#but every time i almost die i lose my anxiety about random things (like social interactions and doing things alone or for the first time)

[romeowsblog]

Random thought that may not translate well but i feel like maybe i need to experience another life-threatening moment so i can stay on track

[huearmy]

Life is Beautiful - I

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is "Life is too short to... Insert something and anything here". During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything  brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing  the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and  loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut (very soft, ok?)...

Words:  7509.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter II Chapter III .

After some centuries of not living, all vampires go through a kind of midlife crisis in which everything loses its grace and eternity becomes endless boredom. Nothing new happens, humans are born, sometimes they are relevant to world history, they become vampire food or they die dull. Vampires do not need to sleep or use the bathroom, nor to feed more than once a month, so the days are long, and often lonely, which leads many of them to stand still without moving, looking at nothing until their thirst quits, forcing them to go after a pulsating neck. Many go through this phase as serial killers, with killing as their only source of pleasure, others prefer to hibernate in some dark place or tomb, because false death is more interesting than false life. Some never get past the phase.

Jimin is not like that. With almost a thousand years of existence he is totally in love with life. Every day when the sun rises and the sunlight forces him to stay indoors so as not to burst into flames, he spends his hours with a smile on his face, engaging in small banal hobbies, such as gardening or online courses at distance - after almost a decade of doing this, Jimin already has fifty-two certificates in different areas, and he is pretty pride of it. When night comes and he can go out and see the world it’s even more interesting, because humans ’nightlife isn’t as hectic as daytime, so those who live in those dark hours are different. There are those who do wrong things and commit crimes, those who have double lives or who keep secrets, there are people working to protect and save, like doctors and police, there are night guards and twenty-four hours convenience store attendants, groups of friends who spend the night partying until dawn, and those who feel lonely in their empty apartments unable to sleep... And this is the part that he likes the most: people.

He likes to meet random people in the empty metro, buy a drink for a girl who doesn't take her eyes off him and then dance with her, strike up a conversation with a homeless man under a marquee because he knows the guy must be lonely. Watching and learning about other lives keeps him alive, more than the blood he needs to drink.

He likes to get temporary jobs to have some human experience. He has worked in pizzerias, both in the kitchen - he was not very good, so he was put in the dishwasher - both in deliveries, and at a gas station, as a hotel receptionist... But now it looks like he found a job he wants to stay in, so much that it has been a year and he has not yet resigned. Perhaps Jimin has found his calling.

"It's okay... You are not alone, I'm here and I'll stay until you feel good again." He said with his sweet, angelical voice. "Can you get away from the sharp objects? Please?"

The voice on the other end of the line sounded like just a choked whisper, before the answer came, fast, heavy breathing filled the air.

"No... I can't..." The female sobbed.

"Can you tell me why?" Jimin's voice was calm. "I... my legs are numb... I can't... stand up." Her breathing was erratic and desperate.

"Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He used his most reassuring voice possible.

"No!" She started to cry even harder. "I don't want no one... to see me... like this." Jimin bite the inside of his cheek, thinking, maybe she just wasn't able to get up  because of the anxiety attack, but she also didn't say she wasn't hurt.

Regardless of the case, he needed to make the girl trust him in order to help her.

"What is your name?" He smiled, hopping she would listen to it in his voice. "... Ana" She whispered. "Nice to meet you, Ana. Do you remember my name? I told you at the beginning of the call."

One moment of silence.

"Jimin." She said with little certainty.

"Exactly, good job. Hi, Ana." "Hi, Jimin." Despite the crying voice, she was no longer sobbing.

"Ana, can you recall the last thing you did that made you feel safe? Secure?" A sigh reached Jimin's ears. As he waited for an answer his hands moved over a sheet of paper, he was drawing a beautiful face of a girl with crayons, without paying much attention, but getting a beautiful result.

"No." She said at last.

"I know you can, Ana. No need to rush. Breath." She thought some more, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Almost a full minute passed, the two of them silent on the call. Jimin did not press for an answer.

"I was watching Friends... with my cat." "Your cat?" Jimin smiled more spontaneously now, noticing in her voice an oscillation of affection when saying the word cat. "Talk more about your cat."

"His name is Sushi, he's fat, full of himself, and loving. He likes children, food and sleeping. I recently bought him a cute collar, it looks like a pink bow tie." She almost laughed.

"Wow...He is a lucky cat." Suddenly she started to cry again, sobbing so hard that Jimin hardly understood what she was saying.

"He ran away and hasn't come back yet... He's never been away from home  so long... He's all I have, there's no one else... I don't want to live... alone." "Is it just you and Sushi?" Jimin spoke more forcefully for her to hear over the sobs.

"Yes." She choked. "I can't get up... It hurts so much. I'm so-sorry..."

"Ana, do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He tried again. Silence.

"Yes." "So I will stay with you until they come to help you. You are not alone."

Jimin was a vampire in love with live, eager to live each day as if it were the most precious gift, so working in the Center of Valuing Life and Preventing Suicide was perfect. He considers himself an expert in convincing anyone that life is beautiful when he has the opportunity to say everything he thinks about. And not letting people feel alone is one of his favorite hobbies.

After all, eternity can be quite lonely, he knows how it is.

________________________________________________________________

That call is over. Jimin was searching for missing cat posts on social media. In the silent office room it was just him and three other people working, each at their separated personal table. Perhaps due to the nature of the work, or due to the late hours of the night, nobody spoke loudly or made a lot of noise when doing things, even when talking to each other, everything is always very restrained, calm.

Jimin's eyes followed the clock hands on the wall above the door. It was almost one in the morning, actually, to be exact, twelve minutes to go, so in two minutes, you would punctually enter that door with your heavy backpack full of books, of someone who just left college on the other side of the city, and after stopping at a twenty-four hours fast food to get a well-deserved burger spent an hour on a subway trip. He could already hear your footsteps down the hall, the characteristic sound of the rubber on the soles of your boots and your bunch of keys stuck in the handle of your backpack tinkling. He heard you putting your stuff in your closet and hanging your coat on the rack in the next room, and a smile formed on Jimin's face. When the hand on the clock struck ten to one and you opened the door trying not to make any noise so as not to disturb anyone's call, Jimin pretended not to notice you entering, not taking his eyes off the computer screen full of images of cute cats. You straightened up and held firmly the pair of coffee cups in your hands till the knots turned white, looking straight at him - in fact, from the moment you walked through the door you were already expecting to see Jimin sitting at his table, as always, and since then you haven't looked away. Walking in light steps - that he could hear by the way - to him who had his back to you, you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach, happy he wasn't in a call right now.

"Jimin?" You called softly, close to his ear, but not that close. Yet. Jimin contained a smile and turned around as if you had taken him by surprise. "Hey, Y/N, didn't see you there". As usual, his direct look made your heart race and you gave a nervous laugh before getting along with his flirty tone. "I bought you coffee." You handed him one of the cups. "To take the night shift a little better."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

You are the other reason Jimin didn't quit this job yet. A few weeks ago, when he was working long enough to decide to leave and go for the next adventure, you started working at the night shift, and right away you caught Jimin's attention, even though at first you didn't talk with him that much - in fact you only talked to the women on the team, and avoided the men. More than once he found himself paying attention to your emergency calls, how you talk, being positive without being suffocating for those in pain ... how you love life. After a while you started doing the same thing, a little less easily, since you don't have a vampire audition, but it was enough for you to acquire a platonic crush on Jimin, which resulted in you opening up, and you two start talking here and there. Now almost whenever you have time or money left over - college life is poor life - you bring him coffee. Jimin doesn't actually drink coffee at all, and he doesn't feel sleepy either, but he thinks it's cute that you worry for him. You see each other three to four times a week, depending on the schedule of work, and he is always eager to see you. Flirting is exciting, and he hasn't done that in a while... Like two centuries, and how it was done back there was quite different. Other times indeed.

"Did you lose your cat?" You asked, confused.

"Oh, no, I didn't." He closed the page with the photo of a white and gray cat wearing a pink bow tie.. "One friend of mine lost her cat, Sushi." "Poor thing. I hope she finds Sushi soon..." You slightly pouted.

"Me too. I'll help her." Jimin said, and the butterflies in your stomach thought it was beautiful.

Something on his desk caught your attention, a colorful draw of said cat made with crayon. Before Jimin could stop you - he was distracted by hearing your heart beat faster because of him - you picked up the stack of papers to get a closer look.

"And you drew him! How beautiful... I didn't know you were so talented." "Thank you. My friend who taught me, he is much better than me..." Jimin simply answered.

You moved on to the next sheet, where another sketch of the cat in different colors made your eyes shine. "So he must be awesome. Look at this!" Jimin was happy to be praised by you, the pink of your cheeks when speaking was a beautiful sign for him, but then he remembered what was the next drawing in your hands, and before you could see it, he cleared his throat and took them back, keeping them in the drawer. It was a drawing of a girl's pretty face. Your face. "They are not quite ready yet..." He pretended modesty.

"Oh, sorry. If you need help, just tell me. I can hang up posters or something. About finding the lost cat, I mean." You volunteered, and then looked around. "I better get to work before someone scolds me."

You went to your desk, across his, and your eyes met a few more times before as you sat down and turned on your computer. Jimin's phone rang and he forced himself to look away from your face, someone else needed him now. "Good night, my name is Jimin and you called the Life Valuation Center. Can I help?" He spoke, his voice welcome and full of affection. ________________________________________________________________

Jimin's shift ends before yours, just before three in the morning he puts things away and leaves the table ready for the person who will use the next shift, but he won't leave, even if everyone thinks so. Instead he goes to the roof to look at the stars and wait for you to leave - not that you know he is waiting for you. He was listening to a random playlist on spotify, stretching his body to the beat just because it feels good, thinking about nothing specific, just existing and feeling good about it.

The night breeze brought his scent to him, looking down from the parapet, he could see you leaving the building, with your scarf well wrapped around your neck, covering half of your face to protect you from the cold air. He doesn't understand you... It's beautiful that you want to help people who are going through a difficult time, and you've commented before that the night shift matches your other schedules, and that you like to stay up at night. However, he thinks you should consider it's not worth it. It's so late and empty when you go home, it's dangerous for a human woman, and as much as he knows that you have a pocketknife in your pocket, Jimin thinks it's silly of you. Usually he wouldn't think much about it, but it's you, and he is fond of you, he can't just do nothing about it. So even if you don't know it, he accompanies you home every night to make sure you are safe. He is only satisfied and goes home when he hears you enter your room. Sometimes he stays a little longer, sitting on the emergency stairs outside your building, listening to you walking up and down in your room, doing whatever, instead of going to sleep soon.

That's kind of creepy. He knows. But he is a vampire, he is already creepy in essence. But of course he would never watch you sleep, for exemple, this is a stalker limit that he does not intend to cross.

"Okay." He sighed as he heard you getting into bed. "I have one hour and a half before the sun rises... Let's find that cat." __________________________________________

You were awake for a couple of hours already, currently packing your books at the end of a lecture, really needing sugar to feel prepared before the last class of the day, and excited that instead of going to the study group you are a part of, you will take an experimental dance class and it's your day off, which means that instead of staying up until dawn working, you can stay up until dawn studying, and maybe sleep a little earlier. Life is too short to not take all the free trial classes available just because your schedule is already full and totally demanding. Anyways you are dead tired, wishing your body doesn't need to sleep... Since you started to work on the Life Valuation Center all your sleeping schedule went down the drain. At first your plan was to work the night shift only at the beginning, and then change your hours, but for some reason you always liked to stay up all night, also the movement of calls in this period is bigger and more specific, which helps in your internship report, and of course, in the day shift there is no Jimin... You've settled in, and now after months of this crazy, fickle routine, your body is feeling the side effects.

"Three of this rainbow donuts please." You asked at the college cafe. One because you want, two because one is not enough, three because you are greedy. Life is too short not to overeat your current favorite sugar source. You sigh to yourself, taking a seat along your friends. Your mantra for life is life is too short to...insert anything here, experimenting and doing things that you never imagined before and that your mother probably wouldn't approve a hundred percent is what moves you. Basically nothing scares you, since childhood you were courageous and fearless. You subject yourself to almost anything, within the measures of what is safe, to have good stories to tell. The world is too big to be content with just having good grades to graduate and have a good job. What you want is much more... so much more that you don't even know what... But it’s not just because you don’t know yet that you’ll stand still without going after it to find out.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you gonna do on the weekend?" Your friend, Becca, asked comfortably within her girlfriend's embrace. As usual, whenever you see the two of them together being all lovey dovey, you feel a twinge of pride in your heart, because you were responsible for them to start dating in the first place. Although your romantic life is not very interesting, without serious or successful relationships, you are a great cupid.

"For the very first time in months... I don't know. I didn't plan anything, maybe something will show up, if not I'm just going to sleep. Why?" You smiled your happy smile of eating what you like.

"Pool party. You need to get a tan, you look like a vampire with that pale, tired face of yours."

You laughed because it's true, since you started changing the day for the night, your skin has acquired a not healthy tone that you are not used to. You've been missing the sun a little.

"First of all, I'm too cute to be a vampire. Second, yeah I'll think about it, I have a new bikini I haven't worn yet that makes my breasts look stunning." One of your friends that was sitting by your side put his arm over your shoulder. "I changed my mind, I'm going to this party." He loudly said. The girls in the group didn't laugh at all. "Shut up, Mike." You playfully pushed him. ________________________________________________________________

This was the second night that Jimin was looking for the cat, Sushi. It was not difficult to find out the address of it’s owner, since he had to activate an ambulance for her, and with that he started looking for the animal in her neighborhood. Passing through the empty streets at night after his work shift, he could see the girl's tracks leaving "missing" posters with a picture of a kitten wearing a pink bow tie, on lampposts and bus stops. At first Jimin thought it was going to be easy, with his keen vampire senses, but all he found were stray cats that weren't Sushi. The second night of searching was already ending, the sun was rising, threatening to make him explode into ashes if he didn't come home soon, and no clue as to where to look the next night he had.

Before getting into the car and driving home, Jimin took one last look at the slightly open curtains in the girl's room, Ana, just to make sure she was okay. She had been discharged from the hospital that afternoon and was now sleeping on the couch, probably medicated. Jimin didn't want to leave her alone, but he couldn't just walk into her apartment and offer help, for now all he could do was find a way to find the cat. ________________________________________________________________ Jimin lives in an old pretty house in the wealthiest part of the city, it isn't a mansion, but it is big and expensive enough to impress anyone who sees it, privileges of centuries of saved money. It's a cliché, but vampires dress in designer clothes, ride luxury cars and live in expensive mansions, houses, apartments, and Jimin is no exception.

From one of the main rooms, behind a heavy curtain, hidden in the gloom, was another vampire, watching the street with intent, expressionless eyes. When Jimin's car turned the corner and up the wide street lined with huge trees, the vampire got uneasy, his beautiful restless hands worrying the hem of his sleeves. He was anxious and angry, if his heart was still beating it would be racing. The garage door opened and the car entered, disappearing from view, in the next second the vampire was no longer in the room but in front of the door leading to the garage, waiting in the empty, dark hall. The knob turned the door slightly opened, Jimin with his head down did not seem to notice the presence of the other before being attacked.

"AH!" Jimin screamed as long arms embraced his neck. If it wasn't for the wall behind him he would have fallen, yet he had no escape, with a body much larger than his overpowering him. "Taehyungie!"

"You are late! Is the second day in a row you get home after sunrise! Are you trying to die?" Taehyung said, and didn't let Jimin go just yet. "It's okay. I was careful, I just had to do a few things before I came home. Look, there's not even smoke coming out of me." Jimin ran his hands over Tae's back, making him relax. The other stepped back a little, taking his face in his big hands.

"You could have sent a message. I asked you to let me know if you were going to be late again, Jiminie..." Tae pouted, still distressed. "And why do your clothes smell like garbage? Take it off."

Even feeling deprived of affection, Taehyung walked away looking disgusted, covering his nose with two fingers. Jimin obeyed, taking off his sneakers, jacket and jeans, following Taehyung through the corridor to the laundry room, where he put everything in a basket to wash later, and also exchanged the shirt for a clean one too. "I went into some alleys today, looking for a cat. That's why." Jimin explained, feeling much more comfortable in not smelling bad.

"And where's it? I don't think Tannie will like to share the house with a cat..." "Where is what?" Jimin was confused. Tae crossed his arms.

"The cat?"

"Oh no!" Jimin laughed, reaching for Tae to take him by the shoulders. "I wasn't looking for a cat to bring home, as much as I would love one as a pet... It's the cat of a girl I met, and is very sad to have lost it..."

"I got it..." Taehyung mumbled.

Jimin was just helping someone. Again. And Taehyung couldn't say exactly why it bothers him so much every time, but it does, he feels distressed, almost as if the world around him collapsed, and it makes him think he's being overdramatic. Live an eternity when you can't even put your feelings out in moments of frustration. Damn, it is conflicting... If vampires could cry, he would. But never that he would let Jimin discover that he feels that way.

It was Jimin's turn to take Tae's face in his little hands.

"You are so skinny. When was the last time you fed?" Taehyung didn't answer.

"You don't even remember, right?" Jimin's eyes went worried. "Did you see that I brought some O- packs for you? I left it in the fridge."

"No, I didn't." A shy smile spread across Tae's face. O- is his favorite blood type, but because it is a not so common type, and humans need transplantation, it's not always that Jimin brings it to him, usually opting for his second favorite flavor or other one available.

Jimin has been trying to cheer his friend up with little treats. It has been a difficult phase, in which he thinks Tae is going through the vampiric midlife crisis. He hasn't been out of the house for almost two decades and does nothing without a little external motivation, even the simplest things like eating. So Jimin tries to bring the best blood types to fill the fridge, signed all available streaming platforms, updates Taehyung's video game consoles as soon as a new model comes out, tries to get him interested in new hobbies - which never works but he doesn't give up - and he even adopted a puppy so that Tae would never be alone.

"Come." Jimin pulled him by the hand to their modern practically untouched kitchen, opened the fridge and picked two packs of blood, the dark liquid shining at the cold light. “In my room or yours?"

"Yours."

The two of them got to Jimin's room, followed by the sound of four paws scraping the polished wooden floor, Yeontan chasing them closely. Jimin pulled the covers off the clean bed, on which he rarely lies down, so they could get more comfortable. Tae laid on his back, against the pile of smooth pillows, carefully opening a packet of blood to not spill a single drop, and put a stainless steel straw in the opening. Jimin turned on the TV, put the dog in the bed, and cuddled Tae's side, with his head on his chest.

"What show have you been watching?" Jimin asked.

"None. I've been looking for something interesting in this shit for days and I can't find anything." Tae took a sip of his blood with a pout.

Jimin chuckled. "I'm choosing then."

A moment of silence followed, in which the only sound was of Tae drinking the rest of his first pack, and then opening another one.

"I think I need to shower..." Jimin commented.

Taehyung's arm that was around Jimin tightened. "Not now. Later." Jimin laughed, thinking it was cute. An idea crossed his mind, another small treat.

"Do you want to bath with me instead?" He looked up to Tae.

Tae hold tightened even more.

"Not now. Later. Now we cuddle."

As if agreeing, Yeontan climbed over the two vampires, finding a comfortable place to lie down and join the cuddle pile.

"Ok."

________________________________________________________________

Tonight you didn't have time to talk to Jimin when you arrived at work, he was on a call, and it seemed really serious. You didn't have the money to buy extra coffee even for yourself, so you hadn't an excuse to pass quietly by his desk to leave a post-it written "Hi :)". In those circumstances, you went straight to your desk to work, to do your best to be a good listener.

To your surprise, making your heart melt and your breath hold at the bottom of the throat, you saw at the top of your computer screen a post-it with a "Hi, sweetheart." written on it, and another one with a "Look in the fridge.". After working with him for that time, regularly doing some paperwork like filling out documentation and such things, you could say for sure that this was Jimin's handwriting, besides, only he calls you sweetheart.

You checked the clock on the wall with an eager look and a silly smile. As you always arrive ten minutes early, there was time to go to the break room quickly, and look inside the fridge before starting to work. And so you did. The break room was nothing more than a small table with a few chairs, a small couch, a sink, an old coffee machine, a microwave and the refrigerator, all in a tight space lit by white lights that leave the place a little impersonal. None of your co-workers were there, as usual. You crossed the small room to the fridge and opened it trying not to make a noise, more out of habit than necessity.

The interior was very empty, with some forgotten lunchboxes, but that didn't interest you. Your goal was right in the middle. A big cup of iced coffee, from a franchise that you don't usually buy from because you find it a little too expensive for your student budget, with your name written on a post-it on top of it.

"Y/N, I wanted to be me treating you today. Hope you like it."

That coffee was as cold as Jimin's fingertips when touching yours, but it warmed your heart. Sometimes you question yourself if it's healthy how head over heels you are for this guy, for so little.

Back at your desk, now with your iced coffee, you wrote a post-it and pasted it on the back of your computer screen, where Jimin could see it. "Thanks :)" Then you started to work. Other people needed you now. ________________________________________________________________ On your fifteen minutes break time, you were leaving the restroom, passing a moisturizing hand cream - because you swear that the soap in this place dries out your skin, and god forbid you from harsh hands -, the sound of the break room's door opening made you lift your eyes from the floor. It was Jimin. He don't take breaks, it's not like he needs it, he doesn't get tired, but he didn't get the chance to talk to you today yet, so as soon he saw you stretching in your chair, indicating that you would soon get up to go to the bathroom - yes, he learned your routine and mannerisms - he discreetly left the room to meet you by coincidence in the hall afterwards.

"Hi, Y/N. Did you like the coffee?" He charmly smiled at you, he was eager to ask it to you, to find out if he made the right choice of flavor, or if he made a bad mistake and you hated it - he couldn't help thinking about that possibility. Anyway, he was looking forward to your approval.

The truth is that you were so stunned by his caring that it didn't matter what the flavor was.

"Actually, yes. I love vanilla flavored things. It's basic but it makes me happy." You fixed your hair, pulling it behind your ears. Jimin could tell by your smile and your heated face that you aren't lying.

"Nice. I wanted to make you happy." He approached you, more than is suitable for the work environment, and it made you nervous, and of course he noticed. But it was okay, if someone came close he would hear and walk away before they could see you, too bad he couldn't tell you that.

"Mission completed successfully." You said, without looking away from his eyes - no matter how much part of you shouted at you to do it, your heart felt like it was going to explode. Well, your heart has a limit, so you changed the subject. "Did your friend find her cat?" Sadness took over Jimin's eyes.

"Unfortunately not. I've been looking for him for two days and nothing, I swear I think I've looked in every street, alley and trash can. I don't want to think like that, but I think Sushi is no longer with us." He sighed, clearly frustrated. You had the impulse to rub his forearms to comfort him, it was the very first time you really touched him. "If he is a cat that wasn't accustomed to getting out, and didn't know how to walk on the street, it is possible that something bad happened... But! He's a cat, if he used to go out often, he might have some other house, other owners, and that's why he hasn't come back yet." You optimistically said.

A smile spread in Jimin's face.

