#i don’t speak the language here i have no friends i’m so isolated

[heirloommtomatoes]

literally so miserable 😀

[lesyeuxdemoii]

paige bueckers x oc

warnings: parent issue, cursing, mention of sex. that’s all that i’m aware of, lmk if anything else

: hii ! extremely happy to join pb community. this is my very first fic, and eng is not my first language, so🙏🏽

also, this work is heavily inspired by: @sommerbueckers and @arlertwhore , that’s why i’m giving full credits to them.

————————————————————————————

I’m not exactly sure how i got into this.

I can’t remember the time that I had any complications in my personal life, yet, i never had one. My main focus was always ballet. Always. I was involved in that endless circle since I was 7. My mother, a former ballerina herself, after unsuccessful attempts to force my older sister to follow her path, took me in her hands, and because of my gentle and submissive characteristics, I obliged. Not that I complained, I did enjoy ballet. I didn’t see myself without it, it was part of me and my persona. School didn’t happen to be a problem as well. I didn’t just get good grades, I got the best ones. In simple words — I was the golden child, the one that was always bragged in rare family gatherings.

Speaking of, the opposite of me was my older sister — Giselle, we called her Gigi. She had that outgoing, extroverted, energetic personality, a personality that was indeed stronger than mine. Gigi’s life was full of parties, passion, dedication, fun. I adored her, her appearance, her lightweight character. We became inseparable when our parents started the train of their “business trips”, leaving us fully alone. They were never at home, never cared enough. They even skipped my 18th birthday, the one that was so important for me, but I hope guess FaceTime saved the situation. It was fine for a while, though, me and Gigi had each other, and that was enough.

My life, apart from yearning for my parents, that i tried to deny, was good. Until… until I got too close with my sister and her friends. That one friend, in particular. That’s how my calculated life was ruined, forcing me to face with something, that I wasn’t entirely prepared to handle. Not alone.

Why did i even come to this party? It was never my thing, I preferred extra practice more, than being trapped in direct contact with sweaty, high, drunk people. They were all so wasted, meanwhile I barely had any sips of my drink. I just couldn’t say no to Gi. She insisted that I need some distraction from my robotic routine, of course I had to say yes, and of course I had to lie to her, hiding the fact that I already owned a distraction, for months, actually.

I stood in the kitchen, leaning against the wall, scrolling through my Instagram feed and periodically checking the time. After a while of mindlessly staring at my phone, i heard that someone entered the kitchen, someone tall, specifically blonde.

“Can’t you just have some fucking fun?” - a voice came from the door, looking up and down my petite, delicate body, compared to her athletic and strong one. I didn’t have to raise my head, already knowing that the signature smirk was present on her pretty face.

“I’m having my own fun here, you don’t have to worry” - I replied without looking at her, trying to act unbothered by her presence, which I most likely failed to do.

“C’mon bro, you can’t isolate yourself from everyone. From me, at least.” - she answered, slowly approaching, and standing closely in-front of me.

“Don’t call me “bro”, I’m not your buddy, Paige.” - she slightly chuckled from my response, taking the phone out of my hand, forcing to look at her.

“First of all, look at me when I talk to you, secondly, you are my buddy.” — she said, studying my face with her beautiful eyes. It looked like she was trying to draw my portrait in her head.

Sure, she absolutely had to mention that I’m her “buddy”, as if it didn’t hurt like knife. I don’t remember how I ended up being engaged in half-situationship position with the infamous Paige Bueckers. I’d met her through Gi, obviously, nothing surprising. She was the walking charm, the magnetic and utterly unattainable girl. Paige was one of the most desirable people, she could have anyone, anytime, anywhere, yet, she chose me to be her secret. Why? I was absolutely clueless. Maybe my innocence was something that attracted her, but you never know. Although, the two things I certainly knew were,

1) She was unbelievably good at everything. (sex and basketball, especially). 2) I was deeply inlove with her, but she didn’t seem to know that, or she pretended not to.

“Seriously, what do you want? I’m already on my nerves, don’t try to piss me off, like really.” - I said, staring back at her, while crossing my arms, as she put my phone on the nearest table.

She smirked, clearly unaffected by my fake attitude, when she brushed my hair behind my ear, resting her hand on my cheek. - “I can take you home, baby.” - she whispered, her voice went down especially during the last part. My eyes softened, and i found myself leaning into her touch.

“Can’t leave Gi here.” - I frowned a bit, but my sister was always my N1 priority.

"She’ll understand, Don’t worry. I will talk to her.” - she moved her lips to my temple, placing a soft kiss there, then to my cheek, repeating the action. I was satisfied by the affection that I received, so i simply nodded, letting her take the control.

Car ride was peaceful. I didn’t know what Paige said to Giselle, but she knew what she was doing, and i fully trusted her. Her hand rested on my thigh, as she drew small circles on it with her thumb, her eyes being fully focused on the road. Her touch was possessive, yet so tender.

When we reached to the destination, Paige demanded to see me off to the door, ending up entering the house. As soon as the door closed, her lips were smashed against mine, her hands pulling me impossibly closer by my waist, while I was holding her face. The kiss was passionate, almost sexual. Our lips moved in perfect sync, as if they were made for each other. It was so intoxicating, so intense. Her grip on me tightened, and i slightly hummed in response, causing her to smile. She slowly moved down to my neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses all over it… And for one second, I almost forgot, that everything we were doing was not right, it was a secret.

Sweet secret, that only we were able to knew.

[rainylana]

“I’m not always bad.” Part two!

Eddie Munson x female reader

warnings: readers dad has cancer, enemies to lovers, (bullies reader in part one), language, mentions of religion and prayer, depression and anxiety. a lot of angst and fluff.

note: let me know if you want a third part!

Eddie backed off. Whatever class you shared, passing by each other in the hallway or the cafeteria, he backed off. He didn’t bother you, didn’t even look at you. Well, that wasn’t true. He looked, but only when you weren’t aware of it. It had been two weeks since you had broke down in front of him, and as each day passed, he could see you start to slip, start to deteriorate right in front of him. Everyone else was seeing it too.

You weren’t doing as much makeup like you normally did. Instead of putting on a full face, you applied some mascara. Instead of dressing up, you preferred sweats and a hoodie, your hair put up and away so you didn’t have to deal with it.

You weren’t bringing your lunch anymore, surviving off the snacks your friends would make you eat. You didn’t answer questions in class. You weren’t you, anymore. In just two weeks, you’d completely changed, and Eddie, most of all, didn’t like it.

He should talk to you. That’s what he should do, instead of staring at you all day. Over that time, he began to realize his feelings for you were not just hatred.

The day came when he decided he would say something. Say what, he didn’t know, but he needed to speak with you, needed to know that you were…okay, given the circumstances.

•

“And I don’t know if you can hear me, or…even care about what’s happening to my family, but please, God, please, I can’t watch him die. Mama can’t watch him die. Please make him better, I beg of you.” Your hands were folded above your knees, tears on your face and mascara smudged down your cheeks. You were at lovers lake, an isolated side of the park that was overgrown and lonely, much like yourself these days.

There was a singular picnic table, an old, rundown cabin that was falling apart. You’d only been through this area a few times, but the isolation made you feel welcome and at peace, hoping maybe that God could hear your prayers just a little louder here.

“Amen.” You sniffled, wiping your tears and sitting there emotionlessly. You stared at your hands in front of you, too scared to move, too scared to go home. You found yourself always scared, always anxious and alert. Your father was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer and was only given six months to live at best. You didn’t think you could go back to life before you’d been called down to the kitchen for a family meeting.

“Hey.”

You jumped, alert and alarmed at the voice that emerged through the wooded trail. You placed a hand over your heart, calming when you realized who it was.

“Eddie?” You asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” He held up a hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He trailed off. “I walk here a lot.”

That wasn’t true. Eddie didn’t like to walk, or any form of exercise, for that matter. He’d followed you, listened to your entire prayer and cry for help, only to come out when your finished crying. It was hot out today, but that didn’t change his normal attire. Black jeans, ripped at the knees. White t-shirt with a little grease. His hair was extra shaggy due to the humidity. He had a bead of sweat forming above his lip.

“That’s okay.” You said meekly, looking back down at your fingers.

He stood their awkwardly, scratching the back of his sweaty neck. “Look, I can go-”

“No, no.” You waved a hand. “I should go. This isn’t my-”

“Don’t go!” He interrupted you, taking a step and stopping you from getting up off the picnic table. “I uh- sit.” He said to you, doing so himself, sitting across from you.

You weren’t aware just how much of a mess you looked, having forgotten about the tears and makeup mess on your face. He stared at you for a moment, watching you watch the lake. You were blushing—or, were you just red faced from crying?

Eddie gulped, not knowing what to say. A simple how are you would suffice, but he couldn’t seem to get it out.

“Do you need something?” Your eyes panned over to him, sunken and shallow. “I don’t have the homework done if that’s what you’re wanting.”

He hadn’t asked for it in weeks.

“How are you doing?” He bounced his knee, clasping his fingers together in front of him. “With…you know.”

You stared at him, and for a moment, you gave him that same look you did two weeks ago. Bewilderment, shock. But only for a moment, because you simply did not have the energy to put on a show, or care. Eddie noticed.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” You said honestly. “I guess I’m fine.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.” He was looking at you through thick lashes, analyzing your every move, like you were his prey. “Nobody knows yet, do they?”

You tried not to cry. You didn’t want to again, especially not in front of him. You’d already made a fool of yourself once.

“Just family.” You whispered.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Eddie felt bad for you. You’d cracked away at his hard shell and found some emotion inside of him. You just wished it wasn’t at your expense, and you didn’t need his pity.

“Do you need anything?” He found himself asking, quickly looking down to his own hands that he fiddled with, decorated in rings and cat scratches.

This was exactly what you didn’t need. You didn’t want a spotlight on you. You didn’t want him looking at you like you were going to break any second. You didn’t need Eddie Munson as your friend.

“No.” You shook your head. “But I do need to go.” He watched you stand up, and by your shaky hands, he knew you were still very upset. Had he upset you? Should he not have reached out to you.

“Y/n, wait!” He followed after you on the trail.

“What?” You whirled around. “God, Eddie, what is it?” Your eyes were round and wide, alarmed and scared.

He looked taken back, shooing a fly away from his face. “I just- I…I’m really sorry about your dad. I can see that it’s bothering you.” What a dumb thing to say! Of course it’s bothering her!

Don’t take it out on him. He didn’t do this. He didn’t cause it. He’s looking out for you. Him, of all people.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You gave him a smile mixed with a frown. “But I’m fine, I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

You left and he didn’t follow, and when he no longer could see you, he swore he heard the sound of someone sobbing.

•

Three days later and you still hadn’t told your friends. You knew you had to soon. They were concerned. Your teachers knew now, your mom had told the principal, after he had called your parents about your grades. You didn’t get in trouble, they all understood.

You were going in and out of listening to Chrissy talk about prom, your eyes filled with what felt like water and air. You felt like you were drowning. Your eyes burned and felt clouded, your vision was blurry. Your throat burned and you seemed to gasp for air, but you couldn’t. You sat there and listened, drowning inside.

But when you felt something sharp, piercing and full of concern fall upon your face, you looked over and found the hellfire table, their master, staring at you. Eddie was staring at you. You locked eyes with him briefly before turning back to Chrissy.

Two more days passed and everyone knew. You didn’t know how it got out, but you knew it would have sooner or later. You just wished it was later. Everyone was staring at you in class, including Eddie, and by lunch time, the cafeteria went completely silent when you entered. You could take the I’m sorry’s and the I’m here for you’s. You couldn’t take being watched, couldn’t take being talked about and whispered about behind someone else’s back.

You had turned quickly on your heal, flashing an angry emotion across your face that Eddie hadn’t seen in quite some time. You slammed open the doors and walked down the hall with a quick speed. Each step you took, your breathing got heavier and heavier, your head felt lighter and lighter.

You were gulping, choking on your sobs as you rounded the corner and ran down the stairwell.

I’ve gotta get out of here. I’ve got to get out of here.

When you tripped and fell flat on your face, that seemed to be the final straw. You screamed, cursing at the universe, god, whoever, as you stood back up.

“Y/n!” Eddie came running up behind you, panting just as quickly as you were. He widened his eyes at your state. “Hey, hey,” He rushed to you, and you couldn’t help it. You melted into his arms. You let him hold you.

Your limbs gripped his shirt tightly, pulling like he was a rope, and sobbed into his shoulder. You didn’t know why, but in that moment, there wasn’t anyone else you needed more than him.

•

“Thanks for the ride.” You said hoarsely.

It was only one o’clock, but Eddie offered to drive you home. You let him, not able to imagine going back to class after the scene you had made.

“Don’t mention it.” He out the van in park, arm stretched out to the wheel. “You gonna be alright?”

You nodded, tugging at your hoodie, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You said quietly, excluded of emotion.

“Listen, about what happened at school,” He started, turning in his seat. “Everyone’s just surprised, that’s all. It’s like gossip to them. They’ll forget about it eventually.” He searched your eyes, hoping to make you feel better. “Are you hearing me?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “I’m just…I don’t know. I might take a break for a few days. Maybe they’ll have dropped it by then.”

He didn’t want to go a day without seeing you. He was becoming more and more concerned, more and more attached, curious. You were becoming the very thing that kept him awake at night. He didn’t know why, but god, were you absolutely beautiful.

“Bye, Eddie,” You reached over and squeezed his knee. “Thanks for everything.”

He watched you walk inside, only seeing a small portion of your home on the inside. He hoped you would dream sweet things that night.

[bitchinbarzal]

Here’s an angst idea

After having Wyatt, Mama B, and Mat decided that it was best if Mama B stepped back from her job so that someone could care for their kids 24/7.

Once Hockey season resumes, the weight of everything started to fall on Mama B a lot. 4 kids, and you’re practically a single mother. You have 2 kids in school with active hobbies, a clingy two-year-old and a newborn.

Her husband? He’s either on a roadie or going home late after celebratory drinks.

Then, they had a big fight one night. Mean things were said but Mama B’s stand is “You get to enjoy your life and career while I have to sacrifice mine. I love the kids but isn’t fair and I fear I’m losing my self of identity.”

After Wyatt was born, you’d decided to take the same six month break you’d taken with all of the other kids but as the time went on you felt like you should stay home and be with the kids.

So, you decided to take a leave of absence from the team indefinitely.

In the beginning, it was all fine. You were soaking up the newborn phase and then the off season came around so you didn’t feel any different.

