#god i am just so like...lethargic today

[ilkkawhat]

[wehaveimagineshere]

~If I die before I wake~

Astarion x G/N reader

This is a collab between Ren & Frost and this fic is just straight up sad. Read at your discretion. Based off this TikTok

You and Astarion have been together for years, but now it’s time for you to go. Astarion decided to go with you

CW: DEATH & SUICIDE

You and Astarion had known each other now for what felt like an eternity. Blissful, beautiful years full of love and hardships that you came over together

You had gotten married after a few years. It was beautiful and everything you both had ever wanted

~~

It’s an outside wedding that started just after sunset. The final hues of orange and pink fading into black, the stars starting to shine brightly in the sky

Everyone you both loved and felt like family were there

Your fingers twitch the curtains again, Shadowheart smacking them away with a huff. "Try again and I swear I will rip your very expensive attire."

"Shadowheeaarrrttt," you whine, twining your fingers together nervously. "I'm so curious. I want to see!"

"And I want to keep my head." Crossing her arms, she gives you a look. "Astarion told me to keep you here until it's time to walk, so that's what I'll do."

"You're doing what Astarion tells you?"

Sighing to the heavens, she rolls her eyes. "For today I am, gods help me."

Chuckling, you give your friend a once over. Decked out in a gossamer black dress with a beautiful silver lined bodice with layered skirts and see through sleeves, you'd think she was the one getting married. Flashing a quick smile, you quickly follow it up with another sigh. "I'm going to go crazy if this doesn't start soon."

"You're already crazy, marrying a vampire." Smacking your hand away as you go to mess with your hair, she hisses, "If you make one strand of hair out of place after I spent two hours getting it right we will have problems."

Giving her a pout and raising your hands up in surrender, you start pacing. You get three laps in before Wyll pokes his head into the room, the biggest smile you've ever seen painting his face. "It's time."

"Thank the gods," you say as Shadowheart links her arm with yours.

Swinging the door open, Wyll's eyes soften as he looks at you. "You're breathtaking. You're going to make everyone out there fall to their knees."

"I outdid myself, I know," chimes Shadowheart with a smug smile, patting down your outfit proudly. "We went to every boutique in the city before we settled on this."

Quietly, Wyll says as you pass, "You're going to bring him to tears."

As you walk down, the only thing you can focus on is the beautiful man you’re in love with, tears streaming down his cheeks as he smiles and looks as you

You feel your eyes burn as tears also flow down your face. Your eyes start to blur the closer you get to the alter. Astarion reaches out for you and the moment you take his hand, you feel complete

You’re hardly listening to the words the officiator is saying. All you can focus on is Astarion’s warm hand and his beautiful ruby red eyes staring at you with so much love that it makes you feel a bit bashful

You were so lost in each other that Gale had to clear his throat to get you back into the present. You both say I do and when you kiss, you know you never want to be apart from him

~~

Several years have passed since then. You had moved into a nice cozy home in Baldur’s Gate and even adopted the two stray cats you’ve seen; Myshka and Malta. Though they have a great fondness for you, they both greatly dislike Astarion

They’ll even take most of his side of the bed from time to time, leaving him to sleep on the tiny little sliver they leave for him. He tried to move them once, but you discovered scratches all over his hand the next morning

But your blissful time together was entering its final chapter. You were growing older. While Astarion never changed, you became more lethargic. More and more gray hairs taking over your natural color until one day that’s what your hair was

You had become extremely weak. The old age you had reached took a toll on your body. Skin sagging off your bones, your legs unable to withhold your weight without Astarion’s assistance

It breaks his heart to see you this way. He knows your time is coming. Seeing you become but a shell of yourself over time takes a toll on him. He doesn’t want to lose you. He can’t lose you

Staring at the food with tears in your eyes, you know this is it. It's too hard to lift your hands to grab the fork, too hard to lift it to your mouth, too hard to chew, to swallow. Even breathing had become a conscious effort - in, out, in, out.

Sniffing, you relax into the pillows propped behind your back, letting the tears fall before Astarion returns. For years you've felt yourself failing, and even now when you're at your dregs, you can't help the squeezing in your chest.

You'll be leaving him.

An inevitability, you've both known. But so easy to ignore the marching of time.

No longer.

Blinking the tears out of your eyes as the door opens - you couldn't hear his footsteps - and watching as your husband steps in, eyes darting to the untouched food, you place your hands together and smile. "Welcome back." Your voice is so raspy, even to your own ears.

"You haven't touched your food." Sitting down beside you, he takes the fork. "Do you need help?"

You go to shake your head, but find no energy to do so. "Astarion..." Darting your eyes away, you say quietly, "I can't."

You know his face falls. "What?"

"I can't anymore." Looking at your hands, you elaborate, "I'm... I'm too tired. To chew. Swallowing is hard. And... I'm not hungry."

You feel those tears again, threatening to spill onto the blankets, the hand he wraps around yours, but you hold it back. Even as all the adventures you had together, all the stolen kisses and shared smiles and echoing laughter play behind your eyes. Shadowheart first pointing out Malta, Gale teaching Astarion a cantrip and stating it was the worst decision of his life even on his deathbed, Halsin leading you both on hikes, Jaheira taking everyone out on the town until everyone was so drunk they couldn't stand up.

A life, full of new and routine, love and companionship.

Feeling gentle fingers brush your chin, your eyes are guided to Astarion's, and what you see there threatens to break you.

It’s then that he decides he’s going to join you in the afterlife. There’s absolutely no way he could love another as viciously and passionately as he’s loved you

He had been contemplating it for a while anyway

He brings up how you two first met. Both of you chuckling as you remember him tackling you to the ground and holding a knife to your throat. How he almost killed you the first time he drank your blood. Who would’ve ever thought that you two would fall in love and spend your life together as you have

You smile to yourself as you lean your head on him, suddenly exhausted. Your heart is slowing. Tears spring to Astarion’s eyes as he realizes you aren’t going to make it through the night

He slowly lifts you from his shoulder as he turns to fully face you. You look into his beautiful eyes. Eyes that have always been so beautiful and have shown you so many emotions

He leans in to gently press a kiss on your wrinkled lips. The kiss is full of emotion and love. After a moment you both pull back and he tells you how much he loves you. That he wishes he was able to turn you back then so that you could spend an eternity together

The only regret he’ll ever have about not ascending is the fact you’d never be together forever. He knows he made the right choice. But he can’t help but be full of emotion and regret in these last moments you’ll ever have together

You tell him that it’s okay. That you know you’ll reincarnate and you’ll try your best find him again. He feels a pang of guilt surge through him

You don’t know that he’s going to follow you when you go. He doesn’t have it in him to tell you, but he knows that he must. There’s no secrets between you, and he’s not going to start now

When he tells you, tears spring to your eyes. You slowly, painfully, turn your whole body towards him and tell him that he can’t do that. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves to find love after you’re gone

He smiles sadly and tells you that there’s nothing else for him here, you were the only reason he had a reason to live. The only reason why he wanted to live

You can see in his eyes that he is determined to do this. That he won’t budge no matter how much you cry and plea for him to stay alive. You look away and shake your head as the tears begin to fall

You don’t want him to follow you. You want him to live and be free. To find new love and go on new adventures

He reaches over and wipes the tears off your cheeks. You turn to him and give him the most heartbreaking smile. Tears start to well up in his eyes and you both look at each other with so much love that’s now bittersweet

You wish you could live forever with him. What was a rocky start has turned into the most beautiful love story anyone could ask for. So you tell him okay. And that you’ll be waiting for him on the other side

As you both lay down in your bed he leans over and kisses you again. Softly, passionately. He knows this is the last kiss he’ll ever receive from you. He kisses you over and over, not wanting to part from you as he hears your heart struggling to keep beating

After a moment he pulls back and kisses you on your forehead. He takes you into his arms and whispers sweet nothings into your ear and you start to drift to sleep

Astarion can’t will himself to rest. His mind is racing a mile a minute, thinking about all the memories you’ve had together while feeling your body start to turn cold. Your blood flow slowing. Your heart had finally given out

It's so quiet.

So, so quiet.

A quiet he hasn't experienced in so long. A silence that pressed on him when punished under Cazador, trapped in a coffin, screaming, begging to be let out and answered with such a profound silence that stripped him to nothing.

This silence, though. This is worse.

So, so much worse.

The scream, the guttural, anguished scream that rips from his throat makes the very house shake. His fingers curl into claws as he grips you - gentle, always so gentle - and it's all he can do to keep himself from coming apart completely.

It's unbearable, the silence.

It's not until this moment where he realizes how much comfort your heartbeat had given him. Had become. How he could pinpoint your heartbeat within a crowd, no matter how big. How he'd wake up and hear that thrum and find a peace he never thought he'd ever have.

A peace he's lost, now. A peace now forever out of reach.

A shaky inhale is all he has as he turns to look. Your face, once always full of life and emotion, now only has a small smile. If it wasn't so quiet, so quiet, he would think you were just sleeping, and in an hour he would see the stars in your eyes as you looked at him.

Light taps at the windows, starting to lighten the night, and he knows he doesn't have much time left. A detached sort of numbness overcomes his heart as he stands up, walks to the closet, and takes out your favorite sweater. It doesn't matter anymore, he knows he knows, but you can't ever be cold, ever be uncomfortable.

The weight threatens to cripple him as he slips your arms in. As he slides the material over your head, careful to not mess up your hair. As he lifts you gently to pull down the edges.

It's when he brushes hair from your forehead that he realizes his hands are wet. His arms, too.

Distantly, he touches his face.

Wet.

Gently, he lifts your body into his arms and walks outside. The cold, crisp morning breeze biting his cheeks as he sets you down on a bench you have on your patio. Your head falling listlessly against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you

He takes your now cold hand into his, rubbing your knuckles as he looks out to the scenery. The sun starting to rise above the mountains. It was the most beautiful place to live. And an even more beautiful place to enter the afterlife

It was this view, he remembers, that had you picking this house.

"I know you can't really see it," you'd laughed, throwing your arms up and gesturing toward the horizon painted in black, "but the dawn here is something to die for."

As the sky starts to turn a brighter color he sits there in silence. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life, except for being with you

The first touch of sunlight makes him flinch, a small, brief, hollow echo of self preservation pinging down an empty tunnel as he sits there. Feels the heat of the sun once more on his skin.

Feels it burn.

His eyes turn to that horizon you'd boasted about, and he must agree that you were right.

Reaching up, splaying a hand, he watches as the sunlight edges his fingers in gold. Even as they burn, turning black, ash catching in the wind.

His gaze turns to you, always turns to you. It's been so long since he's seen the sun in your hair, lightening your features. Pressing his lips to your temple, wondering briefly how much of his body remains, he drinks in your smile, the quiet of this moment, the color of the world.

The world you helped him see. The world you helped him explore.

One last time, he breathes you in deep, the scent of your shampoo tickling his nose. Your laughter echoing in his memory as the wind steals the rest of him, dusting him across the yard.

A golden wedding band falls to the ground at your still feet, wobbling along its round edges before coming to a stop.

[writercole]

Manspreading

Summary: Public transportation comes with many potential hazards, including sharing a seat with someone you don't like.

Squares: Sat in their lap - spnfluff // Neighbors - Resa's 3k

Words: 2371

Warnings: Innuendo, Jake's cocky ass.

Credits: @ryebecca for the idea. @princessmisery666 for the beta and the squeal.

A/N: This was borne out of Bees complaining about riding with men on the subway. It didn't take long to figure out that it was a rivals to lovers. Gotta listen to the characters. It's their story after all.

It had been the longest day of my life. Traipsing up and down floors in LouBoutain pumps killed me, I hadn’t slept the night before, and lunch was a snickers bar. So when I walked onto my train and found that there were two empty seats beneath some jackass’s manspread legs, I snapped. 

I walked right over and sat on his lap. How I didn’t chicken out halfway there confounded me.

“Excuse me, this seat is taken,” his voice rumbled in my ear. I froze immediately. I knew that voice.

“Well, Jacob, if you weren’t manspreading across three seats, I wouldn’t have to be sitting here,” I spat, not turning to meet his eyes. 

“Come on, darlin, you knew you were just looking for an excuse to ride my thigh,” he drawled. I knew I’d see a cocky smirk on his face and refused to look at him.

Instead I shut my eyes and growled, regretting several decisions that led me here.

“Oh, that was sexy. Do it again.”

My eyes snapped open and I finally met his gaze, finding exactly the expression I expected, the one he used on female clients to get them to swoon and give him anything he wanted, a smug charm that made my stomach flip. “If you’d just move your leg, I’d be out of your hair.”

I wasn’t prepared for him to bounce his leg like  I wasn’t sitting on it , like I weighed nothing. God I hate this man. 

“I am not in the mood to play games with you, Seresin,” I grumbled. “I have had a long ass day, these heels are killing me, and I haven’t had anything but a Snickers bar and a protein shake all day.”

“Then I guess you have to let me buy you dinner.” The way he winked at me made my panties dampen and skin burn. I refused to let him know that, though.

“I’ve had enough of your insufferable face at work today, thanks.”

“Insufferable, huh? I bet I could change your mind in one night.” 

I looked him up and down and leaned in close, watching the amusement and victory in his eyes as our noses brushed. “In your dreams, asshole,” I whispered, pulling back with a satisfactory smirk at his bewildered stare.

Unfortunately for me, he recovered quickly.

“You’re in my dreams often enough, sweetheart. And believe me, I have no problem changing your mind there.” 

“Does that line actually work?” My patience was wearing very thin.

“I’ll tell you,” he promised,” Over dinner.”  

“I’m not hungry,” I shrugged. Of course at that moment my stomach decided to growl and betray me.

“You have had a protein shake and a snickers bar today,” repeated Jake, “let me buy you dinner. You can even continue to throw shade at me if you want.”

“Look, Jake,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I really just want to go home, order a large pizza and curl up in my armchair with my favorite blanket and a good book.”

“Tomorrow, then,” he suggested, his tone persistent but with a hint of what sounded like hope. The train started to slow, preparing to stop at the next station. “This is my stop, darlin. Unfortunately, I’m going to need you to get your pretty face up.”

Maybe I was more lethargic than I thought because that trace of genuine hope had me a little dazed. So much so, I almost didn’t realize this was my stop too. How had I never seen him on the train before?  

“Dinner, tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he joined the crowd of people gathering at the doors. 

I shuffled along behind them, running through everything that had transpired since I’d boarded the train. Somehow, my main competition at work took the same train and got off at the same stop and had an answer for everything I said. 

I was lost in my thoughts when a shove came from behind me and I was pushed into the solid mass of the person in front of me. He whipped around and I was prepared to utter a stream of apologies until…

“You could have just said something, darlin, you didn’t have to run into me.” I just wanted to slap that grin off of his face.

“I was shoved.”

“That’s one way to get my attention, though.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re doing enough of that for me.”

“I didn’t realize you were into degradation, Seresin,” I snorted as I made my way towards the stairs.

“I could be into a lot of things for you.”

“You have the opposite effect on me. You could drive me out of things I was into,” I chirped as I tried to get away from him.

“Oh really? And what would those things be?” It was infuriating how easily he was keeping up with me.

