#i slept pretty poorly last night too.. and had weird dreams

[swankpalanquin]

how is it possible to go from feeling pretty great only twenty four hours ago to feeling pretty terrible right now...

[nebulousneuroticism]

I slept rather poorly last night. I woke up around eleven, decided it was too early, and then fell back into stressful dreams for three hours. I dreamed I was accused of a crime, and I went to a witch who made the problem go away, but then the witch was somehow killed and I went through a long, drawn-out Telltale-Heart-esque sequence as investigators grew closer and closer to the truth.

So when I woke up from that, I felt extremely groggy and unhappy. I quickly abandoned my plans for the day, which had involved shopping and cooking an elaborate meal, and instead did the easiest and most comforting thing I could think of, which was to go to a cafe with my book. That was nice. I even saw a minor celebrity at the cafe, which was cool.

I spent my evening preparing to run a D&D game tomorrow. I'm pretty rusty, and I don't feel confident that I have enough material, but hopefully the group will be slow. It's going to be weird, also, because we're playing in public for the first time--we've played other games like Battletech in public, but never done any role-playing. I'm afraid I'll feel self-conscious.

Later on at night, my best friend messaged me and we ended up playing some Risk of Rain 2 together, which was pretty fun. It felt really good, actually. I've missed him. We made plans to play other games later this week, and I'm looking forward to that.

So looking back, I suppose it wasn't a bad day. But I had a pretty low mood for much of it, so I felt kind of negative despite the positive things that happened. Funny how that works.

[metalcorebarbie]

I’m banning myself from watching horror movies hjsdfmkh

[jay-and-dean]

Rescue You Chapter 11 : December 2 and 3

Dean x reader

Summary : My name is Y/n. I’m the outcast of my witch community. This is the story of how I rescued Dean Winchester, the story of how he saved me.

Serie Warnings : Swearing. Injuries. Smut. Fluff. Angst.

Chapter warning : Angst, angst, angst and fluff.

Words : 2.9 k 

Author note : There will be 14 chapters, the schedule of the editing is added in the Masterlist. If everything goes as planned, I will stick to that schedule.

***Rescue You Masterlist***

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

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December 2, 9pm.

…My love is afraid of me.

I look at his bedroom and don’t recognize anything. The picture of Dean with his mom is not even in its pretty frame anymore. It’s like the room was padded. I’m dangerous.

           A sudden urge to cry crawls up my spine and I need to see Dean, I know he’s the only one that can kill that panic growing inside of me.

           I turn around and walk toward the library, impatient to hear the only voice that helps me win against those horrible overwhelming feelings and the din inside my head.

           But whispered voices catch the attention even more than screams sometimes, and when I hear Dean talk so low, I start to listen.

“No Sammy, you don’t understand, we don’t have a month or even a week to find one… It’s getting worse…”

“I know Dean” Sam says but my boyfriend cuts him.

“No you don’t know. I… During the night she loses control, last time snakes appeared,Sam ! Freaking snakes ! I have no idea how to deal with that and our feelings for each other won’t be enough for long to hold these powers. She will hurt someone. If… If she hurts me Sam, she will never forgive herself. I know her.”

When tears reach my shirt, I notice it is blood and frown. My hands are shining like hot lava. I have no memories of snakes and… He’s right, I would never forgive myself. I look at him one last time from the shadow and walk back.

           Entering the garage, I look around, I don’t have a driving license, of course I don’t, I wasn’t supposed to leave that shitty town. I have to get away for a time, I will miss him so much and I have no idea how I will deal with this without Sam and Dean, but I can’t take the risk to hurt him. I just can’t. I put my fingers on my temples in a desperate attempt to ease the noises and headache.

           Get away… you’re a danger. You’re a monster…

I close my eyes and sigh, I could drive anyway, but then I would be a danger for everyone again.

 December 2, around noon.

             I regret not taking my phone before I left. I would love to tell Dean I love him but I just can’t be around him lately. I regret not taking a coat or shoes, but not because I’m cold-I’m not with that burning fire inside of me-, just because I can’t hitchhike, take a bus or anything, I would look crazy. But again : dangerous anyway.

           I know where I want to be right now. I want to be in that cabin, my own little home. I saw it grow from its ashes and I have no idea if it was a dream or if I did it for real. I have to see it with my eyes.

           I can picture the inside of my cabin in my head, like I was watching a movie, I can see it so clearly. I start to cry and lift my hands to try and reach it but it’s in my head. The room is exactly how it was when I left it running, the sheets still have Dean’s print and there are bandages everywhere, some of them with Dean’s blood on it. There are food papers and blood stains on the bed.

           I can feel the cold air coming from the poorly insulated window now and the wood under my feet. I close my eyes but still can see everything. The floor where he slept for days before I could move him….

           I touch the sheets and bring them to my nose, it smells like Dean, I take the cover and roll myself in it.

           And when I open my eyes again, I’m in the cabin.

             I stayed for hours in those covers, trying to remember how it was when I wasn’t afraid to hurt Dean, when I did more good than bad. Remembering the beautiful amazed look he gave me when I was patching him up, like it was the first time someone actually took care of him.

But now you are what he hunts…

           I look at the small dusty TV that occupied him for hours, probably preventing him to be totally overwhelmed by pain on the first days. I turn it on, searching the few functioning channels for something like Scooby doo to remind me of nights with him. But I stop on the news.

           They’re talking about that town, mine, where a strange cult has been massacred by maybe some others. It’s on national info. They found hundreds of corpses, something the United States hadn’t seen in decades. A shiver makes me whine when I see the aerial view…

You did that and now you dare coming back here. The cabin may be fixed but everything is destroyed… You should be locked here forever.

I turn it off, curl up in the bed and try to ignore the panic raging deep inside of me. Outside, the night seems to be falling. Weird, I was sure it was still early…

           Darkness wraps me and I try to calm, thinking of Dean, trying to replay some of our moments in my blurry mind, counting in my head the wounds I had to clean every day to distract myself from the storm with a comforting routine…

 December 3, 2am

             “Y/n !” I hear far away. “Y/N !”

I open my eyes, I fell asleep. I’m still in the cabin and the night is totally dark but my eyes can see clearly. I shiver, did I really hear him ?

“Y/n !it’s me !” Dean’s voice becomes clearer.

I get up and take a deep breath, he found me. Of course my baby found me, the cabin was not the best idea to hide. Why is he calling me from so far ?

“Y/n ! I’m begging you, let me enter !”

Maybe he’s in danger, I get up quickly and lift my eyes to the window : It’s totally covered in wood ! Branches tightly mixed, covering it totally. That’s why night seems so dark. I run to the door and open it, but it’s exactly the same, like trees and creepers had grown to wrap the cabin in a box of wood.

“Y/N !” Sam’s voice joins Dean’s and a loud noise makes me take a step back.

They are trying to break the magic wall.

“BABY !” Dean finally calls and my heart starts aching.

“DEAN !” I answer, suddenly having trouble to breathe at the idea that I can’t get out.

Another loud shock.

“Let me in…” his voice has changed, it’s still worried, but there is no panic in it anymore.

“I can’t ! I don’t know how…”

“SAM !” he yells suddenly and I put my hands on the wood.

“What ?” I call. “Dean ?... DEAN !”

I put my head on the wood and start begging I don’t know who. They came here, and now I’m may be hurting them. Please Please Please… Stop !

           The ropes of wood tighten and Dean’s voice becomes further. I start to panic, and the structure of the cabin cracks, like its box was a constrictor snake.

“Oh my God…” I murmur when dust falls off the roof. “No nono… Dean… DEAN!”

He can’t hear me now.

           What have I done ! I can’t control those powers and now the trap is closing. The cabin cracks again and this time the window shatters. My heart beats way faster than humanly possible, and the floor starts to shake, everything falls of the floor.

If Dean dies…

If Sam dies…

If…

My head is spinning and my hair start floating and glowing.

Dean will die.

Sam will die.

You’re the monster they have to put down.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can’t let that happen, I won’t. I have to think of the good times, I’m the one doing this, that means I can stop it, just like that. I will. I close my fists and struggle hard to hear my thoughts inside of my head.

Dean.

The man I love has a smile like no other, and when we made love for the first time, just here, he gave me one of them. A smile I will always remember, with sweat on his forehead and love in his dilated pupils, his skin was still cold from that shower and his lips were swollen by my kisses. I can’t stop kissing him, I won’t. Ever. I want to see his smile.

The cabin stops cracking but I still can’t hear them outside, the night is still so dark and I pray that I’m not too late.

Please… Let me see him again, let him be safe. I’ll take the burden, I’ll take every blame but let him go home.

A loud noise against the wood again. My love is alive ! I focus even more : When he will reach me, he will put his arms around me, I live for his arms around me, holding me so tight I don’t have to carry any weight.

Another punch on the walls of my wooden prison. The deafening whispers in my head harass me and right now I know I won’t be able to fight that evil for long, a few more days, maybe weeks… But after that, if there is no other way to keep them safe, I will have to end it.

Another punch and something cracks. I just realized I have to kill myself and burning tears roll on my face, evaporating before they reach the floor. I don’t want to die, I just started to live ! I don’t want Dean to loose someone else, but I can’t afford to hurt any of them.

“Y/n !” I finally hear him and a strangled sob escapes me.

“Dean !”

“Baby ! Baby you hear me ?” he half shouts half sighs.

“I’m sorry ! I can’t control it ! I can’t open !” I sob, starting to scratch the wood.

“Hold on ! And don’t panic okay ! I will reach you baby !”

“Where is Sam ?” I ask shakily.

A silence and my heart seems to fall on my lower stomach.

“Dean where is Sam ?”

“He’s… he will be okay, we’ll deal with him later” he growls and I know what is pain when I hear it.

“Oh my God !”

I hurt Sammy.

“Y/n focus on my voice, don’t start panicking. Sam will be okay !”

“I hurt Sam ! Did I… I hurt Sammy ! Oh my God !”

The floor starts to shake again.

He was right to be afraid of you, he wasn’t even careful enough, now it’s too late.

“YOU WERE RIGHT TO BE AFRAID OF ME !” I cry out, feeling that incontrollable wish to close that prison tighter.

           The shocks on the wood stop and it’s like I could feel Dean’s palm on it.

“Y/n… I’m not afraid of you” he says more calmly. “I am afraid for you. Listen to me now. Breathe. It’s going to be okay, we will find a way, we always do, we’re close to find a way…”

I pant, my breathing strangled by panic and he hears me.

“Breathe calmly. You remember when I talked to you about that mark… What was its name ?” he asks to make me focus.

“C-cain” I stammer. “The Mark of Cain.”

“I thought it will never be okay again, just like you do right now. But I got rid of it, it was awful, baby. This force fighting me every second, the urges… But it’s over now. You will find peace too baby… Let me give you peace. I will break that, just stay calm for me.”

           I fall on my knees and the din in my head fades a little. Dean starts hitting the wood again and after a while, a tiny ray of night light pierces the wall of my airtight prison. The hole becomes wider and Dean’s hands finally appear to tear the branches in growls.

           When he can slip in, my love enters and falls on his knees to take me in his arms.

“I’m so sorry” I sob, clinging to him. "Dean I didn't mean... I'm so sorry !"

He hushes me and grabs my face to stare at me with his intense eyes, checking on my face and body, his thumbs grazing my cheekbones. He’s sweaty and out of breath. When he moves his palms just a little on my cheeks, I notice they’re wet and very hot, the smell of blood comes to my nose and I realize he must have open his palms with the branches. But before I can react, he puts his lips on mine.

“Don’t leave me” he pleads against my lips. “ Don't ever leave me again. I’m not afraid of you, and I need you. I won’t lose you.”

“Sam ?” I ask below my breath.

“I called Cas…”

“Tell me Dean. Please.”

You've hurt Sam.

“The branches… Y/n… It’s not your fault…” he looks down.

I get up to run outside, but Dean catches me by the arm quickly, tugging to crush me in his arms, holding me with my head against his chest.

“The branches crushed him like they were snakes. He’s breathing but… I think his bones… his bones are broken. He fainted.”

I grab Dean’s flannel and sob in his arms, muttering pleading apologies in loop.

           And while we wait for Castiel, Dean never lets go.

 December 3, 5pm

             Castiel came and Sam was alive. Dean never wanted me to see him broken, but I can only imagine the amount of pain he went through. After a while, the angel broke more wood in the door frame, and Sam came in, I was in tears, not daring to look at him in the eyes even if he was trying to reassure me.

           After a long talk, I finally told them I needed them to be safe, that I couldn't let it happen, and that it could happen in the bunker too. I suggested that maybe I shouldn’t come back in the bunker just now… Sam agreed. I ignored the pain on my chest, still entertaining the idea of ending it myself. But Dean’s answer was clear : He will stay here with me, until Sam finds a cure.

           I couldn’t fight him long, he was determined and argued that he was the only one that could keep me safe. I was terrified, both by being alone and hurting Dean ; so when he asked me to trust him, I just did.

           Sam went to his car to give us the few snacks he had there, and said he will come back tomorrow, no matter what.

             Now here I am, using that first aid kit that helped so much in the past to take care of my boyfriend's palms. He’s sitting on the bed and I kneeled before him, like I used to do, except this time he's strong and well, mostly. Taking care of him calms me and the light of the old oil lamp too somehow. The delicious smell of Dean is embracing me, keeping the loud whispers at bay for now.

“There is a piece of wood under your skin” I whisper, looking up to find his eyes seaching my face.

“You know I love you right ?” he answers and my heart starts racing like the first time I heard it.

“I know. Thank you so much for loving me…” I look down, still tortured by the guilt.

He chuckles and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. I tug at the thorn but my wolf barely winces.

“Sam is close to find something…” he smiles while I examine his beautiful strong hands carefully. “He says he could transfer the powers to someone else, turn the spell you used, there is just a little more details to think of.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea” I frown, sincerely worried by that idea.

“We just have to find an evil witch of the Coven, we know some ran.”

“Evil, Dean, that’s the whole problem…” I take bandages to stay focused on taking care of him.

“Yeah but that knocked you up… What if I put a witch killing bullet in her head before she thinks clear again ?” he grins.

“I don’t know…”

“I do” he states. Now come here, it’s still freezing in that cabin, even with, you know... the new weather-proofing” he chuckles.

