#idk how i feel about the text i was kind of at a loss

[vastly-fixated-devotee-667]

in which the Admin knows about Lukas’ feelings for Jesse and uses it against him

[thisischaostragic]

i have been holding space for the Agatha finale (i’m in queer media) and am pleased to report that my feelings about it have shifted quite significantly. follow me, my friends, to a more or less coherent, very long text post at the end

primary thing: this show is very much about motherhood. idk why that didn’t totally register for me in the first half given how often they mentioned Nicky, but realizing this changed my analysis a ton. Billy doesn’t just remind Agatha of Nicky — Agatha loves Billy like a son. (i know “like a son” is an oversimplification, but I’m sticking with it for this post.)

with that, my thoughts on Agatha’s arc almost completely flipped. when Rio shows up in E8 and says she has to take Billy, Agatha is revisiting her deepest wound all over again. her reaction is harsh, but it’s not some long-simmering revenge plan or a calculated effort to hurt Rio. Agatha is literally just reacting to the fact that, after all of the almost-reconciliation, the love of her life is taking her son again. i think she was trying to get Rio to fight for her or to say the trade was too high a price and bend the rules. Agatha was trying to get Death to act only as her lover, and looks devastated when Rio actually walks away instead.

and so, when Agatha goes to the morgue trial and says that “sometimes, boys die,” she’s continuing that realization that Rio isn’t personally chasing her down and causing her grief. sometimes, death just… happens. and “out of Death, life” is largely about Agatha realizing that Rio did bend the rules for Nicky, but also doubles down on the Nicky and Billy parallels. both of Agatha’s sons were literally borne of Death and living on stolen time. loss is inevitable.

i think Agatha genuinely believed that Rio could have kept Nicky alive and chose not to. we know that Agatha blamed herself for Nicky dying (“the truth is too awful”). so Agatha, who was taught by her own mother that nobody would ever actually love her for who she is, probably thought that the love of her life just… didn’t love her as much as she thought she did. going back to E1, i think “you don’t have a heart” is equal parts about Nicky as it is about Agatha herself. her main takeaway is that everyone will betray her, even when they claim to love her, and so she hides behind power and a god awful reputation so that she can keep everyone at arm’s length and never get hurt again.

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY: when Billy is about to die, Agatha almost retreats back into the version of herself she became after Nicky died, but she doesn’t. she turns around and faces the pain head-on.

and I want to take a second to appreciate how immensely hard that would be. Agatha spent centuries killing people so she could be powerful enough to stay numb. Agatha spent all of that time pushing away the love of her life, who still loves her, who still sees her fully, and who Agatha is clearly still desperate to return to. Agatha realizes, probably to absurd amounts of despair, that she was wrong about all of it. and she still turns around.

it’s not about Agatha randomly sacrificing herself for a last minute villain kind-of-redemption. it’s about Agatha breaking the cycle she’s trapped herself in for an unfathomably long time, admitting that she knows Rio couldn’t change the outcome, and acknowledging that, yeah, she actually does love this kid.

and honestly?? i don’t think Agatha becoming a ghost counts as killing her. she’s literally still around, doing stuff, picking up brooches (👀 Rio wya), and getting a second chance at… not motherhood, exactly, but caring for a child. (and a queer child! and the idea of Agatha, who has been queer since the *1600s*, getting to tell this gay kid over and over again that there’s nothing innately wrong with him makes me actually sob.)

HOWEVER! i maintain some criticisms. i think Jen deserved to have an actual fight with the doctor who bound her. (the oops! it was Agatha All Along twist was… complicated. i have mixed feelings. essay for another day, but i wanted Jen to have rage time that everyone was just cheering for.)

i needed Death lore. how is she physically with Agatha so often if, as Agatha states, 120 people die every minute? is she Death the cosmic entity, or are green witches sort of responsible for decay on earth?

some of the plot elements were severely under-developed, and frustratingly, the vast majority of the underdeveloped plotlines had to do with Agatha/Rio’s romantic relationship, Agatha’s mother, and Agatha’s reasons for killing people. (the fact that they said she’s a siphon in interviews and not once on the show will never stop baffling me lmao.) i find it very frustrating that a LARGE chunk of the underdeveloped stuff relates back to Agatha’s queerness in some way.

however… i am willing to be generous about some of that, because i find it difficult to believe that this *extremely queer* creative team actually just disregarded major queer plot elements. i am far more inclined to believe that they were operating under a hostile corporation and pushing as far as they could, and in that case, they did a fucking phenomenal job.

i genuinely think that the way they landed the show opens the door for them to… dare I say it? … give Agatha/Rio a happy ending?? ghost Agatha literally need only show up to Rio’s house or cave or dimension or whatever and be like “heyyyyy, yeah that kiss was forgiveness and also i’m solid enough to use my hands now” and it would be believable. the fact that it would take them only 15 seconds to give us two fucked up lesbians having their version of happily ever after is actually pretty cool

anyway, this is an abridged summary of how my feelings abt the Agatha All Along finale went from like a 4/10 rating to an 8/10.

[live-laugh-legolas]

FOR UR FELLOWSHIP REQUEST THING maybe the fellowship with an depressed reader? like how each of them would treat the reader (i wanted to go for su1c1d@l but idk if ur chill with it(ONLY IF U WANNA))

Remember that you are not alone so please reach out for help. There are hotlines to call/text if you are struggling, suicidal, or in a crisis

My messages are always open if you want to talk but I am no replacement for professional help and support of your loved ones

The fellowship x depressed!reader

Aragorn:

-He recognizes the signs quickly

-I imagine he’s had his bouts of depression

-He definitely takes a very gentle approach

-Offering a shoulder and an ear

-He’s kinda an unpaid and unlicensed therapist

-He gives lots of tips on how to keep going in your daily life

-For some people depression is kind of a way of life; you have to learn to live with it

Legolas:

-He doesn’t fully understand at first

-To elves, depression is really only experienced after loss

-So to have it chronically is a new concept to him

-He’s remorseful that you feel so low and he knows there isn’t much he can do

-But he will try

-He will force you to get up and out of bed, even if he has to throw you over his shoulder to get you some fresh air

-He will constantly point out little beautiful things to be grateful for; little joys

-Maybe it’s the smell of dawn or crunchy fall leaves

-Or maybe it’s him; he is very insistent that you would miss him most

Gimli:

-I literally love this dwarf so much; he would be such a cutie that you can’t help but smile at him

-Like he is so gentle and patient with you; which is saying something because dwarves are not patient beings

-He isn’t someone who will beat around the bush though; he will very bluntly tell you your worth and why he and everyone else needs and wants you around

-He gets you involved in anything he can

-Is it against your will? Maybe

-But I’ve found I sometimes end up feeling a little better and enjoy the time out even after I’ve bitched about it and my friend had to drag me out of the house by my hair

Boromir:

-Big brother mode is always active so he picks up on your subtle changes very fast

-Maybe even before you do

-He will tell you stuff like “even if you can’t, you must”

-Wether or not you find that helpful or not; just know he’s trying

-His experience with depression is seeing it with his soldiers

-And that’s the sort of thing he tells them so he just kinda hopes can be applied to you

-He is very action oriented; I think he may have a difficult time sympathizing with not feeling able to get up and do anything

-But damnit if he doesn’t try; he wants you to tell him everything so he can learn and be of better support

-He also gives the best hugs

Frodo:

-He is a very steady friend

-Like he’s not going anywhere; no matter how dark things look he’s still there with a torch

-He makes you go on walks like clockwork to give you some feeling of routine

-He always invites you over because if he can’t help he’s sure Bilbo can

-How can you be sad when talking to Bilbo?

-Well actually he talks a lot so maybe it’s a bit exhausting; but it’s a kind thought

Sam:

-So Sam wants to help so bad; the idea that he can’t fix it doesn’t sit well with him so he will keep trying

-He will help with tasks obviously because acts of service is his love language

-But I also imagine him trying to give comfort but not in the “let me hug you and you can cry on my shoulder way”

-More so in the “look at this photo of a piglet in rain-boots! You can’t be sad while looking at that!”

-Yes you can because that’s not how depression works but still; you put on a smile anyway because he’s just so adorable and he’s trying his best

-This may turn into a sort of “fake it till you make it” situation where eventually you may feel better from his antics

Merry:

-We know this hobbit likes to plan things and is always up for adventure with his friends

-And he’s basically Sherlock of the hobbits so you don’t have to say anything for him to read you like an open book

-He will set you a schedule and will hold you to it by joining you

-He’s not going to go easy on you ngl

-Not in a mean way; but he won’t give you a day to take a break and stay in bed

-Even if you have to half ass everything; you will be doing something

-“you don’t need to wash your hair but you do need to sit in this tub for at least 10 minutes”

-This can feel exhausting at the time and may make you snap at him sometimes but he’s determined because he loves you

-And sometimes tough love is the most helpful

Pippin:

-Can’t get out of bed?

-Don’t worry! Pippin won’t let you be lonely

-He won’t always drag you out of bed. Instead he will join you and talk your ear off

-He brings the “fun” to you

-With the hope that he will either annoy you so much you get up

-Or that his stories give you some level of intrigue to want to go out and see whatever it was he is talking about

Gandalf:

-This is a very old man, he’s seen depression in all states and forms

-He’s a quiet type of comfort

-He definitely says some vague poetic shit that isn’t necessarily helpful but it does have a meaningful lesson

-Offers his pipe

-He is also sort of they type that you are a little afraid to disobey

-Like if he tells you to get outside more; even if you don’t see him, he knows if you have or haven’t

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Idk how good this is. I personally do have depression so I know my own experiences with how it affects me, but it shows in different ways for everyone. In terms of comfort and support I’m not fully sure this does any justice, hopefully it’s a little comforting. I have a great support system but I’m notorious for being too stubborn to accept help. Don’t do that by the way, because eventually it will likely stop coming. Let your friends and family support you; it’s not out of pity; it’s because they care and want to help in anyway they can even if that just means checking to make sure you are alive each morning to let you know they are there.

