#and how departments are feeling the brunt of it.

[francisforever2014]

AND because my university is EVIL and STUPID my hours at my second job might be cut 🤣🤣🤣🤣 basically last year they fucked up their budget immensely (like . millions of dollars immensely) and overspent and have been operating on a deficit all year . and so their solution is to impose budget cuts across the board . despite the fact that admin genuinely lost millions of dollars. and it was completely their fault . and so now they’re cutting the budget at my second job (the disability resource center BY THE WAY!!!!) and i might have my already minimal hours reduced . LMFAOOOOOOOO

[fortheloveofwonderland]

No Distance Left to Run | Part 2 | S.R

Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary - On Rossi’s wedding day, Spencer discovers something that could change everything. You are still reeling from the aftermath of your confession and from events that transpired with your husband a few days prior.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

Warnings - spoilers for 14.02 Starter Home, 13.23 Believer, 14.01 300, 14.14 Sick and Evil, very brief mentions of therapy, burns, abusive relationship, drinking, typical case related stuff, allusions to sex, hints at cheating, swearing, prison arc, abuse statistics, violence, arguing, tears, strangulation, hints at sexual assault.

WC - 9.7k

Part 2 - Never Have I Ever

Present Day

You inhaled deeply until your lungs couldn’t physically hold any more air. You held your breath while you counted to five in your head. Then you slowly exhaled the breath through your nose. You repeated the action three more times.

It was a tactic your therapist had forced upon you, to employ when you were feeling overwhelmed. At first you’d thought it was dumb, not believing the simple act of breathing could help bring you back from the brink. But time and time again you were proven wrong. 

Once you had calmed your rattled nerves you went to pick up the glass of wine from the coffee table. As you leaned to get it, your shirt sleeve rolled up a few inches, the pink scar on your forearm almost in the perfect shape of the state of Florida, caught your eye. 

That’s what Luke had told you in the hospital while the doctor was debriding your burn. 

“It kinda looks like Florida.”

���Excuse me?” 

“The wound. It looks like the shape of Florida.” 

His strange comment had made you laugh and it had taken your mind off of the pain of the doctor scraping debris from your wound. You supposed that had been Luke’s plan.

Before you picked up your glass you found yourself running your fingertips over the scar. It had been a long time since it caused you any pain, physical pain anyway. The residual mental anguish was yet to vanish entirely. It wasn’t the only scar adorned on your body, but it was the one that was the hardest to hide. 

In those days Spencer had taken the brunt of your anger. It hadn’t been deliberate, you didn’t mean to take your frustrations out on your best friend. It was almost a miracle after the way you’d treated him that he still called you his best friend. 

You pushed him away during that time, because if anyone was going to get to the bottom of what was going on it would be Spencer. He knew you so well, sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself. And he’d already started piecing together the truth that day in the Guymon police department. 

Maybe if you’d told him sooner he could have helped. Maybe if you’d just been honest with him that day when he asked, things wouldn’t have gone on for so long. 

“Did Jared do this to you?” 

“What? How can you even ask me that?” 

“That wasn’t an answer. You’re deflecting.”

“I didn’t think a dumb question warranted an answer.”

“You’re doing it again. Did he hurt you?” 

“Stop it, Spencer. Just stop it, ok? Stop it.” 

You were a strong, independent and fierce woman. You didn’t want to admit to your best friend, or anyone for that matter, that your husband was abusive. 

Was abusive. Past tense. 

You couldn’t fight back at home because it would make things so much worse, so instead you took your anger and your pain out on the one person who had done nothing but care about you since the moment you’d met him. 

And despite what you put Spencer through, he’d never once turned his back on you. This time however, you might have gone too far. 

You finally picked up the wine glass and sunk back against the couch cushions. You’d really messed up this time. You’d messed up with Spencer before, plenty of times, but this seemed worse somehow. 

After all these years you had absolutely no right to tell Spencer how you felt about him. You’d always known he was in love with you and you’d had ample opportunity to tell him you felt the same. 

Too much time had passed, too much had changed. He’d been single almost the entire time you’d known him, with the exception of Maeve. You’d had plenty of time before you met Jared to tell him how you felt. 

But now for the first time in the fifteen years you’d known him he was in a steady relationship. Max was sweet and uncomplicated and she seemed to make Spencer happy. 

They’d been dating around four months now and things seemed to be good between them. When he’d introduced her to the team, he’d been beaming, happier than you’d ever seen him. 

“Guys, this is Max. My…girlfriend.” 

No one even had a suspicion he’d been dating someone before he brought her along for drinks with the team just over a month ago. No one had a clue. 

“Girlfriend?” JJ spoke to everyone's confusion. 

“Yeah,” he blushed slightly, wrapping an arm around Max’s petite shoulders. 

“How long has this been going on for?” Emily smiled around her glass. 

“A few months.” Max answered for him. 

“After all these years the kid is still so hard to read.” Rossi chuckled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Max. I’m Dave.” 

You’d merely stood and stared as one by one the BAU agents introduced themselves to the slight brunette, meanwhile Spencer smiled proudly at her side. 

It wasn’t until later on in the evening Spencer found you outside the bar, leaning up against the wall and staring at the starry night sky.

“Hey,” he tentatively approached you. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.” 

You wanted to shake it off, to tell him you were just tired or something. But for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue. 

“You remember when I got engaged?” You frowned at him, unable to hold back.

“Uh, of course I do?” His brows furrowed, not sure where you were going with this.

“I told you that I owed you more than having to find out at the same time as the rest of the team, that I should have told you first.” 

Spencer sighed with a slow nod of understanding. 

“You’re annoyed that I didn’t tell you about Max.” 

“Bravo, genius.” You scoffed.

You were a little on the rogue side of tipsy. Had you been more sober you wouldn’t have dared bring this up. 

“Well as I told you when you got engaged, you didn’t owe me anything. The same way I didn’t owe you anything.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s different and you know it.” You spat. 

“It's no different.” He shook his head. “You left. You walked away. You made it perfectly clear that it didn’t mean anything to you so finally I met someone else.” 

“I never said it didn’t mean anything.” You scoffed, he was putting words into your mouth.

“No you’re right, you didn’t.” He stepped closer to you. “You didn’t say anything. For six months you haven’t once brought it up and I didn’t either because I didn’t want to look like an idiot. But you just left without a word and then you acted like it never happened. So I met Max and considering you’ve barely said two words to me in the last half a year, I didn’t think I needed to explain myself to you.” 

A tear escaped your eye as you pictured the way Spencer had looked at you that night and then the way he’d looked at you today. 

He’d been well within his right not to tell you about Max after what you’d done. He was right, you’d left and you’d never mentioned it again. You had tried to pretend it never happened because realistically it shouldn’t have happened. 

But it had and there was no changing that. Just because you wouldn’t talk about it didn’t make it any less real. And now for over seven months you had tried to forget it ever happened, but there was no forgetting. 

You sipped your wine and wiped your eyes before any more tears could fall. You heard the floorboards overhead creak with soft footsteps. You held your breath and listened intently as they crossed the room. 

You heard a door open gently and then the same footsteps on the landing. Another door opened and closed. A few minutes later you heard the toilet flush followed by water running in the sink.

You continued to hold your breath as the door opened and closed again and the footsteps headed closer to the stairs rather than back towards the bedroom. 

You downed your glass of wine as the footsteps started down the stairs towards you. 

***

Seven Months Ago

You gravitated down the hall without recalling telling your feet to do so. It was like a magnetic pull, as though you didn’t have control over your own movements. 

The case had taken the team to Varnville, South Carolina on what had initially looked to be a cold case when a mummified body was discovered in a wall. Rossi had gone on ahead to review the case and upon discovering a wealth of other bodies, dead between twenty years and one, the rest of you joined him.

You’d been worried about Spencer for weeks now, ever since his ordeal with Ben’s Believers and Benjamin Merva. He still had some residual bruising peppering his otherwise alabaster skin, as well as a scar forming on his lower lip. 

He’d tried to put on a brave face, mostly for Penelope who was suffering from PTSS from the abduction. But you knew Spencer well enough to know he wasn’t dealing with the aftermath as well as he liked to pretend. 

After Emily had called it a night and sent you all back to the hotel at around two am, you hadn’t been able to sleep. And somehow your body had moved without your meaning to do so, out of the room and down the corridor until you were standing outside of another door and knocking on it. 

You knocked quietly in case he was asleep but somehow you knew he wouldn’t be. You heard some shuffling from inside the room and then footsteps padding closer.

He opened the door and didn’t look at all surprised to see you. He’d changed out of his work attire and wore a pair of dark green flannel pants, a plain white t-shirt with his signature mismatched socks, one yellow and one red. Even after all these years it still shocked you a little to see him out of a suit and tie. 

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He offered you a meek smile, clearly knowing why you were here.

“Can I come in?” You asked gently. 

He swiped his tongue along his bottom lip before rolling it between his teeth. With a sigh, he nodded and held the door open for you. 

“You’ve barely talked about what happened.” You spoke as you were closing the door behind you. 

“That’s because there isn’t much to say.” He shrugged, moving across the room and leaning up against the desk. 

“Merva nearly killed you.” You swore if you squinted your eyes you would be able to see the knife still pressed against his Adam’s apple. 

“But he didn’t kill me. And I’m fine.” 

“If we were a second later Spence-”

“But you weren’t.” He chuckled, cutting you off. “You made it in time and I’m ok.” 

“It’s ok if you aren’t. What you went through was traumatic. You don’t have to pretend to be fine for me, Spencer.” 

“You’re a hypocrite.” He rolled his eyes, his tone changing sharply. 

“Excuse me?” You frowned. 

“How many times have I asked you if you were ok only to have you pretend you’re fine when your husband was abusing you?” He spat out, pushing himself away from the desk. 

Your back went rigid, your shoulders squared. You ground your teeth furiously. 

“Wow, thanks for making me wish I hadn’t bothered to check in. I was only trying to help and you go and throw that in my face?” You shook your head in disappointment. 

“And I was only trying to help you!” 

“I didn’t need your help!” 

“So you were just going to let him use you as a punching bag forever?” He scoffed. 

“It’s complicated and you know it.” You folded your arms to protect yourself. From what you weren’t sure. 

“It shouldn’t be.” He shook his head. 

“I didn’t come here to talk about Jared. I wanted to make sure you were ok but clearly that was a mistake.” You spun on your heels back towards the door and started marching towards it. 

He exhaled noisily, raking his fingers through his hair. 

“I’m not ok.” He confessed, his tone sounding as though it pained him to admit. You slowly turned back to him. “I haven’t been ok for a long time. It’s been a really bad few years.” 

“You’ve been through a lot.” You nodded, cautiously stepping back closer to him. “I don’t think you ever really got past your incarceration, everything that happened with Cat.”

“I didn’t.” He admitted with a shake of his head. “I know all the right things to say to a therapist so they would reinstate me. But I’m barely holding it together. Prison and Cat, Mr Scratch and then the Believers. It’s been a lot.” 

“It’s ok not to be ok.” You whispered, reaching him now and placing your hands on his shoulders to try and ground him. “I haven’t been there for you the way I should have been.”

“You’ve had a lot going on yourself.” He sniffed. 

“It didn’t stop you trying to be there for me. Instead of helping you, I’ve been pushing you away.” 

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. 

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head. “I’m sorry that I…I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from him.” 

“Strength had nothing to do with it. You’re without a doubt the strongest woman I have ever met.” He told you frankly, his own hands moving to cup your lower back.

“I married the wrong man.” You whimpered, glancing at your left hand on Spencer’s shoulder and the silver wedding band on your finger. “I knew it when he proposed to me. I knew it when I was walking down that aisle. And you knew it too, you were just too polite to tell me the truth.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly. “You did marry the wrong man.” 

A silent understanding passed between the two of you, the kind of understanding that existed only between two people who knew each other inside and out. 

And when he leaned in closer and his lips brushed against yours, it felt right. It felt like the most normal thing in the whole world. 

It continued to feel that way when he deepened the kiss, nearly fifteen years worth of feelings coming out in a single kiss. As he held you close he whispered against your lips, “after all this time? Always.” 

And you finally understood what he meant. 

It felt so normal that you didn’t question it when he led you towards his bed and started helping you out of your clothes. 

***

Present Day

The weight of what you’d done didn’t sink in until you woke up in the morning, curled up against your best friend's naked body. 

Spencer was sleeping soundly, his messy hair splayed out against the hotel pillow, one arm lightly draped across your hips.

You’d managed to creep out of his hold, redress and sneak out of the room before he woke up. And you’d just acted like nothing ever happened. You pretended like you hadn’t slept with your best friend. 

The footsteps on the stairs got closer and you exhaled, trying to clear your mind of thoughts of the past. 

The last thing you should have done was sleep with Spencer. No, the last thing you should have done was confess your love for him during a hostage situation. But sleeping with him had been a close second. 

But he was right, you’d walked away that morning and never looked back, buried your head in the sand and effectively shattered his heart by pretending it didn’t happen. 

You’d told him that night your marriage was complicated. He could never understand. He couldn’t understand because he’d never been married. He would also never understand the complexities of the situation because not only wasn’t he married, but he didn’t have children. 

“Mom?” A croaky voice came from behind you, right on cue. 

You plastered on a smile and turned slowly in the chair to see your daughter rubbing her tired eyes. 

“Hi sweet pea, what are you doing up so late?” You kept your voice quiet as she padded over to you. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She fell to the couch next to you, immediately curling against you and resting her head on your shoulder. 

You wrapped an arm around her, using your other hand to smooth her messy hair back from her face. 

“When did you get home?” She stifled a yawn. 

“A few hours ago. It was a bad one.” You kissed her head. 

You didn’t make a habit of bringing cases home with you, but eight year old Adeline was far too smart for her own good. You often wondered where she got it from. 

She was her mothers daughter through and through, so much like you it often scared you. Looking into her eyes you sometimes felt like looking into a window to the past. 

She was the absolute light of your life, the first time you held her in your arms you thought your body might burst with the amount of love you felt for her. 

She nuzzled closer to you, yawning once more. 

“I missed you, mom.” She mumbled. 

“I missed you more, baby girl.” You closed your eyes and tried to revel in the feeling of your daughter in your arms. 

As she got older these moments would inevitably be few and far between. 

For a while the two of you sat like this, despite the late hour. Mother and daughter lost in their own little world. After a time you heard another door open above you and more footsteps padding down the stairs. 

A few moments later a messy haired and bleary eyed little boy appeared in the doorway. 

“Can’t sleep either, buddy?” You smiled at him. 

“No,” he pouted with a shake of his head. 

“Come on over.” You patted your lap and did as he was told. 

Finley was three years his sister's junior although almost as tall as her. He was equally as astute at Adeline but shared his looks with his father. 

He was the more sensitive of your two children, he wore his heart on his sleeve whereas Adeline was better at hiding her emotions like her mother. 

The five year old plopped himself down in your lap and you cradled him with your other arm. 

This was as close to a perfect moment as had ever existed. These two children were the best thing you’d ever done with your life. 

The love you felt for Adie and Fin knew no bounds. And no matter how many times Jared hit you, burned you, scarred you, you’d always be grateful to him for giving you your two incredible children. 

Despite the way he treated you he’d never laid a finger on your kids. He loved Adeline and Finely, he was an amazing father. It was just a shame he couldn’t be an amazing husband too. 

Maybe he’d always been a little controlling, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. It got worse when he lost his job. Adeline was five and Finley was two. Jared became quick to anger, lashing out at you with his words. 

It started so small you barely noticed it. He’d felt his control slipping in his professional life after being fired and so he tried to regain it at home. 

