#and the pain of another student dealing with health struggles who also hates him

[cr0ws-cha0t1c-c0llect10n]

so tempted to put in my email to my teacher dear stupid dumb dumb idiot stupid u don’t need a doctor’s note absolute FOOL i’m disabled and u KNOW YHAT!!!!! AND U DON’T NEED DOCTOR’S NOTE FROM ANYEONR ELSE EITHER!!!!!! BIGGEST HYPOCRITE EVEEERRRR!!!!!!!! STOP RAMBLING ABOUT NEEDING A DOCTOR’S NOTE AND HOW STUDENTS SHOULD BE IN UR CLASS SICKKKK but not sick near u cause what about ur kids at home 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 and errrmmm if u were unwell attending college- 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 THIS JS NOT COLLEGE AND COLLEGE TEACHERS DON’T DO ALL THAAAT!!!!!!!! DISRESPECTFULLY SCREAMING FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!!

[that-good-trash]

I’m Not Okay- Chapter 5. The final chapter Midoriya x reader/ Bakugou x reader

Izuku Midoriya x reader/ Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: You have struggled with mental health your whole life so why can’t you seem to get it under control. Will you be able to keep the same mask even though two of your classmates have seen under it?

Warnings: Depression, Mentions of suicide/ Attempt at suicide, Self-harm, Angst, Anxiety,

Word count: 8,582

Comment: Omg this is finally the end! I’m so sad, its bittersweet:’( . I’m sorry that its so long I decided to add both boys endings in the same chapter, I also apologize for any grammar mistakes and if any of it seems rushed. Thank all of you for reading this series and I hope to start another one soon. [I am working on the second part too my Dabi fic]. Thank everyone who has been here from the beginning and any new readers. You all make this fun and enjoyable. 

you matter and any issues you have are valid!

After you were taken to the hospital everyone wanted to hear what would happen to you. Classmates surrounded and bombarded Bakugou and Midoriya as they were escorted back into the dorm building. Mr. Aizawa couldn’t stay to watch the students since he had to go deal with the aftermath of your attempt. There were legal and security issues with how easy it was for you to have jumped off the school building. The students were supposed to be in bed but how could they go to bed when you were laying in a hospital bed alone after feeling so desperate for a way out that you jumped off a building. They had many questions, concerns, and comments about how they didn’t know this had been happening with you.

Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion evident in his eyes. Bakugou growled and shoved passed the ‘annoying extras’, trying to get to the elevator. He wasn’t blaming any of them and yet when he looked at them, he couldn’t help but think they should have tried harder. Had you heard his thoughts you would have slapped him across the back of his head. Midoriya smiled sadly at his friends while following after Bakugou to the elevator. “Sorry guys, it’s late and I’m tired.”

He wished he had all the answers to give but he didn’t. You weren’t necessarily talkative about your issues so he really didn’t know much of what was going on with you. He just knew he wanted to be there for you. Even before this he had always watched you with gleaming eyes, you were a beacon of strength and hope to him. Bakugou would never admit to sharing things in common with his childhood friend but he did. He also would find himself watching you, how hard you pushed yourself. He would watch you train later than everyone else, your clothing covered in sweat and legs throbbing. He had caught that broken look in your eyes a few times wondering where it could be coming from. You would always roll your eye at his asshole comments and demands. You weren’t afraid to stand up to him, you’d even beat him once during a sparring match. You were strong to him and he couldn’t help but wonder how someone so strong crumbles so fast. He wasn’t a stranger to anxiety and guilt, just like Midoriya wasn’t a stranger to regret and depression. They both had some kind of idea, a sliver, of what pain you might be going through. Truly it was tragic to know that you had been dealing with this longer than it seemed to outwardly manifest itself to them. Battling bad guys was one thing, fighting internal demons was worse because you couldn’t ask for help or call for back up. It was you against the girl in the mirror, against the whispers in your ears.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Uraraka was the one who spoke, having made her way to the front of the crowd. Midoriya couldn’t help looking at her with slight disappointment. He didn’t blame her but he did feel like she was in the wrong for what she had done. Bakugou on the other hand didn’t find Uraraka innocent. He hadn’t been able to confront her due to having to find and help you. Bakugou let the elevator open his fist clenching at his sides. Midoriya walked into the elevator turning toward Bakugou with a raised brow. He was confused before his eyes widened in realization. He rushed forward as Bakugou’s hand ignited. He turned and thrust his open palm directly at the gravity girl. “KACCHAN DON’T!”

Everyone who wasn’t frozen from shock rushed to try and stop the attack. Uraraka closed her eyes and waited for the hit. It never happened. No one had to stop him because he stopped himself. He scoffed looking at her with distain as he shoved his hands into his dirty tattered pockets.

“You aren’t even worth it.” Bakugou walked into the still open elevator door his shoulder brushing a confused but relieved Midoriya. He stepped back into the elevator looking at Bakugou who was burning holes into the ground. He looked up as the door started closing. “I blame you, she doesn’t.”

Simple words with such strength and meaning behind them. They were meant to replace his fist, to leave her having to suffer internally like you had been doing for most of your life.

The chatter commenced once again between the classmates; two different hands squeezed Uraraka’s shoulder. She didn’t think she deserved comfort right now and a few different people would agree with her. Though she knew that Bakugou was right. No matter who looked at her like she was a villain, you’d forgive her. You’d never blame her, just smile and say it was your own fault. The truth was honestly more heartbreaking and Uraraka wished she hadn’t said or did what she had. While she stood in regretful silence, your two saviors were standing in the elevator. It was quiet, other than the dull hum it gave. Midoriya walked out when it stopped at his floor.

“Night Kacchan.” He had spoken so lightly that Bakugou almost didn’t catch it. Midoriya didn’t look back or wait for a reply, he just walked away. Bakugou grabbed the door forcing it to reopen. “HEY, nerd.”

Midoriya slowly turned back toward Bakugou, both their eyes were bloodshot and held weariness. He expected to be told off since that’s how these things usually go.

“We saved her. We’re fucking heroes, right? So why does it feel like we didn’t do shit. Why does it feel like she’s still on that roof? I’m so fucking tired and yet I don’t want to sleep because she is laying is some fucking hospital unconscious because she jumped off a building. Why, why couldn’t she just reply on us.” Midoriya recognized the breaking in Bakugou’s voice. Except this time, he felt something similar. He too felt like you weren’t safe, like you’d just do it again when you found out that you hadn’t succeeded. He closed his eyes wondering what you felt alone on that rooftop. Had you waited for someone to save you? He had been in a similar situation back in middle school. He could hear everyone’s discouraging words, and Bakugou’s ‘suggestion’ play in his head. He could feel the cold breeze that he felt like he was back to the day he stood on a rooftop wondering if he could be a hero in his next life. He didn’t do it for so many reasons, the main one being his will to live. He wanted to live, he had some much yearning to show the world that he could do it, he could be a hero. He had something that you lacked. Midoriya opened his eyes and looked directly into the crimson orbs across the hallway. “We didn’t save her, we caught her. She probably didn’t want to inconvenience us. She thinks she’s the problem so of course she didn’t want to burden us. We wont ever know how she feels, all we can do is hope she still wants us involved in her life. We can only hope she wants to try living it again.”

Bakugou stared at Midoriya, really stared. He knew exactly what the boy had been thinking about when his eyes were closed. Bakugou had thought briefly about it as well. He thought Midoriya was thinking about when he had told the green haired boy to basically kill himself. He had no clue about the attempt. He felt a pang of regret again, as he grew, he thought a lot about how shitty he had been in the past. Hell, he couldn’t completely hate Uraraka because he had been in her situation to an extent. Bakugou couldn’t imagine how his life would have gone had Midoriya had jumped. Now he had to face the past along with the present to try and make a plan for the future, your future.

“I’m gonna protect her.” Bakugou’s declaration caused Midoriya to smile. He nodded his head lifting up his fist with determination in his own eyes. “That makes two of us.”

Bakugou would have usually snapped at the forest haired boy from copying him but he didn’t. Instead he returned Midoriya’s smile with a smirk. He let the door close heading up to his own room. Midoriya walked into his dark dorm room. He sighed against the door before sliding down it letting everything hit him. Tears rushed down his cheeks, this hurt more than any broken bone. He couldn’t get the image of you hurdling toward the ground out of his head. He covered his face with his arms before burying it into his pulled-up knees. His sobs were silent, and he suffered the way he imagined you had. He tried to picture the happy you. The one with fire in her eyes, the one that always got back up no matter what knocked her down. He wanted your eyes to be red from laughing yourself to tears, he wanted you to be tired from training and not from thinking your existence was exhausting. He wanted to tell you that he loved you and that he’d be there through this, but he can’t tell you that now. You needed to rest and so did he, if only his mind would let him.

Elsewhere, Bakugou was experiencing his own breakdown. He slammed his fist into the dorm door not caring if he breaks it. His knuckles bleed from the abuse. He doesn’t care, instead he punches it again and again until blood flows rapidly, down his hand and onto the floor. “Fuck.” Bakugou grabs a towel and throws it on top the blood staining the carpet. He stomps on it before giving up and laying on his bed. He sees the blood on his knuckles and thinks back to the dry blood on your arm from cutting into before fleeing the building. He hadn’t seen your self-mutilation himself but thinking about it made him sick. He sat up dry heaving into his trash can. How could he have been so stupid? Why the hell hadn’t he invited you that night to play video games? He knew exactly why, because he had seen how excited you had been all day. He was hoping this was what you needed to finally break your isolation. He was rooting for you and in doing so fucked up. He blamed himself for not making you hang out with him instead, which sounded selfish in a way but he meant well. Bakugou wipes the saliva from his lip before looking at his phone. He unlocks it and stares at the picture he has as his background. It has Kaminari and Sero laughing in the background with Mina poking Kirishima’s cheek. The main focus of the photo is you hugging him while he looks pissed as hell. The photo was taken by Momo who he had to ‘threaten’ to delete it, only after sending him a copy. He would never admit it out loud but he loved you. He loved the way you fought back against bullies, how you snapped back when he was an asshole. He enjoyed the far off look you’d get during class, the way you looked out the window with the slightest smile. He could listen to your laugh for hours. He was so fucked. How could he be thinking about loving you when you hated yourself. He just wished you could be happy, could understand how much you mattered not just to him. Bakugou drops his phone onto his side table before falling backward. His head crashes onto his pillows. You were alone right now, or maybe you weren’t. Hopefully your parents were with you, or maybe Mr. Aizawa went to make sure you would be okay. He wished he could have gone with you, that he could comfort you when you wake up. He wanted nothing more than to destroy all your problems and give you some of his strength while you tried to regain your own. Except he knew you were strong; it took strength to jump off a building.  

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The loveliest dream played behind closed eye lids. You were completely unaware of what was going on outside of your brain’s illusions. Unfortunately for you all dreams come to an end and you have to face reality. You were delirious when your dreams melted away and bright light filled your vision. Beeping invaded your ear drums. It smelled like sterilizer. You rubbed your eyes trying to fix your vision. When things were no longer blurry you found yourself looking around a hospital room. Your clothing was folded neatly on a chair along with a few bags and a blanket. Someone had been siting in the chair. There was a chart on the door which was closed. The window was dark and the light that was on only lit up parts of the room. You took in your surroundings feeling your heart race and chest cave in as your lungs failed you. The room was closing in on you as you curling in on yourself. You tugged the heart rate monitor when you wrapped your arms around your knees. Sobs came out with uneven breathes. You were having a panic attack. The door opened and a nurse peaked inside, your monitor was loudly beeping informing medical staff your heart rate spiked. The nurse walked over to the bed worry across her face as she gently put a hand on your shoulder.

“Honey are you okay? Are you in pain? Let me call the doctor.” Before she could leave your side, you spoke through broken hiccups.

“I failed.” The words were tragic really. The nurse knew why you had been there and hearing your words made her realize why you were crying. Regret, but not because you had done it, because you had failed at dying. The nurse covered her mouth as her own tears start falling down. You looked up at her with confusion. Why was she crying. You tried to steady your breathing, before moving your hand over her own. She looked up and saw the concern and care in your eyes. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did I upset you.”

She stared at you like you had grown another head; how could you push away your own suffering to make sure she was okay. A slight laugh escaped her as she gently moved some stray hair away from your eyes.

“You really do have the heart of a hero.” She rubbed your shoulder watching you bite your bottom lip to try and prevent more crying. It didn’t work, you collapsed in a fit of sobs again. You wrapped your arms around your middle begging for this to not be real. Maybe this was your own personal hell. You weren’t a hero; this lady was delusional. She needed to get away from you before you ruined her life as well. You didn’t pay any attention to her getting up. She left the room cautiously. You looked around trying to find anything that could ground you. The only thing you keep thinking about is dying and how it was impossible that you hadn’t. What does this mean? What do you do now? How could you have fucked up this bad? You activate your quirk in the hopes to hurt yourself, one last attempt before the restraint jacket and padded room. Your fingers go to push into your wrist but there is no sting or pain, no blades just skin. You quickly look up knowing exactly what happened, Mr. Aizawa. You felt exposed, like you were nude or had all your dirty laundry in full view. Here was someone you respected, looked up to, having to use his quirk against you. You were like a villain. You couldn’t decipher his look do to his dry eyes. You dug your weaponless fingers into your sides curling into yourself again while crying. Warm rushes of tears crashed down your cheeks and onto the hospital gown. You didn’t care that he was watching you, at this point you were nothing but a bother to him. He didn’t think that, he would never think that about any of his students. Mr. Aizawa blinked stopping his quirk. His hair returned to its place against his scarf around his shoulders. He looked tired but not as tired as you. He would never wish that kind of exhaustion and mental trauma on anyone, especially not a child, which you were. He approached with caution, not like you were a savage animal, more like you were a scared injured one. He slowly squatted down next to your bed looking at the dark circles around your eyes and red across your nose and cheeks. He went to catch a tear but stopped with wide eyes when he heard you mumble. “I’m sorry sir, I caused you trouble.”

The apology was already pushing it, you had nothing to apologize for but the trouble part got him. Had he been so hard on you that you’d think he cared more about the trouble than your health? That hurt him, just like Bakugou and Midoriya. He sighed and shook his head finally allowing himself to catch the tear.

“You are no trouble. I’m here because I want you to get better.” Maybe his words could be taken different in your sensitive state of mind but regardless he meant well. The door opens interrupting your sobs and his attempt at comforting you. The doctor walked in followed by the nurse who cried for you. Her eyes were still red and lightly puffy. She smiled softly at you making your chest hurt. You didn’t deserve her tears or their kindness. The doctor stood in front of your bed waiting for you to look at him. You dared a glance up afraid that he would be disappointed but he was smiling like the nurse.

“Ms. L/n, I’m glad to see you awake. You gave us quite a scare. Would you like to talk about it?” Quite a scare? Really. You weren’t trying to scare anyone; you were trying to disappear from existence. You had scared yourself with an unsuccessful attempt. Now they knew. You wanted to talk but couldn’t get your mouth to open. You sunk your teeth into your lip until it bled. “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk right now. As you can assume you will be here for a while. Your parents are outside the room. I will send them after I have a talk with them about your recovery.”

He left the room and you wanted to run over and push one of the heavy machines in front of it. You couldn’t face them. You couldn’t look into their irritated and disgusted eyes. What if they don’t want you as their daughter anymore. A hand places itself gently on your shoulder before the bed dips from weight being added to it. The nice nurse is sitting next to you. “Don’t worry, they were so distraught when they heard the news. They haven’t left your side till an hour ago. They haven’t stopped crying and begging for you to be okay. Your parent’s love you and I think they aren’t the only ones.”

She smiles at Mr. Aizawa, who rolls his eyes. He knows the nurse is referencing the eighty different calls he’s had to take from crying and concerned students and faculty members. You look between the two adults before overhearing the conversation outside the room. Your parents are arguing something and you here a number and something about keeping you till your better. You knew that he was telling them you were being locked away. You could imagine the white walls with no windows. The cushion floors and pills that would melt your brain. You hadn’t realized you had started hyperventilating again. Mr. Aizawa rubs your back hushing you in a gentle way. The nurse gives you water and as you take it you see it, folded neatly on the chair with your camisole and sweats, Midoriya’s all might hoodie. You sit up, startling the two adults, before reaching out and grabbing the garment. The fabric is worn from plenty of use. It feels cold from sitting under the hospital air conditioner. You hug it to your chest deeply inhaling the pine smell. It was soothing and familiar. You noticed there were a few holes in it and wondered how they got there. You smelled it again curiously after noticing a different scent, a sweeter scent, like caramel like Bakugou. Why did it smell like him? You started feel cold, like you were back on top the roof. You close your eyes feeling your body fall over the edge. You grip the fabric tighter as you try to remember what happened before you fainted. You could hear a voice in your inner conscience. It sounded like Bakugou, he called you an idiot but he was crying. You couldn’t remember but he said it when he caught you, when he held you while plummeting to the ground. You were afraid to know what happened, but you needed to know.

“Mr. Aizawa, what happened. How am I alive?” It was painful to hear you say that. No one should ever have to ask that under these circumstances. He sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t say exactly what happened because we showed up late. I got a call from Iida, he sounded panicked and I could hear the frantic yelling and crying in the background. He told me that you had hurt yourself after a confrontation with Uraraka and fled the building with bad intentions. I called All Might and the police. Other members of the staff were also informed afterward. I left to find you and found the class waiting for the police. They told me that Bakugou and Midoriya had run off to find you, to stop you.” He stops for a second because recounting the event brought back the sick drop in his stomach and the painful apprehension. You look at your hands that were perfectly still. You were afraid of the truth because you knew you had run off; you did feel guilty for upsetting people and causing such a ruckus. Had you just run off late into the night with no confrontation than things would have worked out, right? That’s when the last sentence finally clicks. You thrust your head up, your eyes staring into the side of your teachers face with curiosity and confusion. “Bakugou and Midoriya? They went after me.”

“They went after you and not only that. They um, they, they saved you. I didn’t see it since I was escorting the emergency vehicles to across the campus. All Might was outside the building. He told me in the darkness you saw fire and green sparks fly out the windows. The colors swirled chasing the same thing, you. Bakugou caught you and from what I was told Midoriya caught the two of you and used his quirk to get you back into the building three floors before the ground. The two boys emerged from the building, Bakugou holding you tightly against his body while Midoriya’s hoodie laid over your unconscious form. They both had a protective air to them, like guard dogs. Bakugou wouldn’t even hand you over to the medical workers and Midoriya, who is usually the understanding one, was defending his classmate’s behavior. They had caught you, they saved you and yet as I looked at them, they looked scared, defeated. They didn’t think they saved you and I guess in a way they are right. Regardless of that though, they tried to stay with you but they weren’t allowed to come with. They are probably still waiting to hear if your okay.” He got up and apologized but he had to take a call. You watched him walk out and you could slightly hear your parent’s voices down the hall. They were drowned out by the machinery beeping behind you. You were left with partial pieces of what had happened after you jumped.

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say that you didn’t believe they cared. You knew they did, you had experienced first hand their kindness and care this last week. Bakugou wasn’t nice to anyone and yet he had a soft spot for you. You were usually oblivious but you saw how he treated you. He made you food, he brought you water, he trained with you, and when you were sad, he let you be sad. He validated you and all your emotions no matter how dumb or fucked up they got. You got to sit on his bed with him during game night while all the boys whined that they never got special treatment. He cussed them out but you had just smiled. When you were around Bakugou no one messed with you and you received no jealous stares or judgement. Midoriya showered you in attention and kindness in his Midoriya way. His shy smiles and flushed cheeks as he’s talk with you about your aspirations and likes. He held onto everything you said and would give you a gift in relation to it. You liked a certain artist and he gave you a cd. You liked a certain animal and you ended up with a plush to cuddle with on your bed, not that you cuddled it or anything. You never had to eat lunch with others staring and whispering about you. The lounge was yours even when he wasn’t there. He always had a wrapped lunch and drink sitting on the table with an origami crane. You kept all of the ones you’d been given and they hung from string above your desk. If you had waited then you could have had a thousand cranes and just wished your depression away. You didn’t really believe that but everyone is allowed their childish dreams. Midoriya walked you to class when Bakugou didn’t. It felt like prison escorts at first but then it felt like friendship. Something you looked forward too. Midoriya gave you an All Might pen he had gotten in an exclusive set. It matched his and you couldn’t give the gift back because he argued against it. The pen was something you used every day leading to your breakdown. More important than physical objects were his quiet understanding and patience toward you. No matter how mad or depressed you got he always smiled, and never left your side. He always told you that you mattered and were amazing. You just wished you could believe the words because he spoke them with such sincerity.  

“Y/n.” You had just been thinking about the boys and hearing someone call your name made your heart skip a beat as you looked up with excitement and yearning. You wouldn’t say you were disappointed but a slight bit of you wanted them to be standing in the doorway instead of the doctor.

“May your parents come in?” You held your breath and almost denied the request but you couldn’t run away again. This was the moment you needed to tell them how tired you were, how you didn’t want to try anymore. You nod and the doctor opens the door wider revealing your parents. You expected stern harsh eyes but instead met gazes with grief stricken weary ones. Oh god had you been wrong about them. They rushed to your side sobbing words of regret and apologies. You couldn’t speak as your throat tightened and tears blurred your vision again. You were starting to replace Midoriya as the class cry baby. You sobbed out apologies of your own but not for attempting to kill yourself. No apologies for being a failure and ruining their lives. They were astonished, how could you think such horrible things about yourself. Had they not loved you enough? Had they not supported you. What did they do wrong? These were selfish questions and they realized watching you crumble into the thin hospital sheet, that this wasn’t about them, it was about you. How could they support you until you loved and supported yourself? That was the better question. You felt arms wrap around you enveloping you into a sandwiched embrace. You felt like a child again for a moment causing your crying to escalate into hysterical sobbing and gurgled words that couldn’t be understood. As they held you crying their own tears they spoke.

“We love you Y/n. We have always loved you and always will. We are sorry if we contributed to this. Please don’t ever hurt yourself. Please don’t leave us.” You couldn’t promise anything right now so instead you basked in the love and warmth they gave you. This was apart of healing, ripping off a bandage. This was a wound that had rotted, grew infected and needed to be reopened if it wanted a chance to try to heal again. You had your parent’s and they were disappointed, they never once insulted or belittled you. They just had love for you. You wished you could tell them that you felt better but you didn’t. When you closed your swollen eyes, you could still feel the cold breeze and see the twinkling stars as you plummeted off the roof. You couldn’t heal until you wanted too. It would be a process but you were willing to wait.

