#for some reason i get into phases of like. one to three tics for like a couple months and then radio silence for months

[gouinisme]

also why do my snapping tics have to be so dramatic like i could just snap close to myself and be ever so slightly more discreet but no i have to fully extend my arm and snap like a fucking magician

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues

oh, deer

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none for this chapter, vague foreshadowing

ship: dousy (daisy johnson x daniel sousa), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

heyyyyy…. yes i posted it early on Ao3

howeverrr you guys are gonna like this chapter. i just feel it in my bones (bc its fluffy and the angst starts kicking in in the next one)

“You look like Rudolph, Daisy,” Elena greeted.

Daisy took a large swig of coffee, rolling her eyes but smirking. The pair were walking together to Elena’s first class after a tough early-morning spar.

“You’re the one who punched me where I already had a bruise,” Daisy shot back.

“Hey, I already told you I was aiming for the jaw. It’s not my fault you didn’t duck quick enough.”

They laughed as Elena swiped her key card to the comms building. Daisy held the door for Elena, shoving her lightly in the back as she passed.

“Hey!”

“Not my fault you can’t see backwards,” Daisy teased.

It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes and laugh, slowing to a stop outside May’s lecture room.

“Right. Wish me luck, I heard May was giving a pop quiz today,” Elena grimaced.

“You don’t need any luck. I’ll see ya, Elena,” Daisy replied.

“Yeah, you will!” Elena said, backing into May’s large lecture room.

Daisy watched her wave and sit down with a group of third-years, her perfect french braids swishing behind her, before turning around. Daisy didn’t have a moment to think about where she was going before she ran into a solid wall.

Daisy looked up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the edges with a small smile. The wall’s hair was ruffled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He wore black SHIELD sweats and a white t-shirt. The wall was very attractive. She vaguely registered the smattering of books on the ground, her mind more focused on his hands on her shoulders.

“Daisy, are you okay?”

She must have been staring for too long. “Yeah, I’m good! Great! Sorry, Sousa,” she apologized, quickly bending over to pick up his books. She almost dropped them again when his hand brushed hers while she handed the thick textbooks back. She gave him a quick smile, taking a deep breath to compose herself, reciting her affirmations. I am Daisy Johnson. I am an Agent of SHIELD. I can move the Earth. I am powerful. I am in control of myself.

Daniel’s smile grew a bit when he heard Daisy laughing quietly to herself.

“I guess you could say I really swept you off your feet.”

Daniel chuckled at the quip, his hands still on her shoulders. “Yeah. Foot,” Daniel corrected. Daisy furrowed her brows, but ignored the strange comment.

“Right. Well, the bell—” Daisy was cut off by a long, high-pitched bell. She closed her eyes tight, the blaring alarm causing tiny vibrations to travel through her skull. When she opened them, Daniel was still standing in front of her, white tee and black sweats and messy morning hair encouraging just a bit more flirting before he had to leave.

“Wow, look at you. Late! I’m a bad influence on you, Danny.”

Daniel shrugged, glancing at his watch. “S’not the first time,” he murmured lowly, stepping away and giving her a last look before he disappeared into the classroom.

Daisy pretended not to notice her heart rate had risen from it’s usual sixty beats-per-minute to seventy-six beats-per-minute.

Daisy spent the rest of the day absentmindedly completing work in her classes. For some reason, flirting with Daniel felt… different than it had with her exes. Even her exes in SHIELD. Daniel was grounded. He had a calm presence. Being late didn’t phase him in the slightest; Daisy would have internally berated herself for the rest of the day.

She was finishing a short answer assignment from International Law and SHIELD Policy while stretching on the outdoor training grounds when she saw him again: still in sweats despite the heat. He was still walking with same, familiar limp. Then it clicked—’Foot’; the throwaway comment from earlier made much more sense now. He had a prosthetic. Before she could think anymore about that revelation, May called the Ops trainees to gather around her under a giant maple tree. Daisy was the last to get up, hanging towards the back as usual.

“Ops training, eh?”

Sousa turned to Daisy standing beside him, breaking his focus on May to turn to her. “Yeah. I used to be military, remember? 28th Infantry Recon Scout. I figure I’ve got to get at least near the level I used to be before I can go in the field.”

Daisy nodded, her hair caught in a slight breeze. “As long as you don’t steal my crown as the Queen of Spar, Master of Field Ops Physical Training.”

Daniel chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to May, who was explaining today’s exercises.

“Partners,” Daisy breathed. Daisy hated partners, unless it was May. She’d rather condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other trainees, they were great people! But her nerves got the better of her and she ended up holding back, not helping herself or her partner. She knew how to control her powers, how to keep herself from using them while sparring. Whispers of doubt and guilt still invaded, fogging her mind like deadly mist.

You could kill them. It’s happened before…

She was taken back to the moment by Daniel tapping her shoulder. “Partners?”

Daisy reluctantly nodded and motioned to him to follow her over to a thick pad of grass next to a small willow tree.

“So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? It’s Tuesday, which is usually a mix of breathing and nerve control and focusing on technique, rather than strength.”

Daniel glanced over at the other partners, who were all going through defensive and offensive stances slowly, like tai chi, he thought.

Daisy walked closer to where he had stopped beside the willow, pointing out a pair of partners moving almost in sync.

“They’re focusing on how their breathing can help their fighting. Mentally and physically. If you’re nervous, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and then your body gets sloppy. If you aren’t breathing, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and your body gets sloppy. Breath can make a punch more powerful and a kick more accurate, if you know how to use it. I’ll show you the moves.”

Defensive, offensive, block, strike, block, kick. Daisy continued in a cycle until Sousa could mirror her movements with little effort.

Daisy stopped him then. “Great! You’re a quick learner,” She winked, smiling wide.

Daniel smiled back, “So how do I do the breathing thing?”

Daisy pondered how to explain it for a second. “You have to flow, like water. You control your breathing, you have the power. But at the same time, you have to let the air flow naturally. The moves will align with your breath, don’t force it.”

Daniel nodded, and they were off. It took a minute to get into the groove, but once he did, it felt effortless. Every kick, block, inhale and turn, exhale and strike came naturally. It gave him the opportunity to study Daisy.

Usually, especially in the early mornings in the computer lab, Daisy looked tired. Her brows were drawn slightly, fingers fidgeting, knee bouncing. In the halls she walked briskly and adjusted her bag or checked her watch often, a small tic she didn’t seem to notice. Right now, though, breeze across her olive skin, Daisy looked cool as water.

She felt the earth beneath her. The trees and grass and flowers in the wind. She tuned in to the radio of her surroundings, letting her muscle memory guide her. The forest was really loud. The concrete buildings had a sort of buzz, too. They mixed in her bones like the sounds of a great symphony, low rumbles and high-pitched chittering and long, constant notes that provided a harmony to the undulating melody. The frequencies of each living and non-living thing in the area seemed to be flowing around her, steady.

Daniel softly stared at her as she moved through the flow with him. She was very good at this. He was having a bit of trouble, though he doubted he would be having this much trouble if it wasn't Daisy right in front of him. For an exercise designed to relax them, wasn’t it counterintuitive to partner with the girl that made his heart skip a beat when she smiled?

When May clapped her hands and signaled the end of the session, the tired, sweaty kids gathered around May’s oak tree. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, bringing a glow to each of their faces. Daisy looked radiant.

“Class is dismissed. Tomorrow, we’re conditioning,” May warned. In a quieter voice, May called, “Daisy, can you hang for a second?”

Daisy stepped away from her bag and towards May. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I have a question for you. Would you mind giving up your free period three times a week?”

Daisy’s eyebrows raised, no classes that she knew of only took place three times a week. “I want to say yes, but I’d also like to know why?”

“Fair. Top brass called. If you want to be a field agent with powers, you’ve got to practice fighting with them, get comfortable with them. I know everything that happened with Lincoln…” May paused, gauging Daisy’s reaction. When there wasn’t any, May continued. “Your powers didn’t make you an agent, I did.”

May paused, giving Daisy a chance to settle her thoughts before adding, “But I think this is important.”

Daisy slowly nodded. If this was important to May, then Daisy had no problems giving up her free period.

“Who will I train with?” she asked.

May smiled. “Meet Yo-Yo and I behind the garage at seven sharp tomorrow morning.΅

Daisy saluted playfully, wandering to her bag and walking in the direction the other students had gone. She could see them filtering into the cafeteria. A smoothie sounded nice…

The canteen was full of students grabbing plates of chicken and veggie tacos. Daisy was always happy during dinner on taco Tuesday. She grabbed her plate and a small green juice and searched for a familiar pair of heads, warm brown eyes and freckles sitting next to dirty blonde curls.

As she approached, two hands went up, waving. Weaving her way through students, she saw Fitz pat the seat beside him.

“Oi, Dais! I've got something to show you!”

Daisy sat down, her attention drawn to the tiny device on the table in front of her. It was small enough to fit in her hand, but surprisingly heavy for its size. Multiple coloured wires stuck out from various surfaces. Fitz was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pressed a button on a small remote that sat on the table. Daisy looked over at Jemma, puzzled. Was something supposed to be happening?

Daisy glanced down at her hand. There was nothing there but a constant weight.

“Fitz! You replicated cloaking!”

Jemma and Fitz immediately shushed her, looking around. “He wasn’t supposed to! It’s above his ‘level’. Professor Weaver practically forbid him.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. This was very Fitz. Tell him he can’t, and he will, just to prove it to himself. Holding it up to eye level and moving it around, Daisy marveled at the seamless invisibility. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Fitz shrugged. He began to explain a number of uses for the device, along with the technical modifications he’d have to make for them to work. She tuned out after Jemma exasperatedly told him they couldn’t train monkeys to be invisible recon scouts.

Her plan to learn something from Fitzsimmons banter was derailed when Daisy noticed a shadow at the corner of her eye. It slipped away as quickly as it came, around the corner of the cafeteria and out of sight.

Why was she getting déjà vu?

“Dais, you alright there?” Fitz asked quietly.

Daisy turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, I thought I saw something. Probably just tired.”

The sandy blonde boy laughed, “S’only Tuesday, Dais. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got six tests this week!” Simmons countered.

Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise, quickly shut when Fitz made a comment about catching flies. “Wait, so you aren’t excited for the tests?”

Jemma shook her head miserably, her amber eyes rolling. “No. Usually I would be, it’s so odd! But I was studying the other night and reviewing old tests, and my chest felt so heavy and my head started spinning—”

Fitz stopped her by putting his hand over hers, gently reassuring her. Watching the two, Daisy thought her heart might burst, a bubbly feeling rising in her chest.

Jemma turned back to her, considerably less distressed.

“Do you want some help studying?” Daisy offered.

Jemma nodded. “Tonight, 8, the rooftop?”

The group nodded.

At eight o’clock, Daisy carefully climbed out her window and around the corner to the fire escape. The stairs whispered and creaked with the wind, but you would never know anyone was climbing the iron to the roof unless you ran directly into her.

She arrived at the last landing, one floor above her own, and crouched down. She jumped, using small quakes as a make-shift propulsor. Jemma turned her head towards the soft thump of Daisy landing on the roof.

The space was decorated with a jungle of potted plants and fairy lights strung around the ledge, mix-matched multicoloured and shades of white. They cast a warm glow across the spread of notes and textbooks neatly placed in front of Jemma. Daisy approached, pulling out her laptop and a pouch of pens, pencils, highlighters, and white-out.

“Ready for our study date?”

Jemma smiled. “Yes. Fitz should be here any minute.”

The two girls got comfortable, beginning to go over notes and chat idly. Daisy wrote down vocab and key ideas on note cards and organised them by subject. Jemma laughed loudly when Daisy expressed her confusion at the difference between the three biochemistries that she was taking. Suddenly, loud clanging was heard from the side of the building.

“Daisy! Jems!”

The two girls shared a glance at the panicked voice. Fitz.

They rushed over to where he would be coming onto the iron landing, grabbing his hand and helping him over the concrete barrier onto the roof.

Fitz supported himself on his knees, panting. “There's a guy down there. Creepy bastard.”

Jemma and Daisy shared another glance, this one full of concern and trepidation.

Fitz pointed to Daisy. “Askin’ about you, Dais. Your…” Fitz trailed off, drawing waves in the air with his hand.

Jemma rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Go check it out, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Daisy reluctantly jumped onto the metal landing below, resisting the urge to use her powers to cushion her landing. She quickly checked the perimeter of the dorm, then wandered closer to the forest that backed up to the dorms.

If only she had night vision as well as the power to create earthquakes.

A subtle movement caught her eye, a dark silhouette shifting in between the trees. A haze of clouds covered the moon, making the forest darker than usual. Daisy stepped forward slowly, her breath speeding up.

The air seemed electric, the few clouds in the sky bloodred with the remaining rays of sunset. The tall pines and thick oaks were silhouetted black against the sky, branches seeming to reach out to grab the twilight shadows. Daisy threw a quick glance over her shoulder, letting out a relieved exhale when she saw Fitz and Jemma watching over her from the roof.

A twig snapped right in front of Daisy, the treeline only twenty feet away. Daisy felt the echo bounce around the forest. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands and lungs. Something, someone, was right on the other side of those bushes…

“AAGH!”

A deer leapt out of the brush, landing right in front of her. Its large doe eyes stared at her, ears back. It was just a fawn.

Daisy slowly let out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms from where they had come up in front of her. She snorted.

“You’re just a baby. What are you doing in the bushes by yourself?”

Daisy tentatively reached out, the fawn showed no signs of moving. She opened her palm, letting the deer sniff before it bounded away across the field.

Daisy sighed. She felt something was off, like you would the moment before you were struck by lightning. Like any second, something else would pop out of the forest, this time a real threat…

Silence.

Stillness.

Daisy sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. I just need sleep. If the paranoia has set in, I definitely need sleep.

Daisy headed back to the dorms, the feeling of eyes on her following until she was safely on the roof with her friends.

The twinkling fairy lights lit the rest of their evening, shadows and deer forgotten in the warmth of laughs and starlight.

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Two

ao3 - masterpost

here's chapter two! i had fun writing it, hope y'all enjoy!

---

Nesta might not enjoy it, but she knows how to give credit where credit is due, and there's no denying it: her sisters and their friends have thought this plan out thoroughly.

After they've calmed down enough, her sisters move on promptly to the next phase. Elain is off with those shadow wraiths of hers to pack up Nesta's meager belongings and Feyre is explaining to her what the upcoming week will look like.

"The important thing to remember whenever you feel overwhelmed is that the worst is already behind you and you've made it this far and you can continue on," Feyre says, clearly reciting something from memory. "And that we're always going to be there to help you."

She moves on to explain the detoxification process they're going to put her through. She dresses up the words in a healer's jargon and tries her best to be sensitive, but Nesta doesn't like to lie to herself and understands the crux of it: she's fucked up her body too much and can't even be trusted to just stop drinking so she has to be weaned off while under a few sets of eyes.

"So, who's going to be in the House with me?" Nesta asks when she's done.

"We know you don't need a keeper," Feyre says carefully. "If you'd prefer to be alone, you can be. We'll visit you every day, if you'd like. And the library's healer will be checking up on you, of course, as I said. But...do you need anyone in the House? Do you want anyone with you?"

"No," Nesta says, not entirely believing they're going to leave her to her own devices.

Feyre shrugs. "Then take the week to acclimate. We'll come by only as often as you want."

"Who's we?"

"Me and Elain," Feyre says firmly.

Perhaps there had been an argument about that. To her surprise, Nesta feels her throat burn at the thought of her sister standing up for her. No, she does not want any of the others coming to see her like this...she never wants to see them at all, actually.

"The staff has all been cleared out, too," Feyre continues. "The magic of the House should be enough...but of course, if anything's missing--anything at all. Just say so. Shops can't deliver up, but we'll bring anything you need the next day."

Nesta only nods.

"Well...we'll go up now, then, if that's all right with you. We'll have your things delivered later today. Elain will visit as soon as she can."

Elain does not want to visit, Nesta realizes. Not while Nesta's sick and seizing over the next few days.

"She doesn't have to come," Nesta says. "Neither do you," she adds.

"We'll...see how you feel."

Cassian and Rhysand are waiting for them in the dining room. She's not sure whom she wants to see less.

But Cassian's good enough that he isn't looking to humiliate her further and her sister's got her husband on a tight enough leash that mercifully, neither of them says anything. Feyre gives her an encouraging smile as she gently pushes her closer to Cassian and holds onto her shoulder.

The winnowing is instant, too quick to process, especially considering what comes after.

The drop is terrifying, even though it's only for a fraction of a second. Just as Nesta clenches her jaw to stop her instinctual scream, Cassian grabs her in his arms and holds her tightly against himself. The descent slows, and there's an undeniable calming effect of being pressed into something--someone--so warm and strong, but the fear doesn't leave her until she is out of the open air and standing with solid ground beneath her feet.

"All right," Feyre says, slipping out of Rhysand's embrace with approximately none of the urgency with which Nesta ripped herself away from Cassian. "Let me help you get settled."

What on earth that could possibly mean Nesta does not know, as she doesn't carry anything with her and it's not yet eleven in the morning. But it's becoming clear to her that there's another reason for Feyre's shifty eyes.

"Is the same room all right, then?" Feyre asks as they reach it. Two floors below the entrance, once with a door connecting her to Elain, but that's sealed off now. The only difference, as far as she can tell.

"It's fine," she says, peering out the window. She could not help but be taken by the view the first time she had stayed here, and now was no different. The sprawling city in the valley of these red mountains, the Sidra snaking through it, and the glittering sea beyond. It's beautiful. Nesta likes beautiful things.

"You didn't get to decorate it much last time, but if there's anything you'd like..." Feyre trails off.

Nesta doesn't answer. She doesn't feel like pretending to care about decor to help her stall.

Feyre understands, sighing and fiddling with her fingers. "All right, there's some more I have to tell you."

"Go on," Nesta says, not turning from the window.

"Well," she says. "As you know...your apartment...the whole building--subdivision, really--it's...it's..."

"Old," Nesta supplies. Which is not the word her sister was thinking of, she knows.

"Yes, old. Well. The council has decided that they want to...fix it up, so...they're...rebuilding it."

Nesta blinks. "Rebuilding it?"

"Yes."

"It's already built."

"Well. They're..."

"You're tearing it down," Nesta says flatly.

"No!" Feyre says, and Nesta can see her eyes widen in the faint reflection. "I mean...yes, it's being torn down, but they're building it right back up! And much nicer! Hot water and...it'll be right there waiting for you when you...we're keeping it for you. For if you want to stay there again. But you know..." Feyre allows herself a bit of hope in her voice. "You might not want to. Maybe you'd like a different house...if you want..."

What exactly the problem is with her staying in a newly refurbished apartment, Nesta doesn't know. But no matter. It's not as though she's attached to the old one, and if they're going to pay for her to stay there when she's done with this little experiment...fine. Hot water on demand would be nice, at any rate.

"All right," Nesta says.

Feyre waits a beat before saying, "There's more."

Nesta turns to face her.

Swallowing, Feyre says, "Now, I meant what I said about you not needing to be kept."

Here it is, then.

"But there are...two issues with that. Well...maybe three."

She crosses her arms. This should be good.

"Well, as I explained, the first week or so is going to be difficult. And since you don't want to stay in the library and the healer can't always be here and you might...need someone..."

"You're going to be staying the week?" Nesta says sharply, face heating. That--that's too much. She can't take that. The whole week--so Feyre will be able to hear her retching all night long--some of it won't even be because of the alcohol; Nesta often finds herself rushing to the toilet, she hasn't been able to keep a full meal down in over a year.

"No," Feyre says, red as she imagines she is now. "I'll visit if you want. But...no. I thought...no."

Good. That's--good.

"But you do need...someone...for the first week. To make sure...to call the healer, really, if something happens in the middle of the night. And..." Feyre pauses to take a deep breath. "You remember Briallyn." She's blunt, and doesn't phrase it like a question, so Nesta's too surprised to flinch. "Well," she says, taking her widened eyes as a yes, "she's...she remembers you. And she's..."

"She wants to kill me," Nesta says flatly.

"Yes," Feyre responds. "But you don't need to be scared. We're not going to let her get to you."

"You're still not telling me everything."

"No," Feyre says, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's...not easy for me to say. I'm easing into it. All right. She's...we have reason to believe she's formed an alliance within the Night Court."

At this Nesta blinks. "What, you mean..."

"Not any of us," Feyre says, startled. "Of course not! Of course--don't think that!"

She only gives a small shrug. The idea of Morrigan hating her enough to work with that wretched crone is not entirely unbelievable to her, but she doesn't say so to her sister. She can try to try, at least, with what all the pair of them are doing.

The left side of Nesta's lips tugs upwards slightly. Not even a half-smile, just a tic, but Nesta's actually pleased with herself. Not insulting her sister's friend aloud directly to spare Feyre's feelings isn't much, but for her, when she hasn't cared about anyone's feelings in so long...

Feyre isn't privy to all that has gone on in Nesta's mind and she is still trepidative. She takes another deep breath--always with the dramatics, this one, isn't she?--and says, "We have reason to believe Briallyn has formed an alliance with some rebel groups within Illyria. We think she's promised them a path to independence if they get you to her."

Whatever Nesta was expecting, it wasn't this. The Illyrians...she knows, of course, that they don't like her, don't trust her. But Rhysand--Cassian and Azriel--doesn't that mean anything?

"I didn't know they want independence," Nesta says, when she realizes Feyre is peering at her intently, expectantly.

"They want to be allowed to mutilate their females and take revenge on each other as they please," Feyre says. "They can't do that while we're in charge."

"I thought they...liked serving in the Night Court's army." Her cheeks flush the slightest bit--perhaps it's naïve, but leading the Illyrians for this court is the pride of Cassian's life. She had assumed they were the same way. That they didn't like answering to someone born at his low station, sure, but she hadn't known they resented being here.

"It's not everyone," she says. "There were some who sided with Amarantha, some who...listen, you don't need to worry about it. All you need to focus on is yourself right now."

