#he got me through wanting to k*ill myself in college

[sunflowerfinch]

I cant stay of tumblr. It was one single place I could get away. Achievement hunter was my comfort media a special interest a hyperfixation. I feel like everything's crumbling around me and I have no one to reach out to. People are choosing sides and fighting. I literally just feel sick and numb and I don't know what to do.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 2

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago.  With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones@kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior@in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst@kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch@allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @cssns @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @eastwesthomeisbest @dreamingdreamsalways @xsajx @justren21 @laughterandbooks @cocohook38​ @therealstartraveller776​

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns​, the ladies on the Discord!  Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest​, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood​!

Other Chapters: Prologue 1 3 4 Epilogue 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So after the phone calls, the text messages started coming," Emma said, settling into her best friend's plush sofa.

"Texts?" Mary Margaret asked curiously before taking a sip of her tea. "What kind of texts?"

It felt like Emma had known Mary Margaret forever. Both girls were placed in the system at young ages-Emma, because her parents abandoned her on the side of a road as an infant, and Mary Margaret, because her parents both died of illness. They ended up in the same group home, and quickly became the best of friends. They were closer than sisters until the day Mary Margaret was adopted by Cora Mills, and then eventually, Emma was fostered by Ruth Nolan.

Even after being placed with other families, Emma and Mary Margaret kept in touch-letters, phone calls, even the occasional visit. On one such visit, Emma's foster brother, David, was home from college, and as soon as he and Mary Margaret met, it was love at first sight.

They were so in love it was honestly a bit nauseating.

When they got married fresh out of college, Emma couldn't be happier. She'd always considered Mary Margaret her sister in all the ways that counted, and now they truly were.

There was no doubt about it - Mary Margaret Nolan was the person Emma was closest to in the entire world, and so it was only natural that when the weird stuff with the cell phone started happening, Emma decided to discuss it with her.

"Weird ones," Emma answered, taking a sip of her own hot cocoa with cinnamon. "Stuff like Help! or You're the only one who can save me!. And then some of them were even stranger. Just...random letters and symbols, almost like someone was randomly pressing buttons on a keyboard."

"So what did you do?" Mary Margaret asked, sitting on the other side of the sofa and turning toward Emma.

Emma shrugged. "I tried answering at first. You know, you hear about people who are abducted and, like, stuck in a basement for years and stuff like that. I kept thinking, what if someone really needed help and I just...ignored them?"

"And what happened when you answered?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Nothing," Emma answered before taking another sip. "No answer, just another cryptic text several hours later. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. Either someone needed help, or someone was messing with me. I decided I'd call the number, decide whether I needed to help them or tell them to go f-" She stopped, glancing over at Mary Margaret's toddler playing with blocks nearby. "Well, go do something not at all child-friendly to themselves."

"Let me guess, your call didn't get through."

"Nope," Emma confirmed, "but it was even weirder than that. I dialed the number just after receiving a text, but it went directly to voicemail."

"But that's not possible!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.

"Right?" Emma said. "So I tried to ignore the whole thing. Maybe the phone was just...I don't know..glitching or something, although I don't know how a technological glitch could make phone calls and text someone. Anyway, for some reason, I just can't let go. Even though I don't know him, somehow I feel a...connection...to this Killian Jones. I just-I don't know what to do about it."

Mary Margaret was silent for a moment, taking several sips of her steaming beverage, before turning back to Emma with a cautious look in her eyes. "There is...there is another possibility, if you have an open mind."

"Just how open are we talking?"

"Pretty open," Mary Margaret said. "What if-and just hear me out, I know this is crazy-what if Killian Jones is contacting you from beyond the grave."

"What, like a ghost?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but why not? One of the other teachers I work with was talking about this medium. His name is Merlin Emrys. Supposedly he can contact the dead and see ghosts and stuff like that."

"A medium? Seriously?" Emma asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Mary Margaret, you know those people are frauds. It's all about researching their marks ahead of time and then cold reading them. They're only in it to bleed as much cash out of vulnerable people as possible."

"I know it sounds crazy," Mary Margaret conceded, "but what if it's not? I've thought about going to him myself. If I could just talk to my parents one more time-make sure they're okay, make sure they've moved on, or whatever happens after someone dies. Well, it would provide a lot of comfort."

Emma's heart turned over, and she took her friend's hand. She knew how much Mary Margaret missed her parents. It was different for Emma. She'd never known her parents, only knew they'd tossed her out like garbage. She wasn't sure she even wanted to find them.

"I know you miss them," Emma said.

"I do," Mary Margaret said, "but that's not the point. The point is...what do you have to lose? Maybe this Merlin is just a quack like you said, but maybe not. Maybe he could be the key to unravelling the whole mystery."

Emma was silent for a moment. It was crazy; she knew it was. A medium wasn't going to give her the answers she needed if all her bail bonds tricks had failed her, but what the hell?

"Fine. I'll go see Merlin," Emma caved.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma's eyebrows rose as she took in the small, ranch-style house Mary Margaret had directed her to. She was skeptical before seeing the place, but now-now red flags were going up everywhere.

There was a huge, gaudy sign out front that read "Merlin, the great and powerful. Wizard of the unknown and medium of the great beyond." The sign-indeed the entire front of the house-was decorated with all kinds of astrological signs and symbols.

Was this guy even for real?

Emma seriously considered turning around and getting back in her car, but she'd promised Mary Margaret she'd at least check this Merlin out and give him a chance, and Emma was a woman of her word. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

A moment later, an older man with longish, thinning gray hair and a rather unkempt gray beard opened the door. He was wearing long robes. Really playing the part, apparently.

"Merlin Emrys, I presume?" Emma asked as the man welcomed her inside with a sweep of his hand.

The man chuckled. "I'm afraid not. I'm merely his apprentice. Who might I tell Merlin is calling?"

Emma cocked an eyebrow. "You mean your all powerful boss didn't see me coming with his second sight or whatever?"

Emma stepped inside and the apprentice shut the door after her. "My master isn't clairvoyant. He merely has the ability to speak with the dead."

"Right," Emma said, not even trying to tamp down the skepticism in her voice. "I'm Emma Swan, and I'm here to-"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "Don't say too much. Merlin does not wish to be influenced by his clients. He wishes to sense the energy around you for himself."

Emma shrugged. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright," the apprentice said, moving toward large drapes at the far end of the room. "I'll be just a moment. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Emma looked around the room while she waited, and it took everything in her to keep from rolling her eyes. This guy was really playing up the whole "psychic" thing. It felt like she was in some sort of fortune teller carnival tent. All the signs and symbols. This guy even had a crystal ball. An actual crystal ball.

This trip was a massive waste of her time, but maybe it would at least prove to be entertaining.

"Emma Swan, welcome!"

Emma looked up at the handsome black man who made his way through the curtains. He was dressed in much the same way as his apprentice, only he wore a sorcerer's pointy hat on his head.

"Uh, thanks," Emma said, stepping forward and offering her hand. "Full disclosure. I'm more than a little bit of a skeptic, so if this is one of those 'it can only work if you truly believe' deals, we might have a problem."

"My gift can withstand the doubts of the skeptic," he chuckled before reaching out and taking her hand.

No sooner had his hand touched hers than he gasped, taking a step back, eyes going wide. "Would you-would you care to follow me back to my private sitting room, Miss Swan? It's far more comfortable back there."

Emma cocked a brow again, wondering what this odd man was on about. Still, she didn't sense any overt deception in him, and he didn't seem to be any threat to her, so she shrugged before following him through the curtains.

This backroom was far more ordinary than the room they'd just inhabited. Emma took a plush armchair, and Merlin sat on a sofa across from her.

Merlin pulled off his hat and sat it beside him. "I apologize for all the theatrics, Miss Swan," he said, reaching for a pot of tea and then raising an eyebrow in question. Emma declined the beverage with a small shake of her head, and Merlin proceeded to pour himself a cup. "I attempt to play up to what most clients expect from a psychic. Unfortunately, most poor souls who come to see me are out of luck. The loved one they wish to contact has passed on. For most, all I can do amounts to smoke and mirrors. I could tell the moment I shook your hand that you were different."

Emma inwardly scoffed. She knew enough about cons not to be fooled by a clever con man. Made sense he'd use a different tactic with a skeptic than he would with some poor, grief-stricken sap who was a true believer.

"No offense, but I still think you're full of crap," she said.

Merlin smiled. "It seems those with the most energy surrounding them always do."

"So, what?" Emma asked. "Are there ghosts all around me or something?"

"There are a few spirits here with us today," Merlin confirmed. "There's one who's quite insistent. It's a man; looks as though he died rather young. I don't sense he's family, but you were close. Maybe coworkers? Perhaps friends?"

Emma took a deep breath, a face coming to mind. Surely he couldn't mean-

"I'm getting a G in the name," Merlin said slowly. "Greg or Gray….no. Graham."

Emma's heart turned over. Graham. Sweet, slightly dorky Graham Humbert. They'd worked together on more than a few cases, and they'd become good friends.

In fact, they'd been teetering on the precipice of possibly becoming more than friends when he died suddenly.

"How did you know to mention Graham? How did you know that name would get the biggest rise out of me?" Emma demanded, voice hard.

"I don't choose the spirits who come to me," Merlin explained calmly, "I merely give them a voice. Graham is pleased to see you again. He's glad you're doing well."

The anger came then, spurred on by the pain the memory of Graham's death brought back. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"He died quite suddenly, didn't he?" Merlin asked, ignoring her question. "I'm feeling a tightness in my chest. Something with his heart?"

"Heart attack," Emma confirmed tightly. "He had a heart attack right in front of me and died in my arms."

"He's sorry, so very sorry you had to go through that," Merlin said, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "He never wanted to be a source of pain for you."

Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes and had to take a deep breath to keep them from falling. "Yeah, well, he didn't exactly have a say in the matter. Look, I don't know how you knew to bring up Graham, but I'm still not buying it."

"He apologizes he couldn't bring you a bear claw today," Merlin continued with a smile. "Oh, and he asks if you remember the day he thought he saw a wolf. He wants you to know he wasn't drunk. It really was there-in spirit at least."

Emma gasped, remembering the night she and Graham had gone to the Rabbit Hole for a drink after a long shift and Graham swore he spotted a big, gray wolf right there on the main street of town. Emma had made fun of him for that, telling him he'd clearly imbibed a bit too much that night. There's no way Merlin could have known about that incident. He couldn't have found it in any newspaper or online article about Graham's death.

Was it...was it possible this guy was the real deal?

"Okay, I admit, it's weird you'd bring that up," Emma said. "Let's say I believe you, can you ask Graham if he's okay? If he, like, moved on or whatever?"

"You just asked him," Merlin said. "He's here with us and can hear you. He wants to tell you that he is okay. He's more than okay; he's happy. He's moved on, and he's at peace, more than he could have ever thought possible."

Emma smiled, feeling comfort at the thought.

"There's someone else here with us as well," Merlin said. "Another male presence, but I don't believe you know this one. This one seems angry, desperate."

"Um...should we be scared?" Emma asked.

Merlin shook his head. "He doesn't mean us harm, only wants his story told. He's too indistinguishable to speak now, but I sense he'll be accompanying us on our journey today as well."

Wonderful. An angry, desperate ghost guide. Just fantastic.

"So, Emma," Merlin said, after a moment, "what brings you to me tonight?"

Emma pulled out her phone and laid out the entire story for Merlin. She told him about the calls, the texts, everything. Merlin took her phone in hand and gasped as soon as it touched his hand.

"There is a huge amount of energy here," he said. "There's no doubt a spirit has attached itself to you-or at least your phone."

Emma felt a chill. "My phone is haunted?"

"Not precisely," Merlin murmured, turning the device over in his hand. "Someone wishes to get your attention; wishes for you to help him, but there's something odd here, something I can't quite place."

"What do you mean?"

"The spirit is...indistinct," Merlin said, "hazy and just beyond my reach. I've never experienced anything like this."

Emma waited, her curiosity more than piqued at Merlin's odd reaction to her cell phone.

After a moment, Merlin's eyes widened. "Your friend Graham cleared up the mystery for me."

"What?" Emma asked. "What does Graham say is going on?"

"The reason I can't get a clear read on the spirit attached to your phone-this Killian Jones-is, well, because he's not dead."

Notes:

-So there you have it. For those of you who have wondered how this story could possibly have a happy ending since Killian is dead-this is how. He's not actually dead!

-Up next: With Merlin's help, Emma finds out how this is all possible-and she finds the not-dead Killian Jones.

                                                                            Next Chapter-->

[rigelmejo]

Notes today o3o)/

1. Chinese

I am 5/12 chapters through 第十二封情书 and I also recommend this as an easy-ish read, especially if you want to pick up some school related words. School related words are a weak spot for me lol because I never needed to learn 班长 is class monitor. The writing is fairly straightforward if you wanted to guess word meanings they're fairly clear from context.

Where this fic shines is its words about feelings/ideas/reasons since it's half in rhe form of introspective "love letters" Zhang zhijun never plans to send, so it's him writing how he feels and wondering if he's nervous or worried to tell his feelings, if he wants to stop the feelings and move on, if people you like become perfect in your eyes, etc. All really good conceptual words on thoughts and emotions which would help one figure out how to word their own feelings in a conversation, in a journal, or if you plan in the future to read stuff where the narrator does get self reflective.

I checked out the 200+k story 你喜不喜欢你, and although Heavenly Path ranks it as Upper Intermediate, Readibu is giving me an hsk 4 comprehension 83% and hsk 5 comprehension 93% for it, which appears to be comfortably in my Extensive Reading zone. So i may read some of that next... though 撒野 is equivalent in difficulty because of Length reasons at that point, and similarly easy language for me. 你喜不喜欢你 supposedly has ghosts though... and I love me a modern supernatural story. See: my favorite pingxie fics ToT 寒舍 and 半夜寒衣. Which, I would read those 2 pingxie fics next but. Readibu stats put them as harder (hsk 4 comprehension 77%). So while I've read them before and know a lot of THEIR specific words, on the other hand I'm reading "easier" stuff right now just to get a lot of reading in. More reading practice = more improvement, so I'm not exactly dying to slow down my progress lol.

On the other hand though? Reading stuff with more unknown words/stuff does increase opportunities to learn things I have a weak spot in. For example I'm reading this school focused thing, which is definitely filling in my high school/college vocabulary gaps. Reading a business setting with economics discussed would fill in gaps I definitely have, etc. Like... I will ultimately NEED to read stuff I'm unfamiliar with, to become familiar with it. So it's not a bad idea to push myself into Unknown vocabulary territory every so often.

Yes, I'm still trying to find out if that 9000 pages in your target language makes u able to read better ToT. One day ill get to prove that claim true or false. One day ToT

I am still reading dmbj 1. But it's slower going cause those chapters take me 20-30 minutes a piece. And of course... once I finish I've got a LOT more fucking dmbj novels ToT. Which... I might do 云村笔记 next, since it's got useful words and it's mostly a slice of life novel so I don't need to keep reading another 30 chapters of our dudes scared in a tomb! (I tell you what though: if you want to get comfortable with tomb genre words read dmbj... I feel like after this first novel, the majority of new unknown words will be sand/water setting related or names, because the vast majority of other words in dmbj are scary/reaction/tomb/old stuff antique/bugs/tomb gear which the first book is covering and getting one familiar with).

2. Japanese

I started Yakuza Like a Dragon yesterday, with Ichibian!

And like every single fucking time I start a Japanese game, my brain goes into overdrive to remind me of what's familiar but I fucking forgot ToT, what I don't know yet and desperately try to guess, what I remember but needs to Snap Back into place again, and how much I just wanna Get Better At Japanese so the task of me enjoying comparing the japanese to the English translation gets easier. (Don't ask why I enjoy so Much comparing japanese original with translations, but wow do i, I'm absolutely overwhelmed with doing it automatically and loving it a lot whenever I stumble into japanese again ToT).

The thing is. Every time I remember jjapanese, the Chinese word for things usually zooms right out of my active vocabulary and gets replaced with the japanese. This spring I played through several yakuza games and my japanese recognition and new learned stuff increased (I got to the point I kept forgetting how to converse in chinese and the japanese sentences were all that were fucking coming to me... 时间shijian was GONE and replaced with 時間 jikan ToT and nanren was replaced with otoko it was a mess, I truly couldn't remember something as basic as nanren ToT). But it just shoved my active chinese vocabulary right outta my brain - which to be fair, I was doing no chinese studying in the spring to KEEP it active.

Meanwhile, this past week I read 5 chinese stories and I'm going on 2 more. So my chinese active vocabulary I forgot this spring came right back, and now I can remember how to chat in chinese (which is good for particular personal life reasons at the moment) but that also means I blanked out on all my old japanese active vocab. Nanren replaced otoko, haizi replaced Kodomo, jiehun replaced whatever the fuck wedding was in japanese but I forgot. (I do notice my mental active vocab seems to replace the hanzi/Kanji cognates the worst, I think cause my brain just hates multiple pronunciations for a given character so it doesn't like conceptualizing multiple... which is part of why hanzi clicked so easy for me with their usually only 1-2 pronunciations, versus Kanji which I STILl fucking struggle to pronounce with their usual several pronunciations). So yeah, my chinese is great again rn... but just playing a game with japanese audio, my brain goes into overdrive trying to remember again lol.

I find it so funny. I find it so funny things can be so easy yet so hard. That u can learn more and be eons past where you used to be in progress, and then realize how much you still don't understand and must learn. Then you learn more, get aware of New things you never realized you didn't know, and the process repeats. In japanese I was OVER THE MOON last year when I realized I could read manga finally, without a dictionary! Then I was over the moon this spring, listening to Final Fantasys X audio and just able to actually PLACE each scene I heard, follow some of the dialogue meaning. Now it's fall, I've "progressed" and I pick up Guardians japanese translated novel... I slog through the intro character page, and realize just how brutally few Kanji words I know how to pronounce, how much I'm leaning on chinese hanzi knowledge to "guess" what I'm reading. I start playing some yakuza, and realize how HYPE I was in spring to understand "I'm going to get Oden, yeah he'll kill you, ikuzou etc" when now I hear a solid 4 words I don't know and get So antsy i can't grasp that part lol! That I realize now I can follow that daily life stuff so it doesn't blow my mind to understand anymore, it's not progress that blows my mind anymore to just manage to reach (though it used to), now I've moved on and my brain insists its Frustrating to not grasp new particular details.

It's just. So funny how it's both SO motivating to be on the beginning part when you feel you made a breakthrough and comprehend more! Then it's almost demotivating to realize the new things you Still Don't grasp and desperately want to (even though objectively it's a good thing - you're making more progress if this is happening). Funny what the brain gets happy versus frustrated over.