The first signs had been when he started getting angry when you spent time with Spencer. He got jealous and would yell that he didn’t like how much time you spent with him. 

So you tried to limit your interactions with your best friend for the sake of your marriage. When you did manage to see him you always lied to Jared and told him you were with JJ of Penelope or Emily. 

The first time he hit you was when you arrived home from Mexico after Spencer’s initial arrest. You’d told him it was just a normal case when you’d hurriedly left in the middle of the night but eventually you’d had to tell him the truth.

The kids were asleep when you got home that night and you found him in the kitchen, a glass of scotch on the counter next to a half empty bottle.

“It’s bad,” you sighed as you dropped your purse to the counter. “We managed to get him extradited but he’s been detained. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.” 

“Maybe he shouldn’t have been so stupid as to go down to Mexico without telling anyone. If you ask me, he deserves it.” Jared scoffed, raising the glass to his lips. 

“He deserves to have been drugged and accused of murder?” You frowned at him. 

“How do you know it's an accusation? For all you know he murdered that woman.” He shrugged.

“Spencer did not kill Nadie Ramos. Spencer couldn’t hurt a fly.” 

“Urgh, there you go again.” He rolled his eyes, sipping more of the scotch.

“There I go again, what?” 

“Spencer this and Spencer that. Jesus, he’s all you ever talk about.” 

“Well that’s not true.” You rolled your eyes.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Jared slammed his glass on the counter, eyeing you wildly.

“No, that’s not what I said. I think you're exaggerating.” You felt yourself tense at the way he was looking at you. 

“I told you I don’t like you spending time with him.” His jaw was set in a firm line.

“I work with him, Jared. I have to see him. And one of us needs a job…” You spoke the last part under your breath but of course he heard you.

“Excuse me?” He spat at you. 

“It’s been months, Jared. My salary alone barely covers all our bills.” 

“You think I’m not trying? You think I like being out of work, being a fucking stay at home dad? This is my worst goddamn nightmare, Y/N!” He raised his voice and you flinched a little. 

“Your worst nightmare is spending time with your kids?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“That’s not what I meant.” He scoffed. “The only good part about this is spending more time with them. But I am climbing the freaking walls. You’re never here and that was fine when I was working too because I didn’t notice so much. I am going stir crazy, I feel like I have no purpose, no control.” 

“Of course you have a purpose.” You softened a little, rounding the counter towards him. “Those kids adore having you around all the time. Your purpose doesn't need to be tied to your professional identity. Just enjoy this time with them, you’ll find something soon enough.” 

You placed your hands flush on his chest and tried to calm him. You could feel his heart beating erratically beneath his shirt. 

“I love you.” He sighed, placing his own hands on your hips. 

“I love you too,” you smiled, getting on your tiptoes and kissing him. 

He wrapped his arms firmly around you, holding you in place. For a few brief moments everything was wonderful between you. And then your phone rang. 

You stepped back from his hold with a smile, pulling the device from your pocket. 

“It’s Emily, I should take this.” You nodded before turning your back on your husband. “Hey Em, is everything ok?” 

Emily proceeded to tell you that the FBI had effectively turned its back on Spencer, not willing to provide him with their legal services due to the fact he left the country without telling anyone. She told you about her old friend Fiona Duncan whom she was hoping would take on Reid’s case but it was ultimately a long shot. 

You took it all in, feeling sick to your stomach that the bureau would turn their back on him like that. Emily informed you Fiona was going to meet with Reid in the morning.

“I’ll meet you there, I need to see him.” Your voice shook a little.

“Ok, I’ll see you in the morning, try and get some sleep.” She replied. 

“You too.” You hung up the phone and when you turned back to Jared his face was entirely bright red. 

“You’re not going to see him.” He spat through a clenched jaw.

“He’s my best friend, Jared. He’s scared and alone right now. I need to see him.” 

“You will do what I tell you to do, woman.” 

“Uh, I will do what my team needs me to do. Thank you very much.” 

Suddenly he advanced on you, shoving you roughly back up against the wall. And when he smacked you hard around the face you felt your whole world crumble. 

Tears immediately filled your eyes, your cheek stinging from the contact. He quickly stepped away and turned back to his scotch.

“I did that because I love you.” He whispered around the glass of alcohol.

Every time he hurt you without fail he would follow it up with some kind of comment like that. You’d lost count of the amount of times he said the likes of, “you know I’d never intentionally hurt you,” or “I’m sorry that you think I hurt you.” 

By the time he poured scalding oil on your arm you’d grown used to it. You’d simply resided yourself to the fact this was your life now. 

You thought maybe when he’d eventually gotten a new job he would calm down, go back to being the man you fell in love with. But he never did. 

The Jared Haines that beat you, forced you into bed when you weren’t in the mood, yelled at you until you cried, wasn’t the same Jared Haines you’d married. 

You may have married the wrong man but you’d do it all over again for Adie and Fin. 

“I love you kids so much, never forget that.” You whispered as you held them tighter trying to stem your tears. 

“Love you too mommy.” Fin snuggled closer. 

“Love you mom.” Adie agreed. 

***

“There you are, boy wonder, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Garcia tottered over to him the second he walked in the room. 

“I’ve literally just walked through the door. What’s up Garcia?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“I need to…” she glanced away from Spencer, to the petite brunette holding his hand. “Max, hi. Can I steal your boyfriend momentarily?” 

“Sure, go ahead.” Max laughed, letting go of his hand. 

Spencer bowed his head and kissed her cheek before Garcia was roughly grabbing him by the wrist and dragging Spencer behind her. 

The grand ballroom was decorated beautifully and tastefully but he barely had a chance to take it in before Penelope had accosted him. 

He’d arrived earlier than necessary in case Rossi needed any last minute help for his big day. But he hadn’t even made it to the bar. 

Penelope pulled him outside onto a large patio area where staff were setting up tables and fussing over centrepieces. 

“What is going on?” Spencer asked her, smoothing out his shirt once she pulled them to a stop. 

“Have you spoken to Y/N?” Her eyes were a little manic beneath her thick framed glasses. 

His stomach coiled into knots. Her panicked tone and frantic eyes immediately worried him. 

No, he hadn’t spoken to you. Not since you’d confessed your love to him yesterday. 

“No.” He shook his head. “What’s happened?”

“I know I’m not strictly a profiler but I like to think I’d mastered the basics. But I had no idea.” Garcia was spiralling. 

“Had no idea about what?” Spencer was desperate to get it out of her. 

“Well, when she first RSVP’d for today she only sent back three invites.” 

“Ok?” Spencer frowned. 

“Her, Adie and Fin.” 

“So Jared must be working.”

“That’s what I thought.” Garcia nodded.

“But?” Spencer asked slightly frustratedly. 

“You know me, I like answers. I like having all the facts, just like you.” She started pacing. “So, I asked her about it and she was super vague.” 

“Vague how?” Spencer watched her march up and down. 

“She said Jared wouldn’t be around, which is innocuous enough I hear you cry. But it didn’t sit right with me. It didn’t feel right.” She sounded exasperated. 

“Penelope,” Spencer stepped in front of her so she couldn’t keep pacing and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Please spit it out.” 

She huffed loudly and somewhat childishly. 

“Spence, I did some digging.” Her face paled a little and Spencer was suddenly terrified by what she might have found. 

“And?” He swallowed, lowering his arms to his sides. 

“I found a police report from five days ago. DC Metro was dispatched to 184 Calvert Street after an eight year old girl called the cops when she heard a gun shot.” Garcia’s face paled as she spoke, so did Spencer’s. 

“You…but I…” he swallowed, wobbling on his feet. “That’s Y/N house.” 

“Duh,” Penelope rolled her eyes. “Adie called the police when she heard the gun go off. In her statement she told them that she found her dad with a gun in his hand and his other wrapped around her mom’s throat.” 

Spencer’s colour somehow drained even further as he glared at Penelope. 

“Y/N got shot? But she was at work the next day. I remember it was the day I got back from teaching.” His heart rate increased dangerously so. He felt it beating all throughout his body. 

“According to the reports no one was seriously hurt. The bullet hit the wall. Bruises on her neck could have been covered by make-up.” Penelope tried to calm him before he got too worked up. 

“And Adie saw it?” 

“Oh that poor sweet angel. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.” 

“Fin?” Spencer swallowed

“Was in bed. You know what a sound sleeper he is.” Garcia smiled sadly. 

“So what exactly happened?”

“The police arrived pretty fast, looks like within a few minutes. Adie, being the smart cookie she is, informed the police dispatcher that her mom is an FBI Agent so they were quick on the scene. From what I’ve managed to piece together, Jared wrestled her gun out of her holster and shot at the wall. Adie heard raised voices, and an argument ensued and he got Y/N up against the wall by her throat.

Cops took them in for questioning, he was arrested but given the chance to post bail for which he couldn’t afford and Y/N, thank god, did not pay it. So now he’s in jail awaiting trial. If he’s found guilty he could be looking at anywhere up to twenty five years for attempted murder.” 

Spencer closed his eyes, ruminating on every single one of Penelope’s words. He should have known it would come to this. He should have tried harder to get you to open up about what was going on at home. 

It never should have gotten this far. 

“Fuck,” he shook his head, opening his eyes again. 

“Why don’t you seem all that surprised by this?” Garcia had her eyebrow cocked.

Spencer looked past her a moment, out across the lawns beyond the patio. He’d tried so hard to convince you that you could trust him, that he could help you. 

He should have tried harder. Goddamnit he should have tried harder. 

***

2019

It had been a long time since Spencer had gotten a chance to spend any real time with you and he tried to make the most of it despite the fact your head was clearly elsewhere. 

He was sure he knew what it was that was going on. Ever since he’d seen that burn on your arm he’d been sure of it. But no matter how many times he tried to talk to you about it, you always denied it. 

You’d gone to the movies and for coffee but you kept checking your phone every few minutes, clearly distracted by something. 

You’d been quiet, you’d been quiet a lot lately. He’d hoped getting to spend one on one time with you would help you open up. 

He’d done all the talking, rambling at times because you wouldn’t engage him with more than a few words at a time. Even when he’d asked about the kids you’d simply replied, “yeah, they’re good.” 

Tucked away in the back of the coffee shop you checked the time again, tapping your fingers on the table. 

“Am I keeping you from something?” Spencer finally asked, a hint of frustration in his voice. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I just told Jared I’d be home by four and I don’t want to be late.” 

“You have a curfew now?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snapped. 

“He doesn’t trust you to spend too much time with me, is that it?” Spencer leaned forward on the table. 

He saw something flicker behind your eyes before you tried to disguise it by taking a sip of coffee. 

“He does know you’re with me, doesn’t he?” Spencer narrowed his eyes on you. 

“He…I…no.” You shrugged. “He thinks I’m out with Penelope.” 

“You’re lying to your husband about who you’re hanging out with?” 

“He doesn’t…he doesn’t like you.” You confessed. 

“You’re a grown woman, Y/N.” He scoffed. “He tells you who you can and can’t hang out with?” 

“It’s not like that.” You huffed. 

“And if he found out you were here with me, what would he do?” Spencer leaned even further forward, like he might pounce across the table at you. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” You wouldn’t meet his eye. 

“Would he burn you again?” 

“Stop it.” You spat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Or would he just hit you? Bruise you?”

“Stop it.” 

“I’ve seen the bruises, Y/N! No one is that clumsy, least of all you.” His eyes turned sad as he reached across the table for your hand. It broke his heart the way you flinched. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because it's not that simple.” You growled. “I’m begging you to leave this alone, Spencer.” 

“Y/N if he’s abusive just say the word and we can have him arrested.” 

“Spencer, I have children. It’s not just black and white.” 

“Does he hurt them? Does that asshole hurt my god children?” Spencer squeezed your hand. 

“Of course he doesn’t.” You hissed. “I would never let him lay a finger on them. If he ever touched my kids I would kick his ass to the curb.” 

“But you’ll let him hurt you?” He shook his head. 

“Spencer, marriage is complicated.” 

“Oh please, like I couldn’t possibly understand.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I have two kids who worship the ground their father walks on. He is an amazing dad, Spencer. I don’t want them to grow up without him.” You snatched your hand back from under his. 

“But you want them to grow up without you?” He frowned. “Because that's how this is going to end. Do you know four thousand women die every year at the hands of an abusive spouse? The presence of a gun in the house increases the risk of homicide by five hundred percent.” 

“And out of those four thousand, seventy five percent of those victims were killed whilst trying to leave their partner.” You spat back. “Do you not think I’ve thought about that? Spencer, just leave this alone. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I can help you.”

“No, Spencer, you can’t. And if you tell anyone about this, I will deny it. And without me willing to press charges, you’ll only make things worse. I am begging you to leave this alone.” You got to your feet. 

“You expect me to just sit by and watch while he hurts you?” He whined a little. 

“I’m asking you to just let it go. Please. I’ve got it under control. Stop trying to be a hero.” 

He couldn’t do anything but watch you go. And he hated himself for not doing something to help you. 

***

Present Day

“I knew he was violent. I knew he was abusing her. I could never get her to do anything about it.” Spencer admitted, shaking his head at his own stupidity. 

“He’s hurt her before?” Penelope pouted. 

“Yeah.” Spencer nodded sadly. “More than a few times.” 

“Do you think he’s ever hurt those poor sweet children?” Penelope’s lip quivered. 

“No, she said if he ever laid a hand on them she’d leave.” He inhaled sharply. “Fuck, he’s in jail.” 

“He surely is, boy wonder.” Penelope grabbed him by the bicep. “He can’t hurt her again. Don’t blame yourself, giant brain. This isn’t your fault.” 

“I could have stopped it.” He raked his fingers through his hair which he’d spent hours sweeping neatly back off of his face. 

“No one could have stopped it.” She squeezed his arm. 

“I could have. If I’d just been honest with her all those years ago.” 

“Honest about what?” Garcia’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“She asked me…” he trailed off and swallowed thickly. “She asked me when she got engaged, and on her wedding day, if I thought she was marrying the right man. I didn’t answer her. I should have. I should have told her he wasn’t the man she should be marrying.” 

“You couldn’t have known then that this was going to happen. Reid, you can’t beat yourself up over this.” 

“You don’t get it.” He shook his head, dislodging his arm from her firm grip. “I should have told her he wasn’t the man she should be marrying, because the man she should have married is me.” 

Penelope’s mouth fell open and her eyebrows furrowed deeper. She eyed him curiously, like she was trying to complete a complex puzzle and he’d just handed her the missing piece but she had no idea what to do with it. 

“You…? I don’t understand.” 

“I have been inconceivably in love with Y/N since the first moment I met her. For fifteen years. If I’d not been so scared of telling her, maybe she would have never married that asshole.” He shook his head in frustration. 

Penelope opened her mouth to speak but before she could, someone else did. 

“Wow,” the voice cracked and Spencer spun quickly towards the sound. 

“Max,” he drew his lip between his teeth. “Max I am so-”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “I heard enough.”

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah, me too.” She spat, turning on her heels and rushing back in the direction she’d just come. 

As she fled, she almost ran right into someone but kept her head down to shield the fact she was crying. 

You stumbled a little on your heels as you narrowly avoided Max, one hand on each of your kids backs as you guided them outside. 

You looked over your shoulder Max and then between Spencer and Penelope. 

“What did I miss?” 

***

Five Days Prior

The house was deathly silent when you entered through the front door a little after eleven pm. You knew from past experience silence in your home was never good. 

You’d just arrived back from a case in Lewiston, Maine where women were being killed in houses believed to be haunted. 

