#ive been working on her communitys village

[aibouart]

anyone got the latest monthly challenge thing artists do (like goretober or whatever)

am out of the loop on everything ever would love to take a gander at upcoming or ongoing ones

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

sorry but i think i lost your plot has to be peak literature because it's one of the only thing ive ever read from start to last update in under an hour

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 14

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,163

You get caught up in some hobbying.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, crafting, bead making

<Previous - Next>

Your relationship with the older vikings, men and women alike, as their sometimes delivery girl, sometimes shepard -though that was much less of a harrowing job now that the dragons were cool, and you were afforded the privilege of spend a lot less time hiding and running- sometimes portable laundromat and shiphand, afforded you certain knowledge that other people sometimes weren’t privy to, though Berk was an open floor for gossip.

Like how the twins were always looking down because their helmets were too shallow to balance themselves on their heads, which had the consequence of making it seem as if they were always up to something. Which, coincidentally, they were- Their mother complained about them a lot in between mentions of her husband and fawning over Stoick.

You learned how to cook some from Mrs. Ingerman, and you’d taught her a few words from your time period, which was nice. 

You’d had to do Snotlout's laundry and clean his room on more than one occasion, even had to pull it out of his basement room more than once, which you were thoroughly disgusted by. You’d learned a lot more about the guy from that experience than you’d ever wanted and had refused to take any of the Jorgensons’ laundry from then onward.

You’d even done things for Hiccup and for the Chief, mostly things he was unaccustomed to doing as he was too busy acting as the leader of the village and things Hiccup missed because he was too busy doing whatever he did out with the riders. You were sure Hiccup’d had no idea just the same as Snotlout. 

There were a few things you were certain to never bring up, including but not limited to a hastily drawn but very detailed sketch of your face shoved in a notebook tossed under his bed, not particularly helpful in terms of putting to rest the whole crush thing, or the small pail of screws he was sure to have brought back from the forge without his father’s blessing.

You were in denial a little bit, yeah. 

You should probably tell him. About the whole being in his room thing. But you wouldn’t. Definitely not.

It seemed, though, that despite this extra eye into the working world of Berk, you’d still ended up missing a few things.

Berk was… A community. You weren’t sure how you never realized that.

The Great Hall was filled with warm laughter, people patting each other on the back, men and women sharing stories about their kids and, often enough for you to take notice, Hiccup. It looked like raising him was a group effort.

Off in the corner were others at a table by shallow baskets which were shaped like oblong gold pans filled with fine powder and shells, men and women sitting along the side sorting dragon scales and grinding them down with flat stones and clearly chiseled pestels.

Dragons squealed and bobbed around your periphery, tossing and picking up what must’ve been colorful, neutral stones.

Large men and women and children hunched over the tables all over the hall, rearranged so that they were all closer to each other, parallel as they whittled away at things you couldn’t completely see, tables lined with leaves and the occasional plate.

It was well lit.

People filled the halls between tables with joyful conversation, playfully batted at each other and sat back. The whole space was bustling and also relaxing, somehow.

In the background was Ack arguing with some blonde woman, but even that was nice. You could tell he didn’t mean it and neither did she, shooting back just barely inaudible jabs with each other.

You were mindful of the basket in your arms full up with his laundry, just recently cleaned and aired out. 

You had stopped in your tracks at the sight, standing just before a short table placed perpendicular to the rest as if the lady sitting there was the guard to some booth or other. 

You looked down finally, noticing how she looked at you nearly eye level with a raised brow. She had plenty of wrinkles on her forehead, which told a lot about a life made by concern and stoicism. She also wore a large, very off white apron over a grayish vaguely beige long sleeve short and a long brown skirt, which you only just barely caught sight of as she lifted it up to wipe down something in her hand.

She had a shallow basket in front of her filled with what looked like beads and various strings, needles and small carving knives with wood shavings laid on the cloth-covered table around her.

“Hi,” You said, breaking the wall between the two of you. 

“...Hello, dear,” She responded, after a while, settling down her skirt and placing a colorful bead back into her basket. He picked up a needle instead, which you saw was already attached to a long string with beads all down the length. 

You wondered where they’d gotten the dye for it. Could dye even be used on glass? Was it glass?

Instead of asking those questions, you shuffled your feet.

You glanced at a white sleeve flopped over the side of the basket, which you held by a bar on the other side and pressed into your hip, “What’s going on?”

“Crafting is going on,” She said, plainly.

You nodded, “I like it.”

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Vikings wandering around Berk, trying their hand at leatherworking and carving and other things. Now that they had the time, being assaulted a lot less by Dragons, the Berkians indulged their more artistic inclinations, exercising muscles for skills they’d never been able to before.

“I mean, this is great. What started it?” You asked.

You wanted to join in. It might be nice.

“Oh, you haven’t seen? The pride of Berk, walking around with his little bead like a bird,” She chortled fondly, “Did you see it? I wonder who gave it to him? Lucky girl. He has, dare I say it, started a trend.”

A bird? You quirked your lips up at what was most certainly an exaggeration. You hadn’t seen anything like that. You failed to mention that you’re the one who made it.

You wondered if Hiccup knew about any of this at all. You didn’t. 

“How do you know it was a girl?”

You turned. The spoken voice belonged to one of the women you’d see before in the Hall. She came over, done fussing with Ack in the background.

She was also blonde, a brighter, more yellow shade with a few less gray hairs. And she was large, also, with broad shoulders and a strong presence. Her arms were the largest between them. 

She wore tight trousers and a large though not long tunic. Her boots were plain leather and looked to be of the pirate variety. 

You pondered the idea that they might be related, or at least good friends.

“Look at him!” The first lady put down her needle, resting it in her shallow basket again, a glass bead falling down the string as she did, gesturing with her hand, though there was no Hiccup in sight, “He’s so happy! So proud! The small thing. He’s got too much energy for his little bones to handle.”

You thought he might be offended if he heard her say that.

“Oh, don’t be delusional,” The one with big arms huffed, “And don’t let him hear you say that.”

“But I’m right!”

“You’re wrong! He’s no myth, sweetheart. You can’t go around treating him like one of your little stories,” She shook her head, crossing her arms. 

“The Ragnar is real!” She insisted, staring down the Ack lady, meeting her eyes until the other woman rolled her own. You could tell it was a disagreement as old as time itself, but like with the other woman’s squabble with Ack, there was no malice in it, “Beowulf, too.”

They were just putting on a show.

You felt your lips stretch wider. It felt good to be a part of, even as a witness.

“Well, anyways, I’ve been thinking of making it a regular thing. You know, putting it on a schedule. Craft nights…”

You nodded excitedly, “It’s very modern.”

“Do you think so?” She asked, pleased.

“You don’t think we’ll have better things to be doing?”

“Our ancestors used to do it, can’t see why we can’t.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, yes. Read a passage about it once, saw a note or something like in one of the dragon books. Glass beadmaking,” She looked up wistfully, pausing briefly in her rhythmic sewing, “I always wanted to try it… But we had no forge, no beads, no time, then, either. I was just a little girl. But now…!”

She picked something small but shiny out of the basket in her lap, ooh-ing to herself.

You were on the outside, kind of, though not on purpose. Everyone was welcoming enough, though they were much too busy fighting with the dragons to notice much or throw a party or anything. You were never excluded but you always had better things to do, too, so, well.

But this was here, and it seemed convenient. 

“Dear, come sit down,” She squealed slyly, voice both quick and dragging, face gleeful, which seemed out of place on her wide, bult frame and stern face.

“Okay,” You said, beaming.

You stuck mostly to the woodworking bead types. 

The image of glass beads shattering midair was frightening, though you were sure that none of the dragons around here could reach those speeds. Flying that fast might be dangerous for people too.

Most of your beads were probably going back to Hiccup anyways.

Of course, you had your own handful of small colorful semi-porcelain.

You tried a bunch of colors of all different types, and ended up with a handful of each. It was cool, to the super-so degree, and it was free. It seemed good will did a lot, and community bonding exercises were meant to be just that and nothing else. There was a line of Vikings, adults and children alike, ready to do their own part and bring things in anyhow. 

Many Vikings used ground up dragonhide to dye and waterproof beads and to mix in with melted glass in order to give it a pretty stain.

It was interesting, especially now that many Vikings were using Dragons in place of a kiln, and how they’d set up small buildings with bricks and some coal and used those too.

It was disastrous, at some moments. There were many burns, mostly small, that people went up to Gothi for, saying their goodbyes in bummed tones. 

Gothi must have had enough of it because she came down eventually to manage the glassmakers and smack the unfortunate.

It was… nice. 

The afternoon light was surprisingly nice on your face. It felt a lot nicer and your chest felt lighter, the world awash with things bright and endearing.

You looked forward with a winning smile at Hiccup.

“You liked the one I gave you, right?” You held out a handful of blue glass and wood beads to Hiccup, “They’re doing craft days in the Hall. I made some.”

You had a bunch of others in pouches around your belt.

You didn’t have anywhere to put them besides. You had no dragon to ride, so in time you might favor the glass ones. You had trouble with a few of them. The dragonhide did a great deal to make the glass more sticky when it heated up.

“You’re going to see a lot more people around with beads on.”

There were not enough leaves and pouches for all your sorted beads so they were sort of mixed, but you got a hold of a good few before it was time to clean up and you fled before anyone could notice. The hall would still be active for a while.

“You started a trend, I think,” You said, matter-of-factly.

It was impressive. Trends usually fell to the Chief, who recently had been trying to approach you though he always got carried away by tasks before he could. 

Hiccup had a sort of goofy smile on his face which consisted of a slightly upturned lip and the framing of his two largest front teeth which dropped as, as it looked like, he snapped back into himself, “What?”

“Yeah,” You said after you finished unloading the rest of his pouches into his arms and turned to walk away.

You looked around as you fled, making sure no one was watching.

He looked down like he wasn’t sure what to do with all of them, and also a little bit put off.

You wondered if you overdid it.

A small weight shifted by your ankle as you walked, the coins you’d slipped into a side pocket in your boot. You were going to ask around for some seeds.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Okay, second post, this ones mostly about Feyre because honestly, as of chapter 3 I havent really noticed Tamlin being out of character and from what Ive heard his character assassination was supposed to happen very quickly. Idk, right now he just seems like the same guy but traumatized although I'll fully admit that I didnt care that much for him outside of the Feylin romance (which was pretty sweet but too boring for me) so maybe I just didnt pay enough attention to him to fully grasp his character

Feyre is frustrating to me right now because I dont think shes out of character either, right now shes also just the same woman but traumatized, but like, I already know the extent to which her character will be bent for the sake of Rhysand. In these first three chapters she literally thinks something along the lines of "What's there for me to do but sit at home and spend Tamlin's money" Tell me, what does she end up doing in the night court huh????

Another thing thats frustrating is that Feyre clearly has issues communicating her feelings and wants, I know because I also had issues with that, and instead of learning that very valuable skill of telling others about your inner world and trying to work on her relationships (with both Tamlin and with her sisters), shes just gonna end up with a guy who can read her mind so theres no need for her to challenge herself and grow in any way. Yay. One thing especially stuck out to me in this regard was her attituide towards wearing dresses. Feyre does not like wearing dresses, its not like she never got to wear them back at home even though she wanted to, she just doesnt like wearing them in her day-to-day life, but she feels like she has to because she thinks its what Tamlin wants and because she thinks that if she wears pants its gonna somehow signal to the citizens of the spring court that something is incredibly wrong. But again, she doesnt tell anyone this, she doesnt ask Tamlin if he can just explain to everyone that everything is fine and that Feyre just has an unconventional way of dressing, which he would probably be fine with if its still the same guy from the first book. And it doesnt even seem like Tamlin directly made any kind of comment to her about the dresses she wears, she just saw that he was happy when he saw her wear them, which couldve well been him being happy to see her in general but she doesnt even consider that

Theres also the fact that its very unclear what she wants/what her problem is. Now, this actually isnt something that bothers me that much on its own, Feyre is traumatized and lost, obviously she doesnt know exactly what she wants at this point beyond "the situation Im in sucks and makes me feels bad, I want to get out", I think what bothers me is mostly the knowledge that Tamlin is gonna get blamed for a lot of this stuff when its really not his fault.

And I do want to make it clear that I dont think hes doing a great job handling this situation, I know a lot of people in the acotar critical sphere find his actions understandable and justifiable from his perspective and thats true, but hes still doing a bad job handling Feyre's emotional state. Like, one of your beloved's main issues is that she feels horrible because she feels trapped at home, for the love of god just let her go outside on her own. Maybe send her to village thats far inland or close to the border to the mortal realm, surely those monsters are not gonna manage to come that far if youre all going on patrols to kill them as soon as possible. And even if they do, the people of any village are gonna bend over backwards in order to protect their capital c Cursebreaker, shes gonna be fine

But, to get back to my original point, even if Tamlin was a daemati or whatever like Rhys and could read her mind the way she needs it to be read, he would still not be able to figure out what exactly Feyre needs right now because she doesnt know it herself! I literally read all of her thoughts and I dont know! Does she want to help others and be responsible for a whole bunch of people because its what shes always known to do? Does she want to avoid resonsibility for now because she wants to recover from her traumatic childhood of having the responsibility of keeping her family alive on top of all the new UTM-trauma? Its hard to say and that makes sense for Feyre at this point in her life, but she cant just blame people for not understanding her when she doesnt properly understand herself and refuses tl verbalize her feelings

Anyway, thats it for today, hope you enjoyed this

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

I Work Hard to Make This Treehouse a Treehome

kinda crack but kinda angst idk ive had this in the drafts for 7 months and just finished it rn so

ao3

Summary: Branch and Archer get high and bond over their complicated relationships with their shitty brothers.