Which is happening with me for chinese too right now. At lightning speed! At the beginning of this month my brain was DELIGHTED I could read a novel in 2 days and know almost every word! OVER THE MOON I could grasp so much, when I've read stories fully before and Never Comprehended them with such detail as this week. And now, toward the end of this week? My brain is acting frustrated if I try to read and skip or guess an unknown word! Just 1-2 unknown words feel frustrating! When I know good and well I've seen 10-20+ unknown words a chapter in rhe past, ans EASILY read, grasped main idea, and enjoyed. I know that literally earlier this week, I read a story extensively and didn't know maybe 2-5 words a chapter, and it didn't bother me at all! But now it's the end of the week, and my brains going "Oh this feels so hard to read! It has a handful of vague words (that I could definitely guess if I put the effort into and aren't hard to quickly look up)". It makes me wanna force myself to slog through something MUCH harder, if only to remind myself it's not actually a big deal that should make me STUMBLE AND STOP if I don't remember 情致 and 感情s difference absolutely perfectly in a sentence. Or if i dont remember specifically how touch 触碰 and 触摸 differ. Lol its not a big enough deal to actually impede understanding of main idea, and yet now that it's the end of the week these "vague confusions" and driving me up a wall! Lol if I went and read 默读 or 杀破浪 without a dictionary I would quickly realize how much it doesnt fucking matter if I know the specific nuance, and I'd just be grateful to see words I recognize to help me guess all the words I DONT.

Anyway it's. Funny and ridiculous to see the process. How a brain doing something Super Hard acts like it's amazing to successfully understand, but a brain doing something reasonably easy is like "oh but I'm not doing it perfectly so I wanr to give up!"

I also watched 2008 ep 1 of Legend of the Condor Heroes last night in chinese only and uh. Nothing like some huge dialogue chunks of wuxia 4 hanzi wordings to remind me I don't know shit, I can follow a much more confusing story line to me than I think I can ToT. I followed it fine, though yeah it was a bit of a struggle. It reminded me I followed Word of Honor in chinese, and to be so Grateful word of honor was actually mostly fairly modern straightforward dialogue except for a few things Wen Kexing, Prince Jin, and the big sect leader said. Versus Legend of the Condor Heroes 2008 where the first maybe 20 minutes is all several fighters saying lots of 4 hanzi line phrases with just a little relief of action and direct sentences like Tie and Guo fighting and dying. Then finally it flashes 16 years forward and I was so relieved it was regular spoken kinds of everyday stuff again like shoot the black bird/save the white bird/my daughter X/etc is coming.

Anyway back to japanese! I yet again wanna go thru my japanese old audio glossika files. So I can know more of the fucking words I'm hearing in yakuza. Though, knowing me, the words I'm gonna pick up wouldn't even be in glossika. Like I doubt kill is in that course ToT, but I sure had to learn it to follow a lot of yakuza lines.

[hutchhitched]

The Marrow of the Story

Written by: @hutchhitched​ 

Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long-standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn’t donate he will die. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone​]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic and the world slowly ground to a halt. This is the eighth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. I wrote most of this a few months ago before getting stuck on some transitions. Since then, the teenage daughter of one of my closest friends has been diagnosed with B-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and must undergo a bone marrow transplant this spring. As such, this story became much more personal than a prompt. I’m sure I’ve taken some liberties with the medical aspects and ethics of this story. They are intended for story-telling purposes only. K, I hope you enjoy my take on your prompt.

  “Ms. Everdeen, I need your signature,” my administrative assistant says briskly as she enters my office.

 “What’s this for?” I ask as I scribble my signature on the form.

 She takes the manila folder and hands me another, indicating that I need to sign it, too. “Maintenance orders. The library and those lockers in the freshman wing that don’t lock properly.”

 “Got it. Thanks.”

 “Oh, and you have a call waiting on line three. I told him you were busy, but…” She shrugs as she walks out of the room, and I sigh and drop down in my desk chair. It’s been a really long day.

 “Ms. Everdeen, Panem North. How can I help you?”

 A rumbly, entirely masculine voice reverberates through the line, and I wrap the phone cord around my left index finger. Even before he’s spoken three words, I’m already impatient for the call to end.

 “Ms. Everdeen. It’s Peeta Mellark. How are you today?”

 I narrow my eyes and resist the urge to slam the phone down in the receiver. Mr. Mellark is not my favorite person. He’s the principal at Panem South, my high school’s cross-town rival, and he and I have always clashed. It might be his smug arrogance when he explains his educational philosophy, or it could be the way he surveys me and then turns away in dismissal every time I see him. Whatever it is, I’ve never been able to stand him, and it’s obvious he feels the same if our interactions at every systemwide meeting and educational conference is any indication. My greatest fantasy consists of him being fired in disgrace. A close second is his forced transfer to another school—any school, so long as it’s out of state and I never have to see him again.

 “What do you want, Mellark?” I snap. I have so little patience today I’m afraid I might actually use profanity if he doesn’t hang up within ten seconds.

 “Doing that well, huh? Always good to hear a friendly voice when I have to contact you.”

 “I thought you were on medical leave,” I say with little compassion. It’s not my finest moment, I know that, but I really loathe this man.

 “I am,” he admits. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need your help. I know we’re not exactly friends, but—”

 “Friends?” I laugh. “Are you kidding me? I don’t even like you. There’s no way I’d be your friend. Not even if you were dying, and I had the cure.”

 Silence stretches across the line, and I cover my face at what I’ve said. The words are rather unforgivable, and I open my mouth to apologize when he says something I don’t expect to hear.

 “Well, I guess that answers my question. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

 “What question? You didn’t ask me anything,” I say, exasperated.

 He sighs heavily, and I almost throw the phone across the room. “Katniss—sorry, Ms. Everdeen—I don’t really know how to tell you this, so I’ll just ask you to check your email. I think you’ll find something there from me. It’s from my personal account, so you might have to look in your spam folder. It’ll explain everything. Have a good day.”

 And then he hangs up without even bothering to say goodbye. That complete and utter bastard hung up on me. I mean, I wanted him to leave me alone, but he could have at least had the courtesy to say goodbye before cutting off the conversation.

 I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t have time to deal with it at the moment. The last bell of the day is about to ring, and I hurry from my office to oversee students loading onto buses and wandering the parking lot as cars zip in and out of traffic. It’s one of the most nerve-wracking parts of my days, and I’ve almost forgotten Mr. Mellark’s phone call by the time I make it back to my office. If I’m lucky, I can finish within the hour and get home before dark. I hate it when the sunlight hours are so short the day quits before I do.

 I’m just about to shut down my computer when I remember the aggravating phone call. I consider forgetting about it and walking away, but something tells me to open my junk folder and see what that twit’s request is. And then I see it, and I want to throw up.

 Dear Ms. Everdeen,

I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I’ve always admired your ferocity and willingness to give everything you have for your students. Compassion in education isn’t hard to find, but the way you fight for your school, faculty, staff, and students has been inspiring to watch over the past few years.

I mean that. It’s not a ploy to win you over, even though I have a gigantic favor to ask of you.

You might remember that I’ve been on medical leave several times over the past few years. It’s difficult doing my job when I’m ill, so I’ve tried to hide the significance of my condition. The truth is I have a rare bone marrow disease that, without a transplant, is terminal.

Since this is not official business, I’m writing from my personal email, but the favor I’m asking does require your professional approval. With the upcoming blood drive in our district, health clinics have volunteered to be on hand to administer tests for the bone marrow registry. That would streamline the process and allow potentially myself and countless others in need of a transplant a match from someone who might not otherwise volunteer to be tested.

Please consider allowing your school to be part of this. It might save a life.

With admiration, Peeta Mellark

 ****

 Of course I end up giving approval. I’m not a monster, no matter what Mr. Mellark thinks. In good faith, I’m tested as well, and two weeks later, I get a phone call telling me I’m a match for someone in need. By a dramatic, ironic twist of fate, it’s Peeta Mellark who needs my marrow. Thankfully, I’m able to take some time to process, and it’s torture as I weigh the pros and cons.

 A few days pass before I work up the courage to call him. I haven’t heard from him since the phone call letting me know about the email. I’m sure his health takes up much of his energy, but I’m oddly saddened by his absence. I’m also angry with him, but that’s not fair. It’s not his fault that the favor he asked of me will result in me giving up a part of my body and DNA.

 “Hello?”

 “So, what is it you have exactly?” I ask and wince at how detached and unfeeling I sound. I’m anything but that. My squeezing heart is more than enough evidence to prove otherwise. Still, I’m barely holding it together. I can’t let go of the control or I might collapse, and then what?

 “Ms. Everdeen?”

 “Katniss. If you can ask me to consider donating bone marrow, then you can call me by my first name.”

 “Okay, Katniss.” There’s a long pause before he continues. He’s tentative when he finally says, “So, you decided to participate on top of allowing the clinic access to your school?”

 “I did, and I’ll repeat. What is it you have exactly?”

 The words sound just as cold the second time, and I hold my breath until he finally answers.

“I have something called aplastic anemia. I’ve had it since college. Been treating it with blood transfusions for the past decade or so,” he explains with no trace of self-pity or false bravado. His tone is pragmatic, which is almost heart-breaking considering what he’s facing. “There aren’t too many of us with AB- blood in the world, so, I don’t know. When I saw the option of getting more involvement, I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask for help. Directly, I mean. Instead of waiting for the system to work. The worst you could say was no, right?”

 “I’ve already said no to you several times,” I remind him, and he chuckles in response.

 “Yeah. You’ve fought me on every philosophical disagreement we’ve ever had.”

 “That’s because you have really stupid ideas about what works sometimes.”

 His chuckle morphs into a full-fledged laugh, and it makes my lips twitch. “You reject me with aplomb, too. Thanks for not holding back.”

 A grin quirks at the corner of my mouth. He’s funny, I realize. I guess I probably could have figured that out earlier if I’d ever bothered to listen to his words instead of merely hating him.

 “Well, you know. I’m not very good at making friends.”

 The words catch in my throat as I say them. It’s a true statement, but I hadn’t comprehended how much it bothered me until I heard them out loud. I don’t sound matter-of-fact like he does. Loneliness and sadness echo in my voice. I could take some lessons on self-pity from Peeta Mellark, apparently.

 “I’d like to be your friend,” he says softly.

 I blink away tears because my insides have melted into a very unprofessional puddle of goo. It’s a good thing we’re not interacting about anything regarding our jobs.

 “You just want my bone marrow,” I mumble, and my heart jumps at his soft chuckle.

 “Your bone marrow?”

 I inhale shakily and bite my lip. Finally, when I’ve regained a semblance of control, I answer in a quiet admission, “I’m a match.”

 “You’re my match?” His disbelief echoes across the line, and it breaks my heart to hear the trepidatious undercurrent in his tone.

 “I am.”

 “Oh…”

 “So, you want my bone marrow.”

 Silence stretches between us, and I hear rustling before he responds carefully. “I’ll start with that. We can talk about what else I’d like to have later.”

 His voice is warm and soothing, and I feel myself softening. I’ve known that I’m going to be his donor since I knew he needed me, but it feels more personal now. More like he’s my responsibility, my ally, and not my enemy.

 “Okay.”

 There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks tentatively, “Okay?”

 “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

 There’s almost no sound from his end of the line, just his breath in my ear. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking or feeling. It must be a massive amount of relief mixed with a hundred other emotions. Like me, I’m sure he hates asking for help, and to have to request it from me must have been terrible for him. I don’t want him to feel beholden. He doesn’t deserve to have to be grateful for the rest of his life just because he needs something I can willingly give.

 “Thank you,” he finally says, and the simplicity of it takes my breath away.

 I wonder exactly what it is he’s thanking me for—his life? For being willing to grant him a favor? For not being a complete bitch to him like I have been for the past three years? It’s the least I can do for someone who’s dying. I can’t be responsible for hitting him when he’s down.

 “Sure. Yeah, let me know the specifics. Or the hospital can or whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

 I end the call before he can answer, or maybe he does and I just don’t hear it. I can’t bear to listen to his voice anymore. I don’t know how much I’m going to have to actually see him to complete this process, but I’m suddenly nervous. He’s melted me with just an email and a few phone conversations. If I’m in the same room with him, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up the façade of hating him, and I need to. I can’t afford to care about him.

 The next few weeks pass in a flurry of meetings with medical professionals and preparing for the surgery. I don’t see Peeta, and he doesn’t contact me. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll change my mind, or maybe he doesn’t have any interest in actually being my friend, after all. I don’t allow myself to think about why that disappoints me. Instead, I tell myself that he’s likely dealing with his own illness and concentrating on getting as healthy as possible so he can recover quicker following the procedure. Maybe I’m just making excuses for him, but I remind myself that making a friend isn’t why I’m doing this. He doesn’t owe me anything.

 Suddenly, it’s the day of the surgery, and I’m terrified. I haven’t ever been on anesthesia before, barely been sick, and never had an IV. Now, I’m about to go under the knife for my mortal enemy. Okay, that’s overdramatic and hyperbolic, but I’m allowed that on the morning of a procedure that will result in me being cut open and part of my hip scraped away. I comfort myself by imagining the simple pleasures I’ll indulge in afterward—an overly sugared hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, some of those cheese buns I never allow myself to buy, highlights from a hairdresser instead of a box. Surely, I deserve those after opening myself up to…

 I shut down that mode of thinking and concentrate on getting to the hospital. As nervous as I am, I manage to stop thinking and let the medical professionals do their jobs. Before I can worry about anything else, I’m on a bed and being wheeled to surgery. When I count backwards, all I see are Peeta Mellark’s deep blue eyes shining at me.

 ****

 I blink awake to a concerned gaze. My sister’s next to my bed when I wake up and greets me with a smile.

 “Hello, sleepyhead. Welcome back to the world.”

 “Little Duck,” I slur with a lazy smile. “Hiiiii!”

 “How do you feel?”

 “Very fuzzy,” I admit after a sporadic inventory of myself. “And my ass hurts.”

 “I hear that happens when somebody cuts you open. I could be wrong.”

 My bubble of laughter is almost giddy, clearly an aftereffect of the anesthesia, but I still manage to ask the really important question. “When can I go home?”

 “A few hours, I think. Outpatient surgery, for the win!”

 “I’m already thinking about how long I have to sponge bathe instead of showering. An incision on my rear end is a new one for me.”

 “I bet the guy you’re giving your marrow to would be happy to help you. He must be pretty grateful,” Prim said slyly, and I roll my eyes.

 “I’m guessing he’s more concerned about not dying, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

 “I looked him up, you know. He’s very pretty.”

 “He’s also an arrogant ass.”

 “Speaking of arrogant asses…”

 “Hey! I thought I’d gotten past being maligned by the Everdeen girls.” Gale Hawthorne’s deep bass booms from the hospital room door. “Hey, Catnip.”

 “Gale! ’S so good to see you.”

 “Well, Prim called. I thought maybe I should cut my business trip short and pay you a visit.”

 I reach for him, and he crosses to me quickly. His hand wraps around mine, and the warmth grounds me. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my childhood best friend, and his familiarity makes me feel like I might be able to handle anything. They both keep me occupied until I’m released and then help me get settled at home. Gale and I sit on the couch and catch up while Prim makes a run for takeout.

 “I couldn’t believe it when Prim called to tell me you were doing this,” he says. “Especially not for the guy you’ve been bitching to me about for the past few years.”

 “I haven’t been—”

 “I’m going to stop you right there. You have, and we both know nobody takes up that much space in your brain unless there’s something there.”

 “There’s nothing between us,” I insist and grunt when he nudges my shoulder.

 “Then maybe you should figure out if there could be. I mean, you have a vested interest in the man. You have a lot in common professionally. He’s going to live a long life because of you. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were part of it.”

 “He’s in a bubble for a few months. Recovery. No germs. All that.” I’m making excuses, and he knows it. He looks at me with pity, and I want to smack him.

 “Katniss, give the guy a chance. From what you’ve told me, he’s into you. On top of the fact that he made arrangements for that massive bouquet of lilies and wildflowers over there.” He motions to the vase we brought home from the hospital. The note provides thanks for saving his life and an apology for flowers being inadequate as repayment.

 “He’s not—”

 “Give him a chance.”

 Gale’s words wash over me, and it’s like all the painful moments and deep bouts of loneliness resurface at once. No matter what’s happened between Peeta and me, I have a connection to him now that’s deeper than our usual snipping and snark. Being forced to think about him as someone with real hopes and dreams and challenges has softened me to him, but I barely know him. Why does everyone assume he wants anything more than he’s already received?

 Prim returns with food, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I promise Gale I’ll think about what he’s said as I recover, but that’s only to get him off my back. Yet, as the days pass, I can’t get Peeta Mellark out of my head. Now that I’ve saved his life, he’s got a hold on me.

 ****

 I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I expect anything from him. I’m just stopping by to see how he is, and that’s it. No expectations, no nothing. Just an attempt to make sure he’s feeling better after the transplant. I shouldn’t even be able to see him, but I called the hospital, explained the situation, and found out I’ve been approved for visiting for the past couple of weeks. Peeta must have added me to his approved list, which makes me remarkably happy. It’s been a month since the bone marrow transplant, and Peeta’s body seems to be accepting it with no problem.

 Besides, no one can fault me for checking in on a sick colleague. It’s practically expected as part of my job. Except, that’s a lie. I’m not checking on anyone else who calls into work sick, but, then again, no one else called in because they had a disease that resulted in some of my own body inserted into them.

 Which sounds dirty and definitely not what I should be thinking as I knock on his hospital door and peer into the room.

 “Katniss!” he says as his beautiful blue eyes light up. “Please, come in.”

 “I, uh… I just thought I’d check on you. Make sure my bone marrow is behaving. Not giving you any trouble.”

 Oh, hell. I sound like an idiot.

 “Doing beautifully. It’s almost like it knows it’ll be in trouble if it acts up. Must be the principal coming out in us.”

 “Behavior issues are the least favorite part of my job.”

 “Same,” he chuckles and waves me to the chair. “Sit, if you have a minute. I’d like to thank you—”

 “No,” I insist. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

 “Katniss, you saved my life,” he sighs. “The least you can do is let me thank you properly. Let me take you dinner sometime or something. In fact, yes. I need to do that. No expectations, no nothing. Just dinner.”

 I feel an uncomfortable pang in my stomach as I hear my own thoughts repeated back to me. It’s almost like he can see inside my brain, and that’s terrifying.