Anyone can message me if they need someone to talk to. I’m no therapist or expert in any sense but I can be a friend :)

[siriuslyapuff]

Hi! Could you do a Caitlin Clark one where we surprise her at one of the Fever Games?

hi! yes ofc! sorry it’s taken me a while to post this! ive been swamped with essays for my summer classes :( i chose to do the fever game against dc where cait had one of her best games of the season! i figured it was fitting if y/n surprised her and she saw her during the first quarter and started dedicating the game to her and it helped her make her shots! i also decided to make y/n a singer who’s touring, which is why she can’t make all of cc’s games!

dc surprise c.clark x reader

caitlin clark x reader!

summary: you're on tour for festival season (its giving chappell roan) and you haven't been able to make it to one of caitlin's games for a while. you finally are able to make it to one and come to DC to surprise her!

!𝑨𝑩𝑩𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺¡

okay i love how this started but idk how i feel abt the ending bc i kind of rushed it but its okay

first cc fic hehehe

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: the use of y/n?

The last two months have been crazy for you. The festival season had begun, which meant you were on the road more often than not, touring all over the states, playing show after show with no breaks. It made it impossible to take any time off for yourself, making it incredibly hard to find the time to watch your girlfriend play her first few games as a pro. 

You’d caught a break for her very first game, spending the week before with her while she finished up training camp and supported her through the loss of her first game pre-season, and their loss against Connecticut. But you’d only made it to a few others, including the game in Las Vegas as you’d wanted to see her and Kate play. But festivals almost every other weekend, and the process of recording your new album made it hard. 

Caitlin understood she knew what she’d signed up for when she asked you to be her girlfriend two years ago. It didn’t make it easier, but she understood. You had a responsibility to your fans and to your label just as she had a responsibility for her team and the league. 

The two of you had been inseparable while still in school, you taking part-time classes while juggling your rising stardom, Cait constantly at games or practice, but you lived together, and that made it easier. Right now, Caitlin lived in Indiana, and you lived in hotel rooms, scarcely able to make it back to her apartment. 

Finally, there was a break in your schedule, coming only two days before you were set to perform at Gov Ball in New York. Caitlin would be in DC for a game, you’d decided to make the trip out there as it was only a few hours from the city and you could stay a few days there with her. You hadn’t told Cait your plan but you’d texted some of her teammates and Katie Lou pulled through, her family had spots courtside as her sister played for the Mystics and they had a seat for you and a few of your friends. All you had to do was let your management know about your little detour, but it wouldn’t be a huge deal because of the publicity you’d get at the game. 

The public knew you and Cait were friends, and some people suspected you were more, and you were very open with your sexuality. But, Caitlin was more reserved, she wanted to keep your relationship more private, to try and keep the vultures off your backs. You’d both seen what the media could do to relationships and valued the health of your relationship over the ability to flaunt each other in public. 

There were also of course the fans who shipped you with Kate. This had caused a bit of tension between you and Caitlin, especially after the Fever game in Vegas, where people pointed out it was one of the only games you’d attended. But Kate put the rumors to rest mentioning how she saw you as a younger sister on one of Jada’s lives. Which was a relief, and Cait was ready to risk it all just to prove to the internet that you were hers. 

Sometimes you wondered how the internet had yet to put all the pieces together, due to all of the songs you’d written about her. It baffled you how many people assumed they were about exes and not about the girl you were with. But Caitlin thought it was hilarious, especially when you dropped your album, and ‘So High School’ wasn’t immediately connected to her. 

Being at this upcoming game for Cait was important to you. The media was ripping her apart and it broke your heart that you were unable to be there and support her. Especially as you were at such a high in your career, she deserved all the love and support from you, the same support she’d given you when you were at your lowest point. 

So you booked a flight to Washington, DC with a promise to your management you wouldn’t blow out your vocal chords screaming at the game, and headed to the airport early the morning of the game. 

—

Everything worked out perfectly, and now you were on your way to DC for the game. Caitlin had texted you that morning letting you know she’d landed at Dulles and was heading over for practice. You’d responded, wishing her good luck tonight and that you’d be watching the game from your New York apartment couch. She of course thought you were flying to New York this morning, and was not suspicious at all that your phone was off for three hours. You just prayed no one had caught wind of you leaving Boston and was waiting at the airport when you landed. The last thing you needed was paparazzi pictures hitting the internet when you were trying to surprise your girlfriend. She had your hashtag notifications on for every website, and it was impossible to get away with any form of surprise because of the media attention you got. 

Thankfully when you touched down and made your way through the airport there were no reporters. You bumped into a couple of fans, taking pictures, but asking them to wait until the next day to post pictures of you in the airport. 

You took an Uber to your hotel, a hat pulled low over your eyes trying to avoid anyone recognizing you. There were a few hours left until the game and you were settling into your hotel as Cait’s name flashed on your phone, with a Facetime request. 

“Hey baby,” she said when you answered, her tired eyes meeting yours. 

“Hey, love.” You smiled, taking in her appearance, her ponytail a little ruffled, and her warm-up shirt soaked with sweat. “Did you just get done with practice?” 

She nods, wiping a hand across her face, “yeah, we’re about to head back to the hotels to get ready for the game before shoot-around.” She pauses, eyes wandering across your face through the screen. “What are you up to?”

“Writing.” You shrug coyly, smirking as her face lit up. 

“About me?” You couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. 

“No, I’m writing about some other six-foot brunette who plays basketball.” Caitlin pouts which makes your stomach clench. She looks so cute when she does that. “Don’t pout at me, baby.” 

She rolls her eyes, smiling again. “You’re watching the game tonight right?” 

You nod, shaking your head as she always double-checked. “Yup, I have my 22 jersey ready and a bottle of wine.” 

“Good,” she grins, “every shot is for you, baby.” 

—

The line to get into the stadium wrapped around the building, reminding you of the pictures you’d seen of Eras Tour queues. Sometimes you were immensely glad that you were able to cut the line. 

You’d texted Caitlin’s parents, meeting up with them so you all could head over to the game together. The three of you were able to cut in line, going through the family entrance, and mingling with people before finding your seats. 

Deciding to wear a hat to the game had become a good idea, shielding yourself from prying eyes and the eyes of your girlfriend, not wanting to distract her before the game. It always went better for her if she found you in the crowd naturally, almost as if your presence lit a fire in her. 

And lit a fire it did. Only two minutes into the game Cait spotted you. Her eyes zeroed in on your shoes first, waiting to check the ball right before you. They traveled upwards, meeting your own, a smirk across your lips. Her jaw dropped, and she quickly recovered as you winked cheekily at her. 

“What the fuck,” she mouthed at you. 

“Surprise,” You mouthed back, grinning. Her parents laughed, sitting beside you. 

It was as if a switch had flipped. She started shooting every three, making almost every single one of them. You were on your feet, cheering for her every time she made a bucket, just like you had in college. 

Caitlin was on fire, and everyone noticed, trying to figure out what had caused this winning streak. The camera panned along courtside as the half approached, the media team obviously noticing Cait’s eyes on your section every time she landed another shot. 

You, Brent, and Anne smiled and waved for the camera as it hovered in front of you. All three of you glanced up, seeing yourselves on the jumbotron, your name and “Caitlin Clark’s Parents” popping up under your faces. The camera stayed there for a while, the three of you trying to maintain smiles as if became slightly awkward, finally when they moved on your eyes found Cait’s and she rolled her own, exasperation showing through. 

Both of you knew this would come with tons of speculation, but you weren’t upset over it. As long as the two of you were happy, nothing would come between you, even the nosey media. 

—

As soon as the game was over you were ushered to the tunnel, following behind the players yelling in excitement over the win against DC. At an away game too. You smiled, watching Cait hug Katie Lou, and Erica. Her eyes began to travel around the room, looking for someone, looking for you. When your eyes connected, she ducked out from under her teammate's arms, sprinting towards you. 

You collided, her arms catching you at the top of your thighs as you jumped into the air. She spun you around, a wide smile across her lips. 

“I can’t believe you’re here!” The sound of her voice sent a wave of warmth throughout your body, having only heard it through the phone for the last month. 

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” you whispered into her neck as she set you down. “I missed you so much, Caity.” 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby.” Caitlin pulls you even closer, as if trying to make sure you’re real, and actually in her arms. “Holy shit, I literally cannot believe I’m holding you right now.” 

“Believe it, baby, I’m here for another day.” 

Caitlin’s face lit up. “We have all night and all day together?” 

You nod, eyes wandering across her face, taking in her features, trying to ignore the pang in your heart at the bags under her eyes. “I cleared it with Christie. I’m traveling with you guys to Indiana tomorrow and flying out the morning after.” 

Caitlin lunged forward, connecting her lips to yours. You smiled against hers, hands finding their way to her hair. The whistles of her teammates in the background made the two of you pull apart, breathless. She pressed another kiss to your lips quickly before turning around to face her team and shooting them a look of irritation. 

“Let's get out of here,” she laces her fingers with yours, tugging you in the opposite direction of the locker room. 

“Wait but don’t you have to-” 

“Nope.” The two of you weave your way through the mass of people, heads down, quickly making your way toward the exit. “If Christie knows you’re here, she’ll be fine missing me for post-game.” 

“But the media?” She grins at you crookedly. 

“I’m not on the schedule for once.” Caitlin leans forward quickly, pressing her lips on your temple. “Now come on, we have a lot of time to make up for and only one night to do it.” 