“Haven’t thought about it.”

“Fine, but I bet you’ve thought about me naked,” he called.

“Oh no, am I really that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby,” I sassed with a roll of my eyes, something that I’d been doing quite a lot today, and sped up through a gap, leaving him behind me.

I finally reached the top of the staircase, ready to duck into the nearest shop I could find to avoid him further until I caught sight of Conner. My ex was heading my way with his arm around a beautiful, thin, perfectly proportioned blonde. Giggling. 

My eyes widened and I spun around, ready to head back into the subway, but instead found Jake cresting the top of the stairs. I grabbed his hand and pulled him close, silencing any protests when my lips met his. He hummed and his arm slid around my waist to pull me close while his other hand tangled in my hair. His tongue parted my lips expertly and he deepened the kiss, only to be interrupted by Conner calling my name. 

I gave Jake a look that screamed ‘please go with it’ as I wiped my mouth and turned. “Oh, Conner, hi,” I greeted, a little light headed. Perhaps it was the lack of sustenance, but I think it had more to do with the kiss from the man standing beside him, with a smug grin and a hand firmly on the small of my back.

“Uh, hi. You, uh, you look good,” he stuttered. His focus was on Jake by my side instead of me, instead of his date.

I guess I should have been proud. Or maybe offended?

“Who’s this, sweetheart?” Jake asked, tugging me tighter to his side.

“This is my ex-boyfriend, Conner,” I introduced, “Conner, this is Jake, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meetcha, Conner,” Jake said, extending his hand.

Conner just looked at it and then directed his attention to me. “Moving on, huh?”

“Looks like you did the same,” I quipped, turning to the blonde. “And what’s your name?”

“Alyssa,” she squeaked as she tucked herself into Conner.

“Conner, Alyssa, it was nice meeting you both, but we’re late for our reservation,” Jake interrupted. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“Nice to see you, Con,” I shrugged as I let Jake pull me away. We walked a block before I stepped out of his grip. “Thanks for that,” I told him quietly.

“It wasn’t a problem,” dismissed Jake. “But I think you should tell me what that was about over dinner.”

I sighed heavily before responding. “Fine, but I’m buying. It’s the least I can do for assaulting you.”

“That was assaulting me?” he grinned. “Where do I sign up for you to do that again?”

I just rolled my eyes before heading towards my favorite pizza shop. He caught up quickly and we walked in silence, Jake keeping his mouth uncharacteristically shut until after our orders were placed.

“So what’s the story with Conner?” he asked quietly.

“Um, so, we dated for a year,” I started, “maybe a little longer. He kept saying things about how he couldn’t wait to move in together and how excited he was that my lease was going to be up soon and maybe we should just buy a house for when we have kids. I kept thinking I’d find feelings like his one day but it never happened. 

“Then, during the last charity gala, he proposed. Very publicly.” I paused for a drink. Jake was there at the gala. He knew what had happened from there.

“Ah, yeah. I remember that,” he chuckled. “That was you?”

“Mhmm.” 

“That was the talk of the office until…until Jerry flubbed that presentation.”

“Anyway, I threw myself into my work and started pushing hard for that promotion. I couldn’t think of any better way to prove I was fine except succeeding in my career.”

“And you have. So why the panic?” 

“I may or may not have insinuated that I could do better than him,” I admitted, avoiding his gaze. 

I had no idea why I was telling Jake all of this. It’s not like I knew him, it’s not like he cared. But when I looked up, I wasn’t met with derision and mocking, I was met with a softness and understanding. 

“I get it. You wanted to show him up. But why me?”

“I was honestly going to go hide in the crowd. I didn’t plan on kissing you. I didn’t even know I was doing it until you hummed.” Might as well stick with honesty.

“Oh, so it wasn’t because you decided to take me up on my offer to change your mind about me?” he teased, wagging his eyebrows at me across the table.

I laughed and shoved his arm, making him chuckle as well. It surprised me how easily conversation flowed between us. For the longest time, he’d been a bitter rival of mine and now, here he was, almost like we were friends.

This was a different side of the Jake I’d see around the office. He’d ditched his jacket and loosened his tie, even going so far as to roll up his sleeves. He talked about tv shows he watched and criticized my taste in movies with a teasing smile. 

He asked questions about me and my life and friends and for every detail he learned about me, he dished out one about himself. None of it surprised me until he said he’d spent time in the Navy.

“You joined the Navy right out of high school? Why?”

“Family tradition,” he shrugged. 

“So you joined the Navy because your family wanted you to, you’re in the business world because your dad forced you into a business degree. What do you do because you want to?”

“What do you do?”

“Promise not to make a joke?” I asked. I’d never had a good reaction when I revealed my hobbies.

“I will do my absolute best not to make a joke but if you tell me you’re a mime, all bets are off,” he laughed, his hands up in surrender.

“I write.”

“Why would I make a joke about you writing for a hobby?” he questioned.

“Because it’s dumb that I write stories when there are so many that I could just go read,” I explained, using the words that several people had used to devalue my likes and the way I spent my time.

“Who cares if there’s a bunch of stories you can go read? The ones you write are going to be in your own voice and reflect your own experiences,” he countered.

“Well, what do you do?”

“I draw,” he shrugged.

That surprised me. “You draw?”

“Yeah. I started in high school when I needed to escape from the insanity of the perfect world my father wanted. My art teacher said I had a talent but it never felt like something I wanted to do for other people. It was more…”

“Something you wanted to keep for yourself,” I supplied, nodding along with the words.

“Exactly!”

I checked my watch and saw that we had been in the pizza parlor for three hours. “I should probably get home. It’s getting kind of late.”

“Oh damn,” Jake exclaimed when he checked the time. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jake,” I protested, “You were at the office before me this morning. You have to be exhausted.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he rebutted, “but I want to walk you home.”

I paid the bill and we stepped out into the night. The streets were closer to empty than they had been all day and the temperatures had dropped enough that it was almost chilly. A shiver crept up my spine and before I’d finished shivering Jake’s jacket enveloped me. I looked up at him, seeing him in a different light, both literally and figuratively.

“What?” he questioned. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

“You’ve surprised me at every turn tonight,” I admitted with a smile.

He just hummed as we walked along, his hands in his pockets and his jacket wrapped around me. 

“This is me,” I mumbled as I drew to a stop in front of my building.

“Well, at least it’s a short walk home for me,” he quipped. I furrowed my brow and he gestured across the street. “The only dark apartment on the fourth floor.”

I looked up at my building and laughed. “Same.”

Jake joined me, his deep chuckle rumbling through the space between us. “I can’t believe we live across from each other, on the same floor.”

“Seems crazy, right?” 

“Yeah, crazy. Or maybe…” he trailed off.

“Maybe?”

“Walk you to work tomorrow?” he offered.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t take up three seats with your manspreading,” I demanded, a slight smirk creeping onto my face.

“How am I going to get you back in my lap again?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

He nodded, his expression contorting to one of ponderance. When his gaze met mine again, he smiled and stepped closer, his hand cupping my cheek before his lips met mine, softly asking permission for a real kiss. 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, melting into his warmth. He smiled softly when he pulled back, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

“I should go,” he whispered.

“Or you could stay.”

“I don’t want to rush into anything. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Progressing from dinner to breakfast seems to be moving pretty quickly buuuuut..I’ll allow it,” I giggled. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

[roxyteal]

Honestly Idk what the point of this is, just belted this out over the course of a day. Also I know I've been slacking on the 🦈DENIED PROPAGANDA🦈 lately but hopefully I'll have more to share. Soon. Eventually. Gah. God I hope so.

It takes place between WTTW's ch 9 and 10 - Billy did get his ass kicked by Aldurra, but the Dave Gathering hasn't happened yet, stuff like that.

—

NOISE RECOGNIZED: DAVE’S ALARM EXITING SLEEP MODE

Billy’s eyes opened, adjusting to the morning light. When he was able to focus, he saw Dave’s arm, streaking over him, trying to reach the alarm clock. And he couldn’t.

Just as planned. A method of helping him wake in the mornings. As well as, opting for the annoying, droning sounds as opposed to music, which just lulled him back to sleep more often than not.

After watching him struggle for half a minute (and deep down, was entertained by it, though Billy knew better than to admit as such), he finally heard his partner groan, “Ugh, Billy, I can’t-… Could you please…”

“Mm, sure, I got it.” Effortlessly, he shut it off. Almost immediately, he felt Dave’s arm fall across his chest, sighing.

“That’s better…” Oh no. Billy just realized - he gave in. He wasn’t supposed to. He had to salvage this.

“It is 6:31 AM,” He informed him, “We should get up.” He went to exit the bed, only to be encased in Dave’s arms. Somehow, despite the drowsiness, his grip was nearly unbreakable.

“Already…?” Came another groan, “Five more minutes?” He shouldn’t. He won’t allow it. It’s not going to happen

“Five minutes.” And yet, he gave in again. Billy was doing a terrible job at this.

But Dave just grinned sleepily and cuddled him. And within moments, drifted off.

6:36 AM. “Dave. We should get up,” He said again, having to lightly shake him, “It’s been five minutes.” Dave’s eyes snapped open, instinctively.

“I’m awake!” No he wasn’t, but the well-made robot played along, sitting up.

“Good. I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” He replied at first, but still couldn’t escape. It was nice to know that his cooler body temperature wasn’t a deterrent when it came to affection, but right now, it wasn’t helpful. Gently, he tried to pry Dave off of him. “Please, um. Let me go. … I would like some space.” He felt a bit guilty having to say that, for while it was true, it wasn’t for the expected reason.

But it worked. Dave released him immediately. “Ah, sorry, sorry. Okay. I’ll see you there.” 

To show no harm done, Billy gave him a soft peck, of which Dave quickly returned. He saw his partner remain upright as he left to freshen up.

6:55 AM. The well-made robot, now prepared for the day, made it to the kitchen. Dia was already there, attempting to pour a cup of coffee from the pot. While appearing just as lethargic as his former teacher, the young gem still managed to drag himself this far. Admirable.

“Good morning, Dia.” He greeted, lightly. Dia stiffened, almost losing his grip on the handle. It didn’t seem to matter what approach Billy used, the poor kid was always jumpy.

“Uh, morning.” He quietly acknowledged. Then, his attention went back to his task. Should he even be drinking that?

“How old are you, again?”

“… Fourteen?” The question sounded strange to Dia, and his response showed it.

“Then you are too young for coffee,” The well-made robot asserted, then adding to soften the blow, “Maybe when you’re a bit older.”

“W-Wait! I lied!” Frantically, Dia tried to say, “I’m a-actually sixteen! Sixteen!”

There were multiple flaws to that logic, but Billy didn’t bring up any of them. “No you’re not. You cannot fool me.”

“Dammit…” Dia didn’t argue further, admitting defeat, “How will I ever get the strength to deal with today…”

Billy didn’t fold to the dramatic tone he used. “A good breakfast?”

“I guess…” Dia peered over at the sliding glass door behind them, noticing something. “Oh shit. The sun’s out.”

“So it is.” Billy nodded. He watched Dia leave the kitchen, to the backyard. By the time Billy followed him, the reflections of the young gem’s head were so abundant, he had to squint to see him. He had pulled down his hood, taking in the light.

“Whoa. Bright…” He couldn’t help but muse aloud, but in a low mutter.

“I feel like a solar panel.” Dia spoke when Billy was next to him. A solar panel…? Oh!

“I see… It charges you,” Though, he didn’t quite understand why; as far as he knew, Dia wasn’t an inorganic in the same sense as him, in fact, were minerals inorganic at all? And didn’t they thrive in caves, where it’s dark? How was this possible? No matter. “So that’s why you prefer sunny days.”

“Yeah…” There was a pause. Then, the young gem faced him, demeanor completely changed. Energized. “Okay! I can face anything life wants to throw at me! I’m ready!”

Billy smiled from his confidence. “You should probably still eat something.”

“Oh, right…” As the two headed back inside the empty kitchen, he asked, “Is Dave up yet?”

Oh God. Billy forgot about Dave. He marched out of the room. “I’ll check on him.”

“‘Kay.” Was all Dia said back.

7:11 AM. Please be up, please be up, please be up. This was the only thought that looped in his mind, as he reached the master bedroom. If Dave wasn’t in there, it would be a good sign. Billy opened the door, and…

Dave had fallen asleep. Again. This time, he lay on his front, upside-down from where the pillows were.

Billy covered his face in both hands, growing exasperated as he drug them down. But, he too was to blame - he knew better than to leave Dave alone on mornings like these. Mornings where getting out of bed felt impossible, compelled only to remain under the blanket and sheets and ignore the world around him for a while longer. Or mornings where he felt too depressed to see a point in rousing himself to begin with.

And in the past, having such days would’ve been more than acceptable. But now, the two had Dia. The two had responsibilities. And Dave couldn’t afford letting himself falter like this. Not anymore.

Collecting himself, Billy went to him, lifting him up by the shoulders and tapping his cheek. He had to be more firm. It was imperative. “Dave,” He called to him, “Come on. You must get up. Didn’t you want to take Dia to school today? You have…” His voice went tense as he calculated it, “Nine minutes.”

To all this, Dave fluttered his eyes open, half-lidded, staring through him blankly. “Buh… Wha…?” Then, to the well-made robot’s horror, he slumped over, onto his shoulder, emitting a quiet, breathy snore.

This was hopeless. For the third time, he gave in. Setting Dave back down, he told him, “Okay, you know what? Fine. I’ll do it.”

He hoped he didn’t come off as rude or snippy, but then again, he wasn’t sure if he was heard at all, judging by the lack of response from his partner.

Be strong, Billy. Be strong. He had thought, as he pulled himself together and returned to Dia. Meanwhile, the young gem had heeded his advice, sitting at the kitchen table and taking another bite of what appeared to be an egg in a basket, accompanied by a glass of juice. And… The coffee pot was still full.

Good, he didn’t try to sneak some of it while Billy wasn’t looking. But on the other hand, the sun gave Dia the energy he craved, so he wouldn’t need the caffeine anymore to begin with.

“Whoa. Amazing…” Back to the point, once more did his surprise show, but still low in volume.

“Any luck?” Dia asked, muffled from his mouthful of breakfast.

Billy allowed a sigh. “Unfortunately, no. I’ll be taking you today. Dave…” He struggled to find a way to word it. “Can’t seem to get out of bed.”

“Hm. Yeah, sorry. He’s just like that,” Unfazed whatsoever. “We used to try and get him to, like, back in the day. He’d. Uh. Y-You know.” He sounded like he was about to launch into something, before realizing it himself and stopping short. The well-made robot joined him at the table.

“I don’t.” Unless he did, but if so, it wouldn’t be making Dia nervous. Concerning.

Dia inhaled, a bit uncomfortably. “Well… He tended to. Growl. And hiss. A-And swat us away. So eventually we just… Just gave up. Then, he’d be mad at us for n-not trying. And also when we did try. It’s… Um. It’s just the way it is.”

More accurately, frustrating. He couldn’t imagine being in such an unbearable circumstance. Yes, issues between him and Dave have come up before. There was the occasional disagreement, fight, or anger - but that was par for the course. What mattered was if they could work things out, and there’d always been some kind of methodology, that was a healthy compromise for them both.