 “Fine,” I concede. “Dinner, but not until you’re completely recovered. I don’t want to be cause for a setback.”

 “I can handle that,” he agrees and then gives me a soft, beautiful smile so incredibly shy that it feels like he’s only ever shown it to me.

 I don’t even want to think about why I’m floating as I leave the hospital.

 ****

 It’s another few months before Peeta finally insists he’s well enough and calls and invites me to the dinner I agreed to when he was in the hospital. His recovery has been rapid, and I hear through the grapevine he’s back at work and seemingly cured. I don’t know enough about his disease to know if he’s healing faster than normal or not, but I breathe easier when I hear the news. That is, until the phone rings.

 “Katniss Everdeen. My savior,” he says when I answer.

 “Oh, please don’t,” I gulp. “I’m no savior.”

 He chuckles at my discomfort but it’s clear it’s not with any sort of malice. “Sorry. That might have been hyperbole.”

 “You think?”

 “Maybe. Maybe not. I would like to see when you’re free for dinner. You’ve put me off long enough. I demand satisfaction. I mean, my belly does. In other words, I need food, and now that I feel well enough to consume copious amounts of it, I’d really love some company as I do that. Who better than the woman who made it happen?”

 He’s so charming it makes my toes curl, which is not at all what I want. Because how am I supposed to resist that adorable smirk I know is plastered across his face when he’s sitting across the table from me and plying me with delicious food? He’s supposed to be my nemesis, and I’m not strong enough to deny him when he’s not only good and kind but also a survivor of a rare disease. I mean, that’s not even playing fair.

 “You don’t have to buy me dinner,” I start, but he interrupts before I can get any farther.

 “If I remember correctly, you agreed to this back in the hospital, and I know you always keep your word. I wore you down, and you said you’d go with me. Don’t go backing out on me now,” he chides. His tone remains light-hearted as he speaks, but I detect a hint of hurt below the surface. My willingness to concur seems important to him. Why, I’m not sure, but the last thing I want to do is break the fragile truce that had somehow emerged between us.

 “I’ve got some back to school things coming up, so my nights are pretty full,” I protest feebly, but he just waits patiently until I relent. “Fine. Next Thursday. Does that work?”

 “Of course.”

 “Don’t you have meetings, too? You haven’t resigned, and I haven’t heard about it, have you?”

 “No, nothing like that,” he laughs. “I’ve just been given stringent orders from Superintendent Crane to take it easy. My assistant principal is covering anything at night until October.”

 “Lucky you.”

 “I have a good staff,” he deflects. “Next Thursday. I’ll pick you up.”

 “No! I can meet—”

 But he’s already disconnected the call. I don’t even bother to wonder how he’ll figure out my address. I don’t put anything past him anymore. Other than the life-threatening illness, he seems to have beaten, Peeta Mellark has the best luck of anyone I’ve ever known.

 ****

 “And then I lowered my hand and answered him in the most serious tone possible. I could hardly keep a straight face because I had fake buck teeth in. The poor kid looked at me like I was insane, but he didn’t ever wear the vampire teeth in class again.”

 I can’t help myself as I giggle at Peeta’s story. I never giggle. It isn’t like me at all, but Peeta’s so funny and disarming over dinner, regaling me with story after story of strange behavior modifications he’d tried when he was an assistant principal and mostly in charge of discipline issues.

 “I’ve gotta admit,” he says ruefully, “I don’t really miss that part of the job now that I’m head principal.”

 “No, I can imagine you wouldn’t,” I agree with a smile.

 Lifting my wine glass, I look at him over the rim and take a sip of the pinot. I dreaded this dinner all week, but it’s been the highlight of a pretty rough few days. I certainly wasn’t expecting to enjoy his company so much, not even after getting to know him a little bit better during his recovery. I thought his charm might wear off at some point, but he just gets more and more disarming the longer we talk. If I didn’t know better, I might think I actually like him, but that’s ridiculous. I’m just glad to have company over dinner. That’s all this is.

 My cheeks flush when Peeta grins at me and sits back in his chair. He’s kept up a steady stream of witty repartee throughout the evening, but now he merely surveys me as the soft sounds of the dining room echo around us. It’s almost intimate.

 “I can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying this,” he finally says. “And how grateful I am for what you did for me. I know it wasn’t an easy choice, but you… You’re an amazing woman, Katniss Everdeen. I’m in your debt forever.”

 I don’t know how to answer him because I can tell he’s completely sincere. He’s not gushing or trying to butter me up. He’s genuine in his words and actions, and I’m stuck feeling guilty for treating him so poorly before his illness threw us together.

 “You really don’t have to thank me anymore,” I insist. “It’s not necessary at all. I mean, what kind of an asshole would I be if I hadn’t agreed to help you? Besides, you’re a fellow principal. Administrators unite and all that.”

 “Stop deflecting,” he said. “You did something really great, and it’s okay for you to take credit for it.”

 Flustered, I fiddle with my napkin because I don’t want to say something stupid. He has a way of making me tongue-tied that I haven’t felt since I was a teenager. “Thanks,” I manage to mumble.

 “Thank you.”

 I hesitate but finally manage to choke, “You’re welcome.”

 “I’d like to do this again. If you’re willing.”

 His voice feels like a caress, and I lift my eyes to look at him. He’s studying me, unsmiling but not frowning, and I’m struck by how handsome he is in the dimmed light. He reaches across the table and holds his hand out to me. I stare at it for several seconds before I’m willing to reach out and accept it. He gives it a squeeze.

 “How about next week? Is that too soon?”

 “I— I need to check my calendar.”

 “I already did. No school activities.”

 “Are you—”

 “I’m sure,” he insists. “Please.”

 I don’t have a good excuse for saying no, so I agree. I’m still in a daze when he pulls the car to a stop in front of my house and gets out to walk me to the door. He leans in to kiss my check, but I turn my head at just the wrong time. His lips hover millimeters from my skin, and I struggle to breathe. After what feels like an eternity, he tilts his head and brushes his mouth over mine.

 The earth skews off its axis. There’s no other way to describe what happens because my entire world rearranges itself in that brief moment. Much too soon, he’s backed down the sidewalk and waves goodbye to me from his car before pulling away.

 ****

 I’m a mess by the next Friday when Peeta picks me up again for our second dinner together. I don’t know whether to call it a date or not, but the kiss the previous week indicates it could be. The night passes much the same as the previous week. He’s charming and funny and wearing the most stunning shade of green that makes his eyes sparkle turquoise. They do things to my insides. He’s a perfect gentleman as he drives me home again, walks me to the door, and kisses me softly. The situation repeats on the third and fourth and fifth time until I’m so wound up, I’m about to lose my mind. I don’t mean to complain, but my body wants more than what he’s offering.

 I can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just really bad luck that our schedules don’t align for another few weeks. The days pass slowly without seeing him, although we do talk often. Some of his messages and emails make me smile when I read them, while others make me wonder if he’s flirting with me or simply being his usual friendly self.

 I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what’s happening between us. The conversation I had with Gale after my surgery flits in and out of my conscious thoughts. I don’t want to open myself up. I’ve been hurt too many times in the past, but Peeta’s wonderful—smart, compassionate, funny, respectful, and supportive. He’s also got a backbone and knows how to advocate for himself and others around him. In short, he’s exactly what I’ve always desired in a partner. It scares me to death to acknowledge that I want him to be a bigger part of my life. It terrifies me to realize I can also picture him in my bed.

 Finally, we both have an evening without a work responsibility, and he asks if he can come over and make dinner when I tell him I’m simply too tired to dress up and go out to a restaurant. By the time he shows up on my doorstep with bags of groceries, my stomach’s in knots. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, it feels like we’re starting all over again.

 He looks insanely good after having filled out a little since the transplant. His broad shoulders are strong underneath the soft cotton of his salmon colored sweater, and the jeans he’s wearing hug his thighs and hips like a second skin. When he turns around so I can inadvertently check out his ass, I swoon at the sight. I want my hands on that peach so badly my fingertips tingle.

 He leans in to kiss me hello, and time stands still. He pauses once he’s broken the kiss, and we stare at each other for what feels like ages. Something’s changed. We’ve evolved. Our relationship’s grown while we’ve been apart. The air crackles with anticipation, and I’m beyond ready. Finally, he recovers and surveys me, taking in my black leggings, forest green tunic, and braid with a whistle. I flush scarlet at the flattery.

 “Good thing I have these bags to occupy my hands,” he teases, but I swallow down disappointment. He doesn’t seem that interested in touching me, and that makes me feel like howling my disapproval.

 “Maybe I should help. Give your hands a chance to…uh…stray.”

 He whips his head around to stare at me, uncertainty mixing with something I can’t quite decipher. When I don’t drop my gaze, he gulps before heading into the kitchen and tossing the food on the counter. He makes himself busy while I flit around him, unsure what to do. When he finally turns his megawatt smile on me and asks me if I’d be okay cutting vegetables, I nod eagerly. If it puts me closer to him, I’m completely game. He positions me in front of a stack of carrots, potatoes, and mushrooms and turns to his own work.

 We keep up a steady stream of chatter that grows increasingly flirtatious as the minutes pass. He brushes against me several times, and I can feel the electricity sparking between us. When he reaches over to take some of the diced potatoes, our hands brush, and we both jump.

 “Peeta,” I sigh a second before he’s pressed against me, his chest hard against mine as he cups my jaw and kisses me.

 I growl in the back of my throat at the feel of his tongue tangling with mine, and he hauls me tighter against him. He wraps my braid around his hand and tugs my head back so he can lick deeper into me. I’m shaking with desire, frantic for his hands on me. We’ve been circling each other for four years. The months since I agreed to donate my bone marrow have all been foreplay. I’m ready to give into the craving I’ve denied for far too long.

 I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. My hands tangle in his hair, and I can’t stop the wanting whimpers that fall from me. He’s just as frantic, his hands caressing everything he can reach, until they both cup my behind and squeeze.

 I realize I want to climb him like a tree. There’s no shame in admitting it. His body’s hard under his clothing, and he’s rigid as iron against my hip. When he thrusts his right hand under the waistband of my leggings, I don’t even try to stop him. Instead, I moan when his fingers stroke the patch of hair between my legs.

 “Fuck,” he gasps. “Katniss, tell me to stop if this isn’t okay. This is— You’re… You have to stop me now if you’re going to.”

 I don’t stop him. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My limbs aren’t working other than to cling to him. My eyes roll back into my head when he breaches me. His mouth works magic while his fingers plunder and stroke. I’m begging him, my voice hoarse and broken. It’s been so very long, and I don’t have the patience to wait anymore.

 I’m pressed against the counter, my back bent as he fingers me. I don’t care about dinner or anything else except the feel of his calloused palm cupping me while he dips in and out in an uneven rhythm designed to stop me from falling over the edge too soon. His breaths are ragged, and I wrap my left leg around him to pull him closer. It also gives him better access, which he uses to his advantage.

 I’m sopping wet, squelching as he thrusts in and out, his thumb circling my clit and forcing wrecked squeals I’ve never made until experiencing the glory of Peeta Mellark finger fucking me in my own kitchen. My whole body trembles as the tension builds. I just need a release. That’s all I care about in the moment. The entire world could be exploding outside, and I wouldn’t care. He’s driving me crazy, and I don’t want to be sane. I just need him.

 “I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart,” he groans in my ear. “Wanted to feel you on me, hot and wet and sweet. I’ve dreamed about making you come. Imagined it so many times. Wanted to feel you fall apart because of me. You’re almost there, aren’t you, honey? I can tell you’re trying so hard not to let go. I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you.”

 I’ve abandoned all sense of propriety. I’m moaning and rutting against him. I don’t know who I am anymore, but then everything makes sense in a rush of euphoria. I come with a scream that Peeta swallows with his kiss. He holds me close, rocking me through the spasms, grounding me, and cheering me on as I quake and shudder.

 I blink as I come back to myself, but he’s there. His face comes into focus, and I give him a dopey grin that makes him chuckle. He welcomes me back with a kiss as he frees his hand. My pants are moist, and I wiggle at how uncomfortable it is. Still, I think it’s worth the discomfort. I feel like walking liquid.

 “I think we burned dinner.”

 “Don’t care,” I tell him through a kiss. “We can order pizza. Not hungry anyway.”

 “Well, I am,” he jokes as he proceeds to devour me.

 We haven’t talked. I have no idea where we stand, but that doesn’t matter. Right now, Peeta’s here, alive and well, and with me. We make sure the burners are off and then I lead him to the bedroom. I don’t ever want to let go. If I could freeze this moment, I would, but I also want to see about all the others he has left simply because fate threw us together. We’ll get to the deep stuff. For now, I’ll settle for him deep inside me.

[kandikorne]

What’s Left of Me [BTS AU]

Words: 3.6 K

Summary: Jungkook was a typical college student. Nothing interesting there, his only friend, Kim Seokjin, or as he calls him, Jin, is terribly ill with an unknown illness that not even the doctors can prescribe. One night Jin asks Jungkook if he wants to play a game. Only the game isn’t what Jungkook thought. But it’s just a game right? What’s the worst that could happen?

Genre: Angst, Mature Content, Horror/Thriller. 

~ ~ ~

It was nearing midnight as Jungkook had arrived back to his flat after a long drive across town just to deliver some notes and cards to Jin, who was currently running a fever with a mysterious illness. The doctors weren't even a hundred percent sure what was wrong with Jin, maybe it was a strain of pneumonia?   

Yeah that has to be it, thought Jungkook as he slid off his shoes and went straight to his computer, he logged on and started to type up his essay on emotions and how they play into day to day life, but the emotion his professor gave him was quite difficult. It was sadness.

Sure the assignment was simple and all but never really experiencing true sadness he didn't know how to start it off. Besides a cheesy quote about feeling broken and alone. 

He felt like he was about to go insane, he never felt true sadness and he was sure his professor would want it to be about something really depressing over just, ‘I lost my pet cat named Pete,’ but something more.

WIth a loud beep his phone went off alerting him of a text from Jin:

 "Kookie thank you for the study materials!" 

Jungkook smiled and was about to send him a response when Jin replied again:

 "Have you played What's Left of Me? Or heard of it?"

“Honestly no... What is it?” 

Before Jin responded Jungkook reread the name of the game and typed it in on his search bar for What’s Left of Me, all that popped up was a book. Frowning he knew this is not what his hyung meant so he went back to the search bar and tweaked his search adding Game. What popped up was Google claiming an error that Google was not responding. 

“Odd...” He muttered before he tried to open a new tab only for the new same message to reappear. “You have to be kidding me,” he groaned and continually refreshed only to keep getting the same message and that Google had crashed. 

“Why?!” He exclaimed, brows furrowing as he looked over at his phone only to see a video link from Jin. Clicking it he heard a soft female voice, practically whispering all while there was a black screen. 

“Hi... I’m not gonna introduce myself because what’s the point.... Well obviously you’re here for my game What’s Left of Me. The game’s a bit different than your average game, there’s no shooting of others but decisions and story based themes, you the Player decides what happens. Nothing is reversible so play how you feel but do it carefully. I am giving you the extent of five players to choose from and that is all. Thank you for your consideration and I hope you enjoy.” 

The video ended causing a frown to play on the young males features as he texted his hyung. 

“That gave me the chills. Her voice was so sad, yet so familiar. WHY WAS SHE WHISPERING???” 

Sent from Jin at 12:03

“I like how her video was, her voice was soft and peaceful as it captures your attention immediately. I’m ready to play it!” 

Sent from Jungkook at 12:03

“Ok... Did you download it?”

Sent from Jin

“Yea are you going to Kookie?”

Sent from Jungkook

“It won’t even let me view the game.”

Sent From Jin

“Restart your computer.” 

Why, thought the younger male but did as told, he waited for the system to reload and as it did their was a new file on his computer. WHAT’S LEFT OF ME in all caps. “How did this get here?” Scared Jungkook looked around his dark room but nothing was out of place, he even scanned his computer for a virus. Nada.

“Did it work?” Texted Jin, Jungkook could barely breathe yet alone focus on the situation at hand. How did this happen?

“Yeah the game was already on my computer somehow...” 

“Huh strange, maybe you clicked download.” Responded Jin and as he read the message he shook his head, Jin didn't seem to get it. The game just appeared. He hadn’t even had the option to download it as it never popped up when he searched it. 

“No because I couldn't even find the game when I originally searched it.” 

Sent from Jin

“Computer was probs lagging but at least you have the game now. I think I want to play Namjoon. He seems interesting. What about you?”

Sent from Jungkook

“Erm hang on let me load the game, I haven’t open it yet.”

“K.” Was all Jin said as the younger male moved his cursor over the game and clicked open. As the game was loading an eerie song was playing in the background, Hell it wasn’t even a song, more so screeching and loud crashes.  Every now and then the screen would glitch out and he’d get a brief glance at a girls face. He was only at 10% as the game completely froze except for the song which was on an endless loop and began repeating the word why over and over as the depressed girls face froze on screen before him, a single tear running down her smooth skin.

“You left us...” She whispered before the game automatically shut down and sent Jungkook staring at his home screen, eyes wide and breathing rapid. “What the literal fuck,” he cursed as the game restarted and took him back to the loading screen yet it was all different. Instead of a sad song on loop and the sad girl, the game played a soft happy tune as the background was all black and the title appeared in a bloody font. What’s Left of Me the words practically dripping down the screen as a candle flickered beneath the text casting long shadows revealing a room. 

He had to admit this game had some freaky cool artwork. He clicked the title, not really sure what else to do as there was no options for the game. His options appeared before him carved into the desk that the candle was sitting on. The game title was on the gray wall behind the candle. 

Jungkook read his options slowly and wondered if Jin saw the same things as him. 

Continue Game

New Game

Leave?

Curious as to what Continue Game would do for him, since he’s never played it before and was sure no one has played it on his computer he clicked the option. The game file loaded and he was quickly inserted into a dark bathroom, a young man with copper hair, almost golden, was crying in the middle of the room. The only sounds besides the poor males soft spoken sobs was the sound of the bath running and pouring out onto the tiled floor all around the sobbing man. The game glitched and instead of water surrounding the copper haired male it was now a dark red substance which Jungkook could only assume was blood. He was no longer crying but screaming at the top of his lungs, “WHY WHY WHY!” His dark gaze looking dead at the screen, his eyes finding Jungkook’s, it was if he was was aware of Jungkook watching him. It was like the male wasn’t in the game.

Jungkook’s throat constricted with fear. The game crashed and he was back to the main menu. He most certainly wasn't going to try to continue that again unless it was his own saved progress, but even then he still didn't want to do this. 