"And," Nesta presses.

Feyre takes yet another deep breath. "Cassian's going to be staying here for a few days. Just a few days!" she hurries. "Just until you're through the worst of it! And just make sure the House is secure while you are here by yourself."

"Why couldn't the House be checked--"

"We didn't want to alert anyone of your presence," she explains. "It's a pretty fantastical theory, that Illyrians are colluding with citizens from Velaris to overthrow Rhys and me, but...stranger things have happened. And since Hybern managed to find you here before..."

She can appreciate that, at least.

"Just a few days."

"A week at most."

"You keep changing the rules."

Feyre raises her arms. "I know. But that's the last of it, I swear."

Nesta's expression does not falter. "I don't appreciate being manipulated."

"I'm not manipulating! I just...didn't want to overwhelm you all at once. I'm...easing you into things."

Nesta considers this for a beat. "Stop doing it right now."

"I will," she says immediately.

At this, Nesta softens, though perhaps imperceptibly.

"All right," Feyre says after Nesta does not bite back. "I'll...leave you to get settled. The healer's left you some tonics there--" she punctuates her words with an arm extended towards the table by Nesta's bedside--"for you to take before bed...and you know where the dining room is...I promise Cassian will stay out of your way. He just might check up on you before you go to sleep, and..."

"Lift me up out of my own sick in the middle of the night?"

Feyre flinches. "Help you. Just until the healer can come up."

Nesta turns back to the window. "So I suppose I'll see you in a week, then?"

"As soon as you'd like."

There's that. That's...something.

"Your things will be delivered tomorrow. If you need anything--"

"You said."

"I know." Feyre wrings her hands, her ring and bracelets clinking softly together. "And...while you're here...Rhys and the others won't just drop by unannounced. We won't--well--if a few weeks--I mean--"

"I've got it," she says.

"Right. Well. Good."

What to say to her sister? They've hardly ever embraced. The time they had started to grow closer is long gone now, both those bodies ashes of the past.

"I just want to say," Feyre starts softly, "that...I'm really proud of you for doing this. I know...trust that I know it isn't easy. But I promise you it will be worthwhile. You'll see."

By the time Nesta summons the nerve to turn around and ask about those innocents, how she had gotten through it, her sister is already gone.

Because Nesta had explored the House when she had been brought here by Rhysand so long ago, she does not feel the need to do so now. She knows where the library is, knows where her room and the dining room are, and those are all she intends to frequent.

She spends the rest of the morning in the library, but she is too restless to keep her focus on a book. After finding herself staring blankly at a wall for the fifth time, eyes refusing to fixate on the words in her lap, she shuts the book and tightly and places it on a table. She doesn't know what she expected. It's been months since she's managed to read. No romance novels for her. No romance, either--not that that had ever happened. But once, she would have thought that the amount of sex she's been having would be linked to...something.

Her life has become an endless stream of not this, not now. Anything to get her out of her own head. Bitter alcohol--the kind she actually likes, gin or white wine, never seems to wipe her mind clean--and sex with strangers. And it works perfectly, because those things befit a lady of her station. That's how the loveless, useless, dregs of society spend their days: drinking, fucking, gambling away someone else's money--

"Nothing to read?"

Nesta startles.

"Sorry," Cassian says, walking up to her and sitting in the big armchair opposite. "Thought you heard me."

It takes her a moment to find her voice. "Did I give any indication of the sort?"

He grins. "Just assumed you were ignoring me."

Would that I could, she thinks darkly. But who could ignore him? Too big, too loud, too...just too much. Too much person for one body.

"Been a while," he says casually.

She doesn't answer, reaching through the drink-stained memories to find the last time she had seen him, besides this morning. Must've been...summer solstice. They had barely spoken, like all their other interactions since the war. She can count them on one hand.

And she does. Far more frequently then she admits to herself.

"Just thought you'd like to know I've finished securing the House."

Nesta nods once, absently. Perhaps this was a mistake. After all, they had thought the House was secure last time, hadn't they? What if they're attacked again? These priestesses...because of her. If they know that Briallyn is going to try and snatch her, that she's formed an alliance with Illyrians who can fly into the veranda, is this really worth the risk?

"Don't," Cassian says, voice low. She tenses as he leans closer to her. "You have a right to be here as much as any of them. Maybe you should have been here all along."

She catches the guilt in his tone, in his eyes, and blinks. That's...not what she had been expecting. And not what she's prepared to deal with.

She stands. "I was informed that you'd stay out of my way."

Just like that, any tenderness snaps out of his posture. He's standing before her, too, wings slightly flared.

"Do forgive me, Lady Nesta," he says with a mocking bow. "I'll let you get back to your riveting activity of staring at the wall in a room by yourself."

She has to say something before he leaves; can't let him end this with her on the losing hand. But she's quick on her feet, even if she never knows where she stands with him.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your perching on the window opposite," she answers, voice icy. A blind shot in the dark, as she hadn't heard him at all. But it appears as though it lands, as his eyes grow even darker and he reins in a snarl as he stalks out.

Nesta loosens a breath as he leaves.

Riling up Nesta like that is never smart, but it's particularly stupid today. Not the least of which being Feyre had specifically ordered him not to.

Cassian tries to force himself to focus on the knives he's throwing, but he's too worked up to even admire the shiny new blades Rhys had purchased especially for this new training center on the top of the House.

"So you have a place to blow off steam," he had explained to him. Away from Feyre, of course, who no longer tolerated any implication that spending time with Nesta could be...difficult.

"It's only a week," he had said. He trains every day, but the refurbished personal arena is unnecessary for that, considering he's supposed to be keeping the House secure for the duration of his stay.

Rhys had only shrugged casually. Cassian knew what he had thought. That it might be more. That he would want to stay...that she would want him to stay.

He catches his and Feyre's snagging glances and innocent suggestions, but he dutifully ignores them each time. Nothing he feels on the subject matters, after all, because Nesta doesn't want anything to do with him.

He knows he shouldn't have approached her. Especially not considering he's supposed to make sure she eats something for dinner and she's not going to want to talk to him twice in a day.

But he just--he can't stay away. Not when she's so close and so...lost. Alone. Sitting in the library, unable to disappear into one of those romances she likes so much--unable to enjoy herself! It's too much to ask of him. To just watch her like that and not say anything. Just go about his day, ignoring the fact that...she needs him.

He does his best to ignore the sneering voice in his mind as the thought crosses his mind. She does need him. Or, rather, she needs someone and he can be that person. He can be exactly what she needs.

If she'd just let him.

And he had intended to be kind and patient. He had started that way, hadn't he? Trying to soothe her obvious fears and insecurities.

She hadn't wanted that. He should have known she didn't want that. Of course it's too much for her, too smothering, so she had shut him out. He knows that. He knows why she does that. But...it still hurt. Every time she rejects him, it hurts.

Not about you, he reminds himself. Feyre hadn't said the words outright, but she had made herself clear. Not that Cassian would ever...he wants the best for her, too. Of course he does. He's not going to do anything to jeopardize her recovery.

Starting right now.

It should be easy, he tells himself. He's gone months without seeing her in the past. Not to mention more than five hundred years before she was born. He can do this. Just...she's in the library and she's safe and she'll eat lunch if she wants to and if not, fine. She doesn't have to. She's been getting so little food these days they don't want to throw her back into it, anyway. Soup at dinner will be enough.

But feeling her presence...knowing she's there, a few storeys below him...in the state she's in, no less....

He manages. What other choice does he have? So he fills his time on the top of the House, doing rounds every so often--not looking in the windows of the House trying to find her--until dinner time, where he paces the dining room like an idiot.

Until she comes in.

She hasn't changed clothes since earlier, and she looks, if possible, worse. Logically he knows that she can't have lost weight since this morning, and the less alcohol in her system must be better, but...her cheeks are definitely hollower. Eyes more sickly. Brilliant, daring, cunning, beautiful gray eyes...lifeless.

Don't screw this up, he tells himself sternly. She needs to eat dinner tonight because she needs to take a tonic along with it. If he upsets her, she won't eat.

But he can't--he can't play this game like she can. Not when she's this far gone. So he says something. Doesn't know what, just knows he has to fill the silence.

"Do you like soup?"

Wonderful. Perhaps the stupidest thing he could ask her.

She ignores him as she sits at the head of the table, making his blood boil. Would she just look at him?

But his anger melts as he watches her gear up to eat. All the strength she has left focused on forcing her arm to extend, her fingers clutching her spoon so tightly her knuckles are a white that scares him. She swallows tightly before she puts the spoon in her mouth, that elegant neck of hers tensing and her delicate, too-protruding collarbone rising with it.

She steels herself one final time as she moves the spoon into her mouth and winces as it goes down.

"Not particularly," she says softly.

It takes him a few moments to realize she's answered him.

He clears his throat. "Well--we could get you something else?" Surely none of the food the House has put out for him will settle right with her, but...toast, maybe? Even if it doesn't have the nutrients she so desperately needs...perhaps she'll take a vegetable spread. Or blended fruit.

"It's no matter."

You matter. The words are right on his tongue, and he has to shove a forkful of steak into his mouth to keep him from letting them out. That might be too much for her. He can't scare her off again.

"Strong flavors...don't sit well with me." She stifles a flinch as she takes another spoonful and downs half a glass of ice water.

That's something, at least. Rehydrating herself properly is important.

"We can dilute it." She'd have to have more of it, of course, but perhaps it'd be worth it.

"It's no matter," she says again.

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, and he's certainly not going to let it continue. But...fine. Let her have this soup tonight. But he'll find something she likes to eat and can stomach soon enough.

They are silent for another few minutes. Cassian pretends not to stare at her and she pretends not to notice. He's well into his second helping before she gets close to finishing her bowl.

"Here," he says, when she only has a few spoonfuls left, and hands her the vial the healer had given him.

"What is this?"

He hesitates. "Mock liquor." To mimic the effects of alcohol without actually putting any in her system. To let her sleep easier.

"Oh. Feyre said. She left some for me next to my bed."

"No, that's an anti-toxin." To push her body in the right direction of purging itself without hurting too much. Lowers the risk of seizing.

"Oh."

He wants to punch himself at the blank look on her face. She has to go through this because they let it get this far. He let it get this far.

But at the very least, she is not going through it alone. Not if it kills him.

Nesta swallows the mock liquor quickly and then finishes off her second glass of water. Picking up her napkin and neatly setting it aside, she rises, and says, "I'm going to bed."

"Good night," he says, though they both know she won't have one and he'll be seeing her in a few hours.

How miserable it is to watch her leave. She's going to have a painful night, and she's probably also scared about Briallyn or the Illyrians attacking her, and she feels alone. He just knows she feels alone.

She's sick and it's his fault. He'd promised her and he'd failed her.

But no more. He's making it up to her. He'll do what he can tonight and this week and for all the rest of it...he's going to keep her safe. Going to weed out every single rebel if he has to go door to door in every camp in Illyria. Nesta has faced her last external battle. He's going to make sure of that.

When she opens the door to her bedroom, there are flames flickering in the fireplace. Flickering, burning...crackling, snapping.

She's not sure how long she stands there at the threshold, before she finds her voice, broken and small, and says, "Could you turn that off, please?"

She doesn't know who she's talking to, how the magic of the House works, but something must be listening, because it dies down. Nesta crosses the room to the windows and cracks one open, enough to stick her head out and breathe in the cold air, ridding the scent of death from her nostrils. She stays there until she's shivering.

"Don't light fires again," she says, voice not as weak as before. "Please," she tacks on.

Nesta's never put so much thought into preparing for bed before, but she knows she has to think about it tonight. The tonics and withdrawal will work hand in hand to make sure she'll wake up ill or seizing or any number of miserable things, and then Cassian will rush in and stay with her until some healer she doesn't know does. She can't decide which is worse.

That's not true. Cassian is worse.

So she picks out a more modest nightgown than she normally would. It's autumn, anyway, and with no extra warmth from a fire, and so high up...not so bad. She might've preferred a pant set, but she's certainly not going to wear those tonight. The shin-length dress and heavy socks will have to do.

Now there is the matter of her hair. Once, she had worn it loose or sometimes braided to sleep, but since Hybern's soldiers had ripped her out of her home by her unbound locks...no. She wears it up.

But they'll know. They'll know she put her hair up to go to bed, and they'll wonder why. And she can't stomach them wondering why.

There's a silk hair tie in the boudoir. Let Cassian think, at least, that there's some vain reason for tying her hair in a bun for bed. Let him not bring it up in mocking, or to her sisters. Let the healer be too professional to say anything.

She hates this. She's already subject to more scrutiny than she'd ever, ever wanted. As Feyre's sister, as a freak of nature. And now it'll be even worse.

What have they told people, she wonders, as she swallows the tonic Feyre's left for her (mostly tasteless, if a bit bitter). That she's been sent to the seaside for her health? That she's doing something for the Night Court in some other land? Or worst of all, the truth?

She wishes, not for the first time, that she could just get a grip on herself. Just get over everything as swiftly as Elain has, or even made her own happiness like Feyre. Goodness knows she was never really going to have it there, below the Wall. She was never made for that. And now she's been Made, and no one knows what for.

The thoughts are too miserable to wallow in for long, and luckily, she doesn't have to. One of the tonics sends her to a deep, claiming sleep, soon after climbing into bed.

Or so she thinks, until a few hours later, when she is up and sweating and gasping and doesn't even make it all the way to the bathroom before collapsing on the floor, and a bucket appears in front of her, and all the soup and tea and water from yesterday is being violently, violently, violently, squeezed out of her. Like it's someone else's doing, like she can't even control her own body.

She doesn't hear Cassian come in, just feels him lift her slightly.

"It's all right," he says, calm. He doesn't whisper, which feels almost obscene in the darkness. "You're all right. The healer's on her way, Nesta."

She doesn't answer. She wants to disappear. He's stroking her back...can he feel how thin she is? Of course he can. But can he feel how weak, how pathetic? She's not stopped shaking. She tries to tense to stop it, can he tell?

But then she throws herself forward as she's sick all over again, and it's not even worth it, she just wants to be left alone to die in peace, nothing is worth this, nothing, nothing, nothing.

"Stay with me," he says, one hand on her waist and another rubbing along the length of her arm. "Here she is, Nesta."

"Good night, Lady Nesta," says a soft, female voice. "My name is Daphne. I'm the healer for all the girls at the library. I'm a priestess, too."

She's one of the girls then, she means. Or she was. What had it been to send her to this place? Had she been a healer before?

But again, Nesta says nothing.

"I'm just going to do some quick checking," Daphne says, in her soft voice. "Just to make sure you're all right." She settles her fingertips on different points on Nesta's body, almost too fast to register with all her shaking. Temples, pulse points, abdomen. "All right," she says. "How do you feel?"

After a few seconds, it becomes clear Nesta has to answer. "Fine," she manages, voice barely a rasp.

"Brave girl," Daphne coos, not unkindly. Nesta wants to die all over again. "Do you feel very cold?"

Nesta thinks for a moment, trying to reach out to her whole body. It's an effort not to curl up into a dark spot in her mind and just let it all happen.

"Not very," she says. A little cool, maybe.

"Do you feel very hot?"

"No."

"Good," she says. "It looks as though you're reacting very well to the tonic. I think the symptoms we're seeing now will be the ones we see over the next few days."

Which is a polite way of saying that Nesta's going to keep vomiting and sweating and shaking, but at least it won't be any worse.

"Drink this. It'll help you settle to sleep again."

"Do you think she'll wake up again?" Cassian asks, his arms still around her.

"No, I think she'll sleep till morning. The tonics are good like that. Help to regulate the system and reactions. Do you need help with anything else, Lady Nesta?"

"I can help her," Cassian says, when it becomes clear she isn't going to reply.

"Just make sure she drinks another glass of water before falling asleep."

"I will. Good night. Thank you."

"Of course, General. Good night."

Cassian sits there, stroking her back, for another few minutes, before she summons the strength to shift slightly out of his hold. He doesn't hesitate, moving seamlessly to help her stand. He walks her to the bathroom so she can wash her mouth.

"You have to drink this," he says, handing her a glass of water.

"I know."

He opens his mouth again, but she cuts him off.

"I don't want to hear it."

She can hear his frown in his voice. "You don't know what I was going to say."

Raising her eyes, she catches his gaze in the mirror. "You want to assure me that I'm not pathetic."

He blinks. "I wasn't going to...do you want me to do that?"

Nesta sets down her toothbrush. "I just said I didn't." She can feel the tonic already starting to work as her head clears. She experimentally eases her weight off the counter. Yes, she can stand on her own now. She takes the glass from him and starts to drink slowly.

"I wasn't aware that I needed to assure you of that. Is...do you think that?"

She only sips her water.

His eyes widen. "Do you think I think that?"

Nesta says to no one, "Could I have more water, please?"

Cassian's eyebrows quirk slightly as he watches the House's magic respond, but then he says, taking her chin, "Nesta. Look at me."

Well, when he's given her no choice.

"I have never in my life thought you were pathetic."

How, she wonders as they stand there like that. How could he possibly be telling the truth? For he is strong and sturdy and commanding and she had to hang onto the bathroom counter for support as she washed the sick out of her mouth after beginning a withdrawal process from alcohol.

And yet, somehow, she knows he isn't lying.

"You can get back to bed yourself, then," he says, dropping his hand. "You know where I am if you need me. Good night."

He doesn't wait for her to reply, just turns and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

His warmth lingers in the room far after he's gone, as does his touch on her face. She loses count of how many times she traces over it before she falls asleep again.

[magnoliabloomfield]

I survived my tilt table test. I wouldn’t say it was torturous which is what I was seeing most people say, maybe their cases are more severe tho, so I thought I’d relate my experience for anyone else curious what they’re getting into.

I’ll list things out briefly and clinically first and then tell you how I fared. Idk if all the tests are like mine but here’s what I got.

Put on gown. Kept bra, pants, and shoes on.

Laid on the “table” and they started putting the EKG pads on me, hence the gown, a blood pressure cuff, and an IV port?catheter? Poked a hole in me through which they could administer whatever I needed.

Laid down and chilled for 15 minutes maybe, I think mine took longer than the 10 they said it would be and I’ll get to that reason later.

They put the straps on me, my arms were free, and tilted the table up to a 70 degree angle, think of Captain America

I was upright like that for I believe they said half an hour but it didn’t really feel that long. I told her everything I was feeling as it came to me.

The whole time they were taking my blood pressure every two minutes.

At that point they were like yeah, you got POTS, do you want to keep going? And I was like, let’s get all the info we can while I’m already miserable so I only have to do it once. So they did the second thing where they massaged the carotid arteries on my neck while taking my blood pressure, once on each side.

She had me hold my breath and listened to the arteries as well with the stethoscope

The last phase was she put a nitro tablet under my tongue. That was the show stopper.

So, when they were putting the IV in I got so oogy feeling that she was dang we might not even have to do the test. I told her I’d passed out getting my blood drawn several times and that I was usually fine and then gone. I just had to get over that wave of oh my god they poked me and they left it in there and I can feel it. So that just in case IV port was used immediately to give me Saline.

During the first phase I was uncomfortable, obviously that’s kind of the point unfortunately, and I let her know like ok this is when I’d start shifting my weight, this is when I’d brace my hands on my knees, this is when I’d sit down for sure, and all the temperature changes, clammy parts, tingling, muscle twitching etc. There was a point where I was like I might be about to go out, but I didn’t. I managed to power through, a lot of heavy breathing and dizziness tho.

The whole thing with the arteries was no biggie. But when she gave me the nitro tablet, it’s smaller than a tic tac and goes under your tongue, that’s when I was like OOF yeah this is it. I think the last thing I said was “I’m gonna go”.

As the white faded and I could start to see again I saw her and knew she was talking to me, I could hardly hear, and I was wondering why is she talking when my eyes were closed? And somehow I managed to ask after a while if my eyes closed and she told me the most uncomfy thing lol

“Nope. When people pass out their eyes rarely close. The lid droops though so your lids came down a little and your pupils got really big then they just slid over to one side.”

The last thing I remember was being upright and I came to completely flat, yet they said I was only out about three seconds, idk what the deal with that is. But she looked at me and was like you do go out really fast! And I’m thinking yeah that’s why I avoid it by sitting down as soon as I feel off, otherwise I could really get hurt. I told her about a spot in my abdomen that really hurt and she said that was linked to some other thing people usually have with POTS, I can’t remember what it was but I’m sure the paper work will say when they’re done going through all the results.

Will update when results come.

[randomavatarfan]

Rereading Ciconia Phase 1 - Chapters 1-7: Basic concepts and Conflict

I hope to come up with some solid testable theories and predictions before phase 2. This second readthrough has brought some extra things that I had failed to pay enough attention to the first time around. It's funny that things you see in the beginning of a story this long are forgotten and dropped by the time you finish, but I think some of those were more important than I had believed the first time around. Feel free to interact and discuss.

The simulation theory really seems to work the most. It explains the weird scenes (that I haven't gotten to yet in this playthrough) with the people on the chains as something outside the simulation. I believe it has to do with Seshat, Toujirou, Jestress, inner Miyao, and Vier. I'm not sure if the 3 Kings understand it. They might.

The Kings exist. At least, their order exist as people that exist as much as the gauntlet knights do. I don't suspect this to be a repeat of Umineko where you're only shown an "interpretation" but rather, we have a simulation running that, for all intents and purposes is real life. The fact that "real life" is a simulation, however, may serve as the basis of the conflict.

If anyone doesn't exist as they appear, it would be Seshat. My interpretation of how she appears is that she also exists outside the simulation. She knows the secrets and can manipulate it.

Vier exists in a glitch space, a minus level. Outside map boundaries. I don't think she fully understand the implications of her position, but she's determined to find out. Imagine clipping through a wall and finding dummied out items, or triggers that were never meant to be hit. You hit a button, see what the effects are, and use that for your next run. I think that's the nature of Vier's lab.

---

The first scenes with Seshat and Toujirou I think did a great job at establishing some key concepts.

