#can you imagine trying to bully her in elementary school. It would be impossible. Who would fuck with a person who has a 7 foot tall dad

[mysteryycreature]

horrifying fact!

if you reasonably estimate, based on how tall she stands next to Fred, that Daphne is 5’8, then that makers her father in SDMI 6’8.

why is he so tall. There is an entire foot of height between them he should not be that massive

[thefanfictionartist]

The Captain’s Paramour

A/N: I worked hard write this and would really appreciate any love you can give this story. I do intend to write at least one more part to this and would love to hear any feedback or requests that you all have! If any of you have a request for a one-shot, please feel free to message me!

Pairing(s): Tooru Oikawa X Y/N; Hajime Iwaizumi X Y/N; Koutarou Bokuto X Y/N; implied Aoba Johsai X Y/N

Summary

Growing up, Y/N knew that Tooru Oikawa was someone who intimidated her, regardless of her crush on him, and she opted to stay away. When they start college together and Y/N joins as team manager, Oikawa charms his way to being her boyfriend. Happy in the start of the relationship, Y/N has yet to wonder if she was right to stay away from Aoba Johsai’s captain from the beginning.

Word Count: 4.4k

Rated M for Mature; intended for 18+ audiences.

Warning: This fan fiction contains a toxic relationship and bullying. If you are not comfortable with manipulation, dub-con, degrative language, and otherwise abusive aspects, please do NOT read this. You have been warned. 

~         ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~ He was someone you told yourself to only admire from afar. Regardless of the fact that you had known him since the two of you could attend school. Even then, you hadn’t spoken much to Tooru Oikawa. 

It was intimidating to have him even look in your direction. 

He had a god-like presence that always shines too brightly when he smiles. His eyes had a way of singling out his admirers like a lion stalking his prey. On more than one occasion, you told yourself to stop going to volleyball games because you knew that if he ended up approaching you, you’d become a blubbering mess. At least, that’s how you always pictured it.

But rather than avoiding him at all costs, you couldn’t help to watch him at his practices and games. If there was anything that no one could deny, it was that Oikawa had a talent that was nearly impossible to beat. 

His talent alone had entranced you, and after years of watching him play in elementary and middle school, you found yourself applying for the manager position on Aoba Johsai’s boys volleyball team. 

Purely because now you had an obsession with the game. 

And since you’ve been so observant, you knew that you could at least help the boys on the team in a practical manner.

As a first year, you doubted that you would be accepted…

But after a week of waiting, you found yourself sitting in one of the school’s gymnasiums, helping Oikawa set up the net in the middle of the court for practice. You found that he was actually quite disarming in conversation, making it so that you could speak with him easily. Your anxiety about being around him slipped away with a single ‘Hello.’, and you weren’t sure if that unsettled you or not. 

When you applied to be Seijoh’s manager, you expected the long hours and dedication you’d have to put in. Actually, you welcomed the distraction it gave you as an extracurricular. 

What you didn’t expect was the disdain most girls had for you. 

Most girls at Aoba Johsai hated you and the time you got with who they considered to be the hottest guys in school. They’d blatantly ignore you and write cruel messages on your locker and desk. In the few times that any of the boys were present during these incidents, they’d come to your defense. And you couldn’t have been more grateful to have your team back you up. 

You would always assure them that the bullying didn’t bother you. It didn’t bother you much when you had friends on the volleyball teams all over the country, including the couple of female managers they had. 

It was something you reminded yourself of when the crude comments written on your social media did bother you. Although, the harassment progressed farther online with absurdly edited pictures of you on certain profiles. And the comments multiplied by the day, making it all the more worse.

When the remarks got particularly bad, you would hide yourself in the janitorial closet of the gymnasium, crying in the privacy of the vacant room. 

Having the girls at school, and only the girls at school, torment you was something you could deal with. 

But having strangers command you to die and tell you that you were worthless hurt you more than you could have ever expected. 

You were sniffling softly and nearly at the end of your tears when someone walked into the closet. Looking up at the shadow of whoever had come in, you wipe furiously at your damp cheeks, trying to erase the fact that you were just bawling your eyes out. 

“Oh- sorry, I’ll be out in a sec-” Speaking softly to the intruder, you stand up, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. 

“N/N-chan?” Oikawa’s voice surprises you. 

“Tooru..”

“Why are you in here?” He takes a moment to observe your features and asks another question, “Have you been crying?”

Anxiously, you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before fiddling with the ends of it. A sarcastic, curt laugh tumbles from your throat as your red-rimmed eyes find the linoleum floor. “Yeah..” You sniffle before adding, “Pretty lame, right?”

Before you have a chance to look at him again, Oikawa’s arms wrap around you in a binding hug. 

The jacket he wears feels cool against your skin and you find yourself leaning your heated cheeks against it, silent tears rolling down your cheeks from the gesture you’d never expect from him. 

“No.. No, you’re not lame at all, Y/N.” His mouth rests against the top of your head and you can feel his lips twist into a small smile. “Those people are gonna get what’s coming to them for being so mean to you, I’m sure of it. In the meantime, you should just ignore it, ya?” He leans back to look at you, thumb carefully wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe then they’ll get bored and find someone else to pick on.” He adds with his trademark dazzling smile. 

Nodding, you agree with him, leaning back onto his shoulder as he rubbed your back to comfort you. In that moment, your personal relationship with Tooru became much more than it was before. 

As far as you knew, Oikawa hadn’t spoken with anyone about what happened that day, but you did notice many things start to change. 

For one thing, the atrocious bullying had stopped quite abruptly and you now only had to deal with a few harmless glares during your classes. For another, Oikawa seemed to pay more attention to you. Not that you were complaining. 

He had a way of drawing you in and making you even more smitten with him, and he knew it. 

It didn’t take long at all for him to claim you as his girlfriend. 

And at first, you felt like you were walking on Cloud Nine. There was no way that you could’ve fallen any deeper in love with him. He was so considerate and gentlemanly and kind. He brought you on nice dates when he didn’t have practice and showered you with compliments all the time. And when he touched you, you felt a pleasure you could never imagine before. He made you happy. He did. 

Really. 

So you promised yourself that doing things like this wasn’t a big deal. 

Because Tooru wanted it. And you loved him. 

           - - - - -

“That’s right, baby girl. All of Iwa-chan’s dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.” Oikawa prompted you from the side of the room, sporting a sizable bulge as he watched the action. “I want you to make him feel really good, hm?”

Following Oikawa’s instructions, you force yourself to choke on more of Iwaizumi’s girth, your eyes watching as his head tilts back to let out a deep groan. 

Trying to evoke more of his noises, you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to pump the inches you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Behind you, Oikawa tutts, shaking his head. “Naughty girl.. You should know it’s improper to use your hands.”

Your scalp screams as he pulls you back with a fistful of your hair. A pitiful whimper leaves your lips which are covered in a messy amount of saliva. 

You fall into Oikawa’s lap weakly, the back of your head on his shoulder as he pries your legs open to display your arousal. As you attempt to close your legs, embarrassed that you’re so turned on in this situation, he hooks his legs between yours, so that his knees rest on the inside of yours. 

“Look at this Iwa-chan,” Tooru’s slender fingers slide along the puffed lips of your pussy, causing you to whine and grind your hips. 

Before you can receive any lasting relief, Oikawa pulls his fingers away from you, displaying the way your slick sticks and drips down his fingers. “She’s such a cock-hungry slut that she’s already dripping after sucking dick.”

His fingers dip down again, and this time he teasingly enters your twitching hole and pulls a moan from you. 

Oikawa starts to curl his fingers against you in a way that you know will have you seeing white. Skillfully he adjusts his wrist to reach deeper into you, brushing continuously against the sweet spongy texture of your walls. 

“Tooru- ‘M close!” 

And just like that, he pulls his fingers away, making you cry out. “Please, I wanna cum, Toru!” Your eyes brim with tears as you look at him, desperate for the release you nearly had. 

“That’s not my name.” His eyes are dark and he gives you a small smirk before saying, “If you wanna cum so bad..” He pushes you unceremoniously off his lap, relishing in the whine you give him. “You better beg Iwa-chan really nice.”

You look up to Oikawa from the ground, wide-eyed and begging. “Sir..” 

Giving Hajime a blowjob while Tooru watched was the original agreement and you weren’t sure that you much liked this spontaneous new plan. 

“Please, sir..” Your hands reached for his lap, intending to try pleasuring him so he’ll want to finish you himself. “I want you to make me cum, please.” Oikawa’s vice grip stops your hands before they are even close to touching him. The grip is tight enough it brings tears to your eyes, and you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for later on. 

“You heard me, pet.” He nearly spits in your face and you flinch at the nickname as tears collect on your lashes. “If you want to cum, you have to have Iwaizumi fuck you.”

He pushes you away with ease, letting you fall back onto your palms.

“So you better beg him hard.” His eyes flash with sadistic intent. “And before you even think about it.. There’s no way I’ll let you finish yourself tonight. I’ll tie you to the headboard if I have to insure it.” The smile he gives you doesn’t match his words.

When you turn to look at Hajime, you can see pity in his eyes. Like he can see just how uncomfortable you are with Oikawa’s behavior. 

But both of you knew that Oikawa wouldn’t let you leave until he got what he wanted. 

And that he got. 

        - - - - -

Events like that intense night with Hajime and Tooru became typical for you. And even though you had expressed your disinterest with being shared, you found yourself still wanting to make him happy. 

What started out as a normal relationship started to feel like ownership. 

You dwelled on how similar you actually became to the posts those girls used to make about you being a slut, and that just seemed to make you feel worse about yourself. 

So you would go to Oikawa again and again, seeking that warm comfort he gave you that one day in the janitor’s closet, crying your eyes out about how worthless and whorish you felt. And you’d be comforted by him for just enough time to make you feel okay before he would make you feel like a whore again; crying under him as he pounded you into the mattress. 

Then his pretty words would bring you snuggling up to him in bed as he told you how precious and special you were, and how much he loved you.

Even though you knew that you felt terrible and wanted to end things with him, you’d stay because you were in love, and because Tooru told you he needed you. 

You told yourself that he at least made you happy sometimes, and that it was normal for him to flat out ignore you after games because he needed to make his fangirls happy. It was understandable to a degree. A guy like him would need popularity to bring him where he wanted to go and you supported him one hundred percent. 

It wasn’t like you relied on him completely for happiness. 

You had friends for that. 

Most of your friends were from the boys volleyball league; people you had met during the many, many volleyball camps you had attended with the Aoba Johsai. 

