#a stay said they were also 25 and felt pressured and worried bc they feel they haven’t done anything or found their path in life

[decembermoonskz]

channie telling you there’s no worries ✨

[pajamaplants]

Michael: 1, 3, 4, 7, 11, 12, 14, 16, 19. // Ian: 2, 16, 19. // Charley: 4, 5. // Dahlia: 10, 11. // Rosie: 1, 8. // Bia: 9 (specifically her interactions with Ian before vs. after their breakup). // This is a lot so you don't have to do long descriptions but yeah! Love you lots

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters......... lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

He’d had trouble falling asleep, and now the forest was on fire. Michael had only wanted to go back to the lake shore for a bit, and sit by the waves to settle his racing thoughts, but he’d gotten lost on his way there and wandered down a too dark trail. Narrow flashlight beam the only light a head of him, he prayed he was going the right direction back to his family’s campsite. It was dark and freezing and Michael’s eight year old limbs were getting sore, when suddenly he smelled the thick smoke of burning wood in the breeze. A campfire, he thought. Good, he must be getting close. But as Michael traveled closer a hazy fog surrounded him and the nearby trees, his flashlight beam illuminating the smoke. He saw light ahead, fire glowing through the trees, but no wait, this was much too much flame to be a campfire. Michael stopped walking and watched bright clumps of fire crackling in the underbrush. This is really bad, his tired mind registered. Nervously he tried to move down wind away from the fire, coughing as he went, but the fire grew faster than Michael could walk. He hurried through he underbrush now, chest feeling heavy and head dizzy from inhaling smoke. Suddenly Michael had run himself into a rocky cliff face, the fire sparkling dangerously at his back. What do I do? he panicked. I don’t want to die, please. Michael moved around the rocks until he saw a natural crevice traveling back into the earth. Was that a cave? Fire could burn wood, he reasoned. But probably not stone. He crawled in between the rocks, shining his flashlight as he entered to check it was uninhabited, and saw it went back a few feet. The air in here was clear of smoke and much easier to breathe. Crouching in a small cave wasn’t ideal, but it was better than burning to death. Outside Michael saw the wildfire grow in intensity slowly. As it crawled along bark and dry leaves, a soothing crackling noise came from the charred forest. Tucked safely in his cave, Michael watched, cinders in the air reflecting on spellbound eyes. The blaze passed him by and devoured entire trees, cracking apart branches. Somehow now Michael felt less afraid; the air was warm, the fire’s glow bathing the opening of the cave in a lulling orange gleam. Eventually, Michael fell asleep lying curled in place on the rocks, the wildfire’s presence helping him find sleep better in a cave than back in a sleeping bag in a dark tent. In the morning he awoke, crawled out into the ashy remains damp with smoke, and traveled by the morning light through the destroyed forest until he found a path back to his family.

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

Every night his cat played a game with Josh, a one in which Josh always ended up losing as yet again Cannelle settled innocently on Josh’s chest or kneaded her way to resting on his legs and he felt too bad to disturb her. “Well, once she’s comfortable, what am I supposed to do?” Josh told him once. Now in bed trying to fall asleep, Michael rolled over, and with a lurch his heart beat rose sharply in distress, realizing there was his cat, lying in the same space as his space. The left side of the bed, that had once been Josh’s. The left side that Michael still some how always managed to sleep to the right of, despite the bed being his alone now. Michael pulled his blankets up. “Cannelle, c’mere, c’mon girl.” he called. He’s not there, I’m so sorry, and you can’t understand why, I’m sorry. He apologized silently to the cat. She blinked her brown eyes, then rose, tail in the air, and settled down under the tent of the comforter Michael kept open for her. He stoked her fur for something, anything, to latch on to other than the buzzing ache that settled into his muscles. The first week is the hardest, he’d been told. That’s a lie, he thought. It doesn’t really get easier. Michael counted her exhales, inhales, exhale, inhale, exhales; until his eyes finally closed and he slept.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a... physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But... I shouldn’t be able to... why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac, Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look... good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But...” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But... Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of... more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “... I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian's shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs.  They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding.  “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him... here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her...” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.  

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “... We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious... I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Dahlia was an early riser, and like clockwork every morning she went to her chair on the front porch and smoked under the morning sun. But this spring morning she waited to receive her brother visiting for Passover, and this morning’s cigarette was interrupted by the arrival of Michael and his boyfriend Josh with suitcases in tow. She ran down the steps to hug her brother, and then shook Josh’s hand, thinking he somehow wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that she had any big expectations but she wanted only the best for her brother. She thought he was ordinary but handsome, with a wide friendly smile, crooked at the edges. He looked eager but nervous as Dahlia introduced herself. “So you’re the mysterious Canadian man my brother’s been dating huh? Good to finally meet you. I hope you’ve been keeping him out of trouble.” Josh laughed, a bright pleasant sound. “I’m studying criminal justice actually, if anyone will be keeping him on the straight and narrow it’s me.” His accent was noticeable and musical, and Dahlia saw Michael’s eyes shining as he glanced over at Josh. Her brother looked proud and happy she realized, happier and younger looking than when she’d last seen him. “Good, well we have some lovely matzo brei mom made on the stove, you’re welcome to it for breakfast.” “Thank god, I’m starving,” said Josh. “We left too early to have breakfast and nothing at the airport sounded good.” Josh left to go bring their luggage inside, and Michael stayed out on the porch with his sister. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Dahlia remarked. “What makes you say that?” Michael wondered. Dahlia offered him her cigarette and he took it. “You’ve got a love glow about you.” “I do not have a ‘love glow’,” he grumbled, blowing smoke through his nose. She laughed and took the cigarette back. “No, but seriously, you look really happy with him, not like with anyone else before. Seems like the real deal.” “Maybe. I hope so. I want mom and dad to like him.” He’s serious with this guy, Dahlia mused. Her brother caring about his parents opinions? That was a first. “I’m happy you’re home, Mike. And I wouldn’t worry about what mom thinks at least,” she said, peering into the doorway. “Look at her, she’s already fussing over him in there getting him enough on his plate.” Michael chuckled. “Better get in there and rescue him before he’s overfed.”

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. "Even if... I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I... I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for... y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters……… lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

He’d had trouble falling asleep, and now the forest was on fire. Michael had only wanted to go back to the lake shore for a bit, and sit by the waves to settle his racing thoughts, but he’d gotten lost on his way there and wandered down a too dark trail. Narrow flashlight beam the only light a head of him, he prayed he was going the right direction back to his family’s campsite. It was dark and freezing and Michael’s eight year old limbs were getting sore, when suddenly he smelled the thick smoke of burning wood in the breeze. A campfire, he thought. Good, he must be getting close. But as Michael traveled closer a hazy fog surrounded him and the nearby trees, his flashlight beam illuminating the smoke. He saw light ahead, fire glowing through the trees, but no wait, this was much too much flame to be a campfire. Michael stopped walking and watched bright clumps of fire crackling in the underbrush. This is really bad, his tired mind registered. Nervously he tried to move down wind away from the fire, coughing as he went, but the fire grew faster than Michael could walk. He hurried through he underbrush now, chest feeling heavy and head dizzy from inhaling smoke. Suddenly Michael had run himself into a rocky cliff face, the fire sparkling dangerously at his back. What do I do? he panicked. I don’t want to die, please. Michael moved around the rocks until he saw a natural crevice traveling back into the earth. Was that a cave? Fire could burn wood, he reasoned. But probably not stone. He crawled in between the rocks, shining his flashlight as he entered to check it was uninhabited, and saw it went back a few feet. The air in here was clear of smoke and much easier to breathe. Crouching in a small cave wasn’t ideal, but it was better than burning to death. Outside Michael saw the wildfire grow in intensity slowly. As it crawled along bark and dry leaves, a soothing crackling noise came from the charred forest. Tucked safely in his cave, Michael watched, cinders in the air reflecting on spellbound eyes. The blaze passed him by and devoured entire trees, cracking apart branches. Somehow now Michael felt less afraid; the air was warm, the fire’s glow bathing the opening of the cave in a lulling orange gleam. Eventually, Michael fell asleep lying curled in place on the rocks, the wildfire’s presence helping him find sleep better in a cave than back in a sleeping bag in a dark tent. In the morning he awoke, crawled out into the ashy remains damp with smoke, and traveled by the morning light through the destroyed forest until he found a path back to his family.

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

Every night his cat played a game with Josh, a one in which Josh always ended up losing as yet again Cannelle settled innocently on Josh’s chest or kneaded her way to resting on his legs and he felt too bad to disturb her. “Well, once she’s comfortable, what am I supposed to do?” Josh told him once. Now in bed trying to fall asleep, Michael rolled over, and with a lurch his heart beat rose sharply in distress, realizing there was his cat, lying in the same space as his space. The left side of the bed, that had once been Josh’s. The left side that Michael still some how always managed to sleep to the right of, despite the bed being his alone now. Michael pulled his blankets up. “Cannelle, c’mere, c’mon girl.” he called. He’s not there, I’m so sorry, and you can’t understand why, I’m sorry. He apologized silently to the cat. She blinked her brown eyes, then rose, tail in the air, and settled down under the tent of the comforter Michael kept open for her. He stoked her fur for something, anything, to latch on to other than the buzzing ache that settled into his muscles. The first week is the hardest, he’d been told. That’s a lie, he thought. It doesn’t really get easier. Michael counted her exhales, inhales, exhale, inhale, exhales; until his eyes finally closed and he slept.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a… physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But… I shouldn’t be able to… why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac,” Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look… good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But…” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But… Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of… more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “… I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian’s shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs.  They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding.  “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him… here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her…” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.  

