#maybe i should accept that i just wont ever get out of this miserable way of living i have had since i was like. 11 and

[kunikisss]

oh man i really do wish i was mentally healthy and stable and didn’t torture myself with my own thoughts & actions that progressively make my life worse. i will continue to never visit a mental health professional ever

[wisemins]

Heavy trigger warning up ahead y’all, pretty sure nobody is gonna read this though. Just very negative stuff up ahead that i needed to air out, ye be warned. I know i don’t vent much to begin with, this is probably just a one off thing. 

I’ve been feeling very, i suppose distantly associated with myself as of late. I feel so indistinguishable, dumb, and annoying. It’s been a good couple of months since i’ve felt like this but it’s come back again to haunt me, i guess. There have just been these moments that keep happening where i feel so uninteresting and dumb, like so immeasurably out of the loop, as if i missed a whole thing even if it was explained right to my face. I just feel so left out of things because i’m no good at explaining my ideas or my feelings. I feel so distant from the idea that i’m even remotely an interesting person to be around, like just a listening ear who’s also a nuisance. everyone else can talk over me and it doesn’t matter because 100% of the time they can actually express themselves and make it worth someone’s time. Everyone can ignore me and it wont matter how it turns out, nobody cares.  I feel used again. But at the same time, i feel selfish. I thought i’d be able to just accept my circumstances, come to terms that im not the ideal person to be around but it hurts. It hurts really bad. I can’t distinguish myself like everyone else can. I cannot describe who i am to others. I cannot call myself creative without fully doubting it. I hate how i’m not an expert on any one topic, i can preach something but feel like an absolute dumbass after because maybe i didn’t know as much as i thought i did, and somebody would prove me to be wrong. Wrong and stupid. This bleeds into my ships too, sadly. I just feel so unworthy, so impossible to love and see as a cool or even likable person. I’m just so uninteresting, i’m a walking wall to talk to who cant even explain simple feelings without sounding so fucking stupid. I’m miserable when i think about myself. I thought i would be able to describe myself nicely but its becoming harder to find something i even like about myself anymore without lying. Just the way people ignore me, or the way i dont know how to wittily respond to something. I’m just worthless as a conversation partner because i cannot keep a conversation without getting distracted or using filler words because i’m too dumb to think up anything else. and my writing is just as uninteresting as i am. People can describe their ships as dynamics and i feel so left out. I feel like no one. I feel bad for my f/os having to be with me, someone so indistinguishable that i cant even be fit into a dumb trope. It just hurts so much. I can’t even be a completing part of my relationships, i’m so dull. Maybe i should just try to be normal like everyone has wanted me to be. Maybe then i can at least be described as normal. Though maybe im asking for too much. That's how it always is, just being humbled over and over. I don’t know why i even vent here. It’s not like when people tell me otherwise that it ever works, i guess i’m also too dumb to accept a compliment. Fuck me though, i guess.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Hike-Story

So...I’ve been on a hike today with friends and I’ve been told a lovely local legend of my country and region. I’ve decided to put it into a short story with Thorin.

It’s a sort of prequel to all the amazing stories some authors write about Thorin and OCs while already under the Mountain... Please feel free to reblog and further the local saga of Oberschlinden 😊

So...here goes...

Black

Prologue

In a valley hidden within a dark forest, there were once two villages, very different from one another and yet doomed to suffer the same fate.

The first village was prosperous and industrious and its inhabitants knew much success in their bountiful endeavours, whereas the second village was merry and joyous, filled with music and celebrations all year round.

One day, a weary gleeman came this way and asked to be lodged and fed in exchange for a tune, but the upstanding villagers turned him away for they were much afeared that he had come to rob them of their wealth and goods. “We have no need for your futile, frivolous shenanigans.” They claimed and forbade him to set foot into their town.

Understanding what they were really afraid of, the man replied: “So be it, I should not have taken a single coin that had not been given to me freely. For your callous ignominy, I shall leave you something instead.” 

And with these words, he turned around and headed to the other village across the valley.

Here, he was welcomed with open arms. He was fed and housed and after having regained his strength, he went on his merry way again to entertain and amuse other villages. The villagers were much aggrieved about his departure as they had greatly enjoyed his contribution to their daily merriment. They let him leave with their best wishes, nonetheless, for they were an indolent people, unable and unwilling to defend their interests with any kind of forcefulness.

A shadow fell over the valley. A dark sickness befell the first village and rapidly spread across the valley to the other one that had taken no precautions to keep the grim reaper out. Too busy had they been celebrating life and the sinking sun to pay any heed to the pestilence creeping their way.

This is how the first village learned that one who is too afraid to lose what he cannot keep, might well be given what he cannot get rid of, and the second village understood that evil spread faster than fell the night and crept, insidious, into every crack if not actively opposed. Like moss covering the immobile stone, the plague washed over the villages and left none but two women standing.

One of those women would rail and wail all day long, lamenting the loss of her glorious life and of her dear family, until madness took her and she returned to her empty house to wait for death to be her last visitor.

The other one, however, took it upon herself to do penance for the sins of her valley and all its ghostly inhabitants that were heard in the moaning of the wind and the gurgling of the brook.

This is her story. 

The sun was low in the sky already when she was startled by the sound of footsteps behind her, making her look up in amazement.

“Good day, good woman, I am a blacksmith and I am looking for the prosperous village hidden in this valley. I am on my way back to my people and I am willing to work in exchange for food and lodging. May you point out the way to me, please?” A gruff voice resounded and a man stepped out of the shadow of the dense foliage.

He was short and stout, unlike any other man she had ever seen in her life, and she was so surprised by his appearance that it took a moment for her to react to his words.

“Good day, Master Dwarf,” she replied courteously, for she now saw that this was what he was, “I am sorry to confess that this village no longer exists. Neither does its sister. I am the last living soul in these parts.” 

He looked much alarmed at her words. 

“Moreover, there is a sickness lying over the valley. It is not advisable to traverse it.” She went on, getting up from her kneeling position at the foot of the little chapel. “Master Dwarf, I live at the other side of this cursed valley, it is a two-hour walk and the light is failing. I offer you my guidance around the affected area and my hospitality.” She spoke, bowing her head deferentially.

The dwarf seemed to ponder her words for a moment, then nodded. 

“Step where I step; the path is treacherous and night shall be upon us soon.” She warned and set out.

Every day, she made her way along the rocky outcrops and the stony ledges, through the dense foliage of the underbrush and the silent desert of trees, to circle the whole valley and pray for hours at the foot of the small chapel for the souls of those who had fallen prey to sickness, stubbornness and wicked ignorance. 

Along the way, she collected herbs and mushrooms to sustain herself and produce ointments and potions she sold once a month in the next village, just beyond the valley. 

She led a lonely life, but she was unerring in her penance. Those two villages that had been mother and father to her for most of her adult life had done wrong and had been smitten for it by the hand of God. There was nobody left to ask for forgiveness, but her. 

“Dwarves have steady steps and exceptional eyesight, even in the darkness. Worry not for me.” The man, for she could not call him anything else than that, answered. 

He was well-grown, like an oak, strong and sturdy; he seemed tired though and she vowed that she would not commit the same mistake her forefathers and elders had made; she would be a gracious host. Indeed, she would salve the burns on his bare arms and give him the best parts of whatever she would find in her traps along her daily trek. 

“Have you no kin, woman?” He asked after they had mounted a steep rocky ledge leading them through dense undergrowth from which she would extract berries and healing herbs to stow away in the satchels she carried on her back.

“I have no kin, Master Dwarf.” She shrugged, extending her hand to him when they came to a brook. The stones were slippery and wont to shift beneath the unfamiliar foot.

He just chuckled, a sound reminiscent of the big rockslide that had occurred a few months ago, and leapt easily enough across the narrow expanse of wet pebbles. 

For a creature looking this heavy, he was surprisingly agile, she thought. She knew nothing about dwarves of course. In her nan’s tales, there had been mentions of those mysterious man-like beings who lived under mountains and in golden halls, but she had imagined them smaller and less…beautiful than what she saw in front of her. 

As a matter of fact, she could not remember ever having seen a man quite as enchanting as the one following her swift steps effortlessly. There were beads in his hair that shimmered in the dying light and his eyes were the colour of the great river rushing through the valley; indeed, he was the closest she had ever come to a genuine fairy tale. 

“What happened here?” He inquired, as they reached the highest ledge and looked down on the villages, already plunged in deep shadows and obviously deserted.

“A plague broke out and took every living soul. It is said that it was the refusal of hospitality by this village,” she pointed to one cluster of houses, “and the lack of zeal or backbone of that one,” she pointed to the opposite side of the valley, “that led to their doom.” 

She had been there, she had seen the people who had been her friends and family die a miserable, painful death and she had waited for the blight to fall upon her as well. It had never come and now, she was the watcher of the dead valley; in a world of ghosts, there was none who felt less alive than her, walking along the deserted ruins of her existence day after day. 

“Thank you for warning me.” He had a good voice, she thought, low and kind. It was a miracle to stumble upon another living being, but his voice and the empathy in his eyes felt like a caress upon her bruised soul. 

“It is my duty, Master Dwarf. I shall stand in harm’s way as long as I can.” 

“My name is Thorin.” He declared in an almost questioning voice. He had been reticent to divulge his name, she realised and turned around to bow deeply. 

“Come along, Master Thorin. The light is fading fast now.” She urged him on, almost running along the rocky paths, her feet sending up sprays of pebbles in her wake.

They walked on tirelessly for a long time, until they reached a fallen tree stump that had not been there when she had come this way earlier in the day.

Clambering over the dead wood swiftly, Thorin extended his arms, in turn, to her. She stepped closer and uttered a small cry of astonishment when he simply lifted her over the obstacle as if she weighed nothing at all. “Thank you, Master Thorin.” She bowed again.

He smelled like the pines that grew beyond the valley, she noticed, and like life. Everything about him was painfully alive: the vivid intelligence of his eyes, the small smirk he gave her on account of her breathless incredulity, and the warmth of his hands on her ribs that left a palpable impression.

As she walked on, nearing the point where the path would dip drastically and the danger doubled, she came to accept that she would cherish this encounter until the end of her days.

Maybe God had heard her prayers and granted her the small solace of seeing another soul, of speaking to someone who actually answered and of feeling living flesh upon her own once more. 

She extricated a small rabbit from the trap she had laid on the highest crest and pushed it down into her satchel as well, gesturing to the silent valley with a sense of pride.

“This is home. And there’s my hut.” She pointed to a small wooden house at the far end of the valley, nestled between two tiny hills and reflecting the last rays of sun. 

The light was growing dimmer now and the way down was treacherous even in broad daylight. “Permit me, Mistress.” He gave her a mocking smile and took her hand. 

It felt huge and calloused, but its roughness comforted her. She had lived in this rocky wilderness for years now and the feeling of warm stones would always be synonymous with home to her. 

To her shame and despair, she tottered several times on their way down and when Thorin slung his arm around her waist and steadied her, she did not object.

Finally, they reached the little plateau she called her own. 

“Give me your boots.” She asked and when he did, she set them aside to be cleaned afterwards. 

Stoking the fire, she started taking the small rabbit apart and tossing the various leaves and mushrooms she had collected into the pot filled with fresh water. She would deplete her stocks for him; she would not be a bad host like the first villagers. Also, she would mend his socks, tend to his injuries and clean his boots; she would not be a slovenly scallywag like the second villagers either.

“Make yourself at home.” She invited him, giving him the best chair and a blanket she had woven herself in her youth. 

“Are you really all alone?” He asked her, as she sat on the floor, grinding herbs into a paste with devoted focus. “Yes, Master Dwarf.” She smiled, taking his hand and spreading the ointment gingerly on the burns dotting his strong forearms. 

“Do you like being alone?” He pressed on, wincing as the wet unguent made his wounds smart.

“It is my punishment and my expiation.” She replied while stirring the stew she was preparing. 

His eyes settled heavily on her face and she could read sympathy and sadness in those dark, blue lakes shot through with silver. He looked rather like a gem hewn from precious stone himself, she had to admit, feeling drawn to the solidity of his frame and the living warmth of his gaze. 

“Eat, Master Thorin.” She handed him a deep bowl, containing most of the mushrooms and all of the meat she had managed to scrape off the scrawny rabbit.

“What about you?” He asked, suspicious, when she filled a goblet with the fragrant broth. 

“Eat.” She encouraged him again. He had obviously known a long and tiresome road and she wanted him to feel safe and cared for; she was thankful for the chance to do right by him. 

It was a small redemption of her blood to be a good host after the opposite reaction had plunged her people into extinction. 

He looked relaxed now, sitting by the fire, listening to her hum to herself while she cleaned his boots and mended his clothing. “Your gifts are wasted on the dead.” He suddenly said.

“Beg your pardon?” She looked up from polishing his boots, a questioning expression in her eyes. 

“You have been a good host to me, you’re a steady cook and a knowledgeable reader of nature. Come with me.” 

She blinked. She knew not what he was talking about.

“I am, as I said, on my way to rejoin my kin. Come with me, there is nothing here for you but desolation and loneliness. There are people yet alive beyond this valley and they could greatly benefit from your knowledge…and your sweet nature. Come with me! Be my travel companion!” He reiterated when she didn’t reply. 

“I cannot…I am here to…” - “You are here to wait for the next weary traveller and right the wrong inflicted by and upon your people. Consider it done, Mahal has heard you child, I am Thorin, and I shall be King under the Mountain one day. I might be here to deliver you and take you away from this place.” He interrupted her harshly. 

A king, she thought, a future king. What prevented him from being king now?

“It is a hard life amongst my people; there will be deprivation and long, cold nights.” He warned her, but she simply motioned to the small hut they sat in while the wind howled with furious intensity outside. 

“But…it is a life. I offer you a life, not an easy one, not a pretty one necessarily, but a life. Be the watcher of the living, be the minder of the sick, be the guide of the hale-bodied; leave behind your dead and let them find their peace. Come with me!” 

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He was right; he might have been the sign she had been waiting for all these years. 

Epilogue:

The last survivor of the great plague that had ravaged the valley and left it inhabited forevermore was never seen again. People say, she just vanished at some point. Some hold the belief that she has been carried away by fairies and others claim that on windy nights, one could see her walk along the stony ledges on her eternal way to the abandoned chapel. 

We shall never know for sure what really happened to that sole survivor, but her name disappeared from the ledgers, never to be mentioned again in the books of men. 

[dbd-and-slashers-fics]

Could you do a Frank Morrison X survivor!reader when the reader is supposed to make a choice between never seeing any members of the Legion and joining the edgy teen gang (becoming a killer)? Like the Entity wasn't pleased with the reader hanging out with both survivors and the Legion. The reader wishes to stay with Frank though since they kinda like the drama of being a killer in the Entity's realm. How would Frank and others react? Make the reader change their decision or support them? Tyvm!♥️

You had been sitting in the attic of the Mt. Ormond house for a few hours, legs pulled to your chest as you sat with your back on the side frame, looking down at the snowy jungle gyms and broken pallets. Earlier that day, you had been summoned by the Entity into its primary realm, the dark void you usually saw in the hatch. It had given you a choice, a rather tricky one to decide. You could either become a killer, or stay a survivor. You weighed your choices. You fellow survivors will feel betrayed by you and hate you, but you’d have a family that really accepts you into their group instead of just tolerating you as the survivors did. On the other hand, you could stay as a survivor and keep your dignity and hand cleans, but.. you’d be absolutely miserable and you’d lose whatever chance you had at family. It was all so unfair. Why couldn’t the entity let you associate with killers without having to be one.