You couldn’t have been more grateful for the frequent training camps in your third year, given the growing uneasiness you had around your own team. The only people on your team you felt comfortable around were the coaches and Iwaizumi, who was always respectful to you. 

After a while, you had caught on to the fact that Oikawa was making Iwaizumi feel like he had to do what he says, similarly to the way he makes you feel. 

Shortly after, you heard an argument break out between them and though you haven’t explicitly talked to each other about it, you knew that Iwaizumi had gotten fed up and told Oikawa he wasn’t gonna fuck his girlfriend anymore. And that Tooru should stop using me like a sex doll to be thrown around because it’s pretty clear that I don’t like it.

You had always thought of Iwaizumi as a protector and close friend. Someone who was gentle with the people he cares about. 

He always made a point of treating you as a gentleman should. 

In fact, most of the boys who weren’t on your team treated you kindly and warmly. It was truly no wonder that you enjoyed the training camps so much. 

Or nights like this one. 

When the second and third years from the prefecture would decide to throw a party. The presence of other school’s teams made you more comfortable with the environment. 

Finally you’re able to relax. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N!” Bokuto’s voice makes you genuinely smile. You turn to look at him from where you stand on Kuroo’s porch, seeing as he was the one with the idea to throw a party during spring break. 

It takes you a second to realize that you haven’t seen Bokuto much in the past few months. 

But it’s like having the first breath of fresh air in a long time when you find him smiling just as wide as he had the last time you saw him. It’s enough to keep you floating, just like it always is. “Hi, Bo.” You answer without matching his energy, because you couldn’t scrape up the vitality to do so. 

His head tilts to the side and instead of pity, you see confusion in his expression before turning to lean your forearms against the railing like you were before. Your eyes simply watch the sky turn orange and fuschia as the sun sets, your face void of any expression except a small smile that Bokuto placed there.

“Uh oh..” You hear Bokuto approach you but remain looking at the evening sky. “I didn’t do something stupid, did I?”

A glance to Fukurodani’s ace has you softly giggling at the puppy dog eyes he gives you. He’s at your side, bent at the knees so he can be shorter than you, preparing to beg to be forgiven for whatever he thinks that he’s done. “No, of course not, Kotarou.” You shake your head at his words. “You’re nothing but an angel.” 

Your smile gets a tiny bit bigger as you pat his head, careful not to ruin the way he styled it. 

“Okay, then…” He brings his hand to his chin, straightening himself out to lean his elbow on the porch railing. Owlish eyes observe you carefully, a look of deep concentration etched into Bokuto’s features. It’s as though he thinks if he stares long enough, he’ll be able to read your mind. 

You look so much more dull and lifeless now than you had been when he first met you. You had bags beneath your beautiful eyes and your cheeks had sunken in a bit. What made him the most upset was how your eyes didn’t reflect your smile.

“I give up.. Why do you look so sad?”  His voice softly coos as he asks the question, head tilting with inquiry.

You shrug and give an unconvincing, “I’m just tired.” 

Bokuto is overwhelmingly unprepared for how depressed you sound. His smile falters with unease. It’s normally not so easy to read other people’s emotional states for him. He knew he could be dim-witted at times but this was not one of them. It was clear that whatever had you so down wasn't something you wanted to talk about. Regardless of how much he wanted to know, Bokuto felt it was his job to try to get your mind off whatever was upsetting you. 

In a few seconds, his smile is back in full force, wanting nothing more than to find a way to make you happy. 

“C’mon.” Bokuto holds out his hand for you to take, excitement flashing in his eyes. 

Now it’s your turn to be confused, but rather than asking questions, your hand slips into his and you let him pull you through the house to Kuroo’s backyard. Once you’re there, he lets go of your hand and runs to a playset that probably hadn’t been touched in quite a while. 

There are plenty of people lying in the grass and talking around the pool, filling the air with empty chatter combined with the music that flowed outside from the house. 

Your eyebrows knit together in a disapproving manner. “Bo..” 

The childish excitement he has when he sits on one of the two swings on the playset is admittedly a bit contagious. But, to save yourself embarrassment from accidentally breaking Kuroo’s childhood playhouse, you try arguing as you approach the volleyball player. 

“This is meant for kids like 10 and under, you know?” 

His eyes glint with competitiveness as he pushes himself back on the swing. “I don’t care, I bet I’ll still swing higher than you.”

Your eyes narrow and you quickly find yourself plopping into the other swing, quickly accepting the challenge. “Oh, you’re on, Mr. Owl.” Pushing off the ground with as much force as you can muster, your mind focuses solely on getting your own swing higher and higher. A grin spreads across your face, brightening your features as you allow yourself to have genuine fun. 

The rusted chains of the old swings squeak with sudden use, but luckily don’t show any sign of falling apart. 

Seeing as Bokuto’s body is dense with muscle, you find yourself soaring higher than him in no time; laughter seeping out of the both of you in a hysterical manner. “I win!” You shout as you reach the peak of your swing, glancing in the direction of Koutarou. Even though you can only see a blurred version of him, you can tell that he is wearing a look of utmost determination.

“No! I’m not even at my highest yet! Just wait!” He shouts eagerly and you concede.

“Fine, you have one more minute to beat me.”

In that minute, your eyes drift to the sky and appreciate the dazzling stars above. If you focus hard enough you start to recognize a couple constellations. The first thing you see is Orion’s belt, then the whole of Orion. 

As you pick out the stars of the Little and Big Dipper, you relax with the free feeling of your hair blowing back and forth with each rock of your legs. 

This is what you would imagine flying to feel like, and you get lost in the fantasy of having the power to fly away from the groping hands of your team. Although, you have no idea where you would fly. Maybe you find somewhere like Neverland and be able to live to your own whims and wishes. Or maybe on some desolate tropical island with natives who actually respected you. 

You’re so entranced with your thoughts that you don’t realize when you are genuinely airborne until you hear Bokuto’s voice shouting your name with panic. 

The impact with the ground comes just as soon as you’ve realized that you’ve tumbled face-first off the swing. “N/N!” Oikawa’s voice beckons you to look for him from where you are on the ground. When your eyes find him jogging towards you from the house, your cheeks burn with guilt at the thoughts you had. 

Bokuto’s at your side before Tooru and insistently, yet gently, squishes your cheeks in both of his warm palms to get you to look at him. 

Apparently you hadn’t been answering his questions while Oikawa's presence clouded your mind. “Hm?” You raise an eyebrow at Bokuto, telling him that you’re listening. 

“Are you hurt?” 

You bat away his hands and shake your head while brushing the dust from your knees, which had taken most of the impact. “M’ fine. Just scraped my knees a little.” A reassuring smile settles on your face, although it falls just slightly when Oikawa approaches your side. 

You could swear for a moment that Bokuto picked up on the shift in your mood when Oikawa appeared, but ended up just blaming that on wishful thinking. 

“I’ll go get some bandages.” The ace leaves you with the setter before you can detest.

Tooru remains silent in an eerie manner, and it takes a lot of courage for you to look him in the eyes. “Can you stand?” He reaches out to you with long slender fingers and when you grab them, a shudder runs down your spine from how cold they feel. 

“Yeah.” You answer, and within a moment you’re on your feet, being pulled into the kitchen by your tyrannical boyfriend. 

“Sit.” He motions to the island countertop and you obey, swinging your legs as you wait for Koutarou to emerge from the bathroom with the promised bandages. When he arrives, Oikawa swiftly takes the bandaids from him and bends down to apply them to your knees. 

Oddly, he seems to completely disregard Bokuto offering to help bandage you. In fact, it honestly seemed as though he were ignoring the ace. He must’ve gotten the same vibe, because within a minute Koutarou left the kitchen with Kuroo. 

“There. All better, right?” Tooru smiles as he gives you a kiss on the cheek, holding your hips to help you off of the counter. “Come sit with me for a while, hm?” 

His fingers swirl delicately at the skin peeking from between your shirt and shorts; you resist pulling away from the icy chill of his gaze and nod. “Yeah.” You agree and follow him into the living room, which was now clouded with smoke. It was hard to tell the exact source, but it was clear that a few of the people in the room were extremely high. 

After a few moments, the smoke was dizzying. 

You were never one to indulge in intoxication and you never really saw an opportunity where you would feel comfortable with it. The atmosphere of this room made you queasy, even more so when Oikawa pulled you into his lap on the sofa. 

He pulls you close against him, and for a moment you swear you feel like you’re suffocating. Your mouth becomes dry as you pull in an uneasy breath of pungent air. 

“ ‘Kawa, I need some water.” Your voice is small against the thumping music inside the house, but Tooru acknowledges your request. 

“Oi, Matsu!” The setter calls to his teammate from across the room. “Can you get Y/N some water?” Miraculously, the dark-haired middle blocker hears his team captain and within a short amount of time, you have a glass of water in your hands and chug it thirstily. 

Oikawa chuckles from behind you, wrapping his arms around your midsection. “Slow down babe, the water isn’t going anywhere. I promise.” He kisses the junction of your neck a bit more sultrously than you would like in public and you push your shoulder up to signal your apprehension with the gesture. 

He chuckles again, his chilling breath caressing your neck and making you tense. Another kiss touches the nape of your neck as Tooru snakes his hands to your inner thighs, fully intending to pull them apart. 

“Not now, Tooru.” You keep your voice quiet, not wanting to make a scene around so many people as your hands pull him away from your thighs. 

If he heard you, you couldn’t tell but it was clear in your body language that you were not comfortable. Oikawa, either ignoring your words or not getting the message, again latched his lips to your neck, this time nibbling to mark you. “C’mon, don’t you think our friends here deserve a show.” He cooed the words to you while his fingers nimbly began to unbutton your shorts. 

“No.” You push his hands away again and this time strain to get up and walk away. His strong arms easily pull you back down against an obvious bulge that grinds against you. 

“Tooru, Stop it.” Your voice gets slightly desperate, realizing that he really isn’t letting you go, and that your pleas are falling upon deaf ears. Writhing, you free yourself of his grasp momentarily before his hand is wrapped around your wrist to pull you back. 

“Oi- Shittykawa.” Hajime’s voice breaks Oikawa’s concentration and focuses the setter’s glare on his ace. “She said ‘No.’ So fucking stop it.”

With his focus on Iwaizumi, Tooru’s grip loosens and you take the opportunity to leave the vertigo-inducing room to find one that feels more safe. 