When the season started back up again, Mat would come home telling you all about his day at the rink and you couldn’t help but become sort of jealous. You wondered what your boys were doing, how were the new guys getting on?

You loved Wyatt, this wasn’t about her. It was about feeling isolated from your friends, work and social life.

You sat at home alone watching stories of the devils on road trips, of your husband out drinking with his friends while you were surrounded by your sleeping kids.

During the day, you felt like you didn’t get a moment to breathe. Ryder had hockey practice almost every single night and Ivy was doing something if it was dancing, piano lessons or something. Along with the fact that the kids were still taking ASL lessons on top of all of that.

On Sunday Mat had an afternoon game and by the time he’d returned home you had already made the kids dinner and cleaned up, everything Mat promised to help with.

He walks in and the house is silent, apart from Wyatt’s gurgling.

When he enters the kids playroom he sees them all, you included having a conversation solely in sign language.

He frowns, not being able to depict the whole sentence only a few words.

“What you guys talking about?”

You all turn to look at him, you bounce wyatt in your arms.

“We’re telling Bailey a bedtime story!” Ivy announces proudly.

“You are?” He asks, walking in and picking Bailey up into his lap.

Bailey begins signing to Mat but his dad only frowns “I-I’m sorry bud I don’t know what you’re saying”

“Mat, he can’t hear you” you grumble “He’s not got his cochlear in”

Before Mat can defend himself, try and sign something to Bailey you take the toddler and mumble something about putting him to bed.

When you come back down, Mat has sent the two older kids to the playroom to watch a movie while Wyatt sleeps soundly in her bassinet by the couch.

You begin pottering around, cleaning the kids mess when Mat speaks “What did you get up to today?”

You don’t look up when you say “Same shit, different day”

He chuckles softly “they can be a little much huh?”

You scowl “and how would you know?”

Mat looks taken a back at your tone “what?”

“How would you know, Mat? How would you know what our kids are like; it’s not like you’re ever around”

You drop the rag in your hand and stare at him wildly “Well?”

He stutters “What is wrong with you?”

You let out a loud and tired sigh “What is wrong with me, Mathew is that I am tired! I’m so tired, I’ve never stopped all day since the day we brought Wyatt home and now you’re telling me you know what our kids are like as if you’re ever around!”

“I’m around-“ you laugh at that, laughing so hard you need to hold your stomach.

Mat stands there, looking like Bailey does when he’s in trouble until you stop “Oh sorry, that was a funny joke”

“It wasn’t a joke”

You point “no, you see it was a huge joke just like you Mat”

“You’re being so rude right now” is all he says and you pout, somewhat mocking him

“You know what’s rude Mat? The fact you can’t even speak to your own son” you shrug “because you’re not home to take the lessons that we agreed we would all take for Bailey!”

“I’m busy at the-“

“At the rink yes I know! I know Mat, because I wish I was at the rink, I wish I was with my team, I wish I was still at work!” You cried, angry tears lining your eyes.

He gapes “You’re mad I’m doing my job?”

“No!” You almost scream “I am not mad at you for doing your job, I’m mad at you because you stopped me from doing mine!”

“The NHL was my childhood dream y/n!”

You sob “It was mine too, Mat”

Both of your chests are rising with rapids breaths “I-I love you, Mathew and I love our kids. We have four beautiful babies here with us, but I cannot keep playing a backup role in the Mat show. I won’t do it”

Mat stands up straighter “The Mat show” he mocks “Like I haven’t always done the things you wanted, we moved house because you needed to work in jersey instead of New York, I gave up so much time chasing you while I was a rookie, everything-“

It hurt hearing that, that he felt like winning you over was an inconvenience.

“I never wanted you to chase me mat, and if you’re so resentful of it then maybe we would’ve been better of if you hadn’t tried”

His heart breaks a little, your suggestion that life would be better if you weren’t together definitely stung.

“You get to enjoy your life and career while I have to sacrifice mine, Mathew. I love the kids and I love you but all of this isn’t fair and I fear I’m losing my self of identity”

Mat is rendered speechless, he’s not sure what to say so he asks “Well What do we do now?”

You shrug “I don’t know, I’m going to put the kids to bed”

A little over an hour later you reappear at the kitchen door and he’s sitting with his hands grasping his hair waiting for you. When he hears you his head shoots up to look at you, eyes falling on the bag in your hand.

“Where are You going?”

You shake your head “Not me, you. I think it’s best if you find somewhere else to live for a little while Mat, give us some space”

“You don’t mean that, we can talk about this” he is almost begging and you.

You drop the bag on the floor and sigh “Please Mat, don’t make this harder than it needs to be”

“It should be hard! We need to fight for our marriage y/n”

“No, Mathew we don’t. Text me your training schedule for the next week and we can sort something out with the kids, Wyatt won’t be able to stay over night because she’s breastfeeding but the rest of them are fine”

Mat doesn’t know what to say, he’s at a loss for words this wasn’t angry words you were saying you were calm, collected and thinking this all through.

He was standing right in front of you. His fingers ghosted over your cheeks and he could feel your tears.

“Baby-“

“Please” you whispered “Please just go, I can’t do this”

So he did, and it hurt him so much to go but if that’s what you wanted he would do it. He went into the kids rooms and kissed them all goodnight before he left, residing at an Airbnb that he managed to find on such short notice.

he spent the entire night awake, looking through your Facebook at your wedding photos, you babies pictures all through tears he watched as his family slowly slipped further away from him and he wasn’t sure he could get a grasp on them again.

[joeshiestyslover]

i love u

pairing: lsu!fratboy!joe burrow x volleyballplayer!reader

summary: sometimes all you need to forgive your ex is two nosy best friends

warnings: language, angst, sad joe, some fluff at the end

a/n: y’all part 2 of i hate u is finally here!!! i’m so sorry i haven’t been active! hope y’all enjoy 🫶🫶

lowercase intended

masterlist part one

the past few weeks have been complete and total hell for you. you can’t even look at joe without feeling the urge to break down and cry. you try to avoid him and his teammates at all costs, including ja’marr. you’ve been sitting on the opposite side of the room, not wanting to tell him about what happened with his best friend, but be probably already knows.

ever since that night with your ex-boyfriend, you’ve been completely self isolating. when every you’re not in class or at volleyball practice, you’re in your dorm room. eve has felt so guilty because she was basically the reason you and joe got into the argument in the first place, but you constantly assure her it wasn’t her fault. you love eve, but if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s getting into your business. she’s been begging you to talk joe ever since you told him to get the fuck out of your room, and you tell her no every time. little do you know, her and ja’marr have been plotting for the past week to get you and joe to get back together, at the very least stand each other. 

you are walking out of your econ class when you think you hear someone calling your name. you ignore it, thinking it’s your imagination until you feel a tap on your shoulder. you turn around, and behind you stands ja’marr; your eyes widen. “hey y/n. can we talk?” he asks you. “umm yeah sure.” you reply to him , not having the energy to argue. ja’marr leads you down the hallway so you’re both outside a storage closet. “so, why did you want to talk to me?” you question, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets. “i’m sorry.” he tells you. “for what?” you ask him, confused. “for this.” ja’marr then shoves you into the closet you were just standing in front of. before you’re able to push against the door, it’s slammed shut and locked from the outside. “ja’marr let me out you dumbass! what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you begin to pound your fist on the door, but you get no response. he probably walked away, but why would he lock you in here in the first place, you think. 

you stand there for a bit before your thoughts are interrupted by the door opening. you think it’s ja’marr or someone else saving you from being trapped, but you notice another person being pushed into the closet to join you. as the door closes, you hear a, “what the hell?! let me out!” oh no. your heart drops as you hear the voice of the guy you’ve been avoiding for the past two weeks. “shit.” you whisper to yourself. 

“y/n?” joe asks you, somehow hearing your voice. “joe” you reply to him coldly. “did you get locked in here too?” he inquires. “no, i just decided to chill out in here for a few hours!” you exclaim sarcastically. joe lets out a sigh, hopefully he’s finally given up at starting a conversation with you as if you’re best buds. 

“y/n” joe speaks up again. you ignore him, not wanting a replay of a few weeks ago. “y/n please say something, anything.” he pleads. “i have nothing to say to you. i’ve already said everything i needed to.” you cross your arms over your chest, not even looking him in the eye. “okay fine then i’ll talk.” you continue to avoid his eye line. “i will never stop telling you how sorry i am for what i did. i was a stupid and an asshole. i lost sight of myself and i became someone that i didn’t like. you never deserved that. i hate myself for how i ended it with you. i’m so, so sorry.” you don’t know what to say because you really wanna forgive him, but you don’t know if you can. he hurt you more than anyone else has in your life. how do you even begin to forgive someone for that?

“joe, i understand that you feel sorry now, but you didn’t feel sorry when it first happened. you seemed to be having the time of your life, partying and hooking up with random girls while i was at home crying my eyes out every night wondering why you didn’t want me anymore. tell me, was it easy for you to forget me?” “trust me, there was never a moment where you weren’t on my mind. i thought i did what was right at first, but as time went on, i realized that i had made the biggest mistake of my life. i tried to text you, call you, and even dm you on instagram, but you blocked me, which i completely understand by the way.” joe tells you, starting to become desperate. 

“you still hurt me joe. you made me feel as if i did something wrong, like i wasn’t enough for you. i thought that you left me for someone better.” you tell him while looking at your shoes. “it’s not your fault. it has never been your fault. stop beating yourself up over something i did. i promise you i found no one else that was better than you because there is no one better. i will never find anyone i love more than you. you are truly the most amazing and the most beautiful girl i have ever met. you’re it for me y/n.” “really?” you ask him, becoming more open to the idea of forgiving him. “i promise. i love you y/n, i never stopped.” you’re finally able to look him in the eyes. “oh joe, i never stopped loving you either, but i won’t forgive except under one condition.” “anything.” you replies, hope beginning to gleam in his eyes. “you never, ever pull shit like this again. if you do, don’t expect another chance.” you state. “done. i promise i won’t break your heart again.” he begins to step closer to you. “will you kiss me now?” you ask, looking up at the blue eyes you fell in love with when you were six. joe smiles and leans his head down while cupping the sides of your face. you close your eyes and wait until joe’s lips meet yours.

you two stay like this for a while before you hear the door open. you and joe both look towards the open door and see ja’marr and eve with shit eating grins on their faces. “i told you it would work!” eve turns towards ja’marr. “you guys planned this?!” you yell at the both of them. “well yeah. we had to get you both to make up somehow, you guys were fucking miserable! and we need our quarterback to actually make plays, you know.” ja’marr tells the two of you. “i’m sorry we had to do it like this but we were desperate.” “i hate how you did it, but thank you.” joe says, looking at you lovingly. you look back at him and give him a quick peck on the lips. “awww!” you hear ja’marr and eve exclaim. “shut up.” you and joe tell your friends before letting out a loud laugh. you start to feel like your old self again. it’s as if nothing changed, and you couldn’t be happier.

[h0neytalk]

Practicing the Arabic Alphabet

I honestly lucked out so much taking Arabic in college and learning basic MSA reading/writing/grammar from an excellent professor but I’m gonna compile the most useful things we did in class here to help people learning on their own (this isn’t focused on resources, just strategies, might do a separate post with worksheets and videos but they’re pretty easy to find):

Get the alphabet in front of you. We had a packet with a page for every letter with the letter written in the three positions, pronunciations, names, and lines to trace and write like 100 times. And then a page with all the diacritics. These sheets abound for free online. Make yourself an alphabet packet. Watch copious videos/listen to recordings going over the letters and how they sound. Repeat it back. Work in chunks and don’t move to the next set until you can recognize and write the current set.

Tracing! Learn to write the letters right to left and with the proper order from day one. This sounds obvious but people in my class were still drawing letters left to right as isolated shapes next to each other so idk maybe it’s not. Having nice handwriting in Arabic is both satisfying and absurdly helpful. Learn how the letters connect. Spend more time than you think is necessary on this.

Write English words and sentences phonetically using diacritics and Arabic letters. Do not worry about translation and spelling. Just make the connection between shape -> sound. Use anything you have. Lists of names, entire pages from books and magazines, texts from friends, menus. Literally anything. Work through how to make those words with the new alphabet. You will learn a surprising amount about the language and pronunciation by doing this. How do you translate sounds that don’t exist? What about multiple sounds where English only has one? Read it back with the accent.

Transcribe English phonetically. Same as above but do it without the English in front of you and just listening. Make that voice to visual connection.

Hand write word lists once you get to vocab. Then type them on your laptop and phone (if you want to be able to type in Arabic, also highly recommend a keyboard cover with the letters next to the Latin alphabet). Copy all the diacritics even though that’s not necessarily how native speakers do it. I have a notebook that looks like it belongs to lunatic toddler because it just has the same words and snippets written over and over again lmao.

Finally, transcribe Arabic. If you can use something with a transcript or captions to check your work even better! But don’t check for perfect spelling, check you used mostly the right letters and marks. You will definitely smash some words together and miss a silent or elided letter or something but try and hear the difference between ع and ا or ق and ك etc. The more sources you use the better.

We did this for one full semester of 50 minute classes 3 times a week while sprinkling in some basic vocab towards the second half. It felt like forever at the time but I never lost my ability to phonetically read and write in Arabic despite 4 years of complete non-use while living in America in an area without any significant Arabic-speaking population or language presence. It is absolutely CHISELED into my brain.

[unikittybigbrightworldau]

Requesting Advice For My AU!

Hello, everyone! I'm looking for someone who can offer me advice/critiques for Unikitty: Big Bright World, my AU fanfiction based on the show Unikitty.

Unikitty: Big Bright World follows Unikitty and her friends as they discover that their world is bigger than they know. There are other lands beyond the Unikingdom and Frowntown, but the people there aren’t like them or Frowntown’s citizens. Due to disagreements, dissonance, and people’s intolerance with how others were living, the lands went their separate ways, and have been living in isolation ever since. So, in the series, the lands learn to work together and get along while also being mindful of their differences.

The stories introduce six other lands beyond the Unikingdom and Frowntown:

Swan Lake, a land across the sea known for its dancing, fashion, art, traveling and athletics.

Ice Cream Land, a frosty land up north that, as its name suggests, is full of ice cream and dairy treats.

Elegancia, a kingdom created by my friend @/ButterflyRage410 from Wattpad; she let me use it in this series. It is known for its gemstone theming and elegance.

Charm Valley, a land in a deep, wide valley with a taiga climate. It is known for its citizens' specialties in magic.