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You slept for a whole day after the visit from your parents. They stayed but left to attend other business knowing you’d be safe in the hospital. Mr. Aizawa watched you for awhile to make sure you didn’t wake up and try to use your quirk again. When you finally woke up the world felt heavy, like you had been laying in drying cement. You reached out for your water and pressed the button to call a nurse. A different nurse came in and you felt intimidated by the unfamiliar person. You played with the sleeves of Midoriya’s hoodie, which you had put on before falling asleep, before asking for some headache medication and the ability to take a shower. The nurse let you know that he had to ask a doctor what you weren’t allowed to do or take. It was a twenty-minute wait but you didn’t mind, it wasn’t like you were going anywhere anytime soon.

“Here is some food and medication. Someone will come in after you eat to get you situated to shower.” The man was gentle and slightly awkward which made you giggle. You thanked him for his help before staring at the gourmet meal. It was cold soba, a side of warm white rice and a bowl of sliced kiwis and mangos. You wanted to shower and that meant eating something. Hell, this meal was better than Midoriya’s cooking so it wasn’t like you couldn’t stomach it. You just didn’t know if you were ready to eat. You were afraid of regretting it, or getting nervous and throwing up. You needed to eat something. A piece of mango slipped into your mouth. You followed it up with a few bites of rice and half the cold soba. It was delicious and the meds really helped after you took them. The attendant that came in to take the tray seemed happy to see most of the food gone. If you were being graded on eating than you were sure you just got a high B which was better than some of your school grades. The best feeling in the world came from feeling hot water against your bare skin. You had to have the nurse in the room with you, you had realized that you were going to be monitored closely seeing as people were anticipating another suicidal breakdown. You didn’t mind the attention, just felt bad for taking staff away from other patients. The nurse had slipped you a floral scented shampoo which excited you. You wanted to smell like anything other than sweat, hospital, and dirt. Once you dried off you slipped the hoodie back over your head. You had your bra taken away incase you tried to hurt yourself with it. The wiring could be removed and used as a blade or you could hang yourself. You didn’t mind as long as you were allowed to have the hoodie. A new pair of undies and sweatpants completed the look. Your parents were going to drop off some clothes later. The doctor mentioned something about transferring you to a different part of the hospital, a recovery center that you’d live at until they figured out a plan for your mental health. You didn’t want to stay but knew if you left, you’d be on the roof again. Better safe then dead.

“You look comfy.” You jump and turn when you hear the familiar voice. Your eyes meet with a pair of green ones.

“MIDORIYA!” You are already rushing off the bed pulling the heart monitor off your finger as you tackle the boy. His arms had already been open waiting for you like they always were. He holds you trying not to think to much about the fact that your wearing his hoodie. You nuzzle your face against his chest sniffing him. He smelt like the real him, he felt like the real him and yet you felt that if you let him go, he’d disappear. You didn’t let go till he pulled away. “I thought I told you to call me Izuku.”

You were excited just a moment ago but when he mentioned his first name you thought about Uraraka. You could see her, an apparition watching with distain. You were afraid to hurt people and that included her. Midoriya noticed the way you changed. He moved forward but was thrusted backward causing him to stumble and almost fall. “Move nerd, your upsetting her.”

Your heart beats wildly as Bakugou walked toward you. You can smell his body wash, and his natural sweet smell. He knew you were upset before he had even entered the room. He knew why you were upset; Mina had explained everything that Uraraka did and said. He knew that’s who you were thinking about. His hand lifted up and you closed your eyes expecting a flick to your forehead but instead a gentle pat. You open your eyes and stare into his crimson ones.

“Forget about her Y/n. She fucking sucks. You don’t have to beat yourself up over someone like her. You are amazing and can do whatever you want, even if that thing is calling this nerd by his first name.” His words were snarling or growled like usual. Instead they were delivered like a pep talk. He wanted you to let go of Uraraka’s words. You bit your lip wanting to listen but found it hard. He notices your hesitation this time smiling, you almost yelp at how gorgeous he looks. “You don’t have to do what people say. You matter and so do your choices.”

Midoriya nods beside Bakugou which causes the angry blonde to hit him. He snaps about finding his own thing to say and not just agreeing with him. You watch the two childhood friends and start laughing. Your laugher brings their attention back to you. You were genuinely laughing and they both smile basking in it. “You guys are such children, stop being mean Katsuki. Izuku means well.”

You are still laughing with your eyes squinted closed while they blush at the casual way you say their names. You look up when the door opens and a nurse is pointing to your finger. Shyly you return to bed clipping the monitor. The boys come closer. Midoriya taking the chair and Bakugou remains standing. There is a dead silence between the three of you. You rub your arm not really knowing what to say. You don’t have to speak since they both speak up, Midoriya first followed by Bakugou.

“Are you mad at us?” Midoriya looks sorrowful at you, like a puppy that didn’t know what it got hit for. You didn’t get a chance to ask why.

“He’s asking if your pissed that we saved you.” Bakugou looks away from you and Midoriya looks down. You finally look at them. Not smell or feel them, no, look at them. Bakugou had sunken in eyes, the dark rings turning into black holes around his eye lids. The white of his eyes match Midoriya’s, red and irritated. He had been crying, they both had. Bakugou’s knuckles had obvious signs of quirk overuse and scratches from hitting something rough. Midoriya’s cheeks seemed hollow, like he hadn’t eaten or hydrated. His hair was messier and not in a casual way, in a neglectful way. They both exhibit pain, trauma, remorse. How could you have done this? How could you prevent it from happening again?

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me, I’m not okay. ” The words slipped out and you didn’t feel bad for saying them. You weren’t okay and they needed to know this wasn’t a fairy tale. They both raised a brow like you had stated an obvious fake. The both responded at the same time.

“No shit.” Bakugou. “And that’s okay.” Midoriya.

Both boys knew you were broken and they thought that was fine. How foreign of a concept to you.

“You guys are okay with this? With me?”

“Are you stupid? No this isn’t okay.” Bakugou’s words were growled. “Kacchan.”

“Shut up, it isn’t okay that you feel like way. You need to get help and that’s what your going to do in this fucking hospital. We are going to be here with you. It okay to be sad and hate yourself but it’s not okay to live that way. You are going to get better. I fucking swear my future as a hero on it.” Bakugou’s words quaked with passion. You started crying and felt Midoriya rub soothing circles on the top of your hand with his thumb. You nodded along with Bakugou and Midoriya followed him up. “You can take all the time that you need, we will be here every step of the way. Even during the bad times and the breakdowns. We will never judge you.”

Sobbing was all you could do while comforting you was what they could do. They promised and they were going to keep their word.

-------------------------------------------------

A month, that was the time frame the hospital gave you. You chose to stay and get help and what made it easier was having Bakugou and Midoriya support you. The month had gone by in strange intervals. You had bad days were you tried to hurt yourself and found sanctuary in the arms of Mr. Aizawa who had to stop you. He was patient and nurturing as well. The first week had more downs then ups. The second week Bakugou made you where his hoodie claiming you were becoming a nerd with Midoriya’s on. The second week also ended with gifts and flowers covering your recovery room. Notes from everyone talking about how much they missed you and tell you what was happening while you were gone. The third week brought you friends. Everyone visited on different days and in different groups. Iida had apologized for his lack of leadership and not helping you. You dismissed his words and gave him a smile and hug. Momo cried and apologized and that seemed to be the cycle. Jirou didn’t cry but she was melancholy. The girls and boys that came and went made you feel so many emotions and so many hugs and tears were given. Kaminari had snot dripping out of his nose as he hugged you. The moment Mina laid her eyes on you the world stopped. You screamed her name and she screamed yours. Kirishima literally had to remove her to leave which upset her. She told you she loved you and to never try to kill yourself again. A smile was given but no promise. Not till you could tell yourself it and believe it. The last person who came was Uraraka. She was almost not allowed in by blonde guard dog but you told him she could. You both sat in silence before she cried. She cried and you did exactly what Bakugou said you would. You forgave her and blamed yourself. She argued but couldn’t win. The gentle honest smile on your face hurt but she returned the smile.

“Let’s start over.” You hugged her goodbye and cried in Bakugou’s arms because the words still lingered and hurt.

The fourth and finally week had you shaking with nervousness. You were going home to your friends, your family. You were free and maybe not cured but you felt good. You could say you were okay and mean it. The pain was there but it was a phantom pain. You had a plan and knew that even if you had episodes and breakdowns that was okay and people were there to help you if you just let them. As you packed your bags and left with Mr. Aizawa you felt nervous and happy. He smiled as you said goodbye to the staff who waved with smiles and tears in their eyes. You had life in yours and that was much more than you had a month ago. The car ride was quiet and as you opened a bag you noticed something sticking out. It was a letter, actually there were two of them. Midoriya’s hand writing on one, Bakugou’s on the other. You were afraid to open them but did it anyway. Midoriya’s said.

[I have something I need to tell you, please meet me in the teacher’s lounge.]

Bakugou’s was similar in context but simply said.

[In front of the main campus building]

You had an idea of what this might lead to and this conflicted you because you loved both of them, however one of them had been there for you like no other. You had loved them even before this. You knew where you needed to go.

----------------------------------------------------------------

-MIDORIYA’S ENDING -

You had placed your bags back into your room and left for the exit before anyone could take your time. You almost collided with someone outside as your rushed out. The person gasped and you apologized reaching for the letter that slipped from your hands. The person picked it up first and read it. You felt true fear overtake you as you stared at Uraraka. She read the note and you wanted to cry and run but instead you gently held your hand out for it. She did something you hadn’t expected, she smiled. Her eyes held no jealousy or ill-intent.

“Uraraka, I”

“Don’t keep him waiting.” You both made eye contact and you had to rub your eyes to keep from crying. You both changed for the better and this proved she tried and not running away or giving up proved you were trying too. You left her in the doorway rushing off to find him. You saw Bakugou near the building he told you to meet him and you waved. He waved back realizing you were running past. He sighed before sadly smirking. “I’ll always be here for you even though you chose him.”

You couldn’t hear the words but you knew they were true. He wouldn’t hold this against you because this was what made you happy. This was something you wanted and chased after. The door to the lounge got closer and closer until you were breathing heavily outside of it. Your legs were wobbly and you felt light headed. You gripped the knob tight and opened the door. Midoriya was sitting in his usual spot. You both made eye contact and his cheeks, which were already red, grew deeper. You tried to steady your breathing and calm your chest but failed. You sat down across from him and felt for a second like you were back to the second time you had run. Well no more running. You put the letter on the table. He was quiet and for a second you thought maybe you were wrong. That’s when he stiffly stood up and bent forward in a bow.

“Y/n! I have been watching you since we starting attending UA together. I have always found you fascinating and strong. I always thought nothing could bring you down but I was wrong. You were much stronger than any hero I have researched. You fought, protected, trained, learned, and so much more all while hurting and fighting yourself. I think you are the bravest most amazing person ever and I don’t ever want to lose you or let go of you.” There was so much to unpack and he was talking so fast with no muttering. You were blushing and trying to think of an argument about being strong but knew it would be pointless. Midoriya was building up to saying the words and you didn’t know if your heart could handle running here and a confession.  

“Y/n L/n, I love you and I understand if you can’t love me right now but.” You had called his name a few times as tears filled your eyes. He wasn’t listening so you moved across the table, lifted his head and kissed him. He was shocked but relieved. His arms moved around your middle pulling you closer which caused you to fall completely over the coffee table and into his arms. You both laughed before you pushed you face into his chest holding onto him tightly.

“I love you too Izuku Midoriya. I might mess up but please bear with me.”

This wasn’t a fairy tale ending, it was life. You had gotten the boy but you were still struggling. There was no miracle cure, no prince charming’s kiss to make the pain go away. Just two guys trying to help you help yourself. For this exact moment you were okay and that was okay.

--------------------------------------------------------

-BAKUGOU’S ENDING-

The moment your bags hit the floor of your room you ran to the elevator. You were nervous but thrilled. You wanted to over think but stopped yourself. You hushed the bad words with confident ones. The elevator ding freed you and your legs moved forward right into Mina who was going to go see you. The two of you hugged and she spun you around. The letter slipped from your grasp and you quickly reached for it but she was faster. You watched her read the simple location and waited for the mocking or teasing. Instead she placed the paper back in your hand and winked. “You don’t wanna keep him waiting do you.”

You could have cried at her support but didn’t have time. How long had he been waiting? Was he still there? Worrying was pointless because as you ran path lit up by the evening sky you saw him. He was leaning against the building looking up. You slowed your pace and followed his gaze. There was nothing there but as your approached, still watching the sky, you realized this was the same building you jumped from. One hell of a spot to meet. You felt fear build up but stop when Bakugou spoke.

“When I caught you in my arms, I couldn’t use my quirk to get us back into the building. My first thought hadn’t been to call out to Deku but to protect you. I held you close and braced for impact. In that moment I wasn’t a hero. I was me and you were the most important person in my life and I needed you to live. I needed to see your stupid smile and hear your laugh. I wanted you to call out my name from across the school yard while all these stupid fucking extras stared confused because they don’t understand us. I couldn’t lose you, and I can’t lose you.” His attention had been up but was now focused only on you. Your heart stopped beating, or maybe it was beating too fast. Right now, you couldn’t tell. You could tell that you were crying. That he was crying. He aggressively wiped the tears away. “God, I don’t think you understand how I feel about you. I’ve been in love with you the moment I watched you suck at throwing that ball our first day. I had been so angry and couldn’t understand why you laughed and smiled even though you ‘lost’. I understood later when you told the shitty girls that throwing that ball meant you were one step closer to being a hero, to saving lives. You were, are what heroes should be, should thrive to be. You want to save people even when your suffering. You’d die for anyone even someone who hurts you. It’s stupid and reckless and it you. You are my hero more than I am yours. You never hurt anyone while you hurt. You never blamed others. I did all of those things and take out my regret on people. I want to be a little more like you but I also want to help you see that you can love yourself. I know it isn’t easy and hell it might take years but I’ll be here for every one of them.”

Bakugou was a mean, aggressive, and narcissistic person, at least that’s what people sold him as. You never bought it because you knew what profiling people did. You knew what life was like in that box and you didn’t want either of you in it. You hadn’t realized he loved you all that time and yet you could say he was dumb because it took your crumbling mental state for him to realize you might like him back. You looked at him and moved forward till your arms were around him. That sweet caramel smell filled your nostrils and he felt like home. A million thoughts moved around in your head but you pushed them down. The bad thoughts were still there but you didn’t have to deal with them alone, and now you understood that.

“I love you Bakugou, I have loved you for so long and I never could say it but now. Now I don’t have to be afraid because when I’m sad you are there.” Bakugou laughed and held you closer. His lips pecked yours once then again and again until you whined and he gave you a real kiss. His lips were hot and soft against your cooler healing ones.

“You can be sad when I’m not around. You don’t have to be okay. Not right now, in time.”

“Bakugou, why did you pick this spot to confess.” Bakugou let you go and pointed upward. You followed his gaze and heard his words.

“Because one day I’m going to bring you back here and you are going to stand on the roof and scream from the top of your lungs that you did it, that you are okay.”

He caught you before you could collapse as sobs escaped. He showered you in kisses because he knew you needed to feel this way to get better. He would hold you while you cried because this was just a stop on the way to that future, he wanted for you. He wasn’t here to save you. You could do that yourself. He was here because he loved you.  

[fandomplethora]

so, i have seen something going around the mystic messenger fandom...and i would like to just share my thoughts on it. 

i would like to quickly add that this is just my opinion on it and my perspective. i also am not sure if this has been confirmed or not - but, either way, my personal thoughts mostly stay the same. 

in my eyes, it is no small thing what’s going around...whether this is a fictional story or not.

tw: heavy mentions of suicide and mental health. major spoilers ahead. 

i have had several discussions based on this going around. i have also seen it on instagram, heard it is going around on twitter and have seen it on tiktok.

i think, to go so far as to put something like that on another character is a bit much...even in a fictional game. it could, potentially, mess up a lot of people’s mindsets playing. i do not think it is a fair perspective on players or what this game is even about. it could also be possibly triggering to players. yoosung is depressed. he lost someone really close to him, that gave him motivation/inspiration. and his grades started slipping, he lost his drive and he just distracted himself with lolol without taking care of himself. and if we really look at it...no character takes care of themselves here. zen doesn’t eat properly...a diet of salad and beer, long hours. he sometimes smokes. jaehee works long hours without getting proper rest or meals - relies strictly on caffeine to keep going. jumin says he takes of himself but it is canon that people have seen him take multiple espresso shots to get going in the day at once. not to mention how he turns to drinking in different points of any route and his sleep schedule is crazy. saeyoung hardly sleeps either; just eats junk food, or mostly chips and soda, and struggles to take care of himself. jihyun is also not taking care of himself, including not receiving needed medical care, as he tries to solve everything going on in the background. saeran isn’t able to take care of himself either when you get to his route due to his situation, including further poisoning his body with the elixir. vanderwood is even in a similar position as saeyoung but, perhaps, dealing in different ways we have not seen much of yet.

so much of this can be attributed to, again, the stress every member is under due to their jobs, student life and situation. so much is attributed to their trauma, mental state, mental health... and so much we find out about in every route. it is also based around their relationships, families and secrets we uncover.

and, coming back to yoosung...i will say that, heartbreakingly, suicidal ideation may happen. and connecting it to the other members once more; there is a moment in jaehee’s route where jumin purposefully, while under the influence, endangers his own life. saeyoung is also severely depressed and “jokes” about his will to live at different points...and in jihyun’s after ending, when he believes his brother has passed, he no longer wants to live and has to be stopped by jumin and vanderwood. jihyun himself is so self-sacrificial...he is willing to risk his own life in order to protect others and to even prove his “love” to rika. and saeran does attempt suicide at the end of jihyun’s route after giving a farewell call to mc...and then has to be saved by jihyun who thanks god for him being alive. and, even before that, expresses (similarly to saeyoung) his lack of care for his own life. and mina (rika) is also shown to idealize self-harm and, perhaps, even suicide as well. 

...and then looping back to yoosung, i do think he is a character who needs help (much like everyone else in the game) and he does need to be acknowledged about this and for his struggles. his mental health, stress as a student, lack of motivation due to all of these facts and reeling from the “death” (another apparent suicide) of a family member close to him. again, i believe there may even be moments from yoosung about his own suicidal thoughts (i’m not denying this fact)...things said in passing based in moments of high emotion and severe depression. 

suicide, mental health/illness, including (in some contexts) suicidal ideation are all, heartbreakingly, major themes and subjects in mystic messenger. 

but, also, i have to add...that to say that someone would have committed suicide without another certain character...is detrimental to some of the positive themes shown in this story. themes of recovery, forgiveness and self-love. of showing actually getting better, healthier coping mechanisms and forming strong bonds with healthy relationships. 

perhaps, this theory (or fact, if it has been confirmed, i have not seen such confirmation yet though)...is saying, more in the sense, that without intervention for yoosung (and any member) these unhealthy coping mechanisms and pain they were going through would not have been properly acknowledged. it is a major part of the whole storyline to acknowledge their feelings and help them through that...to highlight the importance of that. (and not doing so, or encouraging further toxic behaviors, is what leads to the bad endings...this is not hating on completing bad endings or saying you shouldn’t do so - but that is what those can represent. and why only the good endings are considered canon.) 

but i fear that if anyone were to take the stance of “_____ would have killed themselves if _____ was not there” is almost along the lines of “i would no longer want to live if you were not here” or “i would k*ll myself if you were gone”...both of these mindsets are not okay, severely toxic and painful. and, in terms of forming healthy and strong bonds like these characters should (and eventually do)...it ruins the theme of that. the lesson in that.  

my point is; it is all about perspective and showing the deeper context of such a statement. and to please, please be careful when sharing such a statement or reading it.   every character in this story is not in a good place at all when you/mc/hana enter the picture. and, sure, it can be said that mc gives them that boost of energy (brings the spring breeze again, so to speak)...but, really, they just encourage them to do it themselves and talk to each other. while i love the hc where we can have a more active part in helping everyone - to say mc (or hana) does nothing as it is now is not true. 

they holds their hands, they are kind and they listen. they encourage them to take care of themselves and is just there through it. and when helping someone going through something - that’s what it’s really about. (there is no english translation for the webtoon yet so this part is just based on me skimming the chapters as they are released.) but hana seems to also be kind, encouraging and gives them that kick again. everyone in the rfa truly does care about each other and, sure, they needed someone to remind them again. but i genuinely think to take that dark of a possible “what if” is not fair to the story at all or the characters.

things like this never take just one person or are on one person’s back. it’s everyone involved - it’s a support system. that is just what the rfa needed to see more clearly. (even before mc came in and helped...it’s still said that, while the rfa were worried and didn’t know where to go from where they were...they still did use the chatroom as an outlet to talk to each other. so, they were getting there. could things have gotten more complicated if mc hadn’t come? yes...again, they changed the course tremendously. but for things to go that far is just...not true to me.) 

(side note: the only thing that makes me sad is how someone could be potentially left out when you’re on another route. it’s why i wish for a final route where you can help everyone. and/or what i’m wishing for the webtoon to be.) 

but each route gets to show the possibility of hope and recovery for every single character in this game - and how that strength and care and love was in them all along.  again, i have no idea about anything like that being confirmed or not. mental health is a HUGE theme in mystic messenger as a whole - but i take the perspective of what i said more when thinking about it either way. (along with some other things that I’ve posted about on tumblr before.) anyways, in your life, reach out for help if you need it. there is hope..support each other and you can find strength within yourself again. & in my opinion, when playing the game (or now reading the webtoon), that’s something it teaches and shows as well.

edit: this is not a “this is right and this is wrong” post. things are never black and white - mental health and recovery is never linear. i just want to add that in case anything here came across as preachy or like i was trying to sound...well, lecturing even. i am not a professional by any means and am just someone who also struggles with their own mental health. so, i hope nothing in this post came across as offensive, hurtful or insensitive.