The house feels much bigger now than it did when you first arrived, and even after leaving the living room, you swear your surroundings are spinning. When you reach the front door, you hear faint chants reminiscent of a fight in the very background of your mind. Whether or not the fight was actually happening, you had no idea. 

All you knew was that there seemed to now be two door knobs that led out onto the porch. 

You blink and focus extra hard and end up grabbing for both of them. One of your hands ghosts through the imposter knob, while the other successfully twists and opens the door to the fresh air outside. 

Hope that the outside air would alleviate your symptoms quickly washed away as the wooden panels of the porch lurched beneath your feet, causing you to fall. Despite the desperate desire you had to get away from this place, you laid your feverish body on the ground. 

The only thing you could do against the spinning world was to close your eyes and hope it would go away soon. 

[eggtoasties]

Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

.

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

[ryanmeft]

Movie Review: Jojo Rabbit

Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit sets the tone early, as a cadre of pre-teen Hitler Youth practice a montage of activities such as grenade-throwing to the tune of Tom Waits’ “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up”. If you know the song, you can’t help but feel Waititi is winking at you---it’s a rather bleak thing about how terrible being an adult is, set against an energetic scene full of romping mini-Nazis. Comparisons to Mel Brooks will be inevitable; it seems impossible that Waititi has not seen the infamous “Springtime for Hitler” bit many times.

The plot has been run through the outrage machine enough that you probably already know it. A ten-year-old boy idolizes Adolf Hitler and has him, played by Waititi, as an imaginary friend. His single mother Rosie raises him while his father is off fighting for Germany, and he idolizes the cause and the Fatherland in the way young boys admire whatever their father is doing: as a remote, hazy fantasy. His adoration of Nazism, which he barely understands, is challenged when he discovers his mother is hiding a Jewish girl in their home.

The key to both the film’s heart and humor is that it remembers how little boys see the world. Jojo’s imagined version of Hitler combines traits of the real thing and projections of himself and his hopes and fears, as do all imaginary friends. He madly berates the Jews while exuberantly waving his hands, but he does so with elementary school insults and erratic movements that remind you of a child trying to mimic a dance they saw on TV. These are comedic exaggerations of the actual monster we’ve all seen in old footage, but Jojo’s version also likes and does things the real one never would have: he’s always up for running through the woods with Jojo, steering him through the travails of bullying, and having a talk with him when he’s feeling blue. I was positively surprised to find out the movie was based on a novel, Caging Skies, by New Zealand author Christine Leunens; it seems like the sort of thing that could never work on the printed page.

Things get complicated when Jojo discovers Elsa living in a hidden room in his house, sheltered by his mother. We first see her the way we see most hiding Jews in movies: bedraggled, scrunched into a corner in a dimly lit place, looking afraid. Our expectations here are subverted when she turns out to be fierce, aggressive and more than capable of intimidating the meek and timid Jojo. Imaginary Hitler insists she must be dealt with, but she and Jojo gradually form a certain kind of friendship.

I am struggling to convey in words the reason all this works. Waititi’s humor is in the juxtaposition, in seeing history’s most evil man as the product of a child’s imagination, in seeing the stereotype of the cowering Jewish refugee flipped hard by a self-assured and not-at-all-meek young woman, in seeing the purveyors of the Aryan Race myth acting like a bunch of incompetent dandies and fools. Recall the famous scene in The Great Dictator, in which Charlie Chaplin as Hitler prances around daintily while playing with an inflatable globe. There is some of that here, as we see Hitler shamed by single mothers and grossed out by the concept of dating.

A great cast goes a long way here; the movie is full of actors who know how to sell a gag just hard enough and no harder. In addition to Waititi, Sam Rockwell, Alfie Allen and Rebel Wilson all play Nazis, though not very effective ones: they are demoted from essential cogs in the war machine to playing babysitter. Scarlett Johansson does not play a typical mother: she is both affectionate with and hard on Jojo, and insists he is not the Nazi he thinks he wants to be. Why does she not just tell him what he is and is not, you may be wondering? If you have ever dealt with children even briefly, the flaw in that reasoning should be obvious. She shows Jojo what he can choose to be, which is the most anyone can ever do.

The most important performances, though, are by Thomasin McKenzie and newcomer Roman Griffin Davis. McKenzie’s breakout performance in last year’s Leave No Trace went largely under-appreciated, but she’s getting recognition here, and for good reason. Tough as nails, she’s also not immune to emotion, alternating between threatening to cut off Jojo’s “little Nazi head” and insisting to him that he is a better person than he thinks he is. She’s an electric presence on screen, and the decision to have her character overturn our expectations is key to the film. This is Davis’s first role, and he’s given a monumental task: portray a ten-year-old as they actually are. That may not seem like much, but more often than not, little is asked of child actors; they are not tasked with behaving on screen the way children do in real life. The interplay between the two made me desire a highly improbably sequel, perhaps adventures through post-war Germany tracking down war criminals. If that sounds in bad taste, you probably want to skip this movie to begin with.

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

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 All images are property of the people what own the movie.

[szopenhauer]

When was the last time you watched a VHS movie? I don’t even remember but I know I still watched VHS when we had DVD already and most of ppl no longer used/owned VHS anymore

Do you know when to use ‘to’ & ‘too’? yup

Do you ever get frustrated&say 'nevermind’ when people just don’t get it? I do at times

What was the last thing you cleaned&why? I washed my hair if that counts XD

Don’t those weightloss pill commercials just irritate you? yeah

What happened in the last TV show you watched? I’ve learned a bit about Shadow weaver

*and now as I wanted to add a gif I found out even more...

Do you ever correct grammar/spelling errors your friends make? I try not to as much as I used to but I’m still tempted 

What physical features can you just not stand about yourself? my skin for an example

Do you still count with your fingers, even if only every so often? yep

The last time you spent money, what was it on & how much did you spend? my mom paid for the last things I bought in second hand - torba, bluza, koszula biała (wreszcie dorwałam) i legginsy SW

Don’t you believe you’re not really a vegetarian if you still eat chicken? watch Scott Pilgrim movie

In elementary school, were you more of the bully or the bullied? I’ve been the victim of bullying

How much do you say you walk in a week? lots

Is there anything you wish your parents did differently in raising you? maybe

What is the greatest source of anxiety for you? food allergies What was the last appointment or plan you had to cancel? Saturday’s meeting with my gf, she was supposed to visit me  What is going right in your life right now? I thought that my love life What is going wrong in your life right now? everything Did you do anything today that you can be proud of? I organized my wardrobe/closet/clothes Would you ever want to be an architect? more an interior designer

What is one thing you would do to make the world better? destroy/delete/cancel all diseases/illnesses What do you think makes you attractive to other people? ask my current partner Would more money make you happier? yasss What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in your life? live

If you were a holiday, which one would you be? hmm... Are you afraid of anything that most people are not afraid of? I suppose but that’s personal Would you have a pet dragon? If so what color would it be? better not ^^” unless it’s tiny like in Moomins but doesn’t blow fire  If you could be skinny and miserable or fat and happy, which would you be? fat and happy  If you were to invent something, what would it be? cure for allergies (or just all health problems at once) Do you fear death? kinda If you could name your own planet, what would you call it? probably Lazzo or Chinpolsafryamerros If you could live another 200 years. What would you hope to see? world getting better How would you rate yourself? depends Do you still collect toys from Happy Meals? I’ve had only one - Eeyore  What have you achieved that you once thought was impossible? being in a relationship? What have you tried to quit, but weren’t able to? life... What do you know how to cook? water

Quick choose, green or blue? green Does the number ten have an special meaning to you? nah Who is better Superman or Spiderman? Spiderman Have you ever felt like you found ‘the one’? I feel this way now and hope I’m not wrong  Have you ever had a pet that you disliked? not really Do you need to clean your room? my desk How many TV’s are in your house? just 1 and we don’t use it at all 

Have you ever given a nickname to your pet(s)? my dog has several Does it seem like everything gives you cancer these days? sadly

Are you homophobic I’m homosexual so... Name a song that is overplayed some tik tok songs I guess What is the most expensive thing on you at the moment my slippers for about 20 PLN

Is there anyone in the room with you? I’m alone

Who have you texted today? mad and M. Sweet or sour? sweet, GERD makes all food sour enough :( Are you waiting for anything? for example - appointments Does the time 2 o'clock have any significance to you? nope Are there any stuffed animals in the room you’re in? ton Where’s your mother? sleeping Is there anything hurting you, on your body right now? more like itch/bother What’s the best time you’ve had in the past week? hard to tell What’s the last thing you touched that wasn’t a part of the computer? my chin Are you waiting for a phone call? in the middle of the night? :o When’s the last time you used hand sanitizer? today Wearing anything that isn’t yours? why would I?

Are you one of those people who are always cold? not as much as my mother but still

Are you anything like your siblings? uhm... When was the last time you shaved your legs? recently Are you a fan of Miranda Cosgrove? why did I thought about Devil wears Prada when her surname was Priestly?...

Do you like long bike rides? not long Will Friday be a good one? doubt it When was the last time something bothered you? atm Can you speak French or Spanish? neither Do you own a pair of yellow socks? mhm What school year do you think was the saddest? first year of middle school? Was today someones birthday that you know? no one I know  Have you drank any water today? obvi When was the last time you had a crowd at your house? how many ppl is the crowd in your opinion because for me that’s 4+ ppl lmfao Do you currently have any mosquito bites? luckily not Do you think it would be cool to have a gummy bear lamp? it’s cute but no thx Do you have a goat? ... no Do you say “Okay” or “Alright” more? ok, I don’t use alright like ever

Do you like your personality? it’s complicated Are you happy with your appearance? I have bunch of insecurities How’s your life at home? sigh... Do you have any mental disorders? couple Have you ever thought of suicide? constantly lately Do you know someone who committed suicide? those who tried

Is there someone you can’t imagine life without? yet we can’t live without whoever, sad Your enemy dies. How do you feel? ... Do you wake up in a good mood in the mornings? r u kidding me? What is your mom’s maiden name? not your business Would you rather receive balloons or flowers for valentine’s day? smth else Do you follow the crowd when it comes to trends or do your own thing? my own thing Where were you at eleven this morning? shopping with mom How was your day? not good Are you more of a tomboy or a girly girl? in between? Have you ever been proposed to? I have not been proposed to  Have you ever seen two people together and you got sick to your stomach? ha! common reaction Does the thought of marriage scare you? slightly Is it true that faith is believing when common sense tells you not to? in some cases? 