           I get up and join him on the bed, cuddling against him when he lays down. A loud sigh of relief escapes my lungs and I flatten my palm on his chest to feel his heart.

“I’m going to make love to you all the time when this is fixed” he groans, managing to make me chuckle slightly.

That man is not only the strongest of the world, physically; after all he's been through... his heart also is made of the toughest diamond.

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[izaswritings]

all that’s left in the world | chapter eight

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: cursing, referenced current character death via Reaper’s Game, references to past character death, friend drama, and self-worth/self-esteem issues. If there’s anything in the chapter you feel I missed, let me know and I’ll add it on here!

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AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

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part eight: eri

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Eri and Beat’s first day of casing Shinjuku—what’s left of Shinjuku—goes poorly.

They arrive late, and search until the sun starts going down and turns all the buildings into gothic, spooky silhouettes, and if Beat had his way, would probably have continued searching after dark if Eri had not loudly and firmly put her foot down. (No matter what Beat says later, it was not because the moment the lights went out, Eri had gone stiff and pale and jumpy at the slightest noises. It was not. Eri doesn’t believe in ghosts, not even in the apocalypse, and she is, most certainly, not afraid of the dark. So there.)

Night falls fast and quick, and in the end, they find an empty shell of a café stand and settle down for the night. When the talking finally dies down, and Beat gone to sleep, Eri lays there in the dark for a long time, feeling young and stupid and missing her bed, because it’s the petty things that keep her mind from the frightening things—how hollow Shinjuku has become, how cold, how Shiki hasn’t answered any of her texts at all… how none of Eri’s texts have reached her.

Here are the cold hard facts: Eri has no idea what’s going on.

Beat had tried to explain—Reapers and Games and UGs and whatever—but she suspects he doesn’t really understand it fully himself, and no wonder. There’s so much Eri feels like her head is going to explode, this rising scream in her ears like an instrument out of tune, and if she focuses on it too long she thinks she might cry. That first night, she curls up with her Mom’s old brass knuckles clenched tight in one fist, and doesn’t sleep well at all. In the dark nightmare city, her dreams have turned faint and blurry, almost feverish, a distorted echo of her room and her father opening the door, his face fallen in grief, saying, “Eri, honey, I’m so sorry... Shiki is...”

When the sun finally rises—or at least, when the ash gray sky gets a little lighter— Eri wakes up with her eyes dry and aching, and Beat leaning down over her with a frown. “You okay?” he says, when he sees she’s awake. “You were making noise.”

Outside the café stand, the sky is pale gray and dim; the light barely reaches inside at all. Her mouth feels cottony and her throat tight; dust drifts in the air like snow. Even Beat, brash and bold and bright like a really annoying flare, seems faded here—his pale hair near colorless, his clothes greyed and the colors turned weak and subdued.

Eri sits up, and scoots away. She doesn’t dislike Beat, mostly; doesn’t really know him, besides the fact he’s part of that weird group of friends Shiki picked up from nowhere and then couldn’t be separated from. “Fine,” she says.

She’s not. There’s dust in her hair and smearing all across her pretty green skirt—the one Shiki stitched her—and the night has left a crick in her neck, her side, the back of her leg. Eri stretches out her leg and takes a breath. “Fine,” she says again, stronger now. “Day two?”

Beat doesn’t look like he believes her, but he leans back, and that’s good enough for Eri. “Yeah,” he says. Hesitant, maybe, and looking like he wants to ask, but in the end, he just shakes his head. “Day two, yo. Ready to go?”

“In a minute.”

“Alright.”

She watches him wander off to repack their stuff and check the surroundings, or some other survival shit she should probably be thinking of, and exhales shakily. Day two. Ugh. She’ll say this for the nightmare-land Shinjuku: if nothing else, it’s convinced her that whatever’s going on, it’s very, very real. Bizarre monsters aside.

Eri works on getting up, stretching out her arm, and tries not to shiver at the memory. Noise, Beat had called them, and Eri still isn’t sure if that’s meant to be ironic or something, because frankly those things hadn’t made a sound. She hasn’t quite mustered the nerve to ask. Those monsters were just…

They would have been beautiful, Eri thinks, in any other circumstance. Those swirling designs and colors, the bold strokes. Even their resemblance to animals… but maybe it’s the resemblance that makes them so unnerving. Their limbs too long, proportions all off, eyes blank and fuzzy like the white static on broken TVs. God. It still makes her shake to think about.

The fact Beat has fought them before—that Shiki has probably fought them before—doesn’t help matters at all. What happened that month, when Shiki was ignoring her? How could Eri have missed this? Her best friend was fighting for her life while Eri… what, sat and moped at home?

It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t fit. She knows they had that fight, but… surely Shiki must have known Eri would have come to her side in a heartbeat, right? Even if their phones didn’t work or whatever, couldn’t she just have told Eri straight? Shiki must have known Eri would help, right? …Right?

(Her fingers curl tight over the brass knuckles. In her head, her dad’s voice echoes. Eri, honey… Shiki is—)

Eri hates this city. Shinjuku: officially on her shit list! Forget the creepy apocalypse aesthetic, ignore the blood-red clouded sky and the cloying taste of ash. Damn the broken rubble and everything. Eri could handle all of it, but these stupid Games and stupid monsters, and all the questions they bring with them… yeah, no. That, Eri can’t forgive.

And the silence—god! The silence. It hadn’t bothered her too much at first, but the longer this ordeal goes on the more it itches at her. The Noise, too… their bright colors all dull and ashy like everything else in this ghost town, and as Eri had watched them stalk the streets, the lack of—anything—click of claws or snarling or even static—had made something knot in her throat. This place. Just, this place.

Café-man should have sent Mom here instead of me. Her mom would laugh and laugh if she knew Eri was getting freaked out by the quiet; deafness, an automatic defense mechanism against the apocalypse. This place and its creepy silence would barely phase her, though the sheer destruction would probably still make Mom look twice.

Ugh, and now Eri’s thinking about her parents, and missing them, and missing home all over again. Stupid brain. Mom isn’t here, and even if that absence of her—of anyone— aches more than even the silence, Eri just has to deal.

She finishes stretching out her arm and moves on to rolling her shoulder. Ow. Café stand floors are so not comfortable resting places. Which, speaking of…

“I can’t believe I slept on the floor,” Eri mutters to herself, rubbing at her neck. Shiki owes her for this. Shiki owes her… a reply and a call back, maybe. It’s not her phone, Eri’s pretty sure—she’d called her parents last night, said she was staying at a friend’s place, and learned in the ensuing conversation that according to the rest of the world, Shinjuku had never existed in the first place. What are you talking about, Eri? Ha, ha, ha.

This is so not how Eri wanted to spend her summer.

She takes a moment to cover her eyes and breathe, and then she rises to her feet and smacks the dust off her skirt. That’s probably as good as she’s going to get. It’s time to face the day.

Beat is waiting by the entrance, rubbing absently at his wrist. Eri comes up beside him. He eyes her. “You ready?”

She shrugs, and fusses a little with the bangle on her arm. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He frowns at her, a little. Eri stares coolly back.

“If you say so,” Beat says finally, and hands her a protein bar before heading out the door.

Eri takes the bar with a grimace, and follows after him. As they walk, she peels the bar open, chewing it glumly. Second worst thing about this endeavor. She’d been so shaken by, like, everything... she’d forgotten to prepare. No supplies, no food… no water.

Or so she’d thought, anyway. She’s still not sure what to make of the backpack of supplies they found when they stopped to rest, or of the way Beat lit up and went “Thanks, Coffee Man!” but like. After yesterday? It’s fine. It’s whatever.

She checks her phone—no messages getting through to Shiki, okay, okay—and then crumples the wrapper in her hand. Go time. Maybe she isn’t the fondest of Beat (or Rhyme, or Neku, but—) but, Eri can do this. She can. For Shiki, if nothing else. Eri’s feelings on the matter don’t mean shit in the face of yesterday: the way Shiki had gone dead white, the way her eyes had gone lifeless and blank and far-seeing at that phone call. The way she’d stared right through Eri— right through her, like she wasn’t there. Like nothing was there. Like for a moment, for Shiki, the whole world stopped turning.

And yeah, thank god, it hadn’t lasted long. Shiki had hung up the phone and gone scary intense instead, before running off to do—whatever it was she was planning. But Eri... Eri doesn’t think she’ll forget that look anytime soon.

And that matters too. Eri isn’t the fondest of Neku, but she’s never wanted him dead, and—and if that’s what Shiki looks like when Neku is gone, if that’s what taking Neku away does to Shiki... then yeah. Eri’s here. She’ll play this weird fucking murder game for dead kids and she’ll help skater-boy track down the cutesy girl with the gun and Eri is going to do whatever she can. Whatever it takes. Whatever’s needed to make sure Shiki never has to make that face again.

It just. Galls, a little. A tiny bit. Neku. Beat, Rhyme, etcetera. Why them? Eri knew Shiki longest. Eri has known Shiki for like, ever. Where did these people even come from? And why—why are they so—?

It’s not jealousy! Eri tells herself, now out on the streets proper and squinting up into the glaring white foggy day. Eri isn’t jealous. She’s not. It’s just weird, is all. It’s just— it’s always been just her and Shiki, before. She’s not sure where these strangers fit into that. She’s not sure why they have to.

She kicks a rock, somewhat vindictive. It bounces away very pitifully. Eri tilts back her head and sighs. Ow, daylight. Burning her cornea. Another thing she forgot: sunglasses.

She can’t see the sun, but this dead Shinjuku is bright anyway; it’s like it is reflecting the light tenfold. Makes sense, in a way. Empty buildings and blank screens—what else is it supposed to do if not reflect? It’s not like it’s got any image of its own to show.

Eri kicks another rock. It doesn’t even make a sound. God, this place is so creepy.

“Hey, uh...”

She resists the urge to sigh at him; her fingers clench. “What?”

Beat is walking with her, now, fallen back to match her pace. He rubs at his shoulder like he’s trying to press out an ache, and squints at her like she’s the sun. “You, uh... you sure you okay? ‘Cause like—”

“I already said I was fine.”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“Look,” she says, losing her patience. “I’m in a nightmare city in a nightmare place looking for fucking Neku Sakuraba and we’ve been here for hours and nothing’s happened and so far I think I’ve been holding together pretty damn well, so could we just—” She throws up her hands. “Can we not!”

She pauses, breathing hard. Beat looks away first. “Whatever, yo,” he says, a little stiff, and takes off down the street. “I won’t ask again, alright, I got it.”

There’s a brief flare of shame—he hasn’t even done anything, and here she is, yelling at him like he’s the cause for everything—but Eri is tired, and she’s just woken up, and she’s thinking of Shiki now, Shiki with Beat and Neku and Rhyme, the way Shiki smiled. And suddenly she doesn’t feel sorry at all. “Good.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say a word, just checks in another building. Turns away, and heads to the next one. Conversation apparently over. Well, that’s just fine with Eri.

Beat heads over to another ruin, though, and Eri lingers back, hand on her hip, starting to frown. He’d done this last night, too, before it got dark; Eri makes an incredulous noise. “Are we really checking every single building for this Reaper girl?” He’s not even checking them properly—one glance through the windows and gone.

Beat’s expression sours a little. “Yeah? So? Man, why aren’t you lookin’?”

“I don’t think we’re going to find her like that,” Eri informs him. “I mean—isn’t she—that’s too easy.”

“You got a better idea?” he says, but it seems rhetorical, because barely a second later he shakes his head hard, fists clenched and says, “Bah, figures,” which makes no sense at all, and then he makes a sharp, angry noise in the back of his throat, puts down his skateboard, and starts rolling away.

“I—you—what?” Eri stares after him. He gets further away. What the fuck? “Seriously!? Where are you going!”

He ignores her. “This is taking too long, yo!” He puts down his foot and stops with a jolt, and shakes his fist at the bleeding morning sky. “OI! Reaper girl! Coco! Get the fuck out here, man!”

Holy shit. He’s—he really just did that, Eri realizes. He left in the middle of her talking. He’s speeding away on his damn skateboard and yelling for the murderous Reaper with a gun while she—

Ugh.

What does Shiki see in these people?

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Eri cries, ineffectually, and jogs after him. He’s stopped, thank goodness—staring up at the sky with a scowl, hands curled to frustrated fists. His lip is getting worried through his teeth. His foot is tapping. “Oh my god. What were you thinking? What if she—and you—do you ever slow down?”

He blinks at the clouds and then turns and blinks down at her. “Nope,” he says, though he sounds a bit sheepish about it. His shoulders slump a bit. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave in the middle of the convo, just… ah, it’s just getting to me. Phones used to— anyway, sorry about that. I just thought...” He trails off. He stares with a furrowed brow over the city, and makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Man. You really don’t like Phones, do you?”

Eri has to mentally rewind their conversation for a few minutes until she gets it, and then she flushes a dull red. In a nightmare city in a nightmare place looking for fucking Neku Sakuraba… possibly, maybe, a bit obvious. Whoops. “I— look, I’m just frustrated. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Beat only shrugs. “Alright. If you say so. Rhyme always says I jump to conclusions…” He trails off again, and then shakes his head. “Well, anyway.” He takes a deep breath. “OI, COCO—”

Eri muffles a scream behind her teeth and lunges at him, dragging him back. Beat yelps. “Come on! You’re just drawing the attention of all those monsters to us! There’s obviously no way that’s actually going to w—”

Their phones ding at the same time. Eri chokes.

There’s a long moment of stiff silence. Beat reaches for his phone first.

“Don’t—”

He’s already opened it. Eri covers her face.

“…Damn,” Beat says, finally. The anger has fled from him; he sounds tired now, worn and a little frustrated. He presses a hand over his eyes. “She’s just messing with us.”

Eri warily reaches for her own phone—first café guy, and now this murderous Reaper, how do these people keep getting Eri’s number—and flips it open.

Her hand tightens at once. This is… what even is this? Eri has a set font for her phone, meticulously installed settings and everything, and somehow this text message has defied all of them. Coco has mangled the look of the kanji something awful; Eri wants to strangle her partly for the poor aesthetics and partly in revenge for her eyes.

Next to her, Beat shakes his head. “Argh, this doesn’t make any sense to me, yo. Hey, can you read this shit?”