2125 words

The adrenaline was leaving his system.

The last three days had been nonstop insanity, from the very moment John Dory crashed the wedding. Even before that, preparations for said wedding had been an intense affair. 

Branch was exhausted, and the adrenaline couldn’t keep him going anymore.

It couldn’t keep him pumped up anymore, either.

For a good portion of the adventure, Branch had almost been excited. His brothers were finally back in his life, and he actually wanted them there. He wanted to be a family again, and he was actually getting his wish.

He thought it was what he wanted. But now things had calmed down, and his brothers were in the bunker, and he felt like there were fire ants under his skin.

He thought he wanted them here. Nothing had happened to make him change his mind, but he just… he just couldn’t handle this.

He couldn’t handle Bruce casually making a pot of coffee. He couldn’t handle Clay’s appreciation of his home. He couldn’t handle Floyd’s exhausted smiles, and he sure as hell couldn’t handle John Dory’s… everything.

Everything they did only irritated him further. Every kind word, every appreciative hum. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw a tantrum like he was a trolling again, rolling on the floor and lashing out at anyone who got in the way. 

Of course, that would only further their teasing of him. As much as Branch reminded them that he was a grown up (because they’d missed his childhood, they’d abandoned him and they’d missed it, and they couldn’t just come back and pretend he was the same little kid they’d left), they didn’t stop. Not really. Floyd was the only one who didn’t particularly tease him, and somehow that frustrated him too.

Everything they did. Everything they didn’t do. He didn’t know why, but his wire was fraying, and he was terrified that he would snap at any second.

He couldn’t handle this.

He wanted them out. He wanted them to leave again, to go back to their stupid lives without him, he wanted them to hate themselves forever for what they’d done.

He wanted to hate them. 

It was all too much, it was all so confusing. He didn’t know how to handle all of this.

His first thought: talk to Poppy. His second: no, she’d only tell him to work things out by communicating. He didn’t want to communicate. He wanted to rot somewhere where nobody would question him, or tease him, or do nothing but exist and still manage to get him wound up. 

He loved Poppy more than anything, but he was worried that if he saw her right now, he’d only blow up at her, too. He needed to get out. He needed to distance himself from all of this until he could clear his head.

But the bunker was his only safe space. He couldn’t go to any of his friends — they meant well, but he worried they’d be too much for him right now, too. Not to mention that his friends were Poppy’s friends, and they’d never be able to lie to her.

He didn’t want to lie to her. He just… needed some time alone.

Where could he go that she wouldn’t immediately find him? Where could he go that he wouldn’t be questioned or judged?

It wasn’t like anyone else in the village could possibly understand something like this. 

He mulled that over for a moment, because actually… there just might be someone.

-

It only took a minute or two after knocking on the door of Archer Pastry’s house — built in the base of a tree trunk — for it to swing open. He was wearing his usual spiked vest, which looked a little less intimidating with the pins and patches that the village had gifted him after he'd officially become a citizen. He was fairly certain at least half of them were from Poppy.

“Uh… hey?” Archer offered, giving him a confused look. Branch couldn’t blame him. While they were friends, they weren’t really the… hang out one-on-one, seek each other out specifically kind of friends. Archer, much like Branch, preferred to take things at his own speed, more the type to lurk at the edge of a party than join in on the dance floor. 

He was probably the only person Branch could handle seeing right now that wouldn’t make him snap completely.

“Hey,” he parroted, awkwardly waving. He was starting to regret this already. It was weird to show up like this! They weren’t that close! And yet his feet were rooted to the forest floor. He wasn’t going anywhere. He certainly wasn’t going back to the bunker. “Can I um… can I come in?”

Archer’s body blocked the doorway, but he moved back, stiffly granting Branch access to his home. He’d never actually been here. Archer, though an honorary troll, was a bit similar to him. They both valued their privacy quite a bit.

“So is everything… okay?” Archer asked, not quite making eye contact, which was perfectly fine with him.

“I just…” he sighed. “I needed somewhere to go for — I dunno. Maybe a few hours or a few…” his chest seized. “I needed somewhere to go.”

“And you came to me instead of Poppy?” He asked, one eyebrow raised as he led his impromptu guest to the couch.

Branch shrugged helplessly.

“Eh, okay. I mean, I didn’t really have any plans today other than like… lazing around, so. Er… did you wanna, like… talk about it?” He looked uncomfortable at the idea, his face wrinkled in distaste.

He shook his head, and Archer sighed in relief. “Oh, good. I’m not really good with all this… mushy gushy stuff you trolls are so fond of.”

Branch chuckled somewhat. “You and me both. That’s… kind of why I’m here? Poppy would just tell me it’s okay to have feelings or something. Which, you know, is great and all, but not really what I’m looking for right now.”

His host nodded. “Yeah, that girl can be a lot.” A beat passed. “So, anyway… bathroom is that door there, and uh… help yourself to whatever you can find in the kitchen? Except the brownies. Don’t — don’t touch the brownies.” He slapped his knees, standing up. “Cool, well… I’m gonna go back to bed. If you need anything just… guess.”

“Guess?” he asked, a bit put off by the idea of looking through another person’s home.

“‘s not like I have any personal shit,” he shrugged. “I’ll wake back up in an hour or two… probably. Goodnight.”

It was quite definitely not nighttime, but Branch wasn’t in a position to judge. In fact, being all alone in a nice, quiet place was exactly what he needed right about now.

He got comfortable on the couch, closing his eyes and taking a few deep, calming breaths. He was starting to relax already.

-

About two hours later, Archer had woken up, and offered some of those brownies he’d mentioned before. Apparently they had some weird party crasher drug kind of like the weed trolls had, but Branch was curious enough to try one. They had been a bit stronger than he was anticipating.

“If your brother came back,” Branch said, gripping onto the side of the couch, as if he was unbalanced, “would you like… let him?”

Archer’s previously relaxed expression wrinkled into one of sour distaste. “Ugh, no way. I hate that guy… you know he helped me pick the name Kaboom, and then he wouldn’t even use it?”

“That is so older brother of him,” he grumbled, glaring at the floor. “Mine pretty much exclusively call me some variation of Bitty B.”

Archer blinked at him. “I didn’t know you had brothers.”

He fell to the side, wrapping himself around the arm-rest he was already clinging onto. “I didn’t,” he said, miserable and glassy-eyed. “They left me when I was a baby.” He sniffled, hugging the couch like it could possibly hug back.

Archer considered this for a moment before snapping lazily, pointing to his friend. “Kill them.”

Branch hiccuped a dry sob. “Can’t… just went on a life-endangering adventure to keep one of them from dying…”

“Oh, is that where you and Poppy disappeared to last week?”

He nodded, cheek scraping against the couch. “Floyd is the only one who said he’d come back,” he said miserably, “he swore he would. Twenty years later and I only see him again because someone else ropes me into a rescue mission for him. At least the others didn’t lie! I hate him but he just died — literally died in my arms — so I should just forgive him, right? That’s what the others would say…”

“I say this with all the love in my bitter little heart… the pop trolls have a bit of a toxic positivity problem sometimes.”

Branch looked at him in surprise.

“I mean, it could be worse. Then again, the several months I spent in that… “fungeon” made me want to rip my hair out. I don’t even have hair. Do you ever think about that? Like, how jealous would you be if other species could literally manipulate their hair and you don’t even have any…” he trailed off, seemingly remembering who he was talking to. “Oh, yeah. Anyways, just cause some guy died doesn’t mean you have to be nice to him.”

“He’s not just some guy,” he clarified, “he’s my brother.”

Archer stared at him in silence. “You have brothers?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

He thought for a moment. “I think you did… sorry, when I get high I’m kinda… you know.”

Branch nodded. “The floor is moving.”

“Sure bud. So your brothers suck, welcome to the club I guess.”

“I mean, they do. But they’re better, I think. I don’t know… I want them back in my life, I just… I want to scream when I look at them.”

Archer tipped his head back, resting on the edge of the couch. “Let it out, bro. What’s the damage?”

He couldn’t help himself from opening up. He explained the entire history of Brozone, and even his grandma and her death. Archer didn’t particularly react, and if Branch didn’t know any better, he’d almost think he was asleep. But every few minutes, he would nod, or make a little noise of acknowledgement without interrupting. It was nice.

“They don’t even want to be here,” he said once he’d finished explaining the Mount Rageous situation. “That whole argument… they all want to go back to their lives. Without me. But I threw a fit, and now they’re here. I think… I don’t think they would have done all of this if it had been me instead of Floyd.” he sniffled, tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “I hate them so much. But at the same time I just want — I just want my family back.”

“I really hope you’re not expecting me to have any advice, because we did literally… blow up my brother. So…”

“I wish I could blow up mine.”

“Do it,” he agreed with a flippant wave. “Super therapeutic.”

Branch groaned. “I can’t. I just want to punch them all in their stupid faces — but then they’ll leave. I want them gone, but I also really don’t. I hate this.”

“Have you tried yelling at them a bunch?”

“About what?”

“I dunno. Your feelings. If you can’t punch them with fists, punch them with guilt for ruining your life and not even coming back for you. At least they would probably feel bad about it.”

“Still can’t believe Bash had no remorse.”

“Bitch, you’re telling me! Lemme tell you about this one time…”

They sat there for a long time, exchanging stories back and forth. Branch didn’t even realize just how long they’d been talking until he glanced out the window, surprised to find it dark outside. He’d spent almost the whole day here!

“I should get home,” he said, standing from the couch and stretching, his back popping.

“Right,” Archer agreed, joining him on his feet and shuffling over to the door, swinging it open. Before Branch could leave, though, he stopped him one more time. “If you wanna like… come over again sometime… or something. That could be. Nice?” He looked away. “Sorry, I’m not really good at this whole… friends thing.”

Branch found himself actually smiling, which was a massive improvement from his mood this morning. “Well, from one loner to another, I think you’re doing pretty well for yourself. See you later?”

As he walked home, he knew that his issues with his brothers wouldn’t magically be resolved. But… he did feel a little lighter. And for now, that was enough.

[kewpidity]

i keep meaning to send you this and i keep forgetting omg HERE is your formal invitation [ in fact. a plead ] to ramble about your thoughts on agilink

hmmmMMMMM okay okay okay thank you for this opportunity it took a bit for me to get to it cause i realized that Literally ive never actually talked about/explained my thoughts and feelings about them to someone else in detail??? so it took me a minute to collect my thoughts jkfds

↷↷↷

So Basically while i love it in the original canon context, there is a bit that needs to be explained first:

i have a big head canon that agitha is in fact a fairy, the child of a great fairy, that abandoned her and her father, who died when she was v v young

her father had a banker that handles her estate and gives her a little pension until she becomes an adult and can fully inherit her fortune, and thats the explanation i have for why she's so young and already living by herself

beyond that, she's a v lonely girl who doesnt really seem to get on with anybody in town, the only other npc that talks about her really is the guy thats always peering through her window, and it seems he's afraid of her, or thinks she's weird

i chalk this up to otherwordly heritage, but even just within the context of the canon its pretty clear that people either fear her or are at least uncomfortable with the way she acts, and her hobbies

and then there's link, who is open and eager to help, even if its something silly like collecting bugs (which is of course not silly to her at all), he never balks when she acts off putting

on his part of course link is used to dealing with kids, he's the village babysitter after all (which is a bit problematic to play into a ship but what can ya do lmao) but she's also not really. like the kids he would look after? even without the fairy stuff, she's one of those 'aged beyond her years' types, thats just what happens when you're taking care of yourself and living alone most of your life, you dont develop normally and it makes you simultaneously too old and too young (maybe much like being 17 or so and suddenly finding yourself with the fate of the entire world resting on your shoulders 👀)

so now let's talk about link and what the plot would do to him! something that i like about tp link is that he's one of the older versions we get to play as, and he also feels v much like he has an active, established life and a community he's a part of, he has responsibilities to and cares about the people he lives with, which makes it feel all the more heart breaking when he's ripped away from it because of being the chosen hero, cause even after everything, and During everything, his experiences because of the plot are going to make him a fundamentally different person, he Came Back Different if you will, and by the end of the game midna leaves, he has no personal connection with zelda in this specific version, and he feels a bit out of place even now when he returns home, he feels v much alone in this world now even after he starts to settle again

on top of that, when he's in his wolf form, everybody is afraid of him. and on a logical level he does understand that of Course theyd be afraid and of Course they wouldnt recognize him, but on an exhausted and traumatized level, it hurts him v deeply when people he's known his whole life are afraid of him

except for agitha, in fact she isnt phased by him being a wolf at All, and i think that must surely be a comfort to him

i think one of the most likely scenarios for them getting closer over all is that maybe he gets injured as a wolf, and doesnt have anywhere he can go where they wont be chased away, so he ends up going to agitha's house to try and rest up in a safe place, scratches at her door and all, and she does in fact let him in because she's not afraid of him (this is contingent on the fact that for whatever reason he cant turn back human at the moment, its been a while since ive played the game and i dont quite remember how it works so bear with me here lol) which leads him to trust her more in his human form as well, and they get closer over time because of it

she'll of course figure out link and the wolf she lets in sometimes are one in the same eventually but i'll have to iron out the details a little more for all that

so i guess at the end of the day, the appeal to me for agitha and link is that by the end of it all, they're both out there isolated by circumstance and can seek comfort in each other, even after the dust of the story settles

have some disjointed Thoughts™️ that have been circling in my head for years:

Thought One:

as the Agitha Expert, while everybody else is making dirty jokes about her liking the way it feels to be pinched by a beetle, i know that she's Stimming, so there is a scenario in my mind that plays out where one day while she's pinning insects as she does, she starts putting the pins in her fingers and palms, not enough to hurt or even bleed (think like acupuncture), she's not really thinking about it, she's just Feeling (in the case of her being a fairy, its not just the Autism, its a matter of like. 'i feel disconnected from the things and people around me, this is my life but this is not my body, and these pins are a grounding sensation' sorta thing (so still also the autism but with Extra Flavor ljkfds))

and link walks in to bring her a new bug and obviously is thrown off guard about it. they dont really say anything, but he comes over and takes her hand and v carefully removes the pins, and this is a big turning point for them because the thing about link is he always comes across as v brave and unshakable, but here now, while she's not in any danger or even really hurt, his hands as shaking because he's not sure how to approach this situation but he's caring for her regardless, and it really hits her that this is someone not that much older than her that is absolutely just a guy and nobody is taking care of him despite all the care he puts into everybody around him and how scary that is

Thought Two:

if we're explicitly going with the idea of fairy!agitha, she's going to live a long time, and eventually go into the woods to be a greaty fairy probably, so i imagine centuries down the line, another reincarnation of link finds her, and she recognizes him but doesnt Remember him and it fills her with an intense longing and sadness and she doesnt know why but she wants to give him anything he could possibly ask of her

Thought Three:

sometimes when i think about him turning up at her door as a wolf, i think about old myths about werewolves where the only thing that can turn them back into men is their name being called by someone who loved and trusted them and it breaks me all to pieces

one day i wanna write something for them, even if its only vaguely connected drabbles or something

[thatstormygeek]

With the whole "US athletes are taking full advantage of Olympic village healthcare" thing going around, folks are rightly horrified about the abysmal state of healthcare in this country.

What's not obvious in that wider context is that, even within our awful system, the quality of care you receive varies massively - not just because of your financial situation, which is bad enough, but also based on your location.

My stepdad's sister died this morning. She was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer less than three weeks ago. She was still working in May.

She lived in Kansas.

I've written before about the sad state of the Kansas healthcare system. Which is confusing to some people, because the University of Kansas healthcare network has a pretty good reputation. But the experience of your average Kansan does not reflect that.

My aunt had been seeing doctors about her coughing all year. She was not ignoring the problem or putting off treatment. She was not rich by any means, but she made a comfortable living, owned her home, and could afford to help out her three adult children from time to time. She had what passes for "good" health insurance before graduating to Medicare, which despite being repeatedly gutted, is still better than any private insurance I've had.

My personal experiences with the Kansas system are from years ago, as I moved away in my 20s. My parents still live there, though. From what they tell me about their doctors, things have not improved. But we all know the plural of anecdote is not data, so...

Kansas maternal health care deserts mean hardships on mothers, communities and providers

Kansas’ unrivaled rural hospital crisis: 58% at risk of closing, 82% lost money on patient care

Kansas is number 18 on this list of states with primary care deserts. 23 counties bear that designation, affecting over 30% of the state's population.

But it's not just about the numbers; the type of doctor you tend to get in KS is just...

Well, they are the type of doctor to refuse a person with a degenerative spinal condition a disability parking tag, on the theory that the extra walking would be good exercise.

They are the type of doctor to mark "temporary" on their patient's disability tag form so the patient has to take their walker to the motor vehicle office every six months to get the tag renewed.

They are the type of doctor to prescribe multiple courses of antibiotics for six months before testing for lung cancer.

I'm sure there are plenty of perfectly decent medical professionals in Kansas. Unfortunately, they seem to be massively outnumbered.

It's depressing. It shouldn't be this way. It doesn't have to be this way. But here we are.

[godfreygwilym]

some notes on how i've been running the brides

when i first set out to dm cos, one of the first things i was really determined to do was give them more in-depth backstories, since— with the exception of escher getting like one paragraph lol— they're basically just. creepy dolls. which i GUESS works with gothic horror but man i would really like to have female characters with personalities!!!!

*combination of my own interpretation as well as concepts ive integrated from other dms, so if you recognize something specific i probably got it from elsewhere

ludmilla vilisevic

physically in her mid-30s, and is aged roughly 230. i play her with an rp english accent, although in my mind she has a nigerian affect. she is very poised and calculating, and always tries to be the one in control of any situation. has a talent for shadow magic, and her own sentient shadow is the closest she has to a best friend. she also has a barn owl familiar named amicus and a cat named eupraxia. when she takes a human disguise, she goes by the name of filena voltanescu.

before ludmilla married strahd, her name was lumina. she is a wizard apprentice who was lost in the mists and stumbled into barovia. naturally very curious, brave and shrewd, she marched up to ravenloft despite all the warnings. her and strahd ended up having a very romantic relationship (despite lowkey reflags from strahd the whole time lol) for a long time since there had been a long spell of no tatyana reincarnation, although they eventually began to fall apart, partially spurred by her feelings of isolation and longing for her family outside of barovia.

at the point that cos takes place, ludmilla is very distant from strahd and is really only going through the motions/trying to stay useful, though she is determined to remain a step above his other partners in terms of superiority. she spends a great deal of her time researching and experimenting on mostly-unwilling test subjects (she is well aware at this point that what she is doing is cruel, but after two centuries she's become rather indifferent). she's very fascinated by the abbot's work.

in my game, strahd has given her emil toranescu, who is imprisoned in tsolenka pass. she is working on developing a method to transfer souls from one body to another— in my game, ismark is the true reincarnation of tatyana, and ireena merely looks like her.

anastrasya "anya" karelova

physically in her early 30s, anya is just over a century old. barovian accent, and extremely flamboyant and charismatic, she loves being the centre of attention. she has a natural talent for communicating with ghosts, who are often her captive audience. not much combat skill beyond what abilities she has as a vampire, but she has a wicked skill for charming people. in human disguise, she goes by ekaterina bogdana.

anya is from minor vallakian nobility, which comes with all the trappings of petty inter-family squabbles. she has had a terribly unfortunate string of bad luck with marriages, all of her betrotheds have met poor fates or ran off. on a fourth attempt, her parents arranged for her to be married to an older landowner who she did not care for at all.

while she was engaged, anya ran into ludmilla (in human disguise) by chance. they grew close quickly and began having an affair. eventually, ludmilla introduced her to strahd, and she was instantly enamoured. before the wedding, anastrasya's betrothed "mysteriously" died, and she was whisked away to ravenloft. at this point, ludmilla and strahd's relationship was very cold, and he became preoccupied with anya.

volenta popofska

physically in her mid-20s, and is about 65 years old. barovian, and has a very floaty and whimsical way of speaking, though very soft spoken and rather self conscious. she often comes off as eerie. her vampiric abilities are amplified, making her a very good rogue/assassin. in "human" disguise, she is called violet spivakhofska.

volenta is a tiefling who was born in a small fishing village on lake zarovich. her parents did not want her, and so she was raised by the village elder. when she passed away when volenta was a teenager, she no longer had any protection from the animosity of the villagers, so she fled. eventually she was picked up by a small group of bandits, who would've attacked her, but she convinced them to let her join.

she bounced around various groups of bandits and thieves for several years, finding a place but never truly fitting in. after one traumatic rejection, she went to ravenloft in search of strahd, who she had heard stories of since she was a child, and had often wished would come and take her away. to volenta's joy, strahd took a liking to her and made her his bride.

even still, volenta is an outcast due to her awkward and sometimes unsettling behaviour and knack for the macabre. strahd enjoys her, but does little to try and ingratiate her with his other partners, and so she remains self-conscious and eager to win his favour.

escher gerst

physically in his late twenties, escher has been a vampire for just over a decade. i play him with a german accent. he is usually very distant and melancholy, though he becomes much more playful when not around strahd. a bard by trade, as a vampire he discovers a natural aptitude for shapeshifting, spurred by a bit of neuroticism over not being able to see his own reflection. in human disguise, he goes by claudius belasco.

escher is also from outside the mists, the son of poor farmers who ran off to join a bard troupe. he loves stories and music, and has a knack for various instruments, but particularly enjoys the lute and the violin— strahd has gifted him two exquisite models. his troupe was caught in the mists, and unbeknownst to him, strahd began spying on them. outside the village of barovia in the svalich woods, strange orchestrated a wolf attack on the group, sparing escher so that he could swoop in and save him. when escher awoke in a plush bed in ravenloft, he became deeply enamoured with strahd, who he saw as a fairytale prince. they had a very passionate relationship with strahd lavishing many gifts on escher before convincing him to let him turn him into a vampire.

despite not being together long, however, strahd has quickly become rather bored of escher's antics, who became desperate to stay in his good graces to avoid being sealed into the crypts. after the revolt in the village of barovia, strahd took doru as a vampire spawn. escher and him would have been close friends, if escher wasn't so deeply self-conscious and paranoid over his own status. eventually, he convinced strahd to starve doru to the point of madness and return him to his father at the church. escher would feel guilty over this, were he not so deeply concerned over his own self-preservation.

also due to strahd's coldness toward him, escher developed a fascination with vallaki, where he often goes in human disguise. here, he took a human lover, a painter named anton. anton became involved with the feast of saint andral, when escher gave him a bag (secretly containing the bones) and had him deliver it to the coffin shop. during the chaos of the feast, unfortunately, strahd had anton killed— escher beseeched the party to bury him properly and behead him so he would not return as a vampire spawn.

[nohara-rin-dot-mp3]

Love love LOVE your ship thoughts!! They're very good and if u have anymore prophetic visions, please share them! 💖 It's nice to see how the more underrepresented characters in the story get interpreted and analyzed, because GOD KNOWS the main tags don't do it lol! It's hard in these streets for the minor character lovers!!

thank you very much god has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never done <3

a couple more ship thoughts ive been rotating (less coherent, more vibes-based):

tenji. i think tenten is like. an EXTREMELY fem-leaning bi and neji is demi. i dont really think they're in a relationship so much as i think they just get really close as time goes on by nature of spending so much time together. and like. there's romantic interest in both parties. and they both think the other's like hot and stuff. but more than anything its the fact that they Know each other on an incredibly deep and intimate level, so much so that it kind of surpasses either of those things you know. quietly codependent. i think that if we keep neji dying tenten just kind of... quietly slips out of the shinobi lifestyle. takes on less and less missions until one day she leaves konoha and never comes back. lee and gai might notice, but i dont think they'd chase after her. i think it would kill her to stop fighting- i think tenten is fascinating because weaponry is an art, and she loves it, but the harm it causes is real too, and there's really no situation where she can comfortably explore this thing she loves. if neji survives, i think they still stick together. tenten spars with him still, and they have a little farm by a lake. they're actually one of my favorite little rarepairs lol i just think they're cute!!!!

gemisu: gemna and ebisu do weed together and they have DEFINITELY sucked each others dicks at some point. sorry this is canon kishimoto told me so.

deidara is aroace but i think that he keeps going on terrible blind dates because sasori (crushing on deidara and mad about it because he KNOWS hes aroace and also deidara??? really??? deidara??? he thought he had STANDARDS but this is untrue he likes deidara. probably the worst thing to ever happen to him) dares him to and deidara loves escalation. at one point he and iruka end up going like idk ninja bowling together and there is so much property damage but somehow he gets roped into the Kakashi Polycule for a couple weeks like that one. tweet about infiltrating the polycule and doing the dishes you know. he and obito have a weird cold war thing going on. the thing falls apart when itachi stops by to be weird and passive-aggressive at deidara because he left his laundry in the communal akatsuki drier when he 'joined' the kakashi polycule and makes eye-contact with gai (resident uchiha repellent) and sticks to the ceiling like a frightened cat for several hours and somehow THATS the thing that makes everyone realise that the new blond guy is actually just deidara. from the akatsuki. its probably the most successful infiltration of konoha ever and no one even catches onto the fact that obito was there too. a couple of other people try to get secret government information by sneaking into polycules and it works so shockingly well that it become a legitimate strategy employed by like every major hidden village. deidara loves to brag about inventing it and also learns nothing from any of this. he continues to go on blind dates and cause more problems and sasori keeps setting him up in the desperate hope that it helps him get over him (it doesnt)

mikoshina is realllyyyy cute and also i love lesbians. i think that like. they are best friends who kiss with tongue sometimes. like they have those vibes. minato is completely cool with it but fugaku is INTO is reverse fujoshi. you see my vision.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

It Takes A Village

Fandom: YJ98, Flashfam, DC Comics

Summary: After witnessing Bart murder someone, his friends scramble to cover Bart's tracks and stumble upon an international scandal as a result.