It had been long and gruelling, cases without Spencer usually were. Since prison and his agreement to mandated leave days, things hadn’t been the same on the team. 

He was due back tomorrow and at least that meant the cases might move a little faster. 

You dropped your go bag on the floor by the door. The kids would be asleep and you were sure you would find your husband in the kitchen with a drink in his hand. 

You knew this would be bad. You were prepared for it to be bad. You’d unclipped your holster but didn’t put your firearm in the safe like usual. You weren’t taking any chances. 

Before leaving for Maine things had reached breaking point. You’d been getting Adeline ready for bed, tucking her in when she’d startled you by grabbing you by the arm. 

She proceeded to push your cardigan down one arm, revealing a large purple bruise on your shoulder, spreading down towards your collarbone. But it was her words that shocked you more. 

“Daddy did that, didn’t he?” 

“Wh-what?” You were quick to pull your sleeve back up. “What makes you think that, sweet pea?” 

“I saw him. I saw him shove you. And it’s not the first time.” 

It transpired your extremely smart eight year old had been privy to her fathers dark side. She regaled you of how many times she’d witnessed Jared pushing you around, screaming at you until you cried. 

She’d concluded by telling you she wouldn’t be sad if you left him. And maybe that was all the impetus you needed. 

You stayed with Jared, put up with his violence for your children. You’d always told yourself as long as it didn’t affect them you could stay. 

But now it had affected them, Adie at least. And that was the final straw. 

You’d packed a bag before you left for Maine. You’d planned to wait until Jared was at work and you and the kids were going to stay with David Rossi. 

You didn’t tell him why and thankfully he didn’t ask. But you felt the most safe at his home, given all the security you knew you and the kids could stay there until you figured out your next move. 

But before you had the chance, Jared figured you out. 

This morning you’d received a text from your husband with a photo of your bag and the simple question: where the fuck do you think you’re going? 

As you slowly headed towards the kitchen, you were reminded of a conversation with Spencer last year in the coffee shop. 

“Do you know four thousand women die every year at the hands of an abusive spouse? The presence of a gun in the house increases the risk of homicide by five hundred percent.”

“And out of those four thousand, seventy five percent of those victims were killed whilst trying to leave their partner.”

Your heart rattled in your chest and you felt your stomach coiling into tight knots. One way or another tonight was going to be the end, whether because you made it out of the house or because Jared killed you.

Your hand hovered above your firearm as you crossed the room towards the kitchen. You pushed open the door and held your breath. 

Your bag was in the centre of the kitchen island, Jared looming over it, a glass of scotch in his hand. When he saw you, he downed the contents and slammed the glass so violently on the counter top it smashed in his hand.

He didn’t even seem to notice. 

“Jared, before you say anything I-”

“Shut up.” He spat, not raising his voice. Not yet. “You don’t get to speak. Planning on leaving me, huh? What was the plan, Y/N? You take my kids away and you think I won’t come after them? You think I’d let you get away with taking my kids?” 

“I don’t want them to grow up with a father who is a bully.” You stood your ground, hand still hovering over the butt of your gun.

“I’ve never laid a hand on them.” He snarled. 

“But Adie has seen what you do to me. I don’t want them to have to witness that. What kind of example am I setting for my little girl if I let a man push me around?” You clenched your jaw.

“Adie isn’t a bitch like you.” He started towards you slowly. “She wouldn’t need a man to put her in her place.” 

You refused to show him fear. If this was where it ended you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Just let me go. Let us go.” 

“Please,” he scoffed. “So you can go and play happy families with Reid?” 

“It’s not like that.” You rolled your eyes. 

He got closer and you found yourself backing up. 

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” He advanced on you until your back hit the wall and he was towering over you. 

“This has nothing to do with Spencer.” You tried to insist, fingers brushing your gun. “The fact of the matter is, I don’t love you anymore, Jared. Not like I used to. How can I love someone who treats me the way you do? I’ve let this go on long enough. You’ve hurt me too many times.”

Out of nowhere your tears started to fall, thick and heavy as they rolled down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realised you were going to cry. 

“Only because I love you, sweetheart.” He smiled menacingly at you. 

“I put men like you away for a living. I shouldn’t have fallen victim to this.” Your eyes clouded with tears, you could barely see him and they felt like they burnt as they rolled down your cheeks. 

“You need putting in your place sometimes. You’re too sensitive.” He raised his hand and wrapped it tightly around your bicep, squeezing so hard you knew he’d leave yet another bruise. 

“Please let me go.” You whimpered, unable to keep up your strong facade. “Please?” 

“Baby, I will never let you go. I love you, we belong together.” He let go of your bicep and his hand moved to your face. 

He gripped your jaw in his hand, forcing his lips on yours. You tried to push him away with one hand while the other wrapped around the butt of your gun. 

“Stop it!” You cried while he kissed you. “Stop it, Jared!” 

He tore his lips away from you and looked at you through dark eyes. Then his gaze wandered. You felt the exact moment he noticed your hand on your gun. 

“You gonna shoot me, Y/N?” He scoffed. “You’d kill the father of your children?” 

Spencer’s words rang clear in your head. 

The presence of a gun in the house increases the risk of homicide by five hundred percent. 

As you went to draw your weapon his large hand was on top of yours, squeezing your fingers into a vice like grip until you howled in pain and your hold on the gun faltered. 

He managed to wrestle the gun free of your holster and draw it. He pointed the barrel right at your head for a brief moment before shifting its aim slightly to the left and pulling the trigger. 

You screamed as the gun went off and the bullet flew past your face and into the kitchen wall. He refocused it on you while you trembled with sobs. 

Spencer was right. This is how I’m going to die. 

“Please, Jared. Put the gun down. You don’t want to do this.” You held your hands up, trying to keep your breathing measured. 

It wasn’t as though it was the first time you’d had to stare down the barrel of a gun, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. Least of all because it was your husband pointing it at you. 

You were trained in negotiating with psychopaths but all your knowledge went out of the window. All you could think about was how you were going to die and that the kids would no doubt have to find your body. 

“Please. Think of the kids. Think of Adie and Fin. Please don’t let them grow up without a mother.” Tears continued to roll down your cheeks at an alarming rate. 

Jared scoffed, gun still levelled at you. 

“You were going to let them grow up without me! You were going to leave and take them away!” He yelled. 

“I won’t, I swear. Just put the gun down and I promise we won’t leave. We can still be a family.” Your body trembled viciously as he took a step closer to you. 

“What does he have that I don’t?” He growled at you, moving closer until the gun was pressing against your forehead. 

“Wh-what? Who?” 

“Spencer!” He spat. “You’re sleeping with him aren’t you?” 

“Of course I’m not.” You shook your head, the cool metal jabbing into your skull. 

“Liar!” He used his other hand to grab your bicep again, making you wince. “Tell me the truth!” 

“One time.” You sobbed. “It happened one time.” 

Jared’s eyes turned darker but he lowered the gun to his side. His jaw pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. 

“I’m sorry.” You cried. “I'm so sorry.” 

“You fucked another man?” He hissed. “And you wonder why I don’t like you being around him!” 

His free hand raised and you flinched thinking he was going to hit you. Instead his palm came down against your throat, lightly at first. But it wasn’t long before he was tightening his grip, fingers digging into your neck while he put pressure on your trachea. 

The gun hung from his other hand and you felt it knocking against your leg. Maybe you could take him off guard, grab it while he was focused elsewhere. 

“You were going to leave me for him? Have him raise our kids?” He squeezed and you choked, fighting for air. 

“N-no.” You whimpered. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“Do you have feelings for him?” He used his grip on you to slam your head back against the wall. “Do you love him?” 

“Yes.” You confessed, unable to stop the word leaving your lips. And then you stupidly followed it up with, “he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be.” 

Jared snarled and his grip got firmer, his large hand able to wrap almost the entire way around your throat. His fingers dug painfully into your flesh while his palm constricted your breathing.

“You fucking bitch.” He spat. “If I can’t have you, no one can. I’m doing this because I love you.” 

You closed your eyes, unable to fight for those breaths you so sorely needed to refill your lungs anymore. Instead you resided yourself to it, knowing nothing you could do or say would make this better. 

Jared was going to kill you. 

You started going light headed, as he shook you by your neck, violently choking you. It wouldn’t take long before your lack of oxygen caused you to pass out. 

You thought of your kids. You pictured little Fin and Adie being raised by this man. What would become of your two happy children if they lost their mother this way?

You thought of Spencer and the night you’d spent together and how you should have told him how you felt then. Or how you should have told him how you felt fifteen years ago. Life was painfully short, you shouldn’t have wasted a minute not being honest about your feelings. 

You felt yourself ebbing towards unconsciousness, knowing it was only a matter of time. Maybe it would have been better to let him shoot you, at least it would have been faster. 

Somewhere in the house you swore you heard a door open. But your head was hazy, you barely registered it. You just prayed your children wouldn’t witness this. 

And then everything happened so fast. 

A voice entered your ears, male, not one you recognised. But you couldn’t work out what they were saying. 

“Sir, step away. Put the gun down.” 

Then the grip on your throat loosened and you were able to gasp for air, your shaky legs barely holding you upright. 

You clutched your chest, using the wall to balance yourself. You blinked several times to focus your vision.

Two uniformed officers, DC Metro insignia on their breast pockets. One male, one female. The man held a gun, the woman was slapping cuffs on your husband's wrists. 

“Ma’am?” The man holstered his weapon, stepping closer to you. “Ma’am I’m Officer Joseph Leakes, this is my partner Officer Maddie Burnett.” 

You nodded but closed your eyes, a wave of dizziness washing over. You stumbled on your feet and then you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

You flinched involuntarily and opened your eyes to see Officer Burnett now in front of you instead of Leakes. She was smiling softly at you, she had kind brown eyes. 

Right, I’m a victim of domestic violence, don’t let the man touch me. Good call, you thought in an absent mind. 

Burnett led you over to a chair at the kitchen counter while she exchanged a glance with Leakes who was tugging your husband by the cuffed wrists towards the door. 

“It’s all a misunderstanding!” Jared tried to fight the cop off. “Tell them Y/N! Tell them it’s all a mistake! They got it wrong!”

You simply blinked in response. 

A glass of water was in front of you somehow and Burnett was still smiling at you. 

“Mrs Haines?” She asked softly. You shuddered.

“Never…never changed my name.” You shook your head. “Y/N, please.” 

The officer nudged the glass of water closer to you and you wrapped your shaky hands around it. 

“Are you ok? Do you need medical attention?” The kind eyed cop asked now. 

“No.” You slowly raised your glass to your lips but before you could sip you put it back down again. “M-my kids? Where are my k-kids?” 

You glanced around the room, needing to see your beautiful children and make sure they were ok. 

You felt a small hand on your arm and blinked rapidly to try and clear the fog from your brain. 

Your eyes met your daughters and you quickly threw your arms around her. 

“Adie!” You sobbed. “Oh baby girl.” 

“It’s ok mommy.” She sniffled, burying her head against your chest. “It’s ok. He can’t hurt you anymore.” 

“You have a very brave little girl.” Burnett spoke somewhere from over your shoulder. “She called 9-1-1 when she heard a gunshot.” 

You pulled back from the embrace and cupped her little face, staring intently at her.

“Did I do good, mommy?” She looked up at you through her large eyes. 

“Oh sweet pea,” you choked on another sob, throwing your arms back around your daughter. “You did so good.” 

***

Burnett took your statement once you were able to focus your mind again and she also took Adie’s statement. Fin, gratefully, slept through the whole ordeal. 

A CSU tech arrived later and took photographs of your neck, of the bullet lodged in the wall and collected evidence from your gun. 

Before leaving Burnett told you Jared would be detained. He would most likely be offered the chance to post bail. 

When he’d lost his job, finances had been tight. You’d tried to squirrel away what you could and opened a separate bank account in your own name during that time. Burnett informed you that if your money was in an account solely in your name you would have the choice whether you paid his bail or not. If the money remained in a joint account he could access it to foot the bill.

First thing in the morning you were going to transfer all of your money over to your own bank account and ensure Jared didn’t have the opportunity to come back and finish the job he started. 

She said she would do everything she could to help you keep Jared away, she even left you her personal cell number. Unfortunately you knew all about the way in which the state of Virginia tended to side with men in these instances, despite physical proof. 

Once Burnett left you spent several hours on the couch with Adie in your lap, stroking back her hair and rocking her like you did when she was a baby. 

You had no idea the kind of trauma this would cause her, you would no doubt have to look into getting her therapy before what she’d seen went untreated. You’d been seeing a therapist yourself for the last year on and off due to your anxiety which had been brought on as a result of Jared’s tempered mood swings. 

You’d speak to Adie about it another day. Right now you were content in holding your daughter. 

Eventually she fell asleep in your arms, you were grateful she was able to. You carried her to bed and kissed her forehead when you tucked her in. You checked on Fin before heading towards your own bedroom. 

Stepping inside that room everything caught up on you. The bed in which Jared had forced you into more times than you could count, the subtle dents in the walls where he’d thrown things at you. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the dresser. Your neck was covered with a fresh array of bruises, red and angry and in the distinctive shape of fingers. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d had to cover marks and blemishes with make-up, but this would be harder than most. 

And out of nowhere your legs gave way and you crumbled to the floor as a new fit of sobs wracked your body. 

It felt like the world's longest night and it was only just the beginning. It was going to be an arduous uphill battle if you were to keep Jared away from you and protect your kids. 

But you didn’t have the strength to think of any of that right now. You curled up in a ball and sobbed on the floor of your bedroom for what felt like hours. 

Without really thinking, you found your cell phone still in your pocket and your fingers moved of their own accord as you brought up your contacts, dialled his number and put the device to your ears.

You counted the rings. Eight in total. Eight rings before it clicked over to voicemail and his outgoing message flooded your ears. For a moment it provided you comfort. But then you started sobbing all over again. 

“Hello, you’ve reached Doctor Spencer Reid. I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave me a message and I will get back to you.” 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @dirtytissuebox @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @frostandflamesfanfic @pixiehex1985 @release-your-sweets @mavel-fan-for-life @megan-mars

[quixotin]

Thoughts on NATLA so far (up to ep 5)

I'm really loving it!!! There are some parts where the pacing gets a bit slow but it makes up by hitting you out of left field with the feels.

Episode 4 is my favorite so far.

I absolutely LOVED this rendition of Sukka. What bisexual disasters, the pair of them.

ON THE FIRE NATION:

I absolutely LOVE the background story on the fire nation family, particularly the bond between zuko and iroh. It is presented completely different than in the OG, since the 'show don’t tell' of the original happens in Book 2 and here they use flashbacks, but it works. Still ended with me in waterworks. Also, I understand the logic behind showing all of the cards from the very get-go being that Netflix can cancel the show before it is renewed for another season, so it needed to make the best impression possible, show all the stakes but not reveal them in ther completion. I think they did that very well so far.

ZUKO IS SO AWKWARD I LOVE HIM

his expressions and reactions are just peak comedy. He is the embodiment of "😫😟" and I love that for him.

Dallas' performance is definitely one of my highlights.

ON KATARA AND SOKKA:

The thing that is the most foreign to me so far is the decision to improve Sokka's emotional stakes at the expense of Katara's. I like it but this has to be the element where the adaptation departs the most from the og. Like, in the cartoon it is Katara who bears the brunt of the responsibility taking care of the water tribe and her brother, which is why Sokka's sexism as a character flaw worked there. I can see now why they chose to drop that. With the script flipped like this, with Sokka being the main caretaker and provider between him and Katara, making him stay sexist would've been a bit too much. It is very different, but I like how they flipped the script between them.