Botania, a lush land that spans a forest, a tropical rainforest, an open grassland, a desert and a tundra. The people live in harmony with their world and the nature within it.

Marevi, a land under the sea that spans a bed of seagrass, a kelp forest, a coral reef, a golden yellow sand bed, and a rocky volcanic ridge. The people deeply respect the life and nature within their ocean.

None of these lands are meant to be based on any real life cultures. I wanted to use made-up places to reflect how different people from different places interact.

However, I've been having doubts.

Unikitty is set in a world populated by 2D-animated Lego beings. Some are animals, some are more humanoid creatures made of shapes, and some are anthropomorphic objects. There are non-anthropomorphic animals as well. There are no Lego minifigures or any actual humans in the show. There are two main locations: the Unikingdom and Frowntown, neither of which are meant to be based on any real countries or cultures.

However, there are still some connections to the real world in the show. In one episode, the characters order from a Thai food restaurant. Hawkodile practices martial arts and frequently mentions karate; in one episode, he acts as a sensei to a bunch of baby chipmunks. In some episodes, the characters are shown celebrating Christmas, Halloween, and Valentine’s Day. Languages other than English are confirmed to exist; the Unikingdom and Frowntown are treated as different countries from each other, but everyone speaks English in both places.

There are some connections to the real world in this AU as well. In Botania, there’s a J-rock band that was inspired by BABYMETAL, who performed the theme song for the show.

My mind keeps telling me that I need to include elements from real-world cultures in my AU and code my characters as real-world races; otherwise, my message about people from different places working together won’t go through right.

Writing this AU means the world to me, and I want to have fun writing it, but I also don't want to offend anyone.

I’ve been told that, as long as I’m being respectful about it, I’ll be fine. But sometimes, you don’t even know when you’re not being respectful.

Maybe I'm just overthinking this. Maybe it's all coming from rejection sensitivity. I get frustrated, stressed out and offended very easily, and mean-spirited criticism hurts my feelings. But, I would feel a lot better if someone gave me their two cents on my AU.

Here is a video documenting the history of Big Bright World:

Here is a post documenting the history of my characters:

Here are some differences this AU has from the show:

Several episodes from the show itself didn’t happen in this AU, including its finale, The Birthday to End All Birthdays.

This AU is set in the future of the show; to be more precise, it takes place about 3 years after the show.

It is much less episodic and over-the-top silly than the original show.

Unikitty and Puppycorn’s parents are introduced, but they’re usually away because they work for a cruise liner. They also don’t live in the castle with the gang. Unikitty and Puppycorn are still being cared for by Richard, and Unikitty is still ruling the Unikingdom in her own right. Their parents are still around, but they’re not often seen.

Legendary figures like Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Sandman appear in the canon show, but in this AU, none of them exist.

And here are things I’d like you to look at:

The first story in the series, Broken and Frozen.

Fanmade citizens of the Unikingdom in this AU.

Fanmade citizens of Frowntown in this AU.

Citizens of Ice Cream Land that appear.

Citizens of Swan Lake that appear.

Citizens of Marevi that appear.

Citizens of Botania that appear.

Citizens of Elegancia that appear.

Citizens of Charm Valley that appear.

Schools that I made up for the Unikingdom and Frowntown.

The Seagang in their Land Forms.

How far space exploration has gone in each land.

A plant that is symbolic in Marevi.

How fashion has influenced weapons and armor in Ice Cream Land.

How the climate has influenced fashion in Ice Cream Land.

A fact about Botania’s performing arts.

How performing arts are taught in each land.

The Unikingdom and Frowntown’s Wizard Scouts system in this AU.

A headcanon about Legos’ lifespans.

Shelltop and Waterlily’s hair.

What kinds of beings live in each land.

Me explaining how I want there to be things that the Unigang and the other lands can find common ground on.

References I made for a Poe-themed musical that Spike was in.

What it means to be wealthy in each land.

Dr. Fox’s family tree in this AU.

The characters’ relationships with one another.

The characters’ confirmed sexualities and gender identities.

The characters’ confirmed disabilities.

A comparison I made with this AU’s lore.

The difference between adoptive and biological children in this AU.

A disclaimer about my characters and their headcanon voices.

What my characters’ rooms look like.

Birthdays that hold a special significance to the people in this AU.

A historical event that changed traditions in Swan Lake.

My characters’ backstories.

How isolated the different parts of the world are.

Ten facts about Marcella and Germafrost.

Maps depicting the regions of Marevi and Botania.

More facts about the lands’ performing arts.

A fact about having black spiky hair in the Unikingdom vs. Marevi.

A fact about table etiquette in the Unikingdom vs. Ice Cream Land.

The characters in formal wear.

More in Ice Cream Land’s history.

The Unikingdom’s equivalent of Broadway/West End.

Which generation of Imogen’s family moved to Frowntown?

More about Piano’s life.

More about Germafrost’s brother Neapolitan.

I’m considering bringing back Deepa, a yak who lived in Ice Cream Land.

More about Swan Lakers and their dancing customs.

How the lands as they are now came to be.

An idea for Waterlily’s moon jelly bell.

More on Needle.

I’m considering changing characters’ names so they match where their animal species is from in real life.

Fake wiki pages for my characters:

Swanna and Lee

Imogen

Sgt. Wolf

Germafrost

Piano

Master Cupid

Pepper

Mabel

Shelltop

Waterlily

Spike

Marcella/“Butterpearl”

Cream

Kira

Allegra

Bia

Zora

Trey

Thank you for your consideration!

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hi! ❤️ can you do a Marilyn x fem student reader, where the reader doesn't talk because she stutters? Maybe the reader loves botany and so spends a lot of time with Marilyn and they get closer, the reader actually speaks one day and nearly cries because she's afraid Marilyn will make fun of her stutter but Marilyn wraps her in her arms and holds her and they fall more and more in love with each other. One day as they're walking down a hallway, Marilyn excitedly talking about some new strain of mushrooms or whatever been discovered and reader is listening intently they walk past a couple of teachers who snidely says something mean about the normi teacher, Marilyn shakes it off but reader gets angry and confronts the shocked teachers, telling them off not realizing she drawn a crowd (because omg, reader can actually talk!) No one at Nevermore but Marilyn knew she could talk so it's spectacle. When reader realizes the whole school heard her stutter she freaks out and runs away into the woods until she trips, falls and breaks her leg. Tyler as the Hyde finds her and gently brings her back to the Gates manor where a worried Marilyn/Laurel is. Laurel fawns over reader, taking care of her, love confessions are made and Laurel decides to keep reader away from Nevermore and her plans to kill all the outcasts, because reader is different and most importantly hers.

Thank you so so so much in advance! ❤️

Yessss Here it is!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Don't speak

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/ Laurel Gates x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Hurt & comfort, dark intentions, fluff, stuttering…

Word count: 4,208

Summary: You don’t speak, you don’t want to, you’re afraid of what they said about you, but there is someone special and maybe you can speak to her

 N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“Now we just need to wait for it to grow,” Marilyn told you, proudly contemplating the plant you had planted.

It was very common for you to spend the afternoons in the conservatory with your teacher. You loved plants and it was an effective way to escape from the social relationships that terrified you so much. You weren't afraid to make friends, or get close to someone. The only problem is that you didn't speak. You weren't mute, you could do it, but after years of laughing and mocking, you decided to shut up forever, for your own good. You stuttered since you were a little girl, you couldn't help it. You were embarrassed to do it and staying silent was a shield for your self-esteem.

No teacher or classmate of yours gave it importance. They thought you just couldn't talk. Everyone there seemed to want nothing to do with you. Perhaps they believed that if you didn't speak you would have nothing to contribute to them.

Fortunately, there was someone who seemed to understand you. Marilyn Thornhill, your botany teacher, never ignored you, or treated you like an idiot or someone unable to communicate. Your common love for plants made your relationship to gain trust. You no longer spent the afternoons alone in your room, or isolated in a corner, reading a book. Now you spent them with her.

Deluding yourself into thinking that Marilyn was just a friendly teacher was a frequent thought on your mind. Your whole body trembled when you saw her, when you heard her talk about plants. You had nothing to lose by secretly loving her. She was the only thing that mattered to you in that strange academy, and quietly enjoying her company was all you could ask for.

You looked at the desk, where there was an important jar that the redhead forgot to put on the dirt. You picked it up, drawing her attention.

“Oh, how clueless I am, thank you very much, (Y/N). Surely we could wait forever without anything growing. I don't know where my mind is.”

Marilyn reached out for the jar and accidentally brushed her fingers against yours. You were about to turn your head, to prevent the growing blush on your cheeks from being noticed by the redhead.

“Now it's perfect. We make a good team, don't you think?” She asked, winking at you while she put that pot in another place. You nodded effusively with a smile. “I wish your classmates had the same enthusiasm for botany as you.”

You kept smiling, not really knowing what to do next. The redhead removed her gloves and leaned next to you on the desk, sighing. You looked at her curious and embarrassed for having her so close to you.

“I have always thought that plants have extraordinary powers,” she began to say, contemplating all the species that were in that place. You nodded, agreeing with that opinion. “I knew you would agree.”

You smiled again, trying not to be as expressive as you could. The trust you had could be severely affected if she somehow found out how you truly felt about her.

“Anyway, I like to spend this time with you, (Y/N),” she told you with a soft, kind voice.

“M, me, too.”

You widened your eyes. You just spoke without meaning to. The words came out of your mouth as if they hadn't asked for permission. Quickly your legs trembled and the blush on your cheeks increased. You began to feel nervous, embarrassed for having brought your particular problem to light.

You backed away from the desk, scared, tears in your eyes. You expected ridicule, laughter, pity. You didn't want to hear it, not from her. You turned around, ready to run out of that place and not look back. Marilyn grabbed your wrist, preventing you from escaping.

“Ple, please, I have to, to, go,” you said sobbing, blaming yourself for continuing to talk.

The redhead pulled you until you were right in front of her. She seemed a little abrupt to you, but her eyes held neither mockery, nor laughter, nor pity. It was a different glow.

“Hey honey, why do you want to go?” She asked, wiping away the tears that were beginning to flow from your eyes.

“I…I…” You said nervously.

“What’s wrong? You have a beautiful voice,” she said to you, smiling, moving a lock of hair from behind your ear. You looked up, surprised by those words.

“W, what?” You asked, stunned.

“Don't be afraid, (Y/N), you don't have to hide, not with me,” she told you while she affectionately grabbed your waist.

That was too much for you, you didn't even think about the shame you felt for having shown your stuttering. Her hands on your waist were something much more important.

“I al, always know they laughed, at, at me, for stu, stu…” You said with great difficulty.

“Stutter?” Marilyn finished the sentence for you. You agreed. “Oh honey, don't worry about it.”

You leaned into her, and she immediately hugged you, comforting you as you cried to admit your problem.

“It’s okay, (Y/N), it's okay…” She whispered to you. “I'm never going to judge you.”

You looked up to meet her eyes again.

“They al, always laugh, at, at me, for, for not, tal, talking” you said trembling, enjoying her tender and understanding embrace.

“Who?” She asked softly.

“The, they…” You said, pointing towards the conservatory door. Marilyn frowned, looking in the direction you were pointing, where a group of students could be made out.

The redhead shook her head and hugged you even tighter.

“Always with the weak ones…” She whispered slightly, perhaps thinking that you weren't listening.”-Is that why you don't speak honey? For fear of being laughed at?”

You agreed. She snorted, but she didn't stop hugging you. You were going through hell, but at that moment you felt like you were in heaven.

From that day on, your relationship went even closer. You no longer only spent the afternoons in the conservatory. Now Marilyn would take you on walks in the woods, showing you types of plants that grew there. You were no longer worried about stuttering in front of her, in fact, you had managed to pronounce some sentences without stuttering. You were happy, and she seemed happy with you. Sometimes you even had the impression that she was somehow trying to suppress the affection she felt for you. It was probably just your imagination.

“It’s a type of fungus that is not usually seen around here, it is a truly extraordinary discovery,”the redhead commented to you, while you were walking through the patio.

You nodded, since you still didn't dare to speak in public, and you gestured for her to continue telling you what she had discovered.

“Formerly it was used to prevent pests from devouring the crops but over time they realized that it was poisonous, apparently a bit late,” she told you amused. You laughed shyly next to her.

You passed by two teachers. One of them nudged the other to make him look in your direction.

“They take longer to take out the trash,” he said, just when you passed by them.

Marilyn's face changed, understanding that this disgusting comment was directed towards her. You also became serious, but you tried not to look at them.

“Yes, they will have to put a “Normanic” trashcan,” the other one said, both laughing scandalously.

Your blood boiled and you stopped walking. You were aware of the problems Marilyn had with the other teachers. You couldn't understand it. She was good, nice, kind. You couldn't understand the reason for the constant teasing. You were about to explode.

The redhead put a hand on your back for you to continue walking. You didn't move.

“Come on, (Y/N), don't give it any importance,” she whispered to you. Your eyes were narrowed and with a huff you pushed Marilyn's hand away and headed toward the two teachers.

“Hey! Yo, you!” You shouted, immediately earning their attention. They looked at you surprised. Naturally they never heard you speak.

There were more people in the quad who looked up at you. You were officially the muted one in Nevermore, and suddenly, you were talking.

“Yo, you ha, have, to, to apolo, apologize!” You yelled. You were so enraged that you didn't even stop to think about your stuttering.

“(Y/N), calm down, nothing's wrong,” Marilyn told you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“No!, No, no, I, I can allo, allow that, that they make fun of, of you,” you said. The nerves you had and your anger didn't help at all.

“Wait, You can talk?” One of the teachers asked, crossing his arms.

“You are, you are su, such a horri, horrible people,” you said, desperate to say everything you were thinking at that moment.

“Be careful young lady, you're talking to your teachers,” the other man said, approaching you in a threatening manner.

“You, a, are the ones who say that the nor, normies don't accept yo, you!” You yelled, ignoring the warnings of who could be considered an authority for you within the school. “You are, you are wo, worse tha, than they!”

A curious murmur filled the quad. You soon realized what was happening around you. All your classmates were looking at you. They had formed a circle around you. Their eyes were accusing, curious.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, looking frightened around you. The murmurs and whispers soon became daggers in your head. Surely everyone was talking about you, about that weird girl who didn't talk.

You couldn't take it. You needed to run away from there. This time you couldn't stop yourself, not even with Marilyn's screams desperately calling you.

