, she missed the food during summer. “What’s your first class?” Cho, another Ravenclaw that sat beside her asked.

           “Potions. You?” Y/n responded, still stuffing muffin into her mouth. 

           “Divination.” Cho was a year ahead of Y/n. Y/n nodded and went back to focusing on her food and imagining what would happen when she finally was forced to face Draco.

           At the end of last year, they had begun hooking up right before summer. It was purely physical. Just two people that had sex or kissed every now and then. Until Y/n started daydreaming about dates her and Draco would go on if they were actually together. She then realized she wished that they were dating. She could never tell Draco how she felt though. She was sure he would reject her. He was rich, attractive, and would most likely never date someone less than pure blood. When Y/n realized she had begun feeling more for Draco, she panicked. She started avoiding him everywhere. In the great hall she kept her head down and hid behind other students when she thought she saw his light blonde hair. In classes they had together she would enter at the last second and rush out as soon as class ended, leaving no time for Draco to speak to her. That was how she had left everything at the end of the year. She thought Draco must be curious as to why she had suddenly stopped wanting to hook up and began avoiding him. Y/n wasn’t ready to explain herself. All summer she tried to come up with an elaborate lie to tell him. “I got a boyfriend, so I had to stop seeing you” she had thought. But no, then he would ask who the boyfriend was. “I caught an illness that prevented me from being within twenty feet of anyone with perfect blonde hair and the nicest-“ 

           “Y/n!” Y/n snapped out of her thoughts to see Elena, a Ravenclaw in her year, waving her hand in front of Y/n’s face. “It’s time to go to class” Y/n looked around and realized there was only about half the amount of people that were there a few minutes ago, and they too were slowly getting up to walk to class. 

           “Right. Sorry.” Y/n grabbed her bag and took one last bite of her muffin before joining Elena to walk to the dungeons.

           When Y/n and Elena reached the outside of Professor Snape’s classroom she realized that this class was with Slytherin. She nearly pivoted immediately to turn back and run to the dorms before she was seen. However, she froze. Draco’s eyes met hers and he nodded at her. Okay, Y/n thought to herself. A nod. Is that really what I’ve been worrying about this whole time? It was almost like she jinxed herself just by thinking that, (which is of course not real and just something muggles made up.) because Draco had begun walking her way. “Hey Y/L/N” Y/n’s heart pounded. 

           “Sup Malfoy.” Her voice came off a lot more calm and collected than she felt. Elena made a face at Malfoy like many of the other students at Hogwarts did as well. 

           “I’m gonna go find Lance,” Elena said, moving away from Y/n.

           “D’you have a good summer?” Draco asked her. All she could do was nod and look down at her feet. It was weird that she was so shy around him now, when only months ago his tongue had been in her mouth.

           “You?” she asked in return, looking up at him for only a second. 

           “Pretty good I guess.” Y/n nodded again, and they stood there for a few seconds without saying anything. “Could we talk later? Maybe during lunch. We could meet in the astronomy tower.” Y/n’s eyes widened. The astronomy tower is where they used to meet up during lunch or late at night to secretly hook up. 

           “Um I don’t think so. I’ve got to see McGonagall.” 

           “About what? It’s the first day back.” Draco looked at her suspiciously.

           “I-.” It was at that moment that Snape appeared and unlocked his classroom door to let them in. Y/n left the awkward situation to find a seat as quickly as she could, leaving Draco with a confused look on his face.

           It was lunch and Y/n was back at her table, this time reflecting on her conversation with Draco. Did he want to start hooking up again? Did he not even notice I was avoiding him last year? Y/n thought to herself. She looked up and scanned the Slytherin table but did not see him in his usual spot between Crabbe and Goyle and across from Pansy. Maybe he found another girl to bring to the astronomy tower, she thought. It caused a sting of jealousy in her stomach. 

           It was then that she felt a tug on her robe. She looked up to find the blonde boy. “We need to talk.” He told her. Earlier when Draco had asked to talk, he did exactly that. He asked. This time he was demanding. 

           “I can’t. Sorry.” Draco rolled his eyes and only tugged harder on her blue lined robe.

           “Y/n. Come,” Draco said sternly. It made Y/n shiver. She reluctantly got up from her seat and smiled an assuring smile at Cho who looked her way concerned. She mouthed “its okay” before turning forward to walk where Draco was leading her. They left the great hall and walked into an unlocked empty classroom. Draco shut the door behind them.

           “Okay, what’s the deal?” he asked. Y/n looked around innocently saying 

           “what’s the deal with what?” Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. 

           “You’ve been avoiding me since last year.” 

           “I have not been avoiding you,” she said like it was a ridiculous idea. 

           “Yes, you have.” 

           “Well I’ve been busy,” Y/n said crossing her arms. Draco squinted at her like he was reading her mind. 

           “No, you’ve been purposefully avoiding me, and I want to know why. I thought we had something good going.” 

           “I got a boyfriend!” Y/n blurted.

           “What?” Draco’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “Who?” Y/n tried to think of who she could say her boyfriend was. Who was someone that Draco didn’t know well enough to doubt her? Who was someone Draco would never see and be able to question? She came up with nothing. 

           “Fine! I’m lying!” Draco’s shoulder visibly relaxed and he began to laugh. “Don’t laugh at me!” 

           “Well I can’t help it. Merlin, you are an idiot. Why would you tell me you have a boyfriend when you don’t?” Y/n punched his arm but couldn’t help to smile and laugh with him. 

           “I don’t know. I couldn’t come up with any better excuse.” 

           “So, you have been avoiding me?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Why?” Y/n considered lying but decided it better just to tell the truth and move on. 

           “I may have developed a crush on you.” Draco smirked. 

           “Why exactly would that make you want to avoid me? I would expect it would have the opposite effect.” Y’n rolled her eyes.

           “Because, before it was just hooking up. When I liked you it became more than that to me.” She could feel her cheeks get warm. 

           “How is that a bad thing?” 

           “Because Draco, I’m not like you. I can’t just turn off my feelings. I didn’t want to keep doing what we were doing if we weren’t gonna be more and I knew that was never going to happen. I’m muggle born.” Y/n looked at the ground and turned away from Draco. Draco frowned at her and looked down at his shoes. 

           “okay well thanks for telling me.” She nodded still not looking up. Draco slowly walked to the door, opening it. He looked back at her, before leaving the room and closing the door. 

           Now that Y/n was alone she could fully absorb what just happened. Was Draco going to go back to the Slytherin table and tell all his friends about the mudblood Ravenclaw that thought they could be anything more than fuck buddies. She felt a tear drip down her check but she brushed it away and ran her hands through her hair. She left the classroom and walked back to the great hall. She forced herself to look ahead, head held high, eyes looking straight forward away from the Slytherin table. She reached her spot beside Cho and sat back down. 

           “What did Malfoy want?” 

           “Just needed help understanding something.” Cho looked at her questioningly but only nodded and returned to her pudding. The year was off to a great start.

[themurphyzone]

All Time Travelers Go to Heaven Ch 8

Thanks for being patient everyone. I was playing catch up on MLP: FIM. 

Ch 8- A New Name

The child was still asleep. The serum must have been more taxing on his body than Balthazar and Vinnie realized. Vinnie had prepared an extra plate of breakfast, but now it would need to be warmed up. For someone who had been a science experiment his entire life, the kid was unusually trusting. 

Balthazar made a mental note to call Brick and Savannah and ask them for an update on their investigation. And if they knew a safe place for a young boy away from the prying eyes of the Bureau. 

“Dakota, do you think it’s all right to wake him up now?” Balthazar asked, his hand hovering uncertainly over the child’s shoulder. “I’d prefer that he doesn’t sleep all morning.” He moved the backpack aside so he wouldn’t trip over it, then his curiosity got the better of him. Opening the flap, he found all sorts of objects in the Jinx’s backpack. Some weren’t out of the ordinary, a plastic bag containing a few nuts, or a small paperback book. Then he found an anchor and three hedge trimmers. 