Eri doesn’t grit her teeth, but it’s a near thing. Damn, she knew he’d ask. She flits her gaze back to the text message—big and ballooned and pink-lettering like the writer was trying to be cute, with so many hearts it makes the designer in Eri wrinkle her nose and sniff, tacky. Plus, she thinks—is that short-hand? Oh, fuck.

If she’d had better sleep, if she wasn’t exhausted, if there wasn’t a headache pounding behind her eyes, then maybe Eri would have some success parsing through it. As it is, she flips her phone shut. “No,” she says stiffly, but when Beat just nods and sighs and turns away, she relaxes a little. “Can you?”

He mutters. “Game… welcome… I think she’s asking us to play? Definitely from that damn Reaper girl, though.” He scowls, and flashes the signature at her; COCO, written out in English with a big and scrawling font.

Eri looks back to her phone with a clench to her gut.

Beat groans and snaps the phone shut. “Whatever, yo. Who cares what shit she has to say. Probably just a stupid game. Reapers love that stuff.”

Eri bites her lip and opens her phone again. No. Language still not computing. Still... “If it’s from the girl we’re tracking down, there might be a clue. Shouldn’t we—”

“Nah, it’s cool.” She frowns at him, but Beat grins back, wide and a little brash, and punches his fist into his palm. “Look, trust me on this one. I’ve got this, yo! They want a game, I’m not gonna play. Works every time.”

That doesn’t seem quite right to Eri. “Um.”

His smile falters a little. He rubs the back of his neck. “...Look, I—I, um, I’m not the smartest, I don’t get things sometimes, I get that, but— I dunno, it’s worked before, alright? People like Miss Chiff, you know, they want... they need people to play. And when I was in the Game...”

He makes a noise, waves his hand, as if trying to find the words. “I mean, they erase you if you don’t do the missions, sure, but shit like this is different, yo! When you don’t play, turns out they end up coming right to you. Get them mad, and then hit ‘em when they’re distracted, and bam! Reaper down!”

There’s a pause. Beat trails off at Eri’s stare, turning red, and looks away. “It, uh, worked for me and Phones, so I... never mind, you’re probably right, it’s stupid. Let’s—”

“Erase you?” Eri echoes, hollow, and Beat stops mid-word and blinks at her. “What do you mean, they erase you?”

Beat blanches. “Uh.”

Eri’s mind is whirling. “Do you mean—if you fail a mission, they kill you?” But then… “No. No, that doesn’t make sense, then why would it be erasure? That’s just murder.”

“Well, yeah, it is,” Beat says, looking uncertain. “But we were kind of already—”

He stops. Eri stops. Beat’s eyes go wide. “Oh,” he says, and then he starts waving his hands, laughing loudly and nervously. “Never mind, yo, t-that’s not—anyway, what about this weird-ass text, right—”

Eri isn’t listening anymore. “Already,” she says. Neku, shot dead by the murderous Reaper—he’s in the Reapers’ Game, a contest to come back to life, isn’t that what that weird café guy had said? And on second thought, with what she knows now: isn’t that odd? Isn’t that strange? Doesn’t that mean…

“Already,” she says again, and her breathing picks up. Oh no. Oh no. “But then—if that means—you have to be dead to get into the Game? But you were in the Game. I don’t understand. If Neku is—and you—but then, that means—”

The dream comes back to her. Eri claps a hand over her mouth. She falls to her knees.

“Woah, woah, woah, I— Eri— yo, you okay!?”

She should have realized this sooner, Eri thinks. She should have connected the dots as soon as Beat explained the Game to her, as soon as he’d said he was a Player too. That awful echo of a dream. All those questions about where and how and when Shiki met Neku, met Beat, met Rhyme.

“Shiki died?” she asks, and her voice is very small.

“Oh, shit,” Beat says, and kneels next to her, hands fluttering over her shoulders like he doesn’t know what to do. Eri has the same goddamn tick. Somehow that hits her hardest of all; she starts hiccupping. The alarm on Beat’s face deepens to panic. “Oh man, no, I— she’s not! Anymore! We got out, yo, we all came back. Good as new!”

And now, at last, she has a better idea of why they all called it the Game. She thinks she might be sick. She wipes at her eyes. “Y-you won?”

“Well, that’s... y-yeah.” Beat looks away. Then he looks back at her. “Shiki’s alright. And she’s strong. Whatever she’s doing now, she’s probably kicking ass. Maybe even beating us to Phones, or the Reaper girl.” His smile is weak and false, but it stretches wide on his face. “I don’t— I don’t know much. Sorry. But she’s okay, yo, I can feel it. And when this is done you can go and yell at her all you like.” He awkwardly claps her shoulder. Eri presses her hands against her eyes, the sudden crying fit fading as quickly as it started. “You... uh...”

She exhales, slowly. Her head pounds. “F-fine. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” She brushes his hand away—kinder, this time—and rises unsteadily to her feet. Games and Reapers and Shiki dying. She supposes she understands why Shiki went so blank in the eyes, before. It feels a little like getting hollowed. “Let’s... let’s talk about something else.”

“Uh... well, okay, but—”

“Plan,” Eri tells herself, and rubs at her cheeks. Ugh, makeup smeared everywhere. She rubs at it harder. It’s already faded from the night—and who cares how put together she looks right now? It’s the damn apocalypse, or something. “You said you had a plan?”

“Well... nah, never mind it, it was kind of stupid—”

But Eri remembers it now, and she rubs at her face one last time and takes a deep breath, thinking. “Don’t play their games. Anger her into coming to us.” She exhales carefully, and swallows down the last stray sob in her throat. “That... that could work.”

Beat brightens at once. “Yo, you think so?”

“…Yeah.” Her breathing is settling. She blinks and shakes her head and straightens. “Y-yeah. If we—I mean, this message... she responded to you. She’s paying attention. She’s trying to make us do something. and if we don’t do it...” If they just ignore it entirely, or do something so out of bounds ridiculous... this is a girl who was willing to kill someone for this, whatever her goals are, right? So she’s taking this seriously. She’s got plans.

The more she thinks about it, the more it clicks. Because really, Eri thinks. What better way to draw the mastermind to you, than to treat the mastermind in question as irrelevant? She’s pretty sure she saw it work in a movie once, or something.

And hey, even if it doesn’t work... at least they tried. One option down.

She feels a little more settled now. She tugs at her skirt hem and gives Beat a weak smile. “Hey, works for me.”

“Really? Aw, hell yeah!” He punches the air. His face tightens, a brief flash of pain, but Eri blinks and a second later its gone. Beat shakes his head and laughs it off. “Man, I was worried for a second there. I know you don’t like me, so I thought that you’d—”

“—What?”

“—shut me... what?”

“It’s not... I don’t... I don’t dislike you,” Eri says, and feels it burn in her cheeks like heat.

He frowns at her. “I don’t mind it,” he says, slowly. “But you think we don’t see the looks you give us? Me and Phones?” He rubs at his hat. “Now if it was at Rhyme, that’s nuts, but it’s whatever, I guess. Can’t like everybody. We’re cool, man.”

Some part of Eri is horrified. “You—” They noticed? Oh god. Had Shiki noticed? Oh no. “I don’t hate you,” she says, and she means it, but she’s bright red anyway. Ughhh. “And I—I wouldn’t shut you down even if I did. I wouldn’t. You have some pretty good ideas sometimes.”

Beat looks back at her with raised eyebrows like she’s said something silly and it actually hurts, a little, to see that. “You do. I mean it. Maybe you don’t think things through, and maybe you rush ahead a lot, but that’s—that’s not—” She doesn’t have the words for this, the language, and she bites her tongue hard and shakes her head. “I actually kind of— can I tell you something?”

He blinks at her. “Uh… ‘course.”

“Thanks.” Eri takes a deep breath. “I want, more than anything—I’ve always wanted to be a designer.”

He nods. “Like Shiki!”

“Yeah.” The reminder of Shiki warms her. She imagines Shiki’s smile, her quiet encouragement, the way she took scribbles and half-hearted dreams and turned them into something real, something Eri could hold in her hands and look at and really, really see. I can do this. With you, I can do anything.

She wonders if Shiki will ever know just how much that moment meant to Eri. Maybe not.

“Yeah,” Eri says, more decided now. The things Shiki gave to Eri… maybe she can pay it forward. Give it to Beat, too. “But some people—I mean—trends are fickle. So is design. And, and I’ve had people tell me… that I’m an airhead, I’m vapid and s-self-centered and fake because I like clothes and I like how they make me look and wanting to make clothes isn’t—isn’t—well. You know.” She makes her voice high and mocking. “It’s a bad idea.”

Beat is staring at her. “What, seriously? Why? Look, trends don’t make much sense to me, but staying on top of them—making shit that a whole lotta people wanna wear—” He shakes his head. “That’s amazing, yo!”

“I know,” Eri says, and smiles a little. “I… um, confession time, I guess? But I’m not too good at math. And… I— I have a lot of trouble reading. Um, anything. It’s just brain stuff.” He’s watching her, intently, and her eyes drop and skitter across the ground. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I get it. Not… getting things. If that makes sense. But that doesn’t make me—doesn’t make you—we’re not—” She struggles for the words. “I’m never going to just… Argh!”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, I—”

“I hear you,” Beat says, a little quieter, and Eri shuts up and looks at him fully now, scanning his face, trying to make sure he means it. He grins at her. “Rhyme says it too, and they’re plenty smart; if both of you are telling me, I guess there’s gotta be some truth to it, huh?”

“Guess so,” Eri echoes. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t just shut you down. I’ve been listening. I promise.” She hopes so.

Beat shakes his head. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, yo. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you wouldn’t… just, I don’t really have something I’m good at. Not like you and Shiki, or even Phones. And Rhyme, man, you should see them go, they’re good at everything. But me…”

He pauses. “I haven’t found… what clicks for me, yo.” Beat stares at the ground. “Never did, even before this whole mess. Guess I’m just a little nervous I won’t ever find it.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Listening,” Eri says, awkward, and shuffles on her feet, thinking back to last night. “Really… really hearing people. I think you understand what’s important, Beat.” She offers him a weak smile. “I’m sorry for earlier. I’m not mad at you, I didn’t mean— it’s not you. You’re fine. I just, I don’t know. Shiki cares a lot about you guys. And you always make her... she always smiles so much.” The way she trusts Neku. The way Beat will say one thing and Shiki’s eyes will light up, bright with fondness. The way the very sight of Rhyme is enough to make Shiki smile. “I wish I could do that too.”

“Understandin’ what’s important, huh?” He rubs the back of his head, looking almost bashful. “Y-you think so?”

There is a memory in the back of Eri’s mind—faint, distant, watery as a dream. You aren’t meant to be a designer and the way Shiki’s face had fallen flat, like Eri had stabbed her instead. If Eri could have listened better, maybe she would have seen it earlier. Maybe she could have understood why it hurt Shiki to hear that. And maybe, just maybe, she could have known what Shiki needed to hear instead.

“Yes,” Eri says. “I absolutely do.”

Beat smiles at her, bright and beaming. Eri looks back at him, quieter now, and for a moment she tries to see him fully. Tries to see what Shiki must see in him. He’s a kind listener. He’s brash and bold and loud. He’s got a good heart, even if he fumbles with it.

Maybe she’s got this all wrong. Maybe she really hasn’t been listening, or seeing him, the way she should. Maybe Eri can do better, be better, and take a chance to know this person who has found his way into Shiki’s life so perfectly, and see how maybe he can start fitting into hers too.

Maybe, she thinks. Maybe.

But for now, she loops her arm with Beat’s like she does with her friends, and offers him a more genuine smile. “Let’s give that Reaper girl hell,” she says, and when Beat throws back his head and whoops in agreement, fist raised, Eri taps his fist back with a grin stretching ear to ear.

And just maybe, she thinks—maybe she can do this after all.

[pbandjesse]

Today was a really nice and relaxing day. I just let myself be soft and lazy. And it was nice. I got to spend time alone. And see my brother and eat food and play with the dogs and it was really good.

I had weird dreams again last night. I didn't sleep as poorly but lots of dreams. I woke up in the middle of the night had to get changed because I was both hot and cold so I put on the new robot. That's wonderful. I'm sad that I can't bring it home this time just because I have nowhere to put it but I will enjoy it tonight at least.

But I woke up in the morning and I had slept in till like 10. Not my ideal time but it was fine I don't have anywhere to be. I lazily got up and got dressed. I was wearing one outfit and I change them for the outfit of my photo but I eventually changed back into the original outfit. Because it was way warmer outside than it was in here. But I had my cereal and watched videos for a while. My brother came over to get the car from my dad so he can go to a job interview. And then my dad also went out and my mom was already gone for the day. So I was home alone.

And it was great. I got to be in the house and it was quiet and I kind of just existed in here and I eventually I got changed and I went outside to sit under the umbrella and enjoy. I watch dr. Phil and played with the dogs. Then my dad came home. And he came and sat outside with me while he ate lunch. And then eventually my brother came back. He was a little bit later than he anticipated but it was fine I wasn't in any rush.

My dad gave us money so we can go to Five Guys for lunch. My brother drove us there. And I told him the whole story about ships and what happened. It sucks I'm sad that I have to leave the job but it's nice to have everyone around me and supporting me and my decision and the reasoning behind it. And it was really good talking to him. He showed me his tooth that he had a root canal on the he never got a cat put on and it is absolutely falling apart it looks horrible and I'm very scared for him. But thankfully he still has insurance and he's under 26. He needs to get that fixed because it looks at me my Temple Health it's already screwed up but he's thankfully not going to have to pay thousands of dollars out-of-pocket for it. And he told me everything else that's been going on and I got caught up and it was nice. I love him a lot and I'm glad we got to spend some time together where I didn't feel like he was in a million other places.

We went to the park and sat across the Creek from our old house. And I took pictures of my Shelby with flowers because the whole park was unkempt and it was beautiful. Just Flowers everywhere. And he tried to do a pull-up on the monkey bars and smashed the top of his head. I won't be surprised if he has an egg on there tomorrow. But it was really nice spending time with him and telling stories and talking about stuff. Finally another family came with their big old dog and we have to pack them but we laughed. We came back home and we were all laying in Mom's bedroom with her and the dogs and Dad came in and we were just kind of a nice little family. Dad offered to order us food and right before that Steve's girl Felicia came over and it was good to see her. They were cracking each other's backs and it was horrifying but it was nice to see her.