[autismandstuff]

Hi, I'm sorry if this comes off as rude because I'm really just genuinely curious, but I'm wondering what makes you think your autism is different from other people's on this site? Would you be willing to describe what your autism is like for you a bit? I'm curious if there are traits you have that are relatable that maybe aren't talked about as much on tumblr.

Okay, a bit of a disclaimer, this is based off what I’ve seen on tumblr and I am well aware that not every autistic person is the same and also some people might act a certain way online but not in real life.

So, I don’t really think my autism is different, I have the same symptoms/traits and such as everybody else on here, I actually think it’s a combination of my personality and personal experiences that make me different from the majority of the autistic people I’ve seen.

Basically, I haven’t experienced what seems to be the common problems of the online autistic community. Stuff like bullying, infantilzation (idk if I spelled that right), general asshole-ishness from allistics, etc. and it’s all pretty much a result of my personality. 

I don’t really know how to explain my personality, but imagine a light switch and instead of ‘on’ and ‘off’ it’s ‘I don’t really give a shit about what’s happening’ and ‘I’m pissed beyond belief and ready to sacrifice whatever I need to to defend myself.’

I never experienced bullying (although people tried) because I’m such a volatile person that I’d explode once and the bully would realize I’m not worth it, a good example of this is once in elementary school and girl wouldn’t leave me and my friend alone so I choked her on the bus and she stopped and never talked to me or my friend again (though she did try to fight me but I just didn’t go because my personality had already flipped back to ‘I don’t care’).

I never experienced infantilzation (spelled wrong again) because it’s almost impossible to treat me like a child. I’m probably the least autistic, autistic person you’ve ever met and there’s no doubt that I’m an adult who’s gonna do adult things, so the idea of someone looking at me and go ‘nope that’s basically a kid’ is absurd.

So it’s not really that I’m different, I guess, it’s that I don’t relate to the majority of the experiences of people on here. Like I’ll get an ask or something about how someone’s teacher was a jerk because the student is autistic and can’t look the teacher in the eye so the teacher got mad or something, and I can do nothing more than ‘that sucks’ because I can’t at all relate to it because I would’ve torn that teacher a new one. So I made this blog for other autistic people who also can’t relate to the general experiences of everyone else.

(Also I realize this might sound like I’m trying to brag or something, like a ‘look at how cool I am, I don’t give a shit about anything’ kinda deal but I’m really not, that’s really just how I am)

[edogawatranslations]

999: Alterna (2) - Part 8, Chapters 3-4

Table of Contents | Previous: Part 8, Chapters 1-2

Chapter 3

“It’s too dangerous. Stay with everyone else.” I pushed Akane back after pressing the elevator call button. The gruesome sight in the x-ray room would be too much for her to handle.

Despite my warning, Akane puffed out her chest and stared straight into my eyes. “I feel safer when I’m with you, Jumpy. I don’t want to doubt the others, but Zero could be among them... and besides...”

She paused and took a step towards me.

“And besides...?”

“There’s something I really want to tell you,” she mumbled.

“What is it?”

As soon as I asked, the elevator doors opened. After we got on, I pressed the button for C-Deck. But for some odd reason, nothing happened. The button didn’t light up like it had earlier.

“Damn. What’s going on?”

No matter how many times I pressed the button, nothing changed. I grew more impatient by the second. Giving up on C-Deck, I tried the button for D-Deck, hoping that would work instead. It properly lit up, and the elevator doors shut. The cage began its slow ascent.

I let out a sigh of relief and rested my back against the wall.

“Jumpy, you’re bleeding!” Akane shouted with concern, touching my cheek.

“Oh, that? I scraped it on the floor when I busted into the chapel.”

“Are you okay?”

“It’s just a scratch,” I said, slapping my cheek with my palm. “Ow!” The cut was deeper than than I had thought, sending intense pain signals to my brain. I winced in shock.

“Don’t push yourself. You don’t want to get an infection. Let me get a closer look.”

Akane suddenly brought her face closer to mine.

“H-Hey...”

A sweet scent drifted into my nostrils. I froze in place, unable to move a muscle.

I feel like this has happened before...

Experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu, I stared at Akane’s glossy lips in silence.

“You know, something like this happened before.” Akane smiled, as if she had read my mind. “Remember? It was right before we graduated from elementary school...”

A scene flashed into my mind.

The two of us were sitting atop a small hill. We gazed quietly at the evening sun, which slowly set beyond the distant townscape.

“Are you okay?” Akane asked, concern in her voice.

“It’s just a scratch. O-Oww!”

“You’re not okay at all. It’s because you’re too reckless. What were you thinking, going up against five middle schoolers like that?”

“Come on, what else could I do? I couldn’t let them run off.”

Memories buried deep within my brain slowly seeped out into my conscience, like a sweet melody flowing out of a music box.

The rabbit murder incident that occurred in our final year of elementary school. It happened on the last day of our first term, and I dedicated all of my free time to going around and interrogating adults about the case. Finally, at the beginning of March, mere weeks before our graduation, I had determined the likely culprits—a gang of middle schoolers.

As soon as Akane and I reached the park they were rumored to hang around, we spotted a group of middle schoolers by a bush drenching a kitten with oil.

“How cruel...” Akane said, covering her face.

“Hey, what’re you doing?! Stop it!” My body moved before I could even feel anger or fear. I scooped up the kitten and gently tossed it to Akane.

“After you threw the kitten to me, I ran to the nearest police station and called an officer over. I was really shocked. Your face was so swollen, it looked like a balloon. Even though you couldn’t stand, you were still trying to grab at those middle schoolers.”

I looked down.

“As I treated your injuries on the hill, I asked you, ‘Were you unable to run away?’ Do you remember what you said? You said, ‘Nah, I could’ve run away,’ like nothing was wrong.”

“Nah, I could’ve run away.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m not good at giving up. I couldn’t forgive those bullies for killing those rabbits that were so precious to you. I wouldn’t be satisfied until they bowed down before you.”

“I guess something like that did happen.” I smiled, scratching below my nose. It was a little embarrassing to hear that old story.

“Jumpy, you haven’t changed a bit since then. You’re still clumsy, reckless, overly trusting of others...”

“Hey, none of those are good things!”

“Oh, I guess you’re right.” Akane grinned. “But I’m relieved I get to see the same old you again.”

Suddenly, she looked away as if swallowing her words.

“...Akane?”

“Um, I... I have one last thing I really want to tell you...” She hesitated.

“Don’t say ‘last’ like that.” I flashed a smile. “We’ll be able to see each other as much we want once this is over.”

“Huh?”

“I have something I want to tell you too.” I rested a hand on Akane’s shoulder and grinned. “Just not now. I’ll tell you only once we escape from this ship. So please, wait until then to tell me too.”

“...”

Akane looked up at me and nodded.

With perfect timing, as if it had patiently waited for our conversation to end, the elevator door opened.

“Let’s go.”

I rushed towards the central staircase, pulling Akane by her hand. Just as I was about to descend the stairs, I paused. The sight before me took me by surprise.

“No way...” Akane’s voice echoed out from behind me.

Small chunks of wood were adrift, swept here from somewhere else. Our shocked faces were reflected in the water before us. The water level had risen, causing C-Deck to be completely submerged. That was probably why the button for C-Deck in the elevator didn’t light up. An emergency device must have activated and sealed off the elevator doors on C-Deck.

“Why is the water all the way up to here?” I asked, even though I knew it was a pointless question.

I already knew the answer—it was Zero’s handiwork. He must have adjusted the amount of water coming into the ship so that it would sink once the time limit was reached.

This meant that it’d be impossible to retrieve the bracelet from the x-ray room... No, I shouldn’t give up. There must be some other way.

“Let’s head to the control room and look for something we can use,” I suggested.

We rushed up the stairs to A-Deck, pushed open the purple door, and stepped into the control room.

“What are you planning to do?” Akane asked.

Ignoring her question, I began scouring the drawers and shelves.

“Don’t tell me... You’re planning to dive down there?”

As always, Akane was sharp. She likely inferred the answer from my expression.

“That’s impossible! How far do you have to swim to get all the way to the x-ray room?!” Her tone grew more frantic.

“Don’t worry. I’d be stupid to dive down there with nothing,” I answered as I searched deep inside the shelves. “I’m hoping there’s an air tank or something around here...”

“Have you ever used one before?”

“Nope, never.”

“With no formal training, there’s no way you can dive that far down underwater. We should give up on the bracelet and head back to—”

Akane’s words cut off abruptly. Soon afterwards, I heard a thud.

“...?” I turned around, finding Akane lying on the cold floor. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

I rushed over to her and felt her reddened cheek. It was burning hot—her fever was back. I couldn’t abandon her to go to the x-ray room.

“Can you walk?”

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

Akane convulsed. She screamed as her entire body twisted in pain. Her lips—no, her whole face—was turning purple. This was completely different from before.

“Kanny, keep it together!”

“Jumpy... I remember now.” A weak light glimmered from behind her mostly-shut eyelids. Amidst her heavy breathing, she began to mumble nonsense. “That’s right... I... I’ve been a ghost.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry... Jumpy... Everything that’s happening tonight... was... because of me...” Tears streamed down Akane’s face.

“Hang in there! Kanny!”

“Please... Don’t worry about me... I’m fine... We’re approaching the singularity... so my existence is hazy...”

More nonsensical phrases came out of Akane’s mouth. Her mind had gotten muddled.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

She convulsed again. Her entire body bent backwards as she screamed in agony. Her wide-open eyes were locked in place, like those of a corpse. She was foaming at the mouth, with an unnatural amount of bubbles covering the edges of her lips.

It would be dangerous if she bit her tongue. I looked around for something that could help keep her mouth open.

In the next instant, the sound of a small explosion—like that of a balloon bursting—echoed out.

“...Kanny?”

I turned around with great hesitation.

Akane’s body, which was lying on the ground just a moment ago, was now nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 4

I threw myself onto the spot where Akane had just been and groped around the floor with my palms. I couldn’t feel any warmth, just like the time she disappeared from the second-class cabin.

“Kanny!” I shouted. No response. I leapt out of the control room and into the chart room. Also empty.

What in the world happened to her?

Nothing made sense anymore. I only took my eyes off Akane for one or two seconds. It didn’t matter how fast she moved. Even if there was a hidden door nearby, there wasn’t nearly enough time for her to disappear from the control room.

I crossed the chart room and pushed open the door to the captain’s cabin. Nothing had changed; the man was still lying on the ground, with an axe protruding from his back.

The bracelet on his left wrist caught my eye. Retrieving the bracelet in the x-ray room was now an impossible task—but could this one be of some use?