"That makes sense! She told me something like 'He's never been away from home for so long', there's hope then. And you also gave me an idea. Thank you, Y/N." He pulled you into a hug, and you thought you could die.

"You welcome." You said against his chest, deciding not to waste the opportunity to return the hug. ________________________________________________________________ The day was perfect for a vampire walk in the daytime. Cloudy and rainy. No deadly sunbeams and an excuse to use an umbrella without calling attention to it. After the tip you gave, Jimin looked in the right place after accompanying you home that night, and in less than an hour he was outside the window of two children's rooms, in a ground floor apartment, looking inside, and sleeping between the feet of one of the children was the cat, he wasn't with his bow tie but there was no mistake, Jimin was sure. Even without being able to enter - vampiric rules, you only can get in somebody's house if invited, or else you explode as if you were under sunlight - Jimin could smell cat all over the house, and the windows all had anti-escape screens, which indicated that it was a family of cat people.

Jimin would need to come back to pick the cat during the day, knock on the front door and politely ask. That's why heavy weather is perfect. With a dark couture coat, covering all from his neck to the back of his hands, to his knees, a design hat and sunglasses, and last but nos least, a big umbrella, he approached the lower middle class apartment complex. Without hesitation he raised his hand and knocked. Some seconds passed by, sound of kids running inside and a voice of a famale scolding them muffled by the closed door, and then a little girl, maybe six-year-old, appeared in Jimin's field of vision, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen after all.

"Hello." Jimin smiled. "Are your parents home?"

She smiled at him, but shook her head negatively.

"Jo, who is it?" An older girl opened the door wider and faced Jimin with a frown that fell apart when she saw his smile. Great, a teenager, he thought. "What do you want?"

"Sorry to bother, I really wanted to talk to an adult, but..." Jimin lifted his phone, the screen showing Sushi's missed post. "I saw my friend's cat on your window."

The older girl narrowed her eyes as she looked at the photo, but before she could answer, the little girl she called Jo before ran away.

"No!" She screamed, disappearing inside the apartment, and then slamming a door somewhere.

"Sorry for that, please wait a minute." The teenager closed the door on his face, and he could hear her shouting and scolding the girl little inside. He was starting to lose his patience. Jimin doesn't like to be ignored at all. Should he knock again and use his mind control powers to get the cat? He was pondering the idea when the door opened again, the two girls were still loudly arguing inside, and this time it was a small boy who must be the middle sibling in front of him.

"Hi, grandma said to tell you to come in." He mumbled.

"So you are letting me get in your house?" Jimin asked with a satisfied grin.

"Yeah... follow me." The boy was avoiding eye contact, being shy. Jimin thought he was adorable.

Jimin followed the boy to a tiny living room, where an old woman was sitting in front of the TV. The girls were now silent, but clearly wanting to argue some more, and the small one was with Sushi in her arms. Jimin sighed, he likes children, a lot, even though he doesn't live with many, but he likes them even more when they're not having a tantrum.

"Hello. Please, take a seat." The old lady pointed to the old couch. The vampire obliged, and almost immediately a fat orange cat jumped into his lap. In this small room alone he could see three more of them. "So, why do you want to steal one of my babies?" Steal? Jimin was slightly offended, he already explained himself, but the chaotic situation created a misunderstanding. "I'm not here to steal nothing, ma'am." He showed his cellphone again. "One of your cats is Sushi, my friend's cat."

"That's not his name!" The little girl shouted tapping a foot on the floor in anger. Jimin just raised his eyebrows at her, making her swallow hard. But he is in control of the situation, so Jimin smiled to remain pleasant.

"Of course it is. Just watch, little one." He reached out to call the cat. "Come here, Sushi." Even though the cat didn't know Jimin to trust him - and these people don't need to know that - cats are creatures of the night, strongly attached to magic and protection in the dark hours, and in the hierarchy of the night they obeyed vampires. The only things that cats respect more than vampires are witches and their own owners whom they protect. As Jimin expected, Sushi jumped off the girl's tight hold and went over to him.

"Good boy. Ana is missing you like hell." Jimin scratched behind his ears. Before someone else could say anything, he proceeded. "When he got lost he was using a pink bow tie." The old lady was still with Jimin cellphone in her hand, and he could see she was convinced he know the cat, but wasn't intending on letting him leave with him yet.

"I'm seeing it in the post, but there was no tie when we got him." She replied. "You just didn't see it, ma'am." Jimin was tired of this conversation, it was being a lot less nice than he imagined on his way there. When he looked to the little girl to talk to her, his eyes were intense and powerful, and his voice was full of authority. "Go get the tie where you hid it, little one."

Mesmerized by Jimin's power, the girl didn't even blink or say anything as she obeyed, turned around and ran to one of the rooms. Jimin doesn't use hypnosis very often but he has fun every time. She got back with it and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He removed the effect and the little girl blinked a few times before understanding what happened.

The old lady was clearly angry with the girl, but it wasn't Jimin's business. "Well I think that's all. We are going now." Jimin got up from the couch.

"Wait!" The teenager snapped. "Jo lied about the bow to keep the cat, and that's bad, but she already loves him! You can't just take him away!"

Jimin was almost on the door.

"Of course I can. Besides, it's not because what she did is bad, young lady. It's because my friend loves him, actually this cat is Ana's family. No one should live alone, right?"

"Right!" The old lady got up too. "I'll get you to the door, tell our friend we are sorry."

"I will. Thank you." ________________________________________________________________

"You found the cat!" Tae sniffed the back of Jimin's neck. "Where is it?"

Jimin was putting the clothes he was using to wash, to remove the smell of cat and the places he passed by. And to get comfortable, as is his habit when he gets home, he just stayed in his underwear and t-shirt.

"I already gave him back to his owner." In the next second Jimin was dropping himself on the leather couch.

"And how was it? Did she thank you with tears in her eyes?" Tae leaned over the back of the sofa with his chin in his hands.

Jimin chuckled, Taehyung's thirst for drama is funny, and he's always been like that. And at least that doesn't seem to have changed...

"Well... She cried a lot when she found him in the window. She looked really happy!" Jimin sang. He was really happy too. He helped someone to find their smile again, even if it is a little bit, it made him really proud of himself, a warm feeling in his chest telling him it was the right thing to do, and that he should do it again if he gets the opportunity. Taehyung's expression changed, suddenly he was disinterested.

"You didn't even talk to her? Just left the cat there for her to find?"

"Well, yeah." Jimin threw his hair back. "I couldn't risk she recognizing my voice and thinking I was stalking her. Scaring her was not the goal, Tae, quite the contrary..."

Taehyung stared at him in silence for what felt a whole minute - maybe it really was, vampires perceive time differently. "You are not a secret superhero, Jimin. You are a vampire." Said that he got back to his room.

Jimin doesn't understand. These outbursts and mood swings leave him confused. And it's not like he hasn't already tried to talk. This... This he doesn't recognize in Taehyung. It hurt his feelings and at same time he feels it is partially his faut. "I can be both if I want to!" He exclaimed.

No answer. To find somebody who would be happy for him and understand the euphoria he felt for saving a little bit that girl he went through his contact list. A lot of vampire names - a lot is maybe an exaggeration, since he doesn't have many friends at all - who wouldn't be rude, but wouldn't understand, and also some former human colleagues from past jobs with whom he hasn't spoken in a long time and maybe should erase the number... And you. Of course you are the obvious choice. You had sympathy for the case from the beginning, even offered to help. And if it weren't for you he wouldn't have succeeded...

Jimin: hey sweetheart Jimin: I found sushi! Jimin: thanks to you btw He sent the messages, hoping it wouldn't be strange. It wasn't the first time you two texted before, but it was just an exchange of memes and silly flirt... without compromise talk. And what he wanted this time was different. You took too long to answer, and he wondered if you were in class and if he was bothering you. He wanted everything but to mess it up with you right now. Maybe he should've checked your class schedule for the week to make sure he texted you when he was sure you were free. But he was so eager to talk to someone... with you. He gave up waiting and went after doing something productive. Crochet dolls. He was doing a mini Taehyung, with red eyes and little cute fangs - an apology for later, neither of them like fighting with each other, even if you can't call that earlier thing a fight- when his cell phone started to crazily vibrate and beep.

You: OMG! You: thts amazing! You: sorry i didn't aswr before You: I was taking a nap hehe You: anyways You: i'm so happy u found him You: [image.jpg] You: ur friend must be even happier :) You: what do u mean thanx to me? You: sorry i spammed u :( Jimin can't handle you. You are too cute. You literally sent him a photo of you with an enormous smile, cheering, to show him your reaction. And you were with your hair all messed and the puffy face of someone who just woke up. Precious. Jimin: no problem, sweetheart Jimin: you said to look in other owners' houses. basically. I found him with a old cat lady with three grandchildren   Jimin: you are looking cute btw You: OwO You: i'm looking like shit Jimin You: BUT thats awesome You: if it was me id be crying til my eyes fall You weren't even there with him, in person, and you were putting a smile on his face. How dare you say you look like shit when you have those perfect cute cheeks? So alive...

Jimin: EXACTLY. that's why I wanted to find him so much. Jimin: and because you helped me, I want to reward you Jimin: i know you don't work today. me neither. do you want to go out for coffee in a nice place? You took too long to answer again, and that's because your heart is exploding and knees trembling while you stare at your cell phone screen, standing midway in your kitchen. You: u dont need to. i did nothing. This time Jimin took too long to answer. He was making a decision. To be more straightforward. More honest. Until now he was dictating a slow pace for your flirting, because for him romance is like that. But what if he tries to speed things up a bit? Or if he lets you command? How would things be?

Jimin: Y/N, respect my excuse to ask you out.

He knew what your answer would be. Even so, he felt anxious, hearing a non-existent heartbeat in his ear, while the three dots indicated that you were typing.

You: ok. what time do you come to pick me?

Tag List:  @angrygardenerr @depressed-dude20 @milktaetae95 @tangledsparkles  @wlalsrkfla @minikolima​  @wrecklesseuphoria

If you want me to add you to the list let me know, and please let comments :)

[ones-delight]

I unfortunately won’t have therapy until the end of this month (I should have scheduled one earlier this month ugh lmao I thought one later this month would be better) so I’m doing what my therapist suggested, write down all what’s going through my head even if it doesn’t make sense to help bring myself back to reality. lol. I’m very much lost in my own sauce of feelings and thoughts. it’s allllll about my ex again so ugh lmao. My main anxieties are just feelings about my ex and what’s coming up this semester.

I’m currently in my apartment in Iowa City since we’re about to start back up my usual routine. I’ve been here for almost two weeks now which is nice because I’ve been trying to take my time to relax and get myself mentally prepared for this upcoming semester. I’m also low key glad I’m having these overwhelming anxieties right now instead of later this week. I need to ask my therapist again what exactly I am feeling (if it’s like a panic attack because i truly dont know) because I’ve been feeling hella anxious the past few days (in general) and yesterday my anxiety was so intense that I barely ate and I felt sick to my stomach. idk if others have the same too but when I also get hella anxious, all I want to do is go to the bathroom so tmi lmao. I feel this way now and I just cannot stop crying so again, I’m just writing everything that’s going through my mind lmao.

#1) Related to my ex, heart break

Yeah.. I literally keep talking about this/him and I’m glad I have multiple outlets that I can say what’s going through my mind because if I keep these thoughts to myself, I keep spiraling. I’m also very thankful I have multiple strong support systems from people where it truly doesn’t get annoying to them when I keep talking about him/my overall heart break/healing journey. I know I don’t want to burden my friends with my own thoughts (it can be a lot) so overall very thankful for friends, family, and my therapist lmao. 

I think the last time I talked about my heart break was the letter I wrote to him. I wrote it and sent it to him lmao. I also wrote his mom a letter in Spanish because I want to stay connected with her and very thankful she reciprocates the same energy, Apparently, he never received the letter even though I sent it over 3 weeks ago, but anyways yeah that’s a story I will tell later in this post. Anyways, it’s legit easier said than done to completely stop checking on his social media. I was doing great before winter break. Now that winter break has happened (still kind of is for a few more days), I have relapsed where I was checking very often. The break was great since I got to spend quality time with family, however, unfortunately being back in Wichita still floods a lot of my emotions where there are still a lot of memories of him and I that still makes me feel sad (luckily no longer sobbing about but I do still feel some type of way. It’s getting better thankfully). It also hurts that he’s making new memories with his new girlfriend Kylie so I was def feeling all sorts of things. Sorry, I’m trying to go onto chronologize order of events that have happened. I’m jumping back and forth lmao 

First, did I mention his mom called me the day before Christmas? I was SHOOOOOK when I saw her name on my phone. I legit froze because I wasn’t sure if it was actually her so I accidently missed her call. I’m so glad she left a voicemail so I could listen first and immediately call her back LMAO. But basically, she wanted to check in to see how I was doing, wish me and my family a merry christmas/happy new year, and asked if I could come see her. We joked a bit back and forth like how she was learning English for me while I’m learning Spanish for her. lmao. so after this phone call, I wrote her a letter to update her on what I’ve been doing. I wrote it all in Spanish since that’s her primary language so thank god for google translate. overall, I told her about how I’m about to earn my masters degree in may, I’ve lost now 30 lbs of weight/having a better relationship with food, how I’m honestly still hurt about her son cheating on me (I was in my feels. You know if you ever get those feelings like you want your mom? She legit is like a mom to me since my mom isn’t an active part of my life so yeah I guess you can say I got mommy issues but anyways) I also told her that if she’d still like me to come over, I’d love to come over and see her.

Few days go by, I’ve been creeping onto his social media, it stings to see how he has flaunted his relationship with Kylie. It hurts because I keep playing this comparison game because he truly has NEVER allowed me to post about us and he would himself refuse to post about us on his social media. So, just to see how he’s been basically spending every single day with her and posting her throughout all of his social media, makes me feel an extreme type of way. during new years, she had a party at her house where it was him, her, his brother paco (which I was SHOOOK because she met paco and not everyone has ever met paco, who is his oldest brother), miguel and his girlfriend (both are super cute btw), Blake (surprisingly), and Erik. I felt some kind of way because obviously I know they would share a new years kiss even tho they’ve only been dating for literally a month. I dated him for 3 years and NEVER got a new years kiss (because he wanted to be with bros). Valentines day is coming up and it’d be their “two month” anniversary and I just KNOW he’d actually put EFFORT into spending that day with her. 3 years I dated this guy and he never ONCE did ANYTHING for me for valentines day. ok I’m getting more hurt thinking how he’s treating his other girls better than me so anyways BACK TO THE TOPIC

few days go by and I got another call from his mom. I actually picked up this time because I was really excited to hear her voice again. I legit would die for this woman legit #1 mom. She asked if she could see me and I happily said yes. It really means a lot that she still gives me the same energy that she gave me when I was still dating her son. One of the hardest parts of us breaking up was the potential of losing his family too because they are all truly good people and I am NOT the CEO of letting people go lmao. okay back to subject, I had TONS of anxiety driving over to her house because I had so many thoughts. I asked on the phone if 1.) is Lalo there. She said no. 2.) Is Paco there. No, he apparently flew back to California that morning. I was low key hoping paco would be there still because it would be cool to catch up with him but anyways my main concern was if eduardo was there so since he wasn’t, I was like “ok vroom vroom let’s go” lmao. WOWOWOWWO seeing her just made my heart so happy. She def has a lot more gray hairs since the last time I saw her lmao she’s the cutest anyways, I’m really shook that HIS DAD FREAKING HUGGED ME. THIS MAN NEVER USUALLY HUGS ANYONEEEEEEEEEEE. Typically how we greet each other, it’s like a wave from a distance and we obvi acknowledge each other. so WOOOOW I was very thankful and shook he hugged me. Anyways, his mom showed me around the house with the Christmas decorations, I noticed her birds were still doing well, she even showed me her new plants she got lmao. We sat at the dining room table and talked and ate mexican snacks. She has broken English and I have broken Spanish so literally thank god for dualingo because it has helped me. I love how when we are together, we talk really slow and try to annunciate for each other LMAOOO. Anyways, THIS WOMAN ALSO GOT ME A STOCKING filled with Mexican Candy. omg this woman i love her so much. Anyways, I showed my tattoos to her and she legit wanted to murder me lmao but she says she likes them but hates them at the same time. She also sat me down and we had a serious conversation in terms of how she sees me. She said that I am no longer known as lalo’s novia, what I am to her is a daughter. I am evelyn’s sister and yo boi that got me crying in the club because that’s what I would love to have, to maintain my relationship with them . Okay, to kind of speed things up, basically we kept talking about Evelyn’s quinceanera that’s happening this year AHHHHHH, dropped Evelyn off and her friend to a friend’s quince, and his mom took me to eat at paleterias tropicana where I tried elote for the first time and had a jugo verde WOOOOOW SOOOOOOOO GOOOOOOOD. literally cannot stop thinking about it. Anyways, random note, I noticed my old K-State beanie in the car and his mom said it was Evelyn’s. It gave me a weird feeling because it was originally mine that he gifted me on our first Christmas together but obviously I knew he wouldn’t keep it so I’m not suprised he gave it to Evelyn. It made me wonder then what did he do to the other gifts that he originally gave me but I gave it back to him once we broke up.. okay that was a tangent, anyways, that was it with the night with his mom and ughhh it was a really fun night and I really am looking forward to seeing her again.

Now fast forward to now-ish, me not doing good of not checking his social media, I got triggered because they now made it “facebook officlal” that they are dating. it triggered me because again, he refused to publicize our relationship and it really threw me off that they’ve only been dating for a month (technically interested in each other since October, started dating November) and already publicizing they are together. they moving hella quick and basically, I got hella bitter. I felt reckless and I texted him. I KNOW I shouldn’t have texted him because I immediately felt a sense of regret after but also low key glad I did text him. ugh i hate me lmao. Anyways, i texted him and he asked if he could call me so I said yes. Luckily, the conversation was better than I expected because it was simply like two old friends catching up. It was a really good feeling even tho I’m honestly still hurt about the way that he treated me. It caught me by suprised when he said that he has talked about me with Kylie and he actually stated that he knows what he did and feels regretful for the choices he made. That was a huge shocker and I do still have trust issues because I try to take things that he says with a grain of salt. He may be saying things to me that I want to hear but it’s not the truth so anyways lmao. Our conversation was good and it really got me thinking what exactly am I doing/how am I really feeling.

I really am happy for him. Yes i’m still deeply hurt and feel a type of way about how he treated me, but I can’t do anything about the past and all I can do is just simply be happy for him. I will always love him without a doubt, but he isn’t my person. I hope this doesn’t come off as selfish but he will never find someone better than me, he is simply finding someone better suited for him. What helps me the most about this is thinking about ME because that’s the situation for him, however, I know I will find someone better than him because I deserve the best.

I felt bad for asking because I am just fucking nosy and I’m glad he was okay with me asking about what happened with his relationship with Lila (the girl he left me for) and how did he start dating Kylie. He shared with with me that even though it was all great in the beginning with Lila (and let me tell you dude, he totally was hella infatuated with her lmao), they started becoming two different people. She apparently wasn’t emotionally there for him when he needed her (IRONICCCCCCCCCCCCC BECAUSE THAT’S EXACTLY HOW HE WAS WITH ME THROUGHOUT OUR 3 YEARS TOGETHER) and she ended the relationship. It did make me sad to hear because everyone needs support and it is sad when you go to someone for support and they don’t give you it, ya know? anyways, he said with Kylie, they’ve been friends for two years (I knew who she was when we were together but they’ve always only been friends since they worked at the Sunflower together. This will sound extremely bad but I never thought about her being a girl to worry about because she did a lot of “white” things that we make fun of white people for and so it kind of shocked me that he is dating her now but anyways) apparently he said that “they were hanging out and next thing he knows is that he kissed her and that’s how they started dating.” dude didn’t want to go into detail which was fine but I’m also in my head like “ok lmao you literally just got broken up by your ex and then immediately start hanging out with another girl? ok” ANYWAYS, I really am happy for him and wish him the best. 

It was cool to hear about what he’s hoping to do. He shared a lot more detail than usual which again caught me by surprise. Anyways, he shared that he is currently looking for a new place to live (a house to rent) somewhere in college hill (conveniently where Kylie also lives lmao) with Erik. He is also hoping to find another job soon because things at KWCH are no longer making him feel happier so he’s looking to see if he can work for a non-profit org which makes me happy for him because I’d also want to do the same. If I’m at a job where I’m not excited to be, I’d want to also try to make a switch. He also shared that junior (martin, his little brother) will be moving to Cali in May to move close to paco which wow made me really happy for them all. Anyways, he shared that he is hoping to stay in Wichita for about one more year and then possibly relocating to KC or somewhere in Oklahoma. i did encourage him KC because it seems that KC has much more opportunities than Wichita and Oklahoma. Only thing we both hate is driving in KC lmao

Okay, so overall, I’m still really hurt about how our relationship was and how it ended but I’m very grateful that I’m doing what is best for me to make progress because this is not an overall easy thing to do, move on. I do feel low key embarrassed that I still am not over our break up but I’m very glad that I know that He isn’t my person. we will and I cannot get back together with him even if he stated that he has “changed” Yes i invested so much in him to be my forever partner and it didn’t work out but that’s okay. I’m always willing to invest in people to be the best version of themselves and it really makes me happy to see people thrive. I truly cannot and will not take him back if there was ever a time where he wanted to give us a second try because I need to remember how he treated me. If he really was always thinking it was me, then he shouldn’t have cheated on me, treated me so poorly. I’m okay with us remaining friends, but as partners in life? that isn’t it. I deserve so much better and the man of my dreams will come. I’m 10000000% okay with being single because I know I need to work on myself so that I can be fully ready for my next. I really wish my next relationship is my one and only, but hey we’ll see. 

so this is already extremely long but I’m very glad I got this all out of me. I know I have other anxieties such as starting school again, which will be my last semester before I earn my masters (FINALLY), RA training coming back up (so me working is coming back), JOB SEARCH. So much is coming up and AHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I need to get my head into gear. 

[waywardfangirl]

Write This Down

General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply

Baz Pitch/Simon Snow | 3,305 words | Complete

Summary: Inspired by Write This Down by George Strait - Baz and Simon love each other, and they know it. But, Baz came close to losing Simon once, and he doesn't intend to let that ever happen again.

***A big thank you to @foolofabookwyrm​ for editing this for me literally the second I finished writing it! I love you!!!***

Baz

The first time I told Simon I loved him, tears were pouring down both of our faces and we were absolutely miserable. It was one of the worst days of my life, and I hated the fact that every nice thing Simon and I have, every special moment and milestone in our disaster of a relationship, is marred in some way by tragedy. We kissed for the first time in the middle of a burning forest when I was so deep in the throes of self-hatred I couldn’t find my way out without Simon to save me. Instead of the honeymoon phase that every other couple gets, Simon and I received death and destruction and trauma, and then hearings and interrogations before the Coven. When we tried to go on vacation, to take a break and do something to pull Simon out of the pit of depression he had spiraled into, we almost died multiple times. When I finally propose to him I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that dark creatures can’t find us, the weather can’t ruin us, and even our well-meaning but nosy friends can’t disturb us.