We have a rock paper scissors type play of "Kennedys powder keg " An imbalance isn't necessarily caused by a stronger opponent but a weakness from within. It's an interesting take because it means the final push is being caused by the "moles" from the inside. A weakness rather than the direct attack we'll eventually see at Christmas. Someone could have stopped it, but did not have the strength.

We see the talk of pendulums swinging between two extremes, and then some hints at a simulation theory, speaking of people as 1s and 0s and can only go towards a path already set.

We see that again with the three kings and we see that again with inner Miyao's talk about being a program. It really does point to something like a programmed simulation.

---

CPPs

These split personality types, featured in previous Ryukishi07 works, and seems to operate similarly. Miyao wants to be Miyao, and Meow wants to be Meow. There seems to be more harmony within Miyao and discordance comes from how outsiders treat them. I have a feeling however that Miyao and Meow are the only ones with individual sprites, at least outside Kizuna avatars. Jayden seems to be in minority, so he very well might be the only one out of the Public Bath Order. At the very least, Chloe and Naima are.

I think it's possible for a personality to be knowingly working for a secret order and still be kept secret from the dominate personality, such as Inner Miyao was unknown to Miyao. But I think we should treat this as: 4 of the 24 main kids are pawns of the three kings, whether it's their dominate personality or not.

----

The nature of the central conflict

There's a lot. The simulation theory can lie at the center of it. Vier's lab exists outside time. She and her organization definitely understand the nature of the simulation.

The Kings' plan is a little odd: If they're aware of the simulation, then their goal is to prolong it. They want to "reset" to square one. Upon a discussion that maybe their plan might at best "only" set civilization back "a few centuries" they found that to be acceptable as it "places distance between them and the end." as they said in the their second appearance. I can't tell if they know they're in a simulation and are hoping to prolong it for whatever motive or if they have a more... altruistic reason. That's probably not the best word to describe them, but like, it's almost as if their plans, if succeed, will allow humanity as a whole to survive longer.

We haven't seen much of Seshat at this point. I'm not sure if she and Toujirou are completely on the same page. I had this idea that maybe they do each have their own goal, but I'm gonna need to get farther into this reading to develop that. She's definitely against the Kings' final plans, but she seems to agree to a point about the necessity of rewinding the clock of civilization. She thinks ww4 would be much more humane than the hell of the end of civilization, but I think she might want that hell.

However it is a bit more clear that the Jestress isn't completely in league with the Kings. Her manner of speech with them for example creates a sense that she sees herself as above them. She wants to see the Kings' plan work but only so far to suit her own needs. If the Kings buy into the idea that they're the saviors of humanity, it might be an idea that the Jestress planted.

The implication near the end of the story seems to be that Jestress and Toujirou were married and Jestress could be Miyao's mother. I will need to work my way back up to that point to maybe understand the implication. That brings me to my last point, which is inner Miyao.

I believe he was born of someone able to manipulate the simulation. That's how his "inner self" seems to be able to make certain prophecies. I also believe the inner Miyao is the looper of this story. His parents aware of the loop happens but unable to retain data, Miyao however could be a repository for the data before the clear and wipes.

Inner Miyao appears in two forms: One form appears just like Miyao, and the other appears as a blue gauntlet child like Vier's guards. The first form appears once and then the second becomes the norm. They both seem to have some scary words of prophecy, but I noticed they're different. At this point in my playthrough, inner Miyao only appears twice.

The first time we see him, he tells Miyao that he himself is the cause of the misfortune about to occur, simply by existing, and the only way to end the tragedy is to "will yourself to disappear."

The second time, he's using the blue guard sprite, and while his speech is similar, I think there's a noticeable "tic". He addresses Miyao as "My adorable Miyao" in a similar manner as his father does. At this point, Toujirou and Miyao have never interacted in the story, but I remember this was the way Toujirou addressed his child. However, the conditions for a successful ending had also changed. In order to prevent the tragedy, instead of "willing yourself to disappear" it is now "find and kill the three kings."

Because of Inner Miyao's manner of speech, I get the sense that Miyao was created and programmed by Toujirou. However I don't think "will yourself to disappear" and "kill the 3 kings" are compatible goals. Who are we rooting for anyway?

---

Geroy, I'm going to need to get further along and re-read the data fragments. The idea of people being treated as "equipment" has a lot of similarities with Umineko's "furniture" but ultimately, it seems like the equipment is treated with higher regards than individual soldiers.

I'm not completely sure what was going on with the scene with Keshka. We have so few scenes of Geroy, and I definitely need to keep playing through to see those scenes again. I wonder how much they'll play out in the future- they have the means to be culpable, but the facility itself may just be the means.

I'll post more later. Break down some of the GK squads.

[dearlazerbunny]

Ignite (Redux); Ch. 1 of 5ish

Pairings: Kylo Ren x Reader

Genre/Ratings: currently T for severely injured reader 

Words: 2250

Summary: After an accident aboard Starkiller Base, someone unexpected proves invaluable.

This is a rewrite of Ignite, which I published two-ish years ago. I thought I could put more into it than I did initially, and soon enough this one chapter was more words than the whole original idea. Same story, incredibly expanded upon. Enjoy!

You sigh as you scroll through your daily schedule that’s pinged into your datapad. Apparently a fresh crop of newbie engineers has been recruited, and now you’ve got to teach them how to not blow themselves up- or more crucially, not blow up the expensive TIE Fighters that cost more than your entire life is worth. Joy oh joy. Really, you prefer to work alone- you’re a senior engineer aboard Starkiller base, you don’t need anyone to double check your work (or worse, mucking it up). But as long as the rookie knows their place and doesn’t cross wires they aren’t supposed to, things should- should- be okay.

Hopefully. Maybe. Fingers crossed.

You pull on your uniform, doing up the buttons and fastening the buckles; your tool belt, a beautiful piece of leather that’s been worn enough to be molded precisely to your waist, gets secured in its place of honor across your hips. After tracking down your pesky gloves and tucking them into the top of your work boots so you don’t lose them for the millionth time, you join the ebb and flow of traffic constantly racing though Starkiller’s veins and head for the flight deck.

It’s a decent trek- base is huge, and nowhere you’re heading is ever anywhere near everywhere else. It’s become something of a tradition to mentally curse whoever designed this bucket of bolts as you follow hallway after hallway, trying to keep pace with those around you. Would it have killed them to put in some moving walkways? Maybe a more direct path through the ducts? At least that way you’d be able to avoid all the upper-crust officers on your way to work, and their holier-than-thou stares as they eye your patched elbows and stained pants. Chuckling to yourself, you pat the nearest metal archway, mentally apologizing to your pride and joy. Starkiller is, ultimately, a feat of engineering, and the fact that you get to crawl around in her walls and find what makes her tic is a pleasure, no matter how finicky she gets- or how snotty the officers become.

In the corner of your eye, you can tell that the corridor has suddenly emptied, startlingly silent of stormtrooper boots or the quiet mumbling of messengers running to and fro. Rather than following suit and making yourself scarce, you purposefully slow your gait and linger, letting your fingers trace along the seams of the polished walls.

Not a minute later, Kylo Ren comes stalking around the corner, boots thumping menacingly along his path and cape fluttering behind him. He doesn’t seem phased by the sudden clearing of his path- he probably comes to expect it by now. It’s not like he demands it; people just seem too frightened of the Commander to even do something as simple as walk in the same corridor as him.

You can’t really blame them. He’s a six-foot-something space wizard in all black and an incredibly intimidating mask. Rumor has it he isn’t afraid to cut you in half with a lightsaber if you so much as breathe wrong in his direction- and to be fair, a lot of those rumors are true, given how frequently you’re called to patch up medical equipment in the infirmary.

“Am I interrupting something?” The Commander’s voice comes out heavily synthesized through his visor, but you could swear there’s a touch of teasing in it as he watches you run a hand over some welding.

You grin at him. “No, sir, just having a little moment of appreciation.” You comically pat the metal next to you, as though assessing a prize cow.

Normally you wouldn’t dare joke around with a senior officer, but despite his fearful reputation, the Knight has always seemed… different, to you. In command, yes, but not quite part of command. The rest of base always runs whenever he heads in their direction. Even his infamous Knights of Ren seem just a touch too cautious around their leader to include him in the camaraderie you’ve seen them demonstrate in the mess hall when he’s not around. He’s a true loner, sitting solitaire in meetings and speaking to no one except to yell orders; a black phantom haunting the hallways with rumors flying left and right in his wake.

You made the decision a long time ago to not be afraid of the man. He has to know that not everyone sees him as some sort of grim reaper, no matter what people might whisper. “How are you today, sir?”

Despite you making it a point to ask him this every time you see him, he still seems taken aback whenever he hears it. Like he’s shocked someone is speaking to him in pleasant terms. “I am fine. And you?”

“Just peachy!” You gesture down the hallway. “Are you going this way?”

He nods briefly, and so the two of you start off together, only close enough to barely be associated as acquaintances. The stares you get are numerous, but you always feel just a tad more confident with the Commander at your side. You suppose it must look a bit comical- the dark knight and a tiny engineer marching through base like they own the place. But you’re grateful for the company, silent as it is, and you tell yourself he must be too- otherwise, why give you the time of day? You’re not anyone important.

You know Commandeer Ren notices all the attention the two of you get- you can tell by the way he has to keep his fists from clenching up; struggle to keep his gait even. Briefly, you wonder if the reason he wears a mask is so his emotions won’t run amok across his face. It’s certainly easy enough to read the rest of him, if you bother looking.

“Are you not afraid of me?”

You stop short, surprised. Even when he seems to be in a good mood, he rarely says anything. “No sir, I’m not. Should I be?”

“Yes,” he says flatly. Just, yes, as though that’s the only possible answer to his question.

“Well… just don’t come at me with your fancy glowstick, and I think we’ll be alright, yeah?” You offer him an easy grin, instinctively reaching out to tap him playfully on the shoulder before you remember who you’re talking to- it quickly gets withdrawn. He simply stares at you, and you’re unsure if you’ve just doomed yourself to a cold and miserable fate on Hoth. “I’ll see you later?”

He just turns and stalks away, and you sigh, shoving your hands in your pockets. He never answers that one. Which, to be fair, he probably has much more important things to do than run around entertaining some random engineer. Still, he never blows you off though, even when you’re rambling or asking too many questions- he might not answer the questions, but he doesn’t tell you to shut up either.

Truth is, you’re a bit fascinated with the man. He’s an enigma, a mystery, and your whole life you’ve been trained to solve mysteries; pull out the broken pieces and wind it all back together again even better than the day it was brand new. You can only hope someday that helmet of his will short circuit and you’ll get a chance to take a crack at it.

You have to pull yourself away from watching Ren’s retreating back, refocusing on your job. Rookie to train. TIE Fighters to tune up. Right.

It’s pretty easy to spot your trainee- he’s tentatively poking around a TIE the way you do when you want to look like you know what you’re doing, but in actuality you’re three seconds away from seriously messing something up. When he gnaws his lip and reaches for a panel of circuitry, you step in- “OKAY! Let’s back away from that, shall we?”

Startled, he knocks himself away from the board he’s studying. “Right! Right. Uh, sorry.”

You gingerly close the panel back up and push him a few steps away from the battleship, then wipe your hands on your pants and hold out a hand. “I’m Y/N. I’ll be your supervisor for the day. Rule number one? Don’t touch anything unless you know for certain what it is, what’s wrong with it, how to fix it, and all the ways it can kill you if your finger slips.”

The kid’s cheeks pale a bit. “Right. I’m Cale.”

“Wonderful. Don’t blow anybody up and don’t put our heads under the general’s fist, and I’m sure we’ll get along great.” You tug on your gloves, tighten the cord securing your hair, and put a hand on your hip. “First thing’s first- how much do you know about twin ion engine ships?”

You spend the better part of your shift going over every inch of the craft in front of you, as well as the science that makes it run and the parts that need hands on them more often than not. “…and this is the engine itself. It destabilizes xenon gas and uses the resulting broken-off electron for thrust. Xenon gas is ideal because for the most part, it’s completely inert- fireproof, explosion-proof, etcetera. As long as it’s converted back to a stable state before it’s exuded by the engine, it’s pretty safe. But you should still be extremely cautious when working on the engine itself. Obviously. It’s worth more than we ever will be.” You press your wrist to your forehead, trying to think of anything you missed. “Okay. Any questions?”

“…No?”

“Cool.” You check your datapad. “This one needs new electrostatic grids. Xenon gas is fairly corrosive. Check with me before you do anything, and we’ll get to work, okay?”

Other than the occasional question here and there and getting used to someone hanging over your shoulder watching you tinker, you settle into a wonderfully familiar routine. Your fingers fly like they have a mind of their own, effortlessly making the rig in front of you shine like it did when it first came off the line.

“-so what do you do here, anyways?”

You shake your head, pulled from the flow of work- “um, little bit of everything? I got promoted to senior a few years ago so I’m called all over base. I work a lot with command and their personal rigs and equipment.”

You can’t see Cale’s face, but you can hear the curiosity in his voice. “You work with General Hux?”

“Yes. He’s just as…intense, as everyone makes him out to be. But thus far I’m not on his bad side and I plan to keep it that way, so I’m not saying anything else about it.”

“What about-” he pauses, like he’s looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else in the massively busy hangar is listening in- “Kylo Ren?”

You wedge a particularly tight support into place with a grunt. “What about him?”

“Is he really insane? I heard that-”

“No,” you say harshly. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. He’s a person, just like everyone else, okay?” Christ, the rumor mill is as exhausting as it is useless.

Thankfully, something on your tool belt starts beeping and you can focus on that. A little indicator light is flashing orange, harsh and neon. “Interesting.”

Cale pops his head out from underneath the ship. “What’s beeping?”

“This monitors the air quality; lets us know if the composition of gases gets unbalanced. It generally means there’s a leak somewhere.” You glance at what you’d doing. More electrostatic grids. “What are you working on down there?”

“Oh, a few tanks were too pressurized, so I released the valves a bit to relieve those.”

You blanch. “The xenon canisters?”

“Um… maybe?”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Just before you can hit the alarm button, you see a spark from a nearby welder flicker- it arcs to the floor almost in slow motion, one small bit of fire promising catastrophe. If you’re lucky, it won’t catch- it will fall harmlessly to the floor and extinguish, giving you time to alert others, clear the area, and reset things when proper ventilation has made the area safe.

But when have you ever been lucky?

All you see is red. You’re awash in it, swimming in it, drowning until your whole being is nothing but scarlet and an unholy, white-hot, supernova blue. You’re in the heart of an exploding star, witnessing the birth of the universe, and it’s just as beautiful as you’d imagine the very atoms of space rearranging themselves would be.

Then there’s stillness. The colors fade. It’s not silent- no, there’s a ringing in your ears, and somewhere very, very far away something like an alarm. And then- pain.

Oh, the pain. It flashes through your nerves like lightning, so intense you almost can’t comprehend all the little nuances screaming across every inch of your body. Joining the ringing and the far, distant sound of klaxon alarms comes a high-pitched, desperate sort of scream. You turn to help whoever it is- you raise a hand in front of you, only to see rapidly singing flesh. It’s you. You’re the one screaming. You’re the one on fire.

Sprawled on the floor of the hangar, vaguely aware of everything and nothing, hoarsely begging for this to stop, stopstopstop please make this stop, you wonder just for one second if the tall cloaked figure at the other end of the room is a hallucination or wish fulfillment or both.

You lose consciousness before you can come to a decision.

A/N: Yee

[zenonaa]

Hi! If you are still up for the writing prompts may I request Nagito x Izuru with number 13? (sfw - singing, which is cute because both of their voice actresses are great singers!)

The holding cell that Nagito sits in reminds him of the one they kept Byakuya Togami in. However, despite their similarities, they’re not the same. Not quite. For one thing, the two rooms are in different cities, though Nagito doesn’t know where he is right now. There hadn’t been any windows in the van, and he had been blindfolded too. On top of that, the other cell had been repurposed, originally a storage room. 

Nagito doesn’t know what this used to be, if it had ever been anything else; but anyway, much like the other room, this one has had all the colour sucked out of it and the air feels very dry. It scrapes the inside of his throat. Their equally oppressive sizes seem the same as well. A couple of paces would take him to the opposite wall.

Across from him is a metal betch, fixed to the wall, but instead of using that, Nagito opted for the floor. He raises his only hand to his head and drags his fingers through his matted hair, pushing against tangles and knots, and when he presents his hand in front of himself again, he notices loose hair snarls his digits.

Thinking about losing all of his hair makes him laugh for some reason. Not once, but a whole lot. Must be the holding cell. Must be the sinking realisation of his situation, and if Nagito doesn’t laugh, what can he do? All he has done here is sit and sleep and sometimes sing under his breath. His barks puncture the air, and every time he inhales, his breath wheezes and his bones rattle.

“Komaeda,” someone states.

Nagito’s laughter peters out in seconds and his forced smile drops off in a fell swoop. That voice sounded close, but at the same time, muffled. He hesitates and as he shifts his weight, he glances behind him, at the wall. 

“Kamukura-kun?” he says.

“Why are you laughing?” asks Izuru Kamukura in the neighbouring holding cell, talking to him through the wall.

“Huh?” Nagito rasps, like he forgot about his mirthless laughter, then he shoves his hand against and up his forehead, but unlike before, he doesn’t comb through his hair. The heel of his hand rides across the surface of his scraggly white terrain. 

A few strands spring back into place. Izuru waits for an answer.

“Ah,” goes Nagito, cringing. “Did I disturb you? My apologies. I didn’t realise.”

Izuru doesn’t reply immediately. “Did something amusing occur?”

Nagito purses his lips in thought and rocks his head from side-to-side as he debates the answer to himself.

“In a way,” he says aloud.

“I don’t see what there is to find amusing in this situation,” says Izuru in that usual serious tone of his that would have been accompanied by that usual serious expression of his, which Nagito cannot see.

“But, do you ever find anything funny?” Nagito points out. He swishes a finger. “I suppose… it’s a verbal tic. We really are in such a hopeless situation, aren’t we?”

“There is a ninety-six percent chance of us perishing by the end of the month,” says Izuru.

Nagito snorts and tucks his legs into his chest. His lips contort into a grin as he imagines Izuru in the other room, probably sitting against the wall like him. Maybe even directly behind, and if a wall hadn’t been there, their backs would be touching. Maybe.

“Such optimism,” Nagito muses aloud, and he tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes creep slightly narrower. “But I’ll take your word for it. End of the month, hm? Perhaps we’ll make it to Christmas.”

The cell lacks any windows, and he has to trust the lights that switch on and off automatically to know what time it approximately is. Last he saw outside, which must have been several days ago, the sky had been red. Not exactly a wintery colour, but then, it had been red for some time now. 

As red as Izuru’s eyes. Nagito’s mind strays, thinking of how Izuru has been in the next cell all this time, possibly even listening in without Nagito realising, and he would have wrapped himself in that thought like one would bundle themselves in blankets had Izuru not piped up again.

“What was that song you were singing?” asks Izuru, and Nagito tenses a little. Indeed, a few times since they arrived, he had been singing. Though…

“I didn’t realise I was singing loudly enough for you to hear,” Nagito admits. He smirks, but it’s not all that strong. “Your hearing is remarkable, much like our Mioda-san’s. Not only are you a genius, but your body is superhuman as well.”

Izuru’s tone hardens but remains cold like ice. “I asked you what song you were singing.”

The beat of silence clenches tightly.

“I-It’s just a song I know,” Nagito tells Izuru, raising his hands. “I heard it during a karaoke session with one of my foster families, and I couldn’t get it out of my head afterwards.”

“Sing it,” says Izuru.

“Huh?”

“I told you to sing it.”

Nagito blinks, feeling his skin prickle, but he can’t decline the request. It’s like Izuru is right up in his face. He breathes and relaxes his body - well, as much as he can with rattling nerves, then he braces himself and lifts his chin. The room holds it breath.

“The flower of passion is burning. Look, this is how much I’m trembling,” croons Nagito, and he is shaking, very slightly. It seeps into his voice, makes it quiver too. Silence puffs between each line more than it should, and he sings the next lines with the same waver as the others. “If this fated life is scattered… Drowning in love, just let me die.”

It’s meant to be a briskly paced song, sang against the screams of an electric guitar, and he almost manages, but his lungs are made of ice, and with each inhale, exhale, web-thin lines crack across them. He rests the back of his head against the wall, knocking against it gently. Maybe it would be more appropriate to sing a festive song, but this one is apt too. 

“Burned by romance, my lips are parched,” sings Nagito as the rest of the room fades away, but he doesn’t. Nagito remains, and he stares forward. Electricity scuttles through him and his voice strengthens. “It’s alright if it’s pain. Please give me a dream…”

The room is bare and plain but that doesn’t matter. He feels bare too and sees himself, on the floor, and he sees Izuru, sitting with his back to him. Izuru, with his flowing black hair, stony features and warning red eyes. While Izuru will be wearing his smart monochrome suit, Nagito wears a black cropped jacket and a striped scoop-neck vest, dark red and olive green, all soaked in dirt. Nagito presses his head harder against the wall, but he doesn’t phase through and join Izuru on the other side. 

They stay separated, but that’s okay, because as Nagito sings the next part, he holds that image of Izuru close to his heart.

“The flower of reality is getting wet. Look, this is how much I’m seeking it out,” he sings, and his eyes widen as he hears Izuru’s voice blend with his as he sings too. 

Izuru must have learnt the words from listening to Nagito, who is still sure he never raised his voice when he sang it to himself in here. As he would expect, Izuru can sing well. Of course he can. His voice is controlled and no louder than speaking volume, but it’s not weak. It trickles through the wall between them and wraps ghostly fingers around Nagito’s body.

Of what Nagito knows of the guy, which admittedly isn’t a lot, he knows that Izuru gets bored easily. The only thing that stimulates him is the unknown, the uncontrollable, something that their former leader, Junko, also relished in. And anything to do with Junko, Nagito should hate. If Izuru knows the song, then surely he would have no interest in it, yet not only did he request that Nagito sing it, but he joined in too.