(Minor background: Bart took a gap year, and Conner did two years of community college. This starts shortly after Bart's 19th birthday. So, Conner and Jenni are 20, Bart and Cissie are 19, Tim and Cassie are 18, I made Greta 17 for the sake of the fic, and Judy is 15. I decided to make Owen 22 and Thad 16 for plot reasons. Clark and Conner are brothers in this fic, and Clark is 12 years older for the sake of this fic, so he's 32.)

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Bart Allen, Conner Kent, Judy Garrick, Jay Garrick, Joan Garrick, Cissie King-Jones, Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake, Greta Hayes, Jenni Ognats, Thad Thawne, Owen Mercer, Meloni Thawne, Clark Kent, Wally West, Linda Park, Courtney Whitmore, President Thawne

Relationship(s): KonBart, CissieCassie, WallyLinda

Additional Tags: Serial Killer AU, No Powers AU, Angst, Dark Comedy, Bart Allen Kills in This Fic, Minor Thad Thawne, Separated in Childhood, Some Smut in This

Chapter Ten: Ill

After the fight, Bart’s fever spiked, and he tried to say goodnight to rush to the parking garage. Grant and Grant’s friend Tommy and Tommy’s friend Dinah and Tommy’s father, Ted… They all wanted to talk. His line of vision thinned out and his stomach dropped as he continued to nod and smile. He couldn’t muster the energy to speak. “Oh man, I forgot… Bart’s got work tomorrow. We gotta go,” Grant stated. Bart nodded, smiling at everyone, mouthing goodnight but not managing a sound. 

They nearly made it to the garage when Bart got tunnel vision, and his ears started ringing. He grabbed Grant’s arm in a last-ditch effort to keep his balance, but his eyes rolled back, his knees buckled, and if it hadn’t been for Grant’s quick thinking, he would’ve landed on his face. 

**

Bart woke up in the hospital, groggy and speechless as he reached for his IV. Grant stopped him. “Hey, buddy… Let’s not do that. We’re in the emergency room. You took a little spill, and they want you to stay until your temperature—.” 

“No… I have to go home. They’re gonna call my grandparents,” Bart mumbled, “I don’t want my—.” 

Grant shook his head. Bart sank into the bed, too weak to move. “Bart, they called your grandpa a couple of minutes ago. Bart, why didn’t you tell me you were sick? I would’ve understood,” Grant frowned. Bart shut his eyes. 

“I have to call my grandpa… I have to—. I don’t want him to come here,” Bart mumbled as he opened his eyes and reached into his pocket to grab his phone. 

He called Barry because he was scared to call Iris. “Bart! Hey, are you okay? We just got a call saying you passed out,” Barry panted over the phone. 

“Grandpa, you don’t have to come out this way. I’ll be out of the hospital before you get here—.” 

“Bart, what happened?” Barry asked. 

Bart didn’t want Iris to come to the hospital. It would’ve reminded him of the observatory. It would’ve made everything worse. “Grandpa, I can hear you moving around. Just stop for a minute,” Bart pleaded in Interlac. He rarely used it with Barry because the language sounded strange on Barry’s tongue. With Iris, he dropped the veil and spoke in mostly Interlac. It rolled off their tongues naturally, leaving Bart the space to say everything he wanted as fast as it came to him. 

“What’s wrong?” Barry asked. 

“Nothing… I’m sick and bit off a little more than I could chew today. I’m fine. I’ll stay home for a few days after I sign myself out—.”

“Bart, if you don’t want us to come down there, you’ve gotta promise to stay until they discharge you,” Barry whispered. Bart shut his eyes. 

“Fine… And Grandpa, can I ask you a quick question?” Bart asked. He softened, hoping Barry could answer something for him. 

“Ask away,” Barry whispered. 

“When you found out Grandma and I were alive—. Grandpa, did Grandma ever tell you what happened to her when she wasn’t with me?” Bart questioned. He felt a sick pit in his stomach as the words left his mouth. 

“Not much. She said she did what she had to to get you out of there. I don’t think she wants us to know… I try to respect that,” Barry answered. Bart sighed. “I know… Get some rest. Keep us posted. I love you, Pup.”

“Love you too, Grandpa. And goodnight just in case I fall asleep and forget to text you later,” Bart whispered. They hung up, and Bart pressed his palms against his eyelids.

“You okay, Bart?” Grant asked. Bart nodded. 

“Did it look bad?” Bart asked. 

“Your nose started bleeding and you threw up in the ambulance. It looked like coffee grounds—.” 

“Shit. Don’t worry. I’m taking something for that… Thanks for staying with me,” Bart smiled, “But I’ll be okay if you have to leave. I’ll call Cissie and tell her after—.” 

“Bart, is something going on that you don’t want me to know about?” Grant asked. Bart shook his head. 

“I just don’t like people to make a fuss over my health. I’m gonna be fine. I promised my grandparents that I’ll stay until the hospital discharges me, so you don’t have to worry about—.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be… And I’m not making a fuss. I’m hanging out with a friend. You know… That’s the first time I’ve heard you speak anything other than English,” Grant noted. 

“I feel like I’m never saying the right thing in English. I’ve never been one for nuance,” Bart half-joked. 

“I think you’ve gotten the hang of it. There’s a lot of distance between what you’re saying and what you’re thinking now. I know that for sure… Listen, I know you didn’t have it easy. You bounced around a lot, too… And I know we don’t have the same experiences, but I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to mask something. Some kind of—. I don’t know. You’re masking some sort of trauma,” Grant observed. It made Bart feel exposed and naked. 

“Grant, you’re getting dangerously close to something that’s none of your—.” 

“Bart, I’m not trying to hurt you… I think you’re hurting yourself. I want you to know there are places for you to talk to people about what’s going on that aren’t like—. Places that aren’t traditional talk therapy. Your stress is killing you. I’ve never known you to be sick before, and you can’t honestly tell me you came down with—.” 

“Grant, stop. Stop, okay?” Bart interrupted as he tried to close his eyes and go to sleep. 

“Okay. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Grant replied. 

**

Bart’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he shifted uncomfortably as he reached in his pocket for it. His headache subsided. He answered his phone without looking. “Cissie called and said they kept you overnight at the hospital. She told your job you wouldn’t be in for a few days, and I’m on my way to the—.”

“Tim?” Bart questioned, still confused. 

“Cissie asked me to come early to make sure you don’t land yourself in the hospital again. Besides, we can listen to Creachur King and Late Night Licks when they drop,” Tim replied. 

“Late Night Licks is back?” Bart asked. 

“Who listens to Late Night Licks?” Grant asked, half-asleep with his eyes shut. He lay over Bart’s lap. 

“My friend, Tim. If you’re in town, you can listen to the new episode with us. I’ve been meaning to introduce you two to each other. Tim, would you mind if Grant listened with us?” Bart asked. 

“I wouldn’t mind. Cissie told me Grant wanted to stay a night or two. I heard they’re having a celebrity do a voiceover for the premier’s story of the week along with an interview,” Tim replied, “I gotta get back on the road, but I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

“Alright… I’m gonna get some more sleep. Wake me up when you get here,” Bart whispered before hanging up. He fell asleep with his phone on his chest, and Grant sat up. 

**

Grant, Tim, and Bart squeezed together in the queen-sized bottom bunk, listening to Late Night Licks through their headphones using a splitter. Bart started to nod off before sirens startled him awake. He ripped his headphones out and gave Tim the laptop before climbing over Grant to go to the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later to grab a bag of gummies from his drawer, and he ate three. “What’s that?” Grant asked. 

“You don’t want one,” Tim answered without looking. Grant’s eyes widened. “Yeah.” 

Bart nodded. “He’s right,” Bart replied as he put his headphones on to finish the episode. A few minutes before it ended, Bart let his head tilt back, feeling heavy and weightless at the same time. He shut his eyes, gently clearing his throat. He opened his eyes, turning toward the door. “Bart?” Grant whispered. Bart climbed over Grant. “Where are you headed?” 

“The shower,” Bart mumbled as he took his phone with him. 

Bart soaked in the tub, shutting his eyes as he scrubbed his skin. He leaned back into the water, letting it cover his face, and he ran a hand through his hair. The sponge in his hand lightly brushed his forehead, and he groaned. He took the sponge and ran it down the underside of his left arm. He couldn’t hold onto a single thought as it came to him, so he honed in on the sensations that felt the best. He ran the sponge down the center of his chest, past his waistline, and he shut his eyes, absentmindedly touching and squeezing. Sweat dripped down his temple as he took his other hand, cupping the underside of his balls as they twitched in his palm. He groaned long, low, and drawn out from the back of his throat as he came into the tub. He let the water drain and stood still, watching until it was gone before turning the shower on. 

He got out once he started shivering, and he dressed before calling Conner. “Bart, hey. How are you?” Conner asked. ��Do you feel a little better?” 

“I love you,” Bart whispered, still half out of it. “I’m okay. I’m a little high right now, but I—. I—. Playing with your hair and—. The little bit of hair above your waistline—. What’s that called?” 

Conner laughed over the phone. “ A snail trail? ” Conner asked. 

“Mhm… I like that. And I like the way you sound when you wake up and—. Conner, I like you. Everything about you. You’re perfect to me,” Bart whispered. Conner made a noise over the phone. 

“I like you and love you too, Bart… Try to get some rest tonight—.”

“I want to hear about your day,” Bart interrupted as he draped himself across the couch, wrapping himself in a blanket. “I want to hear your voice.”

“Okay… Well, this morning I had french toast and bacon in the cafeteria. Then, I walked to class and Cassie took me to her gym. I like her gym better than mine because the girls there like to recommend songs to each other, and a couple of them brought their boyfriends who were super cool… And Clark invited us out for milkshakes at this new place. Lois ordered for everyone, and I had a strawberry milkshake with collagen in it. That was pretty cool,” Conner took a deep breath, “And I’m on lunch right now at work… But I get off at three in the morning. If you get up late tonight, you can text me. I’ll probably be up.”

“Sounds good… Thank you for talking to me about your day. You don’t know how much it helps,” Bart whispered. 

“Of course. Thank you for asking about my day. If we don’t talk tonight, I want to talk to you about your day tomorrow,” Conner whispered. 

“Okay… Talk to you soon,” Bart mumbled. 

“Okay. Bye, baby,” Conner replied before hanging up. Cissie came in the front door and frowned. 

“Bart, why is your hair wet?” Cissie asked. She grabbed a towel from her room and dried him off. “Tim and Grant were supposed to be—.” Cissie sighed, and Bart looked up with a big smile on his face. “What?”

“Give me a hug. I missed you,” Bart whispered. Cissie softened, sat down, and wrapped her arms around him. “I had a good day…”

“Did you smoke today?” Cissie asked. Bart shook his head. 

“Gummies,” Bart replied. Cissie chuckled. 

“Oh, nice… I had a good day, too,” Cissie replied. Bart lit up.

“Tell me all about it,” Bart requested with gentle enthusiasm. 

Cissie sank into the couch beside Bart, relaxing her shoulders, and she glanced at him. “Oh, I crushed it in class today. We had a comprehension check this morning, and I was so ready for it. Then, I—. Oh, I got you something,” Cissie answered as she reached into her pocket and gave Bart a little bottle of juice. “I got it at the juice bar down the street. It’s a wellness shot. I got it for like seventy percent off because they were about to close… And they were gonna toss it.” 

Bart opened the bottle and downed it without a word, and he turned to her with a sour expression. “I see why it’s a shot… Thanks, Cissie. Did you get something for yourself?” Bart questioned with his eyes closed. He lay over her lap, reached for the remote, and turned the TV on without looking. 

Cissie took the remote and turned the news on. “I did. I got myself a celery juice—.” Bart heard someone on the TV speaking his language, and he sat up. “Oh god, Bart. Isn’t that awful? They say he was in there a while before they found him,” Cissie replied. Bart kissed her temple and returned to his room, leaving Cissie perplexed.

**

When Bart was well enough, he started spending all his free time at the park on jogs. Three days. Watching and waiting. He marked the time on his skin with lipstick. Easy to wash off. The times varied. So, his afternoon jogs proved to be equally fruitful. Dr. Eric Donnovan. From the park, Bart found his car. From the car, Bart found his opening. Eric Donnovan always parked in a secluded area. It was usually within a two-block radius of the park and hidden well enough that Bart could be alone for as long as he needed. 

Bart read more about him in some of the other files when he could stomach looking at them. He couldn’t bear to read Thad’s, so he read the others. Dr. Eric Donnovan botched more medical procedures than he successfully completed, which led Bart to believe he was harming children on purpose. The desire to kill him led Bart down a rabbit hole of vengeful gestures. He wanted to kill Donnovan so much that it made him sick inside. It twisted his stomach into knots and he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, thinking of all the ways he could harm him. He couldn’t do it within the first two weeks, but he knew the third week… The third week, when he went to visit Conner, he’d have the opportunity to do it. He couldn’t visit Conner the first week because he was still too tired to drive, so Conner visited the following week.