But I’m getting too far ahead of myself. I can’t start planning for a proposal just yet, because I’m still not sure that I won’t lose him one day. He told me he loved me with tears streaming down his cheeks, and then he tried to break up with me.

I had started crying around that time too; I wanted to be in control, I wanted to shut off my emotions so Simon wouldn’t be hurt by my own anguish, but instead traitorous tears came streaming down my face and I started babbling out every thought I’d ever had – please don’t leave me and I’m not happy without you and no no no don’t go, Simon, please don’t and eventually I love you, I love you too, I love you so much, there’s nothing for me if you aren’t here, I love you. So, no, it was not one of our better moments.

Once I finally convinced him that breaking up with me would, in fact, not help me at all, we agreed to put serious effort into working on our relationship. This has also meant that both Simon and I found ourselves going to (separate) therapists, and coming together once a month for couple’s counseling too. Put together, we’re utilizing three-quarters of the magical word’s mental health resources. (It’s helping.)

(Read the rest on AO3, or under the cut)

I don’t know exactly what Simon discusses with his own therapist (although I could probably make a few guesses), but my therapist has been encouraging me to work on my own anxieties as of late among other things. I haven’t been able to shake my fear that Simon might decide to leave again, and that crying amidst declarations of love won’t fix things this time. So, since I can’t control the actions of others, I can only control what I think and do myself (yes, thank you Amy, the once-weekly sessions are working and I now hear your voice in my head when I evaluate my own thoughts), I’ve decided on a course of action that will help both Simon and myself.

I start by stealing his phone. He only uses the notes app to write down things he wants to bring up in therapy, so I ignore all the existing memos and start a new one, just three words – I love you.

(The numpty never bothered setting a passcode, I should modify his phone more often. He needs a new lock screen.)

 Three days later, Simon emerges from his bedroom after his appointment, face blotchy and tear tracks drying on his cheeks. Every muscle in my body pulls to gather him up in my arms and give him shelter in the form of an embrace, but I know in moments like this I have to let him make the first move. Luckily, he walks straight over to where I’m putting the dishes away and immediately buries his face in my neck. His arms cinch around my waist, and I waste no time in pulling him closer to me, carding one hand through his curls.

“Alright, love?”

He nods, pressing in closer, then mumbles into my skin, “I love you.”

Ah. He found the note, then. Good.

“I love you too.”

*****

The next week, I walk into Simon and Penny’s apartment after classes, only to find Simon asleep on the couch. Netflix is playing some action movie on the tv, and Simon’s face is twitching slightly, still reacting to the sound even while fast asleep. I know he was up late last night preparing for a big presentation, so I let him rest. As I pull my laptop out of my bag to study at the kitchen table, I grab a sticky note as well, and attach it to the center of the television screen.

I love you

An hour later, I hear the tv shut off. Simon wanders into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and scooching his chair over until it’s pressed up next to mine. He kisses me on the cheek, and then on the mouth when I turn my head.

“Hi love, how was your day?”

“Good. Better now.”

*****

Finals are upon us, and of course the worst academic weeks of the year are also the time when Simon and I decide to try spending the night together again. (Just sleeping, but sharing each other’s space for that long, being there together when we wake up the next morning.) I feel like all of this should be so much easier, like other couples just make it look so effortless – we love each other, why can’t we show it? Why is it so hard to turn those emotions into actions and words? I don’t ever want to be beside anyone else, how can I prove that to him?

After the first few nights, it starts to feel normal. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of Snow’s arms wrapped around me, his muscles relaxing as we both fall asleep, but I don’t want to get used to it. I want it to be novel every single time, I always want to feel this in love with him.

Tonight, though, I can’t let myself lie down until I finish this last essay. I’ll edit it tomorrow, but I can’t stop writing until I’m done or I know I’ll lose momentum. Simon went to bed at least half an hour ago, and that’s all the incentive I need to keep my fingers flying across the keyboard; the sooner I’m done, the sooner I’ll be back beside him.

I close my laptop at half past midnight, and attempt to straighten the academic mess on the kitchen table before breakfast ruins a textbook tomorrow morning. Snow has left his books in a perilous heap, on the verge of teetering onto the floor, so I straighten the stack, then pick up the top book.

It’s a textbook, An Introduction to Social Services, because my brave and caring boyfriend wants to continue saving the world in any way he can. The first half of the book is filled with bookmarks and flags, highlighted passages and scribbled notes in the margins. He’s been attacking his studies with a vigor he’s never shown for academia before, and I’m so proud of him. I pick up a pen and add a note of my own under the practice review he’s flagged with tomorrow’s date (when did he get to be so organized? He’s wonderfully full of surprises even now) – You’re absolutely brilliant, love.

I leaf through the book to the next practice exam, this one flagged for three days from now. You’re the most caring man I’ve ever met, you were born for this work. The review in the middle of the book gets a simple (true) I’m so proud of you, and then I start leafing through the pages I assume Simon will be using next semester. I don’t let myself question the future, I don’t let uncertainty and anxiety creep in, I just write notes on random pages, to be discovered in the middle of lectures or homework or studying.

My darling

You’re the only sunshine I need

Have I told you lately how handsome you are?

I adore you

You’re my perfect other half, I’m so happy we match

Finally, I leave an index card mixed in with the ones he’s been using for review.

Q: How much do I love you?

A: More than I can possibly say.

*****

Simon Snow can still go off. He’s less physically destructive now, nothing in the flat gets burnt to a crisp and he doesn’t leave craters behind, but sometimes his emotions get stopped up until they come out in a flood of yelling and crying, and he erupts.

We’ve both been trying to be better about handling our outbursts, and trying not to take bad days out on the other, but sometimes it still happens. I don’t know exactly what happened today, but from what I can make out it seems like small things just piled up until I rolled my eyes when Simon suggested watching Star Wars, and that became the straw that broke the camel’s back. Old habits die hard, and we both still give as good as we get when fighting, so fifteen minutes later Penelope came home to find a screaming match in the living room and neither of us even aware of what we were saying or fighting over anymore.

She made us sit down and go through all the skills we’ve learned (use “I” statements, list your emotions, say what you admire about the other person – fine, thank you Amy, your voice is still in my head) until finally we had calmed down enough to be there for each other again.

I held Simon as he cried into my shirt, and we crawled into bed together still holding hands. We kissed before falling asleep and the last thing I remembered was Simon’s breath ghosting over me.

Now though, I’m awake, pulled from sleep and my boyfriend’s arms because I needed a glass of water, and I suddenly can’t stop reliving our argument. We’re fine, I know we are, we’re going to be okay. All couples fight, what matters is that we sat down and talked about it afterwards. We’re both sorry and we both love each other.

I can’t help the voice in the back of my head though, the voice that insists that Simon still thinks I don’t love him and that he might leave me again. I ignore it, then tell it how wrong it is, before finally giving in to my anxiety and tearing a blank piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge. I leave the note on his bedside table, so he’ll see it first thing in the morning, when he inevitably wakes up before I do.

Simon, my dearest, I love you so much. I promise, I love you, no matter what.

*****

“Baz! Did you get it?”

Simon Snow is bouncing on the soles of his feet like a toddler crossed with a golden retriever, and if anyone else were acting like this I would make a point of ignoring them, but because it’s Simon I just kiss him quickly and pull the book out from behind my back.

“Yes, love, I got it. Hot off the press, specially for you.”

Simon’s never been much of a reader, but after discovering ‘the best book in the world’, as he puts it, he’s been devouring this series. The newest one was released today, and I promised him I would pick it up from the bookstore on my way home. (I’ve read them too, and they are quite good, although Simon is definitely more enchanted with them than I am.)

“Can we start reading it right now?” He’s got it clutched to his chest like a child, and—no, that’s dangerous territory to enter, I can’t let myself start thinking of Simon with a baby or else I won’t leave this flat until I’ve proposed to him, and he deserves a nicer proposal than whatever happens to fall out of my mouth right now. Besides, I don’t even have the ring with me, it’s still hidden in my sock drawer back in Hampshire.

“Are you suggesting skipping dinner?” I hold up the bags of takeaway I’ve brought. He looks anguished.

“Can’t we do both?”

He’s a disaster. I love him.

“Alright you bottomless pit, you can eat your dinner and I’ll read to you, will that work?”

He kisses me again in response, a proper snog that’s only interrupted when Bunce wanders through to the kitchen, remarking loudly to Shepard, “They have their own room and everything, but they still insist on doing this sort of thing out here in the open.”

Simon good naturedly flips her off, and I pull away to smirk.

“He’s far too attractive for me to confine my affection to only one room in the house, Bunce. It’s not fair to expect me to restrain myself when my boyfriend is so criminally handsome.” I take Simon’s hand and tug him into the living room to settle against me as I start to read.

When all the food has been devoured and my voice is starting to lull Snow to sleep, I grab a scrap of paper, scribble I love you on it, and then insert it in the book to mark our place.

*****

Simon has been baking up a storm. He’s determined to figure out Cook Pritchard’s recipe for sour cherry scones, because she won’t give up the secret and he hates having to wait for Pitch family gatherings to eat them. He’s going through butter like a fiend, and all of our neighbors adore us because he keeps giving batches away.

When he leaves the kitchen to go retrieve something from his bedroom I slip a note into the fridge, to be discovered the next time he picks up the butter.

I love you

 Three days later, I find the note affixed to the freezer door.

*****

“It’s so empty!”

Simon’s voice bounces off of the walls, and it almost echoes. The house really is empty, at once both exciting and intimidating – this is ours, this is where we get to keep building our life together, this is where we’ll make more memories, this is where we’ll start our family.

“The rest of our furniture will be here tomorrow, love, the movers said they could have it in before nine.”

I hear running footfalls, and then Simon comes sliding down the hall in his socks, crashing into me and almost knocking me over.

“Maybe we should keep it like this, and we can use the first floor for sock races!” He’s laughing, and so happy, and I adore him.

“Mmm, perhaps not,” I say, pushing his curls back from his face. “As enchanting as that idea may be, I expect you’d be sad if Penny and Shepard stopped visiting us because they had no place to sit. And I’m sure you would miss having a dining room table, too.” I kiss him on his nose, because it always makes him laugh, and then I lean back, grab his hands, and spin him around in circles in our empty living room.

Once we’re both too dizzy to stay standing, we collapse on the floor together, struggling to swallow our giggles. Eventually, I pull Simon back up to standing, and nudge him to start unpacking what we can. Dishes go in the cupboards, and sheets go in the linen closet. One of the boxes I open has a hammer and nails, and Simon finds the box that we put our pictures in. Some have to be set aside until the furniture is arranged, but we hang a few in the kitchen and the entry hall. Right before we blow up the inflatable mattress and go to sleep for the first time in our new house, I lead Simon back into the living room and pull out one last photo to hang.

The picture itself is quite large, a candid shot taken during our engagement party. Simon was laughing at something I’d just said, and he’s as bright and radiant as ever. I’m gazing adoringly at him, looking every bit the lovesick fool I am. Penny and Shep are in the background, along with Fiona and the rest of my immediate family, and everyone looks so happy to be celebrating the two of us. It’s one of my favorites, enlarged to sit in a frame over the mantle, where everyone who enters our home will be sure to see it.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get it to hang straight, but eventually we manage it.

“That looks lovely. I didn’t even know you’d had that one framed, I like it.”

I kiss his neck, and wrap my arms around his waist, hooking my chin over his shoulder and holding my wand out in front of him.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

We watch together as three words start to curve around our bodies in the portrait, shiny gold cursive tethering us to each other and stating simply, I love you.

Simon leans back into me, turning his face up for a kiss. “I love you too,” he whispers when we pull apart, “Show-off.” Then he’s walking backwards down the hall, leading me towards the stairs, and going to break his neck if he tries to go up the stairs without first turning around. I’ll tell him tomorrow that the spell I cast will only show those words if they’re true and if I still mean them. (They’re going to be there forever.)

*****

We go ring shopping together. We want our wedding rings to match, and to also complement the engagement rings we gave each other, so we block off an entire Saturday to find the perfect bands. (It turns out that the perfect rings are hiding in a jewelry store just a few blocks from Simon and Penny’s first apartment, which I think has a lovely symmetry to it.)

The rings themselves are simple, gold bands that compliment both of our complexions with a delicate scattering of engraved stars barely visible on the surface. We know immediately that these are our rings, we hardly need to glance at each other to confirm it.

As we’re being sized and filling out all the necessary information, I hand over a folded slip of paper.

“I would like this to be engraved on the inside of his ring, please.”

Simon’s mouth falls open for a moment, then he reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out his own slip of paper.

“I’d like this engraved inside of his too, please,” he says, and I can’t help but loop my arm around his waist.

“I suppose great minds think alike, don’t they Snow?”

He wrinkles his nose.

“You’re going to have to start calling me Pitch before too much longer, you know.”

I wasn’t prepared for this argument, and I’m far too in love with him to have a satisfactory response ready.

“No I won’t. Pitch will be your last name, and Snow will become your middle name. You call me by my middle name already, so we’ll match,” I add, as a happy afterthought.

The jeweler chuckles.

“You really do. You want the same engraving and everything.”

I feel like he maybe should have understood that those messages were meant to be a surprise, given Snow’s obvious shock, and the folded pieces of paper, but I’m a little too happy to care. Our wedding rings are going to match, inscription and all.

I love you

[cagestark]

Better Late Than Never//1

And Merry Christmas to YOU

Aka I started another project that I will take twenty years to finish. But @starkerflowers prompts were just too fucking good.

About: With interest in his work waning, famous writer Tony Stark (under the pseudonym AE Potts) changes his entire public relations platform, which includes hosting a meet-and-greet contest where one lucky fan will get to spend the day with him. That one lucky fan is Peter Parker. Peter is 21. Will contain nff, alcoholism, suicide attempts, character death (not major), drug mentions, anxiety, anxiety attacks. 

Read here on AO3. 

-

Tony is awakened from a drunken, dreamless sleep by a tub of envelopes and small packages being upended over his head. He jerks upright with a shout from where he was slumped over his writing desk, upending the (empty) bottle of whiskey that had lulled him to sleep. Pepper stands over him, impeccable in every way he is not.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, pushing envelopes off of where they have pooled on his lap. “You could have taken my eye out, Peppercorn. What are you trying to do, perform Lingchi on me? What is all this?”

“Fan mail,” she says. Her voice is stern and unsympathetic. The first time she’d found him passed out drunk over his desk, she had panicked and nearly called for an ambulance. The next handful of times she had just covered him with a blanket and regarded him with sad eyes the next morning when she brought him coffee. But those were ten years ago. Not to mention, all in her first few weeks on the job— “Social media is revolting. You never answer fan mail, you never do Q&A’s, you haven’t done an interview in almost a decade.”

“Fuck this,” Tony mutters, opening one drawer. “Where’s my whiskey?”

“In your bloodstream, I’d imagine. Don’t brush this off, Tony. Sales are waning. We need to make some serious changes in our PR or I’ll be putting in my two-weeks’ notice.”

That gets Tony’s attention. Pepper hadn’t threatened to quit after his last book when he’d killed off one of the most popular characters (one of his personal favorites, may she rest in fictional peace) and the public had flipped their shit. She hadn’t threatened to quit years before that when she walked in on him hunched over his desk with a straw to his nose, three sheets to the wind on far more than just whiskey. She has the disposition of a mountain: unflinching and ever-enduring.

“You mean it,” says Tony.

“I mean it.”

His shoulders sag. He glances around the room: the mess, the junk, the empty alcohol bottles, the half-finished manuscripts. There’s a strange feeling in the back of his throat, acidic, like he might throw up. Or cry. When his mouth opens to say something sarcastic, something about not letting the door hit her on the way out if she expects him to play nice with the media, all that comes out is a broken: “I can’t lose you, Pep.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “You will. If you don’t make some changes. Okay?”

Maybe this is what it means to be balanced on a knife’s edge, where one way ends in pain and the other ends in terminal inconvenience. But he knows which one he has to pick. His whole life is just a big inconvenience, but pain? Tony has spent enough time with his hand flat against the stove’s burner to know that he’d rather die than feel it again, rather die than lose one of the only people left who can stand him.

He picks up the closest letter and tears it open, blinking heavily to clear his eyes. Pepper leans down to press a kiss to the crown of his head and then gags. “Take a shower, when you get the chance,” she mutters, smiling.

-

The letters start off by being good for one thing: his ego. Adoring fans have been writing to his penname and business address for decades since he put out his first super-hero novel, titled IRON-MAN. Pepper has chosen to give him recent fan-mail, considering he’s spent so long ignoring it that if he were to answer them in order of reception, he might encounter fans who didn’t even remember the letters once sent. Or ones who were dead.

They are all variations of the same thing. The handwriting changes, gentle feminine cursive to childish scrawling to neat block lettering, but the message is usually the same. DEAR MR. POTTS. I’VE READ EVERY BOOK YOU’VE EVER WRITTEN. I GOT YOUR NAME TATTOOED ON MY ASS. IRON-MAN IS MY HERO. I’VE NEVER READ PROSE AS LOVELY AS YOURS. WHAT IS YOUR SECRET?

At Pepper’s request, Tony drafts a generic letter to send in response, something about how he can’t respond personally to every letter but he wants them to know that he’s read what they’ve written and ‘holds it close to his heart’.

“It’s good,” Pepper approves. “Sign them yourself.”

“Good?” Tony says. “I was joking—this letter is trash. Anyone who knows me would see this for the sarcasm it is—”

“Then thank God none of the fans know you,” Pepper responds coolly.

She has a point. Tony has existed in relative seclusion since he first began publishing his works at 24. After twenty years, he’d managed to remain mostly anonymous. A pseudonym does most of the work, including non-disclosure agreements for his employees. Any time a presence is required, he sends Rhodey or Happy or Pepper even. Theory pages abound on the internet, sites devoted to finding out who the real AE POTTS is. Even though one picture leaked of him during the early 2000’s (a grainy godforsaken thing that didn’t even show his best angle), there were still some disbelievers. One popular conspiracy theory is that AE is Pepper, considering Tony stole her last name to use as his own.

Maybe that’s why his declining image in the media bothers her so much.

A week later, Tony’s hand has a cramp the way it hasn’t since he was a little boy learning to write his letters. Freehand has never been his specialty���it’s far too slow for the way his mind works, bounding a sentence, a scene, a chapter ahead. Signing so many letters is going to freeze his hand in a claw like position. He’s sure of it.

Then Pepper drops the next bombshell on him: the contest.

“It goes against everything I’ve been working so hard to do for the last twenty years,” Tony shouts at the zenith of their argument. “I do not want to be known! I don’t want the fame; I just wanted the goddamn fortune, is that too much to ask for?”

“Times have changed,” Pepper says through her teeth. She holds her own, spine straight. She hasn’t shirked away from his angry outbursts ever, not even when they were children growing up together in Manhattan. “I’m not asking you to do a 20/20 Special. I’m not asking for an interview on Ellen. I’m asking for you to meet with one fan. Have a goddamn lunch with them. If you can’t handle that, then you can kiss your fortune goodbye. Mark my words.”

Tony marks them. He fucking marks them, okay? When he’s drinking himself blind, locked in his office (good luck getting in now, Pep), they ring around his skull like a dime in the dryer. Sometime around dawn, she picks the lock on the door and mops his brow while he vomits in the tiny trashcan beside his desk.

“I’m not doing this to torture you,” she says with uncharacteristic tenderness. Her hand on his forehead occasionally rifling through his greasy hair is not what’s making his eyes prickle with tears—it’s the vomiting. Honest. He’s not that touch-starved. “You know that, right? I hate seeing you like this.”

“I know,” he chokes miserably, gagging again. So he agrees to the Willy Wonka Initiative. Pepper puts out the word that the infamous AE POTTS will be selecting a single fan to meet face to face. Anyone eighteen or older is eligible to participate, as long as they write a letter explaining why they should get it blah blah blah. A golden ticket might have been funner. At least then Tony might have had an excuse to wear the tacky purple suit and tophat.

In the meantime, Pepper reveals that she’s been having Happy screen his mail to only show him the happy letters—figures. His hate mail isn’t extensive, but it certainly exists, having increased exponentially since he killed off Natasha in the last novel.

FUCKING MYSOGINISTIC ASSHOLE, Cheryl from Newport tenderly writes. YOU HAD ONE GOOD FEMALE CHARACTER, AND YOU KILLED HER OFF. I HOPE ANOTHER WOMAN NEVER LETS YOU BETWEEN THEIR LEGS AGAIN AND YOUR DICK SHRIVELS OFF.

Tony thinks that’s pretty succinct. He posts it up on his desk propped up against the last picture ever taken of him and his mother. Killing off Natasha had been an idea he’d personally revolted against for months. Sure, it made sense that sensitive, strong Natasha would be the one to sacrifice herself in order to stop the villain from succeeding in wiping out half the universe. It made sense for a woman to be the one to give her life to protect others.

After all, hadn’t his own mother died trying to protect Tony?

The weekend after the contest drops on their social media platforms, Pepper texts to tell him that it’s being received far, far better than they might have ever hoped for. Already dozens of letters had been received, letters which must have been penned and mailed just hours after the news had spread.

Joy, Tony texts back.

I haven’t told you the best news, she says. That’s how Tony knows that the next news will be the worst news, absolutely the worst news of all. You get to pick the fan.

-

“Any letter catching your eye?” Pepper asks him over lunch in his office.

“They’re all the same,” Tony laments. Even his own ego can only take so much stroking. After a while, the fan mail has become mostly routine and lackluster, though he keeps opening it, keeps signing the response letters, keeps sending them out. “I’m going to end up picking one at random, Pep.”

“I don’t care how you pick,” Pepper says. “As long as you do—and as long as you’re ready to suffer with the consequences of your choice.”

“Suffer? God, I love the light you bring into my life. The unending optimism. The unparalleled faith and trust in me.”

Her eyes glitter even as they roll. “If you like me so much, you can buy lunch next time.”

Tony snorts, taking a large bite from his burger. “Gold digger.”

“I’ve seen your taxes, Tony. These days, there isn’t much gold to dig for.”

“Ouch, kill shot.”

-

The letter arrives only one week before the contest deadline. In the top drawer of his desk are three other letters from potential winners, mostly picked at random, sometimes because Tony likes their handwriting, sometimes because they say something funny that actually makes him laugh. When he opens up the letter from Peter B. Parker, he scans the first lines not intending to be impressed.

Dear Mr. Potts, Peter writes.

I’ve written you so many letters that it should be easy by now. I don’t know why my hands are shaking. Maybe I’m nervous because I know for certain that this one, someone will actually read.

I received my first copy of IRON-MAN when I was eight years old—yes, a little bit heavy for a kid that age, but my parents had just died unexpectedly in a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in, and my uncle gave me his first edition. Iron-man’s story was one of the only things that got through to me as a kid. His struggle to come to terms with losing his own parents, his loneliness, his fear. The way he overcomes all of that and still goes on to do good…yeah. It meant a lot to a grief-stricken kid. Obviously.