[blindedbythedarkness]

Josh,

Sometimes it's really fucking difficult to not believe that the universe is personally biased against me. And I know that's kind of rich coming from the one of us that didn't get driven to suicide. But I just, I know you of all people would understand. I wish I had you to really talk to right now.

I'm gonna ramble because I just need someone to listen. But where to fucking start? Life right now is just spinning plates. On one day this week I found out a critical hospital referral I was relying on had never been made; I was rejected by yet another landlord for a house next year that I'd really been betting on; my supervisor met with and bullied me for a solid two hours and my one social event of the week got cancelled. So, that's about when it all started to get too much.

The doctor I've been seeing has been incompetent from the start and made so much work for me in the 6 months I've been in her care. Despite diagnosing my Potentially Life Threatening connective tissue disease, she never even named it in our appointments, leaving me to discover the true horrors of my body through playing detective with my blood results. Long story short, to be confident that I can go on a treatment for it without bleeding out, I need to see a geneticist. But despite agreeing that I should see one, she's refusing to refer me to one directly. Instead, she's referring me to a pain rehab clinic at a separate hospital and saying they can internally refer me to genetics. The wait on the pain rehab clinic? At least two years. Plus, of course none of this information was forthcoming and required weeks of emailing back and forth. So now I'm angry, anxious and stressed about my health. I want to make a formal complaint but I don't know when I'll find the time.

That wasn't even the worst thing, though. The worst thing was uni reminding me just one last time that it truly doesn't give a shit about its students and why I hate it to its very core. The final piece of work I have left to hand in is a research project that I've been working on all year. However, my supervisor is an utter cunt, and I don't say that lightly. He's incredibly narcissistic and rude for a start. For a presentation I had to do, he forced me to use his own slides without ever looking at mine. He once ended an online meeting because I misspoke when explaining a figure, telling me to call him back when I knew what I was on about because he "never forgets what he sees and doesn't want his brain soiled with incorrect information." Given he never remembers what we've spoken about from one meeting to the next, I call bullshit. Oh and this week? He asked me to explain a figure to him and when he said he didn't understand I asked him if he was looking at my screen share. He said no. I just despair!

To make matters worse, he's never fucking happy with me. He's made me start my work from scratch 3 times now and had a different problem each time. We're rapidly approaching the deadline now, so to get all the work done for the 3rd time I've been working 9am-5pm 6 days a week. Not that he cares. The results don't fit his hypothesis, so I must simply be incompetent. He even once had the audacity to suggest that I "didn't want to do the work" while looking through a 70 page document of my results, because I couldn't explain the findings of a figure I'd made a month ago off the top of my head.

In this weeks meeting, he again gave me an extortionate list of new tasks to do, while berating me at every turn. With a month left submit my thesis and my write up not started, I tried to explain to him that I wouldn't have time to complete the list. He just shrugged and said, "Well I think you should do it." And yes, this man is aware that I have been struggling physically and mentally recently.

I didn't know what else to do to make him listen, so I contacted the course supervisor (who I'd already briefly made aware of my issues with him). She told me to "quit" and "just get on with writing my thesis"... until four hours later after she had spoken to my supervisor and completely changed her mind. She video called me to tell me to do the work and I just broke down. I don't make a habit of ugly sobbing in front of people I've only ever met twice over Microsoft Teams, but this was a particularly bad day.

"Trying to do this work is going to destroy my physical and mental health."

"I can't do this anymore."

"He never listens to me."

"I've been working 6 days a week and it's killing me."

She didn't care. She told me that since my supervisor is an experienced professional, he must know how much he's asking of me and since he insists it's quick and easy stuff, it must be. This man has never done this analysis himself. He doesn't even know how; half the stuff one of his lab workers taught me and the rest I taught myself.

"Chill out" and "calm down" she told me, "do the work and if you have any problems ask John (the lab worker)"

By the time I pressed the leave button, I could barely breathe, let alone talk. I was just choking and sobbing and had snot pouring down my face. I was just so tired. So stressed. So... ignored. I didn't know where I would find the hours in the day, but I started by cancelling the trip to see my parents this weekend. To them I am not a student, and a student with health problems at that. I am simply a machine to use for free research.

I just wanted the stress to give me a break. I just wanted a break. I was genuinely afraid that my heart was going to stop from the stress alone. I didn't know where else to turn. The counseling service put me on a waiting list. My tutor told me to "just keep trying my best". My mentor told me to talk to my course supervisor. My course supervisor told me to work. A was busy revising for an exam the next day and I didn't want to bother him. So, I turned to my unhealthy coping mechanisms instead.

I didn't mean to do it as badly as I did. I just wanted to scratch my skin enough to feel it burn and give me something else to feel instead of the huge mass in my chest. But the scissors were sharper than I thought and when I looked down there were four long cuts that had gone through the skin and fat. I knew immediately I'd fucked up. There was no way those edges were coming together on their own. Honestly, I was just mad I'd given myself something else to do. So, I covered them with gauze and tape and kept on working. Because I needed to work. I needed to get it done. I would deal with going to the hospital later but I couldn't lose these working hours.

Once the blood was dripping from the gauze I finally, begrudgingly, went to the hospital. Honestly? They were surprisingly nice. They were understanding and they listened. I was so worried that they'd think I was some cringy emo kid looking for attention. I honestly felt like a total knob going there, but I didn't have a choice. I never felt judged or like they thought I was wasting their time or that it was all my fault. Of course, I know that it was my fault and I felt like a fool. But I also don't blame myself for becoming so desperate. At one point a doctor came in with a medical student who was visibly shy and embarrassed when examining me. I told her I had a place at medical school, so not to worry as I'd be in her place soon. And again, I was shocked because they didn't once tell me not to go. I thought they were going to say "if you can't cope right now, starting medical school isn't for you!" But they never said anything like that. Instead they were shocked I'd gotten in to such a good uni and seemed incredibly genuine when they wished me well.

Oh, and the wounds? Thankfully I didn't need stitches so I got them pulled together again with steri-strips. And in case you didn't believe me that I didn't intend them to be so bad, I nearly passed out three times after looking at them. So, I truly am a fucking idiot, Josh. Lesson learnt, I suppose. Though I'm still afraid what will happen next time I run out of options.

It's finally the end of the week now, but the universe still hasn't given me a break. My mum called earlier and told me my rabbit will be crossing the rainbow bridge tomorrow as he seems to have had a stroke. I mean, it's a small mercy that he's an old bunny and he's been unwell for a long time, so it's not a shock. But it's still so sad and I'll miss him so much. What really tops it all off is that I was going to see him this weekend until I had to cancel my trip home due to the workload.

Man, I just. Why does shit stuff seem to come so easily to me? It's difficult not to feel personally victimized when shit news after shit news lines up so well. I wish good things came as thick and fast. I hope to fuck my luck changes soon because honestly I'm terrified that it's taking years off my life.

Thanks for listening, Josh,

C

[apollo-writes-random-shit]

omg!! please please please do gasoline with race!!

Ahhhhhh! Sorry, this took so long! I wrote this like three or four times and I’m still not 100% happy with it lol. I did some research and it turns out the song is actually about Halsey’s struggles with mental health while being in the spotlight so I used that but don’t worry! This has a happy ending!

Song requests

AO3 copy

Are you insane like me?

He was pretty sure every kid at some point had wanted to be famous and here he was. Gone from causal dancing to acting and singing, all thanks to a small show that had been secretly visited by a talent scout. Multiple doors had opened for the young teen but with the fame came extreme expectations and with those expectations came extreme stress. 

Everything seemed to be dictated by his manager, one William Snyder. As grateful as he was for the jobs Snyder had landed him, he was driving Race insane. Every single little thing was scrutinised, from the things he ate and drank, to even his hairstyle when he went out. His smile had to be perfect every time to 'keep up his image' but it got tired having to look perfect all the time. 

Don't get him wrong, he adored his fans but at the same time, he wished he could go out without being stopped every five minutes for photos and videos, being made to repeat lines constantly. 

Been in pain like me?

Every day left him exhausted, even if he had only been shopping. Everything had to be perfect to make sure he avoided any bad publicity. He was still young so why ruin his career so early? 

Sighing, Race stared at his schedule. Countless practises for both dances and an upcoming audition filled every day, leaving him with almost no time for himself. He had only a few hours after evening practice and he knew he'd spend most of that sleeping. 

He could already feel the pain that would come with everything. Today's practise had already wiped him out, body flowing with pain. After being scouted, Race had discovered muscles he didn't know existed thanks to the pain that came with the job. 

However, he could deal with the physical pain but the mental pain? Not so much. He knew the others were getting worried about him but it didn't stop him from following all of Snyder's strict rules...Even if it caused him to throw up some mornings and night before practice. 

Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me? Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?

Well, he followed most of the rules but Race liked to have fun, even if that meant drinking some nights, whether it be cheap beer or expensive champagne, he'd take it, only to pour whatever remained down the drain the next morning in shame before scrubbing his teeth to get rid of any hint of the alcohol that was forbidden.

That's what he was currently doing, letting the taste of his toothpaste take over the taste of morning breath and expensive champagne. Rising the toothbrush, he chuckled softly as he licked his lips, savouring the artifical taste of bubblegum. Despite the event happening over a week ago, Race could still see Jack's face when he walked out of the bathroom carrying it. He knew he wasn't a kid but that wouldn't stop him from buying the 'kiddie' toothpaste, no matter how 'disappointed' it made his older brother. 

Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?

Walking out to the kitchen, he noticed the damp paper resting on the table, causing him to shake his head. He had spilt a little of his drink on the table and mopped it up with the closest thing which appeared to be the bill he opened last night. 

Not that it mattered, he could still read it which meant he'd be able to know who to pay. That and he had read it last night and despite getting drunk, his sharp mind still remembered every word. 

He would concern himself with that later, instead focusing on making his breakfast smoothie before rushing out that door, hoodie pulled over his head to hide his face in the short run down his driveway. Sure, no one was around but that didn't mean he wasn't paranoid about being spotted. He already had to deal with stalkers and so far, none of them had found his house and he'd like to keep it that way thank you very much. 

Softly singing along to the radio, he grinned to himself as set off, heading towards the dance studio. Sure, Snyder was going to be there to see his progress which meant he'd have to work harder. At least Romeo and Tommy always gave him good criticism instead of berating him when they taught him a new move. Even in Tommy Boy would jokingly kick his feet into the right position while telling him to keep up. Out of everyone he had been taught by, the two were his favourite. Tommy would teach him the dances while Romeo took care of the acting and like almost everyone, they thought Race should get rid of the man. 

Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?

Shaking the thought out of his head, he pulled into the car park, flipping his hood back up before speedwalking inside. 

It was only when he got inside the studio that he relaxed, something that always happened. Sure, most of the time sometimes he'd walk out and there would be a small crowd outside the building which he found awkward considering he was still all sweaty and smelly. There was only so much a towel and deodorant could do until he had access to a shower. Sure, the dance studio had showers but honestly, Race didn't like them. He also felt awkward showering in a building where his fans might find a way to sneak in. He might love his body but he didn't feel like having nudes of him spread across the internet where anyone could access it.

"Damn, look who finally showed up."

"I'm late by one minute Tommy Boy. Traffic was horrible." 

"Whatever, warm-up you dork." The Australian chuckled, scrolling through the playlist, trying to decide which routine to have his friend start with. Subtly, he clenched his jaw as another presence filled the room. He really didn't like when Snyder was in the studio but unfortunately, he had no say. He knew the man liked to see that his client was actually making progress. Sure, some of his dancers would have their manager show up occasionally but Snyder came twice a month to take notes on Race before taking the teen to the side to lecture him, almost like he was trying to undermine everything he had been taught. He really hated him in all honestly but hey. He couldn't fire him, only Race could and considering the number of gigs Snyder had landed him, he doubted he'd be let go anytime soon. 

Race shook out his limbs after stretching, pretending that he didn't sense the tension between his manager and instructor. If he ignored them, he could actually focus properly. He had learnt during the first few sessions that Snyder had sat in, that if he let the tension distract him, he'd slip up and get a long lecture about how he had to 'focus more if he wanted to nail a role'. So, he just pretended to be alone, letting the music flow through him. As cheesy as it sounded, Race liked to pretend that he was one with the sound. The noise was his dance partner, the leader of the pair. He followed its gentle coaxing willingly, allowing it to control every step.

It gave him a high that nothing could replicate, no matter how hard he had tried in the past. Dancing gave him something that he couldn't explain. Something that couldn't be described. He was addicted to it.

He allowed himself to come to a stop, his partner leaving him with a gentle caress and smile. Race grinned at himself in the mirror, slowly coming down from his high, allowing himself to relax, calmly walking over to his duffle bag, yanking his towel out before wiping his face off. As much as he loved dancing, he didn't like the sweat that came with it. 

Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?

Tommy's compliments were cut off by the clearing of someone's throat and the two turned to look at Snyder who was lounging in a chair in the corner. "Your turns were sloppy Higgins. You fell out of a few turns, your feet weren't pointed during one of your jumps and your arms looked strange. You need to work on those."

"With all due respect sir, I believe he did quite well."

"Clearly you weren't paying close enough attention to your student Manchester. We all know he can do better. If he nails this video, even more doors will open for him and surely you want that for him."

"I do but."

"Then you'll allow me to critique my client. I want what's best for him after all." 

Race sighed. "I'll work harder. It's okay." Sure, he knew he was overworked as it was, but he could always try harder. There was always room for improvement after all.

Tommy just shook his head, knowing what Snyder wanted was a fat paycheck. Race wanted to please everyone and that included Snyder, even if the man pushed him past the point of breaking. Once discovering that Race had an empty basement, Snyder had pushed him into turning it into a mini studio for extra practice and would often visit to watch and offer more 'corrections' when really, he spent most of the time on his phone, only sparing glances up at the mirrors, pushing the teen to almost the point of collapse before lecturing him at the way he had become so wobbly. He didn't care that the boy was tearing himself apart in hopes of earning the praise he had been craving all his life. Race lived to entertain people and so far, he had failed to fully impress Snyder. 

Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?

Buttons sighed as he listened to the faint sound of music, vibrating through the wooden floor. He was there to do final adjustments to Race's costume for the video tomorrow and wasn't surprised that he'd be found in the makeshift studio. Whispers floated around not only Race's friends but some of Buttons' friends in the clothing industry. Race seemed ready to fall apart and it was a waste of talent. He was being pushed too far and from Buttons had learnt, had recently been pushed into modelling as well, taking up even more of his time, leaving him more exhausted than normal. 

Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me? And all the people say...

Shaking his head, Buttons headed down steps, rapping on the door to inform the other of his presence, watching as he stumbled slightly. Race had been sucked into the whirlwind of fame, dragged into an uncaring industry, one deadset on farming out copies and copies, ones that would give them the cash they craved. 

It destroyed every member they took in, ruining their minds and bodies until they were dumped, left to eventually fade away, replaced with a newer shiny version. As famous as someone was, it was surprisingly hard to be remembered. Making something that everyone remembered for years to come might be somewhat easy, but having your name in everyone's mind for years? That was much harder. 

Fame was a dream for a lot of people but that dream would turn into a nightmare quickly. 

You can't wake up, this is not a dream, you're part of a machine, you are not a human being.

Buttons loved seeing his work in videos but looking at the way his crafts looked on Race's skinny shaking body made him feel sick.

"Really. You need to take better care of yourself."

"Gotta look my best Buttons." Race just grinned, brushing off the concerns like normal.

"Tony seriously. Everyone's telling you the same thing. You need to eat more." The tailor shook his head, scanning the other's body to spot anything off with it. "You always look ready to collapse and you're shaking!"

"Buttons...I'm just following what's set out for me."

"Don't you think it's going a bit far?"

"Nah. It's fine. After all, it could be worse." Race just shrugged, holding his arms up when prompted. 

With your face all made up, living on a screen.

While talking to Buttons was always fun, Race was relieved to see him leave. Whenever he spoke to someone alone, they always told him to drop his manager. That he looked like he was five seconds away from being rushed to the nearest hospital. 

It didn't help that Snyder had become stricter later, criticizing his body and form more than normal, not caring that he was breaking his spirit. He was one of many, easily replaceable in the mind of the industry, something that Snyder liked to remind his client of constantly, claiming that it was 'in his best interest that he followed everything to the letter', forcing him to practise harder whenever he strayed from the harsh guidelines he set out.

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline.

Requesting time off just brought another lecture. Hell, Race had to beg and fight to be allowed to take his birthday off and out of everything the man had done, that's what pissed Race's friends and family off the most. Jack had been close to demanding the man's address or phone number, only for Davey to stop him. It was no secret that Jack and Snyder had bad blood, disagreeing over what was best for the dancer/actor. Jack had known him all of his life while Snyder had only known him for roughly two years. 

Race hated the relationship between his manager and older brother but did his best to never let it trouble him. He desired to be on his A-game at all times after all and any form of tension would throw him off, only causing him to work harder than any other day. Snyder constantly likened him to every other young celebrity out there, reminding him all the time that he was replaceable, that he had to work harder if he wanted to keep up with the industry. That he was...Already stumbling behind. 

I think there's a flaw in my code.

The man acted like Race wasn't trying at all...That all the hours he put in meant nothing. That Race was acting like he 'didn't care about his job'. Like he was...Broken in some way and that strict behaviour just increased when he had handed him a slip of paper given to him by a professional. A diagnosis for depression, anxiety and bipolar disorder. He hadn't been super happy to find out that his client was mentally ill and that the paperwork even pointed out that he was overworked and just pushed him harder. 

Voices pushed at him from both sides. Drop him some said. He's working you too hard others chimed in. You need to work harder if you want to succeed in the industry kid one kept saying and for some reason, he kept listening to the single voice, despite the fact he knew he wasn't meant to. He needed to drop him and he would, after this music video and movie audition though.

Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.

Race sighed, shaking his head. Focus Higgins. In a month, you can find someone new. Darcy, Bill and Kath can find you a new one. He stretched, smiling at himself in a mirror. He'd be okay, he could last a month. 

He pretended Snyder's not so subtle jabs at his diagnosis. The man hadn't been pleased when he found out about Race's ADHD, clearly 'trying' to hide the way he felt about the whole thing. That he didn't think Race was 'unstable'. That he was 'broken'.

Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me? Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

He growled in annoyance when he fell out of a turn again, glad he was alone. It wasn't his fault he was so stressed! He was being pulled at every end, each person claiming they just wanted the both for him. With his mental health 'issues' dumped on top of that, Race wanted to scream and tear his hair out. He hated this. Hated the worried looks from his friends and family. Hated the harsh tone from Snyder used when he was giving him 'constructive' criticism. 

He wasn't at fault here! He was just trying hard so why did it seem like everyone was trying to pull him to their side? Sure, what he was doing wasn't the healthiest but he had to work hard to keep up with the fast pace workforce. Sure, he could stand to gain a few pounds but he could always do that later. 

Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me? Pointing fingers 'cause you'll never take the blame like me?

"I'm just worried Race..."

"I know Jack. I know you hate Snyder, that he's an asshole, that you think he's ruining my life. But, without him, I wouldn't have gotten so many gigs."

"Tony, please. You need to drop him. You don't look healthy, you're never able to go out anymore, you're being worked to the bone." Jack frowned as he looked at his brother. "I get that you love your job but you need to take time for yourself as well."

"Look. I'm already planning to drop him after this audition...It's just a month Jack. Please. Give me that and I'll drop him."

"Promise? I'm sick of his bullshit Tony..."

"I promise."

And all the people say, you can't wake up, this is not a dream.

"Again." 

Race nodded, restarting the music before throwing himself into the dance again.

"You're distracted, Higgins."

"Sorry, sir. Just got a lot on my mind lately..." 

"You need to focus. If you don't you'll fall behind and fail. Restart."

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being. With your face all made up, living on a screen.

Race honestly wasn't sure if Snyder even knew what he was talking about when it came to his dancing but still, he took his words to heart, letting them crash through his weak walls again as he started the dance yet again, letting the music wrap itself around him, allowing it to bring him both a familiar rush and familiar comfort. 

The comfort that came with the music was his favourite kind of comfort. He never had to seak it out. Never had to send a text or make a call. All he had to do was press a button and it was there, ready to hug him and bring him a calm distraction from whatever was bothering him, sometimes wiping away any tears that would run down his cheeks, drawing a watery smile from him.

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline.

"What the fuck do you mean you're firing me? I'm the one who got you this damn role! You would be a nobody without me Higgins and you know that!" 

Race looked at the man's angry face. "Leave my house, Snyder. We're done here. While I am thankful for the work you have done, I need to focus on what I feel is right for me and I believe what is right is us parting ways."

"You're making a big mistake Higgins. I can ruin your damn life! I got you that role and I can fucking take it away from you! You'll regret this! I'll fucking leak your damn address!" 

I think there's a flaw in my code.

"You can not ruin my life, Snyder. You even try and I'll make sure everyone knows what you've been doing. I'll let everyone know how hard you've pushed me. How you've forced me to dance right after throwing up. Believe me, Snyder. I can and will let them know. I've dealt with this for too long."

These voices won't leave me alone.

"You've let those people poison you! They know nothing!"

"Romeo and Tommy have been working in this industry for years. Longer than you have and I trust their judgement."

"I'll get their places shut down!"

"Keep talking Snyder...You're just digging yourself a bigger hole."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Race smirked, holding up his phone. "I've looked up the laws. We have a one-party consent law here meaning I can record this conversation without your permission and that's what I have done. I recommend you leave now."

Snyder scoffed, storming out. "You'll regret this!"

"And you'll regret being so strict! Goodbye William~" 

Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.

[perspective-series]

Thomas Perspective (8/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, unwanted touching

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter 

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 Thomas blinked, not believing his luck. Roman had just...left him alone. Thomas grinned. Now was his chance. He may be far away from his home, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with anymore humans. He would take a long trek if it meant no humans any day.

 Thomas moved past the books and towards the door. He looked underneath, into the hallway, not seeing anyone. He then shimmied underneath, thankful he was able to fit under. He looked up and down the hall before moving the way Roman had come in. Sticking close to the wall and keeping a watchful eye for any humans.

 He didn’t think he would have to worry though. Since they were all in class at this point.

Of course, one student was not in class.

Logan Sanders was still wandering the halls, having just stayed late to discuss the probabilities of the multiverse theory with his physics professor. After a while, the professor had excused himself. 