Why is he even considering this game? For Jin, he softly reminded himself. But why did Jin even want to play this game, it was so freaky and weird. Did Jin not get the same intro as him? Maybe Jin was smarter than him and decided not to try and continue the game, speaking of the Continue Game option that was no longer present instead it said, Can’t Continue Something You Never Started or Cared For. 

Chills ran down his spine as he took a picture and went to send it to Jin who had been blowing up his cell. Jungkook didn't even read his messages from his hyung as he instantly went to send Jin the freaky message from the game. Only the test wouldn't go through, he was shot with an error. “What the Hell?” He grumbled and tried once more only for it to not send. 

“Why’s this happening? I paid my bill!” Biting his lower lip in confusion he looked at Jin’s messages and hoped his hyung would understand his technical difficulties. 

 From Jin sent at 12:10

Jungkook you there?

Hey did you start the game?

Kookie, kookie, kookie?????

Ok spam time 

Hello

What does a janitor yell at a party?

SUPPLIES! hahaha get it? Supplies 

I’m worried you alive? 

Wait are you asleep? 

If so sorry. Send a bunny emoji if you’ve been kidnapped.

I’m gonna start the game, Namjoon is pretty cool and looks good. What about you? Who will you play as, you have five options, all of them epic.

From Jin sent at 12:12 

I get it, you hate the game and you haven’t even started.

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled, Jin is so childish and impatient, he thought to himself and sent a quick apology text. Sent, he managed to send a text! His eyes widened as he tried to send the picture only the picture wouldn’t go through. 

Why was that?

Why was it that he could send an apology to Jin but not a picture? Did he not have enough storage? Was their text history too long? 

It just didn't add up. Whatever, he thought, It doesn’t even matter. It’s just a game. 

Clicking on the New Game option he was sent to a  character page. Five characters like Jin said, but there was an outline of a missing character, two actually. He hovered his cursor over both of them but all he got for their stats was:

Name: ???

Age: ???

Height: ???

Gender: ???

Description: ???

He looked at the outline and noticed the lock in the middle of their chests, he had to unlock them. How come he didn't see that when he was first looking at them? 

Whatever, just find a character and start the game so Jin won’t be upset. With a sigh he moved his over a young male with a blonde mullet, a boxy smile on his perfectly proportioned face. 

Name: Kim Taehyung. 

Age: 23

Height: 5′10 

Gender: Male

Description: Taehyung is a happy go lucky, one of a kind guy, unlike any others that you will ever encounter in life. 

Already interested and a tad bit jealous of how happy and lucky Taehyung gets to be while he, himself, is worried for Jin’s health and stressing over stupid projects that are all nearing there due date. Shoving some his hair out of his face he moved on to the next character, the one from the Continue Game option. Curious as to see what was wrong with him and who he was he began to read the stats.

Name: Worthless

Age: Does it matter? I’m just gonna fade away...

Height: Too short just like life....

Gender: Dead

Description: You let me die, it’s your fault. Why didn't you care about me? How could you let me go through with it? WHY’D YOU LEAVE ME?

Shaking his head with a low sigh escaping his lips, he wondered who was this character and why was he so depressed? But also curious of his stats, he asked Jin. 

Sent from Jungkook at 12:13

Jin who is the copper haired male after Taehyung?

Sent from Jin at 12:13

Who Jimin? Y? 

“Jimin,” whispered Jungkook softly almost as if he was testing out the name. His name was so nice compared to his description. The characters blank stare held his gaze, honestly Jungkook felt a bit guilty for this made up character. 

Sent from Jungkook at 12:15

I couldn't see his stats 4 sum reason. :/ 

Sent from Jin at 12:15

The pausing of this game is janky... Lemme go back to the lobby. Pray that my game saves

Sent from Jungkook at 12:16

I pray it saves

Sent from Jin at 12:17

Okay Name: Park Jimin Age: 22 Height: 4′8 Gender: Male duh Description he’s a chill dude with a beautiful smile.

*Height 5′8 lol he’s not that short. That’s about it.

Sent from Jungkook at 12:17

Is this some sort of dating sim?

Sent from Jin at 12:17

No most certainly not. I don;t really know what it is, but I know it’s not a dating sim. Each character has a different story, that’s all I know. 

Sent from Jungkook at 12:18

This is some srs bull.

Sent from Jin at 12:18

Please don't use acronyms Kookie. 

Jungkook laughed and shook his head at his hyungs requests when, he too, use abbreviations such as why to y.

Sent from Jungkook at 12:18

Yes boss

Sent from Jin at 12:19

😈 Lol picked your character yet?

Sent from Jungkook at 12:19

No not yet, my game’s acting up. 

Sent from Jin at 12:19

Well hurry up so you can play!!!!!

Sent from Jungkook at 12:20

Ok gimme a minute.

Placing his phone down in his lap he moved on to the next character, a tall male with silverish purple hair with deep brown eyes that seemed to be able to read your soul and a soft dimpled smile. 

Name: Kim Namjoon

Age: 23

Height: 5′11

Gender: Male

Description: A bookworm, a really hard worker with excellent grades, who’s also a natural leader. Pretty cool guy once you meet him. 

Jungkook chuckled at the last part, “once you meet him.” Like he’s gonna meet Kim Namjoon in person, he’s just a character in a video game, closest thing he’d get to meeting Namjoon is playing as him. Which he won’t because this is Jin’s character. 

The next character’s picture was sweaty, his tongue out, black hair in his eyes, as a black hat rested on his head. 

Name: Jung Hoseok

Age: 24 

Height: 5′10

Gender: Male

Description: Hoseok, Hobi, is an all around ray of sunshine, with constant happy vibes. Always there for you when you need it, remember?

He frowned, why is it like the game is talking to him directly, “Fine if I play as Hoseok or Hobi, whatever his name is I’ll remember that he’s a ray of sunshine to help others.” He grumbled but a small smile played on his features as a warm aura seemed to enclose around him. 

Moving away from the friendly happier male he moved onto the one dressed in all black, a mask covering his mouth and nose as his dark brown eyes stared at him judgingly. He was more ominous looking than scary.

Name: Min Yoongi

Age: 25

Height: 5′9 

Gender: Male 

Description: Always quiet but observant, known to stand up for those in need, tired but always working. 

Nodding his head, understanding each character he finally decided that he’s play as Taehyung. He would’ve played as Jimin if he was able to, but the game simply would not help let him. 

Starting up as Taehyung he was given the option:

Play as Kim Taehyung?

Yes?     No?

“Obviously,” he said with a chuckle as he selected, yes, the game loaded with ease, compared to when he first started the game. A small transition of a butterfly landing onto a window sill was played in the background, then he heard the sounds of a camera snapping a photo. 

“Babe,” came a male voice in the background, the loading symbol stopped as the clip began to play. The light filtered into the room showing a few dust particles floating around as the butterfly stayed on the sill slowly moving it’s beautiful blue and black wings. 

“In here,” came the females voice, the door opened and the floor groaned with the males footsteps. “Are you coming, we’re about to leave?”

“Sorry was taking a picture.”

“You’re obsessed with that thing.”

“Photos keep memories.”

“Yeah but can also steal a part of your soul.” Spoke the deep voiced male jokingly as the girl laughed. What a sound to be heard, it was like music, so carefree and soft. Jungkook wished he could listen to her laugh all day, she seemed so happy, unlike any other girl he’s ever met and tried to talk to.

“Well this camera can’t have my soul,” she stated promptly. The camera angles changed revealing a small girl, her hair covering her face, until the man, who Jungkook recognized as his player Kim Taehyung, moved his hand to her face brushing her short dark brown hair away from her eyes. “You look so much better showing your face.” She shook her head, the hair falling back into her brown eyes as her dimpled grin moved to crinkle her eyes. 

“Whatever oppa,” she teased softly punching his arm. “I’m serious,” he muttered pulling her closer to him, her hands rested upon his chest and the camera still in her left hand. The butterfly flew past the camera showing the two lovers. 

The room changed, it was no longer the happy loving environment that Jungkook was originally thrusted into. Instead his character was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Every now and then he would repeat a name, it was obviously the girl that he was with name.

“Elli,” he whimpered, even his dog was sniffling and whimpering. His puppy rested his head on Taehyung’s thigh. Both of them were honestly too sad to watch causing Jungkook to push away from his desk and move to his bed. 

“What the fuck is this game? It said Taehyung was a happy go lucky guy, what the fuck happened to that?” Raking his fingers through his hair he took a deep breath and texted Jin:

I can’t play, I have class tomorrow 8 am. 

He lied flatly and went to send only it wouldn’t. “Again with this bullshit?” He questioned aloud pissed, throwing his phone across the room and onto his bed. “Fuck this,” he grumbled as he moved to his couch, falling heavily onto the cushions and looking up at his ceiling in annoyance. 

Through the corner of his eye he noticed the television had turned on. Must’ve sat on the remote, he thought to himself as he sat up and looked under the cushions only to find nothing but a quarter, three pennies, a dime, and a moldy cheeto. Scrunching his nose up in disgust and grabbing the 38 cents that he had found he placed the cushions back in their place. 

He turned on his lamp and continued his search only for the lamps light bulb to explode, shards of glasses flying through the paper lamp shade and nearly cutting him. Startled by the destruction he looked all around the room, his eyes landing on the Tv and to the message displayed through the static. 

juSt go bAck to the VidEo gaME ! 

The message was pretty clear of what it wanted him to do. The younger male didn’t understand why only a few letters were capitalized, and not even in a specific order or why there was two words underlined. Looking back and reading the all capitalized letters he wrote them down:

S - A - V - E    M - E 

A shiver ran down his spine at the startling code, maybe it was unintentional but something in his gut told him, it was there for a reason. He did the same with the two underlined words: 

SAVE THE GAME 

Is what the message came down to. Who was he even supposed to be saving? And why was his television telling him to save the stupid game? It didn't make sense, all of this was just making him frustrated. He shook his head and unplugged the television having enough of this shit. 

“I’m done!” He exclaimed as he moved onto his bedroom, all the lights in the house began to flicker on and off. “Oh great my life now is becoming Paranormal Activity, fun.”

With a groan he went back down the hall and to his computer, the screen glowing at him. “Now how do I even save?” He grumbled trying to find a way to save the game without losing what little progress, technically none, that he’s made so far. 

With a roll of his tired eyes, he pulled up the options and found nothing useful on saving the game. “How the fuck? What is this even? This game,” he groaned out annoyed, ready to just log off his computer and restart Taehyung’s intro scene. Exiting the options he was brought face to face to Taehyung's sad, blood-tear stained cheeks, thanks to the new camera angle. What made it even more creepy was the twisted boxy smile on the male’s face as he stared right into the camera. 

Jumping back startled, and nearly falling out of the chair, Jungkook released a slight yelp as the character began to speak to him, almost directly. 

“Aren’t you gonna save me? Or are you, too, just gonna abandon me like all the others?” 

Two options appeared before him in a dark red, dripping font:

Save ME 

OR

Abandon ME

Hesitant of what the two options meant he hovered his cursor trying to decipher what he should do, when he realized that this was the way of saving, or so he hoped. 

[themysteryofwriting]

How about "hiding an illness" for kris from deltarune?

Just One Day

TW for unknown illness and some self deprecating from Kris

Kris was used to being the kid that was pushed to the side.  The second choice.  The one left behind.

It wasn’t like they thought no one cared, after all, they knew they had their mom and dad, and they had adopted them, even if they weren’t together anymore they both still cared about them.

And they had Asriel before he had gone off to college, leaving them behind.

There were a few classmates that tolerated them, like Monster Kid and Noelle, but until they really talked to Susie for the first time, they didn’t really have any friends.

They knew people cared about them, but they didn’t want to worry them.  So they didn’t tend to tell people when something was wrong.

Their mom did tend to notice when she wasn’t too busy or in too much of a rush, but even after Asriel left for college, there were times she didn’t notice.

But it wasn’t like Kris went out of their way to tell people when they were sick.  And it wasn’t usually a problem, even when they felt like they were one wrong step away from falling over.

It had been a while since they’d had a sick day, so Kris thought they were fine.  Until they woke up and could feel how sick they were.

Unfortunately for Kris, or maybe fortunately depending on how you looked at it, their mom was working on a big project for her class, and Kris didn’t want to bother her, besides it was too late for her to call a sub for her students anyway.

They’d gone to school with much worse anyways.  Kris pulled themselves out of bed and got ready for bed besides how sick they felt.

They just had to get through the day and then they could just head back home and sleep off this sickness.

It was Friday anyways, and they knew they’d probably be better by Monday.  They could do one more day of class. 

It took a bit longer to get ready for the day than normal, but it normally took them a bit to get out of bed so it seemed their mom didn’t notice as they climbed into the car.

If the drive to the school had been any longer, Kris probably would have fallen back asleep.  Fortunately, it wasn’t, because then their mom would have really worried about them.

Kris quickly said goodbye to their mom before heading to Alphy’s class and practically slumping in their seat.  They knew they wouldn’t really be able to focus on anything today.

“...Uhh Kris you okay there,” a voice asked from next to him.

Ah..right.  Kris hasn’t gotten sick since before they befriended Suzie.  Meaning hiding the fact that they were sick would be a little harder.

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” Kris lied.

They didn’t like lying to Susie, especially considering how much of their friendship hung on the fact that they could talk to each other, but they didn’t want to worry her.

Susie looked like they were about to say something when Alphys walked in and she grumbled.

Kris would never be more glad that class was starting.  Susie couldn’t question them more once class started.

Fortunately for Kris, today seemed like a lecture day.  Meaning that they could just get the notes from someone later.  

Because even if they managed to stay awake with how crappy they were feeling, they could barely focus on a good day.  

Today was clearly not a good day.  Kris could even feel themselves drifting off before Alphys even started the lecture.

They didn’t realize they actually fell asleep until they heard Susie curse slightly.  “Humans aren’t supposed to be this warm are they?!?”

“I-I don’t b-believe so.  I-I’ll g-go let M-miss Toriel k-know.”

Kris hearing that, startled...awake?  Were they already awake when they heard Susie?  They weren’t 100 percent sure anymore.

“I’m fine,” they muttered out, “Just a little sick.”

“K-kris I-I would say you were m-more then a little sick,” Ms. Alphys stuttered, “S-susie has been trying to w-wake you up for fifteen m-minutes.”

Fifteen minutes?  They had just closed their eyes for a second hadn’t they?

“Why did you even come to school like this Kris,” Susie muttered under her breath.  She was so quiet that Kris could barely hear her.

“I was fine this morning,” Kris muttered back.

“Yeah, yeah keep telling yourself that,” Susie sighed.

Just as Susie said that ALphys came back in. “M-miss Toriel said s-she’d take Kris back a-after lunch. S-she said they could r-rest in the nurse’s office u-until then.”

“I’ll take Kris there,” Susie said without hesitating. “I think I’m one of the few here who can pick Kris up to carry them there anyways.  I don’t think they’re walking in this state.”

Ms. Alphys nodded slightly at Susie. “J-just be c-careful Susie.”

Susie nodded back and without warning just picked Kris up, and kinda softly slung them over her shoulder.

“Uh S-susie maybe you c-could,” Ms. Alphys started.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop them,” Susie said with a grin as they walked out of the room.

“Susie I can walk myself,” Kris grumbled, not really enjoying being carried like this.

“One, we both know that’s bullshit, two, you act like I wouldn’t do this even if you could.”

“Rude,” Kris grumbled.

“You brought this on yourself for coming to school this sick.  You know you have people you can rely on now.”

“...You know what I might actually be sicker than I thought.  I’m hallucinating a sappy Susie.” 

Unfortunately for Kris, Susie had just entered the nurse’s office so the timing was perfect for Susie to just drop Kris on the bed with no warning.

“Oops,” Susie said, a giant grin on their face showing that it wasn’t an accident.

“R u d e.”

“Anyways, I should probably head back before Alphys sends someone else after me.”

“Like that’s stopped you before,” Kris grumbled.

Susie shot another grin at Kris before their smile softened. “I wasn’t lying Kris, you have other people you can rely on now.  Plus if you pull something like this again, I will sic Lancer and Ralsei on you.”

“I get it Susie,” Kris groaned, just wanting to rest.

Susie nodded, smiling a bit at Kris ad left.

...Leaving Kris to realize that maybe...she was right.

[mhdiaries]

Wave 3 Toralei Stripe Diary

July. Two. Five.

Ooh they’re telling math jokes now...

Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?

A: Pumpkin Pi!

The math geeks I’m stuck on this bus with think that this is funny. So funny in fact, that the harpy sitting in front of me shoots milk out of her nose when she hears the punch line. I don’t think it’s funny at all. I’d rather be listening to the music I have stored on my iCoffin but two hours into our five-hour ride home my iCoffin gave up the ghost. It should have lasted the whole trip and then some except that one of my math camp roomies “accidentally” unplugged my iCoffin charger last night when she plugged in her fright light. I don’t even know why a ghost needs a fright light. What? Was she afraid she would trip over something and go “bump in the night?” I realized what happened when we woke up this morning but we had to leave first thing so I didn’t have time to put a full charge on it. At least I got enough battery life to block out the two hours dedicated to the singing of “X Number Bottles of Ghoul Juice on the Wall.” To add to the misery the seats on this bus only have room for two monsters and Meowlody and Purrsephone are of course sitting together which left me stuck in a seat next to a troll named Teala who had never been away from her bridge for more than a day until she came to math camp.She cried herself to sleep every night. Not that any other monster but me noticed but then again I notice everything. I also noticed Teala wasn’t laughing at any of the math jokes either. In fact she seemed to be more miserable than I was. Well now, here I was thinking she was missing her bridge but if that were the case why didn’t she seem excited about going home? “Dish,” I said. She turned and looked at me for a moment and then stared back ahead. “Okay - suit yourself then,” I said and then tried to curl up in the seat to take a cat nap which I had almost accomplished when she said; “My boy-fiend broke up with me...by text...the first night of math camp.” She still wasn’t looking at me but she wasn’t crying either. “He was my first real boyfriend and...and I don’t know why I’m telling you ‘cause you don’t seem to care about any monster besides yourself and you’ll probably figure out a way to use this to make me even more miserable.” I didn’t show it, but that really hurt. Just because I enjoy the chaos that a good practical joke brings doesn’t mean that I’m intentionally cruel does it? I don’t think it does and besides; where’s the fun of kicking some monster when they’re already down? It’s a lot more fun to see the surprise on a monster’s face when they think they’ve got it all together and you can “help them” see that they don’t. So I said, “Guess you better tell me the whole story then so I can do a thorough job.” That actually brought a ghost of a smile to her face. Teala told me that her ex boy-fiend was applying to colleges and that he decided he needed to keep his “options open” in case he might meet his “intellectual equal” at school. At first I didn’t believe he actually wrote that and then she showed me the text. “Does he really think he’s that smart,” I asked. She kind of shrugged and said, “He’s scary smart but not as good at math as I am, especially withy differential equations.” She told me he really wanted to get into this one school because his favorite mad scientist taught there. I’d never heard of the school but I knew who the mad scientist was because Mr. Hack made use watch a bunch of his videos in class. The videos were deadly boring but the mad scientist had this odd accent and strange speech pattern. I used to mimic his voice in class to make Mr. Hack jump. I’d wait until Mr. Hack’s back was turned and then scream, “Huhhacckkk - theeese stuuudannts reeelease youuu wuh-ill ah-yuat wa-unce!” It cost me several days in detention and a trip to Headless Headmistress Bloodgood’s office the last time I mimicked the mad scientist but even Mr. Hack admitted he couldn’t tell the difference between the scientist’s voice and my imitation of it. We talked about a few more things and then Teala finally fell asleep. I was able to finally fall asleep as well but not before having to hear another math joke followed by an explosion of milk from the seat in front of me.