Pretty much every birthday and Christmas, I end up receiving one of your books as a gift. My family and friends know me so well, I have nearly a half-dozen copies of AVENGERS (it’s one of my favorites). The things you write about are so close to my heart, so close to some of the experiences I’ve had in real life. My struggle with mental illness. My abuse and neglect. And the way you write these things makes me think…fear, I guess…that maybe you know something about them too.

I would love to get to meet you and talk about your incredible books. I’d love to get to know you. Not going to lie, as a fanboy, I’d probably be happy to just sit at the same table with you and have a meal. I’ll buy. We don’t even have to talk (okay I swear I’m not as desperate as I sound!). I’m sure you’ve received so many awesome letters, and I know that the fan you pick will be so, so lucky.

(Every letter I write to you, I ask if you could please return my book. It’s been five years since I sent it. I’m sure you don’t even have it anymore, maybe you threw it away from the start. But if you do have it, even if you don’t pick me to win the contest, it would mean so much if you sent it back. When I mailed it to you in Jan. 2014, my uncle was still alive. He’s gone now…anyway it’s one of the only things of his that I have left.)

Your fan always,

PETER.

PS: please disregard the last letter I sent…obviously.

Tony rereads the letter twice. He feels a swirl of emotion in his stomach, not dissimilar to the queasiness after a long night of drinking. This—this is what he sacrificed by being so closed-off from his fans. While he’d known that his fans were real and obviously human, a part of him had never felt the magnitude of it before. These are people with feelings and experiences. This Parker kid (a self-proclaimed fanboy) lost his parents too, and far younger than Tony had. In a car accident.

Maybe Peter hadn’t been there, hadn’t been in the car, hadn’t watched his mother parents go up in flames, but it’s still a tragedy all in its own right. And all at eight years old. Jesus Christ. This kid has been looking up to him for ten years and more, and he had no fucking idea that kind of dysfunctional altar he’d been worshiping at.

Tony goes into the private bathroom connected to his office and gags up—nothing. Drool. But it still leaves his mouth slimy, so he brushes his teeth until he’s spitting pink into the sink, and when he catches sight of the haphazard reflection in the mirror, he pities it. He leans forward to touch foreheads with it, auto-intimacy. Do better, some voice in the back of his head says, but it’s not his voice.

Happy picks up his cellphone on the first ring. Of the ninth call.

“What do you fucking want, Tony?” he hisses into the receiver. “I’m at the movie theater seeing that new Star Wars. You made me go out into the lobby—”

“Then I’m doing you a favor,” Tony says, cracking open the cap on a sparkling water. “Look, I have important questions, I wouldn’t have called otherwise. My fan mail—how much of it has Pepper kept?”

“Jesus, how should I know? Totes and totes full, at least—”

“Brilliant—”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m missing the movie!”

“Didn’t I say you’re not missing much? I’m asking you because Pepper will make me do it myself: I need you to find specific letters from one fan: Peter B. Parker. Address is Queens, but he could be from anywhere. I’m also especially interested in acquiring a package he sent me in January 2014.”

“Christ, could you be any more mysterious?” Happy mutters. “Text me the details you bastard, I’m not missing another moment of Mark Hamill.”

-

It turns out that Pepper is not only a saint in all ways previously mentioned, but she is a saint in this as well: his fan mail from the last ten years has been saved and meticulously organized by month and year of reception. Happy comes to Tony’s office in the city the next day with a package, the outside brittle but address clear.

The writing is the same script as the letter newly received from Peter, though the handwriting has become more mature over time. Neater. Confined. No more hasty slant from an enthusiastic hand. The kid’s contest entry is in the top drawer of Tony’s desk—the previous potential winners are now the cherries on top of the reject pile. His stomach is heavy as a stone while he tears open the five-year-old package.

Out tumbles a pre-addressed package that was meant to carry the book back to its owner, back to Peter. Then, one first edition of IRON-MAN, the cover a little tattered, the spine creaky. Also included is another letter, torn from a spiral notebook. He opens it with shaking hands.

DEAR MISTER POTTS

I KNOW THAT GETTING A RESPONSE FROM MY LETTERS IS A LONG SHOT, BUT I’M REALLY HOPING THAT YOU’LL AUTOGRAPH THIS COPY OF IRON-MAN AND RETURN IT TO ME. IT IS MY UNCLE BEN’S…

It goes on to describe how his Uncle’s birthday is coming up and Peter hopes to give the autographed book to his Uncle. Tony reads with a heavy heart, knowing now that Tony hadn’t bothered even opening the package, hadn’t tried to sign it—and even if he had, Ben hadn’t lived long enough to celebrate his next birthday. What a son of a bitch Tony is.

For the first time in three months, Tony goes home.

Most days he stays at the space he rents in the fancy Manhattan building, the one that holds his office and Pepper’s own workspace as well as the other people who work for him (Happy, Beck, Rhodey). The mansion outside Manhattan belonged to Tony’s father and his mother. When his mother had still been alive, it had been a cold place that he had endured staying at for her sake. After his mother had died, it had been a torture chamber, or worse—a stale, suffocating tomb.

Then Howard had died and somehow left it to Tony (probably out of some misguided duty to ‘keep it in the family’). Tony made a personal habit to visit it infrequently and stay there even less often; but Pepper maintains it for him, has it cleaned, keeps it safe. Uses it as storage, Tony knows. For his fan mail.

It takes up three entire rooms, floor to ceiling clear totes labeled with months and years. Just looking at it makes Tony feel small, ashamed of how little he cared about interacting with his fans. It’s no wonder sales were down. Searching for Peter’s letters would be like looking for a needle in a haystack—but he has to do it, and he can’t let Happy bear the brunt of the weight anymore either. This is on Tony.

So he begins pulling totes from the room and scattering their contents on the oaken table and floors of the dining room. Five hours and seven totes later, and Tony still has no letter from Peter.

Pepper finds him at midnight. She comes bursting in through the front door—Tony can hear the sound of the door colliding with the wall from the force she’s used—shouting his name. The hysteria in her voice chills him to the bone. It’s worse than the tone she uses when Tony fucks up; this is the tone she uses when there’s a Tragedy, when something is Wrong.

She finds him in the dining room surrounded by letters, kneeling up from where he was slumped on the floor. He must be a sight, but she is one too, her hair a mess, her eyes red. When she sees him, all the breath goes out of her, one hand clutching at her breast as the other grabs the back of a chair for support.

“Jesus, Pep, what’s happened? Is it your father, another heart attack—?”

“Why don’t you ever answer your goddamn phone, you bastard!” She says through heaving breaths. “You don’t leave the office for weeks and suddenly no one can find you, you won’t pick up your phone—”

It takes a long moment for the pieces to connect.

“Oh Christ,” Tony says, chidingly. “What, you were scared for me?”

She slumps into one chair and puts her face into her well-manicured hands. Tony drops back onto his ass. He’s not a good man, not a sensitive man. The last woman who had cried in front of him was his mother, and look at all the ways he had failed her. But the longer he sits letting Pepper cry, the more it feels like bamboo shoots growing under his tender fingernails. Fuck it. He gets up, knees creaking, and goes to her.

They sit side by side at the dining table no one has eaten at in twelve years. Pepper leans into him, her thin shoulders shaking. Shame makes his own eyes burn, because he thought what did she have to be afraid of? But maybe she saw his car in the driveway of the unhappy home he avoids and assumed that he’d come here to Hemingway himself. Maybe she sat in the drive steeling herself to come into the sight of his body.

“I’m going through the fan mail,” Tony says at last.

“I can see that,” she says. Her scathing tone drips with tears.

“I’m okay, Pep,” he says. He’s not sure if it’s true. He’s not sure if he’s been okay ever since he blinked awake upside down and suspended by the seatbelt in the back seat of his mother’s Cadillac, glass littering the roof (and the roof had become the floor, then, see? Because they were upside down), the smell of gas and smoke in his nose). Maybe he’s not okay. Maybe it’s all a fucking lie, but he’s not going to off himself. Not when there’s a mystery afoot. “I promise.”

She nods, one damp hand reaching out blindly for his. It’s an awkward angle to hold hands at, but he doesn’t complain. And awkward or not, it feels nice to be touched in a kind, even platonic way.

“What are you looking for?” Pepper asks at last, wiping at the wet, swollen skin beneath her eyes.

“Why? You want to help?” Tony asks.

“Might as well,” she says. “I always do your heavy lifting, don’t I?”

-

With Pepper’s help, they find the first letter. Somehow the Willy Wonka Initiative has reversed until Tony feels like a kid, ripping open chocolate bars, desperate for a glimpse of gold. At dawn, a cry echoes in the dining room startling Tony from where he was slumping against a tote, dozing.

“I’ve got one, Tony!” Pepper shouts. She’s barefoot, her panty hose taken off and folded on the table, her sensible jacket removed and slung over the back of a chair. Her rumpled shirt and tendrils coming free from her ponytail reveal how much energy she’s been putting into this with him—maybe to make up for her emotional outburst earlier, maybe like a mother humoring a child’s singular beneficial interest. “From Peter B. Parker, address is Queens, same as before.”

“What’s the date?” Tony asks. He slips in a pile of letters from last August and nearly breaks his neck. Wishful fucking thinking.

“Last May. Here—”

Tony takes the letter and collapses in a chair, his lower back grateful for the support. He recognizes Peter’s handwriting as he tears the letter open, and he can feel Pepper’s presence over his shoulder, reading along with him.

This letter is different from the others. Tony knows it right away. The first indication should have been the date; Tony’s most recent novel dropped early May of last year. His most controversial work to date, with praise glorious and venomous in kind. Which way did the scales tip when it came to Peter, Tony wonders.

I know that you won’t read this. I’ve written you twice a year since I was ten years old, and you’ve never written back. I don’t blame you. I’m sure you’re busy—I guess I just needed to get these words down somewhere, so that they exist, so that somewhere there is a record of me after I’m dead.

Tony reads the rest in a dazed blur. At one point, Pepper’s hand lifts to press against her mouth, but still they read on, huddled together for convenience and then for comfort.

In the letter, Peter describes the tragedy of his uncle’s death and how he felt personally responsible, and how after months of guilt, when he’d read about Natasha’s sacrifice, he’d decided to take action. Against himself.

If someone’s death can do so much good in the world, Peter wrote with shaky script. Then maybe mine could too. I’m not deluded or anything. I know that I’m not a superhero and that I’m not fighting against some sanctimonious super villain. But I feel like if my death could make May’s life easier, then I have to do it.

“Jesus. Tony, don’t read this—” Pepper reaches out for the letter but Tony nearly rips it in half trying to keep it away from her.

It’s not just for May, Peter admits. I’m ready to stop hurting, too.

Peter signs off, for good. Only it hadn’t been for good—Peter’s most recent letter had obviously proven that, and hadn’t he written it himself? Ignore my last letter, obviously, he’d said. Something must have changed Peter’s mind, but one thing was clear: it hadn’t been Tony. Because Tony had been so self-absorbed, so tangled in his own grief and ego and addictions he hadn’t even read the letter. If Pepper hadn’t saved it, then it might have been destroyed, no record left of Peter’s words at all.

“Tony,” Pepper says. She takes the letter from his fingers and he lets it go. His hands are numb. “This isn’t your fault. Peter obviously was unstable—he’d just watched his uncle being murdered in front of him. No one in their right mind would read Natasha’s death and think that you were encouraging them to take their own life.”

“I know that,” Tony snaps. Lying. Then: “I’m not an idiot, Pep.”

Maybe the biggest lie of all.

[pleasant-boi]

OK I'm still on wisdom tooth pain killers and I can't write shit so stuff for this AU where I give Akechi some parental figures to disappoint.

It is still going to be really, really bad. Akechi still gets involved with the conspiracy though he's like... 10% more mentally stable this time around due to some good influences.

By god we're getting you a fucking proper redemption arc bro.

I'm going to age the p3 cast a couple of years, since canonically there is a 5-6 year gap between the events of p3 and p5 if I remember correctly, and I want everyone to be adults ™ and in Tokyo for plot reasons when the p5 cast are children. I was thinking of maybe around 7 years? So Akihiko and Mitsuru are 25, Junpei and Yukari 24, Fuuka 23 and Ken 18 while the p5 cast are around 10-12...if my math is correct I'm gay ok?

Koromaru is not dying, persona makes animals immortal I don't make the rules I'm all for angst/whump but the dog lives. Koromaru insists on looking after strays so everyone in sees constantly fosters little animals - mostly Ken, but the others occasionally too, especially when Ken was exams

Is this also a convoluted way to give Akechi a puppy to bond with?

Yes, yes it is.

Basically adult!SEES with uni!Ken is like having cousins who live in the same city when you're in university. You love them you don't talk for months and suddenly you're around them for like a week straight. Ride or die (or ignore their existence for like 2 months straight because you were living ur life ™)

Ken is in his first year of uni in the beginning of this. He's studying to be a vet. Or maybe a doctor. Maybe he'll change majors in the future. Not sure. But I headcon him as wanting to get into something thats helps people like medicine and the boy has a soft spot for animals

Everyone is dealing with trauma. Other than Ken who like Arena (we're just using stuff we like from that game and ignoring the rest shh) stopped getting involved with shadow stuff and had a relatively normal rest of his childhood - with some help of Kirijo appointed therapists-, Junpei is the most well adjusted.

Everyone is still in a place where they feel due to the event's of p3 and after the death of p3mc, femc (twin AU! TWIN AU! ) and everyone else in their lives, getting close to people other than their group is... Hard.

Junpei is too busy loving his npc wife, so it's easier to ignore the bad stuff. He also has children. He cried when they were born for like a month straight. Thinking of them being twins, one of them having red hair like Chidori because of anime reasons ™.

Because of that they end up with a lot of impromptu sleep overs and basically everyone has a spare room except Ken because he's a student, Junpei because he has kids and even with Mitsuru being everyones unofficial platonic sugar mommy, that many rooms is expensive and Yukari who is the only one not officially living in Tokyo but she's there like 80% of the year for shootings and has a studio apartment.

They avoid gathering at Fuuka, because she insists on making food every time and while it is usually edible (or edibles lmao) she likes to experiment a lot. So it's a bet between normal food, maybe a bit burned sometimes but nowhere near as bad as in highschool or mystery food X.

I'm keeping Akihiko as a c- 🤮 as a cop, only because I found his reason for it in Arena super wholesome. If not maybe a police consultant. I'm still on the fence about it. Plus Mitsuru needs inside allies for shadow ops.

Speaking of Akihiko, that's how I'm giving Akechi parental figures!

One of Akechi's Foster homes locks him out when he doesn't come straight from school and this time they don't even let him in for the night.

Akechi kinda runs away, gets lost and ends up spending the night crying in some random alley before passing out.

If I'm keeping the cop ™ route maybe someone calls the police and Akihiko ends up checking it out. Or maybe he's out running in the middle of the night, because let's face it, probably no one could relax before 1am, anxiety about the dark hour some how returning and it's something Akihiko 'I deal with the deep terror of losing again everyone close to me by punching things, working my body to its limit and putting myself in danger but I'm definitely not an adrenaline junkie' Sanada would do

Speaking of which the investigation team definitely checks for the midnight chanell every time too

Akihiko sees a passed out kid in the middle of the night and of course he tries to help. He asks if he's lost etc and ultimately he asks and where are his parents.

It's mid fall so while the temperature isn't deadly it is cold out, maybe it's raining too, for the extra suffering/whump, and he's pushing a bit with the questions because the kid is definitely going to get pneumonia if he hasn't already.

Akechi doesn't really respond until the parent thing, almost screams about how his mom is dead and no body wants him around and starts crying again.

Akihiko has braincells, however none of them are any help with social interactions. Much less with a sobbing child in the middle of the night.

I'm not sure where to go exactly from here but Akechi clearly has a fever (and if we're going with the rain route especially he needs to get dry and warm asap) and is really against going to the hospital because 'they're going to kill me if there is a hospital bill' so either

a) Akihiko calls child services and takes him to the station and sits with him until they arrive or

b) he takes him back to his apartment for the night because it is late, the kid needs some sleep and blankets and he knows the system is underfunding and overworked at best so it would be better to just call them in the morning

That particular one can have some cute hurt/comfort with pancakes for breakfast because Akihiko is also pancake boi and Akechi crying again because no one has been nice to him in years

Anyway, both end with Akihiko giving Akechi his number and telling him to call if something bad happens again.

Akechi doesn't. At least for a little something over half a year. He's in a really bad foster home and one night he ends up locked in the hall closet, trying not to cry because even breathing hurts but if he did make more noise it would be worse.

He has the number memorised by now and when he tries to curl up in the small space and feels a cellphone in a fallen jacket (remember the 2000s where most people used their cells only outside or when you wanted to talk to your crush?) , he takes it out, heart beating loudly before sending a series of panicked texts explaining the situation

He doesn't really think that it's going to do anything because there isn't a response but the small part of him that hoped something would go right for once still hurts

Meanwhile Akihiko didn't even think about replying because he almost had to be physically restrained from running there and punching the shit out of them

It's not even 20 minutes later when the police comes with Akihiko and at that point Akechi is almost unconscious, but starts screaming and banging against the locked door when he hears the commotion, immediately passing out when he feels it open

When he comes to he's a in a hospital, getting yelled by a social worker about how he has to change homes again some soon and it his fault and Akechi just bites his lips, trying to tune it out and not cry again.

Akihiko overhears all that and while he would normally just leave it to the proper authority and is nowhere near close to the ready for a responsibility like that, is like 'fuck it temporarily custody until he's healed and also I'm giving this kid some proper food and a couple of punching lessons'

There's more but this is already getting long asdvyrsvgjcw

[awilddreamermain]

I need to get a few things off my chest and will most likely delete this later.

I live in a low income apartment complex with my mother who can't work and had been denied Social Security almost 4 times now because the state believes that there is something out there that she can do. Honestly I'm starting to agree with them. Right now I'm the only one working, well was working until I had to quite my last job because we have issues with our vehicle and it won't last long, at this point we're waiting fir it to die completely and we'll have no way of getting around.

My mom get's general assistance from Cherokee Nation and it's $135 a month, and I have no money at all and struggling to find a job in my town. Our rent is $395, our electric runs arouns $40 and gas is around $30. We were without Foodstamps for two weeks and had to eat peas out of a can and ramen the entire time. We have good now but I never want to go that long without anything again.

This is all too much for me. I'm the "only one" who can work, I have to pay bills and rent and when I ask her to help me pay for /something/ she bitches about it. Literally all she does around the house is the dishes and it frustrates me so much because all she does is lie in bed, sleeping or on her fucking phone. She doesn't even take the dog outside and will wait to tell me to do it. I love my mom, I do, but I shouldnt have to fucking take care of her at 20 fucking years old. I should be on my own, in collegebor something, not this.

I have no friends where I live. I don't go out because I hsve no wjere to go and I'm so fucking lonely all the time and it's becoming suffocating having her here. The only reason why she lives with ME (The apartment is in my name so it's mine) is because she doesn't have any income and I need someone to take me places until I can actually get my license. Yes, I know I'm 20 and should already have it, judge me if you want I don't give a shit anymore. I already get enough shit from the family I have down here.

Speaking of family, my family is all republican while I'm Independent. I don't support Trump, I don't like Trump, I don't agree with the shit he says or does and the people who follow him are basicqlly a fucking cult, my family included excelt me. They're racist, homophobic, back stabbing pieces of shit and if I had a choice I'd leave them all behind, but the thing is my Aunt and Uncle are always there for us despite our fights and beliefs. It fucking sucks but I both love and hste them because we're family. My life is shit at this point and it feels like nothing is going to change.

My dog has a double ear infection that I can't take him to the vet fir because I can't afgord it. He's had them before and had beaten them with me cleaning it on the regular but this time it isn't enough and I don't have the right supplies to keep them clean. It's just so frustrating. My grandoa in Colorado said he'd help me pay for it but I can't accept his money because every time I do I feel so guilty. I feel so weak, like I can't do anything right.

This fucking sucks man, and I'm so tired of it. It doesn't help that I have BPD2 and a mixed Anxiety and Depressive disorder too, most days it feels like I'm drowning snd helpless and I can't fucking stand it. I'm just so tired. I sleep all the time now, I'm losing interest in something I love to do and I don't kniw what to do about it.

Sorry for the random rant.

[fordarkisthesuede]

The Tolls Of Justice - Chapter 3

*throws confetti* IT’S DOOOONNNNEEEEEE! (I barely beat my deadline, huzzah!!!)

Sorry for the long, long wait. I apparently needed to recharge my internal batteries... But here we go!

{Previous} {Next}

Important Spoiler Tags:  drug mention, prostitution & stripping mentions, gun mention, violent thoughts, therapy sessions

Read on AO3 or continue below:

[Chapter 3:  Ink Trails]

John was finding it difficult to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing.

He couldn’t help it. He’d made the mistake of looking at recent Gotham news, hoping for something new in the murder case every newspaper and station seemed to be going on about, but he’d scrolled too far down his news feed.

You Won’t Believe What This Arkham Orderly’s Seen -  Bruce Wayne and ‘Joker’ not ‘just friends’!

Dr. Leland had warned him that people would speculate about his relationships with others. Especially Bruce, given Bruce’s social standings and John’s lack thereof. Bruce himself had said his team of lawyers were well-equipped to stop this sort of gossip from spreading; he’d proved it the last time one of the tabloids had printed such a thing, getting it redacted with an apology from the paper itself.

But that was before they actually had a relationship.

Bruce was careful. He’d never said anything or done anything romantic while John was locked away, with the exception of his first post-Scarecrow visit, when the power and cameras were turned off for those few minutes. And last Saturday, of course, but did it really count when they were so far from Arkham’s nosey orderlies and any prying eyes? The article clearly stressed Arkham orderly.

But John had been good. He’d kept the real them a secret, even from his Arkham doctors. Even from his current doctors. Sure, he’d occasionally give a slightly suggestive comment when he and Bruce had the rare chance to be completely alone, but no one could have possibly overheard them. As much as he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, John understood that any question about potential tampering with his recovery process could land him right back into another involuntary stay at Arkham.

And he’d die sooner than face that.

Unable to stop himself, he ignored the pair of shorts still waiting for a proper hem and skimmed through the thing, keeping in mind that Bruce would no doubt bring the hammer down on the Gotham Moonrise regardless of the details.

Anonymous Arkham orderly claims to have inside knowledge regarding the relationship between John Doe, alias ‘Joker’, and Bruce Wayne, blah blah blah... “Reports to have seen Bruce pay off themselves and other orderlies in exchange for uninterrupted time in John’s cell on multiple occasions”?

“Hah, I wish,” John muttered to himself, closing the article as his anxiety starting to ebb away. A lot of money must have exchanged hands to be bold enough to make that claim on paper. Bruce’s team of  three-piece suits were probably already on their way to the Gotham Moonrise’s editorial department with a nice large lawsuit.