Such as, the alarm clock situation: placed where Dave has to work hard to reach it. Sounding wretched and annoying so he’d want to get to it. And Billy didn’t mind having to bear the noise or be in Dave’s direct path (again, it actually proved to be humorous).

Just don’t shut it off for him, no matter how much he asks (failed). Just don’t give him “five more minutes” (failed). Just don’t fall for him saying “I’m awake!” when he clearly isn’t (failed). And just don’t leave him to his own devices if he can’t even move to his wheelchair (failed).

The two agreed on this. Hammered out these details. And for a short while, it had worked. Until today, when Billy gave in to every one of the things he absolutely shouldn’t do. A stunning grade of zero. Zero.

But even then, even now, the events of just earlier were nothing like what Dia described. And it’s never happened before, either. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. However… He did no such thing to me. Perhaps he’s gotten better?”

Dia looked at him for a minute. Then, muffled again, he mused, “That’s. So not like him…”

But, maybe, that wasn’t a bad thing.

—

Dave stirred, lifting his head to find the absurd position he was in. How in the world had he ended up like this? And how would’ve Billy even allowed something like that? Oh… He wasn’t here. How odd. What time was it? Memories were a blur at the moment. The alarm went off, Billy made it stop, and he thinks he gave him five more minutes, then…

Checking internally, the timekeeper of the Webspace told him.

11:42 AM. No. That… That couldn’t be right. Right?

Dave sat up, stretched, then glanced at the alarm clock. The time was the same.

Oh God. Oh God. OH GOD

In panic, Dave let out a yell, practically throwing himself off the bed, but forgot which direction he was facing, hitting the floor. “Ow…” But he bore the pain as he scurried over to his wheelchair, getting in and bolting out of the room as quickly as possible.

“BILLY!” He yelled again, “DIA IS LATE FOR SCHOOL WHERE IS HE I HAVE TO-” He cut himself off, when all he saw in the living room was Billy curled up on his sofa. A rerun of that one sitcom they watch together was playing on the TV. They’d decided to watch it ironically as nothing else was on that day, only to somehow get sucked into it, unironically. Some programs were powerful like that.

“Oh, good morning, Dave,” His partner looked over at him and replied, adding quietly, “Wow, it’s still morning.” Then, back to a normal volume, “I took him. Don’t worry about it.”

Dave tried to process the scene in front of him. Then, at last, put his head in his hands in relief. “Thank goodness. Thank you, Billy…”

“Of course,” After Dave recomposed himself, the well-made robot asked, “Do you need anything?” Dave looked away, heading to the kitchen, waving it off, almost defiantly.

“No no. I can- I can do it myself,” He’s already bothered him enough as it is. He couldn’t help his grumbling, as more pieces fell into place. “God, I… It’s all coming back to me. That must’ve been annoying. I’m sorry.”

“A little, but it’s fine.” It wasn’t. Dave blew it today. He’d been doing so well. What a waste.

So you made a mistake, chimed in his inner voice. Beating yourself up about it isn’t going to make things better. Just try again.

Yeah, but what about Billy? Remember how disappointed he sounded? “Okay fine, I’ll do it”?

That was hours ago. He said it was only “a little”. If he says it’s fine, then it’s fine.

Dave stared blankly at the microwave, which was currently heating up a pizza hot pocket, spinning. Spinning. Just like his mental state. He sighed. If that’s what his conscience believes, then… Okay.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Remove carefully, it’s hot.

He returned to the living room, moving over and sitting next to Billy on the sofa. Then, he heard him randomly say, “I’m sorry too.”

“What?”

“I gave in at every turn. And, I was rude.” Oh.

“Well, yes, but…” Dave paused to collect his thoughts. “It’s not just you, you know? You can’t solely be responsible for me. I have to try, too. And I didn’t, not even once…” He tried to take a bite of the hot pocket, but stopped immediately. Dear God, it hasn’t nearly cooled down enough yet.

“I see. So, we’re really only upset with ourselves, and not so much with each other?”

“I wasn’t upset at you at all. You just had an off day. It happens,” He tried the corner instead. Just breading, but it didn’t burn him. “And you’re sure it’s fine?”

“Yes. In fact, actually, I could say the same to you,” Dave stopped. Oh darn it. He fell right into that one, didn’t he. “You also just had an off day. It happens.” He had a small smile on his face. It was hard to think suddenly.

He’s forgiven you, his internal voice spoke again, reinforcing it. Everything is going to be okay. There’s always next time.

“… If you say so,” He finally replied. He went to lean against the well-made robot, but stopped. “Do you still want space?”

“No,” The answer came easily. “Also, I only really said that so I could get out of bed. Sorry about that.”

“No no, that’s fine. That makes sense. In that case, may I…?” He saw Billy lift his arm.

“Sure.” As Dave moved in closer and rested against him, his partner’s arm draped around him. Dave exhaled, more content this time. Observing the episode of the sitcom, he saw the two dating leads have some dramatic argument about the third character in the love triangle.

“Think they’ll finally break up?” Dave asked. Every moment in the season thus far was pointing to it.

“I hope so. I don't think they’ve ever worked together. Even before now. It’s like they never wanted to be serious.”

“Boy, you can say that again.” Without thinking, Dave took another bite. Ah, it didn’t hurt. Finally, he could enjoy it.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Blood

TW: brainwashing, implied drugging

A/N: I'll be posting the rest of the chapters on my wattpad and ao3. It's way easier to organize that way.

Yuu POV

I walk into Professor Trein's class and lethargically sit next to Azul. 

"What's wrong?" Azul asks, rubbing my head. 

"I am so tired today. I already had to change my bottoms cause of my period," I answer, leaning on Azul's shoulder.

"You mustn't say such things in front of boys. It's not ladylike to be talking about blood in front of men," Azul states, kissing my cheek. "I'll give you my notes for this class later. I don't even know why you came. Class ends in about five minutes."

"I wanted to come. Anyway, I should get going. My awesome first-year friends are waiting for me at Savanaclaw."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I walk to the Hall of Mirrors and go into Savanaclaw's mirror. Something rustles in the bushes, and I see a pair of red eyes staring at me. We both look at each other, both unmoving, both curious. I take a step back, and it steps forward. I turn my head and sprint. I hear the bushes rustle and something like claws scrape against the concrete. I run to the Savanaclaw doors as it comes after me. I hear everything. I hear its feet or paws slamming against the concrete. I hear a liquid drip onto the pavement as it runs. Every one of my senses is turned into overdrive as I run for my life from a monster.  

Someone grabs my arm, yanking me back.

"Yuu, hold up! Why are you running?" Jack asks, holding me in his arms.

"There was a monster in the bushes," I answer, huffing and puffing.

"Yuu, there's nothing behind you. It was probably one of the beastmen playing tricks on you. Don't worry. The other dorm members will leave us alone during our stay in the study room."

We walk into Savanaclaw, passing by beastmen working out or wrestling. Jack opens the door to the study room, and I wave hi to Sebek, Ace, Deuce, Ortho, Epel, and Silver.  

"I brought some basic ingredients like water and charcoal," I say, opening my backpack as I take my place in the circle. "We don't have to use it, though. We could drink the water if we don't use it. I should probably stop talking now, haha." 

"It's ok. Can you record the ingredients we put in the cauldron?" Ace asks, handing me a clipboard and automatic pencil.

"Sure," I reply, smiling at Ace. 

 The first-year boys drop ingredients in as I record them. I go to turn the page and give myself a papercut. I recoil my hand in pain as my finger stings. Blood drops onto the paper on the clipboard. 

Oh! God, why a papercut?!

Just as I am about to get up and go to the infirmary, Ace grabs my finger and puts it in his mouth. He sucks on my finger shocking everyone in the room. 

"Ace, what the hell?" I yell, snatching my finger out of his mouth. "Do you know how nasty that is?"

Ace looks at me, his scarlet eyes becoming dark, giving me a sweet smile. 

"More," Ace says, moving closer to me. 

"What?" I ask, looking at the faces of the first-years.

"Ace, remember what Riddle said," Deuce states, touching Ace's shoulder.

"More!" Ace screams, jumping on me and holding my hands above my head. 

"AAAHH!" I scream as Ace's fangs try to bite my neck.

Jack, Sebek, and Deuce jump onto Ace and restrain him. He squirms in their grasp, and I take the chance to run. 

"Silver! Epel! Go after her!" Sebek yells.

I jump down the staircase and throw the doors open. I sprint down the pavement, keeping note of the two figures closing in on me. I run into the Hall of Mirrors and jump into the middle mirror. Someone or somebody grabs my legs, trying to drag me out of the mirror. I swipe at the floor, and eventually, my nails latch on. 

"Let go! Please, let me go!" I cry as my nails leave marks on the floor.

"We're trying to help you!" They scream, pulling on my legs harder. 

"No! No!" I scream, kicking my legs. "Help! Somebody help me!"

"She's mine!" Another person growls, jumping on the people holding my legs. 

With my legs free, I scramble the rest of my body into the mirror. I run to Scarabia's mirror and look for Jamil or Kalim. 

"Jamil! Kalim! Is anyone there?" I yell, sitting down on the couch and hugging a pillow. "Please, anyone, answer me."

My eyes water, and I cry into the red pillow with yellow tassels. I feel the couch sink, and someone puts me into their arms.

"What is it, my love?" Jamil asks, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"Don't call me that!" I scream, smacking his hand away from my face. "Sorry, I don't know why I just did that."

"It's cool. Now, tell me what's wrong," Jamil says, putting me back into his arms.

"It's Ace. I got a papercut, and he went crazy after putting my finger in his mouth. He jumped at me and tried to bite my neck," I wail into Jamil's chest. "Someone tried to keep me from leaving the Savanaclaw's domain, but I managed to escape here."

"Shh, don't worry. Everything will be ok. You only need to sleep and rest," Jamil coos, rubbing my back. "Would you like that?"

I feel drowsy, and my mind begins to fade. Wander? Escape? Why am I so sleepy?

"Would you like that, my sweet viper?" Jamil asks, moving hair out of my face and kissing my cheek. "I already told you everything will be ok." 

"Yes."

"Sleep, my sweet."