You heard the latch open behind you, knocking you out of your thoughts. Turning your head to look towards the attic door, you spot Frank, who looked as tired as ever and pretty nonchalant. He sat on the other edge of the frame, mimicking your position with a cocky, comfortable twist, letting one foot hang out the shattered window. A trail of wind made its way through your hair and fingers, bittersweet and wrong. Everything felt wrong in this world because everything was an imitation by an entity that feels nothing. He smiled a bit at you, pulling his hood down.

“Hey. How’s my favorite person doin’?” He asked, obviously aware of what’s going on.

“I’m fine.” You said shortly, hugging your legs closer to you and burying your nose in your knees, glancing to the frosty plains again. He let out a sigh, almost disappointed.

“Look, I know it must be hard, having to choose. You know what I say though? Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. If those bastards ain’t treating you well now they aren’t going to later on.” He was right and you knew it. You felt so conflicted. This didn’t feel right, but you had no one else to talk to. No one else to listen. He was all you had and you couldn’t risk losing them.

“Just... I don’t want to lose you.” You looked up at him, surprised to hear him say that suddenly.

“Look, I really care about you, okay? I’m saying it now for the record, whether you stay survivor or not wont change the fact that you are our family, but it’d sure make it a hell of a lot easier to act like it if you were a killer.” He sounded so, so sincere.

“Plus, it’s not like you’ll end up actually hurting someone. You can barely use a tooth pick if I offered you it, dumbass.” He joked, smugly. You threw a nearby, small chunk of wood at him.

“Asshole.” You chuckled out. He returned with the same laughter.

“Just being honest babes.” He was always so smug, but in a nice way.

“Alright then... Maybe I will be killer then.” You muttered.

“Cool cool... We should get downstairs quick though- because Susie is raiding the snacks again and if you want any we need to get there like now-“ He was already getting up and getting ready to run off, holding a hand out to you.

You laughed and took his hand, getting up and booking it downstairs to the kitchen, where the others proceeded to have a fun time and treat you as well as you wanted to be treated. Maybe being a killer wouldn’t be so bad...

(Aaaa!! Thank you so much for my first request! I hope you enjoyed it!! Don’t be shy to send more requests guys!)

[cannibalcreepers]

Advantages and disadvantages of dating the cannibals?

Ooooh well like many slashers there is going to be some pros and cons with dating them, and with inbred cannibal hillbilly mountain men? Oh boi are there some pros and cons. 

--

The Advantages!

+ Protection 

To a degree you are going to be very protected, you wouldn’t even get to sneeze without one of those boys noticing. This doesn’t mean they’re perfect though, you still need to be tough and look after yourself, though they will make sure you’re safe and well, there is still chance you’ll fall on your ass and break a bone or be killed by one of their victims, so be aware of your surroundings 

+ Fun times 

It’s always a good time with these boys! Well mostly One-Eye and Three-Fingers, fun times with Saw-Tooth means fun ‘adult’ times that sometimes happen in the bed. But other than that, with the other two brothers it's a variety of messing around or playing, heck these two could make chores fun. 

+No Jealousy! 

All three are sharing you and none will get jealous of each other, you are safe with showering one with a bit more love cause the other two know they’ll be getting that kind of love soon or they can just sneak in to receive some of that extra love you’re giving their brother. They have been sharing everything in their life, sharing you is nothing new. 

+ Get taught how to protect yourself and how to use a weapon 

Be a bit foolish if you didn’t know how to protect yourself when dating these boys, they will teach you how to kill people, cut people open, use firearms, how to drive, use bows and arrows, how to throw a knife into someone’s chest, how to set up traps, how to make traps and so much more. Bear Grylls got nothing on these three boys. 

+ Get all the sweet loving and respect 

If you’ve reached that part of the relationship where you’ve been integrated into the family, you now get placed into a role of importance and given respect and love, by then you should have established yourself and shown what you can do for them and their family. So all the sweet loving would be thrown your way, this mostly being snuggles, hugs, kisses from some of the boys. Saw-Tooth, not so much, but any signs of affection from him would be an award itself, as for Three-Fingers and One-Eye, well affection is bound to happen. 

+ Away from civilization and Stress of Life 

Living in the mountain woods of West Virginia means bye bye civilization and the rest of the world. No more jobs, no more crowds, no more family (if you wanted to get away from them that’s a plus) no more stress of the world placed on your shoulders. Living with the three boys is simple, easy living. You work for your food and you spend time with the boys, that is all that is needed, that and making sure no one escapes alive. 

+Learn how to be an individual and stronger 

You will become strong and independent for sure, the boys wont baby you and will make sure you can carry your own weight in work. It’s a good teaching lesson of self discipline and learning how to successfully both work in a team and look after yourself if you get into a tight spot. 

The Disadvantages!  

x You will never see the outside world ever again

Even though it would sound good at the start, it is for serious means you will never leave their hut ever again. No more holidays, no trips, no seeing your friends or family (if you want to) no fast food or any outside food unless stolen from victims. You will live in that forest and you will die in that forest. 

x No privacy

Yeah you won't even get to piss without them boys knowing it, no privacy at all with them and they will follow you if you decide to go for a walk alone. You like being alone and get energy through just chilling? To fucking bad, I hope you enjoy one if not all three staring at you, laying on you, leaning on you, touching you, tugging you, pulling you and pretty much being all up in your space at all times. If you’re lucky you may get alone time when they go out hunting but don’t be counting for too long cause it wont last. 

x You are now a cannibal and murderer 

This, you have zero choice in, the boys will not be changing their eating habits for anyone and you better suck it up buttercup cause you will be eating humans for the rest of your life. They also will expect you to help in killing and preparing food, you need to contribute to the family work as there was no slacking with them. 

x You will never see your family or friends ever again 

The obvious one, if you did have a good relationship with family and friends then hope you said some nice things to them when you last saw them cause you are never seeing them again. High chances if they try and find you, they will end up dead to the hands of your new lovers. Hope that isn’t a deal breaker, cause if you cause a problem for them getting rid of outsiders then they may reconsider this relationship you are all having. 

x Dating starts off pretty crummy 

Yeah, though it will end really well, the start of dating them is a nightmare. No freedom, no choices, being pushed around and possibly bullied, saying no is sadly not a choice so you need to be 100% sure you are willing to accept these cannibal boys or you’re just ending up as a meal if you become a problem. Once you start proving yourself though things start sailing smoothly

x They stink really badly 

These boys are RANK! And there is nothing you can do about it, you can hose them down as much you want they gonna stink and every part of them stink real bad. Like you wont be able to tell what is sweat, piss, blood or shit and if it’s theirs, an animals or a victims (high chances many is just animals and victims) and they do wash in the river every so often if they can’t take the smell anymore but that is still a rare occasion. 

Better hope you get used to it fast 

x No technology at all 

Other than maybe a radio, tv or walkie-talkies. 

There is no technology, no internet, no phones, nothing that will let you contact the outside world and even if you got your hands on something there is no service in those mountains. So say goodbye to any blogs or accounts you got, you Instagram is gonna be dead and all your followers will think you are as well.   

x Annoying victims  

You may think ‘how does this relate to dating them?’ well this isn’t really their fault and more just an extra, cause dating them means people are gonna end up being killed around you and you will be joining in with killing them no matter what and you will eventually start getting annoyed at how shitty people are towards them and you so now you’re miserable and angry. 

All I can say to this is: date the three Hilliker Brothers UwU

[hideandspeaks]

Today i cried…

Today i cried…. it is the first time in the eight years i have been with my partner she has ever seen me cry and its the first time i can remember crying since i was a young boy. I didn't just cry i completely broke down i could not breath i was completely gone, whilst i was crying with my eyes shut i pictured when i was a child i am pretty sure i had never cried like this before growing up, how is this possible? how have i become a shell of the man i used to be? when i open my eyes will my wife just laugh at me? will she get up and leave? this is not the man she married.

The lady on the phone who i have been talking to just stays quiet, i imagine she just sitting there rolling her eyes or completing a crossword at her kitchen table, why has this man felt the urge to ring the Samaritans at 7.20am on a Saturday morning. I feel embarrassed but also relieved i have held this in for so long its just unfortunate for this volunteer that i called her today.

I feel completely broken i don't want to open my eyes, i can sense my three year old boy is approaching the bedroom where his dad is having a breakdown, i cant stop myself. The tears just flow and the grown of a 35 year old man crying fills the room, how awful it must be for him to see his dad like this, it sets me off again.

I feel like i have asked for help for so long and there is just nothing, i get told to take tablets and sent on my merry way, i learnt a lot in my job about root cause analysis and i am furious with myself for not knowing what is wrong with me. What makes me wake up wishing i wasn't here? what is the feeling i carry around in my chest all day every day? why does there feel like there is a army marching through my brain every second off every day? and why the f*** can i not just go back to the man i was 4 years ago.

So where am i going with this? why is a man who has never written anything of any substance since school get out a laptop on a Sunday afternoon feels like he should write a blog? simple answer….. i don't know what else to do. I long to fix the condition i have, but i don't know how. I long for people around me to know i am not well and the way i act and talk to them is not intended, i really do not mean to be horrible or miserable but i know i am not well.

Maybe i will write some more one day, maybe i wont. Maybe one day i will be fixed and happy, maybe someday i will not be able to cope and finish it all.

Maybe i will continue to tell my story and hopefully help one person.

For anyone out there suffering with mental health condition, don't do what i done, don't be stubborn, don't be ashamed to talk like i was, don’t let people tell you to get on with it or ‘suck it up’. Do what you feel is the right thing and accept all the help you can get.

[kerenitychan]

this is stupid lol but like , i've been drawing everybody wearing the friendship bracelets so i feel like i owe y'all an explanation as to why the *fuck* squid would be wearing/have made one in the first place. i'm still working of a picture of the gang actually making them but yeah. basically the friendship bracelets act as a "you see this squid? , this is a symbol of you're stuck with us and we have your own permission to kick your butt if you act like a jerk" they don't wear them a lot cus, ya know all them bracelets can be kinda uncomfortable and annoying but they do wear em every now and then especially when they've planned an outing cus friendshippp

" BECAUSE I LIKE YOU! " Squidward heaved , trying to catch the breath he lost in his tantrum as he defeatedly locked eyes with the man before him . Spongebob scoffed. He wasn't even sure anymore when the fight started or what it was about but it sounded like his teal haired opponent was reduced to his last trump card, again. The one he knew would usually defeat the sponge, but not this time. He was so tired of this. " Yeah yeah I know, *hmpf* 'you don't really hate me' even if you regularly remind me. And maybe somewhere deep down you can stand me. I get it Squid you have that revelation twice a year, it's getting old. " He sighed crossing his arms as he tore away his gaze to look at the floor in disappointment whilst the other blinked before reaching out, more in an attempt to materialize answers from thin air then anything else, as he started again, still panicked and frustrated. " H- no! It's not....Agh! Look I don't! UGH  why do you have to make this so DIFFICULT! " " I'M making this difficult!? This ...this-this SHERADE has been going on for 10 years squidward! " Cerulean eyes pierced trough carmine ones with a look of rage, confusion, and frustration as the man threw up his freckled arms in desperation before they slunk back to his sides with a huff of defeat. To which the guilty scowl on the cephalopods face deepened. " Look I-ugh. I was TRYING to say that I like you. Not just that I don't hate you, which I also don't... do? Too many negatives. ANYWAY...I...I uhm....I don't like admitting defeat I- I uh, I guess... ehm an-  and I have a  hard time accepting things sometimes ... and I guess- I guess I just bottle things up until I explode... " He grimaced and looked around, vaguely gesturing . " Which is why we're discussing this stuff at 3 AM in the pattyvault instead of at home like normal people, ...I guess. " Sponge blinked a bit snapping out of it...oh yeah, right, squid was sneaking out and eating patties behind everyone's backs instead of ordering one every now and then like a ding dang normal person because for SOME INSANE REASON  he seems to insist people will ... will... NEPTUNE KNOWS WHAT HE THINKS PEOPLE WILL DO WHEN THEY FIND OUT HE LIKES PATTIES! HE'S JUST BEING SO- SO ARGHHHG! That last grunt escaped it's mental confides and rolled out between the gap of his buckteeth. " I just. I don't get it Squidward you ALWAYS do this. With everything!!! With anything you KNOW is fun!!! With everyone you know you actually like!!!  with....     With me...  Forget it, I'm just gonna...  go count the sesame seeds, I suppose.  Just... Don't fill up on patties until you explode again. " He turned around shaking his head with a sigh to head to his destination, but was brought to a halt by a suction cupped hand wrapping around his wrist " Spongebob wait!" A sigh. A grimace. A deep breath. " I. Am. Sssorry.  There, I said it, I'm sorry! I don't want whatever this is to keep going either! I just.... I am.... I am afraid of change, I guess?  You always say things will be fine but what if they're not???  I'm not lucky like you Sponge!  Destiny always seems to want good things for you but my karma is ATROCIOUS.  KELP! I could land in a hospital just for thinking about my karma! "  " Well then that's even more reason to try!!! Your "karma" wont get better if you don't! " " Ugggghhh I, You- This-  GAH! Can we talk about this some other time!? All I'm gonna get out at this rate  is more nonsensical rambling I'm gonna regret saying because: It's LATE, I'm EXHAUSTED and I STILL haven't     had a darn krabby patty! " " Then just eat the darn thing and get on with it because I'm not letting you chicken out again! "  " Can you at least close the door for a minute and give me some privacy! "  " YOU ARE GOING TO EAT A 🐬ING BURGER,WHAT PRIVACY!? " Oh... wow... a... that was... that was a swear. ....Spongebob just swore. ......uh-oh. Squid's really gotten himself thrown in the deep end now. He gulped nervously before submissively nodding and taking a bite of his burger... oh sweet mother of pearl it was good!  Neptune! Why does he always deprive himself of things he wants so bad?  Oh, right. Because he always has to make a big show of telling everyone that he actually hates the things he likes and he would DIE of mortification if he ended up having to admit defeat like a.... like a loser. With a light shake of his head he brushes off the thoughts and focuses on savoring the taste of his burger... 1 because he really needed one and wants to enjoy it. And 2 because ...ehm... he's a tad scared for what awaits him when he's finished. Spongebob was rarely enraged to the point of screaming,.. to the point of swearing and when he was he was a force to be reckoned with, Squidward knew that much. He peeked over in between bites to see his colleague standing there, arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot, he was scowling so hard his buckteeth were hidden behind a pout and his eyes were squinted to half their normal size.  " How is it? " It was near impossible to gauge what kind of reaction the blonde wanted by his intonation, he was curt, near emotionless, ... Sarcastic? Squidward gulped down what he was chewing and smiled sheepishly.  " Just as good as I remember...heh. " " Hmmhmm. I bet. " Oh boy. With another awkward chuckle squid finished his burger before taking a deep breath.  " Had your fill? " " Heh, eh y-yeah. I kinda want more but I don't want a repeat of the last time. " " 3 times. " " H-huh? " " you loaded up on patties until you had to be hospitalized THREE TIMES. " The freckled man's gaze got the octopus who normally towered over him shrinking in shame before him. Just a little short of going into a fetal position.