Hedge trimmers could fit in some backpacks, but most people didn’t keep one on hand. The anchor, however, couldn’t be explained. Balthazar concluded that the backpack was invented at the Bureau. There was no other explanation for how it could hold an anchor and the child had no issue carrying it around. He closed the backpack and moved it aside. 

Vinnie peeked in from the kitchen. “Okay, go ahead and wake him up. And ask him if he wants milk or OJ. It’s the cooler way to say orange juice.”

Balthazar nodded, shaking the Jinx’s shoulder gently. “It’s ten in the morning,” he said softly. “It’s imperative that you eat to keep your strength up.” 

The Jinx yawned, pushing himself up. “Morning. Do I get to pet a horse now? Wait...” Rubbing his eyes, he glanced around in confusion. “But the barn! And, and the hay! I thought I was gonna have to pick hay off my clothes for sure this morning!” 

“Yes, well,” Balthazar cleared his throat. “Bales of hay are rather ill-suited for an apartment. What you experienced last night was a hallucination brought about by fear serum. We shall be keeping you here for the day to make sure the serum has run its course. However, I expect you to be ready for a trip to the store tomorrow so that we can buy you some clothes.”

“Oh, wow,” the child murmured, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his head. “I can’t believe I thought that was real. I still think it’s real.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. 

Balthazar patted his back. “Let’s get some food into you now. Do you prefer milk or orange juice? I think you’ll quite enjoy Dakota’s cooking.”

“Orange juice is fine, thanks,” he replied.

“He wants orange juice!” Balthazar shouted. 

“One glass of OJ coming right up!” 

He helped the child off the couch, realizing that he was still in the same clothes from yesterday. A couch leg snapped off, and a loose spring caused one of the cushions fly out and smack Balthazar in the face. He coughed indignantly, throwing the cushion back in its proper place. 

“Sorry!” the child yelped. “I didn’t mean for Murphy’s Law to cause you any trouble.” He hesitantly sat down at the table, taking a sip of his juice. The microwave beeped, and Vinnie pulled out a plate of eggs and bacon, taking a piece of toast out from the toaster and setting it all in front of their guest. 

“This is the second time I’ve heard about this Murphy’s Law. What exactly makes it so dangerous?” Balthazar asked, sitting down on the seat next to him. 

Vinnie lightly smacked him in the shoulder. “Any questions you have can wait until after he’s finished. Look at the kid, he’s practically a skeleton!”

His shirt did look rather large on him. And those bruises would probably be stinging too. But it was nothing a little ointment couldn’t fix. 

“No a skeleum,” the child said through a mouthful of bacon. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Balthazar chided. “Wonderful. He’s got your eating habits.” 

Were they denying him food at the Bureau? That would explain why he was so thin....

But some children were naturally thin. Maybe it wasn’t anything to worry about. 

He polished everything, his mouth surrounded by crumbs. “That was the best breakfast ever!” he exclaimed. 

“Wipe your face and brush your teeth,” Balthazar said. “The bathroom is the first door on the right. And after this, we’re giving you an proper name. It would be quite rude of us to call you ‘child’ or ‘the Jinx’ all the time.”

“That’s really nice, but I wouldn’t even know what to call myself!” He headed to the bathroom, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

Vinnie began washing the dishes, humming thoughtfully. “There’s gotta be something we can work off,” he said. “I know! Let’s name him Elvis!”

“Elvis,” Balthazar scoffed. 

“What?” Vinnie asked innocently. “Okay, well, Frank or Ringo work too. Though he doesn’t really look like a Frank now that I think about it.”

“You are not naming him after musicians from decades long ago!” Balthazar complained. 

Vinnie shrugged. “It wasn’t that long ago. So what would you name the kid, since you kindly shot down my suggestions?” 

“Something respectable. Such as Bartholomew or Sebastian,” Balthazar replied. Vinnie snickered. “What? They’re perfectly good names!” 

“We already have one long name in this room that begins with ‘ba’ and nobody wants to name their kid Sebastian unless they want him to grow up to be a butler,” Vinnie said. “Besides, they’re completely outdated.” 

Before Balthazar could make a comeback, there was a loud crash from the bathroom. He rushed to the bathroom, knocking on the door. “Are you all right?” he called. 

“I’m fine! The bar holding up the shower curtain broke and I fell trying to fix it! I think I got it now!” There was a clang of metal against the tile. “Never mind.” 

“Would it be all right to come in so I can look at it myself?” Balthazar asked. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you try putting up the bar on your own.”

“Sure, one sec!” There was another crash. “Whoops....”

He opened the door, and Balthazar was relieved to find the sink and toilet in one piece. However, the shelf that held their shampoo bottles had toppled over, scattering the supplies around the toilet. It split down the middle when he picked it up. 

The child was staring at a spot on the wall, refusing to look at Balthazar. Vinnie leaned against the door, placing a comforting hand on the child’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. This place is falling apart on us anyway. Besides, Balthazar was always saying something about replacing that shelf. Guess you helped remind him.”

“Fine. I think we have some spare wood in storage,” Balthazar said, heaving the bar over his head and putting it in its proper place. “Ah, there we are. Easily fixable. Meet us at the table when you’re done. Since Dakota and I can’t agree on a name, it would only be right to let you decide what to call yourself.”

The Jinx nodded. Balthazar and Vinnie left him to his own devices, closing the bathroom door behind them.

“I can’t believe you actually finished a mission,” a feminine voice said. They turned around to find Savannah smirking at them. “Congratulations on your adoption, by the way.” 

“Thanks!” Vinnie exclaimed. “Sorry about the apartment. We weren’t expecting company.”

Balthazar crossed his arms. “How did you get in here? And where’s Brick?” 

“Whoa,” Savannah studied her nails. “Direct. Didn’t expect that either. To answer your first question, your front door is broken. Brick is...incapacitated at the moment.”

“Oh. Did he get injured when you were investigating the Bureau?” Vinnie asked. “Because that guy is built like...well, a brick.”

She shook her head. “No. Our first investigation went smoothly. We went to a bar afterwards and Brick had a little too much to drink. Don’t ever be around him when he’s on a hangover. He gets...needy. But I digress. I’ve come to warn you that agents of all ranks will be hunting you down. Your stunt at the asylum has propelled you to the top of the Bureau’s Most Wanted. They’ll be wanting to cash in on the hefty reward.” 

“But how do they know we took him?” Balthazar growled. 

“Henry and Lawson blabbed,” Savannah said. “Honestly. You never bothered to conceal your identity. You were easily recognized. The camera feed from the broken robot confirmed their story.” 

He had overlooked the important details. 

Again. 

When they went shopping tomorrow, they would need a lot of clothes. While Balthazar could overlook how his green formal suit was outdated in the 21st century, it was clear that he would need to change his style. They would all need to change their style to avoid capture. 

He didn’t wish interrogation on his worst enemy, much less a child. 

“I suggest you start searching for other places you can stay,” Savannah said. “They’re eventually going to find you here. But I should get going now. I promised Brick I would pick up some medicine. We’ll keep you updated. Goodbye.”

And she was gone. 

Balthazar glanced at the broken front door. “I hate to agree, but she has a point. It would be disastrous if an agent could just walk through there. We wouldn’t be able to hop through a portal in time. Perhaps we can add scouting out alternate places to stay to our to-do list tomorrow.”

“I know some great restaurants that have posh lobbies we could sleep in. Or heck, even in the main dining area after hours,” Vinnie said. “And we wouldn’t have to worry about food either.” 

