#dont care enough to try and edit this to not look like paper and water color taken on a phone

[golftimex3]

Dearest chum, could I inquire how your physical form was able to reach this place in such a short duration of time?

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours (8) (M)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre:  family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: cursing, mature content, angst

A/N: This one was so easy and fun to write frankly! Thank you so much for letting me know your opinions for the last chap, it motivates me like 1000x more! If you could tell me what you thought about this one as well, it would be nice! Thank you 🎉 And sorry I edited this one, but Im sure there will be typos and sentences that made sense in my head while I edited but they actually dont, apologies! 

Tags:  @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt  @luvhtears @ shesdreaminginoverdose (if you want to be tagged/untagged let me know! Im always open^^)

-

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Once again, you entered your apartment in silence, except the few times Baekhyun let out a tired, exasperated sigh. Your phone was blowing up with messages from your boss; honestly, you didn't understand why was he even trying to contact you after everything that happened. By now you knew you wouldn't be able to save your work spot. Not after what Baekhyun did. And here you were, worrying about not telling your darn boss about your pregnancy.

In the safety of your apartment full of love, you were able to feel. The hotness of emotions was coming back to your bloodstream, the numbness from throwing up and the adrenaline of the fight -it was all palpable in fading touches.

This time, it was you who let out a tired sigh, but you felt the burn behind your eyes yet again as you made your way to the bedroom to collect some clean clothes before making a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring Baekhyun's angry expression as you passed by him.

Before you could close the door, he murmured your name in a warning.

“What.”

“You know we need to talk, right?” he snapped, turning to you. He spotted your bloodshot eyes, full of unshed tears and he assumed you weren't seeing him properly. He was right.

You saw him blurry like a modern art painting. Pretty, yet so… unreadable, almost worrying at how you couldn't see to the depths of it. “I know.”

At your terse answer, he clenched his jaw and you blinked, letting the tears roll down your cheeks just to see the tick in his jaw, the set of his chin almost scary. “Go,” he sighed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers. “We will talk once you're out of there.”

Without waiting for your response, he turned abruptly but to your surprise, he reached for the front door, swinging it open. You closed your eyes just in time for it to slam shut. And he was gone.

-

Quietly, you took a long shower, thinking he wouldn't be back until… well, until he deemed good to be back. Which could be whenever.

Honestly speaking, you never had such a big, troubling fight before. Never. Yes, you did fight, but he never left you. Not at that hour, anyway. And you were also never pregnant. So this was one of a kind problem you found yourself in, and as you tried not to sob through your entire shower, your mind instead stormed through options you had with what happened.

Except, you had none.

You were out of job.

Your boyfriend, a hapkido master, used violence on your boss.

Your boyfriend could be reported.

You lied to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend… was mad at you. Livid.

Was this the end of your relationship?

No.

He wouldn't let go of you that easily, and the realisation of that made you sob right then and there. The relationship you two shared was stronger than any of your doubts that were scaring you; it was stronger than any bad word, any bad action, because you two were more than that and your connection was stronger than that. As much as it hurt you that he left without telling you, you knew him well enough to know he would be coming back to you. You knew he would forgive you and he wouldn't break up with you. Not when you were carrying his children. Baekhyun was much, much more than an angry emotion and a protective action.

And you were pregnant with him.

Three kids. Three.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you closed your eyes under the hot water, wanting it to drown out all of  your intruding thoughts. 

If there was an issue you two genuinely had to worry about, it was how you would feed them and yourselves. Would you even survive bearing three children till the end? Would you survive giving birth? You were way past the first trimester which meant you were over the dangerous period, but you knew better than that. Bearing one child was a constant risk. Three? Definitely playing with fire.

Not wanting to create a huge water bill, you reluctantly turned off the shower even though your body screamed for more. Tired and aching, you dried yourself up, not bothering to put on a lotion; smells had been playing with your stomach too much and you literally despised and hated the constant throwing up game.

It was just ten minutes after your shower; you were lying in the bed, tucked in and ready to call it a day, when Baekhyun came back. His timing was perfect and it meant he didn't wander off in the dark streets to let his frustrations out. He probably went for a short walk.

Some shuffling later, he appeared in the doorway, the small lamp next to the mattress you were lying on gently illuminating your tired self. You didn't dare to look at your boyfriend, but you knew you had to do it. He was expecting you to. He was not in the place to beg for forgiveness now. If it was anyone, it was you.

Sighing, you pressed your lips together as you sat up slowly, looking him dead in the eyes; those dark eyes that had still some leftover heavy showers in them.

“Baekhyun,” you started and he kept your gaze daringly, leaning against the doorframe. When he didn't speak, you pursed your lips. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you.”

Silence.

“I will need more than that.” Was his cold answer.

“Don't you want to sit down?”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he crossed his arms. You knew better than to test him. When it came to irrational stuff you did, he was using the “I'm older” type of power against you, and you couldn't argue with that. “What did he make you sign?”

Once again, it was quiet. He was burning you with his scorching gaze, and you felt your cheeks heat up in complete embarrassment and self-loathing. But you needed to be honest. “I-I'm not sure if it was in the contract,” you started, trying not to stutter, “but he made me… Ehm, I was not supposed to fall pregnant. In exchange of him promoting me at work.”

As expected, Baekhyun let nothing to be read from his face. “Did you sign the contract and not read what it said?”

Please, make this stop. “Yes. But I really didn't think that-t-that-”

He spoke your name, cold and harsh, obviously upset. “You didn't think what?! Just how irresponsible it is not to read the conditions of a piece of fucking paper that can be used against you, huh?!”

Slowly, you tried to breathe. This was necessary. He had to let it out.

“You could have signed him owning you for all I know! Fucking hell,” he sighed, now running his hand through his hair wildly, turning away from you for a moment before sharply turning back, startling you. “And you just wanted to do it because what- you wanted more money? Is it all about money for you?! Since when did you become so fucking materialistic that you would stand in your own damn dreams!!!”

Tears, tears, tears, and he was completely right. Opening your mouth, he snapped.

“No, don't speak! I don't want to hear it right now! Fuck,” he murmured, and paced in front of you, his jaw set strong. “You weren't even pregnant when it all happened, why would you want to get to more money so badly?!”

“I wanted to provide for us as well!” you shouted back now, but your voice was so shaky you felt like you sounded pathetic. He had to know, though. “We are coming from a low-class background, Baekhyun! Why is it so bad for me to want to do more when I am perfectly able to do so?”

“Because you would have ruined your own dreams while chasing something so artificial!” he shouted back, stepping closer to where you were sitting, but you didn't budge from the sudden movement. “Money was, and money will be! But us creating a family together won't be a forever opportunity! And you were willing to just hang it up for, what, 300.000 won more? Don't be ridiculous! Plus! He is a fucking arsehole! If he isn't touching you up, he is treating you like complete shit; you deserve better than any of this! And if I could have, I would have beaten him up long ago.”

You averted his gaze. His words were driven by his love for you, you knew that much. So as much as you wanted to be offended and hurt, he was hundred percent right. Everything he just threw into your face was correct and you couldn't defend yourself, because he would come at you right away.

“Is this really everything our relationship means to you?” he asked, a bit more quietly, but his tired tone was scarring your heart. You dared to look back at him, to see him staring on the ground, one hand on his hip.

“No,” you said and you cried again, “it isn't and you know it, too.”

“Do you think I am incapable of taking care of us? Of the kids?” he looked at you, huge puppy eyes on full display as he slowly let his guard down. “Because all of this just proves you don't trust me as the breadwinner of this household.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your arguments, but ended up going against it. “Baekhyun, we aren't in a situation where I need to stay home, clean and do nothing while you get to earn money as if it was some easy thing to do. I am, and I will continue to work,” you replied resolutely despised tears rolling down your cheeks, “and it isn't you as a breadwinner, but us.”

The society surely was patriarchal, so if you dared to talk to your father in this manner, he would have slapped you. There was no such thing as a woman who got to go against her husband or brother.

Baekhyun, however, wasn't your father or your brother. He wasn't even your husband, and when you saw his troubled look, he finally let himself sink down on the mattress. He was your kind, loving boyfriend. “I already said this,” he started, “but I am not, and I won't keep you inside the house, locked up, while waiting for me to return to you after work. I won't tell you what to do, you know I never did,” he said in a more friendly manner, but it still beared authority. “I respect you as a woman,” he said, speaking your name softly, “and you are my everything.” His hand reached out to caress your cheek that was still wet from your tears. “I need to see you only smiling, happily, but I cannot accept you lying to me like this again. I thought we had been together long enough for us to earn each other's trust, and you going like that behind my back and signing bullshit was nothing but stupid and irresponsible. Especially because your pregnancy was jeopardized like that. You can't be under stress like that, sweetie.”

Hearing him calling you a pet name, you knew the war was over and he finally was on the positive side. His authoritative voice still kept you on edge, so you didn't throw yourself at him just yet.

“If he kicked you out, which I'm pretty much convinced he did, I wouldn't be against you not working until you give birth.”

“Baekhy-”

“Shh, let me speak, honey,” he said quietly and shuffled himself closer, sitting right opposite you cross-legged  as he took your hands in his. “Listen. I know you know it, but having three babies under your heart is a dangerous situation,” he whispered loudly, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips. “It's dangerous especially for you. You are very tired after work, and you come home late and don't get enough rest. Sukyeong even told me you don't always keep up with your meals, and I don't like it one bit.” The way his lips moved against the skin of your hand was soothing you. “Accept that he threw you out, before I file a lawsuit against him for harassing you and making you sign nonsense contracts, and stay home. Find a part-time job instead, but you need to rest, darling.”

“Baekhyun,” you finally spoke and he hummed, as he let your hands fall to his lap. His eyes were now so gentle and full of worry. “I am so sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have done any of that, but please know I did it with good intentions.”

Baekhyun went silent for a bit, analysing your face, your tired features and pale skin, which only reminded him you had been throwing up today and dealing with the situation in the restaurant. Suddenly, he felt so guilty for making you go through all of it in just one evening, (although you were responsible for it, too). Let alone he just shouted at you for good ten minutes. He couldn't even imagine what other things you must have been feeling the past weeks, given how your body was changing day by day. “It's alright, babe, it's alright. I understand. C'mere,” he whispered, opening his arms and you threw yourself at him, making him almost fall back on his back. You snuggled your face into his neck, and he let out a satisfied breath, caressing your back gently. “I'm sorry for shouting at you. But I'm not sorry for punching that idiot. He deserved it.”

You were looking at the skin on his neck and how it disappeared under his shirt that had the first two buttons undone. “Thank you for standing up for me, honey.”

“My baby,” he murmured lovingly into your hair before he gave it a kiss. “My only baby.”

-

You woke up to slow, gentle caresses on your small belly as your shirt was ridden up just a tiny bit, Baekhyun not wanting to wake you just yet. He was behind you, wanting to spoon you as soon as he washed up and fell in bed next to you last night. It didn't take long for both of you to fall asleep, as surprising as that was. The events tired you out, and he wanted you to sleep as much as you could.

He kissed your clothed shoulder before he nosed your neck and buried his face in your hair, while his caresses didn't stop. Letting his eyes close for a moment, he brought his front just a little closer to you, his leg wrapping around yours that were politely connected. His hand absentmindedly wandered further up before going dangerously low, sending shots of pleasure down your core without even paying attention. You knew he would soon realize his effect on you, because you definitely felt like squirming in his hold.