What I did not like about this flip is that the change seems to affect Katara's character for the worse. She is not as outspoken or short-tempered as she was in the cartoon. It's almost the complete opposite. But I can definitely see the shyness and insecurity being the deliberate starting point of her arc. Now in ep 5, you can see her becoming more confident both in personality and bending. I think this was a conscious decision, but I still wish she had been written to be more headstrong from the very beginning.

That being said, I really appreciate how different the dynamic between Sokka and Katara is. I love how Katara is trying to get her independence while Sokka is still caught on the fact he has to be her protector, almost parent figure, which is a cool change of pace. One of the things that kinda bothered me as a young girl watching Avatar was that Katara was always stuck being the mom and sort of getting teased for it despite the fact no one else could or wanted to step up to that responsibility. It's cool to see Sokka bearing that responsibility as the eldest in the adaptation.

ON THE BLATANTLY MISSING KATAANG

You know, I don't hate this change. Aang and Katara's interactions are still pretty wholesome, and once they start catching feelings for each other, it will be super cute because you see where the love is truly coming from. It's not just Aang's childhood crush/Katara's "destiny", as it was presented it the cartoon. Besides it would have looked a little weird, considering that the age gap between Gordon and Kiawentiio is way more obvious on screen than it is right now when you see the interviews with the cast, because that kid Gordon is growing up SO fast.

OVERALL:

I am enjoying it very much! The adaptation is excellent. Despite some changes being quite big, they managed to capture most of the show's essence. I do believe it could have benefitted from a bit more balance between the comedy and the seriousness, particularly when it comes to Aang because he is mostly just weighted down by his responsibility in the adaptation, I don't see him joke as much, but in general and all limitations considered, I think they did an excellent job! It won't be for everyone, for sure, but I can say it has managed to bring back that feeling of watching the show for the first time again on some parts :)

[one-winged-dreams]

Word Find Game

Rules: search for the given words in your WIP(s). If you don't have a word, you can use a variation on it or a word with a similar meaning. Then choose new words for the people you tag to look for in their WIP(s).

Ty so much @derelictdumbass for tagging me because this is SO fun. there are a couple tagged cws and it's kind of long but ;_;

My Words: anchor, intertwined, twist, lost, flicker

divider

"Anchor[ed]"

ship: terra x adriel x angeal (so i stayed in the darkness with you, what do angels dream of)

Circumstances considered, polyamorous and consensual as they were, it was not ESPECIALLY odd to be nervous about meeting your boyfriend's husband.

Admittedly, Terra had never even seen so much as a picture of Angeal, all he had to go on as far as current impressions were was that he was intimidating. Adri did his best to reassure him that he wasn't to be feared but also refrained from lying and telling Terra that he was anything less than firm.

Most of the time, anyway.

So many stories and anecdotes had begun to build an intimidating picture regardless of the reassurance, but Terra would not disrespect Adri OR his husband. And so now he stood at the literal doorstep, letting out a breath until he felt Adri squeeze his hand, a quick glance over earning him a reassuring smile and nod that anchored him a bit. He did his best to return the motion, the nod easy enough, the smile not as much, before he allowed Adri to release his hand to open the door.

As he did, the warmth of the house's interior washed over the both of them, a welcome feeling from the cold night air of Radiant Garden, bringing along with it a peculiar sensation. He could smell it clearly - this was Adri's home for sure. It was a soft, warm scent. Similar to how Adri's pillow back at his own place smelled. Intermingled with it, however, was something with more mass to it. Masculine, almost… Steely? It didn't overpower Adri's scent, by any means, but its presence was heavy.

And not… Unpleasant.

"Angeal! I'm home, Terra's here!"

"Intertwined"

(cw: mild cybergore)

ship: adri x viktor vektor (make your heart beat in reverse)

"Hey, Vik? I need you to come pick me up, and uh, promise not to freak out, okay?" he had said.

That was before Viktor had rolled up to a literal crash scene where Trauma Team was departing, thoroughly ignoring the colorful character propped against a wall despite his blood oh so generously puddling on the sidewalk beneath him. Of course, the mangled mess of a cyberware-infused right arm was of no concern, the mechanisms for the mantis blades intertwined with... everything else. Let alone the malfunctioning optic that twitched around, thankfully, still in its socket. And, of course, not to mention the road rash that lay beneath holes ripped through clothing that stood no match for the velocity the Mox had most definitely slid across the pavement.

As the ripperdoc approached, Adri looked up at him with a squinty and undoubtedly agonized smile. "Hey Vik. You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

Viktor was, of course, concerned. It was a given, considering what he was currently looking at. Still, he crossed his arms and shook his head, "You wanna tell me what happened here?"

"Corpo fucks! Who even taught 'em how to drive?" Adri sounded more inconvenienced than anything as he threw his non-mangled arm outward. He let out an exasperated sigh and was only able to half-shrug. "As you can see, I'm not being hauled off by NCPD right now, so I guess they at least know how to take responsibility for their fuck ups SOMETIMES. And look, look! My Kusanagi took a beating, but she's still standing!"

Viktor's eyes were directed by Adri's pointing towards a damaged but still functional-looking motorcycle. "Right. So looks like YOU took the brunt of beating, then?" his tone was almost stern, and Adri clearly got the message.

Flinching slightly, the Mox offered an uneasy grin. "Well, I was going to upgrade the chrome eventually anyway, right? Cheaper than a whole bike," he trailed off with an awkward chuckle.

Viktor sighed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Twist[ing]"

(cw: emeto, suggestive, body horror)

ship: adriel x valtiel (i'd make a deal with god)

There is no face to glean so much as an ounce of recognition, and he wonders if It so much as thinks about him. If Its gnarled embraces and things he prefers to leave unspoken are some obscene compulsion to force-feed him his repressed licentious dreams. The ones that fester and rot in his guts, sometimes he feels like if he could just shove his fingers down into the depths of his throat and purge it that it will all go away. It'll all go away, the heat of blood that rushes up to just underneath his sinful flesh, the way he parts his lips, the sweat, the fluids, oh GOD, the fluids.

It leaves him wanting and then punishes him for doing so, an endless cycle of carnal loathing that settles in places, or one place, or everywhere all at once.

That visage that incites revulsion only makes his heart skip, and he can feel it twitching in his chest, writhing beneath his ribcage. The most vital of all the organs, its charismatic leadership incites the twisting of viscera, and his insides are dancing for It.

"Lost [Lose]"

ship: adriel cisne x daval prestor/neltharion (the gift of ruin)

The creature had no right to be as delicate as it was. The subtle grace of his movements was a testament to his noble upbringing, he flitted about like a bird in a manner that vexed Daval to no end. Soft, delicate, piercable skin, limbs so narrow and breakable. Large brown eyes that would water and weep at the pain he could bring him. Soft, flushed lips that would part to gasp in agony-

"You're gawking again, father," Katrana's voice grated in Daval's ears, summoning a scowl to his face.

He turned to glare at her with a rage unseen by anyone present. He upheld an image that would be tarnished by even a fraction of that hate.

"We do not GAWK, dear daughter," he sneered before his expression returned to stone-cold neutrality. Shameless to the definition, he turned to watch the Cisne offspring again. What a miserable sight he was, playing a part not unlike Daval himself, though the semantics couldn't be any more different.

"Father's upset that the Cisne boy hasn't approached him to fawn yet," Nefarian spoke next, quite possibly taking advantage of Daval being in no place to deal out consequences. He had enough self-control to store the rage of the Destroyer away where it could not be felt by these senseless mortals. For now.

Terrible irony guided fate's hand as his attention was suddenly drawn to Lord Cisne approaching him with far too much familiarity. A charming smile materialized on Daval's face, the thought that this man was played far too easily placating him for now.

"Lord Prestor, it has been far too long!" Typical greeting from an unoriginal mortal.

"Indeed it has, Lord Cisne. Your recent absences from these gatherings have been almost concerning." Almost meaning 'not at all.' Though he did retain a certain asset that would be troublesome to lose.

"Flicker"

ship: howl & adri x knull (can't tell where you end and where i start, traitor cut down the altar)

The bleeding was deceptively intermittent, just when the flow seemed to cease, another movement would send the wound running red again. A slice wound to make it all the more painful.

Down, down, and down his leg it runs.

Despite how excruciating walking on it proved to be, Adri's mind was overflowing with endorphins and other fun chemicals that gushed on queue with his crackling synapses.

And no symbiote to slurp them up.

The connection was muddled static. Like his ears were ringing in his head. Every time he cried out its name, he couldn't hear himself. He didn't even wonder if it was doing the same. He didn't have the time.

Traversing this scene of mock domesticity, the house would have been nice, as flooded in darkness as it was. But the broken chairs in the dining room were a good enough transition to a new genre.

It was so stifling in here, the radiator on in this weather? Fucking insane. It's already December, and, in his stupor, he makes an off comment about climate change.

He was doing his best to keep his blood full of oxygen, but he always forgets that hyperventilating doesn't count.

"FUCKER!" he managed to scream out in frustration as he continued to drag himself around as one does a sack of meat.

That's all he really was, though, wasn't he?

An angry, bleeding sack of meat.

But he was meat with a sense of self-preservation.

"I'm going to fucking kill you when I find you!" he called out to the entity that simultaneously hunted and evaded him.

'…ILL THEM!'

The sound of a wooden thud to his rear turned him around. Wide eyes struggled to make anything out in the dark, pupils dilating to desperately adapt to the gloom.

The acute stress response was beginning to flicker to life, ever more skewing to fight rather than flight. It was more than anger, more than rage.

It was hate.

The next scream was loud but not so vocal as to speak. He didn't need words right now. Working on pure unadulterated spite, he would obliterate this thing that tormented him

Finding himself at the base of the stairs boiled his blood and the words that bubbled up with it.

"DIE!"

'…IE!'

"DIE, you piece of shit! Just fucking drop dead! FUCK!"

'…EAD!'

The screams of frustration silenced to heaving shoulders and grinding teeth. And then his head snapped up to the top of the stairs, as would a man cursed by gods, determined to break the cycle of this infernal ascent.

The first step was weighed down with the pain creeping directly into his dorsal posterior insula. It weighed its judgment and found him wanting, by all evidence. Sentence?

Agony.

SGHKSJDGHKGJDS it's always the most eloquent or fucked up WIPs that I tend to abandon

your words: amount, obscure, relevant, taste, definite

I tag: @dearly-beeloved @kylilah @goldenworldsabound and whoever else wants to do this honestly, it's a really cool tag game

[vnyverse]

A/n: just an idea I had, nothing new but still under edit, but feel free to lmk your thoughts on this piece!

Fall was your favourite. Red brown leaves hung on the trees, until they decided to depart and adorn the grass in their autumn hues. Accompanying the little sounds the wind chimes made, little droplets of rain visit your window sills almost like a little greeting, you liked to think. On the other side of the windows, you were taking a little break from studying, but truthfully you were distracted by your thoughts. It wasn’t that you liked to be cheesy or anything, but it felt like something was missing. You were reminded of something you’d heard of something in class today-the halo effect, was that it? Hanni, your seatmate was doing a more in depth project about it. Maybe that could explain your lean toward hot matcha especially so in the cold October evenings, how you developed an interest in amphibians and could possibly explain why you wear your glasses more often lately (she told you it made you appear more intelligent). This was all the courtesy of a person taking painfully long leisurely strolls in your mind, seeming to be oblivious of the effect they had on you.

This person also just happened to the your student council Secretary, and together with yourself, as student council treasurer, you bore the brunt of students’ frustrations when events were underfunded, teachers’ scoldings when your grades slip from spending too much time planning school events, though they were still stellar and a cut above the rest, it was an apparent cause for serious concern, with the honour of your family names at stake. Even though your family didn't take issue with your grades, it wasn’t like this in every family. You see, the Kang family has long produced accomplished doctors and scientists, while yours was the name of the large business conglomerate- L/n Industries. It really didn’t help with the President and vice President being mere faces of the student council, being the grandchildren of the school’s chairman, Mr Cha, they got away with many things. Last time when they were needed to, they simply emceed the school sport’s day for a mere ten or so minute and then ditched it to go for “enrichment classes'' which entailed chilling in the student council room to get escape the heat, leaving you and haerin to have no choice but to step up to oversee the event, despite having already done the planning of the event down to a T. Sure enough, a similar circumstance arose recently. Their poor excuse of not wanting to “exert unnecessary effortful force” on a singular broken finger of the vice president’s had both the presidents bail the planning of the school’s summer concert, thus leaving it a mess for you to untangle with your fellow secretary.

The following day was a first for you. The first, of many other firsts, that was. Taking small, light but powerful steps down the hallway to quickly get to class, you caught sight of students clamouring for better planning for the upcoming summer concert, a little too dangerously close to the first period that the discipline master would've liked. You took a glimpse at your wristwatch that read 8:15 am. Today was going to be long. Approaching the crowd of students, you make the realisation that the students were not just crowding outside the student council room, but rather surrounding an individual, accompanying the action was a flurry of insults and before you got too close to the individual, they bolted to the restroom in tears. What you did not miss was the shiny school crest shaped badge pinned neatly on the left lapel of the school blazer, indicative of the identity of its owner being a top student councillor. Ignoring the commotion, you decide to tail the figure into the restroom, taking in a deep breath to compose yourself before entering the restroom.

That’s when you saw her figure crouched over her knees, sat on the bench near the showers, whose presence could be easily overlooked. No, it wasn't that you haven't seen her before, you know that your family did supply medical equipment to her family’s chain of hospitals, and on numerous occasions you have seen her in gatherings your family had you participate in. It was just that you never really spoke to her other than sending her the occasional email about allocating budget to events, and seeing that she mainly kept to herself, and more so because she had a cold and impenetrable exterior. Now it contrasts with the silent sobs she let out, the quivering of her shoulders like a scared animal, and how she grabs harshly at the blazer anyone would think it would tear. Taking out some tissues that you always carry with you, you silently approach her and offer it to her, almost in the manner you would always approach your neighbour’s cat.

Upon realising she had company, her head perked up akin to that of a spooked kitten, yet the hot tears that ran down her cheeks seemed to tell a story of fear and dejectedness, wiped away furiously by her now unkempt, wet sleeves, and she flashes you a weak smile that stung. How stressed had this poor girl had to be to put up a front even when she is visibly crumbling away? Her smile seemed to question your intentions, as it reeked of discomfort, yet in the most graceful and put together fashion you’ve ever seen.

“Here to join in on the fun and make fun of me too?” she says, wiping all emotion off your face.

“No, I wasn’t, I know we don’t talk much but I also share responsibility for planning the summer concert. Why would you think of me that way?”

A soft sorry makes its way out her mouth as she wipes away her tears. You didn't know what got into you but you instinctively used your own blazer sleeve to wipe her tears away. “Don't cry, please” spills out of your mouth of its own accord. She lets you, surprisingly, and for a moment you think she has something to say, but you don’t press. Your extended attention on her turns into silent admiration, she could have easily dropped out of the student council altogether too many times but instead she continues to entertain the idea of overworking herself to ensure everything went smoothly. Something else comes out of your mouth, that even you yourself seemed surprised. (Sigh, you were such a simp for pretty girls.)

“Hey, need an extra pair of hands to help you plan the event? I’m just about done with planning the budget and it seems like you could use some help with logistics.”

“Really?” accompanied by the gaze of earnest (albeit slightly swollen) eyes hung on you.

“Yes, really, I think it's impressive that you excel at what you do, and I think I can learn from you too. I’ll just set a date on discord? Like not a date date, but a date to plan the event, how's that?”