A thunder gave way to a heavy rain, which fell on top of you while you ran without looking where. You cried in shame, while your feet began to splash in the mud.

You were walking away from school. There was no more asphalt, concrete. Now you were on fresh, sodden, slippery grass.

You distinguished trees passing by you, you were entering the woods and you didn't even care. You looked back for a second, just to make sure you were as far away from the school as possible, and that no one had followed you.

That was a big mistake. Your foot caught between a root, causing you to stumble with a crash and fall, burying your face in the mud.

“Fu, fuck…” You sighed, hitting the ground with your fist. You tried to get up, but you slipped several times. The mud kept you on the ground, but when you managed to get up, you realized something worse. You fell to the ground again when you put your foot down. The pain was terrifying, and your despair was already unbearable.

You were alone, in the middle of the forest. You didn't have a phone, you couldn't move. With no other choice, you stayed sitting in the mud, unable to stop crying.

After a short time, seeing how the rain did not want to stop and the sun began to abandon you too, you decided to pathetically drag yourself along the ground. Hopefully someone would pass by, and could help you.

After gasping after advancing a few meters, something moving behind you made you stop. Your hope lit up and you turned, gesturing with your arms.

“Hey! Is any, anyone the, there? I need help!” You yelled. There was no answer, just a deafening clap of thunder. “He, hello?” You sobbed.

You wished you hadn't screamed. A dark shadow emerged from among the trees. It looked like a bear, but it wasn't, not at all.

A hideous monster roared at the sight of you. Its eyes were large and its teeth menacing.

You didn't talk at Nevermore, but that didn't mean you had ears. You had heard rumors, people who claimed the existence of a horrible monster in the vicinity of the school. Nobody believed it possible, but you were a witness. Probably a witness who couldn't tell, who couldn't say anything, stuttering or not.

The beast was closing in on you, realizing that you were defenseless, that you could not escape. You curled up on the floor and closed your eyes, wishing that this was all a nightmare. Nothing happened.

“Ple…. Please…” You sobbed, looking over your hands. The monster growled, as if it was trying to carry on a conversation.

Slowly, it inched closer and closer, until it was right in front of you, breathing hard. You started to calm down. It didn't do anything to you, it just looked at you, like it was a cute puppy nodding its head. Your ankle was visibly sprained and the eyes of that animal rested on it, emitting a sound.

“I…I…, I can't, I can’t walk,” you said bravely, praying that it was a kind creature.

The monster crouched down and stretched out its arms towards you, never taking its hideous eyes from yours.

“Are you, are you taking me, me back to the, the school?” You asked, being picked up in the arms of the creature. The monster roared briefly, picking you up like a doll.

The rain prevented you from seeing clearly where it was taking you, but what was certain was that you were not going to Nevermore.

“Hey, where ar, are yo, you tak, taking me?” You asked, without getting any answer, of course.

The monster continued carrying you in its arms towards a quite remote and deserted area. There was only one house that seemed abandoned.

On the porch of that house you thought you saw someone you knew, but you didn't know who it was until the monster stopped in front of her.

“Ma, Ma, Marilyn...” You sighed confused when you saw the redhead, without any fear of that creature.

“Oh my God, (Y/N), thank goodness you're okay…” She whispered, moving closer to you. “Take her to my room, go,” she ordered.

You were too confused and your ankle hurt so much that you didn't stop to think why that horrible creature obeyed Marilyn.

You were taken into that house. It seemed that a long time had passed without anyone inhabiting it. You had too many questions, but you were afraid to ask them.

You entered a room that had nothing to do with the rest of the house. It was clean, tidy, as if time had not wanted to destroy it. That creature laid you down gently. You kept looking at it scared and your breathing was fast and irregular.

“Go downstairs. When you're dressed, I want you to come up here and tell me what happened, okay?”

You'd swear you saw that thing nod before leaving the room.

Marilyn had a towel in her hand and she immediately covered you with it. You were soaked and muddy, but you just wondered what was going on.

“Come here, honey, let me dry you a bit,” she told you, rubbing you with the towel.

“What, what, what’s hap, happening?” You asked with difficulty. “Where am I? W, what, was that thi, thing?”

“Shhh, relax honey. Not now,” she whispered to you in a maternal way. “You have to relax… You're with me, you're safe,” she told you, wiping your face.

Someone else appeared in the room. It was not that terrible monster, but a boy who looked familiar to you.

“Tell me what happened,” The redhead said to him. He nodded, looking at you pityingly.

“She was in the woods, she had fallen to the ground… It seemed that she couldn't move,” he explained.

Hearing him speak, you knew he was the guy from Jericho's cafeteria. You swallowed, you still didn't understand anything.

“Oh, my love, where have you hurt yourself?” She asked you scared, looking you up and down.

You slowly moved your leg up, where your swollen ankle stood out.

“Oh, my God, my poor girl…” She lamented, carefully touching the affected area. You hissed in pain.

“I, I don't under, understand,” You whispered, a little scared. It could be a dream, or a nightmare.

“Mmm, it doesn't look broken…” She murmured to herself, looking at your ankle. “In any case, something has to be done with this. Tyler, go run a hot bath.”

The boy obeyed and immediately left the room.

You couldn't control yourself. As soon as Tyler left the room, you jumped into the redhead's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. She didn't say anything, she just hugged you lovingly. You were like that, without speaking, until a knock on the door interrupted.

“It’s done, Laurel,” he said. You frowned.

“La, Laurel?” You asked, with a small voice. She shook her head.

“Come, let's give you a hot bath, you're covered in mud,” she said, completely ignoring your question. “Help me, Tyler.”

Between Marilyn and Tyler, you were led into what looked like an old-fashioned bathroom, lit with a flickering light. In the middle was a bathtub from which steam was coming out. They both sat you on a stool and the redhead went to check the temperature of the water.

“Okay, good boy,” she said, looking nonchalantly at Tyler, who nodded smilingly. “Wait outside.”

When the door closed, she looked at you tenderly again and bent down, removing your uniform jacket.

“Let's get these dirty clothes off you, okay, honey?” She told you. You made a clumsy movement to move away. You were scared to death and embarrassed. The words didn't come out. Marilyn smiled sweetly, but she continued with what she was doing.

“Don't be shy, (Y/N). There's no reason to feel ashamed, here we are just you and me,” she told you softly, now grabbing the edge of your shirt, also undoing your little tie.

“I, I'm sca, scared,” you managed to say. The redhead sighed and then she moved closer to you, giving you an unexpected kiss on the lips.

“Better now?” She told you, running her thumb over your cheek.

You were wide-eyed and you began to notice how your heart was beating too fast. That had been a kiss, a real one. You weren't in your bed daydreaming. The woman you loved had kissed you. You didn't feel able to say anything about it.

Slowly all your clothes were disappearing and your shame increased. As you could, you covered the most intimate parts of your body.

“Come, honey, get in the water, you'll see you feel better soon,” she said, helping you to get into the bathtub. “Stop covering yourself, you're beautiful,” she whispered in your ear.

The hot water was better than balm. All the dirt on your body began to disappear, mixing with the water. Marilyn stared at you for a moment, and then she picked up your clothes. You reached out your hand when you saw her take them away.

“My, my, clo, clothes,” you said.

“Don't worry about the clothes, honey. I’ll bring you clean clothes,” the redhead told you. You nodded and sank into the water, trying to relax.

You could hear a conversation behind the door.

“Here, leave them in the forest as I asked you.” You heard Marilyn say.

“Just like that?”

“No, break them, a bit, and fill them with blood, there's plenty in the basement.

“Yes, Laurel.”

A moment later, the redhead walked back into the bathroom, now wearing what looked like fresh clothes.

“How are you feeling, honey? Is the water to your liking?”

You nodded, but you felt strong enough to beg for an explanation.

“Ple, please… I don't, I don’t know what's happening,” you stammered, noticing how your eyes filled with tears. “Who is Laurel?”

Marilyn sat on the edge of the tub and stroked your head, smiling rather disturbingly.

“First the bath, then we take care of that foot, and then we can talk, are you going to be a good girl, (Y/N)?” She asked, her eyes slightly darkening. You nodded resigned.

When you were clean, Marilyn helped you out of the tub and you were able to dress in the baggy clothes she gave you. Slowly and carefully she led you back to that immaculate room and she laid you gently on the bed, fluffing the pillow.

“Let's heal that precious ankle,” she said, taking some bandages from a drawer.

You watched and hissed in pain as she manipulated your foot, smearing it with a strange cream and covering it with bandages. The pain subsided a bit.

“It, it doesn't hurt any, anymore,” you said, sighing.

“Of course it doesn’t, (Y/N). I already told you that plants could do extraordinary things,” she commented, sitting next to you. “You have been very brave, (Y/N), facing those suckers to defend me. No one had ever done something like that for me, ever.”

You widened your eyes. Suckers?

“I thought there was no one worthwhile in that disgusting place, but you appeared to make me change my mind,” she told you with a sincere tone.

“I, I don't know what’s…” You started to ask. She cut you off, cupping your face in her hands.

“They are wretches, always trying to feel superior…”she sighed. You could feel her lips very close to yours. “Always attacking the weak, poor normi Marilyn, the defenseless (Y/N), who doesn't speak for fear of being laughed at. Nevermore does not deserve someone like you, honey.”

“Ty, Ty, Ty…” You stammered, wanting to stir up the mystery that surrounded that boy.

“Tyler? Oh don't worry about him. He is a good boy, he will do everything you ask him to, I have ordered him to,” she told you, smiling, calm, naturally. You blinked and shook your head. “He would kill for you”

You did not understand much, but little by little you began to glimpse with horror where this matter was going, although it seemed incredible.

“Who, who is Laurel?” You asked again. She separated a little and took a breath, surely to give you a long explanation.

“Laurel is my real name, (Y/N). I changed it so those idiots wouldn't recognize me. You see, years ago, my family died because of your fellow outcasts. I lost everything, I was left alone in the world. I thought about letting it go, about forgetting the past. But I could not. I want to take revenge on all the outcasts, I want all of them to disappear...” She said, leaving you with your mouth open and scared eyes.

“I, I’m an out, out…”

“An outcast? I know. When I arrived at that disgusting academy I thought that I couldn't make any distinctions, that you were all the same. I made a mistake. I knew it when I met you. Such a good girl, so shy, tormented by those who claim to be her friends... You reminded me so much of me...” She told you, caressing your cheek. You didn't say anything, you just listened carefully.

“I thought it was just something casual, fleeting, that I was attracted to you because it was like looking at myself in a mirror. Later, when I heard your voice, when I saw the effort you had made when you spoke only for me, I realized that what I felt for you was not tenderness or empathy… It was love…”

She was confessing that she loved you. If the situation were not so disturbing you would be jumping for joy. You didn't care about her dangerous words, or her cruel intentions. Not anymore. You no longer cared about anything other than those words, that truth that she was trying to hide and that you somehow suspected.

“I, I… I, I love, I love you,” you said, bowing your head. Her smile grew even bigger and she placed her lips on yours once again. This time the kiss lasted longer, it was intense, deep.

“My precious girl…” She whispered before kissing you again.

You didn't want to interrupt that passionate kiss, but you still had many questions and you remembered the conversation you had heard behind the door, and the fact that in Nevermore, they would surely be looking for you.

“I, I have to go back to, to Nevermore, su, sure, they are looking for me…” You said, suddenly very scared and trying to get up. Marilyn put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down and shaking her head.

“No, sweetheart. You will not return to that horrible place,” she told you, pouting. “You will stay here, safe.”

“But, but…”

“Shhh, there are no buts, my love. I have prepared a plan to eliminate those monsters from the face of  earth, and you cannot be there. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“A, a plan?”

She nodded, glad to admit it.

“It will be our revenge. Everyone will pay for what they have done to us…” She whispered, kissing your neck. You stopped her, raising a disturbing question again.

“I, I am, I, I am an, an outcast,” you said, closing your eyes to make it easier for the words not to be affected by her kisses.

“You are different, (Y/N). You are not like them,” she told you, with a darker and more impatient tone. “And above all, you are mine.”

[imjustabeanie]

Hey there! It’s Morgan (@whiskersz) here for the matchup trade! First of all, I’m very happy that you came to me for a trade, I didn’t even know these were a thing before seeing your work!

Some basic info – I’m 20, use he/they pronouns, I’m Bisexual and Nonbinary and I have no preference for the gender of who I’m gonna be matched with :) I'm also Italian!!

So, I guess I should start by saying that I’m quite the introvert. I find it very difficult to start a conversation with people I don’t know and even when we’re already acquainted it takes me a while to open up fully. I’ve been called scary before, which happened also because I naturally look a bit annoyed all the time and apparently I don’t laugh at many things.

Once I open up though, I’m very silly! Literally the definition of ‘just a guy’; I like cats, drawing, painting, watching series and playing videogames and shipping myself and my OCs with my favorite characters, and writing about cute scenarios; I also love shopping and ‘dressing to impress’, I never leave the house with a random outfit, I dress in hopes that somebody in the streets will look at me and think that my style is awesome. So, I would say I kind of like attention in a way. Speaking of my style I always dress like I’m straight from the past, I own stuff that used to belong to people who bought it in the 80s, but even earlier! I also really love anything vintage and I’m somewhat of a maximalist, my desk is a mess of trinkets, action figures and jewellery.

As for what I dislike, I really hate gory scenarios, I can’t stand seeing that kind of thing at all and I actually pass out a lot from just hearing the description of such things. I also generally dislike annoying noises such as loud chewing, and people who don’t respect my boundaries. If somebody is like that, I’m not afraid of telling them that they’re getting on my nerves, though if we’re close I’ll be way kinder to them as I tolerate stuff from my loved ones way easier.

It’s maybe unexpected, but in a relationship I’m very loving and caring and I will worry about anything and everything, I’m also very empathetic so if my partner is feeling down I’ll unfortunately feel down as well, but I’m very willing to ignore my feelings since I’m just basically mirroring what they feel as I would rather be supportive and positive in times of need. My love languages are a mess, I basically express my love through words, actions, gifts and expressing that I want to spend time with each other all together; the last one is a bit more special maybe since I rarely feel up to doing things with people in general.

I don’t want to make this too long, so here’s my deal breakers and then we’re done! I’m not a fan of clinginess, I care about my loved ones a lot but I need a lot of space to practice my hobbies and to do my thing in general. I also dislike people who get angry easily, I’m a very chill person so I’d rather be surrounded by equally chill people. For the rest, just be loyal and honest and then we’re chill!