His hand lazily dragged upwards almost touching the underside of your breast when you couldn't keep it in anymore, breathing in sharply just for his hand to stop right under the-

“Oh, I finally have you awake,” he murmured, his husky voice sending another set of chills down your spine.

You couldn't help but smile, happy you woke up to this. The fluid down there was saying something else, though.

“Slept well?” he murmured into your ear, as he continued dragging his hand up. You groaned softly when he groped your breast as he pushed himself even more into you, and you felt it. He was so ready for you.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, enjoying the massage as he proceeded to nibble on your ear from behind, your eyes closed in pleasure. “You?”

“I realised we didn't keep our promise, babygirl.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when your realised what he was implying.

“So, is my beautiful lady still horny enough to go the remaining two rounds?” His voice was so deep, you felt yourself scrunching your eyes shut, the adrenaline quickly making its way into your bloodstream. “We will take it,” he murmured and this time his hand was going down, down, down, the panties the only barrier from his wandering hand as he lifted the hem of them teasingly, testing just how ready you were for him, “very slowly, my dear.”

His fingers played with you just for few seconds before he pushed his middle finger inside, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you leaned back into him.

“It's so early, but you are already like this,” he continued while your head was swimming, his ministrations nothing short of slow, yet so pleasurable, “all for me.”

Your insides were squeezing painfully, and he wasn't moving faster, nor did he have the intentions. “Baekhyun,” you said, trying not to pant too loudly, “I just want you.”

“Hmm? Speak louder, I'm still sleepy.”

“You're such a tease,” you whispered in disbelief before surprising him by reaching behind you to touch him exactly where he needed you. He hissed, his eyes looking at your profile to see the smirk you had on your face.

“I wanted it to be slow, romantic and all of that,” he mumbled before pushing your hand away while he sat up, causing you to fall on your back. As soon as his hand was out of your panties, you felt a pang of frustration before he covered your body with his, his face close to yours as you tried to calm down from him fingering you so sensually.

“I want none of that,” you replied as you grabbed his face for a heated kiss, “I want you inside me, just about now.”

“Needy, naughty…” he muttered with a flirty smirk as he teased you at your opening, causing both of you to groan. “Are you ready, sweetie?” And he still made sure you were okay with him.

“I'm always ready for you,” you whispered, spreading your legs even more for him, as he pushed himself in, your eyes instantly closing in wonderful pleasure only he was able to give you.

He stayed inside, buried and panting into your hot mouth as he rested his forehead on yours. “Sweetheart, open your eyes for me, hm? I love you, you know that?”

“I know that. And I love you, do you know that?” you reciprocated, smiling up at him only to be rewarded with his smiley eyes as he pushed back before diving right in few more times, where he hit your sweet spot. Moaning loudly, he dragged his face to suck on your neck before he took one of your hands, intertwining them with his as he pushed it up above your head.

“I know that. You are my angel,” he said, finishing it with a guttural groan as he felt you pulsing around him, knowing you were about to cross the edge and he was not far behind you.  “Come for me. We have another round,” he breathed before kissing you passionately, messily, moanily.

You mentioned you wanted none of slow. And in the second round, he gave you just that. Baekhyun became ruthless, just before whispering: “Are you riding?” And he was fast to change positions. He helped you straddle him although you definitely had the energy to move and climb by yourself, given your crazy hormonal drive.

“That was just a warm-up session.” He warned, not waiting for you. Your screams, his groans, the heat, it was all so fucking amazing you were left in a complete bliss. You were fast to catch up to him, moving your hips while he was watching from beneath you, eyes dark, glazed over and completely smitten by you.

“You're the best,” you breathed out as you dragged your hands to you breasts, but Baekhyun wanted none of that. He swiftly sat up, his chest almost pressed to yours while you continuously rode him, up and down,  your hands being pushed aside just to be switched with his as he added his sinful lips to the swell of your breasts.

“You're a goddess, mummy,” he muttered, leaving a wet trail on your chest while his hands squeezed and massaged your mounds.

“Baekhyun!” you scolded, and despite the sweat and the delightful pull in your belly approaching yet again, you blushed; the blush definitely caused by his choice of words.

He looked into your eyes, his ones proud and lustful. “It's true,” he muttered, groaning as you sank down exceptionally hard, almost falling onto his sturdy chest. His hands were now squeezing your sides, helping you out, unable to keep the needy touches to himself when you looked so gorgeous like that. He squeezed your arching body to his sweaty chest.

A quick glance at your swollen belly that he made sure you noticed, his hand came to touch against it and you were gone. He caressed you there gently while swallowing your moans as you grabbed his face, kissing him, your hair falling, creating an intimate curtain just around where your mouths were connected. You still had an unearthly energy to help your boyfriend out to his orgasm, not wanting to be in the ecstasy alone, and as much as Baekhyun needed the release, his hands slid across your sides, holding your hips to stop their movement.

“Enough, baby girl,” he whispered into your mouth, leaning back ever so slightly to see your flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead. “I don't want you to hurt yourself.” He was still panting and you swore to god he looked so handsome with his hair glued to his forehead, puffy cheeks. You might have gotten horny again.

“Come with me,” you insisted, attempting to to move again but he bit his lip, a cheeky glint in his eyes, and he held your back tenderly, moving you to lie on your back, while slipping out of you. Hissing, he stood up quickly.

“I'll be right back.”

Trying to calm your breath, you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling in your aching body. A knowing smile played on your lips; Baekhyun would rather get a cold shower then another orgasm from you, just because he was worried about you. If that wasn't some darn good self-control, you didn't know what it could be.

Just as he promised, he was back soon, a towel in his hands to help you clean up. Once done, he lied back down next to you and you immediately curled up by his chest. “That was amazing.”

“Hmm, you are amazing,” he said. After a little pause, he asked: “You feeling alright?”

“Perfect. But I could go again, you know? You don't have to be so careful with me.”

He snorted as he played with the ends of your hair. “Jeez, you already have my baby! Actually three of them! Slow down, woman.”

You both laughed heartily, and he loved the sound.

“But I want to have youuu, my love,” you whined.

“You have me. You always have me. I'm yours. I'm just simply yours.”

A/N: just to clarify, this isnt the end, we still have quite some things to get through actually - more drama ㅠㅠ! Just didnt want to leave you on a cliffhanger. Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Any feedback is very much appreciated  🥺 🥺

[lemonietrinket]

Cosiest Place on Earth ||| Kun x Reader

Summary: Where Kun is relaxing in peace, and a certain someone decides its a prime time to ‘annoy’ him  Genres: Sickly sweet fluff, plus some humour Warnings: Tiny bit of scary but it’s not actually anything scary (if that make sense) Word count: 1259 Song: Heart Flutter - W24 AN: an edit of an old piece revamped to—hopefully—a much higher standard. reading the original wasnt.... painful but it wasnt exactly fun either :/ im so sorry guys for subjecting you to my writing back then

gender neutral reader

~~~

The night was oddly still, a starless sky beckoning darkness across the thin face of the moon, an icy wind trickling through the smallest gap in the window behind a set of closed curtains, encouraging them to breathe in the shadows. Despite this, Kun was soaking up the peace.

He loved his groupmates, he really did. They were extremely talented, funny and, on the whole, easy to get along with people. They were annoying sometimes yes, but they mostly did as they were told, and after hearing from other leaders at the award shows, he realised he could have had it a whole lot worse. However, the thing they were best at was reminding him of how precious some true quiet really was.

And so, as soon as they all became preoccupied with some new racing game he hadn’t been paying enough attention to remember the name of, he leapt at the chance. Cut to now, and Kun was curled up in his bed, buried neatly under three blankets to combat the cold that had defeated the radiator. He had shuffled himself into the corner of his bed, as close to the hushed lamp as he could get without the bulb blinding him from the gap in the very top of the shade, and bundled the covers beneath his feet to keep in as much warmth as possible. Book in hand, his eyes trickled across the page, occasionally having to jump back as soon as he caught his thoughts scattering. 

He wasn’t used to the silence and it showed. As much as he relished in a small period of it, he couldn’t ignore the gnaw of unprovoked concern. His life and the ones of those around him were so hectic that as soon as that chaos stopped it felt like something had gone wrong.

He had been about to sigh when a creak from the door stopped him mid breath. Leaning to get a clearer look, hands slipping the bookmark between the pages as he went, he felt his eyes widen as an abnormal fear etched itself inside his stomach. 

Between the gap approached a figure from the dark. It had pointed head and disproportionately long arms, with strangely hackled shoulders and no face to speak of. It approached so uneasily, and Kun was already glancing at the window so as to be ready if he needed to make an escape, until the creature’s foot reached the light’s boundary. 

He recognised that leg. 

“Y/N…!” he groaned, flopping back into the cushions behind his back and shoving his book to the side.

You came to a halt proudly in the light, staring at him confusedly from where you’d tightened the hood of your stolen jumper around your face. “What?”

“You scared me, love…!” 

“Huh?” You looked down at the layers you had put on to try and fight the cold before turning back to take in just how dark the rest of the room. You couldn’t help but giggle as you continued to make your way to your boyfriend, “Oh, I’m sorry…!”

He scoffed, watching as you came to the side of the bed. “Pssh, no you’re not.” 

“I am!” you whined, beginning to clamber across the mattress. Your destination? The cosiest place on earth.

Kun shook his head as he carefully began to lift the blankets up for you to join, chuckling as you finally reached him and immediately burrowed into his side while he tucked the blankets around you. “Cold?”

“Nope, wearing hoodies like this is just part of my new fashion statement,” you sassed, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you before you linked your cold legs with his, much to his dismay.

He yelped at the contact, kicking the blankets around your feet even more. “You are so lucky that I’m such a good boyfriend.”

You just laughed, nestling your nose further into his neck and releasing your hands from your sweater paws. Unfortunately for him they weren’t much warmer, and he practically shrieked as you clutched at his jumped beneath the covers.

“Jesus, Y/N—!”

“Are you though?” you slyly enquired. “A good boyfriend?”

“You think I’m not?”

You hummed. “Well, last time I checked good boyfriends can tell the difference between a cryptid and the best thing that has ever happened to them.”

His laughter was soft and rich, and it thrummed by your ear—immediately coaxing your smile into a full blown grin. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, huh?” he murmured, gentle hand easing your hood open and off to free your hair from its confines, just so he could ease it between his fingertips. “You’d better keep it down when you say that, I don’t think it would end well if the other’s found out.” 

You snickered, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck before settling back down again. Kun knew you could hear how his heart skipped a beat at you and how precious you were, and he didn’t care a single bit. Pulling the covers further up so you would be warm enough, he traced his thumb across your temple, smiling as your eyes closed happily. The two of you dipped into a momentary quiet—not an uncommon occurrence between the two of you, as comfortable silence really was its own blessing—but it wasn’t long before you spoke up coyly. 

“Kun?”

“Yes, love?”

“Would you still love me if I was a cryptid?”

His love-swarmed gaze didn’t change. “Of course I would,” he said, “but please don’t go out there and get yourself turned into one. And if you are one, well… you better tell me if you are, yeah?”

You chuckled, though he noticed the ease of tiredness in your voice. “I would tell you, baby, and I’m not, I promise.”

“Sounds like something a cryptid would say,” he whispered, smile simpering upon his lips at your sleepy one. You were too adorable for him to fully comprehend in words. “Would you like some music?”

You hummed a no, and so he reached for his book from where he had discarded it by his thigh, careful to not disturb you. “I’ll read again, if that’s ok?”

He had expected a little backlash perhaps, since it would mean you wouldn’t be able to have a hand stroking your arm—the shock, the horror! Kun had to admit, then, that he was surprised when you managed to work up the rest of your energy to ask, “Read to me?”

Opening the book as best he could with one hand and placing the bookmark on the bedside table, his heart swelled at your words.

“Of course,” he replied, planting a kiss to your crown, before he turned back to the paper, words much clearer to him now. 

“Hundreds of fireflies drifted over the pool of water held back by the sluice gate, their hot glow reflected in the water like a shower of sparks. I closed my eyes and steeped myself in that long-ago darkness. I heard the wind with unusual clarity. A light breeze swept past me, leaving strangely brilliant trails in the dark. I opened my eyes to find the darkness of the summer night a few degrees deeper than it had been. I twisted open the lid of the jar and took out the firefly...”

With the warmth long seeped throughout your body, cradled in the arms of the man you knew would love you through thick and thin, it wasn’t long before the words dissipated into the air, as his tender voice lulled you into sleep.