Now, Logan was faced with an even greater anomaly than the multiverse theory. He paused, watching the creature for a moment with a tilted head. He was behind it, and therefore hadn’t been spotted, but this was the most curious thing Logan had ever seen. It was the size of a mouse yet looked exactly as though a human being had been shrunken down!

“Incredible.” Logan quickly began to walk closer, eyes locked onto it.

 Thomas froze, eye wide as he caught the voice. Slowly, he turned his head, looking up and seeing another human watching him. Crap, not again! 

 Quickly turning back around, Thomas booked it towards the front exit.

Seeing the creature speed up, Logan quickened his pace. He almost dove to the floor, wrapping his hands around it. “Gotcha!”

 “Ah!” Thomas yelled. Again. He couldn’t believe he had been caught by three humans in less than 24 hours. He really was a terrible borrower. He struggled against the grip, ignoring how his bruises from earlier flared up.

“Extraordinary.” Logan’s eyes almost sparkled, pulling the tiny person up to look at him more closely. Logan sat back on his heels, holding it higher. “What- who are you?”

 Thomas froze in his struggling, realizing he recognized that voice. He looked up into a pair of eyes framed with glasses. “Logan?” He said before he could stop himself. He immediately closed his mouth. Crap, what had he just done? But, another question, why was he being caught by all the residents of the same building.

Logan blinked. “How do you know my name?” Logan whispered, puzzled. What sort of creature was this? Logan looked down at himself but spotted no name tag that could have offered the miniature a clue.

 “Uh…” Thomas wasn’t sure how to answer that without Logan getting mad at him. “Lucky guess?” He chuckled nervously.

Logan frowned, knowing for sure ‘luck’ had nothing to do with it. “Alright, so what is your name, then?” Logan asked, pushing himself off the ground to continue walking. After all, the halls were hardly a private place to hold a conversation.

 At least that was something Thomas was okay with giving out, more or less. “Thomas.” The borrower then looked around as they started to move. “Um, w-where are you taking me?”

“Home.” Logan answered, peeking out the door to check for anyone around. “Well, first my car. Then home. It’s not exactly the safest place for you here.”

 Thomas could agree with that. But it also wasn’t safe to be with a human either. Thomas continued to squirm in the grip, wincing when he rubbed at his bruise wrong.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Logan tried to readjust his hands so that Thomas was more comfortable, making a quick dash to his car. Panting slightly from the exertion, Logan climbed into the driver’s seat and re-evaluated Thomas. “Are you alright?”

 “Um...yeah.” He lied. He shifted again, unable to keep from wincing as his bruised flared up once again. Wow, that fall had really gotten him. And also all the tight grips. He was going to be bruised for weeks.

“Are you...hurt?” Logan moved Thomas closer, gently prodding him in the side.

 Thomas flinched, releasing a hiss of pain.

“Sorry!” Logan quickly removed his finger, lessening his grip on Thomas so that he lay in an open palm. “You look...quite injured…” Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that because of me?”

 Thomas was thankful to be out of the grip but couldn’t help but look up at the human in slight confusion. It was weird having three humans seemingly caring about him. He fought with himself over what to say. “Uh, no, no. This was from, ah...earlier.”

“...I see.” Now aware of Thomas’ injuries, Logan was gentle as he set Thomas down to rest inside the cup holder. There the small man would hopefully be the least jostled. “May I ask what happened?”

 Thomas wondered how much he should tell Logan. Because he knew Logan knew who Roman and Virgil were, they were best friends after all. And he didn’t want to end up in their hands again, especially Roman’s. And maybe Logan would actually let him go? Well, maybe not, but maybe he could escape from him better.

 “A...Another human found me and...well…” Thomas shrugged. He was glad to be out of Logan’s hands but the angle was less than ideal now.

Logan felt his blood boil slightly at the indication of another person treating Thomas poorly.

“Who was it?” Logan asked, turning the key in his ignition. “What did they do?”

 “I’m not sure.” Thomas lied, wincing as he did so. “But they uh, grabbed me too rough and well...dropped me.”

“What? Why?” Logan fought to stay focused on the road instead of glancing down at Thomas.

 “I asked to be let go and he panicked and dropped me.” Thomas said with a shrug. He rubbed at his sides.

“What kind of an idiot would do that?” Logan murmured, half to himself.

 Thomas just shrugged, keeping his mouth shut this time. He didn’t want to say anymore and have Logan figure out who it had been.

It was only a few minutes before they reached the parking structure. Logan turned off the car, carefully picking up Thomas and peering out his window to check if the coast was clear.

 Thomas squirmed in the grip once again but made himself still as he realized Logan was about to go outside. He tried to sink further into the hand in order to remain hidden. “L-Logan, please don’t let me be seen.”

“I won’t.” Logan assured Thomas, giving him a brief smile. Noticing that no one else was around, Logan got out of the vehicle and began briskly walking up and into his building. Logan’s hands were kept cupped around Thomas to hide the tiny from any passersby that Logan might have neglected to spot.

 Thomas shook, hating being out in the open like he was but at least Logan understood to keep him hidden. And at least now he didn’t have to worry about getting back home.

Thankfully, Logan ran into no one on his way up to the fourth floor. He leaned against his apartment door briefly, letting out a sigh of relief. Slowly, Logan uncupped his hands.

“How are you doing?” Logan asked, eyes glancing over Thomas’ form as he began to walk down the hall, grabbing a pillow in his spare hand as he passed the couch.

 “Um...fine.” Thomas said, only half lying that time. He still didn’t know what Logan was going to do.

Logan entered the kitchen, setting the pillow down on the counter. He placed Thomas in the center before grabbing a small plastic ice cube and wrapping it in a washcloth.

“Here.” Logan held it out to Thomas. “Hold this to your injuries, it should help.”

 Thomas hesitated before taking it and basically hugging it in order for it to reach his sides, stomach and chest. He shivered at the cold but relaxed into it. “Th-Thanks.”

“Are you bleeding anywhere?” Logan asked, already pulling out the first aid kit from the top shelf. “I have bandages.”

 Thomas shook his head. “No, I’m alright. It’s just bruises.” Thankfully.

“Okay.” Logan gave a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t been looking forward to trying to mend any tiny broken bones. Now Logan looked around for something to use as a cup. Spotting a water bottle. Logan removed the cap and splashed some water into it. Careful not to spill all the contents onto Thomas, Logan held this out for Thomas to take.

 Thomas looked from the cap to Logan before taking it. He adjusted the ice cube and his grip, before taking a sip. He sighed in relief as the cool water ran down his throat. He set it down once he had had enough and then looked up at Logan. He bit his lip. “Um, Logan?”

“Thomas, do you want strawberries or carrots?” Logan asked, now busy searching through the fridge.

 Thomas blinked. “Strawberries would be great, but, Logan?” Thomas tried again.

“Wait, do you have any dietary restrictions?” Logan frowned in thought, reappearing with an armful of strawberries. He began to cut these into manageable pieces.

 “No.” Thomas bit his lip, not liking how Logan was ignoring him. He just wanted to ask a simple question. “But Logan, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, what is it?” Finally Logan turned his attention to Thomas’ words, handing Thomas a strawberry chunk.

 Thomas took the strawberry and was grateful that Logan was finally paying attention to him. “What’s...going to happen now?”

Logan frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

 “I mean, like...are you going to let me go?” Thomas said, just getting the question out there and over with. He braced himself for whatever reaction Logan would have.

“Let you go where?” Logan glanced around his apartment.

 “Um...home? My home, that is.” Thomas explained, trying not to get his hopes up. Things were not looking good so far.

“It’s not exactly ideal to move you in this state.” Logan advised, not wanting to drive back to the school with an injured Thomas. Since Logan had discovered Thomas in the hall, it was only logical the little lived in that vicinity. “You should rest and recuperate.”

 “But...you will let me go? Eventually?” Thomas asked, shoulders tense.

“I will take the course of action most beneficial to your health.” Logan promised. Whether that was releasing Thomas back into the world, it was hard to say.

 Thomas deflated. Of course. Why did every human he meet think they knew what was best for him? Guess that meant he had to try and escape the old fashioned way. 

“Now eat up.” Logan instructed, handing Thomas another strawberry. “Keeping your energy levels high is essential to a steady recovery process.”

 Thomas sighed but took the offered strawberry, taking a bite. The only good thing about all of this was that he was eating more than he had ever had.

[woodedcove]

Gratitude during Adversity

Photo by my sweetheart, Dave Hogan. Taken in Stanley Park Vancouver, B. C.

I write this post from bed today because my body doesn’t have the energy to be up and about. It’s one of the adversities with which I’m afflicted and I have to say that sometimes I find it pretty difficult to deal with. Then again I think it would be safe to say that most people find adversity to be a very unwelcome guest. Yet, in Mosiah 26: 38-39 The Lord gives the commandment to “give thanks in all things”. Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 “In every thing give thanks”. When in the midst of a struggle this seems like the last thing we should be expected to do, yet it’s a commandment. How can we do this? I don’t have the answers for everyone, but I do have a lot of experience, and being older has given me a bit of hindsight.

When I was around 16 years of age I started having severe backaches and I was often sick to my stomach. It wasn’t until I was 28 years old that I was diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis (a form of arthritis that affects the spine, eventually fusing it into something that looks like bamboo) and Crohn’s Disease (a disease that causes pain, inflammation,  and ulcerations in the small and sometimes large intestine). It was quite a blow to realize that I had two diseases that I would have to live with for the rest of my life. No matter how many blessings I received, prayers I said, or cures I tried, the Lord hasn't released me from these trials.  They have been my companions now for nearly forty years.

Some might be tempted to believe that the reason why I have these diseases is that I’ve done something wrong and that I’m being punished. But that just doesn’t fit with what I understand about God. See, I know that God loves us; we are his children and He wants us to grow and become more like Him. That’s the reason why he gave us commandments and scriptures; to help us, to teach us, and to bring us closer to Him. Yes, when we choose to ignore those commandments we can bring adversity on ourselves, but I also believe that when we truly repent the Lord will take from us the shackles of bondage sin can bring. So, if I'm not being punished then why do I have these health problems? How do they fit in the picture of a loving God?

Looking back I can see some of the many choices I could have made that would have taken me in a very different direction. I was interested in opera and wanted to go to Milan Italy to study opera there. But my Dad and I had a sincere talk about my future and he pointed out that I was often sick, and that many times I lost my voice. This would make it very difficult, if not impossible, to sing. I also knew that sometimes I had a really hard time getting a deep breath. This was because the Ankylosing Spondylitis wouldn't let my rib cage expand so that I could take in more air. Again, not something that would help me sing opera.

I had also thought about going into acting, (something that I see now would have been a major mistake as I think I could have become spiritually lost very quickly in that field). At the time I was thinking of this profession, my neck stopped working and my spine became stiff, both problems which were due to arthritis.

So I chose animation. It was a good direction and it seemed to be the direction that the Lord wanted me to go for a time. But there came a time when the Lord wanted me to go a different way. A way that I really didn’t want to go. It would mean I would be teaching and I was scared to death of having to get up in front of a bunch of people and teach. But, with teaching came consistent health insurance, and with health insurance would come access to a very expensive medication, one that improved my ability to move tenfold. So I started teaching and learned that I actually enjoyed teaching more than working in the animation industry. I also started to learn that the Lord might, just might, know what was best for me. I began to trust Him.

The time then came for me to leave teaching. A serious kidney infection put my life in danger so I was given a very strong antibiotic that, while it cured the kidney infection, it also destroyed my energy. I have never regained the energy I had before that infection. Instead, the treatment left me with a plethora of added health issues that made it impossible for me to keep up with the demands of my job. I was heartbroken. I had been teaching students that I truly loved and now I couldn't do it anymore. Every time I've tried to do the amount of work that I would usually do in a normal workday ten years ago, I pay for it by having to recoup in bed for several days. What can I do in bed? I’ve tried drawing, but even that takes more energy than I have sometimes. So, I write.

Do you see how the Lord has used these health trials to guide me, to help me be open to trying a different direction or to doing his will? I can be pretty stubborn. Yet He helps me through giving me what I need to bring me unto Him, even if it means giving me a trial. Why would He do this?

Good timber does not grow with ease,   The stronger wind, the stronger trees, The further sky, the greater length,   The more the storm, the more the strength. By sun and cold, by rain and snow,    In trees and men, good timbers grow.

Years ago there was a leader in my church that told this story:

Sixty-odd years ago I was on a farm in Canada. I had purchased the farm from another who had been somewhat careless in keeping it up. I went out one morning and found a currant bush that was at least six feet high. I knew that it was going all to wood. There was no sign of blossom or of fruit. I had had some experience in pruning trees before we left Salt Lake to go to Canada, as my father had a fruit farm. So I got my pruning shears and went to work on that currant bush, and I clipped it and cut it and cut it down until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps ... As I looked at this little clump of stumps, there seemed to be a tear on each one, and I said, “What’s the matter, currant bush? What are you crying about?”

And I thought I heard that currant bush speak. It seemed to say, “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as large as the fruit tree and the shade tree, and now you have cut me down. And all in the garden will look upon me with contempt and pity. How could you do it? I thought you were the gardener here.”

I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. But someday, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to think back and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”

Ten years passed, and I found myself in Europe. I had made some progress in the First World War in the Canadian army. In fact, I was a field officer, and there was only one man between me and the rank of general, which I had cherished in my heart for years. Then he became a casualty. And the day after, I received a telegram from London from General Turner, who was in charge of all Canadian officers. The telegram said, “Be in my office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

The next morning  "I walked into the office of the general. I saluted him smartly, and he replied to my salute as higher officers usually do to juniors—sort of a “Get out of the way, worm.” Then he said, “Sit down, Brown.”

I was deflated. I sat down. And he said, “Brown, you are entitled to this promotion, but I cannot make it. You have qualified and passed the regulations, you have had the experience, and you are entitled to it in every way, but I cannot make this appointment.”

Just then he went into the other room to answer a phone call, and I did what most every officer and man in the army would do under those circumstances: I looked over on his desk to see what my personal history sheet showed. And I saw written on the bottom of that history sheet in large capital letters: “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.”

Now at that time, we were hated heartily in Britain, and I knew why he couldn’t make the appointment. Finally, he came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.”

I saluted him, less heartily than before, and went out. On my way back to Shorncliffe, 120 kilometers away, I thought every turn of the wheels that clacked across the rails was saying, “You’re a failure. You must go home and be called a coward by those who do not understand.” And bitterness rose in my heart until I arrived, finally, in my tent, and I rather vigorously threw my cap on the cot, together with my Sam Browne belt. I clenched my fist, and I shook it at heaven, and I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I’ve done everything that I knew how to do to uphold the standards of the Church. I was making such wonderful growth, and now you’ve cut me down. How could you do it?”

And then I heard a voice. It sounded like my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. And someday, when you are ripened in life, you are going to shout back across the time and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”  

I don’t know all the reasons why people go through what they go through. All I know is that my adversities have taught me about patience and waiting on the Lord. They’ve taught me that the Lord knows my worries and concerns and that He also knows what I can be. They’ve taught and are still teaching me that the Lord knows what’s best for me, that he sees the whole picture, the eternal plan, and that I can trust that He will do what is best for me. And that is something that I can truly give thanks for even during adversity.

[aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoldretired]

I would like to hear about the punny girl

hnng thank you

i present you: kanon fukuda the ultimate filmmaker. do you get the pun?

kanon is my best girl. her backstory isn’t anything too like. angsty bc i know some can be angsty but her’s isn’t supposed to be about that. she grew up as the only child in a middle-class family with two parents who were confused by her hobbies and love of film but very supportive. also they grow to feel bad they gave her the name kanon bc all the jokes but it’s ok she kinda likes it kinda hates it. she actually got into filmmaking because she had an older cousin who acted as a sibling figure, and they would make home movies together. kanon would throw herself into her movies and kept producing and producing as fast as she could. eventually, she started entering them in both national and international youth film competitions and began winning titles. it’s at this point when she was scouted and started making professional short films. she had just finished working on her first feature-length film, which early reviews were calling her magnum opus to date, and exciting work from an up-and-coming filmmaker. 

the reason why kanon chose to attend hopes peak is that her older cousin died in the tragedy. she doesn’t know they died. she just knows they went to school and never came back, and the family keeps it hush-hush. besides the promise of success, she mostly wants to find out what happened - she assumes it was a bad accent or suicide but oop! additionally, kanon chose to attend because her feature film is to release to the public soon, and she wants to be occupied during this time to take her mind off of the reception. 

while kanon’s family backstory is pretty angst-free besides the missing cousin, kanon is still suffering p bad. she is diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. but! (unlike p much every other character in the series, it seems) she treats her mental health through medication and regular therapy (until she’s trapped at school). she’s very open about her struggle with mental health and enthusiastically tries to get better. 

as a director, she specializes in dark comedy, parody, and farce. she likes irony, and can always see the twisted humor in a situation, no matter how dire. this issss about where you might start seeing her fatal flaw. 

kanon thoroughly subscribes to the idea that comedy is born from tragedy, and that the rawest types of humor come from pain. she is known for going off her medication during the production of films and making a martyr of herself, taking pride in her horrible sleeping and eating schedule for her art. basically, every film student i’ve ever met. 

she enters the killing game very upbeat. when she finds out the truth, she is very defiant, confident in their ability to escape. she is constantly cracking jokes about the situation and observational humor, and her ideas during the trial are generally very….original. she is known for monologuing and speaking in paragraphs. during trials, she creates elaborate example situations that might seem like they’re unrelated or inconsequential but morally always tie back in. queen of the non-sequitur. early game free time events/island mode would mostly be about movies and genre, with the occasional mention about working hard to be healthy again.

she’s pretty friendly with monokume, subscribing to the philosophy that if you’re kind to him, he’s more likely to do what she wants. she’s often the student who will ask monokume clarifying questions on school policy or for access to supplies. for example, i like to think she asks monokume to provide another student needed insulin. when monokume initially refuses, she goes into a tangential scenario where if this student dies, then isn’t monokume the culprit? he’d have to be executed for harming a student. and what’s this? monokume has been harmed? the person who harmed monokume must be punished. and go round and round in a helpless circle while the students figure out a way to escape. at this point, monokume provides the insulin.

 however, after watching the first punishment, she begins to be filled with a deep despair. she is already dispositioned for despair, given her incredibly unhealthy habits regarding her mental illness and success, but she tries to resist. she remains upbeat, but after the first punishment, her dialogue takes a sharp turn towards dark comedy and macabre. from this moment on, she’s also a lot more skittish and easily startled.

after the first trial on, she will always make a point for thanking the group for being a good group of friends and making the time in hopes peak as tolerable as possible, in case they end up choosing the wrong blackened and all get executed. at the third trial, she follows this speech up with, “but if i die, you are all fucking idiots, way to let me down.”

most of her dialogue is biting, and despite the horror and despair she is filled with after every murder and execution, she can still find ways to crack a twisted joke. occasionally she will have a moment of clarity where she is candid about her feelings. 

- one free time event could feature her talking about her feelings towards actions speak louder than words. her example is couples who say they’re dark and twisted like bonnie and clyde, but really they’re two losers into bdsm. if they’d just say they’re two losers into bdsm, she could respect them. she then explains how the statements of personality are more to convince themselves than anyone else. towards the end, she laughs to herself and explains how she totally screwed herself over because Kanon prides herself in her sense of humor, but if she ever says it aloud, she’s not funny.

- another free time event could be explaining her relationship with death. she’s not afraid of it, but she wants to die on her own terms. she admits to never seeing herself growing old, and that’s she’ll probably be a part of the 27 club if she keeps on the path of a celebrity. 

her condition keeps devolving as the game progresses. more dialogue can include wondering why she is still alive and trying to cover it as a twisted sick joke. she stays upbeat, but as time goes on, you can see she’s slowly getting tired and beaten down. she’s also starting to take pride in her unhealthy lack of sleep, eating, or bathing. 

it’s after the third execution does she actually show a true moment of despair. after the execution and the classmates are silently riding in the elevator back, she announces how she does not plan to live through the game. she does not see any possible reality where she will escape hopes peak. she does, however, make it clear that she will be dying on her own terms. she gives her blessing to the group that anyone can try to kill her, but be aware she won’t go down without a fight.

her free time events are filled with more raw emotion and despair with tinges of humor instead of humor with tinges of despair. 

- she elaborates on what she meant in the elevator as to die by her own hands. she does not want to kill a classmate because she knows her disposition could never handle the trial, let alone the killing part. but she also doesn’t want to die by her classmates without a fight. and she doesn’t want to commit suicide because she has too much pride while also being too much of a coward…

- she explains how this story could be a great script, really, if it weren’t all so real. this generation’s battle royale. she actually gives kudos to the design of each punishment and admits they are inspiring if she ever wanted to do a genre flip and become a psych thriller director.

- just. asking why she isn’t dead yet. why not her? why not?

i want her to be a pretty late game survivor because i think it’s impactful to show her fall into despair, which she uses to harm herself instead of others mostly. it is also after chapter three you truly get to see her martyrdom come out. she has slowly shifted from less of a friend and more towards an antagonistic role, not because she’s a threat, but because she’s literally so full of despair.

anyways. you see her talking to monokume while the rest of the group arrives. before the fourth trial, she does her normal thanking of her classmates and pulls the protag over to thank them personally for the good times and making it the best they could. the protagonist is suspicious of this behavior and wonders if she might be guilty, but the evidence points she is not. the class correctly votes for the blackened. while everyone is waiting for monokume to go forward in the punishment, they’re confused by the delay. monokume is fuming, and it’s revealed. there’s a miscount. one student purposefully chose not to vote, which is a punishable act. the student? kanon.

she always insisted she would die, and she would die on her own terms. she had created a narrative in her head where if she dies a martyr, she will always be remembered lovingly by her fans before any unfortunate career downfall. the director ahead of her time, and gone too soon. she became obsessed with this narrative around chapter three, and the third execution sealed the deal. by the time of the trial, she figured out she could die a death fit for a star while also dying on her terms if she willingly triggered a punishment. 

ive kind offfffff figured out what her last speech could be before her punishment? she explains how “comedy is derived from pain, right? and if i intend on being the greatest director of my time, i need to go through the most suffering. i was born to die a martyr, i was just hoping one of you would do the hard part. but since no one has the balls, you can all suffer with me. see you in hell shitheads” she then asks monokume if her cousin who attended here, were they killed or executed? (was it kill or be killed?) monokume thinks for a second and responds. she smiles and says, that’s all she needed to know. gives a wink to the protag and flicks everyone off as the collar yoinks her off to her death. 

punishment would probably be something with “light camera action” or “ready steady shoot” and be a LITERAL pun on the camera shoot. bc, she’s shot. alternatively, if i were to decide that instead of a generic dead body in the tragedy, she could be related to an actual main game character pref someone who was executed, she could have to play that part in the execution and die the same death, but this time with like. monokume film crew everywhere and actual monokume in the director’s chair with a beret. either is a fun idea.