Balthazar nodded. “While I would normally be cursing your appetite, a restaurant wouldn’t come to mind for any of our potential captors as a place of rest. Staying at a motel would be too obvious, and we wouldn’t have enough money for the long term. Perhaps schools would be a good option too. Of course, we’d have to be careful staying at all these public establishments so we don’t get caught by the police or employees.”

“I’m done!” the Jinx yelled. His cowlick was flopped over his face, still sopping wet. “And your showerhead only fell twice! Don’t worry, I didn’t break it.” 

He was still wearing those dull clothes from the Bureau. “Hey, kid. How about for the rest of the day you take one of my undershirts?” Vinnie asked. “You were sleeping in that last night.” 

“You sure about this? I don’t want to be any trouble....” 

Balthazar nodded. “Your current shirt is better suited for dusting a mantle. As long as you’re living under this roof, you will follow certain rules. Dakota’s shirts are kept in the bottom drawer of the bedroom. I would greatly prefer that you don’t touch anything else.”

Vinnie coughed. 

“Please,” Balthazar hastily added. “And after this, we shall no longer put off matters of your name.”

To his relief, the Jinx managed to change his shirt without incident. After that, they sat down at the table with a baby name book that Vinnie had in his possession. 

For some reason. Maybe he had been born into a large family. 

He flipped through the pages uncertainly. “There are so many names to choose from. And that’s not even counting languages besides English!”

“Take your time,” Balthazar said. “Maybe we could find something that goes with your surname, if you know it.”

The Jinx shook his head. “The only names I know are the scientists and Murphy’s Law.” 

“Wait! I’ve got it! We’ll name you Vinnie Junior!” Vinnie exclaimed. He held up his hand expectantly, frowning when Balthazar folded his arms and the Jinx stared at his hand. “Aw, c’mon! It’s rude to leave a guy hanging, you know!” 

“What are you trying to do?” the Jinx asked curiously. 

Vinnie gasped. “You don’t know what a high-five is? They really don’t teach you important social cues at the Bureau, do they? Just slap your palm against mine.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you though,” the Jinx rubbed his neck, shrinking in his seat. 

Vinnie winked at him. “Trained agent here. Look, Balthy and I will show you.” 

This time, Balthazar high-fived him without a fuss. When Vinnie gave him a puzzled look, Balthazar frowned. “I didn’t high five you the first time because I refuse to encourage your lackluster naming skills.”

The Jinx grinned. “Well in that case, high five!” His palm brushed by Vinnie’s, only hitting his knuckle. 

Vinnie shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, first time for everything.” 

Balthazar watched in amusement as the Jinx flipped through the book, murmuring softly to himself. He slammed his finger down on ‘Henry’, only to shake his head and continue searching for a different name. For five minutes, he was stuck on ‘Aaron’ and ‘Leo’, then decided he didn’t like either of them. 

Vinnie opened a pretzel bag, offering some to the Jinx, who distractedly put the pretzel stick in his mouth and sucked on the end while skimming through the ‘R’ section. 

An hour later, the Jinx had four names written on a post-it that he wanted to use process of elimination on. Curiously, they all started with ‘M’: Mikey, Mason, Micah, and Milo. 

“I grew up hearing Murphy’s Law thrown around all the time,” he explained sheepishly. “So I definitely want Murphy for my surname. Maybe I can turn the tables, make something good out of misfortune. The alliteration’s just a bonus. I guess out of these, Micah sounds a little old-fashioned for me.” He looked at Balthazar. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” 

Balthazar was glad that the child hadn’t heard his original suggestions for names. He would have been just as mortified as Vinnie, if not more. “Old fashioned isn’t for everybody,” he said. “Three choices now.”

Vinnie snorted. “Definitely not for me. Otherwise I’d be trapped in a boring stuffy suit all the time.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. The Jinx crossed off Mason as well, though he didn’t voice his reason for doing so.

“Mikey Murphy...Milo Murphy...Mikey Murphy...Milo Murphy,” he murmured. 

“Down to these two! Then maybe we can pick a middle name!” Vinnie said. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we went with a ridiculously long name?” 

Balthazar put his hand over Vinnie’s mouth so the Jinx could concentrate. “He’s not a royal. From the looks of it anyway. There’s no need for a long name unless the person in question has a ridiculously overblown ego.”

It took ten more minutes of silent debate, but the Jinx looked up from the post-it, smiling. “Okay, I’ve decided. From this day forward, I will be known as Milo Murphy!”

He stood up in his chair, pounding his fist in the air. Balthazar gestured for him to sit down before he could fall. 

“Welcome to the team, Milo Murphy,” Balthazar said, patting Milo’s back. Milo glanced up at him, his eyes sparkling with glee at not being referred to as a Jinx. “This will not be all sunshine and fun. Danger will be our middle names on this road we have chosen. But follow our instructions, and you shall be safe.”

“Whoa, that’s cool!” Milo exclaimed. “And I choose Danger to be my middle name! Except, maybe pronounce it like Don-zhay, to differentiate from the actual word.” 

“Milo Danger Murphy has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Vinnie asked, smiling as Milo danced around the apartment with a newfound spring in his step. If Balthazar hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would’ve refused to believe that this was the same child cowering under an umbrella less than 24 hours ago.

Balthazar nodded. “An incredibly nice ring. And our mission is to protect the boy behind the name.” 

[hallowsnothorcruxes]

Grindeldore prompt: Hanahaki disease?

Albus didn’t get sick often. His mother had always claimed that was due to his growing up on the country side, but Albus wasn’t entirely convinced of that.

Nonetheless, he was very surprised, when he suddenly started coughing without any warning, without any symptoms of a flu or a cold. And even more so, when he found his mouth full of deep red rose petals.

At first, he ignored it. Telling himself it was just a strange coincidence - some uncontrolled magic or a joke - and tried not to think about how that was hardly possible.

“What spell is that?” Gellert asked two days later, when Albus coughed up petals for the third time in ten minutes. Albus had really preferred not to talk about it, not to think about it, but Gellert eyed him so curiously that Albus just couldn’t bring himself to lie to him.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Gellert raised an eyebrow.

Albus shrugged. “It’s none of my spells. I thought maybe you or Aberforth jinxed me or it’s some uncontrolled magic.”

“You’re coughing up petals for how long now?”

“Two days.”

“And you don’t care to find out why?”

Albus coughed again, spilling petals in his lap and the small pond they were sitting at. “I told you, it’s probably just one of Aberforth’s jokes”, he said defiantly.

Gellert looked at him skeptically, but Albus smiled: “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Three more days passed, the coughing increased in intensity and frequency, breathing became harder and when he met Gellert, he sometimes had to cough so much that he found the petals covered in blood. By now, even Aberforth was sincerely worried and Albus convinced that it couldn’t be his brother, who had jinxed him.

He was curious indeed, who could’ve done that to him, unnoticed, but he couldn’t think of anyone except for Gellert, who seemed too worried and too curious himself.

In the end, Bathilda Bagshot was the one to solve the mystery.

It was late afternoon already, Albus and Gellert were sitting at the Dumbledore’s kitchen table, trying to focus on an old map of Europe, - which proved hardly possible, since Albus couldn’t stop coughing up petals - while Ariana and Aberforth were playing with the goats in the backyard.

When they heard someone knocking on the door, Gellert went to get it, since Albus almost seemed to collapse from lack of oxygen with every step he took.

Bathilda entered the kitchen with a heavy, old book in her arms and squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.

“How are you feeling, Albus?” She asked, concerned, sitting down at the table.

“I’m alright.” He coughed again, when Gellert sat back down next to him. Bathilda’s face grew even more serious.

“I think I found the reason for your condition.”

Albus and Gellert looked at her in surprise. “Really?” Gellert asked. He had tried very hard to find a spell or a jinx that would cause a person to cough up petals, but everything he found didn’t completely apply to Albus symptoms.