They all kind of ate our meals separately but it was good. I kind of bounced between the kitchen and my bedroom. And then sitting in the living room with everyone else telling each other facts about stuff. I'm watching a World War II documentary in half arguing about what is appropriate to post on Facebook. It was nice being all together.

Around 9 I eventually took a long bath. And I feel much better now. I did some laundry so all of my clothes going to Jesse's house tomorrow or going to be clean which is ideal. And then I went out and sat with Mom and Steve and watch this really interesting PBS talk about reconstruction after the Civil War. It was really cool. Love learning about black history. I learned about American history like that too.

But I am getting very tired. My jaw hurts a lot today and I think it's half because of sinuses and I have just because my teeth are horrible and continue to just bother me my entire life. I'm going to go try to go to sleep soon and hopefully it won't be as annoying as it has been. The moon is full tonight and it just looks so pretty. I hope you're all enjoying it. Sleep well everyone

[amidel]

Day Six

On Friday, you returned from spending the Christmas holiday with your family and all I could think about was how excited I was to see you. We’d spent two weeks apart, which is typical for the end of the year when there’s so much to do and so little time. I got to your apartment on Saturday evening and could immediately sense that something was off. We bantered and you seemed tired, so I chalked it up as being the result of an 11h drive back from Nashville. I mentioned a few times how much I’d missed you and how excited I was to have you back. You said it was good to be back.

We watched five hours of The Marvelous Mrs Maisel and went to bed... I slept restlessly and the next morning you told me you couldn’t fall asleep until 3am. I found that weird since you were the one who asked to go to sleep, but oh well. I picked at my french toast (that you had left the house at 9am to get eggs and milk to make with) and the feeling of anxiety and unease continued to simmer. By the time we got to my house later on Sunday, I felt like I was bracing myself. For what, I didn’t know yet. Leah headed out the door and you rang out your usual “see you later!”. And then it was just the two of us.

I would’ve been tense either way, but the episode of Bob’s Burgers that was on wasn’t helping. I asked you if you were upset with me, and you said no, but didn’t meet my eye until you noticed I was holding your gaze. I paused the episode a few minutes later, and you sat up and turned to me. Before you opened your mouth, I felt like I already knew what was coming. There were a few phrases that stuck out, and others that feel like a blur.

“So I did a lot of thinking over the past week.”

“I’ve been unhappy for the past few months.”

“In your grad essays, you mentioned that you want to move home to Senegal, and I don’t think I’m in a position to do that with you.”

“Our futures and what we want aren’t aligned.”

“You want to sit on the couch and watch TV all day.”

“You like to lie in in the mornings on weekends and that drives me crazy. I can’t do it and I hate that.”

“We exist in your context. In your apartment. With your friends.”

“You want to spend a lot of time with me...”

I think this is the point at which I asked if we were having a conversation or if you had made up your mind. You responded with the latter... still, I offered my reactions. Logically, I took issue with your remarks on my habits and who we spend time with, for reasons that seem pretty obvious. I don’t know how many opportunities I’ve given you over the past year and four months to voice concerns, to tell me you’re not happy, to tell me how to make things better for us... you rarely took me up on any of them. 

The issue of grad school is valid and one that I think would have merited a conversation (that you said we weren’t having). The others, I try not to resent you for. What it comes down to is that you no longer wanted to be in a relationship, with me.. with someone else.. that, I don’t know. What I do know is that relationships are built on trust, communication, and commitment. There are so many things about the future that I don’t know, and I’d be lying if I said that there weren’t niggling thoughts in the back of my mind that shouted out some of the ways we were different (maybe too much so). But every day, I woke up and chose you and chose us. Because those naysayers in the back of my head were spoilers and I believed in us more than I believed what they were saying. 

Man, I love(d) you. I guess I need to get to the point where that’s in the past tense. I think you were trying to protect yourself and me when you brought up the varying reasons why it wasn’t going to work... it’s hurtful to tell someone that you said you loved just the day before that you were no longer interested in being in a relationship with them. I get that, and I forgive you. But for better or worse, my rational side has gone over that conversation in different stages of grief - irritated, disappointed, sad, heartbroken, ambivalent - and each time I see it in a new light.

You said that in many other ways, I was an excellent and amazing partner and that I shouldn’t take this as a reflection of who I am as a person. You asked if we could be friends eventually. I said that I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me, and that I would need some space. You mentioned how calm I was... I said I was heartbroken but processing and would respect your decision. 

Today is Saturday. Juice cleanse aside, I slept poorly most of the week and have barely eaten. Though for some reason I can’t seem to have a proper cry about this, my body’s definitely reacting to the sense of loss I feel. I am eternally grateful for my support system and network of friends and family who surround me. This week would have been exponentially harder without them. I still woke up on a few mornings with my heart heavy, but I have been getting through each day. One after the next. I still went to Yara’s party on New Year’s Eve and our belated holiday gathering last night. Baby steps.

Weekends are going to be the hardest part. We had an on/off schedule during the weekdays but I knew weekends were for me and you. Finding things to do so I don’t end up sitting on the couch feeling sad is almost in direct conflict to how I want to cope. But it’s probably the healthiest option to go after. Nothing against wallowing, but balance is important. Today is the first Saturday since our breakup and I went to brunch with Dueaa and Leah A in NE DC. We drove through regular traffic and every time I saw a white Jeep, my heart skipped a beat. 

So. I don’t think we can be friends yet. Maybe when my heartbeat settles.

I had a slip-up and sent you a link on Twitter on Thursday. It was about Obama and Hamilton and while I think you appreciated it, I definitely just felt the need to be connected to you somehow. I told you about my juice cleanse and how I’m starting therapy. You seemed happy for me but didn’t offer any updates about yourself. As Yara pointed out, I need to get used to the idea that you’ve lost the privilege of knowing how I feel, my hopes and dreams, and my life updates. The nitty gritty crevices that people in your inner circle are kept abreast of. You were polite and encouraging in your responses. You’ve always been polite - that’s what drew me to you. So well-mannered. But I was right when I asked you for space on Sunday. This half-in, half-out isn’t going to work.

I think the hardest part is breaking habits: not texting you in the morning when I wake up, or when something reminds me of you, or the mindless banter on GChat that would make my work day a little less draining. 

I don’t regret any part of being with you. I think a part of me knew that I was more “in it” than you were... you were never overt about it, but I guess time together helped teach me how to read you. I keep telling myself that I’m glad this happened now as opposed to in the summer when I would be moving or changing things in my life. Imagine making a decision thinking you and someone else were on the same page, and it turns out you were reading different books. Now that’s heartbreaking. 

Still. It doesn’t make it easier. My rational thoughts have won out this week, but I’m dreading the moment that my emotions catch up. Though, I wouldn’t be mad at a healthy cry. How do I feel now?

Relieved that I started 2019 with the people who want to be in my life. Still sad. Thankful for the people around me. Lonely that it’s a Saturday and I’m on my couch with music and my thoughts for company. Happy that while it didn’t last, we had a year and four months of growth, love, and respect. Nervous that I’ll see another white Jeep and that’ll be what brings the tears on. 

All I can do is take things a day at a time. This is weekend one. Next will be weekend two, and so on, so forth. It’s an odd and disappointing feeling to feel unwanted, but I also understand that not all things last. And I’d rather know now so other blessings can come my way. I keep thinking I want to be six months out from this already so hopefully I’m in better spirits. But that’s not how that works. 

So today is day six. I went to brunch, spoke to my mum and younger sister, and had a call with Camryn. I started reading Michelle Obama’s new book. And it’s pretty damn good (already). Maybe journaling will help me process how I’m feeling at the moment. Maybe it won’t. But it’s a step. 

[sincerely-us-imagines]

#45: a passionate kiss (connor murphy x reader)

@insanelycoolconnormurphy requested this (and two others that i’ll have up tomorrow!!) so!! here it is!

it’s past 1 am here and i’m super tired so i didn’t proof this (and i typed it out on mobile) so there’s bound to be some mistakes, so please point out any you see and i’ll edit it tomorrow! thanks!!

warnings: super cliche and poorly written but nothing else really

Connor watched, mesmerized, from his doorway across the bathroom as you blow dried your hair.

You, along with Alana, had spent the night at Zoe’s doing typical teenage girl slumber party things (painting nails, giving each other wild hairstyles and crazy makeovers) the night before. The three of you decided to grab some lunch at the mall food court and do some shopping today, and you preferred not to go out in last night’s smeared makeup and hair sprayed do’s, so into the shower it was.

You flipped back up from drying the underside of your hair and looked in the mirror. You made eye contact with Connor, who looked rather dazed.

“Hey!” you shouted cheerily over the noise of the dryer.

His reflection’s brows were knit together “What?” he hollered back, barely audible. You rolled your eyes and shut off the dryer.

The second it was off Zoe emerged from her room, giving a weird look to Connor before stopping in the doorway.

“You’re finally done?” she asked with mock exasperation.

You weren’t, actually, your hair was still mostly damp, but you agreed anyway, stepping out to allow her to shower and get ready.

Connor was still by his door when you stepped into the hallway.

“You wanna uh, come in?” he asked as though you were on a date standing in front of his house.

A date? With Connor Murphy? In your fucking dreams. you thought to yourself. you felt the tips of your ears turning pink at the thought. You shook the thought from your head and smiled at Connor before stepping into his room.

It was kinda messy, but not dirty, and smelled like weed and plug in Glade fresheners. Probably to try to mask the odor. It wasn’t working very well.

Looking around, Connor’s desk chair held a pile of laundry, as did his bed, though its pile was flattened as though it had been slept on. his desktop, however, was clean, so you pulled yourself up to sit on it.

Connor laughed a little and leaned beside you on the desk.

“I would’ve cleared a spot if you asked.”

“This is fine,” you shrugged.

It was silent for a moment after that. Your mind was racing (Connor’s was as well, though you had no way of knowing this).

You’d had a crush on Connor since the first time you met him.

You were in eighth grade and Zoe invited you over for the first time. She told you to go on up to her room while she fixed snacks, so up the stairs you went. You realized as you stood in the hallway that you didn’t know which room was hers. You knew the door at the end of any hall was usually the master bedroom, and the bathroom door was open, so that left three options: The closed door beside the bathroom, and the two on the opposite wall. You opened the door closest to you, which turned out to be a storage closet. You then moved to the door directly across from the bathroom, and was startled when a cute teenage boy a year or two older than you looked up from his book, blank faced.

“Oh, sorry, I was uh, looking f-for Zoe’s, um, room?”

“My sister’s room is the other one, beside the bathroom.” he said plainly, looking back to his book.

“Thanks,” you stood there a moment longer, admiring his features. “Um, I’m (y/n) by the way.”

“Connor.” his voice was flat and he didn’t look back up.

You nodded, interpreting his curt response as an end to your conversation (if you could even call it that), and closed his door. From that moment on, despite his less than friendly attitude, you were absolutely smitten.

So here you were, sitting in the room of your long time crush, in very close proximity, and trying to keep a cool demeanor. It was easier than it used to be, the two of you becoming something akin to friends in the past few years. But the butterflies still remained. You tried to will them to settle down, tell them that yeah, you were excited too, but they really weren’t helping at all.

Your attempt didn’t last long, though. You nearly choked when Connor asked the question he’d been wanting to for a quite while.

“Sooo... you got a boyfriend yet?”

Who the hell starts a conversation like that??

You laughed nervously, “Yet? The way it looks, I never will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That literally no one will ever find me desirable in any way, shape, or form.”

You began to regret the bitter remark when Connor didn’t respond. It was a full minute of silence before he spoke again.

“Guess I’m no one then, huh?”

You swear to god your heart stopped for a few seconds. Did he mean what you think he meant by that?

“W-what?” you stammered, not knowing what else to say.

Connor moved from your side to in front of you, standing between your knees with his hands resting on your thighs. You were positive he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

“I find you pretty damn desirable, (y/f/n) (y/l/n).” He said lowly, rubbing his hands back and forth.

Was this really happening? This couldn’t possibly be real, could it? This was a dream, it had to be. There’s no way Connor really—

Your disbelief came to an abrupt stop as Connor closed the distance between you, pressing his lips roughly against yours, his hands traveling from your thighs to your waist and pulling you close.

As soon as the shock subsided and the reality of the situation kicked in, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed back deeply.

The way his lips moved against yours was heavenly. The butterflies in your stomach were celebrating and you didn’t mind at all.

“Wanted that so goddamn long.” he murmured against your mouth when he pulled away.

You tucked a loose wave behind his ear and smiled.

“Me too.” As If on cue, Zoe called out from the hallway, “(y/n), Alana, let’s go!”

You cleared your throat and looked away shyly, “Guess i should probably...” you gesture towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor replies quickly, backing away to give you room. You slid off the desk and planted one more soft kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you later?” you ask with a small smile.

“Of course, yeah, yeah.” his face was pink and he was flustered. It was cute.

With that, you opened the door and stepped into the hallway, Alana and Zoe both raising their eyebrows at you.

“What were you doing in there?” Zoe questioned, arms crossed over her chest.

“J-Just talking, y’know, catching up and... stuff.” Your friends eyed you suspiciously but didn’t say anything else, just walked down the stairs and out to Zoe’s car. You followed along, smiling the whole time.

[milverton]

I went to see polo last Sunday! I also had a weird dream about my cat and I saw the queen of UK.

I got free tickets to the polo from work. I didn’t initially even ask for tickets when they were first offered, but then the guy offering them send another email to everyone in the office saying there were still tickets available, so I though why not? When would I otherwise ever go see polo?

I slept really poorly the night before for some reason and as a result had a weird dream.

My cat, Beyond, was dead. And I didn’t know what to do with the body, so I wrapped it in a shirt or something and put in the freezer (this actually happened with our family’s cat when he died and it was mid-winter, so we couldn’t bury him).

But then...I had another Beyond. And I knew it wasn’t the original. And I knew it would die soon, too. Or expire or something. Two days went by and I was starting to doubt if Beyond was really dead. I was sure he was, but then again there was this another one... So I went to open the freezer, because I had to know. And there he was. I unwrapped the bundle and the body was entirely frozen and unmoving. Until it wasn’t. It started moving. He got up and now there were two Beyonds!