**

Conner kissed Bart’s neck, reaching up Bart’s shirt. “I missed you last week. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Conner whispered between kisses. Bart seemed limp and uninvolved. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Bart whispered. Conner stopped and sat beside Bart, waiting patiently for an explanation or a description of Bart’s feelings. 

“Are you okay?” Conner asked. 

“I think I’m distracted… I can’t get my head right,” Bart mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Conner smiled. 

“Don’t feel bad… We could actually watch the movie we put on,” Conner offered. Bart looked at Conner’s sad eyes and something in him cracked. He couldn’t tell Conner everything, but he figured it wouldn’t kill him to tell Conner a little bit. 

Bart leaned over and grabbed his file from the drawer. “Conner, I want to—. You have to promise not to tell anyone if I show you this,” Bart whispered. 

“I promise,” Conner answered. 

Bart opened the file and took out a set of pictures. “Remember how I said these were my medical records? I wasn’t lying, but—. This was—. Look,” Bart stammered. He showed Conner a picture of a doctor forcing a mask over his mouth and nose while nurses held him down. He was careful to show the pictures that didn’t clearly show the doctors’ faces. Conner looked despite everything in his body screaming for him to look away. He swallowed hard as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Some of the procedures were normal but most of them were experiments to see how much I could take mentally. My pain tolerance. How long I could go without sleep. It was—. Effectively it was torture. I never hugged anyone. I never held hands. Behind glass... I never knew what my grandma smelled like.” 

“Bart,” Conner whispered, “This is what you—. No one would ever know you came from this.”

“That’s why I’m not always responsive. I’m—. I know it’s not normal now, but I—. Moving here, I didn’t know how anything worked. I didn’t know—. It’s so hard to reach out sometimes because I feel like it’s easier not to show anything, but—. I want you to know me. 

“I want you to understand that even if it isn’t comparable to anyone else’s emotions, I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. I want you, and I need you. I want you to need me, too. This isn’t to make you pity me. This is so you know, I came from a place where I wasn’t allowed to experience love in its purest form, and I love you despite everything I was taught. I was taught not to love or connect, and I love you now,” Bart explained. Conner kissed Bart’s cheek. 

“Thank you for sharing this with me. Thank you for trusting me… I—. Bart, I’m sorry for crying at this,” Conner smiled. Bart put his file away, turned to him, and wiped Conner’s cheeks. 

“Thank you for all the love you’ve shown me… And thank you for showing me what patience and humanity look like,” Bart answered. They kissed. His lips kept finding Conner’s, never truly finding air until Conner pulled away. 

“Do you want to watch a stupid movie?” Conner asked. 

“Let’s squeeze into Cissie’s bed and force her to watch something dumb,” Bart smiled. 

Conner paused, looking deep into Bart, and Bart froze, wondering if Conner found something he didn’t like. But Conner smiled, gently kissing his forehead. “You’re safe now,” Conner reassured. The word safe echoed in Bart’s head, and he smiled, trying to shake it off. “No one’s going to hurt you anymore—.” 

Hurt. Conner acknowledged the part that no one else seemed to. The hurt. It wasn’t the lack of safety. It was the fact that people hurt him and his parents and his aunt and uncle. It all hurt, and Conner understood that. Bart lay down, pulling Conner down beside him. Killing for Bart was his only way of returning that hurt to the senders. He hid his face in Conner’s shirt. “I changed my mind. Let’s stay here,” Bart mumbled. Conner nodded as he held Bart close.

[artisanoftheredscience]

A PAGE FROM SLOWCAKES

[Editor's Note: Credit to Brightgoat and their maker "Bright's Piccrew Hell" for the image. ID in alt text.]

NAME: Detective Peculiar [Editor's Note: Peculiar is a known alias- her real name is unknown, and likely never will be revealed.]

DOB: February 22nd, 1854

Age: 40-47 years old. [Editor's Note: Peculiar's age is 47 in the current edition, with 40 being her age upon her first appearance in the Neath.]

KNOWN ALIASES: The Indefatigable Detective, The Triumphant Director (Editor's Note: Only used in recent years, circa 1899 (the first one).

PRONOUNS: She/Her.

PROFESSION: Private Detective, Co-Director of the Great Hellbound Railway Board.

BACKSTORY (PRE-NEATH):

Peculiar was born on the Surface, in a small village, one so small that it's scarcely recorded on maps. She lived with her parents and sisters in a small home; her parents were well respected members of the community, and they helped their neighbors constantly. Her family grew food and raised chickens, and their life on the countryside was peaceful. Peculiar's sisters were her dearest friends, and the three of them were inseparable well into adulthood.

Peculiar had a gift for observation since she was quite young; by the time she was an adult, she'd already gained a bit of a reputation for solving mysteries and fixing problems with said skills. Those eventually led her into her work as a private investigator. It took a lot of effort and time to gain respect in that field, but she soon became known for being the person to call for problems you couldn't take to the cops. It was on one such occasion that she met Alcyone.

Alcyone was the love of her life, and the two were madly in love. Eventually Alcyone moved from her parents' home to live with Peculiar in a small home Peculiar's father had built them. Though they could never been openly in a relationship, they were very happy together. Peculiar's family loved Alcyone, and she became a strong member of their community. Peculiar split her time between her detective work and staying at home, helping Alcyone with her art and spending time with her sisters. They were the best twenty years of Peculiar's life, and Peculiar cherished those days.

Then, after a particularly difficult case, Peculiar came home to find Alcyone dead in their shared home. The only memento left behind was a flower she did not recognize. The grief that display inflicted upon her was unimaginable. In a single night, Peculiar had lost everything. And so she gathered her belongings, and left home, chasing after the person who ruined her life.

With any luck, they would not walk away unpunished.

NOTABLE ASSOCIATES:

Dr. Stone: Peculiar's dearest friend and co-director of the Great Hellbound Railway. She absolutely loves that man, and the pair are inseparable. She'd kill for him, if he asked her to. He wouldn't, but she'd do it. He helped her with finishing off Alcyone's killer, and she greatly appreciated it.

Ms. Deidamia: Peculiar's deviless girlfriend, who she only starts dating Post-Ambition. She loves her very dearly and the pair are unstoppable when they work together. Deidamia is much deeper in the Great Game than she is, and Peculiar loves helping her with her work.

Lady Spring Lovelace: A work partner of Peculiar's. They get along well, though not as well as she and Stone do. They mostly work together when it comes to matters of Hell and the Great Game.

Ms. Kendrick Starlee: Peculiar's right-hand lady and best friend. She takes Kendrick on case-work, and in exchange Kendrick makes her go to performances with her. They're good friends.

Professor Ellison Arrow: Colleagues at the University. They work on projects with one another. Peculiar has a healthy respect for him.

Liz(ard) O'Connor: She and Liz are good friends. She sometimes work with him when she needs someone not afraid to get their hands dirty. Liz enjoys helping her, as long as he gets to get into a fight about it.

Mr. Ives Walters: The GHBRB's accountant. Peculiar works closely with him often. She kind of sees him like a weird little cousin. Ives just wants to go home most of the time.

Professor Marilyn: A Professor from the University that works with Peculiar on matters of the Correspondence. Peculiar found her when she crashed her boat off the coast of Venderbight and brought her home. The two of them get on like a house on fire.

Professor Oliver Sing-Reid: A colleague from the University. She only works with him when she needs help with inter-department shenanigans. They like to bitch about the Provost together.

AMBITION NOTES: [Editor's Notes: Content Warnings for Death, Violence, Substance Use, and Grieving. MAJOR AMBITION: NEMESIS SPOILERS AHEAD.]

Peculiar's grieving caused her to do a lot of things she'd come to regret. Losing Alcyone destroyed her, and she often fell into periods of deep depression because of it.

It takes her five years to complete Nemesis, a good chunk of which is devoted to Knifegate. Fucking Knifegate.

Peculiar chooses to murder Scathewick, but it's a decision that she regrets. It wasn't one she would have chosen in a better headspace, and it causes her long-term mental health issues.

Peculiar lost her eye in a confrontation on the Surface with a contact of Scathewick's. As such, her vision suffers terribly and she has had to completely readjust to most things.

Peculiar's experiences with Gaoler's Honey cause her to have extreme reactions to regular Honey. She swore off it entirely in the time that followed. She still had deep cravings for the Red Stuff, a fact which causes her much grief. She feels deeply guilty about the whole thing.

She chooses not to spare Mr. Cups, to make truly sure that no one else would suffer what she did. This she does not regret.

She keeps the knife that killed her wife in a locked box, promising to only open it again if she absolutely had to. She had never opened it.

EXTRA INFORMATION:

Peculiar originally only joined the railway to prevent it from ending up entirely controlled by the Bazaar, but it's become her passion project.

She does absolutely deranged things if she thinks it'll help with a case or mission and she's not afraid to get her hands dirty. 

She prefers to be kind and merciful when given the chance, but if you insist on being a problem she will be a problem solver! 

Peculiar seems like the 'straight man' or the serious 'girlboss' archetype for about five seconds before you actually talk to her. She's actually just as weird as all her friends.

She has a 'dry' sense of humor…. if you don't know her well enough to know what her tells are.

Peculiar left a letter for her parents explaining why she left, but she didn't tell them where she was going. She didn't want to drag them down with her. Unfortunately for her, they are persistent as hell.

Peculiar has 2 sisters: her younger sister, Mauve, and her older sister Lorenza.

Peculiar absolutely adores chickens. They're her favorite animal.

Peculiar has adjusted fairly well to the damaged eyesight, but often struggles with distance-gauging and needs glasses to read.

[ravenveenova97]

Ok I have been away for a while 😅 sorry but I've been playing and testing Poli AI, im hooked 🤭 so iv been busy drawing out characters and letting the AI model change little things about them, so without further ado let me introduce you.

Zoro (inspired by my Zoroark human form)

He lives in a run down neighbourhood, he's a prankster mischievous and playfully, he is also loyal gentle and kind.

He finds the MC down a dark ally confused and lost, ragged clothes and a case of memory loss.

Rin

This is a dark tail, your MC depressed and suicidal tries an attempt to end there life, till Rin shows up and rips you way from that fait.

He is gloomy, depressed but he is also soft hearted and loving when he opens up to you.

Haku

Your MC is the most popular girl in the Academy not just for your looks but also for your brains, this shy little guy melds into the background and nobody sees him, until one day he drips he's pencil in class and the MC gives it back to him. Warning ⚠️ this guy not as shy as he looks.

Felix

This is D&D based story

Felix is a moon druid, he able to communicate with animals, tame them and also wild shape into a Owlbear, he's companion is Kuro a white Bengal tiger, MC and Felix meet when MC is hunting down a Vampire that's caught the hunters Guild attention.

Felix is protective, jealous but he's also kind won't over step boundaries but be warned he is highly flirty.

Ethan

He's cold, aloof, poker faced and cool, he is also a straight laced guy at your college, basically a goody two shoes, but he is strict and don't tick him off he has a sharp tongue and will scould you.

The MC herself is an out cast a rebel basically a rule breaker, she bunks her lessons 🤭 opposites attract.

Toshiro

A student at Kikagami Academy, he a little bit of a loner but dose have a few friends out of the Academy, he is aloof, poker faced and suffers from depression wich he's getting therapy for, he's family life has a dark background that led to he's depression.

MC is a Female student a year up from Toshiro, she is a pure loner, no friends and is a Pastel goth.

Now the last three, I saved the best for last 🤭⚠️

Sosuke 🔥🥵

Sosuke is your Art teacher in College, he has very feminine features and an extremely Attractive to he's female students, he is flirty and playful with a hint of elegance and dominants, he often flirts playfully with he's female students but knows not to over step he bounds, basically he knows when to stop.

MC is a quiet girl in Sosuke class with an outstanding artistic eye which Sosuke is drawn to.

Kosuke

He lives in a port town know for there big fishing boats and happy little town vibes, Kosuke was a twig and a kid and helped he's dad at the fisherman's warehouse, he playfull, energetic, loyal and trusting.

MC moves back to their home town (being Kosuke's village) where they grew up before moving away at 10.

Now my all time favorite, one I'm playing now and omg I love him 😍 lady's and gents meet my 1#

��Tomoyoshi 💕

He is a college student about to hit 18 in a few weeks, he has a sweet tooth, he's sweet, he's kind, he's loyal, he's a hopeless romantic, he easily blushes when complimented, he emotional and empathetic, he's dream is to one day own a Caff of he's own and is looking for part time work on the weekends. Ow did I also mention he's a ♋ 💕

Sorry I really like him 🥰

So MC is a manager and owner of the local Retro cafe and there taking job interviews trying to find a good fit for the weekend shifts.

[ispravahomes]

Fertile Ground | Isprava Blog

“Goa’s coolest bar owners, designers and artists tell us why the sunshine state is an oasis for creative minds.” Jasreen Mayal Khanna

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that every place needs a strong band of creatives individuals who not only take inspiration from their surroundings but also bring new ideas and perspectives to them. With its gorgeous beaches, tropical hideaways and susegadled pace, Goa has long been a mecca for thinkers, artists, writers and designers. And in the past two years, as the pandemic has led to a further influx of those looking for less mundane and more inspired living, this community has only grown in spades.