You awkwardly smile, brows scrunched together, and you wonder if you’ve done it again, made a fool out of yourself, that is. The last line should have been left better unsaid, stuck in your throat and now the insinuation had left a soft pink flush cast on your cheeks, and a chucking Haerin. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea considering you had to intern at your Dad’s company after school, but maybe again it could help build closer ties within your families. What was it with you?

“Right, see you.”

Days later, when you two finally settled on a available slot, the time came for a discord meeting to decide on which rooms were to be allocated as waiting rooms, and it was also time to finalise the artists and school bands which were going to perform at the concert as well as create a rough event rundown. You felt strangely excited to see her again, hearing she had the flu and had been resting at home for the past few days.You even tried to put in some effort to look decent, applying lip balm on your chapped lips and turned on what you nicknamed the “vibe lamp” - a warm yellow lighting cast onto your wall of books and film posters.

The familiar “ding” welcomed you as you were now on a screen looking at a different Haerin, amazed at how different she looked. She wears thick, black framed plastic glasses at home, and was changed into a comfy set of white, either cotton or linen, daisy patterned pjs, positioned in a manner which looked like she was at her desk, but she looked fatigued and the laptop was really just resting on her thighs. You made it a note to record minutes for today’s planning in case she falls asleep. Her haircut, which you learned was a “hime cut”, was japanese for what translates into a princess cut, an appropriate deduction for how she looked in the moment. Long, black blades of her hair framed her face, further accentuating the sharp curve of her jaw if that was even possible, with the longer strands streaming down her shoulder, which she slowly tied into pigtails with a subtle, casual elegance.

“Haerin, the band on the third page looks like a very popular one, what do you think about them? I’m sure I can write in for a tad more funds to have them come instead. I’ve also looked through the rough plan and I think it would be beneficial to add a little buffer time between each of the performances.” Somehow within an hour, planning had come far, with you two doing much more than you had planned, even if the other at this point was just replying with “mhmm”s, nodding adorably at whatever you said and on the verge of dozing off. Nearing the end of an hour, the pocket of time agreed by the both of you to plan, you made an observation. Her head gently tilted to rest on the pillow, and her glasses were loosely hung on the bridge of her nose, threatening to fall at any moment. But no, that was not the observation, it was that the meeting confirmed your thoughts- Kang Haerin looked good doing anything, even when crying or sleeping. Hitting the “send” button, you gave Haerin a summarised copy of the meeting minutes and secretly wished that she would maybe feel a little better. For the next god knew how long, the image of Haerin dozing off was stuck in your mind. Even when you wanted to shake these thoughts off, you found yourself thinking about wanting to know more about her, and weirdly enough, wanting to look good for her. A plan started to form in your mind. Something along the lines of gift, surprise and just maybe, hug?

Kang Haerin

Thanks for the help, I really appreciate it. You better have not taken screenshots of me dozing off last night. I’d like to give you a little something as a token of my appreciation :)

y/n

Don’t worry, that was nothing. Maybe I took a picture or two, nah I’m just kidding lmk if you still need help with anything else!

Let’s see. To meet at 6pm, she said. The books on fishkeeping were next to those on horticulture, on one of the last shelves at the back of the library, to your pleasant surprise. You could kill some time somewhere there weren't students mugging for tests, and you could sit on the carpeted floor and look out the window to daydream all without the interruption of the librarian trying their best to be polite by asking you to instead sit on the couches a few metres away. If you were just a normal student, you would imagine this would be something you could come to regularly enjoy.

Her head half pokes through the side of the shelf, her eyes becoming crescents and corners of her lips manage to crease as high as they could when they meet your eyes, before she fully steps out and whispers a “boo”. You had no idea why she did what she did, but that was so characteristically her, and you break eye contact with her before you’ll think she sees you as a creep. But something about her was just so arresting. The way the sunlight peeked through the shutters and cast a golden sheen onto her figure, the way she seemed to smile with her mouth, nose and even eyes, her little canines showing when the smile fished out of her was true and wide, the way soft sounds of her giggles penetrated your heart, like an unknown and somewhat sacred noise that you didn’t know how to react to.

The dark oak shelves seemed to section you off from the rest of the school, and you decided this was time to give her the present you had tried to put together for the past few days, before cowardice got the better of yourself. Trying to string a coherent sentence together under her warm gaze was by far the most challenging thing you had to do today.

“Umm.. for you”

Of course she was zoning out, you thought to yourself. Before she realises what was happening, a situation only possibly described as acting out an intrusive thought takes place. She inches toward you, allowing you to see the crease of her blazer spreading across a larger area, before you see the finger incoming, making contact with your cheek. Her finger makes an impression on your skin, almost like she was physically trying to form a dimple on your face.

Were your cheeks nice to touch? What quality about your cheeks were so enticing to the girl before you managed to ignore your words, and your gift completely? She breaks out of her trance, and now holds eye contact with you. For a second she looked like she was scrutinising you. (Note: Haerin may or may not have realised that she showed up but left her gift she was supposed to give y/n in her classroom at this moment.)

“Wow, even softer than I thought, kind of , uhm, mochi-like? Sorry, thank you” and with that, she receives your gift. You chuckle at her antics in your heart, and you perk your head up, signalling her to direct her attention toward the gift.

“May I?”Haerin asks. You don’t hesitate, allowing her to do what you thought would be, unwrap her gift. However, her arm seemed to come near you again, and before long her whole hand came down onto you, squishing your cheek like it were a food item of sorts, even though you were taller, and had a good height difference with her. You try to silently wince in pain, not knowing whether you should laugh at her antics, which would possibly get you both kicked out of the library, or to pull her out of the library. You decide on the latter, hand intertwining with the said girl’s, and eagerly rushing out the library, leaving a confused yet obedient Haerin tailing you, eyes wide yet unquestioning of your action, almost like she knew you were secretly mischievous. Today, you made another observation. You decide, in the few seconds it took you to run from the shelf of fishkeeping books to the entrance of the library, near the librarian’s corner, that you would spend your days basking in Haerin’s smile, her presence, and that you would do whatever to see that smile of hers, even of you had to join her to go against the world (of endless student council tasks to complete).

“Girls, what did I say about running in the library?”

“Sorry Mrs Kim!”

Part 2?

[velvetfoxgames]

how would the boys react if mc doesn’t like anything social or is just too introverted? sorry for my bad english, and have a good day <3

Alexei - He's fairly introverted himself, so that would work out great

Brooklyn - Does not mind staying home and avoiding social functions with you one bit. When he does go out with you, he'll take the brunt of conversations

Leo - He's outgoing and has a lot of friends, but he'll be respectful of your social needs so he's not forcing you to do too much

Milo - Milo has no expectations for you in the social department. He's loner-ish anyways

Rory - As a fellow introvert, this is not a problem. Good at monitoring how you're feeling at any social event

Tobias - He'll just rent whole movie theaters and stuff so you don't have to interact with anyone

Your English is great! 💗

[buckybarnesss]

The thing I struggle the most with is how Derek is criticised very harshly for his mistakes, while a character like Theo is absolved of everything, because he *checks notes* can be shipped with Liam.

Theo is everything that people say they hate about Derek. He's manipulative, he kidnaps people, killed his sister, and is actually pushing Stiles out of Scott's life. The initial feelings of jealousy Stiles have for Derek in season 1 bear out here, in that Derek never wanted to push Stiles away, while Theo absolutely does.

Not that Theo isn't an interesting character. I like him, it's just that I recognise that, yes, he is a foil for Derek. Everything Scott thought Derek was, Theo is.

I've seen people say that Theo was brainwashed by the Dread Doctors to kill his sister, and you know, that doesn't actually absolve him of that. If we're playing that game, then Derek and Allison can do absolutely nothing wrong, because they're abused and manipulated throughout the series.

I actually am convinced that a lot of Derek haters never actually watched the show and are consumed by fanon interpretations of him. Like, Derek is described as being violent and abusive, with no thought put into how he approaches humans vs werewolves.

Aside from one instance (the steering wheel, and lbr, I don't think that hurt all that much), Derek is gentle with Stiles. He doesn't throw Stiles around, he pushed him against one door (contrast that with how Scott and Chris push Stiles around). With Scott, it's different. Scott is a werewolf. Scott can heal, and also Scott started their first fight and Derek responded.

That is the exact opposite of abusive. Justice for my boy, Derek Hale, unfairly hated because he tried to save peoples lives.

i feel like the type of fan that favors theo like this skews younger and they either watched the show in the later seasons once a lot of the original fandom had departed or they've only participated in fandom via fic.

these things are fine but it does seem to lead to continued mischaracterization and derek often seems to be the one who gets the brunt of it.

allison too is still raked over the coals for being gaslit by her entire family and than manipulated by gerard. i think people don't think chris and victoria's treatment of allison wasn't abusive and miss that her entire season 3 arc was her atonement for what she did at the end of season 2 and she died in the end. it wasn't a happy ending for her.

it also never fails to make me laugh when i see people shipping thiam but while saying sterek is problematic because of the age gap. it's like babe the call is coming from inside the house.

and i've said this before and i'll keep saying it season 5 theo raeken does a lot of loading bearing in season 5 due being a dark reflection of stiles and a narrative mirror to both derek and scott.

it was done very purposefully and flipped the script on scott. i didn't realize it was something of a controversial take until i posted about it lol. theo's entire function as character in season 5 is to be a mirror.

theo is scott's attempt at course correcting what happened with derek. which to me fandom seems to misunderstand and mischaracterize derek and scott's relationship and continues to pit them against each other over various slights.

theo also exposes scott's failings as a leader and his self-righteousness but so much of fandom seems to think that scott is some how flawless and doesn't receive punishment by the narrative. he was manipulated, his pack broke up, he was unable to save barely anyone and he died. theo was scott's punishment.

tl; dr fandom be wild.

[deadweight-at7am]

Soooo it's looking like I maybe should move on at my job. I've been here 5 years and I'm starting to really feel resentment and feel used. I've proven myself more than capable in every area but they refuse to give me a manager salary and treat me like I'm nobody.

Some higher level decisions have negatively affected me and I'm pretty much over the idea of having to take the brunt of someone else's poor decision making skills. A team member left in January and they didn't replace her. Instead the decision was to let a person who was doing part of the job she did, do the entire thing. He took on that work and is now a one-man show. I think he actually likes it this way. Either way, whether he loves it or loathes it, my bosses decided without ASKING ME that the person who is covering for him when he's out is me. Why? Oh, looks like I'm the only competent person who has been cross-trained and does the job without a mountain of errors. We don't work in the same department. I just happen to know how to do his job. My job is completely separate to his and on a daily basis we do DIFFERENT WORK. He's not in my department, he's not trained on my job, etc.

I put in for PTO for 3 days during my kids' Spring Break last Friday along with a request for July. Spring Break is the end of March. I'm putting in for it a month in advance. I also put in for my vacation at the beach. I got a call from my boss saying "your request for July is fine but there is going to be a problem with March". I immediately started to get angry. She tells me that Dude took off for an entire week at the end of March, his PTO overlaps and they can't do both. I literally waited a good 5 seconds to reply and said "what does his PTO have to do with me? He's not in my department." She then starts stumbling over her words to explain how it somehow is MY problem and I said "Boss, this has never been an issue in the past." She's like "yeah this is an issue now though because Team Mate left." I am staring at my phone screen with this look of pure disgust because I know she's trying to brow beat me into backing down and saying I'm not going to take those days off. So, I tell her really matter-of-factly "well this is why I told everyone we needed to be included in conversations in people's PTO if I'm expected to cover for them and I never was, so I'm going out of town. It's not going to be possible for me to cancel this vacation." She gets really defensive and says something STUPID about how "we don't announce the entire company's PTO requests" and I cut her off and said "I never once said that I needed to know EVERYONE'S requests, I said I needed to be included in any that INVOLVE ME". She gets silent and goes "Well, I mean, if you can't cancel plans we'll need to work out a coverage schedule" and I just sat there like "yeah, guess you do, don't you?" I don't know why she didn't expect me to stand on business, because that's who I am. I'm not going to be intimidated into not taking deserved vacation time because they decided, without consulting me, that I am the fill-in for Dude. I have done it in the past, but did not agree to anything like this since his team mate left. I even said one day "that's not tenable because we need two people for coverage when someone leaves on vacation".

We have a meeting at 11am which will be VERY interesting, I'm sure. Can't wait to hear some drivel about "updated PTO request guidelines" that were borne of this very stupid situation.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 10 - Onmyoji

With their resolve renewed, Kisara and Satoru returned for the last time to the Masquerade love hotel, waiting for an irritating long amount of time for the tardy Yashiki to arrive. Mashita was more than angry with his partner being so late - How dare he? Why would he be late, when the situation is so dire, and they had to act with haste to save not only Banshee and Hiro, but everyone else involved - Themselves included.

"You're late. What the hell took you so long?" Mashita snapped at the man whose approaching steps were approaching idly. "You know damn well time is of the essence right now." Yashiki cringed a little, feeling the full brunt of the detective's anger. "Daimon's prepared for the worst, too. He's made arrangements to transfer them." 

Kazuo remained mostly silent, his head hung in realisation. He knew their condition was bad, but since he hasn't physically been there to witness their savage outbursts and feral behaviour, he must not have truly understood how important it was to act as soon as possible. Time truly was of the essence. 

Seeing how worked up her boyfriend was, Kisara placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly, driving him backwards to take a little break and cool off while she explains the rest of the situation to their partner. "We ran into Shou while on our hospital visit." she began, speaking in a solemn voice. Apparently, the son of the Taira leader is acquainted with Shou and his gang, so they hang around the Hotel area rather often. No wonder the whole situation is a bit of a hot topic for them. That is exactly why, seeing people going in and out of the Hotel, plus the ghost rumours, made him quickly realise it was them going through with an investigation. 

Nagashima contacted the blasted fortune teller, who told him everything about the case. Neither of them wanted children to get involved with more death-threatening matters, so of course, they told him to stay out of it - Kisara did all the talking, of course, since Mashita would only provoke the boy into coming to help. However, she is still afraid he might still go out of his way to help, as hhis manly way of returning the favour after being saved from the Death Mark. Chivalrous indeed, but not now.

As if on cue, a lovely young lady approaches them, with the prettiest, most serene smile possible. Watanabe Moe was there to report on the rumours. "I heard something amazing from someone who was there at the time!" she chirped, very proud of herself and her hard work. "She was one of the high school girls who was up to no good during that time."

"That must mean one of the girls who wrote in those nasty notebooks, saying they were afraid Sayako would rat them out to the school principal, right?" Kisara attention was entirely piqued.

"Yes, exactly! Her name is Akiko. The editorial department helped me track her down." Moe smiled proudly, speaking of the girl who studied at the nearby highschool and chose this rather illicit yet well-paid part time job. "Let me show you what Akiko said about her classmate, Sayako." Moe pulled a voice recorder from her bag and hit the play button, and the girl spoke as follows...

Yeah, a friend introduced me to a part time job. It was whimsical... Ah, I mean, I just did it on a whim. We're supposed to meet at the hotel, Masquerade, and there's a system there where someone introduces us to customers. You get a lot of money from it, so everyone was dying to get hired. But one day there was... An incident of sorts. Someone at school found out about the job. Some goody two-shoes class rep, Sayako, said she was gonna tell her teacher, Nakamura.