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “… We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious… I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Dahlia was an early riser, and like clockwork every morning she went to her chair on the front porch and smoked under the morning sun. But this spring morning she waited to receive her brother visiting for Passover, and this morning’s cigarette was interrupted by the arrival of Michael and his boyfriend Josh with suitcases in tow. She ran down the steps to hug her brother, and then shook Josh’s hand, thinking he somehow wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that she had any big expectations but she wanted only the best for her brother. She thought he was ordinary but handsome, with a wide friendly smile, crooked at the edges. He looked eager but nervous as Dahlia introduced herself. “So you’re the mysterious Canadian man my brother’s been dating huh? Good to finally meet you. I hope you’ve been keeping him out of trouble.” Josh laughed, a bright pleasant sound. “I’m studying criminal justice actually, if anyone will be keeping him on the straight and narrow it’s me.” His accent was noticeable and musical, and Dahlia saw Michael’s eyes shining as he glanced over at Josh. Her brother looked proud and happy she realized, happier and younger looking than when she’d last seen him. “Good, well we have some lovely matzo brei mom made on the stove, you’re welcome to it for breakfast.” “Thank god, I’m starving,” said Josh. “We left too early to have breakfast and nothing at the airport sounded good.” Josh left to go bring their luggage inside, and Michael stayed out on the porch with his sister. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Dahlia remarked. “What makes you say that?” Michael wondered. Dahlia offered him her cigarette and he took it. “You’ve got a love glow about you.” “I do not have a ‘love glow’,” he grumbled, blowing smoke through his nose. She laughed and took the cigarette back. “No, but seriously, you look really happy with him, not like with anyone else before. Seems like the real deal.” “Maybe. I hope so. I want mom and dad to like him.” He’s serious with this guy, Dahlia mused. Her brother caring about his parents opinions? That was a first. “I’m happy you’re home, Mike. And I wouldn’t worry about what mom thinks at least,” she said, peering into the doorway. “Look at her, she’s already fussing over him in there getting him enough on his plate.” Michael chuckled. “Better get in there and rescue him before he’s overfed.”

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. “Even if… I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I… I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for… y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

[easilydistractedbyfanfic]

The 100 Ask Game

Thanks for tagging me, @mamabearsdontthink - this looks like FUN!

1. What Station on the Ark would you be from?

I have a pretty green thumb with houseplants and outside flowers and some fruits/veggies. I could realistically be in Farm Station, I think, though Factory might be a fit too. 

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark?

Political protest, for sure. Possibly with regard to the hierarchical aspects of their society and/or the representation of the people in the lowest stations. 

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground?

No, not at all if I was aware that people on the Ark needed to know we were alive in order for them to also be saved.  

4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..)

Probably a rabbit or an owl, based on what I like and have jewelry about

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be?

Jacapo Sinclair, no question

6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they?

Raven, Diyoza, Abby, Luna & Murphy - yeah that’s gonna be wild and I might die but it sure would be fun beforehand

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to you?

I’m from the area of the Boat People and could see myself as a member of Floukru although I might miss land and gardening

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? (example: Octavia=Okteivia…just make it up!)

Jenn = let’s go with Jynn

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious

Disliked him fully upon first viewing but after rewatch I think he had some merit. He was not loyal to Raven but I don’t think he did it on purpose

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does?

Nope, I would be a holdout. I don’t give in to peer pressure, I’m a skeptic and I’ve lived a long time without ever smoking a cigarette or doing drugs, plus I like organics and refuse to invite Alexa or Siri into my home. Yeah, don’t trust The Man, man! LOL

11. What character do you relate to most?

Oh, Raven, easily. We are not the same, but I get the way she made herself strong by focusing on what she was good at and burying the hurt, and her constant desire to keep the painful emotions bottled up. She’s outwardly confident but inwardly worried, and she tells herself all the time “I’ve got this” even when she’s freaked out. 

12. What character do you like the least?

Dr. Tsing, that horrible horrible horrible so-called “doctor”

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical)

I don’t like to be dirty and I hate being cold, so I’m in dark colors and probably bundled up compared to others. My favorite color is blue though, and if I am from Floukru, maybe I have a dark blue jacket or a shirt with blue patches on it. I would also always carry an extra pair of socks in case my feet got cold. 

14. Favorite type of mutant animal?

There’s not many to choose from

15. What would your job be on the Ark?

I could see myself working a bit undercover like Nigel, getting covert things for people or making deals, although my regular job might be for Farm Station

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked?

yeah, I could do that

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive then who would have made the best commander?

I’d pick Indra. She was kind of blood thirsty in the beginning and turned away Lincoln from Trikru, but she proved open to other suggestions, she learned to trust Kane and she even avoided killing Pike although she wanted revenge because she realized they needed him to complete the mission they were on. So later Indra, not early Indra. Otherwise probably Luna. 

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty?

Hmmmm.... I get overly affectionate when drunk, so if that’s any indication, I should probably stay away from those nuts

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach?

Consequences with compassion - hopefully the Bellamy Blake version

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone?

Jacapo Sinclair, mostly because he wouldn’t have wanted the job. The best leaders are the ones who are least likely to want power

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis?

Kane’s side

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s Ipod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there?

Ingredients for food like cake and other desserts. Yum!

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint?

I have a rune compass tattoo at the base of my neck. I might have more tattoos if I was a Grounder, but not obvious ones - maybe inner wrist, maybe something on my ankle or behind my ear. They would likely be symbols of things or types of characters that would provide protection or inspiration of a life goal. No war paint, I don’t think, though that could change if the cause were just. For hairstyle - I wear my hair down about 98% of the time, so maybe there would be some small braids but I doubt my hair would ever be fully pulled back. 

24. Favorite quote?

You know, it’s not well known, but Murphy tells Ontari that “It’s better to lie your way out of a problem than kill” and that always sticks with me. Plus anything Sinclair ever says to Raven (oh my heart)

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning?

Luna, because I think she could outlive everyone either by fighting until the death OR by stomping off by herself and outlasting everyone out of sheer willpower

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE

Least: I have never been onboard the mem0ri train

Favorite canon: Murphy & Raven and their whole dynamic

Favorite non-canon: Murven but now there’s sex

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo?

"What’s Good” by Fenne Lily or “Bill Murray” by Phantogram for songs in the show. For a guest star, I could really get behind Pink being someone who lives on the new planet and is kinda crazy and all about being a strong female leader. She could do something wild or she could do some haunting ballad that would make us all have feelings and I could so see this now

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time?

Is this a trick question? I mean, there was wine in that lighthouse bunker, and I already said what happens when I get drunk. 

29. You’re an extra that gets killed off. How do you die?

I wanna go like Sinclair, barrette dad or David Miller - protecting someone I love. It would probably be Raven, honestly. 

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of?

Diyoza

31. A character you’d bang?

Damn, this is a revealing quiz. I’d totally bang Diyoza but this question probably needs it’s own list

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden?

I’d probably prefer the Eden environment, but ultimately I’d go to space even if it scared me and felt claustrophobic because I would need peer relationships

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground?

yeah, I’d go along but mentally I might be preparing my eventual escape - creating a fantasy world to escape from the reality of it all

probably read and learn some kind of martial arts

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits?

I don’t like to recite pledges or make oaths I don’t intend to keep

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with?

I’d get along with Raven right away, and not just because I love her but because we do have some things in common and I could put up with her snark. Tougher would be Em0ri if she was being mean to Murphy like in S5

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself?

I think I could go awhile if I had berries, leaves and water as choices. If I had to eat bugs though, I’d probably find a way to kill myself quickly. I’d eventually get lonely, which would be a problem, but if I could find books I’d last a hell of a lot longer too. 

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do?

Watch for a while, for sure. See if I could find a way to lure them away from my area for good. 

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite?

Diyoza is my favorite for sure

least favorite - McCreary but in a I love to hate him way

39. Would you Spacewalk?

No. I love roller coasters but I wouldn’t bungee jump either

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat?

Algae if I had to pick, otherwise my life would totally be in danger because I’d be so repulsed

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it?

I’m up for diplomacy and would keep trying til all options were gone before I’d head to war. Maybe inter-marriages, or skill trading/trainings

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes?

Thumb drives into bullet holes since at least I wouldn’t get infected by that

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia?

Yeah, if I thought the biggest chance would be that it knocked her out rather than kill her, and that having her out of the way would mean peace

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper?

Sleep along with my faves

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet?

Not too different from the show, maybe, although I would have sent Indra down to explore with that team since she’s an experienced leader and fighter, but if we wanna go a bit fantasy like for a moment, then I’d wake up Raven & Murphy and “accidentally” lock them in a closet together for as long as it would take. 

Consider yourself tagged if you wanna participate, and I’d love to read your own choices! 

[kirishwima]

“ YOURE INNOCENT ! TELL THEM YOURE INNOCENT “ #25 Klance Please ( i saw it and I got so mother fucking excited oh my god )

I’m having a genuine hard time believing I wrote this bc oh my god, it’s so different than what I usually write, but I hope you’ll enjoy! It’s primarily langst ahhh

also there is a slight description of violence in this, specifically a shooting. If this makes you uncomfortable in anyway, then please stay safe and don’t read this!xx

******How did he end up like this?

With blood on his hands, a ringing in his ears that’s loud to the point of deafening;

He sees them in the distance-there’s Allura and Shiro, Pidge wedged in the middle of them, and there’s Hunk, hands extended as if to catch him, but he’s so far away, how could Hunk reach him?

But wait, where’s-where’s Keith? Where’s that mullet ran off to?

He feels hands cradling his face, and oh, there he is, hey Keith-

-why is Keith’s face like that?

It’s unlike nothing he’s ever seen on Keith, his lips are snarled as if he’s yelling, and his eyebrows are forming creases, eyes wet and the hands on his cheeks are trembling so much…why is Keith like this? Why is he crying?

“-ance”

“Lance”

“Lance! Listen to me dammit! Can you hear me? Lance can you hear me?!”

He feels his eyes close and when they re-open he’s laying down, five pairs of eyes looming over him, the hands on his cheeks are gone and the ringing in his ears vanished, only the remnants of a blasting headache reminding him it was ever there in the first place.

Gingerly he sits up, feeling the pain in his head explode as he does.

“Lance oh thank god, we were so worried-“ he hears Hunk’s voice, edging in-between relief and worry.

“Lance”, there’s Shiro’s voice, authoritative and cautious, “what do you remember? Are you aware of where you are?”

There’s…memories, creeping back to him although they’re slow and hazy and…

“Oh who cares Shiro, let him orientate for a minute! Lance are you okay? Does anything hurt?!” that’s definitely Pidge’s voice, ebed with a raw emotion he’d never heard in it before.

Memories are now returning to him like booming thunders, flashing pulses of pain behind his eyes.

“Perhaps he needs more rest. Please, let’s give him some more time to recover-“ Allura speaks, her head turned away from him and looking across the room.

The memories.

The shooting.

Keith.

“Keith, is Keith-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before a hand held his, turning his head to find Keith by his side. There’s a part on his bottom lip that’s red and bloody, as if he’s been worrying it for hours.

“The bullet-“

“Just grazed me” Keith finished the thought for him, “an hour in the healing pod and I’m good as new.”

“Then-then the prince, did I shoot him? Did he survive? Is he okay?!”