Hope this is all good! Take your time with this and happy writing :3

I nearly answered the wrong ask lmao. So sorry for the wait I hope you like it!

Your hazbin Hotel match is.....Vox!

For husker:

Don’t judge or blame me….your match is…Vox! I was surprised too since I initially hesitated between Husk and Vaggie….and somehow ended up with Vox.

Vox is a passionate man (demon?) to say the least. You did say that it’s difficult for you to start conversations in general so he’ll be the one starting them (and he likes it). What’s annoying with Vox is that it takes a little something special (his own interest) for him to start considering the person if you know what I mean. That’s why my scenario here is that you were a friend of someone in the Hotel (it can be anyone). Vox is interested in the hotel so he socialized with you to get inside infos. When he realized he actually started enjoying your company he acted like a schoolgirl and completely isolated himself because well it’s the first time! After the V’s saw him in that miserable state of mind they finally decided to confront him. It was effective cuz he confessed a week later.

Vox, as the other V’s, sometimes doesn’t respect boundaries (but not as much as the other two) by wrapping his arm around your shoulder or waist without asking first. But once you put him in his place he’ll accept it and then apologize by treating you to a nice date (plus a bouquet of flowers ofc). Something that’s nice is that he does take criticism (unless it’s from Alastor) but he’s too prideful to apologize properly by words. Instead he’ll take a step back and think about his actions so he won’t repeat the same mistakes.

He loves how good you dress up. He also dress to impress and likes someone that’s like him. He commissions new outfits for you almost weekly and always goes all out (velvet helps with the choices and coordination)! You’re the couple that everyone wants to dress up like if it helps. He relishes in the envious looks people give you both, it’s obvious from the big grin on his face (if you let him, he’ll kiss you and basically give the middle finger to everyone watching). Getting matching jewels is a must. I also see him as a watch type of guy so if you get him one he will wear it all the time. When in public, he speaks first and always starts the conversation so you don’t get awkward. If he feels you getting shy he’ll take over.

Vox is basically vintage himself. I can completely see him collecting stuff from all time periods (beside radios) His house is basically an organized hoarder house. Which means he has strings to bring you some very good and rare stuff. Each month he makes it his personal quest to bring you a box of a few rare items. He also brings with him vinyl for you two. After a long day he enjoys listening to music over a nice diner with you. Then he takes your hand and dances around the kitchen/living room. When he comes back home to you, he gets softer/more honest. He tells you about his ups and downs. He takes your opinion very seriously too.

I believe he is too date with all new series/movies (to be expected since he’s in the entertainment industry). That’s why you can always count on him for good recommendations. But if you introduced him to human world series/movies he’d welcome it! This means that you two always write a recommendation list to the other and it makes up for many common topics!

He sucks at video games. He’s too impatient and loves the fast types of games. He does try to have a healthy competition I promise but he gets all sulky when he loses lol. He’d like to get into more time consuming games but he doesn’t have much time (he did get the idea that it’d be good to get into the game industry to bring/brainwash more demons….). He gets jealous easily and it’s not uncommon to find him criticizing every character you matched yourself with. Oh boy I can’t imagine if it’s an actor….poor actor getting glared at will be so confused.

He enjoys your drawings! He gifts you with the supplies since he knows you like drawing as a mean to encourage you. If you actually started a career he’d back you up. If Vox finances animated series he’d give you a shot of actually present your characters to the artist for inspiration. He’s genuinely proud of you for that. He does criticize to help you out of course and if he doesn’t like it he’ll tell you why. Now for cats…I love cats but I don’t see him as an animal person. He won’t stop you from getting a cat but will get jealous if the kitty gets too much attention. Ironically cats love him….He likes that you support him all the time despite his obvious evil ways. We can say that love is keeping you two together.

Now for some bad parts….It happens that Vox gets all worked up (when a certain someone is involved). It’s very rare that he blows up on you due to stress but it happened once or twice (the reason you’re nearby is that he usually hugs you to calm down). He was fully apologetic afterward and even expected you to break up with him for it. Also he has an unhealthy rivalry with Alastor so yeah….

Tada!

[captainbogwitch]

Hands of a Healer - excerpt

This must be a fucking test. The rain, moblins and bokoblins, and fucking octoroks (oh my!) He can’t even climb the walls surrounding the river with the rain. It’s been hours of dredging on the path. “The path is straight, there’s just a few monsters, oh you’re so handsome and strong!” he mouthed moving his arms up and down in an imitation of Sidon (Link might’ve added that “handsome.”) Of course the path would be straight and easy if you were a giant red predator with the mouth full of shark teeth and a four-foot stride. Even the stupidest lizalfos would take a single look at him and run. He’s a Zora! They swim! He wouldn’t need to walk on the trail, he can just swim! Link walks onto the rock crossing bow at the ready and hears a splash below him immediately letting the arrow fly before he could be hit by anything else.

“You stay quite vigilant, my friend!” speak of the devil and the giant red shark man will appear. Link was too bogged down by the rain and the lingering scent of lizalfos blood on him, but he leaned over the edge of the bridge to see the Zora. His smile wasn’t blinding this time, but it brings a little warmth to Link’s toes.  

“All the fucking octoroks in this river,” he signs, “Sorry? Didn’t expect you to meet me so soon.”

“I do apologize! I haven’t walked along the path in some time, and the octoroks in the river do not usually bother the Zora.” Theory confirmed. ”If I had known it would prove difficult, I would’ve asked for an additional escort for you!” Sidon smiles and Link decides that the breathy sound coming from his mouth and his gills was a laugh.

“Don’t mind.” Link shrugs and grins devilishly. “I like a challenge.” The next sound the Zora made was something between a choke and a cough and did not sound like a laugh at all.

“Then I suppose you won’t be interested in this electroshock elixir to help with the upcoming lizalfos ahead? I’m afraid they carry a number of shock arrows on them—they are the main reason we Zora have remained so isolated.” He holds up a small yellow bottle as Link’s eyes widened. “I’d forgotten about it earlier, but recently remembered their presence here.  It doesn’t work for us, but it has great effect for Hylians.” Sidon locks eyes with the hero, waiting for him to say something, his golden eyes almost teasing Link’s. He was trying to tempt Link, daring him to say no, or say yes, either way this solider would get what he wanted.  

And he didn’t really need an elixir, did he? He has the rubber helmet from the young woman at Riverside Stable, that would provide some protection at least. But then again, getting shocked always made him more vulnerable, and the helmet was such a pain to take off.

“I suppose, it would make the journey more challenging to go without it,” Sidon sighed, keeping eye contact as he lowers the bottle back underwater.

“Wait!” Link leaned so far off the edge of the bridge he nearly fell in the river. “How much?”

“In volume? I am unsure, perhaps assuming four or five milliliters, not much at all, but rest assured it is quite potent!”

“No, the cost? How much to buy? From you.”

“Oh, dear! You coming to the Domain is payment enough! Please do not worry about costs while you are our guest!” he tosses the elixir up to Link. “Not to mention you taking care of those electric beasts, and the ‘fucking octoroks.’” Oh. Well. Maybe he was more than “a little fluent” in HCS, repeating Link’s signs for the creatures. Link flushed at his own vulgar language.

“Thank you.” His fingers met his chin before arcing down into his palm. Now the Zora smiled, his very sharp teeth on display.

“Of course! You’re nearly there! If you must regain your strength, look for small caves in the rocks. Back when our people were more aligned traveling Hylians created these small pockets to get out of the rain themselves. I look forward to seeing you soon, victorious! Do not forget, I believe in you, my friend!” Sidon pumped his fist with a wink and Link was confident that yes, the smile really did sparkle a bit. Link watches him swim away the rushing current not slowing him down at all, the small smile on his mouth stayed even after he turns away from the river to continue the trek.

This solider was so nice. Not acting nice because Link is the Princess’s Champion, or the Hero of Hyrule. It didn’t hurt that Link was already coming to defeat Vah Ruta, but he never expected additional help on the journey, not given so gleefully. Sidon’s belief in his abilities were based solely on what he’d seen Link accomplish, not in who he was before. This kindness reminded him of…

A face, a smile. Her touch. Who—

The memory fades as quickly as it came and his face steels. There was no time to be lingering on nice, no time to be daydreaming about kind soldiers. There was a plan to follow. This hospitality must simply be an aspect of Zora culture. A useful note to make for Zelda when she returns, and everything is back to how its supposed to be. Who knows the customs of the Zora people 100 years ago. Link placs the elixir in his hip pouch and draws his bow again.

[silkendandelion]

Mirage In The Desert - Chapter 3 (One Year Ago)

Summary: With Operation Utopia drawing closer, let's back up. The events leading up to River's arrival at Rainbase are revealed, as well as meeting the people of Alabasta's territory island of Oasis.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for mild violence, unsafe situations. Ongoing, will cover the Alabasta Arc. Cross-posted on Ao3, same username. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

~*~

The mainland named it Oasis, it’s people: the Oasins. Called “islanders” with varying degrees of politeness, the people who live at port call them “the ones who wear blue”. The island sits exactly 3 and a half miles from Alabasta’s southwest shore, separated by a segmented reef and waters too shallow to sail. They are a patch of green on the horizon that relies on their mainland only as much as they need, and half as much as they want. Every 8 days the sea goes out further than it ever will, called “King Tide” as it bows before the sky, revealing a land bridge that connects the usually isolated island to shore.

And so the clock begins.

The Oasin trading party, aged from 6 to 79, as few as 10 but as many as 30, makes the journey to market. They bring their goods: textiles, fruits, anything they can carry that they do not need. And they must carry it, the bridge is too narrow for more than single-file foot travel and a precious few carts. They arrive in a line of blue linens, bodies decorated with gold and a song that can’t be heard in the hot, Alabastan sun. The shops are anticipating their benevolent neighbors, as eager to please as they are to be on time. Basket after basket is set up in their usual spot, all things ready to sell and everything must go.

Locals call people like River a “turnabout”. He’s agreeable, quick to make a sale, even quicker to make deliveries. And when they are ready, River is the cash drop. Oasins have no use for money, and River has a list. His bag is weighted down with medicine, but only after a long conversation with a nervous pharmacist who’s wondering if anyone will believe that a handsome islander talked him down on the price—twice. He stops for batteries for Claudia’s radio, fuel for Esai’s machines. Sunshine flickers off gold in a window display, and River doesn’t have to be persuaded to go inside the luxury shop. He’s only inside for a moment, but it’s as if Esai can smell the indulgence on him.

“You were supposed to get medicine! Did you get the oil I asked for?” Esai says, as loudly as he always speaks, but only a few people turn to acknowledge the Oasin almost-yelling in his own language.

“Of course I did! I even got the nails you forgot to put on the list.” River said with a wave of his hand, pleased at his friend’s immediate deflation. But tired hands spill his bag onto the street, a recognizably expensive box landing squarely on top.

“I knew it. How much did this cost? It’s been a slow day, you know?” He bent to grab the box but River was quicker.

“Do you even know what today is?”

“Don’t play with me, River, I’m not in the mood—“

“Who’s birthday is it today? Hm? Is it Ines: our fair leader, light of our lives, your MOTHER?”

Esai blinked at him. “...Her birthday’s in the winter!”

“Eh? No way!”

“I’m going to—Mm!” He tugged at his hair to curb his temper.

“Just give it to Ines, she deserves to have nice things. Take it or I’ll use it. I have that one, it lasts forever.”

He snatched the box from River’s hand, calloused thumb rubbing over the gold-embossed label that read ‘Imported fragrance’, and something else in a language he couldn’t read. “As long as that’s all you managed to piss away, I won’t leave you here.”

“You’d do that to me, after all the years we’ve known each other? I have no money, you know.”

“Sell your earrings. Or any of the other gold on you. That’s what it’s for, in case you get lost.”

“I wouldn’t be lost, I’d be abandoned!”

“I look forward to my 8 days of peace.”

“Esai!”

“Shh, I’m imagining it now.”

“Can you two go away? You’re scaring the customers.” A woman barked at the two young men, shooing them off as she handed River his next pad of money.

Esai was quick to take it from him with a wide grin. “Come on, I saw somebody selling meat skewers down the street.”

“Really? Let’s go—”

‘I told you, I want my money back!’ An outburst broke the buzz of the market and both men turned to see their seller shrinking back from a customer. He seemed local enough, if unnaturally red in the heat, with a suit jacket that had ‘BW’ embroidered on both arms.

“If I said it made me sick, you have to give my money back.” He spat, his finger almost against her cheek. Esai moved the man’s arm away, standing so he forced them apart with his tall frame.

“Let’s calm down. And we can talk.” Despite their being the same age, Esai was much stronger than River, his bronze skin draped over muscles made for lifting crates of merchandise across miles of unsteady sand. He had a steel readiness beyond his years in his eyes, juxtaposed to his soft face, but typically managed to dissolve trouble on sight. Maybe this man wasn’t local after all.

“You all peddle raw food and blankets, I know there’s no quality control for whatever you manage to pack up and bring here. I bought some fruit earlier for my lunch, I’ve been throwing up all afternoon. It must have had worms in it, or was contaminated by the sea. I should have listened to the rumors: they say Oasin fruit makes you sick.”

Esai blinked with vague recollection at the sweaty man. “Hm? You mean the Ki-Ki fruit?”

River smirked as he watched Esai laugh, cold and loud. As easily as Esai’s presence bred peace, he had a sweet tooth for comeuppance. If asked, he would lie and say he got it from River’s bad influence, when the opposite was true. “If you ate the Ki-Ki fruit, you’d be dead before you made it to the trash to throw up. That’s why we don’t sell it.”

“What?” The sweaty man said while Esai grabbed a packet from the basket next to them.

“We don’t sell it because it will kill you. But the fish go crazy for it, and we dry down the seeds to make a dye powder. You still shouldn’t eat it, but for no more reason than to not swallow the dye powders you get from your tailor.” His informing was interrupted by nearby people who had stopped to listen, and snickered at the man’s expense.

“So it wasn’t our food that made you sick. I can give you something for your pain, some herbs we have. I won’t even charge you as an apology for the misunderstanding—”

It all happened so fast.

Esai stepped away to look through the herb clippings in another basket, just long enough for the man to lose his composure, humiliated both by his ignorance and prejudice on full display for a busy market where he had believed he was right. He reached into his breast pocket, moist hand grabbing a gun to point at the back of the man attempting to help him. But he didn’t have time to aim before a fist like iron connected with his face, punching him out of his shoes and to the other end of the street. Wall after wall followed his trajectory, lined by the faces of horrified onlookers. Silence followed the crash, and everyone for blocks stopped to stare at the Oasin and his friends. They saw River with arm outstretched, watched his adrenaline dissolve into shakes. His own voice broke the spell, almost too weak to be heard.