Everyone freaked and apologised to her, saying they'd stop. She wouldn't listen. If our parents found out, it'd be the worst thing ever! We begged, but she didn't budge. In the end, she left class saying she was going to go to the police with Nakamura. We were totally freaked out, so I went to the Hotel that night - I mean, at that point, there was no harm in going, you know? Ha ha.  But then... She was there. 

Sayako was standing in front of Masquerade in the drizzling rain, in a red raincoat...

She said she was going to the police, so who knows why she was at the hotel, but it made us all jumpy and on edge every day after that. Except... Nothing ever happened. Soon after that, Masquerade shut down. I guess they uncovered something.

"Yes, just as I suspected..." Kisara hummed softly. "What about Sayako?"

"I don't know exactly, but apparently she stopped coming to school. According to Akiko, she just suddenly stopped showing up."

"That testimony sounds far too perfect. Who uses a raincoat anyway? Most people just use an umbrella nowadays." Mashita snorted, rolling his eyes. "She must have dramatised it a little."

"Maybe the raincoat was a signal for the person she was supposed to meet there." Yashiki concluded.

"... Professor Nakamura, maybe?" the red haired lady's eyes widened with dread. "If that's true, then... What if Nakamura is directly involved with Sayako's death? We've seen the kind of torture devices around that place - What if some kind of accident happened, which led to the ruination of the Love Hotel?" they remained quiet for a while.

"If that's all you have to tell us, hurry up and go home." Satoru urged the young journalist as soon as he saw the fear in his girlfriend's eyes. That's no place for any girl to step in, let alone one as innocent and naive as her.

"Um... So I really can't come with you? I worked really hard..." she tried her luck again.

"Please, don't push the subject, Moe. The last thing I want is for you to get involved in this... Depravity." Kisara explained in a motherly voice. "Not only the ghost is exceptionally violent, but... The whole place is just... Filth." Moe simply sighed, giving up. "I don't want you to be the third victim."

"Oh... Okay, I understand." her smile returned immediately. "But you better tell me all about it later, okay? Oh, and, be careful!" she expressed her worries, before disappearing through the streets. With not another word uttered, the trio stepped inside the cursed hotel. "It is not right for the dead to meddle in the life of the living." Mashita grumbled to himself, his grip on Kisara's tightening a little. 

Much to their incredible trepidation, the whole lobby was unlike the previous evenings - This time, it was fully covered in those forsaken spider webs. "Bring it. Time to make our appointment with our lady friend." Mashita mused dryly. 

Just then, the creaking groaning of the elevator moving echoed loudly, as it came back to the lobby level... Which means, there was someone already there, and judging from the noise, they must have went up to either the 4th or 5th level. Hopefully... It wasn't Shou, or any of their friends.

Beginning with their investigation on the 4th floor, they first looked at the familiar painting of a masked feminine figure - This time it was a young girl, running down a trail. 

Next, they entered the room on the left, with the familiar Venetian masks. Searching the nightstand, they found another of those guestbooks, but the entries... Were entirely different from the previous ones. They covered a number of horrifying topics such as devil worship and different kinds of torture. It was impossible to tell which were reality, and which were delusions... If any at all. Every word was surging with a twisted, single-minded appetite for destruction. 

"Haha, that's quite the hobby." Mashita smirks with disgust. "The handwriting differs by page. This was written by several guests." he pointed out.

"That means... The higher the level, the more depraved the practice?" Kisara gulped, remembering the pain she suffered the previous evening.

"They're like moths drawn to a flame. You wouldn't even know to look at them." Satoru answered, seeing the apprehension on Yashiki's face. He believed too much on the good nature of people, and was often left disappointed. "Hate to say it, but the kids working that part time job were probably part of it, too."

"But wouldn't Akiko speak with more dread about it, then? She sounded too light-hearted to have been subjected to the torture described in this guestbook." Kisara made a note about it.

"Safety, a good pay and complete confidentiality guaranteed." Mashita patted her head, seeing the disbelief on her face. "Just because you wouldn't subject yourself to masochism and other weird stuff for money, doesn't mean poor or curious innocent girls like her wouldn't." he could see the way her face grimaced with more unease. "After all, the one who sold his soul was probably most nervous about all this mess." he huffed sarcastically. "Still... These people have quite the imagination." 

He continued to idly leaf through the pages, only to stop at a certain phrase that said - "Jorogumo's Punishment".

"That's a Spider Yokai that can shapeshift into a beautiful woman. All Jorogumo are women, and they can only reproduce with human men. In fact, the spiders from yesterday... They were Joro spiders." Kisara explained. "But... The punishment... Could it be what we experienced in the elevator? Or what happened to Banshee?"

"Nope." Mashita clicked his tongue. "You might not be ready for it, but let me tell you what's written here." Kisara shuddered, not ready for what was to come.

Jorogumo's Punishment is a recreation of a certain urban legend. > You capture the largest spider you can find - A wild one would be best. > Sharpen the sacrifice's senses with drugs > Use a mouth speculum to keep their mouth open > Throw the spider in their mouth If they manage to swallow it, they're innocent. If they don't, or the spider escapes, they're guilty. It's a witch trial meant to judge truth from lie. ... If I get a sacrifice that needs punishing, I'd like to try it out immediately.

"Hey, calm down. Take a deep breath." Kisara didn't even realise how much she was freaking out, until her boyfriend placed his hands on both her shoulders and captured her attention. 

"... Sayako... Must have been subjected to this..." she gulped, petrified by only imagining such a situation, and trembling softly.

"We... We should get going already. We're wasting time." Yashiki shook his head quickly, trying to get rid of the mental image, and quickly checked the bathroom, only to return empty handed.

In spite of their fright, they went on to examine the room on the right also, only to find some blood in the bath water, and a cylindrical object in the sink drain, but they had no way to fish it out momentarily, so they decided to go up to the 5th floor where they were met with more spiderwebs, a switch, and the last picture of a masked woman, holding hands with a child.

Much to their surprise, the door to room 502 was locked, to the only place to go on this floor was the room on the right, 501, which was completely pitch black. Yashiki shone the light inside, and as soon as he did, both him and Kisara yelped in shock at the sight of the webbed out corpse chained on the wall by the wrists and ankles.

"A body finally turned up. Let's check it out." Mashita squeezed her hand twice to gain her attention. This was the peak of the investigation so far.

In the corner of the room there was a decorative coffin leaning upside down on the cold and humid brick wall, and sure enough, the only useful thing they found inside, amongst the useless junk, was a book - A Yokai Encyclopedia - And they found out the Jorogumo initially killed by drowning people, and it targets woodcutters and hunters who are always saved at the last minute by using a tree stump which the spider takes instead, and the protagonist escapes. Weird, but there's no point in nitpicking folklore.

Mashita put on the rubber gloves and dared to touch the mummified body; Traces of dried skin fell of on impact - The body was mostly a skeleton otherwise. A long time passed since it's been to this place - At least a year no doubt. "Small stature, but based on the thickness of the bones, it's likely an adult male." Satoru affirmed, but neither he, nor Kisara can tell the cause of death. "He must have been in pain when he died. His face is all twisted."

"Probably a guest. Freak." Kisara scrunched her nose in disgust, watching as the detective threw a cheap lighter from its belongings to his partner.

Inside the bathroom, however, they only found clumps of hair, paper waste and a bent hanger which they can use to fish out the cylindrical object from the sink. Weirdly enough, there was no mirror on the wall in this place.

Returning to the sink on the 4th floor, they found out the mysterious object was the key to Room 502, the Deluxe Suite. What a discovery - Kisara was curious how that would be different from the other rooms.  Yet another torture chamber - Similarly to the others, it contained a broken wooden horse and a crucifying X on the wall where the sacrifice would be punished.

Yashiki lifted up the wooden torture device, only for Mashita to flash his light on a metal took. "What's that?" Kisara crouched down to pick the metal thing... A mouth speculum. "Maniacs..." Satoru spat, seeing his girlfriend fall down on her knees, the depraved metal thing echoing loudly with a few clinks at it returned to the ground. "Damn it, not again." he immediately panicked, throwing himself down and gathering the poor girl in his arms. "Snap out of it! Kisara, snap out of it! Damn it - Damn it!"

A white light flashed before Kisara's green eyes, blacking out... And though her consciousness returned, albeit hazy, her vision didn't. She began whimpering, breathing ragged and weeping violently in his arms, her body stiff like she was deep in rigor mortis. She knew what it was, and she wanted to be struck down by lightning instead - To drop dead already, before anything could happen. With her mouth forced open like that, her tongue forced out and drooling, the leather blindfold over her eyes; Her cold, naked body forced to kneel on the hard ground, the multiple pairs of arms holding her in place...

She was experiencing the horrors of Sayako during her Punishment. "Let us commence the judgement!" a man spoke theatrically behind her. "The court has decided to give the accused a fair trial and will judge her crimes. The trial will now begin." it didn't matter how hard she was crying, or how she pleaded and begged for mercy in her mind. "I shall put his spider in the accused's month, and if it crawls out, she is guilty. If she can swallow it, she is innocent." 

Mashita feels her body jerking around frantically, her moves haphazard. He had no clue that him restraining her movements was similar to what she was experiencing in her vision. "He-... Lp.... Me...! Plea... Se... He... Lp...! Sa... Sa..." his eyes widened with infinite shock - It was the first time she was trying to directly call out to him, and wasn't speaking as the victim. She must be terrified out of her wits, and she calls out to him, her words gargled and garbled, out of sheer fear... Or drugs too. 

The men jeered as the one released a giant spider inside her mouth... And crawled right down her throat...

For a few seconds, Satoru had to take his arms away from her to cover his ears, as she shrieked in such a high pitch, and trashed around so violently, that not even his strength could hold her down. "KISARA, IT'S ME - KISARA! LOOK AT ME - KISARA!" it took both men to jump on her and drag her away from the door, as she tried to spring away. 

"DON'T TOUCH ME! SPIDER - GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" she sobbed and screamed and whined, jerking around so violently that she risked dislocating her joints and damaging her body more than it already is.

"Forgive me." gritting his teeth, he raised his hand to the woman he loves so much once again, and struck her face down hard enough for her to remain immobile; Her knees weakened and she fell lax in their grasp. "Please don't make me do this ever again. It hurts me more than it hurts you.

"Satoru..." Yashiki slowly let the woman go, and stepped away to investigate the decorative coffin, letting the detective pacify her. "Satoru... Satoru..." once again, she whined and mewled in his arms as he cradled her tightly to his chest. "No more... No more, I don't wanna..." she sniffled and sobbed so hard, his heart broke. "They did it... Sayako... The Punishment... They broke her... They tortured her..." she hiccupped again and again, her voice barely decipherable. "Their hands... They held her down, and... And... Urgh... Those furry legs... Going down my throat... And... And..." she suddenly pushed him away, vomiting her guts out painfully. "I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die..." 

"There now, pretty girl, you're all gross." Mashita took out a handkerchief and wiped away the barf from her lips, and all her snot and tears.

"B-Better...?" she whimpered tearfully. She looked so pitiful, poor darling.

"Much better." he kissed her forehead before helping her stand up. Although she was shaking still, she was at least conscious, alert and somewhat focused. It was good enough for the moment.

"Are you okay?" Kazuo muttered, his head hung as if he felt guilty for her experiencing that vision. With a weak smile, the girl nodded, which prompted him to show the book he was holding. "It seems to be a Demon Encyclopedia. It looks similar to the Yokai one." it had pictures of demons and crests, with their characteristics written next to them. It only reinforced the idea of demon worshipping and cults. "I also found some bath salts and insect-repelling cream in the bathroom."

"How... Exactly will that help us?" Mashita cocked an eyebrow, looking weirdly at the man, who simply shrugged

With their investigation finished in the 5th floor deluxe suite room, they exited into the corridor... Only to meet... Shou? Just as expected, however... He looked... Angry? Tormented? No matter how Masamune tried talking to him, it was fruitless - The young man remained unresponsive. When he tried to approach him, he was held back by the detective, who pointed out the oddity in the otherwise volcanic behaviour. His face was stiff into a grimace. 

"I-I was looking for you... This whole time..." he spoke with such difficulty. "I-I-I'm going to... K-Kill you...!" he rose the metal bat he was hiding, getting in a stance and moved in to attack. 

"Get back!" Mashita dragged back his flabbergast partner by his coat, only to notice his girlfriend crouching a little, getting in a grappling stance of her own. "Idiot - What the hell are you doing?!"

"Have you forgotten who I am?" she scoffed to her boyfriend, as he watched with wide eyes as she easily evaded the bat to the side, wrestled the bat from his grasp, and hit him over the head with the butt of it, making him fall to the ground. "Kisara Shogun." with a smirk, she winked playfully at him.

"Kisara Dumbass." he shook his head in disbelief. "Yashiki, help me drag him out. We need to get our third victim to the hospital."

With some difficulty, they were able to get the young man outside of the hotel. Kisara whistled, and at once, a few Yakuza gathered and bowed to her. Giving her clear instructions, the men placed him in the car. "Yashiki, go with them." both men looked weirdly at her. "Sayako asked us why we were at the hotel - And Satoru answered, implicating me being his wife. At this point, you are not seen as her 'Sir' anymore, but he is. Sayako wants to see her respected Nakamura, who got her into this mess to begin with. She must have forgotten that detail." she scoffed. "You've been in all investigation, and she's attacked us all - Because everyone other than 'Sir', is an extra. Only the two of us can go."

"How reassuring." Mashita spat, annoyed at the situation.

"... I feel odd leaving you right at the end." Yashiki frowned, skeptical at the outcome.

"Then go to the hospital with Shou, get Daimon to check your headache, and return. Maybe that will give us enough time to reach Sayako out and get to the last phase of the exorcism." the young woman debated, and with nothing left to refute, Yashiki hopped in the luxurious black Subaru.

"... Was your car a Yakuza gift?" Kisara's smile only widened at her boyfriend, but said nothing.

With some reticence a mustering courage, the couple entered the Masquerade Love Hotel for the last time, and were greeted by the distant silhouette of their ghostie, giggling hollow through the lobby. She told them she will be waiting on the top floor, in the room of masks, before disappearing into the elevator. The combination... "The paintings!" the two looked at each other in realisation.

1st floor was the Masked Bride 2nd floor was the Masked Girlfriend 3rd floor was the Elderly Masked Woman 4th floor was the Masked Young Girl 5th floor was the Masked Mother So the combination was... 42153... ?

True enough, the elevator took them to the 6th floor; As soon as the doors opened, they were met with the musty stench of yet another torture chamber. It smelled of strong iron and blood.

"S... I... R..." Sayako's voice drifts on the wind, along with her giggles. "I've been waiting for you..." "Listen, kid, I know you want to meet the man you respect, but I am not that person." Mashita spoke with unexpected calm.

"Liar... You always... Lie..." her voice became more spiteful.

"I'm not lying." Satoru refuted immediately, which earned a desperate scream splitting the night. It was the same shriek that Kisara made when she was being tortured.

"Stop your temper tantrum. You know this won't accomplish anything." Satoru's voice became more authoritarian. "You're dead, and Nakamura won't come see you."

"This time... This time...." the ghost sneered. "I'm... I'm going to test... You...!" with an echoing wail, the corporeal image of a grey spider bride hung upside down from a bunch of webs, right in front of them.

"I've done my part - What now, Kisara Guuji?" Satoru grabbed her backwards, putting a safe distance between them and the ghost.

Countless Joro spiders fly out of the darkness and start crawling all over their body, and the swarm keeps coming in an endless flow. Kisara's screech had enough vibration to keep them off of her, but Satoru was forced to place the gross mini-massager on his leg and watch as the pests began to get confused and get off. Thank goodness.