[the-owl-tree]

im a little too tired rn, is it okay if i ask you to elaborate on the “tbc shouldve come out after oots because of how asc was handled” post… im curious 👀

Also a little sleepy so I might become back and edit this later but I was kind of nibbling on it in my brain and I think thematically, changing the order just lends itself better to OotS -> TBC -> AVoS -> ASC. Some of this is veering into rewrite/au territory but that's the fun part lol

Omen of the Stars

Sets up the religious themes of TBC with its Heaven/Hell cat war.

Sets up that StarClan can be wrong and this has negative consequences for the living cats. Examples: Yellowfang interfering in Cinderheart's life, StarClan telling the Clans to divide themselves before the war.

Sets up that there are cats in the Dark Forest who do not deserve to be there.

The Great Battle itself, quite literally them fighting demons of the pasts and "codebreakers" who aligned themselves with said demons, creates a really good set up for TBC.

The Clans are reeling and, had OotS pulled it off better, the great battle could've been devastating...and why a more strict leader trying to "pull his Clan together" would've been more acceptable.

The Broken Code

The themes and plot of TBC just work sooo much better with the aforementioned set up.

Themes of StarClan being wrong, making mistake, recontextualizing the Dark Forest as somewhere not as pure evil but also a result of these mistakes.

Ashfur swooping in post-war to get a hold on leadership, taking advantage of Clan pride, and using the code as a guise to unite ThunderClan under an iron fist.

Like the setting feels so perfect for TBC to me?? Post spiritual war between heaven and hell where even StarClan faced losses, a malevolent spirit with a grudge comes down to take advantage of this huge split whilst the worst leaf-bare the Clans have seen approaches.

But that's also obvious connections to make, what it also lends itself to is the new theme of authority and leadership that becomes relevant in AVOS.

This is also where the seeds of code changing are being planted.

A Vision of Shadow

Like I don't like AVOS Rowanstar, I find the text tells me one thing but his actions tell me another but for the purposes of this, I'll indulge the intention of the writers: Rowanstar is supposed to be too permissive.

And like, this doesn't work right after OOTS in which multiple ShadowClan cats sided with the Dark Forest.

But it does work post TBC after the Clans just fought and faced losses against Ashfur.

We see a leader reckon with the consequences of their own unchecked power (and perhaps sees some past echoes in the process?)

We see the use of the code to justify brutality fuel a growing disrespect from those in the Clans.

There is unease and unhappiness with the status quo (and in a good series, this should not be a bad thing)

SkyClan also brings into question the benevolence of StarClan. Would they turn a blind eye to ShadowClan? To RiverClan?

Things need to change, AVoS is the straw that breaks the camel's back: things need to change.

A Starless Clan

Berryheart's role hinges a lot more on AVOS while comparatively everyone else's can be either or, so just making AVOS more relevant adds to that.

ASC, as muddled and sloppy as it got, is about change and it is about progress, even if the authors got really scared and sympathetic towards bigots who want to halt that progress.

Continuing the theme of authority: what happens when a Clan has no leader?

Continuing the theme of faith: what happens when cats turn their back on StarClan?

and don't get me wrong, ASC stumbled downhill into a bush of thorns, but these themes do have more room to stand when we reorder and stack these themes to build on one another.

I'm stretching a little but I think thematically, switching everything around like building blocks just makes ASC like...idk have more to stand on?

I think I'd have to go on more of a rewrite tangent to make this work better but I feel like using TBC to set up AVOS rather than vice versa works better.

Star Specific Point (Spoilers)

I think also the ending ultimately being about choosing to come back and faith in the living also just caps off these building themes better. Frostpaw choosing to come back because she can do more alive than dead just lends itself to ideas of autonomy and breaking from the idea that StarClan is all-knowing and all seeing.

[1d1195]

Protection VIII

Read the rest here: Protection

Hi, this is kinda fast paced, idk. I'm def not confident about this section at all. I feel like it's got potential but I don't think I know what I'm doing. But I don't have a choice but to give it a shot anyway. I know I've mentioned before, but I like Grey's Anatomy and stupid cheesy movies with scenes like this.

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, lots of sad sad stuff. I actually don't know how blood loss works or g*n shot wounds either but it's for the plot also this is very dramatized because the writing side of my brain is a drama queen. I don’t think it’s very accurate scientifically or logically so if you would be as so kind as to look at it “holistically” and try to just envision something super serious along these lines I would GRATEFULLY appreciate it. Also, I don't know how tech works. Sorry if it seems a bit awful

~5.9k words.

Thank you oh so much to @freedomfireflies for beta reading so I could feel a little better about actually posting this.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Harry, for better or for worse, prided himself on being a hard worker. But for the last three days, and especially today, he didn’t care. He had spent the first half of that horrific day answering thousands of questions. The latter half was spent learning his new office job. When he got back to his apartment—a place he’d hardly spent any time in over the last two weeks—he finally let the tears and frustration course through him. He tried to call her again, but he received a message that his number had been blocked.

He called his mum and broke down.

So, he entered the building. It would be this way now. Day three of filing paperwork that he had spent so many hours writing for her. Now he was at the other end of it. Learning an office job when all he wanted was to head right to her flowery little place and beg her to explain. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and promise her anything her heart wanted. He didn’t understand and he was floundering. How did he fix this? How was he supposed to breathe? After all that. After all the kisses, all the touches. All the touches he didn’t get and all the ones he deprived her of because it wasn’t protocol. What a stupid idiot.

Good luck, honey bun :( his mum texted. She texted it yesterday too and he wondered how long she would have to text it to him before the frowny face disappeared.

Harry was destined for another hundred meetings explaining that he had no idea she was feeling this way. Because of course, despite the fact he did know what she was feeling—because he felt it too—he felt so much loyalty to her. He didn’t know what her game was or why she was trying to sell it that it was one-sided, but despite how sad he was, she was brilliant. A biochemist in the making, of course, and if she had to break his heart, he believed (or wanted to believe) that she was doing the right thing.

Harry sat at his newly assigned desk and looked at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he would make her grovel for forgiveness. This was too much paperwork for him, and she had to have known how much he would have hated it. But he also thought that she would just look at him through her pretty eyelashes that drove him mad, smelling like flowers, and say sorry and that would be plenty.

There had to be an end to this. He was certain of it.

Niall wasn't allowed to tell him anything that he heard. Harry wasn't allowed to ask about her either (Niall, naturally a stickler for protocol, was following the rule--he didn't even know what she was up to. His job was to train Harry. Their supervisor saw to it that she was under his own surveillance.

"It feels m'being forced t'write with m'left hand after being right handed for m'whole life," he explained to Niall dejectedly. For five months his thoughts were consumed with the flowery girl he fell so incredibly hard for. Overnight she was just gone.

Harry began flipping through papers and tapping at his keyboard for all of four minutes when Niall suddenly dragged him out of his seat, down the hall, and back out the front door without a word. “Niall!” He ground out bitterly. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to kill his friend a bit for even recommending he be part of this. He wished he wasn’t her bodyguard. At least he wouldn’t be sour with heartache.

But honestly, Harry owed Niall his entire life for bringing him to her.

“She’s gone.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Who?”

Niall slapped him across the face—not quite hard but enough to stun him and knock some sense into him. “She’s gone.”

Harry felt like this was a dream. His brain was floating distantly. “What are y’talking ‘bout?”

“There's an email on my phone, to my private email, from a random address, a random IP address. It’s her. She said DSS is compromised...that someone in the department wants her out of the picture and if I’m reading it, it means that she is not in her apartment regardless of what they say. The very same email is going to be sent in ninety minutes to everyone at DSS.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “It’s going to...blow everything up. You have to—”

“Niall, that’s ridiculous. She would—”

“She said to tell you the email is from Miss Wildflower.”

The words died in his throat. “No,” he shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d ever written down, wasn’t something he called her to anyone else. That was for him and her...and... “No...it’s not her. She’s fine,” he was in denial. How could he not be? The thought that something happened to her? This wasn’t just some long routed way of her anxiety taking over and ruining something before it started. It wasn’t getting Harry off her detail so they could spend Christmas together (something he had convinced himself of when he was crying to his mom the night before).

“No, Harry, and I'm gonna have to go make a scene and tell them but I’m giving you a head start because she's giving you a head start. You don’t have time to waste here. I’m telling them I sent you home. That you’re too distraught to work.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Okay.”

“She didn’t want you to get hurt,” Niall said. “She was...scared.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he thought he was going to be sick. He winced as he thought it over. Put his hands on his knees as he took heaving breaths. “Harry,” Niall said gently. “You don’t have time—”

“Jus’ shut up, Niall,” he croaked. Niall was silent, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t imagine the heartache and anguish his friend was feeling.

“At least...at least there was a reason, right?” Niall murmured.

If it meant her harm or kidnapping or...worse. No. It wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter the reason. “Yeah...” he mumbled.

*

Since Harry was no longer on her detail, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed into her apartment building—at least not through the main entrance.

Even if he was allowed in the main entrance, he had to work under the assumption that whatever compromised agents would be waiting out front for him. So he would need an alternate route.

He hurried up her fire escape and opened her bedroom window just as he knew she did the very first day he met her. He was suddenly grateful for her never listening to Harry about protocol. He was glad the window was unlocked. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Her pretty poinsettia and snowdrop apartment enveloped him like a hug. He wanted to bask in the smell of her pine-scented Christmas tree, the way her perfume made him feel at home, and just be there with her. But instead, he was trying hard to keep focus while he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob into the pillow that smelled like her shampoo.

He listened quietly and heard no one in the rest of the apartment. He searched for clues of any kind but there were none. No sign of a struggle. It was like she went with them willingly. Knowing her, she probably convinced them to let her walk on her own. But part of him believed she would have put up a fight. She had to have, right?