“Yes.”

“What is it?” Albus asked.

Bathilda looked over at Gellert. “Leave us for a moment, would you?”

Gellert frowned. “No. I want to know.”

“I think this is personal.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“He can stay”, Albus interrupted. Bathilda met his eyes and sighed. “Very well.” She opened the book, looke through the pages and finally, turned it around so that Albus could read. Gellert leaned in to look over his shoulder.

“Hanahaki Disease”, he read. “An illness born from unrequited love.”

Albus just sat there, frozen, staring at the book in front of him, while Gellert’s mind still seemed to process the information.

“Who are you in love with?” He asked after a long moment of silence.

Albus closed his eyes, coughing up a whole load of blood covered petals. Gellert passed him the bucket that they collected them in and Albus held on to it like a drowning man.

He felt like he was drowning or suffocating and if it was true, what the book said, that was the case, indeed. He was being suffocated by his feelings. He swallowed hard, tried to get the metal taste of blood and spring out of his mouth and ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the dampness of his eyes unnoticed.

As if loving his friend wasn’t bad enough itself. As if he wasn’t suffering enough already, trying to hide his admiration, his love, trying to act normal around him, trying very hard, not to give anything away… now it was quite literally killing him.

“Is there a cure?” He asked, looking at Bathilda. He hated how hoarse his voice sounded.

Bathilda took his hand sympathetically. “I talked to an old friend, he is a healer at St Mungo’s and he said he’s seen some people with this illness. He said they can remove the flowers, but that will remove all emotions, too.”

Albus looked horrified, shaking his head automatically. No emotions. No feelings. No love, no friendship, no joy, no sorrow even. How was anyone supposed to live like that?

“He said, the flowers will also disappear if the beloved person reciprocates your love.”

At that Gellert clapped his hands so suddenly that Albus startled. “Well, problem solved!”

“What?” He really tried not to sound hopeful, not to feel hopeful, but he couldn’t help it. He just stared at Gellert with wide eyes.

“You just need to get whoever it is to fall in love with you. Won’t be too hard, you’re the great Albus Dumbledore and I’ll help you.”

He wasn’t sure, if Gellert could see in his eyes how his world crumbled from the intensity of pain and hopelessness that overcame him. He couldn’t say anything, his throat felt too tight, his chest ached and his eyes burned, so he just folded his arms on the table and hid his face in them.

He tried to keep his body from shaking, while tears spilled into the sleeves of his shirt.

*

They had left him, when he had asked them to. He didn’t want company, he couldn’t bear Gellert’s company. So he had dragged himself up to his room, closed the curtains and curled himself up in his bed, trying to shut out the world and everything in it.

He woke up in the middle of the night, from the sickening, frightening feeling of choking. He felt like no air could reach his lungs or escape it. His pillow was already covered in red petals and when he sat up and gagged, trying to get more petals out of his pipe, he sprinkled his linens in blood as well. Desperately he coughed and gagged, but all that left his throat were strangled cries and he felt more and more faint the more time passed.

“Albus?” That was Aberforth’s voice and only a second later, his brother was by his side, clapping his back and holding back his hair.

Just when he thought he was going to pass out and die, he threw up another blood stained load of petals, coughed a few more times and felt how he could finally breathe again.

He desperately gasped for air and finally collapsed into his brother’s arms, shaking and sweating.

“You can’t die”, Aberforth said firmly.

“I don’t want to”, he confessed.

“You can’t. We need you. You need to let them take it out.”

“You heard?”

“‘Course I did.”

“I won’t be of any use if I can’t feel anything.”

“Yes you will. And if it’s just on paper. If you die, they will take Ariana away, take her to St Mungo’s and Merlin knows where I’ll end up.” He paused, then said: “Tell him. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“You know?”

Aberforth rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows. And he’s either even more stupid than I thought or pretending not to know.”

“I’ve got our friendship to lose.”

“Which you can’t be sad about then, anymore. You have to try. I can’t take care of two sick people.”

Albus nodded slowly. “I’m sorry”, he whispered.

“I know”, Aberforth said, rubbing his back, when Albus coughed again. “I’m sorry, too. It sucks. I’ll punch him, if you want.”

Albus smiled, but shook his head. “Thank you.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, I’m not always the brother you need.”

*

“Listen”, Gellert said when they met the next day. They were sitting on Albus’ bed, since he could hardly leave his room, due to his laboured breathing. “I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how I feel about you”, he admitted.

“Explain.”

Gellert’s jaw clenched and he avoided looking at Albus. “I’m not like you. I don’t know love.” He said the last word as if he felt personally offended by it. “You love your siblings and your friends and you loved your parents and you’re kind and you care. I don’t. I don’t know my father, I hate my mother, I don’t have friends and I certainly don’t care about anyone else I’ve ever met. They’re usually dull and stupid and they bore me. But you know all of that.” He fidgeted with his hands, now looking defiant. “You’re an exception. You’re brilliant. I want to be friends with you. I like you more than any other person. I just don’t know if I can even feel something like love.”

“You don’t need to say that, you know.”

“I wouldn’t bother, if I didn’t mean it. I know it’s not my fault, even though I highly dislike the situation.”

Albus nodded. “And what do we do now?”

“We try.”

“We do?” Albus looked at him in disbelief.

“The worst that can happen is that nothing changes, right?” He met Albus’ eyes. “Or I might fall in love with you.” Slowly, he reached out, took Albus’ hand and intertwined their fingers.

[philsdrill]

Chapter 18: Tired

Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil

Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.

Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.

Word Count (for this part): 4.9k

[Uploads will be approximately every couple of weeks! (hopefully)]

A/N: I said in my last authors not that “hopefully I’ll have more time to write in a week or so” - I think i jinxed that. Anyway, I refused to let it get to three weeks since the last update, so here we go - two weeks and six days. I’m in my final year of school and its a lot at the moment but I’m trying. If you’re interested, I have a relatively new sideblog, @philsdrill-updates, where I post only about updates for this fic, so if you want a notification when I update, you can turn on notifications for the blog if you want!

MASTERPOST

<= Previous Chapter

The next day was a little bit weird for Phil, trying out these new varieties of milk and settling on his favourite. He seemed to be feeling fine, which was a relief, as sometimes you wonder if the doctor actually diagnoses the right thing. We headed to Phil’s parents’ house mid-afternoon for Phil’s birthday meal, taking with us Phil’s lactose free milk, as we were spending the night.

As we packed our overnight bags and got ready to go, Phil asked me about three separate times whether I had my anxiety medicine. The answer remained yes and I even showed him where it was in my bag. I understood that he was just being extra precautious after what happened the last time. However, I’d been handling my anxiety a bit better recently, and hopefully I’d be able to keep that up.

Phil’s birthday dinner was a pretty small event, with just his immediate family; his mum and dad, and his brother, Martyn with soulmate, Cornelia. Aunts and uncles had been thought about, but with the complications of us moving house, they hadn’t wanted to tie it down to a date in that way. Phil was happy about that, because although he loved his family, he was still lacking a bit of energy and enthusiasm as a result of feeling ill.

Phil’s mum had called me to update me with the change to the meal. It was now going to be a tomato pasta, with chicken and asparagus, a similar meal which allowed her to use most of the ingredients that she had already purchased. I was still to keep it a secret from Phil, but I was able to inform him that it was suitable for his new diet. At that he was relieved; I think he had been stressing out about it a little more than was necessary.

Despite not being the sort of pasta accompaniments that I would have thought of, the meal was very nice. I suspected that Phil had probably inherited a large proportion of his cooking ability from his parents, because their cooking was on a similar level of greatness to his. There were a variety of desserts, two of which Phil could have, and one that he couldn’t. That didn’t bother him, because there was still enough to satisfy his sweet tooth. I had a small portion of jelly, but I still found I wasn’t big on the pudding front. Eating any more than a little dessert, caused a small spike in my anxiety, never mind my sugar levels.