Silence.No one dared meet Lance’s gaze.

Of course, Lance remembered, the pain of just thinking about it causing Lance to dry heave.

It was supposed to be a peaceful mission. They were here for a diplomatic meeting, primarily standing guard while Allura and Shiro talked with the prince of this planet, a young green skinned man as tall as Shiro with three eyes and three arms and a polite smile called Damian, in hopes of them joining the coallition.

No one was expecting an attack.

No one was expecting Lotor’s generals to appear, wrecking havoc across the entire city they were situated in.

It was a gruesome fight, and Lance was only seperated from his team just for a minute, a moment too long before a hand gripped the back of his head and suddenly each concious thought he could master was thrown to the back of his mind and locked, each movement of his body out of his own control.

Is there anything worse than losing the entirety of your free will?

To be aware of your movements, of your actions, but be unable to control them?

He felt himself raise his bayard, the weapon changing form its current form into a sniper rifle.

He felt it come under his chin, he felt his one eye close as the other one focused on a target-

Focused on the prince, fighting alongside Keith and Allura to protect his people.

His finger shook over the trigger, just a mere moment of hesitation, of struggling to regain his will, inwardly begging for them to run away to miss the shot to miss.

His finger pushed down the trigger, and the prince turned his head towards them, his eyes widening as the bullet hit his chest.

Everyone around him turned to look at where the shot came from, noticed Lance; bloodied, bruised Lance, with a sniper rifle that was now lowering, the hand on the back of his head releasing him to fall onto his knees, legs far too weak to bear his weight a minute longer.

He saw Keith, Keith who’d tried to step in front of the prince, a minute too late to protect him but enough to wince at the impact of the bullet meeting his side and it was all it took for Lance to collapse, knowing there’s blood, blood on his hands, blood on the streets, it’s-

He never asked for this, never asked for any of this, he never wanted to become a soldier in a fight he didn’t know if he could win, he never wanted to wield a gun, never wanted to do anything but  become a pilot and explore space; but it was too late to hope and too late to take anything back.

He felt Keith’s hands cradle him, mouth forming words, probably asking why, what happened, how could he do that-

But Lance’s eyelids felt heavy, his own minds’ thoughts coming back at full force before his head felt like a burden to his shoulders and his consciousness faded.

“Lance-Lance focus, come back to me please!”

He could hear Keith speaking, could feel him sitting besides him on what he now figured to be a hospital bed, and he realised what he did, where he was, what was to come.

He took notice of the alien by the hospital door, dressed in a heavy armour, yellow eyes focused onto Lance with a malaise Lance never thought anyone could look at him with.

“Lance we know it wasn’t you, we all saw Narti come up behind you, you’re not at fault here-please-“

Keith continued speaking, trying to reassure him as did the rest of the team-Allura promised him Coran was already at the Palace talking to the Prince’s officials, explaining to them that this was a case of mind control and not Lance’s free will, how he’s a paladin of Voltron and no one could’ve expected this to happen, it’s not his fault.

But Lance felt it, still felt the pressure of the trigger, still felt the expression on those eyes, the pain, the hurt;

He was at fault.It was all his fault.

“Orders are orders. He’ll be taken into Triordian custody until we reach a final conviction for him.” the alien by the door said with finality, despite the team’s pleadings, walking towards them and standing by Lance’s bedside.

Wordlessly Lance stood up, putting on the shoes by the bed mechanically, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

The alien stood by him and nodded to the door, where Lance now noticed another pair of aliens were waiting, swords on their belts and heavy armour covering their chests.

He followed quietly, hearing the voices behind him reach a crescendo.

“Please no Lance, Lance YOU’RE INNOCENT! TELL THEM YOU’RE INNOCENT! He’s not at fault-“ Keith’s voice broke, making even the last bit of emotion in Lance’s heart break with despair.

He turned his head to meet Keith’s eye, see the bewildered expression on his face, the way his lips were agape and his stance ready for a fight.

He mouthed the words he’d wanted to say since so long, too shy to admit them to Keith’s face.

“I love you” he mouthed, his voice refusing to cooperate with his lips.

He only hoped Keith could accept it after everything Lance’d done.

*****

From these prompts 

I always wondered what would happen if Narti used her mind control on one of the paladins. too bad we won’t be able to find out the possibilities now rip

[queenmabscherzo]

I love love love Targeting!! But not as much as I just about WORSHIP Strong Safety😍😍😍 So I would loovvveee a DVD commentary on the scene when Steve rubs Bucky's feet after he got hurt in a game with The Vikings (middle of chapter 5)

oh this is so sweet! strong safety was A JOY to write and it’s so wildly different from targeting, i’m glad you like it:):)

ask me for dvd commentary

“Sit down, then, geez, sit down,” Steve says, steering Bucky onto the nearest couch cushion.

Bucky settles stiffly into his seat. He leans forward, reaching for his shoes, but stops half-way and groans. (relatable)

Steve drops to his knees.

“Let me.”

(fun fact about this foot rub: it was originally in Targeting. i wrote it to take place when steve went to bucky’s hotel room after that game in Chicago, and after bucky talked about his injuries. i thought it was too intimate at that point, so then i moved it to after the championship, before they sleep together at steve’s house. i didn’t love it there, either, because it was too Serious at that point in the story. but i like it, so i’m v glad it worked in strong safety.) 

Bucky doesn’t even answer, just sinks back against the couch.

Steve smiles. “You were amazing tonight.” He begins untying Bucky’s shoe and sliding it off.

“Well, we lost, so.” Bucky rubs one eye. “That Viking quarterback is a freak. Like he’s some kind of Norse god or some shit.” (couldn’t resist)

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles and gives Bucky’s calf a gentle squeeze. “Want the socks off, too?”

“Oh my god Rogers, what is with your weird sock thing.”

“It’s not weird!” (it is weird and if isaiah were they he would agree and also egg bucky on)

“You probably wear socks in the shower,” he teases and gives Steve’s thigh a gentle kick.

“I don’t, and you know it.” (👀👀👀)

Bucky tips his head back and closes his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but he looks like someone who’s about to smile. (it’s called ‘being relaxed’ and bucky never ever is, so)

“What happened?” Steve asks, feeling serious again. He tugs the laces of Bucky’s shoe. “Sam said—” neck injury, helmet-to-helmet, doctors, unresponsive, "—well, he said it looked bad on the replays.“ (POOR SAM!!!! he’d never admit it but u kno he’s a lil worried about bucky!!!!!)

"Not really,” Bucky murmurs. (sometimes some of the worst hits are somehow completely harmless. football is insane.)

(side note, yeah i’m wildly aware of all the problems surrounding football and all contact sports, for that matter. but here we are. like as long football is around, might as well talk about it.)

Steve slides off the other shoe and sets it aside. For a second, he looks at Bucky’s feet, both gathered in his lap. (one sock on and one sock off at this point) (keeping track of those shoes and socks was annoying while writing) “You were on the ground for a long time,” he says softly.

“Ugh,” Bucky sighs. “They wouldn’t let me up until I answered a bunch of questions. (concussion protocol in the NFL has improved a lot in the past couple years. again, like i said, still has lots of problems. but there are specialists on the sidelines who give rigorous tests after every injury that even COULD involve the head. they try. bucky was in good hands, or at least as good as possible.) Like made sure my neck was stable. It was fine.”

“You passed all the quizzes?” Steve slips a hand up Bucky’s pant leg and removes the other sock.

Bucky huffs a laugh. “I guess.”

“So what’s the sling for?” Steve asks.

“They called it a shoulder sub-something. I don’t know. It’s not actually dislocated.” (shoulder subluxation. it’s a weakness in the connective tissues in the shoulder, sort of a partial-dislocation. it can be caused by previous injuries, such as …. EVERYTHING bucky has gone through)

“Good.”

“Yeah, they’re just icing it and keeping it steady and everything. I can take it all off when we go to bed.” this kind of ice pack thing, plus a sling:

Breathless, he presses his thumb into Bucky’s calf. “So how’s your head?”

“Physically or emotionally.”

“Physically.” Priorities.

“Fuck.” Bucky scrubs his face with his free hand. “Mild concussion.”

“Oh, Bucky—” (i’m literally steve, i’m like “oh buck come the fuck on i knew you were hiding something that’s serious shit bro FJKALFJAL”)

“Mild, Steve, I promise it’s mild. They did a baseline when I got to Carolina, so it’s really easy to figure out the brain stuff, now.”

They did a baseline test, of course they did a baseline test; these people know what’s wrong with Bucky and they know how to fix it. Of course. (I mean …… it’s still not ideal to have like, what, 4-5 concussions before you turn 25. hhhhhhhhhh. but still. i wanted to take care of bucky but still give him a REALLY VALID reason to FUCKING RETIRE ALREADY.)

“I promise,” Bucky says it again, and says it smaller.

Steve tilts forward. He slides Bucky’s pant leg up so he can press a kiss to the soft hollow next to Bucky’s knee cap. (other than the shoes and socks and keeping track of when they came off, the most annoying thing about writing this scene was THOSE PANTS!!!! i really wanted steve to kiss bucky’s kneecaps, it’s not thAT HARD, but then he had to wear pants and i’m like, why am i writer) He stays there and breathes for a moment, puffs of warm air fogging against Bucky’s skin. It smells like sharp spices.

“You take a shower already?” Steve mouths the words against Bucky’s knee. (like can’t you just imagine lips fitting into the little dip of soft skin around his knee joint ……?) (no that’s prob just me)

“Yup.” Bucky’s muscles roll under Steve’s lips. “Sorry.”

Steve laughs. “We can make up for it later.” (Can’t believe i have written like two hundred thousand words of gay football action and there have been no sexytimes in a shower) He tilts his head to kiss the soft tissue under Bucky’s knee. He’s starting to forget anatomy. But it’s a good spot, soft and warm, with coarse dark hair and a little bit of give under Steve’s lips. Bucky would know what it’s called—which ligament bends where, which soft spot is vulnerable and which bones protect the sinews. (bucky “it’s a paired muscle” barnes)

Bucky straightens his leg a little and curls his toes into Steve’s side. Steve flinches and laughs.

“If you tickle me, I won’t rub your feet,” Steve threatens.

“Yeah you will,” Bucky calls his bluff.

Steve has never been happier to be called out.

(oh and now we get into the actual massage and let me tell you, i felt every second of this) (i don’t even get foot rubs that often because i’m so ticklish and it freaks me out, but boy. i know that sore-feet-after-game-day feeling jfaksfjsl) (and i give myself footrubs! you should all do that. unless it’s weird, in which case, pretend i never said that.)