Except that then their fur turned white and all the spots became different pastel colours. And then they both ran off! I had to find them because there were two undead cats running around. There was bunch of other stuff, too, but eventually I found one of them. I was sitting on a sofa or something and I was scratching him behind the ear, but I wasn’t looking at him. Then suddenly I felt him bite me. Not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely bite me. I turned to look down and there were teeth coming out of his ear. His ears had become mouths!

That’s pretty much it about the dream. 

I went to the polo with my Finnish housemate. We took a train to Windsor, because I’ve never been there and wanted to go since it’s close to the polo place. We spent a few hours there, walking around and shopping a little.

The polo had been going on all day, but we got there for the last half. i’m not a horse person, though I did ride horses for a year or so when I was a kid. I never really even figured out which team was which or what exactly was happening, but it was still interesting to see. The field was way bigger than I expected.

And then turned out the queen and some other UK royals were there. I don’t really acre about royals tbh, but I’m happy to have the bragging rights to “I was at the same polo match” and “i saw her up close”. xD I must say, she pales in comparison to Carrie Fisher. Seeing Carrie was magical. True royalty!

[one-hundred-year-ocean-blog]

TW // ABUSE - Sarah Cowell

Yesterday while I was out of state working at a friend’s screen printing shop someone hit me up to let me know that Sarah Cowell wrote a post calling me out for emotional abusing her for years. They sent me the text version of what was posted because I have had my facebook deactivated for a while now. I am only reactivating to make this statement. I am making this post as an attempt to clarify a lot of the things she claimed I had done to her and try to understand why she wants to hurt me so much. I am going to take this piece by piece with screen shots of all of our conversations we’ve ever had online. The only problem is that I can’t go back far enough in the archives of our facebook conversations to clarify the situation where I expressed having feelings for her. 

“My first interaction with Nicole Shanholtzer was on the night of April 2, 2013. My band had self-released our first EP, and she had found it. She messaged us on Tumblr that night saying she wanted to put it out on tape and we were beyond thrilled. Broken World Media was a dream label for us. Over the next few months we met a few times, she made us tapes, and she and I talked online almost everyday.One night that summer she messaged me asking to talk. She told me that she was in love with me (at the time, she was married), and I panicked. I did not have feelings for her, and told her this - I was 20 years old at the time and didn't want to break up someone's marriage. It was awkward. She didn't talk to me for a while afterwards. I was worried she would stop being my friend, or stop working with my band. I didn't know what to do. She made it seem like I had led her on in some way, and what had happened was my fault. I felt like I was going to lose everything because I didn't reciprocate her feelings. Both our business and personal relationships were on the line.” I found Sarah’s band on tumblr and fell in love with their EP, I did reach out and we became friends. We spoke a lot online and I was very excited about getting to know her and how great I thought her band was. We did talk a lot online and I also talked about her with my ex-wife Katie often. I thought Sarah was incredibly talented and I was very very excited about our growing friendship. Katie began to playfully tease me about having a crush on Sarah and I did. Katie and I had talked a lot about being open in our relationship and also being into the idea of bringing other people into our sex. I mistook Katie teasing me as encouragement of my interest in Sarah. I told Sarah that I had feelings for her. I never said “I’m in love with you”, I never thought I was putting my marriage at risk. It was an awkward conversation I suppose but I most certainly never felt that Sarah was also into me and never did I express that I felt like she led me on or that any of it was her fault. I never pressured her to reciprocate the feelings. The very next day Katie and I had a long conversation about it, she was very upset, I apologized and didn’t realize I was overstepping boundaries in our relationship. We resolved the situation with what I said before, I mistook Katie playfully teasing me about having a crush on Sarah as encouragement. I then had a conversation with Sarah about it and told her about my conversation with Katie. I apologized for putting her in an awkward place. At absoutely no point in the conversation did I ask or like demand that she feel the same way. I never threaten her band’s future ability to work with my label, I cared a lot about their music and did everything in my power to help them.  I felt dumb and ashamed for expressing those feelings to Sarah. I also was in no way trying to give up on my marriage to try to pursue Sarah. My archives of our facebook conversations unfortunately will net let me go back far enough to show you screen shots of our conversation. I never made it seem like we couldn’t work together if she didn’t reciprocate my feelings. This was the last time we ever talked about the situation until a few years later while we were at The Fest in Florida where while she was blackout drunk kept bringing up the situation from years ago where I told her I had feelings for her. I kept telling her it was upsetting and I didn’t want to have it brought up. She kept grabbing my hands and taking me away from our group of friends so say incoherent shit and lean on me. When she was finally done talking about it she asked me to hug her, so I did. The hug went on for a minute and i tried to end it. She would not let me go even though I was clearly trying to end the hug. I spent the rest of the night with Katie crying and talking to her about how Sarah reopened a wound for something I was very ashamed of. Below is proof that facebook won’t let me go back further into our archives so I can’t revisit this years old conversation, I can just retell it as I remember it and know that within the next few days I apologized to Sarah and talked her about my conversation with Katie about how I felt I was being encouraged to be interested in her. I was wrong, and I apologized. Here is a messaged she sent me after her blackout episode at fest where she upset me a lot:

“She didn't talk to me for a while afterwards“

I remember talking to Sarah about the conversation I had with Katie like the next day or within a few days. Before I had expressed my feelings for Sarah we had already made plans for Sarah and members of her band to travel to my house in Willimantic CT to hang out for the weekend. At first Katie did not want them to come up and hang out because she was still hurt. We talked more about it and Sarah and members of For Everest came up. We hung out in my band’s practice space and jammed some music, drank some whiskey. Later that night we were hanging out on my porch with the whiskey and I jokingly said to Nick Pitamn that he needed to take a big pull of the whiskey to “prove he wasn’t Greg”, to clarify for anyone unfamiliar I’m referring to Greg Horbal who was a member of TWIABP for a while that we liked to pick on him and refer to him as Shitty Greg for being being a little shitty. We all definitely loved and cared a lot for Greg even if we probably picked on him more than he deserved. Greg was / is / probably always will be straight edge. This was the origin of reoccurring drinking game we called “PROVE YOU ARE NOT GREG”, Sarah references this later in her post and I will get to that in a bit.

This is a screen shot of as far back as facebook would allow me to review our conversation. It says “facebook user” because we have each other blocked. Also her grown ass father has sent me multiple harassing messages on facebook.

“A few months later, I started dating David. Bad timing, probably, all things considered, but I felt very strongly for him and we just clicked. She was not happy with this, and she would frequently treat me poorly and say mean things that I won't disclose. She is a mean person, that is her thing, but I did what I could to make her happy, to keep us on good terms. I didn't just have myself to think about, but David. I was worried what would happen to both of us if she decided to cut ties with us. She constantly makes people feel like they can't get by without her, like she is necessary, that you need her.“

What I can remember is that before Dave and Sarah ever met in person I had talked about her with Dave and pretty much said that I knew Dave would definitely be into her. I told Dave about the weird situation that happened before and said something along the lines of like I would probably feel heartbroken if you got with her. Half joking, half serious. It was still difficult thing for me to navigate. At one point the band and Sarah were hanging out a friend’s apartment in Brooklyn. I don’t remember if this was the first time they met. As the night went on Dave and Sarah spent a lot of time together and it became apparent he was into her. Dave and I talked before anything happened between them. I said that my problem is dumb and shouldn’t get in the way of them wanting to be with each other. If any of my actions after this point seemed resentful that was not my intention. I never told her i wasn’t ok with her dating Daveand I did not start to treat her poorly, If we had any sort of animosity towards each other it is probably because we are both pretty hot headed people. I don’t know what Sarah claimed I said to her but I have no recollection of saying mean shit to her about her relationship with Dave. After this point I will be posting a lot of screenshots from our conversations on facebook over the years. I would be willing to share the entire transcript if ever asked. The point of most of this is show how close our friendship was and negate some of the claims she made in her post

“One day in the summer of 2014, I confronted her and told her I wanted things to be like they were before. I wanted to fix whatever weirdness had happened between us. She apologized, and offered to bring me on tour with TWIABP as a merch person, which I did.

“On that tour, she would get upset if I gave someone else more attention than I gave her. She would get annoyed that David and I slept next to each other. She would buy me drinks and get me too fucked up at shows. This was something that occurred multiple times over the next few years. If I didn't want to drink or party or hang out, I was being a bad friend. I had to push the boundaries with her, and if I declined, she would make me feel small. She would encourage me to play a game were you would drink as much as possible to "prove" you weren't straight edge.”

The tour this in reference to was with Posture & The Grizzly. A few of us in TWIABP played as Jordan’s backing band. Jordan is one of my best friends in the world and I feel like I spent the entire tour with him just getting fucked up. I could tell that Jordan (being a young and a very sloppy annoying drunk) was irritating Dave and Sarah. At one point I felt like they were bullying Jordan for accidentally spilling a drink and I got upset, stood up for him, said something like “You don’t have to be a fucking asshole about it” to her and walked off. I don’t know why Sarah believes that I treated them like shit for dating each other. I was happy they were together. If I did anything else on that tour that was mean to her it was likely because I didn’t like the way she and Dave were treating Jordan. I am a mean person, I have anger problems, and a lot of issues with controlling my emotions, I’m going to touch on that a lot more in my next post. To me, and a lot of I know that have been friends with Sarah, she is also a mean person. She can be hotheaded, quick to anger, etc. If there was any sort of problems between us i believe is was because of our issues with being assholes all the time. Never because she started dating my friend. I also never forced / pressured her to party or drink more. We both drank a lot and sort of enabled each other. I’m sorry that she now feels this way. I drink way too much, I like to get too drunk with my friends, I have a drinking problem. I was in no way intentionally trying to get Sarah more fucked up than she was comfortable with. I tend to gravitate more to people who also drink a lot because I want relationships that help enable and perpetuate my alcoholism and substance abuse problems. As far as I could tell, we were on the same page about getting fucked up. We had a lot of conversations about our issues with substance abuse and the way we drank and how it was starting to effect our relationships. She also references the “prove your not greg” drinking game we made up that I explained in the previous paragraph. To me this was an inside joke and a form of us bonding / enabling each other to drink more. I’m confused and hurt about how she presented it in her call out post. He are some examples of many many conversations we had with each other about our drinking and drug use, some celebratory and some out of concern for ourselves.

One night, she got into a physical fight with someone and kicked me out of her house for speaking up about it (I had nowhere to go so I took a cab to a train station and stood outside all night). Afterwards, she threatened to throw away everything I had left at her house, and cancelled a run of shirts she was printing for my band, leading me to believe she was dropping us. She never apologized, and in fact asked ME to apologize to HER. After a few weeks she pretended like it never happened.“

This is a very selective retelling of the situation. It is scary that she wants me to hurt so bad that she would blatantly lie. Before the screen shots of our conversation I will explain exactly what happened on the last night of our tour with Posture & The Grizzly. It was apparent after weeks of touring with Jordan that Dave was very annoyed with his behavior. Jordan got very sloppily drunk constant and was pretty disrespectful to others on the tour when he was very drunk. Jordan was very young then and is not that kind of a drunk anymore. On the last night of tour in Boston Jordan was very very drunk and pissing everyone on the tour off. He was kicked out of the venue after his set and was blacked out for most of the night. I don’t know what exactly he did to Dave to piss him off so bad, I was wasn’t very aware because I was also stupid drunk. On the 2 hour drive home from Boston Jordan passed out in the backseat of the van with me. Sarah texted in the van and said something along the lines of “heads up, Dave is really pissed at Jordan and has been texting me about kicking his ass when we get home” and I just responded “That isn’t going to happen”, to me it didn’t seem like Sarah was discouraging Dave from hurting Jordan. I can’t say for sure. Jordan is blackout drunk and slept the entire drive home. Dave got out of the van and stood by the door. I woke up Jordan to let him know we were at my house and he needed to get out of the van. The second he stepped out of the van Dave grabbed Jordan and threw him to the ground and to me it looked like he was about to start kicking him /  attacking him. I jumped out of the van as fast as I could and punched Dave once in the face and then grabbed him by his hair on the back of his head and started yelling at him “What the fuck do you think you’re doing???” As this happens Sarah gets out of the van and starts yelling at me. My immediate reaction was that she was mad that I wasn’t letting Dave kick Jordan’s ass. I stopped what I was doing and said “Both of you need to get the fuck out of here, you are not staying at my house” Within the next few days Dave and I made up and jokingly said something like “It’s fine, we grew up in West Virginia and sometimes you punch your friends” We were on good terms then. At some point days later Sarah messaged me angry that I never apologized to her and I was confused because in my mind i believed that she was pissed I stopped Dave from hurting Jordan. She claims I never apologized to her and asked her to apologize to me. Here is the conversation we had about the situation after it happened. 

“One night, my band played a show in Connecticut near her house. Afterwards a big group of us went to the diner down the street from her. She had been drinking that night and already gotten sick, so I was caring for her while both our partners slept at her house. She began to get visibly distressed, and asked me to hold her hand, so I did. During our meal she started crying and the two of us went outside. Once we got to the parking lot, she told me once more she was in love with me. She said she didn't know how to not be in love with me, and not being with me makes her want to kill herself. Again, I didn't know what to do. I calmed her down as best as I could and told her we would always be friends - but just friends. She told me not to tell anyone, so I didn't for a long time.She would regularly express her feelings for me when she got drunk. She would make me feel bad for not feeling the same way. She would threaten to kill or hurt herself because we weren't together. She would encourage me to get fucked up with her and get mad when I wouldn't kiss her. She would flash her breasts at me even after I asked her not to. As her mental health got worse over the years, every conversation we had would turn into manipulation and emotional abuse.“

I am not entirely when she claims this happened. I most definitely never made any physical advance on her or tried to kiss her. I never felt strongly enough about her romantically to believe for a second that I would do have done this to her. Once her and Dave were dating and I became better friends with Sarah I didn’t have those feelings for her anymore. I most certainly never threatened to kill myself if she wouldn’t love me back. Scrolling through years of our conversations on facebook there is absolutely no mention of me continuing to have feelings for her or any reference to a situation like what she described. I also don’t know of a time I flashed her my breasts or continued to do so after she asked me not to. I have no screen shots because as far as I can tell we never had a conversation like this on facebook ever. There isn’t a single instance I could find in years of our conversations where I expressed a continued romantic relationship with her. I’m not sure what show she was referring to this happening after but here is a message she sent to me after Broken World fest which happened while I was living in East Haven. I believe For Everest stayed at my house that night. Maybe that is what she is referring to.