July. Two. Eight.

I went to MH today to pick up some pictures I left in the FearBook office. When I was done I went up to the belfry. It’s a good place to keep an eye on things without other eyes watching you. It’s also a good place to take a nap. Usually the hunchback who rings the bells...the bells...works up there but he was on summer vacation in France or somewhere so I had the place to myself; until Spectra came floating through that is. She thinks that she’s very stealthy but it’s almost impossible to sneak up on me and I heard the rattle of her chains long before she actually appeared. I pretended to be asleep for a moment then with my eyes still closed I said, “What do you want Spectra?” “Oh, hello Toralei. Did you hear the news?” Most monsters don’t trust anything they hear from Spectra. I know better. There’s always an element of truth in her “news”. You just need to know how to listen. Here’s an example; Spectra told me she heard that Nefera is moving back to town and will be taking over for Ms. Kindergruber in Home Ick. Not only that but Ms. Kindergruber is also going to quit teaching to become a roadie for her favorite rock and roll band. Now as much fun as it is to imagine Ms. K. climbing stacks of amps while wearing a sleeveless leather vest, bandana and steel toed boots it’s not going to happen. Although when compared to the thought of Nefera actually “lowering herself” to teach, it’s practically a done deal Ms K will be hitting the road. I’m pretty sure out of that confusing jumble of information the one true fact is that Nefera is moving back to town and probably sooner rather than later...now there’s a monster who enjoys kicking some body when it’s down.

July. Three. Zero.

Got an email today from Teala, the troll girl I sat with on the ride home from math camp. Apparently her ex boy-fiend told her that he got a call from the mad scientist he wanted to study under. The scientist told her ex that his test scores indicated a “skuhh-ill weeeakness in diffuhh-wrenntial eeeequay-shunns” and that her ex should find some monster that was intellectually superior and “geeet sah-ummm tuutorr-ing”. Her ex was certain it was the professor since “no monster could fake that voice.” He also apologized to Teala for being an arrogant jerk and asked if she would tutor him in differential equations. Teala told him that she would have to check her schedule. Sometimes it is just purrrecious the way things work out for the beast.

August. One. Three.

I bought a ball of dragon thread today for Sweet Fangs. It’s just about the only material that’s strong enough to survive more than one play session with her. I don’t know what I’m going to do when Sweet Fangs gets bigger because I’m probably going to need the whole dragon and I’m not sure mom and dad are gong to be good with that.

August. Two. Five.

M&P came over today. They’re like my sisters and I can’t imagine how boring unlife would be without them. We do just about everything together and some monsters even think we’re related but we’re not. Not that it matters since we don’t really care what other monsters think anyway. We are who we are and any monster or monsters that want to try and herd us better get ready for a long miserable day. Today we weren’t worried about being herded, today was a brainstorm session. Our mission, repay Cleo de Nile and her minions for not only ruining our perfectly planned graduation prank but also for taking away part of our valuable summer vacation by “arranging” our trip to math camp. Knowing that it was Cleo who got the better of us is almost as irritating as being wet or having my fur stroked the wrong way. I can’t believe that I actually helped her when she first wanted to be a part of the Fear Squad. Cleo didn’t even know how to do a cartwheel, much less a round off. So I took her under my claw and taught her everything I knew and since I’d been doing gymnastics from the time I was a kitten I knew a lot. I finally got Cleo to the point where she started to “get it” and instead of being a liability she started contributing. I figured that for all my hard work and leadership Nefera would make me the Fear Squad captain when she graduated. Only she didn’t - she passed it onto Cleo. I can still remember what Nefera said to me when I confronted her about it. “I didn’t want Cleo to succeed - I wanted her to be humiliated but since you helped her, you get to deal with the consequences.” Then Cleo acted as if she deserved to be the captain and that she automatically knew everything there was to know about leading the Fear Squad. She should have showed some humility and stepped aside. She didn’t so now it’s up to me to teach her some new lessons and I can’t wait for class to be back in session.  

August. Three. One.

There’s a meteor shower tonight, which will give us the purrrfect opportunity to practice the three D’s. Divert. Design. Demure. First I divert attention away from myself - although tonight the meteor shower should do that for me, next I design a “surprise” for my intended victim student and then after the unexpected happens I demure - “Oh my, what happened here?” More later...

Ended up scraping the three D’s tonight, mostly because the meteor shower diverted me. I was supposed to meet M&P at this coffee shop down close to the beach - it’s the only time I go to the beach since sand + water + fur = unhappy werecat - but they were late so I grabbed a catnipuccino and waited. The owner turned down the lights of the shop so it was almost dark and then the sky was falling. The ghouls showed up just as somewhere down the beach a monster started playing guitar and I said, “Just because we’ve got nine lives doesn’t mean we need to rush through this one.” And we didn’t. 

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #21: Sleep

Based on the prompt from @writing-prompt-s, “The worst thing a wizard can do is sleep-talk.”

---------------------------------

Words spoken by a person without the power thrumming through their veins were just words. Even the Words of Change, the secret language the universe was built in, meant nothing to the people without the power. But for the people who had it, words needed to be guarded carefully. “Umhaha”, for instance, unraveled thread. An easy mistake to make; almost every young wizard had a story about accidentally rendering themselves and everyone in the room with them naked, just by laughing a certain way after saying the word “Um.”

“Kefzhizoss” should have been a word that no one would ever say unless they meant to say it.

The young man was crumpled up as small as a human could make himself, on the bench in the police wagon. No one had confiscated the amulet of protection from his neck; like most such amulets, it wouldn’t come off while he was under emotional stress, pain or fear. But he was under a silencing charm, and the amulet didn’t protect him from being silenced.

The cleric was arguing with the detective on the scene. “It’s obvious he didn’t mean to do this,” he said, waving his hand at the devastation of what had been the young man’s home, with his parents and siblings. The broken remains of the wards that had contained the word, made sure the destruction spread no farther than their property, would have stopped the word if it hadn’t been spoken within their house, and there were other fragmentary charms present. One to prevent fire. One that would probably have protected books from water damage. There was one, still intact, that purified air as it went into the lungs of birds.

There were no birds in the wreckage, or bird cages. Neither were there human corpses, or any human beds, except for the one the young man had laid in. The destruction had been too thorough.

“Look, Elimiss, maybe I agree with you. Could be accidental sleeptalking. But four people are dead, and the damage was clearly done by the Devastating Word, and the only survivor’s a wizard. You see why I can’t just let him go, right?”

Tears ran down the young man’s cheeks, but there was nothing physically wrong with him. Either he was tremendously talented for one so young, or one or both of his parents had been very skilled wizards, to have created an amulet that had perfectly protected him and the bed he had been found on from the Devastating Word. It didn’t matter anymore.

“He’s traumatized! He needs a temple, not to be held indefinitely under a silencing charm—”

“Oh, for the love of all your gods, the kid can still read and write. But I can’t let a man who killed his entire family just traipse off to a temple to have his trauma healed. Did it occur to you that maybe a guy who killed his parents and brother and sister maybe deserves to have some trauma?”

“It was obviously an accident! He was wearing pajama pants, for the love of Merenethe Who Heals All Wounds!  What kind of devious, evil killer wears pajama pants and lays down in bed before blasting his entire home to ruin?”

“The kind who knows that people like you will assume it was an accident from that,” the detective said sharply. She was irritated that the cleric had felt the need to provide his god’s entire name, like he was offended that she’d invoked all his gods instead of his specific patron. “He needs to be interrogated, and we can’t let him speak until he’s told us his story.”

The man raised a tear-streaked face, brought up his cuffed hands, and with just one of them, signed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. Both hands, he might have been trying a sigil, though the detective was an experienced enough wizard herself to catch that before it accomplished anything, if he’d tried it. One hand, it was obviously sign, and she relaxed. Only about half of all wizards knew some kind of sign language, which was stupid given the control wizards needed to keep on their speech. Sigils were much more complicated and couldn’t be done accidentally.

“Babababawa” brought a light, misting rain… into a building, if that’s where the wizard said it. It was a hazard of raising wizard babies, that some of them came into their power so early they couldn’t really talk yet, and their baby babble could very easily accidentally land on that one. “Sh’shoot,” an expression thaumnulls might say any time if they started to say “shit”, thought better of it, and instead said “shoot” as a full word without just following from the original sh – more than one wizard teenager had been found that way, growing up among thaumnulls, not knowing what they shouldn’t say. It made existing electrical current surge in power, and could very well blow every circuit in a house, or start a fire. “Kolonel” was a big problem with people learning the language as adults, who didn’t know how to not pronounce the word “colonel”. The only thing it did was create an impenetrable darkness that flowed out to the nearest boundary, if indoors, and a mile or two outdoors, until a wizard said “Kohanoel” to turn it off and restore the light… but people who’d said it by accident and hadn’t known they were wizards didn’t know how to turn it off.

The Devastating Word, however – the detective, being a wizard, did not even think the syllables to herself – was commonly thought to be impossible to say by accident. The “zh” sound wasn’t even common in this language; most native speakers around here wouldn’t even make that sound in their sleep. And here was Elimiss, the mandated social worker who worked with the cops to de-escalate situations and help folks with mental illnesses, insisting that obviously the man – boy, really, he probably wasn’t even out of college – had said it in his sleep, because that was what the plainly traumatized boy had told the cops when they’d arrived. Because a perp couldn’t possibly carefully plan out the excuse he’d use to get treated like a trauma victim and charged only with negligent manslaughter, maybe even go free, after he’d murdered his family. Right.

“Sanavah. I know we have to get his full story from him. But do we really need to treat him as if he’s a dangerous killer?”

Detective Sanavah ofWinterfall looked over at the destroyed house, and then back at the cleric, an expression of disbelief on her face.

Cleric Elimiss Elidanson, adept of Merenethe, sighed deeply. “Yes. I know he killed his family. But if it was an accident—”

“How does anyone say that word accidentally?” Sanavah exploded. “It’s just… not a thing you’d say!”

The boy signed. “We were studying it today. The Dire Words. I’m in magic school.”

Okay, so he was out of college. Magic school, like law school and medical school, was a graduate school; you needed at least a two-year degree to get in. “Why the hell would you be studying the Dire Words?” Sanavah snapped. “How fucking irresponsible would your teachers have to be—”

“Be professional, Sanavah,” Elimiss advised, and she wanted to punch him.

“It’s advanced work. Magical theory. We have to take the Words apart to determine why they work and have so much power,” he signed. “K-E-F-Z-H-I-Z-O-S-S was fascinating, I was working on an analysis all day… but I would never say it intentionally! I was calling it the Kef word.” He signed the individual letters, but ended it with the sign that indicated he was replicating a pronunciation, not a spelling.

Oh. Well. Maybe that changed things. Maybe not; it might still be a really good story. “You know we’ll follow up with your school, right?”

He nodded. “I don’t care what you do to me,” he signed. “Any kind of punishment. I deserve it. I killed Mom and Dad and Lifah and Raoun. But I want the world to know, it was an accident! I loved them! I’d never have said the Kef word in my own house, not without containing it first!”

“This the first time you’ve sleep-talked?”

“No… Mom said I’ve been doing it since I was a baby. Raoun insisted I had to move out and get my own room when I was eight because I was keeping him up at night. My parents turned my dad’s study into my bedroom.” He picked up the amulet. “Mom gave this to me so I wouldn’t accidentally hurt myself by sleep-talking, but I guess she never thought… I mean, I never thought…”

“I’m going to charge his teacher with negligence contributing,” Sanavah said tiredly. “Gonna charge you, too, kid. At least. I’d charge your mother, too, but she’s dead.”

The boy began to cry again, sobbing soundlessly into his hands.

“You believe me now?” Elimiss said. “I’ve had a feeling from Merenethe all this time that this boy isn’t a killer. Not intentionally.”

“That’s great. Very nice of Merenethe. I’m sure ‘a cleric of Merenethe had a feeling’ will be great evidence in court. He’s still coming down to the station.” She spoke to her forensics team. “You about ready to wrap up?”

“Yeah, pretty cut and dried. I think we’ve found all the evidence of standing charms we’re going to, and the Devastating Word would ruin any evidence of any other active spells,” Sofrani, the head forensic wizard, said. “We can head on back now if you want.”

“BTW, got a name,” the analyst, Charron, said. “Bylan Evertide.”

“That is not a real last name.”

“It absolutely is. Got it out of the city database. There’s a whole Evertide clan in and around the city here.”

“It’s going to be all right, Bylan,” Elimiss said. “The police and court, I mean. If you’re telling the truth, we’ll be able to get confirmation from an oneiromancer or a cleric of Morosma. We’ll clear you of wrongdoing.”

“Aside from the negligence and sheer stupidity of a guy who talks in his sleep learning Dire Words and then not putting a silencing charm on himself when he goes to sleep,” Sanavah said. “Elimiss, don’t make promises to the kid that you can’t make good on.”

“I know it’s my fault,” the boy signed. “Charge me with whatever you want. I won’t fight it.”

“Not how it works,” Sanavah said. “You’ll get a public defender, and if you want to plead guilty, you’ll have to convince her that you actually are before she’ll let you plead it.” She looked over at Elimiss. “You took your own pheasant over here, or did you get a taxi?”

“Taxi,” Elimiss said. “I don’t have a place to take care of a pheasant, I live in an apartment.”

“Take Elimiss back with you,” she instructed the driver of the enclosed auto-wagon. “I don’t think the chief’ll be thrilled if he expenses another taxi.”

“Will do,” the wagon driver said, and spoke a word under his breath, that made the magical engine that drove the cart fire to life. Elimiss got in the wagon, and the forensics team either got on their own pheasants, or into pheasant-drawn carriages, because no one got rich enough on a cop salary to ride around in an auto-carriage.

As she saddled up her own pheasant, who squawked in mild irritation because the beast had been enjoying plucking seed pods off the nearby mimosa tree and snacking on them, she gazed over at what had been the Evertide home. “Hell of a thing,” she murmured. “Come on, Basil, let’s get back to the station.”

Basilica, a middle-aged hen pheasant who was known for her reliability and love of sunflower seeds, snorted, flapped her wings, and took off. Running pheasants – named that because they were actually faster on the ground than in the air – had native magic that allowed their wings to work despite their enormous size, and they could easily bear a human or two through the air. A running pheasant could cross the distance back to the station fast enough, if it was through open or forested territory, but being on the ground, in traffic, mildly upset most of them and absolutely freaked Basilica out, so Sanavah had to fly back to the station every time.

[musingsofawannabewriter]

Can I Be More Than The Person I Have Become?

Here I am again. Once every few months, sometimes years I get that urge to put pen to paper or in this instance finger to keyboard.

When I was little reading my mom’s Jodi Picoult, Danielle Steele or Avon romance novels I felt inspired. I wanted to write a book people would cherish and love. Then I read Purple Hibiscus and then the doubts came.

Purple Hibiscus is one of my favorite books ever and the author Chimamanda is an inspiration to me. But the doubts came because I believed I could never write a book as amazing as Purple Hibiscus, that stirred so many emotions and feelings in me that with each rereading makes me discover something new. It didn’t help that Chimamada is that perfect Igbo first daughter who has a first degree and not one but 2 MA’s and speaks fluent Igbo.

My admiration for her was tinged with a lot of jealousy. I am an Igbo first daughter, that can barely speak/understand Igbo despite growing up in Nigeria most of my life, I only have a BA in Law, I failed spectacularly at a Masters programme that from the start I only applied to because I thought it was expected of me. 

There are so many flaws in myself I could spend hours picking on but won’t for the sake of bringing down the mood of this article/opinion piece. Despite feeling I could never measure up to CNA I still chose literature as my elective in my GCSE’s and WAEC exams. Had an A for both and was the best student in class for the former. But I still felt like a fraud. I understand English, I speak it but the technical rules stump me sometimes. Like the semicolon… No matter how many times I can’t seem to retain when it applies. I suck at writing dialogue because I am always confused where to add the apostrophes and commas. Subject verb agreement, well I stumble my way through and hope for the best which has worked out okay so far.

I used to write in notebooks fervently in Secondary School. I would craft stories which would get passed around different students and their compliments and eagerness to read my words fueled me. I was going to be a writer maybe.. Get my first degree in Law then a Masters in Creative Writing. Maybe after becoming successful I’d be the next Michaela Coel adapting my work to the screen to great critical acclaim.

Well let’s just say reality hit hard, no punches pulled whatsoever. I left my sheltered Nigerian boarding school after graduation to go to the UK full time for my A Levels. First mistake was spending my years pocket money in under 3 months. Second mistake was essentially being mute for my first year of school. I have always been quite reserved and find it hard to talk to people. Going to a full boarding school meant I saw my classmates almost 24/7 so bonding and socialisation was inevitable. Well with A levels only having 3 subjects to study and it being a day school meant I could go a week without speaking to anyone except the lovely lunch ladies in the cafeteria.

If I am being honest I wasn’t used to interacting with white people and felt self conscious about my accent so it was a perfect storm. 

Then the whopper…I have always had a complicated relationship with food. Since I was younger my weight has fluctuated heavily. It didn’t help that my mom was one of those slightly bigger women who decided to become a gym addict and drop all the weight. A lot of her insecurity from being bigger rubbed off on me, directly and indirectly.