Her phone was on the counter. So there was no way to track her, he saw the tens of messages that came from him before he was blocked, a few from Niall, and several from the professor she would be working with next semester.

But it was Harry’s phone vibrating in his pocket was the one that pulled him from his thoughts.

Unknown: Video Attachment.

She was there. He could see her in the preview. Seeing her was like breathing again after being stuck under water for a hair too long. She was alive. She had memorized Harry’s number.

Harry thought memorizing his number was...

If it were possible to fall more in love with her, he did. It couldn't be possible because there simply wasn't room. He was already so in love with her. And it was just his phone number, after all. But he did. He fell so much harder. It felt like the marrow in his bones were aching for her touch.

Harry swallowed and sat on her sofa as he played it.

“Hi Dad...um...” she swallowed hard, like there was a lump in her throat. She looked okay. Her hair was in a braid, strands of it coming out and there was a redness to only one of her cheeks...like she had been slapped. Harry gripped his phone tightly to keep from throwing it. Her eyelashes, those pretty fluttery things that drove him nuts with desire for her, looked wet. His heart pounded. “You know,” she took a deep, shaky breath and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Hurry up,” he heard in the background. Wherever she was was nondescript. A construction site by the look of it. Nothing in the video sounded or looked like anything of use to finding her location. She shook her head quickly and tried again. Swallowed again.

“When Mom died, I thought the people that murdered her should have just...ended my life too. I know you know someone murdered her. No one believed me. Not one person. And I thought...I was the only person left in your life. You were supposed to love me and take care of me the way she always did. It killed me every single day that you didn’t—that you don't. It hurts so much that you hate me. Please. Just do what he asks; give him whatever...I don't want to die," she was being so brave. It was the way she held herself. How she seemed to stand straighter in the video. But Harry could hear the nervousness. Who wouldn't be nervous? It broke his heart that she was fighting and being so incredibly brave. "I’ll never bother you ever again. I’ll...go....I'll leave the country...I’ll just go."

“You have two hours,” and then he received a message from the same unknown number, the location of the park he went to when she twisted her ankle.

Harry only had a little under an hour because he knew DSS was going to be on their way soon—especially after Niall sent them on their way. If they received this message too, they would go through some inane plan that would decidedly not work--especially knowing that they were compromised. He was going to send the messages to Niall’s email from an rerouted IP address as soon as he watched the videos a few more times because if they were going to terrify her, Harry was going to help ruin their plan. They would wait for the park. It was what they did. It was the surest way. Protocol.

Harry would have given anything to see her roll her eyes at the word.

He watched the video again. And again. On the third time he was looking at the screen so closely, his eyes looking for some secret message hidden in the pixels. She looked okay, cozy. She was wearing the sweatshirt that Harry wore when he was soaked with rain—when the worst thing that happened to her was that stupid guy leaving her injured in a park. She didn’t look injured now, at least. His heart was aching. It had to be something. She wouldn’t have sent this to him for no reason--it was intended for her dad. It had to be a sign. Moreover, she said something about leaving the country--that had to be for Harry.

Harry felt like he would die if he didn’t figure it out on the next play through. It couldn’t be too hard. She may be a biochemist, but she couldn't have made it something ridiculous for him to solve. He wasn't a biochemist after all. That concert seemed like a lifetime ago. His agitation for losing her phone seemed stupid in comparison. He would tell her such as soon as he found her.

Now he was thinking about everything, every interaction they had as he stared at his phone, trying to will the hidden message to appear. It felt like it was a miracle she lost her phone at that concert. At least he told her she needed a failsafe at that point in time. Although he thought it would be for a guy that was too forward.

It was her hands.

They fidgeted throughout the entire video. He didn’t notice at first. She was nervous, her hands were tied together. Her fingers had to be going numb. He wished he had taught her how to break out of zip ties, maybe she could have escaped all on her own.

But that was when he noticed it. If it weren’t for him knowing the basics enough to know his own name when he saw it, he might not have paid any mind to the shape of her fist. Her fingers were shaking near the middle of her stomach. Her left hand was fidgeting wildly. But her right hand had a pattern, a fist, her pinky, her index and middle finger, another fist, her index finger.

Harry was glad her backpack was untouched. He grabbed one of her index cards and searched on his phone for the American Sign Language alphabet. He knew the first one was A because of his own name. Her pinky meant I. An R. Harry got it...it was her failsafe.

“Good girl,” he murmured to no one. Air. It took him four extra seconds to discern between S, M, N, E, A before he finally moved to the last two. He settled on T because the next letters were another A and G.

AirTag.

What would have an AirTag on her? He didn't have time to question it. He slid her computer out of her bag next, an index card falling from it.

His heart broke.

Harry— I Am SO sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I know you’re going to find me because...you’re you and you make me feel safe. And because...well... I adore you. So much. I tried so hard not to, and I tried so hard to push you away and... Please TRY to forgive me. I promise I did it with reason. I’m so sorry, Harry. SO sorry.

He didn’t have time to cry but he shoved the note in his pocket, wishing he told her he loved her at least once. Ever. He couldn’t pore over her words. Couldn’t guess what she was thinking or doing. There wasn’t time for him to guess how she knew he would find this note. Of course, she couldn’t just put all the answers on this index card because if she did, anyone could find it. Someone at DSS would have found it if she hadn’t perfectly planned for Niall to send him here beforehand. He had to find her faster and before that stupid, corrupt building got there.

Now he was tasked with her password.

Please be easy.

He clicked on the “forgot password" link. A helpful little reminder was there: Flower!number. It seemed daunting immediately. Especially because he was so distraught and worried. There were so many flowers she could have put. He tried Sunflower!14. Snowdrop!14. Peonies!14. How many times could he try? He was terrified it would lock him out. He took a deep breath and he only had moments to figure it out because he was certain people would be hurrying to her apartment from DSS soon.

Tilting his head back at the ceiling he almost felt embarrassed at how easy it seemed now.

Wildflower!14 did the trick.

With a sigh of relief, he searched AirTag on her computer. He opened the application.

She had no less than 50 AirTags. Forty-nine of which were in her apartment with Harry. All labeled with various names for her shoes.

Good girl. He thought. It was in her shoe. When would she be without shoes?

The only shoes that weren’t in her apartment were in a warehouse across the city. He scribbled the address on another index card and shoved it in his pocket alongside her perfect note telling him she loved him.

Harry could hear a commotion starting in the lobby. Sirens were ringing outside. They were coming up the stairs. He closed her laptop, slid it back into her backpack and hurried to her bedroom hoping everything look untouched. He quietly closed the window behind him as they entered her apartment. He descended the fire escape before they made it to her room.

If she could see him breaking protocol, he imagined she would laugh.

*

Harry parked a block away from the address. As soon as he entered the building, he hurried up two flights of stairs to where he heard talking. “It was a risk I had to take!” It was a man’s voice. Harry felt sick. “It was suspicious!” He shouted. “She said she would get more money. How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Get up,” he snapped.

She yelped and Harry thought he might die before he made it to her if he heard her getting hurt even slightly. If he pulled her hair or caused her to stub her toe, Harry would genuinely contemplate murdering him.

Harry pulled the gun from the holster around his ankle. He pointed it down toward the ground and waited by the entrance to the floor and peered so very briefly around the corner of the wall. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful being walking on her own. A gun pressed to her back. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

If something happened to her, Harry would never forgive himself.

"Listen," she said almost gently. Like she was going to reason with someone with a gun. She was going to get herself murdered and Harry couldn't stop her right now. "I know...I know you want money. I get that, honestly I do. Who doesn't, right?"

God Harry envied her serenity in a moment like this.

He wasn't actively putting bullets in her so she continued. "You're a smart guy. They wouldn't have picked you to do this if you weren't, but you...you have to realize you're their fall guy. This is a national security matter. The first sign of trouble they're going to say you kidnapped me, you hurt me. They will come out clean because they have to," she explained so rationally it would have been obvious to anyone with a pulse. "You don't have to take me there," she finally whimpered the true emotion she was feeling. Harry winced as if her pain was in his own body--he certainly felt like it was. "I can just go...I have a plan. I...or we can fake my death. It doesn't have to be this way," she promised. Like they were going to be a team.

But Harry knew what it was: all her rambling. It was a distraction, it was stalling.

Because she had no way of knowing if Harry made it in time to save her--but the one thing she did know? If she was brought to the park...it was all over.

Harry took a deep silent breath trying very hard to keep as calm as possible because he could not afford one second of hesitation or any kind of slip up. He turned the corner aiming his weapon toward the man holding her at gunpoint. “Harry!” She gasped and made three bold steps toward him; hands still bound up in front of her. The man behind her fired off a round right toward the concrete wall just feet away. Harry didn’t waver, holding his own gun steady in front of him as she yelped again, pausing her steps. It was long enough that he snagged her back before she got any closer to Harry.

The person behind her had his arm around the front of her shoulders. He pressed the cold metal to her temple. She wanted to scream or cry or something. Her hands clutched to the man’s forearm trying desperately to wriggle free. He was using her as a shield—the coward. Harry wanted to scream too. He held his gun aimed directly at his head from several meters away. But it was way too close of a shot for him to even think about taking it. Not with her right there. Not with a weapon held to her beautiful, perfect face.

It felt like all those times he watched guys lean too close to her at the bar amplified by ten thousand. It felt like the realization that stupid prick slipped something in her drink multiplied by a million. His lips were near her ear. Harry was so grateful she was alive and awake.

And maybe, most importantly to Harry, she looked pissed.

“He’s going to kill you,” she hissed at him, tears in her eyes. Bless her angry little heart.

That’s my girl. Harry thought. Harry was going to kill him. Especially if he harmed her in any capacity. He pressed the gun harder against her skin and she winced. Harry faltered for half a second.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding so much braver than he felt. He was a mess internally. It was a wonder his hands didn’t shake holding his weapon. He wanted to surrender himself—him for her, he would have taken her spot in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get her out of here.