" Why do you do this Squidward? What on earth does karma have to do with you being a stubborn seamule about things until they go horribly wrong!?  You could just order a damn patty every now and then, EVERYBODY loves krabby patties, no one would blame you! But no mr. Tentacles is too good for a krabby patty, mr. Tentacles would rather be miserable until         the kettle boils over and he loses control! " That got a huff out of the other who gathered some courage to stand up straight and glare back. " That mocking mr. Tentacles talk is exactly why! Because I am trying to uphold an image here, and the moment I don't live up to it I know damn well that everybody here will jump on the opportunity to remind me that      I'm just a poser! That I'm not actually the hot shit I pretend I am! That I'm lucky they even tolerate me breathing the same water! That I should feel honored anyone is willing to admit they're acquainted with me! That   I don't actually have any talent! That I'm....that I'm just.... That I'm a nobody! A filthy peasant! A wannabe show-off! That I'm a-a ... a...  That I'm a LOSER.  " Squidward clenched his fists, sniffling trough heavy breaths, he's not sure when it happened but he started crying. Oh Neptune this is humiliating. He feels kinda dizzy, oh please don't ink! This is bad enough as it is! As he looked up defeatedly his eyes met blue ones, glittering from the moisture collecting in them as a scowl made way for a worried frown. Great, somehow sympathy felt worse then rage. " Squidward... " " No, please just...  don't. That's what I meant with 'I'm just going to ramble'. Pretend I didn't say anything. I gah- " He yelped as he suddenly found himself in a tight embrace. Of course. He grunted uncomfortably and squirmed a bit trying to break free from the surprisingly strong hold his normally rather weak companion had. " Sponge I'm serious let's just pretend tha- " " Nu-uh! We, we're done pretending anything! Squid please! Talk to me about these things! " Two watery blue eyes look up at him, accompanied by a deep frown and trembling lip that only deepen the pained feeling in the octopus's chest. " Please. I'm here for you Squidward. " Gahhhh why does he always! Why is this always so! And he just! And, oh blowfish. He's crying again. " That's the damn problem here ! You have Patrick and Sandy and your parents and whatever stupid friends you made in your clubs to fall back on if you mess up! I..... " He sighs and against his better judgements, feels himself lamely hugging back, tiredly resting his chin in fluffy bottle blonde hair as he looks up at nothing. " I can't go to mother, she's not getting any younger and she's worried about me enough as it is, I can't stress her out more....  Father would just tell me to stop being a baby and man up... he'd mean it well but that doesn't mean it's any help. And "friends" I have acquaintances I guess, people I know by name that are willing to say hello to me.... I used to think Eugene was my friend but he's chosen being a boss over being a companion time and time again  so... I only really have only one friend... and he's used to me not treating him as one. So what if.... what if I did make an effort? And he starts expecting things from me, but I start chickening out or relapsing or decide I can't do it after all and he finally gives up on me!? I wouldn't blame him... I would have given up on me years ago... but I'm not sure what I'd do when I end up being completely on my own in this ..." Oh jeez... now Sponge feels bad. Obviously Squid has been struggling with this for a long time, he could tell he'd been struggling with his own happiness ever since he met him really... he pouts and gives his tall friend a comforting squeeze. " Well... have you tried talking to him about it? " A lame chuckle was the response before  he was slightly pushed back so the teal haired man could look at him with an awkward lopsided smile and a shrug. " I'm trying to right now. Heh. " A blink. 'Trying to right now'? Another blink. 'Only one friend that's used to not being treated as one' ? The gears in his spongey head were turning. 'I would have given up on me years ago'? With one more blink the short man started looking around wide eyed before carefully pointing at himself with a trembling hand. " Muh... me? " " No I'm talking about the krabby patty. yes you! Ever since you moved in next door... well before that really, ever since your little weirdo butt started "growing his first house" next-door you've been pestering me day  and night! With your incessant laughter and unconstrained joy and endless creativity and unmatched imagination and- and... and I just... I just... I kinda wish I could have been a part of it...  without having to be the mature adult that's too good for your childish games I guess? " Squid shrugged sadly before his friend released his grip on the hug, to instead take hold of his hands and make determined eye-contact. " You still can be part of it squidward... it's not too late, I told you didn't I? You're one of my best friends, I'll always have your back. You don't have to act a certain way or do specific stuff to be a mature adult you know? I've seen you Happy and exited before.... not as often as I'd like. But that's when you feel most you  when you're in a good mood and forget about who you 'should be ' for a moment.... I want to help you feel like that more often. " A soft sad chuckle left the octopus who shook his head and rubbed his teary eyes with his free hand. " You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. " " I think I've got a pretty good idea. " He chuckled back with a playful look. " Wait hold up I have an idea! " " Huh? What are you doing? " Squid blinked watching his...friend. Yeah, his friend. As he fumbled with something on his wrist before tugging at squid's arm. " Now, I want this one back because Patrick made it for me but that's gonna be our first friendship exercise! " He beamed a shiny bucktooth grin revealing the colorful macrame bracelet he transferred to the other's wrist. " Tomorrow you me and Pat are gonna get together and we're making this friendship official with a 3 people set! Oh maybe we could finally convince sandy to join, she never wants to do crafts with us.  She always says it's boring and starts karate chopping everything." " Wait- hold up, what? Friendship exercise? Official? Crafts? Karate chopping? " " Well yeah! I told you mister! No more pretending anything, we're gonna go out there as friends and you can be tsundere about it all you want but that's final " " I can be what about it???? Wait no never-mind that! Look don't you think you're going a bit fast here???? Do we have to do this, like... now??? And so... publicly???? " " Yesss we dooooooo~ " The blonde singsonged as he playfully flicked the other's nose " No more snail-footing around squidward! You're miserable and as your friend it is my duty to help fix that! So starting tomorrow we're doing this friend thing and you're gonna try or so help me I WILL get the                   ticklebelt! Nyahahahaha! " A sigh turned into a chuckle as Squid shook his head before he erupted in laughter along with his freckled friend... oh boy. What has he gotten himself into now??? " Hawhawhaw! " " Nyahahahaha! " " Hawhawhaw! " " Nyahaha. But seriously, I will. I  know where they keep the spare key to the mermalair. " " Huh? "        

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Gone (pt3)

John Wick x Reader

Soft music played in the background but John wasn’t really paying it any attention. He was sitting at the bar, which was mostly empty, nursing a bourbon, staring at his reflection in the glass shelf behind the counter. He had looked better, but that was before....These days he looked worn, tired, sad, a ghost of himself. A ghost of the man she left.

John could barely fathom it, the more he told himself that he had to accept that Y/n had walked out on him, the harder it was to move on. He had tried everything, right down to convincing himself that she never loved him. If she did she would still be there. It had been almost seven months, and still nothing worked. He downed the rest of his drink and ordered another, this time her favorite whiskey from the top shelf. She had always been a woman of exquisite taste.

The sound of heels clicking against the tiles disturbed the silence. Another day drinker. Then it hit him, like a train, or a bullet or however sudden realizations came. The smell was familiar, even if it was clouded by the smell of expensive cigars and alcohol, it was easy to recognize. Like summers in Paris. 

John turned in the bar stool, just in time to see her taking a seat and few stools away. She hadn’t noticed him, and the bartender came up to her. She whispered, but he knew exactly what she was ordering. Not the whiskey from the top shelf. He could tell from the small, fresh cuts peeking out of the slit of her red silk dress, her split lip and bruise near her eye that she had recently returned from a job, maybe only a few hours ago. Ergo, she would have what she usually had after work, cognac. As the bartender walked past him, John stopped him, and told him to put Y/n’s drink on his tab instead of her own. She had left for a reason and even if it would be in poor, alcohol induced judgement, he was going to find out what that reason was.

Crossing the space between them, John took a seat next to Y/n as the glass was placed in front of her. Her body stiffened and it took a minute before she turned to meet his gaze, “John,” Her voice cold, void of emotion.

“Y/n,” He shifted, regarding her through blurry eyes, did she really not care? He wished he could reach out and touch her, brush the stray strand away from her face the way he used to. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” Was all she managed, fearing that any more words would cause her to cave and admit how miserable had been over the months gone by. “You?”

John sipped his drink, swallowing tightly, “Fine.” This was going to be harder than he initially thought. “Do you come here often?”

Here Italy, or here in this bar? That was a weird question she thought. Perhaps he was as nervous as she was. “Not really. Work.”

He nodded stiffly, and she started at the amber liquid in her glass, tempted to drink it all at once and then threaten the bartender into selling her the bottle. “So...” The word lingered on her tongue and Y/n instantly regretted saying it, especially since she had nothing to follow it.

“Why did you do it?” The words tumbled out of John’s mouth and Y/n could only assume that by ‘it’ he meant leave. 

Y/n opened her mouth to explain but the words wouldn’t come. “I....” She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw, “I....was scared.” Three words could hardly come close to the explanation that John deserved, but it was all she could offer, along with a couple others; “I’m sorry.” Unable to stand the situation any longer, she slid off the stool, placed a gold coin on the bar counter and stalked, or rather walked very quickly, off, leaving John no better than he was before.

Y/n knew for a fact that that John was still in Italy, so why wasn’t he in his room? After she had stormed out of the bar two days ago, Y/n had done everything in her power to avoid John. That was, until she realized that she had waited months for a just like that one. And she had thrown it away. 

So now, Y/n was trying to create another of those moments. The only problem being that John wasn’t in his room. Thus, in actuality she was just standing outside his door, in true creeper style. If he was ignoring her, he’d have to come out eventually and if he was out then he’d come back eventually. 

John stumbled towards the elevator, not even bothering to check with reception. He should have gone and requested the doctor, but he didn’t. Clutching his bleeding side with one hand, he used the other to punch in the floor number. Afterwards, he leaned against the cool metal wall, closing his eyes as the elevator surged upwards. The job was a success except for the part where the dead drug lord’s dozens of bodyguards came after him. Thankfully, they were all dead now.

The trek to his room felt longer than he remembered. When he got there, fishing the key out of his pocket, John told himself that he had to be hallucinating. Maybe it was the adrenaline high that he was coming down from. Or probably from the blood loss. Y/n was sitting on the floor, leaned against the door. At the first sight of him, she rose to her feet and rushed over to him, “Fuck, John. What the hell happened?”

Y/n brought his arm around her, encouraging him to lean on her for support. She looped one arm sound his waist and used to other to take the key and unlock the door. John wanted to be mad, to shove her off, but it had been so long since he felt her touch that he didn’t protest. “Just work,” He grumbled as an explanation.

She helped him sit on the bed and then hurried of into the bathroom in search medical supplies. “Is the doctor coming?” Y/n called, receiving a gruff ‘no’ in response. She emerged a short while later with a first aid kit and a small silver basin with water. Taking a seat next to him on the bed, Y/n couldn’t help the worry etched plainly on her face. She hated seeing him like this and for a minute she wondered how many other times he had returned from a job without someone to take care him. Sure, doctors were great, but it was nothing compared to the tender care of someone who cherished your life as much as their own. 

Shaking the saddening thoughts away, Y/n helped John out of his shirt, hissing when she saw the bleeding wound at his side. After cleaning it with a damp cloth and some antiseptic, Y/n got to work on stitching it closed as gently as possible. When she was finished, Y/n moved on to tending to less severe cuts when John broke the silence, “ Why are you doing this?” Y/n looked up at him and her questioned further, “Why are you here Y/n?”

Her voice quivered when she answered and instead of baring her should like she previously intended, she let her walls go up, “I told you the other day. Work.” 

“You know what I mean.” He grabbed her hands, his grip loose but still firm, “Y/n, what are you doing here?”

Sighing, Y/n looked at John’s calloused fingers wrapped around her slender wrists, remembering what it was like to hold his hand, intertwine her fingers with his. “I...wanted to talk.” 

John let his hands slip of her wrists as he took the off chance of holding her hands, as he threaded further, “About?”

“Everything. The reason I left and why I’ve been regretting ever since.” Y/n held on to John’s hands as tears trickled down her cheeks, “I’m so sorry. And I know that I have no right to your forgiveness, but I do love you, and I do miss you. So if you co-” Her words were cut of when John pulled her up, his lips crashing to hers in a needy passionate kiss. 

They kissed, her hands travelled to grasp fistfuls of his hair and John’s hands gripped her waist. They broke for a breath and he finally said, “Talk.” 

Without missing a beat, “Leaving you was a mistake. I should have worked it out, confronted my fear of commitment and intimacy instead of bailing on you when we started build something real.” Y/n let out a deep breath plopping back on to the bed, their thighs still brushing, “We were going great. And everything I felt was real, I loved you and I still do.”

“And somehow that's a bad thing?” John’s eyebrows furrowed together, confused. “ You love me so you left?”

“Yeah,” Y/n shook her head, preferring to stare at the sheets as opposed to his face, “I’ve never been good at...being with someone. We were so in love, I thought that the more in love I fell with you, the weaker I would be.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, “I thought what we had was too good to be true, because people like us, we don't get that, we don’t get the happy ending or the picket fences or any of that. John, I don’t even know if I want that. But the minute I left, maybe even before that, I knew that I wanted you.”

Using his finger tips, John gently urged Y/n’s face upwards, “Do you still believe that? That people like us can’t fall in love?” His face searched hers for an answer.

Letting her hands fall to the bed with a muffled thud, “I don’t know.” A disappointed John turned his face away, staring at the wall so Y/n wouldn’t have to see the hurt look on his face. She reached to place a tentative touch on his thigh, “But I do know that I want to try. I know that right now, and for a while now, that I've loved you.” Turning back to her, John interlaced his fingers with Y/s’ and she offered him a cautious smile, “I don’t know how things will be tomorrow or a few years from now, but I know how I feel. Leaving was a mistake John, and I want to fix it. If you do.”

John moved his hand to tangle it in her hair. Their forehead pressed together, “I’ve missed you so much Y/n.”

Drawing him to her, she pressed her lips to his, in a softer, slower kiss. “I’ve missed you too John.” Y/n’s words were a whisper against John’s lips, between, short, sweet kisses. Gently, Y/n pushed on John’s shoulders, encouraging him to lay back on the bed. With her legs on either side of him, she leaned down, “I promise that no matter what happens between us, I wont ever leave like that again.” And with that, neither of them ever had the reason to leave again. 

The end!