____________________________________________________________________

i’m a film major, and her character is heavily based on the kind of students and filmmakers i see and work with. there really are people like this who believe suffering for art truly makes them better than others and will purposefully put themselves through psychological torment. additionally, i wanted to see a more realistic portrayal of mental illness and show a character who (at one point at least) treats and is trying to maintain health. in the end, kanon is a narcist who lets her ego get in the way of her wellbeing and success. 

also, kanon’s outfit is so stupid she has strawberry blond hair in a bob with like a widow’s peak, silvery-blue eyes, and wears a big flowy short sleeved button-up shirt, and olive-colored shorts. she has a big pair of aviators she wears tucked in the collar of her shirt, statement earrings, a pop watch, and lots of rings. and she is def not straight ut it’s not like she’s pursuing romance she’s pursuing death

[quoth-the-sparrow]

Coming Home - Ch 3

A Sanders Sides Fanfiction

Chapter One - Chapter  Two

Warnings:  Nightmare, yelling, cursing, incorrect binding (Please do not do what Virgil is doing!), mentions of smoking (very brief)

Pairings: Mutual Pining/Eventual LAMP/CALM

Description:  Virgil is struggling and Logan won't let him handle it alone anymore

Word Count: 1,946

You can also find this story here on ao3

The classroom was empty when he got there. He took a seat in his usual spot and looked around, confused. Something about this seemed off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it (he hated it when his anxiety was just vague) but something was off. Students he didn’t recognize began filing in, chatting among themselves and paying him no mind. Roman was the last one to enter the room, and when he did he walked right over to Virgil’s desk.

“We need to talk.” Roman’s tone was lower than usual, almost mean, and his expression held something that looked an awful lot like hatred. Virgil’s stomach clenched and he gripped the edges of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white. Instinct screamed at him to leave, to run away, but fear held him frozen in place.

“Um, okay, what-” Virgil gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth, bile rising in his throat. That wasn’t his voice. That couldn’t be his voice, it was too high-pitched. What was happening? He stared in wide-eyed horror at Roman, who just shook his head.

“Look. You’re disgusting, you’re a liar, and we can’t be together. I don’t even want to be friends with someone like you. So stay the hell away from me. You got that, Claire?”

Virgil exhaled sharply, the words hitting him like a blow to the chest. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. No one had called him by that name in years. Hearing it aloud like that was akin to nails on a chalkboard. Roman continued with his rant, the cold, angry look on his face unfamiliar and cruel.

“I can’t believe you lied to me, to all of us. You’re not a real man and you never will be. Who do you even think you are? You’re not good enough, Claire. You will never be good enough.” The other students had turned to face him, laughing and making rude, derogatory comments.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, breathing shallow and rapid in his panic. “No, no, this is just a bad dream, come on, wake up wake up wake up-”

He opened his eyes and sat up, sweat matting his hair to his forehead and blankets a tangled mess on the floor. A glance at the alarm clock told him it was 4:17 am. His chest hurt so badly, like his ribs were being compressed. He looked down and saw his binder, his mostly flat chest. He knew he should take it off but he didn’t.

Instead he laid back down, trying to ignore the tears falling down his face. This had been the fourth nightmare he’d had in as many days. They’d all been different, but tonight’s nightmare had been the worst by far. He rolled over on his side, clutching a pillow to his chest and sobbing. He could still hear Roman’s voice, still heard that name echoing in his head. He tossed and turned, trying and failing to fall back into sleep.

***

“Virgil, come on, wake up! Today’s the big day, babe!” Patton’s sweet voice called through the closed door. Virgil groaned and turned around in bed to face the door, wincing in pain. He’d never taken his binder off and now his ribs were throbbing worse than before.

He hesitated, then called out, “Yeah, Pat, I’ll be down in a bit.” His voice was deeper, back to normal. Virgil sighed in relief. He could hear Patton’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. Virgil took as deep a breath as possible before sitting up, the sharp pain in his chest causing him to cry out. He stood and stumbled into his bathroom, closing the door behind him. “Today is going to fucking suck.”

***

“Hey Lo-Lo, hey Roman!” Patton exclaimed brightly as they skipped into the kitchen. Logan looked up over his coffee cup and smiled warmly at them, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. Patton twirled around, their blue skirt flowing out around them. Roman laughed and embraced Patton, planting a soft kiss on their nose.

“Good morning, sunshine! You look absolutely lovely in that skirt! What pronouns are we using today?” Patton giggled and showed him their purple bracelet.

“They/them today! It’s a non-binary kinda day,” they replied as they sat down across from Logan. “Speaking of today, we have to go to the store. We’re out of eggs and we need snacks for tonight’s movie marathon!”

Logan nodded and gestured to Roman. “Well it would be better for you to go to the store now that way none of us feel rushed for time. I know you’d talked about baking a cake from scratch, Patton, and if you still plan on doing that we’ll also need flour.”

“Okay, thank you for reminding me, Lo! Roman, could we go now? Maybe all four of us could go, like an adventure!” Patton bounced up and down in

their seat. “But our stormcloud isn’t awake all the way yet, I don’t think. Should I go call for him again?”

Logan reached out for Patton’s hand and shook his head. “No, that’s alright. You two go, I’ll stay here and talk to Virgil.” Patton’s face fell, a frown slowly replacing their smile.

“I understand, Loganberry. I’m worried about him; he’s been acting so strange and distant lately.”

Roman glanced up at the ceiling, towards where Virgil’s bedroom was. “I mean, him and I had gone out last week and he seemed happy. But then a couple days ago he started freezing me out again… I think he’s been doing that to all of us.”

The three of them fell silent, the worry and sadness they all felt nearly tangible. Logan cleared his throat and stood from the table. “You two go get what you need to from the store. I’ll go see if I can get Virgil to talk to me.”

As soon as Patton and Roman were out the front door, Logan headed up the stairs. He hesitated outside Virgil’s door for several long moments before knocking. “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Silence. Logan waited, then knocked again, a little harder this time. “Virgil, are you awake? I really need to talk to you, this is important.” He waited for a reply, but all he heard was a muffled noise that sounded a lot like coughing. Panic setting in, he opened the bedroom door. But Virgil wasn’t there. He could see the comforter, a tangled heap on the floor. The trash can that sat by Virgil’s desk was knocked over, crumpled papers spilling out of it. Another cough, louder, came from the bathroom. Logan rushed over to the bathroom door, a hand on the doorknob. “Virge, honey, are you alright? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine, Logan. Please just go away.” Virgil answered, his voice raspy.

“I’m inclined not to believe you, given the current situation. Please let me in, I can h-”

“No!” Virgil cried out, and Logan heard the sharp click of the bathroom door locking. “Just go away, alright? I don’t need your fucking help. Get out of my room.”

Logan took an involuntary step back, as if Virgil’s words had physically struck him. He took a moment to take a deep breath, then tried again. “I’m going to ignore that statement because it is clear you’re speaking out of anger. Please either come out, or let me in so I can help.”

The door burst open and Virgil was standing there, leaning against the doorway with one arm wrapped around his chest, breaths coming in short gasps. Logan looks at Virgil’s chest and realization strikes him. “Virgil, take off your binder. How long have you had it on?”

Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s none of your business. Get away from me, okay? You don’t understand anything! You don’t-” his words devolve into a coughing fit and the world is spinning and he can feel himself falling. But then Logan’s arms are around him, gently guiding him to the bed.

“I’m going to leave the room for a minute and while I’m gone you are going to take your binder off.” Logan’s voice was firm despite being laced with concern. Virgil tried to argue but was cut off by Logan.

“Virgil Leon Grey, don’t you dare. I know dysphoria can be difficult to deal with, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your health. You are going to do as I say, and you are not going to argue about it. You think you’re stubborn? You’ve got nothing on me.” Logan stood, and Virgil could see he was trembling a bit.

“I… yeah okay. Just… I’ll take it off,” he mumbled, eyes downcast. He’d never heard Logan sound so upset, not in all the time he’d known him. Logan left the room and Virgil did as was asked of him. Once he got situated, he called out “Okay, come back in.”

Logan re-entered the room. Virgil’s binder was laying folded on the edge of the bed. Virgil had taken the comforter from the floor and was clutching it to his chest like a lifeline. Logan sat next to his friend and asked “What’s been going on? Talk to me, please. I care about you, Virgil. You’re one of my best friends and I want to help.”

There was such tender care in his voice. Virgil bit his lip, not sure what to say or where to start. “I…. I’m sorry. I just, I’ve been having these nightmares, these awful nightmares, and dysphoria is being way worse than usual and I miss smoking and I miss Damien and I’m just so confused and tired all of the time.” Virgil covered his face with his hands. He hadn’t meant to say all that but once he’d started talking he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“That’s quite a lot on your plate. You could have… why didn’t you say something? You haven’t started smoking again, have you?” Logan gently rested a hand on Virgil’s back. He could feel the heat of it radiating off of him, even through his shirt, and Virgil found himself leaning into Logan’s touch.

“No, don’t worry, I haven’t. And… I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to bother anyone. You were busy studying for finals and Patton was putting in way more hours than usual and Roman… I just couldn’t say anything.” Virgil sighed and looked up into Logan’s eyes to find him staring at him with a look so sad, it made Virgil feel guilty. Before he could say anything, Logan spoke again, this time in barely a whisper.

“Can I hug you, V?”

Virgil just nodded and sighed with relief when Logan embraced him. This was nice. Logan was warm and he smelled really good and his arms were so strong and Virgil felt himself relax, not even caring that he was blushing. “I’m sorry, Lo… I didn’t mean to snap at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s alright, V. I forgive you. However, I’m going to ask that you not wear your binder for a week. Your ribs need time to rest. I know it’s going to suck, but honestly you did this to yourself.”

Virgil looked up at Logan. “Damn, dude. That’s pretty harsh.” Logan just smirked, and Virgil gave his friend a small smile, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as well.

“Yes well, it’s true. Don’t scare me like that again, alright? And please, don’t you ever think that you’re a bother. If something’s wrong, come talk to me. I’ll always be here for you, love, I promise.” Virgil nodded and felt himself dozing off. The last thing he felt was a soft kiss on his forehead before falling asleep.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this story! Feel free to reblog and tell me what you think! If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my taglist, please let me know by sending me an ask. You can find me on ao3 at Storytelling_Sparrow. Thank you so much for your continued support!

Taglist:  @theresneverenoughfandoms @galaxywitchwolf13 @magicallygrimmwiccan @daring-elm @creativity-killed-thekitten @007ardra @princeyssash @demigodnamedathena @khadij-al-kubra @thisis-theroad-toruin @sawyer-saucee @iwritegayshit @gayzelley @it-me-the-phi @elfarmyenby @sparkedawg @ironwoman359 @today-only-happens-once @areyousirius-noheisdead @madly-handsome @milomeepit @princelogical @silversmith-91 @xxladystarlightxx @poisonedapples @romanamongthestars @ab-artist @ninjago2020 @anuninspiredpoet @justanormalfoot @eggheadinthemaking @gemini-the-kitsune-rp @italkbadaboutmyself

[theacerbicprince]

Answering Harry Potter Tag Questions

So my darling @xweofmanyfaces answered this in video form but I don’t do videos because I don’t know how to edit and stuff. Really, all I can do is type and prance so I’m going to type out my answers to these questions. It may be long, I apologise in advance. If there are any other questions you’d like to ask me that I haven’t answered then let me know. 

What house are you in?

I am a Gryffindor which surprised me initially but if I think about it makes a lot of sense because I am very loyal to the people I care about and I don’t think I’m brave but I know people who would disagree with me just based on the challenges in my life. 

What is your Patronus?

My patronus is a white stallion according to pottermore. I read up on what it meant on the lexicon and it was amazing how similar it was to me. 

What is your wand?

My wand, as on pottermore, is Pear wood with phoenix tail feather, 13 and 3 quarter inches, slightly yielding flexibility. According to pottermore, there has never been a recorded instance of a pear wood in possession of a dark witch or wizard. 

Favorite book?

I liked the Deathly Hallows because it gave us so much and it wasn’t as badly paced as some of the other books were and it moved me emotionally, very much so and it revealed so much of my darling boy. 

Least favorite book?

Probably the Chamber of Secrets if I’m honest. 

Favorite movie?

From an aesthetic point of view, the Half Blood Prince. Overall favourite movie in terms of soundtrack is the Deathly Hallows Part 2 but overall, tying everything together would probably have to go to Order of the Phoenix. I live for Imelda Staunton in that movie and ugh, just that bit where Alan manages to inject that much snark and sass and condescension into the one word ‘obviously’. 

Least favorite movie?

Goblet of Fire, I think a lot of people might agree with me on that one, it’s not universally that well received. 

Is there a movie you preferred over the book?

The Chamber of Secrets movie is better than the book for me. I actually feel very emotional about the ending of that movie probably because of Chris Columbus to be honest and some of the shots are amazing and the music too, John Williams excellent. 

Favorite quote?

I love this so, so fucking much. 

“It is good to see that six years of magical education haven’t been wasted on you Potter; ghosts are transparent.” 

Favorite character?

Severus without a shadow of a doubt. He’s my boy even when he’s being a total jackass and he just brings so much joy to me because he makes me laugh so much. 

Least favorite character?

Ron. I hate getting on the ship in that sense but yeah, I don’t like Ron as a character although a lot of that comes from the fact that I just don’t see him ending up with someone like Hermione. This does not mean I don’t want to write with Ron because Molly loves all of her children regardless of their flaws but I don’t personally like him. I like him even less in the movies because they took away some of his kinder, more human moments and he was like 95% jackass. 

Favorite professor?

Minerva is an absolute boss, always, that never changes. She teaches the kids so much and she’s so supportive but at the same time she doesn’t take any shit. I will always have to defer to my home boy though because he’s an amazing teacher even though he is a giant asshole about it. He is multi talented because he can teach more than the one subject and he can teach them well. He fully understands his subjects and he takes them both so seriously, more seriously than his other professors I would say. He doesn’t express it the right way but he cares a lot about the welfare of the students. There’s a reason he loses his shit when Neville fucks up so badly at Potions that Severus is practically apoplectic, because the boy is dangerous and he doesn’t want to be responsible for a death or severe disfigurement. 

Favorite villan?

Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s a great villain in that she is so unstable and you don’t know what she’s going to be doing next really. She is the sort of villain where you are constantly on edge around her and we actually get to see her in action properly and we get a full, real sense of why she’s so terrifying. A lot of that was missing as far as it went for Voldemort because we didn’t get to see much of him or how he earned his reputation. 

Favorite weasley?

Molly, she is my girl but she is also super strong, super loving and she has dealt with so much in her life and so deals with it all with barely any complaint. She is so giving to everyone, she takes everyone in and is so welcoming and approachable and it’s not something that she thinks about doing, it’s just natural to her. 

Favorite marauder?

Remus because he isn’t a giant douche. Remus is also the one that seems more understandable to me. I think we’ve all been there at one point or another where we have seen an injustice and we have to decide what we are going to about it. He didn’t actually want to kill anyone, he didn’t take a savage delight or really any delight in what was going on and he’s apologetic about it. He doesn’t come up with excuses for his actions or lack of actions, he accepts the responsibility of what he’s done. 

Are there any characters you felt differently about in the movies versus the books?

Gilderoy Lockhart and that is just because Kenneth Branagh is just amazing, he is a stunning actor and I admire him greatly as a professional and he made Lockhart far more likeable.I actually enjoyed watching him in the movie whereas I hated reading him in the books. 

Which character do you think you’d have the closest relationship with?

Probably Molly if I’m being honest, we are quite similar in some senses. Severus would struggle to tolerate me but I think he still would put up with me. 

Which class would be your favorite?

I am a huge history fan so yeah, History of Magic would probably be quite high up on my list. I think I’d like DADA too, combat you know. 

What would your boggart be?

My daughter (from my dreams) desperately wanting my attention because she needs me but I’m too out of it to be able to help her, my darling Penny with my health conditions. Oddly specific I know but it is a massive fear. 

What position would you play in Quiddich?

Seeker probably, I have good eyesight and good hearing too. 

Would you be a pure-blood, half-blood or muggle born?

I would be half blood, just makes sense for me. My mother is Scottish and my father is English so it makes sense that I’d be half and half magically. 

What job would you want to have after leaving Hogwarts?

It really depends on what my specialisation would be to be honest. I might teach for a while, I really enjoyed being a tutor (which was my job up until September last year). 

Which of the Deathly Hallows would you choose?

The invisibility cloak. I don’t need great power in my life and my loved ones would drive me insane because I would want to see them so often, to touch them and I couldn’t. The invisibility cloak is remarkably useful. 

Which spell would be the most useful to learn?

A healing spell of some sort, always useful. 

Do you have any unpopular opinions about the series?

MY HOME BOY IS A GOOD MAN! It is not creepy that he was in love with Lily for that whole length of time. Stop having a go at my man, he’s not a creeper. 

Either or/if, would you rather:

Wash Snape’s hair, or listen to Lockhart ranting about himself for a day?

Do you even have to ask that question? I would massage that scalp aaaall day.   

Duel an elated Bellatrix, or an angry Molly?

Angry Molly would be terrifying but an elated Bellatrix is guaranteed to torture me to the point that I am desperately crying out to die. 

Travel to Hogwarts via Hogwarts Express, or a flying car?

Hogwarts Express, you can get up and walk around the train, stretch the legs which is good for me because of my nerve damage and pains in my hips etc. 

Kiss Voldemort or give Umbridge a bubble bath?

Kiss Voldemort, I do not want to see Umbridge naked. 

Ride a Hippogriff or ride a Firebolt?

Probably the Hippogriff, I think it’d be far more comfortable and I could actually talk to the Hipprogriff and not feel like a lunatic. Who talks to their broomstick eh?

Hallows Or Horcruxes?

The horcruxes are a fascinating and interesting concept especially when you look into the whole process and splitting the soul. Is the soul split every time that you kill? 

If you could own one of the three Hallows, which one would it be and why?

Invisibility cloak, this was addressed earlier. 

If you could bring one character back to life, who would it be?

This motherfucking question right here. I’ve been thinking about this question for hours, honest to Lords hours. You’d think I would want to bring Severus back to life but there is one person in particular who comes to mind because it’s just so tragic and I would want to change it so badly and that is Tonks. I want Teddy to grow up with his mother and Andromeda to not have to deal with the loss of her daughter as well as her husband. 

[magibigbang-blog]

Fic Summaries Post

We apologize for the delay in this post- between people dropping and unforseen health circumstances in the mod team, things were a bit delayed. Thank you so much for your patience! The artist claim form will go up tomorrow at 1 PM EST, so that people have a chance to read over these and decide which fics they are interested in drawing for. 

With no further ado, let me present our stories!

FIC 001 Ships: Sinbad/Judar Characters: Sinbad, Judar Rating: M Warnings: Graphic Violence Additional Warnings: Mentions of slavery and abuse Summary: Somewhere between the painful burn of his clogged lungs and the bloody petals falling from his lips, Judar remembers a distant past and a broken slave with exquisite golden eyes. A slave who now is the mighty king of Sindria. soulmate!AU,   Hanahaki!AU

FIC 002 Ships: Sinbad/Judal Characters: Judal, Sinbad Rating: M Warnings: no major archive warnings apply Additional Warnings: Nothing in particular, I’ll keep you guys updated as I continue to work. The rating might be explicit depending on... how explicit I decide to go with nsfw :’). Summary: In a world with no use for kings nor magi, Judal has never felt more alone. It’s only the rumors of a certain king’s return to the world that reignite his sense of purpose; however, it is the fate he so desperately abhors that brings Sinbad back into Judal’s life, and he finally begins to understand the love of fate.

FIC 003 Ships: Juhaku, background Alimor & Hakuei/Paimon Characters: Hakuryuu and Judal Rating: T Warnings: No Major archive warnings apply Additional Warnings: none Summary: Modern Figure Skating AU. Ren Hakuryuu is an up and coming prospect in the figure skating world. He’s been trained all his life by his coach and aunt, former champion Arba, to surpass her and gain prestige for himself in their chosen sport. However, his first attempt to move onto the world stage is soured when he meets Judal, an equally skilled skater who is seeking the exact same thing and being coached by Solomon to achieve it. Much like their trainers, each of them is instantly put off by the other and are determined to leave everyone else in the dust in pursuit of the gold medal. However, as they train for competition, they find their fierce rivalry developing into something much deeper.

FIC 004 Ships: Judal/Hakuryuu Characters: Judal, Hakuryuu Rating: T Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Warnings: Does it count as major character death if one of the characters is dead before the story starts? Also mentions of magic bullshit violence/death/ghosts Summary: Hakuryuu stumbles upon a dead amusement park, now inhabited by the ghosts of past patrons, magical creatures, and Judal, a former employee who PROBABLY should have died from all the bullshit he did in the park after hours. Hakuryuu is clued into the world of magic and has run from his mother's magical cult, with plans to gather power and fight back.