—If you wish to save her...

“...Huh?”

I glanced around, reacting to the voice I thought I heard a second ago. But all I saw was the bloodied corpse on the ground. He couldn’t have spoken just now, right?

—If you wish to save her, bring the bracelet to the chapel...

It wasn’t just my imagination. The voice resounded clearly in my ears.

“Who are you?” I held my breath for a second, shifting only my eyes left and right. Was Zero in the vicinity?

—There’s no time. Hurry...

The voice didn’t come from anywhere in particular. It echoed directly in my mind.

“...This can’t be real.”

I covered both ears and scanned my surroundings again.

—Hurry...

Even with my ears covered, the voice didn’t sound muffled. There was no mistaking it. I couldn’t believe it, but the voice was coming from my head. Or could it be that my mind was going crazy?

—Hurry... Time is running out...

I felt compelled to listen to the voice. I picked up the axe by my feet, and...

“HRAAAH!”

I swung it at the corpse’s left wrist with all my might. There was a sharp squelch of chopped flesh. A warm liquid splattered onto my cheeks, but I couldn’t let that faze me. The corpse’s wrist was still connected to its arm. I raised the axe once again and swung it down, aiming at the same place. This time, I felt it cut all the way through. The severed hand floated on the growing pool of blood.

After removing the bracelet from the hand, I rushed out of the room and towards the elevator. I clenched my teeth, staring straight ahead.

I decided not to occupy my mind with unnecessary thoughts.

Because I knew that unless I remained detached, my sense of self would crumble in the blink of an eye.

Next: Part 8, Chapter 5

[jilliancares]

All is Fair: Chapter 2

Word Count: 3k

ao3 ; wattpad

masterlist ; next chapter

CHAPTER TWO:

Phil was probably the only person who didn’t want to go on the quest. News of it had spread quickly through Camp Half-Blood, demigods left and right claiming they’d be the ones to venture outside the camp with Dan Howell. Phil couldn’t care less.

He didn’t want to put himself in danger, unlike the rest of the idiots he was constantly surrounded by. He didn’t want to be put in a situation where he could very likely die, the only thing keeping that from happening was his own training, which he’d been forced to do every summer since he was twelve. Sure, he was thankful he had it, knowing that now if he was ever attacked by a charging monster he wasn’t as likely to die as he might’ve been several years ago, but he didn’t want to have to do it.

Fighting just wasn’t fun for him, like it seemed to be to everyone else around here. He didn’t try to sneak out of the camp in search of some terrifying creature resurrected from Tartarus, the great abyss somewhere deep under the earth where monsters came from. He just wanted to be a normal teenager. He wanted to have normal friends and do normal things and not have to be paranoid every day of the year when he was where he actually wanted to be—the real world.

Maybe this was why all his siblings hated him. Half-siblings, technically. They all shared the same father anyway, though their mothers varied greatly.

Phil’s father was Ares—god of war, macho badass with a thirst for blood, or some shit. Phil didn’t really know; he’d never even met the guy. He felt like maybe there should be some kind of DNA test, some drawing of his blood and sending it off to a doctor to see if he was actually Ares’ son. He didn’t know how much to trust a glowing symbol above his head sent from Ares’ to claim him. Like, hey, this is mine. Thought I left that kid somewhere!

So yeah, Phil was about as different from the rest of his siblings as he could get. They were all as bloodthirsty as any kid of Ares ought to be—they loved to fight and maim; they were loud and boisterous and strong. Phil was strong, of course he was. It was in his blood, apparently, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. And his siblings hated that he didn’t enjoy it. They ignored him when they weren’t taunting him, rolled their eyes when he stooped to speak to them, and did everything in their ability to keep him from meeting his dad.

It was pathetic, right? That a bunch of kids his age were constantly holding the one thing he probably wanted most over his head? That he was letting them? Because, sure, he might say he didn’t believe Ares was his father, but deep down, in his bones, he knew it to be true. He could feel it. And what kid growing up without a dad didn’t wish with every fiber of their being to meet him? Phil could remember laying in his bed at night, wondering where his dad was in the world, wondering if he was doing something cool or important or newsworthy. And to think he finally knew, had known for years now, and still hadn’t ever met the guy? It sucked.

Maybe it was his fault for not standing up for himself. He could remember all those presentations from elementary school, all those videos and lectures about telling someone if you were getting bullied, about finding help and standing up against the bad guys with a Bigger, Badder Guy: an adult. But Phil had never done that—he hadn’t thought to when he was twelve-years-old and surrounded by taller and stronger kids who were apparently related to him—all he could think about was being scared. And it would be embarrassing to ask someone for help now! To admit that not only had he been letting this happen for almost five years now but that he needed help? No, Phil could handle any situation that came his way by himself, thank you very much.

He’d been handling himself thus far, anyway. When his siblings did something incredibly horrible he didn’t cry about it, didn’t whine or complain. He just took it like he always had. Like when an opportunity had once arisen to visit Olympus and meet his father, Phil had known not to even get his hopes up. And he’d been right. The trip was only to happen after summer break ended, when most kids went back home, but Phil had wanted to stay. He’d wanted to go. He’d been threatened, of course. And when that didn’t work, beat up. But no matter the circumstances, Phil kept trying. He never gave up, despite the fact that the entire time he fought for it, fought for the chance to see his father, he never expected it to actually happen.

That was why, when a chance finally, finally arose, Phil took it.

“Hey Phil,” Amy said, leering at him from a bunk across the cabin. Any sibling randomly deciding to speak to him was never a good sign.

“What?” Phil responded. He’d only popped in quickly—just long enough to get his swimming trunks before going for a swim in the lake.

“We have a… wager, for you,” she said, her grin sharp and wicked on her face. “A bet.” By the looks she exchanged with the rest of their cabin-mates, Phil knew it couldn’t be good.

“No,” he said flatly.

“I wouldn’t refuse it if I were you,” Amy sing-songed, and Phil cursed his curious nature, cursed his innate need to know, and spun to face her.

“What.”

“Dan Howell needs a third member for his quest,” Amy said, looking excited. She was leaning forward on her bed, her eyes wide, almost wild. “Go on it with him.” Phil stared at her blankly. “If you can make him fall in love with you then��” she glanced around the cabin, “We’ll let you come to Olympus with us. We’re going again this winter, Chiron’s already planned it and everything.”

Phil felt his breath catch in his chest. He wanted to say no, of course he wanted to say no, but… He wanted to see his father more.

“Dan Howell?” Phil repeated slowly, his mouth pinched into a frown. Everybody knew that Dan Howell didn’t do love. He was a paradox in that way, much like Phil was. Dan was the son of Aphrodite and every bit as beautiful to prove it—if looks could kill, laying eyes upon him might strike you dead. But looks couldn’t kill, and so looking at him left many pining hopelessly, because Dan Howell didn’t do relationships, he didn’t do love. Some even said he didn’t believe in it. “It’s impossible,” Phil finally decided.

“Then so is you meeting Dad,” Amy said pleasantly. Phil felt himself glower, felt anger and defiance rise and bubble beneath his skin. He’d always had a pretty hard time controlling his temper, having to shove it down and down and down. Sometimes he failed, and he lashed out with all his strength, leaving destruction and ruin in his wake.

“Fine,” Phil snapped, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ll do it.” If he wasn’t careful he would go into a rage. It’d happened sometimes when he was little—he’d feel himself get angrier and angrier, hot all over with righteous indignation, and then—nothing. Until he came back to, having blacked out in a moment of total destruction, his mind apparently on vacation while his body went about messing everything up for him. A gift from Ares, Phil was sure.

Still, he wouldn’t be allowed to let his anger rule over him from here on out. Not if he wanted to trick Dan Howell into falling in love with him.

—

It certainly wasn't where Phil wanted to be, standing before Dan Howell, whose eyebrow was raised condescendingly.

"You want to go on the quest?" he said skeptically. His arms were crossed across his chest. He was looking at Phil like he was a gross bug he was about to step on.

Phil imagined that this look exactly was the reason people called him the 'Howell Snub'. He wasn't sure if Dan was aware of the name for the phenomenon that was known around the camp for when he turned someone down. Some people claimed he didn't even know he was being come on to most of the time, though Phil wasn't sure if he believed it. How could anyone that looked like, well, that, not realize people were hitting on him all the time?

"Yep," Phil said, after puffing his cheeks full of air and blowing it out. He swung his arms by his sides awkwardly.

"I don't even know your name," Dan admitted, unabashed, despite the fact they'd been going to the same camp for probably five years now. Sure, they'd never spoken before, but still.

"It's Phil Lester," Phil said, trying not to get angry. It was well known that Dan had a bad attitude. "Son of Ares."

"Right," Dan said. "Why do you even want to go?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"People die on quests sometimes. Is your reason good enough to die for?"

Phil rolled his eyes. "You need a third person and I'm ready and willing. I'm good at fighting. What more do you need?"

Dan sucked in one cheek, looking Phil up and down. He tried not to squirm, very abruptly remembering that he was supposed to be making Dan fall in love with him on this quest. Crap. He'd already been kind of rude to him, hadn't he?

"Fine," Dan finally said. "You can come with us. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

Phil tried not to let himself grin to hugely. He would be meeting his father! After he got Dan to fall in love with him, of course. And if he didn't die on the quest. But that didn't happen that often, did it?

—

Phil was woken by loud banging. And grumbling. And a pillow hitting him in the face.

“Ow, quit it,” he muttered, shoving the pillow off him and onto the floor.

“Get the door, asshole!” answered the boy that’d hit him with the pillow in the first place. It was only then that Phil remembered everything that was happening today. He was glad he’d ended up packing his bag the previous night—though he hadn’t expected them to leave for their quest before the godsdamned sun was even up.

A few moments later, after managing to pull on some real clothes, Phil wrenched open the door, squeezing out of it and shutting it behind him. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before running them over Dan, whose fist was still raised as if to continue knocking. He looked just as tired as Phil felt, but whereas Phil probably looked like ass, Dan simply looked disgruntled and grumpy. His curly hair was messy like he’d styled it that way, his cheeks adorned with the lightest of freckles and his tired eyes slitted as he glared at Phil.

“I told you we were leaving in the morning,” he said, foregoing a normal greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” Phil answered, and Dan rolled his eyes. “You never said how early,” Phil finally said with a shrug, and Dan huffed an annoyed noise out of his mouth before turning and walking away. His backpack bounced merrily between his shoulder blades, his hands clutching the straps as they walked.