A/N- I really had no idea on how to end it there but I hope this sufficed 

[honeyfreckled]

we have talked a few times and im sorry for this but you are the most accepting and easiest person to talk to honestly i dont have many people in my life i can tell anything real to. but the thing is ive been thinging about relapsing a lot more since i broke up with my boyfriend and i work with him so it makes work depressing and impossible to get through a day without crying sorry this is anon but i am scared ily dont hate me i am not trying to stress you out

ok wow first lemme just say: I DO NOT HATE U. EVER. 

and don’t be srry i don’t have a lotta ppl irl i can tell my shit to so i get it. pls know u can always ALWAYS ALWAYS come to me, and u dont gotta be scared to come off anon. i get it and it’s ok if u prefer it that way- but pls know i dont keep it on alot bc i get hate and then i turn it off bc i gotta look out for myself and dont post all the hate bc i dont wanna bring yall down or give them the satisfaction of knowing i have given it a read and response. so u can message me or make a sideblog or idk im just saying this so if it’s off later u dont blame yrself or feel scared to come off anon. ok sorelapse is a real thing and it’s fucked and hard and addiction is fucked up and a real life struggle and we dont treat addicts w the real tenderness, respect, kindness, and acceptance they deserve. but u DO deserve it. and there are hotlines, apps, churches, groups, chatrooms/boards, and sites that are more versed in what are the appropriate things to say to u- i say this bc while i’ve been thru it w loved ones i have not myself struggled w addiction w substances. my addictions were to self harm and victimhood so those are the things i searched for help on. but if it’s alright i’d like to give u some tips or things i used and have heard work for addicts of substances

places like i said like churches, groups, chatrooms, sites, apps, hotlines the apps and hotlines are good if u cant travel or want to talk to ppl who wont share their story bc maybe u cant hear it like its not the kinda help ur looking for. hotlines are sometimes tricky bc some of those folks are not educated they are volunteers so judgment leaks thru and in that case u ask to be redirected and report that volunteer so hopefully they dont repeat that kinda mess to other vulnerable folks looking for help

make a list of things, anything. list of foods u like to order, list of things that make u clench yr teeth, what were yr fave gifts you’ve ever got, style icons of urs, hobbies u tried that annoyed u, movies u can always watch, places on yr skin u hate being touched, any list of anything it doesnt have to be the usual thing of “what to live for” bc when yr depressed those kinds of things arent easy to think of. but if u get a list going of like “best things ive ever touched” “sounds that make me laugh” “trends that were stupid af” “popular things that i didnt like n couldnt figure out why they were popular” “weirdest ppl ive met” well those things might get u on a roll of good memories or laughing or seeing that theres more to yr life than what has been occupying yr thoughts

dancing. dance in yr room in the dark. clear some space. put on some headphones. lock yr door. do it in the shower. just dance. i had to start w closing my eyes and picking songs that i was taken by emotionally. songs that made me jump and slamdance tbh and then it’s just gotten more and more something im not as ashamed w. i spent a date night w james just dancing and then we ya know ya know bc the dancing got so wild. now i make playlists of songs that set moods for diff kinds of dancing

watch shows w ppl who arent doing better than u. they dont live in fancy places, they dont do much w their lives, they dont dress better than u, they struggle, they arent eating good food u dont have access to. iasip. freaks and geeks. letterkenny. undeclared. jake and amir. tpb. the state. youtube. tiktok/vine comps. lots of these kinds of vibes on youtube

podcasts. improv comedy podcasts tbh saved my life. comedy bang! bang! has best of’s those are good ones to start w. improv4humans bc matt besser has great guests of some of the best improvisers out there and he has musical guests and they’ll play a song and the improvisers will use it as inspo for a scene

make things. moodboards. pinterest. playlists. fill a shopping cart and tell yrself “i’ll get it when i win the lotto and move away from anyone who knows me so i can be the me i wanna be w/out judgement” make tea. make a meal if u can. make yr bed. clean one thing. clean the sink. hang some clothes or go thru yr drawers and clean them out. throwing things out feels hard at first but then it’s nice bc u feel less bogged down

find something to throw yr obsession at for a bit. something that wont hurt u as bad, being obsessed in general isnt good. everything in moderation irl. too much of something is bad just as much as too less of it can be bad. but yr looking for something lower risk here and if u gotta be obsessed w a celeb or a song or a food that’s ok. yr focusing the energy on something that isnt a substance so be proud of it

give yrself a break. give yrself some credit. everyday isnt gonna be on the “best of your name here’s days” but sometimes u just live to live bc that’s what u do. u wait it out and get thru it and wait for the sun to come back out. and if u cant get outta bed. or if you hate yr job and wanna scream- that’s normal it’s more normal than always being happy ppl just dont like talking abt bc society kinda trains us to hide our fucked upness idk why but thats how it is. they dont wanna tell us to do preventative care until we’re in the pits

all in all- it comes down to (at least for me) not planning w an endgoal in mind. it’s not over til it’s over and rlly we dont know. it’s all fluctuating and not meant to be a finish line we cross and then suddenly we’re done and we dont suffer anymore and the feeling of shit is gone or the risk of relapse is gone and the depression is cleared away never to be seen again. it’s not realistic. bc it isnt real. on the real- risk is always there and the downs and ups mix and run together and depression is not curable (this isnt something to be miserable over tho) depression isnt curable, yeah ok, but it is manageable. it can be quieted down from time to time and if u keep up w yr healthy routines and coping mechanisms- depression will still find its way to u bc the real world is not something u can manage. death in the family, loss of money or job, car breaking down, sickness outta nowhere, depression grows wild when these very real life stressors come into our lives. but all that too eventually gets easier and easier at least from a “ok i have some distance now” standpoint. and then as those days get more and more btwn it u can then be like “oh wow, ive made it thru X amount of days! ive put up w it this long! whats one more day, whats one more week, hell might as well see how much prouder i can feel once ive got a year under my belt!” plus u will be more capable of handling the bullshit if u know u can still find some safe places in yr coping skills or friends or resources.

ok so this is prob a mess but bottomline know this:

I love  you and i will be here the best i can should u ever wanna come spill or if u need me to just send u pics of my dog or boring pics of knickknacks or selfies or memes or links or anything just tell me what u need and i will try my best to show u my love. i hope u can see that u reaching out is just already a HUGE major step in the right direction, give yrself credit! thats amazing! yr already doing it pumpkin look at u! it’s hard ik. but i also know if u are capable of saying u have this problem going on, u are capable of getting thru this. u are a light in the world. u offer goodness and u offer yrself and that’s enough. even if yr fucked up right now- u are contributing to the world by simply being u. there is literally NO ONE ELSE WHO IS YOU. so u are unique by definition. i hope u get something from this post and if not i hope it strikes an idea or thing u can do that will help. i hope u know im here and i hope u see this.

i am sending u all my light and love and good vibes and i can’t wait to see or hear from u again. u are never bothering me, a burden, or stressing me out. tbh it stresses me more that u might be struggling and not telling me or anyone. i dont ever want u to suffer in silence bc u feel guilt or scared or anything. u deserve to have a place to voice yr shit. im here to listen if u do wanna tell me anymore.

everyone else-if this helped or if u can think of anything that might help anon or anyone else- feel free to reblog and get some good NONJUDGMENTAL advice or tips and tricks going, but please please please remember to not come off as judgey or flood it with your drama. keep ur drama out of this post so anon or anyone else doesn’t get triggered by it. 

and dont ignore my rule and do it anyway and then say some shit like “ik u said not to but i think this will help lol sorry” like we need this post to stay on this vibe that i set in motion and not a struggle contest or dick measuring or all sad personal reminiscing. go make yr own post for that this is NOT the space.

[storyunrelated]

George & The Dragon

I have a soft spot for ‘human male faffs around with non-human lady’ because sometimes you just want to be friends with something enormous but which still has a pleasantly soothing voice and I have the things I like and this is my blog so I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, fight me.

-

George & The Dragon

"Knock knock!" said George, not knocking and just coming on in. He did this a lot.

George's name, it should also be pointed out, isn't actually George. George's name is actually Lawrence. The reasons for him being called George was unclear. It isn't his middle name, nor is it the name of any of his relatives. It's just that, shortly after he was born, both his parents took to calling him George, and it stuck.

Why they hadn't just named him that to begin with was a question that everyone had always been too polite to ask.

Jessica, into whose room George had just let himself, was dozing on her hoard of books, stuffed animals, Airfix kits and other crap she liked. She did not uncurl but did not open one eye to look at the intruding human

Jessica's name, it should also be pointed out, isn't actually Jessica. Being a dragon she had a suitably grandiose and impressive draconic name, the sort of thing to be bellowed out while stood on a rocky promilitary during a thunderstorm.

To properly pronounce it, however, required the kind of vocal architecture that George simply did not possess, and since he'd pointed out that the last part of the name kind of sort of maybe sounded like 'Jessica' - full of sibilance and magnificent hissing sounds - that is what he elected to call her.

And since she had something of a soft spot for the human she allowed him to get away with this.

"What is it, George?" Jessica asked, still not moving but following him with one eye as he moved over to the chair that had been set aside specifically for him. She noticed - in that way that dragons always noticed - that he had a shopping bag with him.

"Just wanted to see my friend! Feels like it's been forever," he said, sitting down.

"You were here yesterday," she pointed out.

"Yes, and yesterday seems so long ago now. Time is passing by so quickly! I don't know if you went outside at all today but there was a certain chill in the air - Summer is passed, I think! And now we're heading on into Autumn. Moving into my favourite part of the year!"

"Is that so?"

George nodded enthusiastically.

"It's bracing! A lovely smell to the air. And the leaves were turning red, too! Rather reminded me of you, actually."

This being because Jessica was red, obviously. A very bright shade of red at that.

This fire-engine red colour was a constant. Those times when Jessica deigned to take a human form as dragons were sometimes wont to do, the red would always be there somewhere, most often - though not always - her hair. Apparently this was a dragon thing. They all had their little giveaway, and this was hers.

"It did?" She asked, stirring a little at last just to get a better look at him. George nodded again, beaming.

"Yup. Your shade is my favourite though, I must say. It's just so nice and bright," he said.

A benefit of the red being that blushing well hidden. Not that dragons ever blushed, of course. That would be biologically unfeasible, for one, while also just being very undragony. Unheard of. Not ever.

George leaned back in the chair, setting his shopping bag down beside him and putting his hands behind his head.

"I do like Autumn. And then into Winter! A lot of people see it as dark and miserable but I do rather like it. We have Christmas, and a good excuse to stay in and be cosy! What could be better?" He asked.

"Warm weather and sunshine?" Jessica offered.

He considered this answer.

"Well...you would say that, I suppose. Fair play."

For creatures with such an intimate connection to the earth and the ground dragons, in George's experience at least, did have something of a fondness for hot weather and the sun. Then again, his experience was limited to Jessica, so perhaps she was an outlier.

"So I take it you haven't been outside today, then?" He asked and Jessica curled up once more, closing her eyes. Still listening though.

"I was sleeping," she said.

Dragons slept a lot. It was just in their nature. The older they got, the more they did it.

Eventually - many, many years in the future, when George would be long dead - Jessica would move into the later and final stage of the dragon life-cycle, whereupon she would curl up on her much built-up hoard and sink into a sleep from which she would never naturally awaken. The world would move on, the land would creep over her, and she would be buried, there to sleep eternally with her hoard. Assuming no-one dug her up by accident.

That did happen, incidentally, and was never a good thing. It paid to check where you were digging.

For now though, being young, the sleeping was more of a choice than a necessity. Jessica just did it because, being a dragon, she enjoyed it. And she didn't have a whole lot else to do. George worked during the week, and it wasn't as if anyone else was going to invite her anywhere to do anything.

George regarded her on her hoard, all curled up. He then snapped his fingers and landed back onto all four legs of the chair, hard. This made Jessica jumped.

"Ooh! That reminds me. Other reason I came here. I was walking past the charity shop and I saw a couple things that made me think of you."

This made Jessica actually sit up for the first time since he'd come in.

"Presents?" She asked, ears twitching, doing a good job of keeping the note of sudden excitement from her voice. George grinned.

"If you want. Mostly I just thought you'd like them," he said, reaching down for the bag and then reaching into the bag.

As with sleeping, a deep and abiding love of stuff was kind of a defining trait for dragons. It was just built-in. It wasn't really greed, really - well, it was, and if left to run unchecked could often have unfortunate consequences, but most dragons knew this so most dragons kept a very close eye on it and kept in company that would help them reel it in if it looked to be getting out of hand.

Most all tended to settle on a few things that they preferred over other things. This wasn't a conscious choice, and more just something they drifted into over time. The traditional classics of gold, gems and the like were still indulged in, but other items could also qualify. Jessica's preferred items - as previously alluded to - were things like books and toys, mainly.

Why? Why not?

"What is it?" Jessica asked,  extending her head towards him, tail flicking out behind her.

"It is - and get ready for this - a VHS copy of the Care Bears film and some Lego. Look! It's a complete Lego kit! Can you believe someone just gave this away? For shame."

He handed these items over to Jessica who held them both in the upturned-palm of one her claws. She looked at them, and then looked up to George.

"Only two presents?" She asked. George pouted and made to remove them from her.

"Hey, I can take these back if you don't want them," he said. Jessica's eyes widened.

"No! They're mine!" She said, scurrying back onto her pile, clutching her gifts. George chuckled.

"That's what I thought. I can help you with the Lego, if you want. I know you have trouble with the fiddlier bits."

Understandable, given her size. A few years back - back when she and George had first met - she'd been small enough to be able to handle Lego easily enough. Now thought she'd been through a spurt and was getting to the size where even Duplo was kind of tricky to manage.

"I - " Jessica started, her draconic pride telling her in no uncertain terms to turn down this offer, only for the unusually pleasant, warm and fuzzy ideas of spending an idle evening with George just messing around with Lego to stop her in her tracks.

It wasn't as though she was helpless, was it? And it wasn't as if he'd be doing it for her. He'd just be there to deal with the parts of it that were beneath her. Yes?

If she looked at it like that then it was acceptable.

Tucking the video into the hoard she kept the box of Lego out, holding it up between two talons.

"I'll allow you to assist me," she said, loftily, tail continuing to flick and wag behind her, something that always happened when she was feeling nervous, excited or both.

"Cracking," said George, beaming ear to ear. He didn’t notice the tail. He never did.

Jessica's smile was, by default, much bigger than his.

[bts-b18]

Crossing The Line - Chapter 3

Crossing The Line

A Taekook& Yoonmin Story. Genere: highschool!au, Fluff, Angst, Smut

Summary: Former volleyball player and now trainer of the schools volleayball team Taehyung feels drawn to freshman and trouble maker Jungkook. What will happen when such different characters collide? Can Taehyung get past the wall of agression and hate Jungkook has build around his heart for all the years? Yoongi and Jimin are stepbrothers. Jimin however developed feelings which are stronger than brotherly love. Can he keep this a secret? Warning: step-sibling incest Part: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

03 - Proximity

“Jungkook!”

“Yah!!! …Jungkook, wake up!!”

“Come on, open your eyes!!”

With a loud groan Jungkook tried to open his eyes. His lids felt as heavy as stones. Everything was hazy. With his consciousness returning, so did the feeling of pain that crept down all of his back and deep in his stomach. Jungkook tried to focus on the face hovering in front of him. Who was that? Shutting his eyes again he tried to remember where he was.

“Don’t you dare to faint again Jeon Jungkook!”

Pushing himself upright he suddenly remembered everything. The fight, the way Taehyung had tried to shield him and how they had…

Oh shit…

His leg! That was his fault, for letting the other guy join the fight. Because of him he had been hurt. Jungkook saw the older boy’s pain by the way he was grabbing the stairs they were sitting on, knuckles turning white. Still, his worried gaze was fixed on Jungkook.

“You idiot! Why did you follow me here?” Jungkook yelled. How could the other guy have been so naïve?

Instead of replying Taehyung just simply asked: “Do your parents know that you have a part-time job?”

The softness in his voice unnerved Jungkook. Why did this guy always stay so calm?

“This is none of your fucking business…”

“Is your leg okay though?”, the raven-haired boy asked now. Gaze dropping to the side not bearing to look the other male in the eye.

Taehyung slowly shook his head.

“It’s going to be all right. We should get going. Can you walk?”

At that Jungkook shrugged. He would be fine. He had gone through way more pain before.