Red Riding Hood lets out a gusty sigh as glittering white threads fly through the air from her mouth, trying to use her spider silk. "Quick, the wooden thingy-" Kisara helped her boyfriend place the Spanish Donkey head over them as a protective shield. Strangely enough, the threads seemed drawn to it and only wrap around the wood.

"Sir..." the ghost got dangerously close. "Who's... In the wrong...?" she asked eerily. "I only did... What was right..."

"What's right is for the law to decide, not for us." Mashita would know all about wrong-doings, but the spider lady stared deeply at him, giggling lightly.

"Sir... Come with me... The only thing that matters... Is your life." the Jorogumo extended her arms towards the man.

"You have no right to touch or lust over my husband." Kisara slapped away her hands, getting protectively in front of him.

"Who are you to determine a person's worth anyway?" Satoru chimed in also, countering the self-righteous girl.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" she shrieked desperately, so loud that they see white - Then her maddening eyes glare down at them menacingly as she dangles even closer to them. "How do I look... To you...?!" was she actually trying to seduce him?

"I have a wife, Sayako. No woman, including you, exists in my eyes." though Kisara's heart swole with glee and love, the spider spirit giggled erratically.

"What do you like... About me...?" her interrogation was far too long for their liking.

"Your Honesty." Satoru guessed wildly, and her giggle must mean success.

The ghost of Sayako calmed down, and she smiled serenely. "Thank you, Sir... Let's..." her figure wavers, and then... She smashes through the window and off, into the night.

"Did she just... Jump? Just like that...?" Kisara blinked, staring weirdly at the broken glass; The bustling city could be heard out the window.

"Guess so." Satoru muttered, wiping his sweaty brow with his sleeve. "Hey, what is this...?" the red haired lady turned to see what he was looking at - A dangling red thread... Wrapped around his wrist. "What the hell...?!" 

"SATORU!" Kisara yells her lover's name as he is yanked towards the window. She latched onto him with all her strength as he tried to brace his legs in an attempt of resistance, but it was all in vain, and he was thrown out into the night sky.

---

He should be plummeting to the ground - Yet something's holding him up to awkwardly dangle in the air. He thought his jacket got lucky stuck in a glass shard or a loose nail, or whatever cartoonish thing that saved his fate - Instead, looking up, he saw both Kisara and Yashiki using all their strength to hold onto him and drag him up. His partner was gritting his teeth in effort, holding onto his arm, while Kisara's both hands were gripping painfully into his coat and flesh, her nails scratching deeply into him, as she was bent halfway off the window herself.

"You got fat, Satoru!" she screamed at him.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Masamune grumbled, exerting too much strength into dragging him to safety. "Give me your other arm, my grip is slipping --"

"HURRY UP!" the girl also yelled in frustration. "Grab onto us already!"

"Lucky me." he scoffed, grabbing the two and getting pulled back in the torture chamber of the top floor. After a lot of effort, the three stumble back onto the dusty floor, back to safety. The only sound heard was their echoing hard gasps for breath as they sat there in darkness.

"What the hell happened while I was gone? Is she... Gone?" Yashiki asked, curious and bewildered.

"Yeah, she's gone - Out the window, alright - And she thought it a cheeky little thing to drag me out with her." Mashita spat in disgust and anger. "Stupid spider girl."

"I'm glad you got here when you did. I don't think I could have done anything to save him." Kisara muttered breathlessly.

"Yeah. Your dumb ass would have toppled over with me like some kind of weird double suicide." he chuckled weakly, getting back on his feet and dragging the other two up. "Enough self-pity. We're done here. Let's get out of here before we become asthmatic."

The rain had already stopped, and the cool wind on their cheeks hinted of autumn. "Let's drop by and see Daimon." the brunet affirmed off-handedly. "Give me your keys."

"I can drive." Kisara blinked, confused at her boyfriend's sudden wish to drive.

"Have you gone mad or what? You're shaking like jelly. Don't even bother arguing." she looked down at her hands and hummed, realising her was right. Then, she looked at Yashiki and himself - They, also, were trembling.

"You two are the same. Let me handle this." just the same, she whistled for her Yakuza friends to drive them to the hospital, and then back home.

Before he got in the car driven by the leader himself, Yashiki took out a handkerchief and wrapped the spider laying in a small puddle nearby, and put it in his pocket. "I take it the spirit was purified?" the old man asked.

"Yes... With much effort and almost dying." Kisara muttered bitterly.

"Could you tell me what exactly happened?" Mr. Kazuya asked.

"The high-school girl said she was going to the police to bust her highschool colleagues for prostituting themselves at the Hotel. However... She didn't go straight to the police. She went to the Hotel... And there... She got, beaten, drugged, tortured. Jorogumo's Punishment, if you've heard of it, and much more. And... I think she went crazy or something. Threw herself off the window, maybe. Suicide...? The full story is a little hazy for me." Kisara told the story as best as she could.

"The teacher she respected, Nakamura - He manipulated her. Instead of going to the police, he convinced her to go to the hotel and show him proof." Mashita chimed in. 

"Really? I suspected that, but do you have proof?" the girl's sight snapped at him immediately.

"Yes. A teacher from a school near the hotel was arrested for breaking the law." he explained. "Akiko's testimony piqued my interest. She said they were scared they'd be reported, but nothing happened. Just like you suspect, it means Sayako never got to the police after she tattled to the teacher." he smiled emptily. "She sought salvation from a criminal. How ironic."

"Nakamura... So this is why he was truly incriminated." the Taira leader gruffed. "He was my son's teacher also. Everyone knew about the business of Masquerade. My son spread the rumours to his willing classmates. That Nakamura was one of our top clients - One of the depraved ones also. I didn't think he'd dare do a mistake, considering he had my son's eyes on him constantly."

"But... From out ghost encounter, it seemed to me that Sayako... Had a crush on Nakamura. Stemmed out of respect or something. And the red thread of fate... That's a soulmate metaphor." Kisara pipped in also.

"I saw a photo of him. Thin, tall, handsome, sharp - The type popular with the students." Mashita huffed back.

"So much like you, huh?" she smirked at her boyfriend. 

"Is that why you fell for me? 'Cause I'm dashingly handsome?" he shot right back, only to see a shameless grin along with a nod of her head. "Unbelievable." 

"Jokes aside - Did she kill herself? Or what happened to her?" the girl asked again.

"People found her wandering the streets idly, before she was admitted to a facility. Her mental state was broken beyond repair, and she threw herself off the 6th floor window of the hospital. The night of her death was cold and rainy like all these evenings we went to the Hotel." he continued the summary of his personal investigation.

"I understand." the girl sigh. "That kind of torture... It's impossible to get over. It was terrifying, degrading, humiliating, agonising." she shuddered again.

"What about Nakamura?" Yashiki asked, curiosity taking over him.

"He was arrested for drug and weapon dealing, and ended up telling about high school girls being involved in Masquerade." Mr. Kazuya confirmed Satoru's clues.

"And Sayako wore a red raincoat because having your partner wearing all red was a code that you were planning to use the VIP suite on the top floor - No doubt, she had no clue about that." the man continued. "Nakamura hanged himself in jail."

"To put it lightly." the Taira leader chuckled enigmatically. "Thank you for uncovering the truth of why our business failed. Making deals with weak men is in your detriment more than theirs, unfortunately."

Soon enough, they reached the hospital. Daimon mentioned that miraculously, all three victims calmed down at the same time, and regained consciousness, with no lasting symptoms. They were going to be fine very quickly, and out of there, able to go back to their daily life. 

With all that out of the way, the trio returned to their lives also - Yashiki kept looking around for clues on Mary, while Satoru continued his detective work and Kisara went back to her medical practice.

That is... When her much beloved boyfriend called her over in his study, to take a look at the investigating work he was doing - Tens and thousands of papers and writings scattered all around the desk, carpet and trash, some plain, others crumpled up, yet all of them had the same center piece.

Hyakki Yagyo, the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons.

"So... Are we back in business... Onmyoji Kisara?"

< Previous Chapter

[officialpenisenvy]

but anyway i don't know why yall are acting brand new all of a sudden when ive been talking for like a year now about how my undiagnosed personality disorder that is totally not bpd don't even worry about it KICKS my ass in the interpersonal department. about how it doesn't allow me to develop normal relationships and makes me apathetic to most people i meet aside from a handful at most of people who i feel very strongly about and whom i feel deeply guilty to for imposing the brunt of my love on them so heavily. i know my experiences aren't universal or even normal i KNOW that but can you afford me the grace to fucking allow me to experience them and navigate them.

[usagirln12003]

Stoick the Vast: Hogwarts AU

Stoick Haddock was a Pureblood wizard that was born on the 13th of November 1944 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1956, being sorted into Gryffindor House.

He had a Cypress wand with a Dragon Heartstring Core.

His Patronus was a Swedish Shortsnout.

His favorite subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts and his least favorite subject was Care of Magical Creatures.

He was one of the Gryffindor Prefects of his year, eventually Head-boy and from his third year onward the keeper at the quidditch team.

Stoick had a strong sense of responsibility and took pride in being the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; he always tried his best to keep the wizarding world peaceful and safe. As a father, he was the epitome of both stubbornness and caring. At one point, he commented that he had spent his entire life after Hogwarts in the ministry and was determined to make it a better place. He had been trying to look for a reliable and suitable successor to run the department when it was his time to step down, as seen when he said that Hiccup would be a great head of the department. But as a high-ranking ministry worker, he adhered to certain "Wizardry ways" at times, believing that it was better for the magical community in the country. Stoick's predominant motto was always that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and thus was a firm but fair ruler.

This, however, also gave him the flaw of being rather close-minded and inflexible, with a strong lack of perspective. He tended to do things the straightforward, "Wizardry way" and dismiss alternatives, even if it was ultimately detrimental. Furthermore, he was extremely stubborn and head-strong, making it difficult for others to change his mind when set on a certain course. He was easily emotionally riled up, which often lead him to make uninformed decisions, ignoring the advice of even those he trusted the most. This mindset almost cost him most of his workers when he decided to head into the Forbidden Forest to find the acromantulas' nest, ignoring Hiccup's warnings. Nevertheless, he was shown to be able to listen and take advice, including using it when needed.

However, the area where his stubbornness and rigidity did the most damage was his relationship with his son. Though he cared deeply for Hiccup, to the point of being overprotective (due to Valka's presumed death), his inability to adapt rendered him incapable in connecting with Hiccup. His patriotic ways also at times led him to act uncaring of Hiccup's opinion and callous towards his feelings. Most of their conversations consisted of Stoick talking, and Hiccup usually unable to get a word in edgeways.

While his years as a department head had taught him to deal with certain matters tactfully, when it came to the more delicate elements, Stoick had little in the way of emotional intelligence. He often said hurtful or offensive things without realizing their effects. Again, his son suffered the brunt of this. He didn't notice Hiccup’s wounding when talking about his years of being "the worst wizard Hogwarts had ever seen", nor the time when he openly agreed that Bucket's much more muscular depiction of Hiccup was how a wizard's son should look.

Stoick's personality had developed significantly during his son's teenage years. He was at first still uncomfortable with magical creatures, and he actually banished people from having magical creatures such as Knarls and Kneazles as pet, and he remained relatively untrusting towards Hiccup. All of this changed throughout the years. His relationship with his son steadily improved, and Stoick became more and more willing to trust Hiccup's advice.

Stoick's idea of dragons changes dramatically after he formed a bond with one of his own. Initially, he was willing to order a dragon to be killed just because it was on a rampage. That began to change after meeting Thornado, and quickly rushing to Toothless aid even when the whole village disagreed with him. He was extremely attached to his own dragon and was willing to risk war with Dagur the Deranged for the sake of the dragons in the United Kingdom, preparing to attack Dagur to stop him from killing Barf and Belch. He also treated them more like people than enemies as shown when he walked up to a Chinese Fireball and asked him, "Remember me?" as if he was talking to a human enemy, and referred to it as “him” when he ordered his son and his friends to get back to Hogwarts.

Stoick was also shown to be prone to aggressively taking out his frustrations on others when stressed, upset or in another particular mood. Only the return of his son and him bonding with a Swedish Shortsnout was enough to snap him out of it.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

🌟Last Writing Post of 2022!🌟

The Golden Nightingale part.2 @nubigenouss as promised a tag in the newest part.

Enjoy y’all . Also in 2023 I will be going back though my work to make edits so there is more to read and so I can improve the writing.

Part 1

America- The Tourmaline Daydream

The World stage where Hero’s came to showcase their powers and prove to the world their worth. Hollywood dazzle need not fail Alfred F. Jones now.

He cleared his throat and coughed a little. Time to walk on that tight line of being strong yet allowing vulnerabilities to show. The con man has come alive. The hot ash from the already burning fire sucked the miniscule amount of oxygen from the room. Causing tensions to run higher.

“My people have been suffering in the health department. Many of them have succumbed to mental or physical illnesses that have left me in a state of national emergency. A specialized type of forest fungus has taken over the eastern and western coasts of my nation. The spores are beginning to spread across the midwest as we speak. Production will creep to a crawl, not enough for me, then none for trade. The world will feel the brunt of my nation’s suffering if I don’t have the nightingale.”

He begins to pace and make individual eye contact with everyone as he continues.

“If this fungi is allowed to continue… then future generations will be smaller in comparison. Less people to contribute to ground breaking research, production, and less brilliant minds to lead America! We’re all interconnected and the leading nation of innovation. If I begin to slag behind so will the rest of you!”

“Explain how you’re the only one who has ‘innovation’ Pompous American.” Was what some wanted to say but kept it to themselves in the back of their minds.

“If I have the golden nightingale. I will carry on bravely. I want to MARRY Y/N the nightingale. It’s the only way that I can get my nation back on track so I can aid the rest of you and finish some of the commitments that I have with some of you.

His eyes wander over all the nations briefly making eye contact with his cunning fox-like smile. Without looking into the windows of his soul it portrayed the expression of one who is trying to be brave in the face of adversity.

“As an example of some of the commitments I won’t be able to finish…..Germany. I won’t be able to send over that new medical technology that we’ve discussed. I’ve had to divert 20% of it into resources that can help me stop the fungi from spreading further into our forests and wildlife. Containment has become difficult since the spores do attach themselves to any animal that brushes up against them or bees that carry them to other parts of my ecosystems. The longer this goes on who knows… it could be right on your doorstep by next week. There are still some effects of the mushrooms that we haven’t identified yet. And things can get worse.”

He faces his audience head on as if he expected them to state some absurd objection. He was searching for doubt. So he could devour it. All in the room had barely readable expressions that were laced with concern.

The Italian had his amber orbs open, for once not distracted by doodling or chowing down on Pizza during the middle of the meeting. The ramifications of not handing the Nightingale over to America would mean all may have an ecological disaster that can severely damage the quality of life for all the people in his nation.

‘Merda. The American has a point. If he doesn’t get the Nightingale to repel the ecological / endemic in his nation that doesn’t bode well for my population that is struggling with crops. I’ll disappear like Grandpa Rome.’ Italy simply kept his hands folded in front of his mouth as he let the American continue on during his last minute to make his case.

“So if you dudes don’t want fungi that tampers with brain matter within humans and give them hallucinations for 78 hours which leads them to their deaths, makes a person or animal a brain dead potato, or can paralyze you I suggest you allow me to Marry Y/N so this can all go away and we can be safe. That elusive mushroom is well on its way to entrapping the world in a glittery neurotic yellow haze. None of you would be prepared for it. So grant the Hero his superpowers!”