For this Isprava Insider Volume IV issue, we’ve rounded up the coolest creative minds, some born-and-bred Goans, others part-time residents and full-time entrepreneurs who have found their home and have built a community that supports their pursuits. These are designers, genius chefs, brilliant mixologists and more, who are changing the design, culture and dining scene in Goa.

And who better than these folks to give you some Goa intel? From foraging in forests to international film festivals and feni distillery tours, these insiders reveal their favourite experiences that will show you a hidden side to this eternally golden destination.

ANJALI MODY FOUNDER & CREATIVE HEAD OF JOSMO STUDIO

Mody spent a part of her childhood in Goa but moved here permanently at the age of 31, when she and her husband wanted a slower pace of life and found Goa to be the perfect place to foster their personal and professional growth. She launched Josmo Studio soon after, and today, she runs Goa’s premier furniture studio with 85 employees, a 6,000sqft store and a 30,000sqft manufacturing facility. She currently resides in her family home in Nerul with her husband and twin babies. “When I lived in Mumbai, the pace of the city had control over me, but here it’s the opposite,” she says, despite still working 12 hour days through the week. She takes regular breaks, sometimes heading to the beach in the middle of the week, while on other days she switches off her phone. “Goa is grounded in the elements and we’re lucky to be surrounded by beaches, forests and waterfalls,” says Mody. “I always envisioned bringing up my kids around nature and trees and mud, close to the earth. Goa did that for me and I hope it does the same for my kids.”

Her Goa: Mody’s newly-revamped store in Porvorim has something for every home. She recommends trekking to old Goa to see the ruins and old churches, as well as to the waterfalls which flourish in the rainy season. “Adventure seekers should explore that aspect of Goa. Twice every monsoon, I arm-twist my friends and family into packing a picnic and heading to a waterfall. It’s simply splendid.”

AVINASH MARTINS CHEF-FOUNDER, CAVATINA & C’EST L’AVI

Martins is the force behind Cavatina in Benaulim and also C’est L’Avi, a specialty dining experience (also known as Table in the Hills) located on a 200-acre mountain estate. Martins is from Velim, a historical village located in the Salcette district that is surrounded by beach, sea, river and mountains. His favourite childhood memories are walking through the village with his grandmother, sharing meals with the toddy tappers, pickling seafood and mangoes in the summer and making pork sausages before the monsoon. While he’s cognisant of Goa’s immense cultural and culinary heritage, for Martins, its true heroes are its everyday artisans. “Every aspect of Goa and its people inspire me every day! My artisans are my heroes and I love to celebrate them and include them in my story. It’s not me, it’s we.”

His Goa: “I live for food, but the culinary scene in Goa is very commercial now. My recommendations are not fancy, but places that serve authentic food. Try the thaali at Mother’s Recipe which is a rather rundown place in Betul that offers home-style Goan dishes to its patrons. Pinto bar in Cabo de Rama is a tiny place but it serves the freshest seafood. There’s also a whole lot of culinary legacy in the forests and hinterlands of Goa. I run mindful tours here for guests who travel sensitively and can appreciate the offerings.”

SACHA MENDES STYLIST AND OWNER OF SACHA’S SHOP

Mendes started out as an editorial stylist, eventually moving back home to start a resort wear boutique in Panaji. Her brilliant curation of clothing, accessories and home goods became so popular, she now has a second outpost in Assagao, where she lives, and where her husband’s restaurant, the popular Tamil Table is based. “Goa is home. I was born and brought up here, so my roots run deep. It’s a paradise state and will continue to be if we look after her with love and respect. There’s something so refreshingly real and honest in the way lives are lived here.” For Mendes, Goa brings peace and clarity of the mind, which helps her thrive creatively. Her favourite part is the meaningful conversations and community interactions, she loves spending time with her father and his friends, listening to their stories.

Her Goa: “Spend an afternoon in Assagao, a sweet village in North Goa with shops, restaurants and interesting people. Have a meal at Tamil Table and do a spot of shopping at Sacha’s Shop. If you choose to go south, stop by Vivenda Dos Palhacos, a very special boutique hotel inside a heritage 100-year-old structure.”

NISHANT SALDANHA ARTIST AND CO-CURATOR, THE AMCHE MOLLEM CAMPAIGN

A trained artist who practises drawing and photography, Saldanha creates surrealist comics and posters as well as animated films and also works on long-duration photo-and-text projects to document the ecology, economy and culture of his home state of Goa. It is precisely why he supports the Amche Mollem campaign, with an aim to protect a section of Goa’s Western Ghats from deforestation. The deliberate pace of life in Goa was very attractive to Saldanha when he was trying to find his rhythm and voice as an artist. Besides the lush, nurturing natural beauty, what makes Goa compelling, is the often unexplored community spirit. “Understanding Goa helps me to understand the factors that influence my own world view and outlook,” he says. “I live in Reis Magos, Bardez, because my family is historically from here. Living across the river from Panaji gives me easy access to the city and Goa’s capital is central to my work as a location, a backdrop and a place of inspiration.”

His Goa: “Walk through Panaji city to experience chance encounters, conversations and observations. The International Film Festival of India also takes place here every year and its curation is really the best of international cinema. Also, contrary to popular belief, I think the monsoons are the best time to visit Goa for its wet, green, lush, introspective atmosphere. It is often a time of rest and a time where new ideas are born.

JAGVIR MATHAROO AND MARTINO CARAMIA DESIGNERS & CREATIVE DIRECTORS OF THE FLAME STORE, ELEVATION AND MAISON DU VOYAGE, GOA

“An eclectic mix of people from around the world have made Goa their home, making it one of the most interesting places to live within India,” says Matharoo. Along with his partner Caramia he runs a popular clothing line, Flame. Matharoo resides in a 300-year-old Portuguese home in the quiet neighbourhood of Parra, a small simple village in North Goa, tucked away from popular restaurants but close to their studio and stores. Both Matharoo and Caramia love living and working amidst nature and they especially delight in Goa’s verdant forests and blissful seascapes. The inspiring dialogues among Goa’s creative community has a deep impact on their work and sustainability initiatives.

Their Goa: “Visit the Friday market in Mapusa. It’s a chaotic, bustling space where you’ll discover local produce, vintage jewellery, eye-catching pottery and much more. The Serendipity Arts Festival in December is a must-see as well. It takes place in Panaji, which has undergone a huge revival as of late. Our favourite eatery for Goan food is an unassuming spot in Nerul called Bhatti Village. And on Sundays, you’ll find us enjoying sundowners with friends at Ashwem.”

SAFFRON WIEHL ARTIST & ILLUSTRATOR

Wiehl studied art and illustration in Australia, but decided to return to Goa to build a career. Her preferred medium is watercolours and her work is inspired by the natural beauty of Goa as well as by her late mother Shireen Mody, who was also a painter. “My earliest memories are around the age of four or five, when I would watch my mum in her studio and mimic how she would paint,” she says. “I remember she did a series of paddy fields and she would be standing at her big easel I had my mini one trying to get the shades of the blades of grass right.” You’ll find Wiehl collecting odd bits and pieces from her natural surroundings bones, shells, stones, wood—and when she’s not scouring the earth, she’s revelling in the surrounding artistic community.

Her Goa: “Stop by my gallery, Studio Arpora. Visit the Saturday Night Market to discover Goan designers like Tia and Dadablui and make it a point to discover all the best fish curry places.”

ARIJIT BOSE BAR AND BEVERAGE SPECIALIST

After running a top-ranked bar in Singapore, Bose wanted to make his own mark. In 2020, he moved to South Goa and opened what has now become one of the country’s most talked about bars: Tesouro by Firefly. After living near the bar in Betalbatim for two years, he recently moved to Dona Paula to focus on his new project, an experimental lab in Panaji. Bose has found a microcosm of entrepreneurs including farmers, specialty manufacturers and distillers here. His team goes to forest farms and forages with experts to source hyper-local and seasonal produce—something he doesn’t believe he can do anywhere else in India. “I’m an outsider but have been accepted by the food and beverage community in Goa, and that acceptance makes it a sunshine state for me,” he says. Life in Goa also brings him much needed balance. He cycles and surfs during his time off and says that the absence of a daily, traffic-filled commute ensures he has the mindspace to innovate and play with new ideas.

His Goa: “If there’s one experience I can recommend it’s a tour of the Cazulo feni distillery (sign up on Urbanaut). You’ll get to see a 300-year-old technique in action, learn about the heritage of feni and sample delicious cocktails and snacks with your feet immersed in a pond (with fish nibbling on them). Follow this up by going to South Goa’s ancient tavernas. Just sip on urrak Limca or feni-soda and enjoy the atmosphere. These places are slowly going to die out, so enjoy them while they’re alive.”

PRAYAAG AKBAR NOVELIST AND PROFESSOR AT KREA UNIVERSITY

Akbar’s first novel, Leila, is a poignant, dystopian tale that was adapted for Netflix by filmmaker Deepa Mehta. In 2019, when his son was six months old, he and his wife Shanta moved from Bombay to Goa in search of a quiet place to work and raise their firstborn. They found a lovely home in the serene farming village of Ucassaim, located between Aldona and Moira, which suited Akbar, to work on his second manuscript. “Goa is such a warm, welcoming place. The people here can be very open-hearted if you choose to engage with the community in a meaningful way,” he says. “We have neighbours whose families have lived in Ucassaim for a hundred years. When we first moved here we would go on walks with our son and I realised that Goans love kids. That’s how we made friends in the community. It’s the people here that bring the sunshine for me.” Akbar also credits the state with opening up his imagination as a writer. “I had all these ideas of wanting to write a certain kind of book. My first one was a dark, dystopian novel a very serious first book. I thought I’d always be writing those kinds [of books]. Coming to Goa helped me see that there’s a whole range of possibilities open to me as a writer. Living here helped me see more of myself, perhaps, and find different parts of myself that I could bring to the page.” His Goa: “Miguel’s in Panaji. It’s a wonderful experience with great food and cocktails, warm interiors, an open kitchen and friendly team. It has the right vibe for an evening out.”

[kriosv]

Ranger Rankings for Life's a Masquerade:

Billy 6: decent costume, only one to run after Bulk and Skull. Seriously, why didnt Zack or Jason help, they usually would.

Zack 5: best costume. Really has the physique to pull it off

Kim 4: pretty decent costume

Jason 3: worst put together costume. It just looks bad.

Trini 2: okay, i was expecting something like this from a 90's halloween episode, but me and my siblings were the village people back then, so i cant be too harsh on past mistakes. Insert Bo Burnham' Problematic here

Tommy 1: shows up to the party out of costume? Also, who turns off their communicator while theyre an on call superhero?

Best Stunt: Bulk catching Sharkie.

What happened to Sharkie?!

Sharkie shouldve been a mainstay. I love her punk aesthetic, and she worked great with Bulk and Skull. Why didnt they do more with her? So much wasted potential.

Apparently one script even had her slapstick fight Kimberly! Thats what ive been asking for, more Trini and Kim fighting the punks. If you dont want them fighting Bulk and Skull, you shouldve used Sharkie. Why couldnt we keep her! I want Sharkie back😭😭😭

[gingerthesnap]

my mulan neurodiversity reading: (i am a woman w/ adhd. mulan was my favorite princess as a kid. i rewatched it recently and i realized i related so much to mulan. i'm very biased. im not diganosing her. but i think it's kind of cool to examine it under the assumption that it's about a woman w/ adhd excelling because of her neurodiversity.)

mulan has several flaws that are consistent with an adhd:

she's frequently late, demonstrating that she has a poor perception of time

she has a poor working memory (hence the "notes" from the matchmaker. also, she forgets that she needs to conceal her chest when she's wounded.)

she's devastated by her dad's "rejection."

she doesnt plan things out very often, instead figuring things out as she goes along. "so what's the plan?" "umm..." "You don't have a plan?!" story of my life

doesnt always get social cues, like talking over her dad in the beginning, calling out "present!," hugging the emperor.

i personally relate to her "messiness," even if that isn't exactly an adhd thing. ive never been able to appear as "put together" as other girls, my brain's always somewhere else.

a neutral adhd trait is her impulsivity. she finds it difficult to stay silent about things she feels passionately about. she takes her dad's place in the army completely on a whim, because she feels strongly that it's the right thing to do. on impulse, she opts to climb the post, fire a cannon at the mountain top on an impulse, and save shang's life at the end.

she also has several strengths that are consistent with adhd:

she's tenacious! she doesn't ever consider giving up as an option. she climbs the post to get that arrow til sunrise!

she values fairness, as shown when she expresses that it isn't fair for her father to be asked to go to war again, as a disabled veteran. and she's right! she also sympathizes with shang after he's treated unfairly. her conviction is strong, she knows what's right and what isnt, and she sticks up for what she believes in.

she does very well in crisis situations, making smart, logical decisions despite immense pressure, like using mushu to light the cannon on the mountain, and firing the arrow back up at the other soldiers to save her and shang's lives.

she's a really caring person! she clearly loves her family, taking the time to make sure her dad follows the doctor's orders. she also clearly cares about shang, saving his life at risk to her own twice, even though some of that could be attributed to her having a crush on him. she lingers with the doll at the burned village, and she's clearly distraught at the sight.

mulan isn't necessarily a story about gender. at its heart, it's about someone feels like no matter what she does, she can't be enough. she can't fit in. she can't find a way to help her community and family while still being herself. the story uses a society with rigid gender roles as a vehicle to tell this narrative.

mulan's a creative, smart person who wants to help others. she's undervalued because her strengths don't line up with the role she's supposed to fill in her society, but when she finds a role and environment that matches her strengths and minimizes her weaknesses, she excels. she's not just a good soldier, she's one of the best, BECAUSE of her adhd traits.