~~~

an: book excerpt is in italics and is not mine! its from a book called Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami that i really recommend you read, if you are ok with very strong themes. i studied it for my english literature coursework and i didnt hate it once! even through all that rereading and stuff so.. yeah :))

if you enjoy please leave a comment or reblog with hashtags or drop something in my asks i dont mind sksksk they really help me keep want to write! 

Masterlist

[leviathiane]

SHOW US YOUR WROR RAW UNPROCESSED WHOLE GRAIN ORGANIC NOTES

this is going to be a long-ass post i am so sorry to Everyone! i take a lot of notes.

So, as You specifically know (as well as all of my lovely Soggers) I take a LOT of notes. Obsessively. I write fucking everything bc i have very little memory and very much paranoia. This results in literal Piles of notes. Raw planning, on paper, on my phone– doodles of scenes im brainstorming, bulletpoints, entire SCRIPTS– it’s all there but scattered (I’ve got scenes planned in the margins of my goddamn anthropology notes and deciphering it was a NIGHTMARE) 

I won’t even upload all the photos of my writing notebook, because itd be like 50 pages of illegible nonesense. but heres a couple of planning phase pages. (may be hard to read, I dropped this notebook both into some tidepools, into a creek on campus, and accidentally leaked my waterbottle onto it in my backpack :/) 

if you can’t tell already, yes they all look exactly like this. Some are even more illegible, because I wrote them with the notebook half under my actual class notes. Because i wrote most of them in class. During lectures. And pretending very badly that i was not doing exactly that. (pay attention in class please i got away with this bc i was filling up elective units) 

I’m also flat out MISSING a large portion of my notes bc some of it? isnt even in the damn notebook. its on a sheet of binder paper, or on the empty back of an assignment. I’ve now lost most of those notes, but the ones i do still have are just as (even more, actually) indecipherable chicken scratch: 

Wow, how clean and tidy and easy to follow! i am in hell. 

and this doesnt mention the PAGES and PAGES of outlines that are on my laptop, and the pages of outlined scenes that are on the notes app of my phone. if i put them all, you would have entire chapter spoilers up to the very end of the story so i cant post a lot of them– and also theres just a goddamn lot of them. currently i have 16 pages of outlining. There are no spacing breaks. It is a solid 16 page block of text. Looking at it gives me a migraine. 

some assorted notes which i have dredged up from the deleted parts of the main draft google doc go all the way back to when i started Wror in June and they are Barely more readable than my handwriting on sheer account of: articulation is not my strength. These include: 

“Ch 8 plan: sabo gets trained specially, awakens his armament haki, beats ace in a bunch of spars and proves himself to be anything but vulnerable. The boys are like “we fucking recognize that technique ryu taught you before us!!” and goad ryu into finally starting them both on basic haki training, just to awaken it, since sabo already has. Also this is the chapter that ace finally confronts ryu for his devil fruit after ryu confirms that some devil fruit users can’t be hurt without haki and ace immediately catches onto that and tries to slam his pipe through ryus head. It doesn’t work, ryu catches the weapon with a haki covered hand, to avoid turning to flame with hit and ace just gets frustrated and accuses ryu of hiding his devil fruit, because he remembers what he saw in grey terminal and that now that he has seen haki he can distinguish it from what he saw and he’s sure no one could do what ryu did. He calls ryu a hypocrite for coddling them even after telling them to stop coddling sabo and ryu has to sit them down and explain that yes he does have powers and he has been hdiing it and explains his reasoning. However instead of understanding th eboys just get fired up and say they don’t wnt to be scared of fire, especially not when it means ryu isn’t taking them seriously in a spar. Ryu finally agrees to start them on desensitization training for fire trauma. Fire desensitization training happens on the beach, so that they have water nearby in case things get out of hand. At some point ace gives ryu a considering look and is just like “if you have a devil fruit that means you can’t swim either right?” and ryu is basically just like “lmao yeah” and then ace immediately attempts to drown him. Lots of murder attempts in ace’s department toget his older brother to be less of an idiot with little success lol(extra: ace tried to attack ryu earlier both to confirm that ryu has a devil fruit that would force him to use haki to hide it, and because he now knows that he CAN’T hurt ryu without haki and as thus can’t beat him and make him admit he’s awake without being good at haki.)” [chapter 8] 

“Small sabo lost his hat and goggles in the incident and while he doesn’t remember having them future sabo notices he looks uncomfortable and keeps touching his hair and head. Ace yells at him for it thinking he bandaging are bothering him and that he can’t touch them but little sabo just comments that something about it feels wrong. Luffy blurts our that he had a hat, like luffy does, But he doesn’t now ace begrudgingly mentions that they can’t get a new one in town. Future sabo doesn’t even hesitate and just plops his own hat onto his younger selves head. It clearly too big for him, and almost falls over his eyes but he grins up at future sabo and is like “wow!! Thank you! I’ll take care of it till I have one of my own” and creates a paradox like Luffys own hat. The footsteps younger sabo has yet to fill. This HAS to happen AFTER the talk where they explain that future and past sabo are both the same person, to give little sabo that pressure.” [chapter 9]

“(Right after this older sabo takes them down to the ocean so that they can play a little and desensitize themselves and immediately fucks himself over when he goes weak in the water bc he somehow fucking forgot his own devil fruit again and now even younger sabo is on his case about not letting him near the fucking ocean that little goddamn HYPOCRITE—) )” [for chapter 9]

“Ch 9 plan: they finally leave dawn island. Starts with the boys getting a haircut after training and luffy mentions how long it’s been since they’ve last needed a haircut, giving sabo and ace time to point out that it’s been 2 months now since ryu joined them, and that sabo was completely healed by now. The boys are now aware of the basics of haki, and while luffy hasnt awakened either yet ace and sabo both have a little bit of weak armament haki. (sabo won’t awaken observational haki until he gets his memories back) ryu tries to sneak off into the city to steal a boat but his brothers refuse to leave him behind and keep sneaking out after him, not wanting him to go alone and saying that since he’s been training them they’re clearly stronger and he needs to let them do this. Ryu eventually just lets it go because why the fuck not it’s a dream and they make him feel better. They get the boat out on open ocean and finally fucking sail out, cheering loudly, ryu struggling to make them all calm down but also not really trying. He’s happy as shit, and they’re all so excited and happy and sabo dips a hand into the waves and then smiles so fucking wide and tackles ryu so violently they both nearly tip into the water and it’s just very very good. “ [also for ch 9] 

** I flat out dont Have any outlining from before chapter 6, because i only started actually outling chapters after that. i tend to just sit down and Write up until i hit a plot point or writers block and then am forced to actually think it through and plan rather than letting it come naturally. thats also why the quality and editing is better in later chapters despite everything being written within the same time frame. 

besides entire chapter outlines, there are the scene specific phone notes like:

“(ADDED) Right after they leave dawn, when sabo is sure they’ve gotten enough of a head start, he calls Garp. He doesn’t say who he is, but that all of the boys are safe and happy with him and has them all talk into the phone to assure him that they’re fine. Garp is honestly just pissed off he doesn’t know who’s calling and when he asks sabo just laughs and says a disobedient brat before hanging up. “

“(ADDED) TO EXPAND ON CH 3: sabo gets offered the chance to go with dragon, and he hesitates on the offer to go through with his previous life with the family he’s made in the revolutionary again. He almost agrees, because the bought of losing them in this lifetime is near excruciating but reminds himself swiftly that it’s no place for his brothers and not what they’d really want, and he wants selfishly to be with them as long as he Can until he “inevitably” wakes up. The boys are visibly relieved by this, especially ace. (Sabo gets asked who he is by dragon, who wants to know more about the stranger with his son, but dragon has always been quicker to make connections no one guessed and he just smiled knowingly at sabo and tells him he’s sure the other will have no trouble finding them if he’s in need. Sabo in turn warns him to keep Kuma close, and to look for a slave girl named koala.)”

I have…. many of these. I have Many of Everything. 

finally, i have scene doodles. if i hit a bad writers block it usually helps me to sketch scenes or the character designs to regain my grip on what the hell is happening in the plot– Breach of Intention has character design sketches, pakcbond has MANY scene sketches, even some of my nsfw has some sketches. my wror skecthes arent Good of course, I am an art teacher for children and that means i am more often explaining the color wheel and brush techniques over drawing perfect human replicas– and i just dont really make a lot of fanart? ive never drawn sabo before but i sure have a bunch now. i wont include close ups because they genuinely suck but heres an example pic 

So… yeah thats about everything. this is a VERY long post and yet i only included like maybe ¼ or 1/5 of all the notes i have dbskhjgfkjadns lmk if anyone wants more (or notes for my Other stories, which contain NO WHERE the same absurd amount of shit that wror does.)

[inkskinned]

literally just a dumb unorganized list of school tips

source: im a grad student. i’ve had a lot of school. also i’m adhd & mentally ill and require +8 organization. this is mostly directed @ college students, but maybe high school students can use it too, fuck, idk, it’s been forever since i was stuck in that hell hole

just say “professor” either ur using the correct title for a person (will make them feel good) or you’re giving them a bigger title on the assumption they deserve it (which will make them feel good) and also prevents having to ever i mean ever use their names

talk at least 1 time a week in each class, aim for 1 time a day. even lecture classes. i fucking hate talking in front of more than 5 people, so what i would do is prepare a question about the hw/etc (even if i didn’t need it answered) to ask the professor after class so they saw me and got used to me and saw i was invested in their class. about 89% of teachers - if they see you try, they will pass you. i mean it’s literally that easy. i know people who went from like a c- but because they legit tried, their grade got bumped up to a b-. 

if u have to bring a laptop, pre-download the required material/screenshot it, and then turn off your wifi. it’s too easy to not listen.

physical writing will always give you more information recall over typing.

nobody cares about stupid shit anymore trust me they don’t remember that you were accidentally locked in a towel out of your room bc they have their own dumb shit that happened.... in college all the “cringe culture” turns into “god i wish that were me” culture ... wear ur onesie to a party trust me you make +800 friends and 799 of them will be girls telling you you’re adorable and they’d die for you

about locking urself out.... if ur like me and can breeze past post-it notes placed in obvious areas, don’t be a dumb bitch and rely on post-it-notes. while most schools offer 1 free lockout, dont rely on it - it once took 2 hours before someone could get to me. i was in a towel, which meant no phone. so like. anyway, what i do now is i put something on the handle of the door i have to open/unlock. i can’t just open the door w/out the thing falling down and making a loud “you dumb bitch unlock the door before u shower” sound. 