I fall asleep in Jamil's arms. Jamil's warm, lavender-scented, comforting, and safe arms. 

~~~~~~

I wake up on the couch in a dark Scarabia without Jamil. I take his jacket off of me and walk to the entrance. 

"Leaving so soon?" Jamil asks, placing two cups of tea on the table. "I made Chamomile tea. It helps you relax." 

I walk back to the couch and sit next to Jamil. I grab a cup and blow on it. 

"What happened with Ace?" I ask, remembering something happened to him.

"Oh...he drank a weird potion, that's all. Are your neck and hands ok?" Jamil replies, moving closer to me. 

"Of course they are. Why wouldn't they be?" I respond, sipping on the tea.

"That's a relief. How's the tea?" Jamil asks, putting a hand on my thigh.

"It-it tastes good. It smells good, just like you."

"Really?"

"Uh, yeah. It's nothing, really."

"I think it does mean something. I think it means you want this."

Jamil crawls over me, placing both of his hands at my sides. He gently kisses my lips, and I deepen the kiss. Jamil pushes me over and breaks the kiss. 

"You want more of this, right?" Jamil asks, putting both hands above my head. 

"Yes!" I exclaim, putting both hands on Jamil's cheeks and making him kiss me again. 

"Oh my God! Get off of her!" Sebek screams, storming into Scarabia.

Silver and Jack run to me and throw Jamil away from me. They grab me by both arms and drag me out of Scarabia. 

"Yuu drink this, and don't drink any more tea from Jamil," Sebek instructs, handing me a bottle of water.

They take me to Ramshackle, where I find Ace and Malleus sitting down. 

"Ace! I was so worried!" I exclaim, hugging him.

His body goes stiff, and he hugs me back. 

"Did the project get done? Oh, it doesn't matter! I'm just so glad you're ok!" I squeal, releasing my grip on him.

"Do you...remember what happened?" Ace asks, looking me in the eyes. 

"You drank a weird potion, remember?" I reply, smiling at his silliness. 

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Ace says, standing up. "I'll see you later." 

Ace leaves Ramshackle and walks into the night. 

"I suppose we should leave too," Malleus states, standing up and hugging me goodbye. 

Malleus leaves Ramshackle with Silver and Sebek. I go upstairs and enter my bathroom. 

I look normal as per usual. I notice a pair of eyes looking inside, and I turn around. There's nothing there. 

"There's always nothing there," I sigh. 

[thegreenleavesofspring]

.

I have... a bad habit. A self-defense mechanism, but a bad one. Of, any time I encounter something out in the wild that I wanted and couldn't have (an event or an emotion), I deem it "stupid". Beautiful weddings are stupid. Birthday parties are stupid. Loving husbands are stupid... etc. And I don't say it to whoever I am talking to, I'm not quite that socially clueless, but I shore up my own disdain for it in the privacy of my mind.

And it's one I've had for most of my life although I've only recently quantified it. And I find myself doing it a lot and I'm trying to be mindful, now, of making myself stop and go "Do you actually think it's stupid or are you kicking against the pain of what you don't have" and nine times out of ten I'm preemptively trying to head off pain.

So anyway I'm trying to let it through in tiny little bits so it doesn't all come crashing down as an overwhelming wave and mourn it piece by piece at a time. And I'm also doing a lot of introspection. Because I never was taught how to regulate my emotions and that one person was right, I do tend to let them rule me, and I don't mean to, it's not an active conscious choice on my part, but that's not enough, I have to learn to master (not repress) them.

So now I'm trying to learn to master my emotions rather than letting them master me but that means constant monitoring and today I'm going down a checklist of "Why am I so tired and lethargic" and it's the depression setting in again for Round whatever and I always get really tired and sleepy and lethargic in the days leading up to that, yay. But along the way I realized that... the last time someone told me they loved me was Get Loved Nerd in my inbox and afaroffsong says it to me sometimes. And it helps. But sometimes I wish I had someone to say it to me in person, too, it helps to hear it audibly (and if it comes from someone who is telling the truth, not trying to be manipulative.)

I genuinely don't remember the last time I got a hug. Not dispensing one to make someone else feel better but just someone hugging me because they liked me as a person and wanted to hug me. I mean I hug my boys all the time and sometimes they even hug me back but those hugs are usually accompanied by headbutts or biting or kicking or fish-flopping or various other bruising activities and besides, they're little, they don't really have any concept yet of... consciously returning love? They need the hugs to flourish but it's not their place or their duty to return a hug.

I don't know. It just feels like, my whole life, any affection I got was conditional on how useful I am to someone and just for once I'd like to feel valued just... as me. I realize I'm not an easy person to love and almost an impossible person to like, once you strip me down to the bare bones, I know this, not only have I been told this but I've got enough self awareness to know that I'm all sharp edges and sharp angles and acerbic sarcasm and terrible but unintentional blunders. But surely I'm not all bad? Not all the way down? I just... surely it's not wrong to want to be valued as a person, not as your usefulness? Just... for someone to enjoy one's company?

Anyway I've been doing a lot of handing over bitterness and envy and sorrow to God lately and even... I don't know, what I thought were godly desires but maybe I'm feeling them too strongly? Putting them ahead of Him? I don't even know anymore. I feel like I'm blundering around in the dark trying to find His will and running up against rough rocks instead and I don't... I'm trying to do right, trying to do His will, but how can I possibly be? When everything I'm doing is wrong? I don't even know anymore.

I'm not sure... I don't know how to do this. And right now I can't hear Him. Which I don't think I have any egregious outstanding sins that would take me away from Him so I'm assuming I'm supposed to be walking by faith? Not by sight? But I'm not sure... I don't know. I don't know what to do.

I'm so very lonely.

...I should probably go brew myself a cup of raspberry tea, it sometimes helps lessen the severity of the depression. Hormones, yay.

[kisslandeds]

I.

[̲̅T]here's a stillness in the atmosphere of the auditorium, and a heavy languor that pervades the circumambient air. It's a rather lethargic Tuesday morning, a rather laid-back day for Bella, who'd been somnolent since she'd woken up. Despite her indolence, it was necessary she tackle the day. She had several errands to run after rehearsal, and she was more than nervous for them. Regardless, Bella is an early bird, and like usual, she's at work before anyone else.

   Bella figured, as she ambulates across the stage of the regal opera house, that she might as well use this time to rehearse her lines again. She stands in the middle of the vast stage, in a field of light reflections. Being right in the heart of the auditorium helped her visualize an audience, perhaps serving as an incentive for her.

Before her were thousands of seats, vermillion in colour and sewn from the finest textiles. There were levels of seats, balconies of them, just waiting to be filled with people and ovation. Alabaster pillars and delicate marble pillars complete the architecture of the house, perhaps derived from works of the Renaissance era. The lambency from the balcony lights shoot diamonds from the gloss of the stage floor, it felt like a garden of crystals just right beneath her.

   With a deep breath, Bella closed her eyes. Opening them again, she is greeted with visions of thousands of people filling up the empty seats in front of her, an animated audience clapping and cheering. Such a sight would never grow old to Bella. This view, after all, paid her bills and gave her a motive to keep acting. She loved it, adored it. Despite being a job, she never got tired of entertainment, she never grew bored of being on stage.

   For a moment, the ambient was stentorian during Bella's reverie, palpable, even, before silence catches up with her once more and breaks the unreal utopia before her.

Just before Bella reached for her purse to retrieve her folded script, a bright light flashes in front of her, a luminaire so blinding she instinctively shuts her eyes and covers them with the palm of her hand. The main stage light moves across the stage, and the once still ambience of the auditorium was now completely gone.

    Before Bella has a chance to react to the rush of fright that moments before filled her stomach, she notices a figure among the cavernous seats, juxtaposed between them. Gradually, it gets larger, as if moving closer to her. Given the events that had been happening in her life, she had every reason to believe she was in danger. A rather disconcerting emotion overtakes Bella.

   "My Belladonna! I knew you'd be here, you're always here at 9:30 AM without fault!" A rather flamboyant masculine voice reverberates across the empty theatre. Just like that, the quiet atmosphere had been cut through with a knife.

   "Simon," Bella gets up from the stage, a sigh of relief escaping her glossed lips. "Good morning. You're in a good mood today, aren't you? Why are you in so early? You're not here until 10." She inquires, walking across the stage and watching as Simon, her agent, trots down the stairs at the side of the auditorium to get to the pit. She pretends as if moments before she was completely shaken by his entrance.

   "Oh dear," Simon's voice is high in several octaves, and his visage is rather grave. "Today has to be a busy day I tell you! We have to make sure you're on your A-game, baby!"

  "You're making me anxious, Simon."

   "You ought to be anxious," Simon finally reaches the pit before climbing up the stage as if to intensify what he was about to say. "Bella, those casting directors that watched your rehearsal yesterday were in awe at your work! They want to schedule lunch and talk business!"

"My Gods, Simon," Bella sighs. "You don't think a simple text could've sufficed? You know how much you make me nervous when you look so serious."

   Simon gives out a small chuckle, his dark skin wrinkles as he smiles. "I'm sorry, Bella," his eyes twinkle, the gold eyeliner on his eyelid shimmers in the light of the luminescence filling the house. "You know how much your success means to me."

   "Yeah, I'm sorry, Simon, I don't mean to get all serious," Belladonna apologizes for being so apprehensive. "Today's a big day for me. I'm finally going to see someone to talk about these weird things going on."

   "That's great!" Simon adjusts his scarf. "You let me know how that goes," he clears his throat, "anyway, I'd like you to get ready for rehearsal. Your costar will be here any minute now. Remember, your A-game today, ma'am!"

   Quick to brush it off, huh, Belladonna quips to herself. I guess I shouldn't share my business.

    With a forced smile, Bella saunters off to get ready for rehearsal.

II.

  "Beautiful, beautiful," Simon claps, he is as preppy as a schoolgirl. "Brava, bravissimo! I could shed a tear."

   After enduring painful hours of wearing a tight corset and having to act out intense emotions, Bella was to say the least, exhausted. Her visage was glossed with sweat, her stage makeup fading away with the hours of wear. From arriving at the auditorium at 9:30 AM, it was now 3 PM. Despite this, it didn't matter to her. Her role had to be perfect, it was imperative she mastered her character. If that meant staying overnight rereading the same lines over and over again, it was a condition she was willing to endure. Of course, Bella's most critical audience was herself.

  "I think I am moved," Simon wipes away doubtful tears from underneath his painted eyes. "Truly, I have never seen another Christine so remarkable!" Simon turns to Bella's male counterpart. "And you! You make a wonderful phantom!"

  The play that had demanded so much of Bella's time and energy was the classic, 'The Phantom of the Opera.' To be frank, it was a rather challenging role for Bella, having to act out all these intense emotions from the protagonist she plays in such tight clothing and dry conditions of the stage. Not to mention, she was required to sing, and to project your voice across the massive auditorium was no easy task.

   "Don't flatter me," Abel, Bella's male costar chimes. "If you're on stage with such a talented actress, naturally, the energy she exudes would motivate anyone to perfect this role." A big, teeth-y smile spreads across his profile.

   "Oh, please," Bella laughs. "Don't sensationalize me."

   "Don't be so modest!" Abel exclaims. "Although, that is what makes you so charming."

   "Mhm," Simon hums. "Bella, I have to get going to meet with some directors. Please, get some beauty sleep. I need you looking youthful and energetic! You seem gloomy today, and we can't have that," Simon is already at the curtain to the backstage, "Don't forget to rehearse your lines, dear. It's not too long 'till opening night." Just as quick as Simon made his ingress this morning, preceded his egress in the same fashion.

    As soon as Simon's presence had left the room, the air was much more desolate and did not seem so cheery. The preponderance of his aura now dissipated, and Abel and Bella are alone. It was already 3 PM and Bella had to get going to run her errands. The day was certainly not over here.

"I gotta get going, too," Bella gives in a breathy chuckle, she was starting to suffocate from how tight her corset was. "I'll see you tomorrow, Abel."

    Abel nods and elicits a small smile, giving a small wave goodbye as Bella wastes no time to start heading back to her dressing room. The sound of her antique heels reverberate across the theatre, and before it could be gone, Abel stops Bella from sneaking away behind the curtains with a gentle touch to her arm.

   "Hey, Bella," Abel says hesitantly, "before you go . . ."  he smiles nervously, as if telling himself to confess something, "would you fancy lunch today?"

   Bella turns around upon Abel's survey, observing a shy expression dominating his features. He runs his fingers through his quaffed hair, scratching his neck awaiting Bella's response.

  "I'm so sorry, Abel!" she commiserates. "I have something today that I just can't put off. Maybe some other day, though."

  "Of course." Abel chuckles nervously. "Have a nice afternoon, Bella." Finally, he waves her goodbye, to which she replicates, and that was that.

III.

   After rehearsal, Bella had changed into her evening attire and decided to refresh her makeup. After all, she needed to look as presentable as possible today. Her mascara had drooped after hours of wear, and her under-eyes had begun to crease due to her exhaustion. With an anxious exhale, Bella powders her face, cleaning up her makeup to look as awake and fresh as possible. She runs a nude colour liner under her waterline, opening up her eyes as much as she can.

Bella was no stranger to anxiety. As an actress, living alone, she had many things to worry about. However, besides what a person usually worries about nowadays, she had something weighing on her shoulders that she just couldn't handle anymore. She'd been fatigued the past few days with a melancholy feeling reducing the quality of her life, and now she was finally going to get help.

The World's Only Consulting Detective, huh, Bella thinks to herself as she reapplies a pink blush to the roundness of her cheeks. Will you disappoint me, too? Bella sighs, reminded of the contents of the article she'd read on The London Times, the tabloid in which she'd discovered the office of this detective.

❝ Proficiency with observation, deduction, forensic science, and logical reasoning.

At 221B Baker Street

Approved by the Scotland Yard ❞

  It was in Bella's best interest that this detective—Sherlock Holmes, would accept her case. She'd grown tired of rejection from local private investigators, brushing off the details as too 'trivial' or of lesser importance than their other cases. Bella would be referred to the Scotland Yard—and that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to keep the details as private as possible.

   Belladonna takes a profound look at herself, subconsciously deep in thought of what could come of today. Her brown eyes glisten with the bright white light of her vanity bulbs, a lustre glazing her pupils. Absentmindedly, she stares at herself, her conscience lingering with nothing but thoughts of the future.

    A rhythmic knock catches Bella's unconscious thought. Bella, shaken up, reverts her glance to the door. That's weird, Bella gets up from her chair, I'm not expecting anyone. Could it be Abel again? Simon?

  

   "I'll be there in a second!" Bella grabs her phone from her purse that'd been hanging from a clothing rack. She checks the time, to which it read 3:55 PM. Damn, it's late.

   With a sigh, she places her fingers on the doorknob and cautiously opens the door. The door is barely open, but she can tell there is two strong, broad chests. Curiously, she widens the interstice that separates her and the two men.

   The men, standing right before her, were none whom she knew.

    The man, on the left, wore a white button-up and a black vest. His posture was relaxed, his hands inside the pockets of his dress pants. The man, on the right of Bella, wore a polished 3-piece. The fabric of his vest was deep navy in colour, his button-up was striped and pristine, and his tie was a refined silk, a deep red. Above it all, was a heavy, sculpted dress coat that hung over his robust shoulders. Peculiarly, an arm seemed to be hiding behind his back, as if concealing something.

    Although it was impolite, she was rather compelled by his clothing—she couldn't stop herself from staring, and she hadn't yet seen their faces. What piques Bella's interest specifically is his lapel. Near his navy lapel is a brooch, a brooch of a blue rose with an intense hue. It was a beautiful rose, a rose that seemed so fresh in spite of the dry auditorium air. To Bella's curiosity, both men complimented their habiliment with the same brooch as if to insinuate their affiliation.

    From first glance, without even a look at their face, it was very evident how well-dressed these men were. However, it wasn't just their vesture that made their appearance so captivating, but rather their very aura. Something palpable radiating off of them, something so tangible. Consider it a very emanation of their preponderant, puissant presence.

    Before Bella could open her mouth to speak, realizing how impertinent she'd exhibited herself, her words are adjourned.

    "Good afternoon, madam! How does the day find you?" The man, who she had been studying so intently, finally cuts through the silence. His voice is clear, as smooth as silk.

   Finally, Bella looks up. The man she'd scrutinized the longest of both looks at her with a cunning expression, a perfectly fitting frame for his chiseled physiognomy. His eyes resembled that of sapphires. The bright, extravagant luminescence from the dressing room emits precious gems from his eyes. Even with such an alluring pair of eyes, it does not undermine the sheer amount of education expressed in them. Unconsciously, and uncontrollably, Bella is gripped onto his physical.