He skimmed through further. There was an old close-circuit-camera picture in the middle, taken in the nicer of Arkham’s two visitor rooms - John and Bruce were sitting together at the table, watching something on Bruce’s phone. Bruce had been showing him one of the old Gray Ghost serials up on UBox upon learning that John had only ever seen bits and pieces of the nearly thirty-year-old cartoon reboot from bloggr posts. John didn’t see how that qualified as them ‘getting cozy’, as the caption put it, considering they had to stay a minimum of a foot apart at all times inside there.

He breathed out slowly, like he was supposed to, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to fidget. He pulled up his favorite picture of Bruce. He was walking down the steps of the courthouse after his first hearing regarding last year’s mess, looking determined and impossibly handsome in what John knew to be his second-favorite suit, the black with dark gray pinstripes. There was nothing about the angle or lighting that was wrong:  it was perfect, like him. “It’s nothing, John,” he told himself in his best imitation of Bruce’s smooth, deep tone, “They won’t throw you back in on idle gossip.”

“You’re right,” he answered in a whisper. He kissed the tip of his index finger and tapped it over Bruce’s face. “I’m worrying over nothing,” he said firmly. The more he said it, the more he believed it.

The feed above that article had some of the usual fair regarding celebrity socialites cheating on their significant others and some minor political scandal, but then - boom, third article down:  Missing man’s body found near East Docks.

John wasn’t sure how to feel. He was excited there was something new, but he couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t be happy over a stranger’s death. The thought might as well have Dr. Leland’s voice attached, telling him to think of how it would feel to lose someone he cared about, and apply that. The stranger might have been a criminal, but he could’ve been someone else’s Bruce Wayne.

But John didn’t cause this one. It was a force beyond his control. He didn’t have to feel bad about it. Hell, it might have been justified. Maybe Muddy Nye had done far worse things than distribute toxic garbage to the masses through organized crime.

The scar on his palm peeked out over the edge of his phone.

...or maybe Muddy was someone’s John Doe.

John opened the article, finding a video on top. That would be much faster than reading.

He recognized the newscaster - Faith Ackart, who had covered his recent court proceedings with barely a smidge more kindness than Jonathan Crane’s. A real go-getter in the journalistic field with apparently very little fashion sense; her top was so bright it made the blush on her cheeks look severe.

“You think your morning’s bad, be thankful you aren’t Lou Monger - a task that should’ve taken two minutes turned into nearly two hours after Lou went to take out the trash and found a body in his business’ dumpster.”

The camera cut, showing the police tape draped across an alley and a dumpster underneath a fire escape in the background, where the aforementioned man stood in front of it with the microphone almost shoved in his face.

That was the exact alleyway he was yesterday morning. The same dumpster with the dent on top, the same fire escape, the same graffitti in the background… He could practically smell the rotting fish carcasses.

“I just open the lid, ready to throw on more crap, and this guy’s just layin’ there, dead as a doornail,” Lou explained, looking angrily flummoxed, “I got a business to run and now I gotta leave my customer’s hangin’ for two hours during prime-time! I open the lid, guy’s got a new hole in his head - what else do you gotta know?”

The camera cut back to Faith, standing across the street from the police line. The body had already been removed.  

“What Lou didn’t know was that the body was that of Muddy Nye, who police believe to be connected to the van explosion by the East Docks on Tuesday morning - where an anonymous witness says they spotted Batman nearby only minutes before. G.C.P.D. decline to comment on whether or not the group killed in the explosion are connected to those found aboard the Chandis, and on the supposed Batman sighting.”

John drummed his fingers against the table surface. A wannabe-mobster shot in the head, a la execution style…

And suddenly, like a trigger pulled in his head, he realized that both he and Tiffany had used the fire escape. She might have used the dumpster. There had been no rain the night before to wash any of their trace evidence away, and the cops were likely going to comb over the alley for anything useful.

That was bad. Real bad. Especially if Tiffany had caused that dent in the top of the lid. Especially-especially since he’d been walking around when he technically shouldn’t have been.

Tiff please tell me you didn’t use the dumpster as leverage yesterday!! He texted, unable to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously.

For what?

The fire escape??? Muddy’s dead

He’s LITERALLY sleeping with the fishes in that dumpster

I touched the fire escape and our prints are gonna be all over the ladder!!!!!

Hang on

How could John hang onto anything? They would have known he left work, and they’d question his boss, who would no doubt lie and say he snuck out to cover his own ass, they’d question him, and they’d suspect John heavily for no other reason than his past history and they’d throw him back in.

He could feel his heart racing. He didn’t want to go back to Arkham. How many exclamation points after that did he have to use to drive that point home?

Okay so 1 I didn’t use the dumpster, I jumped like a normal person, and 2 chill out. Traffic cam got conveniently jammed around 2am so they definitely planned to dump it. They’ll just check the dumpster

John breathed deep, trying to relax. She had a point. Why check the fire escape if the killer dumped the body like a pro?

3 sleeping with the fishes?? That is a terrible pun wtf

But it’s not wrong!! He texted, This has classic mob hit all over it.

“Actually…” It did, didn’t it? He could practically see the plan in his head:  kidnap to get information, shoot in the head to stop any squealing, drop off at a planned dumping ground a good distance away…with fish, no less. They didn’t go to the harbor where the message would be crystal-clear, despite the large stretch of it not occupied by cops... Yet with a million dumpsters in the city to choose from, and they went to a dumpster with fish?

It was as if…

“It is a joke,” he muttered to himself, believing it more firmly as the words left his growing grin. It was a terrible, tongue-in-cheek sort of gag.

The whole thing was something he couldn’t help but laugh at, escalating from titters to a low cackle.

He tried to stifle it with his hand; the manager was rather keen on a quiet workplace, and he knew ‘random laughing’ had a more negative connotation when he was the one doing it.

The back-room door swung open on queue, and Mr. Prinya stuck his head in. “John, keep it down,” he whispered in a rush, “I’ve got a customer.”

“S-sorry,” John managed, swirling in his chair as he slyly slid his phone underneath the pile of orders, “I just remembered a funny meme.”

The older man frowned like a stern parent. “You’re not on your phone at work, are you?”

“Me? Never. You know, idle hands and all that,” he lied, holding up both hands and wiggling his fingers to show he was empty-handed. “If they’re here for the shorts, tell them to wait - thread got stuck again.”

Mr. Prinya eyed him, his suspicion waning into something like concern. “You need it unstuck?”

“Nah, I’ll get it.”

“Okay...just keep it down.”

“Yes, sir,” John affirmed with a little salute.

The second the manager was gone, John put his phone on silent and slid it back into his pocket. He didn’t really like straight-up lying to people he didn’t dislike, but he tried to think of it like lying to the Arkham staff - if  it meant he and his secrets were safe, then it was acceptable.

The door didn’t quite close - it had a habit of not sticking without being given a little slam. He could hear the annoyingly digital door chime and the last customer’s cheery goodbye through the crack in the door. And then another not a moment later, as tinny and loud as ever.

“Ah, good morn-” There was a brief pause. “Good morning, Mr. Nito,” Mr. Prinya said, his accent becoming a little thicker on the ‘i’s and ‘o’s.

“My vest ready?” A somewhat gruff voice replied.  

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but John was more of a hyena person anyway. He had no problem taking a peek to satisfy the itch to know.

Mr. Prinya’s small shoulders were clearly tense. The customer looked the rough type, with shaved eyebrows, barbell brow-piercings, and a nose ring. He seemed to have a tan, but the facial features and complete lack of any other underlying accent indicated that he was probably only a little less white than John.

“Yes…” Mr. Prinya sorted through the rack. He was at least a head shorter than ‘Mr. Nito’; what would that make him, five-eleven? Or six? “Here it is.”

“I hope you know I ain’t leavin’ ‘til I know it’s safe.”

There was little doubt it wasn’t drugs; probably coke or heroin, given how much was carefully distributed in the fabric. Or it could’ve been something new hitting the streets.

John thought back to Vicki Vale and her little drug-ring; he’d gotten used to passing information along to Bruce, hadn’t he? His first instinct was to tell him. The handsome billionaire might not be directly involved this time, but it was certainly something he’d be interested in...and probably thank him for.

John could barely see the lumps in the cloth as Mr. Prinya brought to the counter. It looked like an old police-grade bullet proof vest - it wasn’t as big as the SWAT ones he’d seen on TV, or the one he’d worn last year.

He had a good angle. Bruce’s tech had that fancy facial-recognition software on it. It’d be easy to find him through that - or just by combing over his tattoos. One could be one for a recognizable gang.

Flash off, zoom in, and...snap!

The vest was laid carefully on the table. “Of course it’s safe,” Mr. Prinya assured.

Mr. Nito - if that was his real name - snorted.  “For all I know you could’ve done shoddy seams on purpose.”

“Of course-” Mr. Prinya stopped himself short.

The tattooed man glared at him. “Of course what? You got somethin’ to say?”

The rudeness of him was one thing, but the way the guy touched his belt, like he was going for a gun, really rubbed John the wrong way. He could see the handle of a blocky pistol under the guy’s unseasonable zippered jacket. He didn’t have to pull it out - open-faced threats of death like that just made John think of the bridge incident, and that memory was one that still made his blood boil.

“No,” Mr. Prinya responded with a slight hitch. “Of course you may look.”

Tamper you instincts, they would say. He tucked his phone away and clutched his hands. Clench, release, clench...

Calm down. (Hard to do that when he knew all too well what it felt like to be on either sides of a gun barrel. There was too much power behind them.)

Think of your future, Dr. Leland had advised months and months ago.

...Bruce...wouldn’t want him to go out there. If the guy talked, people might know where he worked. His private life was meant to be private until he was officially released.

But Bruce would surely have taken a bullet for him. And he wouldn’t have let that...that scumbag just walk around acting like he could just do whatever the hell he wanted.

He mentally crossed ‘hiding’ off his list of options. He certainly wouldn’t go in there and just punch the guy - there’d be too much collateral damage.

John would play it cool. Confident. Things were different - he was different. He could do that. Be that.

(He’d save the gory imagery of the guy clutching the bleeding stumps of his fingers for a mental replay later.)

So he clutched the door-handle and made a show of entering, swinging the door wide - not too wide - with a random piece of clothing tucked under his arm. “Hey, boss-man-” He cut himself off as appropriate, pretending to just see the ‘customer’ behind the counter. The man’s eyes flashed to him, hard at first, and then widening with recognition. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know we had company!” He flashed a grin Mr. Nito’s way.

He looked less horrified than John would have wanted. Not the ‘oh my God, it’s that crazy guy from the news last year’ that John expected. More like John was someone he knew, and he just didn’t expect to see him there. Or really, more of a ‘you look weird, and I’m suddenly not sure of what dimension I’m in’ sort of stare.

Mr. Prinya, on the other hand, looked almost disbelievingly surprised to see him. “D-did you need something, John?” He asked, his accent just as thick as before.

“That darn machine is still stuck,” he lied, “My butterfingers can’t untangle the threads as easily as you.” He wiggled his free set of fingers to show how noodley they were. It wasn’t completely untrue, which sold the bit better - he usually got so frustrated when the knots wouldn’t untie that he’d end up cutting them out nine times out of ten.

Mr. Nito’ had tugged his jacket back over his pistol. He was still staring at John. Thinking about how much of a risk it was to deal with the Arkham loon. He’d fought Batman and lived. He could be armed. Even if he wasn’t, he was fast, and who knew if he cared about collateral damage?

John stared right back, feigning curiosity. “Is there something on my face?” He asked as innocently as possible while imagining the guy’s hands being slammed on the counter and stuck there with the whole tomato of pins.

He wouldn’t be able to reach for his gun if his hands were pinned. The thought was so funny it almost made him laugh; he could feel his grin widen.

Mr. Nito looked away and gathered the vest under his arm as quickly as possible, looking like he was trying to hold a toddler on his hip. “If this falls apart on me, it’ll be your fault,” he emphasized at Mr. Prinya, glaring with less machismo than before, “Hope you’ll remember that,” he huffed.

He turned and left, leaving John to titter under his breath at how the tough-guy act had dissolved into an immature little bark. The obnoxious doorbell went off and the man disappeared into the city with a disgruntled scowl.

Mr. Prinya watched him go, only relaxing when the man was out of sight. He muttered something incomprehensible in a relieved breath.

“Yeesh, what a weirdo... Whelp, I’ll be in back if you need me!” John spun on his heel, two steps into his return to his lonely work when Mr. Prinya spoke.

“John,” Mr. Prinya said in a similar sort of tone to the one Bruce used when he wanted John to stop and think for a moment, “You shouldn’t…” He paused, thinking further, seeming to soften with every passing moment. John waited for him to finish. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” John said honestly. It wasn’t as if he’d actually done anything outside of show his infamous face. He decided to gamble and ask the big question rather than let the chance slip away. “Who was that guy, anyway?”

Mr. Prinya eyed him. He had that sort of gentle-letdown look Dr. Leland used to get when she would tell him ‘no’.  “Don’t get mixed up in this. You have your own life to worry about.”

It was the second time that was said to him in two days...

Maybe fate was trying to drill that into his head.

...or maybe it was just coincidence.

“I swear you guys say that as if you’re not part of my life,” he said with a short chortle, making sure to close the door behind him.

The back room felt much cooler than before, and for a moment he felt like he was back in Bruce’s cave, sitting at that ridiculously oversized supercomputer to dig up dirt wherever he thought a useful little worm of information might be. Only this room was smaller and crowded with sewing supplies instead of fancy tech and stalactites, and there were no bats or handsome best friend around for company.

Still, he couldn’t shake the sense of intrigue that came with the idea. He pulled up the picture he’d taken of ‘Mr. Nito’.

He zoomed in on the tattoos. A dragon tail peeked out of the jacket’s sleeve - it was such a standard thing to get that he figured there wasn’t much to go on with that one.

A large embossed star sat between his neck and shoulder. He’d seen celebrity chefs with the same sort of tat’. Nothing special.

Knuckle tattoos - because of course he’d have those - spelled out ‘PAIN’ on his left hand. He didn’t doubt there was a matching one of some kind on his right. Talk about basic.

There was something peeking out above the v-neck:  the top of a face that looked like it was split in half, with the expressions like the sock and buskin masks in theatre, cast in black and red. Or at least that’s what John assumed they were, given the eyebrow and eye shapes...

That one was definitely more unique. Worth looking into.

He heard the door chime again, but Mr. Prinya didn’t sound so nervous when he greeted them this time. There was no need to go back out or throw the sewing machine at someone. (At least...not yet.)

John had to get back to work. He’d have to sort through a lot of social media garbage to find something like it, but he had a lot of free time on his hands...

                                                    *~*~*~*~*

John had been through far too many FriendBook pages. And Chirp pages. And bloggr posts. And he’d posted and searched through the more disturbing internet forums. All in moments snatched where he could at work and travel and in the very few spots in St. Dympha he could get away with using a contraband phone in to look up gang symbols in the tri-state area and beyond.

And nothing. Not a single thing depicting either the symbol the bodies made on the Chandis or the tattoo on ‘Mr. Nito’.

He was tempted to just ask Bruce (or even Tiffany) and shove the picture he’d taken of ‘Mr. Nito’ in their fancy Batcomputer to analyze, but...they were both definitely-probably busy. After all, they were working on the mysterious-gang-war case, and Bruce was probably dealing with the stupid tabloid article from that morning on top of that, and those were more important than his little investigation.

(Besides, he really liked that expression Bruce got when John had figured something out; surprise and pride and intrigue all rolled into one. He’d gladly comb over a hundred more pages of junk to see that face when he inevitably surprised him with.)

And now he was stuck in group. Unable to do anything but sit and mull over what he was missing, and think about Bruce’s mess of a mystery. He’d looked as far back as the nineteen-twenties for criminally-linked logos that looked even remotely like what either of them should be, but found none. It had to be new, and small enough to fly under the radar…

John had a mental catalog of all the gangs that were and ever had been in the city. Black Mask was much more recent, seizing the opportunistic hole that Falcone had left in his wake and picking up business fronts and those ridiculous protection rackets, and adding in the standard drug trade. He was sure he was an out-of-towner who noticed the lack of a big organized crime unit… Or at least someone who operated outside of the city to get power before moving in on the big fish.

He’d crossed off a lot of the old mafias already, mostly due to them being dead and gone. Falcone’s leftovers weren’t smart enough or loyal enough to organize themselves into some sort of revenge plot; they were the type to follow the new guy. Maroni’s crew tended to be more hot-headed and not take orders from new people, but there were only so many left, and they had their own little territories carved out on the map that Black Mask hadn’t bothered trying to take.

The small-time gangs (seventeen of them at the last count) scattered around the place didn’t really have enough to pull of a stunt like that of the Chandis. They were more the types to make deals with the big time crooks and go down in a blaze of glory if something went wrong.

So unless it was someone new… But why? That was the real question. It felt too personal to be random. Maybe whoever was running Black Mask had crossed paths with someone who had the patience to wait for revenge. Someone deadly. Trained, if the knife-throwing was anything to go by. Maybe it wasn’t a gang, but one person. A serial killer bent on revenge. Maybe B.M. killed someone they cared about, or took something from them.

Maybe B.M. had lit a circus on fire or something. He added it to his little list of things to look up later.

He hated admitting it, but Tiffany had been right in her little insinuation - there was little he could do about this particular thing while he was on the inside...

“John? How about you?”

Of course Dr. Ludgate would call him out while was sitting there thinking. She had a knack for picking on the quiet ones. She looked it, too, with her severely-sharp haircut and the general attitude that she commanded the room. He wondered if she used to be a teacher or something. (She certainly had the style of those fussy teachers he’d seen on T.V. over the years. Awful floral patterns were her apparently her favorite thing in the world.)

Of course they’d call him out when he was sitting there thinking. He hadn’t been paying attention for quite a while.

Complete honestly wasn’t even an option here. He’d hate to just say he was just daydreaming or not listening…

“Ah, well, I was just thinking, doc’...”

The doctor was giving him the ‘ah, yes, go on’ look he was used to. It seemed a lot of the group was paying attention to him… Well, who was he to disappoint an audience?

“I still have those moments where things feel like some kind of alternate reality. Like I’m in one of those weird ‘what-if’ comics and I’ve got only so many pages left until I find myself still in…” That cozy little slice of hell, he wanted to say. But that was ‘inappropriate’ and ‘disturbing’. Not exactly the picture he wanted to paint for himself in front of a healthcare professional. “Well, Arkham.”

Mickey, sitting across from him in their little circle, was watching him like he was actually paying attention. He had a tendency to stare at his lap a lot in group. Or into space.

“But...the past couple of weeks have helped prove that I’m not there anymore.” ...kinda. He thought carefully. “Like it’s not just the scenery that’s different, you know?”

Some thoughtful looks at that. Nice.

He wasn’t going to add on anything too sugary, like his hope for others feeling the same. No, no, that wasn’t his style. He leaned back in his chair, unable to hold back the little grin. “Though this place could take some pointers from it. Exposed brick is much more chic than all this eggshell.”

A couple of titters and amused little smirks in the group. Much better.

Dr. Ludgate just nodded her head. “It’s good to know you’re feeling more comfortable, John. I think everyone here has days where they don’t feel like they’re really at a better point in their lives.”

John leaned back a little further in his chair. She didn’t seem to completely understand, but that was okay. She got the end message, at least, and that was what mattered. He didn’t really care if anyone else got it or not.

When no one else spoke up after a few beats - clearly no one wanted to delve further into that conversation link - Dr. Ludgate pretended to look at her watch. “I think that’s about all we have time for today.” She made sure to look at the group as a whole. “You’ve all made wonderful progress.”

A phrase he’d heard a thousand times, and it still hadn’t lost it’s funny side. He at least managed to swallow the urge to giggle at it.

John strolled out of the room, going straight back to thinking. There wasn’t much he could do with Bruce’s stuff. Back to thinking about the mysterious Mr. Nito as he made his way back to his room. The perfect thinking place.

He hadn’t seen anything resembling the weird theatre masks in his tattoo search, either. It was apparently rather unique. Maybe he had to do some more forum digging for that one…?

“Hey, John,” Devi Hanson waved to him from a little further down the hall clad in pink cheetah-print pants, and he saw a flash of intensely-bright neon green in her hand.

Nail polish. It was ridiculously bright, and he was seized with the urge to have it. “Where did you get that color?” He asked enthusiastically, already making a bee-line for her.

“Outside, where else?” She joked. “What, you wanna use it?”

He could steal it from her, but she was one of the few people who actively enjoyed his company. “How many ways can I say yes? Absolutely, sure, oui, si, ja...”

She gave a light laugh. “Alright, but you have to do my right hand for me.”

“Deal!”

He followed her into the recreation room. It was ten times cozier than Arkham’s; only one orderly to oversee things, much comfier sofas, a cable package with actually decent things on half the time, several board games that weren’t just checkers or some variant of it, and people that weren’t prone to sudden bouts of violence. (Well, mostly. He’d seen a very heated game of Dungeons, Dragons, and Dice.)

They sat at one of the corner tables, away from the crowd watching that boring ‘“nerdy” comedy John didn’t understand the appeal of.

“So, how’s the sewing gig goin’?” Devi asked casually as she started to paint her left hand with practiced strokes.

“About as well as it can go,” he answered. He wasn’t going to mention anything about what transpired earlier. “How’s the laundry shift?”

“Hot and borin’,” she answered back. “They say a job’s a job, but it actually makes stripping seem good again. At least there was fun music and a lot more money in it.”

“Huh, I didn’t know you did that.”

“Eh, it was a lifetime ago. It’s how I got into my nasty little habit.” Devi was rather quick at painting, apparently, already going on her third nail. “I’d rather go back to bein’ a stylist again, actually. I could style and dye hair like nobody's business.” She shot a look at his hair. “Wouldn’t need to do yours, though. You’re color sure stays...”

“It’s au natural.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Really? Man, you’re lucky! I’d kill for a color like that.”

“Maybe I did,” he said slyly, half joking to himself. For all he knew it was true. “We’ll never know!”

She gave him a funny look. Sort of curious and amused. “You don’t remember anything before the last decade, right?”

“Correct-a-mundo.”

“So why do you look like you’re always thinkin’ really hard about somethin’ lately?” Devi started blowing on her nails to dry them.

It was always tempting to tell people to mind their own business, but Devi had half her arms covered in very well-done tattoos. He could use some insight... “‘Cause I’m thinking hard about things.” John started to paint his own left hand, deciding on odd fingers instead of all of them. “In today’s case, though… It’s tats.”

“So nothin’ to do with the studmuffin that keeps visitin’ you?” Devi was shaking her hand and blowing on it alternatively.

Either she was blowing smoke, or...she saw the tabloid article. “That? It’s...just a rumor,” he shrugged off, finding it difficult to say. He’d mostly just avoided the topic altogether, or else rolled his eyes when people brought it up. He hadn’t had one of those stupid tabloid opinion pieces since last year, when it was very easy to say it wasn’t true because it wasn’t.

“Didn’t say anythin’ about rumors.” She admired her nails, looking for imperfections.

John narrowed his eyes. Did she think he was stupid? “You didn’t have to. You probably saw that stupid article on the news rack while you were out, and that’s why you lured me here. To ask about it.”