FIC 005 Ships: Sinbad/Ja'far Characters: Ja’far, Sinbad, and a small orphan girl... Rating: Not Currently Sure Warnings: Graphic Violence Additional Warnings: I’m not entirely sure what I want to do yet in terms of darker content, but there could potentially be disturbing themes or imagery, as well as physical harm to either an animal or a child... Summary: In the wake of loss, Ja’far finds himself incapable of moving on in his life. Drakon, concerned by his lack of self care, relieves him of his work and insists he travel. Upon heading to the only land untouched by his former fiancé’s legacy, however, Jafar learns he can’t truly outrun his despair. Mistania, instead of a new start, brings him a stranger with the exact face and voice of a man he once thought dead. Now, set into the turmoil following a revolution, he’s on the run with an amnesiac, a dog, and refugee princess. What has his life become... Longer summary/planning document can be found here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Az6dKCZOM3hQkAtzvWo-VsK9MkjiSvqfVkOIE7_N1qE

FIC 006 Ships: Kouen/Judal, Sinbad/Ja'far Characters: Kouen, Judal, Gyokuen, Kougyoku, Kouha, Koumei, Hakuryuu, Hakuei, Sinbad, Ja'far Rating: T Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings Apply Additional Warnings: None Summary: When the only way to access his inheritance is to get married, Kouen has to turn to Judal, his right-hand man. Kouen will do anything to protect his family, but falling in love with his new husband makes it just a bit more complicated.

FIC 007 Ships: Gyokuen/Hakutoku Characters: Gyokuen, Arba, Hakutoku Rating: M Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings Apply Additional Warnings: Some sexual content, unsure of how explicit it will be Summary: Growing up as an orphan, Gyokuen wanted nothing more than to have a family of her own. But being a person who regularly starts fights, it was unlikely for her to get married. That is, until a traveller named 'Toku' expressed interest after she beat him in a fight. But that was just the beginning of her problems as soon, a curse her family had been harboring comes to haunt her, the very same curse why she was abandoned in the first place. And that curse has a name; 'Arba.' As time went on, 'she' claimed more and more of her family's lives and Gyokuen cannot do anything but watch as she killed them with her own hands.

FIC 008 Ships: SoloShe, AlaKou Characters: Aladdin, Kougyoku, Solomon, Sheba Rating: G Warnings: No Major archive warnings apply Additional Warnings: none Summary: Post-Final Arc! It shouldn't have been possible, but in front of Aladdin stood King Solomon and Queen Sheba. Something gone wrong with the Rukh, but Aladdin's just happy he gets to meet his parents.

FIC 009 Ships: Gen, with some Badr/Esra Characters: Sinbad, Kil, Yamuraiha, Maader Um Mariadel, Falan, Arba, Ja'far, Badr, Esra, Fatima, Masrur, Mystras Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings apply Additional Warnings: Canon typical violence, abuse, guns, starvation, eating disorder mention Summary: Thousands of years after the events of Magi, Sinbad was reborn and lives his life as a High-school student in New Remano. When he meets a mysterious girl with a link to a past that he cannot remember and discovers a plot against him he must fight to stop history from repeating.

FIC 010 Ships: no ships expected, potential for otome game style harem teases Characters: Kassim, Kouen, Koumei, Kouha, Hakuryuu Rating: T Warnings: No major archive warnings apply Additional Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort Summary: Kassim lives and stays in Balbadd as it's reformed by the Kou Empire, which has moved in as canon. He approaches the princes to change Balbadd back and ends up working with them (begrudgingly) to aid Balbadd's integration. This allows him to interact with them, his own people, and help work out the hidden scars of the royal family. Now that he's finally talked to his own family, he doesn't want to see the one in charge of his home destroy themselves and everything around them.

FIC 011 Ships: Gen, maybe some ship tease for Ja'far/Masrur, Ja'far/Drakon, and obviously, Ja'far/Judar. I suppose there could also be hints of Ja'far/Sinbad, due to some reminiscing about the past--however, I want the artist to know that I am trying to write Ja'far as a person who is learning to become more independent and self-motivated, rather than motivating himself with Sinbad's goals and pining constantly for Sinbad's return. Characters: Ja'far, Judar, and supporting/somewhat major roles from every ex-general of Sindria. Any other characters would have brief appearances. Rating: T Warnings: Graphic Violence (canon-typical) Additional Warnings: Canon-typical violence Summary: The world has changed and there's work to be done. With the shifted landscape, changes in leadership, and the departure of a certain king, there's a never-ending stream of challenges to be overcome. Oh, and the brat magi of Kou has up and vanished without a word of warning. Well, Ja'far is sure they can do without. Like with all cockroaches, he's a pest that always turns up eventually. And besides--he's far more concerned about the black cat he stumbled upon in the gardens, found wounded and mewling in hunger. Sure, its personality is a bit aggressive, and it claws him every time he tries to pet it, but that's only natural for such a frail, scared little animal, likely separated and lost from its mother. And he's always had a soft spot for cats, as Drakon would say… The first chapter will be from Ja'far's perspective and the rest is Judar begrudgingly witnessing the events through his cat body and getting used to his short bout as a cat. Basically, this fic will explore the changed/re-emerging relationships between Ja'far and the other ex-generals after the end of the final arc, and will attempt to explain how Judar and Ja'far--two polar opposites that fell in hate at first sight some years ago--reach a mutual understanding and tolerance of one another in this new world. I definitely do see this as a multi-chapter fic that will stretch beyond 10k words and the required scope of Big Bang!

FIC 012 Ships: Gen Characters: Hakuryuu Rating: Not currently sure Warnings: No major archive warnings apply Additional Warnings: Canon Death, and Canon Violence Summary: Hakuryuu wondered what his place was with his family before his family massacre as he was the youngest son. Even now with his new siblings, he still struggles to find a place among them. With meeting Alibaba and the other he felt as if he had finally gain a place where he can be himself but again he stuggled to find himself accepting the hand he was dealt and goes off with Judar.

FIC 013 Ships: Gen, potential background sphintitus Characters: aladdin, ja'far, scheherazade, yunan, ugo (as a cat), yamuraiha Rating: T Warnings: No major archive warnings apply Additional Warnings: this deals w the aftermath of living under the influence of a cult, so certain gaslighting/brainwashing/false worship fall under it. specific ptsd, possibly, and panic attacks, with adjusting to normal society. Summary: modern au. deals with aladdin, after the cult al thamen is disbanded, and the only life he's ever known getting thrown on its head.

[for-the-love-of-a-blog]

A music graduates story.

It’s very unlikely ANYONE will ever see this and certainly not the people who need to see it. I am just at a stage in my life where this ball of hell that’s inplemented itself into my stomach needs to get some relief after the last 4 years. So, in attempts to atleast hide my own identity I will call myself James.

Hi! I’m James, I’m 22, a music graduate and someone who struggles with mental health issues and have done for the last few years. If anyone reading this thinks, ugh here we go another sob story. I guess you could view it as that but I am using this to get out some of pain that is in my system that I need to get out.

I guess we can start at around 2015. A very over enthusiastic musician, looking to go off to a college of music and study how to get into the career of a classical musician. I spent the few years prior working hard both as a musician as well as a stage hand and a few other bits to try and make sure that I had a well rounded experience of the arts industry for my future. Well, it got to university sign up time and I sent out a few applications and got some auditions. FYI, I’m not a very good academic person and did enough to get by so getting an audition based off my perfomance and how I played was just what I needed. So, one thing leads to another and I get a place. I’ve never been so happy in my life at this point, I was just so elated to have some kind of congratulations for the hard work I had put in up to this point. I worked for the remainder of the year, through my exams and anxiously awaited my results day. I got in, I watched my friends do the same and some not get what they wanted. It was an incredibly sobering moment, I had done what I spent so many years working to do. I was finally going to study to become the Orchestral musician I always wanted to be. It was the culmination of the last 10 years for me. Everything came down to this and I couldn’t have been happier. At least, I thought that was where my life was going,

Starting college (My university was technically called a college so I refer to it as such) all alone was terrifying, I got there and walked through the door to a room full of people already friends.... Little did I know that starting the year in dorms was the best thing to do and me staying at home didn’t do much for me socially. I shook it off at the time, tried my best to make friends and talk to people. It wasn’t easy but I seemed to do okay, slowly making friends and kinda talking to a few people. However, it also showed that I was the complete outsider. I didn’t fit in, there was a culture there that no matter how I tried to work with. I just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a good start, the next few weeks was a getting to know you portion of the course and for a bit of context I am not a drinker. I don’t enjoy nights out/house parties and it always felt like I was behind everyone in the making friends category. Again, there I go to the outside. In amoungst all this there was an injury that made playing very difficult having to start my performing ability almost from scratch wasn’t easy. I started having problems with my upper back and shoulders too making my ability even more hindered. This was all within my first term, also during this period a very toxic relationship I was involved in was coming to an end which caused me a lot of long lasting damage that took a long time to get over. By no means do I view this as ‘Ohh woe is me, I have had it all stacked against me’ No, some things were my fault. I was shy, which didn’t exactly throw out the ‘Ohh come and talk to me’ vibe. During this first term was where shit hit the fan. 

I decided that I would discuss this with my head of department. I thought that maybe the person who is supposed to be my pastoral care would be able to tell me what I can do to sort out my life and put myself in a better position. That was my biggest mistake. They were a horrible human being, feared by some and seemingly loved by other. Everything that was discussed with him would be twisted to make you feel like it was all your fault and that it was something that you should deal with alone. Rather than drag out this section about this person I will just say this. I saw him in my first and some of my second year (He was promoted to a different position) around 20/25 times. I left that office probably 80% of the time feeling worse than I entered being told that because my playing ability wasn’t as good as they wanted (knowing about this issues I was having with playing) that I was creating ‘A bad image on the department’. Just for making an effort to try and improve my own ability in a safe environment. 7 times, I left that office and made an attempt on my own life. I just couldn’t deal with it, I was that bad that just because I am struggling even though I made it very clear that I was trying my absolute hardest to keep up I was that bad. I just couldn’t cope. It all looked very bleak. Aside from that person, there were conductors who were picking me up infront of 30/40/50 other students in the university for not being able to play at their standards. Granted, this will sounds like I wasn’t good enough and that’s it. My defence against that is I was never given the chance to improve after the beginning. I was never told ‘Focus on improving your playing then we will start putting you into groups’ like I had seen with countless others in the college. I hated him, I hated the place, I hated everything there and worst of all I hated myself. Right now, I can tell you I have tried to commit suicide 14 times in the last few years. They are just the attempts that got further than the thinking stage which honestly were daily. That still haunts me now. 

I was followed by the pain and feelings of the first year throughout the second year also. With the same issues following me, except this year there was an expectation that was on you to be better than the first year. I wasn’t and the cycle begins of being called a waste of space and that I should probably just finish by staff. I felt hated by everyone. I felt like I was the person to be avoided. Which wasn’t helped by my already poor mental health. It was the worst thing I have ever dealt with. Talking as someone who has graduated, I still don’t remember getting through the last few years and the course. It just isn’t there, I still feel that loneliness whenever I see people from college enjoying life and all my friends from high school just living there lives. I still feel that inept ability whenever I see them getting jobs. It is enough to make me cry and that again follows me every single day of my life.

The help I recieved in college was honestly life saving. I went through 2 Counsellors, 3 Mentors and honestly one of the student caring staff that I could ever hope to see. Obviously, I won’t say who they were but they are angels and each one of them are some of the best people I have ever met and will ever meet. 

There are other thing I dealt with but I won’t go that far into the rabbit hole if not to avoid this being that long but to protect myself. I’m sat here now, in my room and just ranting this out of my mind (Sorry for the poor spelling) but I can’t help but to think about me before I went in to university. Happy, sociable, musician and someone who wanted to live that life more than anything and worked for it. Now? Someone who wouldn’t want to pick up an instrument for anything and has wasted 4 years of my life and tens of thousands of pounds. So that’s where I am now. I have a loving girlfriend who is the absolute gem of my life and means the absolute world to me. I just feel like the worlds biggest dissapointment. I’m looking for work thinking that the others in my course are going off and doing masters and looking to amazing careers while I look at supermarket jobs.... 

P.S If you read through this, I thank you. It maybe means nothing to you but to me this is the skeleton of my life. It’s not everything but honestly it is what haunts me every day. 

P.P.S I haven’t proof read this so if it’s hard to read, I apologise again.

[shellyscribbles]

Stream of consciousness

Thinking about marriage and my values.  I read an argument on twitter about abortion this morning.  There was a woman who is married, pregnant with a wanted child but a difficult pregnancy.  She said it made her understand that no woman should be forced to undergo that against her will.  

How is it possible that someone could think that?

I have migraines with auras. I can’t take combination birth control that mimics pregnancy because I would have a migraine for weeks on end.  So, while I have not been pregnant, I do not really expect it to be the best time of my life.  I still want children.  I would never terminate a pregnancy if I could help it.  I don’t think my comfort is the goal of life.  I tried it.  I would rather struggle and suffer and do something worth while than waste all my time chasing down comfort.  

I feel like that is missing from society, the notion of suffering.  We want to eradicate it at all costs.  We must give people free stuff because they are poor; they are suffering.

We all make choices in life and while I believe in compassion, I don’t think hand-outs do the soul of a person good.  I think that’s why people get stuck on welfare.  People need opportunity and maybe guidance to make better decisions.  Just giving someone something because they don’t have it doesn’t take into account whether or not they are responsible for having nothing.

I made choices when I was young that resulted in me being a bit delayed in self-sufficiency.  Granted, I was never fully comfortable with the notion of being some career woman who made a bunch of money and lived in a big house alone.  While I did desire to run my own business at one point, maybe I will in the future, I understood I would be in debt for a long time before succeeding at it.  When I got married the notion of doing anything to put us into debt pushed that idea back.  

But back to being young, I worked a dead-end job for years.  I lived with my parents going to a junior college with no real aim and working this job.  For years. Seven of them.  It wasn’t until one of my teachers whom I had for four different classes finally noticed I wasn’t going away and pulled me aside and asked what my plans were.  I realized I didn’t really have any.  I wanted to be a worship leader, so I was taking music classes, but I hadn’t really thought of getting a degree.  So, we looked at my transcript and found the first degree I could get.  Music History. 

I became a full-time student after years of taking two classes at a time, and realized that I didn’t want to study music.  I love music. I love singing and I still plan on leading worship, but I have learned worship isn’t about musical skill.  A good worship leader has a strong relationship with God, not a fancy degree.  Plus, I hated those two years of grueling work to get that degree.  

With music ruled out I then found myself without a path to follow.  What would I do if I wasn’t studying music?  I remembered being young and all the little businesses I tried to start and so I registered for some business classes.  I love accounting.  I fell in love with business.  I wanted to study accounting, but I ended up really behind in an application and got rejected to the closest school with an accounting program so I looked at the other close university and picked the closest thing, management.  

I have doubled my income from my dead-end job and I now have promotion options available to me if I say the word.  But now I am married and hoping to start a family soon and I have zero desire to be working full time while trying to be a wife and mother.  My boss does it and she is amazing, but she also lives with extended family and has a massive support network as well as a different mindset than I have.

As I look back on my life to this point, I have always wanted to be married.  That has always been priority one.  It took me 28 years to find my husband.  Well, I met him when I was 17, but I was 26 before we began dating. But even when I discovered accounting and toyed with the idea of being a big wig accountant, I had a check in my heart. How would a family fit into that? Would I be okay with paying someone else to take care of my kids?  Would I be okay with delaying it?  Would my future husband be okay with that choice?  Would I want to marry someone who was okay with that?

I think ultimately the accounting path was not truly what I wanted.  I think I meandered through school because none of it was really what I wanted.  I wanted a family.  No one really expresses that as an option for women.  We are supposed to pick a career path, no a life path.  Would I have made different choices if I had thought of what I really wanted when I was young?

I think the one time I was on the right track with regards to school was in high school.  I was looking around for schools with good English programs because I wanted to be a writer.  Not really sure why I didn’t take that route.  I guess I am glad I didn’t, I do like the skills I have acquired throughout the years, but sometimes I just wonder why I made that choice. Now that I think of it, I started the junior college meaning to study computer networking and then I learned that I would have to run wires and that sounded like no fun at all.  

I think I started really seeking to be comfortable while I was caring for my grandmother.  She had a heart attack and we discovered she had pretty advanced Alzheimer’s as well.  We knew when we went to the hospital to see her that she could not live alone anymore.  My sister was just newly divorced with a plethora of obstacles of her own to deal with.  My parents both have pretty hefty health constraints, plus they have their own home that isn’t quite designed for an elderly person to live in.  Grans house was specifically designed with convalescence in mind because of her husband who often used a wheelchair due to his health issues and experimental surgeries to correct it with no success.  Given the fact that I was 26 and still living with the parents, plus I went to school where my grandmother lived, I was the perfect option.  

When I moved in with my grandmother, I was terrified.  The first night I remember getting there, gran was settled into the din on the couch where she loved to lay and I sat in the living room on the green chair and my dad started to head out.  He gave me his friend’s number that lived around the corner so I would have someone closer than twenty-five minutes away.  Then he left.  I sat there thinking of the vest the hospital had given grandma which was supposed to shock her heart back into rhythm if it stopped.  It felt like her life was in my hands and I wanted to cry thinking of how I hadn’t even taken care of myself on my own, now I had another person to care for.

I think I took to it fairly well.  It was difficult to not be alone in the way that one is not alone when they live with someone with dementia.  She was afraid and always needed to know where I was.  I had to prepare all of the food, keep the house up, keep the bills paid (granted not with my money, its different doing that with your own money haha), keep gran clean and entertained.  My sister would tell me it was like having a child and I would get so frustrated because I was watching her die not grow.  She knew less at the end of each week.  It was getting increasingly difficult, not better.  The only reward was knowing that I got to show her that she was loved which is something I always wanted for my grandma.  She lived as a widow for thirty years and I wanted her to know she was a treasure.  I got to show her that.  

But it was so hard.  I experienced depression for the first time in those two years.  It’s ridiculous how all day all I wanted to do was sleep and as soon as it was time to sleep, I would become incapable of it.  I would be up until 2 or 3 in the morning watching Netflix, mostly because it was better than laying there thinking about everything.  I wanted anything to make the weight of it lighter, the pain of it less.  I was relieved when it was agreed in my family upon my engagement that I could not bring that stress into my new marriage (there is that instinct I had again, the marriage was priority and I needed to protect it). Gran was moved into a care home on the first day of the month my husband and I were married.  For twenty days I had the house to myself with the exception of my family getting an estate sale together.  The property is in a trust and it was agreed it would be best if my husband and I could move in and keep up the house rather than sell it or rent it to strangers.  

So, then I was married. I had everything I wanted.  It was amazing.  Now I was running the house with my own money and it was so real.  It was nice having the advantage of I knew this house; I knew these bills.  It was nice. It was kind of too nice.  I suddenly felt aimless again.  What now?  I even felt like a bad Christian.  I struggled to read and pray.  I still just wanted to be comfortable, I took no risks.  

I think the struggle and my realization that I have a selfish streak, exacerbated by that period of depression, came when my husband began to mention his interest in going into law enforcement as well as our discussions of beginning a family.  I slowly began to realize that I don’t get everything I want when I get everything I want.  Supporting my husband as he goes through the academy is difficult.  I work over thirty hours a week while keeping up the house and yard on my own as well as the meals.  I don’t always want to, it isn’t always fun, it isn’t always appreciated as I wish it were, but its right.  Its good.  It’s working to get us through to when he gets his full job and we become able to support a family with me not working over thirty hours a week.  

I got on this train of thought because of a pregnant woman saying women should get the option of abortion because pregnancy is uncomfortable.  What good thing comes from comfort?  There is a cost to everything.  You can’t have everything for nothing.  That isn’t how the world works.  And looking back, it was that season of seeking comfort as my priority that was the least fulfilling of all of it.  I am happier now that something has forced my own comfort to play second fiddle to something with some meat to it.  

[hollenka99]

Lost and Found

Summary: Jameson spends time with his kids, creates one of his most famous shorts and a jazz singer threatens to kill the Jolly Gentleman.

Warnings: Reference to blackface, 

September 10, 1923 Dear Mother,

Already, Anthony is in middle school. He has begun attending Joseph Le Conte Middle School. They only began admitting students last year. Therefore, his class is only the second to join the school at sixth grade. I asked him what he thought of this but he seems to be nonchalant to a degree.

In your last letter, you spoke of your hands. I am empathetic. I understand not wanting time to leave you behind. For you, it is the inability to sew because of your osteoarthritis. For me, it's the inability to speak properly due to my vocal cord paresis. I am willing to bet genuine dollars that they will discover a way to incorporate sound into the pictures and make the shift within a decade. I have half-heartedly made peace with my limitations. I fear it's long due that you do the same with yours.

Don't make any dolls for any of your younger granddaughters, not if it is guaranteed to be at your expense. If you're dead set on sending such a gift, ask Mabel to help you with crafting it. Please don't abuse yourself. That is the last thing any of us wishes for.

Yours, Jameson

December 4, 1923 Dear Jameson,

I recall you saying Floyd was a 'ghastly name'. I am guessing you never said that to Clifford. I doubt you ever will now. Especially with his birthday and Christmas almost upon us.

Yours, Mabel

December 18, 1923 Dear Mabel,

Please do not bring that up. When he announced the name to us, I held my tongue. Why Floyd? Of all the names he could have chosen to bestow upon his son, why is God's name did he pick Floyd? Not only that, what on earth possessed him to prefer Floyd to Lloyd? Lloyd is a perfectly good name, it is practically the same and I am sure it is more popular too. Who even calls their child Floyd anymore? By my guess, this time next century, Floyd will grow so unpopular in favour of Lloyd that it will be a rare occurrence to meet one.

Still, he is our nephew. I do struggle to imagine how he went from Louise to Floyd. Louise is such a pretty name for a girl. When Siobhan was pregnant with Sophia, it was one of the names we considered. If in two months we have another daughter, we may opt for Grace, Victoria or Eleanora, now that Louise is off the table. Should you also have a daughter next month, I'd ask you not to steal those names. This business is already tricky enough without reducing our options.

If Floyd wishes to change his name once he comes of age, I won't blame the boy.

Yours, Jameson

Harriet Victoria Jackson Female February 8, 1924 Los Angeles Siobhan O'Hara Jameson Jackson

February 9, 1924 Dear Mother,

We have finally been blessed with the second daughter we had been hoping for. Therefore, six grandchildren is all you're getting out of me. At least there won't be any more debates between myself and Siobhan.

We've given her the name Harriet Victoria. She was born late last night which, yes, means her birthday is February 8th. I was aware it was a possibility but I convinced myself the chances were unrealistically smaller. I don't seem to have much luck when it comes to when my daughters are born, do I? If they're not being born far too early, they're born on what should have been their uncle's 44th birthday.