Having your mom take you to exercise classes at 13 hurts. Having your mom be so happy to see you lose so much weight because the food at your boarding school sucked hurts. Having people complimenting your mum and asking how you're related to her cuts even deeper. Every stab at my heart at confidence got buried deep. In school, I would restrict my eating by spending breakfasts which I hated asleep in class, would skip a few lunches then binge at dinner times. This had the effect of keeping my weight stable.

Even then my mom still criticised my weight. When I look back at my size 12/14 self in secondary school who was gorgeous, a rage fills me. I was so beautiful but with zero confidence. I hurt so much and wish I could go back in time for a few minutes to tell myself I was worthy of being liked, by others and myself.

Eventually being away from my mom, the safety of my boarding school friends and siblings made it easy to seek solace in food. I was in the UK, I was living in student accommodation and for the first time in my life I had a debit card. I spent hundreds of £s a month in takeaways. Then I spent over £100 on diet pills which made me feel ill. In under a year I went from a size 14 to 24 to my mothers horror and mine. I didn’t know about the body positivity movement or Tess Holliday. I only knew that my mom was angry and sad and worried I would die in my sleep one night.

In almost a decade, that has been one of her mantras when talking to me about my weight. That she can’t bury her child and she’s afraid one night I will sleep and not wake up. In her mind its concern, but the way she says it feels like emotional manipulation.

Reading back there’s a lot of mother bashing going on, but it is not intentional. Some people are besties with their mothers and I prefer a more distant relationship. We will eventually get to the daddy issues but that will take some tears and a while before I can go into that.

I crave the catharsis of writing. The word vomit and jumbled feelings in the pit of my stomach. It helps me see myself as that idealistic 16 year old with a heart full of dreams and hopes. Not the current dried out husk I think I am now. I think of my future in abstract terms.

I don’t see a family, mortgage or dog. I just see myself barely existing. I feel this with a resigned calmness. Then I have my internal spiral of being to shortsighted and hasty in writing my life off at 25. I read tweets about people finding first love in their 30s, going back to school in their 40’s and getting into their careers in their 50s. Then I hear that voice in the far corner of my mind whispering, do I even want to make it to my 40’s…

And I answer back quietly that I really don't want to make it to my 40s. I’ll maybe hold on till my parents die so my mom doesn’t lord it over me that she had to bury her child and not the other way around. But some nights I really don’t want to be alive. Some nights I wish I was never born and just like clockwork the tears start. Those tears that I hold in and the dark thoughts I numb with the stimuli of food, YouTube and now K dramas.

For the past few years, I have made my Other World. This Other World is essentially a parallel universe. In this universe I have no issues with food, I have an incredible metabolism that means I can eat virtually anything without guilt. I make friends my first day of college and join so many student societies and actually participate. I push myself in school and get into my mother’s dream of a Russell Group. I choose LSE though she wishes I chose Queen Mary. I work hard, join the Law Society, meet a lovely British Nigerian with a great background, we date a few years and get married. I get a Masters in Creative Writing and have an amazing blog which gets adapted to a critically acclaimed series and I am fulfilled.

Sometimes my Other World self changes. She is the daughter of millionaires who is a genius, polyglot and fighter of social justice. I can sing, know martial arts and take the movie world by storm. Other times I am just pretty and living a simple but happy life. I know in my heart that these are just fantasies and sometimes I wish I could be like Buffy in that episode of BTVS and stay stuck in that Other World fully. I’m sure you’re thinking about my family who I’d leave behind. My response is I can’t miss them if I never remember I had them.

I am the first daughter, the Ada. My parents though flawed always tell me I am a great role model for my siblings. I am seemingly still a virgin, don’t drink, do drugs or rock the boat too much. And I feel even worse. I feel guilty that with all they have sacrificed that they have been stuck with an average daughter and by upper middle class Nigerian standards, if that even exists, a sub par Ada. I feel defective looking around and seeing others in the peak of their careers, vetting engaged, building houses for their parents. I am still afraid of driving!! I can’t even get that basic skill down.

4 years post LLB, no LLM to at least lessen me not being a lawyer and stuck in a customer service role almost 3 years now. I know I am at fault for not making the right decisions. Not applying for the grad jobs or vacancy schemes in time. Being so down and depressed I wouldn’t leave my room for days and weeks at a time. Failing all my LLM modules, adding back all the weight and more after boot camps with my parents, not having enough savings and having an even worse accent after almost a decade in the UK.

My self-deprecating joke I tell is that my sister is the multi talented one, my brother the smart ambitious one and as my parents say I have a big heart. That essentially my parents would say my thing is having a big heart, like that ever helped anyone build a career. I thought if I couldn’t write then I could maybe study Social Work. That got shot down by my mother and I was persuaded to go into the path of Law for University. I applied for Social Work Schemes and got rejected multiple times over multiple years. I was too scared to sink my own money to self fund a Social Work Masters in case it became another LLM fiasco. SO now I have made Teaching my next career goal. I am resigning myself to it the way Henry the 8ths spouses and mistresses must have whenever he wanted to bed them. Powerless and without a choice. Then I think that’s  false equivalency and my pain could not be on the level of the pain they must have endured.

So many feelings, deep thoughts and memories flow out when I get the writing urge. I will likely never actually share this in full for obvious reasons except maybe anonymously. These few pages have jumped through quite a few time periods and experiences. My thoughts aren’t always linear and that ties in with something else I acknowledge but haven’t been serious about. I legitimately think I have ADHD and/or BPD. Watching the diagnosis episode of Crazy Ex Girlfriend by the amazing Rachel Bloom shone a light on feelings and behaviours I have had for a while. Maybe that’s why from the first episode of the show I was in love. She was stuck in the past, holding onto Josh who represented a time in her life of happiness. She had cutaways to magical musical numbers involving herself and the people around her.

The ADHD comes from following iconic black women on twitter who were outspoken about their diagnosis and bringing focus to how black women were being underdiagnosed. But then I think maybe I want to have ADHD as an excuse for the failures in my life and with the current NHS waiting lists I may not get a formal diagnosis for a while. So for now I manage and exist.

I like being honest in my writing. Exposing those dark parts of myself that I let fester in the recesses of my heart and mind. 

[angelofrainfrogs]

And They Were Flatmates...

Fandoms: The Bartimaeus Trilogy (Modern College AU)

Description: Kitty is studying for midterms at a café when a familiar face asks to sit at her table. The boy turns out to be her flatmate’s brother, and their chance meeting leads to some interesting revelations and the beginning of a new friendship. 

Rating: K+

Genre: General/Humor

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736820

This story was written for @avaenox during the 2020 Bartimaeus Fic Exchange. Check out the collection here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bartimaeus_Exchange_2020

“Oh my god, will you shut up?!” Kitty hissed at her phone, glaring as notification after notification popped up in quick succession.

“I haven’t said anything yet, but message received,” a soft voice responded. Kitty jumped, startled, and noticed a boy standing next to her table, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Kitty’s mouth fell open in shock.

“…Bartimaeus?” she asked slowly, utterly confused. This boy looked nearly identical to the flatmate who was currently blowing up her phone, if a tad younger.

The boy laughed, a bright sound, and Kitty couldn’t help but a smile a little in response.

“No, not Bartimaeus, but I certainly know him,” the boy said. He gestured to the open seat across from Kitty and she nodded, quickly gathering up the plethora of books she’d scattered across the tabletop. The boy sat down and shrugged off his backpack, then placed his coffee on the table and held out his other hand to Kitty. “My name is Ptolemy.”

“Kitty,” she responded, shaking his hand. The name struck a chord, though she couldn’t immediately place where it came from. She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her own coffee before asking, “I’m assuming you and Bartimaeus are related?”

“Yes, he’s my older brother,” Ptolemy replied, gesturing to himself with a laugh. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“Oh!” Kitty exclaimed, slapping a palm to her forehead. “Oh my god, Ptolemy! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the name, wow… Nice to finally meet you!”

“I take it Bartimaeus has mentioned me, then?” Ptolemy asked, and Kitty rolled her eyes exasperatedly, though there was no real malice in the action.

“Only all the time.”

Ptolemy grimaced, then took a big swig of coffee before responding. “Yes, that’s sort of why I wanted to get a different roommate this year… I do love him, but he definitely takes the overprotective big brother roll to the extreme.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Kitty said, and Ptolemy’s expression shifted to one of mild concern.

“I hope he’s not causing you too much trouble…”

“Oh no, no!” Kitty shook her head, needing to wipe that expression off Ptolemy’s face immediately. It looked wrong for him to be upset. “I mean, I’ll admit he can be a handful, but he’s alright 80% of the time.”

“Wow, that’s much better than I was expecting.” Ptolemy nodded somberly, then met Kitty’s gaze and they both broke out into a round of giggles.

“I’m sorry if I distracted you, by the way,” Ptolemy said once they’d settled down. He gestured to Kitty’s collection of textbooks and notes. “I had actually meant to talk to you, but only to ask if I could sit here and do my own work; this is the only available spot in the café.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kitty responded, waving away his apology. “I was losing focus anyway; I’ve been trying to write this paper for hours and I don’t know how much more my mind can handle today.”

“Ah, yes—midterms.” Ptolemy dug around in his backpack and brought out a humongous textbook. It was obviously quite heavy, because he barely got it over the table before it slipped from his grip and landed just shy of his coffee cup with a loud bang! In unison, all patrons in the shop turned towards their corner as Ptolemy’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

“Oops,” he murmured, then gestured to the offending book. “This ethics book has been the bane of my existence for the past two weeks.”

“I can imagine,” Kitty responded, grimacing at the plethora of colored tabs sticking out of the pages.

“Yes… although, I have to say I’m not nearly as stressed as my flatmate.” A haunted look flashed across Ptolemy’s face so quickly Kitty thought she imagined it. “He’s been absolutely losing his mind, poor thing… that’s why I figured I’d get out and try to do some work at the nearby café.”

“To escape for a bit?” Kitty took a sip of coffee, glancing at him knowingly over the rim of her cup, and Ptolemy tried to suppress another pained grimace.

“To give him some space,” he corrected. Then, after a pause, he added, “And yes, to give myself a few hours of sanity as well.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“Well, by this point I’m used to the way he acts when he gets overly stressed—which, unfortunately, is quite often.” Ptolemy paused, musing on some inner thoughts. “I do wish I could help him more, but I’ve realized the best solution when he gets this way is to let him work things out in his own time. An unfortunate downside is that he’s quite restless and tends to wander around the flat muttering to himself, not to mention his tendency to leave things scattered around at random, so… neither of us gets any peace and quiet during this stage.”

“I understand.” Kitty nodded knowingly. “I rarely get any time to myself with Bartimaeus—I mean he’s constantly trying to hang out, which is fine usually, but when midterms come up…” She shook her head exhaustedly. “And then, sometimes when he really wants attention—” Suddenly, Kitty realized that she’d been dangerously close to insulting the brother of the boy sitting across from her. She met Ptolemy’s gaze, ready to apologize, but found him chuckling and nodding his head.

“Trust me, no one understands your predicament better than myself,” he responded, and his grin showed no ill-will. “I’m sorry that you’re now the brunt of his focus.”

“No, no,” Kitty waved away the apology. “Like I said, most of the time it’s fine, but I suppose certain times are just more stressful for everyone.”

“And everyone shows their stress in different ways.”

Kitty nodded, and a companionable silence descended over the table. Soon, the pair had their respective textbooks open and were pouring over notes from the past semester of classes. They both became so wrapped up in their studying that a sharp ding! from Ptolemy’s backpack nearly made them jump out of their seats. He gave an apologetic grimace and fished around the backpack for his phone.

“Ah,” he said, a corner of his mouth lifting as he read the message he’d just received. “It seems my flatmate has calmed down and wants to know if I’d like any company.”

“Well, feel free to go if you—wait.” Kitty pulled her phone out of her pocket, long since put on silent mode, and scrolled through the barrage of texts that had piled up during her short time with Ptolemy. She raised an eyebrow at said boy, who looked inquisitively back at her. “Has Bartimaeus met your flatmate yet?”

“No, we just recently moved in together; why?”

Kitty flashed a mischievous smile. “What do you say we give your brother a new friend to entertain?”

Ptolemy laughed, his entire face lighting up. “I’d say that’s a very good idea.”

***

“Hmm…not very intimidating, is he?” Bartimaeus asked, circling the pale boy as if he were a lion trying to decide if this particular prey was worth the effort. “Looks like a gust of wind might knock the poor sod over…”

“Excuse me,” the boy snapped, his unexpectedly stern voice overtaking Ptolemy’s groan of embarrassment. “I can hear everything you’re saying, in case you didn’t realize.”

“Oh no, I realized.” Bartimaeus flashed a grin and ruffled the boy’s hair, earning a snarl of annoyance. “Aw, don’t get so bent out of shape, Natty boy.”

“That is not my name!” Nathaniel hissed, swatting Bartimaeus’ hand away.

“…Well, this isn’t quite the way I expected things to go,” Kitty commented as the pair started bickering in earnest. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ptolemy running a stressed hand through his hair.

“It was one of the two ways I thought this would turn out, actually,” he admitted guiltily. “I figured my brother would either take Nathaniel under his wing, or they’d end up pretty much like this.”

Kitty pondered this in silence for a few seconds, before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Okay, yeah… Honestly, once you told me that Nathaniel Underwood was your roommate, my hopes of a smooth meeting went down the drain, too. That kid’s had a stick up his ass since Year 9.”

“You’ve known him that long?” Ptolemy asked, surprised.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Kitty smirked. “We didn’t interact that much at first, although I could tell he’s always had it out for me for some reason. One day after school he cornered me outside and started lecturing me on how rude I was for not paying attention during class… He was getting really aggressive about it, so I punched him in the face.”

“…Oh,” Ptolemy said, eyes shifting between Kitty and Nathaniel a few times before he nodded solemnly. “Yes, I can definitely see that happening.”

“What, him trying to boss people around, or me knocking a scrawny little kid upside the jaw?” Kitty raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Both,” Ptolemy responded, and the duo broke into a laugh.

“Hey!” Nathaniel exclaimed, his voice cutting through the amiable atmosphere like a knife.  “Ptolemy, can you please do something about this brother of yours? I don’t think I can stand another minute of him harassing me.”

“Listen, Nat, giving you fashion advice about your atrocious style isn’t ‘harassment,’ it’s helpful,” Bartimaeus said, to which Nathaniel shot him a deadly glare. Bartimaeus looked at Kitty imploringly. “Kitty, can you do something about your obnoxious childhood friend?”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” Kitty and Nathaniel said in unison, a bit too quickly. Ptolemy and Bartimaeus shared a disbelieving look.

“Ah, I see… old flames, then,” Bartimaeus said, nodding sagely.

“Oh god no!” Kitty exclaimed as Nathaniel sputtered unintelligibly.

“It’s okay, Nat, you can admit it.” Bartimaeus wrapped an amiable arm around Nathaniel’s shoulders, which the boy promptly shoved off.

“There’s nothing to admit!” he practically screeched, and just like that the pair were bickering even more heatedly than before.

“I’m glad we decided to host the meetup at my flat instead of the coffee shop,” Ptolemy murmured, pointedly ignoring the blush still covering Kitty’s face. “We’d have definitely been kicked out by now.”

“Oh, for sure,” she said with a laugh, grateful at the change of subject. She nodded her head to Bartimaeus and Nathaniel. “Think they’ll ever get along?”

“Only time will tell.” Ptolemy glanced sideways and met Kitty’s gaze, flashing a bright smile. “Well, at least we can hold a normal conversation—that’s got to count for something, right?”

“Definitely.” Kitty’s smile mirrored his and she held out a hand. “To new friendships?”

“To new friendships,” Ptolemy agreed, grasping her hand firmly. He let out a chuckle and gestured with his free hand to the still-warring pair across the room. “And to whatever that turns out to be.”

Kitty rolled her eyes in agreement, a smile still tugging at the edges of her lips. It seemed as though her life was about to get very interesting.

[low-budget-mulan]

Hi! How often do you run into psychiatric patients during work as an EMT? I'm doing psych right now and we had a 12 yo girl whose mom had her in porn at 6mo-9mo and I just want to scream at 1. these people who are pro-porn and 2. the mom is clearly mentally ill, but still what the effffff. So how do you deal with these patients?

I'm going to start this off by saying that those parents should be reported to CPS. That is absolutely disgusting and I would not let those monsters anywhere near a child. If you have not contacted the proper authorities yet then please do so now because their child (children?) Are being abused and absolutely nobody deserves that. Especially an innocent child. If you have actual evidence of the abuse and the evil things that the parent did then those kids should be taken away and locked up never to see the light of day again. Pieces of shit.

We run into psych patients on the regular. Whether it is a person who is having a psychotic episode, a person who is suicidal, a person who cant take care of him/herself, or a person who just has some sort of addiction where they are self medicating to forget about their problems (either drugs or alcohol. Sometimes both). It is all part of the job. Each patient is different. I've had psych patients who wanted complete silence. I've had psych patients threaten to harm/murder/rape me. Hell, just a couple days ago one tried to attack me in the back of the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I've had psych patients who just wanted someone to talk to. And I've had psych patients that I didnt even realize were potential psych patients until after the call was over. You have to be able to assess the situation and from there you can move forward in patient care. I'll give you a couple examples of times situations were handled well and times they were not and how I decided to act/treat my patient.

1.)

We had a 911 call for a behavioral overdose. Sheriffs were already on scene (good). We get there to find a high school aged girl. She was alert and oriented (AO). Her whole family was around plus the sheriffs, plus the fire engine, plus the fire medics, plus me and my partner. There were too many people. We are trying to talk to our patient and figure out the whole story but she isnt really talking. I turn to the fire medic (they technically are in charge of medical calls, so what they say goes even if it's wrong and stupid) and say let's get her loaded up and he agrees. We walk her to the gurney and load her into the ambulance. Typically we allow one family member/friend to ride along with a patient especially if the patient is a minor. Unless the patient is a psych patient. And heres why. Once the girl was in the back of the ambulance and away from the hoards of people she started answering our questions. She told us everything that happened leading up to this point and why she did it and how she was feeling. I gained her trust by talking to her and separating her from what was causing her anxiety and other feelings that werent good. During the transport I realized she just needed to be distracted. I was monitoring her closely with the medic and got all the medical information I needed. So we just talked about school and plans for college. We talked about her favorite tv shows and how I spelled my name wrong for 13 years. That's all she needed. But not everyone needs that. This is an example of a good call.

2.)