There have been quite a few times in our friendship where Sarah would get really drunk an touch me without my consent. There was a specific weird situation when I was living in East Haven and She was visiting with Dave at the time. We were all drinking of course. I had gotten my first dress after coming out more publicly about being trans and was wearing it. Sarah and I were talking about gender dysphoria and I talked about how I didn’t know i didn’t know how to really do my makeup that well and I wanted to figure out how to pluck and shape my eyebrows. I remember her quickly taking me away from the rest of the group and into my bedroom to pluck my eyebrows. I felt nervous that her rushing me off to my room and then shutting the door without saying a word to Dave or Katie would look really suspicious, I was really uncomfortable and she was being forceful. During her attempt at grooming my eyebrows we continued to have a conversation about gender dysphoria and i talked about issues I had with my body and not being able to pass. I talked about wishing i had breasts that weren’t just because I am overweight but I wished I had like actual “female breasts” without any warning she stopped plucking my eyebrows and cupped my breasts without consent. She then said “I think you have really good breasts” and went back to plucking my eyebrows. I didn’t really know how to react because I already felt weird about her rushing me off into a room to be alone in front of both of our partners. Even though it made me uncomfortable and nervous I never felt like it was a problem big enough to hold her accountable for or talk about it again. 

“As her mental health got worse over the years, every conversation we had would turn into manipulation and emotional abuse.“

“Towards the end of our friendship, when we were preparing to put our our LP with Broken World Media, I would ask to talk business and she would ignore me or get mad. When we would finally get around to it, she would change the subject and send me photos of her self harm. I would try to brush it off (the subject is highly triggering for me) and nothing would get done.”

Here is just about every single screen shot I can find of our conversations about my mental health getting worse and how I felt I was handling things poorly. This is how we spoke with each other the entire time we were very close friends. This addresses her claim that i sent her self photos and ignore her. There is one photo because we having a long conversation about our history and problem with self harm.

The next set of screen shots of our conversations immediately after my wife left me and the band kicked me out. When all those folks were still friendly with me and just wanted me to get help. That I’m going to address in another post I’ve working on.

I have years and years worth of our conversations I would be willing to share with anyone. I am horrified that these people I haven’t talked to or heard from in a year are still trying to find ways to hurt me. I don’t know what they want me to do. I’m convinced they actually just want me to commit suicide.

“Towards the end of our friendship, when we were preparing to put our our LP with Broken World Media, I would ask to talk business and she would ignore me or get mad. When we would finally get around to it, she would change the subject and send me photos of her self harm. I would try to brush it off (the subject is highly triggering for me) and nothing would get done.“

If absolutely necessary i have a countless number of screenshots where we are actively having conversations about their record, plans on releasing it, stuff we could to promote it. I worked really hard for that band. I only lost money on their projects really, they weren’t super popular but I loved their music and cared greatly for those people.

I don’t know what else to do to stop these people from actively trying to hurt me. I can’t let them continue lie about me or tell half truths to conveniently only implicate me.  I’m working on a larger post about my situation with TWIABP that I will post soon. 

Here is an unorganized dropbox folder of all the screen shots i took from our conversations, a lot of them didn’t end up in the post. If you are curious here you go: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/6dv1y0ercru67z6/AAARJxO_vqhKveKDIyMQEgkga?dl=0

[suggxmaynard]

Conor Maynard Imagine - Practicing (SMUT)

You had thought that, when that day came, you would be on seventh heaven. When you first told your parents that you wanted to pursue the acting career in London, they had tried to convince you to do otherwise. Trying to make a living out of acting in such a talented city like London was a long shot. But you were determined.

And in fact, after a little less than a year of failed auditions and poorly-paid advertisement roles, your all time longed dream finally knocked at your door.

You thought that getting the leading role in a film that would be translated into too many languages for you to remember was going to have you balling on cloud nine, and to make you happy. But you weren’t so sure about the last part.

“Y/N, calm down little one, it’s gonna be alright” Conor assured you as he stood up in the middle of your living room, watching you pace back and forth “You’re an actress, you know what you’re doing, you can do this”

You sighed “The truth is, Conor, that I really don’t fucking know”

You had met Conor on set a few months after moving to London. You had just finished filming some crappy, awkward TV advert, when you accidentally invaded his dressing room. He saw your disgusted face, and your relationship started from there.

At first, it had just been faint attraction. You met up a couple of times after that day, and he turned out to be quite the funny, nice lad you had always doubted you would meet in such an intimidating city. You saw nothing special about him, nothing hot, nothing to fall for.

Until that one day. Conor was one of your very few friends at that time, your only guy friend for that matter. All your other friends were far too pretty and love-successful for you to go and wine about your last failed Tinder date. And so you magically appeared on Conor’s doorstep one night, asking for a friend you could vent to. He happily let you in, held you for the rest of the night, and made sure your heart recovered.

Little did he know that your heart had recovered because it started beating again. But this time it was for him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never hooked up with anybody” he said, making you stop on your tracks. This was definetly a conversation you didn’t want to have with him.

You gave him a look, and no more words were needed “I didn’t know you were…” he started, visibly too embarrassed to finish.

“Shrug it off” you said “It’s not really a big deal for me. It’s just that I didn’t want my first time to be with someone I don’t know, let alone him” you complained.

It turned out that your first big movie role happened to involve sexual intercourse. You weren’t sure if acting out the scene really meant doing it, or just faking it. But you had signed up a contract. The director had insisted many times, and you constanly told him that you were okay with doing whatever was needed for the scene. It was your very first oportunity to be someone out there, and you weren’t going to waste it because of a 2 minute scene in bed.

Conor raised an eyebrow “What’s the matter with him?”

“I’ve been doing some reseach on this co-star of mine and…” you sighed again, running a hand through your hair “Let’s say he’s quite big headed”

Conor nodded “I get it” he said, getting closer to you as he opened his arms for you to give him a hug. And so you did, burrying your face on the crook of his neck, inhaling his strong yet mangneting scent “Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.

You shook your head gently. You had to face the music, and there was no going back. You had gotten yourself into that situation. At least you hoped it would turn out to be worthy.

“I have an idea” Conor suddenly spoke “I’ve got a friend, Ryan, who used to be an actor here in London” you popped your head up to look at him, an eyebrow raised. Where was he going with this? “I once accompained him to shoot some scenes, and one of them happened to be a sex scene, right?” you nodded, not really sure what he was implying.

“I know how they’re filmed, and I know what each person does because I heard the director giving instructions and tips” he said, and it instantly clicked on your mind “I don’t think it’ll be much different from what you have to do. So, only if you want, we can practice a little”

Your heart suddenly started racing. Practicing a sex scene? With Conor? Was this one of your all time wet dreams or something?

You gulped “You don’t have to do this” you said, scared to even look at him in the eye.

You felt his hands on your upper waist, feeling firmer each second that passed. Were you going mad? “Hey, I want to” he said, looking you in the eye in a way you had never seen before. He looked much more…mysterious. 

“Okay, fine” you gave in as your right hand went to rub your eye “We can do it now if you want to”

You led him to your bedroom, a place where he had been too many times, but not like that. It felt weird and exciting at the same time. Once you opened the bed, Conor started taking his shirt off. You didn’t realize you had been staring. 

“I think we should keep our underwear, though” he laughed as he unbuckled his pants. You gave him a small smile as you started unbottoning your shirt, not really sure what in the world you were doing.

Once you both had stripped down to your underwear, you got inside the covers as Conor sat slowly next to you. You could tell he was flustered “Did…did the script say what position you were in?” he asked, visibly uncomfortable. You didn’t blame him. 

“Yeah…um…the guy would be on top” you said awkwardly “It’s an average looking sex scene, nothing too luxurious”

Conor let out a small chuckle “Right” he said as he slowly got under the covers beisdes you “You sure you want to do this?” he asked once again “I’m not going to hurt you, if you want me to stop just say it”

You nodded, unexpectidly feeling more relaxed. The thought of Conor being on top of you was too irresistible for your mind to handle. But you should act normally. He only saw you as a friend, he had no interest in you at all. And your role for the day was to pretend you didn’t feel the slightlest tingle when he touched you, either.

He slowly positioned himself on top you, resting his body weight on his hands, which were pressed down on the bed right at your sides. You felt so exposed, so vulnerable to have him right above you, both of you half naked.

“You alright?” he asked you as he sensed the tension.

“Yeah, I just…feel quite weird in this…situation” you lauged nervously. Conor smiled softly at you as one of his hands went to your cheek. You froze. What-what was he doing?

“Relax, it’s just me” he said softly, looking at you in the kindest way you had ever seen him “Okay, tell me how the scene goes”

You nodded, trying to mentally go back to the script “Right so, we enter the room making out heavily and stuff, and he pulls me down the bed…in this position, more or less” he nodded, so you continued “Um…then we keep kissing and he starts undressing me and I start undressing him”

“We’ve already reached that part” he laughed.

You smiled up at him “After that he whispers something in my ear - I don’t really remember what - and he starts kissing my neck slowly until…well, you know what comes next” you laughed nervously again.

“Seems quite easy” he said “What exactly are you most nervous about?”

“I guess I just don’t feel comfortable enough with the idea of someone I don’t know kissing me and touching me in those ways” you said, and suddenly Conor’s mind flooded with images of you being touched by another man, and he started boiling. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when did he get so protective of anyone? “Plus, I’ve never slept with anyone, so I wouldn’t know what to do”

“And you think you would be more comfortable if you knew how it felt beforehand” he stated. You nodded. That was exactly what you needed “Okay, let’s do it then”

He adjusted himself again, and so did you “Remember to stop me whenever you want”

“Okay” you whispered as you felt Conor’s breath on your neck already.

He rubbed his nose against your skin for a few seconds, and you immediately closed your eyes. He was so gentle, your back was already almost arched. Then, he slowly started to plant a few kissed behind your ear, as one of his hands steadily held your waist.

Your hand instinctively went to the back of his neck, massaging swiftly the hair on his lower head. His lips suddenly parted aways, and he wasn’t giving you small kisses anymore. Slowly, he started making out with your neck in such a passionate way that you felt a sudden ache between your legs. What was going on with you?

Your other hand found Conor’s arm gripping at your waist, and you held it for support. His make-out session eventually stopped, and he lifted himself up again a little to look at you “Did you like that?” he asked, and you nodded. It wasn’t weird anymore. Now, you just wanted more.

He then planted a sweet, unexpected kiss on your lips before leaning in again, repeating his past actions on your mouth. You felt so damn good. You didn’t even suspect he was such a good kisser, the way his lips moved on yours making you hungry for more. 

You tangled both of your arms around his neck as he placed his hands at the back of your now arched back, making sure he wouldn’t crush you. His tongue slipped in inside your mouth, exploring every inch slowly. You felt his hands on your lower waist, and his impressive bulge on your stomach, and you couldn’t supress a low moan. 

It wasn’t until that little cry left your mouth than you realized you weren’t practicing anymore. You wanted him, all of him, and you didn’t want that moment to end. Your body had never felt so damn good, and it was all because of him. 

Suddenly, you felt his hand reach the hook of your bra, and you instinctively held your breath. He noticed, stopping abruptly “Shit, I’m...” he mumbled, the hot, passionate bubble that you had created now being long gone “I don’t know what to say” he said, visibly embarrassed. 

But you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him “Con” you whispered softly, your hand suddenly travelling to his cheek. You caressed it caringly as he leaned in into your touch.

He looked at you again, the same loving smile than before plastered on his face. You guided his head lower until your lips met again, more sweetly this time. He held you again as you felt smaller and smaller under his touch, so protected and loved.

“Are you sure you want this, Y/N?” he whispered, his lips barely leaving yours.

You nodded softly, drawing his lips back to yours again. His hand then went again to your back and slowly unclasped your bra. He trailed a few kisses down your neck, removing your bra slowly as he cupped your breast on his mouth. Your hands went to the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Conor” you breathed out steamily “What...what am I to you?” you managed to ask, not sure at all what you were after that moment. 

He kept on sucking at your nipples for a few seconds before he released his lips from your skin. He kissed you “I...I like you a lot, Y/N” he said, and you could tell he was flustered “I care a lot about you, you...you are my little one”

You smiled up at him, recalling how cute he looked when he called you by your nickname. You felt so special, so loved, so close to him “I like you a lot too” you chuckled slightly. 

He kissed you, smiling as he did so. Your hands slowly travelled to the waistband of his boxers, eager to finally pull them down. You were scared, but at the same time, it was Conor the one taking care of you. You knew you were going to be alright, safe.

He helped you out, pulling his underwear down as he watched your face turn more and more scared. He almost felt bad, but he knew he’d take good care of you. Not long afterwards, your panties also flew to the other side of the room. You were completely naked. 

“Are you on the pill?” he asked you softly.

You nodded as you felt the time coming. You felt so wet already, a burning pain tingling between your legs. He kissed you one last time before you felt the tip of his member teasing you at your entrance. You unconsciously opened your legs wider.

He locked your lips with his as he slowly entered you, making you flinch at the sudden sensation. His hand went to your face as he whispered calming things into your ear “It’s fine, Y/N” he breathed out “You’re fine”

When he was finally inside you, you found it hard to breath normally. He was huge, and you were so tight, little moans repeatedly escaped your mouth “Conor...” you whimpered.

He started moving up and down slowly in such swift moves, you immediately felt the pain stopping. Instead, it was replaced by a weird sensation. It was pleasing, it was filling you in but not completely, and you suddenly felt the urge to reach the top. 

He moved faster every time, and before you knew it, you were a moaning mess. He kept groaning into your neck as he rapidly slid in and out of you, holding you tight as he did so. You had never felt so good, and it was driving you crazy.

“Oh god, Conor” you whimpered, digging your fingernails on his back “I feel so close...” 

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, and you thought it was the sexiest thing you had ever  heard from him. Just a few moments later, you screamed in pleasure as he filled you in, riding you out of climax, as you dug your nails on his back even deeper. 

Eventually, he moaned loudly just like you had done ealier, and you couldn’t believe that you, of all the people, had made him feel such things. Maybe it was time you stopped understimating yourself.