“Right as rain,” the man said. Harry wondered if he should just take his shot right now. Damn it all because he wanted to kill him for thinking this was funny.

She nodded, just barely. Harry felt the most minor amount of relief.

She could try to run for him again. She was certain she could make it—she almost did. Harry would stop him before he even realized she managed to get away from him. A kick to the shin—or worse. The only thing that stopped her was the metal against her head. She was terrified that one wrong movement would set off a reflexive action that would take her life. Harry inched closer. Six measly feet away from her. She could nearly smell his fresh cologne probably applied habitually before he headed to work.

But six feet may as well have been six thousand miles.

“I can kill her, now,” he said. “Makes no difference to me. I get paid either way,” she inhaled sharply. She thought there would be a bruise from the circular barrel pressing to her skull.

She swallowed, staring at Harry. Perfect, wonderful Harry. If this was the last time her eyes were opened, at least he would be the last thing she saw. Harry had to focus on staying as calm as humanly possible. Even though the thrum of his pulse was like thunder in every inch of his body. She looked unharmed and said she was okay...other than her wrists tied together. “If you kill me, you’ll never get to my dad,” she reminded him. Harry was surprised to hear her talk about her dad. There had to be something more. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get her out of here.

He eyed Harry as he inched even closer. “Keep moving, I’ll kill her,” he promised with a shrug. Harry stopped in his tracks, and she tried to pull her head from the gun. She was so brave, not even the tears in her eyes were stopping her from trying to get away.

Harry was going to give her anything she wanted. A thousand coffees, a million movies, a new set of pens and a fresh batch of index cards, or a hundred fake bouquets to decorate her place. Whatever she wanted.

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly. He wanted to cry at the sound of worry in her voice.

“I know, love,” he murmured, trying to feign this wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

He wanted to wince, but he couldn’t blink. It felt like if he dropped his gaze for even a second it would be over. He would lose. He could not lose her. He didn’t respond to her. “Shut up,” the man snapped. She dropped her hands from his arm and Harry wondered how he didn’t drop his gun at the sight. It looked like she was giving up. It felt like they had to give up. What were they supposed to do? It was so quiet; even the cars outside the building seemed to be silent.

Harry and the unknown man stared at each other unmoving from their positions. It was almost like he was watching her in his peripheral vision he saw her fingers fidgeting just like they had in the video. A repetitive movement. Except this wasn’t quite sign language.

This was her thumb and index finger forming the shape of a gun and then her thumb pointing back toward herself shifting ever so slightly so her movement wouldn’t alert the man holding her hostage. Harry shook his head imperceptibly.

“Please,” she begged.

“I said, ‘shut up’,” he gripped her tighter, shaking her and Harry allowed himself to wince. He shook his head more obviously.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I’m going to put a bullet right in your mouth, shut. Up,” he pulled on the safety which clicked so loudly in her ear she thought it was the trigger on its own.

She released a horrific, terrified sob. “Harry, please,” she croaked.

Harry thought his heart was going to break. He nearly closed his eyes as he pulled his trigger right when she sobbed.

The sound of her cry marginally covered the ear-piercing ring of the weapon. She tore herself from the man’s grip impulsively. It was primal, the need to tend to her new wound. The sound and sight of Harry shooting at her had clearly done exactly as she wanted: completely distracted him. Trying to grab at the burning pain in her thigh with her wrists held together. She screamed so violently, so loud, Harry swore it was louder than the sound of the bullet.

As she dropped to the ground; Harry had a clear shot of the man and took it. It pierced directly through his forearm, so he dropped the gun. Harry placed another precise shot to the opposite shoulder rendering both his arms useless.

She was writhing in agony but somehow managed to reach for his weapon with her tied arms, and awkwardly shoved it out of his reach. Harry thought she was his hero. He was going to give her anything she wanted for as long as she lived.

Blood was pooling from both parties and Harry grabbed the man by his injured arm, nearly digging his thumb into the wound to make it worse. He groaned and yelled. He sounded worse than she did. He tried not to think about his beautiful angel bleeding with a wound he caused. All of the wounds he inflicted were well out of harm's way. They would repair eventually.

But Harry didn't need to be shot with a bullet to know it hurt. There was a reason people used the expression I need it like I need a hole in the head when they talked about something they definitely didn't want.

Harry thought honestly about snapping his neck. Instead, he shoved him behind the pole facing away from them, blood dripping in his path and wrapped his arms around the pole, handcuffed them together so he couldn’t escape with a set of zip ties he brought with himself--because Harry was not taking any risks when he found her. He had to be dealt with quickly, but he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

With the few seconds it took Harry to rid himself of the nuisance now stuck behind the pole, moaning in agony until he could get DSS and the cops, (and everyone under the sun) here. It took a moment for Harry to realize he hadn’t heard her screams of pain as he did. She was lying on the ground, eyes closed, face paling, blood pooling around her lower half.

Oh fuck.

“Love?” He whispered brokenly. Harry dropped to his knees beside her. She was bleeding so much. Too much. The training he had from his EMT days was kicking in reflexively thank God. His movements were quick: yanking his belt off, violently pulling himself out of his coat and ripping the bottom part of his shirt off. Her jeans were soaked with her blood, seeping its way up her sweatshirt. He yanked her wrists free of the zip ties finally. I have to get her a new sweatshirt he thought uselessly.

Harry wasn’t nauseous about blood. But the thought of her dying because of blood loss made him feel so sick. Why did he listen to her? Why would he shoot her? Why, why, why!?

He was trying to do too many things at once. His right hand was holding pressure with the piece of his shirt against her wound. He pressed so hard; an insane amount of pressure—he thought he might break her already fragile leg, but it would be worth it if she would wake up. He nicked something. Something bad. Or she had a clotting problem. Something was amiss. This...this was one of the safest places he could have aimed. It had one of the highest recovery rates. All he had to do was follow her stupid fucking plan.

But it wasn't stupid. It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she expected. Harry just had no idea she had prepared for that.

If she could talk Harry down she would have. It wasn't his fault. He followed her plan even though she never explicitly told him. Even though he had no idea she didn't know her own anatomy all that well and accidentally lined up one of the arteries (but fortunately did miss her femoral artery--just barely).

His left hand dialed 911. He didn’t let the operator talk, he was spewing out the address, who he was, what the issue was, barely getting the details out in a messy rush. Harry barely waited a moment before he hung up and called Niall. He didn’t listen to anything he had to say at the other end of the line and repeated the same summary again, this time losing it the longer he talked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry and if it was anyone but Niall he would worry more about professionalism.

“Baby,” he croaked leaving the phone on, shaking her by the shoulder, he lifted her head out of the puddle of blood, her face and hair sticky with the substance. He slipped his jacket beneath her head, a cushion something to get her off the cold, bloody floor. “You gotta let me see those beautiful eyes...” he shook her head. “Love, please,” he begged giving her a squeeze. She moaned and her eyes fluttered behind the lids a bit. The slight relief he felt seemed like hope. “That’s good. Hey, hi, angel,” he cooed. Her eyes turned to little slits as she opened them so very barely. “Good job,” he praised. “Y’jus' gotta stay awake for like 10 more minutes, sweetheart. Okay? Ambulance is coming,” he promised. He continued working on her leg. He was wrapping his belt around her thigh, high around the top. He pulled it into a tight knot. She moaned at the feeling.

“Stop,” she whimpered reaching with her freed hand uselessly for his ministrations.

“I know, love, m’sorry,” he felt his voice dying in his throat. This was bad. So horrifically, bad. “Y’got a bit of a gash here, Miss Wildflower, jus’ like when y’were cooking,” he reminded her. “Remember?”

She didn’t respond and Harry found a piece of metal, like something from the construction that was left lying around, to slip in the knot he made. He twisted it causing an involuntary scream to rip from her throat. He winced at the sound of her agony.

“Harry please,” she begged, eyes dripping with tears. Her hands reached again for him to stop. “It hurts!”

“I know, m'love. M’sorry. Jus’ gotta...” he kept twisting and holding pressure on the wound. Her hands reached for it again, he grabbed both, she was too weak to do anything anyway, but he held them both against her side. “There,” he felt a pinch more relief seeing the gushing had stopped.

“S’cold,” she whispered after a moment of stillness. The burning seemed to stop. It was overshadowed by how cold she was.

Harry thought he might die if she died right in front of him. His heart was racing, the adrenaline was violently coursing through him. “I know beautiful, I know. Goddammit,” he hissed. “Niall, I need back up. Now!”

He pressed harder on her wound and looked at the pool of blood surrounding her. It was too much, too dark. “Ow, Harry! Please, stop! It hurts!” She whimpered.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m so sorry m’angel. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the sirens. “Jus’ another minute.”

She groaned for a few seconds before silence took over again. Harry pressed on her wound again. He was covered in her blood as well. She moaned again at the fiery pain. “M’sleepy,” she managed.

“I know, beautiful. I know; but y’can’t sleep yet. Not yet. I’ll let you sleep soon, I promise.”

More silence. “S’really cold.”

Harry wanted to cry. He sniffled and realized he already was. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“M’sorry I ran away,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to know how mad he was even though she seemed close to dying. “I had...had to...get you away...they’d kill you. And then... I’d have no one…at least this way...” she trailed off.

“Kitten,” he said firmly, he swallowed back the tears. Squeezed her hands. “You are going t’get in an ambulance in thirty seconds and you are going t’live a long, beautiful life. Please jus’ stay awake for jus’ a few more minutes.”

Harry swore she smiled faintly. “...With you?”

“God, if s’what y’want. I'll stay forever, love. Jus’ stay awake, please,” he begged. She didn't respond and Harry began to panic. Where was the fucking ambulance? “Angel, Tell me the functional groups.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, love. Tell them t’me again.”