After the meal, there was the standard follow up of coffee and cake. I followed Phil’s mum through to the kitchen to ensure that she didn’t get carried away and put normal milk in his coffee. Phil had found that the lactose-free milk tasted different by itself, but it barely made a difference to coffee.

I helped carry through the drinks, by taking my tea and Phil’s coffee back to the dining room. Phil’s mum was going to follow through with the rest. I handed Phil his coffee, and returned to my seat next to him. Once she had set down the tray with the remaining hot drinks, she came over to speak to Phil.

“Now, Phil,” she started, “Before I bring it through, I’d already bought the cake before I heard the news so you can’t have it…”

She was cut off by Phil suddenly bursting into tears, something I would never have expected, but then he had been a little less emotionally stable over the last couple of days.

Phil ducked his head into my side to hide his face from the rest of the family, whilst his mum, shocked, placed a hand on his shoulder, “Phil, I’ve made you a toffee and marshmallow crispy cake. It’s not the end of the world, okay.”

“Sorry,” Phil sniffed, “I’m just a little all over the place at the moment, but thank you.”

Phil recovered from his small outburst almost as quickly as it had happened and was happy enough to blow out the candles on the cake. The pile of milk-free sweet things that his mum had brought him went down a treat and when he was finished he snuggled into my side.

Phil received a few presents: some new kitchen equipment from his parents and some rather amusing novelty gifts and a scarf from his brother. As the evening progressed towards midnight, I was waiting for Phil to say when he wanted to go up to bed, but he never said anything. It was when I noticed him starting to nod off, falling asleep on me, that I took matters into my own hands.

I told the family that we were off to bed, with the reason that Phil was still tired from being ill. I helped the sleepy Phil up from the sofa and up the stairs to the guest room. This time it was us having the guest room and Martyn and Cornelia in the living room. Phil’s mum wasn’t one to favour either of her sons, but Phil had had a hard week.

Phil was dead on his feet, but I still managed to get him to get into his pyjamas and brush his teeth before bed. I stripped down to my underwear and climbed in next to him, winding an arm around his exhausted body.

“You get some sleep,” I murmured to him, “I know you’re tired and we don’t need to have a deep conversation every night.”

Phil tiredly agreed and wriggled around to make himself a little more comfortable. He drifted off to sleep in no time and I was left lying by his side, alone in my awakeness.

As I peered through the darkness, silently thinking about not a lot, there was a knock at the door and Martyn wandered in, “Do you guys… oh.”

Martyn stopped speaking when he realised that Phil was asleep. I held up a finger to tell him to hold on, then clambered out of bed to speak to him.

We went into the hall and I shut the door over behind us to keep the noise from disturbing Phil, “What was it you wanted to ask?”

“Yeah sorry, I didn't realise that Phil's asleep already,” he apologised, “I was gonna ask if you know where the blankets are because mum and dad have gone to sleep and Cornelia and I don't know where to find them?”

“I'm not actually sure,” I admitted, “When I was here at Christmas I think Phil or your mum got them for me, but I'll help you look if you want; I have an idea.”

Martyn took me up on the offer of help. They had been looking in the upstairs cupboards but I had a feeling that they may in fact be downstairs. It was a wild guess but I could remember that it took absolutely no time for a blanket to appear and I had a feeling that I'd heard a cupboard open and shut downstairs.

It took a little hunting, but eventually Martyn and I found the cupboard with the blankets. It was in the hallway, near to the living room, almost under the stairs but not quite.

As we lifted blankets from the cupboard, something happened which threw me off of my recent improvement in mental state. Martyn's hand brushed my bare stomach in passing me a pile of blankets, and although that shouldn't have set off a reaction, it did.

I froze and my thoughts travelled back to places I'd hoped they'd never have to go to again. Nora. Her fat-shaming. Pokes in the stomach. The burning feeling of emptiness that came with days of not eating. Doughnuts. Oh so many doughnuts. Yelling. Screaming. And then finally, a slap across the face.

In my panicked haze, the blankets had fallen from my hands and I'd taken a couple of steps backwards to collapse onto the stairs. Immediately, I could feel myself shaking, my breathing developing a panicked rhythm, shallow breaths barely refilling my lungs.

“Dan, can I help? Should I get Phil?” Martyn asked, his voice sounding so unclear through my haze that I didn't know if he was calm or concerned.

“C-could you get my toiletries bag from the bathroom,” I asked him struggling to get my words out, but knowing that I needed my medication more than anything, “And d-don't wake Phil; he needs sleep.”

Martyn was in and out of the bathroom in a flash, carrying my bag in his hand. I'd never told him, but I was thankful he could tell that Phil's was the brightly coloured one.

He handed me the bag, then crouched down on the floor in front of me. With shaky hands, I managed to dig through the back and find the little tub of pills that would hopefully help me feel better.

With extreme concentration, I poured out the two tablets that I should be taking for an attack this intense. I looked at them as I held them in my hand, hoping that I’d got the dose right as I definitely didn't have the capacity to think.

“Let me get you some water,” Martyn said, getting up and heading for the kitchen.

As I waited for Martyn to get back, I felt the tablets getting damp in my now slightly clammy hand. I shifted them around to stop them from dissolving, tempted to just put them in my mouth, but knowing that I would need the water.

Soon enough, Martyn appeared carrying a mug of water. I took it from him, slipping my hand through the handle, and thanking whatever part of him decided it would be a good idea to get a mug. I was less likely to drop it with my shaking if I had a handle to hold onto.

I popped the first tablet into my mouth, swallowed it with some water, and repeated the process with the second. I felt a little relief knowing that I now just had to wait for them to take effect, but that didn't help with my panicked breathing.

I attempted to control it, counting the seconds as I breathed in and out, but I just couldn't get myself to improve. As much as I tried, I was struggling to breathe in or out for any longer than two seconds. The longer I struggled, the further I panicked, the lack of control being something that just exaggerated how I felt.

It took me a little longer to notice than it should have done, but I was shivering. I was only in my boxers, and whilst that's fine under blankets or duvets, it wasn't really ideal dress for being out of bed. I curled in on myself, trying to warm up a little, but just finding that I was shivering so much I felt worse.

“Mate, you're shivering, have a blanket,” Martyn said suddenly, unfolding the blanket he had been holding and draping it around my shoulders.

As happens in some panic attacks, a sudden wave of emotion overcame me. I felt the tears leaking from my eyes before the sobbing made its appearance. I tried my best not to cry, I wasn't comfortable doing that in front of Martyn, but like everything else, I was lacking control. The tears started flowing and then each time I tried to stop, it only got worse.

“I’m fine,” I choked out to Martyn, “I just had a kinda flashback or something.”

“Dan, you’re not fine, you’re panicking so it's okay to cry,” Martyn said, thankfully understanding what was going on, “What is it Phil gets you to do? Count your breathing and try to make it slower? Are you trying that?”

I nodded, trying to deepen my breathing and slow it down, but I was struggling. I couldn't control the panicked breaths that were whizzing their way in and out of my lungs so fast that my body barely had time to take in the oxygen. My chest hurt from the exertion. I needed to slow my breathing down but I was really struggling.

The door to the living room creaked open and Cornelia walked out, now dressed in pyjamas, “Martyn, have you found… oh…”

“Is Dan okay?” She asked, interrupting herself, “Should we get Phil?”

“No no no, don't get Phil, he’s asleep and I’m going to be fine,” I told her.

A sudden pang of longing for Phil hit me, and I felt myself start to cry harder. I wanted him here, he would know what to do. I just didn't want him to have to wake up; he'd been so tired.