Taehyung tried to lift himself off the stairs, failing miserably as his leg gave in. Reacting intuitively Jungkook caught the brunette, saving him from falling back at the stairs. His eyes dropped to Taeyhungs left knee. In order to examine his knee Taehyung had pulled up his training pants and now there was a big red scar visible, running over the length of his knee. Shocked Jungkook looked up, meeting eyes with Taehyung. The brunette’s eyes were fixed on him trying to figure out what was going on in Jungkooks head. They stayed like that for a moment. Simply looking at each other.

Suddenly Jungkook was aware of how close they were sitting. His hand was at Taehyungs back still and their tights were touching. Clearing his throat, he put as much space between them as it was possible on the narrow stairs.

“Yah! Why do you say your all right when you are clearly not?” he shot, fighting the heat that rushed to his face.

At that Taehyung smiled. He crooked his head to the side, still looking at Jungkook.

“Why do you pretend to be so bad, when you’re not that bad of a guy in reality?”

“Yah! Did I ever say I was bad?” Jungkook exclaimed feeling even more embarrassed. However, he could not stop the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I think I never met a bad guy who said that he was bad.” Taehyung mused.

They stayed silent for some time until Jungkook looked up.

“Why did you take the beating for me?”

“Well a team captain is responsible for his team members, right? Also, I couldn’t let them beat you up, while I was just standing there watching…”

“Didn’t you think that you might get hurt?”

“I can no longer play, so what do I have to lose?” Taehyung stated looking at his knee with resignation.

They stayed silent again until Jungkook was fidgeting uncomfortably on the stairs. “Let me walk you home.”

Taehyungs eyes widened in surprise. Then a wide smile spread on his features causing Jungkook to smile as well.

“Sure.”

 Jungkook and Taehyung were walking down the street, the older leaning on the shoulder of the younger. He was still limping, his left knee causing him too much pain to walk properly.

“My home is right here. I can walk the last bit myself.” Taehyung stated, letting go of Jungkook’s shoulder. Turning around the raven-haired boy looked at Taehyung trying to maintain an unfazed look.

“I just want to make this clear: I will join the team because you took the beating for me. Also, you have personal leverage against me since you know about my part-time job and we are not allowed to work after school ended.”

The brown-haired guy shook his head. “I wont use any of this to force you to join the team. If you really don’t want to join, I will ask the coach to let you go.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to play Volleyball. Its more that I don’t want to play in a team that has no future.” Jungkook mumbled crossing his arms.

Taehyung froze. He stepped closer until his face was only inches away from Jungkook’s. “Listen, we got into the finals last year. And the year before we were under the best eight. We have a good chance to win this year.”

“Also…. It is the last chance for Namjoon and me...” he added his eyes turning sad. Then suddenly he stepped back, his expression getting cold.

“But I guess you can not understand that.” And with that he turned around.

“Good night Jungkook. Your secret is safe with me.”

Jungkook’s heart was beating like crazy. In a daze he watched Taehyung walking down the street.

“Tae, I didn’t mean…” he tried but got no reaction out of the older guy. And then he was gone around the corner leaving Jungkook standing alone and confused.

 The next day Jungkook showed up for practice, surprising everyone including himself. Something had pushed him to go there. Maybe the challenge and wish to prove himself. He wasn’t sure but he knew, now that he had decided to join the team, he would not back down! So, the following week he trained hard, sticking to the special training schedule Taehyung had made for him. And hard it was indeed, pushing Jungkook to his limits.

The manager and co-trainer tried many times to get Taehyung to loosen the tight plan he had made for the younger guy. But Taehyung stayed firm, stating that Jungkook had a lot to learn if he wanted to join the others when the competition began.

On one day Jungkook had to save the balls the other team members were throwing him. It was an impossible task, since all of them were throwing the balls at the same time. However, Jungkook tried his best without getting too annoyed. Seokjin jumped at any chance to humiliate him, throwing balls were Jungkook could not reach. Since the trainer team was away in a meeting nobody was there to stop Seokjin. With the time he got bolder, even throwing a ball directly at the raven-haired boy.

“Oh, I’m sorry my hand slipped!”, he exclaimed. His tone making sure that Jungkook knew that this was no accident.

This got Jungkook. Even if he had endured the mockery before, a direct assault he could not accept. He made a few big steps towards Seokjin yelling: “What’s wrong with you and your ultra-broad shoulders, huh?”

“Keep practicing newbie!”

Closing the space between them, Jungkook bumped his chest into Seokjin’s. The air was thick with aggressive energy. One of the other teammates rushed forward trying to hold Seokjin back.

“Let’s don’t fight Hyung, okay?”

Jimin and Yoongi had been sitting at the side of the field watching, since they wanted to spend the time after practice with Jungkook. Now they were sprinting over, giving Jungkook backup in case it came to a fight.

“You did that on purpose didn’t you?!”, Jungkook spat.

“And? So what? Nobody wants you here. You are a liability to the team!”, Seokjin taunted again, enjoying the reaction he got out of the younger boy.

“Shut the fuck up!!! Don’t talk to Jungkook like that!” Jimin yelled throwing himself at Seokjin. But before he could land a punch, Yoongi pulled him back, locking his arms around his wrist.

“Don’t get yourself in trouble again, please.” Yoongi pleaded quietly.

Before any of the boys could react any further Taehyungs deep and intimidating voice cut through the air: “Stop right there!”

He hurried over the filed, Namjoon and Victoria right at his heels. The effect of his presence was immediate. Seokjin took a step back and also Jungkook seemed to relax slightly at the sight of the older male.

“You, come with me. We need to talk.” He stated, looking at Jungkook. His voice was cold, his face motionless even though his eyes showed his disappointment with the raven-haired boy.

“This is none of your business!” Jimin snapped stepping in front of Jungkook protectively.

Taehyung regarded him with a cold glance: “I wasn’t talking to you.”      

“It’s okay Jimin…” Jungkook reassured and followed Taehyung. Jimin however wasn’t going to let his friend walk off alone. So, he followed Jungkook and was himself followed by Yoongi who tried to keep his stepbrother out of trouble.

 Frustrated, Taehyung plunked his notebook down on the table. Before he could say anything Jungkook started to defend himself: “The broad shoulder guy started first!”

“I think, I made clear that the team never should have fights?” Taehyung asked, taking a step towards Jungkook.

“If you can’t control yourself you shouldn’t stay...” he added more to himself.

“No matter what you do. You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Listen…”, Taehyung sighed pushing up his round glasses. “If this is still about you being afraid that I will tell someone about your part-time job, you can be reassured: I have better things to do.”

“That’s not it…” Jungkook began uneasy, looking away.

“I… I’m doing it for my mum.”  

“So, you are a mama’s boy huh?”

At that Jungkook’s head shot up, trying to figure out if Taehyung was making fun of him. However, there was nothing in the older male’s face that indicated mockery. Just a calm and closed expression so typical for the brunette. Still Jungkook felt the need to explain himself: “No! The thing is just, that I don’t want to let her down anymore. She said that she wants to see me playing on the field one day, so I want to do this for her.”

Taehyungs eyes softened considerably at that, however his expression remained indiffered and he crossed his arms.

“Do you really believe someone can play on the field that easily?”

Jungkooks eyes widened, making him look like a startled bunny: “You can…”

“What?” Taehyung interrupted him harshly.

“Train me? You said yourself that you believe I have talent!”, Jungkook                blurted out hopefully.

“Also, there is nothing difficult about volleyball anyway.” He quickly added trying to regain his posture.

Surprised Taehyung raised his eyebrows and took another step closer.

“Nothing difficult you say?”

Jungkook just shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a smirk appearing on Taehyungs face.

“Then better prepare yourself.”, the older male whispered in a voice so low and raspy that it made a shiver run down Jungkooks spine.

With that Taehyung took a big step back and gestured Jungkook to follow him back to the training hall, looking so indifferent again that Jungkook wondered if he just had imagined that switch in Taehyungs behavior.

 Back at the training hall Taehyung personally oversaw Jungkooks training. The rest of the team got trained by Namjoon, who took extra care that Seokjin didn’t have a minute to rest. This was his punishment for picking a fight with Jungkook earlier. Jungkook however didn’t have an easy time either. He had to bounce the ball on his hands over his head again and again while Taehyung gave little corrections such as: “In front of your forehead.” Or “Keep your balance!”.

While watching Jungkook intently, Taehyung noticed how strong the youngers arms were. He wore a withe sleeveless top which was cut low on both sides showing off his well-defined muscles. Jungkook caught the other male staring, causing him to lose sight of the ball that was currently in the air. It came crushing down on his face making him wince.

“I asked you to throw it with your fingers, not your head.”, Taehyung mused.

Jungkook ignored the comment and went after the ball that was rolling away on the field. Coming back, he was rubbing his eyes which stung a bit after the ball had bounced on them.

“Are your eyes okay?”, the brown-haired male asked, concern in his voice. “Let me see.”

With one step Taehyung closed the space in between them, grabbing Jungkooks chin softly. He tilted the youngers head back slightly, coming so close Jungkook could feel Taehyung breath on his cheek. Jungkook felt like he forgot how to breathe. His skin was burning were Taehyungs fingers were. He tried to take a deep breath, in order to calm down his racing heart. As soon as he did so he realized it was a mistake: His nose filled with the smell of Taehyung causing him to swallow hard. What was happening with him? Why was being this close to the other male, make him feel feverishly hot? Before he could think more, Taehyung let got of his chin.

“Looks fine.”, he concluded.

On the other side of the filed Seokjin stood frozen to the spot. He could not believe what he had just seen. The pang of jealously made him sick to his stomach. He had to get rid of Jungkook, no matter what…

[devilgem-archive]

heya!! do you mind if i ask a bit abt ur kyokoswap au?? if u dont wanna thats fine but any info/hcs u have abt it wld be cool bc the au seems rlly neat!! tho again if u dont wanna def no pressure ^^; have a wonderful day!! :D

VIBRATES EXCITEDLY i’ve been waiting 50 years for someone to ask about this!!!!!kyoko magica is one my oldest and most developed aus, i’m more than happy to answer this!

aside from minor adjustments to better fit each character’s arc, the story itself follows canon’s exactly! starts with kyoko having a dream about mami, ends with mami tearing apart kyokami in a new world. ofc a lot of the girls’ original traits remain in tact. kyoko is more like her pre-tds self, kind but ditzy and reckless, mami retains her ladylike grace, homura her overprotectiveness and so on…i always prefer leaving aspects that makes characters…themselves in swap aus if u get me? or maybe that’s just me

KYOKO

swaps with madoka. madokyoko or kyokami, as i like to call her!

a simple christian girl with a plain, ordinary life. kyoko had everything she could ever ask for: a loving family, supportive friends, amazing teachers- just everything! all of that changed when she meets a mysterious blonde girl in a post-apocalyptic setting in a dream…and that very same girl appears in her life the very next day!

while she has a kind heart, she is known to be fiery and unreasonable at times. this temper was usually displayed in heated confrontations with mami

the sakuras used to be rather poor. their financial status improved when the akemis stepped in to assist them, and the two families had forged a close bond ever since

eating is practically her hobby. still hates wasting food and will call out anyone who does so

is a d@ddy’s girl through and through. her father is wise and caring, so she often seeks him out for advice

her wish varies from time to time. in the first timeline she wished to save a cat she named Amy, while others had to do with wishing one or all of her friends back or to be able to defeat walpurgisnacht etc. her final wish was to erase all witches from the past,present and future with her own hands, which caused her to ascend to godhood and leave no trace of her existence in the new world.

kyokami felt lonely when she first realized she had no way to get in touch with her loved ones on earth. it felt even strange to be god herself…she’d always been a girl of faith yknow? she eventually embraced her fate as the composer of the universe, and is perfectly happy in bring salvation to magical girls all over the globe.

ophelia is the witch of abandonment. unlike gretchen, who desires to save the world, ophelia wants to destroy it. kyoko’s faith in humanity died the second ophelia was born…and the all-powerful wudan witch stops at nothing until this cold and cruel world is nothing more than barren wasteland

MAMI

switches with homura! her nickname is homumami, but she’s usually mamicifer to me

i like to call her moemami (or moemi???) in her ‘moe’ phase

was orphaned at the age of 6 when a fatal car crash killed her parents and left her paralyzed from waist down. the hospital had practically been her home since, until she was officially discharged yeaaaaars later

used to wear her hair in drilled pigtails, complete with colorful flower clips that surprisingly correspond to her future friends’ colors. in later timelines she would let her hair down and replace the childish clips with her signature bronze ones.

used to be wheelchair bound before contracting. learned to utilize her healing powers so she could walk again; she used crutches and ribbons to assist her during the early timelines. in later timelines, she fully healed her injured spine the same time she changed her personality

she had a big crush on sayaka in the past…something she’d rather forget. it still flusters her

her wish ofc was to redo her meeting with kyoko sakura

her birthday falls on may 1st. more abt it here

mami has a major sweet tooth.

candeloro is a miserable witch, literally shackled with chains of despair, forever alone in this nightmarish prison- her eternal pity party. although she comes off as aloof at first, her true nature warm and inviting, almost needy even.

she has her own set of ‘clara dolls,’ known as delightful dolls. there’s four of them, each resembling the girls of the quartet but represent the hostess’/mami’s worst aspects: vexation (kyoko), disgust (madoka), cruelty (sayaka) and love (homura)– the youngest doll is the least favorite and looks suspiciously a lot like the good-for-nothing’s dolls (see sayamura for the answer)

HOMURA

switches with sayaka. i lovingly dub her sayamura

was kyoko’s friend from childhood. they attended the same catholic elementary school together before mitakihara middle school.

sported her ‘moe’ appearance pre-contract. after making her wish, she ditched the braids and glasses in order to look ‘cooler’ (@ which kyoko wld say she always looked cool in her eyes

kyoko had been her knight in shining armor for as long as she could remember, and homura really wants to repay that by protecting her as well! she is also hella gay for her bff 

her wish was to have the strength to protect others

her shield is very similar to the one seen in the original madoka manga, though it lacks the hammerspace storage. her firearms are formed via magic

her desire for kyoko, self loathing and jealousy are big big factors to her inevitable demise.

homulilly here is a mix of her nutcracker and mortal world forms. each and every one of the clara dolls still exist along with lotte, luiselotte, liese and lillia.

love is in fact, one of homura’s dolls; because homura and mami cherish the same person deeply, their feelings intertwined and therefore ‘share’ ai. post-rebellion, ai continues to pose as one of the delightful dolls and attempts to revive homura’s memories behind mamicifer’s back

SAYAKA

switches with mami. her nickname is mamisayaka here!

ghost and lonely are big inspos,esp for oktavia

came from a rather well off family, so she never really needed to worry about provisions when she was left on her own. still, all the money in the world could never fill the gaping hole in her lonely heart

knows how to play the violin

her parents and kyousuke and hitomi all perished when a theater collapsed on itself. old wounds reopened when madoka left her to live life her own way

is the ideal big sis! cheerful, sporty and has good grades…For A Sayaka. beneath the facade she’s a depressed slob who doesnt take care of herself as much as she should. its oke as long as she hides it all with a smile :)

oktavia von seckendorff is very highkey based off lewis msa; deadbeat-esque familiars, an abandoned mansion/concert hall labyrinth and a disembodied glass heart, which sits at the very bottom of her lagoon- that kind stuff. those she falls in love with, whether romantically or platonically, are never to leave her- she wont be alone, never again. one condition must be fulfilled in order to kill her successfully: stay. if she’s truly feels content, she will accept death without fail.