With one hand, he rubs gentle circles around the bones of Bucky’s ankles. (phew like, especially on the inside, under the ankle bone?? sweet spot. i put a lot of pressure on my heels though, so that might not be true for everyone?) (well it’s true for steve! and he’s tryna help bucky, so!) He slides his other hand down the arch of Bucky’s foot, digging in with one knuckle, and presses deep lines along the bones of his foot.

Somewhere overhead, Bucky sighs.

Steve continues with the foot massage, tracing between the toes and around the heel, smearing his fingerprints along the calloused sole. He works his way above the ankle. He kneads Bucky’s calf. He pays special attention to the spot high on the Achilles tendon. If Bucky is anything like him, (or me,) that’s a spot that is always overlooked, and feels sore after every game; a spot that aches deep into the night, twitching even as you lay motionless in bed, wishing you could sleep. (…….. i’m projecting HARD in this scene if you could not tell)

When Steve pulls his hand away, Bucky makes a noise. A sleepy-cat whimper.

He switches to the other foot and gives it the same treatment. He can feel Bucky’s muscles and their tired spasms, their half-hearted tremors like autumn leaves clinging to wood.

Steve slips his hand up the opposite pant leg. (those FUCKING PANTS!!!) He drags the tension out of Bucky’s Achilles tendon, then lets his fingertips creep higher, tender, slow; he traces quiet lines up to the soft, stretched skin at the back of Bucky’s knee.

Another whimper catches between Bucky’s lips, (poor baby getting more turned on the higher steve goes, tbh) and Steve can hear his throat click when he swallows. He looks up, finally, and almost faints. Bucky’s eyes are inches away from his, frozen wide. (if steve sounds extra In Awe in this scene, that’s a result of writing this early on in targeting. at the time, steve was going thru a whole lot of “holy shit it’s really bucky barnes I Must Take Care Of Him” feelings. i kept a lot of those feelings bc i think it’s really in-character for steve, lmao. he’s the type to wake up after they’ve been married 18 years and go “holy shit its bucky barnes.”)

“Thank you,” Bucky says hoarsely.

Steve straightens, and all the muscles up his side-body strain toward Bucky’s face. “My pleasure,” he says, pressing their foreheads together.

and then they go to bed and cuddle!!!!! **confetti**

[kiefercat]

30 Day Trans-Challenge except not really bc my memory is too bad for that so you get it all now Little intro and context for new followers and also for me when I look back at this; I'm a 22 year old trans guy from Canada. I've been out since I was 16 and have been on T for 5 years in October. My top surgery is scheduled for 2019 with Dr McLean in Mississauga, Ontario. 1) When did you realize the term transgender referred to you? In grade 10 one of my best friends started transitioning to male. It was my first exposure to anything trans and everything just fell into place after that. I talked to my partner at the time about it a lot and how my identity suddenly started making sense. After around half a year i started going by male pronouns with my friends and I came out publicly a year later. 2) How did you choose your name, and what names were you thinking about using and why? Contrary to popular belief I didn't choose Cooper because of my high school obsession with Alice Cooper. I ripped it off of a cartoon character that had no discernible gender to me. I was also debating going by Kiefer but after some research found out it connects to Cooper like Bob to Robert and just rolled with it. At some point before transition I asked mom what she would have named me if I was born a boy and she said fucking Wayney (dad's name is Wayne) and yeah no I did not want that name at all 3) Have you ever been outed? Quite often. Surprisingly from the people closest to me. My mom and stepdad out me all the time and my best friend/ex gf used to do it a lot too. She stopped thankfully but my mom keeps insisting on making me a discussion topic 4) How did your family take it when you came out/ if you are not out why aren't you? I came out in stages to my family. Mom was first. I fucked up though and forgot I had a stepbrother and basically walked up to her one day and said “you only have a son” and then ran out of the room? She thought I was running away????? Woops. She was kind of ignorant about some stuff for a while but changed a lot of her views pretty quick. She wasn't initially going to let me medically transition before I was 18 but turned around over time and I started t at 17. Stepdad was awkward but supportive. I didn't come out to my dad. My mom had to for me a year after I'd been out to everyone else. I was terrified of rejection bc yay abandonment issues but it went over well! Right after I came out my dad started dating my step mom and she really helped things bc she wasn't afraid to ask the questions that he was too weird about to do himself. She actually administered my tshots for me for a while. Fast forward to last year and suddenly family I hadn't seen for 9 years wanted to get back in contact with me and mom. I was expecting my grandparents and uncle to be really weird about it but they've always been chill. They used to call me a dyke and tell mom she was a failure bc I wore boy clothes when I was a kid so obviously I was worried. 5) Are you active in the trans community or LGBT community? Not nearly as much as I'd like to be. My local active trans community is 80% 40-60 year old trans ladies. Like I love them to bits and I appreciate them sharing their experiences as older queer people but I feel very out of place there. I've been invited to a gay dude cafe meet a few times but am too nervous to go. That being said, my entire friend circle is trans sans a few sprinkled cis people. So I guess we're all just an informal support group lmao 6) Who was the first person you told about being trans? My first partner. She was super queer (was identifying as a bi male at the time we dated) and very understanding and supported me through a lot of the mental gymnastics of realizing I was a dude. 7) Who do you look up to? My friends, honestly. Like I don't know what else to say here lmao 8) How do you deal with being misgendered in the beginning of transitioning by people? Told them politely to only use he/him with me. If they were malicious about it I would try to explain how ignorant that was and if they still didn't get the hint I'd ignore them. 9) What is something positive about being trans? I don't have to hide awkward boners. 10) What are some of your fears in regards to being trans? I'm super afraid of top surgery ending in a result im unhappy with. Like I don't care about the pectoral scarring at all, but I'm worried about proportional problems or dog earring. Basically anything that would require a revision. I'm also super insecure about not having a bio dick. It limits me a lot sexually even with strap ons. No harnesses stay where they need to on me to get anything good happening and my dick always slowly drifts downward. Its frustrating. 11) How do you manage dysphoria? Hahahaahhaa ice cream And usually taking nudes. 12) What are you doing to stay healthy for transitioning mentally and physically? I'm working out every day now. Nothing too intense, but it feels nice. I want to drop about 30-40 pounds before top surgery so am slowly amping up the workouts. Mentally I'm a disaster and am frantically looking for a psychiatrist but can't find any open that have experience with a trans patient. 13) Bathrooms I haven't used a women's bathroom since before I was in testosterone. I'm not anxious about them at all unless there's a lot of drunk dudes or the locks on the stalls don't work. 14) What are some of your passing tips or things you do to pass? Confidence. Fake it till you make it. Being a walking masc alt stereotype got me through high school. 15) How have you embraced your trans identity? Tbh coming out and living life as trans is one of the few times I've been able to do one very important thing consistently: do something for myself no matter what people think. Its something that I've been trying to spread into other aspects of my life. If anything, my trans identity embraced me. 16) What's your rock anthem and why? I think this is the only answer that hasn't changed since last time I did this. I Am, I'm Me from Twisted Sister. 17) What's your binding choice and why? I use a GC2B binder. They're comfy, last long, don't roll, don't have prominent seams, and don't smell funky like my old underworks ones. If I swim publicly or want to slim out my hips for special occasions I wear a full length underworks swim binder. Fun fact: I didn't bind for a year and half bc I gained a fuckwad of weight and my tits passed as moobs. 18) How do you feel about the trans laws where you live? They're getting better. I live in Ontario, Canada so am pretty protected all around. I wish the technical side of transition (name, gender marker) was more streamlined. 19) If you're religious how do your views effect being trans? if you're not religious what about your family religions? I'm in no way religious. My mom had to jump through a bunch of hoops in her head to legitimize my transition through her religion/spirituality. Its a little disturbing to me for details I will not share publicly. 20) Do you want to be a parent? why or why not? I hate children. Keep them away from me. 21) Your views on the cis-gendered community? ??¿¿ they exist. I believe education about trans people and other queer identities should be taught in schools to help cis society not be as blissfully ignorant. I don't believe all cis people hate trans people, but they do have a lot of misconceptions about the community. 22) Do you feel being trans holds you back from your career choice? Fuck no. Honestly I haven't felt nervous about transition affecting my work since my first job. I was just coming out when I worked the museum and was scared they might kick me from the position. Nowadays, I do not disclose my trans status to potential employers until they're hiring me. I thankfully live in a place and time where I'm protected as a trans person in the workplace by the law so haven't felt held back at all. 23) What stereotypes are put on trans people? Undercuts Tbh The stereotypes that stick out to me are the fucking weight ones. Where the fuck are my chunky trans men and ladies at? As a trans guy I am pressured a lot by the representation in the community to aspire to be a buff/cut beefcake or stick thin. Hell, a few of my already very small trans girl friends think they're not as valid bc their bust/waist/hip ratio doesn't make them look like a model. There's literally nothing wrong with being any weight but I find the pressure to be small is even higher within the trans and queer community to fit the stereotype/preconception that we have to be conventionally beautiful to be valid in our identity. 24) Who is your favorite LGBT actor/musician/director/artist etc and why? Uhhhhhhh Tbh I don't even know 25) Doctor visits? I hate them. They make everything about my trans status even if I'm there for something completely unrelated. There is FREE training on trans care for doctors in our part of the province but none seem to opt for it and instead decide its appropriate to ask me transition questions when I'm there for something as unrelated as an impacted nail. 26) Do you feel comfortable answering questions about being trans if say your teacher/friend/stranger asked you? If I'm not paying for their time, if I'm not busy doing something else, and if they are polite, yes. I don't mind answering questions at all! But there's a time and a place and some people just don't understand that. 27) What goals do you have? Lose weight and tone up a bit in time for top surgery. Be aggressively body positive. Continually try to normalize trans bodies. Find a local community to be a part of. 28) What is something you have to do everyday or else you feel like your whole day is off if you don't do it? Shower. If I go out or if people outside of friend circle are near me I have to have my packer and binder. If I'm alone I need music or something on at all times. 29) Write out something positive about yourself using the letters of your name. Ex. Your name is Bob so B-Beautiful O-Outstanding B-Boy Um. I don't have a good name for this uhhh C-Creative O-Open hearted O-Okay P-Phenomenon E-Eager R-Rad I had to Google positive words to do that lmao 30) Write a haiku about being trans I hate writing these Please just cut off my titties Throw them in the fire

[x-men-x-imagines]

Imagine #18 Charles Xavier - Part 3 (Request)

Requested by Anon: hi! so can i request a charles x reader one shot that ive been thinking of? ok so first of all y/n and charles were super close as teens but y/n died at around 19(got mixed up in smth), charles was devastated and hes still not 100% over it as an adult so when the xmen find a mutant who can control time he ends up asking them to go back and try to save y/n? and they try and they have to convince her to stay safe bcs ‘theres some1 who needs her’ or some cute shit like that?..but if u do this thx!