After whispering to Martyn for a few seconds, Cornelia made her way over and sat down on the stair next to me, but still leaving enough space between us.

“Dan,” she said softly, “D’you want to try and breathe with me? Innnnnnnn… and outtttt…”

With Cornelia’s help, her commentary and actions about her own breathing, I was able to calm mine down a little bit. I gradually became less aware of my chest hurting, and although I was still a little out of breath, it was a lot better. Exhausted, I was so tempted to rest my head on Cornelia’s shoulder, but I barely knew her.

“Dan,” she said gently, “Do you want a hug or anything? Do you want to talk about it?”

Thankful for the invite, I rested my head on her shoulder, “Thanks.”

I was in two minds about whether I wanted to talk about it. I wasn’t really sure how much of the story they actually knew, so maybe it would be best to tell them; but on the other hand, I wasn’t sure I could cope with reliving all of it. In the end, my emotional state ended up making it all pour out.

“My ex was the reason I have problems with eating and my body because she used to abuse me for it. Martyn’s hand just brushed my stomach, but I didn’t realise I still have problems with that as it's fine with Phil and when I have a shirt on,” I told them.

“Your ex abused you?” Cornelia said, shocked, placing a hand on the blanket that covered my back.

“Yeah, like she would tell me I was overweight and needed to lose it, so I started eating less and purging and exercising but it was never enough and this one time I was on the verge of starvation and I binged on her doughnuts and that was the last straw and she hit me and I hate her so much, like I get anxious about so much, and it's almost always because of something she did,” I blurted, crying more as I spoke, violent sobs breaking their way into the middle of my sentences.

Although I was breathing better, I was still shaking and crying and it had been going on so long that I felt sick. A nauseous feeling radiated in my stomach and chest, and my throat felt tight, as if it was ready to vomit out my dinner. Why had the tablets not worked yet? Had it been long enough? Had he taken the wrong thing? What might he have taken instead? Would it kill him? Was he going to die anyway? This felt like the end. Sometimes he wished he could die when he was with Nora, but he doesn't want that now; he’s happy with Phil.

“I feel sick,” I groaned, moving my head back off Cornelia’s shoulder and curling in on myself.

I brought my hands up to hold my head, which was pounding with the image of Nora’s face. I shut my eyes to try and block it out, but it seemed to have engraved itself onto the back of my eyelids. You should really lose some weight... What the fuck, you fat imbecile... Get out. I never want to see you again... You worthless piece of flab…. Her voice echoed in my head. I covered my ears and blabbered nonsensical ramblings to try and block it out. I wanted to scream so badly, but somehow I was still registering that people were asleep.

Distantly, I heard Martyn’s voice say, “I’m getting Phil,” but I didn’t have the energy to protest.  I felt that my body was getting tired of shaking. I felt really weak, my arms tired from holding my head, my face tired from crying, my stomach muscles tired from trying to keep down my dinner…

“Dan.”

Phil’s voice managed to break through, his hand rubbing my shoulder as he bent down next beside me. I slowly cracked open my eyes to see Phil’s concerned face, and Cornelia holding a bucket in near me. Phil sat himself down on the step behind me, putting a leg either side of me and then slowly scooping me up and lifting me into his lap. He had brought the duvet with him, which he wrapped around me as he enclosed me in a hug.

I felt a bit better in Phil’s arms, a place that I had grown to know as safe. I felt small and protected in the warmth of his arms and the duvet, and I slowly began to feel more calm. The images of my ex had gone from my head and all I could think about now was how tired I was.

“How are you feeling?” Phil asked softly, adjusting his hold on me, “Not great, I’m guessing.”

“A little better than I was a minute ago,” I told him, “But really tired.”

“Okay,” he said, “Are you still feeling sick?”

“A little, but not like I’m going to throw up,” I replied honestly, yawning.

“Okay, you can take the bucket away,” Phil said to his brother, “And thank you so much for coming to get me. You can get back to bed now; I think we’ve got this under control now.”

“Great,” he said, “Well we’ll head off to bed; you two get some sleep too. You got everything you need?”

“Yup,” Phil said, “I’ll get Dan some more water and then we’ll head to bed too.”

I smiled weakly at the two of them as they headed back to the living room. Martyn stopped at the cupboard to grab another blanket on the way and I instantly felt bad because I was now wearing the one he had got out. The living room door shut and the hallway was now quiet apart from Phil’s and my breathing, and the distant snores of his parents.

“Let’s go back to our room,” Phil said after a minute or two.

Phil helped me to my feet, which I appreciated with being so tired. We made our way back up the stairs together, then took a right into the spare room.

“I’m just going to get you another drink,” Phil said, holding up the glass which had held the water I used to swallow my pills, “Get yourself comfy, but stay sitting up so you can drink it.”

I made my way over to the bed and got into my side, leaning against the wall and pulling the duvet up to my neck. I patiently awaited Phil’s return, which in fact was only seconds after I’d settled into the bed.

Phil sat down next to me and passed me the glass of water, “Drink that, take your time, and when you’re ready we’ll talk about what happened, okay?”

I sipped slowly on the water, making an effort to keep my breathing deep and slow. Phil sat down on the bed next to me and brought me into a half hug, which was a nice gesture.

Once I was about halfway through the glass of water, Phil encouraged me to talk about it, “If you're okay to talk about what happened, then that would be good. Martyn said that you were having a panic attack because he accidentally brushed his stomach and that then you'd explained to him and Cornelia about what happened with your ex, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“But he said that you were a bit out of it and didn't seem to be hearing him or Cornelia?” Phil prompted me.

“I think I had like a flashback or something,” I told him nervously, “Like all I could see was her face; all I could hear was her voice. It was kinda like I was there again… with the shouting… and her angry face.”

As I explained to Phil what had happened and saw the concern building his face, I felt my anxiety levels rise a little again. I had a sudden urge to be in his arms and as it was a viable option this time, I nuzzled my head into his shoulder to seek his comfort.

“It’s okay, it’s over now,” Phil comforted me, bringing his arms around me like I’d hoped, “But I do think you should talk to your mental health therapist about that, okay? I try my best, but I’m no professional.”

“Yeah, I think I will,” I said, a little shakily, “I’d been feeling like my anxiety wasn’t too bad and then that came along out of nowhere, whatever it was. It was so much worse than usual and I’m scared it’ll happen again.”

“I’m here for you if it does,” Phil reminded me, pressing his lips to my forehead and making his hug feel more secure.

“Thanks,” I nodded into his chest.

Feeling safe in Phil's arms, I finally relaxed a little, laying down with him. He adjusted his arms around me once we were laying down and nuzzled his face into my neck.

“Let's get some sleep, okay, Dan,” he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I sniffed, feeling a couple of tears escape from my eyes in my still emotional state.

--

Phil's POV:

I told Dan that I loved him and I heard it in his voice as he replied that he was still a bit tearful. I knew that I was comforting him physically as much as I could, so there probably wasn't much else I could do.

“Goodnight,” I said as he curled up a little next to me, “If you feel anxious again at all, wake me up.”

I noticed as I shuffled around to get comfortable, that Dan shied away when my hands got close to his middle. I respected his feelings and made an effort to keep away from his stomach, just for tonight. I guess he was going to be extra sensitive for a little bit, so I would have to be careful.

Dan grabbed the spare blanket and wrapped it around himself, creating a barrier between his bare skin and me.

“D’you want some space?” I mumbled to him, suggestively loosening the hug.

“No, this is good,” he replied, slightly muffled by the duvet, “I just wanted to cover up my skin.”

“Okay,” I replied, getting ready to try and sleep, “See you in the morning then.”