Her name is deliberate. We both like Harriet and Victoria but couldn't decide between them, among other contenders. We almost picked Eleanora. However, once she was actually born, Harriet Victoria seemed to be the perfect combination. It is fitting for her birthday.

Yours, Jameson

April 29, 1924 Pearl,

Do you mind fixing the stitches on Sophia's new doll? Mother barely managed to get the thing to stay intact. With her osteoarthritis, I'm surprised she got as far as she did.

I don't want to rush you but I would prefer if it was done quickly. I spun a tale about the doll needing the night to get used to America. Sophia believes the toy is going to explore our sitting room as she sleeps.

I am sorry for asking this of you at such short notice. You know how I hate to be a burden. With your expertise, there is no doubt you will do a fine job.

You have my eternal thanks, Jameson

May 1, 1924 Dear Mother,

On Sophia's behalf, I'd like to thank you for the doll you made for her birthday. She adores and refuses to part with it. You certainly succeeded in making her happy.

She may love it unconditionally but it makes me uneasy. I know it must have caused a great deal of pain to make it. Your hands aren't the same as they were when I was six years old. You were even struggling when I was preparing to get married. That was 14 years ago. You should stop pushing your hands past their limits. It must hurt you to do basic tasks such as cooking. Why would you deliberately put yourself through it for your granddaughter's sake? You could have gotten Mabel to do the stitching for you. Sophia would not treasure the doll any less.

Hoping you are caring for yourself, Jameson

July 13, 1924 Jameson,

Would you be able to visit Saint John this summer? I feel this may be your last chance to bid farewell to the house we grew up in.

The truth is I am debating whether I should sell it. I know, it is a major development that possibly seems to have come from nowhere. In actuality, this has been on my mind for a while. Edward keeps me in better comfort than our parents did. This isn't about increasing our prospects. I'd never be that selfish. The issue is our mother. She can't stay there forever. Half the time, I'm visiting her to help with the chores she cannot do any longer.

She is stubborn though. I'm afraid that is a trait you've gotten from her. It isn't like you were the only one she passed that irritating habit to. We all have first-hand experience with that. I am coaxing her with unlimited access to my children. I'd like to believe that aspect is causing her resolve to slowly wane. Nevertheless, she wishes to stay in the home she's lived in since the 70s. No reminder of Granny living with us sways her either. She only replies with the fact her own mother lived the entirety of her widowhood without requiring to move to her child's house. What Mother neglects to acknowledge is that Grandma's husband was a headmaster while she ended up marrying a labourer. The difference in salaries is considerable. By this point, I can only assume the largest factor is vanity. God forbid she has to end up like her mother-in-law.

I spoken to Edith. She has supported my argument. Infuriatingly, Mother doesn't see her viewpoint as entirely valid anymore. Since announcing her impending marriage, Mother hasn't been quite as warm towards Edith. She states the only connection they share is Edith's daughters. Expressing my opinions is futile.

Still, my offer stands. Visit the house before anything is finalised. After all, she cannot remain in that house alone. I will have to sell that house despite not wanting to part with it either. The three of you in California can easily pay the bills for her with your routine sending of money to Canada. As much as I wish finances were the issue, therefore making my plans unnecessary, it is instead her health. Unless some madman attempts to replace her hands with a younger version, there is no other option for her other than to partially relinquish her independence.

Wishing you well, Mabel

July 30, 1924 Mabel,

The three of us have been discussing this matter between us. We agree with you. However, we think there is a better solution. One of us could buy the house from you. That way, Mother will live with you and be under your care but none of us will have to bid farewell to such an important part of our lives.

Tell us when it would best suit you for us to arrive in Saint John for any negotiations necessary.

Yours, Clifford, Jameson and Pearl

November 6, 1924 Dear all,

I came across a compilation of Wilfred Owen's poetry recently. I decided to buy the book. It is fitting for this time of year.

'Dolce et Decorum Est' struck a nerve with me. I was angered by the message but not in disagreement. In fact, I could hardly read past the second stanza. I was fine with the imagery of soldiers marching across the trenches wearily. However, it is difficult to read a description of a man 'drowning' from gas when your own brother suffered a similar fate. I don't know whether the type of gas mentioned in the poem is the same Harvey inhaled but the vivid image is harrowing to picture nonetheless. Yet, I persevered and reached the end. The last two rhyming couplets forced me to sit in my chair simply to absorb them fully. A Latin phrase is used, translating into 'It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country'. Never was there a saying so incorrect.

I enquired about Owen himself, only to learn the poor bastard met his end a week before the war met its own. A year younger than Pearl too. I'm glad his loved ones strived to publish his poems. People should read them and have a better understanding of what those men truly experienced. There was that ridiculous propaganda poster several years ago that I always hated. It was the one with two children asking their father what he did during the war, implying he did not enlist and was therefore less of a man. If any of my six were to question me, I'd tell them I tried to bring some laughter to such tragic times. That is an admirable feat to attempt.

I'll leave you with the lines that moved me.

My friend, you would not tell in such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

Yours, Jameson

January 9, 1925 Dear all,

Yesterday, we returned home from our holiday visit to Ireland. It's been too long since I set foot in the country. Siobhan has taken the children to see their grandfather and uncle occasionally. Unfortunately, there never ceases to be something or other preventing me from taking my leave to join them. Until now, that is.

The chorea has begun to set in, leaving his handling of utensils clumsy. Throughout our stay, Michael was as irritable and impulsive as Henry or Theodore can be in their worst moments. He is in the intermediate stage, their father tells me. He has also relayed to me how my brother-in-law's dependence on him is increasing, some examples of which I have witnessed first-hand. Having never met an individual with the condition, I must say it was quite the shock. Siobhan warned me about he may behave. I still wasn't prepared. Neither, it seems, was Siobhan. Though, that is to be expected. After all, Michael is her brother.

Siobhan pulled me to one side last night, shortly after we sent the children to their own beds. She asked if I was willing to let her return to Limerick once the time comes for her father to require assistance. I understand it's expected for her to 'obey' me as her husband but the notion I would deny her request is preposterous. This Christmas wasn't some experiment to sway my views. Her brother is chronically ill and, however much we wish it wasn't the case, he is most certainly going to die from his illness. How could I refuse to allow her to help a dying man, especially when he is family?

I will say this, I am dreading her leaving. Although it may be years away right now, she will have to leave. I am going to miss her dearly when she does. Not only that, when she finally returns to us, there's no doubt the experience will change her. I am unequipped to provide her with adequate comfort.

Yours, Jameson

May 14, 1925 Dear Mother,

I seem to be in a creative slump. All I ever seem to do is adapt previous works or allow my writings be based on historical events. Everyone appears to be interested in creating another story inspired by cowboys and the wild west. The local landscape allows for that. I don't particularly care for the genre.

Anthony is at that awkward age where I can no longer use him as a child nor can I pass him off as a young man yet. He's enquiring if there are any roles he can fill. I despise having to constantly turn him down. The boy wants to follow in my footsteps professionally. I have the power to help with that, provide him with an advantage most won't have. It frustrates me when I am unable to do so.

If you have any plot ideas to send me, especially ones that involve a thirteen year old boy, I'd be much obliged.

Yours, Jameson

August 16, 1925 Dear all,

We spent a few days to see the Redwoods in North California. I've been wanting to come face to face with them for a while. They are larger than I'd expected, this coming from someone who had already braced himself for a massive tree. To some's disappointment, they are impossible to climb due to their width and lack of low-lying branches.

It's good that we've shown them nature. They're being raised in a city, same as their parents, and not exposed to woods or rivers. Sophia thrives in this environment. Henry usually sticks by her so he has a better chance of coming across wild animals. Theodore tags along as well, likely to be part of their group. I usually asked Anthony to keep an eye on them whenever we were preoccupied with Harriet or the dogs. We didn't bring Lyra with us, unfortunately. At her age, she wouldn't have enjoyed all the stress of travelling.

I recall promising to stay by Sophia's side should she ever need the company when she was born. Instead, I'm giving her things to keep her busy because she broke her leg while exploring near our campsite. She's trying her hand at whittling which she has taken to thus far. Additionally, Theodore stole a potato from his dinner plate a few days ago. It's since had pins stuck in it and a smiling face drawn on one side. He has been named George. I will have to dispose of George when he stops looking so fresh.

Yours, Jameson

October 6, 1925 Dear all,

After asking around, I have found an outlet that will suit both Sophia and Henry. It's an organisation founded roughly 15 years ago by a British couple. It encourages children to develop into upstanding citizens through earning badges and camping. The Americans adopted it not long after. Canada must have introduced the organisation earlier than the US, considering it's part of the Empire.

Girl Scouts begin at age 5 with Brownies, which I understand to be mythical creatures. When she is 10, Sophia will move on to become an Intermediate and thereafter a Senior after her 14th birthday. Likewise, Cubs are the first stage of Boy Scouts until the boy turns 11 whereupon he will be promoted to a Scout.

The two of them look smart in their uniforms, don't you think? The photographs were taken as soon as they returned home from their first meetings. They're demonstrating their variants of the salute. Girl Scouts have their three fingers to the side while Boy Scouts are more militaristic by having their hand next to their head.

They enjoyed their first meetings so hopefully, this is a sign their enrollments were a successful move.

Yours, Jameson

November 10, 1925 Dear all,

Has 'Carving For Beginners' reached you at the Imperial yet? I am hoping to learn of your reactions as soon as possible.

This short heavily involves the children. For instance, the pumpkins at the front? Those are all carved by Oliver and Sophia. Henry scooped along with Theodore. For some reason, Sophia specifically wants credit for the wide one. The accompanying music? Siobhan's own composition. Anthony is the one who hands me the knife halfway through.

Can you guess who was responsible for clean up? That's correct, myself and Siobhan. I will give Anthony credit where it is due. We were all meant to take part in the disposal of waste materials. While the others wandered off after becoming bored, he stayed behind to finish the job. We couldn't finish fast enough. My love for preparing pumpkins with the children just about surpasses my hatred for the smell. The Gentleman doesn't exaggerate on that.

Some of the title cards were inspired by things that happened while the five of them were preparing the pumpkins. Ollie struggled to get the lid off his pen and begrudgingly accepted my help. The pumpkin screams after the Jolly Gentleman makes the first cut because Theodore held one in front of his face before roaring like he was some pumpkin monster.

I wrote this short for them, almost as if the Jolly Gentleman was instructing them on the practise. I cannot express how much fun I've had whilst making it. I should make another short involving them behind the scenes before sound is introduced to film. I'll likely wait a couple years so Harriet may be old enough to be included.

Still detecting the faint smell of pumpkin somewhere, Jameson

February 24, 1926 Dear Mother,

Recently, I've been reflecting on the events of February 1897. A lot happened. I became afflicted with something we had never come across previously. There was a race for Father and Harvey to get their wages. I played soccer with Clifford before he sent me to bed because my heart was beating unnaturally fast. Harvey sprinted whilst carrying me because he was a faster runner than Father and I woke delirious that morning. Then, after all that, we celebrated your birthday while I was recovering from the operation.

This is somewhat of a tangent but do you recall me saying I was stuck for ideas? I have one but I'd be extremely surprised if you approved of it. It involves a boy named James and his twin sister Olivia, eternally nine and two years of age. Their names are non-negotiable. If they are grounds enough for you to think less of me then I'm sorry to hear that. But this censorship outstayed its welcome years ago.

I want to honour her. I think you forget I came close to losing a daughter myself. I respect that isn't the same but I'm certainly closer to understanding than Mabel, Clifford or Pearl. The story won't be published in your lifetime either, if at all. This project is for my benefit.

I apologize for being blunt but I am not prepared to stay silent on the matter any longer. I promise it will be tasteful.

Yours, Jameson

April 30, 1926 Dear all,

Would you say I am an irresponsible father for bestowing my daughter a penny knife for her eighth birthday? Fear not, I haven't thrown caution to the wind.

There are some conditions Sophia must adhere to if she wishes to make full use of her present. She cannot use it without one of us supervising nor can she have it on her person when she isn't working with it. It will be securely stored away during those times, somewhere her brothers and Harriet are unable to access it either.

In the very least, this will save our kitchen knives from being used to artistically mutilate sticks. Working with wood seems to be her calling at the moment. She will whittle and craft wooden figures whether we approve or not. We may as well give her the tools so she may move past this phase to seek safer pursuits.

Henry questioned if he was receiving a similar present in September. Certainly not.

Yours, Jameson

August 2, 1926 Dear Mother,

Well, we've returned to the place it all began. The journey was a little chaotic with a party of eight travelling the width of the country. If anything, our time in New York has made me realise it's been a while since I relied solely on a bicycle for transport.

Ollie sounds like he has set himself high standards for his future. When he overheard his mother and I discussing the city while planning the trip, he became interested in learning more about Julliard. Now he's seen the building, he's motivated to attend. I've advised him to slow down a notch. He's still in elementary school. If anyone should be considering their education past their eighteenth birthday, it should be Anthony. Even so, he still has a few more days of being thirteen and won't begin high school until next month.

The time for college is not yet upon any of them. Should Oliver wish to apply to Julliard in several years and be accepted, I will be exceptionally proud of him. Even more so if he finds success thereafter. Moving to America at the age of 18 was risky, even with my brother by my side. I can't imagine moving to the other side of the country alone at that age. Still, if we were able to make things work in our favour, I can't see why Ollie can't.

And how could we visit New York without checking in on our favourite statue? When I retold the story of our joint trip to the Statue of Liberty and the revelation I had during it, the reactions were mixed. I don't mind. The only person whose approval of the story I need is Siobhan's.

Yours, Jameson

September 19, 1926 Dear all,

Today marks 20 years since Cliff and I first settled in New York. That city changed our lives in more ways than one. Despite all the grief we got from Edison's lot and their schemes, I look back on New York fondly. I'm glad I went there this summer. Due to all this reminiscing, I managed to dig out all my old records. Let me tell you, it was quite the trip down Memory Lane. I was almost 20 years old again.

'Streets of New York' was the first ever song I heard Siobhan sing, you know. Later, once we'd gotten to know each other, she confessed to me the song made her uncomfortable. Given its contents, I am not entirely surprised. That song earned her a lot of unwelcome attention. I can only imagine how many men asked her which street they could associate her with. In fact, she admitted to me earlier she was wary of me when I first approached her.

'Arrah Wanna', now that is a song. Oh, I remember how 'Mrs Barney, heap much Carney from Killarney's Isle' used to be my favourite sentence, even more so when Siobhan said it. Whenever I visited her apartment, she'd sing it in the thickest brogue she could muster in an effort to make me laugh. In response, I'd try impress her by playing 'Frog Legs Rag'. That tune's not an easy one. Good for a dance though. 'The Entertainer' as well. I think we played those two together on various occasions.

All of these songs mean a lot to me. However, none of the above could claim the title of my favourite of the era. That undoubtedly goes to 'The Galloping Major'. I cannot count the amount of times Cliff would play while I acted the part of the Major himself.

One time, likely at some point during 1907, the two of us spent an evening drinking. We may have recounted the Major's misadventures a little too enthusiastically. Our landlord paid us a visit after hearing complaints from our neighbours. How could we be too loud? Gramophones possess just two volume settings: On and Off. They've only devised a way to change that recently. Nevertheless, as soon as we rid ourselves of him, Clifford sang 'Nobody' and 'Moving Day' as loudly as his voice allowed him. I must have attacked the keys to match him.

On reflection, I'm surprised we weren't evicted for being highly disruptive under the influence. Not to mention Cliff was barely of age to drink so I certainly wasn't. The man could have landed me in dire trouble if he so wished. It's a good thing he was ignorant enough to believe I went about my day lacking sandwiches to picnics. I would have been fine in California. College freshmen could drink alcohol before the prohibition.

I noticed Anthony's face blanked when he truly listened to the lyrics. Yes, I'm afraid the song he associates with me giving him piggy-back rides when he was small isn't quite as innocent as he recalls. On the other end of the spectrum, Theodore probably has a year or so before he becomes too big for me to carry him as well.

Yours, Jameson

November 1, 1926 Dear all,

I've just read about Houdini in the papers. On my birthday, no less. What an odd coincidence. Although, the method of death appears to elude the reporters. I'm sure those who deal with this sort of thing need time to come to their conclusions. The man only died yesterday. Not everything is so obvious. I do, however, like to entertain the idea it'll remain as much of a mystery as his methods were in life. It seems fitting.

When I saw him, he'd recently retired his handcuff act due to an increase in imitators. Was it 1908 or '09? I can't recall. Definitely before we left New York. I took Siobhan with me to see him. The atmosphere that day was so good I almost wish I could revisit it. All these posters, promising you that 'Failure Means a Drowning Death' got us riled up for a great show. During his Milk Can routine, he'd invite an audience member or two on stage to hold their breath with him. Neither of us were lucky enough to be involved that way. I will say, the curtains were a bit of a cop-out on his part. His shows must have been more exciting when you could watch him escape.

He retired the Milk Can too. I always did plan to see his act once more. I would have liked to witness him escaping from that Water Tank of his for myself. Work, family and life in general prevented me from doing so. That's how it is sometimes.

Regardless, I hope his family will be allowed to grieve in private. I suspect Hardeen will carry on performing without his brother. He always came across as the plus one to me. I'm sure I remember seeing posters referring to him as 'Brother of Houdini'. Hardeen was the one who opened the curtains during acts. He made worthy contributions himself. Perhaps this unfortunate turn of events will allow the public to see that for themselves.

Yours, Jameson

December 30, 1926 Dear all,

Christmas in our household has been another success. Theodore, especially, has found himself quite happy with his lot. We bought him Winnie The Pooh by A. A. Milne. It tells some tales of a bear having fun with his friends, who know him as 'Pooh', in the woods they live in. I bet he would have dragged his two favourite siblings to go find sticks to throw into a stream, had we not stopped him. The next time we are in Saint John, I will make sure I bring the three of them to play this stick game on Reversing Falls Bridge.

Sophia has requested if she may have some felt and stuffing for a 'special project'. I'm looking forward to seeing what she creates for him. You'd be proud of how much her skill with a needle is improving. Not only that, I'm certain Theodore will enjoy the handmade gift too.

Nevertheless, I hope you had a good Christmas and we all wish you a pleasant 1927.

Yours, Jameson

April 14, 1927 Dear Mother,

A young woman arrived in Los Angeles with her brother several days ago. They waited for us outside the studios when we were heading to work. They are in California because she has applied to the school of medicine in Stanford. They claim they wished to see the state properly before she moves to Stanford later this year. Their journey must have been long seeing as Stanford is hours away by train and the duo hail from New York City.

Clara doesn't look anything like Clifford but there is something about her that strikes me as odd. I cannot explain it. When she smiles, I am immediately reminded of Father. It is nearly identical. If you saw it, I am sure you would make the same connection. While she doesn't appear to have inherited more of her looks from either parent, Daniel very much has gotten his appearance from his mother, at least from how I remember her.

Daniel, from what Cliff has relayed to me, is interested in pursuing studies in business once he is his sister's age. He shares that quality with his father, it seems. Back when we were living in New York and founding what was then Jackson Brothers Productions, I may have been the one overseeing things from the ground but Cliff has always been the one truly adopting the leadership role. I sincerely hope his boy succeeds in any business endeavours he sets his mind to.

The biggest mystery to me is how the two of them are 18 and 15 respectively. I was aware Clara is a year older than Alice and Daniel has a year on Anthony. That knowledge doesn't translate to actually seeing them before me as young adults. It is incomprehensible to me that the young children I once knew are practically adults now. At 14, Anthony is fast maturing to the point of becoming a man. I had been under the assumption that he would be the first Jackson to attend college. Yet, here he is, presumably demoted to the position of third. He appears to be slightly disappointed to have lost his bragging rights. I've reminded him all is not lost, he can still truthfully say he was one of the first in our family to receive a degree. Even so, he has no clue what exactly he wishes to study when the time comes.

Clifford has advised them to visit Canada if they ever found the opportunity. If they are willing to reach out to their father, they may be willing to extend that to his family. For now, they have returned to the east so they may celebrate Easter with their mother.

He has also refused to cease speaking about the few days he was able to spend with them. My ears are half spoken off from his ecstasy. I won't complain. He has regained a vigour he lost so long ago I'd forgotten he had ever possessed it in the first place. I have enjoyed acquainting myself with his eldest children. Some of my children briefly met their cousins as well. Henry has been enthusiastic about the discovery of Clara pursuing a career in medicine. He already plans to write to her on the subject.

Yours, Jameson

June 1, 1927 Dear all,

I am set to become a father for the seventh time shortly before Christmas. I know, we had planned for Harriet to be our youngest. It's always the way, isn't it?

We are hoping for another girl, purely because Siobhan would prefer the boy-girl ratio to even out. I wouldn't mind either but another daughter sounds appealing. Whichever sex the child is, I won't get to see their earliest years.

Michael's condition is worsening. I suspect he has a handful of years left. As such, Siobhan will move back to Limerick to help her father care for him. She plans to leave in January. I know she would go earlier, were she not pregnant. There is no way she would leave the baby with me. An infant needs its mother. As such, you won't be able to meet them until after she returns.

Nevertheless, I don't wish to dwell on the negative. The birth is months away. I will have to make the most of the short weeks with this new addition before I have to bid them and Siobhan farewell for an indefinite period.

Yours, Jameson

September 8, 1927 Dear Mother,

Theodore has entered kindergarten but instead of being excited, he is feeling down because Oliver has now begun his time at Joseph Le Conte. I don't understand why he is so upset by this. It is not as if school is the only place he could see his brother. Theodore acts as if he does not have Sophia and Henry at Selma Avenue also. They're in 4th and 2nd grade respectively. If this has anything to do with having a brother at the top of the elementary hierarchy, what can I say? He will do fine with those two looking out for him.

If anything, he should strive to avoid finding himself in as much trouble as they do. The two of them got a caning across their hands in the summer after an incident with a sparrow caused them to skip a class. While I sympathise with them, discipline is there for a reason. Better a ruler now than an actual cane later. I could tell them a story or two about the times I've returned to my desk for an uncomfortable remainder of the day. Knowing the trouble Cliff got himself into, he can probably beat me tenfold in regards to anecdotes.