He pulled out of you, leaving an empty sensation. He lied down next to you, still holding you at your waist, as he planted a few kisses on your forehead “That was amazing, Y/N” he said, and you felt yourself blushing.

You kissed his forehead “Stop being so cute” you said as you felt his thumb rubbing your side softly. 

He planted a small kiss on your jaw “Thanks for caring for me so much” you mumbled softly, almost without thinking.

He kissed you again as he cupped your cheek with his big hand, and you felt like you would get used to it. Used to waking up next to him everyday, taking care of him forever “Thank you for being the best thing I’ve ever had, little one”

[miraculous-dnd]

Insight Chapter 2

A miraculous ladybug D&D!AU  Words: 3552 Rating: Teen for mild language Summary: Between sessions the group finds time to catch up outside of D&D. 

Marinette slept late the next morning, it was Saturday and she didn’t have to go into work that morning. She walked into the office around 10 anyways though, one of the designs that she had been working on calling to her. The office was quiet, Sylvia apparently taking her day off seriously, so Marinette put on some music and got to work. Around 1 she was interrupted by a buzz from her phone:

Adrien: Hey

Marinette: What's up

Adrien: You free today?

Marinette's heart raced, despite herself

Marinette: Yeah, just finishing up some work, what did you have in mind?

Adrien: Well I was in the neighborhood and I was wondering if you wanted to grab a late lunch, or maybe some coffee, if you've already eaten?

Adrien: Maybe we could talk D&D?

Marinette: Yeah, that sounds great.

She sent him the address of the office,

Marinette: Meet me here @1:30?

Adrien: sounds like a plan!

Marinette dropped the phone on the drafting table and took a deep breath. She let the excitement run its course, Adrien wanted to catch up and grab coffee. This was normal, right? They were in a D&D group together, they were in the same industry (though the lowest ranking Gabriel designer could probably buy out Coccinelle without breaking a sweat and Adrien was on the damn board of directors), they had plenty in common, they could go for a normal lunch between friends.

Ok, maybe the grade school crush wasn't so past tense. She tried to shift her focus back onto the designs in front of her, but she kept being dragged back by the silky cat's purr of Adrien's Rogue voice.

That's only a little weird. Right?

Adrien walked up in front of the small shop front of Marinette's and smiled, it definitely had her touch. He opened the door and walked in, the building seemed to be quiet, but he could see a light coming from the back. He walked towards it, taking care to go a little louder than natural, so as not to frighten.

She was sitting on a stool, half-finished sketch on the drafting table in front of her. Her hands were on her chin and her eyes were a thousand miles away.

Adrien cleared his throat, "Marinette? Did you still want to get lunch?"

She startled a bit, "Oh, Adrien, I didn't hear you come in. Sorry. Yes. Lunch, that is, yes I still want to go to lunch."

"I'm glad, I had started looking forward to it."

"oh." Marinette tried, very hard, to find something slightly more articulate to say, but alas.

"There's a deli around the corner, they have good vegetarian food." he pauses for a second, "are you still a vegetarian?"

"Yeah. Well, most of the time, I'll make exceptions for special occasions. But vegetarian deli sounds good, uh, let me just pack up a bit." She hurriedly packs away her sketches and slings a small ladybug purse over her shoulder. She beams up at him, toothy grin wide.

oh.

The deli wasn't very far away, and Marinette and Adrien sat on a bench outside to enjoy their sandwiches. They sat in silence a while, sandwiches an excuse for the awkward silence coming from the fact that neither of them had really talked to the other, outside of D&D in, well, a couple of years now. Adrien broke the silence first.

"So how is work going? Your shop seems like a lot is happening."

"Ha. That's a very polite way of saying the shop looks a mess."

"No, I mean-"

"It's alright, I know the shop's a mess, It's probably a good thing anyways, it means we're busy. Which is pretty much also how work is going; designing is what I always wanted to do, and I love it, but the business side is a lot of work when it is going well, and even more work when it's going poorly, but I guess that's the price I pay for living my childhood dreams"

Adrien felt a small pang of envy, to be able to pursue a passion, to have a clear idea of what your passions were, it must be nice.

"That sounds stressful, but I'm still kind of jealous, working at Gabriel is kind of soul-sucking. Like, I'm not ungrateful for what my dad left for me, it's just- I don't know, I didn't have a lot of time as a kid to have my own dreams, I had a path laid out for me, you know?"

"I never thought about that, you were a bit, wrangled as a kid weren't you?"

"I don't think I've had an unscheduled period longer than three days since I was, well, maybe ever."

"Yikes, that sounds not great"

"Yeah, it is what it is. Marcel is- he's Marcel, but he means well." Marinette raised her eyebrows a hair.

"Marcel, as in Marcel Proust, the man who, to hear half the fashion rags tell it, is slowly sucking the soul out of the Gabriel brand?"

"He doesn't have the most sparkling personality, that's true, but he is trying, my father and him, they were friends, or as close as my father got to having friends. Marcel just wants to honor his memory."

"I'm sorry Adrien, I'm sure Marcel means well, it's just, he's been with Gabriel for how long now? 15 years? 20? In an interview last week he had no idea what Toilé was."

"Yeah, he hasn't invested much in the theory, but he has a handle on the nitty-gritty of running a corporation."

Maybe too much of a handle, Adrien thought.

They sat quietly for a while, before Marinette spoke,

"So, how about the game last night? That was quite the fight huh?"

"Yeah, I'm super pumped to get to use my new item, it seems pretty versatile."

"Yeah, I don't know about mine, i'll take a hit to AC, but it bumps up my whip's range and damage, so that's pretty sweet."

"The card says tier 1 on it though, so we've probably got to unlock the really cool pieces."

"Yeah, I wonder how high they go, like, what is the max tier do you think?"

Alya is in her favorite spot, next to the window in her regular cafe, looking down over the main part of the shop on the level below, the additional seating area quiet by comparison.  The word document in front of her sits, almost done, but not quite, the blinking cursor mocking her as she struggles to wrap up the story she has been writing. The political scene has become bleaker since she became a politics reporter, when she was young she had felt like there were heroes, people making real change, people caring for people and about process. Now though, well, every hero has their dirt, and Alya had made a career finding that dirt, which made the idea of a spotless hero something that Alya reserved for fiction.

Oh well, she still has two hours until deadline. She tabs over to her email, hitting the refresh and watching as a wave of unread messages cascades down her inbox.

Junk. Junk. Deal with that later. Junk. Junk.

Her eyes scan down the list of subjects and from addresses, until she hits a subject line that she can't ignore.

RE: Hawke

Alya clicked. Her eyes widened as the message appeared before them. This was big.

Their coffee date/outing/catch-up session/whatever-you're-supposed-to-call-it over Marinette was back in her office, back in the zone, her pen putting the finishing touches on the design that she had been working on earlier when her phone buzzed again. Marinette grabbed the phone eagerly,

Alya: Hey, you got a minute?

Marinette: Yeah, just doing a bit of weekend work, what's up?

Alya: I'm looking for advice, but I gotta be a bit vague, you down?

Marinette: Its for a story, isn't it

Alya: Yeah, anyway if you found out that someone in your industry was in the pocket of a certain, politician, and you could expose them, what would you do?

Marinette: Shit. Um, give me a minute to think

Marinette: I mean, I'd call you, obvs.

Marinette: I take it calling them out isn't going to make you very popular?

Alya: I mean, they've got a couple of fans, if you catch my drift.

Alya: I'm nervous enough about it to come to you for advice, if that says anything.

Marinette: Ha. Yeah.

Marinette: Well, I don't know, is there a hard time limit on this?

Alya: Not really, there's a couple of months before it's really relevant.

Marinette: Maybe you could just make a draft then, and see how you feel?

Alya: Good plan. How's this weekend looking? are you down for another session?

Marinette: Ooh, we've got a big order going out on Friday, but Saturday or Sunday ought to work!

Alya: Good to hear! I'll get in touch with everyone else, see how they feel. <3<3

Marinette put the phone down, then picked it up again and checked the time, it was almost 8, her stomach rumbled. Looks like another night of takeout.

Adrien was not a fan of Mondays. Working for Gabriel was... stressful, in the most boring way. Marcel was a controlling CFO and Adrien still wasn't entirely comfortable in the executive role that had been created for him after his father's death. It felt like the right thing to do though, and fashion was something that Adrien knew a lot about, so he did alright with that part of it, but bringing himself to care about the gross market returns on the spring line Tokyo marking campaign was next to impossible.

He had some time before his presentation to the board, so he closed the document, in a pinch he could wing it pretty well. He pulled open another document on his browser, and scanned down what he had already written.

"The Life and Times of Pollux Blackvein"

Raised by his aunt and uncle, Pollux spent most of his time as a child avoiding responsibilities, finding places to hide. There was little he loved more than to find a rooftop or shaded alcove from which he could people watch in peace. He created rich fictions in his head. This period of happiness could not last long however and tragedy soon struck again when a illness took both his living relatives. With nothing to keep him in the small town that was all he had known, he fled into the woods only days after his 16th birthday.

In the woods he found the hut of a old hermit, who took him in and gave him a place to stay as he mourned the life that he had left behind. When he had recovered the hermit began to train him, teaching him how to survive in the wild, how to hide and how to move silently. It was the old man that taught Pollux how to fight, and Pollux took to the quarterstaff quickly, favoring knives second. When the hermit had taught him enough, Pollux left his home for a second time, returning to the village that raised him.

When he arrived he found that the village was in a desperate condition. The Magistrate Vitaa Douleur had been installed in the town since he had left and was in gross abuse of her position, levying cruel taxes and enforcing laws that had gone untouched for good reason. The abuse of power made Pollux furious, so he began to formulate a resistance. He started small, disrupting the couriers that Vitaa dispatched to other cities, stealing small shipments of coin and distributing it, subtly, to the people of the town. When this caused her to double down on the oppression of his town, Pollux began to sow the seeds of violent rebellion. The rebellion was, ultimately, successful but it was a Pyrrhic victory. At the end Pollux stood over the body of Vitaa Douleur drenched in the blood of friend and foe alike, the assault on the manse leaving only Pollux standing, after searching the manse for any clue as to who was responsible for her installment in his town he burned down the manse and fled town that night. In that part of the country, stories are still told about the rebellion of Greenthorp, and the mysterious figure that led the people against the tyrannical ruler, but they are stories that Pollux has never heard, having fled to the capitol in search of the mysterious figure that sent the scourge to his people.

Since arriving in Erathia, Pollux has fallen in love with its people, and he is already beginning to chaff at the way that the nobility (or at least some of them) take advantage of them. He has made few friends in Erathia, finding the thieves too unscrupulous and the revolutionaries too lax and inactive. He is a radical living in a city of moderates.

-

Adrien sat there and let the cursor flash at the end of the document, he felt like there was something missing, maybe he needed more characters? Should he maybe soften Pollux's stance on nobility, since Marinette and Chloe were both playing nobles? He should have sent this to Alya like, two months ago, so maybe he shouldn't worry about it. He really wanted Alya to like it though, so maybe he should. What he needed was another set of eyes.

Adrien: Hey, you got a minute?

Max: Not really, but I need a break, what’s up?

Adrien: Not much, I was just hoping I could get you to look over my character background before I sent it to my DM, if you're busy I'll ask someone else.

Max: This is for Alya's campaign?

Adrien: Yeah

Max: Send it here, I need something to pull me away from work anyways.

-

Max: Nice, it looks good, I'd say you could send it to her as is, maybe add a couple of names of people from the town?

Friday night found Alya sitting in the workspace in her apartment, DM guide and monster manual open on the table in front of her, spreadsheet open on her computer. Tomorrow night was going to be epic, they were finally going to get into the meat of the arc that she had prepared. She just needed to find the right encounter to really bring home the scale of what they were supposed to be doing. She flipped the pages of the manual, looking for inspiration.

Myconid, Nothic, Ogre, nah.

Nothing had quite the feel that Alya was looking for. Then an illustration caught her eye. She started typing:

Horrificator: AC - 8, HP - 72, Speed 15 ft.

Nino woke up to the warm sunlight coming in through the window, and to the persistent buzz of his phone. He picked it up and looked at it groggily. "Reminder: Working Bibliography Due @ Noon today."

Shit.

Nino stumbled out of bed and pulled open his laptop. 10:00, two hours, that was probably enough time to shit together some sources, he could always go back later and decide not to use any of them. That's what he'd done in undergrad, 9 times out of 10. Just as he was opening the library page his phone buzzed on the bed.

Adrien: You still planning on getting lunch today?

Nino: Yeah, I got some stuff to finish up that's due @ noon, but we could go after

Adrien: Sounds good, how're classes going?

Nino: Well, I've heard you talk about how dry your junior capitalist meetings are, and I can assure you that, without a doubt, Professor Putnam is three times dryer

Adrien: Grad school sounds like a blast

Nino: its thrilling, now bug off, I gotta finish this, I'll see you at 12:30?

Adrien: Wouldn't miss it

Nino turned off the phone and got to work.

He got a respectable amount done by noon, and sent off the file at 11:59 precisely. He turned his phone back on and a flood of notifications rolled down the screen.

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH...

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and whats worse ca...

Alya: What really bothers me though is the way tha...

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another relative say b...

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing...

Alay: Did you hear about the new thing with Hawke? he...

Apparently it had been an eventful morning.

He opened up the first text.

Alya: Did you hear about Hawke? he just announce he's running for president

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing this garbage pile of a country needs.

Alya: What really bothers me is the way that people are taking it seriously, like, this is the man Front National wouldn't endorse.

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another white guy say 'ooh, he's outside the system' NO SHIT, he's outside the system because the system had the basic decency to kick him the fuck out.

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and what's worse is I'm going to have to report on this creep for like, a year!

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Gross.

A knock at the door interrupted Nino's reply. He opened the door and Adrien stood there, leaning against the hallway of Nino's apartment building.

"So, you ready to get lunch?"

"Just gotta put on some shoes, come in."

"Nice place you got here Nino."

"Not for long, I'm gonna be apartment hunting again soon."

Nino finished tying his shoes and stood up.

"Where are we headed?"

"Why am I always the one who has to decide on where we eat" Adrien laughed and stepped back into the hallway as Nino locked up the apartment.