this works for all important don’t-forget it things. other obstacles i’ve used to remind myself to do something include: putting a chair with my wholeass posterboard in front of the door, an entire printer with a single piece of paper that just read “for the love of god check to be sure you have that essay”, and a recycling bin i kept forgetting to empty. guess what bitch finally emptied the bin once it was between me and a swift exit!

no offense and like the whole “it’s the best years of your life!” thing is great but in reality everything goes better scholastically when you treat it as “i came here to win, not to make friends.” i still did make friends, went to parties every weekend, was popular enough i’d be invited to several on one night - but i came there to win. when i put my scholastic life and my mental health first, i went from a 2.0 to a 3.98. yes you can, bitch.

you’re spending the money. don’t squander it. trust me when i say i know plenty of people who breeze through, bc you often can. but like. don’t. challenge yourself bc like. talk about an investment.

if you hate your major, change it. don’t make your life something you can’t stand. on that note, do NOT agree 100% to a track until you have at least some experience in the field. i cannot tell u how many ppl i know who got their whole masters/phd program done, walked into their new profession, and were like, Oh Fuck, I Can’t Live Like This.

college literally offers so many free things and if you’re not taking advantage of them whenever possible i get it but like. try to take advantage of them. this is everything from your gym (which probably has free classes dude) to clubs to like. sober events. these sober events are so ... fuckin good dude i’ve made mason jars with little plants in em... bee aviaries... candles.... go to the free stuff

oh ps on free stuff i wanna say about 4 of 5 days there’s free food on campus just look for things like job fairs, presentations, or discussion groups. also while you’re there at the job fair like. u know, go to the job fair in earnest

i took off 2 years to work and also to just. recover from my bullshit. and it took me 6 years and 3 schools to get my bachelor’s. it wasn’t easy but bitch i lived. there’s no such thing as “too long” to graduate if that’s truly what you want to do.

if on the meal plan, eat as clean as you can the first week. then introduce each part of the cafeteria’s possibly-food-poisoning-creating foods one at a time. give @ least 2 days between each experiment so you know for sure if you get sick what caused it. i literally never eat meat at school but you can still get sick off of unwashed lettuce/salad dressing that hasn’t been refrigerated properly/weirdass things you won’t even think of. this prevents like. dying in a public bathroom.

white loaf bread can be gross & boring. discount bakery section for your slightly chewy artisianal bread needs. if overstale, either toast it or dunk it into water and microwave it (unless u got an oven. use the oven if u can)

steal as many apples from the dining hall/events/etc as physically possible just do it they keep FOREVER and @ some point you’ll be like. fUCK i need a nutrition. ps if you’re keeping them in ur backpack (i wouldn’t keep more than 2) make sure to wrap w/a few paper towels so if you drop your bag you don’t get apple mush

write it all down bitch. “i’ll remember it” no you won’t. unless you are capable of remembering every idea on this list and in order, you won’t remember it. in general, if you write something 3 times, you will recall it correctly at least 80% of the time. i also read it out loud to myself, bc, you know, auditory recall

DO NOT just put your assignment at the top of your notes, unless you’re 100% sure that will work for you. in most cases, it’s much better to have a planner/agenda/place you expect to look for assignments. +7 points if you lie to yourself about deadlines and move them all up.

like not to sound too much like a DARE ad but like. if you don’t like it/don’t want it, don’t fuckin do it. the idea that “there’s nothing to do if you don’t party” is such bullshit. like i promise if you’re like “i am a grouch and want to stay in and binge netflix” about 45 ppl will show up in pjs like “bitch fullscreen it, im a grouch too.” there’s also like. the chance to just.... not overindulge. on wednesdays i have “wine wednesdays” where we sit around and drink a glass of wine while we do our hw. it’s chill and friendly instead of like. drink until u vomit. don’t feel like you either gotta slam the breaks or the gas pedal, is what i mean.

PLEASE know the signs of alcohol poisoning/overdose. most schools have a “Safety Always Matters Most” policy, which means that you can call for help w/out getting into trouble. if you think someone is in danger, act. this also goes for making sure ppl get home safe even if they’re just incapacitated, not poisoned. step in, dudes.

also just. notice when ur starting to rely on stuff too much. i’m super easily addicted to things, so i keep a healthy distance from liquor. i don’t let myself “drink to feel better” bc that’s a scary, scary thing to link to feeling better. if you or somebody u know starts drinking all the time/gets anxious if they don’t drink/drinks in the daytime .... get help. schools have counselling services for a reason.

you’re gonna get a cold/flu of some sort in the first 2 months just brace for it. in the meantime, drink vitamin c, try not to touch too many handles, and when people say “there’s something going around” believe them.

watch kaplan nike just do it 

if you can teach it, you know the material. a super good way of knowing if you studied the right way is to try and teach the material to a stuffed animal/imaginary class.

“i don’t know how to study” bitch me too the fuck. this is usually bc we’ve been taught that studying is just sitting down and staring @ ur notes. it’s not. it’s different for everyone, and you need to understand it’s 99% preventative care. if you don’t go to the class or do the homework, studying is going to fucking suck, bc you’re learning the material all at once for the first time. the place you should consider “studying” is “i’m confident in 70-90% of the material, but need to review.” do not let yourself fall behind .... just go to office hours and ask questions if ur not getting something. studying should feel like you’re remembering what you already knew but kinda forgot, not like you’ve been blindsided.

the whole “writing it down in ur own words” while u have been told this 700 times it really helps bc it means u gotta translate it through your own understanding. if you can’t, and it’s not bc the material seems too obvious to you to state in another way - ask yourself if you don’t understand the material. chances are u are missing a bit of info.

i know it’s like A Thing that Some People do but i never had the mental health points for it but i know some people just take 15 minutes after every class to review their notes. since i’m 100% early to every class ever, obnoxiously so, i try to do it before class. having the last class’s notes up in my head super helps. like. put down the phone i know you’re socially anxious me too but review those notes. chances are if u start flipping through pages other ppl will too. this is also fun bc as soon as you start this whole thing, at least one person will be like “is there a test?” no bitch there’s no test but im gonna be ready when there is!

literally so much of success is fucking posturing i could link about 800 peer-edited studies that show that when a student is expected to do well (and knows they are), they do well. like i literally didn’t change my appearance at all, never bothered to look nice (once winter hits i wear 67 layers all the time), but when i showed up after my 2 years off from school, i presented myself with the whole “i came here to win” vibe and people... really respected me? i mean in hs i remember ppl saying shit like “yeah, well, you aren’t gonna have the homework”. by the time i was in college i had an honest-to-god conversation which included someone being like “so tell me what you’re overachieving at right now” like they just expected it from me. wild.

i live by “bite off more than you can chew, and then CHEW IT” but it’s probably unhealthy. the truth is that i have a lot of energy all the time (lmao adhd!!!) and i used to get told i was “trying too hard” and for a long time (still???) i didn’t (i don’t?) know what that was, you know, bc i had a D average, clearly i wasn’t trying. it turns out i was just. putting all my energy into stuff that wasn’t making me happy like toxic friendships etc. when i decided “nope, all this energy is for me and my schoolwork”..... uhhhhh suddenly i was a golden child and everyone praised my try-hardness ... it’s a fuckt up system tbh

take at least 1 class just for fun. i try to do that every semester. it helps break up all the requirements. if you’re like an engineer and got no time or credits left to spend, try to audit your fun course.

make ur advisor love you i don’t care what it takes make them cupcakes show up to thank them i dONT CARE just do it 

the library isn’t always the best place. if i start getting anxious bc i pavlovian train myself that library=work, i find a new place to go to do hw. try to go outside if you can!!! not like where i live bc like it’s snow all the time but try. a little green really really really helps depression. 

if you’ve been in the same “Studying” place for 1 hour and haven’t done anything the chances are Something Isn’t Right. first, look @ ur body. are you not focusing bc of some pressing physical need? sometimes just taking a shower and coming back helps. are you uncomfy? are you too comfy and going to sleep? if body okay, look @ the material. do you not understand it? do you just need to switch to a new topic for a little bit? can you find a youtube video that will help you better understand it? make notes on what you don’t get so you can ask in the next class. if it’s not the material, it’s not ur bod, check the Actual Space. sometimes just getting up, going for a short walk to a new place, and trying it there actually? really works? if none of this is working.... try ur brain next. hardest to reset bc like, what, turn it on and off again? i use things like caffeine, a short workout, a nap, or a podcast all to just... give me a little boost. 

don’t be afraid to leave. i mean this about class, friend groups, and the college ur at. just get up on outta there if ur not feelin it. i cannot recommend “drop the class” enough. even if it’s a required course see if u can switch the times if u hate the professor day 3 it’s not gonna get better just get the fuCK out

don’t nap in the same position u go to sleep in, nap upside down w/ur head away from ur pillow. don’t ask me why but it works to 1. fall asleep faster 2. make sure u sleep okay at night and 3. wake up less annoyed 

on that note don’t ever do anything in ur bed in a sleeping position unless it’s genuinely sleeping in it. body will get confused. just sit up, lazybones.

when/if the library has those therapy dogs during finals week.... just go pet them make the time for it

ask before hugging people, but don’t expect a “yes”

get a backpack that fits and doesn’t hurt ur back u fuckin hippie idc how cool it is to wear ur backpack super low just don’t do it it’s not worth it

the tutoring center is a fucking goldmine.... free essay edits my dudes

bring a fan dorms are always hotter than u expect

switch dorms if u can if u realize ur in the wrong room/wrong roomate like just don’t bother with nonsense

when in doubt, follow preschool rules. tell ppl when they did something cool, just ask when u need help, and be confident even in your mistakes, because at least u tried

[turtle-steverogers]

Blackened Hearts

part three to the Blackened series which i’ll put under my masterlist here in a sec if you haven’t read yet

ship(s): platonic ralbert, sprace

warnings: race is a ball of nerves

editing: no it sucks i’m sorry

Albert and Race sat in the lobby of the police station, waiting for the officers from the night before to call them back for questioning. Albert hadn’t slept at all since the incident, too busy calming Race down from anxiety and exhaustion induced fever dreams. The cycle had repeated itself several times. Race would wear himself out from panicking, fall asleep, have a nightmare, then wake up again, eyes frantic and breaths too heavy. By the time he was finally able to sleep soundly, it was 7:30 and the police were bound to be there any minute, but Albert had allowed him to sleep for a little while, waking him up last second to go with the officers.

“How are you holding up?” Albert asked Race, who was leaning heavily on the arm of the chair, head propped on a fist.

Race shrugged, shaking his head lightly and casting his gaze to the side. He looked incredibly worn out, eyes puffy from crying intensely for a prolonged period of time. He didn’t answer and Albert sighed to himself- he honestly couldn’t see how Race was going to make it through questioning. It was going to tear him up.

They lapsed back into silence, the sounds of the station creating unsettling white noise around them. Albert leaned on his respective armrest and closed his eyes, dozing uncomfortably for a few minutes until the officers came to retrieve them.

“You guys aren’t in any kind of trouble and this shouldn’t take very long,” The taller of the two said as they were lead into one of the interrogation rooms. They sat at a rectangular table, opposite of the two officers. Race had his hands in his pockets, his shoulder drawn up to his ears. His discomfort was obvious and Albert caught his eyes, raising his eyebrows in a silent question of worry. Race held eye contact for a moment, his expression swimming with a sea of emotions, none of which Albert could read entirely.

“I’m Officer Denton,” The tall one said, shaking Race and Albert out of their silent conversation, “And this is my partner, Officer Darcy. We’re just gonna ask you a few questions about what exactly happened last night so we can write up an incident report, then you guys’ll be free to go home.”