Not my gif

Words: 1893

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel (?), typos

A/N: Sooo, this is part 3 of 3, I hope you like it!

Part 1 - Part 2

Jean had insisted on paying for the tiny motel room for the night instead of, as Peter had suggested, breaking into someone’s house and hoping not to get caught. “Buzzkill.”, Peter had growled. “Criminal!”, Jean had replied. The bed had been old and way too small for two people, but Peter had refused to sleep on the admittedly slightly disgusting looking couch, so they had shared anyway. It was only the one night after all.

“My back!”, Peter groaned for the about hundredth time in the past few minutes and Jean knew that, by now, it was only to annoy her. “Stop complaining and lead the way.”

The house looked like the typical kind of suburban city residence, that they would have expected from someone, who went to an elite college and was friends with someone like the professor.

Peter was slightly disappointed to see that the knocker wasn’t lion shaped, and therefore settled for the doorbell. The melodic tune was followed by a few moments of silence, before the door was opened by a young woman, maybe 25 years old, with pretty auburn hair.

“Hello. How can I help you?”, she smiled. “Hey.”, Peter grinned. “We’re looking for y/f/n. She does live here, right?”

“Yeah, she does, but she went off to college a few minutes ago. She should be back in the evening, though, can I take a message?” “Shit.”, Peter replied, earning a forceful shove from Jean. “Yes, please! Could you maybe tell her, that we need to meet up with her tonight? We’re friends of Charles’ and it’s really urgent.” “Oh, is he okay?”, the woman asked worriedly. “Oh yeah, he is.”, Jean replied, shoving Peter again for his murmured comment: “For now…” “We just really need to talk to y/n and it has to be tonight. Could you ask her to come to the diner?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure. Is everything alright?” “Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine, I promise.” God, did Jean want to keep that promise.

“Way to put us on a tight schedule.”, Peter joked after the door had fallen shut. “How is this my fault? We should have just talked to her yesterday, goddammit!”, Jean growled, nervously kneading her own hands. “Wow, okay, calm down. So, what’s the plan for today?”

 The plan turned out to be pretty unexciting, as Jean refused to leave the 500m radius of the diner. She knew that this was completely unnecessary, but the closer their deadline came, the more nervous she got. They didn’t exactly know, when Sammy would bring them back, only that it would be tonight. So what, if they didn’t have enough time to explain everything? What if you didn’t show up, which, in Jean’s opinion, would have been totally understandable. She was almost hoping to run into Charles, partially to tell him, what was going on, but also to simply feel his presence and the calm he tended to emit. But the professor didn’t show up either.

The later it got, the more nervous Peter seemed to become. He started to randomly disappear every few minutes, only to show up by the next corner, checking if you were in sight. “What, if we don’t manage to save her? I really don’t wanna go back, knowing that I failed at saving Charles’ girlfriend’s life.”, he murmured. Jean nodded sympathetically stopping her nervous pacing and sitting down on the sidewalk.

The sun was already going down, when they finally saw you walk towards them, your form glowing in the evening light.

“You worried my sister.”, was the first thing you said, before shaking Peter’s hand. You didn’t sound accusing, just cautious and slightly curious as to what was going on. “She said, you were friends of Charles’?”

“Yeah, well…”, Peter said as Jean reached for your hand as well. “We are, but it’s complicated.” “Well, if I recall correctly, you’re here to talk to me and I’m here to listen.” “Right.”

You didn’t make a move to enter the diner, much to Jean’s relief. As much as she would have loved to find out more about you, she was afraid, there was no time for small talk.

“I’m Jean, this is Peter. We know the professor, but not the way you do.”

“The… professor?”, you asked and furrowed your brows. “Charles, sorry.”, Jean corrected herself, feeling her cheeks blush. God, why hadn’t she used the past few hours to think of a way to explain this situation, so that it didn’t sound completely crazy.

“We are like you.”, Peter continued. “I mean, not really like you.”, he waved his hand in a movement that included your whole body and smiled nervously. “We are… kinda… mutants.” Silence. Then: “Oh, really? Why didn’t you say so? Charles didn’t tell me about any other of his mutant friends. I mean, maybe he wanted to yesterday and I interrupted him…” Suddenly, your voice went from surprised to embarrassed, as you rubbed your neck, making your hair swing in the barely noticeable breeze.

“Yeah, we heard you two fight…” “Oh, I knew, you looked familiar, you were at the diner, right? Why didn’t you come over?”

“You looked kinda busy and we… we actually needed to talk to you alone.”

“Uhm… okay?” “Yeah.” “Yeah?”

“Could you promise us something?”, Jean asked out of nowhere, despite how weird the request sounded, even in her head. “Could you promise to be careful? We know about the things you do, we know that you fight for what is right, but you need to be careful, please!”

Suddenly, your expression went blank. “Did Charles send you here?” Your melodic voice sounded clear and cold as ice. “No. I mean… no, actually, Raven sent us.” “Raven? What does she have to do with this?” “It’s complicated, but listen: On the 16th of May, so in…”, Peter counted, “…in a week and two days, someone will attack you in an ally. Somewhere around here I think…”, he scratched his head and grinned nervously, looking around and therefore missing the sudden annoyed look in your eyes. “Are you serious? What do you want? Who the hell are you? Is this some kind of sick joke? Tell Charles or Raven or whoever…”

“I’ll show you.”, Jean interrupted quickly, subconsciously reaching for your arm, as you backed away from her slowly. This was not going well. At all. “I’ll show you.” And with that, Jean opened her mind, doing her best to filter the thoughts she sent you and failing miserably, as she could tell by the way your eyes widened. “What is this?”, you asked breathily. “What… what are you doing?” Jean closed her eyes, forcing her mind back in line. She thought of Raven, of the things she had been told about the attack, of the way Raven had felt while telling her, of Sammy and her powers and of the glimpse of pain and sadness Jean had caught from Charles during his conversation with the new girl, before he had shut her out.

When she opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw were the clear, surprisingly ordinary looking tears that ran down your cheeks, as you took in, what you had been shown. You opened your mouth and then closed it again, without saying a word. Slowly, almost carefully, you covered your mouth with your hand, your shoulders shaking.

“There are people, who really care about you. People you will leave behind, sad and heartbroken, if you don’t prevent, what’s going to happen next week.”, Jean murmured, her voice breaking. Peter, now uncharacteristically serious, added: “The things you do, the way you fight… we are so lucky to have you. Raven said, that you could change everything, even in our time. She misses you.”

“Charles… he doesn’t know, you’re here?”

“I think, he must have found out by now.” “Poor Raven.”, you laughed huskily, wiping away your tears. “This is… a lot to take in. And I kind of makes no sense.”

“Charles didn’t want to endanger Sammy, he didn’t want to pressure her. But he really needs you!” “He is so different from my Charles.”, you said, thoughts far away and Jean smiled at the way you said ‘my Charles’. “He always tells me to take it easy, to be careful. Maybe I should listen to him for once.”, you murmured, sniffling, then grinning. “Thank you.”, you looked at Peter, then Jean. “I believe, you just saved my life. Or will have saved my life.” “Maybe.”, Jean said, just as Peter replied: “Sure as hell hope so.”

About five minutes later, they had just said their goodbyes and watched you disappear araound the corner, Peter suddenly disappeared mid-sentence. Jean couldn’t stop smiling. It had worked. Or at least she hoped so, just like Peter had said. She wondered, what might have changed in the future, in their time. Would she remember the past? Or the other future? What about Peter? Suddenly nervous, she looked around, searching his silver hair in the crowd of the rush hour. What if they weren’t at Xavier’s in the new future? She didn’t know, what would have changed. What if Xavier’s didn’t even exist? All her worries were swallowed by a sudden darkness that embraced her, before her head started spinning and her eyes fell shut.

She woke up with an aching head, a dry mouth and a mind full of voices, the loudest one being Peter’s, who turned out to be laying right next to her. “Shit.”, he cursed, lifting his head slightly. “Ugh, that some kind of time-travel-hangover?” Jean smiled and let her gaze wander around the room. It was the library, only illuminated by the soft light of the table lamps. It was empty except for Jean, Peter and Sammy, who was sitting on a couch a few steps away from them. She was awake, Jean noticed, and she looked well. In fact, she was grinning from ear to ear.

“It worked.”, she cheered triumphantly. “You’re alive. And I’m alive!”

“Where are the others?”, Peter asked. “Raven just left, a minute before you returned. The professor was here as well, but he didn’t look very happy.”

“Let’s hope, we were able to change that. Will they remember anything?” “I don’t know.”, Sammy admitted. “Let’s find out.”

After 30 minutes of searching – mainly because both Jean and Peter had to sit down every few steps due to what Peter called ‘time-travel-hangover’ – they found the professor in his office, sitting on the couch, surrounded by the other faculty members – some of which Jean didn’t recognize – looking at a TV-screen, following an interview.

“She is remarkable.”, they heard the professor’s voice, as the camera swayed toward one of the interview partners, a woman with shimmering white hair and a presence that, even through the screen, made Jean pause in awe. Jean stood next to Raven, who briefly smiled at her, but didn’t comment on the fact, that she and Peter had just returned from a questionably well planned time-travel-mission.

Jean’s eyes fell back on the screen and she read the little name-bar beneath your face. ‘Y/N Y/L/N, minister of mutant affairs.’ She smiled and looked towards Charles, who followed your every word with an expression of limitless adoration and unconditional love.

“Looks like we just changed the future.”, Peter whispered into Jean’s ear and she chuckled softly. Raven had been right.

[barce-fabu-lona]

Terfinha, just chose numbers, as many as posibel ahah

Thank you for requesting :) I am doing all for you lol 

1. Who is the most affectionte? - I think it would be Marc cause he such a cute cinnamon roll and I bet when he’s in love with somebody he will always make sure that that person (in this case Rafa) will know it. 