Mulan has a mega neuodiversity angle I never noticed before. Maybe I’m projecting but there’s totally a reading where she has ADHD. Will break this down later.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Kingdom of Heaven ( King Baldwin Iv x Reader x Tiberias)

Chapter One: Long Live the King

Calpurnia sneered in triumph as men wearing strange uniforms marched to your hut with metal armory and battle horses. 

Oh, how Calpurnia hated you! 

You were known by your beauty and she was jealous of you. You also had the talent of cooking and gardening despite never once attending the village class after the mid morning meal. 

Despite being uneducated, you had more common knowledge than most people in the mountains. 

No matter, how did you manage to grab the attention to be the bride of King Baldwin the fourth? The ruler of the Holy Kingdom of Jerusalem!

Grinning, Calpurnia watched you carry a small bag of your belongings and sit down on the hump seat of a strange animal. 

The King was rumored to be a sickly and ugly man. Maybe it was your punishment you were to be chained to a deformed beast. 

Good Riddance, Harlot. Calpurnia turned around and walked away. 

    You tried not to let tears run down your lovely shaped cheekbones. Your father did not agree to this. The headman threatened that your elderly father would accept the proposal.

 The King stated in the letter he was to give the village a dowry of oil, flour, rice, and sheep wool in exchange for your hand.  Every year continuously. 

The village did not treat your family kindly. Your father suffered from mental illness which caused him mood swings and memories of his traumatic childhood would interrupt his efforts at work. Causing you to be born to poverty. Which was why your mother died due to the lack of money for her throat. She coughed blood till she passed away. 

So, you and your father were the ostracized duo in the whole mountains. No one would invite you to a festival or party. Your friends were farm animals. And you could not afford to attend class. Not even to read and write. 

Until your eleventh season, a kindly nun who began to visit your humble hut and read fables. You loved literature. Math and science were interesting. Especially planets and stars. But, your favorite was “fantasy” “imagination”. You were taught the word “realism”. You hated reality. Too boring and harsh. Fiction was your life. 

The stories of a Princess or Maiden marrying a man she loved first put chills down your spine and made your ripe young body experience wetness “down there.”

Love. No one you heard married for that reason. Arrange marriage due to wealth, family alliance and other reasons. Never love. 

Here you were, back to square one. Marrying a King who was rumored to be ugly due to a disease. You did not know what Leprosy was due to being uneducated. But, judging by how bad it sounded. It must have been a rare curse of God. 

Your father walked out of the hut with his cane and limped over to the strange animal you sat on. He gave you your favorite flower. Anemone. Black eye in the center with dark burgundy petals. 

Your father kissed your hand before the leader of the men ordered the leave.

King Baldwin the Fourth was staring at the moon from his balcony. He was growing impatient for your caravan to arrive at his Kingdom. With Tiberias to protect you, he knew you would come back in peace. 

    Still, his heart was aching for you to come home. The spy he sent to look at you reported your impoverished life and your mistreatment from the community. How you were ostracized due to the jealousy of your beauty.

    Anger consumed the gentle King’s heart. The life you lived so far despite being young of seasons must have made you feel old already. That will have to change. 

His thoughts were interrupted when the pitter patter of small footsteps ran inside his royal quarters. 

“Uncle!” A beautiful blonde boy with dark oceanic eyes grinned with love announced in a tone of excitement. 

Baldwin smiled behind his silver mask. He held open his arms. “My sweet Nephew.”

The boy did not hesitate to be engulfed in his uncle’s embrace. 

Baldwin led the boy to the bed and made him sit on his lap. 

“Uncle, Mamma said you are to marry.”

The King nodded and used his bandaged right hand to stroke the boy’s fair locks. “It’s true. I found my soulmate.”

“Why an outsider?” The boy frowned. 

The King chuckled. “Love is love. No matter who it is. Age, race, and other descriptions will never be superior to holy feelings God bestows on you.”

The boy looked confused. Instead, Baldwin nodded. “You will understand when you become a man.”  

Everyone who was not a guard was asleep. All but one. King Baldwin laid on his bed and the words of his nephew repeated in the brain of the intelligent ruler. Why an outsider?

Baldwin grinned. He remembered when he saw you. A year ago. He dressed as a commoner and with Tiberias and Balian, went to (Country) to trade some salt for vegetables from the fertile and lush mountain village. 

The King hid his identity and booked himself a room at an inn to rest. Balian and Tiberias decided to do some sight seeing. Leaving the sickly man all alone. 

Or so he thought. 

The King forgot he ordered his dinner on a tray to be delivered to his room. But, Baldwin was about to sleep. 

Someone came to his room and Baldwin did not bother to get up. He assumed the servant would place his dinner down and leave. But, that did not happen.

The King was confused; he felt the presence of a person looking over his form. A lot of people in Jerusalem would stare at him due to his mask. He assumed that was the reason. But, he smelled something. Rose water, infant powder, and vanilla oil. The servant was a female. 

Baldwin opened his eyelids a little but was shocked when he felt something wet, fat, plump, and soft against his hollow and gnarled mouth. He was being kissed!

Baldwin opened his eyes fully in shock but he saw a glimpse of the most beautiful creature he had ever seen running away from him. Not only was she beautiful. Even for a human, the dolls, art of angels and Goddesses he had seen did not compare to you.

Were you a dream?

Since then, he used his sources of men to find out that a girl named (Name) who was only fourteen kissed the King of the Holy City. 

You were only one year away from legally being a wife. 

He had to have you. 

You kissed a leper and did not care. He felt the lust radiating from your body transforming to him with your lips as a bridge. Baldwin assumed he was the ugliest creature alive and no woman wanted him. But, you touched him lovingly. As if you were lonely and yearning just as much as he was. 

He had to be yours. 

God answered his prayers. Baldwin was not only given a woman but an Angel. All the years he suffered from loneliness and being ridiculed and laughed by women paid off. He felt blessed. 

He wanted to reward you. Baldwin would treat you like the Glass Princess you were and all your sexual fantasies will be realized with his help. As a token of his gratitude. 

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Falling (Kakashi x Reader)

Summary: Reader has been friends with Kakashi for as long as she can remember, but recently, she has been developing more intense feelings for him. Hanahaki au, reader inflicted.

A/N: sorry ive been gone for so long. Life has been kicking my ass, but im trying to get back on my feet. I will try to post more often, but i cant make any promises. I can only write when im listening to extremely sad music, so if you have any gut wrenching, cry-your-eyes-out recommendations, leave a comment please!

Word count: 4500

_______

It was widely accepted as time went on that Y/N and her entire team died. They left six months ago and hadn't sent word back since week two. The mission wasn’t supposed to last any longer than three weeks, and constant relaying of information was supposed to take place. Only, communications had been cut off without warning, summons weren’t coming back home to report on the situation at hand, and not a single member had been seen since they left.

It was as if they'd fallen off the face of the Earth. The Hokage was beginning to plan a memorial service to honor them and their sacrifice to the village, after concluding that the shinobi were most likely dead. They couldn’t afford to throw even more money into the search when time kept passing and nothing was coming of it. Any remnants of hope Tsunade had was gone.

The rescue missions they did conduct had more than disappointing results. Trails of blood outside the city where the missing persons were assigned espionage. Abandoned bags with all their resources left behind. Scuffled footprints left in the deep set mud. Seeing all the evidence made it nearly impossible to remain positive.

Four shinobi left for that mission. One of them, the leader, just so happened to be Y/N L/N. Talented jounin and even more so, a beloved friend.

It was difficult for those close to her to accept her demise. It took all of those six months for people to come to terms with the horrific conclusion. Kakashi, despite normally tackling death smoothly due to their line of work, couldn't accept that she was dead. Not without a body. Not without some kind of proof. She was strong. Stronger than the majority of people he knew. There was no way she just succumbed to the enemy like that.

Really though, he just couldn’t admit that another person he had grown comfortable with was dead. Just like all the others that had come before her, bloodied and murdered. It depressed him, and as much as he tried to contain his emotions, those that interacted with him noticed. As much as Gai could try to cheer him up with pointless challenges, no matter how many times Yamato took him out to get absolutely hammered at the bar, or how many missions Tsunade sent him on to subvert his attention. The pain persisted.

He had other things to worry about as well. With the upcoming war, Jiraiya’s death, and the Akatsuki fucking everything up, he should have been on top of his game. Instead, he stayed up long nights willing her to come back alive. He replayed the moment Tsunade suggested they hold a memorial. Shizune sobbing upon the loss of her childhood friend. Gai hanging his head, palms pressed to his eyes. As he lay in his bed, he could feel the way his heart ached at each mention of her name, each time her face flashed through his mind.

Kakashi was heartbroken. He fought for the dates to be pushed back. Each week that passed, he begged that they have more time, that she would be back. It was pathetically sad, he knew this. He could feel the pity from Tsunade run off in waves. He wasn’t ready to mourn her death. All the man wanted was more time.

And then one day a few little academy students found a squad of nearly unrecognizable injured and bloodied people in the forest, trekking the best they could toward the village. They didn't know who the strangers were, why would they? They were just school kids, barely 10 years old. A bunch of old jounin having gone missing months ago wasn’t something they concerned themselves with.

Kakashi heard whispers about it from shinobi rushing to the Hokage’s office, but no one was saying anything concrete. No one could confirm it was them. Not yet.

A crew of Anbu was sent out to retrieve the stragglers, everyone hoping deep in their hearts that they’d be met with familiar faces.

He waited for her for nearly an hour, rain pouring down heavily and soaking into his clothes and hair, sending shivers down his spine. Perhaps he would end up with a cold the next day, he didn't care. When he thought about her, as he stood out there in the inclement weather, his lips curled up. If she were here, she'd have scolded him for being so ridiculous.

She’d usher him into the nearest shop and rub up and down his arms, trying to warm them with the little heat she had coming from her palms. The woman would hush him as he tried to defend himself, telling him not to worry so much and that she could handle herself. That’s always how she was, so worried about him yet uncaring about herself. Some would call her selfless, he would just call her stupid.

But he still cared for her. More than he realized.

That’s why he waited.

When they entered the village, being carried by multiple other shinobi from the village, blood seeping into their clothes and dripping into the sand below their feet, Kakashi felt his heart stop. He saw her teammates limping along with their arms over another’s shoulders. That, or they were being carried, incapacitated in the arms of a fellow soldier.

She was at the end of the line behind all the others who pulled themselves through the gates of their hometown. She was beaten to a pulp, blood drenched and purple from bruises. Her head was wrapped in makeshift bandages and her legs wobbled beneath her. He could see her arm broken, hanging limply at her side. A member of the Anbu carried her against his side as she struggled to even take each step.

Her eyes lifted from the ground to those who stood waiting for their arrival. Immediately, hers caught hold of the man who’d been waiting all this time.

"Kakashi?" she called out, weakly but still her voice found him through the chorus of moans and groans from her teammates and the downpour of the rain around them. Thunder crackled in the background as his feet hit the ground and he rushed across the street to her.

"L/N, you son of a bitch," he said, grabbing her by the waist without a second thought and tugging her body tightly to his chest, away from the hands of the Anbu soldier. She gasped, feeling his heart beating against her chest at the touch, fast and intense like a drum. Frostbitten fingers held her up by her waist while the other hand wound its way into her slick wet hair.

"Your hands. They-they're so cold. Kakashi, you shouldn't be out here like this!" she cried with the energy she had left in her chest. At the mere touch of his hands on her bare skin, she felt excitement fuel her mind. Thoughts rushed as her skin grew warm under his horrified gaze. These feelings, the warm and bubbly ones growing in her chest, were new, but she welcomed them without question after everything she had been through.

There was something else about him waiting out there, his frantic eyes, clothes soaking down to his bone with that icy cold water, that disturbed something deep inside her chest, burrowed down against her heart and rapidly inflating lungs. She brushed off the feeling, putting it down as simple relief from serious homesickness. There was no way to anticipate what had become of her feelings at that point, how they would ravage her body in a few years time, what had started to grow.

"Me? What about you? Everyone thought you died."

She peered up into his eyes, water dripping down from his shaggy bangs on display without his headband. Those irises were dark as always, but at the sight of her alive, they shined. "We were kidnapped. Tortured...Kakashi," she confessed, "Even I thought we were going to die."

“I could have protected you.” His hands found their way to cradling her cheeks, running his fingers along the raw and red skin that had been weathered all these months. Her face was littered with little cuts, both open and some that were in the process of healing into scars. “I should have come to find you-”

“It’s not your fault. You had other missions to take care of. No one could have predicted this.” The woman sighed audibly and let her head fall to rest in his hand. Why did this touch feel so good? It was like heaven on Earth, she thought as he ran his thumbs along her cheekbones. So comforting she wanted to curl up and fall asleep.