Denton pulled out a recording device, placing it in the middle of the table while Darcy took a pen and notepad out of his back pocket. Albert felt Race slide his foot into the side of his own and he applied pressure back, reassuring his friend of his presence.

“Okie dokie,” Denton said, pressing the recording button, “State your full names, please.”

“Albert Schuyler DaSilva,” Albert said, clearing his throat. Darcy began to scribble in his notebook.

Race had brought his hands onto the table and was wringing them together nervously.

“And you?” Denton prompted, turning his attention to Race.

Race didn’t answer, barely acknowledging that he’d heard the question. Albert nudged his foot slightly and he jumped.

“I-I’m sorry,” He stammered, “What was the question?”

“Just your name, sir,” Denton supplied patiently.

Race swallowed and Albert could practically feel his heart rate pick up.

“Uh, Antonio,” Race muttered, not meeting Denton’s careful gaze.

“Antonio...what?” Denton pushed.

“A-Antonio Nicolas…” He shifted nervously, “Uh, Higgins,” he finished, finally looking up at Denton, who’s face hardened.

“Ah,” He said, nodding hesitantly. Darcy looked up, surprise etched into his features. Race bent forward so that he was leaning on the table and tugged at the hair on the back of his head- something he did when he was stressed, or trying to ground himself. He was rapidly cracking the fingers on his other hand and Albert could imagine that he was craving a cigarette. He always got more fidgety when an urge hit.

It was quiet for another moment, then Denton seemed to recover from his initial shock, “So, talk me through what happened last night.”

Race was back to staring intently at the table, so Albert took over, “Uh, so I was asleep, I don’t know if Race, er, Antonio was-”

“-I was,” Race mumbled.

Albert flicked his eyes over to him quickly before continuing, “Yeah, so we were asleep and then this like, knocking sound woke me up and at first I thought Antonio was tryna get into my room. But then after I woke up more I realized it was coming from the actual apartment door so I peeked my head out to investigate and Tony was also looking. And so then the knocking kept getting faster until it stopped, then uh, he- Giovanni- uh he started to use a knife to break in and he eventually got in while I was on the phone with 911 and he started saying really creepy shit to Tony, then tried to attack him so I tackled him and got the knife away from him and locked me and Tony in Tony’s bedroom,” Albert finished, leaning back in his seat while Darcy scribbled down his words. Albert could see that Race was shaking and he frowned. He was getting worked up again, Albert could tell.

Denton seemed to notice too, because he reached over the side of the table to grab a water bottle from the ground.

He slid it to Race, who held it between his hands, but made no move to open it.

“Thank you, Mr. DaSilva,” Denton said, “Mr. Higgins-”

Race flinched and Denton shook his head, backtracking, “Sorry, uh, Antonio, I just need to ask you a few questions about this.”

Race drummed his fingers on the side of the water bottle, “Okay,” he murmured.

“Okay,” Denton said. He looked like he would rather do anything than question Race, and Albert couldn’t blame him. The boy was a mess, “Who is Giovanni Higgins in relation to you?”

“He’s uh,” Race twitched his nose, “He’s my dad. I dipped when he...yeah.”

“You were present when he murdered his wife and daughter?”

Race winced and nodded and Denton sighed, “Alright, wow,” he shuffled through his file, pulling out a small piece of cardstock near the bottom, “Ah, yes, it does say he has a son. Alright,” he stowed the paper back into the file and crossed him fingers under his chin, studying Race and Albert thoughtfully.

“Do you have any idea why he’d seek you out?”

Race’s eyes flashed and he sat up straighter, “Why d’ya think? To kill me, dumbass.”

“Race..” Albert warned.

“No, it’s okay, I understand his stress,” Denton waved Albert off, “Did he say that? Or are you assuming?”

Race huffed, “He said he wanted to finish the job.”

“Alright, thank you,” Denton said, pushing his chair back and standing up, shutting off the tape recorder as he did so, “I think we have a clear enough report. You guys are free to go.”

Darcy stood too, gesturing for Albert and Race to follow them out of the room. Once they got back to the lobby, Denton addressed Race, “There’s a possibility we may need you to come back in for further questioning on Higgins’ case, so we’ll letcha know if that’s necessary.” Race’s face fell, but he didn’t say anything.

“Take care, gentlemen,” Denton and Darcy shook Race and Albert hands before disappearing into a backroom. As soon as they were gone, Race collapsed back into one of the waiting room chairs, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He was pressing hard, almost angrily and Albert reached down to gently pry them away.

“You okay?” he asked, quietly so no one else could hear.

Race shook his head, taking another moment to compose himself before standing up, “Let’s leave. He’s in here somewhere and I don’t wanna be near him anymore.”

Albert nodded, “Okay, yeah let’s go home.”

They caught a taxi home after realizing that they hadn’t actually driven themselves there. Race was quiet and withdrawn, as he’d been all week. Albert let him pick up a pack of cigarettes at a kiosk, so long as he promised to not actually smoke one. Race obliged, opting to simply hold it between his teeth. It seemed to relax him to some extent.

“Did you ever talk to Spot?” Albert asked, pulling out an earbud to look at Race.

Race didn’t move his head from where he was leaning it against the window as he answered, “No, but I should.”

“You don’t needa if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but I should,” A pause, “Can you, uh, can you come with me when I do it?”

Albert softened, “If you would like me too, of course.”

Race hummed, “Yeah, I would. Thank you.”

It was quiet for another moment, then, “I wanna do it tonight.”

Albert raised his eyebrows at the sudden turn around, “Yeah? Alrighty, that’s cool. We’ll have him around for dinner?”

Race nodded, “Okay.”

Albert sighed. It was going to be another long night.

—

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

part 4? lemme know

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[the-mf-bread-babies]

– REBUILD III –

RUNAWAY RENEGADES

· COLLECTION 1 ·

“backstories”

———————————————————

- VOLUME ONE -

Dennis, Aaron, Damon, Sawblade

It was a normal (or was it?) day. The alarm on the boy's phone rang loudly, and he woke up.

Two hours late. It was a Monday.

Too tired to care, he fell back down to his bed and went on his phone. He opened Twitter and was shocked to spot the #1 trending hashtag:

#DojaCatIsOkAgainParty

He rejoiced, opening it to find millions of tweets without any context. After ignoring various fancams that made him lose hope in the current situation, he stumbled upon a thread explaining the current situation.

“#DojaCatIsOkAgainParty : A THREAD <3” The first tweet twote, accompanied with four pictures: One of Doja Cat herself, one of Nicki Minaj, another of whoever becomes the next US president, and Lana Del Rey. What the hell is going on?

“As we all know, Doja Cat, Beyoncé, and many other artists have somehow been cancelled by Lana Del Rey within a week in May of 2020,” Okay… “This is due to Lana's satanic powers.” Oh, okay. Yeah, this was the same account who said that Avril Lavigne has a clone. Who was part of the CIA. Sure, man, whatever.

“At 3:56 AM today, Doja Cat had kidnapped [insert 46th president here] and escorted him to a secondary location. Then, Nicki stabbed the shit outta him. This has caused the America fandom to go insane.” what. “Lana was behind this. As we all know, she and Jessie J had hacked into The Pentagon and made Beyonce Knowles president, for clout.” what.

He put down his phone, questioning what the hell Stan Twitter was on now. The boy approached his cat, Sawblade, who was sleeping on the floor. Sawblade yawned dramatically and circled the boy's legs. He picked her up and laid her onto his bed.

“kwjdkwjjrjrjrkjwkjwjrkj” The cat purred. His phone buzzed. It was a notification from PlayStation Messages. He opened it, eager to know if one of his friends finally wanted to play multiplayer with him.

“#0.00 NULL$$ - Hello PLAYSTATION user! We at NULL HQ politely invite you to join us in making the world a better place one job at a time. Kindly go to this location and sign up for one of our many job offers! No résumé needed, only experience, hard work, and an interview and a fitness test! We hope to see you soon!”

Oh, a scam. He took a screenshot of the text, and then immediately blocked and reported the user, NULL000000. Huh, odd username. Whatever, he's not gonna reply–

One DM from Twitter.

NULL AGENCIES ✓ – @NULLhiring

“#0.00 NULL$$ - Hello TWITTER user! We at NULL HQ politely invite you to join us in making the world a better place one job at a time. Kindly go to this location and sign up for one of our many job offers! No résumé needed, only experience, hard work, and an interview and a fitness test! We hope to see you soon!”

The same thing, huh? This NULL guy really wants his money, he guesses. First Nicki commits manslaughter and now he keeps getting the same scam messages? It's only been not even an hour today and yet so much has happened. What next, Enya comes out of hiding?

“BuzzFeed News: Famous singer Enya comes out of her big-ass castle to collaborate with Nyan Neko Sugar Girls creators for new Apple TV miniseries”

Damn, okay, this is a dream. The boy wrapped himself in a blanket, hugged his bolster and wriggled around, trying to sleep. He couldn't, so he went back on Twitter.

jimin is fr**kin DEAD (@bangtanctwice):

“dont s-word me but like why is l/*n//a out of prison again. i thought she had the electric chair already ://”

illumi killed silva <3 (@hxhoverwatcch)

“ITSSB ACK !!!!!!!!! HXH IS BAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YEEEEAAHAJAHAHAAAAA DJDJJDJDJSNDNFJDDJ”, followed by an edit of Hisoka Morow.

oikawa⁷ (@HAIKYUUUUS)

“man how the hell did furudate think a crossover w yu yu hakusho mp100 bnha kny gintama n hgtv could save haikyuu. it practically ended the moment they all ate that volcano w departure in the bg”

Kerry Washington ✓ (@kerrywashington)

“LITTLE FIRES 6 OUT NOW!!!! I'm gonna EXPLODE Earth in this one!!! I'm going back to the Early Cambrian stage!!!! Bye Pearl!!”

Internet Explorer Anitwt (@iloveboruto)

“Y’all Kurapika brought A SHOVEL to that fight with Uvogin!!! A Whole SHOVEL!!! 😂😂😂”

knas is canon !! (@moiiiraclones)

“guys i think bakugos a kurta..... think abt it.... red eyes... always stressed......”

vic (NOT SPOILER FREE!!!) (@myname_jeff)

“why is no one addressing the fact that jfk 2 is happening and like everyone involved has stans”

ray is ia rn (@cryptodorito)

“my dog just ate my dad ....... stan list !”

give moxxi another dlc (@TORGUEEEE)

“hey does anybody find it weird that gearbox just released borderlands 4 w no buildup At All. seems p fishy :(”

gerard's hand sanitizer (@raytowo)

“did mcr just do twelve concerts in three days. legends”

ceo of tanjirou (@hiskoamorron)

“pls stream jessie j now ;) or die <\3”

ceowo owof bakuwugowouwu (@bakubaby)

“yes, what i did was wrong. there are dogs everywhere starving and eating dog treats is not morally right. that said, (1/67)”

Okay, enough of that. No more. Please. Three hours have passed, and he's still very confused, if not even more confused than before. Is there some sort of event today that he missed? Why is every single tweet weird? Is all this real? Is he in a parallel universe? Is he dead?

The boy zoned out into the bedroom wall, thinking of all the possibilities of this happening. He was lost in his imagination, his train of thought splitting and exploding due to all the unusual occurrences. That was, until Sawblade voiced out her needs.

“YEEEEEEHEHEA” she yelled. She was starving, mainly because the last time she ate was like, a whole hour ago. Sad.