“Where’s our third person?” Phil questioned, glancing around as if their final quest member might pop out of thin air.

“I told Emma to wait up on the hill for us,” Dan answered. And then, after a moment of thought, “She probably isn’t there. She doesn’t like waiting. Or sitting still.” And Dan was right—by the time they’d made it to the top of the hill, leaning against a large tree as they examined their surroundings, it was clear that Emma was nowhere in sight.

“Any idea where she might be?” Phil asked. He tried not to look nervous. There was something about leaving the campgrounds that was always unnerving. Past the tree they were leaned against now was the edge of the camp’s boundaries, the very end of the protection the land could offer them. Out there any monster could reach them.

“Best not to try to predict Emma,” Dan answered. And before they knew it, Emma was cresting the hill, a bagel in hand.

“You got breakfast?” Dan said incredulously. Emma shrugged.

“I was hungry.”

“The dining hall isn’t even open.”

Emma shrugged again. “The kitchens were.”

Dan sighed as if his friend stealing things was normal, which it probably was, to be honest.

Emma was pretty. If Phil didn’t know better he might assume she was a child of Aphrodite as well, her dark skin smooth and blemish free, her hair curlier than Dan’s.

“You must be Phil,” Emma said amicably, nodding at Phil. He recognized her from around the camp. He’d maybe seen her go into the cabin of Hermes a few times, which would certainly explain the stealing. “Bagel?” she offered, holding a half of it forward invitingly.

“Yes please,” Phil said quickly, and then the both of them were munching quietly on their breakfast, Dan looking between the two of them, unimpressed. 

“Alright then, are we done here?” he said. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Phil answered. He’d managed to strap on his weapon belt while they’d been waiting for Emma. It was really just a belt with holsters on either side—both of which complete with a long dagger. He frowned, realizing he couldn’t see a weapon on either of his companions. Sure, some were small, but were they keeping them in their bags, or something? “Don’t you have weapons?” he finally asked.

In response, Dan stuck his hand straight out in front of him, muttered something, and all of a sudden he was holding something that looked like a sledgehammer. He smirked.

“That’s…” Phil didn’t really have an answer for what that was. “Handy. How’d you make it appear?”

“My mom gave it to me,” Dan said, his eyes going a bit out of focus as he obviously remembered something from his past. “I think she got it from your dad, actually.” Phil looked at the weapon with newfound interest. He could hardly imagine Dan using it—Dan, pretty curly hair, fair skin, (was that eyeliner?), swinging this giant, obviously heavy weapon around. But he handled it like he was familiar with it, and Phil didn’t doubt that he was skillful, having received the weapon as a gift from Aphrodite in the first place. It made sense that he could make it appear out of nowhere then, if some kind of godly power was attached to it. Or the words he was saying.

Finally, Phil looked to Emma. “I don’t fight much,” she said with a shrug. “I’m better at escaping, really. And tricking people. And stealing things.”

“You’re great at stealing things,” Dan muttered.

“But I do have this,” Emma said, ignoring him. She withdrew a knife from her bag, celestial bronze like the rest of their weapons, and twirled it between her fingers. “For emergencies.”

“Sounds good to me,” Phil said finally, hiking his bag up higher on his back and turning to face the opposite side of the hill. “Guess we really are ready then.”

A van was waiting for them at the bottom of the hill, driven by a man who worked at their camp. Well, kind of a man. He had eyes all over his body, anyway.

They piled into the idling van and sat across from each other as it took off, chugging merrily down the highway. Phil frowned thoughtfully.

“Where are we going, anyway? What are we doing?”

Emma looked flabbergasted. “You didn’t tell him what we were doing?” she said to Dan incredulously. Dan looked offended.

“He didn’t ask!” he protested.

“Still!”

This resulted in the two of them glaring at each other for a moment before retreating simultaneously. Dan finally turned to Phil, looking annoyed. “We’re just going west right now,” he said with a shrug. “That’s what the prophecy said. We’re looking for Cupid’s bow for my mom.”

“I’ll take it you haven’t heard the prophecy either?” Emma asked dryly, and Phil nodded. With a sigh, Emma relayed the prophecy. Phil didn’t know what to feel.

One will suffer at the cost of a bet. Well this was obviously Dan, who would fall in love with Phil only to realize his feelings weren’t actually reciprocated. Phil felt bad hearing the words, knowing the ruse he was about to pull on Dan would cause him actual suffering, but he had to do it. He had to meet his father.

Of course, there was also the line: a God’s assistance will help to succeed. What if Phil didn’t even need to properly accomplish his goal? What if he could snub all of his stupid siblings and their trip to Olympus by meeting his father here on earth? He knew it was probably bad that they’d be getting themselves into a situation so dangerous that they would need a god to help them out, but Phil couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not if it meant Ares would finally be by his side.

Thoughts of the prophecy swirled around his head, making him sit back and just think, try to concentrate on all the words he’d heard. He knew it was useless to try to decipher a prophecy, that they were obscure and strange and sometimes made no sense at all, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted to know, wanted to figure out what was going to happen.

For some reason, it all kept coming back to this: he’d have to make Dan Howell fall in love with him.

Dan Howell, a person Phil probably had less of a chance with than a frog. Dan Howell, who not only didn’t believe in love but adamantly thought it was a ridiculous notion entirely, his views on the matter stated so explicitly that it drifted around the camp like fog.

Holding in a sigh, Phil figured that the sooner he could make Dan fall in love with him, the better. Deciding to start now, with small but deliberate steps, Phil slouched low in his seat. He then extended his legs, letting his feet knock against Dan’s.

Phil would make Dan fall in love with him, even if he had to play footsie with him a hundred times.

~~

next chapter 

[shadowdianne]

Elementary School AU prompt: when Henry gets in trouble (for something very smart and possibly heroic), principal Mills has to call in his single mom Emma... Who is a totally different kind of trouble ;)

Thanks for the prompt ;) Hope you like it! ^^

(A03 version) Feedback is appreciated!

The soft afternoon breeze seeped within the roomthanks to the open windows and the laughter of playing kids found it way insidein where a brunette teacher graded paper after paper with tired eyes, perfectpoise and black rimmed glasses on top of her nose. The wooden desk wasoverflowing with exams and essays and the pen of the woman moved from one placeto another from the paper, red ink interlacing itself with the sentences of thewoman’s pupils as she murmured softly every time she finished a new exam.

The left hand of the woman was playing absentmindedlywith the gold necklace that was fastened around her neck but her fingers fellwhen, from between the children’s laughter and warm light, she could make out aquick succession of steps that came from the other side of the closed door ofthe small office she worked in whenever she wasn’t at her classroom. Narrowingher eyes, she put down the pen and looked at her watch in where the sharp handsof the clock looked back at her.

Pursing her lips Regina threw her headbackwards, mentally preparing herself, squaring her shoulders as she did so.

It was always interesting to see the parents ofa child for the first time and it didn’t matter how many times that happened;Regina always found in the first impression the quickest way to see if achildren’s behavior was linked to how their parents looked or acted. That waswhy, even if outside she projected the calmest demeanor inside, she feltslightly curious of what kind of woman would be the mother of none other thanHenry Swan.

The ten-year-old boy had arrived to Storybrookefour months ago sporting a Bostonian accent and imagination to spare. He hadalways been kind to everyone around him and, although quiet, he had neverseemed to be picked up by the occasional bully that every course seemed to had.Regina had quickly found herself completely smitten with the kid and more oftenthan what she would like she would end up smiling at him whenever he answeredto her questions. Something that had already arrived the rumor mill consideringhow strict Regina was and how impeccable her reputation as being a respected buthated teacher was.

A few hours before, however, when she had seenHenry defending Nicholas Zimmel by punching a few of those damned bullies, shehad been forced to intervene. School rules were clear; no fights within itsborders and even though Henry insisted that what he had done was merelydefending himself Regina hadn’t had other option but send him to detention withthe express request that his mother would need to come to talk to her.

And so there they were, Regina thought grimly,licking her bottom lip and taking a deep breath, channeling her stricter lookpossible. Henry didn’t deserve the detention, that much she knew, but shecouldn’t very well tell that to whom had been signed as the only parentalcontact of the young dark haired boy; that would be inappropriate after all. Asmuch, some inner insidious voice whispered inside her mind, sounding verysimilar to her mother’s, as the gossips about the mother’s boy; a former bailbondsperson who had taken Graham’s place as a sheriff when the man had decidedto move on from the small city into greener pastures. Regina hadn’t come acrossher once ever since the boy’s arrival but it had been impossible to not hearabout the green-eyed beauty that now run the station with enough swagger tohave Ruby smirking whenever her name was uttered.

Green eyed beauty that suddenly opened her doorand stood in front of her with her hands on her hips and blonde tresses fallingto her shoulders as she took a step inside the room. Immediately Regina couldfeel the temperature in the room rose and so she settled her jaw, standing andoffering the woman the chair in front of her desk with one single nod.

“Miss Swan.” Her voice didn’t betray her suddennerves and for that she found herself thanking the interminable hours hermother had put her through during her teen years in where being proper was alwaysthe most important thing of all.

The other woman, however, shot her an angrylook scorching enough to probably make a dent on the desk’s glossy surface asshe took those last steps between her and Regina, her high boots stompingagainst the floor as she, too, rose her chin, the muscles on her throat visibleas she looked at Regina, as if sizing her.

“You must be Miss Mills.” She replied, not evenbothering to shake her hand with the teacher’s as she sat on the small chairwith one fluid movement that spoke of strength. Regina, however, could see thesmall nervous tics, tics that the boy the two of them were there for alsoshared with the new sheriff; the fidgeting fingers, the tilt on her head, thetightly closed jaw and for those she sat as well, interlacing her fingers afterpicking her glasses and leaving them on the desk’s surface, between them and ontop of the essays she had been marking before. She could see the other womanglance at them briefly but when she looked back at those green eyes Emma wasalready looking back at her, lips pursed and arms tightly crossed. “Henry toldme you wanted to talk with me.”

It was obvious that the sheriff had alreadyformed an opinion about Regina and the brunette teacher swallowed beforeforcing her eyes to not wander to the other woman’s arms, on display thanks tothe tank top she wore, or the general physique of the Bostonian. This, shethought while focusing on the matter at hand while trying her best not to callRuby Lucas on the spot and demand her to tell her why she hadn’t been told thatEmma Swan was as beautiful as she seemed to be infuriating, wasn’t the problem.Henry was and for him she cleared her throat before nodding quickly, composureas perfect as possible, back straight as she crossed her right leg over herleft. A movement Emma couldn’t see from her where she was seated at the otherside of the table but one that her eyes followed inexplicably when Reginamoved.