‘Verdammt! So America has a different type of endemic that has sprung from the forests’ fungi while in my nation it’s more of a poisonous moth that makes people and animals sick. Hm. I wonder if this means….’

He allows his eyes to wander over to your unconscious form that was in a glass and lonsdaleite orb. One of the multitudes of rainbow rays that reflected off of the shiny bubble that encased you and struck his brilliant blues. He’s never seen a more beautiful person in his life.

He reaches for his pure aquamarine tourmaline and holds it up to his assembly.

“I am Alfred F. Jones and I want the right to marry y/n so I can become strong and fulfill my solemn duty as a Hero to save the world!”

England couldn’t help but grimace at that statement. He allowed his verdant eyes to admire the enchanted shackles that you were in. They were gold and had been placed upon your neck, ankles, and wrists. If only performing the spell he had in mind didn’t take so much energy from him.

The room was smoldering over with heavy silence. Many wanted to add in their logs to keep the blaze going.

“Okay only two questions can be asked. Who has some?” Germany states as the timer on his phone signaled that America’s Heroic speech time has officially ended.

“Question America. How long have you known about this invasive fungus and its devastating effects?”

“Within the last week.”

“When were you planning to tell all of the international community? Or were you planning to keep it a -”

“That’s three questions. Keep it simple Russia. We do need to keep this meeting moving efficiently seeing that we all have urgent matters we need to attend to.”

“Now, after I had all of the necessary information ready to announce.” He pulled out a newspaper and iPhone that showed news of the fungus running amok in an international UK publishcation.

His flaxen eyebrows lowered while his smile remained plastered on his face. The answer was just satisfying enough to where he couldn’t add in more fuel currently.

Sounds of cellphones sending mass messages tore through the room while some were simultaneously writing. Even Germany was distracted .

“Entshuldgung. I needed to alert my officials of something. Next, China. You have five minutes to make your case.”

‘Of course. I’ve been skipped.’ He drums his fingers in annoyance as he passively listens to Yao try and convince the nations to not hand you over to America.

His violet eyes wander over to your form. You had moved slightly with your forearm covering your eyes from the concentrated light in your constricting dome. ‘Poor Y/N being auctioned off just so that these jerks can gain power. Not even recognizing that you’re human and have dreams.’ As he struggles with how the others could be selfish. The Angelite on his necklace emitted a soft glow beneath his flannel.

In the inner depths of your subconscious you saw a calming sky blue light filled your vision. Curiosity filled your mind. You felt drunk and in a winter star haze. Miniscule snowflakes touched your face and an ease swept over your body.

You soon found yourself near a flame and had a hot chocolate that shimmered with peppermint flakes and marshmallows and foam that formed the shape of a polar bear.

‘Well at least it’s nice where I am.’ You sip at the piping hot drink leisurely as you pay no mind to the rest of the void that surrounded you and the fragments of memories that some you could recognize but others were foreign to you. They floated in the air like bubbles traveling aimlessly through space.

‘Y/N? Y/N?’ A muted male voice echoed through the thick navy blue blackness. You didn't react to it. You let your mind wander as you stared at your drink.

‘Y/N! Y/N! Can you hear me? Please Maple. I won’t harm you!’

This time your ears perked up to the disembodied call.

‘Okay. Uh Hello? Where are you? Who are you but also what?’

‘You’re in danger in real life Y/N.’ The voice was closer and it lost its echo.

‘Definitely don’t know what you mean. I exist…. And seem very much so free.’ You gesture to all of the speckled blank space that was filled with memories of both you and Canada.

‘So you don’t know you’ve been captured? That your life now hangs on the line. That all who are in our meeting room are in the middle of determining your fate as if you were a criminal of sorts. All because you have an actual heart of gold.’

You couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous statement.

‘Okay, whatever you say uh… bear man with a curl.’ You giggle and Canada is caught off guard by how cute you sound in your subconscious. Would it be the same as if in person?

‘I’m Matthew. Y/N and I’m here to help you. Please listen to me when I say that you’re in danger!’ His panic ignited the power of his Angelite. He wanted to shield you from the iniquitous master plans that he knew the others had for you.

Your eyes concentrated on how his soft yet angelic face contorted worry. As you were about to elaborate on what sort of danger you were in you suddenly felt the ground beneath you drag you down.

‘Y/N!!!’

It felt like thousands of points on a multitude of stars decided to dig into your legs and you sunk deeper into the pitch black that was laced with fragments of memories.

‘Matthew! Save me!’ The tar had fully consumed you, disconnecting you from Matthew.

England thumped his gloved fingers against the mahogany table top as he looked at his viridescent diamond. It projected to him what was going on in your subconscious. He hid his frown with his hand as he glared at the Canadian that gawked at you. Not even remotely listening to Yao make his case for you.

‘Looks like Canada is going to be an issue for me.’

[persephones-closet]

I have had so much mental abuse in my career.

In my first job, I was sexually assaulted by a manager, whom I unofficially reported to his manager. That catapulted me into transferring to a toxic work environment where I was seen as an “HR nightmare” as the only woman in the office. I was ostracized as a result, and ultimately laid off along with the entire shop when it went out of business.

As a contractor, I was horrifically abused. I was an engineer with 4 years of experience making $65k in 2017, which is below poverty in DC. My direct manager was a horrible micromanager who would chew out anyone for any mistake no matter how small. He would be sure to stomp to your desk at 8am and breathe down your neck about work. He did save my job once from a client, but I’m not sure why. I was making $65k doing the brunt of the job for 2 men who were getting paid over $150k! That is financial abuse, along with all the micromanaging. I remember hating my life every second of the day until I found another job… which led me to an even worse abusive environment.

2018 I was a subcontractor in Dahlgren. I had the worst manager I’ve ever had in my life. He would bait me into making inappropriate jokes, then started watching me closely. He recorded jokes that I would return, would purposefully give me assignments that weren’t necessary and then would tear them apart saying there was no value was added. He then would play favorites with people in the office and compare us to each other. He sowed hostility among us. He tried to get me to leave my fiancé for a coworker. He then changed a meeting time to earlier once to catch me in the act that I wasn’t at work by 9am (yes, I was late sometimes). He recorded everything about me and then reported me to my HR to get me fired right before he left the department. I didn’t have anything to defend myself, so I was shocked that he did that. The report came just a week before I left for a different position. I remember he had a huge problem with me the second I mentioned my father was an officer (his was enlisted).

Then I returned to my DC office to work as government. That was mostly great until last year, I got a new boss. He was also watching everyone and devolved very quickly from just a horrible person to work with (interrupting everyone, making everyone feel inferior, publicly embarrassing his own team on calls with other people) to the manager from hell (reporting everyone for everything from watching the Olympics while working, to not returning a call within an hour). He was trying to report me for time theft while I was transferring out of the org! That was nuts. He was breathing down everyone’s necks so I scampered off to yet another toxic environment:

Mean girls. I now work with these 2 math majors that are abusive to me and my boss. They reported him for working around them and such, which is a little extreme because you’re not going to change that about him. But holy fuck. They interrupt me when I try to speak to them. They are ice cold when I try to chat with them. They disagree with everything I say. I could say the sky is blue and they would disagree that no, actually, it’s more of a cerulean with light blue. They are super super insecure and have decided my place for me. But the worst thing they have done to me was recently, one of them told my boss point blank that promoting me and giving me radars would be “too complicated” for me, and advised him to exhaust all avenues to fill the open roles with more underpaid engineers rather than give me a promotion to put me on their level.

He’s now in round 4 trying to find a suitable hire for the job. Part of me doesn’t give a shit if I’m passed up and they find a good candidate. I’d try to be congenial and hopefully make a real friend. Meanwhile, they are telling me I should leave! Fucking why? I’ve been in the job about 11 months. Why would they want me to leave? I think it has to do with trying to stick it to my boss, but tbh he’s the nicest manager I’ve had probably my whole goddamn career.

Who knows what’s in store for me. I just know I’m in a comfortable, stable position in a volatile time so I’m going to honor my emotions, mental state and work through my anxiety, stress and sadness in this diary because if I ignore it, I’ll slip into a deep depression or hurt myself.

[the1975attheirverybest]

oh my god youre probably the last person who needs telling this but i think its fucking disgusting that everyone was fearing a rise in antisemitism and posting about how jewish people are unsafe when palastinians are taking the brunt if the conflict and everyone who had something to say a couple days ago are silent

probably a bit of a silly question but are you okay? - 🐸

Literally this!!!! I mean if you’re gonna condemn the taking of innocent lives (which, of course, we all should) at least be consistent about it. Otherwise you’re really telling on yourself if you don’t consider Palestinian children innocent lives.

Im not okay because I don’t know what to do. My department (considered one of the most progressive in academia) has been completely silent on this whole thing. I tried to reach out to student organizations to organize a humanitarian drive (like we did for Ukraine) but nobody wants to help me. The justice for Palestine chapter is inactive at my university. So I emailed the “committee for anti-racism, social Justice, and equality” and asked them why our institution hasn’t made a statement yet and why we’re silent. I got a formulaic dumbass response. “Thank you for trying to address humanitarian issues around the world” blah fuckin blah. I sent them a list of resources (books and articles they could read, websites that address propaganda, NGOS to donate to) and they are now inviting me to speak tomorrow. They keep sharing with me that they’re doing “research” on the issue but keep reading articles written by white Americans that LITERALLY contain fluff motivational poster bullshit like “we can’t move forward unless we carry each other” THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

this is an academic university. Globally ranked. And it doesn’t know to center non-white people voice on non-white issues?????? I feel helpless. I wanna cry. I’m tired.

also, memes.

[inkofamethyst]

March 27, 2023

I swear it, one of these days I’m going to have something to talk about other than admissions and while we’re getting close, today is not yet that day.

I really need to get this out and release this some of this negative energy because it’s beginning to gnaw at me.  When I was admitted to my undergrad institution, I took all the things they said about other undergrads during my interview day personally.  I had a rough first semester because I was so focused on whether I was going to be able to live up to the high standard of a select few scholarship recipients who were highlighted on my interview day months prior.  Fulbright fellows, Rhodes scholars, Churchill scholars, public health activists, entrepreneurs, high-impact undergraduate researchers... and I felt like I had to prove my worth to my university, prove that I was worthy of the distinction, of the investment, by reaching those same heights.  And I couldn’t imagine reaching that level when I was struggling (read: unable to get As on lab reports and exams) in my first semester gen chem lab.  Before the interview at my Choice B... no, before I stood by my poster last year at the conference, the first semester of my freshman year was the last time I’d felt such intense academic imposter syndrome, and it’s the only time that it has lasted for longer than a few hours.  The Covid-19 pandemic was awful for me personally in a lot of ways, but separating me physically from school and allowing me to focus exclusively on myself was probably instrumental in tearing down that imposter syndrome, that need to prove myself and my worth.  Ultimately, I didn’t need to prove anything, I realized.  I just needed to focus on myself and finding a personally fulfilling career path, and I did.  And I’ve been so much happier for it (the two semesters where I considered “dropping out” (read: wondered whether I wanted to keep doing school after graduating), I was taking physics, and that explains that).

Should I choose to attend my Choice E (which becomes more and more likely by the day)... I am legitimately worried about those feelings returning and hitting hard.  Attending one of the most well-regarded institutions in the world, being considered the top most desired applicant of my respective pool even if I’m not awarded the ~special fellowship~, being told from multiple people that the PI is really looking forward to me joining the lab... I know I am a good student.  (I also know that being a Black woman in STEM, in anthropology, is part of what makes me desirable, and there’s no skirting around the fact that I will be ��helping” my program’s reputation just as they’re helping mine, albeit to a lesser extent.)  I know I can rise to nearly any level with a bit of sweat and determination.  But I feel way out of my depth right now.  And due to the lack of explicit expectations, I am imagining ones into being that may not be reachable, realistically.

Maybe being aware of the potential for imposter syndrome will help mitigate the brunt of it.

[edit 2, an hour later: I have remembered what time of the month I’m getting close to and think that might account for at least some of these feelings]

Remember how I wanted to go on one of the outdoor adventure thingies my uni offers?  Remember how I wanted to go kayaking??  Well, I found a trip I liked and woke up at 5:55 am to register for one of the spots when the portal opened at six because apparently the spots go quick and ALL NINE SPOTS WERE GONE WITHIN A MINUTE.  This time there wasn’t a cute guy leading it who I wanted to get to know better and try/practice flirting on tbh (ahem, September 27, 2021), so I’m not overly upset about losing out, but I couldn’t manage to return to sleep before getting up an hour later which was unfortunate.

WAIT HOLD ON BACK TO THE ORIGINAL TOPIC: The admitted cohort at my Choice E was just sent a cute lil group email from the department and naturally I snooped into their LinkedIn profiles and uh... a few notes.  First of all, half of us are already affiliated with the university.  Take a step back and think on that for a second before we continue.  Okay.  (And I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t have my own advantages in this process, but still.)  Another went to undergrad at an Ivy, the other worked for a time at an Ivy-adjacent.  I can’t claim any of that.  Secondly, I am almost certainly the youngest of the bunch here.  None of them are undergrads currently.  Third, I do not feel nearly as accomplished as some of these folks, ha.  And I know, I know, I know, PhD acceptances are also about “potential” and “investment” and maybe being an undergrad during covid limited my opportunities to some extent or whatever but I still feel like I wasn’t that fantastic of an investment for my undergrad uni regardless of how thankful I am to be debt free.  And that’s the my cold hard truth (admittedly, representing my university as the sole student from that university at a national conference last year is probably a sizeable accomplishment).

But I can’t go to this event like a child among adults.  I can’t go to this event already quaking in my boots with imposter syndrome.  I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.  Now I’m really glad I didn’t do the LinkedIn snoop when my Choice D sent that group email.  It only would’ve psyched me out.  If I’m going to have any chance in academia I’m going to have to either get thicker skin or learn to hide my emotions better.  I think... I think I want to apply for more things.  I think I need to experience more rejection.  And it’s also the only way to pad up that resume with those really really impressive things.  

Dunno why but I wasn’t really feelin the vibes in rehearsal today.  Felt kinda dead.  Might be because I’ve been braiding every free second for the past three days and I still haven’t finished and I still have so much for school to do by tomorrow (technically due tomorrow night but I’d rather get it all out of the way) but I can’t travel with a half-braided head but I don’t want to go to bed late tonight :(  AND I STILL GOTTA PACK AGH

Maybe I will sacrifice tonight and just go to bed way early tomorrow :(  I’ll finish one assignment, do enough of my hair to hide the unfinished sections in a ponytail or something (I have twenty-one parts left and the only person I can blame for having so many (AND IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’RE TINY) is myself, unfortunately) then finish braiding at home tomorrow [edit, like two second later: but I gotta admit Imma look so good with them once they’re done???  my first time doing color 4, they’re a hot 26″.. whew], take a shower and hope my sections don’t poof up, “pack” (throw clothes in a suitcase and fold them neater at home), do/draft one more assignment, then go to bed.  Maybe not in that exact order, but those are the goals.  Four hours-ish max if I start now.  I can do this.  

Today I’m thankful that the weather was nice outside today even if I didn’t really get to enjoy much of it.  It’s Spring again~

[thegaydoomer]

There’s any man know how it feels to have a really dumb boyfriend like a really shitty dumb man who just does shit for no reason like the worst part about our relationship is that we work in the same building so if he does some dumb shit, I’m bound to hear about itHe works in the trash department so all I hear is that he spelled A shit load of dirty smelly garbage on the main floor by accident like I’m not upset. He could’ve just had a bad accident, but why do I have to take the brunt of the issue?