“Ye lah,” “Mew,” “Meow meow mew mew mew,” The boy meowed as he dragged himself to fill up his cat's bowl. “chyouooyoymeeeiielll,” he complimented, ruffling the cat's face.

The boy tripped over his Form 3 activity book as he was walking, a reminder that he should probably do his homework soon. He turned the doorknob and opened the door and he was shocked to find that his house…

Had been ripped in half.

He pushed his back against the wall and slowly inched along the wall towards the kitchen, staring down into the abyss below the house. The living room had a sofa missing, and the television looked like it was going to fall down any second. Furniture floated in the void below the floorboards, which was bent, with plumbing pipes exposed, as well as the metal rods holding the house together.

It reminded him of what Sanctuary looked like when it was floating in space in Borderlands 2. But instead of a city, it was a condominium unit. And instead of Lilith lifting it up, it was… unknown. If only he could gunzerk, or have siren powers, or be a ninja sniper assassin, or have a turret, or have a giant mech, or be super tall and have a buzz-axe. If only. But thank God there's no Mordecai. To hell with Mordecai. I hate Mordecai. He's the most straightest man. Ever. Claptrap is less straight than him. HANDSOME JACK is less straight than him. R O L A N D is CLEARLY less straight than him. Mordecai is the epitome of heterosexuality.

Thankfully, the boy reached the kitchen safely, but still very full of anxiety, and poured the cat food into a flat container, since Sawblade is so fluffy, her face can't fit in cat bowls. He emptied the water bowl, cleaned it, and filled it with filtered water, making sure it's slightly cooled. Sawblade likes it that way. As she cronched on the kibbles, he stared into the distance, wondering what his apocalypse name would be.

He grabbed a glass of water and a packet of muffins for his breakfast. As he ate it, he scrolled through his timeline as if it was the morning paper. Oh, Katy Perry gave birth to twelve kids. And Gowon killed X Æ A-Xii. With a machete. Ok. That's cool, I guess. Capitalism, y’know?

:DAMON @C0RR0Sl0N

“my house got sliced in half. im just chillin here w my cat sawblade. considering eating cat food. not influenced by any recent drama ok”

Send Tweet.

As the boy was eating, he noticed the front door to the house was missing. The entrance lead to what seemed like the side of the street. In a foreign place. The lamppost was unfamiliar, and so was the pavement design. It seemed rather American.

He peeked his head out, and lo and behold, he spotted a pet shop just a couple of feet away. The sudden shock of all this made him forget about his cat, an indoor cat, a curious one. Sawblade stepped slowly outside, and as she went into the boy's view, he stormed to catch her, panicking and swearing profusely.

Of course, this made her way more terrified, and she ran faster, and… into the ajar door of the pet shop. “SAWBLADE!!! DON'T!!” he yelled loudly as he stopped in front of the building. The boy paused, unsure whether to proceed or retreat.

“Russell Family Pet Store, since 1965” wrote a large sign on the front. It looked rustic, but well-kept. The blinds were drawn, so the boy couldn't see what was inside. The building occupied two lots, and seemed to be two storeys tall. A nice rooftop garden was situated on top of it, and there were painted-over remnants of many posters plastered onto the walls. The walls were now coated with light brown paint. This building was surely cared for by a variety of owners.

Although hesitant, the boy stepped into the store, his hands shaking. He could've probably pass out right then and there if he wasn't searching for Sawblade. He sneaked into the building quietly, determined to get his cat and run like hell right after. However, his ideal plan was quickly foiled after he stepped on a squeaky toy.

“Shit, who's there?” A deep voice asked. It seemed like it belonged to someone tall, depressed, and very angry about capitalism. The boy was stuttering, both from the panic of being caught, and also because he had to speak to a native English speaker. “Probably just the delivery guy,” A second voice assured. This voice seemed quite hard to guess, but it was surely a kind one. Very trustworthy. “Jed, is that you?” The kind voice added. Yeah, these two are totally friendly. Probably. Don't take any chances, though.

A figure approached the boy, and it towered above him. The 5'9" hulking beast stopped. “Oh, sorry, we're closed. It's Judgment Day,” the kind man said. Well, of course it's judgement day. Why wouldn't it be judgement day? “Wait, no, I'm an idiot. Martin Luther King Jr’s day.” The man corrected. “How the hell do those two even remotely sound like each other?” The first voice said, the owner sitting behind the counter, shadowed.

“M-My cat's here.” “Have y-you sa-see-sawn her?” The boy was actually very fluent in English, even more than Malay, but the panic he was experiencing kind of absolutely extirpated any knowledge of it from his brain. Really, dude? “Sawn”? What is this, Texas?

Fortunately the two were understanding. The man behind the slau– counter stood up suddenly. “Holy shit, do you speak Spanish? Habla español?!” He asked excitedly. “No, why would I–? I'm Malay, dumbass,” the boy retorted, then realising that he just insulted someone much older than he was and that was… kinda rude. “WAIT SORRY” he blurted out, sending him back into the panic that he was under when he entered the store.

“HUH?! No, I’M sorry, I just assumed you were South American just because you couldn't speak English!” The man yelled, apologizing loudly. Yeah, this dude's sure as hell white. “I CAN!!! WHERE'S MY CAT!!!” The boy shouted back, very confused at where his priorities should be right now. “Oh!” said the man in front of him.

“IS THIS HIM– SORRY, HER?!” The man asked, reaching towards the corner. “We, uh, found her just straight-up running into here. Which is really weird, since cats, like, don't do that,” he said, holding Sawblade. Senang cita. “YES!! THANK YOU!!” The boy yelled. Why is everyone yelling?

Sawblade looked comfy all snuggled up in the man's arms. “He… seems to like you,” The boy said jealously. Usually, he was the one Sawblade loved most. “I have ten cats, so,” The man replied casually. “…How? Even?” he questioned as he carefully took Sawblade from the stranger. “I just do?”

The boy still remained very confused. “Name's Aaron, by the way. Please don't call me Ay-Ay-ron. Just… please,” the kind man said. “Ok” the boy replied. “Mine's. Um. Uh.” “…” The boy thought whether to say his real, legal one, or the one he went with online, which he seemed to prefer way more than his real one. “THE NAME'S DENNIS RUSSELL. I SHARE MY INITIALS WITH A VIDEO GAME.” The white guy said, interrupting the boy's statement. “Oh. Good to know. Hi, Mr. Danganronpa,” The boy politely said. “Fuck yeah,” replied Dennis.

“And if you're wondering which one of us is part of the Russell family that's running this shop,” Dennis began, “Den, don't,” Aaron interrupted. “It's my family. But, my dad became a magician, and my dad's choosing to indulge in his gardening hobby here, so the job's passed down to me now,” Aaron said.

“G//ay Ass!” Dennis shouted. “Okay, fine, Dennis, since we got married last month, you're part of the Russell family, too, honey,” Aaron said. “Just don't–” “YEEEEEHAAWWEE PARDNER WELCOME TO YE OLDE RYUSSELL PEYT SHYOP–” Dennis yelled loudly enough to give the boy a heart attack. However, this was probably the tenth time this week he did this, so Aaron was just very tired. “Jesus.”

“Um, what is this place?” The boy was still very much confused on why there was a pet shop sitting in front of his house, which was ripped in half. “I just told you…” Dennis said disappointedly. “No, like, where am I? Why are you guys American? I'm assuming? I'm not?” The boy said. “Well, our pet shop's in Toledo; Toledo, Ohio,” Aaron stated, gesturing towards a pile of papers. “If you're lost, we have some maps, some phone books…” he continued, unaware of the current situation.

“No, I live in Selangor, so– Selangor, Malaysia, not Ohio, out of all places, God, no, and my house is right over there,” the boy argued, pointing outside. “Well, half of it,” The two pet shop workers stood at their places, trying to process what the hell this kid just said. “Like? There? Outside this gracious state that occupies the #2 spot for most arson cases in the US? That's Malaysia?” Dennis shot back, also unaware. The boy was a bit excited after hearing him mention the name of his country, but shook it off to further develop the conversation. “Yes. Somehow. Also, I really don't think this is Ohio. Too many buildings and I haven't seen any corn fields,”

“Didja know there's over 75,000 farms in this 14-million acre state? There are, ya just gonna know where to look :)” Dennis stated. “What the hell? That's way too many farms. How does… what…” The boy replied in shock, almost dropping Sawblade. “I'm sorry, what?” Aaron asked. “Yup! Lotta farms in the buckeye state!” Dennis replied excitedly.

“HALF?!” “Of it??” It seemed like Aaron was the only one there actually concerned about the task at hand. “Huh? Oh yeah. Not really that big of a deal, though, honestly; enough food here for thirteen weeks,” How the boy calculated that, and how accurate it is remains a mystery. “Anyway, how do state fairs work? Like, do corn dogs taste good? I've had deep-fried Oreos once, they tasted really good. Really love 'em,”

Aaron ignored the exchange by the two very excited individuals and opted to step out to see if the boy was right or not. In his head, he was honestly convinced he wasn't, but that was up for change. Hell, he didn't even look at his phone or the TV today, so maybe the kid's right, his house is snapped in half.

Oh, it is.

“Holy shit, Denny, come look,” he yelled, gesturing to his husband. “Okay! I hope the aliens aren't homophobic or anything! :)” Dennis replied, running eagerly to the door. “HOT DAMN!” Dennis shouted. Now the boy could see how they both looked like, especially Dennis.

Dennis was definitely over six feet tall, he had balding, spiky red hair, and his eyes were big and sunken, and had bags under them. Aaron, on the other hand, had only seemed tall because of his hair. Aaron was missing a tooth for some reason. His lower-left fang. That's weird. They were both sporting uniforms; an orange shirt covered by a green vest with the logo of the pet shop sewn near the… like the… the end of it but like in the front? Like the middle? But like the logo was on the side. Yeah

“I don't think aliens are homophobic. Have you played Borderlands? Lots of g/ay people, and they're all technically aliens. I think the aliens are g//ay,” the boy explained thoughtfully. “I have, at my friend's house this one time, but then I died and I had to, like, pay, so then I just left his house, man,” Aaron replied. “Yeah, that's fair, usually I just save and quit whenever I die,” the boy added.

“Wait, what's your name, again? This whole time, you're being referred to as ‘the boy,’” Dennis asked, breaking the fourth wall. “Shrek,” the boy replied. The two men nodded in solidarity. “Good name,” Aaron complimented. “It reminds me of my childhood, and good times, and Shrek-flavored Oreos,” he added.

Shrek paused for a bit, hesitant to tell them his preferred name, but saying it anyway because they both seem quite nice and understanding, also, his family's not there. “I'm kidding. Shrek is but only my middle name,” Shrek explained, “Please, call me…”

“Damon,”

Gender euphoria ran through his veins like that one time Thanos put on the infinity gauntlet and he was AAAAAGH, P O W E R,,, HNGGH, that but Yeah. “Cool! Hi, Damon!” Dennis said, watching Damon's eyes burn with joy. Oh, just saying, like in some more volumes, this little kid turns into a pyromaniac, so. Yeah. Watch out for that. This is Foreshadowing.

Aaron scanned the horizon, unknowing what the hell was happening. “Hey, guys, should we… go investigate or something?” Damon thought for a bit, but not too much because this thing going on seemed too random to properly scan and plan. “Um, I don't know,” he said wisely, “Did you guys hear about that thing with, like, Nicki Minaj and the president? Were you guys affected or whatever?”