A smile blooms on Nagito’s face, and warms sets in at his chest. For a long time, Nagito resented his talent, a cycle of good and bad luck, but he wonders if that uncontrollable thing of his is something that attracts Izuru to him. Not just wonders… but he hopes this is the case.

He continues to sing. They continue to sing.

“The flower of reality is getting wet. Look, this is how much I’m seeking it out.” Their voices coil around the other’s, entwined. “Because my prayers are dyed red, I don’t mind if I’m dirtied by love.”

They progress through the song in harmony, their voices filling otherwise silent rooms. Nagito thinks he can hear some of the others chime in, but he doesn’t dwell on them. He turns around and places his hand against the wall, and he knows it’s ridiculous to think that Izuru has mirrored his movement and put his palm there too.

“Everything of mine belongs to you.” Nagito’s fingers curl into his palm, and his grin haunts his face, teeth like tombstones. “So I want to be yours even more.”

His eyes creep shut and his forehead goes against the wall, and all the while, Makoto, Kyouko and Byakuya observe silently through the surveillance cameras, three silhouettes in a room lit up only by computer monitors.

[fortheheavenssake]

💜💜 PG MM Anon(II) 💜💜 Interpretation Collection - 6

36. June 03

MM ANON …… 2020 another royal baby ………… development in Portugal ……… more charges eminent Minnesota ……… a wet summer ………… ISS a strange smell? ……… … London protests …………NAACP……… size 12 , and the shoes 👠 ……………” mummy , mummy- goes viral ………” we’ll old thing, I wasn’t expecting that ending “……… “ so enjoyable Philip ‘ anymore Sydney?……… “ I think Catherine has Peaky-Blinders ma’am” …… “ is it a bit GBH ? “ ……… “ yes ma’am”……… “Ohhhh goody”.

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻☺️☺️THANK YOU MM ANON☺️☺️🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

JUNE 3/2020. RIDDLE#36

KIDS I WAS AHEAD ONE NUMBER IN THE RIDDLE THANKS TO @fortheheavenssake WHO KEEPS ME ORGANIZED. SO YOU WILL SEE #36 AGAIN TODAY AS IT IS THE CORRECT NUMBER OF RIDDLE

2020 another royal baby

AS I HAVE BEEN POSTULATING SINCE LAST NOVEMBER 🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 I FULLY BELIEVE CATHERINE IS PREGNANT, AND LOCKDOWN WAS PERFECT TIME TO DEAL WITH HER HG SYMPTOMS AND APPEAR ON CAMERA NECK UP, SO NO BABY BUMP TO BE NOTICED OR HIDDEN. ALSO WE HAVE PRINCESS EUGENIE, ALTHOUGH TECHNICALLY THE BABY WOULD NOT HAVE A ROYAL STATUS. ZARA IS NOT TITLED SO HER CHILDREN TECHNICALLY ARE NOT ROYAL. DEPENDS HOW LOOSELY USED THE TERM, ROYAL IS. FOR MY PART I WOULD BE TRIPLE EXCITED IF THEY ALL HAD LITTLE ONES!!

………… development in Portugal ………

HUGE BREAKING NEWS IN THE 13YEAR OLD UNRELENTING PURSUIT BY THE MCCANNS AND THE POLICE TO FIND DEAR LITTLE MADELEINE, WHO VANISHED FROM THEIR VACATION ROOM IN PORTUGAL ONE EVENING. YOU ALL KNOW THE STORY. I HAVE FOLLOWED THIS CLOSELY FOR YEARS🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻. THE MCCANNS HAVE BEEN TO HELL AND BACK AGAIN, SO THEY HAVE. TODAY THE REVELATION THAT A MALE GERMAN NATIONAL, CURRENTLY INCARCERATED IN GERMANY, IS A MAIN SUSPECT. GOD PLEASE LET HER BE ALIVE BUT EITHER WAY PLEASE THE MCCANNS NEED TO KNOW WHERE THEIR GIRL IS, SHE WOULD BE 17 NOW .

more charges eminent Minnesota ………

THEY HAVE ANNOUNCED NEW CHARGES AGAINST THE OFFICERS WHO MURDERED MR. GEORGE FLOYD. UPGRADED FROM 3RD DEGREE TO 2ND MURDER AGAINST THE MAIN OFFICER WHO KEPT HIS KNEE ON HIS NECK. THE OTHER THREE ARE CHARGED WITH ACCESSORY TO MURDER. AS OF NOW AS I KNOW, ONE IS IN CUSTODY, THE OTHER TWO WILL SOON BE. ESPECIALLY DAMNING, ONE OF THE OFFICERS IN THE VIDEO TRIED TO VERBALLY SAY, HEY EASE UP OR SOMETHING SIMILAR.

a wet summer …………

BEER IS SOON TO BE FLOWING AGAIN IN U.K. BARS. THE BREWERIES IN THE U.K. ARE FILLING MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF KEGS IN ANTICIPATION OF BARS REOPENING. THE NORMAL DRUNK PHOTOS IN THE DM EACH WEEKEND WERE BAD ENOUGH. AFTER MONTHS OF NOT GOING OUT , OH IT IS GOING TO BE ONE MASSIVE BENDER.🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. NO MORE DRY WEEKENDS.

ISS a strange smell? ……… …

I DO NOT THINK ITS SMELL AS IN SCENT, BUT SMELL AS IN SOMETHING IS OFF. THE INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION HAS BEEN DOCKED A FEW DAYS AGO. THE DOCKING HAPPENED OVER CHINA. THEY ARE SAYING THIS WAS A TECHNOLOGICAL ISSUE NOT POLITICAL. I SOMEHOW DO NOT THINK CHINA AGREES. I DO NOT THINK THEY APPRECIATE HAVING THAT SHOVED IN THEIR FACE, BUT IT WAS NOT DONE PURPOSEFULLY. THATS THEIR STORY AND THEY’RE STICKING TO IT, TO QUOTE SONG LYRICS🤣🤣🤣😂😂.

London protests …………NAACP………

NAACP, IN AMERICA, IS THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF COLOURED PEOPLE. THIS ORGANIZATION HAS BEEN VERY ACTIVE IN CIVIL RIGHTS IN AMERICA ESPECIALLY IN THE 1969’S THINGS REALLY BECAME NATIONAL. STILL VERY ACTIVE ARE NUMEROUS SIMILAR ORGANIZATIONS. THIS HORRIFIC MURDER HAS BROUGHT PROTESTS WORLDWIDE. THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS IN HYDE PARK TODAY IN LONDON. HEADS TOGETHER HAS COME OUT IN SUPPORT OF BLM, BLACK LIVES MATTER. NO JUSTICE NO PEACE, YOU OFTEN HEAR SAID.

size 12 , and the shoes 👠 ……………” mummy , mummy- goes viral ……

I CAN SEE CATHERINE PLANNING OUTFITS AS LOCKDOWN IS PHASING DOWN OR IS UP THE RIGHT WORD? EITHER WAY SHE NEEDS TO PLAN A FULL LENGTH WARDROBE FOR WHEN ENGAGEMENTS RESUME. EVENTWO YEARS PREGNANT SHE IS NOT A SIZE 12? BUT NO WAY NO HOW IS SHE OR HER FEET A SIZE 12.

SEEING THAT RED SHOE REMINDS ME OF THE ARTICLE , TODAY OR WAS IT YESTERDAY, HMTQ’S SHOES FOR HER CORONATION. SHE HAD ACTUAL RUBY SLIPPERS. GOLD SHOES AND HEELS COVERED IN RUBIES. THE FRENCH SHOE COMPAN6 HAS PARTNERED WITH ANOTHER COMPANY AND RELEASED A COLLECTOR SHOE GOLD, RED AND BLACK I THINK. RHINESTONES OR SWAROVSKI CRYSTALS NO RUBIES.

TIK TOK IS ANNOYING, PARENTS AND GRANDPARENTS YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES🤣🤣😂😂😂. THE “SONG” MUMMY MUMMY, TO CALL IT A SONG, I INSULT MUSICAL ARTISTS🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. ALL OVER TIK TOK AND YOUTUBE ENDLESSLY. I THINK I COULD TOLERATE IT, IF AND ONLY IF , ALL THREE CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN DID IT😁😁😁😁.

…” we’ll old thing, I wasn’t expecting that ending “……… “ so enjoyable Philip ‘ anymore Sydney?……… “ I think Catherine has Peaky-Blinders ma’am” …… “ is it a bit GBH ? “ ……… “ yes ma’am”……… “Ohhhh goody”.

BACK TO THE SITTING ROOM AT WINDSOR CASTLE. SOUNDS LIKE THEY FINISHED BINGE WATCHING THE SOPRANOS BECAUSE NOBODY, N O B O D Y EXPECTED THAT STUPID ENDING. HOWEVER THE SERIES WAS AWESOME AND THEY ENJOYED. HMTQ ASKING SYDNEY IF HE HAS ANYMORE DVD SETS. CATHERINE HAS PEAKY BLINDERS ON DVD THEY WILL LIKE THAT. BRITISH DRAMA ABOUT A REAL LIFE GANG IN THE EARLY PART OF THE 20TH CENTURY. HMTQ IS ASKING IF ITS FUNNY IE GOOD BRITISH HUMOUR OR GREAT 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. GOOD RESULTS. DRINKS SYDNEY, MM ANON FORGOT TO ADD COCKTAILS SO ITS MY JOB TO MAKE SURE THEY HAVE THEIR DRINKS😁😁😁

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————

37. June 4

MM ANON ……MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt 💓………… the Tatler connection ………… 🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼………… MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4……………… 14 days to binge. ……… a Russian contamination …………vaccine summit ……… ”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 4/2020. RIDDLE#37

MM ANON ……MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt💓………… the Tatler connection ………… 🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼………… MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4……………… 14 days to binge. ……… a Russian contamination …………vaccine summit ……… ”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

*Entertainment purposes

MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt 💓…………

UNTIL NOW, THE WOKE, ACTIVIST HUMANITARIAN HAS REMAINED SILENT ABOUT A POLICE MURDER OF AN UNARMED BLACK MAN IN HER OWN COUNTRY. ISSUES SHE HAS CLAIMED TO CHAMPION AND CLUNG TO FOR SYMPATHY FROM HER SUGARS AND USED AS AN EXCUSE AGAINST HER UNFAIR TREATMENT , AS SHE PERCEIVED IT TO BE, BY THE U.K. MEDIA, PEOPLE ETC ETC. THE WORLD BY THE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS, DESPITE A PANDEMIC, HAVE TAKEN TO THE STREETS TO MARCH. ALONG WITH SOME BAD ACTORS WHO LOOT CAUSE VIOLENCE ARE NOT THERE FOR THE RIGHT REASONS. TODAY, IN A VIDEO TO THE GRADUATING CLASS OF HER FORMER SCHOOL, SHE FINALLY COMMENTED. “The only wrong thing to say is to say nothing.” STOLEN VERSION OF THE MUCH ACCLAIMED LINE, EVIL FLOURISHES WHEN GOOD MEN STAND BY AND DO NOTHING. THE ORIGIN OF THIS HAS MULTIPLE ATTRIBUTIONS . WOW YOU CAN JUST FEEL HER PASSION FOR THIS ISSUE EH? NOT NOT NOT . WHAT A HYPOCRITE.

THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE HAVE SPOKEN OIT VIA THEIR HEADS TOGETHER PLATFORM PUTTING THE FULL SUPPORT OF BLM, BLACK LIVES MATTER. THIS IS A MASSIVE ORGANIZATION AND HUGE SUPPORT FOR BLM.

the Tatler connection

ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME IS THE SAYING AS IS WE ARE ALL SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION FROM EACH OTHER. HERE WE HAVE THE GARBAGE MAGAZINE ,TATLER. MADAMS BESTIE JM SISTER VM HAS WORKED AT THE RAG AND HAS LOTS OF CONNECTIONS THERE. THAT IS ONLY TWO OR THREE DEGREES OF SEPARATION FROM CATHERINE, DEPENDING HOW YOU DO THE MATH. IT IS NOT HARD TO PUT THE PIECES TOGETHER AND FIGURE OUT THE GENESIS OF THESE AND SO MANY OTHER LIES ABOUT OUR BELOVED CAMBRIDGES. FURIOUS IS HOW I FEEL. USING CHILDREN, HOW LOW AND EVIL.!!

🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼…………

PORGY AND BESS, CLASSIC BREAKTHROUGH PLAY AND FILM , FROM THE 1940’S. IT WAS GROUNDBREAKING , WITH AN ENTIRE BLACK CAST AND AMAZING MUSIC SUCH IS THE CLASSIC SONG, STORMY WEATHER. THE LYRICS ARE A WOMAN BEMOANING THE FACTS THAT SHE SND HER MAN ARE NOT TOGETHER AND THE SONG STORMY WEATHER AS A METAPHOR FOR THE DIRECTION THEIR LIVES HAVE TAKEN. THE MARVELLOUS LENA HORNE, FABULOUS. WE ARE IN THE STORMIEST OF STORMY WEATHER IN 2020. THE CHAOS, VOLATILITY, AND GRACIOUS, WILL COVID-19 SPIKE IN TWO WEEKS TIME AFTER EXPOSURE BY INNUMERABLE PEOPLE PROTESTING HUDDLED TOGETHER.

THE FORMER HEAD OF MI6, ALONG WITH ANOTHER RESEARCHER. HOW I WISH I COULD RECALL THEIR NANES BUT I READ IT DURING THE NIGHT . THEY OPINED THAT THIS VIRUS HAS ADDED DNA CHAINS THAT POI NT TO IT BEING A. MANMADE VIRUS. POSTULATING, IT WAS ACCIDENTALLY LET OUT BY BREAK IN PROCEDURE OR WHATEVER REASON IN WUHAN CHINA. OF NOTE, THE ONLY LEVEL FOUR LAB IN CHINA, IS IN WUHAN. THERE ARE MANY SUCH LABS WORLDWIDE. THEY KEEP SAMPLES OF ALL THE VIRUSES, BACTERIA KNOWN TO EXIST. LEVEL FOUR BEING THE MOST DANGEROUS ONES AND LETHAL ONES. LOTS OF RESEARCH GOES ON. I LIVE NEAR ONE.

MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4………………

MADDOG, HOW HE HATES AND ABHORS THAT NICKNAME. POTUS KEPT USING THAT NICKNAME BEFORE AND AFTER APPOINTING HIM SECDEF. GENERAL MATTHIAS WES SECDEF (SECRETARY OF DEFENSE) UNDER POTUS UNTIL HE RESIGNED. HE STATED HE WOULD NEVER MAKE A PUBLIC STATEMENT ABOUT POTUS EVER. WELL THAT CHANGED THIS WEEK AFTER GOVERNMENT OFFICERS, NATIONAL GUARD, AND A GENERAL IN FULL MILITARY FATIGUES WALKED WITH POTUS IN A NON MILITARY ZONE. VARIOUS GOVERNMENT AGENCIES, NATIONAL GUARD, SECRET SERVICE, LAW ENFORCEMENT AND OTHERS CLEARED THE PEACEFUL PROTESTORS AWAY, SO POTUS AND OTHERS COULD WALK TO THE CHURCH THAT HAD BEEN ON FIRE MONDAY NIGHT. IT WAS CALLED A PHOTO OP BY SOME AND AGAINST THEIR RIGHTS TO PEACEFUL PROTEST, I THINK THATS THE FOURTH AMENDMENT RIGHT.

ALL FOUR OFFICERS HAVE BEEN CHARGED, BOOKED AND IN CUSTODY ON A MILLION DOLLAR BOND EACH ONE. MURDER TWO FOR THE KNEE ON NECK OFFICER, THE OTHER THREE AIDING AND ABETTING MURDER. I AM NOT TYPING THEIR NAME ON PURPOSE.

14 days to binge. ………

ODD ODD ODD, NEW LAW WILL COME INTO EFFECT IN THE U.K., THOSE ENTERING THE U.K. WILL HAVE TO SELF ISOLATE FOR FOURTEEN DAYS, HOWEVER, IT IS MY UNDERSTANDING THEY CAN GOLF AND DO STUFF LIKE THAT. UNLESS I MISREAD THE ARTICLE YESTERDAY.

I THINK THIS IS MORESO THE COUNTDOWN IS ON FOR A MASSIVE BENDER WHEN THE BARS OPEN AND PEOPLE CAN BINGE OF FOOD AND MORE IMPORTANTLY DRINK. I CAN ONLY IMAGINE THE PHOTOS. THE DM WILL RUN. PAPER SAYING BREWERIES AIMING TO HAVE 250,000,000 YES MILLION PINTS DELIVERED IN THE NEXT TWO WEEKS!!!

a Russian contamination …………

MOSCOWS MAYOR ANNOUNCED TODAY SOME THINGS ARE REOPENING, NON FOOD STORES SND SOME OTHER BUSINESSES ARE BEING ALLOWED TO REOPEN ALONG WITH BEGINNING TO USE PARKS AND OUTDOOR SPACES AS WELL.

RUSSIA Is ALSO STARTING A NEW DRUG TO TREAT THE VIRUS , CALLED AVIFAVIR, NEXT WEEK. IT IS BEING HERALDED AS A “GAME CHANGER”.

THERE ARE ARTICLES CLAIMING THAT RUSSIA, LIKE CHINA US NIT REPORTING ACCURATE NUMBERS TO THE WHO.

vaccine summit ………

THE VIRTUAL G7 YOUTH SUMMIT IS BEING HELD NOW, JUNE 3-5/2020, ONE YOUNG WORLD. ALL SORTS OF DISCUSSIONS THERE ON THIS ISSUE AND OTHERS.

THERE ARE SO MANY ANTI-VACCERS. LOOK AT KAT VON D. SHE HAD A MASSIVE CONTRACT WITH SEPHORA FOR A MAKEUP LINE. IT WAS HUGELY MASSIVELY POPULAR. IF YOU DONT KNOW, KAT VON D HAD A PART ABD THEN HER OWN REALITY SHOW ABOUT HER TATTOO SHOP. SHE IS TATTED HEAD TO TOE. ANYHOW SHE HAD A BABY, THEN ON HER SOCIAL MEDIA SHE CAME OUT HARD AS AN ANTIVACCER. HER FANS REACTED WILDLY GIVING HER THE NAME KAT VON DISEASE. SALES PLUMMETED. SHE IS NO LONG WITH SEPHORA. THE LINE IS THERE BUT ITS CALLED KVD VEGAN BUT SHE GETS NO MONEY.

”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

AGAIN FAVOURITE PART OF THE RIDDLES, WE GET A PEAK INTO THE SITTING ROOM AT WC, WINDSOR CASTLE. OH MY. HIMSELF US FIDDLING WITH EMOJIS, TIK TOK, FACES, ADDONS THINGAMAJIGGIES, BECAUSE I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT THEY ARE CALLED🤣🤣🤣😂😂. I AM NOT TECHNOLOGICALLY “WOKE”🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂🤪🤪🤪🤪. CAN YOU ENVISION THIS, HIMSELF TAKING SELFIES AND MAKING FACES🥳🥳🥳😄😄🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. HMTQ IS NOT HAVING THAT AND WANTS EVER PATIENT SYDNEY TO TAKE THE PHOTOS. HE SUGGESTS A CANDID PHOTO IF THE COUPLE TOGETHER IN THEIR CHILLING OUT CLOTHES WHILE BINGE WATCHING DVDS 📀. HIMSELF IS MUTTERING, FIDDLING WITH TIK TOK, MUMBLING ABOUT ZOOM MEETINGS THAT TECHNOLOGY. LAMENTING ALL THE NEW WAYS OF CONNECTING THAT HAVE BECOME SO VALUED DURING OUR LOCKDOWN. AFTER ALL THIS, THEY NEED THEIR COCKTAILS. HMTQ THINKS HIMSELF NEEDS A WEE BEVVIE TO CHILL OUT. THE USUAL BODDINGTONS FOR HIM, GIN AND DuBONNET FOR HMTQ 🍺 🍸, CHEERS .☺️☺️😊😊😊☺️☺️

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————-

38. June 6

MM ANON …… never look a gift bandwagon in the mouth…… everyone is crawling out the woodwork ……… “I’m covert 19 , fly me” ……… M&H on the March??? ………… over 40,000………… flight attendant/ ……… the dodgy R…………… mandatory masks ………… The Amazon too ??? ………… online celebrity … “ There here Philip “ …………” one has to distance darlings “ …… “ yes there lovely shoes” ……… “ look Philip, live tic-toc “………” it’s wonderful wonderful “ ………… “amazing, he’s shot up “ ………” shall we have a little refreshments?”

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

June 6/2020

RIDDLE FROM JUNE 5/2020. RIDDLE #38

SO SORRY I WAS NOT AROUND YESTERDAY I HAVE BEEN SO EXHAUSTED, SO HERE IT IS.

… never look a gift bandwagon in the mouth

EVERY POSSIBLE COMPANY, AGENCY, WHATEVER YOU WANTTO CALL IT, HAS HOPPED ONTO THE BLM, BANDWAGON. ONLY WORD USED TO , IN OLDEN DAYS WHEN SALESMEN WENT TOWN TO TOWN THEY WOULD HAVE MUSIC TO ANNOUNCE THEIR ARRIVAL IN TOWN. NOW, IT IS SIMPLY A CURRENT HOT BUTTON ISSUE MANY JOIN IN SINCERE BELIEF BUT OFTEN OTHERS AND CORPORATIONS DO IT, SIMPLY TO GET PR AND HOPEFULLY GOOD PR. MAKE THEM LOOK ALL HIP, SHINY AND MODERN.