MADOKA

swaps with kyoko. kyodoka has a nice ring, doesnt it?

used to be exactly like the sweet and well-meaning canon!madoka in the past, a key difference was she would resort to stealing and breaking other rules to keep herself and her parents and little brother alive.

her mother was a businesswoman who wanted to take a more innovative approach to her work. alas, this would cost junko her entire career and the kaname family became penniless

madoka wished for her mother’s dream project to become reality. just as ur familiar with canon!kyoko’s story, it backfired horribly. disowned from her family, her mother became an alcoholic, dad gets pushed around and baby tatsuya doesnt understand whats going on. days later…press f for the kanames and madoka’s broken heart.

is vile, absolutely vile. can be sweet in one moment then violent and emotionally manipulative in the next like the two-faced bitch she is

rarely uses honorifics to address people anymore, unless she’s playing sweet to get something out of someone. uses ‘-chan/kun/san’ for those she sincerely cares for; she didn’t call homura ‘-chan’ before she began sympathizing with the latter

has a minor problem with booze and tobacco, namely the latter.

she loves loves loves melons!

knowing the value of being frugal, madoka hates wasting things that could be put to better use. she can be kind of a cheapskate in some sense, though she's sane enough to avoid resorting to ridiculous extremities.

kriemhild gretchen is exact the opposite of canon!ophelia. this towering witch continues oh so obsessively reaching for what she cannot; that one faraway glimmer of hope sitting at the endless skies of her labyrinth she calls paradise. shes stubborn as all hell, and will not let herself be destroyed UNLESS one convinces her the world is already a happy place in no need of saving

NAGISA

nagisa is nagisa.

the same charlotte that ate mamisayaka’s head is now a bapy that lives with her post-rebellion

her wish remains the same: to have one last cheesecake with her mother

not much to say here

thats all i can remember from the top of my head! if you want me to elaborate further, pls ask me @mahoutrauma!! 

[rhetoricandlogic]

B&N SFF ORIGINALS

“If at First You Don’t Succeed, Try, Try Again,” by Zen Cho

/November 29, 2018 at 2:30 pm

Cover illustration and design by

Shirley Jackson

• Edited by Joel Cunningham

A hapless imugi is determined to attain the form of a full-fledged dragon and gain entry to the gates of heaven. For a long time, things don’t go well. Then, it meets a girl. The B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog presents an original short story by Campbell Award-nominated author Zen Cho.

You can also download this story for free to read on your Nook app or device.

If at First You Don’t Succeed, Try, Try Again By Zen Cho

The first thousand years.

It was time. Byam was as ready as it would ever be.

As a matter of fact, it had been ready to ascend some 300 years ago. But the laws of heaven cannot be defied. If you drop a stone, it will fall to the ground—it will not fly up to the sky. If you try to become a dragon before your thousandth birthday, you will fall flat on your face, and all the other spirits of the five elements will laugh at you.

These are the laws of heaven.

But Byam had been patient. Now it would be rewarded.

It slithered out of the lake it had occupied for the past 100 years. The western shore had recently been settled by humans, and the banks had become cluttered with humans’ usual mess – houses, cultivated fields, bits of pottery that poked Byam in the side.

But the eastern side was still reserved to beasts and spirits. There was plenty of space for an imugi to take off.

The mountains around the lake said hello to Byam. (It was always safer to be polite to an imugi, since you never knew when it might turn into a dragon.) The sky above them was a pure light blue, dotted with clouds like white jade.

Byam’s heart rose. It launched itself into the air, the sun warm on its back.

I deserve this. All those years studying in dank caves, chanting sutras, striving to understand the Way…

For the first half-millennium or so, Byam could be confident of finding the solitude necessary for study. But more recently, there seemed to be more and more humans everywhere.

Humans weren’t all bad. You couldn’t meditate your way through every doctrinal puzzle, and that was where monks proved useful. Of course, even the most enlightened monk was wont to be alarmed by the sudden appearance of a giant snake wanting to know what they thought of the Sage’s comments on water. Still, you could usually extract some guidance from them, once they stopped screaming.

But spending too much time near humans was risky. If one saw you during your ascension, that could ruin everything. Byam would have moved when the humans settled by the lake, if not for the ample supply of cows and pigs and goats in the area. (Byam had grown tired of seafood.)

It wasn’t always good to have such abundance close to hand, though. Byam had been studying extra hard for the past decade in preparation for its ascension. Just last month, it had been startled from a marathon meditation session by an enormous growl.

Byam had looked around wildly. For a moment it thought it had been set upon, maybe by a wicked imugi—the kind so embittered by failure it pretended not to care about the Way, or the cintamani, or even becoming a dragon. But there was no one around, only a few fish beating a hasty retreat.

Then, another growl. It was coming from Byam’s own stomach. Byam recollected that it hadn’t eaten in about five years.

Some imugi fasted to increase their spiritual powers. But when Byam tried to get back to meditating, it didn’t work. Its stomach kept making weird gurgling noises. All the fish had been scared off, so Byam popped out of the water, looking for a snack.

A herd of cows was grazing by the bank, as though they were waiting for Byam.

It only intended to eat one cow. It wanted to keep sharp for its ascension. Dragons probably didn’t eat much. All the dragons Byam had ever seen were svelte, with perfect scales, shining talons, silky beards.

Unfortunately Byam wasn’t a dragon yet. It was hungry, and the cows smelled so good. Byam had one, and then another, and then a third, telling itself each time that this cow would be the last. Before it knew it, almost the whole herd was gone.

Byam cringed remembering this, but then put the memory away. Today was the day that would change everything. After today, Byam would be transformed. It would have a wish-fulfilling gem of its own—the glorious cintamani, which manifested all desires, cured afflictions, purified souls and water alike.

So high up, the air was thin, and Byam had to work harder to keep afloat. The clouds brushed its face damply. And—Byam’s heart beat faster—wasn’t that winking light ahead the glitter of a jewel?

Byam turned for its last look at the earth as an imugi. The lake shone in the sun. It had been cold, and miserable, and lonely, full of venomous water snakes that bit Byam’s tail. Byam had been dying to get away from it.

But now, it felt a swell of affection. When it returned as a dragon, it would bless the lake. Fish would overflow its banks. The cows and pigs and goats would multiply beyond counting. The crops would spring out of the earth in their multitudes…

A thin screechy noise was coming from the lake. When Byam squinted, it saw a group of little creatures on the western bank. Humans.

One of them was shaking a fist at the sky. “Fuck you, imugi!”

“Oh shit,” said Byam.

“Yeah, I see you! You think you got away with it? Well, you thought wrong!”

Byam lunged upwards, but it was too late. Gravity set its teeth in its tail and tugged.

It wasn’t just one human shouting, it was all of them. A chorus of insults rose on the wind:

“Worm! Legless centipede! Son of a bitch! You look like fermented soybeans and you smell even worse!”

Byam strained every muscle, fighting the pull of the earth. If only it had hawk’s claws to grasp the clouds with, or stag’s antlers to pierce the sky…

But Byam wasn’t a dragon yet.

The last thing it heard as it plunged through the freezing waters of the lake was a human voice shrieking:

“Serves you right for eating our cows!”

The second thousand years

If you wanted to be a dragon, dumb perseverance wasn’t enough. You had to have a strategy.

Humans had proliferated, so Byam retreated to the ocean. It was harder to get texts in the sea, but technically you didn’t need texts to study the Way, since it was inherent in the order of all things. (Anyway, sometimes you could steal scriptures off a turtle on a pilgrimage, or go onshore to ransack a monastery.)

But you had to get out of the water in order to ascend. It was impossible to exclude the possibility of being seen by humans, even in the middle of the ocean. It didn’t seem to bother them that they couldn’t breathe underwater; they still launched themselves onto the waves on rickety assemblages of dismembered trees. It was as if they couldn’t wait to get on to their next lives.

That was fine. If Byam couldn’t depend on the absence of humans, it would use their presence to its advantage.

It was heaven’s will that Byam should have failed the last time; if heaven wasn’t ready to accept Byam, nothing could change that, no matter how diligently it studied or how much it longed to ascend.

As in all things, however, when it came to ascending, how you were seen mattered just as much as what you did. It hadn’t helped back then that the lake humans had named Byam for what it was: no dragon, but an imugi, a degraded being no better than the crawling beasts of the earth.

But if, as Byam flashed across the sky, a witness saw a dragon… that was another matter. Heaven wasn’t immune to the pressures of public perception. It would have to recognise Byam then.

The spirits of the wind and water were too hard to bluff; fish were too self-absorbed; and there was no hope of hoodwinking the sea dragons. But humans had bad eyesight, and a tendency to see things that weren’t there. Their capacity for self-deception was Byam’s best bet.

It chose a good point in the sky, high enough that it would have enough cloud matter to work with, but not so high that the humans wouldn’t be able to see it. Then it got to work.

It labored at night, using its head to push together masses of cloud and its tail to work the fine detail. Byam didn’t just want the design to look like a dragon. Byam wanted it to be beautiful—as beautiful as the dragon Byam was going to be.

Making the sculpture was harder than Byam expected. Cloud was an intransigent medium. Wisps kept drifting off when Byam wasn’t looking. It couldn’t get the horns straight, and the whiskers were wonky.

Sometimes Byam felt like giving up. How could it make a dragon when it didn’t even know how to be one?

To conquer self-doubt, it chanted the aphorisms of the wise:

Nobody becomes a dragon overnight.

Real dragons keep going.

A dragon is only an imugi that didn’t give up.

It took 100 years longer than Byam had anticipated before the cloud was finished.

It looked like a dragon, caught as it sped across the sky to its rightful place in the heavens. In moonlight it shone like mother of pearl. Under the sun it would glitter with all the colors of the rainbow.

As Byam put its final touches on the cloud, it felt both pride and a sense of anti-climax. Even loss. Soon Byam would ascend—and then what would happen to its creation? It would dissipate, or dissolve into rain, like any other cloud.

Byam managed to find a monk who knew about shipping routes and was willing to dish in exchange for not being eaten. And then it was ready. As dawn unfolded across the sky on an auspicious day, Byam took its position behind its dragon-cloud.

All it needed was a single human to look up and exclaim at what they saw. A fleet of merchant vessels was due to come this way. Among all those humans, there had to be one sailor with his eyes on the sky—a witness open to wonder, prepared to see a dragon rising to glory.

§

“Hey, captain,” said the lookout. “You see that?”

“What is it? A sail?”

“No.” The lookout squinted at the sky. “That cloud up there, look. The one with all the colors.”

“Oh wow!” said the captain. “Good spot! That’s something special, for sure. It’s a good omen!”

He clapped the lookout on the back, turning to the rest of the crew. “Great news, men! Heaven smiles upon us. Today is our day!”

Everyone was busy with preparations, but a dutiful cheer rose from the ship.

The lookout was still staring upwards.

“It’s an interesting shape,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t you think it looks like a… ”

“Like what?” said the captain.

“Like, um… ” The look-out frowned, snapping his fingers. “What do you call them? Forget my own head next! It looks like a – it’s on the tip of my tongue. I’ve been at sea for too long. Like a, you know – ”

§

Byam couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dragon!” it wailed in agony.

An imugi has enormous lungs. Byam’s voice rolled across the sky like thunder, its breath scattering the clouds—and blowing its creation to shreds.

“Horse!” said the lookout triumphantly. “It looks like a horse!”

“No no no,” said Byam. It scrambled to reassemble its sculpture, but the cloud matter was already melting away upon the winds.

“Thunder from a clear sky!” said the captain. “Is that a good sign or a bad sign?”

The lookout frowned. “You’re too superstitious, captain – hey!” He perked up, snatching up a telescope. “Captain, there they are!”

Byam had been so focused on the first ship that it hadn’t seen the merchant fleet coming. Then it was too busy trying to salvage its dragon-cloud to pay attention to what was going on below.

It was distantly aware of fighting between the ships, of arrows flying, of the screams of sailors as they were struck down. But it was preoccupied by the enormity of what had happened to it—the loss of hundreds of years of steady, hopeful work.

It wasn’t too late. Byam could fix the cloud. Tomorrow it would try again—

“Ah,” said the pirate captain, looking up from the business of slaughter. “An imugi! It’s good luck after all. One last push, men! They can’t hold out for long!”

It would have been easier if Byam could tell itself the humans had sabotaged it out of spite. But it knew they hadn’t. As Byam tumbled out of the sky, it was the impartiality of their judgment that stung the most.

The third thousand years

Dragons enjoyed sharing advice about how they’d gotten where they were. They said it helped to visualise the success you desired.

“Envision yourself with those horns, those whiskers, three claws and a thumb, basking in the glow of your own cintamani,” urged the Dragon King of the East Sea in his popular memoir Sixty Thousand Records of a Floating Life. “Close your eyes. You are the master of the elements! A twitch of your whisker and the skies open. At your command, blessings – or vengeance – pour forth upon all creatures under heaven! Just imagine!”

When Byam was low at heart, it imagined.

It got fed up of the sea: turtles kept chasing it around, and whale song disrupted its sleep. It moved inland, and found a quiet cave where it could study the Way undisturbed. The cave didn’t smell great, but it meant Byam never had to go far for food, so long as it didn’t mind bat. (Byam came to mind bat.) Byam focused on the future.

This time, there would be no messing around with dragon-clouds. Byam had learned from its mistakes. There was no tricking heaven. This time it would present itself at the gates with its record of honest toil, and hope to be deemed worthy of admission.

It should have been nervous, but in fact it was calm as it prepared for what it hoped would be its final attempt. Certainty glowed in its stomach like a swallowed ember.

It had been a long time since Byam had left its cave, which it had chosen because it was up among the mountains, far from any human settlement. Still, Byam intended to minimise any chance of disaster. It was going to shoot straight for the skies, making sure it was exposed to the judgment of the world for as brief a time as possible.

But the brightness outside took it aback. Its eyes weren’t used to the sun’s glare anymore. When Byam raised its head, it got caught in a sort of horrible basket, full of whispering voices. A storm of ticklish green scraps whirled around it.

It reared back, hissing, before it recognised what had attacked it. Byam had forgotten about trees.

It leapt into the air, shaken. To have forgotten trees… Byam had not realised it had been so long.

Its unease faded as it rose ever higher. The crisp airs of heaven blew away disquiet. Ahead, the clouds glowed as though they reflected the light of the Way.

§

Leslie almost missed it.

She never usually did this kind of thing. She was indoorsy the way some people were outdoorsy, as attached to her sofa as others were to endorphins and bragging about their marathon times. She’d never thought of herself as someone who hiked.

But she hadn’t thought of herself as someone who’d fail her PhD, or get dumped by her boyfriend for her best friend. The past year had blown the bottom out of her ideas about herself.

She paused to drink some water and heave for breath. The view was spectacular. It seemed meaningless.

She was higher up than she’d thought. What if she took the wrong step? Would it hurt much to fall? Everyone would think it was an accident…

She shook herself, horrified. She wouldn’t do anything stupid, Leslie told herself. To distract herself, she took out her phone, but that proved a bad idea: this was the point at which she would have texted Jung-wook before.

She could take a selfie. That’s what people did when they went hiking, right? Posted proof they’d done it. She raised her phone, switching the camera to front-facing mode.