“With who and what? Nick– NICKI?? THE PRESIDENT?? OF HERE?? WHATEVER THIS THING IS???” Dennis struggled to figure out what Damon was saying. “Yeah, she stabbed him or something. Doja Cat helped too :)” Damon explained, confusing the two even more. “Why?” Aaron tried. “I dunno. Drama?” “Heard Lana's involved too… but you didn't hear it from me, yeah?” Damon added.. “THE COW GIRL. HELPED NICKI. AND LANA. ASSASSINATE THE PRESIDENT. DAMON.”

- * Special Thanks * -

Snowball

Sandball

Gon Freecss

Killua Zoldyck

Leorio Paladinight

Kurapika Lastname

Hisoka Morow

(is that the correct spelling?)

Illumi Zoldyck

Kikyo Zoldyck (shes pretty, ok)

Kanamori Sayaka

Mizusaki Tsubame

Asakusa Midori

Pakunoda

Machi Komacine

Moira O'Deorain

Freddy Krueger

Sideshow Bob

Spy TF2, Pyro TF2, Scout TF2, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Yoda, Darth Vader, he's cool, Sheev Palpatine, Developers of the video game “Tiny Thief”, Mad Moxxi, Ellie Kurta (shes a spiderant. my theory), Handsome Jack (Not Really, Burn In Hell) (during the period of time between me writing this and me copying and pasting this, i have developed a crush on not only jack, but his doppelgangers too. help)

Angel :)), Claptrap, Dr. Zed, NOT Marcus Kincaid, Dr. Patricia Tannis, Roland, Lilith, Brick (ga/y rights), Zer0, Krieg, Tiny Tina, Tiny Tuna, Louise Bob's Burgers, Mabel Pines, Stanley Pines, Lazy Susan, Sheriff Daryl Blubs, Deputy Durland, Officer Spectre :)), Yoda Again, 2003 Honda Civic, Ray Toro, Lynz Way, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Frank Iero, Linda Bob's Burgers, Bob's Burgers Bob's Burgers, Sans Undertale, Komaeda, Sombra // Olivia Colomar, Actually All Of Talon Bc They're Hot Af, Except For That French Guy Max, Torbjörn Lindholm, Torbjörn Lindholm, Torbjörn Lindholm, Spider-Man PS4, Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, The Lil Psychic Girl, Uhhhh Mario Brothers

part 2 incoming.

[yarnings]

Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning

There was renewed discussion about the lack of Bree/Roger fics. I may have tripped and fallen, hitting the keyboard on the way down and this popped out.

As my frivolity suggests, this has not been beta’d, edited or even checked against the timeline. Any and all mistakes and places where things don’t make sense should be assumed to be errors that I would appreciate having my attention drawn to so I can fix them.

Roger groaned, tired from trying to keep up with his father-in-law all day, and walked through the cabin door. To his disappointment, the table had no food on it, being covered instead with Bree’s workbook and a bunch of loose sheets full of sketches and notes in Bree’s distinctive hand. As he stood, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the relative dimness inside, he noticed a pile of charcoal- smeared boards discarded beside Bree’s chair, presumably her even-rougher work that she did before consigning designs and calculations to expensive paper. It wasn’t the first time that Bree had managed to carve out some free time from the toil of trying to take care of the house entirely by hand, and spent the afternoon designing. However, and Roger frowned as he noticed that the hearth was cold, normally when she did this there was a pot of stew ready for the evening meal.

Just then Roger heard a noise outside, and turned back, squinting his newly-adjusted eyes against the bright sunlight. Bree was coming back from the big house carrying Jemmy, with a basket over her other arm. He stepped out to meet her and relieve her of her burdens. She handed him the basket with a kiss as Jemmy snuggled himself more securely against her side.

“He’s being a little clingy since I neglectfully abandoned him to be spoiled by Mrs. Bug all afternoon. Apparently he’s worried I’ll leave him to get stuffed full of sweets again.”

Roger wisely didn’t say anything, and peeked instead into the basket, finding a loaf of fresh bread inside.

“They were firing the big oven, and I was offered a loaf of bread so that I wouldn’t have to bother with the dutch oven today. I figured we could have sandwiches for dinner tonight. We have some pickle and I mixed up a bit of mustard to go with the sausage.”

Roger’s mouth watered at the thought. He resolutely pushed memories of sandwiches he’d had in the twentieth century from his mind as he followed Bree inside. He wasn’t about to suggest that mayonnaise would be a nice addition, as he had no desire to find himself assigned to the job of whisking it up himself.

Once inside, Roger washed up and set to slicing the bread while Bree picked up her notes and stuck them on the bed in a haphazard pile for organizing later. Jemmy was bribed with a chunk of hard sausage to sit in his chair. He gnawed on the sausage and banged his horn cup on the table as he watched his parents prepare the meal. In addition to the pickle and mustard, Bree brought out some butter and a small basket of greens that her mother had thinned from the garden that morning. Despite his enthusiasm for the meal, Jem had clearly had a full day of running around with his mother in the morning and exploring the big house in the afternoon, because part way through his eyes closed and he narrowly missed falling asleep in his dinner. Bree coaxed him into enough wakefulness to get ready for bed. When she tucked him into his cot he didn’t even make a token protest, just closed his eyes and went to sleep. Roger watched her from the table, not feeling energetic enough to take advantage of Jem’s early bedtime, but still appreciative of how she moved and the occasional tantalizing glimpses of skin that he got.

Bree looked up and caught Roger’s gaze, giving him a smile that celebrated everything they were to each other. She came back to the table, and they sat together for a while, finishing their meal in silence, enjoying simply being in each other’s presence with no urgent tasks to draw their attention away. Roger broke the silence first.

“What were you working on this afternoon? You seem to have made some progress.”

“I want to make a treadle spinning wheel. You know the kind where you can sit down, and work a foot pedal to spin the machine, rather than needing to walk back and forth like Marsali is always doing?”

Roger was vaguely aware of the fact that spinning was done on the ridge, and had a fuzzy memory of seeing what he persisted in thinking of as “modern” spinning wheels on a school trip to the museum as a child. He nodded anyhow, secure in the knowledge that Bree would give enough detail in her explanation to fill in any gaps in his understanding.

“The thing is that there’s a reason you have to walk back and forth with the wheels now. I could put a treadle on it easily, but it wouldn’t work. The hard part is spinning the yarn. You have to walk back and forth, because it’s done in two stages, so unless I can get it down to a single continuous process there’s no point.”

“Well, can ye?”

“I know it’s possible, that’s the hardest part. I’ve seen one at a historic site before, and while they didn’t go into details, I don’t think it was a very complex thing to make, so we should be able to do it here.”

Roger smiled at Bree’s confidence. She never accepted the idea that there might be something too difficult for her. Of course, that was why there were here.

He gathered what dishes there were, and gave them a wash in cold water while Bree cleared the leftovers into their pantry. By the time he was done, she had retrieved her work and spread it back over the now-clean table. But rather than trying to keep working, she just organized her notes to put away until she had another chance to work on the design.

By unspoken agreement, when she and Roger had both finished and put everything away, they lay together in the growing darkness. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they drifted off to sleep.

[stopsubstanceabuse1-blog]

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[readfelice-blog]

moominland chronicles fünfzehn: felice vs the german health care system

Hello you, 

It’s 4am on Friday morning, I’m lying in bed with one of my 3 flowered ikea lamps burning away, holding my cuddly pig tight to my chest whilst I tap out this blog on my iphone, balanced on a pillow.

I cant sleep.

I’m going to get a taxi to hospital in 5 hours.

Before we start all that please administer any of the below music to yourself as an accompaniment, I’ve been dipping my toes into the clear water of pop shoals this week, I might be the last person to have listened to blond (an article in vice insisted upon me lining it up on my google play - still no cd player, I know):

Frank ocean

Nikes (song, always a fan of a big opener on an album)

https://vimeo.com/179791907?ref=em-share

Blond (album, yes you've probably heard it already)

https://www.discogs.com/Frank-Ocean-Blond/master/1046042

I'm also late on the train for Mitski I’m sure, but the words, restrain in her voice and divergent harmonies (discordant, is that better?) are searing through me, might listen again in the hospital tomorrow.

Though perhaps as she grows older she wont long for that kiss quite as much as she does now, because prince charming will never save her really (though she does acknowledge that from time to time on this album)

Mitski

A horse named cold air (song)

https://youtu.be/ce3m-o1pZqY

Be the cowboy (Album)

https://mitski.bandcamp.com/album/be-the-cowboy

And just this one song, which kind of speaks frankly from my heart a little, or at least I sympathise with, though in a fuller sense my situation is very different and it’s only my little brain that identifies with the lyrics.

SZA: the weekend

https://youtu.be/PALMMqZLAQk

So then.. youre suited and booted musically, lets press on shall we? After all I mentioned hospital, it would be cruel just to taper off now.

Heres my small brain again:

Fuck the fucking german health system, fuck all those uptight bigoted cunts that put the phone down on me this week, fuck my insurance for charging me since july and slyly adding it to my bill, fuck the man at the tk queue yesterday who aggressively shouted at me for talking on the phone with my sister, about my illness, at the first opportunity that day after a very strange experience with the gynaecologist.

Ok, 

I’m breathing, my small brain is retracting, lets continue a bit less aggressively now.

Health health health, we’re jumping back on the theme from last week, because sometimes illness doesn't go away, and as this blog is my warts and all document of the weird happenings of my life, I am going to be very very open about whats happening to me this week.

So I’m bleeding, like all pre menopausal women do who dont take contraception that inhibits it, thats what was happening in Paris, thats what has been happening for 3 weeks.

I’ve been bleeding for 3 weeks, yes.

I had really bad period pains last time round, which is unusual for me these days, I took buscopan plus, i soldiered on, then it stopped for a week, then it returned, light some days, heavier seemingly at the weekends. I pigheadedly pushed through physically exhausting weeks of cleaning, travelling, working, I’m a freelance cleaner, I don't get sick pay or holiday pay, I have to work or I can't pay rent.

I wrote a blog about it last weekend. But that was just before the blood clots starting coming, when the first one fell out it plopped in the toilet, I was so shocked I fished it out and curiously studied it (warts and all, I’m sick of skirting the weirdness in my life: its there: get used to it). I thought it was a dead baby, it was monstrous and displayed a horrid kind of plasticity as it eerily shifted round the jar in my hand I was gently coercing. It was an alien, more like rosemary's baby than my cherub cheeked nephew.

That was MONDAY.

I thought, ok the babies fallen out, now it’ll surely stop.

On sunday the bear got in touch, he'd been trying to phone, he was annoyed he couldn't get in contact, he was horny. I told him I was still bleeding, he insisted I go to the doctors, in his very forthright way, he sent me money to go even: because i was clueless about my insurance at that point. I knew i’d been getting letters I couldn't read from tk (die teckniker, german health insurance provider)  for months, since I stopped working at the hostel, but I’d just carefully ignored them.

I didn't have the money to pay for health insurance.

I botched my first attempt to see a gynaecologist, I made an appointment online but the transfer the bear made was not in my bank so he asked me to phone them and check payment methods. When I did the receptionist point blank refused to speak English to me, my quandary was simply, “Do I need cash today?” But she was haughty and unsympathetic, another colleague took the phone, who even through garbled understanding felt kinder but it soon transpired that my appointment was for November 1st not October 1st.

“Im very ill i dont think I can wait that long.”

I phoned Meoclinic to be told by a woman with razors in her voice who suddenly became sickeningly sweet after she’d told me it was €400 just to see someone. I felt like the pleasure she was deriving from me tripping over my words and despairingly saying that was to much money for me, was enough for her to take home and masturbate over later, in her silky agent provocateur corset, on silk sheets, with a flute of champagne on the bedside table.