"It's because you're the one with the time and money to eat out with any regularity." Nino said, giving Adrien's shoulder a playful punch.

"Fair enough I guess. I was thinking the bourgeoisie pig, since it's pretty close."

"The coffee shop? Do they even have food there?"

"I think they have a couple of lunch options, are you hungry?"

"I'm starving, I haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday."

"Dude, you've got to eat. Fine, how's Heather's sound?"  

"Bro. I am always down for Heather's, you know this."

"Right, dumb question gets dumb answer, Lets go."

Heather's was only a few metro stops away from Nino's apartment, so it didn't take them too long before they were sitting down in the distressed leather booths that fit right in with Heather's distinct 'american diner' aesthetic. The walls were decorated with old street signs, black and white photos of crowds of people, and other random paraphernalia. Nino looked over the menu, an eclectic mix of American/Korean/Chinese/Indian/French/Japanese dishes, and unlikely fusions of all of the above.

"Bro, is there any chance that the vegan ramen burger is good?" Adrien seemed skeptical, but Nino knew better.

"Heather's has yet to let me down. That is far from the weirdest sounding thing I've gotten here. You should try their vegan soy sauce ice cream, that's an experience."

"I'll take your word for it. You ready for tonight?"

"D&D? Heck yes, I've been ready all week. I hope we get to go a bit longer this week though, last week felt kind of short."

"Yeah, but at least we got a bit of action, I was itching for a fight."

"Yeah well you don't have a wizard's hit points, so I can see how you might be a bit more eager to fight."

"Please, you're fine, we all passed our tests and now we’re gonna see some real fighting, I wonder what Alya is going to throw at us tonight."

"Same, I'm itching for a chance to get to use my new item."

Evening came and Adrien and Nino walked up the steps to Alya's apartment, the October chill settling in as the sun sank below the tall parisian buildings. When they hit the buzzer for Alya's apartment there was a long pause before the intercom crackled.

"Yeah?"

"Its us, Adrien and Nino, you wanna let us in?"

The lock clicked and Nino pushed into the foyer, the old building was a bit run down, but not a bad place to live. They took the elevator up to the fifth floor, and waited as Alya undid the locks on both doors to the apartment proper.

"Hey guys, ready to play? Marinette just texted, she should be here in a couple minutes. Chloe is on her way too."

When they were all gathered at the table, Alya got down to business.

"You all leveled up last time, so did you all figure out your stuff or do you need to do that now."

With leveling up out of the way, Alya wasted no time launching into the story.

"Last time, you remember, you appeared in front of a cave and decided to explore it, finding an old gnome who told you that you had been chosen by the gods to protect Erathia, as you stepped forward to accept this responsibility four fighters appeared to test your abilities, you defeated them, and the Gnome rewarded you with magical items of great power. You then appeared back in Erathia, and that was where we left off."

[semicoloncancer]

The Botanist;

I heard someone shouting out the driveway. I live in a small compound designed to look Italian or Greek. European. Let’s keep it safe at that. Colored white and blue but the verandas resembled more the Italian homes you see in movies. The walls ran drip stains on the sides. The lack of care from the old landlord was apparent. I have lived here for a year now and became friends with almost every neighbor but the one at the far end, left side of the 8-apartment compound. 4 houses on either side facing directly each other. All noise from any of them audible even from the depths of the lonely bedroom I occupy.

Instinctively, I went out. The kids from the house at the right side end have glued their eyes already in their dirty feet, their hands fidgeted on their tail end. I was watching a movie that Sunday afternoon. It was boring and I wanted something to distract me and that moment felt perfect even if the glum look on the kids’ faces made me frown too. Two plant pots scattered its contents on the floor. Some exotic looking plant laid flat looking more lifeless than it usually does. The other plant stood still yet as lifeless as the other. The man shouted shifting his stare from the kids to the plants. His right index finger stiffened. I couldn’t see his left hand from the angle but I imagined it tighten bit by bit on the adjacent hip.

He was screaming about how precious the plants were.

He was screaming. He was red. The kids were gray.

One of the kids, Angelo, shifted his eyes to me almost teary eyed almost pleading for salvation. By this time more and more people were coming out of their houses as he raised his voice saying “don’t you look at him asking for help.” I got the taste of the stiff index finger he had been brandishing about. “Look at me and apologize,” he said repeatedly. With all the meager force Angelo could muster, he said sorry. Rafael (or Raf-Raf as I call usually call him) looked at his brother either in dismay or in envy for having such strength to speak. Rafael remained speechless the entire time. Two small basketballs stopped rolling from the other end, the ones they played with to break the two pots.

They were being (poorly) babysat by an unfamiliar teenager. She was the last person to go out. She wiped her still wet hands on the back of her faded red shirt. It resembled the words high school but I couldn’t figure out which one it was. Probably from a city far from here.

Her face was stretched into a shock, she too was stunned at the very same area the kids stood. The screaming went on for another minute and I still haven’t said anything being the first person to witness the scolding. I occupied the second door on the left which is the same side as the man’s. I stood my half a square meter of a veranda almost leaning on the wall avoiding to look comfortable. Beside me walked a tall woman from the house beside me. The daughter of the old landlord. She shook her head slightly, “hello, what’s going on?”

“They broke my pots!” the man said struggling not to stutter. He said the same things in a calmer sort of anger as what he said to the kids before. I asked myself: why do older people talk to each other differently than to kids? The two kids finally moved two steps back with the help of their babysitter. Even the old landlord’s daughter was puzzled when she saw her face.

The situation hushed down but the intensity of the man’s exclaims still lingered in the air. Half of the remaining doors closed, the occupant of the unit in front of me smiled uncomfortably before doing so. I stayed there making myself more comfortable against the wall. The movie inside my living room kept playing through. I wished it would already end when I come back.

Rafael and Angelo were the only kids in this compound. The other apartments housed two more babies from two newlyweds. The kids have no one else to play with at home but each other. The daughter motioned the babysitter that she can already walk the kids in. Usually when they do we can still hear them play except for today. Within the same minute, everyone else has gone in but me. The two adults weren’t even aware I was still standing there. I hoped for any information why the plants were so special.

A few minutes more, the daughter walked my way again, slowed down, smiled, and shook her head. She mustn’t have understood the sentiments of the man why the plants were so special. The babysitter ran out once more to tell the man she will clean the mess herself. The man, already crouching to pick up the lifeless plant, waved his hand, “it’s okay, just go in.”

From the angry man the he was not 15 minutes ago he became the most careful person I have seen. His movements even seemed calculated. Like fixing a bed in the morning. Like a devoted encoffiner. He was suddenly distracted by my presence but continued in what seemed a crucial activity for something he hoped wouldn’t happen. He suddenly spoke as if in monologue.

“I have seen you there since earlier. You haven’t moved much and it’s weird.” He paused but he didn’t want me to answer. “Why you’re there, I’m pretty sure because you’re wondering why I was so angry earlier. I’m not angry anymore, don’t worry. I won’t blare at you. The kids were just having fun and I can’t be angry about that. I might buy the kids some candies later today or a cake. What do you think?” but even in an actual question, it still seemed he didn’t want me to answer. “You know,”

“I’m a botanist. I have been studying science almost my entire life. Even when I was young I especially dreamed of becoming a plant scientist. It’s not just because I think they’re pretty. Or they’re harmless and fragile. I mainly relied on herbal medications growing up. And yes, you guessed it right, at least one of my parents must be a botanist as well.

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t heard of my mother’s name but she’s a pretty big deal in the field of botany. She homeschooled me mainly because she usually went on trips. My father died when I was young so no one else would be there if I didn’t go with my mother on her trips. Funny thing, even in science, a lot of shagging happens. A huge part of my life was spent in hotel rooms and I was used to hearing my mother sneak out although not very carefully.”

Slowly and carefully, he continued fixing the mess. There is now some degree of grace in his movements. I still took his pause as a dramatic punctuation and not a chance for me to speak. I won’t even have any input in the topic he chose to share.

“That’s where I met Sarah. I know, yeah, a very typical name for a daughter of a scientist. There were a lot of tropical plants at that time. And one of them was this plant. It can live a long time if given sufficient care. I wanted to keep it in to be safe but it really needs to be out for air and sun. Sarah and I were the only kids in that seminar so we kinda had no choice but to be with each other. Besides, our parents were good friends and teammates.” He chuckled, I finally sat. “I’m not sure if our parents slept with each other that night, though.

“This is a cycad that my mother’s team crossbred. This one, I tried this on my own after my mother died. I saw Sarah once more during the burial but she couldn’t remember me that well until she extended her condolences. Her father sat in front of her on a wheelchair. She still looked beautiful as then when we were kids. She was the one who threw the same plant into my mother’s grave.” He looked at me and smiled trying to know if I’m still interested in the story. For the first time, I said something: go on.

“All right. This won’t last long anymore, I’m about done fixing this anyway. So yeah, I asked her out and we went out thrice. We weren’t the best pair together but she was the woman of my dreams. Until this happened. I kept this plant alive because it kept the image and the memory of her. More of her than of my mother. She’s been married for 10 years now. My mother died 11 years ago. I don’t even see the point of keeping this plant anymore and I needed a reason to let it go.”

He paused. I didn’t answer. He carried the remnants of what was a lifeless-looking cycad. I sat there and stared at the clouds. I heard shouting in the living room and I realized the movie was still on.

[itsloveintherain-blog]

vjr7^(*T$n?g

UGHHHHH... I don’t know where to begin!! This is what happens when I don’t right on here for a while. (Side Note: I think one of the greatest things about this tumblr is that I write as if a bunch of people are reading it in actuality nobody is reading it... but to me that’s cool because I can write freely and honest and I don’t have to sugar coat anything like I do on my public blog) So let’s start from Saint Patricks day which was almost a month ago. I went into Boston to meet up with some friends there was five of them total but I really only knew three of them. The three I knew because of Blue... SO if you didn’t put two and to together yet, Blue was one of the friends. The whole night I was basically hanging out with his girlfriend and he seemed very annoyed by me. We all went to bar and then another bar and another bar and then a restaurant where I caught him giving me dirty looks out of the corner of my eye. I was probably being loud and annoying just how he hates me! Anyway, the majority of the time in Boston I found myself wishing something so weird. I just wish that somehow somewhere I would run into Red. It is probably best that I didn’t because I was more tipsy than usual but still for some reason that is what I wanted. 

The drunk texting all started with him. I never once drunk texted him. I couldn’t the whole reason we started fighting was because I wanted to drink and then he went and got a new girlfriend so fast that would have ended so poorly if I had texted him. But the moment he drunk texted me... that’s when it opened the window in my drunken self that oh it’s fine if I drunk text him! He drunk texted me ONE FREAKING TIME... So on Saint Patrick’s day I didn’t drunk text him but a few weeks before that, I did. I said something so unusual... but what had happened was I went home early that night I drank earlier and I just didn’t feel good not because I drank too much I just felt icky and the alcohol didn't help, I slept for an hour, woke up from a dream that he was in and so I freaking texted him saying something like, “I wish you would just hang out with me on last time” like I don’t even get it, I knew he was in my dream but I was like wtf I hope he doesn’t get that... well a little later that next day he texted me back when I had already forgotten what i had did and he was like, “that’s not how it works though. You think hanging out just once more is all you want but it won't make it better. Do you really thin hanging out just once more will solve everything and you’ll be satisfied to never see me again?” AHH I bring just thinking about reading that!!! I wasn’t going to answer, but I was like ehhhh I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, not answering or answering and so I figured I should just say sorry I woke up from a dream you were in and thats how I reacted so I am sorry and then I did the whole emoji with the hands up in the air like “ah fuck it”. So that was that I was never going to drunk text him again because I felt like I had done it too many times. I mean at least I haven't drunk called two times in one night (like he did LOL).

So I think I have drunk texted him a total of three times now that was honestly three times too many but you know my drunk self just thinks it’s kind of funny and then my next day sober self thinks what an idiot my drunk self is... 

To be honest I don’t really like drinking. Don’t get me wrong going out once in a while is fun but I would rather go mini golfing, or go on an adventure to my favorite smoothie place (the one far away too). Or an adventure to the beach just to get out of a city like environment and see the stars so the fact that 3 of the times I texted him when I was drunk is the majority of the time I am drunk. 

So it was this past weekend. Thursday was his 21st birthday and for the majority of the day I didn’t realize it was April 6th. I knew that is when his birthday was but Thursdays aren't busy days for me so I didn’t notice the date until later around 4:00PM and from 4:00-midnight I had had debated on writing on the tumblr that is fairly public (but nobody knows that it’s me). I didn’t but around 1AM April 7th I had to write something and I did. I couldn’t sleep that night, it was bothering me because I had work at 9AM that morning and I was working nine and a half hours so I couldn’t be tired. Finally around 2AM I fell asleep. 

Per usual I leave my phone on loud and usually if I get a text the ringer wakes me up but this time it didn’t wake me up. I wish it did though. Because at 6:30AM I saw a drunk text from him. 

It made me happy sad annoyed basically every emotion. Happy because I always get happy seeing his name on my phone, sad because I felt bad that on his 21st he was texting me my twenty first was like one of the greatest nights of my life I didn’t have the time to think about him. Annoyed because I knew I was never going to get out of him what he was going to say. Irritated because he makes me feel stupid when I drunk text him because when I drunk text him it is basically me talking about how I am still hung up on him, and he responds with very well I am over it feelings. So if he were to drunk text me what the hell would he even say? Sometimes I think, even though he said he wouldn’t, but almost like he would tell me even more to get over it because it’s never going to happen. 

The thing is, the way this feels is that it doesn’t feel like it is over between me and him. I know it’s been nearly 2 years since I broke up with him but it doesn’t feel like it is supposed to be like this and for some strange reason I still feel like something more is suppose to happen... I don’t understand how my feelings about this is so strong but is wrong? I can’t be wrong, if I feel so strongly right? I probably am wrong. 

I have had a boyfriend since him and I have dated people including right now but I don’t know none of them click and mesh the way red and I did and that makes me feel like it’s him, I just know he doesn’t feel that way about me though. He wants some intelligent 4.0 IQ of a genius science girl who is pretty and petite. Who will contribute to intelligent conversations and discussions. Who agree on his views and is what he wants at face value. After all, “intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac...” (Timothy Leary) \\

End: 11:24PM 4.10.2017