“He was seen punching John Darling.” Shestarted, doing her best not to look at the blonde as she explained herself. “Asyou probably know that kind of behavior is unacceptable.”

The sheriff hummed before moving forward,uncrossing her own legs and propping her arms over her knees as she did so. Hereyes still gleamed in anger and Regina found herself narrowing hers in anattempt to keep them frozen on those irises instead of start wandering.

“Wasn’t he defending Nicholas?” She said, asmirk touching her lips briefly before that, too, disappeared. “I thought thathelping a friend out in one of those… unacceptable situations would besomething the school would be more than happy to see.”

“Not if the method used is a punch in the face,Miss Swan”

Both women stared at each other. Emmaapparently not wanting to move an inch and Regina knowing full well that shehad smiled inwardly when she had seen the normally well-behaved Henry punchJohn after the boy had insulted Nicholas. Regardless, Henry needed to take inthe punishment and she was supposed to explain why to the mother. Mother thathad been subjected to rumors ever since she had arrived to Storybrooke and whohad been seen frequenting the small gay bar Storybrooke had at the edge oftown. A place that Regina knew very well thanks to a particular lanky brunetteshe could picture laughing her ass off the second Regina told her her firstimpression with the sheriff.

Growling between pursed lips, Emma moved backwardson her chair, eyeing Regina as she did so. The movement made the woman woke upfrom her reverie and she found herself looking at Emma with too manyinappropriate thoughts on her head.

“I will talk with him.” Emma finally spoke, amirthless smile on her face. “It’s the best I can do so I don’t add the epithetof bad mother to the list I already have.”

“Miss Swan I assure…”

“On one condition.” Emma stood and looked atRegina while transforming her mirthless smile into a smirk. “Go out with me.Today.”

“Miss…”

But Emma was already turning to the door, smirkstill intact when she turned and looked at her.

“Until later Miss Mills.”

Regina closed her eyes, propping her own elbowsover the desk and growling softly out of desperation. Infuriating indeed.

And gorgeous as well.

[11toe11-blog]

Golden eggs and things like that

Aum.

I enter gently to understand and illuminate. Guide me past temptations of power and greed into insight and wisdom. 

___

The right shoulder feels heavy. So does the heart. The throat clenches a bit. The back of the neck is tight. I notice the breath and it deepens. Some previous walls seem less perceivable.

It feels like a time when some portals are active and lifetimes of memories are colliding for resolution.

Its impossible. No . it is only possible for us to continue on this if we are connected to our simplest, most essential..essence… Because thats what connects us. The narratives that run through us place us far far apart as the other.

L. Is that what triggered this? Or is something else?

It was my sisters birthday the day before. And the possibility of R having fallen sick and my not being able to tell anyone or ask for any support.  And the whole family had gotten together, i felt no shared joy. 

This combination of isolations are triggering memories. And in anticipating pain, i am acting out. Inviting it in. I can see that.

There are many things unresolved in my relationship with my sister. It is obvious. Cant deny it. Envy. Guilt. All of that. Unsure of how to relate. Disagreement. Power struggles.

Pain surfaces. No way out other than through it. 

Memories of being bullied, of being the weird one, the feeling of being rejected after the birth of my sister. Maybe i harbored that somewhere, which is why i ended up treating her the way i did, even though i loved and continue to love her immensely.

Because i dont think i was competitive at all, not striving to be first in class or anything, till my sister was born. In my lower KG i was naturally bright. Shifting schools 1st and 2nd, i dont particularly remember much. I wasnt compared to anyone by mom. Dad was the comparer. Maybe he was compared.

I suppose 1st 2nd is when i began to experience social pressure. And with G, is probably when it got competitive. A fight for attention, is a fight for affection,  which got worse, as the family’s financial and mental health plummeted. Physical abuse, sexual abuse..i notice that in this narrative I have used the word abuse..i am usually looking at it as an early sexual encounter. But which ever is the voice that is writing today feels like it was impacted by the incidents.. Everything coincided with the birth of my sister, now when i think back.

Shame and guilt hangs heavily on my shoulders. Like a cloak. I can feel it brushing against my arms.

It feels like there is nothing i can do but notice it.  Very helpless. I dont want to be helpless. I straighten up and remind myself that - i dont have to make it go away. I have to notice it. When i want it to go away is when i become helpless. If my role is to observe it - i am doing it quite well, quite perfectly. *

I am reminded of K speaking about shame. I empathize in this moment.

When we feel we that we are not supposed to be feeling it, that i should have let it gone - its another round of failure to deal with. “ oh! I cant even let it go.” Another disappointment - like i had one job and i couldnt even do that. 

But what if my job was not to let it go. And be all empowered?

What if my job was only to observe - understand this shame. Feel it, give it space and observe it? Not to change it. Polish it. Dress it up to look smart and suave. Cook it. Make it tasty. None of that. Just notice it, for as long as it is there.

Well that sounds like something ican do. Simply. Not easily maybe, but simply. 

Not simply, maybe. But easily. 

Much less scope for disappointment. And something i feel i ccan do, and i am doing quite decently. 

Sudden spike in self worth

The sky is bright blue today. 

I had noticed yesterday in the body scans, that when they ask me to feel line of the spine, and i cant or its dull in space. I force myself to imagine a line. Than notice what is already there. I force the imagination, somewhat guilty...not somewhat - just plain guilty that i am not feeling what i am supposed to be be feeling. That i should be doing work, i am being lazy thats why i am not perceiving it, all of that. Which may have part truths. But are Catch 22s. I cant notice the line ever unless i start with noticing what is already there. I cant notice what is already there because i feel i cant perceive the line i am supposed to be seeing. Supposed to! As opposed to what is. Can i notice what is already in my frame of vision as opposed to all that i al supposed to include. Please! Kindly!

Can i notice what is already in my frame of vision and deeply enough, that at somepoint, on its own, the rest of it will emerge. 

I guess this is my biggest point of contention with L’s tone and kind of politics that is her work. Very “supposed to”. And hence all the more divisive. Not something one wants, particularly now. The invitation to deepen and acknowledge ones seeing, is welcome. To berate for what one doesn't see, is very 3rd grade damaging elementary school teacher in repeat. 

Hence probably my general feeling towards her work. And somewhere definitely understanding that she is in her own process and will continue to grow and evolve and all that. But the screeches are not what i need right now. 

Maybe they are. 

And thats why they have shown up in my orbit. To engage with. I dont have to change the way i feel. So much pressure. Just knowing and noticing that this is how i feel is good enough. 

To articulate it out aloud is the next step. Thats turning actor from observer. More like being actor and observer simultaneous. Thats  the leap. Will happen when it has to.

No pressure to turn saint. No pressure to change a feeling. No pressure to change. Nothing. Just noticing what ever is , is the work. Where is then room for disappointment and low self worth?

A scene played exceptionally well. And a disaster of a scene are both well withing the frames of observation. And both make great viewing material for insight. 

I know this. I have known this vantage. 

“All the world is a stage”!

Yup.

Envy is my nemesis at this point. And every other thing is fuelling it one way or the other. 

Watching Ka give a spellbinder was beautiful, at the same time pointed to personal inadequacies. G at home with Is for birthday underlined all the support she had and i dint. R inviting LP for a session meant he didn't see things the way i did and i had no ally, isolation. The idea of a session with LP translated to the whole giant suitcase of sibling rivalry being projected along side the bundle of political difference, and huge ego dents because i see my position to be far more nuanced, experienced and evolved compared to hers. Because we met once and she never connected back since - strong feeling of rejection- and a reinforcement of sibling rivalry. Trust R to throw a deep one.

All this is just from my vantage. 

Who knows how things are looking from hers. Or R’s. Or G’s. Or V’s. 

I like the guy. For the brief moments that we have had an exchange i feel he understands. Like R says, living with the person might be an entirely different ball game. And it is true, the complexity of these things. But the few moments of understanding is all one needs. Just the golden egg. No need to cut open the Goose. 

That seems to be where R and I are. We cant seem to understand where the Golden eggs have disappeared. And we are cutting open each other to find out where they are hiding. We were after all promised a steady supply of Golden eggs. Unlike the fabled farmer, we didnt cut open the goose. We just bet on it, hedged it. Like many large scale farmers engage with the money economy today. Sell the produce even before sowing. Heding. Put a chip in, and try and turn every goose there is into a Golden egg laying Goose.

Can we stop cutting and slicing things open, please. Can we just watch the clouds?

Sounds like something a Goose would write. 

Who is there to forgive me? Relsolve this? For the mean thoughts, the harsh words, the attempts to manipulate.  I forgive myself?

Ho oponopono says i can. And i must. 

I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. 

__

Thank you fro letting me enter. ANd for the insights. I close the door gently behing me to come back another day.

[hivyn]

all of them!

oh jeez, why omg 

1: Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie.

i was sitting in the theater and was so amazed by everything. I hyped myself up for it by reading the book and it was so worth it. I still love httyd. 

2: Talk about your first kiss.

OOOH boi. It was bad. We just finished watching zootopia, the dude kept staring at me, but I was so into the animation and the end credits and wanted to see who did what because I am a nerd like that. Dude had to tap me on the shoulder and just went for it. I felt nothing. Just that i was kissed and mentally just went “okay that happened, but I wanted to finish watching the credits…”

3: Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for.

yeeeeee,not really sure anymore, romantically because of a relationship would be my ex, romantically as in a crush, well, I am a pining dork who never follows through with things so, that would be a long list… 

4: Talk about the thing you regret most so far.

Not following through on said feelings towards people. Probably would be a lot better off in that department. 

5: Talk about the best birthday you’ve had.

It was a snow storm on my b-day again and we were trapped in my friend’s house for a week and we made the catch from scratch with the old oven they had. It was pretty neat. 

6: Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had.

the superbowl and painting the house took priority. 

7: Talk about your biggest insecurity.

I am really insecure about my body, and if whoever likes me is okay with it. I don’t have flawless skin. It is scarred and it is ever changing with certain things and I have been trying really hard to care for it, but I don’t think that will be much help. I want to be as pretty and I think I could be, but there are just some days where I don’t think that is possible. 

8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.

My family and friends (cheesy I know). They have done so many cool things and are still changing the world and growing and it makes me so happy to see them progress. 

9: Talk about little things on your body that you like the most.