What's worse than all that is the fact we are still very much missing Lyra. Holly and Woodrow may be able to fit on our laps but that doesn't compare to the way Lyra would curl up besides the children when they played on the floor. It broke my heart to have her put down. Siobhan loved her slightly more than I did. After all, Lyra was meant to be her dog and she spent more time with Lyra than I did.  She was always a sweetheart and so gentle towards the children, even when they were young and not so gentle towards her. Holly and Woodrow also appear to be missing her. Still, she was thirteen and I could see old age was bothering her. Human and canine alike are sticking by each other's side to comfort ourselves with the other's company.

Yours, Jameson

October 18, 1927 Dear all,

The future of the pictures has finally come.

Despite everything, I'm not bitter enough to ask you don't give the Warner brothers your money. Truth be told, 'The Jazz Singer' isn't terrible. Although, I still retain the opinion that blackface looks ridiculous. Actors need to improve their make up or find a genuine black person who wants to act. I haven't come across one yet. The majority of them sing instead. They write great music too.

It doesn't matter. I'm going to try not be impressed we now have the technology to have dialogue and singing all synchronised to the visuals. It's over, what more is there for me to say on the matter? I'm on borrowed time professionally. My Gentleman is going to be left to gather dust.

It's ironic, isn't it? My youngest child will grow up not watching silent pictures when their father was a big name of the era. I almost want to laugh at that.

Failing to be optimistic, Jameson

Eleanora Margaret Jackson Female December 11, 1927 Los Angeles Siobhan O'Hara Jameson Jackson

December 31, 1927 Dear all,

How was your Christmas?

Mine was spent making the most of my time with my third daughter. We've named her Eleanora, although she'll be known as Nora. She is going to be 3 weeks old tomorrow.

I have little over a week left with Nora. Every time one of my children was born, I enjoyed having them in my arms. I loved wondering what kind of individual they would become. Doing so with Nora causes a faint, unexplainable dread to rise in me. Many of her firsts will be on Irish soil, far away from me. Who is to say she won't return and be literate.

I know I have six other children, all of whom are dependent on me to varying degrees. I just can't stop hating the feeling of missing out. Like the rest of them, I want to be as much of a part of Nora's life as I am able. I suppose I should think of Siobhan. Lord knows how much she will miss. I lose one but she won't be able to see six. I really should stop these foolishly selfish thoughts.

Wishing you a happy new year, Jameson

[meditativeyoga]

Make Peace: Meditation for Reconciliation

When you really feel at probabilities with the world, method this meditation to regain harmony.

' My mind full of rage each time I hear him talk,' one of my students reports of his action to a politician. I locate myself wishing ill will towards them all, another states with a pained voice, embarrassed of her very own responses to political leaders. 'I merely can not practice lovingkindness for these individuals,' states a third. In the previous few years lots of reflection experts have been managing such emotions as they have a hard time to locate tranquility of mind in relationship to the national events and elected authorities they see as damaging. Students dealing with a hard associate, a close friend's betrayal, a painful separation, or an unfair household scenario report comparable feelings of outrage, rage, or disgust.

Often meditation trainees will ask me just what they must do when their hostility and sense of splitting up persist despite hours of lovingkindness practice as well as duplicated attempts at mercy. Even trained trainees, who recognize that their sensations are triggering them to experience as well as that anger usually obtains in the way of smart activity, in some cases discover that feelings of disappointment and also rage continue.

It's a spiritual problem: Just how do you not catch outrage and alienation, yet keep your passion and inspiration to combat for justice and social excellent? Also, when your marriage is dissolving, just how do you let go of rage, bitterness, as well as blame while at the very same time defending what you believe to be right, particularly when youngsters are involved?

One pupil told me she didn't depend on herself to practice meditation. She found herself fuming when she left the pillow, as it so increased her fixation on exactly how inadequately her ex-husband had treated her. A guy on resort -- swamped with despondence after his other half left him for another male, taking their two children with her asked if he needs to simply go residence. Possibly I require antidepressants, not reflection, he ruefully proclaimed.

One possibility for meditators wanting to refine experiences of hostility as well as alienation is a settlement technique. Frequently, people that do this practice record a significant reduction in their emotional chaos. Particularly in hard marriage and family conditions, they have found that consistently collaborating with settlement meditation has actually allowed them to ultimately progress with their lives.

Restore the Spiritual with Reconciliation

Reconciliation suggests to restore to compatibility or harmony and to restore the sacred. It is also specified as 'to earn consistent or conforming' -- as an example, to reconcile your perfects with reality. When you exercise settlement, you are reconciling on your own to the truth that in this moment there are agonizing differences or polarities between you and one more, and instead than permitting your heart to end up being closed to the various other, you are seeking to straighten the mind/heart to include them just as they are.

There is a tremendous expense to your health when you close your heart to others. On the most sensible degree, being closed down by rage or hate is not an effective setting for functioning toward change. It breeds a sensation of anguish, of victimhood, and also just what is called 'learned helplessness.' Rejecting to resolve to the way things are also means you are draining your energy in a hopeless need that just what has actually already taken place not hold true. One instructor put it this means: 'Do not wish for a much better past.' Ultimately, shutting your heart to others -- in an attempt to avoid needing to admit to on your own that you, like all various other people, can unskillful habits -- avoids you from feeling your very own emotions.

How to Practice Reconciliation

Reconciliation technique is the lining up as well as softening of the heart to be resolved with this minute just as it is. It does not include resignation or defeat. Rather, it is a means to welcome the whole of your experience, where absolutely nothing is overlooked -- not even things you assume you can't cope with. When you do not separate on your own from parts of your experience, you have much more access both to your wisdom and to your inmost worths, and also therefore your actions have the tendency to be more skillful.

To experience reconciliation, you have to recognize the truth that there are substantial distinctions in between you and one more. An effective settlement is not contingent on the loss of those distinctions, and it definitely does not imply that you will come to be friends with everybody else.

Rather, the intention to be integrated is the desire to be linked to the sacred entirety of this moment despite any type of distinctions and also to locate consistency within any kind of circumstance, even the painful.

This does not mean that you have to accept of exactly what is unskillful or to forsake passionately promoting wherefore you think to be right. It simply indicates that you do so while dealing with the other as sacred, as the 'thou' identified by the Austrian thinker Martin Buber. It is the understanding shown by the Dalai Lama when he refers to the Chinese as 'my buddies, the opponent.'

Accept the Truth

One of my students had been frozen in temper for many months, not able to take care of the practicalities of divorce, she was struggling to forgive her other half also while he continued a pattern of hurtful actions. She ultimately realized that her being stuck was because of her implied need that he transform. Via reconciliation method, she had the ability to accept him as he was and work out a parting that lessened the turmoil for their little one. A 2nd trainee, to his very own awe, reconnected with his alienated partner once he reconciled himself to specific troubles in her individuality. An additional individual was able to allow go of the outrage long held towards an abusive daddy, while yet one more found that an excruciating manager at job can actually be tolerated, if not respected.

In none of these circumstances did the student record strong sensations of compassion or lovingkindness for the various other person. Instead, each experienced the release of internal tension that had been obstructing an acceptance of the truth of just how things were. When the reality of the minute had been accepted, each of their situations might be worked with in a fashion that brought inner tranquility, and sometimes straight-out resolution. They were able to be integrated whether their antagonist was taking part in the process, and also it felt great!

Reconciliation is not an endpoint of method. It is a beginning place for proceeding to free your heart. Through settlement, you get energy toward lovingkindness -- an unconditional well-wishing that moves easily from the unencumbered heart, independent of conditions.

The Dalai Lama originates such a sensation. The woman that was lastly able to divorce her husband is only now able to experience minutes of lovingkindness towards him as one more being 'who just desires to be pleased,' as the Buddha educated. Also, the trainee with the difficult manager records that on some occasions when his manager is acting out, there occurs in him the 'heart's quiver' of concern for such a tormented heart. Reconciliation offers the acknowledgment and alignment that enable for such heart qualities to emerge.

One man reported success in practicing settlement toward politicians he discovered loathsome. He imagined his sights and sensations as comprising one circle of existence, and the worths as well as unskillful activities of the political leaders to be a separate circle. Through reconciliation he involved realize there was a third, larger circle of existence containing both smaller sized circles. This understanding permitted him to find some consistency with people he 'd formerly held in contempt. I sometimes refer to this bigger circle as the 'ground of settlement.' By relaxing in this location, we could prevent 'taking birth' in the small circle of a separate identity.

Reconciliation technique could additionally be brought into the bigger area. One long-lasting vipassana professional in The golden state has actually created an organization of fellow lawyers that are devoted to the technique of being reconciled. 2 participants of this team agreed to represent divorcing partners in negotiation talks, with the understanding that if the celebrations could not resolve their child-custody as well as worldly differences out of court, after that both attorneys would certainly surrender. In North Carolina, a priest has actually begun a fact and settlement payment modeled on the one in South Africa in an initiative to resolve community differences around Ku Klux Klan activities in earlier decades.

It deserves keeping in mind that the Buddha admonished us not to hold on to our sights and also that hatred never conquers hatred. Could you be resolved with those with which you have actually had difficulties in your life. Might all beings anywhere be reconciled.

Phillip Moffitt shows vipassana meditation and also mindful movement yoga at Spirit Rock Reflection Facility in Woodacre, California, and other meditation hideaway facilities throughout the United States and Canada.

[the-little-ace-birb-blog]

Malec: What to do when they are hurting

Magnus knew what to do. There had been a lesson on this during the mental health unit of his health class. “How to recognize when a soulmate is self-harming and what to do.” He tried to think back to that lesson.

“If you begin to see marks that look self-inflicted it is your duty to report to a trusted adult. This is a sign that your soulmate is mentally unhealthy and it is possible that you are in danger,” or something like that. Magnus couldn’t think straight. Cuts were appearing on his arm and blood was beginning to bead along them. He looked around his classroom to the rest of the students who were for the most part paying attention to the teacher’s lesson. He raised his hand nervously before retracting it quickly as he realized he had raised the wounded hand. Breathing deeply Magnus raised the other hand and flagged down the teacher.

“Mr. Bane, if you don’t have a question I would appreciate it if you would refrain from interrupting my class.” Magnus glared at Mr. Garroway and waved him towards himself silently. He arched an eyebrow but approached nonetheless, “This had better be-” he cut off when Magnus indicated towards his arm under the desk so no other students could see, “By the Angel! Bane come with me!”

Magnus stood, pulling his sleeve down over the marks before following him out of the room.

“How long ago did this start? Is this the first time?”

Magnus looked at Mr. Garroway but his gaze was fixed forward, “This is a first but they’ve always been clumsy. I have all sorts of bruises and cuts all the time. I always check the book,” Magnus referenced the book children were given to check the types of wounds their soulmate got to ensure their safety, “and nothing has ever looked like it wasn’t accidental.”

Mental illness and abuse had become rampant a few hundred years ago and legend had it that Raziel created soulmates to be protection for one another. Laws fell into place to use soulmate bonds to protect both parties. There was now a third party that wounds could no longer be hidden from. Children were given books to check any marks that appeared in case there was a chance their soulmate was in danger. And now Magnus’ soulmate was in trouble.

Mr. Garroway nodded at Magnus’ response then stopped in front of the school’s guidance section. He gestured to one door with a plaque that read “Ragnor Fell, Child’s Soulmate Advisor.” Magnus thanked Mr. Garroway and knocked on the door. A gruff and accented voice called for him to come in.

As soon as he closed the door behind him he broke. He pulled his sleeve up and began to sob, “He’s hurt, he’s hurting himself and I didn’t no. I didn’t know he’d been hurting. I don’t know what to do.” Magnus began to repeat the last phrase until Mr. Fell gathered Magnus up into his arms.

“It’ll be alright my boy. We can track him then call the proper authorities,” Mr. Fell didn’t question Magnus’ choice of pronoun. It was well known that you couldn’t be sure the gender of your soulmate but people tended to adopt gendered pronouns based on personal preference. Magnus didn’t really have any but there was a feeling in his gut that “he” was right.

He blinked his tears away and looked up at Mr. Fell. He nodded and went to take a seat. It was taboo to track a soulmate unless you thought the soulmate was in trouble. There was a special prayer the blessed few were given that allowed you to find them in a moment of crisis. Magnus tried to relax himself and prepare for whatever it was until he felt a new pain on his wrist.

Now alone with the cuts, there was a bruise the shape of a hand around his wrist. He looked up at Ragnor with wide eyes.

“What does this mean?” Mr. Fell shook his head and pulled a book off of his shelf. He rifled through it before he found something. He put the book down and started looking for something else. The whole town he didn’t pause to fill Magnus in on what was happening. Magnus looked on worriedly as Mr. Fell looked through different colored powders. He pulled out a violet colored powder and shook some out into his palm. He looked up at Magnus then blew it in his face. Magnus coughed and sputtered as he tried to dispel any powder he had accidentally breathed in. When he opened his eyes the whole world had an orange hue. His heart began to beat quickly and he started blinking rapidly to rid himself of the orange film.

“What color?” Ragnor asked flatly. Magnus looked up at the man slightly indignantly, starting to feel that possibly Ragnor was not to be trusted. Still, he was all Magnus had so Magnus told him that he was seeing orange. Ragnor frowned then spoke softly, “Domestic abuse.”

Magnus felt his heart stop. His soulmate was experiencing domestic abuse. Someone else was hurting him. It was a relief because it was easier to put an abuser behind bars than to cure mental illness but it also meant that his soulmate was in a relationship with someone that wasn’t him. As all of this washed over Magnus Ragnor began to mutter something and Magnus felt his bond being tapped by an external force. He wanted to fight it as it felt foreign and unwelcome, but he forced himself to let Ragnor into his side of his bond.

As soon as he did he could feel his soulmate struggle against it. They were fighting, not just the intrusion but something else. Magnus had never felt him this much. Ragnor had opened the bridge between Magnus and his soulmate allowing them both to fully feel each other as if their bond was complete. As the connection settled Magnus felt the boy on the other end call out to him.

“Magnus, don’t please. Go back. I’m fine.” Magnus was about to cry. Not only did his soulmate know who he was, but he knew him and chose someone else, someone that was hurting him, “No, it’s not like that. Magnus, please don’t hate me. Just go away. Tell him to go away too. I can deal with this.”

Magnus shook his head even though he knew his soulmate couldn’t see him, “I-I can’t hate you,” The voice that spoke Magnus’ words through the bond wasn’t his own so he could only assume that the voice he was hearing didn’t sound like his soulmate either.

“Then go.” The words were spoken(thought?) so softly it broke Magnus’ heart. He opened his eyes and saw Ragnor looking at him imploringly. That was when he realized he had shut Ragnor out of their bond. He took a deep breath and nodded to Ragnor. “I’m sorry darling.” right after Magnus spoke those words He felt Ragnor locate the other side. A name solidified in his mind.

Alexander.

His soulmate was Alexander Lightwood. His eyes flitted open and Ragnor was already at his computer.

“Ok, I’ve had it up to here. You tell me what is happening or I’m going to leave and find him myself!” Magnus glared at Ragnor who gave him an unamused look over the computer monitor.

“I’m looking up what class your soulmate is in right now. You got lucky. The boy goes to this school and he is supposed to be at school today. I’m going to call his teacher. Ah-” Ragnor straightened and moved over to his phone, “room 475, Mrs. Heroendale.” before Ragnor could even call Magnus was out of the door.

Alec wasn’t in the classroom. Someone couldn’t have been hurting him in a room full of other people. He must be in the bathroom nearest to that room. Magnus began to sprint through the school as his thoughts tried to swallow him whole.

Alexander Gideon Lightwood was a shy, intelligent boy in the year below Magnus. He only knew the kid’s name because last year he had come out rather dramatically. It had been the talk of the school. Posterboy Lightwood get’s tackle kissed by Sebastian after being named homecoming king along with his thought to be girlfriend. It had come out that Lydia, the imposter girlfriend had been a front, to be fair Alec had been a front for her as well as it was soon discovered that she had been in a short lasting fling with Clary something or other. But Alec’s information was more talked about.

Sebastian claimed that they had been dating for a while, though Lydia denied knowing about it, thinking Alec was fully closeted to everyone. Alec himself had never said anything about it. He had looked very surprised and not overly receptive in the videos of the kiss that had been spread around the school.

Magnus had congratulated him for his courage and come out not long after that. In fact, he had come out to Alec while congratulating him. Magnus wanted to hit himself, he had spoken to his soulmate, confided in him his suspicions of his soulmate being male. Had Alec known then? He had made it clear that he knew before Ragnor’s interference. Had he known then though? Magnus hoped not, he didn’t want to face what that meant.

His thoughts were coming to a simmer as he reached the bathroom where he could hear a pained voice, the voice of Alexander.

“I’m sorry Seb! No please I wasn’t cheating. Please don’t. He’ll see!”

Another voice responded with a growl, “I want him to! I want him to feel it as much as you! Both of you deserve it!” Were they talking about Magnus? Magnus found himself pausing outside to take in more of the situation before barging in.

“I wasn’t even looking at him! You know I haven’t talked to him since last year!” Alec’s voice was wavering but he didn’t sound as if he was in pain, just scared.

“Then how did you figure out he was your soulmate! I heard you talking to Izzy! She asked about those scratches you always have and you said that Magnus has a cat. How the fuck did you know it was him!” Sebastian was fuming and Magnus felt like he couldn’t hang back any longer.

“I saw a paper cut that day, my paper cut.” Alec’s voice was soft and Magnus could tell he was looking down like he did when he was nervous, the way his voice was subdued.

Yeah, Magnus had only heard of the boy last year but that didn’t mean he hadn’t taken interest. Magnus was bisexual and weak and Alec was hot, what are you gonna do.

He had heard enough and he ran into the bathroom. Alec’s eyes went wide and he let out a hushed version of Magnus’ name that sounded like a prayer but sent Magnus’ mind to sinful places.

Alec was pushed up against the sinks and Sebastian had a hand around one of his wrists. Sebastian’s other hand was clutched around a knife that was held up and glinting in the light. He was hovering over Alexander, a feat since he was much smaller in stature than Alec. To be fair Alec, despite the fact that he physically took up a lot of space, didn’t really take up any space.

Magnus’ jaw set in anger at the sight before him, “Get the hell off of my soulmate.” The words came out in a stalled voice so thick with anger Magnus scared himself. Sebastian seemed to be thrown off of his rhythm momentarily but quickly regained his composure.

“It doesn’t matter when he is to you, you’re nothing to him. Right, Alec.” Sebastian snarled turning to Alec who looked down and nodded his head silently. But as soon as Sebastian looked up to smirk at Magnus Alec looked up and shared a look with Magnus that spoke so many things, especially with their newly opened bond.

It told Magnus that Alec was sorry.

It told Magnus that he did mean something to Magnus.

But above all, it told Magnus to just walk away.

Now that Magnus could see Alec’s eyes, the bond that had been opened felt strong enough to travel across. After the initial opening, it had gone slightly dormant until this moment when he saw Alexander look at him like that. Both of them felt it and both of them fell into the bond. The outside world faded away and it was just them face to face in an empty grey room, one that Magnus recognized as a bond room, a place where thoughts could be shared safely.

“I’m sorry,” Alec spoke as soon as he realized that they were safe. Magnus, well the embodiment of Magnus’ emotions rushed forward to embrace Alec. He whispered softly into Alec’s soft hair which felt so real despite Magnus knowing that this was all in his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me, darling.” He was referring to what he had heard earlier about Alec learning about their bond the first time they had spoken. Alec pulled away from Magnus and looked down with shame.

“A lot of reasons. You were with Camille,” Magnus scoffed at the mention of the she-demon’s name to which Alec quirked an eyebrow but just continued, “Sebastian…” Alec shivered, “had me. And you were- are so,” Alec stopped and gestured to Magnus.

“Glittery?” Magnus questioned, trying to lighten the mood. Alec laughed and nodded.

“Let’s go with that.”

Magnus nodded thoughtfully, “Not exactly the type to bring home to dear mom and dad huh?” Alec scowled at this assessment and Magnus cracked a half smile to show he was joking. Alec shook his head and began to pace.

“It doesn’t matter now. Magnus, you have to leave. He’ll hurt you.” Magnus scoffed and lifted an arm.

“He already has dear.” When Alec just gave him a confused look Magnus checked his arm and realized that this mental version of himself didn’t have any injuries, “Well fuck that makes dramatics a little difficult.” Magnus mumbled, Alec chuckled, “Still you know what I mean Alec. As long as he has you he can hurt me. I can get you help- Yes!” Magnus cut himself off exclaiming.

Alec jumped and sent Magnus a confused expression, “What?”

“Help! I have help. Wake up or leave or whatever! Go it’ll be fine.” Alec gave Magnus a hurt look before he visibly pressed his emotions down. Magnus, sensing this disturbance caught his arm, hoping it would keep him here for a few more moments, it did. “Not like that dear. I know what do do, help is coming.” With that Magnus gave Alec a kiss on the cheek and shook himself back to reality. It seemed as though almost no time has passed. Sebastian was still sneering at Magnus and Alec was in the same position.

The look on Sebastian’s face was faltering slightly though, “What is it? What are you doing!” Sebastian demanded, dropping Alec’s arm and advancing towards Magnus. Magnus’ eyes flitted to Alec and he sent a mental message to run as he tried to keep Sebastian’s focus. Alec nodded and slipped away behind one of the stalls to the janitor's entrance. Magnus knew he only had to stall for a few more moments before-

“Sebastian, drop the knife.” An adult voice sounded from behind Magnus and he knew that Ragnor had come through. Sure enough, when he turned he found Ragnor standing with a police officer who had her hands up and was speaking to Sebastian.

As much as Magnus wanted to stay around to watch Sebastian get hopefully arrested, he needed to check on Alec. He quickly retreated behind Ragnor who peeled off from the officer to follow Magnus.

“What happened, where is Alexand-”

“Magnus!” Alec came down the hall from where he had escaped and ran up to Magnus to give him an actual hug, in the real world and not just in their bond room.

“Alexander!” Ragnor looked between the two with the makings of a smile playing at the edges of his lips, “I see that despite Mr. Bane’s reckless behavior you are both ok.” He took in the boys matching cuts, “Well almost ok.”

Magnus nodded and looked at Alec who had retreated back into his nervous shell, “We need to get you to the nurse. I know for a fact those hurt.” Magnus tried again at humor, again being rewarded with Alec’s(now real) laughter.