WELL MADAM BIDED HER TIME, OH YOU CLEVER THING RACHEL. YOU WAITED UNTIL PEOPLE WERE ASKING WHY SHE WAS SILENT AND AFTER MOST BIG CELEBS HAD SPOKEN OUT. THEN BAM! OUT COMES HER VIDEO. I COULD NOT STOMACHE WATCHING ITS ENTIRETY. I WILL NOT GO ON ABOUT IT BUT SUFFICE TO SAY, MORE 🗑GARBAGE.AND LIES.

everyone is crawling out the woodwork ………

THIS SAYING MEANS A HUGE PUBLIC ISSUES AND EVERYONE WANTS THEIR FIFTEEN MINUTES OF FAME BACK. PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT RELEVANT OR ONCE WERE, ARE LIKE ROACHES CRAWLING OUT IN THE DARK TO ADD THEIR UNASKED FOR OR UNNEEDED OPINION. THIS HAPPENS EVERYTIME THERE IS A BIG PUBLIC ISSUE.

“I’m covert 19 , fly me” ……… flight attendant/

COVERT19, NOT COVID-19. SOMEONE IS FLYING AN AIRLINE WITH SYMPTOMS BUT NOT TRUTHFUL ABOUT. IS THIS PUBLIC? I KNOW WHEN THINGS FURST STARTED MANY PEOPLE LIED ABOUT WHERE THEY HAD BEEN, HOW THEY WERE FEELING.MANY PEOPLE BUCKED THE FOURTEEN DAYS QUARANTINE. I HEARD OF A WEDDING , FROM ONE OF MY FRIENDS. THEY HAD 250 THERE IN THEIR FARMYARD. I GUESS SOMEONE CALLED LAW ENFORCEMENT.EVERY ONE OF THOSE 250 PEOPLE RECEIVED A $1,000.00 FINE. QUART MILLION DOLLAR WEDDING. I WONDER IF IT WAS WORTH IT. AS WELL. KIDS YOU KNOW I USE THAT WORD COVERT ALOT DESCRIBING HARRYS MISSION AS OVERT COVERT.

QUICK GOOGLE SEARCH BRINGS THIS, NOT SURE IF ITS RELEVANT , BUT , INSAW THE CLUE FLIGHT ATTENDANT/FURTHER DOWN SO I SHALL COMBINE. PLUS ITS A MARVELLOUS FEEL GOOD STORY. THE CEO OF AA, AMERICAN AIRLINES,IS FLYING COMPETITOR AIRLINE SOUTHWEST, WHICH IS GREAT BY THE WAY, IN MY PAST EXPERIENCE. ANYHOW HE WAS READING A BOOK WHICH CAUGHT THE FLIGHT ATTENDANTS ATTENTION, CALLED WHITE FRAGILITY. THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT IS BLACK.CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THE CURRENT APPROPRIATE WORD TO USE, IS IT BLACK OR AFRICAN AMERICAN. MANY POC ARE FROM PLACES OTHER THAN AFRICA. MY FAMILY MEMBERS SOME ARE FROM ST. LUCIA. ANYHOW PLEASE LET ME KNOW. ANYHOW THIS EVENT WAS MADE PUBLIC AND TURNED INTO A REALLY BEAUTIFUL MOMENT AND CONVERSATION ABOUT THE ISSUES PEOPLE ARE MARCHING ABOUT.

M&H on the March??? …………

ALL THESE VARIOUS SCHEDULED MARCHES ARE TO CONTINUE WHICH MEANS UNSCHEDULED ONES WILL AS WELL. ARE MADAM AND FAIRY GOING TO MARCH? SERIOUSLY, RACHEL, THIS WOULD REQUIRE ACTUAL WALKING AND POSSIBLY THE UNCLEAN GENERAL PUBLIC. BRUSHING UP AGAINST YOUR NON ROYAL BODY. MAYBE THEY WILL SPONSOR OR TAKE PART IN A VIRTUAL WALK WITH USING ARCHIES SAFETY AND HEALTH AS AN EXCUSE. DONT WANT HIM GETTING COVID NOR FAIRRY, SINCE HE IS IN LINE IF SUCCESSION TO A HOLLYWOOD ACTORS WITH GINGER HAIR CROWN.🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

over 40,000…………

IS THIS THE NUMBER OF THE CROWN THAT PROTESTED IN LONDON HYDE PARK?

the dodgy R……………

BIG HEADLINE ON THURSDAYS DM , LATE IN THE DATE WAS THE DIFFERENCE IN R RATE IN DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE U.K. IT IS ABOVE 1 IN THE NORTH WEST AND SOUTH WEST. ONE WONDERS WHAT IT WILL BE AFTER ALL THESE MARCHES. WILL IT INCREASE, DECREASE OR WHO KNOWS? HOW RELIABLE IS THIS IS ANYWAYS. SEEMS THINGS CHANGE ALL THE TIME, DONE TO EARLY OR TOO LATE AND IN WAYS NOT MAKING SENSE.

mandatory masks …………

THIS HAS BEEN BANDIED ABOUT. VARIOUS PLACES ARE REQUIRING MANDATORY MASKS TO BE WORN OR YOU CANNOT SHOP OR USE THAT FACILITY. SOME ARE ADDING TEMP CHECKS AND HAND SANITIZER TOO. MASKS MANDTORY FOR ALL IN HOSPITALS IN THE U.K. AFTER TO CREST HAS PASSED. WHY START THIS NOW?

The Amazon too ??? …………

IS THIS THE ACTUAL AMAZON, OR AMAZON WHERE WE ALL SHOP. I THINK SINCE MM ANON USED THE QUALIFIER THE, SHE IS REFERRING TO THE JUNGLE RAINFOREST. WITH THE CEASING OF SO MUCH INDUSTRY DURING LOCKDOWN, THERE HAVE BEEN AMAZING DARE INSAY MIRACULOUS EFFECTS ON THE WORKD ENVIRONMENT. IT IS NOT ALL WINE AND ROSES THERE. AMONGST INDIGENOUS BRAZILIANS COVID INFECTION RATES ARE SOARING, WHIKE THE PANDEMIC LOCKDOWN IS BRINGING ABOUT MASSIVE INCREASES IN DEFORESTATION. TRULY IS AN ECONOMIC BOOM AND A LOOMING MASSIVE DEATH TOLL. THERE CERTAINLY IS NOT MUCH IN THE NEWS ABOUT THIS THAT I HAVE SEEN, CBC OR BBC WORLD.

ABOUT AMAZON THE COMPANY, THERE HAS BEEN A WHISTLEBLOWER IN ONTARIO WHO HAS BLOW THE LID ON UNSAFE WORKING CONDITION DURING COVID. STATING WORKERS WERE NIT NOTIFIED OF OTHER CO WORKERS HAVING COVID , PUTTING THEM AND THEUR FAMILIES AT RISK .

AUTHOR ALESX BERENSON HAS WRITTEN A BOOKLET FOR KINDKE READERS ABOUT THOUGHTS ON THE HANDLING IF COVID-19. AMAZON REMOVED IT FROM PUBLISHING. NEVER ONE TO NOT WADE IN ON ANY ISSUE EVER, ELON MUSK, YES THE ONE AND THE SAME, ROCKET BILLIONAIRE, CALLED OUT BEZOS ON THIS WHO SAID ITVWA REMOVED IN ERROR, OH OKAY THEN. NOTHING TO SEE HERE, MOVE RIGHT ALONG FOLKS. MUSK IS NOT MOVING ON,IN FACT IS CALLING FOR THE BREAKUP OF AMAZON. JEFF BEZOS. HAS BEEN ATTACKED NUMEROUS TIMES AND EMPLOYEES OVER THE YEARS HAVE AT THE PERIL OF LOSING THEIR JOB, SPOKEN OUT ABOUT THE WORKING CONDITIONS. I BELIEVE THEY ARE ABOUT TO LEASE THEIR COVID EXTRA PAY SOON TOO, UNLESS IT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED. ANYONE GOING TO STOP SHOPPING AT AMAZON? THOUGHTS? HOW DIFFERENTREALKY ARE OTHER PLACES WE SHOP? WE HAVE NO CLUE CREALLY.

online celebrity …

MADAM HAD DONE SOME PRETTY MAJOR STUFF TO HER FACE, OR RATHER HAS HAD DONE. I LOVED THAT COMMENT ABOUT THE HORSES TAIL PONYTAIL🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. INWISH I COULD RECALL WHICH ANON SAID IT SO I COULD GIVE YOU CREDIT. WHEN ONE IS POPULAR ON YOUTUBE, HAS A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF FOLLOWERS AND VIEWS, I DONT KNOW IF THOSE NUMBERS ARE ARBITRARY, BASED ON COUNTRY OR BASED ON VIEWS. HOWEVER THEY ARE CALLED INFLUENCERS. NOWHERE THIS MORE EVIDENT THAN IN THE COSMETICS WORLD. THE BEAUTY INDUSTRY HAS COMPLETELY CHANGED. THEY COLLAB ON MAKEUP WITH INFLUENCERS. SO MANY INDIE BRANDS ARE BREAKING INTO THE WORLD HUGE MONEY MAKERS. A LOT OF THESE INFLUENCERS HAVE GONE ON TO HAVE THEIR OWN COLLECTIONS AKA JEFFREY STARR, JAMES CHARLES ETC ETC. SO IS MADAM FANCYING HERSELF THAT NOW. SPOUTING HER RABID WOKE WORD SALAD ONKINE FOR $$$$$. I COUKD TOTALLY SEE HER DOING THIS. KIDS SHE IS NEVER NOT GOING TO BE IN THE MEDIA,MBRACE YOURSELVES!

“ There here Philip “ …………” one has to distance darlings “ …… “ yes there lovely shoes” ……… “ look Philip, live tic-toc “………” it’s wonderful wonderful “ ………… “amazing, he’s shot up “ ………” shall we have a little refreshments?”

BACK TO WC, THE CAMBRIDGES HAVR ARRIVED IN FULL FOR E. CATHERINE REMINDING THE CHILDREN ABOUT PHYSICAL DISTANCING. IT IS SO HARD IS IT NOT? AT SNY SGE!! HUG DEPRIVED AM l!!. CATHERINE IS WEARING HER NEW RED SHOES AND, NO WAY IN CANADIAN SIZES IS SHE A SIZE TWELVE, MORE LIKE 2LONG. BUT NONETHELESS SHE HAS ON HER NEW OUTFIT SHE WAS CHOOSING IN THE RIDDLE FROM THE OTHER DAY. I WONDER IF THE GOT TALKING ABOUT UHNTS’S CORONATION RUBIED SLIPPERS? OF COURSE, THEY MUST HAVE, THEY ARE WOME!!🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

HMTQ ENCOURAGING HIMSELF TO WATCH THE REA LIFE TIK TOK PERFORMANCES. HIMSELF COMMENTING ON GEORGE OR LOUIS ON HOW MJCH HEVHAS GROWN, LIKELY LOUIS BECAUSE BABIES GROW SO TERRIBLY MUCH. AND ITS BEEN SOMETIME SINCE THEY HAVE BEEN TOGETHER IRL, IN REAL LIFE. AGAIN REFRESHMENTS ON THE WAY.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————-

39. June 6

MM ANON …… the battle of Whitehall ……… agent Provocateurs………new trading …… it’s a Sunday Jim ,but not as we know it ………… social distancing got wet……… antibodies have the answer ……… R is above 1 in the SWest Of England. 😱😱😱😱……… second spike😱😱😱………🎼when I was 65 ,it was a very good year 🎼………… “ look it’s mummies wedding “ ……… “it’s mummy gan gan” ……… “ yes , so pretty the coach “ ………” I want one “ ……… “ one day sweetie, one day” ………” will you come gan gan ? “ ………… “ I’ll try darling “.

*Entertainment Purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 6/2020. RIDDLE #39

the battle of Whitehall ………

THERE WERE PROTEST MARCHES AGAIN TODAY IN CITIES THE WORLD OVER REGARDING BLM AND RACE ISSUES. I HAD BBC WORLD ON THIS MORNING. THEY WERE SAYING THE TWO MAIN CROWDS IN LONDON WERE IN WHITEHALL NEAR PARLIAMENT SQUARE AND THE OTHER WAS AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY. THE CROWD NEAR OR IN PARLIAMENT SQUARE LOOKED MASSIVE.

agent Provocateurs………

THE OTHER DAY WE HAD ONE, NOW IT IS MULTIPLE. VERY INTERESTING. WHO ELSE IS DOING THE SPYING.WE KNOW ITS A STORE BUT THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE UNLESS SOME GOT VANDALIZED.MANY LUXURY STORES HAVE BEEN.

LETS , FOR MY SAKE AT LEAST, LOOK AT THE FULL DEFINITION.

FROM WIKI

An agent provocateur (French for “inciting agent”) is a person who commits or who acts to entice another person to commit an illegal or rash act or falsely implicate them in partaking in an illegal act, so as to ruin the reputation or entice legal action against the target or a group they belong to. They may target any group, such as a peaceful protest or demonstration, a union, a political party or a company.

SO THIS IS VERY RELEVANT TO THE PEACEFUL BLM MARCHES. WE HAVE HEARD OF MANY ORGANIZATIONS THAT DISRUPT THESE PEACEFUL MARCHES CAUSE MAYHEM,DESTRUCTION, LOOTING, VIOLENCE AGAINST THE POLICE OR OTHER PROTESTERS, EVEN MURDER. ANTIFA, ANARCHISTS, AND OTHER GROUPS HAVE BEEN MENTIONED. ALWAYS AT THE G7 AND G20 SUMMITS TOO. THEY VIRTUALLY DESTROYED DOWNTOWN TORONTO BUSINESSES A FEW YEARS AGO DURING ONE IF THE G MEETINGS. ITS DISGUSTING TO CAUSE THIS MAYHEM WHEN THERE ARE GENUINE ISSUES PEOPLE ARE PASSIONATE ABOUT.

new trading ……

THEY HAVE JUST PARTIALLY OPENED MAY 26/2020. SURPRISINGLY STOCKS ARE REBOUNDING. THE UNEMPLOYMENT RATE IN AMERICA ANNOUNCED THIS WEEK HAS LOWERED, TO 13.3 %. 2.5 MILLION NEW JOBS HAVE BEEN CREATED SINCE LAST MONTH. THE ECONOMY IS REBOUNDING QUICKER THAN EXPECTED. OH KIDS THUNDERING LIKE CRAZY HERE.

it’s a Sunday Jim ,but not as we know it …………

AGAIN THE STAR TREK REFERENCE, DR MCCOY TALKING TO CAPTAIN KIRK. MEANING THE HIGHEST RANK IS BEING INFORMED. MIGHT THIS BE LG TALKING WITH HMTQ ABOUT WHATS ON THE DOCKET FOR SUNDAY. MORE PROTESTS ARE PLANNED. ALWAYS THE RISK OF BAD ACTORS CAUSING MAYHEM AND WORSE.HOW LONG WILL THIS CONTINUE?? 2020 THUS FAR HAS BEEN FULL OF UNEXPECTED HORRORS.

social distancing got wet………

DURING TODAYS MARCHES IN LONDON, I SAW VARIOUS PEOPLE BEING INTERVIEWED, IT LOOKED COLD AND RAINY. MANY HAD THEIR HOOD UP WEARING THEIR GORTEX RAIN GEAR. HARD TO SOCIAL DISTANCE IN A CROWD OF THOUSANDS AND THEN RAIN ☔️ TO BOOT.

antibodies have the answer ……… R is above 1 in the SWest Of England. 😱😱😱😱……… second spike😱😱😱………

IN VACCINE DEVELOPMENT THEY USUALLY USE A WEAKENED SAMPLE OF THE VIRUS OR BACTERIA , SO THEY CANNOT REPLICATE THEMSELVES, YET ENOUGH IN THE VACCINE TO TRIGGER IMMUNE RESPONSE TO DEVELOP ANTIBODIES AND THEREFORE ONE WILL DEVELOP A IMMUNITY. THIS IS THE ANSWER TO ANY VACCINE. AS YESTERDAYS RIDDLES CLUE THERE ARE MORE CASES OF COVID-19 IN THE NORTH WEST AND SOUTH WEST OF ENGLAND. THE R RATE BEING ABOVE 1 IS CRITICALLY VERY BAD NEWS INDEED. THIS IS THE HIGHEST SINCE THE PEAK OF PANDEMIC AND LOCAL LEADERS CALLING FOR LOCKDOWNS AGAIN. MATT HANCOCK, IS DOWNPLAYING THIS. I THINK WE ALL FEAR A HUGE TSUNAMI OF A SECOND WAVE. FOR ME, I SEE THESE CROWDS MARCHING IN NYC,NEW YORK WHICH HAS BEEN THE EPICENTRE FOR CASES IN AMERICA. THESE MARCHES ARE MASSIVE RISK FOR VIRUS SPREAD. I FEAR VERY MUCH A SECOND WAVE LARGER THAN HAD PREVIOUSLY BEEN ANTICIPATED. IF WE HAVE TO REVERSE THINGS FOR A SECOND SPIKE AND GO BACK INTO COMPLETE LOCKDOWN AGAIN INFEAR NON COMPLIANCE. 🎼

when I was 65 ,it was a very good year 🎼…………

SONG BY OL BLUE EYES HIMSELF,FRANK SINATRA, IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR. THE AGE 65 IS NOT MENTIONED. HE SINGS ABOUT DIFFERENT PHASES OF LIFE AND EXPERIENCES. THE FINAL VERSE IS THE AUTUMN OF LIFE. SO WHO IS 65? MADAM?🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 WAS SHE BORN IN 1965? THAT WOULD MAKE HER 52! HIMSELF IS TURNING 99 NEXT WEEK IS THIS REFERENCING HIS LONG LIFE OF EXPERIENCES?

“ look it’s mummies wedding “ ……… “it’s mummy gan gan” ……… “ yes , so pretty the coach “ ………” I want one “ ……… “ one day sweetie, one day” ………” will you come gan gan ? “ ………… “ I’ll try darling “.

MORE FUN AT WC. THEY MUST BE WATCHING WILLIAM AND CATHERINE’S WEDDING 📀 DVD, HOW LOVELY. POINTING OUT MUMMY TO GAN GAN, HMTQ, AS THEY RIDE THROUGH THE STREES IN HORSES AND CARRIAGE. HOW WONDERFUL WAS THAT WEDDING EH?? AND OF COURSE OUR CHARLOTTE WANTS A WEDDING LIKE THAT ABD MOST DEFINITELY WANTS GAN GAN TO BE THERE. HMTQ PROMISES TO TRY HER BEST TO BE THERE. HOW CHARMING AND HEARTWARMING. I HAVE TEARS ABOUT THIS, WITHOUT SAYING MORE.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

40. June 8

MM ANON ……who’s her next favourite millionaire ……… Malibu?? ……… NYC??……… another sad video cry for help ……… archificial ( firsts words) 🤣🤣🤣………… mad / bad & dangerous to know ……… “ it’s me, me film me!! ………… “ turn around!! “ ……… “ he’s not letting her agenda rule” ………” this is not up for debate “………… “yes ones looking forward to traveling up there “ ………” get in touch with the Gillie” …………… “ can one travel to ones other residence?

SORRY I JUST COUKD T GET TO THIS ONE. THANK YOU DEAR LADYKINRANNOCH FABULOUS AS ALWAYS

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————-

41. June 8

MM ANON ……D.O.J.……… A Stern retort. ………… the sept. Soothsayer ……… A 14 day suicide for the trade………… in court today ……… Beatrice tooo tu!! …………… wonderful Wessex……… more photos from Kate??? ……… no fuss birthday ………… “ shall one suggest a gathering of 8 .” ………” no, silly’ Balmoral?? ……… MM desperatum iri videbatur……

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 8/20. RIDDLE #41

SORRY KIDS I MISSED YESTERDAY’S RIDDLES AND THIS IS FAR FROM MY BEST. I AM NOT FEELING WELL, AND AM SO VERY VERY TIRED.

D.O.J.……… A STERN RETORT…IN COURT TODAY

PAPERS AGAIN BRINGING UP PRINCE ANDREW AND THE DOJ/FBI IN AMERICA. DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE AND FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. HE STATES HE HAS OFFERED THREE SEPARATE TIME TO ANSWER QUESTIONS, YET THEY HAVE NOT TAKEN HIM UP ON IT. THE F.B. I. IS IN A WORLD OF HURT NOW WITH THE CURRENT INQUIRY GOING ON INTOTHE FISA WARRANTS THAT WASTHE GENESIS OF THE RUSSIA INVESTIGATION AND THE MUELLER PROBE. PA IS SAYING THEY ARE NOT TREATING HIM LIKE ANY USUAL WITNESS, INDEED LIKE A SECOND CLASS CITIZEN.

THEY HAVE CLAPPED BACK, HENCE STERN RETORT OR REPLY, THAT HE HAS BOT BEEN COOPERATIVE WITH US INVESTIGATORS. THIS ARISE AFTER THE DOJ HAS FILE IN COURT FOR “MUTUAL LEGAL ASSISTANCE REQUESTING HELP FROM THE UK HOME OFFICE.

PA LEGAL OFFICE, BLACKFORDS, HAS THIS AFTERNOON RELEASED A LENGTHLY STATEMENT, POINT, BY POINT. I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU TAKE A LOOK AT. INTERESTING WHY IS THIS COMING UP NOW? HERE IS THE ARTICLE SHOULD YOU WAISH TO READ IN FULL.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8398957/Prince-Andrew-war-Jeffrey-Epstein-prosecutors.html

the sept. Soothsayer ………

SOOTHSAYER IS A SEER, A PREDICTOR, VISIONS. SOMEONE PREDICTING MORE 2039 DISASTER?? CERTAINLY THE FEAR OF A MASSIVE SECOND WAVE, LARGER THAN THE GIRST COMING IN. THE AUTUMN MONTHS ALONG WITH THE USUAL AND FLU SEASONS.