    Though she wants to reply to his greeting, she can't seem to get the words out.

    "Have I startled you?" The man's eyes, as blue as the brooch he had clipped on his vest, sink into his apricot skin with a chuckle that leaves his pillowed, pink lips. The man's large palm runs through his perfectly styled hair, wrecking his pristine haircut, yet seamlessly rocking the effortless look. "Or, is it that you find my face captivating?"

   "I'm sorry. . ." Bella breaks her reticence. "I didn't mean to come off as rude."

"It's quite alright!" The stranger chuckles once more. "You're quite reserved, aren't you? It's rather charming."

    In response, Bella reluctantly laughs. Although this encounter was very strange, there was no unnerving feeling that permeates her. In fact, although she was nervous, she felt comfortable. In other words, she wasn't worried for her well-being.

   "In any event," he remarks, "I'm quite thrilled to meet you like this. You are much more beautiful in person, Ms. Demie."

    "Thank you." Bella replies.

    So they know my name, Bella thinks to herself. Although that would be a reason to be alarmed for someone, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Bella. After all, she was an actress. Although she wasn't by any means a superstar, she did star in small films that did well in the city, and she would often get recognized for them.

   "I cannot express how lovely you look today. I almost wish I could frame you and look at you everyday." Again, the man expresses his adulation.

   "Do you want her framed dead or alive? Whatever it is, I'll make it happen, James." The young man, who has not said a word until now, breaks his silence and makes a rather strange remark as his introduction.

   Bella reverts her gaze to the other stranger, and she notes how much younger he looks from his affiliate. His face is slightly fuller, more juvenile, and is framed by a full head of brunette locks. The young man's eyes are a deep brown, almost amber when the light reflects it. Underneath his eyes are heavy-sunken circles, although it fits his demeanour. Propped in between his thin lips is a toothpick. "What do you say, James?"

    "Oh, Sebastian," the man clicks his tongue. "You're going to scare away Ms. Demie. It was a metaphor. I meant that she's so pretty that I wish I could have her as a decoration. Like roses on a bedside table."

    Although nothing but oddities have been elicited from this conversation, Bella gets a feeling they mean no harm. "Pardon me if this sounds rude," Bella clears her throat, blinking nervously. "Who might you two be?"

   "Where are my manners? How rude of me, I apologize." The man on the right extends his unoccupied hand, seeing as though there is one hand behind his back. "My name is James Moriarty."

   The two exchange a handshake, and Bella becomes cognizant of his skin, flesh that was rather cold, but soft. His grip on her palm was gentle, contradicting his authoritative demeanour. Her fingers brush against several bulky rings that adorned his fingers, encrusted by what had felt like some rough stone.

   "I'm a maths professor. I teach at the University of London." James elaborates.

    Never heard of him. Bella blinks in acknowledgment, a wavy smile framing her face.

  "This is Sebastian," James refers to his cohort. "Go on, introduce yourself to the lady."

Sebastian clears his throat, picking the toothpick out of his mouth and holding it between his pale fingers before chucking it into his breast pocket. "Sebastian Moran," the man exchanges a rather firm handshake. "Former serviceman."

"I must say, you have excellent work, Ms. Demie," James exclaims, following Sebastian's brief introduction. "Your role of Irene Adler in 'Murder Mystery' was truly unprecedented. Marvellous indeed!"

"You mean that crime drama? I remember you forgot to record it once, and you were so mad that someone ended up dead!" Sebastian laughs in amusement.

Bella assumes what he just said is a joke.

"You were cunning, witty, graceful, and clever. You almost made Irene Adler seem like a knockoff when you, Ms. Demie, were on-screen." James has expressed nothing but reverence to Bella, although it's a kind of flattery that seems genuine, and not cheap or artificial.

"Thank you, Mr. Moriarty. I really enjoyed playing Irene. She was my debut character in TV," she states, "I'm really grateful I was able to play her."

"I can see how!" James exclaims. "As you can see, I'm quite the fan. I'd like to offer you something."

With that, James moves the hand that he had hidden away behind his back during the duration of this interaction, divulging a bouquet of an assortment of bright, blue roses, the same as the one he had on his brooch. They looked so fresh, with beads of dew still on them, as if they had just been picked from a vast field. The roses were the epitome of pulchritudinous, Bella had never seen such a thing even in nature. The colour, it seemed almost unearthly.

"Thank you," Bella accepts the flowers, sauntering deeper into her dressing room and placing them inside of a wide, empty vase on her vanity. "I have to ask. . ." she ponders, "how were you able to get in? The theatre is closed all day, unless you got in at the crack of dawn."

"Why, of course, we've been here since morning. Stayed until your rehearsal ended." James says matter-a-factly.

"That can't be. . ." Bella takes a long pause and recounts the events of her day; she woke up, got to the theatre, where there was not a single soul but herself. Bella could not surmise their claim. Before she can continue her statement, she is lulled.

    "You think we're lying?" Sebastian has a smug expression plastered onto his face.

    "No, I didn't say that," her gaze trails down to the floor, verifying a lingering thought she had in her head and gleaning to support her corroboration. "It's just that your shoes are wet."

    James gives out a chortle, a hearty laugh upon Bella's examination. "It was sunny all morning," he pauses with a smile on his face, "and it's almost like we got caught in the afternoon London rain." James cedes, putting both his hands up in defeat, as if to elucidate that he'd been caught.

"Aren't you observant?" Sebastian quips.

"Oh, I am truly taken by you," James avows, "you have a truly excellent display of observation. It seems you are just as smart as you are beautiful." There's a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Truly. It makes me want to bite even more." Sebastian says this with a deep chuckle.

"You want to 'bite'? What?" Bella furrows her arched eyebrow, expressing a look of puzzlement upon acknowledging Sebastian's terse remark. Before Bella can further inquire Sebastian's obscene sense of humour, James adjusts his tie and clears his throat.

"Well, Ms. Demie, I must see you again," he takes a step back into the corridor. "Sooner, rather than later."

   The door to the dressing room slams shut in an instant, in such a swift manner that Bella cannot even begin to process what has just happened. The two men are gone, and the presence that emitted off of them left with them, too. The room seemed so much more empty and quiet.

Bella blinks several times in confusion, staring at the white wooden door in front of her. Her eyes squint in thought, her mouth agape. What on Earth just happened?

IV.

After the afternoon rain, a cold front infiltrates the humid air in London. With the cold front came a gentle breeze, a mellow wind that mollified the incongruous events that had transpired during Bella's day. She'd spent the last 20 minutes or so on a leisurely amble to her prioritized errand, and while doing so, mentally delineating the unusual details of her afternoon.

Bella's thoughts linger to her unprecedented interaction with the 2 strangers in her dressing room. She thinks about the beautiful, bright blue roses she had been gifted, and wished she had been able to take them home with her. With those men, specifically the professor, Mr. Moriarty, was an undeniably prepotent endowment.

A huff escapes Bella's glossed lips, her tresses flow through the air. She digs her hands deeper into her beige dress coat, an effort to insulate herself, in spite of her legs being exposed from her skirt. Still, her ribbed stockings provide her with a sense of snugness in the cold. Bella clutches onto her purse, opening it and rummaging through her belongings to verify the address she'd been looking for.

Bella stops in her tracks, remaining stationary and leaning against a railing that separates the walkway from a small lake. She huffs once more, looking down and retrieving a folded paper from her bag. The paper unfolded revealed a ripped piece of a tabloid, the edged rigid and coarse. From inside her bag, she takes a look at the article. She leans against the railing and rereads the contents of it, refreshing her memory. The address is highlighted in a light blue.

221B Baker Street

During Bella's perusing, her sense of smell is pervaded by a faint aroma of herbal tea. She looks up again. Ahead of her was a quaint café, it was rather busy, too. Several antiquated table set-ups lined against the building, having a perfect view of the main road and the lake behind the black railings. It was a quite cute setting to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea.

"Fancy a cup of tea, Ms. Demie?" A virile voice calls out, to Bella's surprise. The voice, as Bella follows it, leads to a table where 3 friendly, besuited young men are sat. It was the second time a stranger had referred to her by her surname.

"How ill-mannered of me," the man in the middle says. "I shouldn't have called you by your name like that." There's a friendly tone reminiscent in his voice. From first glance, it was very apparent how tall this man was, despite being seated. His hair was dark, and his skin pale. The man's companions on either side of him were both blonde with an admirable smile.

    "My name is Mycroft," he speaks again. "You're Belladonna Demie." Once more, Bella puts another name to a new face.

    "I'm flattered you recognize me, Mycroft."

    "How could he not?" The man on his right comments. "To not notice such an exceptional actress would be a crime, especially in broad daylight—where she's most radiant. My name is Arsène Lupin."

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Demie. I'm Hercule Poirot," the man on the left extremity says with a charming smile and a small wave.

    Hercule Poirot. That Belgian detective? I've seen him on the paper before, Bella thinks to herself. If she didn't know about Sherlock Holmes, she probably would've reached out to him to consult about her case. "It's nice to meet you all." Bella exchanges. "Call me Bella. I'll never get used to Ms. Demie. It feels too formal."

"Very well then, Bella," Mycroft presses his lips, analyzing her very character. "Why don't you have a seat? Considering we've introduced ourselves and whatnot."

Considering the men were so welcoming, Bella didn't feel like an imposition. In fact, she felt rather comfortable, not suffocated by flattery. She knew they were good people. Still, she felt she shouldn't waste anymore time. "Oh, I don't know. . . I have to be somewhere soon."

"Oh, I do know you're in a rush," Mycroft says, a sympathetic expression on his visage. "But, I do have some thing for you that you may find useful in this very moment. Chat over cinnamon tea? You like cinnamon, don't you?" Mycroft calls out a waiter and asks for a cinnamon tea.

How utterly strange. How could someone possibly deduce that from first glance, with less than a few sentences exchanged? It was alluring, impressive, even. "Y-yes, I do."

"Take a seat, miss! Enjoy a cup of hot tea in this cold weather. I think your company would be a perfect addition to our afternoon," Hercule adds. "I think we may have some information for you in exchange."

Reluctantly, Bella takes a seat on an unoccupied chair. Just seconds after, her cinnamon tea is placed onto the clothed table, along with a small dish of biscuits and a spoon. Her question, of how on Earth that man could know she liked cinnamon tea still remained unanswered. It all felt like some sort of magic trick.

    "Your bag." Mycroft points at Bella's leather bag, which was still open from before. He takes a swig of his black coffee whilst doing so. "You have a pack of cinnamon gum inside. You were wondering how I knew you would like cinnamon tea, didn't you?"

"That's not the only thing we can tell from her bag." Hercule quips.

    "Hercule, spare the vagueness on this poor lady. We're eating up her valuable time, aren't we?" Mycroft chastises his friend. "She needs to pay a visit to 221B."

Once more, Mycroft makes a sharp deduction. His sense of perception was keen, exceptionally refined. Bella had only just met these men, yet they read her as if it was a facile task. She expresses the shock she felt when he pinpoints her errand. ". . . How did you know that?"

    "When you were in the corner, rummaging through your purse, you seemed to have been trying to figure out your way somewhere. You referred to a paper. Specifically, an article on the London Times. It's a rather peculiar thing for a young woman to be reading," Mycroft explains. "Which is why you didn't take out the paper, but rather, you read it through your bag."

But if I never took out the paper, how could he have known? Like a book, the man is able to read her, with finesse. Bella wondered if he was a dilettante for detective work.

"You're sure you didn't take the paper from your bag out," Mycroft adds. "So, how did I know? Your face tells me that's what you want to ask. Well, for that sliver of a moment you crouched down to sit down, I was able to see you ripped out a small section from the paper. There was a photo of a rather popular case that remained unsolved until recently, and from that I didn't need to look more than that to know you were going to 221B. Not even the address you highlighted."

My Gods. Bella is at a complete loss for words.

"Oh, yeah, I know what case you're talking about," Arsène says. "The french nobility's daughter was getting married, but the groom went missing for quite some time."

"Shirley really went out of his way to solve that one," Hercule sighs. "Quite the shock since nothing piques his interest."

"Bella, you're going to hire Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft ends his spiel.

"There's the end of that soliloquy." Arsène chuckles.

To say Bella was amazed would be diminishing the emotion she felt. For the second time today, she'd been rendered unresponsive. However, this time it was from the sheer shock she felt upon this man's extraordinary faculty for figures. It seemed like she'd been a slave to his search for detail.

"Amazing! You're a brilliant mind, aren't you?!" Bella takes a sip from her tea, expressing her impression.

"You're too kind to Mycroft." Arsène laughs a hearty laugh.

"You mentioned you had something I would find of value." Bella remarks, taking a sip of her tea.

"Oh, yes," Mycroft clears his throat and presses a napkin to his lips to wipe off excess coffee, "hand me your phone."

    "My phone?"

    "You've got the default maps app, don't you? I just want to show you the way there." Mycroft explains he has no ill intent but to help.

Bella's intuition leads her to believe this man means no harm, and she has no reason to believe he'd do anything with malice from just a look at her phone. If it were anybody else, she'd tread with more caution. She trusts him. Bella hands Mycroft her smartphone. In just a moment, after a few swipes, he hands it back to her.

"Your destination is here." Mycroft points at a blue dot on a digital rendering of the map of London.

"Thank you so much!"

"I suppose you should get going. We've had you here for about 5 minutes, not too much of your time." Mycroft wears a knowing expression, satisfied with himself and the outcome of the brief conversation.

"Shame you can't enjoy some freshly-baked scones!" Arsène refers to the dish of pastries a waiter has just placed onto the table. Though they looked divine, she couldn't possibly waste anymore time.

    "Mycroft's right, she doesn't have time to relax," Hercule supposes. "No time for afternoon tea."

"Yeah, it does seem I should get going now," Bella gets up from her chair and pushes it into the table. "It was fun talking to you all. I'm happy I got to know you."

"I hope you won't be disappointed in what you may find in there." Mycroft says this with a sigh, as if he knows something she doesn't.

    "Oh! Let me pay for my tea." Bella retrieves her wallet from her purse, before Arsène makes her refrain.

    "Let me be a gentleman and pay for it," he smiles, "perhaps a dinner with you too."

     "Until next time." Hercule gives a wave goodbye, with a closed-eye, wavy smile. His blonde hair glimmers under the sun, that had now started to set. Upon that observation, Bella realizes how late it had gotten.

     "Well, I'm off. Goodbye!" Bella dismisses herself, delighted with the help and conversation she'd gotten from the friendly trio. With that, she uses her phone to guide her to her destination.

V.

It's about a quarter after 5 PM. The sun was setting, and the clouds had become to reflect the light from the horizon. Light orange hues emitted from the sky, a beautiful luminosity as a consequence for the afternoon rain. Although the day may have been nigh to an end, Bella was not yet completed with herself, despite her atypical day having her busier than usual.

Bella, with the help of the digital map Mycroft had set up, was able to reach her destination without getting lost in the vast array of streets in London. However, she had found herself loitering in front of the London residence. She'd come so far that she wasn't going to stop herself from going in, but she was still trepidatious, the lingering feeling of her trip being in vain made her feel tense. Intrusive thoughts of rejection worried her.

Don't be disappointed. Anything can happen. Bella responds to the mental thought of her case being shunned.

Bella exhales, trying to muster up courage to knock while observing the building in front of her. It was three stories, with a flat right beneath it. The residence was connected to several others, however, the architecture suggesting everything directly up and straight belonged to the detective. Embellishing every window, stacked on every story, was a container of flowers, a small garden of green. On the floor above the flat, was a balcony, composed of an intricate black railing and more flowers. The domicile seemed sophisticated, dapper in appearance.

It's now or never, Bella. Composing herself, Bella saunters over to the ingress of the building. The door is black, a glossy paint, she can almost make out her distorted reflection. The frame is rectangular, rounded at the crown. Reluctantly, Bella reaches for the copper door-knocker, her attempt to refrain from being abient. Her warm fingers touch the cool surface of the door-knocker, but before she could knock, she hears an extrinsic speaker.

"Oh, no! Did Sherlock keep you waiting, dear?" A mature, coarse voice calls out from behind Bella.

Bella turns around in response, inquisitive in the source. It's an elderly woman, a convivial expression on her aged mien. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him," she sighs, "how long have you been waiting for, dear?"