“He—he had a gun. Esai—”

“Everybody pack up,” came his voice. “Can’t you hear me? Get moving! The sun is getting low, we have to leave,” he said as the others hurried to comply.

“...Esai—”

“Don’t.” He shushed him. “Don’t speak. We have to get everyone home safe first. You go ahead, don’t wait for us.”

River nodded, eyes hot as Esai sent him off with a blessing of his thumb against his forehead. He tried not to run, counting his steps until he reached the bridge. But the familiarity of sand made his legs itch, and he was gone.

His godmother greeted him at home, nearly dropping dinner when he slammed into her for a brutal hug. “There you are! Are you alone? Where is everybody?”

She brushed his bangs from his wet eyes and set her pot on the table. “What’s wrong, baby? What happened? You’re pale.”

“… It’s fine. I-I don’t feel so well. Esai sent me home.” He gave Claudia a quivering smile.

“Get in bed, then. Dinner’s ready. Oh! Did you buy batteries?”

His smile faltered as he felt for the bag that should have been on his back. “I left them with the others.”

She clicked her teeth. “Ay, River. Go to bed, don’t worry about it. Somebody will bring them by when they all get back.”

King tide ended at sundown, and the trading party was late, walking the last half mile in water around their legs while the youngest rode on the shoulders of the tallest. They had received no resistance to their departure but waited almost too late for a relentless Esai that had gone door to door all afternoon to soothe angry business owners with missing walls.

Claudia answered the door for him in her nightgown. “Esai! Did you bring my batteries?”

“Where’s River?”

“Eh? He’s in bed. Why are you both acting so strange?” She went to fetch him but he was already in the doorway of his room, still dressed to leave.

“Let’s go.” Esai jerked his head to lead them outside. The island seemed especially busy after market days, the scattered houses receiving loved ones late with armfuls and weary legs. River delighted in the sounds of the evening, of children who’d never tasted bread so sweet or seen jewels so clear. It made any scolding from Esai worthwhile as he smuggled indulgence into every traders burden. But tonight the lamps went dark when the sun was still in the sky, and their community was quiet. They passed closed houses, walking almost to shore again before either of them spoke.

“He had a gun?”

“He would have killed you. Over something so stupid—”

“You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“What?!” River stopped suddenly, the disbelief leaving his lungs in a rush.

“You showed your Temple to the Alabastans, I would have rather you let him shoot me.”

“Shut up! What’s wrong with you? You would die all because of some—“

“Don’t finish that sentence. Your Temple is a gift from God, so few of us have awakened it’s power. The Alabastans would exploit you, or try to wipe us out and succeed this time. The king leaves us alone but if we step out of line that peace is over… We are less than a thousand. We cannot win, even with Temple, 10 of you cannot protect us from the Royal Army. I’ve always known leadership might cost my life. It is an honorable death to protect my people.”

“That’s stupid. How can you protect us if you’re dead?”

“Listen to my words, River, you endangered all of us when you lost control.”

He flinched away from open palms, but they only ruffled his hair like they weren’t the same age.

“I’m hard on you, I get that. Things are simple here but when we’re out there—no matter how angry you get, no matter what you witness, you have to stay calm. Don’t give them anything they can use against us. At the cost of our lives, we have to protect our home.”

River swiped at his own face, finding he could barely breathe. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Just… try not to be yourself.” Esai offered a smile.

“You’re an asshole,” he said but didn’t manage to sting through his tears.

“Everyone says that. I’m thinking they can’t all be right.” ____ ___ __ _

But the great invasion Esai feared never came. The market was content to have the Oasins repair their businesses, and the city had no record of any complaint. They returned to their schedule, though River was told to stay behind for a couple weeks just in case. He had begged Ines and Ramon to reconsider but their leadership supported Esai’s opinion, believing some time away was best. They grounded him, wrapped him in the warmth of familiar food, and song, the breeze that carried the salt from the same sea every day. It made him itch, worsened when he stood on the beach to stare at the horizon that he longed to touch.

He missed the feeling of cobblestones under his feet, bartering with quick-witted merchants for spices and gold alike. He agreed the Alabastans couldn’t be trusted but their country breathed to him, so alive in the way a pirate wonders how high the mountain goes, or what lurks beneath the surface of a glass sea. He spoke into the sky, wishing on a squall that carried nothing but pain. But how does anyone who stands on the shore know what lurks in the sea?

No one could have predicted who would come to collect on River’s forgotten transgression because no one was supposed to know their name.

Across Alabasta, Crocodile was surprised to hear from the agent on his snail phone. “You were three days late to turn into your report. We declared you dead.”

‘I’ve been hospitalized, I—three DAYS?”

“I’m not hearing an explanation.”

‘I was in Alabasta to meet our contact and this man attacked me. His fist felt like hot iron, it threw me down the street and he was yelling “Down with Baroque Works”! He’s a menace out to get us and he knows the identity of—’

“Say that again.”

‘He’s declared himself an enemy of our organization—‘

“That’s not what I asked. ‘His fist felt like iron’.”

“Yes, Mr. 0. He threw me… must have been a quarter mile away. I would like to take care of this personally—‘

“Clearly, that’s not possible. Who was it? Or did your mild coma wipe your memory of that as well as your manners?”

“My-my apologies, Mr. 0. It was an Oasin, they’re a flea of a territory island. It was a man, young man with violet eyes and—‘

“That will be all. I’m not reinstating you, and wish you luck with your future endeavors.” He clicked the snail off before the former agent could protest. Twisting the same dial summoned Miss All Sunday’s voice.

‘Yes, Sir?’

“I’m sending you the number and location of an agent that is leaving our company.”

‘Oh?’

“And dispatch Mr. 9 and Miss Wednesday to Alabasta. I’ll send their brief momentarily.”

‘Yes, Sir.’ ____ ___ __ _

“How long do we have, Miss Wednesday?” Mr. 9 asked as he toed the sand leading away from shore, face pulled down in a grimace. The rational fear of drowning and all.

“The tide comes back in at sundown but we’ll be gone long before then, Mr. 9.”

“I don’t understand why he wasn’t at the market, Miss Wednesday, didn’t the brief say we’d find him there?”

“It said maybe. Or do you want to explain to Mr. 0 that we couldn’t find him, Mr. 9?”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He said as he began to walk.

Outside his home, River was harvesting vegetables from their raised garden beds, collecting them in his apron and minding the baby strapped to his back.

Claudia came up to his side to check his progress and offer him the basket to empty his burden. “How’s your little helper doing?”

“No help at all—”

“I was talking to the baby.” She stared and he struggled to reply over his laugh.

“He’s slept the entire day. And I think he’s eating my hair,” he said as Claudia reached up to pull down the hood, revealing a tiny Bananawani the size of a small child. His banana was just a young nub on his forehead, and the skin around his mouth and feet were sickly pale, almost white.

He chirped, reaching out to nip at her finger. “Those antibiotics haven’t done anything for his color. But he seems to have more energy. At least he’s hungry.”

“Why am I still holding him then, if he’s hungry?” River said and let Claudia pull the baby into her arms to offer him some coconut from her apron, the preferred, moisture-rich and fibrous treat for growing Wani.

She let him eat, careful to not touch sharp teeth that could easily amputate if he had more strength. “Eat up, little one. You have to be big enough to go back into the sea when the females return for your siblings. Why did you hatch early anyway? When you’re so sick.”

“If I hadn’t been swimming and seen him all alone, he would have been eaten.” River said.

“He still might get eaten if the females reject him… I won’t let that happen. I’ll just be your mother then.” She blew him a kiss, and the reptile squeaked for more food.

“For someone who never wanted children, you keep finding things to raise.”

“If I hadn’t taken you, no one would have. You were such a fussy little boy. Still are.”

“Little?” He grinned, though the tall woman looked into his eyes.

“This is exactly what I mean. You get your rudeness from your father, and your weakness to the sun. My sister was like me, we never burned. You have your father’s intolerance to drink—”

River’s laugh cut her off, and she linked their arm’s together to rest on his shoulder. “The man’s dead, Claudia, let him rest in peace.”

Their bittersweet banter, the ability to smile when remembering his parents would be, if River was asked, the greatest triumph they made as mother and son. Tied together by a fated stormy night, suddenly alone and without their favorite people in the world, they survive by holding hands. If asked, River will say his parents were stuck on the bridge because he made them late, distracted by jewels at the market. Claudia will say they were helpless to the weather. Neither of them remember too much about that night, but they honor their memory by going on together.

“Who are they?” Claudia said suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts.

At the edge of the village, River could see two strangers on the shore, a man and a woman in gaudy clothes. The man, irritated with the woman, it seemed, sported a lopsided crown on his feathering of ginger hair.

“…get inside. Don’t come out until someone comes to get you.”

Back on the mainland, an older man came to Esai’s side at the market, both recognizable to the other but struggled to recall names.

“Excuse me, but two people just crossed onto the land bridge. They didn’t look like natives.”

“What?!”

“I didn’t approach them, I mean I didn’t know if you were expecting somebody. But I’ve never seen anyone besides you all step foot onto that bridge.”

Esai didn’t bother to thank them before he was off in a sprint, grabbing a friend and yelling in their own language.

“…well, now I wish I’d said something.”

The Baroque Works agents found themselves barred from entering the village, stopped on the shore by what looked like a wall of the strongest among them.

“This is quite the welcome. They must not get too many visitors, don’t you think, Mr. 9?”

He shooed away an insect, tongue bared at the humidity. “Definitely not. Anyway, let’s not drag this out. We’re with the…” He struggled to recall the wording on their brief sheet.

“The Royal Coalition of Suspicious Persons, Peoples, and their Pets—”

“That’s right, the… The Crown. We’re here to apprehend River Faustina for crimes against the king,” he declared. When no one made any move to comply, content to stare at the two eccentric strangers, he jabbed a finger at the paper that flapped in his hand.

“We have a summons from King Cobra himself to arrest the man on this paper and any of you who will not cooperate will be apprehended as co-conspirators!”

Ines stepped forward, careful of her cane in the sand. “May I see that summons?”

“Impossible! You couldn’t read it anyway.”

She snatched the paper quick enough to make him yelp and flinch when she slapped it to smooth it’s wrinkles. “I speak three languages.”

After long, silent moments of watching her scan the page, she finally crumpled it up and pitched it into the sea.

“MA’AM—”

“Don’t yell at me, red, my ears work just fine. I’m not doubting the validity of your request. I just don’t care. Ka-HA!” She punctuated her laugh with a bonk to his head with her cane, and a hasty retreat on suddenly virile feet.

Ramon, the largest and second village leader, intercepted the yelling strangers easily while Ines made her escape from responsibility.

She reentered the village to find River waiting for her. “Mama Ines. You can’t just ignore them and hope they go away.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Whatever credentials they have, however mad they are about what you did… I’ll never hand you over to them. Okay?”

“… Yes, mama.”

“Good boy. Besides, what kind of king sends two skinny idiots to arrest one of my people? Ka-HA. Fucking moron.”

“Mama!”

“Sorry sorry. I forget Claudia raised you to be polite.”

Esai came up on the island as Ramon was restraining Mr. 9 with one hand, the latter kneeling on the ground as he yelled to be let go. Miss Wednesday wisely chose to give them space.

“What’s going on here? Ramon?”

“They’re from some royal organization, here to arrest River.”

“You can’t hurt them, it’ll make things worse.”

Ramon gave his hostage a hard shove, sending him face first into the sand with a muffled yell. “They were very rude. Ines says to leave them, and I second that.”

“You can’t refuse or we’ll take Mr. Faustina by force—” Miss Wednesday backed up when Ramon towered over her, his shadow suddenly blacking out the sun.

He leaned down so his threat would be their secret. “You have until sundown to decide what you will do, or you will be forced to survive on this beach for 8 days until the bridge reappears. Perhaps you’ll try to swim? The Bananawani have nests just offshore, they’ll be coming back for their young any day now.”

Both agents watched as Ramon and the others retreated down the path to leave them with only the oscillating sound of the ocean that chipped away at their time. “The sun is getting lower. We have to move now, Miss Wednesday.”

She watched the gap in the trees as if waiting for them to come back and make good on their threat. “Mr. 0 instructed us with nonviolence.”

“I’m more afraid of what he’ll do if we don’t bring Mr. Faustina back at all. Or get stuck here.”

Esai ran through the village from home to home to ask about River, but found no evidence of his whereabouts until he personally spotted him on the path to the beach.

‘Esai!’ He heard behind him.

“Not now, Claudia!”

“Damn it, Esai, talk to me! What’s going on with River!”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” He sprinted after the other man but skidded to a stop behind the treeline when he saw him already talking with the strangers.

“You’re River Faustina? Must be, they said you had violet eyes.” Mr. 9 said as he failed to crack his neck. “That gorilla did a number on me.”

“Have you called for help?” River asked.

“Of course we have,” the woman lied. “But this will be much easier if you leave peacefully. We don’t want anyone else to be hurt.”

His mind raced with the possibility of what his resistance would bring, sunset casting the island in orange. How many reinforcements did these people have? Do they have the technology to cross the reef outside of King Tide? We can’t hold back an army if who I hurt was someone important. Did he die? Is that why I’m being arrested? There’s just not enough time.

“I’ll go with you. You and your people are to never step foot on this island again. I am the only one who has committed a crime.”

The strangers, seemingly satisfied with his answer, made to leave as Esai ran from his hiding place. “River—”

“Don’t, Esai.”

“Ines and Ramon told us to stay put, to leave those two alone.”

“That won’t solve anything.” He turned to smile at his oldest friend, eyes wet with pooled tears. “I have to protect my home.”

‘Don’t keep us waiting, Mr. Faustina!’

“We can fix this, River. Don’t just leave, what about Claudia, what about—”

River let a tear fall before hurrying to swipe it away. The sun was almost gone, sky covered by indigo, and the water was shrinking the bridge even smaller. Would he be allowed to write a letter before they passed their judgment? Surely they have that much mercy. “Hug Claudia for me.”

I’ll tell her I’m sorry. I was stubborn, selfish to wait until there was no time left for goodbyes. I hope they have enough paper, that the birds are strong enough to carry my testament to her.