I will start this off by saying I can be sarcastic. Which is not always a good thing. Okay so. This was a transfer call for a man on a legal hold. We were taking him from an emergency room to an actual psych facility where the remainder of his hold would be carried out. This guy was extremely tall like over 6 feet and used to be in the military and still worked out a ton so he was pretty muscular. I just so happened to be driving this day. While my partner was getting his report I went to go get a set of vitals to make sure he was stable and nothing was wrong. Before I can even get them this dude is making all sorts of racist remarks and how he doesnt want to go to whatever psych hospital we are taking him to because "its associated with a certain kind of people if you know what I mean." Then goes on to say hes not going (which tbh if you're on a hold it doesnt matter if you want to go or not. You have to go until you are psychologically cleared). I explained that because he was on a hold he had to go and I wasnt the one who set up the transfer. I literally am just the driver and I go where my dispatch sends me. He then responds with "well what if I fight you" I realize I wasnt going to get my vitals and that this guy was going to be a problem. I walk over to my partner and tell him what's going on and that we need to use restraints (which I rarely use because who wants to be restrained?). At this point we now have sheriffs there to help us get the guy on our gurney and to protect us if this guy freaks out. We get him on our gurney and I put the restraints on. After putting on restraints you have to check for a pulse in the extremity and make sure they can still wiggle their fingers/toes. So I ask him to wiggle his fingers and he flips me off. Me being the sarcastic person I am and without thinking I responded with "oh thanks. I havent had that in a while. Could I get another?" The dude then threatens to rape me and becomes very agitated. I messed up. We de-escalated the situation thank goodness. But I could have handled that situation better. I knew he was already agitated and a dumb comment like that could have easily been the breaking point for him. Dont do something stupid like that.

3.)

We had a transfer for a woman who was on a hold. This was out of one of the worst hospitals I know. Literally the hospital that killed my grandpa. I already hated being there, but how the staff treats patients both medically and professionally (if you can even call it that) was absolute shit. I hated this hospital even before my grandpa was a patient there because of how incompetent and rude the staff was. Sorry I got distracted and ranted, but the backstory is relevant. I go to try and get a report from the nurse who knows absolutely nothing about this patient. Cant give me any history. Doesnt know what meds (if any) were even given. And gets annoyed when I ask for an actual report. Not just the "oh yes that lady is on a hold. She can talk but is being selectively mute. And you're taking her to this place. K bye." At this point I realize I'm going to get nothing from this 'nurse' and I just look through the packet. I go over to the patient who is just sitting there on the bed staring off into thin air. I realized that any loud noise or sudden movement scares her. So I slowly inch my way to her and introduce myself. I tell her I'm there to take her to a different hospital where the staff will be able to take care of her better and where she can get the help she needs. In that whole interaction I got her to say maybe a couple words. And they were basically what's going on. I realized the staff at this shit hospital did not tell her what was happening. Nobody told her she was being transferred. They literally just left her to sit in her own feces because they couldnt be bothered to do their job. Before I even touched her I told her everything that would happen. I walked her through the entire transfer process and let her know what was going on. Then once we were ready to actually start getting her onto our gurney before I made any movement I told her exactly what I was doing. She was completely fine with me. Once we get her to the psych place we finish up our transport and are about to leave she grabs my partners hand says "are they going to be nice and take care of me here?" My heart broke. I told her that yes she would be taken care of and that she wouldnt be ignored here as I know this hospital has great staff. She smiled and let us go.

By assessing the situations and the patients you are able to figure out how to handle your patient. Ive learned from my mistakes and I've learned from my coworkers who have been around longer than me. But always be cautious as a patients mood can change at any time. Even if you dont do anything to trigger it. A patient will go from happy and smiling to trying to punch you in the face. Know your surroundings. Be ready to react because things can change in an instant.

Addition: any sort of illegal activity I will report to the proper authorities. I have reported hospitals, families, and nursing home for neglect and other forms of abuse. If you are sure then ask someone who knows more. I usually ask the supervisor I trust or my coworker who's been doing this for 20 years.

[shadymultiverse]

I remember laying on my bed in highschool, sophomore year. I was exhausted. I had reached the point where every person id managed to scrape out of the hell hole that is middle education had turned against me. Rumors, as they do, flooded my small community. Things like lesbianism and sluttery being the least of it and incest and beastiality the worst. Theu were also convinced I was either possessed or the spawn of hell, which remains to be a point of pride for me.

My delicait social circle had collapsed under the strain of one thing, teenage hormones. Not my own, but that of my brother and his girlfriend, the girl coming from my group of friends. Their relationship had been incredibly toxic, but as Im realizing, everyone who comes into contact with my brother experiences the same kind of manipulation and fear. Not that she was innocent, none of them were. Ive always known a bad person when i meet one, but I also have the fatal flaw that cruelty and misguided affection will always taste like home to me.

They were the school bullies, though I would have shot you if youd said it at the time. I suppose by extention I was probably a bully, though I dont remember being one. It just explains why there was not a soul to catch me when I fell. There nnever was, not once in my entire life has someone actually caught me when I needed it, so its not like K was suprised.

'Oh but you were' My mind so helpfully supplies. I always viewed myself as kind. Sweet. Loving, even.

Yet there I was laid across my bed, too tired to get up, too tired to cry. It was after an episode from my brother.

It stands to reason I should describe him, he was not a small man. No. He stood at 6'1 back then, a weight lifter through highschool, he was a physically imposing person. Being the malnurished, overweight, gaslighted and generally abused little girl that I was, I was never any match for him. I had one fought against him, and my sister- who was always thin as a fuse and leading to something dangerous- but it was always them that were rewarded and I who was punished. My mother, who I struggle to speak ill of even now, was an enabler. She refused to see the cruelty that my siblings put me through as anything other than normal, but any kind of defense that I levied for myself was something of an act against the pure, Goddly love that was my siblings.

Now Ive realized that it was just too much for her to bare, too much for her to understand. She is a very fragile woman for how strong she is. She knew that as long as I was taking their abuse, she wouldnt have to think about it. She didnt want me to get better.

That said at that point my sister was long gone. It was just me and my brother.

He was in the bedroom next to mine. A trailer, so any sound or move I made was hyperly monitored. I was too tired to do much more than breathe and even that was a fete. He must not have been satisfied by that because his door opened and then so did mine. He stared at me, I looked in his dirrection, at his eyes. He was still angry. This was the fifth or sixth day in a row that hed chased me ariund the house, screaming at me and cornering me. He hit me all the time, always in the same spot over and over so that it wouldnt look like Id been beaten, but I was being beaten.

I remember thinking how much I was struggling. In everything. My school work, my home life, my social life, everything.

He told me to make him something to eat. I told him no.

I almost always did. I hated the way that he spoke to me, hated that I was nothing more than a slave.

I didnt have the energy tk try to fight or get up or get out of the way but he jumped on top of me and wrapped his fingers around my throat.

I remember thinking 'I just wanna go. Let me go, please just let me go' I didnt realize it at the time but I was praying that he would kill me. I was so tired....

He would put his knees on top of your hands and sit in your chest, then squeeze your throat just hard enough to not actually bruise. Cut off the circulation but ot actually kill me. Its this strange in realm between pain and peace.

This time, however, he was squeezing so hard I thought my head might pop. His eyes told me he wanted me to die. Truly intended to finally end the charade that was my life. I wasnt scared. Just tired. Ready.

I was almost gone when something changed. I was there, floating up put of my body and his face felt slack, his eyes lost their psychotic glint and he let go. He got off of me and left the house. I can still feel the gasp that tore through my lungs. If yoive ever blown up a baloon and held it against your hand to feel the way it sticks to your skin then you know whay it feels like to breathe into empty lungs.

Its most painful part of being choked

Strangely enough, I started thinking about what I should do with my life. If he wouldnt do me the kindness of finishing the job, then I needed to plan how I was going to escape.

I was tired though, and the one thing i jad always wanted seemed absolutely impossible to attain. Brain Surgeon.

I could barely pull myself through a day in highschool, the idea of two decades of college was impossible to imagine. I decided I needed to do soemthing else. Something...easy. I had earned easy, hadnt I?

It was Tom Hiddleston that made me decided I should go into theater. Ironic, since it was earlier that same year that I had been in theater, had auditioned for a monolouge and a duet for our state competition, gotten it, only to have it ripped away because I wasnt good enough. Ive always had trouble commiting to things like afterschool practice. Though, maybe ita because out practices were just delaying the inevitable abuse Id be put through at home. I only ever wnated to sleep, to stay after shcool for three hours and practice was like eating broken glass before going home to drink rubbing alcohol.

But Theater was the way to go. I liked acting, I preferred make up and set design. That way, maybe Id get to meet Tom Hiddleston. Silly, looking back. What a way to decidee the fate of my life.

He seemed caring, you see. Like he wouldnt let anyone hurt me. Not even in a husbandry kind of way, just in the human way.

He would see whay was happening and say 'This isnt ok'. He didnt have to rescue me or anything. He would just understand.

By extention, the world would see me, delight in me, applaud me.

So I started focussing on this fantasy of becoming famous.

At every turn the rug was yanked out from under me. Every time i got a line or a song or something that I craved, it was taken away before it could ever be preformed.

Just like my home life, I kept being told that I did not matter. I didnt deserve to feel anything but disapointment and anguish.

Maybe thats why Ive run away from every job that Ive ever had.

[jjpmoans]

50 Questions Tag

Tagged by @prettywordsyouleft and @itsallabigmess bcs these two unnies really love me

1. What takes too much of your time?

Social media (yes that includes tumblr)

2. What makes your day better?

These days, Jinyoung. Lol okay so I am a very talkative one. So yeah, talking to someone will immediately makes me feel less stressful.

3. What’s the best thing that happened to you today?

Just now @itsallabigmess made an exception for me to write a GOT7 fic asdfghjkl I FEEL A LITTLE TOO OVER HAPPY

4. What fictional place would you like to go to?

I think almost all my friend would have guess this. Hogwarts. Because the food there seems to be endless and really, I’d love to try eating both drumsticks in my hand and I want to put an incantation to whoever tries to hold me from eating.

5. Are you good at giving advice?

Well, I think I am. Judging from how my whole family turned to me when they wanted to share their problems. Also when I gave advises, I always stresses this one thing “Listen to understand, don’t listen to reply” and that implies to me too. And honestly, I listen too much and sometimes when people just don’t want to change, I feel really annoyed BECAUSE WHAT IS THE POINT YOU WANTED MY ADVISE???? Okay I think I’m good. hahahhahhaha

6. Do you have any mental illness?

Horny 24/7 is that a mental illness? lmao no I’m not that bad but I think I need to get married. NOW.

7. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

Not yet. In my country, people describe sleep paralysis as you got crushed by some spirit (ghost to be exact) and yes it is scary and I hope I would never experience it.

8. What musician inspired you the most?

I’ve been thinking a lot and though I really want to say GOT7, I’d say EXO. Partly because I was there since early times, but also, the amount of success and loyalties they have received are really unbelievable. The secret of EXO’s and BTS’s popularity which leads them to win daesang in every award is their fans. And I really hope ahgase can be like them. I’d be lying if I say our fandom is really hardworking when it comes to award season. I’ve seen my friend bullshitting EXO and BTS bcs whenever any of them is nominated in the same award of GOT7, automatically, GOT7 will lose. And no joke, army and exol are really monsters during award season. And I hope us ahgase can be like that too. I know got7 said they didn’t mind but Jinyoung once said that he want to know how those groups can win daesang easily and he thought got7 need to work harder. smh I’m emo. sorry this got longer than it should. 

9. Have you ever fallen in love?

I do. Hahahahhahaha yes I do. 

10. What’s your dream date?

Well for me, just talking with each other is a date. I love to know small details because when I love someone, I just want to know everything about him. But okay a dream date? Amusement park. Yes you need to know which ride makes me scream like a girl and which makes me scream like a mad woman.

11. What do others notice about you?

I’m very talkative (that really shows lol). And I don’t know how to refuse when someone ask for a help or anything. I always tell myself to treat people the way I want to be treated. 

And they said I’m too nice. Yeah I figured that too hahahahhaa

12. What is an annoying habit you have?

Refuse to listen when I’m angry. I feel annoyed because I know I’m wrong but I’m angry but I don’t want to hurt people. So I’ll say “Sorry, I’m very angry now but I know I’m wrong. Just, I’ll be okay later so we’ll talk later”

13. Do you still talk to your first love?

Yes and no. Our last conversation was he wanted to meet me. But ever since then, no other conversation.

14. How many ex’s do you have?

Can’t relate lol

15. How many songs are in your playlist?

Here’s the thing. I have a lot of playlists. Phone playlist, laptop playlist, joox playlist and youtube playlist. So I don’t know how many of them.

16. What instruments can you play?

Non existent.

17. Who do you have the most pictures of?

My phone? Now? Jinyoung smh this is all Tumblr’s fault lol. 

18. Where would you like to go before you die?

Mecca. I’d like to die there if I can.

19. What is your zodiac?

Virgo. And please, someone, please help me calculate whatever thing it was (sun sign, moon sign and all) I never knew those things and it irks me when I don’t know it hahahahhaaa

20. Do you relate to it?

Well I did some research here, Virgo firstly is a virgin and yes I am. It says that virgo is very supportive of people in their lives and even strangers, that is me. I’m a critical thinker bcs I personally hate when something goes wrong. but lol hardworking, artists and remembers everything? Not even close. I’m a lazy ass, I draw a cow but it turned into a pig and I am hopeless with my memory.

But one Virgo thing about me, yes I am an overthinker hahahahhaa

21. What is happiness to you?

When my family reunited.

22. Are you going through anything right now?

Family problem. Mom just got heart attack, dad married another woman, brother on crisis with mom, sister just stabbed my back, aunt made everything worse. It’s been three months into 2019, every week, another family problem popped up. But we are trying, I tried to fix everything, another role which the smallest child has to take upon responsibility but I’m fine. Just, tiring.

23. What’s the worst decision you’ve ever made?

applied for the wrong scholarship and wasted an opportunity to fly to New Zealand for study.

24. What’s your favourite store?

Food stores. Any of them. ARE MY FAVOURITE ahhahahhaha

25. What’s your opinion on abortion?

Because I’m a muslim, I am against abortion. Here, in my country, abortion is done because it was done out of wedlock and they feel embarrassed. So, it irks me bcs if you can think to have sex, you can’t think that there is possibilities that you can get pregnant? And to kill your child bcs you wanted to cover it, is unacceptable. But again, it is personal choice. 

26. Do you keep a bucket list?

I have a few but not enough to be a bucket. 

27. Do you have a favourite album?

Honestly, if favourite means I have listened to all songs in that album, it’s EXO The War album. 

28. What do you want for your birthday?

A freaking big plushie. I love to hug big plushies. But no one ever wanted to give me that for my birthday. And now, I’ve been searching for a big squirtle plushie or snorlax plushie (yes jackson and jaebum)

29. What are most people’s first impression of you?

okay this one lol they said I look scary and they thought I’d be the grumpy one. Well, if you meet me when I’m hungry, I have the tendency to be one.

30. What age do you seem according to most people?

I don’t know anymore. An aunt asked me “Are you the one who got married?” when it was my sister smh 

31. Where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

next to my pillow bcs I need to charge it.

32. what word do you say the most?

me? I say “shit” a lot lol

33. What’s the oldest age you would date?

well I would say I definitely date anyone as long as they are not the same age with my dad.

34. What’s the youngest age you would date?

idk I never thought on dating a younger one. But if I do, maybe 4 years younger bcs damn, if I make it 10 years, my date would be 12 when me here is 22.

35. What job/career do most people say would suit you?

something which requires me to talk a lot. 

36. What’s your favourite music genre?

K-Pop.

37. If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

South Korea. New Zealand. Anywhere but Malaysia lol.

38. What is your current favourite song?

Say you won’t let go - James Arthur

39. How long have you had this blog for?

I had this blog for a few years. But just becoming active just recently hmm I don’t know the exact date. But I know it started after I interacted with @prettywordsyouleft

40. What are you excited for?

Food. and sponsored vacation

41. Are you a better talker or listener?

A better talker. but also a pretty good listener

42. What is the last productive thing you did?

Last sunday, i climbed a 200m hill to get to the view point. It got me panting like a dying cow.

43. What do you want for Christmas?

While I don’t celebrate Christmas, I welcome gifts. Any gifts would be fine lol (make sure its food)

44. What class do you get the best grades in?

High school? Chemistry. College? Mathematic. Now? Nothing hahahahaha

45. On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling right now?

5 and exhausted but tomorrow? 10 BECAUSE A JINYOUNG IS COMING

46. What can you see yourself doing in 10 years?  

10 years I just hope that I am already working and saving money to go on vacations and can sponsor my family on vacations too.

47. When did you first get your heartbreak?

2009 when I discovered that dad has another wife. I was 12 and just got my exam result but dad wasn’t there. He was never present for any of my achievements in school. Turns out he has another child the same age as me and he puts her before me. Since I was born, I was always put second.

2011 when I liked a guy but he hated me awh teenagers. He said I’m too fat and how dare a fat girl like me tries to like him? He was my first love.

48. At what age do you want to get married?

When I am ready. I have a dream wedding, so I would work hard for it to happen.

49. What career did you want to have as a child?

Idk I always change it lol today i’ll say teacher and next day I’ll say ballerina. Yes I spent my whole school life giving different careers when teachers asked me.

50. What do you crave right now?

Food bcs I’m on diet and hell those food porns are getting on my nerves.

Phew it was a good time answering all these questions and it drains my energy lol. So for this, hmm I don’t know who to tag. But i’ll go with this one @sevenpeaches @riceeater22 @tuanyiems @kpopchangedme @kpopstories @starhibiki @ongsung @sehunsmybae (yes I always saw you) and everyone who want to do this! of course, you are not forced to do this

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Toralei Stripe

Better have nine lives if I catch you reading my diary. 

July. Two. Five.

Ooh they’re telling math jokes now...

Q: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a jack-o-lantern by its diameter?

A: Pumpkin Pi!