“Not even close!” Devi answered with a little frown, “I actually like your company; you’re funny and you’re the only one in this joint who appreciates my taste in color,” she said, gesturing to her whole yellow-and-pink outfit, “And I asked because half the time I see you, the guy’s almost attached to your hip. What’s this about an article?”

Oh. Whoops. “Sorry,” John muttered, feeling bad at jumping to conclusions, “it’s this whole stupid tabloid thing… It’s bad enough they gossip about Bruce, but to just...speculate about our relationship like that! It’s enough to...” He breathed in through his nostrils. “It really pisses me off.” It was too close to home, too paranoia-inducing...too much that put Bruce on edge, and thus John on edge.

Devi gave a sort of half-nod, half-shrug. “That’s what they do. Don’t give ‘em the satisfaction.” He knew she was right, but it didn’t help that she didn’t know everything about the situation. She couldn’t possibly know how messy it made him feel. “Anyway, why were you thinkin’ ‘bout tattoos? Jealous of mine?” She leaned her right arm on the table to show off the prowling leopard and scatter of flowers trailing down from her shoulder. She had someone’s name tattooed under a cross on her opposing forearm, and a necklace of constellations on her collarbone.

Flattery was the best way to go the majority of the time. “Yours are pretty,” he offered, watching her sit up a little proudly, “but I’m just puzzling over one I’ve seen,” he said cryptically, finished on his thumbnail. “I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“You got a picture?” She asked, putting her left hand in front of him so he’d get the hint.

John eyed the guard in the corner. He waited until he’d turned just enough away to slide his phone out of his pocket and pull up the gallery, zooming in on Mr. Nito’s tattoo. “If anyone asks, it’s yours,” he muttered, nodding to the phone as he started painting her other hand.

“Not allowed one yet, huh?” Devi pulled it across the able and looked. “Hm… That’s new to me.” She zoomed out, much to John’s discomfort. “Him, on the other hand, I’ve seen.”

“You have?” John could not keep the excitement out of his voice. “When? Where?”

“Here,” she shrugged. “Hang on a sec - hey, Mick’,” she called out, leaning to get a view of the only ‘Mick’ it could be in the facility, “Can you come here for a sec’?”

John did not want to involve him. They weren’t on...well, any real terms. It was hard to tell if Mickey liked him...or anything at all, in fact. Mickey was too abrasive to know if he would be loyal to anything or anyone.

Mickey, unfortunately, did in fact come when called, though. Maybe he had a soft spot for Devi, or women in general. “Yeah?”

“You remember this guy? I remember seein’ him, but I don’t remember his name.”

Mickey breathed out, crossing his arms over his plain t-shirt and looking...not very different from his usual gruff expression. His thick dark brows were furrowed together. “I just knew him as Ian.”

“Yeah, that was it… He didn’t stay too long, did he?”

Mickey snorted, smirking a little. “A week.”

John resumed painting, not realizing he’d stopped. “Who was he?”

“A patient,” Mickey replied. He was staring holes down at John. “We shared the same doctor. Why?”

John was getting annoyed, and he was getting tired of being polite. “That’s my business.”

Mickey decided to just sit next to Devi, still staring at him. “You trying to stop a racket?”

John ignored that and started on Devi’s pinkie finger.

“The hotel’s got one, too,” he continued quietly. That caught John’s interest.

Devi gave a slight chortle. “Every bus’ in the docks has one. Stupid to try and get us to be so law-abiding when they put us down there.”

Yes, now John was doubly-interested.

“What kind is it?” John asked Mickey, looking up from his handiwork.

“Drugs and prostitution,” he answered as Devi made a disgusted face, “Yours?”

John decided to be honest as he started on his own right hand. He rather liked the look of his left. “Pretty sure my boss is a drug mule. I don’t think it’s by choice.”

Devi winced harder. “Ugh. I got lucky, mine’s just a secret loan racket in the basement.”

Mickey was watching him. “Are you trying to stop them?”

It was...almost hopeful. Like he actually wanted that. A tough guy like Mickey, who could have easily been in a gang himself, wanted the crime in his life stopped. How...oddly refreshing.

“I don’t like being potentially thrown under the bus for other people’s decisions,” John chose to say, discarding the joke that he still had Batman’s number on speed-dial. “It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Mickey nodded sagely. “You don’t want to go back,” he stated. “I get it.”

“Until you’ve been in Arkham, Mickey, you really don’t.” He hoped it didn’t sound as rude as he thought. “You guys know the name of your employer’s racket group?”

“Some guy named Boata,” Devi answered, blowing on her newly painted fingers.

Mickey looked up at the ceiling very briefly. “Last I heard, it was something like ‘Volto’.”

Interesting. A chain of small gangs working in such a small area? That only meant one thing:  they were sections of a bigger gang. Especially with such European-sounding names...

The leftovers, perhaps. Or maybe they wanted just to sound like the leftovers. Cast the suspicion of the Bat off.

One thing was for sure. He had to find Ian’s full name. A last known address wouldn’t hurt, either.

And that meant he’d have to break into an office.

Notes:   I’m very happy with the first section, but less satisfied with how the second half turned out, and it bent me out of shape for a week to think of how it would end... But I reminded myself that I’m setting up for what’s coming in what should be Chapter 5, and...oh boy, I know that is gonna knock some socks off. (Including mine, haha!) So it’s worth the struggle, but I hope I kept everyone’s attention. :)

So, fun facts! I had to look up what the theatre masks were called, and “sock and buskin” are literally names for the masks, taken from the “sock of comedy and boot of tragedy” characters could wear on stage. (I’ve...never heard of such a thing before now, but I like it.) And my reference to “a whole tomato of pins” is an allusion to the common tomato-shaped pin-cushion. I’ve grown up with one in the house and rarely see any in sewing stores that aren’t shaped like that, so I thought it was a sort of funny thing to add.

It’s really too bad I can’t just make a whole game for this, because I think John would have some interesting mental-mapping in animation. You’d get to see him connect the strings together like Batman does on his tech, and imagine some things like Bats’ 3D-projecting. Plus he talks to himself, both aloud (like Bruce) and in his head, so the player would actually hear that sometimes, and some of his little vocal memories from other people. (If my alternate-universe self is doing this...man, I hope she’s having fun with it.)

And of course, thank you for all the love so far!! Every time I get a note I go like this:  (♡´౪`♡) *✧ ✰ ｡* I’ll see you in two weeks, when we rejoin Bruce! 

[charleecat-bat]

Fandom Meme

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

Uuuh, well, lemme think, for fantoms that aren’t sonic stuff, I enjoy Retsuko and Haida because adorable. Angus and Gregg from NITW is too adorable for it’s own good. 

Sonic wise, well, I’m not strong on my ships but they’re are some I do think about or do think are matching, I think Shade and Knuckles are a good match, I enjoy Espio and Tikal, especially in my canon. 

I do love Locke and Luger a lot though, since I can see them working in my canon, but other then that, I’m not huge on ships so eh. 

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

Locke and Luger, mainly because they were related but then with some fanart and talking with friends of mine, especially @terraqua111, I started to like it and my friends had a point that they were too distantly related for it to matter anymore. She also showed me Lien-Da and Xenin which I liked. 

I also didn’t consider Locke to be paired with anyone else before Luger, then I saw @lockewat‘s ship, Chuck and Locke... and I thought it was quite suiting as well. 

Two other ones are Vanilla and Big because that was so adorable and that would be such a peaceful relationship good god it’s what they’d both need, so many picnics for dates. and @motobugg did some work on Rouge and Wave which I have never considered and I immediately thought... damn that would actually work a lot. XD Also Shadamy at some points due to a friends artwork and Shadow would be balanced from Amy’s personality that he would need.

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will. I’ve never been big on Julie-Su and Knuckles, in the comics it felt kind of forced to me, same with Sonic and Sally, that I don’t see them suiting each other at all. 

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

Ummm, I don’t know, I can’t think of one. 

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh, I don’t know. 

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

Sonic fandom. XDD Been in that for around 8-9 years. Since I was 9 or 10 years old. 

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

I think it would’ve just been Shade and Knuckles. lol Again ships aren’t my life. 

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

Mainly ongoing stuff, I know it started with games, so I guess games? But I enjoy shows/series as well. 

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

Ummmm... not that I know of. 

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr. (You don’t have to care about it or follow it; it just has to be something that Tumblr made you aware of.)

Animal Crossing? I didn’t start playing the phone game until I saw people talking and reblogging stuff about it, then I tried it. 

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Well, in Steven Universe, a lot of the character have great arcs, that who their true opinions and colours, like how Amethyst had self-hating habits, Pearl didn’t think she was worth much, and seeing Peridot’s growing into a whole different gem, it’s really cool.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves. (Characters you’re neutral about are fair game, as are characters you merely dislike. Characters that you absolutely loathe with the fire of ten thousand suns are exempt, as there is no point in giving yourself an aneurysm over a character that you hate.)

I’ll go with um... Lars from Steven Universe, I didn’t like him much as a character at first, but I could understand his insecurity and being unsure on how to act and how to show himself, and being scared to show his true colours... but now he’s showing his own worth and letting himself be who he is with the Off-colours, which I can genuinely appreciate about him, he’s much better as a character now. 

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

Can I say the entire brotherhood? XD I would love that like you wouldn’t believe. 

N - Name three things you wish you saw more of in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

Just more Brotherhood content in general, uuuummm more monster-related AU’s? I don’t know, maybe more merchandise too? I don’t know I’m not all that demanding about content. o-o I’m terrible at this. 

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

All the Way (Jacksepticeye fan song) is the one that came up on shuffle, and it reminded me of Hawking, at least my version. I could imagine he would listen to this to motivate himself or something like that. 

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

...Trying not to say Monster AU for any sort of fandom CRAP TOO LATE-

But what about a Shape of Water-esque AU? 

Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

I haven’t really abandoned any fandom? o-O R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

When they’re not a couple and they’re just best friends, Locke and Luger I guess, they act like big dorks. I don't know, I don’t think about relationships much besides family ones. 

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

Hmm, well, I feel while Locke doesn’t know what his main sexuality is right now, he’d feel he’d be in writing (sexuality)/Asexual, as he never really had sexual feelings, he only had sex in order to have his son, and he honestly never liked it all that much. 

I also have a head canon that Steppenwolf is afraid of humiliation, or just making a fool of himself in social situations (he’s got a very well hidden social anxiety), so if he saw a bunch of people staring at him and whispering to each other, he’d instantly become worried about what he did. 

Another head canon is that I love to imagine Sabre can swordfight very well, and the person who taught him is surprisingly Tobor. As he was very good with a sword and shield combo back in the day (before his injuries). 

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

That Steppenwolf is a werewolf okay not really, I’m not really about strong head canons that I would ‘die defending’. I just like the thought of him being one because it’d be ironic for his name... and it’s just with me for so long man. 

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

Steppenwolf (Sonic Fandom I guess)- I still don't fully understand why I liked him, I simply did but nowadays I just find the character I made him an extremely interesting character and every time I’ve wrote something or drawn something to try and cheer myself up, it made me feel he’d be a very strong, protective and oddly supportive in his own way. I’m not sure. I’m weird. 

Lapis Lazuli (Steven Universe Fandom)- I just want her to be happy, I find her really interesting, her powers are really cool and I just want to know how things turn out for her, it just sucks that she tends to disappear for long periods of time. 

Angus (Night in the Woods)-He’s a bit underrated but he’s just so cute to me, especially with how others draw him, I love his character and I feel bad for him when he takes about his abusive childhood and issues growing up that made him who he is today, made me want to give him a big hug. 

V - Which character do you relate to most?

Well, I feel I can relate to Angus at a few points, always feeling like I have to be the responsible one, being usually quiet and wanting to hide in corners in parties (and your friend that you stick to is your corner in those situations), 

I also feel I can relate to Retsuko from Aggretsuko, always trying to keep calm and from losing my temper, also Mister Ton kind of reminds me of my dad at some points... and he can piss me off just as much as he does with Retsuko so yeah. 

Part of me also feels like I relate to my version of Rembrandt, he’s an artist, he deals with a lot of emotional issues, he’s insecure about his body size/weight, very motherly/fatherly and protective. 

I dunno. 

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Annoying characters that think they’re full of themselves and practically perfect while thinking everyone else is below them and everyone is unworthy of their ‘greatness’... or mary-sues. 

Or just a needlessly dramatic moments or moments of anger and arguments that don’t need to happen. 

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

Kind of the big strong protective one with a heart of gold and is very loving whether they show it or not, or big ass ones who are strong as hell but are really just gentle giants.

And probably monsters stuff like werewolves or stuff but sometimes that can backfire and become annoying. 

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

Team Fortress 2 is one, have a few friends who like that game while I don’t like it much anymore for personal reasons, some horror fandoms like Five Nights at Freddy’s, Little Nightmares all of that. Idk

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go! (Prompts optional but encouraged.)

Umm... I always strive to make my Guardians unique in different situations, hell, I imagined they were in certain AU’s or in certain video game situations, like a fighting game, I’d like imagining like ‘finishing moves’ they’d have or the type of weapons they’d have, or even simple stuff like hobbies or favourite foods. Just stuff like that... and I will try everything in my power to be unique, like in my Gem AU, wanted all the gems to be different and at the least unique, and the same with the Monster AU, only Thunder and Steppe’s are the same but they have a difference. 

Okay that’s enough. ^^; This was really difficult surprisingly. 

[gapimnydiaries]

Diary Entry #24: My experience being queer Asian American with disability

Dear Diary,

It first started when I was a child. Family is traditional and strict. Such as comparing their children to others, expect them get good grades, earn high income, give money for parents to spend, get marry early, and produce children. This is what Asian families all want. Being raised in a Western world brings many cultural conflict. For me, I was raised in New York and adopt most Western culture. Hard to let Asians parents understand what is true love and what is the truth of life. My parents are uneducated and parenting is poor. They kept abusing and neglecting me since toddlerhood. This caused me have disabilities. Such as stutter, learning disability, anxiety, and low self-esteem. During all these years, I have trouble letting people understand my speech. Moreover, have social anxiety because few of talking to people.

When I was a child, some of my relatives often fool around with me. Once, my cousin wants to play game with me so we played fighting. Then, things got weird. Such as undressing me and touched me. That time, I didn’t know what this is. Next, nothing else happens. However, this happen multiple times. Having another cousin touch me body-to-body and some family members touching my private part. That time, my mind was fuzzy. Don’t know what happen until I know after growing up.

Years later, still have no loyal friends with me. Many just talk to me during school and play sports together. I just go to school and return home; then do my homework and sleep. This cycle repeatedly occur for years. However, I became very lonely because lack of true love from friends and family. Teachers lost trust on me for not doing well. They thought I’m Asian so should be smart but we are the same as others. In addition, I dislike many random students at the cafeteria kept coming to me asking how to solve their math problems. That time, my mind feel shame because I didn’t know the answer. This is stereotype for thinking every Asian knows math. To be honest, not every Asian is smart or talent. Probably, the Asians they saw on TV; were picked actors or famous people.

As my depression and anxiety gets worse, I have no ways to recover. Nobody would come near me. So I stay in front of computers every day. Watching shows and playing games to reduce down stress. One day, browsed a video with muscular male models. That time, my heart has a strong love beat. Those models entertained me. After keep searching, end up into a porn website. That time, watched those videos for hours losing conscious on time. This continue for months. Later on, mind became aware of my own body so I began touching myself. Understand the human body. For porn, watched many anime straight videos. Then, the male body attracted me the most.

Years later, the videos brought me into gay porn. During high school, bought some DVDs to store and watch. My dad also does this and he is straight. One day, my mom found the DVDs while cleaning my house. She was surprised. Then, she keeps asking me whether I’m “gay”. She said she will die if I am because she expects me date a girl to produce children with no HIV. My family was not educated so they are many things they didn’t know. Even I do tell them, they will not listen because they think their way is right. Kind of like spoiled parents. Next, I kept saying I’m “Straight”. After that, I throw away everything involves gay. This made me missed those stuff. From that time, I start to watch normal contents. Full of women and funny comedies.

During college, met a classmate at my Chinese class. He is gay and dating a Chinese man from China. We talked and go home together for months. He said “We could have been together if I was not dating someone.” This sounds he likes me. But I did not like him. Then, he kept following me by taking the bus with me. I felt annoyed and uncomfortable os him being by me. I said “stop” because the messages he sent to me is so sexual and controlling. Then, he got angered and act dramatic. He act like an actress from drama by avoiding her loved man. To be honest, I dislike dramatic people by getting too emotional and cause drama. My parents are dramatic so I dislike being with people like my parents. After that, he keeps avoiding me. I just focus on my own work and ignore him for harassing me.

Months after that classmate left, I was very stressed and depressed. I posted this on Facebook and then a random person messaged me. He is a member from my non-profit organization where we practice Buddhism. He is an inactive member. On the message, he wants to go to Spa with me. That time, I was curious why he ask go to spa with someone he doesn’t know well. That time, I accept because psychologist said I need to hang out with people. Finding supportive friends. When we went to spa, we have to strip down and go into sauna. It was my first time being naked in front of large crowd. Also, also time to spa. During spa, we went into the jacuzzi, steam room, and shower. The experience was exaggerating. While we are in jacuzzi, he wants to play game with me. Whoever couldn’t answer the question has to tickle each other. After answering few questions, we tickle each other because I answer all questions so he still wants to tickle. Then, he ask sexual question such as, “How often you masturbate?”. Later, he ask “Have you had sex with men?”. These made me wonder what is my sexual orientation.

After the game, he begins touching and squeezing my private part instead tickle. I felt uncomfortable. That time, I request to get dress and go upstairs to relax. Next, we got dress and walks upstairs to take a nap. Hours later, we went to a cozy and quiet room where people take their quiet naps. He sits close to me and touch my body. I was confounded because boys wants it but mind is uncomfortable. This is the same feeling when women were raped. From psychological research, body wants it but mind often says “no”. This made them feel unconcerned. For me, it was the same. I began touching him since he touched me. Then, I decide to tie my shorts tight so he won’t pull it down again. However, he still wants it. I just got out and try to recover my mind. During evening, we are going to leave. He goes to the restroom while I wait for him. Later, he wants me go in with him. He takes me inside a stall and pulls my pants down. Then, things got sexual. Almost had sex but I said “no”. Suddenly, people outside the stall saw us and laugh. I ran out and wash up. Later, ran downstairs; get dress and leave without him. It was the worse experience I had.

After that incident, I didn’t want to talk to him. However, he still contact me and harass me by acting he is the victim. I was too naive forgiving him by hanging out with him again. He invite me to his house and play board game. Then, said whoever lose has to strip down. Same moment, didn’t know what I’m doing. At the end, he touched me and said want to do something horny. Then, we took showers together. After shower, I said to leave because felt uncomfortable and he felt tricked. He kept acting like a victim. Weeks later, he invite me again so I give him 3rd chance; biggest mistake. We play the same same and same punishment. He lost so he was naked. At the end, he made me strip down and touch me. At time, he grab my private part and later made me come out. Body felt good but then mind is full of shame for letting him play with me. After that, I refused his other request on sex. I clean up and leave. I felt so shameful for letting him do this. Immediately, deleted his contact and off-contact him. He did this to a girl before which means he is a playboy; not looking for serious relationship.

During college, I met the same classmate last 2 years at my Chinese class. He still avoids me so I only focus on my own project. He was in my same class for 1 year. Even he does contact me to add him back, I didn’t respond. After what happen on 2016 and 2017; experience made me reject those wrong offers. I learnt my lesson from these two playboys. Same during the time at 2015, I went to a gay club. That time, family was dramatic and they argue very bad. In order to calm my stress down, I went to club and had hookup. My body wants it but mind is rejecting. Had met some guys and hookup with a guy which was a shocking experience. Fear I will get HIV. That time,I had lack of knowledge of how HIV is inject. Worries for 1 year. After testing, was so happy my result is HIV Negative.

After what happened, I took a year break. Same time, I hate those gay playboys. A year later, began to attend LGBT community to understand health and their struggles. While browsing, GAPIMNY came up. The place where gay Asians are safe to discuss their stories. After learning with them, mind gain more knowledge about Asian LGBT. Later, I attend APICHA; health centre for queer to discuss their social problems and health. After learning, I finally know how to keep myself safe and do safe sex without injecting any STDs. After so many lectures, I was ashamed for wasting my time worrying on getting HIV. Now, I would laugh at myself being so anxious.

After attending many meet ups, made new friends and safe environment to experience. Life has a fresh start. Met many kind queer friends. We hang out by attending holiday festivals. Depression and anxiety became less serious after attend many new non-profit organizations. Really thank them offering opportunity and safe space to discuss anything. Not only LGBT community; also religious community. The well-practiced religious community allows us to discuss queer topics. Furthermore, their faith is to love and bring peace. We cannot judge. There are many Christian communities who support the queer. Indeed, GAPIMNY, APICHA, and all other organizations have changed my life. Turn me from young & naive to steady person. From now on, I always observe before trusting any community or people. See if they are safe for us to be around. Many more advices received from psychologists.

Even my family is traditional, seeing me changed can let them see how good my life has become. Giving credits to the communities I’ve attend. Even today, I’m finding supportive friends because not many people want to be with me. Reasons are that I’m boring, direct, lack of knowledge on recent trends, bad memory, untalented, and not intelligent. Currently, I’m slowly learning new hobbies such as drawing, instruments, singing, dancing, and photographing. My goal is to stand up and speak out for the rights instead stay silent. This is how communities or countries kept themselves safe from someone standing up. Know what is right or wrong before speak up. For now, seeing those gay couples and muscular models; made me imagine a lovely bridge. Hope the ones who experienced similar situation as me; could find their bright side overcoming these hardships. There are a lot of stuff we have not learn. I’m also learning. After we know it, life becomes better. Not from online or opinions; from the truths.

Jason Lin

[undeservedfavor]

Update Varies

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The Bucketlist

Mini-Series of Short Stories

St. Valentines Day [EN]: Chapter 4

Two months has passed as they continued to work together until they finish the movie and gained so much awards and credit.

"Woohoo!!! Guys! Let's party! We all deserve it for all the hard work!" Director said.

"I think you guys need to talk about something. I don't know but while working with the both of you, we all feel sexual tension in the air." The celebrity Catherine said to Gisela when she noticed that Dorian is eyeing her from afar.

"H-he thinks he's so hot that he can get everyone. Though he told me he had indecent proposals in the past, 3 SMS, 4 Calls, 6 DMs, and 2 missed calls... He's not that hot." Gisela told the actress.

"Woah, so updated, are we?" Catherine gave Gisela a knowing look and a knowing smile.

"Can we talk?" After the Dorian's invitation, he and Gisela went to the nearest park.

"Whenever, I see that sand box, I remember Plage Solitaire. The most peaceful beach on the planet." Gisela just nodded to what Dorian said.

"I-im sorry." They both said in unison.

Then, they laughed a bit with embarrassment.

"L-listen-..." They said again in chorus.

"You go first." Dorian said.

"No. You should go first." Gisela said.

"Uhm, here you go... C-can we be together?" Dorian asked Gisela who shed tears immediately with the question.