"Oh, actually, I was just about to knock." Bella felt discomfit rushing in her, her cheeks going red when she realized the old dame had likely seen her dallying and assumed that she'd been forced to wait. "Do you live here?"

   "'Do I live here?' Aha! I'm the landlord, dear," the elderly woman explains, approaching the door with a ring of keys. "I live next door."

   "I see," Bella enunciates. "Well, I'm here to talk with Mr. Holmes. I'd like to hire him, you see. I'm hoping he's interested in my case."

  "In that case," the elderly woman smiles, her wrinkled skin does not cut her juvenile emotion short. "Welcome to 221B. The boys call me Mrs. Hudson."

  "The boys?"

   Mrs. Hudson has unlocked the door and pushed it open. "The boys. Sherlock and Watson, dear," she explains with a discreet tone. "Come in."

   Watson, Bella thinks to herself, I think I read about him in the paper. He's Mr. Holmes' assistant.

Warily and with circumspect, Bella steps into the ingress of the hearth. Posthaste the door slamming shut, the ambience that carried over Bella outside pendulates to a warmer one. The scent of the breadth is woody, redolent to that of cedar. The interior of the edifice presents itself with an antiquated yet pleasant style, the walnut mahogany walls daubed with an intricate, vermillion wallpaper. The vestibule was spacious, a welcoming entrance. Before the front door was a staircase, the corridor that fared the voices that were upstairs to the first floor.

   "Lestrade, you idiot! How could you possibly have this overlooked? My Gods, the Scotland Yard is useless! What do you even do?! Use up valuable taxpayer dollars?!"

   A commotion from upstairs penetrates through the observation that had kept Bella so absorbed. She looks up at the stairs, to which Mrs. Hudson gives a quiet laugh, and says, "I hope you won't be disappointed by what you find today." That was the second time she'd heard those exact words today.

   "Watson, tell Sherlock to calm down. 'Else I'll assign someone else on this case."

  "For the last time, Lestrade, I'm not Sherlock's mother, nor am I his father. Not even the Queen herself could strip him of the arrogance he has."

   "You wouldn't even think about having someone else on this case, George. The Scotland Yard couldn't be less oblivious to any crime networks going on in the cesspool of London. How could you even contemplate replacing me?! To have another idiot overlook such a crucial part of the autopsy?"

    Several voices reverberate in the domicile, voices Bella can't put a face to. Suddenly, an anxious emotion pervades Bella, and she turns to shoot Mrs. Hudson a glance. "It seems they're a little busy. I can come back another time."

   "Nonsense. You see, they're always chatting up a storm like this." Mrs. Hudson clicks her tongue, her voice is brimmed with unconcern. "Boys! Stop arguing! You've got a guest."

   Following Mrs. Hudson's yell, Bella can't help but feel like an imposition. She fidgets with the backings of her earrings, a futile attempt to control the desperation that fills her. With a deep breath, she relaxes herself. Mrs. Hudson motions her up the stairs, and Bella acquiesces.

In the loft, the entire atmosphere is switched. It was a complete juxtaposition from downstairs, instead of being warm and welcoming, was contemporaneous to chaos and disarray. The lounge room, or rather, the office, had several items strewn about the space, disorder defining the character. In the middle of the study was a hearth, a dark mahogany fireplace with a dimly lit fire. On either side of the fireplace, in the center, were two leather chairs. A window, barely covered by a curtain, released a stream of sunlight into the room and reflected onto the intricate red patterns of the wallpaper, hints of gold adorning it. The office was mounded with books, literary works on the shelves of the walls.

    Ambulating about the room were two men, whilst one sat at an escritoire. However, once Bella's presence had been acknowledged, their quarrel had came to a stop. Knowingly, and not wanting to exhibit herself as brusque, Bella takes the opportunity to introduce herself.

   "Hello," she waves a small wave. "My name is Belladonna Demie."

   Mrs. Hudson, not saying a word until now, dismisses herself. "I'll make you all some tea while you talk things out."

    The man on the right of Bella wastes no time to extend his hand. His face, is carved wonderfully and to perfection. His skin is pale but golden, and his hair is flaxen and with a fitting coiffure. He's suited in a dark brown suit, except without the coat. The man's air lingered with tranquility and cordiality. "It's nice to meet you, Belladonna," he smiles, his white dentition framing his visage, he looked leonine. "I'm John Watson. Feel free to call me John."

   Bella and John exchange a brief handshake, their eyes meeting and acknowledging the establishment of a standard familiarity. His eyes are amber, resembling that of a jasper. His physique is strong, bigger than the rest of the men in the room, however, it doesn't look vulgar, it looks fitting to his masculinity. It was impossible to deny his endowment in appearance.

   "It's a pleasure to meet you John. Just call me Bella, I much prefer it," she says, "I believe I read that you're the assistant, aren't you?"

   "The pleasure is all mine!" a small chuckles escapes his lips. "Well, I do suppose I've become an assistant. The papers write me out to be that way. I'm actually a doctor. I work as a physician at the local clinic."

  "I see. So you're a Dr. Watson."

"May I take your coat? It's quite warm here," John offers, immediately approaching from behind Bella. Her beige coat is slipped off her back, and she is suddenly reduced to her brown skirt and cream cardigan. Her modest jewelry is exposed, a breeze of warmth immediately grazing against her chest.

    Following John's statement, the man next to him takes a few steps forward, extending his hand to Bella. "George Lestrade."

George's appearance is more aged than that of John's. His jaw had a grey stubble, with an indentation in his chin. Grey hairs had already begun to sprout on his head of hair. He wore a navy trench coat with the buttons lazily put on. In the centre of his chest was a brown lanyard, which read George Lestrade with a photo of him.

   "He may not look like it," John says, "but he's an inspector at the Scotland Yard."

   "Could've left out the part where you said 'he may not look like it.'"

  "It's nice to meet you, Inspector." Bella makes out the man who had not said a word through this interaction, he sat on the escritoire with a brooding demeanour. He wore a white button-up with a black vest, his tie was a plaid navy blue. His visage is clouded with the darkness of the corner, exhibiting himself as arcane. Through the process of elimination, she supposed that was Sherlock Holmes.

  "By the way. . ." the inspector scratches the back of his head, "have we met before?"

   John, immediately bears a look of disapproval on his visage. ". . .It's only been 5 minutes, George. Anyone can see where you're trying to take this."

  "No, I mean it! It wasn't me trying to come on to her, I really have seen you somewhere, Bella!"

   Bella, about to mention the fact she's a rather common face on local London TV, is interrupted by John's realization that he had seen her somewhere, too. ". . .You're right. Now that you mention it, I've seen her somewhere, too."

    Before Bella could explain that she's an actress, the words are taken out of her mouth and thrown onto the ground.

    "You've come to hire me? I'm quite busy today, so if it's less than trivial, I'll send you off," the man on the escritoire whom had not said a word until this very moment breaks his reticence with a brusque remark. Suddenly, the welcoming environment is cut through with a knife, replaced with a tension that was palpable. He gets up, a quiet creak following, striding on over to Bella. "You must know, I value my time."

   Feeling reduced to an infant, Bella parts her lips to speak. Again, like clockwork, the words are taken out of her mouth and thrown onto the floor.

    "Let us review," the man paces around the room, his hands inside his vest pocket attempting to look for something. He produces a cigarette from the aperture, setting fire to the butt of it and placing it on his lips. "You're an actress. You've been acting since a very young age. You're preparing for a lead role at this moment, a role you're nervous for."

    "Maybe that's where I've seen her. . .!" Inspector Lestrade comes to a realization.

   Well, anyone who watches TV can know I'm an actress. Bella does not express any amusement to his observation.

"You're Turkish by birth. You came to London in pursuit of work," he takes a puff of his cigarette, "you have Egyptian roots. You're religious."

    Maybe that's a little harder for him to know, Bella thinks to herself. There was really no way to research her background, so it was more than a startle to Bella he'd been able to deduce such a thing. Before she thinks anything else, she listens attentively. Suddenly, she'd encountered an interest in someone recounting the mundane details of her life.

   "You just had cinnamon tea. Specifically from the Crescent Café a few blocks from here." Sherlock attests.

   "Wait, Sherlock, I think I know where I've seen her!" John exclaims, "She was in—"

   "You're with 3 strangers. You're used to being around strangers, yet you're nervous now. You're hiding it, yet the smile on your face looks natural and not timid," he continues, "you don't like exhibiting yourself as shy, or nervous."

   "You breathe from your abdomen. It's why your chest doesn't rise or fall, you were taught that since you were a child."

   "It's a surprise to see you here, Bella, looking for Sherlock of all people," John wears a smile on his face, realizing finally where he'd seen her. "You must know, Sherlock is a fan of 'Murd—"

"You're modest," he continues, interrupting John again. "You don't wear expensive clothing, for the most part, and your jewelry is from your family," he blows out another puff of grey smoke and the room is daubed with an effluvium of menthol. "The symbols on your necklace," he insinuates to the pendant that fell between Bella's bosom, "it's an Ankh—a customary Egyptian religious symbol. It's a rather peculiar pendant for a woman in London to be wearing. It's gold, like your other jewelry, not because of wealth, but because of culture."

    It seemed Sherlock was explaining the observations that led him to his deductions. With keen interest, Bella listens, making no interruptions. "Your other necklace has a blue eye as a pendant. That's the Nazar Boncuk, an amulet known to 'thwart' the bad energies from people by absorbing them. Although it doesn't come from Turkey, and it can be traced back to Ancient Italy and some parts of Asia, it is Turkey's most popular souvenir and tradition. It's not a big pendant, nor one that's very visible, but from the light reflecting it, I can notice the blue gemstones forming the pattern of a blue eye, despite the primarily gold component."

    So that's how he knew I was Turkish, instinctively, Bella places her fingers on her pendant and fondles it as she continues to hearken to Sherlock's immaculate faculties of observation.

"Your bag is half-open, and there's a script visible. It's wrinkled, worn out, probably because you've been reading it every opportunity you can because it's a big role and you're careful not to mess up on any lines. You're nervous about it, that's why so many pages have the ears folded throughout the distribution of the pages. On the spine of the script, is the title of the play. You're playing the heroine of 'The Phantom of the Opera.'"

The detective pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and chucks the decay and presses on it with his foot. He puts down the cigarette on an ashtray atop the fireplace. "You stopped by the Crescent Café and had cinnamon tea. The Crescent Café happens to be the only place in London to serve Ceylon cinnamon, a strain of cinnamon grown in the fields of Sri Lanka. You carried that aroma with you."

It became very clear, that despite the imperious and haughty that lingers in his voice, there was an unfettered extraordinary mental power he was endowed with. With just the power of sense, visual and olfactory, he is able to retell the characteristics of someone and their exact steps. It was magnificent, unprecedented.

    "I suppose I did make the right choice coming here." Bella says nothing more.

"You just now realized that?" Sherlock scoffs.

"What Sherlock meant to say is, 'I'm glad you think so.'" John corrects his companion, adding humanity to his statement.

    Mrs. Hudson comes into the room carefully holding a tray with an arrangement of dishes. In the center is a porcelain teacup, releasing a pleasant aroma of herbal tea. "Have a seat, Bella," she insists, setting the tray down on a coffee table in the middle of the two chairs. "Come here." Bella sits on one of the leather seats, following Mrs. Hudson.

    "You too, Sherlock," the woman says, "I made peppermint tea. Your favourite." The landlady talks to Sherlock with a low tone, displaying her respect and familiarity. It almost seemed kin-like, like a grandmother talking to her grandson. Shortly, she leaves the room.

With no protest, Sherlock seats himself onto the leather chair in front of Bella, on his side of his back faced the pouring sunlight. He reaches for a small teacup, treating himself to the peppermint contents inside the teapot. For a moment, he's silent, his eyes closed taking a sip of his tea. Not ambulating across the room anymore, finally stationary, Bella is able to get a better look at his appearance.

    Sherlock's shoulders are sinewy, his build robust and fitting to his tall frame. His physiognomy was chiseled, a masculinity that contrasts to the softness of his appearance. His cheekbones were carved, the highest point complimented with the light that met it. His eyes, were a light, iced cerulean. It was a timid blue, an iciness that characterized himself. His lips, now wet with tea, were a soft pink that were pillowed, a keyhole effect. His coiffure was black, a deep obsidian hue, combed untidily, yet he wore it nicely. He was an attractive man, his prepossessing figure was yet another endowment to his many brilliant gifts.

"I've shown you the extent of what I can do," he gloats, "I would rather not waste anymore time and would like you to discuss the matter of today's visit. What is the matter of today’s visit?”

"Of course," Bella clears her throat and reaches for her purse. She retrieves a plethora of white envelopes, passing them to the detective before her.

    Sherlock shuffles through the documents, before passing them back to John who'd been standing behind his chair. John studies the papers, a wary expression on his visage.

"'Give up the play or there will be the most dire consequences.'" John says, "'Give up the role, or you will regret it.' Christ, how have you been going to rehearsal with this? I'd be looking after my back. All the notes have the same handwriting, so naturally it's from the same person."

"They were always in my dressing room," she explains, "but that's not all."

"It's not?" John asks.

"A little while ago, one of my dear friends passed away," she continues, "it was ruled an accidental death by the autopsy. She'd died in a car accident. Her name was Flora."

   "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's quite alright," she says. "The point I'm getting to is that she was also performing a play sponsored by the same people this play is being sponsored by."

"And, you think those things may be related?" Sherlock inquires.

"To be honest," she sighs, "I have no idea. It's been a lingering thought of mine ever since I've gotten these notes. Not to mention, it doesn't help the fact that I have no idea who the main patron for this play is. Anyway, Flora was also playing a main role. She never mentioned any threatening notes to me, but I was thinking it might've been because she was scared to."

"These people funding this event, do they have a company?" John asks.

"They're anonymous. My agent, Simon, got me this role because they whoever funded this play looked for me specifically," she sighs, "frankly, Dr. Watson, I feel that my life has been overtaken by strange, intangible little details that could very well lead to nothing. But, I do know one thing, which is that I am being threatened over this role that I refuse to jeopardize."

    "I'm afraid I've got my hands full." Sherlock clears his throat.

    "Come on, Sherlock, you're so bored you've started to shoot bullets at the walls." John reclaims, glancing over at the wall behind him which had been slightly dilapidated with holes remnant of gunpowder. He closes his eyes and frowns. "Much to the dismay of Mrs. Hudson."

    Sherlock says nothing in response. He settles himself deeper into his chair, taking another sip of the peppermint tea that had now gotten lukewarm.

    Bella bites at the inside of her lip, accepting the defeat the end of the day had come to. It seemed the prescient conversation with Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft had foreshadowed the events occurred. They mentioned Sherlock was critical of his cases, and almost nothing piqued his interest. Although Bella was disappointed, she was not surprised. Sherlock was implacable. That's that.

"Well, I'm disappointed you won't take my case," she explains, clutching at her purse, "but the reason I came here was because I'm not giving up this role no matter what, and I hoped I could get this issue resolved. But, even still, I'm not going to let these notes stop me. I will ensure this production is a success, and I refuse to put my role in jeopardy."

Sherlock sighs an exasperated sigh, his gaze finally meeting Bella's.

"In any event," Bella gets up, "I'll be on my way out."

"No, please sit," John protests. "Sherlock, are you sure about this?"

Sherlock says nothing.

"Bella, how about talking with the Scotland Yard about this?" Inspector Lestrade commiserates.

   ". . .I want to keep this as quiet as possible." Bella explains why she'd sought after private detectives rather than the police department.

   "You think someone on the inside may be responsible." John exclaims.

    ". . .Maybe. I also don't know who it is I'm dealing with. I also don't want to publicize my bestfriend's death, or sensationalize any of this." Bella explains.

   "That's more of a reason to talk to Scotland Yard."

   Sherlock, saying nothing more, gets up, retrieving his coat from the coat stand. "I'll need you to show me where you hold your rehearsals."

   "Congratulations, Bella," John exclaims. "You finally got to him."

    "We must start where the incident occurred," Sherlock says, "and looking for clues in the dressing room is indispensable."

   "My Gods, thank you so much, Mr. Holmes!" Bella exclaims, filled with alacrity. "Really, thank you!"

   "Don't misunderstand," he quips, "I haven't accepted your case yet."

   "I know," Bella says, with a smile. "I'm just really happy you agreed to take a look and offer me your time."

    Sherlock, almost fighting off a smile, wears an indiscernible expression on his visage. "Very well then. I'm sure the answer to this matter will take no longer than 1 hour to be uncovered."

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃

//A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