Esai watched him go until they were out of sight, swallowed by the curve of the ocean but awash in his mind as he caught the last of River’s scent on the wind.

I wanted it to last forever. ____ ___ __ _

As fast as the trio ran, they were exhausted, soggy, and half drowned by the time they trudged from the rising sea at shore. Miss Wednesday upturned her shoes, letting out buckets of water and a few small fish as she tried to decipher what street they faced.“My boots are ruined, Mr. 9. Where’s the drop-off point anyway?”

“Thank you, Miss Wednesday. Mr. 9. But I’ll be taking Mr. Faustina from here.”

The pair seemed to pale at the woman that waited at the road, and River desperately wished he understood just what kind of danger she posed. He’d never felt such cold on a summers night, pinned helpless with no idea how to fight, where to run, unable to even recognize his predator.

“Mi-Miss All Sunday. Of course.” Mr. 9 managed to squeak out.

“Come with me, Mr. Faustina. You two: your next assignment is already on it’s way.”

River followed the presumed ‘Miss All Sunday’ without complaint through the streets, nose blind to the vendors he normally marveled, the lights dimmer than he remembered. He could only see the white suede coat billowing behind his handler, the ink-black of her hair. Should he be taken to the desert to be murdered quietly, he wondered if she would deliver his message. Her blue eyes didn’t look as though they even saw him.

“You brought no belongings. Were you denied that privilege or was it the time?”

“It was… It all happened so fast.”

His handler, no, Miss All Sunday stopped in front of a store. “Let’s purchase some provisions. Our destination is a couple days away, even as fast as we travel.”

“Where are we going? By boat?”

She gave him the same cold smile she had given to the gaudy pair who dropped him off; he had already forgotten their names. “Get a change of clothes. Have you eaten supper?” ____ ___ __ _

Esai held his lip where Claudia had struck him, tasting copper.

“You gave him to them?!” She screeched, eyes wild as she made to hit him again.

“He left on his own!” He yelled back and her hand stopped in the air.

“He wouldn’t do that, he trusts us to help him. He did NOTHING wrong! Why did they even come?!” Her voice cracked and anger made way for tears in rivulets down her face.

Ramon appeared to place his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Claudia. We’re going to get him back.” He declared to the hollers of the crowd.

‘Let’s go!’

‘They can’t do this to us!”

‘We will not be bullied!’ Every shout vibrated his blood, Esai scrambled to salvage his thoughts.

We are less than a thousand. It’s been 400 years since our island challenged the king, and we barely emerged from that fight with half of us left. Who knows how things have changed? Nothing has changed here, even with our gifts we cannot stop an army. At all costs, we must survive. We must protect each other.

“They made a deal!” His voice silenced the crowd, and the dozens of stares threatened to shrink him into the ground.

“Do not pursue him. He left of his own free will, they agreed he could negotiate his punishment for labor. He will not be executed.”

“They’re going to enslave him?!”

“NO! No, they spoke of an exchange. He would use his strength to work for the King and be compensated accordingly. It—It sounded like a lot of money.”

“You’re a liar, Esai, I will—”

“Think, Claudia. I know you’re hurting but doesn’t that sound like him? River’s always chased gold, you all watch him spend our money every single market day. He’s as old as I am but he’s never left the island… We were never going to be enough for him.”

The crowd began to slowly disperse, it didn’t matter to Esai why they relented. Whether in acceptance or disgust, he just needed them to break. But Ines refused to look away from her son, and he felt his face grow hot under her stare even as he kept his feet planted. “Let him go. River of all people will find a way to get on.”

Esai stayed until the sun was long gone, left to swallow against his tears when Ines was the only one left.

“Did he truly leave on his own?” She said, only barely louder than the bugs.

“Yes. I—He stopped me.” The old woman reached for him so he could crumble into her arms. She stood there, quiet and still, until his sobs had soaked through her cloak.

He felt her place a kiss to his head as he spoke. “I don’t want to lead us.”

She let her own tears fall onto his shoulder. He couldn’t recall the last time she cried.

“It has to be you.”

[inkk7]

Arianna walks out to the porch to see Orchid crying.

Arianna: Orchid, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

Orchid: …It’s okay, I just…I don’t know if I made the right decision anymore. I thought I was doing Felix a favor by giving him a second chance at life. But now…what if I doomed him to a life of experimentation and isolation? He’ll never be happy again, will he?

Arianna: Well, we don’t know what the authorities will do with him for sure, they might not even believe that it's the real Felix Psyded.

Orchid: Yes, they will, I’m sure of it. He looks exactly like himself and speaks like an old-timey guy. He stands out like a sore thumb.

Arianna: True…

Orchid continues to cry, the fate of Felix seemed to be worsening in her head the more she thought of it. Arianna could see the cogs turning in Orchid’s head, she could tell her best friend was spiraling.

Arianna: …Okay, I’m going to say something crazy…what if we kept him?

Orchid: What!? Really?

Arianna: There would be strict rules though, no loitering around in our house. He would have to go to school, he would need a makeover, and he needs language and culture training too.

Orchid: Yes! Yes! Anything!