"You don't understand. You don't wanna be with someone so-called 'Damaged Good'. I don't want you to regret it. You don't wanna be with me. You don't need to due to pity. You don't-..." Gisela's anxiety is overwhelmingly obvious.

"We do not know those things yet. Those are 'What ifs', you're far from a 'Damaged Good'. For me, you're a beautiful 'Work-in-progress' and hell, despite the controversies I had, I'm still in good condition, whatever you're going through, I will go through it with you. Whatever you're thinking, I'll help you overcome it. If there's someone who can try and understand you, that's me. For me, this isn't the time to waste time and fool around, this is not like the roles I play, this is real. You are real. I don't care how hard it is but no matter what, I wanna be a part of something so beautiful... A part of your plans in the future. Please. For old times' sake, let me be with you all the way." Gisela, lost for words nodded crying as Dorian also shed tears.

"Gisela, thank you. I love you..." Dorian whispered to Gisela as he caress the woman's hair, embracing her long and tight enough to make her feel safe.

"Let me drive you home." Dorian told Gisela.

They both started living under one roof at Dorian's condominium unit.

One morning, as they're lying on the bed, Dorian hesitantly asked about Gisela's list...

"Dear Piggy... A-are you still gonna continue with that list?" She showed him the list seeing number '6' crossed out.

"Back in the beach, I haven't really finished the list yet. Now, it's done. I actually skipped on number '6' and went straight to number 7, 8, 9 and 10. 'Cause you're not just any random guy... Technically you're my little Dino, but... You're the one." Dorian checked the list out due to his curiosity.

1. Earn a lot for the future. ✓

2. Quit the medical industry. ✓

3. Spend more time with the only family - Merian. ✓

4. Finish writing my novels and posting it to my writing/social platforms. ✓

5. Buy a house in Plage Solitaire at a chosen paradise to 'live and die' for. ✓

6. Have virginity taken by a random guy and leave him clueless afterwards. *Skip this part.* ✗✗

7. Get a writing job. ✔

8. Take care and fully pay insurance. ✅

9. Have the one closest to my heart, help me choose a casket and designs for the tomb.

Plus, choose a church for the blessing and perfect spot in the graveyard/cemetery.

10. Chose a great necrological service speaker. I want a great Eulogy.

Dorian just looked carefully at Gisela's face and embraced her tightly.

Then, she spoke...

"I know. I'm a weirdo." Gisela told Dorian.

"Piggy... You're kinda like scaring me with these things but if this is the way I can be with you, I'll understand, process and digest every single bit of it. I'm not even gonna ask you why you made this list in the first place but if you're ready to not give up on life, I'm gonna go with you if you decided to get yourself checked." Dorian said.

"I'll tell you when the time comes..." Gisela said.

The couple decided to go shopping.

No ordinary shopping but he's only doing it for Gisela even if he doesn't wanna consider the thought.

"You know what? I think this one will be okay. Ah! I know! Maybe I can also have a reservation my own. Same color as I've chosen for you. So when the time comes... We're still gonna go as a couple. Even if it's the after-life." Dorian joked a bit.

"Don't. Even though, couple shirts, couple rings and other couple stuff might be cute, I don't want you to think about a couple casket. You're a born villain. And villains don't die unless it's passed hundreds of years already. Plus, they don't even age. Time flies for them gracefully like a bloodline of a vampire." Gisela joked him back.

The next stop is to the cemetery.

They're choosing tomb designs.

"This is perfect, 'In loving memories of...-" Gisela was cut of.

"We can choose the designs Piggy but it's good to personalize those messages." Dorian said as he wrote things down on a paper.

You have lived a life full of love.

Soon, we'll meet and love again up above.

To the place where there is never-ending peace.

Love,

Your Dorian

Gisela smiled at Dorian and they went to the cemetery.

Gisela insisted to choose a spot.

"This spot is nice. The one near the tree." She said.

"I would already reserve those two spots next to each other. So that I can lie down with you forever when the time comes..." Dorian said Gisela shed tears and hugged Dorian.

"I don't wanna take you in this journey with me. You're not welcome this early to where I'm heading. Sorry for being so difficult but thank you for having number 9 checked off my list." Gisela said as she embraces her boyfriend.

A day after Dorian's shoot, he went home to Gisela and the house was empty.

Their things are scattered all over the floor.

The entire house was messy.

But...

There are no traces of Gisela everywhere.

She's missing.

"My dearest, why end up dodging the bullet once more? Running away and hiding again on me like that." Dorian whispered.

He searched everywhere for her and in a place he thought Gisela would go to.

"She's not here. She went through a deep trauma after she saw her parents died in the car accident. I know my cousin can be a handful, but please, don't give up on her." Merian said.

Dorian just nodded and headed off.

Dorian did not bring his car along to find Gisela in the hardest and most hidden places in the city.

As he was walking along the subway...

He found a cying woman.

With hands on her head and her hair covering her face.

Her hairs are tangled and all over the place.

Her skin's full of dirt.

When Dorian tried to look at the woman's face, he was shocked.

It was Gisela.

He brought the woman home and cleaned her up.

She fell asleep crying.

As soon as the woman woke up, she said she's gonna use the toilet.

"You sure you can stand?" Dorian asked. The woman just mindlessly nodded.

Dorian thought to check on Gisela when she's taking too long.

He did not lose hope until this sight.

He found Gisela lying unconsciously on the bathroom floor.

"Gisela!!!" He lifted the woman and brought her to the nearest hospital.

Dorian waited for hours for a doctor to come up to him and say that Gisela's okay.

"A-are you with her?" Dorian nodded as the doctor approached him.

"I'm doctor Ariel James Devant, Psychologist." The doctor introduced himself.

"We did not ask for a Psychologist, we need a Physician to have Gisela checked!!!" Dorian almost lost it.

"She's not physically sick. Not until now. We have pulled up a few counselling records of Gisela. In fact, I was her batchmate in Med-school, she quit and did not finish Med-school. So she just continued being a nurse. Because of her parent's car crash, her parents died in front of her in a car accident. She then became my first patient. I have checked on Gisela a few times and she never went back to the clinic afterwards. She's so indenial that something's physically wrong with her and insistent that she's nearing death, that she shuts down people who wanna have her checked by a professional or by any doctor. She has been diagnosed with constant fear of death that it lead to a severe case of anxiety." Doctor James said.

Dorian was not able to process what's happening and could not speak.

"People who has Thanatophobia, would not like to talk about death for it has caused them depression. On her case, it's different. For that's the only thing she wanna focus and talk about out of fear. Like her whole entire world revolves on the thought that she might, oh sorry, that she 'WILL' die. She already decided that for herself. Anxiety took a toll on her that her brain was mentally pausing because of too much stress, overwhelming worry, overthinking and unshown worry, sometimes this can cause nausea and problems with balancing." The same doctor continued talking.

"Maybe this is the reason why she 'slipped' in the bathroom. She lost consciouness in the bathroom because she might have hit her head on the floor. Now, there's internal bleeding, we need to have an operation ASAP to prevent brain mass. You have to prepare because the operation is risky, after that, she may go under a few days, weeks or even months in coma. Worst case is never to wake up." Another doctor spoke.

"My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is doctor Jessie Ulysis Voltaire. Neurologist and Physicist." He introduced.

After that, they all worked on Gisela's operation.

They spent hours to finish it and what they said was true...

Gisela fell into a coma for weeks now and counting.

Dorian held the woman's hand in his...

He got a Pig and a Dinosaur stuffed-toy that he put on the hospital bed beside her.

"Do you remember this Dear Piggy? You're Dinosaur's here to wake you up. You're my nurse. You shouldn't be lying there for a long time, at that bed. You're supposed to be the one who's taking care of me." Dorian said.

The woman was just unresponsive.

She was still deep asleep.

"You should have told me what you're going through. I should have understand. A-are you punishing me for loving you so much?" He said, sheding tears as he kissed the back of Gisela's hand.

[sadisticicecreamprincess]

0-44

nosy anons let’s go

qwq that’s 44 questions… alright

0: Height: 5′3 or 5′4. Somewhere around there. XD

1: Age: 20. Will be 21 on January 15th :P

2: Shoe size: 9 in women’s

3: Do you smoke?: No

4: Do you drink?: No, but come this January I might :P

5: Do you take drugs?: Yes, I was recently put on antidepressants to help with that and anxiety.

6: Age you get mistaken for: People always think I’m sixteen or so. Even though I’m 20 almost 21 -w-

7: Have tattoos?: No

8: Want any tattoos?: No. I hate needles.

9: Got any piercings?: No

10: Want any piercings?: No, I hate needles. lol

11: Best friend?: No idea. My closest online friends though are @ourwinterschnee and @sapphiircflame

12: Relationship Status: Single

13: Biggest turn ons: No idea uwu

14: Biggest Turnoffs: No idea.

15: Favorite movie: I can’t pick just one. There are so many good ones. I am obsessed with the Godzilla series though.

16: I’ll love you if….: No idea XD

17: Someone you miss: My mom, my friends back in Virginia, a few people online I used to talk to.. and in a way, my grandma, even though I’m not sure I should.

18: Most Traumatic experience: let’s see… well, getting surgery was scary. Losing my mom and the situation with my grandmother that’s currently going on… I’d say those are the most traumatic…

19: A fact about your personality?: I am much more socially awkward in real life XD

20: What I hate most about myself: A lot…

21: What I love most about myself?: My creativity?

22: What I wanna be when I grow up: An author.

23: My relationship with my siblings?: I am close with my sister. My stepmom says that she and I behave like twins even though we’re a year apart.  I love my brother as well, but he’s three so I mean it’s a different kind of relationship than I would have with a sibling closer to my age. I have to babysit him a lot.

24: My relationship with my parents: It’s fine. I am closer to my dad than my stepmom.

25: My idea of a perfect date:  I have no idea, to be honest.

26: My biggest pet peeves: Ignorant people whom act like they’re know-it-alls. Covers of songs which are bastardizations of the original, and some other stuff.

27: A description of a boy/girl that I like: N/A

28: A description of a person I dislike most.: uh…

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend.: So they wouldn’t worry about me.

30: What I hate most about work/ school: At school, I hate the ridiculous amount of homework some professors give… I mean really, like over 40 math problems a day? I can’t do it. At work… I hate how much they expect me to do in such little time.. I’m one person and am expected to do way more than most of the people there. plus… I almost die every time I go to work because people don’t know how to read a stop sign.

31: What my last text message says?: “Where you at?”

32: What words upset me the most?: Any insults about my mother would upset me

33: What words make me feel best about myself?: Just any compliments in general. :3

34: What I find most attractive in women: Their face, legs... idk >>

35: What I find most attractive in men: Face, shoulders.. again I really don’t know.

36: Where I would like to live: Canada, England, Japan.

37: One of my insecurities: I always feel like I am annoying others. qwq

38: My Childhood career choice: A T-Rex.

39: My favorite ice cream flavor: Cookies and cream.

40: Who I wish I could be: A better version of myself.

41: Where I want to be right now: Somewhere other than America... XD

42: The last thing I ate: A peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

43: Sexiest person who comes to mind: No idea

44: A random fact about anything: My favorite number is five.

@drroisin

[kiss-my-kitty]

I need help.

(I am posting here on Tumblr because my domain name expired, and my hosting account is suspended due to non-payment.)

This is, without a doubt, the hardest blog entry I’ve ever written. In this post I will reveal just how bad things are, and the depth of my failings, humiliation, shame, and despair. But I have truly hit rock bottom, and I am in desperate need of help, as well as an outlet so that I am not internalizing everything - because it has become too much to bear. The summary is: we have lost our home and just about everything we own, Alyssa and Ryan are in foster care, Daniel had a mental health breakdown and hit me (he punched me in the face, giving me a black eye swollen cheek), and we have nothing left and no money, with our only resource being our 12 year old vehicle with a nearly-empty gas tank. We need help, desperately. PLEASE HELP: my PayPal address is x@jenn.nu. * * * * *

Six years ago Daniel had to resign from his restaurant management position due to debilitating and worsening anxiety, depression, and physical fatigue, pain, and sleep disturbances.

Five years ago I lost my very well-paying job due to the company I worked for going under.

Around this time (2012) I began suffering from significant medical problems myself - multiple emergency and planned surgeries to correct a variety of life-threatening gastric issues, including twisting/strangulating intestines, perforated ulcers, strangulated hernias, and twisted ovaries due to PCOS and endometriosis. I became very ill and septic twice, nearly died, have dealt with various painful procedures as well as feeding tubes and drainage tubes, and needless to say, have spent a lot of time in the hospital.

As if all of the gastric issues and surgeries weren't enough, three years ago my lower back suddenly gave out - I deal with constant severe and unrelenting lumbar pain due to arthritis, degenerative disc disease, a torn, leaking, and bulging disc at L4, a completely degenerated disc at L5, and healed fractures at L5 and S1.

In January of 2017 I suffered a medical emergency that led to a large vertical abdominal incision, a 6-day hospital stay, and over a month during which I needed assistance just to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. I was very, very sick and weak from this surgery; and I was still weak and underweight from surgical complications that caused sepsis and organ damage in May-June 2016.

Around this time I was also taking a prescribed SSRI, Amitriptyline (also known as Elavil), to help me sleep. While it did not help with sleep, as the pain in my lower back and random bouts of abdominal pain from all of the surgeries and consequent scar tissue and adhesions woke and continues to wake me up almost every night, it ended up causing SEVERE short-term memory loss. The best way I can describe it is like this: every two to three days my short-term memories were completely wiped from my memory. On a Monday I might go grocery shopping. By Wednesday of that week I would have no recollection of shopping on Monday, or of doing anything else that day.

Our ongoing financial issues because of Daniel's health problems and mine snowballed. The short-term memory loss complicated and worsened everything.

In June of 2017, we lost our home of 10 years. We were able to put everything into storage, and we moved in temporarily with my mother and 19 year old brother in their 2-bedroom apartment while we figured out what to do next.

In August of 2017 we were accepted into a transitional living program. This entailed the five of us -- Daniel, myself, Alyssa, Ryan, as well as my 19 year old brother, who had nowhere to go because my mother was evicted from her apartment due to non-payment of rent -- living in a hotel room in a large hotel that had been converted into a transitional living program. The program was very supportive, and entailed us living there, abiding by curfew and other building rules, and working with counselors to rebuild our life. While Alyssa and Ryan went to school and various after-school programs, Daniel and I helped my brother get re-established with high school, his SSI payments, getting a state ID, etc. - all of the things that my mother should have done for him but didn't. She, meanwhile, had been hospitalized since late July due to infected and gangrenous diabetic ulcers on her feet, and blood infections stemming from those infected ulcers.

By September of 2017 Daniel and I told my mother that we were done helping her. We could barely help ourselves; but worse, she did nothing to help herself with her own financial and medical difficulties. Instead, she was dragging us down because she would create numerous disasters for herself, take no responsibility for them, and do nothing to try to improve her circumstances. She expected everyone else to do this for her - namely, Daniel and I.

Writing my mother off caused a lot of conflict and drama between her and us. In her rage and fury, she went so far as to create a lot of drama based on outrageous lies and accusations. While we tried to stay ahead of this mess by informing the staff at the transitional living program of our problems with her, her allegations and pot-stirring ended up causing us to be abruptly evicted from the program - while my brother went to stay with my mother at the hospital/long-term care facility she was in, the four of us (Daniel, myself, Alyssa, and Ryan), were literally thrown onto the streets.

We were evicted on October 2, 2017. For the next six weeks we bounced around between a friend's home, a pastor's cabin, a retreat camp, and motel rooms.

On November 20, 2017, a false allegation about us staying in a cabin with no electricity or water was made against us, and Alyssa and Ryan were removed from our custody. Currently they are staying with the family of a friend of Alyssa's. Fortunately they are with people they know, and they are still attending the same school and are still active in the same extra-curricular STEM programs as they were before.

Because of having to spend so much money to keep ourselves afloat after being evicted from the transitional living program, we fell behind on our storage unit payments. We were unable to save our belongings - we have lost everything we own, with the exception of the belongings we had with us (about a large duffel bag worth of clothing, toiletries, and personal items for each of us; along with my laptop and cameras, and most of the kids' small electronics).

Through all of this Daniel and I have done our best to try and tackle one problem at a time, to see and talk to Alyssa and Ryan as much as possible, and to desperately explore all of our options to try to rebuild. His Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI/SSI) application, which was started in April of 2014, is still at the highest level of adjudication - we are awaiting a hearing date. Meanwhile, Daniel has had several more sleep disturbances and diagnoses added, and it looks like he has a very rare disease called Neuromyotonia - basically, all of the nerves in all of his muscles are constantly firing. It's comparable to a seizure, because of the nerve overactivity. But instead of seizures, Daniel endures constant and severe muscle pain and fatigue, due to his muscles constantly spasming and mis-firing.

I am working on my own SSDI/SSI application - with the memory issues, but more significantly all of the gastric surgeries and complications, and my severe back issues, I qualify five times over for both SSDI/SSI, and because of the constant pain I am in and the resulting fatigue I deal with, there is no way I am capable of working a "traditional" job - or even work online/remotely as much as I did before. I am ashamed to admit this, but it is true.

The final blow, which is a poor choice of words, came to us on December 29th, 2017: after abruptly and inexplicably cold-turkeying his anxiety and depression medications in mid-December, after days of escalating irritation and verbal clashing between Daniel and I, he snapped and lashed out at me - literally. We were having a relatively calm verbal argument, and out of nowhere he punched me in the face. He has never laid a hand on me before. He punched me, full strength, in the face - his fist hit my right cheekbone. I had, and still have, terrible bruising and swelling. Even with layers of makeup the injury is still visible, and obvious. It has been hard to go out in public and deal with the stares and silent as well as not-silence questions and judgment, on top of everything else I am dealing with. But while I make no excuses for what Daniel did, I do understand that the severe stress he has been under (that we have both been under), combined with the mental instability caused by the sudden lack of and withdrawal from his SSRI medications, definitely played a role in him losing control.

Immediately after Daniel hit me I exited the vehicle where we had been sitting. He took off. Not knowing what to do, and afraid Daniel might do something to himself out of guilt, I called the police to report what happened, and to ask them to please find him because I was afraid for his mental well-being.

That same evening, Daniel overdosed on three medications. He researched what medications to take in order to overdose and die, and wrote a suicide note. He was barely conscious when he messaged me an apology and goodbye via Facebook Messenger. But he did answer when I called him, and after pleading from both me and my friend's husband, he gave us his location, I called 911, and he was found and taken to an emergency room. He was given charcoal to drink as well as Narcan and other medications via IV. After he was medically stabilized, he was involuntarily committed to the hospital's psychiatric ward.

This past Monday, January 8, he was discharged from the psychiatric ward, and taken directly to jail because of the domestic violence charge against him from when I called the police on December 29th.

Yesterday was the domestic violence court hearing. Because I have been in touch with Daniel since December 29th, visited him daily at the psychiatric ward, and most importantly because I have truly forgiven him for what he did and I am not angry, and he himself is guilty, remorseful, and determined to make things right for himself and more importantly for both of us, I spoke with both the domestic violence advocate assigned to him and the district attorney who brought the charges against him, and it was agreed that Daniel would plead guilty to a harassment charge. This is a lesser charge that means he will not serve jail time; but he will have to take both domestic violence and anger management classes. And, his check-ins with a psychiatrist and a psychologist will also be mandated.

Daniel and I need to rent a room somewhere in the county, at the cost of anywhere from $75 to $100 per week, in order to have something to call "ours". From there we can rebuild:I can continue to do the bit of online work I have been able to find, he can focus on his mental health recovery and working with a local retained lawyer (free, due to our limited income) to get his SSDI/SSI case pushed through, and I can also focus on finishing up my SSDI/SSI application. While Daniel has more diagnoses than I do, I have a consistent trail of doctor visits, specialist visits, hospital visits, tests, surgeries, and diagnoses going all the way back to 2009 to prove my case several times over. Daniel's medical trail is more inconsistent due to all of my emergency surgeries and hospitalizations.

* * * * *

This is my plea: we need financial help, desperately. At this point we have nothing except our vehicle, a gas tank on empty despite me using the last $4.00 I had to put one and a half gallons in it, Alyssa and Ryan in foster care, and only several duffel bags and a laptop bag of belongings.

I am begging anyone who reads this: please help us get back on our feet. Any and all PayPal donations will be used to pay as many weekly/monthly rental fees as we can to ensure a room we rent remains ours. We'll also use any donated money to fill our gas tank, and to buy as little food as possible to keep us going. PLEASE HELP: my PayPal address is x@jenn.nu.

Please know that Daniel and I have been doing everything we can to rebuild ever since we lost our home last June, but we have been hit with one financial and/or medical crisis after another - in fact, in the midst of all of this, I was hospitalized for two days in October and then had an urgent surgery to remove my remaining ovary, because it was twisting and torsing due to the presence of cysts as well as many adhesions. I know that I have asked a lot of my friends both offline and online, but please know we are desperate, without any resources, and are truly trying the best we can. At this point I don’t know what else to do. I have nowhere to go, and I can’t stay much longer where I am now. In a matter of days we will be living in our car, but with no money even for gas, let alone food or shelter. I am putting all of this out here, online, in the hope of not just asking for help, but to clear up the vagueness and silence that has taken over my social media accounts. I’m so sorry to anyone I’ve offended or upset and I promise that once we are finally back on our feet, however long that takes, I will right the wrongs I’ve committed in inadvertently with any of my friends. PLEASE HELP: my PayPal address is x@jenn.nu.

[thepeakmoment]

More Peaks Returns

It appears to me that Lynch is inserting some heavy commentary about societal behavior, the most obvious being the “fix your hearts or die” assertion about Denise Bryson’s transition. Another clear instance is the decay of social norms exemplified by the elaborate unfolding drug storyline. Several characters are being depicted wheeling and using drugs, and Lynch-Frost are telling an updated version in P5 of the illicit activity, how it has already effected Shelly’s daughter and husband, a continuing cycle of abuse and dysfunction still playing out.

I also believe Sherrif Frank Truman is a personification of Lynch’s transcendental meditation wisdom. Harry Truman’s brother is an honest character and to be trusted absolutely as a transparent truth teller. His name is the very meaning of honest, open, direct — Frank. His earnestness is exemplified when Doris Truman shows up at station spouting domestic house anxieties while Truman remains sitting, saying nothing at all throughout. It reads like a subtle teaching of how not to respond to anxious energy, worry and dis-ease — do not engage with it. This is classic buddhism — how everything arises from conditions, has a presence in the moment, then decays when conditions change — thus, everything changes, no reason to get wrapped in unnecessary entanglements, including the wrath of someone overreacting to common occurrence. See impermanence.

A Twin Peaks Podcast: A Podcast About Twin Peaks and Deer Meadow Radio are two of the better podcasts on The Return worthy of listening.

Random

Richard Horne — is this the first clue from ?????’s prophetic clues, “Watch for Richard… and Lynda.”

Richard Horne passes bribe money in a pack of Morley cigarettes… the brand of choice for Cigarette Smoking Man.