Once we were content with our cuddling positions, it wasn’t long before we were asleep. My last few thoughts of the night were about Dan’s anxiety attack and how much it was going to affect him. I hoped that it wouldn’t put too much of a blow on his self-esteem in the long term. He’d been doing really well recently and all he needed was his mental health to keep up. It seemed to make him feel better when he went to talk to his therapist, so I planned to encourage him to make another appointment soon. It should probably wait until after Adam’s stay, so I’d need to do my best to be someone he could talk to in the meantime.

--

The morning that followed found Dan and I snuggled up close in the bed, the sun filtering in through the gap in the curtains. It was getting towards eleven when we were finally awake enough to look at the clock and have a sensical conversation with each other.

“How’re you feeling?” I asked Dan, concerned that he would still be quite down after last night.

“I’m alright,” he said, “Like not super duper and not terrible, but alright. I think I’ll make it through today; hopefully setting up for Adam coming won’t drain too much of my energy. We should make sure we get to bed early tonight. How are you doing? I feel really bad about nicking your sleep.”

“I’m good,” I told him. I knew he was concerned because I hadn’t slept so well the night I’d been ill and I’d been a bit tired since, but it was nothing I couldn’t deal with.

Dan and I got out of bed, he got dressed and we made our way downstairs for breakfast. As it happened, the rest of my family were all at the dining table, but at different stages of their meal. My parents had finished eating and were drinking coffee and my brother and his soulmate were eating some cereal.

I got out a bowl for both Dan and me and we helped ourselves to cereal. Dan had grown comfortable enough in my parents house to help himself, and his recent improvements in his attitude towards eating meant that he would just pick something out and eat it rather than me having to encourage him.

After my family had all said good morning to us, Martyn spoke to Dan, “Dan, are you feeling better this morning? You and Phil got to sleep and everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine now,” Dan said, “And it wasn’t much trouble getting to sleep; we were both pretty tired. Thank you so much for helping me out; that was good of you.”

“No problem,” Martyn replied.

I noticed my mum looking puzzled and realised that neither of my parents would’ve known what happened as they were both asleep.

“You might be wondering…” I started, turning to my mum, “Dan had an anxiety attack and Martyn and Cornelia helped him and came and woke me up.”

“Ahh,” she made a sound in understanding, “Everything’s okay now though, right? Are these anxiety attacks something he can get help for?”

“Yeah,” Dan nodded, intervening, “I’m taking medication which helps with reducing my overall anxiety levels and I have tablets that help to stop an attack, but they take a while to kick in. I speak to a mental health therapist when I get a chance, but I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “Sounds like you have it fairly under control, but I’m glad you have Phil for support.”

“Dan,” I nudged him, “You taken today’s yet?”

“Oh yeah; no I haven't,” he stuttered, getting up from his seat and heading towards the door, “I'll be right back.”

When Dan returned a couple of minutes later with his box of tablets, I had a glass of water ready and waiting at his place. My family didn't take strange amounts of interest in his pill taking, which made it easier for him, not feeling like he was being watched.

When we finished breakfast, Dan and I started sorting our stuff out to go home. We each had our overnight bags, and I had a new bag of birthday presents. In the end, it was nearly lunchtime by the time we got around to leaving; I got way too caught up in talking to my family.

Our plan for the afternoon was to tidy our flat and get it ready for Adam coming to stay. He’d be arriving just after lunch tomorrow, so we couldn’t leave it much later to start getting organised. We got the guest bedroom as tidy as we could make it; we still had a lot of boxes around, but we were able to shove most of them into a cupboard. Dan gave the main bathroom a little clean and I did a food order that would arrive later in the afternoon.

We spent a lot of time tidying our living room, as not everything had yet settled into a spot of its own. There were DVDs all over the floor in front of the DVD shelf, so those got stacked into a neat pile at the side. There was a rolled up rug near the entrance to the kitchen, so we spread it out on the floor. Even if it wasn’t in its final location, it looked a lot tidier.

We took a nap in the late afternoon, before dinner. We needed a little energy boost to get the rest of the organising doing. After eating dinner we still had to make up the guest bed and find the spare clean towels to put in the bathroom. It was a relief when it was all done, leaving Dan and I with a little time to ourselves before bedtime.

It was a kind of spur of the moment decision, as it often is when things get a little heated, but Dan and I headed to bed early, with more than just sleeping in mind. It was a night for a more slow and sensual style of sex. Neither of us were feeling particularly dominant or super energetic, so we worked together to reach a point of mutual orgasm. It was nice to finally release the sexual tension that had been building up; we needed to deal with that before we had Dan’s brother up to stay. I didn’t feel comfortable being in such a state of vulnerability with a guest in our home and I’m not sure Dan would either. After the rhythm came to a halt, we were able to fall into a naked embrace and not have to worry about the consequences.

Next chapter =>

[hurricanefrankie]

You’re Not the Only One Suffering

Amelia is jolted awake by a sudden pain in her abdomen, the kind of pain that makes your toes curl and your fists clench in a hope to counteract the sensation. She rolls onto her side with a groan. The early morning sun dimly lit the room so she knew it was at least the morning. Suddenly overcome by a hot flash, she rips off her covers in an attempt to cool herself down. Her skin was on fire. She checks her forehead for a temperature but it’s too hard to tell whether or not she has one thanks to her hands being ice cold yet still clammy from sweat. 

The pain that woke her strikes again causing her stomach to churn uneasily. She tries to gulp down the nausea but her mouth is dry and any moisture she had left in her body has now been sweated out during the night.

She hears hurried footsteps thud against the floor upstairs, signalling someone else was awake. A door slamming shut abruptly overshadows the footsteps closely followed by the distant sound of retching. 

Oh no. Amelia scrambles off the couch, her stomach now violently churning. She runs in the direction of the downstairs bathroom, her hand placed firmly over her mouth as bile retreats back up her throat. She wrenches open the door and makes a beeline for the toilet. She reaches it just in time to watch the contents of her stomach spew from her mouth into the bowl. 

Tears stream down her cheeks as a result of the violent retching but she has no energy to wipe them away, at least not until she’s finished puking her guts up. She continues vomiting for the next few minutes until her body realises there’s nothing left to relinquish from her now empty stomach.

She drops down next to the toilet with a sigh of relief. Please let that be the last of it. She remains slumped on the bathroom floor tiles, her legs pulled up to her chest whilst her head hung limply between them, enjoying the sensation of the cool tiles against her still burning hot skin. 

Amelia doesn’t even realise she’s fallen asleep until she’s gently shaken awake by her four year old nephew Bailey. Her stormy blue eyes open to see his sky blue ones staring right back at her with curiosity.

“Why are you sleeping in here aunty Amy?” he asks with a furrowed brow. 

Meredith appears behind him with Ellis on her hip, “You ill too?” she queries, surveying her sister-in-law with pursed lips.

The neurosurgeon runs a hand through her matted hair, “I feel like…” she stops herself from swearing to spell it out instead. “C. R. A. P.”  

Meredith nods in understanding, “I’ve been up half the night with Zola while Maggie has been in my en suite and Alex has now too locked himself away in the main bathroom. I’m dropping these two off at day-care, I want them to remain healthy.” She ushers her son away from his aunt. “How’re you feeling?”

“A bit better.” Amelia shrugs and leans her head back against the wall.

“Good, I need you to go check on Zola, she was asleep but I don’t want her waking up alone.”

She wipes her hand over her sweaty face, “Ok, sure.” The mere thought of standing up and removing herself from such a close proximity to a toilet made her feel very anxious.

“I’ve also gotta call Catherine Avery and cancel my trip with Jackson, she’ll have to find someone else to go.” Meredith swiftly leaves, tugging a still very curious yet concerned Bailey with her; he hated seeing people hurt or unwell just like his older sister. His mother and aunts were all very positive both siblings would follow in their parents’ footsteps by becoming doctors. 