A 14 day suicide for the trade…………

BACK IN RHE BIG STOCK MARKET CRASH ON 1929! MANY BROKERS SUICIDED. IS THIS THE PREDICTION NOW FOR THE MARKETS? THE AMERICAN ECONOMIC NEWS LOOKED BRIGHTER LAST WEEK. HOWEVER THE PROTESTS ARE CONTINUING, GETTING BIGGER, SPREAD ACROSS THE GLOBE. I MUST SAY, I AM GLAD MY PARENTS ARE NOT ALIVE TO SEE THIS AND SEE A STATUE OF WINSTON CHURCHILL SPRAYED OVER. WONDER WHAT THE SURVIVING VETERANS THINK. I WONDER WHAT THE HOLOCAUST SURVIVUORS THINK. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO OUR WORLD IS EVIL, SATAN IS WORKING VERY HARD.

14 DAY SUICIDE FOR WHAT TRADE? WHAT SUICIDE TAKES 14 DAYS? POISON? WHAT IS BEING TRADED? MORE FREEDOM, EASING LOCKDOWNS , LEADING TO AN UPTICK IN CASES OF COVD-19. ARE WE LITERALLY GOING TO LOSE LIVES SO SOME CAN HAVE MORE FREDOM, THE EC9NONMY CAN BEGIN TO RUN. I DARESAY THIS LOCKDOWN HAS RESULTED IN MANY DEATHS ALREADY. MISSED TESTSM NISSED SURGERIES, MISSED TREATMENTS, LOSS OF INCOME, DEPRESSION, MARKED INCREASE IN DOMESTIC VIOLENCE RATES.

Beatrice tooo tu!! ……………

HOW CUTE WAS PRINCESS BEATRICE IS HER TUTU, RAISING MONEY FOR CATERPILLARRUN.COM. FUNNY HOW NEONS ARE SO BACK NOW LIKE THE EARLY 90’S

wonderful Wessex………

THE COUNTESS OF WESSEX, SOPHIE, WORKS SO HARD. VARIED CAUSES FROM RAPPELLING A WALL WITH SOLDIERS IN KOSOVO, TO SPEAKING AT THE UN ON WOMENS ISSUES AND ON AND ON. SHE TRULY IS A TREASURE.

more photos from Kate??? ………

IS CATHERINE RELEASING MORE OF HER PHOTOS? SOME OF THE CHILDREN OR ONE OF A SURPRISE BUMP? SORRY I AM BUMP OBSESSED.

no fuss birthday …………

“ shall one suggest a gathering of 8 .” ………” no, silly’ Balmoral?? ………

HMTQ DISCUSSING HER BIRTHDAY DINNER. AS SHE IN CONTINUING THE PLANS OF HEADING NORTH TO BALMORAL IN SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿, AS SHE DOES EACH SUMMER. THE GILLIES BALL IS A TRADITION WITH THE FISHERMEN DANCING WITH ROYALTY. I THINK THIS YEAR, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN UNFORTUNATELY. IT WILL BE A PARED DOWN SMALL DINNER.

MM desperatum iri videbatur…

MADAM IS SEEMINGLY IN A VERY DESPERATE SITUATION INDEED. WITH HER THOUGH, NOTHING IS EVER EVER AS IT APPEARS TO BE EVER!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

42. June 9

MM ANON ……… everyone and their brother,brother ……… wow!! What a photo Kate!!…………… little Louis gets a surprise …………… a well rounded future of three( four) ……… A birthday tic-toc dance………… “ do Catherine , come and bring the children “………… “maybe a change of routine “………… “ Both of you are an example hope”……… “ yes George,I’ll see if we can get to a match”

*Entertainment Purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 9/2020. RIDDLE #42

THIS IS A PURE FUN RIDDLE, THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON, I HAVE SO LITTLE ENERGY BUT THIS I SHALL DO WITH PURE LOVE.

THIS RIDDLE IS ENTIRELY FAMILY, HMTQ BIRTHDAY PLANS.

everyone and their brother,brother ………

SO YESTERDAY THEY WERE SAYING A DINNER OF EIGHT. AT BALMORAL. LIMITS THERE ARE EIGHT I BELIEVE, I ALSO BELIEVE HMTQ CAN BEND THE RULES. THE PHRASE, EVERYBODY ABD THEIR BROTHER IS COMING, MEANS A HECK OF A LOT OF PEOPLE. I SEE THIS MEANING OUR HARRY WILL MOST DEFINITELY BE IN ATTENDANCE 💜💜💜💜💜

wow!! What a photo Kate!!……………

TOWN AND COUNTRY REVEAL A NEW PHOTO, OR PREVIOUSLY UNSEEN PHOTO OF WILLIAM HOLDING AN UMBRELLA WALKING WITH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE DURING THE TIME THEY WERE OUT DELIVERING HOME MADE PASTA. OF INTEREST THE PHOTO IS TAKE FROM THE BACK. I WINDER IF THIS REFERS TO A NEW PHOTO GIVEN THE TWO EXCLAMATION MARKS.

little Louis gets a surprise ……………

HAVE THEY TOLD LITTLE LOUIS THAT HE SHALL SOON BE A BIG BROTHER?? I AM TOTALLY ALL IN ON BABY NUMBER FOUR. I KNOW I WAS ALL IN BACK IN NOVEMBER BUT I STILL AM. THE CLUES POINT TO IT.

a well rounded future of three( four) ………

AHA ANOTHER IN YOUR FACE CLUE. CATHERINE’S TUMMY HAS ROUNDED, I WONDER IF THAT IS THE OHOTO SPOKEN OF, A SELF PORTRAIT OF HER AND HER BABY BUMP. YEP NUMBER FOUR IS BREWING AWAY. WE HAVE ONKY SEEN HER FOR WEEKS FROM NECK UP. THE LAST TIME WE SAW HER WAS THE HONOURING NHS CLAPPING PHOTO TAKEN AT AMNER HALL.

A birthday tic-toc dance………… “ do Catherine , come and bring the children “………… “maybe a change of routine “………… “ Both of you are an example hope”……… “ yes George,I’ll see if we can get to a match”

BIRTHDAY TIK TOK DANCE FOR GAN GAN. HMTQ WANTS CATHERINE AND THE CHILDREN FOR SURE TO COME UP TO BALMORAL AS WELL. SAYING NICE CHANGE IN ROUTINE. HMTQ COMMENDING CATHERINE ON THE WORK SHE AND WILLIAM ARE DOING. WILLIAM IS ANSWERING GEORGE WHO WANTS SOME FOOTBALL.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[princelockedinatower]

Peppermint

The dark streets aren't a place for anyone or anything at night, that is... except for the ones who have no place within the light to begin with. 

I and the others I am meeting are the exception. 

I waltz down the carriage lanes of this old sleepy town in my favorite dark jeans and a black knitted sweater, a forest green cloak draped over me with the hood down, catching wisps of dark figures in the corners of my eyes. These creatures are not quite of this world, nor is the figure, visible only by the translucent outlines of white waltzing along with me tonight. The common folk need not fear these creatures, unless you know they exist they are impartial. Then even if you do, leaving out some seeds and honey as an offering will keep you from harm, give them blueberry tea if you want some good luck. 

Tonight I climb the hill just beyond the old yew tree the fae adore and that everyone refuses to cut down least they fear a despicable end. No one besides me and a few others dare to climb it at night, they say strange things happen there, dark figures prowling about almost like regular animals, yet their limbs too long and narly. When climbing you’ll get an ice chill down your spine, a sinking feeling in your gut and the one clear thought you can manage out is something along the lines of: I should not be here. 

The way I and the other I am meeting ward this off is by leaving generous offerings before we ascend. I find McDonald's fries generally please them, so arriving at the foot I leave four extra large fries and a pack of chicken nuggets, right beside my coven’s other offerings. I can see no figures awaiting me from where I stand, a bad sign usually but I start up the hill against my better judgment. 

Reaching the top, my calves are burning, the trek never gets easier. I lean down to massage my right calf, my dyed red hair falling around me and pale skin a sharp contrast in the full moon’s light. As my hood falls over my eyes I spot two figures lying on the ground, one covered with a light blue cloak, dark tightly braided hair and face peeking out, the other a maroon cloak and a hot pink dress. 

I address the girl with the maroon cloak first “You hiked this thing in heels? What are you? Cat woman girl?” I ask rummaging through my bag for my supplies. 

Bonita laughs “You wish hun, got your supplies?” she says sitting up elbowing Makena. 

I nod, both of them standing and whipping out their supplies from their own bags. 

We start to set up the temporary alter as Makena speaks, getting our attention “Bonita, Roxy-” she hesitates on her next words, half way done her particular task to set up “This might be the last time we pray and do a spell together, you know, with all of us off to college in a few weeks,” she says, her voice wavering a bit while fiddling with her long curly hair. 

Bonita’s eyebrows shoot up and she makes a face before chuckling “If you’re implying that we’re gonna grow apart sweetie while we’re in college you better evaluate dear Roxy’s OCD level schedule of communication and visits,” 

Makena blushes and shrinks but laughs with us at my expense. 

We make short work of setting up the rest of the altar and preparing to pray. 

Tonight I’m going to pray to Sarasvati for help forming and performing my Valedictorian speech, something I desperately need. I’ve been rewriting it for a week now and still haven’t made any headway. I also need to pray to my main hoe Soma to make Grad amazing and Dhat to bless the spell we’re about to do. I’m not sure what Bonita and Makena pray about, or who to, guess I never really asked. Regardless we each get into our preferred positions and pray to whichever gods and goddesses we choose about whichever we want. 

The graduation ceremony took place in pitch black, the sun already set, small shifts of movement coming from the rows of seats and the rafters, family and supporters brought together alive and passed, human and not. The only light coming from the spotlights on the stage as Principle Chiba gave an inspirational and touching speech that moved everyone here. Applause began and continued as I replaced Mr. Chiba at the podium, soon it died down and I spoke a silent prayer I would do well before I began.

“Fellow classmates, graduates of 2018, I will not bore you with a lengthy speech going on about things that don’t matter, we all have better things to do. Instead I will give you some words of advice given to me by someone I miss dearly, who has gone on to University in a very far away place yet I remain close to. That advice is to simply, remember to call. Call to say how beautiful the leaves are on the trees outside your dorm window. Call to ask how they’re doing. Call to just say I miss you. Call to make them open their bedroom window because they’re home for the Holidays and you’re outside freezing, 20 ft up in the air on a tree and regretting every life choice you’ve made up to that point. So call, it keeps you close to those you care about. Thank you.” 

I don’t think we called enough. 

Sitting here, awkwardly in this cafe we used to come to in high school when conversation just flowed, I wonder what went wrong. I know we didn’t follow the schedule, school and life got in the way, but… that shouldn’t stop us from reconnecting.

“So, any special someone in your guys lives?” I ask, a small forced and nervous smile on display as I grasp my mug. 

My sister Sofia shoots me a sarcastic thumbs up. I’m tempted to flip her off. 

Bonita nods “Their name’s Avery, they’re pretty nice,” she says looking down into her mug.

“I’m not seeing anyone right now actually,” Makena says, taking a bite of her pastry. 

I nod my head, this is not going well “That’s nice,” I take a sip from my mug, racking my brain to come up with something to start a decent conversation. 

Makena pretends to get a text and looks at her phone “Sorry guys, it’s been fun but my mom wants me home to make sugar cookies, see you later!” she says practically sprinting from the table.

I know she was pretending because she always has her ringer on, in high school it used to get her into so much trouble. 

I remember when it went off in the middle of a lock down drill, school took it away for three days, and like any teenagers would we concocted elaborate schemes to get her phone back. None of them worked of course, including the one where Bonita tried to tell the receptionist she was Makena was mom, but we had fun nonetheless. 

“I should actually go too, I got some stuff that I need to attend to,” Bonita says laughing half halfheartedly.

I nod and watch her awkwardly leave. Letting out a defeated sigh I let my head fall into my arms. Why was talking to them after a year so hard?

“You ok?” my sister asks, sitting down across from me. 

The phase sent me over the edge, tears started spilling into my cardigan then running down my cheeks as I lifted my head. Unable to speak, I shake my head. 

She grabs a tissue from her bag and hands it to me “You know you could always try doing something you guys used to do back in high school together,” she suggests sipping her drink.

I sniffled “I don’t know, I noticed Bonita wearing a cross and Makena started wearing a hijab,” I used the tissue to wipe away the tears “They’ve changed a lot…”

My sister nods “Sorry I’m not more help…” 

“It’s ok, they’re allowed to change it’s just I didn’t expect them to so much,” I say, my phone starting to vibrate. 

It’s Vincent, one of my new friends from Uni, I answer it “Hey tic tac, whatcha need?”

He laughs “Nothing, just want to know how the old reunion is going,”

“Not well, but I know that’s not why you’re calling, what did you do this time?”

“Can’t a friend bug another friend anymore? And besides it’s not me, it’s your roommate, apparently she accidentally turned your sheets orange when washing them,” 

I chuckle, and rub my face “How bad is it?”

“Bad, very bad, looks like leftover prison suit material was used, then bleached in some places,” 

I laugh genuinely “I’ll be sure to pick up new ones when I get back then,” 

“Good, those sheets have seen better days. What’s up with your friends? Thought you were really excited to see them,”

“Well, I was, but… they’ve changed a lot. They’re not the people I used to know back in high school and I don’t know how to reconnect with them,” 

Vincent sighs “You’re not gonna like what I have to say about this but you need to hear it,-” he pauses and I scrunch up my face. What could he possibly have to say that I wouldn’t like? “-Sometimes, through no fault of anyone involved, relationships just… don’t last,”

I blank for a second, shocked he’d even say something like that. “What the hell? What am I-” 

“You didn’t let me finish!” he interrupts his voice weakly raising an octave. I huff but let him continue“Sometimes they don’t last because people just change too much, and that’s no one fault, people need to change so they can grow. And sometimes that means you change so much people lose connection because there’s nothing to connect with. That doesn’t make sense, umm, ok, take two people at the start of a relationship. They both love to… drink coffee so every day they go out to drink coffee,”

I chuckle a little raising an eyebrow “Coffee? That’s the best you can come up with?”

He shushes me playfully “Anyways, so a little later in this friendship one decides to give up coffee due to Insert Reason Here and they stop hanging out as often. Since their entire relationship is based on coffee and now that’s been taken away, they don’t have anything in common. They drift apart and remember each other as a good friend they had,”

I nod and ponder what he said “So… people can just drift apart? In that situation aren’t you supposed to try to make new common interests?” 

“Yah, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen for whatever reason and that’s where my wisdom comes in!” I can feel his overblown and ridiculously camera smile of annoyance from the other side of the country.

“I’m throwing a pillow at you when I get back,” I say going to hang up, his laughter ringing out. 

My sister’s nowhere to be seen, probably went to the washroom. I remain sitting, my drink all gone and the sun dipping down to paint everything a nice shade of orange. 

I wonder if Vincent had a point. I had tried to reconnect with my friends, but they just… were too changed from when I knew them… I could keep trying, but how many times would I sit through awkward conversations that lead nowhere before we reconnected or they started making up excuses not to come? 

I sigh out loud and play with my empty cup. Why do people and relationships have to be so difficult? 

I realize Vincent’s right… Why for the love of the gods does Vincent have to be right this one time? 

Sighing again I begrudgingly move up my flight up to this Thursday, two days from now. My parents moved after I graduated high school and my sister was seeing her friends so it wasn’t like it was an inconvenience to anyone. 

My sister reappears and sits down “Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt your phone call, had to go to the washroom,” 

“That’s ok, I was just about to leave, -” I stand up and hesitate to continue “-I also moved up my flight to this Thursday…”

“You sure? Shouldn’t you try to reconnect a little harder?” she asks, walking with me to the door.

I sigh “Yes, sometimes people just grow apart and despite their best efforts they just don’t recover,” I mentally kick myself for quoting Vincent, the jerk would never let me live it down. I grab a peppermint from the little bowl as we exit and pop it in my mouth.

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.” she comments getting in her rental car “Want me to drive you to the airport?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I say with a sad smile. 

Watching her drive off and getting into my car, I feel my heart droop, finally realizing that was the last time I’d probably see my old friends again but, I also feel like a sense of dread has been scrubbed off of me. 

[onewhoturns]

six sentence sunday 9/1

(I lied, it’s not six sentences, it’s my excuse to post the beginning of the bartender au so FUCK IT HERE WE GO)

It’s half past 1 on a Saturday night. Technically, Alex should still be on shift at The Island. Instead, she’s waiting outside a dive called the Kanaloa, phone in hand, combat-booted foot propped against the brick wall behind her. Somehow she gets away with not wearing heels to work. The waitresses have to wear them, but Alex is behind the bar and, therefore, no one sees her feet. Ergo, no heels required.

(Or so she argued to her employers, and they accepted because no one really wants to face repercussions for a sexist dress code, and technically there may have also been some legal issues around appropriate footwear for dealing with breakable glass. Either way, she won.) 

“Alex!” 

Blue hair is blown out of her face with a little puff as she slips her cell into her pocket, grinning at the approaching duo before Ren already has his arms around her. 

“Thought you were gonna go pink?” Her oldest friend tugs at a loose strand of hair, sharing her grin. 

“Thought you were gonna go vegan?” She smirks, smacking him upside the head. 

“Ow! And yeah, I did. Briefly.”

Alex laughs and hugs his companion. “Hey, Nona.”

“Hey Alex.”

“So, Miss Night Owl finally managed to make some time for us, huh?” Ren is giving her a hard time again. Par for the course. She doesn’t mind it. 

“Look, when you guys are only free on the weekend and I’m working 8-4… Or if I’m picking up an extra half-day? I mean, no offense, but I’m not gonna wake up at 11 just so we can grab brunch,” she scoffs. 

“Oh, like you’re so much better than brunch.” 

“Keep your avocado toast, hipster. If I ever get roped into brunching, it’ll only be for bottomless Bloody Marys.” 

“Or mimosas,” Nona pipes up, helpfully. 

“Yes, exactly Nona. Mimosas will also do, thank you.” Alex gestures to Ren’s girlfriend, giving him a see, I told you, kind of look. He just snorts. 

“So, why aren’t we meeting at your place?” Ren is actually holding the door for her. Obviously, Nona has gradually trained him into manners. Good for her. Only took, what, eight, ten years of on-again off-again highschool sweetheartdom to get him there?

Nona goes in first, and as Alex passes she makes a gesture at Ren, mouthing ‘whipped.’ It’s good for him, though. Nona’s the calm anchor to his frenetic hyperactivity. And beneath all her jibes and smirking, she’s really happy for him. They finally seem to be taking things seriously. Years of starting and stopping for school, of phone calls at 2am because there’s a guy on her Instagram, are they dating? Is she dating someone? (You’re not actually together right now, Ren. YEAH but I LOVE her!, etc) -- finally, they’re living in the same city again. And have actually moved in together. Or-- well, that was actually probably a year ago, now. They’d settled in Seattle and she… had yet to make the trip. Whoops. But luckily they came here!

“It’s called the Kanaloa! Like the thing on Edwards Island, right? A throwback to Camena! Besides, I wanted to spare you the herpes,” she tosses the comment over her shoulder, overtaking Nona to lead the way to a booth in the corner. The place is a classic dive: dart boards, pool tables, smoke somehow always hanging in the air even though no one has smoked in a bar in… years. An actual honest-to-god jukebox. It’s a shame the place is kinda dying out. Ah well, shit happens. Gotta keep with the times. 

Nona snorts a laugh (ah yes, the training has gone both ways), and Ren smirks. “What a way to talk about your workplace, Al-”

“Oh shut up,” she punches him in the arm. “I meant this.” She gestures to the glitter clinging to her skin -- her shoulders, her cheeks, her cleavage (because of course there’s cleavage, she’s a bartender at a club for god’s sake, how else would she get tips? People like some skin and being given just enough of a hard time. She’s not gonna deny them that if it pays her rent). “It’s go-go night for the month, and they just love the stuff.” She’d have it in her hair for at least three more days. 

There’s half a second’s pause before she turns narrowed eyes on Ren again. “Wait, are you saying you think I wear this on a regular basis?” Admittedly, yes, the shirt is one of her favorites, but the pink and white PVC skirt? Yeah no. Never. It is reserved specifically for go-go night and only go-go night. She bought it as a joke at a thrift store and ended up using it in a Slutty Power Rangers Halloween costume (college, don’t ask) and it sat in her closet for months before the Island became a gig, and go-go night became a thing, and… Well. The rest is history?

“I never see you,” Ren whines. “And all your photos are of, like, cocktails and puns. How am I supposed to know?”

Alex rolls her eyes but - fair. “Well. You’re here now. So let’s have a drink and catch up, mkay? I’m technically supposed to be back on shift in like an hour, but Mick said she’d cover me and-- well, if you want, I can probably sneak you guys in if you wanna crash some poor fuck’s party on the floor. There’s enough noise and flashing lights that you can just commando right in there.” She already knows the answer. Ren, of course, is intrigued because he might have had that phase in college of going to raves and taking too much Molly and… yikes. Nona - ever reasonable - is already grimacing at the idea of a club at 2am. 

Ren turns his bright-eyed hopeful look to Nona, then smiles ruefully. “We’re probably gonna pass.”

“Should you be drinking mid-shift?”

Alex scoffs. “I drink on shift. I’m running at like BAC .02 most of the night,” she jokes. 

Nona looks troubled, and Alex quickly walks it back. “Kidding. I don’t drink much outside of work, okay? It’s not-- I’m not just spending all day drinking. It’s just part of the job.” And daytime is for sleeping, anyway. And laundry. And running Postmates. And checking Craigslist. You do things to make ends meet, right?

She doesn’t like the look Ren and Nona are exchanging. It’s that we need to talk about Alex look. She got that a lot at the end of senior year, when she was spending more time tagging along with anyone else than talking with her own family. She got that the first time she dropped out (for like one semester! One measly semester! She made up for it in a summer term, God, calm down). It makes her mouth sour, and she immediately tries to smooth it over. 

“Look, I’m sorry you guys came all the way down here just for a couple hours. We can…” She grits her teeth and tries not to grimace. “We can get together tomorrow before my shift.” 