2. Big spoon/Little spoon? - Marc would be the big spoon and Rafa would be the little one. oh my god just imagine them cuddling like that my heart oml 

3. Most common argument? - Honestly I feel like they would fight about Marc being a good goalie or not. Like if he happens to make a mistake and not get on the squad list for the next game I can imagine him beating himself up over it, thinking he’s not good enough. And then Rafa would come in, being all angry because we all know that Marc is a great goalie even though he does make mistakes. 

4. Favorite non-sexual activity? - Rafa sticking little sticky notes to all objects around the house with their German meanings on them, trying to learn German because Marc is still struggling to speak Spanish, let alone Portuguese. 

5. Who’s most likely to carry the other? Marc would carry Rafa but Rafa would feel small and try to carry Marc as well and hurt his back lmao

6. What’s their favorite feature on their partner? Rafa likes Marc’s hands and Mark likes Rafa’s eyes.

7. What’s the first thing that changed when they realized they had feelings for each other? - Marc started touching Rafa more openly, like put a hand on his back in training and he also started watching Neymar more, making sure thar nobody would steal his boyfriend away. Rafa became more openly flirty with Marc because now that he knows the feelings are mutal, he can go all out.

8. Nicknames? Marc would just call Rafinha Rafa but Rafa would call him “Schatz” which is darling in German because he knows it makes Marc blush.

9. Who worries them the most? The press and homophobic football fans I would say.

10. Who remembers what the other orders at a restaurante? Both of them do after a while.

11. Who tops? My feelings tells me Marc but I can’t see Rafinha always giving in either so I think sometimes he would fight for dominance and top Marc as well (instert smirky smiley here bc I can’t do it on my computer lol)

12. Who initiates kisses? Marc does more then Rafa does because he is the one giving out the most affections. 

13. Who reaches for the others hand first? On this one I think it’s Rafa because if they are out in public I believe he wants to show of his hot German boyfriend. 

14. Who kisses the hardest? They tie here I would say. I can imagine them both being passionate kissers, Rafa has a lot of fire but if Marc is horny it’s ho hard (pun intended) or go home.

15. Who wakes up first? Marc and then, if they have time, he makes breakfast in bed :)

16. Who wants to stay in bed a little bit longer? Rafa,

17. Who said “I love you” first? Marc. They were on a date and when they walked out he felt the need to say it and he did but in German because he was so overhelmed and then Rafa was like wtf did you just say and then Marc was like “I love you” and Rafa goes still, then smiles and says: “I love you too.” 

18. Who leaves notes in the others lunch? They don’t because they spend the whole day together and just tell each other cute stuff directly to the face.

19. Who told their friends/family about their relationship first? Rafa told neymar and after that the whole world knew.

20. What do their friends/family think about their relationship? I think they would be loving and supportive, at least I wish that to everybody out there.

21. Who is more likely to start dancing with the other? Marc because he prob. did a dancing course when he was younger and wants to impress Rafa.

22. Who cooks more and who’s better at it? They cook together but Marc is better at it.

23. Who comes up with cheesy pick-up lines? Rafa and Marc is calling Neymar like: “Will you stop giving my boyfriend bad ideas?”

24. Who whispers inappropriate things into the others ear at inappropriate times? rafa would totally do that. and even if it would turn marc on he would also grow red and be very, very embarrassed. 

25. Who needs more assurance? marc because he earns lots of criticism sometimes. 

26. What would be their theme song? Idk probably the Barca anthem as well cause that’s where they met :)

27. Who would sing their child back to sleep? They both would do it together. 

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other? On international break they would skype and text a lot but everytime Rafa would try and get Marc to have phone sex he would get all awkward because he shares a room with Neuer and doesn’t want to embarrass himself. Also he would send postcards to rafa from every places he goes.

29. One headcon about this OTP that breaks your heart? Marc leaving Barcelona because he can’t take the pressure and their long distance relationship not working out so they both end up in two different countries, heartbroken.

30. One headcon that mends my heart? Marc going to Brazil with rafa for the first time and being all touristy, trying new things and Rafa being all happy because his boyfriend loves his home country. 

[cosmicdanger]

latest shit to unpack: the dawning realization that i was steeped in a really unhealthy friendship for 12 years and that friendship really fucked with my ability to do other friendships because of its disrespect of boundaries

i mean i’m sure i’m just making a bigger deal of it than it is but i feel like when it comes to friendship i only now how to do two speeds: one is casual...the other is being so far up each other’s ass that people refer to you like you’re one being, and jokingly say that you might as well be conjoined twins. 

like. i feel like a stranger trying to learn a new language and that language is healthy, more than casual friendship and i feel like that sounds really goddamn stupid. i’m 25, i should know how to have friends!!  I should know healthy levels of communication and activities!! 

my longest friendship was 12 years and it was with my ex, who always wanted to be the center of my attention. she didn’t want to do anything unless i was talking to her. she didn’t even really like just...hanging out in the same room! I had to be doing something that interacted with her ALL THE TIME. and i mean all the time, unless she was working, or she’d get really morose and upset.(like imagine 12 hours of just constantly being in conversation with somebody online, who considered it a sacrifice to just let you be in your own room with minimal physical constact, who would get upset and pick fights if you took too long to respond to them) i would fake taking naps or going to bed early (if she didn’t convince me to stay up later to cuddle w/her and tuck her in) just so i could be alone for a little while. she followed all my social media. she wanted to know EVERYTHING and didn’t believe in keeping things to yourself. she was just....constant. 

and i dont know how to do friends with people who are more than casual, but i’m trying to learn. i’m still struggling to learn what my own boundaries are, whats acceptable to give and to receive. i don’t even have a good grasp of activities that friends just??? do?? together??? like i cannot tell you the relief i felt when i went to visit a friend in november and they were okay with marathoning transformers bc thats one of 3 activities i know how to do with friends, that i actually enjoy?? i LOVE marathoning things with friends but i’m so used to just watching one ep and then having to find something else? and it was so good and it felt... normal??

i know i’m rambling lol but the entire point is that i’ve seen a few people post about like ‘2017 is the year i find friends that care about me” and “goals: finding friends who aren’t just there when they want me” and like it really shouldn’t matter but lol i panic over shit like that bc?? what if its me?? what if i’m the friend that makes them think of posting that?? what if i’m not paying enough attention to my friends, what if they dont know how much i care? what if they’re mad at me? how do i be a better friend, who gives them the right amount of attention, without compromising my own needs?? and i’m shit at picking up cues and i know a lot (A LOT) of my feelings are because of my past experience and are not actually based on anything friends have said and done (in fact my friends are actually all really lovely people who dont pressure me at all, its just me pressuring me) but i’m just so scared and uncertain of everything

i want to be a good friend who makes my friends feel loved but i’m caught in a push-pull of “you gotta pay them attention every moment of every day or they’ll be mad at you and you aren’t REALLY they’re friend” and “i want time to myself” and i fear that it sorta ends up with me paying close attention to people for awhile (because “that is a friend thing to do”) and then suddenly withdrawing (because i’m tired and also worried about getting sucked back into “gotta pay attention ALL THE TIME”) which i imagine is not very nice?? idk. 

2017: the year i continue to have friends who are patient and kind, and the year i get better at being a healthy friend who doesnt panic over friendship

[survivor-hosts]

Ep. #7: “C’mon Rat, Follow the Cheese” - Jessy

The tribes merged and all of the pre-mergers were added to the merge tribe as the Karma Island twist was revealed.  The players started campaigning to get back in and Cat, Austin, and Drew chose to drop out and become voters.  After a whole day of scrambling and a messy voting situation, Connor was voted back into the game.  The tribe was given their first immunity challenge and Matt was able to solve it and win immunity quite quickly.  After no one talked the day before the vote, the players started scrambling last minute with one side trying to decide whether to vote off Sam or MJ while the opposing side was trying to decide between Allison or Connor.  In the end, MJ and Sam's alliance threw their votes on Andrew to thwart any posisble idol play.  Sam also used her vote negator to cancel Allison's vote for MJ.  Andrew was sent home in a 5-4 vote.

HAHAHAHAHA so it's 9:58 and I should go to tribal and I was on call with Connah and then Lydia and MJ called and added Connah and MJ told me I might be getting votes so I might be getting voted out idk adios fuck this shit!

Can't wait to be seventh boot

[12:51:33 PM] mj ultra . _/: bih wtf. [12:51:39 PM] connah. i guess.: I didn't do anything. [12:51:40 PM] mj ultra . _/: oh you really wanna fight me tonight huh yes bitch i do. yes we are in a partnership but i'm not your bitch. i'm not gonna sit here and do everything you want but it's fine because people will hopefully see you as a bigger threat so if they gonna try take one of us out... can't say i'm too sorry about it. his ass wants to sit here and vote lydia back when we literally just voted her out? i see where he's coming from because we might be able to use lydia tbh but he's literally shutting down any ideas i had so i'm kinda angry rn.

mj's gameplay has really rubbed off on me... my ass just blindsided lydia and now i'm really down for voting her back in? i had my fun pre-merge but now it's time to really get this shit going

http://prntscr.com/fn4qxy http://prntscr.com/fn4r1v At first I thought Connor would have the highest chance of returning but after hearing a few things I think REGAN has the best shot??? When and how did that happen?

Hmmmmm I'm feeling really weird in this tribe. It's as if I don't belong.....That's the vibe I'm getting. Whatever. I'm sticking to my strategy of not talking to people. Hey it worked TWICE and got me to the end twice. It works. People come to me with information at once. I hope I can pull it off again.

so like I mighta just made a chat with myself Scott jessy Allison josh and Connor to save Connor bc David was a bust. Highkey still don't trust Scott and sam Matt mj and connah are trying for Lydia and I'm like no fuck off? When the phone battery goes down my chaotic gameplay goes up. Like idc whomstve is gonna be pissed i am GETTING Connor in this game. Drew and cat should have sacrificed themselves for him too so here's to fucking hoping. If Lydia comes in I'm dead straight up gay up!

push me to the edge i wish i was dead why is scott a snake scott u little snake push me to the edge i wish i was dead lydia im the wrong connor please stop making my life harder push me to the edge mask off, task off back off, mask off i dont really care that im crying but i really care that youre lying edge dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun mask off, task off

i have lost all my motivation. i am a shell of a man i used to be

i am fucked. if i somehow get out of this mess i got myself into it would be a miracle.

Okay it's time for my second confessional because it's getting really hard dealing with these people and I need to vent. Like I really cannot.