Salesman asking Lucy at desk for Sheriff Truman, Lucy asks which one? An in-joke allusion to another Sheriff Truman duality, Harry-Frank.

There was a bonsai plant on side table next to Sam sitting on couch in P1, which was also featured in original series’ S2 Windom Earle arch.

Marjorie Green carries her dog, Armstrong, a small Mexican Chihuahua.

Here’s a good article on the absence of Badalamenti music thus far in The Return. 

No white dot in Bob Cooper's pupil/eye — life-less .

End of P4 before Bang Bang Bar is blue rose scene… shot in blue tint

Owl cookie jar on counter behind Dougie Cooper during breakfast 

A lot of Lynch visuals hearkens to Eraserhead, coming full circle in his cinematic journey of a master’s craft.

On Jun 4, 2017, at 9:59 AM, Dom wrote: I think I made a nice discovery which I posted on Reddit (Fred_Truax).

I cannot find Fred[undescore]Truax in any reddit search — author:Fred_Truax yields nothing. I’m not a Reddit reader, the whole thing is a fuck show of multi-threaded comments. It hurts my brain to go there. I can tolerate direct links, though.…

Reading Best Fan Theories at Indiewire, one theory suggests Wally Brando is really dead (source: Reddit /u/chblank), that “Lucy and Andy [are] in denial and shock … of losing her only son as a child.… Sheriff [Frank] Truman may have hired an actor to play their son — a role that fake Wally took literally, considering his “The Wild One” getup and bad “Godfather” impersonation. This could also explain why Wally Brando makes a point of telling his parents that they can convert his childhood bedroom into a study, as a way to help them move on and let go of the past.”

Same article posits that the headless body in the librarian’s apartment belongs to Major Briggs (source: Reddit /u/billy_yllib11). “Although the decapitated head belongs to the dead woman, there is a grotesquely contorted body detached underneath, one that comes from an unknown person. Later, we learn the forensics team has a match on the body, but they need military clearance to unlock its identity. Perhaps the kind of clearance that Major Briggs once had when he was working on top secret projects for the government? Of course, if the decapitated body does in fact belong to Major Briggs, it would also contextualize the appearance of his disembodied head, which floated in space at the beginning of [P3].” …But how does Dougie Cooper’s ring get in stomach?

I also noticed something strange about those two scenes:

In episode one when Sam leaves the Glass Box room the second time to go into the lobby to see Tracey (and the security guard is NOT there) he leaves the small black box of video cards on the step ladder near one of the cameras. The black box remains on the step ladder for the entire scene almost. The box disappears for a moment when they start to take off their clothes, then is back on the step ladder right before they are attacked.

However in episode 2 when Cooper enters the Glass Box and we think Sam is in the Lobby with Tracey, you can clearly see the black box of video cards and his pen on the side table next to the small couch he sits on.

Did Cooper enter this room at a different time they what it appears to be? Is Cooper in a second identical room? I just think its weird the black box is in two different locations in what appears to be the same time?

What do you guys think?

I’m beginning to understand these time shifts as backward dimension bleeding into forward dimension. BOB Cooper begins “‘yrev' very good to see you again old friend” to Gordon Cole when they first see each other again (P4). Relatedly, there’s fervent speculation that Sonny Jim blinks backwards while in back seat of car when Dougie Cooper notices Sonny and sheds a tear (P5).

Backward-forward are the two directions in which one can enter-exit the Black Lodge, shown to us in Classic Peaks and FWWM. Now we’re seeing vertical up-down direction to enter into-exit out of the Lodge, exhibited by the sudden vertical floor vibration as the Arm's doppelgänger appears and Cooper falls down through floor. Or Laura pulled up off the floor screaming into oblivion, as well as  the ghostly pirate-like figure in a jail cell floating up into thin air.

Backwards is a reality dimension different from forward (as normal) dimension. P3 glitchy quick backward-forward movement when Cooper lands into hub in space and interacts with eyes sown shut woman, a reality between the two dimensions (?), existing on the threshold — Dweller on the Threshold?

This new movement is depicted in the opening title sequence when the wavy-flowing red curtains cross fade to chevron pattern panning across floor, seemingly tracking the camera in a circle. I love the new title sequence opening drone shot over the falls, hangs on waterfall from above, dissolves to a slight CU of waterfall spray, then segues to the rhythmic curtains — an abstract version of the classic series opening dissolves from the waterfalls to a flowing river.

I am also convinced that Laura is going to leave the Black Lodge somehow and venture into the real world.

On Jun 4, 2017, at 3:01 PM, Erik wrote: Dom, did you see the Tweet I sent your way? with the info that the Casino Cooper goes to in Vegas was actually filmed in Commerce, CA. (they have actual casinos there) about 35 miles from my house. judge for yourself...

<PHOTO>

Dudes, when we finally graduate from trekking back to Peaks (WA), we have to eat at The Roadhouse Restaurant & Inn. Can’t believe we overlooked this. We’ve done the original Mar-T Cafe (plus the deplorably named and renovated Twede’s) and Fall City Grill (Haps Diner), we gotta do the Roudhouse, regardless if it’s only the exterior.

It will be interesting to see if the green revolving doors that Cooper has trouble with are actually here as well. So I guess we know where you might stay next time you come out here to Pin Peaks Locations. I thought it would even be fun to get a room and watch the season finale there, then go down to the gaming floor and "Helllloooooo!"

As far as the actual plot...

I have come upon no clues or conclusions at all. It is very dense material. What little I have read online is complex and sometimes implausable, but who am I to say?   I like the scene when Douggie is getting dressed and Sonny Boy … comes out and they make a lot of visual and action references to the Season 2 opening scene. What does it mean?  No clue.

In P4 Cooper is Home — Dougie Cooper says aloud, “Home.” This is symbolized as a birthday with balloons in the kitchen behind him. Similar balloon shapes appear when he is dropped off at outside of work building, when Cooper mimics statue pointing gun. I’m thinking Dougie is the character Lynch-Frost are using to teach the viewer how to assimilate and understand the Twin Peaks world view. From Dougie's point of view, he seems to know little or nothing about the world. He’s in process of making sense of it, and now that he's starting from home, we should follow along and we'll learn together. As viewers, we’re putting some faith in the storyline will resolve eventually, even if only in part. During the following scene when Gordon meets Denise Bryson in her office, she says, "I trust you Gordon." We should trust Lynch.… But how does this all jive with ??????’s “You are far from home”?

Gonna review a bit and start my edible regimen, no cherry pie this week, coffee and donuts YES. Last time, I cracked a beer when it started, had a full bowl next to the food. I did not touch either of them for 2 hours straight. Completely forgot about them actually. Totally engaged.   Only ate pie, donuts and coffee... I'll have messenger open at 5:30PM est standing by.

On Jun 7, 2017, at 4:38 PM, Dom wrote: So who do you think are Richard Horne's parents? Audrey and Cooper? Audrey and Jack? Ben and his wife? Jerry and some random chick?

Definitely not the son of Cooper and Audrey. Cooper’s been in the Lodge and he shot Audrey down at every turn before meeting Annie. The other possibilities are intriguing and any of them are plausible. Audrey and Jack — do you mean John Justice Wheeler? Richard Horne seems to be 25 years old and got hooked up with the wrong crowd, that’s easy to do these days. Ben and his wife? Maybe, they could have reconciled their stormy marriage. Ben does seem to have remained steadfast in earnest goodness since emerging from his civil war. Perhaps Richard Horne is Jerry's son that steals his father’s weed to sell. Or maybe Jerry is a big kahuna now in the drug trade? I doubt it. Regardless who the parents are, Richard is a Bobby Peru/Leo Johnson mutt that fits right into Lynch’s social commentary of prevalent drug use still running amok in the world.

Great to see Mike return too.

Would be cool if Mike and Bobby had a beer together at The Roadhouse, catch up a bit with each other — Bobby asking Mike, “Do you remember Laura Palmer?…” I wonder how Bobby will act around Shelly?

I also have another prediction;

The person Gordon wants to look at Cooper will be Diane play by Laura Dern. That's not much of a shock but...

Remember when Albert says he doesn't know where she lives, but knows where she drinks...

My prediction is that they will find Diane (Laura Dern) in that bar we went to in Los Angeles that night I arrived on my last visit. It has all of the nice woodwork and we had to walk down a flight of stairs to enter.

I have resisted right from the outset of Laura Dern cast as Diane. I don’t really want Diane’s identity to be revealed, would much rather have her remain anonymous on the other side of Cooper’s dictaphone. I know there’s speculation and makes sense that Diane will appear as Dern, but this way too obvious, especially after all Lynch has presented us thus far — even considering how close Dern is to Lynch. But still, I hope it isn’t so.…

I also find it weird that Agent Tammy Preston in episode 4 had to ask Albert who Phillip Jeffries is. She learned about his existence in the Secret history of Twin Peaks as she was the agent in charge of examining the dossier. She even added her own notes about him.

That is awesome about the Casino. Next time I come to Los Angeles, I am so game to go play some slots. HELLO  O  OOO OOOO!

[sorrynottoosorry]

i’ve been pretty absent from tumblr lately, not that anyone cares, it’s not like i have fans, just some people that follow me, my tumblr has never had an actual theme, which is what i like about it, but every once in a while i’ll queue a lot of thinspo things, that happens when i’m feeling bad about myself, the title on my tumblr is “I’d Rather Be Anorexic”, i’ve had people send me shit like “anorexia is a disease not a lifestyle” blah blah blah..., i realize what it is i just wish i had it i’m not saying i can just have it because i stop eating or whatever, i’m going into college this fall, haven’t graduated high school yet but very soon, i’m super nervous for college, like the roommate thing especially because i don’t want someone to see me just laying around looking awful without makeup without clothes that cover every inch of my skin, and the freshman 15 thing it’s for skinny people that aren’t use to eating a lot because now they’re away from home etc, if anything i’ll be getting a freshman 50 at least, i didn’t get senior pictures done because i don’t like pictures of me because i’m too fat or one of my eyes look too weird or i have nothing to wear, mainly because i don’t want to look back at my senior pictures and see how fat i was, this being hopefully i lose weight in the future of course but even if not i don’t want to remember high school, not going to winter fest or prom because i can’t fit into a dress how i want not that i even tried, now i have to wear a dress for graduation day and i have no idea what i’m going to do, i might not even walk, i don’t want to get a job because i’m scared my uniform is going to have to be in size xxl and it’d look awful in it, i’m scared to keep living, at least keep living this way, it’s so hard for me to lose weight though, it’s not like i haven’t tried, i can’t stop drinking pop because i don’t drink pop to begin with, i already drink a ton of water every day, i’m pretty positive i have binge eating disorder, i sit around and anytime I'm bored i will eat everything in sight, i’ll have something in the microwave while i pour some cereal, i don’t hang out with my friends after school, we make plans sometimes but i always end up canceling, i’m the fattest out of my friend group, it’s hard to hang out with them especially in public knowing people see me as the fat one, so we make plans to hang out at someones house but they have so much food they plan on making a pizza and fried oreos and they have ice cream and bought chips, i don’t have that stuff at my house because my mom doesn’t like buying it for me, so it’s just hard to hang out with friends but not hanging out with friends means i’m at home bored so i eat, i have social anxiety of course possibly caused by how much i hate myself, i’m not going to project graduation because it’s probably going to involve swimming and god forbid i be seen in a swimsuit, ew, my friends wouldn’t want to hang out with me on the sides and not swim and i wouldn’t want them to sacrifice having fun to keep poor me company, i don’t even know why i’m writing this, no one is going to take the time to read this i mean i wouldn’t, i don’t want to go for walks because i don’t want people to see me outside and i’d have to put makeup on, i have never gone a day of high school without putting a full face of makeup on, another example of how much i hate myself i guess, i try to relieve stress by coloring in an adult coloring book, it kind of makes me more stressed because i don’t know what color to do next what if it looks bad to this color, that one was random idk, my favorite thing to do is watch netflix or youtube, how original of me, it’s just that i like watching and living in someone else’s life, it gets me out of my own life my own thoughts, i like watching peoples lives so i don’t have to think about mine, was that the same sentence idk, when i feel sad i like to watch a super sad movie so i can sit there crying and pretend i’m only crying because of the movie and not what’s happening with my life, what’s with this comma thing i’m doing, nice run on sentence, i don’t have a dog to take for walks, i would kill for a dog, of course i’m going to college soon so i can’t just get a dog now plus i can’t afford one, i would kill to be rich, i would get an in home gym and a personal trainer to come to my house, i’d have lots of dogs with a huge backyard for them to play in, this is just getting incredibly random now, i threw away the rest of the easter candy i had left, first step in the right direction hopefully, i’m just surprised it wasn’t gone by now, i want to blame some weight gain on my birth control pills i started taking in the summer before school, but it’s is such a low dose if anything it’d be like 5 pounds, i started taking it for my awful cystic acne, which is gone now thank the lord jesus our savior, but now i have hella acne scars covering practically my whole fucking face, which is why i wear the makeup, i also wear false lashes every day, it’s a bad habit i can’t go without them because now i think i look disgusting without them even thought before i started wearing them literally everyone complimented me on my lashes, now i just think my natural lashes are shit, don’t start wearing false lashes you’re welcome, i love skinny people, obviously like i hate them but only because i’m hella jealous, but like it must be nice to not have to worry about what you look like in public or how bad you feel while wearing a normal shirt, i envy them, don’t even get me started on the whole skinny shaming thing like literally why they’re perfect, anyways, i’m in love with makeup, like i have online carts filled up with all the makeup i want to buy, of course it’s thousands of dollars which i’d never be able to afford, and clothes, i love clothes, so many clothes websites that i’m just like when i’m skinny i’m going to wear this, it’s awful honestly, i’ve never had a boyfriend, it’s weird i guess i brought this up because i brought up the birth control thing, anyways, most of my friends were having sex in middle school and freshman year, i can’t even get a boyfriend, not that i’m looking though, like i’ve seen relationships on tv and from my friends but i don’t really know what i’m missing kind of, like i’ve had small things with some guys through like texting and stuff but nothing too major, i’ve been asked out a couple times but never from the right people, mainly from those guys that like ask out everyone because they’re lonely or whatever, i don’t really like anyone at my school, and like i’m fat but i like skinny guys but i don’t want to see myself with a skinny guy or have other people see a fat girl with a skinny guy, i’m pretty what’s the word superficial i guess, awful i know but whatever, and like i wouldn’t want a guy that likes bigger girls because i don’t want to be bigger so i don’t want someone to want me just because i’m bigger, i say like a lot, i have a lot of stretch marks, i hate them obviously, i’ve never been a big tattoo person, like i think they’re hot on some people but never really wanted any, but i’m thinking if a miracle happened and i actually got skinny in the future i might want to cover the stretch marks up with tattoos, i just thought of that a few weeks ago, this is like my first time typing out my feelings, i guess it makes me feel better maybe, but now i don’t want to really post it because i’ve said more than i wanted to, i don’t even know why i started writing this honestly, i’ll probably post it anyways because i know no one will take the time to read it, i guess this started because i saw a video of myself, we’re doing this movie in my class and i chose to be the director/camera person because i obviously don’t want to be on video, but my friend in my group took a video of use just talking and figuring out how we were going to set up the next scene, we put everything on the camera on my computer today so i was just watching through some clips when i came across it, my voice sounded so awful and gross and i wanted to hit myself, and then i came into frame and oh my god, like i know i’m fat like i have eyes and mirrors, but wow, i literally looked so obese it was eyeopening i guess, i obviously deleted it as soon as possible but knowing it’s still on that memory card makes me want to die, yes i’m over dramatic i know, i sound like rude obviously but like i don’t hate fat people i don’t judge fat people i don’t talk about fat people it’s like just myself, this one fat person i hate because i can’t stand being this fat person, i’m less happy, i don’t do things that might be fun i’m always like “one day when i’m skinny i can do that”, and it can be the most basic thing, i don’t live my life because i’m fat, back to the cystic acne i literally almost didn’t go to school because of it, like it got bad the past summer and i told my mom i had to do online school, i couldn’t face people and have them see what a monster i was, somehow i just said screw it and went anyways and it finally cleared up after probably a monthish of school idr, idk what else to say, who am i talking to, my future self maybe is reading this, hopefully you’re skinny, it’s getting late i need to get ready for bed, bye? 

[nihilnovisubsole]

a few things i’ve learned from trying to write more in the past couple of years

usual disclaimer that i’m not published and these are things that work for me, when i say “you” i’m being abstract and referring to myself, etc, etc

this is a VERY LONG post, to everyone on mobile, i apologize

- first things first: it’s okay to disagree with things that people offer to you as writing advice. yes, this includes the things that i’m about to tell you about my methods. there are plenty of people who will try to scold you or say you’re not doing it right, but remember, writing is an art. neoclassicists disagree with cubists. that’s just the way it goes

- almost every “don’t do [X]” piece of writing advice has some great counterexample in literature. seriously. write how you want

- okay, now, onto the nitty gritty habit stuff: when your schedule allows it, write around the same time every day. i get up and start writing over breakfast

- sometimes your “peak time of day for writing” will shift around. again, if your schedule allows for it, just go with the flow. you might be able to write after breakfast every day for a month, and then you might start writing at 7 PM for a while

- set your daily quota bar a little lower than you know you can meet. if you stayed up until 5 AM once and binge-wrote 2000 words, you know you can do it, but can you do it every day? really? probably not. pick a word count you know you can hit most of the time, so you’ll feel like you can set goals and meet them, plus avoid burnout

- it’s okay if your goal is one paragraph, or 100 words. there’s a salman rushdie quote a professor told me about 750 words, but salman rushdie is an esteemed intellectual who’s been at it for a very long time. you wouldn’t walk into an expensive private gym for the first time and get mad at yourself because you couldn’t bench press 400 pounds

- you don’t have to hold yourself to it 7 days a week. give yourself at least some kind of weekend, because, again, burnout. i don’t follow the nanowrimo philosophy - i intend to write all year, and if i’m trying to do it for 52 weeks, the breaks feel very nice

- if you’re on an inspiration kick today and you intend to write the next day as well, don’t “drain the tank to empty.” leave some space ahead of yourself. maybe don’t finish that scene, or that conversation - leave yourself a note about where you want it to go. then, when you sit back down tomorrow, you can get right back on the road

- i feel like i should interject something important here: all the things i’ve said so far have been about me trying to build habits, and the thing about building habits is that they don’t happen overnight. when i first started doing daily quotas, i was not meeting them most of the time. when i did, i was exhausted and it took me until late at night, and i probably wouldn’t meet it the next day, or the day after that. it can start to feel insurmountable, but i can’t stress this enough - you’ve got to resist the self-hatred. do not beat yourself up. sitting there and going “i’m such a useless piece of shit, why do i even try” can be comforting and easy, but it doesn’t make you work better. it shuts you down. after a lot of time and hard work, i had to get to a place where i could say, “okay, i didn’t do it today,” and try again tomorrow, maybe with a smaller goal. each writing day is a self-contained unit - you only have to handle one at a time.

- okay, anyway

- coming back to the weightlifting metaphor - eventually, if you keep at it, you’ll notice yourself writing more. this is why i say it’s okay to start at one paragraph, because you’re probably not going to end at one paragraph. that’s just the point where you start to grow. it’s amazing what the combination of being used to writing, and feeling a sense of empowerment with writing, will do. [you also might get faster, whether you intended to or not. it used to take me all day to hit my quota. now i finish it around 2 PM.]

- you don’t have to start at the beginning. you can start where you get your first idea, even if that’s the love scene in chapter 23 or some random dialogue in chapter 4. i know many writers talk about the blank page being the scariest part, so the point is to just make it not blank. once you’ve done that, you can work backwards or forwards from what you’ve got

- you don’t even have to write complete sentences in order, if it makes you more efficient not to. if you want to script out an entire scene’s worth of dialogue like it’s a 2005 RP, then go back and fill in narration later, you can. those introductory paragraphs where i set the mood of a scene are usually the last things i write

- read your dialogue out loud

- actually, if you're able, read the whole story out loud. i’ve never found a more effective way to catch awkward wording and typos

- if you want to work on a bigger project, try to find some type of outline, or at least have some kind of extra document where you write your ideas down. i know there are people out there who can just write novels by the seat of their pants, but they’re rare, and it often involves binge-writing, which goes against the ‘slow and steady’ method i have to follow. i never go into a long project without an outline like the one i explained in this post

- speaking of “big projects:” how people will sort different types of stories based on word count is weird. i’ve heard people say a novel is 40,000 words. i’ve heard people say it’s 50k, i’ve heard people say it’s 80k, which, what the hell? it’s nice to have a benchmark, but don’t lose sleep over it. just keep writing

- word repetition is not as big a deal as i thought it would be. i’ve talked to many other fans who are big readers. they say they don’t notice it that much. if they do, they don’t think it’s distracting unless it’s some irritating thesaurus word like “splendiferous”

- the first draft of everything is not actually always shit. this goes back to the “stop talking to yourself like that” thing i mentioned earlier. some people write drafts upon drafts, and scrap them, and the final product is unrecognizable. some people only have a couple, because they edit as they go. neither type of writer is wrong. you’ll just have to figure out which kind you are

- you don’t have to show people everything you write. if you feel shame about the pairings you like or the types of stories you want to see, and your dilemma is “i would write that, but people will make fun of me,” write it for yourself and just keep it private, or publish it under a different name. it’s kind of good to be able to write for yourself anyway.

- if you feel anxiety about posting your work online, start small. start with posting excerpts if you want, then drabbles, then maybe some oneshots. if you’re posting it on tumblr, turn anon off. sure, it’ll be nerve-wracking at first, but like the daily habits above, with enough exposure, it should feel ordinary. i noticed this when i was posting tgoed

- social media feedback isn’t an indicator of whether something’s good or not. many platforms like tumblr are very image- and instant-gratification based, so pitching something like writing on them can be a hard sell. this may feel discouraging. it’s not easy, but all you can do is press on

- not all crit is created equal. that universal truth about “every individual approaches things from their own place” is never more true than when people interact with art. you may have a beta who tells you something really great and it helps you grow, but people can just as easily have random style pet peeves, or be snobs. you may very well get some anonymous twit in your inbox saying “this is the worst thing ever and your characterization made me want to die,” and you really don’t have to grovel and change your writing until they’re satisfied. if you choose to say, “hey, i’m not soliciting crit right now,” or not even read the comments people leave on your stories, that’s fine. there are many hollywood actors who don’t read reviews of the movies they’re in, and, you know, whatever, they’re millionaires. if they can do it, so can you

- speaking of which, here’s a diagram about ‘brutal honesty’ versus ‘loving honesty’ that may help. i don’t think it was written with writing in mind, but it’s good nonetheless

- this is also a nice post to read when you get down, about how most fanfic writers are better than they think they are

- finally, if nothing else: know your body. you may [and likely will] have to adjust things if you have illnesses going on. i’m a young, healthy person who just has issues with rejection, confidence, and getting up on time. that puts me at a handful of advantages you may not have. just remember that the best is the best for you, no matter how much people tell you otherwise.