“We knew it was dangerous. Too dangerous, even for a four man squad.”

As she was about to protest, arguing that if she had been a better squad leader when approaching the enemy they could have avoided all this trouble, a voice called out from the gates. Sakura, of all people, standing there with a makeshift umbrella over her head made of a manilla folder.

“Kakashi-sensei, Y/N needs to get to the hospital now! No time to stand around!” she called through the heavy downpour, and he nodded. It probably wasn’t good for Y/N to be limping around on her broken up body any longer than she had to, and standing in this weather certainly wouldn’t help any. “I’ll meet you there. We already got a bed set up.”

Y/N clutched onto Kakashi’s arm and made a move to take a tentative, painful step forward, only to be stopped. “Let’s go,” she urged, peering up at him.

“Let me carry you.”

“Uh, what?”

“It’s a long way across town, you know. Aren’t you in pain?”

She nodded, but still, she felt herself dying a little bit on the inside at the thought of walking past all the people in town being cradled in his arms. People might get the wrong idea. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just embarrassing,” she mumbled. But really, her legs were killing her, and she would rather just relax until she got to the hospital than be in more excruciating pain. “Fine...You can, but don’t make it weird.”

“No one’s making it weird. I’m just being friendly.”

Friendly, my ass. More like flirty, she thought to herself. Whatever. Kakashi was still a pervert after all..

He lifted her slowly into his arms as she groaned at the pressure shifting. She let her head fall heavy against his chest and shut her eyes, taking deep breaths to work through the pain running through her body. She was safe now. All the anxiety and fear she’d held for so many months could flow away now that she was in the arms of a friend and in the care of a village which loved her.

As he walked across town, she felt nearly lulled to sleep by his pace and the gentle footsteps he took across dirt roads. Most people were inside at this time, but she did hear a couple shouts from people standing under their carts and in their storefronts, asking if everything was okay.

“Y/N’s back home,” he would reply shortly and they would cry back with relief in their voice. She felt pride in her chest knowing that the people of the town knew and respected her, that they were hoping for her safe return. Even if she wasn’t the best shinobi, she still was worth something to this village.

They got to the hospital in a pretty timely manner, considering he was extra careful not to jostle her around too much. He went to drop her off in her bed as the ward nurses rushed around with all kinds of equipment.

He was content, running his hand once more over her hair and down her cheek. No one could really tell how he felt from his masked lips, a smile only present in the way his eyes sparkled down at her lying in the thin white sheets. It flustered her, seeing how happy he was solely because of her. Surely, she wasn’t that special. “Kakashi?” she asked, interrupting the thick silence.

“I have to go, but I’ll take you out for drinks after you’re all fixed up, alright?” he told her, giving her shoulder one final squeeze as he backed away from the bed.

“I’ll hold you to that offer, you know,” Y/N called behind him as he walked toward the door. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted to keep talking, just enough conversation to keep him by her side for a little longer. Unfortunately, the hustle and bustle of the hospital room made that impossible, not to mention she would be stripped and examined, and she’d prefer if he wasn’t around for that part.

“I know.”

She leaned back in the bed as the door swung shut behind him. Once the door was shut, scissors began their work to cut away at the fishnets on her arms and her legs.

“You’re so lucky, Miss Y/N,” one of the nurses, who was beginning to examine some of the wounds on her face muttered giddily. Y/N raised a brow, shocked that someone could say that to her after she had literally been missing for months and held hostage, but still, she let the younger nurse continue. “We all wish we had a hot guy friend like Kakashi.”

“What?!” Y/N choked.

“She’s right. Kakashi is the sexiest man in town and he’s all over you! He acts all tough with everyone else but is a total sweetheart for you!” Another one of the nurses laughed. Y/N felt her face beginning to get hot, and she shook her head. “You should save some for the rest of us, haha.”

“Kakashi is not sexy...He’s a bumbling idiot, is what he is. An absolute scoundrel. A-A pervert.”

The nurse pressed a gauze to a particularly deep gash on the side of her temple, right on the hairline and shook her head. “Maybe he is those things, but damn, have you seen his arms? So strong. You could really see his muscles with his clothes soaked by the rain.” The nurse shook as if a shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the man.

Y/N really hadn’t ever looked at her friend like that. They were simply that...Friends. He was never sexy, or hot, or handsome. He was a stupid loser who cried over porn novel plots when he got a little too drunk. He was a smelly guy who slept with his ninkin because he was single, and only had like two friends.

“I’ve never seen him that way before,” she confessed quietly. Her mind was wandering to thoughts of his body, and she sighed, shaking her head. This was wrong. She couldn’t objectify him that way. He was just Kakashi, nothing special, nothing to gush about.

“I’m surprised. Always thought he liked you.”

“Me? God, no.”

“Well, why not? He cares about you enough,” one nurse commented offhandedly. “The village had given up on you four shinobi, but Kakashi, he never lost faith that you would come back. He was the sole reason your memorial was pushed back for so long.”

“Oh.” She didn’t expect that.

“How dreamy...All my lousy boyfriend does is complain about my cooking.”

The nurses continued to talk, but the conversation had now drifted off to griping about their own boyfriends and husbands which Y/N couldn’t care less about. Her mind wandered to the man who’d been so kind as to wait for her in the rain and carry her all the way here. He wasn’t ugly, she could see that much. Did that mean he was handsome? Well, she’d never thought about it before, but now that she did, they were right.

He was better looking than the majority of the men she’d encountered in her life. He was manly and intense, even with the mask on to conceal half his features. Still, recognizing that her friend was attractive did not mean that she had any sort of attraction toward him as a person.

There was no way she could develop feelings for such a fool. That quiver in her heart when she saw him waiting for her at the gates? That was just a fluke. And the nauseous feeling she got when his hands touched her skin? Nothing but human nature. Her desperately wanting him to stay with her in this hospital room, after being away from him for far too long? She was just home sick, and he was a small portion of the place she called home. These ladies were delusional if they thought she felt anything more than friendship for him.

Kakashi? As a boyfriend?

Gross. Of course not. Completely out of the question.

_______

Over the course of the war, and the years following, Y/N had grown a little too familiar with Kakashi Hatake, more so than ever before. It was as if those nurses years ago foretold her future.

She loved him. She knew that now.

He was a friend, one of the greatest to ever exist, despite his denial of it all. They fought alongside each other in multiple wars, conquering enemies while protecting the other. It was a partnership she was more than happy to have, ecstatic someone was there to have her back when things were looking grim. He, Shizune, and even Gai and Genma had been there for so long she couldn’t remember a life without them.

Kakashi was different though. As she watched him rise from a jounin into the Hokage they knew, she felt her heart begin to flutter when he called for her, or when he took the time out of his day to come by her house. He was all too important, and she was merely an ant under his feet. She longed for his touches and his ever-so tired words to fall from his lips. He was so unobtainable, and perhaps that made her want him even more.

After she arrived home from her disaster of a mission, things truly began to fall apart. She couldn’t keep her composure anymore. She was only anxious in the beginning. How could she not be? She harbored a love for her best friend and Hokage, someone so far out of her league she couldn’t even fathom admitting her feelings to him now. She wasn’t a child anymore; they were adults with responsibilities. They didn’t have time to fool around with these antics.

He didn’t have time to settle down with her, or whatever a love between them would blossom into. They barely had time to go out and get drinks every couple of weeks for a few hours. How could they date? It was completely hopeless. Not that any of those problems mattered considering the fact that he didn’t harbor the same feelings she had for him. It was embarrassing really. Having a crush at the ripe age of 32? Unreciprocated? So stupid. Y/N wanted to bury her head in the sand for being so foolish.

She was so busy wallowing in her own shame and pity that she hadn’t even noticed the signs.

Almost as quickly as she felt the emotions brew up in her chest and her love grow firm, they started.

The coughing fits.

It only felt like a small cold at first. Coughing in the middle of the night and needing to drink some water to get back to bed. Maybe it was just allergies, she thought, after weeks had passed and the sickness remained. Maybe she had caught a virus from another nation and the antidote was something foreign. Surely that must be it, she thought after a month.

Desperately, the woman tried to ignore the nagging feeling deep in her chest, pooling in her stomach. This sickness felt sinister, forcefully aggressive in the most intimate sort of way. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was grappling at her ribcage, digging it's way to her lungs and her heart. Burrowing inside. She held her head high and ignored it.

She was a kunoichi. After years and years of fighting, her body had been through worse more times than she could count. Y/N could handle it. That’s what she assumed, anyway.

She was mid-training session, deep in the woods where she focused on developing new jutsu when it was finally revealed to her just what was wrong. Quiet wind blew past her face and whipped at her cheeks. With this cold, she knew it wasn't wise to be out in winter, only putting further strain on her lungs which struggled to take in air. Still, she needed to train, to work; it was the only thing that kept her head afloat.

Kakashi was so busy. It seemed like recently she only ever saw Kurenai and Gai. Being Hokage was never a position he wanted, but he fulfilled the role well. She wished to spend more time with him. To see his face and to hear him chuckle from beneath his mask. Everyday, she felt herself growing more desperate for him. Yet, she kept herself from acting a fool.

She didn't burden him with the knowledge of her growing illness. He didn't need any more stress on his mind; he was busy worrying over an entire nation after all. It broke her heart being so distant, to not sit down and share her secrets and concerns with him like before.

She felt her stomach turn, sick at the thought of missing him, the man of her affections.

That single moment, with the turn of an upset stomach and the clench of her longing heart in her chest, is when it started.An awful heavy feeling sinking deep into her abdomen and clouding her mind of every coherent thought. She choked on the frigid air whipping by her face as it clashed with the fire lit ablaze.

The woman fell to the ground, knees digging into the soft dirt. Her lungs were like lead forcing her to the ground while a powerful burn ran through them up into her throat. Coughs wrecked her body which curled in on itself as the fit grew more intense. Fingers desperately clutched at the fabric above her heart and the necklace around her throat.

The pain was something unlike anything she knew. It burned deeper than she thought a simple cough or cold could. Tears grew in her eyes as she struggled to breath through the coughs full of rage and anger.

After a minute of hacking up what she assumed was her entire lung, something foreign left her mouth. The coughing subsided and she gasped for air, shutting her eyes and relishing in the relief. Only, that feeling was short lived as her eyes opened to peer down at what she’d choked up only a moment ago.

Some sort of flower petals littered the ground at her knees. She stared in disbelief. It was merely a legend among the old, rumors and tall tales passed along from generation to generation. It wasn’t something anyone ever took seriously. After all, it had been seemingly hundreds of years since a victim fell ill in the Leaf Village. There wasn’t a single person alive that had seen it first hand.

At first, she thought she might be hallucinating.

But as she reached down to thumb the petals, slick with her saliva, everything became eerily real. A heavy feeling fell on her chest and her breaths quickened, dread hanging over her head. This sickness she was having, it wasn’t caused by some reversible virus, one that could be fixed with an antidote. She was cursed. Ill beyond normal repair.

Hanahaki disease.

Caused by unrequited love.

She was so naive to think that letting herself develop these feelings for Kakashi would remain a harmless secret for as long as it lasted. Of course, it was just her luck that something like this would happen. Right after fighting a war, it seemed she would be fighting her own as well.

For now, she would keep it to herself, see how it progressed. From what she remembered of her grandmother talking about the disease, there were only two ways to cure it. Professing your love to the object of your affection and them reciprocating or a more tortuous route: surgery to remove the growing flora in your chest, but at the cost of forgetting every feeling and memory associated with your person. If no decision is made, the branches will continue to grow until you die a painful death.

If her ancestor was right all those years ago, Y/N would have quite the choice to make.

She wasn't sure she could forget about Kakashi. The memories she had with him brought her more joy than anyone could imagine. She couldn't give that up. She loved him. He was a critical part of her and she wasn't willing to break herself up into pieces just to be cured.

She would rather die than give up on him. She was fine with dying as just friends, knowing him and the things he'd done for her over the years. Anything but losing him forever.

Confessing would be hard, if not impossible. She would wait to make her choice, wait for it to get worse. If she got scared enough, surely she would crumble and confess her feelings to him. It all felt pointless though. He clearly did not have feelings for her. He was never the type to have lovey emotions. He would just reject her, her condition would become critical, and she would be forced to get the surgery anyway.

Maybe if he rejected her, it would be easier letting go of her precious memories

Fear crept under her skin and made room in her heart. What if he didn't mind losing her forever? They wouldn't have the time to mend their friendship back into one they had developed over so many years. He might just move on and forget about her, as much as she hated to think about. He seemed to care about her, even if they were only coworkers and coincidentally friends. Surely he would at least be a bit upset.

Honestly, there was no way to tell how Kakashi would react to the news of her losing all connection to him. He was elusive even in the most revealing of moments. Only a few times had he truly revealed his raw emotions to her. Sure, she liked to believe he would be upset, but if she was still alive and healthy, would he really complain? The morning's breakfast rose in her throat as self-doubt clouded her vision.

Y/N swallowed down her struggles for now. She had to live in the present, and as of right now she was still friends with Kakashi, she was healthy enough to live her life, everything was going fine.

Nothing to worry about.