“Ketone. Carbonyl. Acyl…” she sighed.

“Describe aldehyde,” he croaked. “Niall! Where is it?! Please, baby,” she could feel his hand on her face, but she realized she couldn’t see him anymore. “Kitten, honey, please open your eyes.”

Was he crying?

She wanted to say she loved him out loud. Wanted to say she was sorry for everything one more time but unfortunately her tongue was suddenly too heavy to speak. She swore she heard Harry crying, shouting, and whispering he loved her right in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

--

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[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

So I have chronic nosebleed problem…

(spoiling bc it’s really gross to even talk about and most people don’t like talking about blood) (no pictures or anything like that though just text) (only typing this because it was a weird fucking experience and I need to tell someone or I’m going to go insane) (⚠️‼️I warned you‼️⚠️)

And today I got the worst nosebleed probably in my entire life since I started getting them like 14 years ago. The blood was dripping really fucking fast to the point that there was almost no space in between each drop. I’m not on blood thinners or anything but for a bit there I was worried that it might never end. After a few minutes of this, letting it drip into the sink, morbid curiosity got the best of me. I plugged the bottom of the sink and let the blood pile up at the bottom without running water or anything, I wanted to get a visual for just how much blood I was losing.

My nose kept bleeding for over an hour, and it only started slowing down in the last 20 minutes or so. The entire bottom of the sink was a pool of blood deep enough that I could submerge my hand in it (my hands already had blood on em and I was going to clean everything and then wash em anyway, so I had to at least see how deep it was. Yes that is a weird and gross thing to do, but I was bored after sitting there letting my nose drip into a sink for over an hour, don’t judge me).

(Even more disgusting text below warning)‼️

And because blood isn’t really just a liquid it was a really weird texture, kind of like pudding that congeals and has that mass on the top when it cools, it was like a semisolid mass submerged in water. I could grab the mass and squish it through my fingers. It was so fucking weird idk if I’ve ever seen a liquid or semi-liquid with textures and properties like that. It was kind of cool, in a weird nasty way. I realized that’s probably not a thing most people get to or have to experience. The blood was kind of cold at that point, nearing room temperature.

It was really interesting getting to see just how much blood I lost from a nosebleed that bad. Normally I’m constantly trying to plug the bleeding, clean the sink, or fill the sink with a pool of water to drip into so it doesn’t make as much of a mess, or am in the shower, so even if I spend an hour bleeding into a sink I have no clue how much I’ve actually lost. I’ve heard people say that if you feel dizzy or weak after a nosebleed (or when they draw a small vial of blood for a blood test) that it’s mostly placebo making you feel that way, not the small loss of blood. But that was soooo much more than a vial for a blood test. I feel physically weak and woozy. I’m really dehydrated too. It’s neat to know it’s not just a placebo I was right all along.

[siarven]

I made this for cara but thought I should use it to FINALLY make a proper pinned post on here! (image descriptions in alt text)

Hello everyone (:

I thought I'd use this to properly re-introduce myself. These days I have a lot going on irl, so I'm not as interactive on here as I used to be. However, I love making new friends and getting to know their projects :D Some of my most important friends are from here, even if most of them are no longer active on writeblr (we have migrated to discord), so if you think we'd vibe pls shoot me a message!!

What you can expect:

Started out as an artblr, then turned into a writeblr, now it's mostly me collecting inspiration, art and writing references, with some infrequent original writing wip/art posts ✴︎ — more info about tags and writing below the cut — ✴︎

✴︎ — #queer tag - I reblog a lot of queer related posts, particularly about aro/ace and gender related topics

✴︎ — #inspirational - art, writing, photography, nature/environmental issues related topics, history, paleontology, archaeology; things I find inspiring and fascinating :D

✴︎ — i love all of the creatures, fictional or real, but less in a "cute videos" and more in a "I love how our world works" type way. I worked at a wildlife sanctuary for a year after school and learned a lot there. one day i will be the forever home for an old cat nobody else wants

✴︎ — sometimes I still post art and or writing, though I guess there'll be more art on Cara if you wanna follow me there (less AI threat)

✴︎ — i study concept art, work as a freelance illustrator, and am currently working on my MA thesis project "Fragments of the Infinite"

✴︎ — my main wip novel (Dream's Shadow) is probably finally getting close to being Finished. Feels somewhat surreal. idk if it's even worth querying it because it really doesn't fit into the current publishing world but it's not actually finished yet anyway so... we can worry about that later

✴︎ — very into fantasy with cool worldbuilding in particular. don't much care for elves/dwarves/.. fantasy preindustrial england type worlds, but dungeon meshi is my current obsession so if it's deeply developed and interesting enough I don't really mind :)

✴︎ — hopepunk my most beloved! i do love when characters get put through the wringer to get to their hopeful ending though. Sometimes, things are tragic in a bittersweet way, and that is okay too

✴︎ — deeply nuanced, complicated, messy morally grey characters driving the narrative

I am open to tag games, but will probably only manage to respond to like 10% of them... it's not you, it's me

Always open for DMs or asks <3

I try to tag everything as well as I can, if i forget, ask to tag <3

If you're into TMA, I have a podcast/TMA blog @moth-song-archives; my rambling animals/shitposts/memes/other fandoms/... blog is @lirhin, and I have a dedicated art blog @siarvenart

a hopepunk dark fantasy story with creepy/horror elements set in another world; small scope that transitions into epic fantasy later on

Status: draft 6.5 completed at 141k; currently mini-beta round. First in a trilogy

✴︎ —1st, 2nd and 3rd person limited, present tense ✴︎ — hopepunk, sibling dynamics, dysfunctional family, power of kindness & love, platonic love, queer characters, queer-embracing worldbuilding, mental & physical trauma, light & dark, secrets, tragedy, lies, betrayal, loss of innocence, holding on & letting go, cute creatures, (in)humanity, trees, religion & belief, growing up, monsters, dreams, nightmares.

When Ava and her parents arrive at the hospital, they find her older brother Ben in a deeply unnatural coma - and nobody can tell them what happened. Despite the magical abilities of the Asim Healers, there seems to be no way to save him. But then, why do they still keep him alive? As Ava slowly learns the magnitude of how terrible Ben's situation (and impossible his future) truly are, she finds herself embroiled in a larger conflict, ready to hook its claws into her as well. And the one person she cares about most - who always had her back - is gone. So despite everything, there's only really one choice: Find out how to save him and try anyways.

the travel journal of a young scientist, documenting the cultures, places, people and creatures she encounters on the way (art/text)

Status: storyboard/script 2nd draft completed; beta feedback

✴︎ —1st person present ✴︎ — 66 double pages of art accompanied by ~10k text ✴︎ — hopepunk, (body) horror, religion & belief, nihilism vs making your own meaning, platonic love, queer characters, queer-embracing worldbuilding, transitioning with magical body horror means, mental & physical trauma, light & dark, deep worldbuilding, eldritch monsters, loss of innocence, SO MANY creatures

Features: a tidally locked planet orbited by 5 moons and populated by giant eldritch monsters; two trans aroace main characters; body horror; so much art; the most gratuitous worldbuilding project; character driven narrative

When the fifth moon hatches during Thorn's own naming ritual, making her one of 2 people who saw it happen, she knows she's been chosen. But back at home, nobody believes what she saw, choosing to instead take the moon's disappearance as a sign of celebration as it mirrors religious scriptures. So Thorn sets out to find physical proof, and uses the opportunity to document her travels. She doesn't know that her view of the world will be thoroughly challenged, but she also doesn't know about the friends she'll make <3

I have various other wips, some of them are linked in my header. I'll return to them at some point, but these 2 are my current projects for 2024:)

[lotusmi]

lotusmiii.. i really need your help. so a few weeks ago while i was in a mental hospital my mom went through my phone, my room and literally anything i owned (because they are required to do that without your permission sadly…) as she saw my manifestation list which was literally everything that was going to be in my dream life (and basically i planned on being a whole different person (from past, to parents, to my physical looks, my personality, where i live- you name it) and im guessing she showed the staff and my mental hospital doctor too and while i was there they were giving lessons based off of the things that were on there (“insecurities”, “learning/forgiving mistakes”, even some of the mental health numbers i texted in a crisis) cause they also do that.. but the problem is everytime i think of my dream life list or whenever i see something that reminds me of what i wrote (ex. my desired body) i cant stop thinkin about them seeing it.. like i tried to revise it but i failed on changing self because i couldn’t stop thinking about it and feeling all type of emotion (like guilt, embarrassment and so and so).. idk it really makes me feel hopeless of manifesting my dream life just thinking about them seeing it all. idk i just really need help and this is fucking up my mental health even worse when it comes to terms of manifestation

kind long post, read it fully to know one of my success storys! :)

Look, I used to be completely afraid of my parents discovering things about me. I would keep imaginating what they would thought or if they would punish me. The fact is, always when I was doing something I did not wanted to be discovered, I would be thinking like "oh so certain they seeing, I am so sure they will discover" etc. And hmm.. What men gives in their imagination is always reflected, right? They always discovered, I always was punished. They discovered about my previous sub channel, my mom read all my manifesting lists too. She thought I was part of a cult. It was hell like. I was so afraid of her.

The point is, as I learned the law and I learned everyone is me pushed out. I learned I could change their behavious towards me by changing their behaviours within me. So i stopped wondering "what if they discover, what if this that..."