After the Lydia vote off succeeded I tried to do major damage control with Matt and Scott. They both seemed to understand but I know they don't trust me anymore. Iit's not like they even realistically did. Maybe Matt did, but his reaction really shows his game. Scott seems to think he can snake his way around the two alliances but I'll bring up that later in this confessional. Anyways, it's announced that Karma Island is in play and immediately I'm worried. I fell into a position where I had to lead on Connor, David and Regan all at once because I legitimately had no idea who I wanted to return. I received information from Scott that MJ was on call with Sam and Lydia. They were

[4:26:26 AM] Jessy: i have some tea ladies! [4:27:05 AM] Jessy: So Scott is playing both sides. [4:27:09 AM] Jessy: and MJ/Connah/Josh are too. [4:27:21 AM] Jessy: MJ wants me to stay so he can use me for next tribal to get Sam out.. [4:27:26 AM] Jessy: But sis he has another thing coming. [4:29:43 AM] Jessy: sam acts like a 4 year old [4:29:47 AM] Jessy: "jessy probs just wants all of us on jury bc we're the ppl who knew her pregame so we'd give her our jury votes" [4:29:52 AM] Jessy: she said this [4:29:57 AM] Jessy: like no i want u on prejury [4:29:58 AM] Jessy: zzksjksksks [4:42:41 AM] Jessy: mj and connah rlly think they're so smart huh [4:42:42 AM] Jessy: like ur not. [4:42:42 AM] Jessy: BKLMASDFMKLDSMKLA [4:42:46 AM] Jessy: i literally know what ur doing [4:43:03 AM] Jessy: this is ur mo mj... [4:43:05 AM] Jessy: ur forcing myself into a situation where i have to go w/ him b/c my numbers are cut. [4:44:25 AM] Jessy: Like I know he's pitting me against Samatthew by telling me this information [4:44:29 AM] Jessy: But like.. [4:44:37 AM] Jessy: Damn they're literally Spencer and Tasha [4:52:02 AM] Jessy: I'm reading their games to filth. [8:18:39 AM] Jessy: me again [8:21:05 AM] Jessy: God why'd i tell connor i heard his name [8:21:06 AM] Jessy: LSJLSSKKSKS [9:52:09 AM] Jessy: SCOTT IS SUCH A FUCKING LIAR [9:59:32 AM] Jessy: time to get reads [9:59:35 AM] Jessy: and intel! [9:59:41 AM] Jessy: im legit gonna interrogate him idc [10:01:03 AM] Jessy: Nancy Drew who???? [10:01:16 AM] Jessy: im GETTING the dirt. [10:01:24 AM] Jessy: spill the beans! [10:01:50 AM] Jessy: seeing Scott is typing... answering my questions is so funny [10:01:57 AM] Jessy: Like ur nervous huh sis [10:03:32 AM] Jessy: does scott really think ill eat the bullshit hes putting out for me on a platter rn? [10:03:37 AM] Jessy: Like bitch what the fuck LAKSKSKKSKS [10:08:25 AM] Jessy: OK SCOTT IS LYING OUT OF HIS ASS [10:08:29 AM] Jessy: IM SICK OF IT [10:08:35 AM] Jessy: HOW DOES MJ KNOW U WERE HIGH THEN [10:08:44 AM] Jessy: LIKE UGH !!! [10:09:53 AM] Jessy: ok sam could've told mj! [10:09:57 AM] Jessy: interesting! [10:14:37 AM] Jessy: mj and scott together ? conspiracy theory ? [10:18:18 AM] Jessy: Oh yeah, I also found out last night that josh did vote for Lydia, but Connah switched his vote from Lydia to Connor and Trevor wouldn't allow him to change it back [10:18:26 AM] Jessy: i thought sam was being distant huh scott [10:20:12 AM] Jessy: There's holes in this scheme. [10:22:32 AM] Jessy: "Same" [10:22:34 AM] Jessy: keh [10:22:51 AM] Jessy: guess i'm done here. [10:23:51 AM] Trevor [Host of Hosts]: I'm samatthew [10:24:27 AM] Jessy: theyre literally spencer and tasha [10:24:32 AM] Jessy: mj is a cheap version of jeremy [10:26:00 AM] Trevor [Host of Hosts]: Who are you [10:26:45 AM] Jessy: i wanna say kelley but i don't wanna be cocky like matt

This is a recap on what happened before the Karma Vote. One reason is so that I can look back on it and the other is for Connor to read in the future. This is 100% what happened. Lydia made her pitch to me around noon yesterday and she had made valid points and I wouldn't mind her being back but my vote is locked to Connor at that point though I was still willing to listen to her so I can get info out of her. I messaged Connah a little later and he said he was going to vote Lydia back in so I had an inkling that something's up but shrugged it off because there's no way Lydia's coming back it's just not in the numbers. I went to bed and woke up at 6am with a bunch of messages and one of them was Lydia asking to call. I told her I only woke up randomly and was planning on sleeping a little bit more. I didn't know the vote was due at 8 and I woke up 30 minutes before the deadline. Jessy messaged me asking if MJ had come up to me and asked if Lydia's being voted back in and I said no because MJ and I haven't talked yet. A little while, Andrew messaged me asking who to vote and I said Connor and then I got added to the Saving Connor chat with Scott, Jessy, Allison and Connor. What surprised me the most is why Scott is there. I didn't understand. Next, MJ messaged me asking for my vote so that we can tie between Lydia and Connor. Now the thing is, I told them I would vote whatever they want to but my vote is locked to Connor unless they absolutely needed it because they're the two people I trusted the most in this game. And they really did need it. I went on call with Connor and told him that everyone's pulling my leg getting me to vote with them and then got on call with Connah making his case to me with Lydia and Lydia's on my pms making her case again and Scott and I were trying to figure out how we're going to go and mind you this is literally 5 minutes before the deadline and at that point everyone thought we could change votes. I was freaking out everyone was talking to me at the same time I felt very pressured that I just asked Scott to make a decision for me and he won't decide for me and Connah just started to tell me VOTE LYDIA VOTE LYDIA and without hesitation I changed. Now obviously that didn't fall through because Connor came back and he found out I changed my vote. Now he doesn't want to speak to me and probably burned my bridge with him and idk about the status of our friendship right now. I spilled so much critical information on Connor and if we went our separate ways and uses those against me then I'm fucked. I mentioned to Connor how I wanted to target Jessy because of how good she is and if that gets back to her than she's going to turn on me. My hope is that MJ, Sam, Scott, Connah and Matt form a 6 person alliance to get past this round. This game is taking a toll on me emotionally and I've been struggling to play since the first few days. I wasn't like this before. It isn't worth it. It's not worth it to lose a friendship over this. It's easy to say that you need to cut ties and turn the heart off but doing it for real is different. Connor, my explanation is probably something you did not want to hear and it's probably going to re-open wounds once this game is over because looking back on it now, the decision was stupid. It didn't have to be that way but I gave in because of pressure.

Honestly.... I just feel so defeated. I don't see myself really doing as great as I would have wanted to in this game, which is such a pessimistic way to think but its true. Like if I were to be going home tomorrow I wouldn't even care that I didn't make the jury. A lot just went down these past few days that made me realize why I retired in the first place. So to really go back, Lydia was blindsided. Not surprised that it happened cause I knew something fishy was going on, but surprised that out of everyone I was the most left out of the loop. Like no one bothered to tell me that the vote was getting split between Allison and Andrew. Like when Lydia left Jessy and Andrew had me on call and explained everything to me and why they did what they did. And like I'm really not mad at them for doing so. I think it was amazing on their part that they pulled it off. They told me how MJ and Connah were really wanting to get Lydia out, which caught me by surprise cause I thought they were really close. Afterwards, Sam gets me on call and is worried about what could happen in the future and who we have with us. And to my surprise, Matt Summers actually talked strategy with me for the first time. The story I got from them was that Jessy approached them and got them involved with voting Lydia. To make matters worse, we have to vote someone back into this game thanks to Karma Island. And I feel like this is gonna make things so much worse cause I'm starting to realize I only have myself in this game. Idk like in Maluku flipping was easy cause I had Maria and Mattica who I trusted more than anyone. I don't really trust anyone in this game, so it makes everything 10x worse. Connor talked to me and told me he doesn't hold that against me, and idk part of me really thinks if he IS going to come back, I need to vote him so I can prove to him that I can be someone he can actually work with later on. Especially with MJ/Connah/Sam/Matt being a sinking ship, I just feel like I need to find other resources when I need to. Plus the only person I trust in that group is Sam, and after hearing that MJ has wanted me out of this game for awhile now I don't see why I need to stick my neck out for them. That whole voting process was such a mess because I really didn't know what to do with all of that. Like I voted for Connor cause I was sure he was getting in, then Josh comes to me and says he didn't know what to do. Which like RIP cause I thought he already voted, and to make matter worse he told lydia and lydia went off on me in the pms. And like, the fact that this all went down when I was out with friends just made me realize that I'm too invested in this game and that I left for a reason. Idk the only reason why Connor is back is because Connah changed his vote and wasnt allowed to switch back. I'm just annoyed cause I'm really fucked in this game to the point of no return. And like Sam and them are trying to make sure I'm gonna vote with them but with Lydia out and the only person on that side i actually consider an ally being Sam, it just makes sense for me to go through with what I've been wanting to do for awhile and flip with Jessy and Andrew.

"fifth vote... lydia"

what the fuck is going on why is no one talking to me. fucking hell man, and then im gonna wake up again and have a shit ton of messages waiting for me when i check my phone. everything's happening at the very last minute in this game omg.

YALL TRIBAL IS  11 HOURS AWAY I DONT KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO AND IM GONNA BE ASLEEP IN 9 OF THOSE HOURS. FUCK IT.

you know how it'd be fun if i just go ghost the whole morning tomorrow lkfjskjdfhskjfs *deletes Skype*

OKA Y BUT S ERIOUSLY im sick and tired of waking up in the morning where a plan has already been made and i have no say in it. fuck it a guy needs his sleep its yalls fault for not making a plan during our off day ! btw if i get voted out tomorrow im gonna be salty af trevor why did you have to have the first merge boot not a jury member i dont want to miss out on JURY! !!!!!

everyone is getting on my god damn nerves TODAY !