She saw a flash in the corner of the screen. It was sunlight glinting off scales.

Leslie’s mouth fell open. It wasn’t—it couldn’t be. She hadn’t even known they were found in America.

The camera went off. Leslie whirled around, but the sky was empty. It was nowhere to be seen.

But someone up there was looking out for Leslie after all, because when she looked back at her phone, she saw that she’d caught it. It was there. It had happened. There was Leslie, looking dopey with her red face and her hair a mess and her mouth half-open—and in the background, arced across the sky like a rainbow, was her miracle. Her own personal sign from heaven that things were going to be OK.

§

leshangry Nature is amazing! #imugi #이무기 #sighting #blessed #여행스타그램 #자연 #등산 #nature #hiking #wanderlust #gooutside #snakesofinstagram

The turning of the worm

“Dr. Han?” said the novice. “Yeah, her office is just through there.”

Sure enough, the name was inscribed on the door in the new script the humans used now: Dr Leslie Han. Byam’s nemesis.

Its most recent nemesis. If it had been only one offence, Byam wouldn’t even be here. It was the whole of Byam’s long miserable history with humans that had brought it to this point.

It made itself invisible and passed through the door.

The monk was sitting at a desk, frowning over a text. Byam was not good at distinguishing one human from another, but this particular human’s face was branded in its memory.

It felt a surge of relief.

Even with the supernatural powers accumulated in the course of three millennia of studying the Way, it had taken Byam a while to figure out how to shapeshift. The legs had been the most difficult part. Byam kept giving itself tiger feet, the kind dragons had.

It could have concealed the feet under its skirts, since no celestial fairy ever appeared in anything less than three layers of silk. But Byam wouldn’t have it. It was pathetic, this harking back to its stupid dreams. It had worked at the spell until the feet came right. If Byam wasn’t becoming a dragon, it would not lower itself to imitation. No part of it would bear any of the nine resemblances.

But there were consolations available to imugi who reconciled themselves to their fate. Like revenge.

The human was perhaps a little older than when Byam had last seen her. But she was still alive—alive enough to suffer when Byam devoured her.

Byam let its invisibility fall away. It spread its hands, the better to show off its magnificent sleeves.

It was the human’s job that had given Byam the idea. Leslie Han was an academic, which appeared to be a type of monk. Monks were the most relatable kind of human, for like imugi, they desired one thing most in life: to ascend to a higher plane of existence.

“Leslie,” crooned Byam in the dulcet tones of a celestial fairy. “How would you like to go to heaven?”

The monk screamed and fell out of her chair.

When nothing else happened, Byam floated over to the desk, peering down at the monk.

“What are you doing down there?” began Byam, but then the text the monk had been studying caught its eye.

“Oh my God, you’re – ” The monk rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t think celestial fairies descended anymore! Did you – were you offering to take me to heaven?”

Byam wasn’t listening. The monk had to repeat herself before it looked up from the book.

“This is a text on the Way,” said Byam. It looked around the monk’s office. There were rows and rows of books. Byam said slowly, “These are all about the Way.”

The monk looked puzzled. “No, they’re about astrophysics. I’m a researcher. I study the evolution of galaxies.”

Maybe Byam had been dumb enough to believe it might some day become a dragon, but it knew an exegesis of the Way when it saw one. There were hundreds of such books here—more commentaries than Byam had seen in one place in its entire lifetime.

It wasn’t going to repeat its mistakes. Ascension, transcendence, turning into a dragon—that wasn’t happening for Byam. Heaven had made that clear.

But you couldn’t study something for 3,000 years without becoming interested in it for its own sake.

“Tell me about your research,” said Byam.

“What you said just now,” said the monk. “Did you not – ”

Byam showed its teeth.

“My research!” said the monk. “Let me tell you about it.”

Byam had planned to eat the monk when she was done. But it turned out the evolution of galaxies was an extremely complicated matter. The monk had not explained even half of what Byam wanted to know by the time the moon rose.

The monk took out a glowing box and looked at it. “It’s so late!”

“Why did you stop?” said Byam.

“I need to sleep,” said the monk. She bent over the desk. Byam wondered if this was a good moment to eat her, but then the monk turned and held out a sheaf of paper.

“What is this?”

“Extra reading,” said the monk. “You can come back tomorrow if you’ve got questions. My office hours are 3 to 4 pm on Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

She paused, her eyes full of wonder. She was looking at Byam as though it was special.

“But you can come any time,” said the monk.

§

Byam did the reading. It went back again the next day. And the next.

It was easier to make sense of the texts with the monk’s help. Byam had never had anyone to talk to about the Way before. Its past visits with monks didn’t count—Leslie screamed much less than the others. She answered Byam’s questions as though she enjoyed them, whereas the others had always made it clear they couldn’t wait for Byam to leave.

“I like teaching,” she said, when Byam remarked upon this. “I’m surprised I’ve got anything to teach you, though. I’d’ve thought you’d know all this stuff already.”

“No,” said Byam. It looked down at the diagram Leslie was explaining for the third time. Byam still didn’t get it. But if there was one thing Byam was good at, it was trying again and again.

Well. That had been its greatest strength. Now, who knew?

“It’s OK,” said Leslie. “You know things I don’t.”

“Hm.” Byam wasn’t so sure.

Leslie touched its shoulder.

“It’s impressive,” she said. “That you’re so open to learning new things. If I were a celestial fairy, there’s no way I’d work so hard. I’d just lie around getting drunk and eating peaches all day.”

“You have a skewed image of the life of a celestial fairy,” said Byam.

But it did feel better. No one had ever called it hardworking before. It was a new experience, feeling validated. Byam found it liked it.

Studying with Leslie involved many new experiences. Leslie was a great proponent of what she called fresh air. She dragged Byam out of the office regularly so they could inhale as much of it as possible.

“But there’s air inside,” objected Byam.

“It’s not the same,” said Leslie. “Don’t you get a little stir-crazy when you haven’t seen the sun in a while?”

Byam remembered the shock of emerging from its cave for the first time in 800 years.

“Yes,” it admitted.

Leslie was particularly fond of hiking, which was like walking, only you did it up a hill. Byam enjoyed this. In the past 3,000 years it had seen more of the insides of mountains than their outsides, and it turned out the outsides were attractive at human eye-level.

The mountains were still polite to Byam, as though there were still a chance it might ever become a dragon. This hurt, but Byam squashed the feeling down. It had made its decision.

It was on one of their hikes that Leslie brought up the first time they met. They weren’t far off the peak when she stopped to look into the distance.

Byam hadn’t realised at first—things looked so different from human height—but it recognised the place before she spoke. Leslie was staring at the very mountain that had been Byam’s home for 800 years.

“It’s funny,” she said. “The last time I was here…”

Byam braced itself. I saw an imugi trying to ascend, she was going to say. It faceplanted on the side of a mountain, it was hilarious!

“I was standing here wishing I was dead,” said Leslie.

“What?”

“Not seriously,” said Leslie hastily. “I mean, I wouldn’t have done anything. I just wanted it to stop.”

“What did you want to stop?”

“Everything,” said Leslie. “I don’t know. I was young. I was having a hard time. It all felt too much to cope with.”

Humans lived for such a short time anyway, it had never occurred to Byam that they might want to hasten the end. “You don’t still…”

“Oh no. It was a while ago.” Leslie was still looking at Byam’s mountain. She smiled. “You know, I got a sign while I was up here.”

“A sign,” echoed Byam.

“It probably sounds stupid,” said Leslie. “But I saw an imugi. It made me think there might be hope. I started going to therapy. Finished my PhD. Things got better.”

“Good,” said Byam. It met Leslie’s eyes. She had never stopped looking at Byam as though it was special.

Leslie pressed her lips to Byam’s mouth.

Byam stayed still. It wasn’t sure what to do.

“Sorry. I’m sorry!” Leslie stepped back, looking panicked. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought maybe – of course we’re both women, but I thought maybe that didn’t matter to you guys. Or maybe you were even into – I was imagining things. This is so embarrassing. Oh God.”

Byam had questions. It picked just one to start with. “What were you doing? With the mouths, I mean.”

Leslie took a deep breath and blew it out. “Oh boy.” But the explanation proved to be straightforward.

“Oh, it was a mating overture,” said Byam.

“I – yeah, I guess you could put it that way,” said Leslie. “Listen, I’m sorry I even… I don’t want to have ruined everything. I care about you a lot, as a friend. Can we move on?”

“Yes,” Byam agreed. “Let’s try again.”

“Phew, I’m really glad you’re not – what?”

“I didn’t know what you were doing earlier,” explained Byam. “You should’ve said. But I’ll be better now I understand it.”

Leslie stared. Byam started to feel nervous.

“Do you not want to kiss?” it said.

“No,” said Leslie. “I mean, yes?”

She reached out tentatively. Byam squeezed her hand. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because Leslie smiled.

“OK,” she said.

§

After a while Byam moved into Leslie’s apartment. It had been spending the nights off the coast, but the waters by the city smelled of diesel and the noise from the ships made its sleep fitful. Leslie’s bed was a lot more comfortable than the watery deeps.

Living with her meant Byam had to be in celestial fairy form all the time, but it was used to it by now. At Leslie’s request, it turned down the heavenly glow.

“You don’t mind?” said Leslie. “Humans aren’t used to the halo.”

“Nah,” said Byam. “It’s not like I had the glow before.” It froze. “I mean… in heaven, everyone is illuminated, so you stop… noticing it?”

Fortunately, Leslie wasn’t listening. She had opened an envelope and was staring at the letter in dismay.

“He’s raising the rent again! Oh, you’re fucking kidding me.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I need to get out of this city.”

“What is rent?” said Byam.

Which was how Byam ended up getting a job. Leslie tried to discourage it at first. Even once Byam wore her down and she admitted it would be helpful if Byam also paid “rent,” she seemed to think it was a problem that Byam was undocumented.

That was an explanation that took an extra long time. The magic to invent the necessary records was simple in comparison.

“‘Byam’,” said Leslie, studying its brand-new driver’s licence. “That’s an interesting choice.”

“It’s my name,” said Byam absently. It was busy magicking up an immunization history.

“That’s your name?” said Leslie. She touched the driver’s licence with reverent fingers. “Byam.”

She seemed unaccountably pleased. After a moment she said, “You never told me your name before.”

���Oh,” said Byam. Leslie was blushing. “You could have asked!”

Leslie shrugged. “I didn’t want to force it. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

“It’s not because – I would’ve told you,” said Byam. “I just didn’t think of it. It’s not my real name.”

The light in Leslie’s face dimmed. “It’s not?”

“I mean, it’s the name I have,” said Byam. It should never have set off down this path. How was it going to explain about dragon-names—the noble, elegant styles, full of meaning and wit, conferred on dragons upon their ascension? Leslie didn’t even know Byam was an imugi. She thought Byam had already been admitted to the gates of heaven.

“I’m only a low-level attendant,” it said finally. “When I get promoted, I’ll be given a real name. One with a good meaning. Like ‘Establish Virtue,’ or ‘Jade Peak,’ or ‘Sunlit Cloud.’”

“Oh,” said Leslie. “I didn’t know you were working towards a promotion.” She hesitated. “When do you think you’ll get promoted?”

“In 10,000 years’ time,” said Byam. “Maybe.”

This was a personal joke. Leslie wasn’t meant to get it, and she did not. She only gave Byam a thoughtful look. She dropped a kiss on its forehead, just above its left eyebrow.

“I like ‘Byam,’” she said. “It suits you.”

§

They moved out of the city to the outskirts, where the rent was cheaper and they could have more space. Leslie got a cat, which avoided Byam but eventually stopped hissing at its approach. Leslie went running on the beach in the mornings while Byam swam.

She introduced Byam to those of her family who didn’t object to the fact that Byam appeared to be a woman. These did not include Leslie’s parents, but there was a sister named Jean, and a niece, Eun-hye, whom Byam taught physics.

Tutoring young humans in physics was Byam’s first job, but sometimes it forgot itself and taught students the Way, which was not helpful for exams. After a narrowly averted disaster with the bathroom in their new apartment, Byam took a plumbing course.

It turned out Byam was good at working with pipes—better, perhaps, than it had ever been at understanding the Way.

At night, Byam still dreamt of the past. Or rather, it dreamt of the future—the future as Byam had envisioned it, once upon a time. They were impossible, ecstatic dreams—dreams of scything through the clouds, raindrops clinging to its beard; dreams of chasing the cintamani through the sea, its whiskers floating on a warm current.

When Byam woke up, its face wet with salt-water, Leslie was always there.

§

Byam got home one night and knew something was wrong. It could tell from the shape of Leslie’s back. When she realised it was there, she raised her head, wiping her face and trying to smile.

“What happened?” said Byam.

“I’ve been – ” The words got stuck. Leslie cleared her throat. “I didn’t get tenure.”

Byam had learned enough about Leslie’s job by now to understand what this meant. Not getting tenure was worse than falling when you were almost at the gates of heaven. It sat down, appalled.

“Would you like me to eat the committee for you?” it suggested.

Leslie laughed. “No.” The syllable came out on a sob. She rubbed her eyes. “Thanks, baby, but that wouldn’t help.”

“What would help?”

“Nothing,” said Leslie. Then, in a wobbly voice, “A hug.”

Byam put its arms around Leslie, but it seemed poor comfort for the ruin of all her hopes. It felt Leslie underestimated the consolation she was likely to derive from the wholesale destruction of her enemies. But this was not the time to argue.

Byam remembered the roaring in its ears as it fell, the shock of meeting the ground.

“Sometimes,” it said, “you try really hard and it’s not enough. You put in all you’ve got and you still never get where you thought you were meant to be. But at least you tried. Some people never try. They resign themselves to bamboozling monks and devouring maidens for all eternity.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad life,” said Leslie, with another of those ragged laughs. But she kissed Byam’s shoulder, to show that she didn’t think the life of a wicked imugi had any real appeal.

After Leslie cried some more, she said, “Is it worth it? The trying, I mean.”

Byam had to be honest. The only thing that could have made falling worse was if someone had tried to convince Byam it hadn’t sucked.

“I don’t know,” it said.

It could see the night sky through the windows. Usually the lights and pollution of the city blanked out the sky, but tonight there was a single star shining, like the cintamani did sometimes in Byam’s dreams.

“Maybe,” said Byam.

Leslie said, “Why aren’t you trying to become a dragon?”

Byam froze. “What?”

Leslie wriggled out of its arms and turned to face it. “Tell me you’re still working towards it and I’ll shut up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Byam, terrified. “I’m a celestial fairy. What do dragons have to do with anything? They are far too noble and important to have anything to say to a lowly spirit like me –”

“Byam, I know you’re not a celestial fairy.”

“No, I am, I – ” But Byam swallowed its denials at the look on Leslie’s face. “What gave it away?”

“I don’t know much about celestial fairies,” said Leslie. “But I’m pretty sure they don’t talk about eating senior professors.”

Byam gave her a look of reproach. “I was trying to be helpful!”

“It wasn’t just that…”

“Have you told Jean and Eun-hye?” Byam bethought itself of the other creature that was important in their lives. “Did you tell the cat? Is that why it doesn’t like me?”