”Don’t hold onto anything on the outside; hold on only in your imagination. If something is taken from you, it is because at one time you assumed its loss and for a moment wondered what you would do if it were. You forgot the thought (the assumption made and felt real), but its message had already been released to fulfill itself." - Neville Goddard

By constantly assuming my mom would discover and punish me. By constantly imagining how would she punish me, I was always and always punished, humiliated, etc. It was depressed by daily hearing my mom joking aroud saying stuff like "Oh is my skin more white? i just listened to a biokinesis video". I was literally obligated to confess "my sins" becaus of this "whichcraft" and the "cult". Literally, she wanted even to follow my thoughts, I was obligated to be catholic etc.

✉ So my advice IS do not re-think and remember, or even wonder if a person discovered something or if a person will punish you, judge you. DON'T EVEN WONDER. Why? because you will start feeling worry and afraid, and because you feel this emotions, you would start thinking that that you are imagining will manifest, and I know exaclty how it feels. That's why I am saying this. So if the thought of "oh but they saw", or even "oh but what she is thinking of this" cames, tell yourself IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN, IT IS DONE. I AM SAFE. And ignore those thoughts, thoughts don't manifest, states do. What is a state? A state is what you indentify yourself having or being. So tell yourself that those things will not happen and they won't, since what you do in imagination is reflected! What they doing, thinking? WHAT YOU WANT. They don't know it! Black point!

♡ My SUCCESS STORY DOING THIS:

Back at december, I really wanted to have Neville Goddard books. I really wanted. So I have a kindle (it's like a tablet with ebooks), and I found this ebook with all Neville works, so I downloaded. I was really afraid my dad would saw it since of all shit I had to deal in past, but I was assuming he won't see. The problem is, It was a free sample of only 20% of the ebook, and as most of you know, amazon has this BUY WITH ONE CLICK option, and I BOUGHT BY ACCIDENT! That's when I got super anxious, I BOUGHT THE E-BOOK! It was kinda of expansive in my country coin and I know my dad would question me about it, he would receive the email and see the book.. He would ask me about it! I was so worried!!! But then I put myself in track, and even doubting, I told myself he won't see and he won't bother me. I kept telling this to myself and affirming to keep myself in the state that I was safe. I control my reality. I sent amazon a return request but it occoured an error, I was so worried at this point because i was afraid he see that.

At the end, he saw. He really did. But he only said "did u buy this ebook?" i said "yea, it was by accident, I sent the return request". Then he ignored and never talked about this anymore.

The SUCCESS part is: I STILL HAVE THE EBOOK. I have the ebook with all Neville works and all lectures (more than 400) FOR FREE! So that's most it! We are the power and we decided what will happen to us or how people will treat us. :)

[bichobolitach]

LMAOOOO THE 14 YEAR OLD THING IS SO TRUE. im still confused about their ages bc how are they a freshman at 16 ???? but if you see it as a friendship breakup (which i think it's that more than anything) than yeah their drama is warranted that shit could kill you

I have a bit of a pet peeve with the friendship breakup thing. Idk. I could get it with the first few issues but as an artist and a writer I can assure you nothing that we put in a page is coincidental, and I think the latest issues have been pretty blatant about the romantic subtext between Seiji and Jesse— well, at this point it’s more text than subtext, but yeah. “We were… something”, “They were more than friends”, all the blushing and shojo and tension effects— those things are there on purpose, and even if maybe Jesse and Seiji never got to have a relationship with all the letters it is clear whatever they had was on the romantic side of things. I don’t think they were ever Boyfriends (TM) and I think whatever they had is very much unnamed and unresolved, but it’s very clear there is a “broken heart” element totally their relationship.

I know it’s not out of malice, but I have a thing with ignoring signs like that bc everytime men are portrayed with romantic subtext in media there will always be people who will claim friendship until their dying breath and the only way two guys or two girls can be in love is if they explicitly kiss on screen and nothing else. Writing is not innocent! And considering Fence is pretty well establishedly gay, I think we have all the more reason to take those kinds of signs at face value.

And I mean, in a way, it is very serious to them! Like, to us they’re teens and it’s kinda funny, but to them this is as far as they have lived and teens live in their feelings so so much! When I was a teen everything felt like the end of the world (and then it just turns out it wasn’t LMAO) but Seiji has known Jesse most of his life!! This IS heartbreaking to him! Even if I do think their connection goes beyond a little unresolved crush, and I do stand by the romantic subtext of their relationship to death, it is true they have been friends MOST OF THEIR LIVES and romantic or not it’s a loss that hurts!! I genuinely think the nature of their fight goes beyond unrequited feelings— because, honestly? Jesse seems pretty obsessed with Seiji himself, so I really don’t think it was a “I don’t like you like that” kind of deal because even then I think Seiji could get over that. I could go on and on all day about what I think is going on with them but I shall not bore you anymore 😭😂

[bonesandthebees]

im alive (questionable) and im finally back (real) and gods does it feel great to finally read the new rose chapter

I did NOT realise just how MUCH I missed it but DAMN

the crimeboys bonding is going great and theyre doing good in their surviving, im so proud of them

poor phil has to deal with the one thing he cannot control and so he ofc focuses on what he can control, control freak

im enjoying reading about him A LOT, hes so intriguing to me, like yeah so far hes a good character id say, but we get a peak at what he could be capable of and are slowly learning where his priorities and loyalties and limits lie and oh gosh is it fun to watch

and ofc THE BIG MOMENT OF THE CHAPTER: friendly nicknames privileges

and like its a really important and sweet moment in itself and ive been excited for it ever since learning there will be different official names like nikanna and willum and oh did it NOT DISAPPOINT like yesssssss letsgo they are FRIENDS and they let the other call them by their NICKNAMES and it shows how much CLOSER to got and the TRUST and just AHSHSHJSDHBSBSHS YESSSSSSS

and it gets even BETTER bc thats not all, this is a recurring theme with you, whether its a fae name that carries power, a mermaid name that signals family like in last years mermay, knowing a name that reveals the secret identity in superhero aus coming with trust but also responsibility, official and personal names of royals like rose and stars showing friendship or in the other way loss of it, and in glass the reclaiming of self identity thru the reclaiming of name and letting go of a title (which btw the coolest and most genius work with narration ive ever read) you just keep on giving names value in your stories and especially the act of sharing them, the one close to you, with others as a sign of love, even just a little bit and it gets me EVERY SINGLE TIME and the fact its a recurring theme gives it even more meaning, makes it get to me even more

and like its something that happens even in real life in some ways but we often overlook just how much love is hidden in it and I love that it gets to shine like this in your stories

I know we talked about your love for giving names more meaning like this before but I just needed to scream about it again bc IT STILL GETS TO ME

it feels so good to have you back in my inbox (and my ao3 comments) with walls of text like this jiksvokrat

they're doing shockingly well!! shoutout to tommy's survival knowledge wilbur would've been dead by morning without him

I'm so glad you're enjoying the phil pov. I love showing his control issues and how his mind works. he's such a calculating character and I have so much fun writing him

I'm so glad you like my recurring thing with names. I really don't know where it came from, I never had this whole thing with names before I started writing mcyt fic. I think I just really liked it both when I wrote that first fae au fic so many years ago and then when I was writing clinic and there was obviously the whole secret identity thing going on that I just realized I liked the theme and decided to use it where I could.

I just think the act of sharing your name, your identity with someone else can be so vulnerable and full of trust!! I guess this translates to every day stuff as well. like when one of my childhood friends came out as trans to me I felt so happy when she trusted me with her new name and identity (I was one of the first people she came out to). or as a less intense example, part of why I like having an online nickname is that it feels strangely nice to have a name that you guys here can use that's me but also a bit separate from me, but then I have my real name which is reserved for the people I'm closest to (though of course most of my internet friends who know my real name still use bee for me which I don't mind at all). I guess it's kind of like having a public persona vs a private persona. idk, I guess I just really feel the importance of names so I like including it as a theme in my writing.

I'm just very glad you guys aren't getting sick of the whole name giving thing yet lol

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas, I had a question. Sorry, I know you get a lot of these, I'm just not sure where else to turn right now haha.

I'm nonbinary. I've used they/them pronouns for four years now, and I came out to all of my close friends and changed my pronouns on my socials just under a year ago (I'm currently experimenting with they/he, so we'll see where that goes.) My friends have all been super supportive, even the ones who didn't really understand did their best to support me, and I really appreciated it.

The problem lies with my mum. I've tried to come out to her twice. The first time, I couldn't physically get the words out. It's like I freeze, and I just feel so petrified. We have had multiple debates/arguments surrounding trans rights and specifically JKR's viewpoint. My mum isn't exactly a rampant transphobe, she just doesn't get it, and I don't know how to make her understand.

The second time I came out, I did it over text so that I could get the words out. It was after one of these arguments, and she was sending me a message saying I got too het up and made her feel guilty. I replied by apologising but then saying it meant so much to me because I'm nonbinary. She completely skimmed over that part of the message, and for a while I wasn't even sure she had read it, because she kept misgendering me and referring to me as her daughter.

I don't even remember how we got to the conversation, but in one of our most recent back and forths of she sends me an article about JKR and I get upset, she told me that I need to 'stop with all of this nonsense about gender.' It stung a lot, and I really wasn't sure if she meant my gender specifically, or my feelings surrounding trans rights (or just us not being treated like people in the uk).

It made me wonder if it's even worth coming out to her again. I just have a feeling that it isn't going to stick. If you asked any of the trans people that she works with, they'd say that she was nothing but supportive, even if she gets it wrong sometimes, but it doesn't feel like that to me. I genuinely feel frozen with fear at the concept of telling her because of the conversations we've had, and I'm moving out for uni in September anyway. I just don't know how much longer I can deal with the constant misgendering. She has never once referred to me properly.

Idk, I'm kind of at a loss now, so I guess I'm asking what I could possibly do about it?

Hi hon <3

I feel like I first need to give you a thousand hugs and say our mums are very similar. So...guess we both need hugs, lol.