On 25/06/2017, at 8:30 PM, connor wrote: > hi background music plays: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpLU8BI02wQ

Okay so I just laid out all the info I got today. I talked to Scott this morning I said does he know for sure Sam has a vote negator or is it a hunch? He said it was a hunch and he doesn't really know, so I got sus. He was high last night so maybe he let it slip MJ told me that Scott was high last night so I wanted to find a way to vertify what he said about Scott/Sam/Matt/MJ/Connah being all on a group call [6/24/2017 10:09:30 AM] Jessy: did you tell anyone you were high LMAOOOOO i'd be so non functional if i was high and game talking [6/24/2017 10:09:40 AM] Scott: I mean I told sam It's possible that Scott is either lying about him telling Sam specifically, or Sam just told MJ that Scott was high and he happened to tell me this He said this when I asked him about the Sam call: [6/24/2017 9:51:38 AM] Jessy: did anything important come out of the sam call [6/24/2017 9:51:58 AM] Scott: Honestly it just made me realize that she doesn't trust me [6/24/2017 9:52:17 AM] Jessy: fuck! [6/24/2017 9:52:25 AM] Scott: She asked me what my relationship was with you [6/24/2017 9:53:05 AM] Scott: And if I actually trusted you cause you're known to be deceiving for "organizing the whole Lydia vote and misting MJ/Connah" [6/24/2017 9:53:48 AM] Jessy: :$ would be me if i actually did! [6/24/2017 9:54:07 AM] Jessy: r they voting me [6/24/2017 9:54:25 AM] Scott: I mean we never got around to actually talking about it [6/24/2017 9:54:32 AM] Jessy: oh okay [6/24/2017 9:54:39 AM] Jessy: who do you think she would go for [6/24/2017 9:55:32 AM] Scott: But I wouldn't be surprised if that's what they were wanting to do cause sam really just kept mentioning how I felt about you [6/24/2017 9:57:03 AM] Jessy: that's offputtig [6/24/2017 9:57:08 AM] Jessy: *offputting [6/24/2017 9:58:02 AM] Scott: Yeah, but it's just really clear that damage was done last night so I'm not even sure what's gonna be happening from here on out It made me think that I'm unsure if Scott is just lying about the call or if MJ is just trying to come up with a scenario for me to think is happening so I won't pull any moves. Then, I talked to MJ about the vote and he said that he was going to be on a road trip today so he's probably asleep by now. I talked to Connah about the game while MJ was online and while we were talking about the whole thing of us being on different sides, MJ pmed me. He said he pmed me because Connah sent him a funny quote about a joke I made. Then, I asked him if Connah sent him any game logs. The game logs were about us being on different sides in the Lydia/Connor returnee vote and then he kept on acting like he didn't know who was going to go because no one was talking to him. I asked him if Sam would be a vote he would want, and he said it depends if we have the numbers. He said I have to convince Allison+Andrew+Connor myself because he doesn't want to get himself involved in something controversial this tribal council after last round. I asked MJ about this, and he said Connah specifically said: "idk if I wanna stick with jessy or go with sam" "like I'm just confused" This made me paranoid, because I didn't know if Connah meant "stick with jessy" as a vote or "go with sam" as a vote. It's possible that MJ made it look like he meant regarding alliances and not a vote off, but it still made me paranoid. MJ then told me Connah went on call with Sam. MJ said he asked Connah what was going on and they were just talking about who they wanted to go. MJ said they both leaned towards Connor leaving. MJ then said Connah thought he should go with Sam (as in alliances). MJ said he would try to convince him to "string me along" next round and use me to vote Sam off. MJ then said if Sam convinced Connah to vote for me, he would try to convince him to go after Sam this round. MJ said he would prefer Connor to go now and Sam next round, but he's willing to consider it by starting it off with a conversation with Connah tomorrow. Our conversation ended, and I thought that I should try to message Sam in some way and let her know that I'm "flexible". I then said that people probably think we aren't together in the game and we could play that to our advantage. She said she was down if I was, but proceeding this she kept on saying she didn't know what she wanted to do and that "she has no power to throw out a name." This really annoyed me so I asked her who does and she said she doesn't know. Our conversation ended, but during it Connah messaged me asking me if I'm talking to anyone because it's really quiet. I was feeling a vibe that Sam told Connah she was talking to me, so I told him I was trying to resolve my issues with Sam. It got awkward so our conversation kinda died off. During all this, Andrew, Allison and Connor didn't have a lot to say about anything. Connor said he was at work all day and came back at 10 PM EDT and said sorry he was at work. I said it was okay then asked him if he talked to Josh recently. He never replied and then I asked him again an hour later and still received no reply. Now, Scott says he's back and is messaging my alliance chat with himself and Andrew. I haven't talked to Matt at all this vote. I said hey to Allison in pms but she never replied because I'm pretty sure she's been offline. I haven't talked to Josh either, but I have an opportunity to tonight because it's 2 PM for him in Phillippines.

Decisions, decisions.... I hate my position in this game as the "middle man" Anyways, Jessy/Andrew I think are expecting me to flip and vote Sam with them this round, but tbh I don't think I can flip on Sam and vote her out. Like if she goes, I don't want to be apart of that just because she trusts me a lot with her game. However, if they can manage to get her out this round I'm all theirs. Sam/MJ and co. said they want to do Allison, and because I don't trust Allison i think it might be safest for me to just vote her out and only flip if they're wanting to vote out Jessy/Andrew. Also spoke on call with Connor and hes trying to convince me to flip. The only way I see myself voting with them is if they vote MJ. But I just don't think that is realistic since Jessy is set on voting Sam. Which I personally cannot do since she is the only one I trust on that other side. Idk its all very up in the air, hopefully it isnt me that goes

9wegwpirangwfj tribals in an hour and a half and I really don't know what I'm gonna do. Apparently Josh would be okay with voting out MJ but I'm not sure if he really would. Part of me is thinking I should just vote Allison and if it ties, then I flip cause I don't wanna be rocked out pre-jury, especially since the only person I trust on Sam and Co side is Sam. I just know this is gonna be one huge clusterfuck

So.... much.... stress.... Josh and I agreed on just voting with the separate blocks, but I forgot that Sam has a vote negator so now I have to decide if I'm actually gonna go through with that plan or just flip and vote MJ. hregehgoihiqrehie I HATE THIS GAME

This game? Is crazy. I want to die. Somehow, through almost FIVE HOURS of acumalitive calls, I have managed to flip Josh and Scott so that we have majority. MJ SHOULD be going home. I literally did that. Like, i LITERALLY did THAT. Good god. Fingers crossed. It just makes sense? With MJ being a winner already and very good at flipping votes and winning challenges, we have the time to take him out so lets do it. Sam would be easier to vote out and I know Jessy wanted to, but with Matt having another idol and being immune, the two of them are too close for comfort. Actually, this entire game is too close for comfort. end my life.

why am i in the middle. i mean i guess i should count my blessings because i'm not getting voted out but this is such a hard position to be in

[lovelysenpai]

post grad.

all my life. all i ever knew was education. going to school. homework. projects, essays, finals, and exams. all everyone talks about is school, education, and your academic success. but no one ever talks about what you do after all that is done. yes you move on to your professional life and career. but what is the reality of it all once you move out of that same routine in the life of school? i feel like i went to college for 7 years to find out what i majored in was something i dont want to do for the rest of my life. so what now? what am i supposed to do now? im turning 25 this year and i thought i was supposed to know what i want to do in life by now but after graduating i feel like i just came back to where i first started. lost, insecure, poor af, depressed little shit head, and just goddamn unsure for just about everything.. i thought i was doing all this to be happier but what i realized was, i just wasted my time. In university i never made friends. its not like i didnt want to but i guess i felt stuck and didnt know how to anymore. its like, you know when you were a little kid, and you’re just barely learning how to make new friends and you have to summon up the courage to ask someone to play with you, because you feel forced into making new friends, and knowing you might be rejected. well its kinda like that but as an adult, you can make a choice to humiliate yourself asking or just be alone. and i chose to be alone. it was easier for me because i didnt have to worry about anyone else but myself but at the same time i was so lonely. wishing i had friends to hangout with or have plans with after class. i thought university was all about making friends but for me it was so hard because i already had a close net of friends back home. it would be hard for me to see groups of friends together laughing and having fun. sometimes i would image myself as though i was their friend. seeing how those scenarios would play out in my mind. pathetic i know, but it was easier for me to make new friends in my mind than me going up to them (looking weird and awkward as hell). its not like i was such an introvert but i actually am an extrovert who just was so self conscious. i’ve never felt so lonely than when i graduated from university. i had no friends to look forward to walk with. sat alone in the back and just waited my turn to walk. i felt pointless and dumb there. like, why was i here, i should just not walk and wait for my diploma to come in the mail. i felt like.... a fool? all these people with their friends sitting next to each other made me feel so out of place. at the end my mom asked if i wanted to take any pictures with my friends, i said no, i dont have any. like, i’ve been there 3 years and i literally didnt make one good friend. how pathetic am i? moving forward with my life, now i feel like i have nothing special about me and have nothing that im really good at. im moderate in the things i do but theres nothing that i can think of that comes to my mind that im really good at and can make a career out of it. or so at least not a title suitable for what i am “Good” at. i used to work for an escape room and i loved the fact that i got to speak to different people each day and made their day better through my work. i want to have that same feeling for myself in my career life. i want to feel that happiness coming into work and wanting to actually stay because of the environment and people that made that place such a welcoming and awesome environment. but how can i translate those same feelings to my professional career? i feel like im grinding so hard on apply to the jobs that i really want or sounds like the same environment as my old job, than i do on the jobs i am “qualified” for. its not like i hate what i majored in, its just a late and sudden realization that i dont want to do that for the rest of my life. also with the pressure of my brother commenting how i “peeked” bc i majored in something totally insignificant to him. i feel so little and small and useless. here i am in this big world but no one told me how to prepare for it. i hear about it all the time but how am i supposed to know until i actually experience it. i feel like im to late in the game to change anything. I want to pursue in the things that interest me not the things that i feel pressure to do. im sure in the future when i look back on this i would think all this was silly. but i really dont have any support from the people who really impact me. I know i should pursue in whatever i want but its just hard knowing that the people who are supposed to support you think little of you. 

i always have this deep gut feeling that my future career isnt going to be your typical job, i feel like my life is meant for greatness and my future career is just going to be something so awesome that i just cant believe my life was turned in the direction i wanted to go. i remember as a high schooler saying that i will one day live in the city of sf. now that that chapter of my life is over, my next goal is to move down to socal where i’ll find my next adventure. something awaits for me there and i can feel it. it sounds so cliche, these things i know is never wrong. regardless that im in a relationship right now, i do plan to follow through my goals even if it might take me years.