With a deep breath, Amelia pushes herself up as gently as she possibly can, her head spinning momentarily once she’s standing upright. Her legs feel like jelly. The front door shuts indicating Meredith and the kids were gone.

Ok. You can do this. She gives herself a mini pep talk as she slowly but surely makes her way out of the bathroom and up the stairs. She clings to the bannister with dear life as yet another wave of nausea hits her. She freezes mid step until it passes. Mind over matter.

When she finally arrives at Meredith’s room, she finds Zola curled up in the tightest ball possible, still fast asleep. Amelia crawls onto the bed to join her, mentally making a note of the plastic bowl on the side table in case she felt like she might vomit again. She lies down beside her niece, above the covers, she was still burning up and the prospect of tucking herself in made her feel claustrophobic and very uneasy.

The sound of the en suite toilet flushing alerts Amelia to the presence of Maggie in the adjoining room, she had almost forgot that Meredith has said both she and Alex were in the same predicament as her and Zola.

The bathroom door creaks open to reveal an incredibly pale Maggie. Her hair was pulled back and hidden beneath one of her headscarf’s and she was wearing a tank top with yoga pants. “What did I do to deserve this?” she grumbles, using the doorframe as a support to keep her upright.

“You’re not the only one suffering.” Amelia says, remaining perfectly still, scared that if she moved even an inch; she’d unsettle her stomach. “Did we eat something?” she grimaces at the thought of food.

“Mer thinks it’s just the flu. Half of Zola’s class has gone down with it.”

“So she’s to blame.” She retorts half jokingly as she glances at the girl to her left.

“I’m so tired. All I want to do is curl up in bed but every time I step foot outside of this room, I…” Maggie drifts off, her face turning green. She whips back around and crouches over the toilet bowl. 

Amelia tries to cover her ears to block them from hearing the inevitable vomiting but it’s no use. She closes her eyes and tries her best to think of anything but what was happening a few feet from where she lay.

‘You ok?’ His voice suddenly enters her mind. It’s full of concern and love as usual. Throughout the course of their relationship, he’s only ever seen her ill once.

“Go away!” She groans when she hears him knocking at the door. She doesn’t want him to see her like this. She’s sweaty and gross with chunks of vomit in her hair.

“Mia,” he only calls her that on rare occasions when he doesn’t know how to help and wants her to just tell him what to do. “Just let me in.” they both know the door is unlocked but he’s trying to respect her boundaries by waiting outside until she invites him in. 

“I’m disgusting.” She heaves up another load of last night’s dodgy Mexican food. “Please go away!” she splutters, spitting out any remnants from her mouth into the bowl.

She hears him sigh from the other side of the door. “Can I at least get you something? A glass of water? Some ginger ale?”

“Sorry you had to hear that.” Maggie’s voice interrupts her thoughts.

She sighs, disappointed to find herself stuck at Meredith’s house while she was ill rather than being at home with her husband who would gladly look after her, despite her objections. “Shut the door next time.” 

The mattress dips and Maggie cautiously lies down beside her. “I don’t wanna jinx anything but… I might be over the worst of it.” 

Amelia scoffs at her unwavering optimism. The world is on fire and she holds a marshmallow on a stick to the flames.

“Having the flu is the perfect excuse not to be in the O.R with Minnick as she allows some first year resident to butcher a patient’s heart valve.”

Speaking about food made her stomach churn but talking about surgery, where there was blood, guts and gore only made Amelia’s heart flutter. Nothing beat the rush of adrenaline a surgeon got when they cut into a person’s body, or in Amelia’s case, their head.

“When are you coming back for good?”

The neurosurgeon sighs as she delicately rests her hands on her abdomen. After getting a taste of being back in the O.R the other day, she had spent every minute since craving the rush. The only thing that topped doing surgery was being in Owen’s presence, it didn’t matter if they were fighting or even giving one and other the silent treatment, just being in the same room as him made her heart skip a beat.

“I…” she gulps, pleased to find her mouth was no longer dry. “I don’t know… maybe sooner rather than later.” She knew she couldn’t stay out of work forever, her patients and her department needed her. She was still getting updates from Stephanie regarding the other neuro attendings and none of them were living up to her high expectations.

“And what about Owen?” 

Amelia stares up at the cream colored ceiling. To her surprise, since being back at Meredith’s house, she hadn’t been interrogated as much as she expected. She thought she’d receive daily grilling’s from Meredith while Maggie asked incessant questions until they wore their sister down but none of that happened. Alex had been the only one to push her to talk because of what she had previously told him but only when they were alone, and when she told him to back off, he had done so without hesitation.

“I…” 

Maggie tilts her head slightly to face her, “It’s ok, I’m not pressuring you like the other day. Come back when you’re ready.”

What if I’m never ready? I’m not ready for the fight with Owen. I’m not ready to break his heart.

Zola shifts beside her, “Mommy,” she mumbles, still half asleep. 

“Mommy’s gone out for a little bit Zo Zo,” Amelia diverts her attention from Maggie to her niece, “she’ll be back soon.”

The seven-year-old uncoils herself from a tight ball and rolls over to face her aunt; she shuffles closer in need of physical contact. Amelia pulls her into her arms, dismissive of the idea that she might be vomited upon any minute now. She starts to rub circles on her niece’s back to sooth her just like her mom used to whenever she was sick.

“I told you to go away!” She whimpers into the toilet, trying to use it to shield her face from her husband’s view.

“I know but I don’t care.” Owen kneels down next to her. He rests his hand on her back and begins to draw a figure of eight while the other gathers up her mop of hair to keep it from her face as she continued to puke. “You’re my wife. In sickness and in health.” He reminds her affectionately.

“I don’t-want-you seeing-me like-this.” she groans between violent bouts of vomiting.

He sighs, “I’m a doctor plus I’ve been in multiple war zones, I’ve seen much worse, believe me.” 

“But you’re not sleeping with your patients after you’ve seen them crap their pants or watched them vomit on sacred ground.” By sacred ground, she meant their bed. She buries her reddening face further down into the toilet.

“Do you want me to vomit in front of you? Will that make you feel better?” he sniggers. “If it means that much to you, I will go eat the other half of that bad burrito and in three to six hours, you can watch me projectile vomit anywhere you want.”

“You’d really do that for me?” the porcelain bowl amplifies her muffled voice.

He sniggers. “If that’s what it takes to make you feel better, then of course I will.

Amelia slowly lifts her head to reveal a small smile tugging at her lips. “The honeymoon period is officially over.”

“I feel like I’m in hell.” Alex staggers into the room, his hand placed firmly on his gurgling stomach.

“Join the club.” Maggie says, gesturing for him to sit down. He does as he’s instructed and slumps down at the end of the bed with a groan. 

Zola suddenly jerks up from her prone position and before Amelia can grab the plastic bowl from the side table, Zola is puking onto both herself and her aunt, the latter’s lap receiving the brunt of it.

“Oh god,” Maggie scrambles off the bed but instead of helping the situation, she’s back crouching over the toilet being sick again.

Zola starts to cry out of both discomfort and embarrassment while her aunt tries her best to sooth her whilst keeping her own vomit down.

Pushing his own nausea aside, Alex gets up and moves round the bed to where Amelia and Zola were situated. “Strip off and jump in the shower.” He says before he picks up the shaking girl, his Peds instincts kicking in and carries her through to the bathroom opposite Meredith’s room.

Amelia grits her teeth but does as she’s told, doing her best to keep the puddle of vomit on her lap and stomach from trickling down into the mattress. She strips off her pyjamas so she’s standing in just her bra and panties before she removes the sheets from the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie reappears with a guilt-ridden expression.

“It’s fine, go shove these in the washer. I need to shower.” She points to the balled up pile of sheets.

Maggie nods apologetically as Amelia brushes past her to jump into Meredith’s shower.