Arianna: Let’s go tell him then…I hope I don’t regret this.

~~~

The four residents of Darkwing House are once again gathered in “Felix’s room”.

Arianna: So we have a proposition for you, er, Sir? Mr. Psyded? Anyway, if you want to you can stay here, but we have conditions.

Felix: Conditions?

Arianna: You would need a makeover, to attend UBrite, and to take language and culture training from us.

Felix: What is a makeover?

Rae: We would change your appearance, your outfit, your hair, maybe even give you some makeup.

Felix: And I would need to become a student at the university I founded? Do you understand how insulting that is? And what kind of training?

Arianna: Well you’re not exactly up-to-date with what all has happened over the past millennium. Maybe you should take up a History degree to fill in everything we can’t teach you.

Felix: And what would be my other option?

Arianna: We turn you into the officials, where you’ll most likely be locked up and experimented on for the rest of your second life.

Felix: So, I have no option then? One might find this treatment cruel.

Orchid: No! Felix, it will be great, we’ll go to school together and you get to learn about everything that you missed out on. Plus, we can hang out as much as we want!

Felix: I do not find this deal particularly favorable. Especially since I was just brought back from the dead without permission.

Rae: Listen, man. You get a second chance at life, don’t you want to take advantage of this situation?

Felix: How so?

Rae: Did you get to do everything you wanted in your last life? I mean we all know you died of laughter. Did that last joke take any opportunities from you?

Felix: Well, I was unwed, and I did desire to have my own family.

Rae: Well there you go, we’ll find you a wife.

Orchid stands up straighter.

Felix: This proposition is sounding more advantageous now…I have your word? You will assist in finding me a wife?

Arianna: Sure…*glances at Orchid*...you promise to abide by our rules?

Felix: …I do.

[zhuhongs]

dear god, i’m going to lose my mind. 我為什麼是這樣的人！！！

I can’t do it. No matter where I go, I can’t connect with others. I try and try but I cant fucking do it. I try my best, I know all the correct answers. I know how to make people like me but still I can’t manage to do it. It almost feels like it’s too late. I’ve established myself as the person who keeps to herself and only knows how to respond, never initiate. i want to change. I want to do better but why am i scared. Why do i care what other people think?!??! In 6 months time I won’t know absolutely any of them!! Why should I care? I shouldn’t yet I hesitate. I miss out on potentially finding a good friendship because I refuse to put myself out there. I always do this, nothing has changed at all. Just like with teaching, I thought if I forced myself into an environment where I would be uncomfortable, i would find it easy to change. But I can’t. I’m to comfortable staying as I am to make any meaningful change. I scrutinize those around me when i myself am just as pitiful. I laugh at my roommates who spend so long getting ready when in a way I wish I was like them. But in a way I don’t want to be them. I know the way they talk about others and I think that while on the outside they seem nice and agreeable, they are very judgemental, cruel people. They’re the exact kind of young woman I hate the most. Yet I live with them so I might as well be pleasant, and they will be too even though I’m sure we have a mutual unspoken dislike of the other. But still, why can’t I just stop caring?!

 I feel the overwhelming need to scream. I’m so painfully lonely even though people are around me at every waking second. Some days are good and I can be myself and not care. But the days that are hard are very hard. I want to do things and be amazing, and social, and enviable. But I cannot do anything. I’m always isolating myself somehow, and I don’t even realize it. I came here to run away, bc I mistakenly thought that it was just that my area didn’t suit me, surely I’d thrive elsewhere if I gave it a shot. But as I should’ve known from the countless books, and movies, and media I’ve consumed before -- I cannot run away from myself. My sadness will not change if I move, if anything it may only get worse. I mean think about it? Where I always lived may have been lonely at times, but it was a loneliness I knew how to manage. I had a support system, we just only met briefly due to life. But here, everything is lonely. Everything is knew and hard, even the things that I should know how to do. It’s difficult to buy food and get from school to home sometimes. That’s really hard on a person, to go from knowing your world like the back of your hand just for everything to be pushed to the right. It’s just similar enough that you feel like an idiot for not knowing how to do it, but different enough that everything is hard. And add onto that, I don’t have a space of my own to call home -- god. Yea. It’s difficult. 

But I feel like a spoiled brat saying this is hard, knowing that it’s an experience very few get to have. It’s a privilege. I know that. Back in High School I had a close friend that lived in Hong Kong for a year, and she talked about how difficult it was. All the adults praised her for being so strong to navigate hong kong alone as a teenager that didn’t speak cantonese. But I remember thinking that she was lucky. She got to live there because her dad was a rich pilot, sure she was alone but that was the experience of a lifetime, she should’ve taken advantage of it and enjoyed it more. Now here I am, doing something similar. I mean, I am learning the language. But sometimes it really is hard. I feel like going back in time and slapping my past self for being so ignorant. Thankfully I never said that thought to my friends face. I get it now, I mean, she was still a spoiled rich kid, but I get it. There really is a special kind of loneliness living alone in a foreign city that’s so different from your own. Right now I want a friend so bad but it frustrates me to no end how hard it is for me to make any sort of bond right now. 來慢慢的，慢慢的。

I feel like I used the fact that my cousin lives here and my two friends will be returning next year as a crutch to shield myself from making any real friends. Now I regret that, but it’s also nice to have. Maybe I would’ve been like this anywhere, so at least having them is a saving grace. I don’t know, I just feel so strange about everything. Almost helpless. I feel like I’m constantly waiting for someone to approach me, even though I know I need to grab hold of what’s in front of me in order to get what I want. Why can’t I make that step forward. Why can’t I throw away my pride and just become shameless for a second. It doesn’t even matter in the end. Why not treat this as a trial run for all the potential versions of myself I can become without any of the strings attached. 

I hope someday soon I can do that, but for right now I keep running and running trying avoid others. But my efforts of running away will always fail me. Just like right now I went to a cafe to try and get some peace and quiet but turns out my roommate went to the same cafe and now I am awkwardly trying to avoid her despite being 10 feet away from her. And I even tried to ask her which cafe she was going to, to avoid this sort of situation. My intuition never fails me. I know it. i fucking know itttttt. Life is so funny is it not?

[blogstory]

Few thoughts on presidential debate with Kamala Harris. From so called eastern European perspective... Where we are unfortunate to have both borders, with Ukraine in War and Putins Russia.

Last night I watched the presidential debate, where for the first time Kamala Harris appeared against Trump as the official Democratic candidate. To properly assess the behavior and the topics discussed, it's important to understand the American political scene and what is currently stirring public opinion in the U.S. It’s not like the candidates go with the flow, speaking from the heart. Every possibility, every question and answer, is rehearsed dozens of times. PR specialists and spin doctors on both sides are working tirelessly to predict every option, writing the appropriate scenarios and responses, then preparing the candidates not only for the content but also for the form. Yes, even their posture and body language are scripted. If we’re to blame anyone for the low level of the debate, for how everything seems simplified as if the candidates expect that overly complex language or ideas might not only be misunderstood but also disliked by the audience, it’s the public. Unfortunately, despite technological progress and the fact that we now have access to nearly all human knowledge at our fingertips, we are witnessing widespread idiocy. The general public was never particularly sharp, but now they don’t even hide it. In the past, there was an aspiration to improve; now we are expected to accept. Accept the overweight, the unattractive, even the ignorant, so as not to exclude anyone. The consequences can be disastrous, but that’s not the point of this message.

Returning to the debate. I didn’t expect any groundbreaking discoveries or shifts in direction. However, it’s always worth watching how the candidates perform live, under pressure, in the spotlight. I admit, after hearing from Polish media that Kamala Harris can be stiff and doesn’t do well in the media, I was pleasantly surprised. It was Trump who looked as tense as an elastic band in underwear. He spat out words like a machine gun, trying to fit in as many lies, insinuations, and accusations as possible. And he lied like a professional. I must say, he lies even more than the politicians from Poland’s PiS party, who are masters of lying and spinning the truth. Here’s an example. Just as I joined the debate, Kamala, in response to Trump's previous nonsense, stated that as vice president, she had traveled the world and could assure that contrary to Trump's claims, not only is he not respected, but serious leaders laugh at him and consider him a clown, including high-ranking military commanders. The journalist moderating the debate gave Trump "a minute to respond," which he used to announce in his unique, bizarre, pause-filled style, the following (allow me to quote): "I am very serious. So serious, that Viktor Orban, Prime Minister of Hungary (and I swear, I’m not imagining it, but he mispronounced the country as ‘Hungry’ instead of ‘Hungary’) is the bravest leader in Europe... *pause* Yes... a great man, a political giant, highly respected throughout Europe. Famous for how effectively he fights Russia. He considers me his friend..." He went on rambling about Hungary’s economic success under Orban’s rule. But I was so floored by these brazen lies that I stopped listening, mentally preparing a comment to debunk these falsehoods. I know it dissolved into thousands of other comments, but you can’t stay silent when such blatant lies are spoken, especially since the average American not only doesn’t know who Orban is, but doesn’t even know where Hungary is, or that Hungary, due to Orban’s actions, is isolated in the European Union, and that this so-called titan of freedom is a populist being boycotted and, in fact, a puppet of Putin. Orban is not only accused of devastating democracy in his country, where he has eradicated media freedom, but also of challenging EU norms that he’s trying to dismantle.

Kamala performed very calmly in the debate. She didn’t get drawn into Trump’s bickering. She waited out many of his lies, some of which were immediately corrected by the moderator, so she could calmly lay out the facts, including her own opinion. She was measured but comfortable. It’s a pity she didn’t spend more time explaining the current economic problems and why Trump’s promises, like slapping tariffs and duties on China overnight to make America great again, are pure nonsense. Her overall tone was restrained, avoiding the kind of conflict where Trump thrives. Trump, on the other hand, was frantic, especially when defending himself against legal troubles and some of his more obvious lies, like winning the last election and inciting the attack on the Capitol and government structures in case of his defeat. Of course, he had a prepared line of defense, but in my opinion, it came off as unconvincing. He was aggressive and agitated, which didn’t work well against Harris’ calm demeanor. That unhealthy energy might have worked against the frail Biden, but alongside Kamala, it didn’t land well.

In summary, this is the first of several usual debates. It will certainly be analyzed, and Trump’s team will try to find a better approach for the next time. I hope the Democrats don’t fall asleep and work hard as well. It’s important to remember that many Trump supporters are a hard, resistant-to-rational-arguments electorate, many of whom consider Kamala a ‘communist’ because, as a Democrat, she wants to introduce public healthcare. And real Americans from the Rust Belt don’t want that stinking European or Canadian invention, preferring to continue being fleeced to the bone (to the point of bankruptcy) by insurance companies. That’s fine with them, as long as they can still buy a gun at the local shop, including an assault rifle, which their maladjusted son will later take to school to show his classmates and teachers what he’s been dreaming of after classes. 144 such cases still don’t convince Americans that easy access to firearms is dangerous. Emotions, especially strong ones, are the only thing that might sway them.

Speaking of emotions, right after the debate, Taylor Swift endorsed Kamala Harris, with her beloved cat visible in the profile photo above her support. Why does this matter? Just like our populist Kaczyński, who claimed that refugees and immigrants spread disease and rape women, Trump announced that refugees in Ohio were eating cats and other pets. Which, after verification by journalists, turned out to be a lie, of course.

Do you think this doesn’t affect us in Poland? You’re wrong. Whoever becomes the president of the U.S. will impact all of us. If Trump, who is on Putin’s leash, wins the election... I honestly don’t know if the Russians manipulated Trump by stroking his ego or if they have some compromising material on him, like a video of him beating and choking of steamy russian porn stars? It wouldn’t be new since he’s done it before, or maybe he choked one too hard? Either way, it’s a fact that Putin is rooting for him. It’s no secret that Trump plans to weaken NATO. Who knows what other nonsense he has in store, but it’s safe to assume that nothing good will come of it for the alliance or our region, including Ukraine.

While searching for the debate, I stumbled across a channel where some Black gentleman was broadcasting his reaction to it, repeatedly clapping for Trump. I find it grotesque that such people of color are ready to vote not for Democrat women who herself represents minority but for a white racist who openly says he considers immigrants especially those to be an inferior kind of human being. And I’ll bet dollars to donuts that he feels the same way about Black people, whom he’d most likely gather into walled-off ghettos and send on the first transport to Liberia.

[squirrelno2]

Writing Like Ourselves Tag Game

Tagged by @mwolf0epsilon, thanks! (also ooh boy this one is A Lot huh. getting some serious Backstory up in here)

1. what's your Shire? as in: what's a place you remember fondly and love? (or: some place you hated, some place vivid to you, etc.)

The dance studio I grew up going to - most specifically the studio we moved to after my first year or so there; I went from one or two nights a week to being there almost every day of the week, sometimes for five or six hours straight, and most of the people I’ve loved in my life are people who taught or took class there. Dance studio culture can vary wildly, but mine was generally really good at building community and supporting its dancers, and the people I took class with genuinely felt like family. As an autistic kid with a lot of trauma from the regular school system, going to the studio every night where I was allowed to be my own kind of weird and we could all create our unique communication style so we didn’t have to worry about it was probably the only thing standing between me and a much more fucked up brain. It’s the place I first started teaching, too, so it was there every step of my “coming of age” story.

2. what is your Hobbit culture? as in: values were you brought up in, culture you grew up with, etc.

this one is so hard to distinguish honestly - growing up a white kid in the US, the culture I was raised in is one that tries very hard to pretend it’s not a culture at all but rather some kind of “natural” state of being. Like, it’s the individualism and the Christianity that hasn’t really gone anywhere even though your parents were atheists and it’s the obsession with capitalism. even knowing these things, though, it’s hard to articulate - and that’s not even touching the fact that it’s a culture I don’t particularly connect to because most of the things I can articulate about it values-wise are things I don’t agree with.

On a more local level, my family’s culture was one of kindness and laughter - if you fuck up you laugh about it and you try again, if you’re weird that’s good because the world hasn’t beaten you down yet, and you should really stop trying to fight your bullies but we’ll go to bat for you the next time it happens because what the hell. I was always encouraged to make my own choices even as a young child, and to speak up when someone had hurt me. We were very isolated even though my mom has a large family, but within that isolation there was a lot of love and honesty.

3. who is your Tom Bombadil? as in: a character you loved as a child, in existence or from your imagination, a figure that took place in a lot of your play, etc.

this is about to get really sad and fucked up probably but. My brother? He died a long time before I was born, being a premature baby, but growing up I always had him as an imaginary friend. He’s haunted me my whole life, mostly benevolently; I still can’t help but think sometimes about who he’d be and who we’d be to each other. He’s kind of the first story I ever told myself.

4. what are your elves and dwarves? as in: something you studied or know a lot about, something you can geek out about, etc.

dance!!! also that’s creeping into the body in general, like workouts and injury prevention and that kind of thing. I love anatomy and physiology and how knowing about the science of your muscles and bones can help you convey specific emotions better. I literally will talk to my students about how to create emotional body language, like “hold your rhomboids together a little more and lift your chin, you’ll look proud” or “if you have just a little tension in your arms it will do this, but make sure your neck is relaxed” and then it gets super in depth if I’m not careful. help.

also I love cats and writing. I will infodump about either of these at the drop of a hat, though it’s been longer since I was actively studying cats and I think I’ve forgotten things (I’m so sorry, cats)

5. what are your middle earth languages? as in: something you have expertise in due to a career, a hobby, something you love, etc.

oh wait. uh. dance and the human body again? also writing craft. and the flute! I have varied and sundry interests and I treat them all like they might blossom into a huge all-encompassing career at any moment. if I know anything, I probably have put my whole soul into trying to make it something I’m an expert in. I believe in committing to the bit

6. what are your themes? as in: something you've grown up knowing, like loss, something you know intimately, something you know because of your area/history/ time/era, etc.

loss/grief is probably one. I’ve been losing people since I was a kid, to death and to life. It doesn’t stop hurting but you learn how to face it?

maybe communication? it’s something that haunts me, where I try so hard to be good at it and also have spent so much of my life affected by myself or someone else failing at it

7. what is your moral of the story? as in: a guiding value, a life motto, faith/spirituality, etc.

You don’t know a person’s mind. You don’t know everything feeding into their actions. They might be justified by your standards, or they might be a shithead, but no matter what everyone has an internal logic. It can be as simple as “I wanted to” but there is always a reason. You don’t need to know the reason to respect someone else’s humanity, but if you’re having trouble with someone the first step to fixing it may very well be seeking out the reason so you can understand what they need a little better.

This one gets personal so I definitely get if you don’t wanna do it but I’m making myself tag people now like a proper tumblr citizen so @writhingcreature @what-point-is-there @blackandblue13 if any of you want to?

[declaredmissing]

wanting someone older and wiser to save me

There was a night I fell asleep crying and heard my sister’s voice in my head, “it’ll be okay, little moon.” I realized how much I missed the best friend I used to have in my sister. That relationship is lost, and I don’t know how to recover it or where to go from there. When I find myself missing ‘my sister’, I wonder if I’m really longing for an older figure to reassure me that everything would be alright. I don’t know how to be that person for myself. There’s a person I’m afraid of becoming, and I don’t know why.

I dreamed last summer of a human rights lawyer walking into the house with the broken refugee family, taking the little girl away and saving her when the girl was about to jump. How explicitly my subconscious was telling me I long for a mother, for a hero, for some magic person to provide me unconditional love and protection and kindness. A dream showing me how I wanted to rescue others before myself. I wanted someone else to rescue me, because I didn’t trust myself to be there for me.

There’s a little girl, standing at the edge of a window, about to jump in the pool, and she wants someone older and wiser and kind to sweep in and save her. She’s my daughter, and she’s me, and she’s the little girl inside my mother too, inside probably every woman I’ve ever known.

Self-destruction used to be the only language I knew when I needed help. In times I felt the most rage, I felt driven to prove I was more willing to destroy myself and go further than anyone else would. Dumping my journals and writing in the trash can, letter opener to my skin, to my paintings. Ending friendships, cutting my ties to the world. Erasing myself was the only way I felt I could exert control in a life where I otherwise felt helpless. It was my attempt to speak, to beg people to see that I wasn’t okay, to ask them to care, but in a manifested in a cry for help that didn’t speak at all. I wanted someone to stop me. To tell me I was too valuable to be lost. But there’s no wiser or older figure who’s going to sweep in and reassure me of my value. Realizing that left me with a deep and aching loneliness, but instead of turning others, I decided to contain the pain, and this reduced me to being isolated and weaker. I searched for security by deciding to enter a ‘men’s world’; safety in self control and self restraint.

In response to my own fear, I decided to develop a tough skin to protect myself. I found myself looking up to fictional figures with traditional masculine traits – self control, determination, cool, emotional discipline, and mastery. Self-sufficient, independent women, who are fucked over in many ways but refused to be helpless. Alienated with no support system, but plenty of rage to fuel them. Aimee, Lisbeth Salander, Aomame, Lara Croft. They had a voice, and they had power, even if it was in a sense dressing over deeper wounds, to protect the softer parts of their underbelly. I thought rescuing myself meant being untouchable. Being able to defend myself. To not be scared anymore. I wanted to be both weapon and armor itself. The kind of girl who could walk home alone at night and have nothing to be afraid of.

Emma Berquist in her article True Crime Is Rotting Our Brains observed, “So many true crime shows advise women to trust their instincts, but how can we trust instincts that have been hijacked by induced anxiety?” She worried that being primed to read danger in innocent situations “are not sensible reactions, they are the thoughts of someone who has been deeply traumatized.” I wonder how much of my instincts for survival are led by misreading the world. Defaulting to believing this world is a dangerous place, and in my body, I am not safe here. I often think of the police officer I dated, who was alert and guarded and could sense in every gesture or open space, the potential for danger. I related to him. I understood him. I wanted to become what he did in his response to fear.

Much of the criticism against women’s self-defense are objecting to how women must prime themselves to signals of danger. How we must be the ones to train and protect ourselves, instead of questioning society and demanding that society as a whole must become a safer place. It skews our perception of danger.

We are primed with our hands holding our keys in the the way that alert, vulnerable women do walking alone at night.

Many of my heroines are driven by anger, of experiencing women in their lives being abducted or murdered. Who they become is from the effect of these stories on their psyche.

Our very culture skews crime and violence to embed fear within us. I’ve been thinking of other insiduous ways it does this, encouraging us to mistrust each other, read danger into each other, in the name of encouraging safety, being alert. As a smokescreen to distract us from the deeper causes of violence. Heightened fear became the underlying landscape driving me to muay thai, combat sports, self defense. When I walk alone at night, every stranger could potentially whip out a knife. They warn of this in kali, demonstrating how casually one could stab you, as if it were a normal thing to expect. If, according to Berquist, “crime stories are a fundamentally conservative way of looking at the world,” what would a radical way of looking be? What would be the opposite of ‘fear-stoking propaganda’? What would it mean to practice self-defense as a way of truly finding power in oneself, rather than it being a reactive way of seeking power, like a man buying a gun?

I’ve been thinking about it what it means to take agency for my own life. There are days I feel like I’m just barely threading myself together; that I’m only just holding on to the strands that bind me. I think of how I’ve grown, since I first commuted to Brooklyn to learn Muay Thai, wrapping my hands on the train. Looking for courage. Looking for armor. Combat sports has become my lifeline when I don’t know what else to do with myself. It’s hard earned confidence. Focusing on the bag is a way of channeling my anxiety to a certain outcome–I know how to practice. I know that this isn’t wasted effort. The concentration and energy feel productive. There’s no confusion. Each strike is its own reward.

I found some kind of fulfillment and reward through the repetition of kicking a bag. Driven to perfect my roundhouse kick, fueled by the thrill of a perfectly executed kick. I learned to build habits and structure through long term persistence and self-forgiveness. It was the best thing I did for myself at that time in my life where I was going through a personal crisis.

I found survival in the drive to keep working, with a laser-like intensity, on something even after I’ve lost immediate interest. Learning what rules I do want to form for myself. Reward in my tenacity in itself; not to be recognized or to feel safer, but in the sheer joy of seeing myself improve. Survival in discovering my ability to stick with something even when it was hard.

Turning to martial arts and starting to fully grasp just how powerful I can be – how overwhelming it is to lean into something new, to be bad, to persist–and then to be truly whole-heartedly empowered by the results. Training myself to not be disappointed so easily by my failure or clumsiness, at how my body simply did not know yet. To not feel frustrated that I was getting it wrong, or that it wasn’t coming together or feeling easy yet. Enduring hardships and learning the grace to bear them well.

Finding agency through martial arts hasn’t solved my life problems, and it doesn’t make the world objectively less dangerous.

Now, I just want to live from joy and wonder; to run towards, not from.

But with tenderness and infinite patience, I’ve learned, along the way, that no one else is going to do it for me. It’s a hard lesson to accept. I grew armor as a kid, learning to rely on myself, but at heart, hoping someday someone would care for me. I held on to that fantasy, and my anger came from the injustice of feeling that was withheld from me. I struggle to accept that no one else is going to tell me the words that I want to hear, but it’s hard for me to feel like it’s okay to say those things to myself. But I hope to let go, to accept with grace that my belief in myself should not be dependent on others believing in me. There will be people who love me, who treat me kindly, generously, but if I’m able to unfailingly protect myself–be sacred to myself, treat myself like I would be my own daughter–then I’ll never be breakable.

focus on the evolution in my perception of/relationship to martial arts.

The moment I decided to box was when I watched Tomb Raider, and Vikander, the underdog, was hurling herself at her opponent and refusing to give up. And I thought, maybe I could have it in me too. Croft, or the way Vikander played her – was vulnerable but also tough. She was someone who chose the hard path. Scrappy and resourceful and uncertain. And I identified with her. There is something triumphant and hopeful to be found in a character who, at the end, discovers just how truly powerful she is after emerging through crisis.