The math geeks I’m stuck on this bus with think that this is funny. So funny in fact, that the harpy sitting in front of me shoots milk out of her nose when she hears the punch line. I don’t think it’s funny at all. I’d rather be listening to the music I have stored on my iCoffin but two hours into our five-hour ride home my iCoffin gave up the ghost. It should have lasted the whole trip and then some except that one of my math camp roomies “accidentally” unplugged my iCoffin charger last night when she plugged in her fright light. I don’t even know why a ghost needs a fright light. What? Was she afraid she would trip over something and go “bump in the night?” I realized what happened when we woke up this morning but we had to leave first thing so I didn’t have time to put a full charge on it. At least I got enough battery life to block out the two hours dedicated to the singing of “X Number Bottles of Ghoul Juice on the Wall.” To add to the misery the seats on this bus only have room for two monsters and Meowlody and Purrsephone are of course sitting together which left me stuck in a seat next to a troll named Teala who had never been away from her bridge for more than a day until she came to math camp.She cried herself to sleep every night. Not that any other monster but me noticed but then again I notice everything. I also noticed Teala wasn’t laughing at any of the math jokes either. In fact she seemed to be more miserable than I was. Well now, here I was thinking she was missing her bridge but if that were the case why didn’t she seem excited about going home? “Dish,” I said. She turned and looked at me for a moment and then stared back ahead. “Okay - suit yourself then,” I said and then tried to curl up in the seat to take a cat nap which I had almost accomplished when she said; “My boy-fiend broke up with me...by text...the first night of math camp.” She still wasn’t looking at me but she wasn’t crying either. “He was my first real boyfriend and...and I don’t know why I’m telling you ‘cause you don’t seem to care about any monster besides yourself and you’ll probably figure out a way to use this to make me even more miserable.” I didn’t show it, but that really hurt. Just because I enjoy the chaos that a good practical joke brings doesn’t mean that I’m intentionally cruel does it? I don’t think it does and besides; where’s the fun of kicking some monster when they’re already down? It’s a lot more fun to see the surprise on a monster’s face when they think they’ve got it all together and you can “help them” see that they don’t. So I said, “Guess you better tell me the whole story then so I can do a thorough job.” That actually brought a ghost of a smile to her face. Teala told me that her ex boy-fiend was applying to colleges and that he decided he needed to keep his “options open” in case he might meet his “intellectual equal” at school. At first I didn’t believe he actually wrote that and then she showed me the text. “Does he really think he’s that smart,” I asked. She kind of shrugged and said, “He’s scary smart but not as good at math as I am, especially withy differential equations.” She told me he really wanted to get into this one school because his favorite mad scientist taught there. I’d never heard of the school but I knew who the mad scientist was because Mr. Hack made use watch a bunch of his videos in class. The videos were deadly boring but the mad scientist had this odd accent and strange speech pattern. I used to mimic his voice in class to make Mr. Hack jump. I’d wait until Mr. Hack’s back was turned and then scream, “Huhhacckkk - theeese stuuudannts reeelease youuu wuh-ill ah-yuat wa-unce!” It cost me several days in detention and a trip to Headless Headmistress Bloodgood’s office the last time I mimicked the mad scientist but even Mr. Hack admitted he couldn’t tell the difference between the scientist’s voice and my imitation of it. We talked about a few more things and then Teala finally fell asleep. I was able to finally fall asleep as well but not before having to hear another math joke followed by an explosion of milk from the seat in front of me.

July. Two. Eight.

I went to MH today to pick up some pictures I left in the FearBook office. When I was done I went up to the belfry. It’s a good place to keep an eye on things without other eyes watching you. It’s also a good place to take a nap. Usually the hunchback who rings the bells...the bells...works up there but he was on summer vacation in France or somewhere so I had the place to myself; until Spectra came floating through that is. She thinks that she’s very stealthy but it’s almost impossible to sneak up on me and I heard the rattle of her chains long before she actually appeared. I pretended to be asleep for a moment then with my eyes still closed I said, “What do you want Spectra?” “Oh, hello Toralei. Did you hear the news?” Most monsters don’t trust anything they hear from Spectra. I know better. There’s always an element of truth in her “news”. You just need to know how to listen. Here’s an example; Spectra told me she heard that Nefera is moving back to town and will be taking over for Ms. Kindergruber in Home Ick. Not only that but Ms. Kindergruber is also going to quit teaching to become a roadie for her favorite rock and roll band. Now as much fun as it is to imagine Ms. K. climbing stacks of amps while wearing a sleeveless leather vest, bandana and steel toed boots it’s not going to happen. Although when compared to the thought of Nefera actually “lowering herself” to teach, it’s practically a done deal Ms K will be hitting the road. I’m pretty sure out of that confusing jumble of information the one true fact is that Nefera is moving back to town and probably sooner rather than later...now there’s a monster who enjoys kicking some body when it’s down.

July. Three. Zero.

Got an email today from Teala, the troll girl I sat with on the ride home from math camp. Apparently her ex boy-fiend told her that he got a call from the mad scientist he wanted to study under. The scientist told her ex that his test scores indicated a “skuhh-ill weeeakness in diffuhh-wrenntial eeeequay-shunns” and that her ex should find some monster that was intellectually superior and “geeet sah-ummm tuutorr-ing”. Her ex was certain it was the professor since “no monster could fake that voice.” He also apologized to Teala for being an arrogant jerk and asked if she would tutor him in differential equations. Teala told him that she would have to check her schedule. Sometimes it is just purrrecious the way things work out for the beast.

August. One. Three.

I bought a ball of dragon thread today for Sweet Fangs. It’s just about the only material that’s strong enough to survive more than one play session with her. I don’t know what I’m going to do when Sweet Fangs gets bigger because I’m probably going to need the whole dragon and I’m not sure mom and dad are going to be good with that.

August. Two. Five.

M&P came over today. They’re like my sisters and I can’t imagine how boring unlife would be without them. We do just about everything together and some monsters even think we’re related but we’re not. Not that it matters since we don’t really care what other monsters think anyway. We are who we are and any monster or monsters that want to try and herd us better get ready for a long miserable day. Today we weren’t worried about being herded, today was a brainstorm session. Our mission, repay Cleo de Nile and her minions for not only ruining our perfectly planned graduation prank but also for taking away part of our valuable summer vacation by “arranging” our trip to math camp. Knowing that it was Cleo who got the better of us is almost as irritating as being wet or having my fur stroked the wrong way. I can’t believe that I actually helped her when she first wanted to be a part of the Fear Squad. Cleo didn’t even know how to do a cartwheel, much less a round off. So I took her under my claw and taught her everything I knew and since I’d been doing gymnastics from the time I was a kitten I knew a lot. I finally got Cleo to the point where she started to “get it” and instead of being a liability she started contributing. I figured that for all my hard work and leadership Nefera would make me the Fear Squad captain when she graduated. Only she didn’t - she passed it onto Cleo. I can still remember what Nefera said to me when I confronted her about it. “I didn’t want Cleo to succeed - I wanted her to be humiliated but since you helped her, you get to deal with the consequences.” Then Cleo acted as if she deserved to be the captain and that she automatically knew everything there was to know about leading the Fear Squad. She should have showed some humility and stepped aside. She didn’t so now it’s up to me to teach her some new lessons and I can’t wait for class to be back in session.  

August. Three. One.

There’s a meteor shower tonight, which will give us the purrrfect opportunity to practice the three D’s. Divert. Design. Demure. First I divert attention away from myself - although tonight the meteor shower should do that for me, next I design a “surprise” for my intended victim student and then after the unexpected happens I demure - “Oh my, what happened here?” More later...

Ended up scraping the three D’s tonight, mostly because the meteor shower diverted me. I was supposed to meet M&P at this coffee shop down close to the beach - it’s the only time I go to the beach since sand + water + fur = unhappy werecat - but they were late so I grabbed a catnipuccino and waited. The owner turned down the lights of the shop so it was almost dark and then the sky was falling. The ghouls showed up just as somewhere down the beach a monster started playing guitar and I said, “Just because we’ve got nine lives doesn’t mean we need to rush through this one.” And we didn’t.

[fortheloveofcringe]

Dear Taylor Swift,

I wasn’t one of the fans who started during your first album, but I’m a Swiftie 4 lyf. You taught me lots of things and if you have time, kindly read this. I’m Hambert, I live in the Philippines and because of you, I honed my very own way of painting pictures through words because of your dedication to create an experience through literature and music. Back then, I was just a gay kid who loved K-pop music and wanted to just be in my own comfortable space, but I had so much to say, and was afraid of being ridiculed for it. I listened to your songs from your self-titled album and Fearless but I wasn’t a big fan, yet. But I appreciated the fact that no matter what you crafted, you always made sure that you focused on little things that made us excited and happy to be alive, plus the vivid scenes that you painted in my mind as a listener, it made me feel that no matter how limited my experience was in my subjective reality as a poor single mom’s child, you made me understand that words written from the heart will have more power than the words written in fear and hate.

I started becoming in love with your sweet careful storytelling during the Speak Now Era. I remember the cold day when someone shared online the prologue from the insert and  that day changed the way I think about messages and the process of communication.

I started becoming serious with writing after reading these words  from you, “There is a time for silence. There is a time waiting your turn. But if you know how you feel, and you clearly know what you need to say, you’ll know it. I don’t think you should wait, I think you should speak now.”

However, I am not proud to admit this but due to poverty, the only way for me to listen to your music back then was to download every track on YouTube that was uploaded on a random channel, obtained through a video downloader, played through a knock-off $3 iPod sold on the streets of our city and somehow, it was a sick pleasure.

That time was the first time you came to our country too, and I remember being spiteful of my truth, for being poor, that I was not able to attend such things and support you the way I wanted to support you in terms of artistic value. I felt ill knowing that this was how I was consuming your hardwork. So at an early age, I made sure I was able to find little jobs here and there to ensure stability, not just to support your craft but this circumstance also catapulted my belief in smart work and ensuring that my dreams wont be stuck in my head.

I was able to earn and make a living because of the drive I had, wherein that drive, that fire was sparked by your multi-colored lyric matchsticks, that lead to a rainbow blaze of desire to love my life despite being depressed at the same time for several circumstances, I can’t believe that was possible, to be able to still stand with bleeding feet.

When Red came out, I was already able to purchase your music and help my family, and you will never know how proud I was to be able to hold your Cd’s. It just felt so liberating to hold cold cash in my hands, too, for the first time in my life I felt so powerful. But it compromised my studies, I never liked being in school anyway, and I never was happy because the weird thing about life is that nothing will save you from yourself no matter how strong you think you are, and all I had was music to make me feel less alone and weak. Music stayed when people left me. When my father had 7 gunshots on his neck, my older brother, dark and frozen in his bed after cardiac arrest and my dear grandma who died in front of me because of complications caused by age.

The pain was so quick, but forgetting was so long. I have many red memories from different timelines, it made me guarded and when you released RED, I could have not been more thankful to you for being the boat that carried me through the oceans of pain and led me to a shore of peace, and acceptance.

I resigned from jobs that time, however. I’m not going to lie to you and say everything was fine by listening to you, but you helped to ease the pain I was going through. This was, as I call it my “Red light” moment, like in the traffic lights, I had to be still and re-assess.

Then Typhoon Yolanda (or Haiyan) was the worst thing that happened next in my reality. It took away a lot love and life from people around me, I remember my walk around the city after the deluge and I saw zombie-like people with no direction, I was heartbroken to see that, and it took your music away from me. I remember a rotten ache inside of me, a scream of useless anger when your cover inserts were covered in mud and the CD’s were flaking iridescent cracks. It’s crazy that no matter how much you value and protect things, there will always be occurrences when they will be taken away, just like that. My family was lucky that none of us got hurt, though, the scenes in my head from that storm, made me bitter. To see how these can just happen. My heart was turning to stone at every turn. I worked in different islands to recover. I had jobs where I was helping people out but nothing inside was healing.

You released 1989 and somehow, it started a culture of meditation in me. I made a deal with myself that if I recover what I lost, I would treat it with, let say, a sacred treatment. My way of listening to your music has changed. I never had actual fellow Swifties around me, so when you release an album and it gets delivered to me, I have a party for one. This party doesn’t start until I clean the WHOLE HOUSE, I read the lyrics and the notes you share, and then I take a long bath to make sure I’m ready to consume the gourmet of sonic cohesiveness.  What I’m saying is that these practices, induced by your art, has made me reconnect with my peaceful, artistic self, the one who I almost lost because of everything that has happened and also because of the changes. To tell you frankly I just love a clean house, now! kinda helps you with thinking when the insides are a mess.

When I saved enough and when my aunts and mother were able to support me, I went back to school. When you started the Reputation Era, I was already in my 2nd year in college and I became an Editor-In-Chief in the student publication office. I worked hard day and night, I won a gold medal at the Tertiary Schools Press Conference for it and I was so proud of myself. I became somebody for a hot minute, but you were right, people do throw rocks at things that shine and it made my life hard. I had the power to publish anything over anyone at school, even the corruption and the malpractices and it became a threat to the people above me. People started fighting me, accusing me of things, putting me in situations that I felt so trapped I couldn’t do anything but just stay at home. What I built from hard work, crumbled down because of crab-mentality. They dismantled my reputation. I had no explanation to anyone. I felt weak even If I knew I can fight, I know it’ll just make things worse. I had a full scholarship at that time, friends and student staff who adored me, but for my sake, I dropped everything.

I stopped studying. You release Reputation. You made an album of what exactly what I was facing. The lonely anger and the brimming flame of revenge raged, but that album came as an expression of healing for me. I didn’t feel so alone with what I was going through because of that. Reputation was the rain I needed to soften up and turn flames to smoke and disappear in the dew of a new day.

I met a lover too, for the first time in my life, and after six months he broke my heart. I made hundreds of poems out of it, because you taught me that no matter what you go through, prose, poetry and music will always be my friend. I am no longer a captive of my own darkness, now I just see iridescent skies. NOW, I just know, that the love and the kindness I give to myself will help me live longer. I don’t know what experiences will occur for me during the Lover Era but I can guarantee you I am brimming with hope and happiness now that it has begun, and oh, I’m back in college ma’am!

I met a Lover from myself and thank you for sharing such a wonderful, dawn of an album to us. Thank you for Lover.

I am not hoping for this to reach your attention, but I have faith with the way our universe works, especially when it comes to love. Thank you Taylor.

A Lover,

-Hambert

[mebediel]

Tagged by @toooldforthisbutstill!

when did you last sing to yourself?

Yesterday, I think.

if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

Who wrote the Voynich Manuscript and what does it say?

what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Oh, that’s hard to answer. So far, my greatest accomplishment has been graduating university without imploding, but hopefully I’ll surpass that accomplishment soon!

what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

Rather recent one: getting accepted into grad school :3

if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

I’d probably quit my job, decline my grad school offer, and move back in with my parents/travel around the world saying goodbye to people and places.

do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

I don’t, but here are three things I’m making up on the spot:

1. Learn Shanghainese,

2. Get published in the academic world,

3. Get published in the fiction world.

describe a person close to your life in detail

My sister:

Short-medium height; long, long brown hair; brown eyes; heart-shaped face.

Analytical, artistic, broad-interests, sometimes awkward and self-conscious, often opinionated and argumentative.

do you feel you had a happy childhood?

Overall, yes. There were definitely a lot of rough spots, and I regret the ways I acted back then, but I wouldn’t trade any of the bad experiences for the world because they’re part of what made me grow into who I am now.

when did you last cry in front of another person?

Literally today on the train in front of a bunch of strangers lol.

pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them

The friend occasionally nicknamed Egg (he is not on this site) because (1) he knows astronomy and I like stealing knowledge from people and (2) we used to do that in college sometimes and it would bring back good memories.

would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

Yes, and I’ve done this before.

when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

I think in December, and they’re a college friend in a different city.

if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

"Thanks, Mom, love you.”

what is your opinion on brown eyes?

They’re great, they’re pretty, and I need them to see.

pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally

“All wishes are not idle, not in vain

fulfilment we devise - for pain is pain,

not for itself to be desired, but ill;

or else to strive or to subdue the will

alike were graceless; and of Evil this

alone is dreadly certain: Evil is.”

- JRR Tolkien, Mythopoeia

The poem as a whole is important to me, but this passage in particular I think encapsulates the idea that (sub)creation is an act of hope and defiance in a dark and painful world.

what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

Not Lost, I Promise

what would you do with one billion dollars?

Pay for education (mine and others), build homes (mine and others)...I don’t really have a conception of how much a billion dollars can pay for, so I guess the rest can go to various charities.

are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

I would like to say that I am, but I don’t think that’s my judgment to make. How forgiving is “very forgiving”?

would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

Punk

how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain

Cool on other people, but the idea of altering my body wigs me out.

do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

No, I don’t wear any makeup. I never thought that I needed it, and now I’m not patient enough to learn + I break out when I do + it would take too long in the morning + I save money by not wearing it.

talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way

CORNY BUT Switchfoot’s “Live It Well” from their album “Where the Light Shines Through” made me cry my third year of college. It helped me change my attitude toward a lot of things that were going on that year, which in turn helped me be more understanding and act more respectfully toward the people around me.

list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel

Erm, I haven’t been to a lot of concerts honestly. I went to a TobyMac concert once and a Switchfoot/Relient K concert. I tried to go to a Mitski concert with my roommate but we got the date wrong so we’re trying again in a couple months. I like them! I don’t think I could go to a concert alone, though.

who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

A specific medieval professor (Geraldine Heng). “You are smart and not dumb :)”

do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

I have one of those corner desks from IKEA. It’s not super organized...there are books on the shelves/all along the top, and the rest of it is covered in papers and stationary and random stuff. Part of the problem is that I need more drawers/organizational furniture, but I don’t want to buy anything until after I move to a new place.

what is your night time routine?

Collapse onto bed, go through tumblr/emails, pet cat, force myself to get up and brush my teeth/shower, crawl back into bed.

what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

All of my political views. They already know some of them and the result hasn’t been the awesomest.

if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

Hmm maybe some ombre of purple or red. I think it’s pretty. I can’t dye my hair easily because it’s so dark, but I don’t want to bleach it.

pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

My sister, my three childhood friends, and one of my college friends...lets call him Potato. We’re all pretty different, but the combination of the five of us would mean that there’s enough overlap in interests that no one would have to do any activities on their own. And I’d pick Japan because (1) one of the childhood friends is currently living there, and (2) it would be cool to take a couple weeks to explore the different aspects of historical and modern culture there.

name three wishes and why you wish for them

1. That I were better at abstract analysis. So that I could analyze better,

2. That I could memorize things better. Faster language acquisition + know more facts/poetry,

3. That I had more time in the day. Get more things done.

what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up

I made this really janky Glunkus costume once and it worked out pretty well. It was a joke on the “sexy cat lady” costume...you see a girl in pleather and cat ears and then she turns around and her face is just a void with teeth.

what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

I’ve never been drunk or high, but the number of dumb things I’ve done while sober is still pretty considerable.

if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

Sure, why not.

what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

My Starbucks order is literally just a tall chocolate milk or a tall Chai, depending on my mood. I’d trust anyone with that order...it’s pretty hard to mess up.

what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

Learn all the things and learn them well.

Tagging:

@paranormal-paralegal, @ashinypenguin, @molybendium, @pekasairroc, @mnmdash...anyone else who wants to do this?