I think you have come out to your mom. Twice. She just isn't listening. Why waste your breath by doing it a third time? Your mom is making it very clear that she doesn't respect what you are asking for (respect, being correctly identified).

In the most gentle way, your mom is showing you who she is. I think your next step is to figure out how you want to proceed with that information.

I'm so sorry that she's not being the mom you deserve <3

Naming you frozen anon <3

[doctorho]

good evening gays and girlies and gremlins of all kinds how are we doing???? i've been talking to a new guy for a few weeks and i just told him that i'm chronically ill, which is like, usually A Whole Thing and sometimes makes people run because dating a Chronically Ill Bitch can be complicated and not everyone is up for that. ANYWAY he hasn't responded yet and i'm trying not to be nervous about it because we DO NOT sit around waiting for men to text us back in this house and if he can't deal with this then i got no reason to keep talking to him

but also he seems nice ya know. though i'm not sure if i just got ghosted in which case he is probably not that nice

ANYWAY you know who would NOT stand for skipping out on dating someone because of illnesses/disabilities?? our boi viktor, who isn't a coward. he would RIOT. because he knows that disabled/chronically ill people deserve the world and if someone doesn't agree it's THEIR loss. (he might not implement this knowledge on himself but hey)

i was going to write a whole fic about this but idk, we'll see. i might start baking instead. maybe i'll do both. we'll see where the anxious energy takes us.

you know. the whole "if he doesn't want all of you then he doesn't fucking deserve you" vibe, i can see it. viktor learning that someone didn't want the reader because of some health situation, and being FURIOUS about it, like how can they not see how perfect you are, are they blind???

not being able to keep his own feelings from slipping out???

being so mad about how the reader was treated that he's, like, seething??

yeah i'd be here for that

[s-che]

for tarot ask game -

The Devil — What motifs or mechanics do you just keep coming back to? OR What is a game you’ve enjoyed playing in the last year?

The Sun — Talk about a game you’ve made that you’re proud of.

From the RPG designer Tarot ask game.

The Devil — What motifs or mechanics do you just keep coming back to? OR What is a game you’ve enjoyed playing in the last year?

I talked in Luke's devil ask about what a big sicko I am for dice pools and how much I liked playing Last Train to Bremen — so I'm going to try and avoid that one here and talk about cards instead. I love a deck of cards! I've been circling around finding a way to use them as more than just a prompt deck — first in Mirror Mirror, a very small game jam game about convincing your partner that you are the real person and they are the reflection, then in Otherland, another jam submission where you turn over cards one by one to draw a map of fairyland in the style of an exquisite corpse*, and now finally in The Book of 13 Hours, my most explicitly "we're just doing magic here" game, which offers thirteen different ways to use a deck and an icon to talk to a god(dess).

Idk. I like cards a lot, and I like thinking about them as physical objects and not just randomness generators. I feel the same way about dice, but I think cards — by virtue of their physical form — are a little easier to use to break people of the idea that drawing a card/rolling a die is equivalent to a random number generator.

*Otherland is, imo, one of my more prototype-y prototypes. I'm not totally pleased with where it sits, even as one of my scrimshaw games, but I mention it because it's worth tracking the development of an idea.

The Sun — Talk about a game you’ve made that you’re proud of.

Less a game I've made — more a game I'm making. I think every designer has a project that they, if given a pension or whatever, could work on for the rest of their lives and mine is Leafs House. Leafs House is a work of interactive fiction about exploring an empty old house on the borders of fairyland. It's about nostalgia and loss and the first chapter — about fifty pages — is the only thing that exists online right now.

In it, you explore the first room of a big old house full of little secrets and hidden games. Leafs House was originally conceived of as a kind of a games portfolio in the form of a game — even though I've moved away from that particular version of it, you can still find little pared down or early versions of Beneath Pirate Flags, Grief in the Grand City, and March of the Holly King — among others — hidden in the text. It is going to grow.

I want to come back to it someday. I haven't found the time yet. You can get it through my patreon – or in another way, which is secret :)

[mybigfatheartpoems]

heartbreak in 11 parts (unsent texts.)

1. I’d like to pretend that I’m fine, that I’m moving on and doing okay, but I’m not okay. I still cry about you. I think about you every day. Every song reminds me of you. I miss your arms around me and your hands and your mouth. I miss your eyes. I miss hearing you say you’re obsessed with me. It’s insane and sad and nonsensical. You’re a ghost in my head. I can’t get rid of you.

2. The truth is, I’d still give you my heart if you asked for it. If you told me tomorrow that you wanted me back, I’d run to you without question. I’d kiss you until we forgot we were ever apart. And somewhere in my mind, I’d think — this is a huge risk. I’d ask myself, are you sure? What if he hurts you again? What if you ruin each other? What if you’re still not enough for him? Do you really want to take that chance? And the answer would be yes. Obviously it wouldn’t be easy, it would take work and patience and conflict and compromise, but you’d be worth it. If there’s a chance it could work, I’d still want to try. You made my heart so happy in the short time we were together that any more time with you would be precious in and of itself, regardless of the outcome. Knowing you is a gift. Loving you would be effortless. And I want to, god I want to.

I understand your hesitation. I know your concerns and they’re valid and important. I know why you don’t think we have a chance. I just can’t help wondering, is this truly how it’s supposed to be if we both hate it so much? If it feels so wrong? Everything in me is telling me to fight for this, to convince you to live in the moment with me, but logically I know it would be pointless. Idk. Something about us is special. The way we fit, our common interests, our similarities, the timing, the chemistry, our locations — it felt like fate. I’ve been grieving this loss for weeks and I’m no closer to acceptance.

I’m grateful to have you in my life in whatever way I can, full stop. You’re amazing and I don’t want to lose you, and I’d be honored to be your friend. I’m just not sure I’ll find this kind of connection with someone else. Maybe someday, years from now, but I just want you. It’s pathetic and selfish and scary but it’s how I feel. I don’t want to feel this way, I wish I could turn it off, wish I could break this magnetic pull you have on me, but I can’t. Why is it so hard?

I know this is a lot and it’s unfair, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to overwhelm you just because I am overwhelmed with everything I’m still feeling. You owe me nothing. I just want you so badly and everything hurts.

3. One of the hardest parts of this is not inviting you over when I’m home with nothing to do. I’ve never craved someone like this.

4. You said it was me, that I was your type. I can still be your type. I still wanna be yours.

5. Maybe this is all just temporary infatuation. Maybe I’m being childish, thinking these feelings won’t one day disappear, like they all do. Maybe it’s naïve, imagining a future with you where there isn’t one. I have too much hope. I want more than I can have.

6. I’m trying to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, that maybe I’m better off without you, that I’ll feel better once more time passes, but it all sounds like bullshit. Not talking to you, trying not to think about you, it feels wrong. I hate this. I can’t stand it.

7. Sometimes it hurts so bad I don’t want to get out of bed. I do, because I have to, but it’s hard. There’s a pit in my stomach and I’m nauseous about it all day. Some days I’m fine, I’m distracted, I can forget for a while. But when I’m alone with my thoughts, it just hurts.

8. I’m realizing the space that you need doesn’t help me at all, but I know this isn’t just about me. I want you to be okay, and if we want any chance at developing a friendship, I know I’ve got to give you that space. I just didn’t expect it to be this hard.

9. Everything reminds me of you. But I know I can’t have you, so I’m going to try to move on. I’m going to try and eventually I will succeed. Part of me hopes you are filled with regret when I do. Part of me hopes we can remain friends when I do. Part of me hopes you come back to me some day. Part of me never wants to see you again.

10. I still think about you. I still miss you. The thought of us still makes me sad. But it doesn’t tear me apart the same way anymore. It’s just a dull ache. But it’s there and idk when it’ll go away.

11. It breaks my heart to let you go. But I’m letting you go.

[crackedramblings]

Notes from 27.2.24

So I only remember bits and pieces of one dream. I was in my childhood house. My husband had come home and he was sleeping in the house. Somehow in the dream he morphed into my brother and completely disappeared from the house. I'm searching all over, every room, and I even have an ex-coworker there (DO) to help me search. Eventually we come to the conclusion that my brother is not there at all. So I think perhaps this dream means my brother is now totally gone. [HS just said "yep" in my head, or else that was my imagination, idk.]

The weird thing is my brother had sent me this test he took to detect autism. We've always kind of talked about how we're borderline autistic and I've always said I'm worse than he is. For me it's always been about social anxiety, but back when I was a kid there were no support systems for that sort of thing so it was basically sink or swim. I never had any official diagnosis or therapy. So I took this test (it's an online test, how reliable can it be? idk but supposedly it's used by professionals) and I had a really high score. Basically it said yeah I'm solidly autistic when it comes to social and sensory stuff. Which, duh. But who cares? Why is this all coming up now? I told my brother my score and he suggested I look into therapy (I immediately rejected this suggestion internally; I just thumbed up his text because what's the point of arguing). I can't quite figure out why this is coming up. Is this entire experience since finding CA's youtube channel an elaborate extension of a legitimate mental illness? Is my HS giving me an out, here? Like, is all this stuff I believe about the takedown and the recall just part and parcel of my intense need to avoid people and loud/bright/whatever stuff? I don't know what to think anymore. I don't know if I've just made all this up.

I agree the chat is dead. I thought it came back to life for a second, when you came back. But there is just nothing there anymore. Was it all a game we were playing?

Then why did I get an ad on my phone that said "The Takedown" (what an odd ad)? Why did my other game have a prominent game called "Recall"? Is it just me making up shit to fit my ideas of what I want to happen? Are my conversations with my HS all made up in my head? I mean, I don't think they are, but maybe?

I'm kind of at a loss, here. The goalposts have changed constantly since finding CA and I feel like if this recall doesn't pan out, I don't know what is left here for me. I'm just feeling extra crispy done right now.