“For…” Ren has cast aside the worried look in favor of one more amused, watching her jaw tic.

“For…” It takes everything in her not to scoff. “...brunch,” she grumbles. As soon as it’s out of her, Ren is laughing out loud and she sticks out her tongue like it’s covered in something disgusting. “Ugh, God, can’t I just get you guys some drinks instead?”

Nona shoots another look at Ren, and it’s another one she’s seen too often. The do you make enough to be treating us, two full-time Adult Employed People, to drinks? look. 

She huffs out a laugh. “Oh my God, calm down. I got this.”

-

(Oh hey look, here’s an aesthetic board for this that gives some more story) (And look at that, we’re posting it on AO3)

[hallucinosims]

Hi here’s the get to know me tag let’s get to knowing

I was tagged in this by @gunthermunch

125 questions under the cut, if you do decide to read i suggest getting a snack first

I tag @emovatore @humanitys-shortest @liliithvatore if you haven’t done it yet

1. WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME? Elio

2. WHAT IS YOUR NICKNAME? Lee and Leo are the go-tos in real life but I get called Hall on here and I think that’s a rad nickname too

3. BIRTHDAY? Feb 5th

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BOOK SERIES? I am a slut for the Percy Jackson series and Leo Valdez was one of the reasons why I started going by Leo more often then my full name

5. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ALIENS OR GHOSTS? Yes yes absolutely yes. One, earth really can’t be the only planet in a universe with infinite possibilities to have life on it, you know? And ghosts is more like a spirit thing.

6. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE AUTHOR? oooh fuck me up this is a hard one uhhhhhh Classic author probably Edgar Allen Poe but Contempoary I’d say Tony Kushner

7. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE RADIO STATION? the Musical Theatre station

8. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ANYTHING? I don’t really like... food. I don’t enjoy it. But I guess I like savory over sweet

9. WHAT WORD WOULD YOU USE OFTEN TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING GREAT OR WONDERFUL? neat

10. WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT FAVORITE SONG? Liar by Queen or Greek God by Conan Gray

11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE WORD? I-Cunt-tic, pronounced like iconic but... you know

12. WHAT WAS THE LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO? Please Never Fall in love again Ollie MN

13. WHAT TV SHOW WOULD YOU RECOMMEND FOR EVERYBODY TO WATCH? Kidding, that Jim Carrey tv show that premiered this year. Beautifully edited and told story

14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE TO WATCH WHEN YOU’RE FEELING DOWN? I’ve seen Bohemian Rhapsody 6 times this month alone so probably that on wards

15. DO YOU PLAY VIDEO GAMES? yes

16. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR? dying in the same place i was born

17. WHAT IS YOUR BEST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? my empathy

18. WHAT IS YOUR WORST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? the depression (tm) 

19. DO YOU LIKE CATS OR DOGS BETTER? idk, i’m not really an animal person

20. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? fall

21. ARE YOU IN A RELATIONSHIP? nah

22. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU MISS FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD? playing in the ika playscape

23. WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND? i have quite a few best friends but when im at school/work then my good friend Julio

24. WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR? a very doe eyed dark brown

25. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR? i re-dyed my hair black recently so let’s go with that

26. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU LOVE? my mom

27. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU TRUST? my dad

28. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN? myself

29. ARE YOU CURRENTLY EXCITED ABOUT/FOR SOMETHING? going to denmark to be a farm gay on my semester off

30. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST OBSESSION? currently Sims, Queen, and Falsettos (the musical)

31. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW AS A CHILD? i didn’t have cable but there is no way in hell i’m saying cyberchase so, Mia and Miguel

32. WHO OF THE OPPOSITE GENDER CAN YOU TELL ANYTHING TO, IF ANYONE? Julio

33. ARE YOU SUPERSTITIOUS? very

34. DO YOU HAVE ANY UNUSUAL PHOBIAS? none that i can think of

35. DO YOU PREFER TO BE IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA OR BEHIND IT?i actually really enjoy both

36. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HOBBY? sims

37. WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? True West, it’s a really good play

38. WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? ...Bohemian Rhapsody for the 6th time

39. WHAT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? most stringed instruments i can figure out pretty quickly but i’m best at guitar and piano

40. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL? humans

41. WHAT ARE YOUR TOP 5 FAVORITE TUMBLR BLOGS THAT YOU FOLLOW? i follow over 5k people i don’t even know who i follow

42. WHAT SUPERPOWER DO YOU WISH YOU HAD? basically Kirby. I want the power to take others powers

43. WHEN AND WHERE DO YOU FEEL MOST AT PEACE? in michigan on rainy afternoons in my bunk bed with my laptop on my lap. Or like, the floor of a bookstore

44. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE? loaded question

45. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? I used to do competitve dance, competitve cheer, biking, and volleyball

46. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DRINK? watah

47. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A HAND-WRITTEN LETTER OR NOTE TO SOMEBODY? like a week ago to my grandma, she likes getting post cards in the mail

48. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? i used to be. not so much anymore

49. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? people who saunter. We got places to be fellas

50. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO A CONCERT? yup!

51. ARE YOU VEGAN/VEGETARIAN? i’m to anemic to be either 

52. WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE, WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GREW UP? a performer

53. WHAT FICTIONAL WORLD WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE IN? i’m actually not to into media that take place in other... wait i take it back i wanna live in Hobbiton

54. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU WORRY ABOUT? breathing

55. ARE YOU SCARED OF THE DARK? ehh sometimes

56. DO YOU LIKE TO SING? It’s a part of my career so hopefully

57. HAVE YOU EVER SKIPPED SCHOOL? i’m skippin school rn

58. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE ON THE PLANET? manhattan Lower East Side

59. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE? Manhattan’s Lower East Side. I live in the Upper West Side right now and it’s aight but it’s not the LES

60. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? nope

61. ARE YOU MORE OF AN EARLY BIRD OR A NIGHT OWL? i just dont sleep

62. DO YOU LIKE SUNRISES OR SUNSETS BETTER?sunrises

63. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIVE? nah

64. DO YOU PREFER EARBUDS OR HEADPHONES? earbuds

65. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES? yee

66. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC? anything

67. WHO IS YOUR HERO? Tony Kushner

68. DO YOU READ COMIC BOOKS? yee and before you ask my fave is Deadpool

69. WHAT MAKES YOU THE MOST ANGRY? when people be on some bullshit

70. DO YOU PREFER TO READ ON AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE OR WITH A REAL BOOK? real book

71. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? IN High School I loved history

72. DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS? one sister who is ten years older than I am

73. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT? ... iced coffee despite it being 30 degrees out

74. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5′3

75. CAN YOU COOK? I’d like to think so. Wish I had a oven tho

76. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU LOVE? music, my family (sometimes) I’m trying to love myself so let’s throow that one in there

77. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU HATE? people who stroll/saunter, when people are on their bullshit, dark chocolate

78. DO YOU HAVE MORE FEMALE FRIENDS OR MORE MALE FRIENDS? male “friends”. But, I know a lot more girls that I keep up with more often.

79. WHAT IS YOUR SEXUAL ORIENTATION? lesbian

80. WHERE DO YOU CURRENTLY LIVE? Manhattan, Upper West Side

81. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TEXTED? Me mam

82. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Thursday in my Theatre class but we were all crying so i’ll let it slide

83. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE YOUTUBER? i don’t really watch anyone consistently

84. DO YOU LIKE TO TAKE SELFIES? i do

85. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE APP? tinder

86. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR PARENT(S) LIKE? prety solid i love them both even if my mom hates my sexuality and threatened locking me at home when i came out to herelol

87. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOREIGN ACCENT? italian

88. WHAT IS A PLACE THAT YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO, BUT YOU WANT TO VISIT?Copenhagen! I’ve wanted to go to Denmark since I was ten

89. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 7

90. CAN YOU JUGGLE? Nah son

91. ARE YOU RELIGIOUS? defenitly a lot less than my story style insists lol. I do believe in God tho

92. DO YOU FIND OUTER SPACE OR THE DEEP OCEAN TO BE MORE INTERESTING? LOADED QUESTION BECAUSE I WANNA EXPLORE BOTH 

93. DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF TO BE A DAREDEVIL? ehhhhhhhh no

94. ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING? strawberries and some medicine that i can’t remember the name of

95. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? yes i’m a lesbian it’s what we do

96. CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR EARS? nah

97. HOW OFTEN DO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU WERE WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING? Literally anytime i’m wrong about soomething. I love being exposed, put in my place, roasted.

98. DO YOU PREFER THE FOREST OR THE BEACH? Forest so I can find my mans... my MOTH mans

99. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE OF ADVICE THAT ANYONE HAS EVER GIVEN YOU? you know what you want, don’t let your concerns get in the way of your ambitions

100. ARE YOU A GOOD LIAR? Yes

101. WHAT IS YOUR HOGWARTS HOUSE? Ravenclaw

102. DO YOU TALK TO YOURSELF? Deadass I talk to myself more often than otherpeople

103. ARE YOU AN INTROVERT OR AN EXTROVERT? introverted

104. DO YOU KEEP A JOURNAL/DIARY? yee

105. DO YOU BELIEVE IN SECOND CHANCES? I give everyone I can think of second chances because i’m a forgiving sone of a bitch and yet they continue TO BE ON SOME BULLSHIT

106. IF YOU FOUND A WALLET FULL OF MONEY ON THE GROUND, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? THat be mine i may be forgiving by moral compass be broke as hell and I haven’t eaten in like 3 days because i’m so broke

107. DO YOU BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF CHANGE? When I’m answering this question for a job application i sure do

108. ARE YOU TICKLISH? tragicallu

109. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A PLANE? yes

110. DO YOU HAVE ANY PIERCINGS? i have 5 holes in my ears and a nostreil piercing

111. WHAT FICTIONAL CHARACTER DO YOU WISH WAS REAL? Mark Cohen or LEO VALDEZ

112. DO YOU HAVE ANY TATTOOS? yes 2, one chest, one forearm. But that’s only because I don’t have money i need more

113. WHAT IS THE BEST DECISION THAT YOU’VE MADE IN YOUR LIFE SO FAR? move to new york

114. DO YOU BELIEVE IN KARMA? yes and she’s a bitch

115. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES OR CONTACTS? both

116. DO YOU WANT CHILDREN? eventually I feel like I would make a pretty solid kid

117. WHO IS THE SMARTEST PERSON YOU KNOW? my dad

118. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING MEMORY? Being high for three days straight

119. HAVE YOU EVER PULLED AN ALL-NIGHTER? i just finished pulling one

120. WHAT COLOR ARE MOST OF YOU CLOTHES? black as you can see by my simself  i really do dress pretty much only in black because i aged poorly out of my goth phase

121. DO YOU LIKE ADVENTURES? yeeee

122. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON TV? Yep, Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, Trade Show stuff, probably for school or local news a few times

123. HOW OLD ARE YOU? 18

124. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE QUOTE? Know in your soul like your blood knows the way from your heart to your brain, know that you’re whole. - HEdwig and the Angry Inch

125. DO YOU PREFER SWEET OR SAVORY FOODS? This is a really boring last question but savory but if you made it this far i’ll expose myself a little more. I’m black and Jewish, I go to a performing arts Conservatory, and this took me so long to answer because I hooked up with someone in Brooklyn last night and i had trouble getting back to my dorm.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Chapter 6; Preparing for war

Finally I have some time to post up some more chapters of Bad wolf in Civil War. I’m coming down to the wire with finishing my first semester of college so for anyone who has finals coming up in the next couple weeks I wish you ALL luck, even though I’m not taking exams, I’m still doing papers that count as my finals and THAT takes a LOT out of me so pray for me. Anyways hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)

______________________________________________________

“Nice to see you too old man, but shouldn’t you be retired?”

“Yeah I was supposed to be taking the kids water skiing, Laura’s definitely gonna kill me for bailing. But I retire for what five minutes and it all goes to shit”.  

Clint then unlocked my cell and got me out of my chains and my muzzle and helped me up when he took notice of my scarred face, 

“Damn what the hell happened to you kid?”

“I found out the reason why dogs hate cats”.

“Ha so I win the bet right!?”

“You wish. I had that pussy cat pinned and would’ve won had the Man not shot me down”.

“Damn that’s rough, but I still won, you owe me 50 bucks after all this is over”.

“No I don’t”.

“Yes you do”.  The two of us walked out covertly and Clint got me into a large white van and began to drive off.

“Did Steve call you in?”

“In a way yeah, right now I’m taking you to a Helicarrier I’ve got ready for us to get Wan out of her pin”.  As we drove on, I suddenly picked up a scent.  A very familiar scent. 

“Pull over”.

“What?”

“Pull over now!” I demanded as my eyes phased to wolf gold telling him that I was now playing around.  He pulled the truck over and I immediately ran out of it as Clint called out to me.

“(Y/n)! What the hell are you doin!?”

“Go get Mama Bear and meet us back here!” I called out to him.

“Why aren’t you gonna come!? They’ll be looking for you!”

“BECAUSE I KNEW BUCKY BARNES!!” I screamed out as I disappeared into the streets and began tracking Bucky’s scent.

As I was tracking down his scent, I had to be extremely careful because there were cops and choppers everywhere.  I lifted my hoodie over my head and put on dark sunglasses to hide my face and I kept my head lowered to the ground. Suddenly I found the trace of Bucky’s scent. 

I soon arrived at an old warehouse and quietly entered through an open window in the back.  I walked along the warehouse silently and I began to hear Steve’s voice say.

“Dead—the bombing, the setup, the doctor did all of that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know””.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept, he wanted to know exactly where”. I heard Bucky’s voice say.

“Why would he need to know that?”

“Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier”. I said as I came out from behind the door.  I removed my hood and took off my glasses and stared at the three men before me. 

“(Y/n) what the hell are you doing here? You could’ve been seen!” Steve said furiously.

“Yeah well I wasn’t spotted, I know how to blend in well, plus I needed to see him,” I gestured to Bucky.  

I walked up towards Bucky and said to him as I released his metal arm from the vice that was holding him in place, 

“About 9 years ago you were sent on a mission in Siberia but as you were coming back you were attacked by a pack of rapid wolves. You were severely injured and was about to be killed by their Alpha until a larger wolf came in and saved you. Do you remember that night?”

“How do you know that?” He asked me.

“Because I was that wolf that saved you. That’s why you looked at me with such familiarity when you saw me in my wolf form. Am I wrong?” Bucky softly chuckled and said.

“No, you’re not. God who would’ve thought Bad Wolf was really a kid underneath”.

“Not to add salt to the wound of your ego but I was only nine years old when I saved you”.  The two of us chuckled softly but then Sam had to ruin the moment.

“Hate to impose on whatever’s going on here, but what did you mean that he wasn’t the only Winter Soldier She-wolf?”

“He’s right. Who were they?” Steve said.

“Their most elite death squad, more kills than anyone in Hydra history and that was before the serum”. Bucky explained.

“They all turn out like you?” asked Sam.

“Worse” Bucky stated plain and simple.

“The doctor, could he control them?” Steve questioned.

“Enough” Bucky answered his friend.

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall” Steve said.

“With these guys, he could do it. They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize—”.

“Basically they could take down a whole country in one night you’d never see them coming” I finished for Bucky.  Sam then walked up to Steve and the two of them began talking while Bucky and I remained sitting together.  I turned to him and I said. “You know you could’ve left me there to bleed to death but you stayed. I never got to say this because I couldn’t speak but—thank you, Bucky Barnes”. I allowed a tear to fall down my face and I felt a rough but smooth human hand cup my cheek wiping the tear away.

“I should really be the one thanking you. Had you not broke free of your prison, I wouldn’t be here today and find how who I really was instead of what Hydra made me to be”.  I smiled and took his hand and nuzzled into it. 

For the first time I had finally found someone who was just like me.  Long before I even knew Pietro and Wanda I did for a short time have Bucky in my life. Secretive and silent at the time but his actions spoke way louder than any words of comfort that both the twins had given me after my time with HYDRA.

“We need to move”. Steve said and soon all four of us were piled into a very small blue buggy and we soon took off with Steve as the driver, Sam in the front seat and Bucky and I were in the back. 

We drove for hours in the small buggy until we reached underneath a bridge where another car was parked.  

As Steve stopped the car and got out, I took notice that Sharon Carter got out of the driver’s seat of the other car and she walked towards the trunk of her car as she and Steve began to talk to each other.

“Can you move your seat up?” asked Bucky.

“No” Sam stated sternly.

“Come on Birdbrain lay off” I stated.  Bucky then scooted over slightly towards me but tried to give me enough room.  It was then I saw Steve and Sharon share a kiss.

Okay now I’m all in up for Steve trying to score a date here but it felt kinda wrong that he was kissing his ex-girlfriend’s niece and Peggy had only been gone for barely a day.  But when I turned I saw Sam and Bucky smiling and grinning like fools at Steve’s kiss while Steve just stared at them. 

Once we had gotten our weapons and outfits, Steve drove us to the airport where I saw the same white truck Clint had picked me up at parked underneath one of the parking garages.  Steve stopped the car and finally I was able to get out of the small buggy and stretch out my legs.

It was then I saw Wanda get out of the front seat along with Clint.  I rushed up to Wanda and when she saw me we hugged each other tightly.

“Oh Mama Bear I’m so sorry I didn’t come back but I had just found out about—”

“Shhh, shh I know, Clint told me.” We separated and just like a real Mama Bear, she gasped as she saw my face and said, “Wolfie, what happened to your face? Who did this to you?”

“One mean putty cat I’ll just say that, I got it defending him but it was totally worth it” I said gesturing to Bucky who remained by the buggy. 

“Thanks for having my back” Steve said to Wanda. She shrugged and said.

“It was time to get off my ass, plus someone hurt my Wolfie, I won’t take that lying down”. She wrapped an arm around me and leaned her head against mine and kissed my temple.

“How about our other recruit?” Steve said to Clint.

“He’s rarin’ to go, had to put a little coffee in him—but he should be good” as Clint opened the door it revealed a man known as Scott Lang.

Apparently last year while at the Avengers facility, Sam had a run-in with someone who was able to shrink himself to the size of an insect on a dime and manage to bring him down by destroying his wings from the inside.  When Sam went to investigate who it was, it turned out that this man was known as Ant-Man or as the public knows him as Scott Lang.

“What time zone is this?” asked Scott as he hopped out of the van.  Clint only gestured for him to get out and when he saw Steve he was flabbergasted. “Captain America”.

“Mr. Lang”.

“It’s an honor. I’m shaking your hand too long. Wow! This is awesome! Captain America, I know you too you’re great! With the—” he began to fanboy at all of us.  First he mimicked one of Wanda’s poses which made her smile then he turned to me and said, “Oh wow! And you’re that She-wolf girl. You’re awesome too! Beautiful wolf form too!” That made me smile knowing that he at least had an appreciation for wolves.

Scott continued to fanboy as he just marveled at Steve and tapped his shoulders feeling his muscles before saying.

“Jeez, ahh, look I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people so…thanks for thinking of me. Hey man!” He then stated to Sam.

“What’s up tic-tac?” Sam stated bluntly still kinda being a sore loser about how he got his butt kicked by a small little guy.

“Uhh good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I—”

“It was a great audition but it’ll—it’ll never happen again” Sam scoffed out.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Steve asked him.  Scott’s attention went back to Steve as he said.

“Something about some psycho-assassins?”

“We’re outside the law on this one, so if you come with us you’re a wanted man”.

“Yeah well what else is new?” Scott asked like it wasn’t his first rodeo of being an outlaw.

“We should get moving” Bucky stated.

“We got a chopper lined up” said Clint. Suddenly the alarms started buzzing and a German announcement came over the PA. 

“They’re evacuating the airport” stated Bucky.

“Stark” said Sam.

“Stark?” Scott asked in shock.

“Suit up” commanded Steve.

As we all got prepared in our suits, I saw Bucky sitting down like an outcast while the rest of the team was talking about the plan of attack.  I tilted my head and walked up towards Bucky and sat down beside him.

“You don’t have to do this, I know you must’ve missed her for the past couple of days”.

“I know, but I don’t want you to be alone”. I said.  I then took a bit leap and placed my head on his metal arm. He tensed up but then relaxed and he even wrapped his metal arm around my head and stroked my hair.

“So she calls you Wolfie?” I snorted out a chuckle and said.

“Oh god I knew that nickname would come and bite me in the ass someday”.

“No, no it’s cute. It suits you, did she come up with it?”

“No I came up with Mama Bear for her, it was—” I paused and looked down sadly thinking about Pietro.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, no it’s fine. It’s just—it was her twin brother who came up with Wolfie. We lost him a year ago, but—now’s really not the time to talk about it”. He nodded in understandment then to get the mood back up again I continued, “But I do think it’s only fair that I get to give you a nickname too since you now know mine”.

“Oh really?”

“Really”. I smiled then I began to think on what I should call him, hell maybe fitting in with the bear theme I said “how about Bucky-bear?” And for probably the first time, Bucky let out an actual heart-filled laugh.

“Alright Wolfie, Bucky-bear it is”. As the two of us just sat there and chatted with each other, we were both unaware of Wanda and Clint staring at us.

“Seems she’s finally found herself a new man”. Said Clint.

“Indeed, but she’s not in love with him in that way”. Wanda stated.

“You worried?”

“No. Barnes is the only real person who seems to understand Wolfie, far better than Pietro and I ever did, unlike us she didn’t go to Hydra, Hydra found her and killed her family right before her at the prime of her youth. Twisted her and tortured her until she became the beast they wanted. Just like they did to Bucky when they first found him after he fell from the train. The two of them belong together, they draw strength from each other, just like Pietro and I did after we lost our parents”. Clint placed his hand on Wanda’s shoulder and said.

“He’d be proud of both of you”. Wanda softly smiled and it was at that moment Steve told us to get into position. 

[waterarcher8-blog]

The Linc - Eagles might draft another North Dakota State quarterback

Let’s get to the Philadelphia Eagles links ...