i'm extremely glad i was able to wrap this first chapter up. this really is just the beginning, and a way for me to establish some of the main characters. yes i know i took off jack stillman but i just don’t like him😣 maybe i’ll put him back idk 🥹

if this is well received, i will be more than happy to continue my writing :) i just hope this reaches the small, niche audience i want it to reach.

anyways

thank you for reading!

blessed be.

[cheeriecherrymain]

tw: animal death

We had to put one of our cats to sleep today.

Puffy was...very old. He’s been arthritic and skinny for years now, but he was still happy: he ate voraciously, screamed for treats whenever he saw the box. He cuddled with us and the other cats. He even played a little bit, and his purr was still so loud.

A little while ago, his health took a turn for the worse. He was lethargic, and had trouble moving around. He wasn’t purring, or interacting with us much at all.

So we took him to the vet, and they were pretty much like ‘yeah, like. There’s not really much we can do? We can give him some fluids, and some anti-inflammatory painkillers, and hope he perks back up.’

And he did, kind of. We took him home, and we babied him, and we made sure he was comfy, made sure to give him his pills. He still wasn’t interested in food, so we can to spoon it into his scrawny old face (he was NOT pleased).

But this morning he woke me up, whining in my face and making biscuits on my chest. And he looked...not great. I don’t know how to explain it. To anyone who’s ever lost a sick animal companion, you might know what I’m talking about: when they just kind of stare at you, and you can tell. They’re tired. They know it’s time to go.

So I carried him into my parents’ room, and woke my mom up. She’s not a morning person (neither am I), but the moment she saw him in my arms, I think she knew, too.

So we called the vet.

We gave him a special breakfast of turkey lunch meat and whipped cream (disgusting, I know), we kept him close for as long as we could.

I’m not going to go into detail about losing him. We got a second opinion from our vet, who agreed that he wasn’t doing well, and that he likely won’t improve or have any quality of life if we were to keep him around. She agreed that letting him go, surrounded by his family, what the kindest thing we could do for him.

I’m not really sure what to do without him around.

I know he’s a cat, but he was (and still is) most beloved. We’ve got all this love, and suddenly there’s nowhere for it to go. No more pets to be had, no more purrs to be felt, no more soft fur between my fingers.

Needless to say, I’m not going to be writing on here for a little while. I need to feel sad for a bit, before I start dragging myself upwards by writing. I’m not going to be gone for a long time, and I’m still going to be plucking away at the requests I’ve received, but things will be slower.

God, of all the things to happen, right as we’re about to welcome a new life into the world, an old one moves on.

Anyways, I’m gonna thank you all ahead of time for being patient with me, and for being kind. My heart goes out to anyone and everyone who’s lost a pet before. It sucks.

[notthebluexo]

rant

Today has been the most lethargic, unproductive day in my 3 months at the USA. I couldn't get anything done, I struggled focusing on anything, had difficulty opening up during the club meeting, etc etc. I feel like my focus is blurring away from my dreams and that my work isn't nearly good enough to make me realize them.

But then again this isn't the first time this has happened and I know I will bounce back from this.

It's probably just one of those days where you feel overwhelmed by what's happening around you and you feel like nothing is going your way whatsoever. And I did see this coming from the past couple days or so -- ever since I gave the Qualcomm interview, I don't really feel like myself. Part of the reason I can't focus on anything is the anxiety I'm feeling regarding the results. I feel like the later they reply, the bigger my chances of getting rejected are. I felt very strongly that I would get the role right after the interview, but now I feel my chances getting slimmer. If I had one hint - from someone, from anyone, regarding my results, I'd be very very happy right now.

And the dream life I'm thinking so hard about is kind of dependent on the result of that interview. You know, NY trip, apple watch, a structured focus on leetcode for the 2028 Google mission and all that. I'm seeing all that come to life - and all that is dependent on me getting this internship at Qualcomm. I actually don't know what I'm going to do if I don't get it. It's so weird.

Btw it's crazy because just a couple days ago I wasn't even thinking about the prospect of me not getting this role - I was so confident that I would get it. It's faded a lot today. I also do think that it's just today and that I'll be fine tomorrow.

One of the biggest positives I've felt today was that I overcame an urge - although fairly mild - to watch c0rn again. God damn, I've been such a loser in that one aspect of life. And it's like God wants me to fight that battle alone. But I've realized over time that I'm not nearly brave enough to do it. The future me that I'm so desperately dreaming of has overcome this problem - but I don't know when (or if) that's gonna happen. I am going to struggle very hard tomorrow; I can just feel it happening. I won't ask God for help - I am in this alone and I will win this battle alone. I have to.

[andstilliam]

i got out of bed a bit late this morning but decided to go for another walk in PPP. i saw my girl running and we lapped each other again and stopped for a quick chat. she's such a sweet person, a real ray of sunshine. i saw a lot of people running, some obviously from dal with their dal gear. it definitely made me want to train. unfortunately i am not well enough to train in running, and i likely won't be for a long time. it was a nice walk but i was really dehydrated so it could've been better. came back and had my waffles and tea. i also treated myself this morning to a starbucks cappuccino. i've been adding a lemon slice to my tea and it's quite nice.

my period is soooo bad this cycle, thankfully ending now. overall this cycle felt pretty whack for me. i didn't feel like everything was happening on time and then lasting longer as well. heavy bleeding this time around. it's most likely low iron but i don't want to take my iron pills. not as lethargic as last month but still lethargic if that makes sense lol. so much suicidality. thank god my moods change in the snap of a finger but it's so annoying to have those kinds of thoughts at all. i was just thinking today how i've always felt so far removed from suicide, like knowing that my brain is doing this and it's not me. well thank god i have the capacity to separate that. although i don't think i have that ability with my ed. i've never viewed my ed as a separate entity, which is even weirder now given i'm not bulimic anymore and how much i rave about hating bulimia. it's like okay yeah, but you did identify as being bulimic for quite a while.

i did a deep dive on post partum depression and learned that post partum psychosis was a thing. i don't even remember how i stumbled upon this topic. it was probably the news of Chianti Means who jumped off Niagra Falls with her 2 children, her son aged 9 and her daughter, 5 mos old. Just heartbreaking......I watched a video her brother posted on Facebook and he's just laying there in silence with tears streaming down his face and the only thing he says in those 3 mins is "My sister jumped off the falls. What the fuck." It's just so sad. So then I read up on other cases of women killing their children and themselves or attempting. So terrifying. So that case has been on my mind. And last year, a woman visiting from Illinois jumped off the Falls with her 5 year old son who miraculously survived. Thank god he's only 5. He'll likely repress the memory for most of his life and hopefully his family spares him of this. Idek if he survived. People who've watched this happen say that before they jumped, they were calm and so it took them a few minutes to register what happened. That's just so scary to me. How someone can willingly fall to their death happily, in a sobering state. I feel like I can't imagine what these women go through to take their kids with them and die. They say that psychosis can wax and wane and it just happens in one moment. They say that with suicide too. That has always frightened me given how frequently I change states. Even when using drugs recreationally, i always feared death. i always think about my family and i would literally start panicking. and to think that panic doesn't set in for people, it's so strange. i feel like if i didn't have a family, i'd consider ending my life on my own terms. but i do have a family and i want to create my own family as well so i'm never alone. you have a responsibility to the people who are here and with you. that's why i've always been so afraid of the ideation i experience because it's random for me and it's absolutely not what i want for myself and my loved ones. i've always had that awareness. but one moment can change everything. imagine just freely jumping off a cliff and all your worries just vanish. the only desperation i've ever felt in my life was going through untreated epilepsy and in all honesty, i believe that is worth attempting suicide over-- if it's going to get you help. my experience was horrifying but i will never regret it. i have never in my life felt that hopeless before, like i had nothing and no one to turn to, no other option. i've never in my life felt that powerless. i will never regret overdosing on heroin because of it and if i had to do it all over again, i absolutely would. it changed my life for the better, not because i survived, but because i got help. i would not wish impaired awareness seizures on my worst enemy. nobody deserves to lose their dignity like that. nobody deserves to lose control of their faculties to the point where they can't even move. the sad reality of my situation is that i didn't have another option. that option worked and so thankfully, i don't have to consider another one. so when people talk about MAiD and suicide, for the first time ever in my life, i can understand as to why people think that's their only option because at one point, it was mine. and that's how i feel about it. but don't think that's sad. it isn't a sad ending for me. my life flourished from that moment onwards. anticonvulsants dramatically improved my life. even though i can go on and on and on about how that never should've happened....it happened, and my doctors saved my life. they saved my life when it came to that and i will always be grateful for that. it changed my life forever. because i know i'm a rarity-- not to brag...teehee....but it takes something and someone special to go through that with you, and i had that privilege. so, how could i ever be hateful for that? i never will be, ever. my life was saved. and that's also how i feel about it.

[davespit]

9/19/24

weird to start this. sitting on the toilet watching it's always sunny and typing this out but. you get it. i'll get up in a second. i've started this because i have a feeling i won't be able to sleep until i can figure out my whole life in like twenty minutes...... i wish life worked like that. i'm so tired of waiting or feeling lost and letting things happen but i probably should let go sometimes too. i think i have a hard time letting go but in the way that i either let go too much or not at all? how do i let go a Decent amount of time but not all the time? like a realistic amount? i need to figure out my budget tomorrow and write a cover letter but i don't know when i'll have the time... maybe after i get home from work? getting mpox vaxxed tomorrow or maybe i should just push it to another day because i kinda wanna come home and be with b. his aunt passed and i've been so busy and i miss him a lot. i wish i could skip to the part of my life where everything is ok. i wish i could skip to when b and i live together and i have no worries except what to make for dinner or how to cuddle that night. god i can't wait to see him. i hope i can get to the gym tomorrow, i'm gonna sleep now-ish so i can get up since i wrecked myself last night and today. maybe i am getting old.

mood: apathetic, lethargic, stressed, dehydrated

affirmations: i can do hard things, do what you can with what you have, things will work out for me

goals for tomorrow: gym, work, budget, cover letters

until next time...........

[mcbex]

*Going unnoticed *

It's funny how when you pray most often God answers your prayers but doesn't change the situation. He merely guides you to the perspective that is needed to help you through. I have been praying hard about change as of late. I'm starting to recognize I need to be honest with myself because my underlying issue is fear. Fear I lack courage, fear I'll be stuck in the same place indefinetly and fear of the things that will change when all I want to do is hold onto them. Can I be useful and afraid?

As usual with this blog I try to find a way to tell a story about what I wrestle with so I can hit the topic from the side. It brings so much clarity for me when I don't go directly at something. In this scenario I've been trying to share my heart for over a month about how living our life to the fullest doesn't need to come in the way we're expecting it. It's possibly just an effort to validate said fear.

As usual the closer I get to sharing the more satan's attacks hit me head on. Making it harder to find the right words. I'm not even sure these are those. But I've been too long sitting in the fear of saying the wrong thing. He is the master of direct confusion and instant convictor of sin. In fact the second we say "I believe" we become his nemesis. I want nothing more than to go unnoticed by the devil himself but I have a bit of a problem. Satan's attention is a little like an "I love God" meter. The more you lean into those heavenly whispers the angrier that little red guy seems to get. Thus I end up snared, blocked and once more falling prey to his insignificant games.

A.W. Tozier says as christians all we need to do for satan to win is to be complacent and do nothing. We must merely live out our lives accepting the "low key" christian attitude. Funny that this is what I fear the most. Yet what am I to do when my days are short, obligations are long? Is there time enough?

At church last Sunday the pastor was going on about Grace. He was sharing that grace is free and although we don't have to do anything for it, we can't be lethargic about it either. We represent a faith so profound it is bigger than everything. We cannot pretend it's the "lazy river" ride at Disney (his words- not mine). My daughter, whom I'm never sure is listening due to always humming lowly or fidgeting or trying to read a book during service, leans over to me and starts whispering. She says mom he's right. Having faith in God is like white water rafting. I've never been on either ride but I gather they are wildly different. Both analogies fit the truth.

At the end of service unbeknownst to me there was a baptism. An older man got up to testify. I cried. It was with beautiful fervor that he exclaimed his faith and it reminds me that God wants us to enjoy our lives. Although not every second is worthy of a smile. Everyday is worth of joy because he put me here. And if he put me here my fear is wasted on the wrong things. As long as my eyes are on the cross every second counts. Every minute matters.

Today was a day of wins. Juxtaposed between what my heart wants and the accountability of the season I reside in, I found exactly what I needed. In someways I could be more dedicated to the things that vie for my time. In other ways I could do less. Ultimately I just need to go out there everyday in every season of my life and show God I want his grace, I need his love and he's got to keep leading the way. The only thing I need really fear is God. He's got my back so every other thing is arbitrary.

Ecclesiastes 3: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens

Psalm 42: 7-8 Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me— a prayer to the God of my life.

Romans 12:9-13 Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

[skinni-girls-eat-books]

Monday, January 1st, 2024!

10:29am We are alive mf's!!! We made it to the new year!

Currently having my semi-annual financial hoopla but things will work themselves out 😇

January goals: not spending money basically.

- don't get so drunk, it is not fun anymore!

- stop buying food/ drinks out! Too much $

- look for free activities

- free hobbies

- be mindful of what you're doing! And not doing!

- wake up earlier and go to bed earlier! (Gradual)

1:01pm I have already caved and have gotten PDQ 🤣 it's all good I'm straight chilling ❤️ Stay positive y'all. Watching A Historia Delas on Hulu, looks pretty good!

3:45pm Ok so PDQ has made me completely lethargic, the salt has made me totally bloated AF like I feel it in my belly and my feet and hands. I want to work on increasing my energy levels this year and omg this was not the right thing to do. I'm so bloated I'm too uncomfortable to nap even. This show is very good though thank god bc I'm clearly not doing much else today.

Also, one of my wall adjacent neighbors has been playing freaking dubstep or something for like 2 hrs straight and I just realized it's making my brain feel weird/ fuzzy but I couldn't identify why tf I felt that way before. There's so much damn noise in the world it's no wonder everyone is losing their mind/ irritable and slightly annoyed all the time.

8:04pm I did my nails! Also binge watching this show was a very good decision, the best I've made all day 🤣 Tried eating some cheese and it's too much!! My body is just rejecting all of this rich af holiday food and I should really clean out the fridge tomorrow and start fresh. I know it's a waste but idc I don't want to keep feeling like crap and I hate expired food. It's not my fault I went on vacation for like 10 days and all this was too much. I'm still not used to buying/ cooking food for one person. I need to stop buying gallons of milk ffs! It's way too much I had to have like 4 cups last night bc it was expiring today. This is just all part of being mindful, everything is a learning process! You are ok and you are doing great! ❤️

Also, learning more and more about how abusive my relationship is and I'm so glad the internet exists because it would have been so easy to just *not* be aware of this experience that i unfortunately share with many people!! Narcissistic abuse is real and I am ready to keep healing!! Can't fool me twice.

I loved talking to his grandmother though, she is so wise and sweet and I love that she really doesn't play his BS and can see through it, amen!!! I can't believe she said what I thought she would say.... She wants them to move out together so that they'll break up already!!!! That shit is crazy she really said that!!! I may be young but I am not stupid and I saw that shit coming from MILES away literally.