I gave up for the day and decided that tomorrow I’d go to the doctors I went to for my sti test a few months ago, they were very nice. They spoke english, they had open appointments the next day at 18h.

TUESDAY

More clots started coming, big, gloopy, just pouring out of me, they were announced by a tirade of blood, I was soaking through organic pads at an alarming rate.

So that wasn't the baby on Monday then.

I went to clean first, I cant afford to not clean for reasons stated above, at an office where the woman who employs me talks to me through gritted teeth as if our every interaction is painful to her.

Lowly pauper girl, know your place.

Anyway due to logistical issues she had probably not envisaged, I didn't do the whole job and left early. I walked out on to the money lined streets of Uhlandstrasse, Cara Delevine’s svelte androgynous eyes staring out at me from various glass paned monoliths, and sat on a moth eaten bench, very upset from the shift, feeling utterly worthless, responsible and at fault, bleeding.

Then I had a cigarette, collected myself and went to tk: Round 1.

I waited, gushing out blood, in line for 25 minutes to see the receptionist, then a further 10/15 to see the sales girl. I dont have to pay them straight away but when november comes I will have to pay them 720+€ , plus from then on 180€ a month, from an average wage of 800€.

In retrospect I was probably fully within my right to protest starting the contract from July 1st, but I was so grateful for someone health related to be talking to me in English and perhaps it will stand in my favour now the hospital bills will be tallying up.

I left with no card or proof of insurance.

I went home, lay down, then showered, laced my trainers and went back into the world depleted, to Mehringdam to see the emergency doctors, it was raining heavily outside.

They were different this time, I had no proof of insurance but I had the bears money so I was paying cash, I waited dutifully and wrote in my diary.

It was a different female doctor, a more boxy and less vital woman than the previous medic I’d met at the same clinic. About halfway into my bloody tale of woe she stopped me panic stricken.

“You know this is a doctors surgery, you have to go to a gynaecologist.”

“Ok, so you cant help me.” - i start putting my coat back on.

A pause.

“Can you at least refer me to one? I’ve had a hard time trying to find a gynaecologist, I can't really speak German, people have been very rude to me so far, I came back here because I remember people were kind and tried to help me, even though I wasn't sure it was the right place.”

We go out to reception where I stand in front of 2 receptionists who speak in German and totally ignore me, the doctor hands me some measly bits of paper with contact details printed on them and hurries away. Shaken from my bloody tale of woe I imagine she just sits in her office for 10 minutes alone obsessively sterilising her hands and shuddering.

I continue to look at the 2 women in front of me who carry on as if I am invisible for a further 5 minutes, I tell them I’m going to the toilet and then coming back, they brush me off. More blood pours out of me. I return and finally they allow me to pay them, I plod back out into the rain and miserably wait for a bus, head home via the shops and climb back into bed.

WEDNESDAY

Is a national holiday, so I can't sort anything, my client offers me the day off, I take it. I make 9 drawings for my project, bounce the rough edit of the album I’m working on, pull myself to the dance studio I’ve started to rent to practise my live show. Have a long overdue singsong, though I can't really dance i can still sing.

Sunday edit: I’ve since missed 2 bookings at the studio because of this infernal bleeding, hope I can go back soon, it was utterly riveting to finally find a place I could sing as loudly as I wanted.

It's a glorious day even though blood still rains, I’m not cleaning, I’m doing what i really want to do.

THURSDAY

I need to be at my clients early, but I go via the apotheke on the way, there a pharmacist advises me on the best way to take iron and vitamin supplements, sells me ibuprofen and alerts me to the gynaecologist upstairs, but she’s only open till 13h, my job is supposed to finish at that time.

I hum and haa as I hobble to my clients and when I get there decide to finish the job early and see if I can get an appointment.

On the way into the building there's a system of doors, I enter alongside an elderly gentleman with a walking stick and we have quite the time not understanding each other, me holding doors for him, him very jovially propping them open with his stick. I have no idea what’s being said but something tender and wonderful is occurring between us that puts a lightness back in my step.

This reception is slick and clean, the receptionist is neat and elegant. But the doctor isn’t there. They wouldn’t accept my tk insurance anyway, they’re going on holiday till November.

Ok,

I leave and just flop down on the street outside, I’m supposed to be doing a double clean today but I have a 2 hour window before my next job, which is only a 15 minute walk away. I’m getting closer to seeing someone. Still crouched down on the street, still bleeding, I dig out the contacts handed to me, one is for a doctors I’ve called before. I call 2 numbers from the 4 sheets I have, both go through to hard voiced women who utterly refuse to attempt to speak English to me and relish the goodbyes they bestow before they coldly put the phone down. To the second one I say in English:

“I’m really sick, but if I don’t speak German I am just going to continue to be sick, is that what you’re telling me?”

I found a list on google, theres a male gynaecologist just up the road, a man rummaging in my lady bits is a bit disconcerting but truly I’m beyond pride now.

This reception is more modest, I place my cleaning bucket on the floor and then just start with

“I’m losing a lot of blood, can you please help me.”

He’s in.

These receptionists are gorgeous humans, they speak to me in broken English, they’re shocked I’ve been bleeding for 3 weeks, yes he will see me, please take a seat.

He’s a big warm man with no sexual energy, I tell him everything, I feel so grateful just to be able to see him that I’m bowing as I say thank you. I get sent to a little room, remove my trousers and knickers, get let into another room, climb on the chair, he inserts the spy camera dildo (ultrasound) device inside me, then on the screen we look at a ball like thing inside my womb.

Hes glowing when he tells me its probably a very early pregnancy, he’s so excited, though it’ll most likely be a miscarriage, but he paints a future where my little fetus determinedly survives the bloodletting and in 9 months time arrives in my life.

I cover everything in blood, which freaks him out.  

“You’re really bleeding a lot.”

He gives me the ultrasound photo, then after some confusion I go to the nurses and deposit a urine sample on the counter of another room.

“Thank you so much for seeing me.”

“Of course: you have been bleeding for 3 weeks.”

As I wait in the reception for the test results a new future, inconceivable before this point, rolls out before me, where I have the baby and take the government stipend to look after it as a single mother, I thought I didn’t want kids but something seems so precious about this vision. It’ll just be me and my little ball of love, together in some warm cosy flat in Prenzlauer Berg, surrounded by all the other Berlin mothers.

The test is negative, a jolt of dismay passes through me, the vision is shattered, I have to go to the hospital he says. They give me the bill, without proof of insurance I pay in cash, thanking the bear silently. He also tells me to go to my insurance and get a letter, because the hospital will really cost a lot.

So I go home, breathe and collect myself, go back out. Spend over an hour wandering around looking for a photo kiosk for my insurance card (not blind> I’m using google maps to try locate one), finally I find it nestled into a dark part of the s bahn station, it costs double what the machine costs but I just eat the charge, earlier I’d spend 30 minutes wandering around the crossroads outside Leopaldplatz: the fotofix on the map was apparently invisible, I need a picture. I then wait for another 30 minutes to have my photo taken.

When I get to the u bahn where tk is there is a fotofix booth right there, to my left as I walk out of the station, I really hold myself back from screaming and kicking over all the chairs arranged outside the cafe before me. I finally manage to call my sister and it's a glorious funny loving chat, cut short by the aforementioned man in the tk queue.

I tell him in english which he insists he doesn't understand, that I am having the day from hell and that was the first time I’ve managed to speak to that person, he abuses me again in German but then stands very far away from me, the shame weaving around him, I curse him, but its a little thing, just that I hope he gets eaten by spider babies.

Don’t take yourself too seriously.

I retrieve my letter from the receptionist, the same sales woman I spoke to on Tuesday who doesn’t recognise me at all.

It’s getting late in the day, I call back my sister and head to Charite Campus Mitte, as I get there it dawns on me this is where I was an extra on an art video shoot around 3 weeks ago.

There is no discernable entrance, it seems mostly deserted. I travel up in a lift towards the gynakolgie department, but when I exit the skybent box that is my vehicle there is no clear signage towards it, just a door to an emergency exit staircase, wind billowing behind it, with a note in fluoro yellow fixed on its metallic facade and a bridge / corridor leading to empty waiting rooms.

I give up, decide I’ll go to the address given to me by the doctors tomorrow. I’ll go home and sleep now.

Home, I eat then I crash, I get into bed at 19h, I’m still here its now 6am and I’ll try sleep a bit more before I get a taxi at 9am.

I’m scared

It’s like some sick version of the night before christmas, black humour and absurdity have been welcome companions but armour fades in bed, so writing this in the knowledge I will share it with the online community has been the only thing I can do to douse the fear.

I’ll probably have to beg receptionists later but I just hope I get to someone who can start to mend me, because the blood is still coming, for the first time since it started it stained my sheets last night but I’ve wiped them down a little.

Sunday edit: the sheets are now in the wash.

Saturday edit: they did see me, I’m having an operation on monday at 9:30, the saga continues because I have to rush back to the gynaecologists first on monday to get a note so I can be operated on : as by the time I got out of hospital on friday the gynaecologists surgery was closed and nothing is open on the weekends.

And on the anaesthetists form where it asked me who would be collecting me or looking after me for 24 hours after the procedure I stubbornly wrote noone. Though my mentor will be around as I swallowed my pride and asked her.

And, of course, I just expect more bullshit: that was my dads very astute advice:

“Expect more bullshit Felice.”

So then, yes I should speak German, yes I should of sorted my insurance, yes I’ve been irresponsible.

Saturday edit: I’ve been utterly irresponsible and disrespectful to the country I live in, I MUST learn German and make more of an effort to learn their culture, right now I’m truly an idiot abroad.

I might cancel all my jobs next week as well if I’m really sick, I might not be able to go to Krakow and watch Eartheater,

Saturday edit: All my jobs are cancelled, one of the days next week is my birthday, which I’d scheduled a double clean on so perhaps it’s not all bad.

But I’m not going to see Eartheater, if you’ve heard irisiri though ( LISTEN TO IT, I IMPLORE YOU, MORE THAN ONCE, on the first listen it’s quite harsh: https://alexdrewchin.bandcamp.com/releases) then you’ll immediately understand that not going to her show because I’m having my uterus forcibly wedged open and something cut out of it, is utterly appropriate, it’s like missing formula one because you got hit by a ferrari.

I hope I’ll be better by turin.

Saturday edit: very much.

I will still finish this project whatever happens.

Saturday edit: Now I have a week off it should help.

But I’m not 100% sure how I will make ends meet this month.

Saturday edit: Perhaps the polyp they cut out of me on monday is really an alien and I get paid hush money not to leak the story to the press.

I really miss the nhs, its a big soft Pugsy bear I just want to hug and hold and thank for everything it’s done for me over the years.

The german health system is an amalgamation of all these callous female receptionists, ignoring you and filing their niles whilst you just bleed out in front of them.

But still, I’m stubborn, its a test and i will overcome it whatever it is. I am not leaving berlin, I am standing taller, stronger and more powerful than before. I’ve experienced completely new angles and feelings this week, it’s been abhorrent but kind of sickly enjoyable as well. Life is always entertaining as it energetically throws its bounty of strangeness, cruelty and beauty (etc) at you.

It’s all good fun, even the dark days.

I’m going to try get a bit of shut eye now, might move my alarm back a little see if I can get 2 hours before i wake up to get a taxi.

Take care everyone, if you made it to the end then I guess thank you for reading as well, it’s a long fraught one this week eh?