I have a lot of dimples when I smile. My eye lashes are really long. I have a bunch of teeny moles. I got a scar on my thumb that I like to rub. 

10: Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had.

Me and my mom I think over my grades back in high school. I can’t even remember the details of it other than being upset. 

11: Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had.

Pink vader pollypocket shows up as me and my friends and parading this mall/airport/smoothieshop/homedepot hybrid which led to a telekinetic fighting ring where my bestie at the time macked out with the dude who was winning for info as we escaped pollypocket-vader

12: Talk about the worst dream you’ve ever had.

A tornado took everything away that I loved while I was chained down. Then i was scared and alone on a glacier in a circus, but it was water instead of sand, as an orca bumped it a bunch to get me to fall in the waters. 

13: Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time.

awkward af I imagine. I know a lot of stuff for it, but that isn’t going to help. My hair will probably be colorful or long though. 

14: Talk about a vacation.

I went with my family to Puerto Rico. We saw the entire island and even some smaller outcropping ones. We went to the rainforest again. We saw all the varying shades of the ocean. Ate/drank coconuts. Enjoyed family time too. 

15: Talk about the time you were most content in life.

I was just sitting in the living room with my family. I was on break, my siblings and I were just playing fantasy life, eating home made chex mix, watching horrible christmas romcom’s with our mom. Our dad was going to be home later. My cat was cuddled up into me. I really felt at home and safe. 

16: Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to.

So I don’t go out much so I can’t recall. 

17: Talk about someone you want to be friends with.

They are really cute and sweet. I am so curious about them too. I want to talk to them, but when I get the courage they leave early or I get interrupted. I just want to know them better. 

18: Talk about something that happened in elementary school.

We always went to the country fair as a class to see the firetrucks, some class activities. Holding chicks. Milking a cow. Pulling up potatoes. Go to the petting zoo. Etc. 

19: Talk about something that happened in middle school.

I was friends with the science teacher’s granddaughter and was frequently bullied. So when one of my bullies went to the bathroom, while we were all sort of distracted, he put a fake piece of poop in her seat. She came back and flipped out. He said “You left us a gift in the toilets and on the seat? How generous”

20: Talk about something that happened in high school.

My computer tech teacher got out a blow torch and a screw driver and roasted some s’mores for us. 

21: Talk about a time you had to turn someone down.

I was not feeling this one guy. He was sweet, but was not my type. He asked me out on a date and I said no. Then I saw him at a class reunion and thankfully my classmate sat next to me because dude would not stop staring and trying to change my mind. 

22: Talk about your worst fear.

... I am scared of dying (? on the list really) I want to do so many things and love and cherish people and to just have that suddenly stop, I don’t know how I feel about it.  

23: Talk about a time someone turned you down.

I don’t go out much, or date so it was pretty much, “want to get a coffee together” “not really, no” “okay see you” 

24: Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot.

My sister told me she was proud of my progress in my art.

25: Talk about an ex-best friend.

We just don’t talk anymore. I moved away and we stopped talking. I think about them a lot. I wonder if they are okay. 

26: Talk about things you do when you’re sick.

Cuddle my cat. Drink tea or soda. crackers and soup are my diet for the day. sleep for ages. stay in bed. 

27: Talk about your favorite part of someone else’s body.

I love when people smile. Their whole face lights up or crinkles and it is really amazing to see people happy. 

28: Talk about your fetishes.

I wouldn’t know? Probably something vanilla?? 

29: Talk about what turns you on.

I am still figuring this out about myself tbh, and is super rare for me. Sometimes I just see a person and the rest of me is like “yes, that is good.” 

30: Talk about what turns you off.

easy, noncon stuff. 

31: Talk about what you think death is like.

Absence. Just a sudden hum in your ears. Everything is both light and dark. You feel weightless, as if you don’t remember what the rest of your existence was like. You are just there. 

32: Talk about a place you remember from your childhood.

My yard from Oklahoma. We had an acre of land. Lots of exploring. We had several trees close to the house and a hill in the back that had a fence with horses. (May have shocked myself feeding said horses) We had a pretty little garden box surrounding the front door that lead to the driveway with clovers and various other flowers.

33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.

I hide away. I close myself off, I get quiet. I put on layers of clothes or at least conceal my face. I listen to sad music or something with a lull to it. I make sure no one is around so I can cry in peace. 

34: Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured.

I bruised my hip or tailbone. Black bruising to the bone. I couldn’t walk. It hurt to sit down. I had to waddle everywhere, and even then I had pain shooting up my spine with each step. I couldn’t lean down or shift my hips to get comfy. Sleeping was impossible to do. I was shaking a bunch the first day with just moving. 

35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing.

Picking my face and scratching my neck. Nervous/bored habits die hard.

36: Talk about your guilty pleasures.

I love ghost adventures and spooky things, but I get so scared afterwards. I also love horribly cliche romcom’s. I also love to watch syfy cheesy movies or medical shows. 

37: Talk about someone you thought you were in love with.

We were doing great too. We talked about the future. I had felt comfortable with them at the time. And then it changed, I didn’t feel comfortable anymore. It felt off, like a lie. I was hoping to feel something, but nothing happened. And I felt horrible about it. 

38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.

Cheap Thrills reminds me of my friend Sparrow. Girl of Fire is my friend Tim. My sister is Here Comes a Thought. 

39: Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier.

That I was going to be in school longer because of my major, or that my credits were worthless at this new university. 

40: Talk about the end of something in your life.

My dog Highfive died back when I was in highschool. We had him for ten years and loved him so much, then he was gone. He got sick and it was just a matter of time, but it still hurt. I was the only one out of my siblings to go see him while he was not doing so hot. It was scary, but I am glad I got to say goodbye. 

[alezandrathegreat]

The Suicide Note that Didn’t Happen

AKA A love letter to all my friends

My mom calls me a hippie. I tend to just go with the flow. But the thing about having a fluid existence is that any little disturbance can cause a ripple, and depending on how closed in I feel, that ripple can feel like a rip tide. I make myself feel small all the time, I’m drowning all the time. I want to stop fighting, sink into myself, into the dark, It really would be so much easier.  I haven’t been my mother’s flower child in a long time. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, right now. I wish I was that person who could pick something and buckle down, finish it. Be just another grumpy adult in field they tolerate, bitch about my boss over beers with coworkers on the weekend, loathe Mondays. But even that’s hard for me, now, after a year. A year of clarity after what I’ve dubbed the January Incident, the time where live imploded in of itself. I’ve had a ridiculous amount of free time, trying to make something new with the debris.

One of the things I learned about myself is the necessity of allowing myself to feel. The first realization actually. That first week of crashing and burning, I spent all of it crying, wanting to die, but Actually feeling things. It’s strange to this day to me how ironically refreshing that time felt. But because I have depression and bad brain chemistry, the crash afterwards wasn’t as refreshing. Familiar, yet deeper. I slept through the night for the first time in a while, yet sitting lucid in the middle of ground zero felt surreal. It was a real mess this time around, and I had no clue how to fix it. I couldn’t even explain it. But despite this feeling, and probably to the meds I was on at the time, I took solace in the fact that I was finally feeling things again. And I promised myself I won’t hold it in again. So this year has been full of ups and downs, bouts of insomnia or sleeping past noon. Random solo dance parties or guilty pleasure movie marathons. Hating my life and wishing people only knew how awesome I am. It was genuine, no more fake smiles.

Back to figuring out my life path. I want some since of direction. I learned my indecisiveness the back half of my anxiety coin. (I’ve picked something for the time being, but I not sure how it will go) I started thinking about what I wanted to do when I was a kid (doctor, astronaut, psychologist, ichthyologist, chef, book shop owner) and the only constant thing was be there for my friends. I remember telling off a bully when a classmate came to crying because these girls were teasing her. The teacher overheard, met with my mom and commended me. Though we didn't stay friends, it was elementary school after all, she always smiled at me afterwards. I hated taking pictures, but every trip I took, I snapped a few just to share with my friends who couldn’t be there with me during band trips. Hearing my friends laugh, be happy, be anything breathes life into me. And they’re so beautiful, all of them. Stunning, complex, every moment I spend with them makes me fall in love with them even more. They’re my stability, my anchors, and I want them to be protected. Even from me. They deserve the world and some days I don’t even want to be a part of this world. So, I convinced myself that I rather leave them alone then not be the person they deserve. If I couldn’t be that person, I’d give them that space to meet that person. Because they fucking deserve all the happiness, and I be damned if I ever made them unhappy. I’d figure this out, if I didn’t anything else. I talked to them, try to reassure them I was okay. Not everyone though. There’s only so many times you can say you’re broken. 3 times, I told three friends, and I’m pretty sure they spread the word. But even still, when I resolved to cut everyone off, I couldn’t. I was greedy, selfish. Letting those few endure this mess of a human being instead of being merciful and letting them go.

Another revelation is that I’ve come to is that I’ve missed the arts.  I used to draw, paint, see shows, but in my quest for stability in my naturally unstable state, I initially only pursued science careers in college. After the incident, I’ve been reading more, going to museums, and slowly rebuilding my love in any type of creative expression. I’ve even tried to get back into writing, but despite all the ideas in my head, putting them to paper have been near impossible. Looking back at it, the only time I truly remember words leaving me freely was high school, and moving into my apartment. Surrounded by people whose laughs are ingrained in my brain, who compose most of my favorite memories, people I cooked with, watched shitty movies with, cried in front of. Some people spend their careers without inspiration or a muse, and I never needed it because I had something better. Support. Support that I should have never questioned. I miss my friends. I fucking cried because one of them texted me about a video game. I could have sworn it felt like the old days, I could imagine all of us in a room together and despite all of us feeling like shit we could squeeze pure joy out of the smallest moments. Coming full circle, I realized I was trying to deny a part of myself that probably kept me from going through something I couldn’t come back from. That during this time of introspection and repair, I’ve abandoned the most important tools. They don’t deserve me, but I want them. And that’s enough.

So, friends, you know who you are, I fucking love you. I love you more than I love myself and I never want to get to a point in my life where that’s not true. I can’t promise I won’t fuck up. Go silent while I caving into myself, just know that you’re most likely the reason I’ll claw myself out. Things are going to be different now for me in so many ways, but you guys are my constant, proof I have a soul, and I want to see you guys reach your goals.  You’re fucking stuck with me, my killer movie commentary and shitty jokes. My country  laugh and sarcastic affection. My mood swings and awesome baked goods. My mess of a life in all it’s glory, you can’t get rid of me. Happy Valentine’s Day.