9:41pm He keeps randomly texting me and tbh at this point it's so crystal clear what he's doing and it's pathetic. Simply I have no admiration for him, no respect above human decency really, it's just pathetic is the only word for it. He clearly needs psychological help, and I'm not a psychologist! Also, don't you have a gf to text who literally hates me? Get it together, bro, you're not fooling anyone (except her?? Poor girl tbh she's really getting her payback/ karma in spades I'm sure) thanks universe :) love ya.

PS why does he keep bringing up the music thing?? Does he have no other lines I don't really get it. What tf am I supposed to do about that anyway. I listen to all of his music and my music just fine (oh wait it's because I took time to heal and didn't jump into another toxic relationship 7 days later!!) Get a grip, dude, you're not getting anyone's sympathy here.

Made a to do list for tomorrow so we'll see how that goes! Also I'm sleeping naked so we're trying lots of new things!

[plantfeed]

EDIE & ANDRES — THREAD 001.

location :  pink paradise, during the discord mini event.

description :  edie visists a strip club for the first time with andres.

featuring : andres @orngejce

𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒄𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚.

edie wants a milkshake (preferably strawberry), but for some reason the last two bars she's been to have just stared at her blankly, like she's asked them to summon a divine apparition of the holy father, or consecrate the water into wine. pink paradise sounds more promising. pink's in the title, and although it's tucked away, it feels cosy as she makes her way down the neon-lit staircase, like entering a grown up ballpit. it's only when she reaches the basement level, eyes blinking to adjust like two wide fog lights, that she realises she's the only girl wearing clothes. "oh gosh... those are..." perhaps the only naked body of a woman she's ever seen in the flesh, save her own. her astonishment is clear, puckered lips pulsed open like a pink scrunchie wrapped around her face as she turns to the punter closest. "i mean... her 'taters are right out for the world and it's wife to gawk at!"

Andres Bonetti

Really, he had meant to go into Fanny’s, hoping to run into the group that had invited him out that night, and while he was busy following the bustling crowd, he ended up wandering behind them into the pink building. One seedy staircase later he was holding a Mai Tai while a topless girl babbled at him about her degree, feeling the glitter leaving her body and coating his sweater, feeling too guilty to end the dance early, “Honestly a biotech major paired with linguistics is a pretty killer plan,” Andres babbled back at her, cheeks flushed and humming hoarsely, “I definitely couldn’t do it, Elementary Education is high as I’m willing to go,” He laughed eyes drifting when he heard a familiar voice, sighing in relief and panickily reaching into his pockets, “I’ve got to go, but you were great,” He offered her the cash he pulled from his wallet, awkward smile as she took it and gave him a kiss on the cheek, letting out another sigh and quickly going to Edie’s side, “Strip club, Pink Paradise strip club Edie,” He explained to her resting his hand on her back some to guide her over to the bar, “Didn’t you follow the crowd too? I couldn’t get out and before I knew it I was getting a lap dance from the next Surgeon General.”

𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒄𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚.

still staring blankly, it's only when she feels the press of a hand against her spine that edie blinks awake, brain adjusting like she's buffering. edie imagines that the fat-bellied hamsters running on the treadmill that keep her brain alive are particularly lethargic today, perhaps a little drunk on too many mulled wines. she's never been to a strip club. barely even understands the purpose of them. "am i supposed to look like that?" she asks, slightly dumbfounded. she was raised to believe that they were all created in god's image, but could a god really have created those? perhaps a god with a scalpel and silicone. "everything's so..." her hands grab at the air, lips making a sucking motion, like she's trying to pull air through a straw. "and i don't look like that. i've got wobbly bits. when i sit down, there's bits of me that fold over."

Andres Bonetti

Brows furring, he slid his hand to her side, noting the confused and concerned expression on her face now, “Edie wobbly bits are good,” Andres shrugged his shoulder some, “I like wobbly bits,” He offered her a smile, moving to pull the stool out for her at the bar, waving the bartender over, “Look lets get you something to drink hm? These girls are working anyways, you should try comparing yourself to them, you’re just meant to have fun here, drink and watch them dance and stuff,” Another flush came to his cheeks, “Or if you want, we could leave?”

𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒄𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚

there's a heat that builds beneath her skin, breath quickening slightly when his hand slides over her side. she's already intensely aware of her body. perhaps that means she's just more attuned to the sensation, the way it sparks something between anxiety and adrenaline in her. it's not an unwelcome gesture, and while it's almost certainly a platonic one, it's a reminder of how long it's been ( months ) since anybody ( since linus ) has held her. cheeks flushed, she's not sure she can talk about his fondness for wobbly bits any more than to simply say "okay," taking the seat that's offered to her, still something of a startled rabbit in her demeanour. "we don't have to leave." in a way, it's inspiring, seeing how these women can transform their bodies into snakes around a pole. she didn't know the body could even bend like that. "i suppose it's not too dissimilar to what i do," she notes, head cocked to one side as she watches a woman shapeshift before her eyes. "people pay to see me walk on tightropes and juggle fire in silly little outfits." compared to andres' job, her work seems almost farcical. but it brings her joy. cheeks pinching up with a grin, she looks up at him with all the admiration of his students. "do you think they do strawberry milkshake?"

Andres Bonetti

“That’s a really good point yeah,” Andres took his place beside her, gaze remaining on her as she watched the dancers with a curious fondness, seeming to truly be appreciating the way they move and contort their bodies, the gentleness of it making him smile some, “You know I’ve been meaning to make it to the circus, when’s the next time they’re opening up the tent for a show?” A strawberry milkshake… he tried to keep himself from making a face at her request, “They could probably do… like a white Russian with strawberry syrup but… not sure if I’d trust drinking milk at a bar Edie,”

𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒄𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚.

"thursdays, fridays, saturdays, sundays. monday to wednesday we're on rest," edie chirps with a degree of pride. she'd been learning the flyers in anticipation for a moment like this to arise, but so far, other than andres, none of the few friends she's made have really shown an interest in coming to the circus. "what's in a white russian?" edie asks, trying to recall if she's ever had that one. alcohol's still a novel concept to her. until she met linus, all she'd ever drank is consecrated wine at communion. it still goes straight to her head any time she has a drink, and when they were touring, more than not linus had to carry her out of bars, or hold her head in place to keep her upright any time she let the devil's liquor kiss her lips. "why shouldn't i trust the milk? do they get it from bad cows?" she fiddles in the pocket of her star-shaped handbag and passes him a wad of bills. back home, her father had handled all the money. the price of things is still a little foreign to her. "i'll have whatever you're having. is this enough?"

Andres Bonetti

“We’ll expect to see me next Saturday,” Andres teased, not sure when the last time he went to the circus was… maybe when he was a boy, clutched to his mothers dress hem while his older brothers pushed and shoved each other in front of them as the wandered the hay covered paths, he could recall being slightly unnerved at the sight of thr clowns… but Edie, Edie didn’t unnerve him. The laugh bubbles out before he could help it, smiling at her thoughts and humming some, “I just, maybe I’m just being a snob, but let’s skip the milk based drinks yeah?” He offered head shaking when she held the wad of cash out, “you keep it, it’s on me,” he turned his attention back to the bartender, “can we just get a couple of jacks and coke? Some cherries in hers,” Andres rested his arm on the bar as the man walked off to make their drinks, looking back to Edie, “are you enjoying the island?”

𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒎𝒄𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚.

“really? you’ll come?” with a tearful blink of her big brown cow eyes, edie throws herself into his arms, almost knocking andres off his stool in her haste to hug him. her hands bury themselves in the fabric of his sweater, head on his shoulder, body half in his lap before she realises her error in judgement, face flushed as she dismounts from his knee. “sorry. didn’t mean to jump you. i just… got excited is all. haven’t really made that many friends ‘round here yet. ‘cept fawley.” but then again, she’s only been around for ten days, and even edie can’t make friends that fast. “it’s nice!” she responds, eagerly. almost too eagerly. “i ain't never lived by the sea before. it’s special. sometimes if i walk down there in the morning before anybody else is awake, it feels like i’m on the edge of the world. like i could touch god, or something.” but these days, she’s not sure if she even believes in a god, at least not a long-haired one that drives a motorcycle. “it’s mighty different from back home!” but edie supposes that these days the circus is her home.

Andres Bonetti

A breathy laugh left him when Edie flung herself into his arms, his hand resting on the small of her back, “Yeah of course I’ll come, I’d love to see you perform,” Andres answered quickly, flashing her a smile when she pulled back, “It’s alright, I didn’t mind it,” He hadn’t truly realized how touch starved he was, already missing the weight of her on his knee when she settled back on her stool, his hand moving to rest on hers on the bar gently, finding himself unable to keep himself from doing so. He understood the sentiment, since he moved to Marina he always found himself staring out at the sea, he’d seen it sure plenty of times, but something about the way it looked here, to be entirely surrounded by it made his stomach flip, like a constant unease that excited him, “Marina is great yeah, I really love it too, I’m from Jersey so it’s a lot different here than up there.”

[bishiglomper]

That culmination of a nervous breakdown has been trying to trigger. I am strugglin'

Didn't go out for shopping Friday because my battery has gotten shittier and shittier and i was trying to conserve energy. Did go out to lunch with them though. And then we went out of town to do festival things and fireworks. Wore me out a lot worse than i expected because we went back the next day and i was literally dragging ass. I was so slow and lethargic. Didnt feel good enough even to get an iced coffee. Or a snack. On the way home though we had bro's car which had AC and after some iced tea i was a bit revived enough to tolerate some nugs.

But then we got home (between 1-2) and i was out until 9pm (thank god i ate some nugs). Which made me sad because I was trying so hard to make it to my friends debut doing tarot readings at the shop literally 3 houses down and despite me telling them how much we needed to go and rearranging plans to fit... No one woke me up and i forgot. I was just so dead.

I slept most of today. And then i got sensory and mental overload. Just. My face was itchy. My eyes and nose were sore from being rubbed all day. The nephew got home midday and instead of cuddling he needed tickles which i didnt have the energy for, so he tickles me but i fucking HATE being tickled- that in itself is sensory overload. But he was obnoxious and loud about it. By then i was already feeling like i needed to cry.

Slept more. Woke up to help with dinner. Got overwhelmed. The trash is overflowing, i cant take it out, so theres nowhere to add more trash. There was trash on my plant. There were dirty dishes on the little spot by the window the cat likes to watch out of. I try to keep their spaces open. Ive already been fighting shit back from literally blocking their food and water. The house has gotten so bad. And the carpets are so shitty, i cant stand walking on them. They feel gummy. Ew.

And then i was put in charge of baked beans. I have never put those in the oven and sister was already grilling meat which only takes 20 minutes so I had no clear instructions on how to deal with that and that was just another small notch in my overload meter. But at that point i was crying. But I'm a repressed crier so I did not feel any better. D<

I dont know what is up with my body being this empty. Its frustrating and inconvenient and doesnt feel good.

Oh and on top on all the mental and physical overload, i was already 3 days overdue for my migraine shot. Which is always traumatic. So that was a spoon i didnt have.

And then i realized im also overdue for my ozempic. Which isnt even a spoon normally but its just more i had to do

But to add insult to injury im out of pens but I had like 1/8 in my last pen and i thought i had an old lower dose pen I could just use twice. But it was already almost used up so I had to get migraine shot, lantus shot, and TWO ozempic shots, and still only ended up with like. 60% of my dose of that. 😐

I dont even think I did my nighttime pills, I'm just so done.

I need a new fuckin battery 😭

[tangiblejournal56]

7/22/11

On break at work, nowhere to go in the meantime so I sit in a booth reading, talking to Thom, & finally just writing to fill the two hours.  Today I am lethargic, forcing myself to be chipper & bubbly when approached, then staring into space when alone again.  Having been so long since I’ve worked somewhere new I’d forgotten how strange I appear to new coworkers - my habit of arriving early for a short period of gathering my bearings, my sitting in corners with my books, going through double shifts without eating because I am rarely hungry at work, especially if my job is with food.  The more it surrounds me the less appealing it is.  Upon my manager’s insistence, I allowed him to bring me a vegetarian wrap, which I nibbled at so as not to seem rude or ungrateful, managing to force down a third of it before delegating the rest to a take-home container, knowing I’ll pass it off to Josh or the first homeless man I see.  Days like these force me to realize how foreign I am to the rest of the world, & how alone that makes me.  But I am not truly alone, or I soon won’t be, at least, there is Max.  A beacon of reassurance, the anchor that creates a stillness in my chaotic, spinning world.  He gives me more than he could imagine, more than he believes himself capable.  Due to the early hours I’ve been keeping on account of my job I have often had to miss his late-night texts, about the grand combination of egg rolls & frozen pizza, about watching “Annie Hall” (the loneliness of him watching it without me).  It bothers me, angers me that I’ve had to forgo these conversations, that both of us must miss out on our one link of communication when we are so distant.  I am resentful & counting the dayshoursminutes until I am home in Iowa, & again orbiting in his universe.

Conflicting emotions with Jacob, rocketing back & forth between anger & adoration.  Not often, but there are times when he makes me feel like shit.  His frustration & condescension when I don’t know certain things such as the geographical positions of specific areas, or my lack of knowledge concerning current events.  He couldn’t believe I didn’t know the state of affairs in Libya & Egypt, & acted as though I must be a complete moron.  He doesn’t get how I can choose to disregard the outer world & politics of the day in favor of creating my own interior world in which I can live more happily, expelling as much ugliness & pain as I can manage.  That bewilders me, his lack of understanding for that principle, when he tries so hard to always be more happy & positive.  Hardly opposing ideals.  Besides, why is it so important for him to know these things when it’s not as though he is using this knowledge to better the situation.  I understand the power in knowledge, but I don’t mock him for not knowing any of the endless trivia I have stored up.  It’s not as though I’m asking everyone to live as I do, I know the danger in that, but this is the best way I’ve discovered I can survive.  Succumbing to total, unsheltered reality with no internal lifeboat would destroy me, or whatever is in me that is fundamental to my mental survival, my willingness to thrive.  Aside from his refusal to understand my choices, his blatant disgust with my uneducated stance on such topics is a harshness I am unaccustomed to, I am used to Max’s style of non-judgmental acceptance of my not knowing, then simply & patiently explaining the matter to me.  No condescension, no attempts to talk over my head.  Assuming my intelligence & allowing me to catch up, which I feel is how knowledge is best grasped & retained.  Not coming off like a pompous asshole, as Jacob did last night, to the point where I snapped at him, “Don’t make me feel like shit just because I don’t know something!”  He quickly backed off, tried to smooth it over by reverting back to silly Jacob as we played Trivial Pursuit, but the damage had lingered & I was still stinging.  We went back to singing along to Brand New’s “The Devil & God Are Raging Inside Me” until I eventually cooled off.  Maybe I was overreacting but I just don’t see the value in making someone feel stupid simply because they don’t know something, & feeling stupid is the worst emotion in the spectrum to me, it terrifies & saddens me, makes me feel helpless & alone.  Eventually we were copacetic & he was talking in his drunken animated excitement about Stephen King’s Gunslinger series, in which I held very little personal interest, but faked enthusiasm in due to his eagerness for me to read.  I listened patiently to his ongoing exegesis on the epicness of the series, an internal boredom I masked with interested eyes & faked smiles.  To keep up the charade I focused on how attractive he looked while he ranted, the porch light’s glow on his tanned skin, the arc of his smile, the liveliness of his body while he spoke with such passion.  I agreed to let him read aloud to me from the series, & he lit up with joy.  After I showered I crawled into bed & he sat against the wall, reading aloud & stumbling drunkenly over the text until I feigned unconsciousness.  “Are you asleep?” he asked after awhile, creeping up to me & lightly touching my ear.  He laughed & walked out of the room, & I thought of Max until I eventually fell into a genuine sleep.  How comforting, the image of Max dancing through my mind until all goes dark.  That boy is imbedded so deeply into my core I feel I will never rid myself of the sensation, should I ever long to do so.  In any shape or shadow I hope him to always be in my life, in the foreground or background.  A beacon cutting through the dark.