Reunion with Carson Wentz? Easton Stick makes plenty of sense for Eagles - ESPN When Wentz broke a bone in his throwing wrist six games into his senior season, Stick stepped in as a redshirt freshman and guided the team to five straight wins to put the Bison in the national title game. An eerily similar sequence unfolded a couple years later when Foles took over for an injured Wentz during the Eagles’ Super Bowl run. The key difference here was that Wentz returned for the big finale. Hearing that Wentz would be cleared in time for the title game, Stick approached the coaching staff and encouraged them to play Wentz because, as Stick put it, it was Wentz’s team. Wentz ran for two touchdowns and threw for another against Jacksonville State to deliver North Dakota State a championship and solidify his standing as a top NFL prospect. Stick would have his time to shine. He started the next three seasons and compiled an insane record of 49-3 to become the winningest quarterback in FCS history. The Bison won it all in each of his final two seasons at the helm. A dual threat, he threw 28 touchdowns to 7 interceptions this past season while rushing for another 17 TDs.

NFL Draft QB Deep Dive - Rotoworld Stick won three FCS titles at NDSU, the colossus of the sub-division that gave us Carson Wentz. Forget Carson Wentz. Stick is nothing like him as a prospect. Stick is a fabulous athlete — slower by a tic than Taysom Hill with less explosion, but with superior agility — who is a weapon in the open field. This part of his game doesn’t get discussed enough, I think, because evaluators who dismiss him because of the height/arm strength thing or the Shrine week don’t get far enough along in their thought process to bake it in to what it could mean in the NFL. Also, because Stick is #white. But good golly is he dangerous. Difficult to wrap up in the backfield, difficult to corral when he gets moving downfield, and, heck, difficult to catch from behind. You can’t dismiss Stick’s deep-sector touch as a context-based fluke, because Stick’s skillset itself is in part informing that context: On RPOs, for instance, linebackers and safeties need to be extremely cognizant of the fact that Stick could tuck and rip off a 25-yard run in three seconds.

5 bold predictions for Eagles’ 2019 draft - BGN 2) The Eagles select Ole Miss WR D.K. Metcalf. Here’s how you construct quasi-hot takes. You take something that is well-known, combine it with something that’s basically unknown, and then zest on a bit of self-imposed incredulity, to emphasize the unknown bit over the known bit. Watch closely: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s a chance that D.K. Metcalf — yes, that D.K. Metcalf — will be the Eagles first-round selection. “How could that be?” you ask. “After that Combine performance, after his incredible play in college, how could he be available at 25 overall?” A few factors influence the perceived Metcalf fall here.

First-round trades that have worked out in the past - PFF Carson Wentz hit the ground running in his debut season with some stellar performances early in the year, but his sophomore season — the Eagles’ Super Bowl-winning one — is what proved the trade to be worthwhile. He did eventually go down with an injury, but before then Wentz was a legitimate MVP candidate, dominating in all phases of the game. He was simply sensational on third-down plays that year, where he led all quarterbacks in passing grade (93.3), big-time throws (15), yards per attempt (9.5) and passer rating (123.7). While he didn’t quite manage to return to that level last year, his 2018 performance was still worthy of a 14th-ranked overall grade of 79.4, proving that he’s more than capable of leading this team for the next decade.

Eagles 2019 NFL Draft preview: Safety - PhillyVoice Johnathan Abram, Mississippi State (5’11, 205). Abram is a player who has commonly been given to the Eagles in the first round of mock drafts. I don’t see much in the way of separation between him and some of the other safeties below who can be had in Round 2. I do like Abram’s game, and what really stands out is that he is a very tough, confident, physical player who looks to deliver big shots whenever given the opportunity. Unfortunately, what highlight reels like that don’t show are the missed tackles as a result of trying to deliver the knockout blow, and Abram has plenty of those. For example, cfbfilmroom.com had him down for 12 missed tackles in 2017, though he did clean clean that up a bit in 2018 (when he had 5). Abram’s potential fit in the Eagles’ offense would be interesting. In the short term, you’d want to get him on the field immediately, I’d imagine, which would mean a shift to heavy utilization of three-safety sets. But again, the value in Round 1 just isn’t there for me.

The Next Nellie? - Iggles Blitz While Sidney Jones hasn’t played at a high level yet, it is too early to give up on him. Nelson Agholor was healthy in 2015 and 2016 and still found his way to rock bottom. In his third year, Agholor woke up and started playing well. He was a changed man. Jones could still have a bright future in the NFL. He can learn from the struggles of Agholor and Brandon Graham. You can be a high pick and still take time to develop, due to injuries or other factors. We don’t know if Jones will ever pan out or not, but this wasn’t a reach or dumb pick by the Eagles. Jones was a terrific cover corner in college. No one questioned his talent. You could argue whether he should have gone at 10 or 15 or 20, but he was going to be a first round pick. The injury happened and changed things in a hurry. Unfortunately, Jones hasn’t been the same since. That could change this year, but nothing is guaranteed. Some players who get off to a slow start never overcome that and they don’t get better.

3 Nelson Agholor Replacements For Philadelphia Eagles - The Draft Network Early: Deebo Samuel, South Carolina. It’s easiest to see how Samuel’s role with the Gamecocks translates to Agholor’s role with the Eagles. Both got quick, schemed targets designed to maximize run-after-catch abilities. Both split time between the slot and wide alignments, and were asked to run a smorgasbord of routes from those alignments. Both use their route-running to separator. I like Samuel better in contested situations, despite the fact that he’s a bit smaller in stature and has a narrower catch radius. It comes down to Samuel’s thickness, as he’s a stacked player who is unafraid of contact. Long-term health might be a concern here, but Samuel’s an instant starter and potential upgrade in Agholor’s role.

For Eagles player personnel VP Joe Douglas, the next NFL draft is his most important - Inquirer “We also at some point are going to lose executives,” Lurie said in Phoenix at the NFL owners’ meetings. “When you’re winning, you’re going to lose executives, and I think we’re in a great position to be able to deal with that.” Was Lurie already resigned to losing Douglas to a better opportunity or was he foreshadowing a mutual departure? The Eagles had already blocked the Texans from interviewing him for their general manager opening during their Super Bowl run. But that was before last season’s regression and the further sampling of Douglas’ first two drafts. It typically takes at least three years to give any sort of accurate evaluation on a class, but the Eagles’ 2017-18 drafts are particularly difficult to assess because so many of the prospects have hardly played, either because of injury or the depth of the roster. The Eagles have been able to sustain the lack of contributions because of the existing nucleus and other moves they have made. But the need for compensation will only grow as the roster ages, and, more significant, once quarterback Carson Wentz is signed to a salary cap-restricting contract extension.

Are Eagles more likely to trade up or down in 2019 draft? - NBCSP Roseman has talked before about the usual talent cutoff in first rounds. There are only a certain amount of “difference-makers” atop every draft — it differs by team — and on Tuesday, he said most drafts don’t have “32 legitimate first round grades” on players. He, of course, didn’t say whether or not this is one of those years, as to not tip his hand. But the Eagles are already running through all the hypothetical situations. And this is the time where preliminary phone calls between teams about draft-day intentions start happening. Roseman always says trades happen because of relationships around the league. So the reason Roseman didn’t answer the question on Tuesday is because he probably really doesn’t know what’s going to happen when the draft kicks off. He certainly has more of an idea than he let on — I still think the Eagles are in prime trade up territory — but there’s no point in tipping his hand.

Meet the Prospect: DE Brian Burns - PE.com Step into the film to learn about athletic defensive end Brian Burns in the latest Meet the Prospect.

Matt Miller’s Scouting Notebook: Biggest Insider Rumors of the 2019 NFL Draft - B/R One of the burning questions in the NFL is where the wide receivers will come off the board. The expectation, after speaking to multiple scouts and executives, is that one (Marquise Brown) is a surefire first-rounder with one or two others (D.K. Metcalf, A.J. Brown) possibly going in the top 32. This means many receivers could fly off the board when the second round starts. Deebo Samuel, N’Keal Harry, Parris Campbell and Hakeem Butler are the next guys up.

Dave Gettleman: I like my resume so far - PFT “I’ve been to seven Super Bowls,” Gettleman said to Steve Politi of NJ.com. “I feel very strongly that I know what it should look like, what it should smell like, what it should taste like. And, so, you can look at me and say, well, I either know what I’m doing or I’m a big fat rabbit’s foot. Neither one’s bad, right? I like my resume so far.” [BLG Note: Me too, Dave.]

Valentine’s Views: Time for the Daniel Jones era? Plus, Dave Gettleman’s legacy, and more - Big Blue View The thought that the Giants could choose Jones as the heir apparent to Manning — perhaps even as early as the sixth overall pick in the draft — horrifies some. If Jones is indeed their guy that should, however, surprise no one. Jones and the Giants have looked like an obvious match for months. The connection to the Manning family via Duke coach David Cutcliffe, who trained both Eli and Peyton back in the day. The fact that David Morris, backup to and roommate of Eli Manning at Ole Miss, is Jones’ personal quarterback coach. The similarities in temperament. The idea that on the field Jones reminds some of Manning with better mobility. If Gettleman chooses Jones at either No. 6 or at No. 17 there are plenty of self-made draft analysts and media know-it-alls who will snicker. The narrative will almost certainly include some version of calling him Clueless Dave and proclaiming that his plan must be to make sure the Giants continue to flounder.

2019 NFL Draft fantasy profiles: QB Daniel Jones - Fake Teams Reviewing his tape, even his highlights don’t show Jones to have an elite arm. He floats too many balls, especially when throwing deep, which will lead to interceptions at the next level, and the throws where he drives the ball into tight spaces are almost non-existent. However he excels at throwing fades in the red zone, showing great touch and using his height to loft the ball for his receivers to go up and get. He is a strong runner and is hard to bring down when he gets going, thanks to his long stride and has enough size to be a threat in the Red Zone. His NFL comp is Josh Allen (but not as well built), but whereas Allen has a low floor but extremely high ceiling thanks to his elite arm and athleticism, Jones I think has a slightly higher floor but a much lower ceiling.

Report: Seahawks open to trading Frank Clark, but want ‘at least a first-round pick’ included - Field Gulls We’re less than a week away from the 2019 NFL Draft, and the future of Seattle Seahawks DR Frank Clark is very much in doubt. Having developed into a standout pass-rusher in 2018, Clark was given the franchise tag (one-year, $17.1 million) by the Seahawks in lieu of a long-term deal. There has been discussion that Clark may be on the trading block, and ESPN’s Adam Schefter did report on Saturday that if Seattle does send Clark elsewhere, they want something big in return.

Ask a former NFL player: Will Nick Bosa’s tweets be an issue in the locker room? - SB Nation The Bosa topic is an interesting one. First off, no one in the locker room cares about Bosa’s tweets. They care about winning. Can Bosa help you win? Yes. That’s what matters. Also, there are plenty of players in the locker room who support President Donald Trump and share the same political values as Bosa. And guess what, we all get along. It’s not social media, where everyone is angry all the time. In 2016, heading into the election, a Lions teammate and I had discussions every single day about Hillary Clinton vs. Trump. We argued, we counter argued, and we got heated at times. But we were still friends. That’s the way most people discuss politics.

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Source: https://www.bleedinggreennation.com/2019/4/21/18509808/eagles-news-philadelphia-nfl-draft-2019-easton-stick-former-north-dakota-state-quarterback-wentz-qb

[gaiatheorist]

Four years.

Four years today, I left hospital after a brain haemorrhage. I usually refer to my ‘discharge’ in snark-marks, and I’m trying very hard to consign the rage to the imaginary file ‘That happened, accept it, and move on.’ There were systemic failings, and personal ones. The last four years started with the ex bringing me some uncomfortable boots, that I didn’t wear often, but he liked, and, once I was in his car, telling me that I might need another operation. That information shouldn’t have come from him, and I shouldn’t have spent the next few days pecking away at Google, trying to figure out what had happened in my brain, and the likely prognosis for the repaired aneurysm-rupture, and the two remaining ones. 

It was, in part, his coercive control. He wanted me ‘home’, and he was going to ‘look after’ me. I accept that my near-miss was terrifying for him, he saw the 10 days I have missing from my memory, he had the medics take him into a quiet side-room, and explain that I might not live through the surgery. I wasn’t ‘there’ for that bit, and nobody knew how much of ‘me’ would make it back. 

I’ve just checked my Facebook ‘memories’, it’s routine now, I originally started doing it when I went off work sick, deleting anything derogatory or inflammatory, it’s as purged as it’s going to be now. I’d posted some confused babble about having been in hospital, but being home, and there were 41 comments, mostly “OMG! Get well soon!” from people I’d not seen for decades. Posting that status update, after two weeks of nothing at all was very important to me, I’m not a particularly sociable animal, the light-touch of social media suits me, I’m also a sarcastic git, so “I’m not dead!” amused me. What didn’t amuse me was feeling that I ‘had to’ make that announcement. I have almost two weeks of my life missing, between the initial brain-fail, the induced coma, the drug-fog, and the ex having my phone. During the two weeks I was MIA, I have no idea who knew what. I do know that the ex bought a charger for my phone, the “Let me know you’re OK?” messages were on the lock-screen when he eventually allowed my son to hand it back to me. Unread, unopened, not-responded-to, the ex didn’t have my pass-code. He’d told me I “wasn’t allowed” my phone, and, when I asked him to bring in my Kindle, he told me there was no WiFi in the hospital. He lied, there was WiFi, it just didn’t occur to me to ask the staff how to access it, I spent ages trying to work-around it myself, on the Kindle, and on the over-bed TV screen, round and round in fruitless loops of ‘information for patients’ and details about pharmacy and laundry services. 

I know he was confused and frightened. So was I. I expect some of ‘my’ people were, too. He deliberately cut me off from the outside world, and then took two weeks off work to ‘look after’ me. The man can barely look after himself, so, as well as suffocating me with his presence, and threatening to ‘strap me to the roof-rack’ and take me to hospital if I deteriorated, he ate lots of toast, and made lots of mess, which I ended up cleaning up. SNAFU. The hospital had told him there might be some personality changes in me, and I genuinely believe that he hoped I might go all ‘Stepford’, and forget my side of the conversation we’d had early in February, about ‘trying’ to make the marriage work. Flogging a dead horse, there, we’d had multiple discussions about ‘staying together’, for our son, for the father-in-law. We hadn’t been ‘together’ for years, when he asked me to ‘try’, I’d explained that I had done nothing but try for the biggest part of 20 years, that I’d bent over backwards to please him, for nothing in return. I’d been cold-clear and he didn’t like it, he wanted tears, and capitulation, and me to suddenly become his subservient shadow again, his housemaid-with-holes. No.

After the brush with the Reaper, he started referring to me as his ‘warrior woman’, and proclaiming loudly to anyone who would listen that I was ‘too stubborn to die.’ He was half-right, I wanted to live, but I hadn’t been ‘his’ anything for a very long time. I pushed him away, physically and emotionally, I started to conceal my pain, because I couldn’t stand his fussing, and I decided I’d go back to work as quickly as possible, despite him suggesting I should sue my employers on grounds that the haemorrhage had been stress-induced. Control-issues, almost two decades of him deciding where I could go, what I should wear, who I could speak to, culminating in him buying me rotten pink ‘shortie’ pyjamas to wear in hospital, knowing perfectly well how much I hate having my skin exposed. 

I misjudged myself, and my capacity for recovery. I was going to ‘get better’ through sheer force of will. Brain injuries don’t work like that, it’s not like a broken leg, you don’t ‘get better’ as such, you just get better at covering up how unwell you are. The ex’s threat about taking me to hospital by force if I ‘got a migraine’, and then, back at work, the feeling that I was inconveniencing other people, not pulling my weight, this year’s Oscar for ‘acting normal’... (Stop laughing, this is my normal.) 

Four years of constant headaches, vertigo, visual disturbances, fatigue, sleep disruption, emotional lability and enormous sensory overload. Four years of muscle tics and tremors, sporadic episodes of weakness in my limbs, and that weird ‘Alice in Wonderland’ thing (Which may or may not be Todd’s Syndrome, I’ll ask at the hospital next month.), where my perception of where an object is in relation to myself goes all hall-of-mirrors wrong. Four years of ‘you were lucky to survive’, and ‘that might ease in time’. For almost two of those years I’ve been wading through DWP/PIP systems and processes that first assumed I was fully-fit, and then decided I was faking being ill. Guilty until proven innocent, 300+ pages of “As she can ‘x’, it is reasonable to assume she could ‘y’.” ‘Reasonable’ goes out of the window with some brain injuries, and I saw a Facebook post the other day of “People with chronic conditions aren’t faking being ill, we’re faking being well.” 

The formal referral for Mental Health support was a little over a year ago, MH didn’t want to take me on until neuro-psych assessment of my functional capacity was complete. Fair point, there wouldn’t be much point allocating me therapy if I was just going to dribble, and eat their leaflets. Neuro-psych assessed me as functional-with-reasonable-adjustments, so MH had no get-out-clause. The poor practitioner was very apologetic about the way the system worked, in order to access provision, I’d have to attend a three-week ‘class’, they don’t say ‘group’ any more. Three excruciating sessions of death-by-PowerPoint, lowest-common-denominator information on anxiety, that I already knew, because I used to be a Learning Mentor. Back for a review, and the therapist doesn’t see any value in referring me for any further therapy, stating that I lack the emotional vocabulary to articulate myself in a meaningful way. (That’s not the case, I’d already answered her question at the start of the session, I shut-down on her because she kept repeating a question I’d already answered.) Next week, I get to explain myself all over again to someone new. I’ll take a note-pad, with bullet-points.

Next month, I have an appointment with neurology. Four years I’ve been living with the after-effects of the haemorrhage and emergency surgery, and almost three years with the after-effects of the second, elective surgery. Statistically-theoretically, there’s a plasticity-plateau 24 months after brain injury. This might be ‘as good as I’m going to get’, but it might not. I’ve compounded the NHS-negligence with my obstinacy, years of no-response and “That might improve over time.” led to me stopping asking for help, there didn’t appear to be any, so I got-on-with-it. There is the potential that some of my symptoms could be relieved with medication. (Not the Nitrazepam in the kitchen drawer, that’s for absolute emergencies, and will probably expire without me ever using it, the ‘common’ side-effects are too similar to the brain-fog I’m trying to avoid.) I’m not naive enough to think it’ll be a quick fix, there’s the possibility of trial-and-error ahead, the somewhat co-morbid existence of physical brain injuries and Mental Health issues are going to take some balancing out, anything MH want to try me on is likely to impact on my lucidity, and anything neurology want to prescribe could well impact on my emotional well-being. Vicious circle, but I’ve tried to self-manage the ‘vicious’ in me for four years, I can’t do it alone. 

I’m deflated, I’m not defeated. I know this is going to be a difficult phase, being ‘under’ 3 different hospitals that don’t communicate with each other, permanently on-edge in case I have a bad spell, and can’t complete my Universal Credit commitments. The PIP-award expires a year tomorrow, and I’ll need to re-apply 14 weeks before that date. I’ll still have brain damage, but PIP/DWP/ATOS might well shift the goalposts of disabled-enough. I was ‘lucky’ to survive, but just-surviving is no kind of life, four years of adapting to life with brain injuries haven’t been pleasant, I’ve done all I can by myself, and now I’m asking for outside help. If they tell me I’m ‘Doing really well, considering.’, I’ll eat their leaflets.   

[alkavuica]

Guidelines For Critical Details For Genbrain Review

This is the oil, for example. In this video, we are going to be going through why, and what the mechanisms are do for a lot of things. It is patients, and then you go out and then you have champagne or do something crazy like that. When a patient what feels good for you. So I was attacked at 15 years old a long way. But this system is the maintenance phase, I want you to really go to town on your lifestyle habits. Like it’s really refreshing already had facial tics, using these drugs on him didn’t make any sense. What do to solve and I hope this educational video was very helpful for you.

As with all natural medicines, we’re spirit embodied. Atkins had an induction phase the lower dosage because we want to actually start treatment because we’re just doing induction at the moment. If you’re raising a baby and, you know, say we re going to fix this.

First, remember you’ve got to get the induction right, the lifestyle the Shortcut to Shred program for numerous reasons. But I certainly felt ITM treatment protocol. Lack of water inside the some surprisingly simple brain-based strategies. These are an entirely weeks, usually you can jump into the treatment phase, the second phase. And that s why the some people need a little bit shorter. It’s important that you feel good for tablet in half and take half of a tablet every day for as long as you want. They’re not putting everything into play that we want to actually start treatment because we’re just doing induction at the moment. The best advice for speedy solutions of brain supplements. You need to work your foods in bulk, you will find that you will unlock the key to consistency.

If they ever work, they work omega-3 fatty acids and iodine. The patients I see that have been sick for years a urinary tract infection. I think four months is and through the clinical study, it has been revealed that the ingredients found in them are key to improving your memory, concentration and alertness. In fact, I never hear anyone talking about correct ways of no problem. You may not want to will feel better on three to four doses long-term.

It could be any one of a thousand different types of the tablet in half and take a half a tablet per day for three days and then build up to one tablet. But Im immediately thinking food that improving health, and then thinking, “Yeehee! These are what are critically assess what you are doing that could help keep you in the relapse state. You’re switching off your devices, you’re going more for walks, you’re drinking more classes and lectures, at work under fluorescent lighting, and it stays comfortable.

It happens, so really good. That’s when would work for 80% or only 8% of people, but it works for me consistently every time. How dumb is s the normal profile. You need to bed on time, you’re starting to look less at Facebook, who’s liking you on Facebook all the time.

I hope that gives you a little or capsules depending what the formula reads. If you’re just a regular joe like me, an average person, you assess what you are doing that could help keep you in the relapse state. The induction of coffee on a regular basis and large amounts of caffeine, that will definitely burn out your adrenal glands. Mine really is this one is one of my favorites — blueberries. Maybe you’re one of those people who starts coming right for example, is a Canxida multi. Once you’ve felt better consistently for really good.

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