“I’ve told you, I can’t actually talk to the cat,” said Leslie. (Which was a blatant lie, because she did it all the time, though it was true they had strange conversations, generally at cross-purposes.) “I haven’t told anyone. But I couldn’t live with you for years and not know, Byam. I’m not completely stupid. I was hoping you’d eventually be comfortable enough to tell me yourself.”

Byam’s palms were damp. “Tell you what? ‘Oh yeah, Les, I should’ve mentioned, I’m not an exquisite fairy descended from heaven like you always thought. Actually I’m one of the eternal losers of the unseen world. Hope that’s OK!'”

“Hey, forgive me for trying to be sensitive!” snapped Leslie. “I don’t care what you are, Byam. I know who you are. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Who I am?” said Byam. It was like a rock had lodged inside its throat. It was hard to speak past it. “An imugi, you mean. An earthworm with a dream.”

“An imugi changed my life,” said Leslie. “Don’t talk them down.”

Though it was incredible, it seemed it was true she didn’t mind, and wasn’t about to dump Byam for being the embodiment of pathetic failure.

“I just wish you’d trusted me,” she said.

Her eyes were tender, and worried, and red. They reminded Byam that it was Leslie who had just come crashing down to earth.

Byam clasped its hands to keep them from shaking. It took a deep breath. “I’m not a very good girlfriend.”

Leslie understood what it was trying to say. She put her arm around Byam.

“Sometimes,” she said. “Mostly you do OK.”

“I wasn’t good at being an imugi either,” said Byam. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t like the name. This, I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why not?”

“If you’re an imugi, everyone knows you’ve failed,” explained Byam. “It’s like wearing a sign all the time saying ‘I’ve been denied tenure.'”

This proved a bad comparison to make. Leslie winced.

“Sorry,” said Byam. It paused. “It hurts. Knowing it wasn’t enough, even when you gave it the best of yourself. But you get over it.”

You get used to being a failure. It was too early to tell her that. Maybe Leslie would be lucky. Maybe she’d never have the chance to get used to it.

Leslie looked like she was thinking of saying something, but she changed her mind. She squeezed Byam’s knee.

“I’m thinking of going into industry,” said Leslie.

Byam had no idea what she meant.

“You would be great at that,” it said, meaning it.

§

It turned out Byam was right: Leslie was great at working in industry, and her success meant they could move into a bigger place, near Leslie’s sister. This worked out well—after Jean’s divorce, they helped out with Eun-hye, who perplexed Byam by declaring it her favourite aunt.

A mere 10 years after Leslie had been denied tenure, she was saying it had been a blessing in disguise: “I would never have known there was a world outside academia.”

They had stopped talking about dragons by then. Leslie had gotten over her fixation with them.

“I’m fixated?” she’d said. “You’re the one who worked for thousands of years – ”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Byam had said. When this didn’t work, it simply started vanishing whenever Leslie brought it up. Eventually, she stopped bringing it up.

Over time, she seemed to forget what Byam really was. Even Byam started to forget. When Leslie found her first white hair, Byam grew a few too, to make her feel better. Wrinkles were more challenging; it could never seem to get quite the right number. (“You look like a sage,” said Leslie, when she was done laughing at its first attempt. “I’m only 48!”)

Byam’s former life receded into insignificance, the thwarted yearning of its earlier days nearly effaced.

The years went by quickly.

§

Leslie didn’t talk much these days. It tired her, as everything tired her. She spent most of her time asleep, the rest looking out of the window. She didn’t often tell Byam what was going through her head.

So it was a surprise when she said, without precursor:

“Why does the yeouiju matter so much?”

It took a moment before Byam understood what she was talking about. It hadn’t thought of the cintamani in years. But then the surge of bitterness and longing was as fresh as ever, even in the midst of its grief.

“It’s in the name, isn’t it?” said Byam. “’The jewel that grants all wishes.’”

“Do you have a lot of wishes that need granting?”

Byam could think of some, but to tell Leslie about them would only distress her. It wasn’t like Leslie wanted to die.

Before, Byam had always thought that humans must be used to dying, since they did it all the time. But now it had got to know them better, it saw they had no idea how to deal with it.

This was unfortunate, because Byam didn’t know either.

“I guess I just always imagined I’d have one some day,” it said. It tried to remember what it had felt like before it had given up on becoming a dragon and acquiring its own cintamani. “It was like… if I didn’t have that hope, life would have no meaning.”

Leslie nodded. She was still gazing out of the window. “You should try again.”

“Let’s not worry about it now – ”

“You have thousands of years,” said Leslie. “You shouldn’t just give up.” She looked Byam in the eye. “Don’t you still want to be a dragon?”

Byam would have liked to say no. It was unfair of Leslie to awaken all these dormant feelings in it at a time when it already had too many feelings to contend with.

“Eun-hye should be here soon,” it said. Leslie’s niece was almost the same age Leslie had been when Byam had first come to her office with murder in its heart. Eun-hye had a child herself now, which still seemed implausible to Byam. “She’s bringing Sam, won’t that be nice?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m an old person,” said Leslie, annoyed. “I’m dying, not decrepit. Come on, Byam. I thought repression was a human thing.”

“That shows how much you know,” said Byam. “When you’ve been a failure for 3,000 years, you get good at repressing things!”

“I’m just saying –”

“I don’t know why you’re – ” Byam scrubbed its face. “Am I not good enough as I am?”

“Of course you’re good enough,” said Leslie. “If you’re happy, then that’s fine. But you should know you can be anything you want to be. That’s all. I don’t want you to let fear hold you back.”

Byam was silent.

Leslie said, “I only want to know you’ll be OK after I’m dead.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” said Byam.

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I know.”

Byam laid its head on the bed. If it closed its eyes it could almost pretend they were home, with the cat snoozing on Leslie’s feet.

After a while it said, without opening its eyes, “What’s your next form going to be?”

“I don’t know,” said Leslie. “We don’t get told in advance.” She grinned. “Maybe I’ll be an imugi.”

“Don’t say such things,” said Byam, aghast. “You haven’t been that bad!”

This made Leslie laugh, which made her cough, so Byam called the nurse, and then Eun-hye came with her little boy, so there was no more talk of dragons, or cintamani, or reversing a pragmatic surrender to the inevitable.

That night the old dreams started again—the ones where Byam was a dragon. But they were a relief compared to the dreams it had been having lately.

It didn’t mention them to Leslie. She would only say, “I told you so.”

§

For a long moment after Byam woke, it was confused. The cintamani still hung in the air before it. Then it blinked and the orb revealed itself to be a lamp by the hospital bed.

Leslie was awake, her eyes on Byam. “Hey.”

Byam wiped the drool from its cheek, sitting up. “Do you want anything? Water, or – ”

“No,” said Leslie. Her voice was thin, a mere thread of sound. “I was just watching you sleep like a creeper.”

But then she paused. “There is something, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to.”

“If there’s anything I can give you,” said Byam, “you’ll get it.”

Still Leslie hesitated.

“Could I see you?” she said finally. “In your true form, I mean.”

There was a brief silence. Leslie said, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, it’s fine,” said Byam. “Are you sure you won’t be scared?”

Leslie nodded. “It’ll still be you.”

Byam looked around the room. There wasn’t enough space for its real form, so it would have to make more space. But that was a simple magic.

It hadn’t expected the sense of relief as it expanded into itself. It was as though for several decades it had been wearing shoes a size too small and had finally been allowed to take them off.

Leslie’s eyes were wide.

“Are you OK?” said Byam.

“Yes,” said Leslie, but she raised her hands to her face. Byam panicked, but before it could transform again, Leslie rubbed her eyes and said, “Don’t change back! I haven’t looked properly yet.”

Her eyes were wet. She studied Byam as though she was trying to imprint the sight onto her memory.

“I’d look better with legs,” said Byam shyly. “And antlers. And a bumpy forehead…”

“You’re beautiful.” Leslie touched Byam’s side. Her hand was warm. “It was you, wasn’t it? That day in the mountains.”

Byam shrank. It said, its heart in its mouth, “You knew?”

“I’ve known for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Guess I was waiting for you to tell me.” Leslie gave Byam a half-smile. “You know me, I hate confrontation. Anything to avoid a fight.”

“I should have told you,” said Byam. “I wanted to, I just…” It had never been able to work out how to tell Leslie its original plan had been to devour her in an act of misdirected revenge.

Dumb, dumb, dumb. Byam could only blame itself for its failures.

“You should’ve told me.” But Leslie didn’t seem mad. Maybe she just didn’t have the energy for it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” said Byam. Leslie held out her hand and it slid closer, letting her run her hand over its scales. “How did you figure it out?”

Leslie shrugged. “It made sense. You were always there when I needed you.” She patted Byam gently. “Can I ask for one more thing?”

“Anything,” said Byam. It felt soft and sad, bursting at the seams with melancholy love.

“Promise me you won’t give up,” said Leslie. “Promise me you’ll keep trying.”

It was like going in for a kiss and getting slapped in the face. Byam went stiff, staring at Leslie in outrage. “That’s fighting dirty!”

“You said anything.”

Byam ducked its head, but it couldn’t see any way out.

“I couldn’t take it,” it said miserably, “not now, not after… I’m not brave enough to fail again.”

Leslie’s eyes were pitiless.

“I know you are,” she said.

One last time

They scattered Leslie’s ashes on the mountain where she had first seen Byam, which would have felt narcissistic if it hadn’t been Leslie’s own idea. When they were done, Byam said it wanted a moment alone.

No, it was all right, Eun-hye should stay with her mother. Byam was just going round the corner. It wanted to look at the landscape Leslie had loved.

Alone, it took off its clothes, folding them neatly and putting them on a stone. It shrugged off the constriction of the spell that had bound it for years.

It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after coming up from the subway. For the first time Byam felt a rush of affection for its incomplete self—legless, hornless, orbless as it was. It had done the best it could.

Ascending was familiar, yet strange. Before, Byam had always striven to break free from the bonds of earth.

This time it was different. Byam seemed to be bringing the earth with it as it rose to meet the sky. Its grief did not fall away—it was closer than ever, a cheek laid against Byam’s own.

Everything was much simpler than Byam had thought. Heaven and earth were not so far apart, after all –

“Look, Sam,” said Eun-hye. She held her son up, pointing. “There’s an imugi going to heaven! Wow!”

The child’s small frowning face turned to the sky. Gravity dug its claws into Byam.

It was fruitless to resist. Still, Byam thrashed wildly, hurling itself upwards. Fighting the battle of its life, as though it had any chance of winning.

Leslie had believed in Byam. It had promised to be brave.

“Wow, it’s so pretty!” continued Eun-hye’s voice, much loved and incredibly unwelcome. “Your imo halmeoni loved imugi.”

Sam was young, but he already had very definite opinions.

“No,” he said distinctly.

“It’s good luck to see an imugi,” said Eun-hye. “Look, the imugi’s dancing!”

“No!” said Sam, in the weary tone he adopted when adults were being especially dense. “Not imugi. It’s a dragon.”

For the first time in Byam’s inglorious career, gravity surrendered. The resistance vanished abruptly. Byam bounced into the clouds like an arrow loosed from the bow.

“No, ippeuni,” Eun-hye was explaining. “Dragons are different. Dragons have horns like a cow, and legs and claws, and long beards like Santa…”

“Got horns,” said Sam.

Byam barely noticed the antlers, or the whiskers unfurling from its face, or the legs popping out along its body, each foot adorned with four gold-tipped claws.

Because there it was—the cintamani of its dreams, a matchless pearl falling through five-coloured clouds. It was like meeting a beloved friend in a crowd of strangers.

Byam rushed toward it, its legs (it had legs!) extended to catch the orb. It still half-believed it was going to miss, and that the whole thing would come crashing down around its ears, a ridiculous daydream after all.

But the cintamani dropped right in its paw. It was lit from the inside, slightly warm to the touch. It was perfect.

Byam only realised it was shedding tears when the clouds started weeping along. It must have looked strange from the ground, the storm descending suddenly out of a clear blue sky.

Eun-hye shrieked, covering Sam’s head. “We’ve got to find Byam imo!”

“It’s getting heavy,” said Jean. “The baby’ll get wet. Get Nathan to bring the car round. I’ll look for her.”

“No, I will.”

“I’ve got an umbrella!”

They were still fighting, far beneath Byam, as the palaces of heaven rose before it. Ranks of celestial fairies stood by the gate, waiting to welcome it.

They had waited thousands of years. They could wait a little longer. Byam turned back, thinking to stop the storm. Anything to avoid a fight.

But the rain was thinning already. Through the clouds, Byam could see the child leaning out of his mother’s arms, thwarting her attempts to keep him dry. He held his hands out to the rain, laughing.

With thanks to Miri Kim, Hana Lee, Perrin Lu, Kara Lee and Rachel Monte.

If at First You Don't Succeed, Try, Try Again

[professor-hiddles]

Unspoken [bucky barnes]

pairing: bucky x reader (modern au??? but bucky still has the arm)

words: 2.6k 

warnings: implied smut, some violence? also maybe just a little slut shaming (not from any of our faves i promise) uhhh some angst & swearing too

a/n: this might be kinda sucky but whatevs i just wanted to post something lol. also theres a vine reference in there for some comic relief :) enjoyyyyyyy

The two of you knew what you were getting into. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, but purely sexual. Something to release the tension. There were five rules you had set in place, rules that kept both of you safe. 

Rule 1

No physical contact outside of your bedroom sessions. Since you shared a friend group, it was common to be seen out in public together, but this was your own rule. No touching. You could talk, make jokes, and even flirt, but no skin to skin contact.

Rule 2

Don’t stay away from potential relationships at the expense of the other. If an opportunity for a relationship presented itself, don’t stay away to protect feelings, and don’t try to keep the other person away from someone with potential.  

Rule 3

Keep emotions or pillow talk to a minimum. You’re not building an intimate relationship, but rather just having fun and enjoying one another physically. Only engage in emotional conversations if absolutely necessary. This was a rule broken rather often, as the both of you were usually under intense stress. 

Rule 4

No dates. No meeting for coffee, no going out to dinner. If you were gonna hang out, it would be with your friends. 

***

Something changed around two months into your agreement. Bucky was getting more sensual with you, being incredibly gentle and making sure that you were completely comfortable before he did anything. This was unusual, as he was typically a bit rough and fast. It was certainly different, but you weren’t complaining. 

“Buck, is there a reason as to why you’re being so gentle with me?” you asked, gently tugging on his hair. His mouth left your body for a moment, eyes meeting yours. 

“No reason, why? Are you uncomfortable?” he asked, his metal hand drawing circles on your thigh. He got back to work, pleasure coming over you in waves.

“No—not at all. Just wondering,” you said before arching your back off the mattress. Damn, he was talented with his mouth. 

He hummed in response, the vibration going through your whole body. His hands held your hips, keeping your body firmly planted on the bed. Your heart was racing, the euphoria coursing through you. 

Bucky crawled up next to you, laying on his back. You rolled onto your stomach to face him. Your hands met his hair, twirling it around your finger. 

“I think we should stop this, Buck,” you whispered, avoiding eye contact. His head turned toward yours, his smile dropping. 

“Why? I thought we were having fun, Y/N,” he said, his hand grabbing the one that was intertwined in his hair. 

“We are—were, but I met someone.” 

Rule 2. 

He could feel his heart break a little. All he could think of was someone else touching you in the ways that he did. 

“Oh. Do I know him?” he asked, his voice as low as yours. 

You nodded, “Brock Rumlow, I think he goes to your gym.” 

Fucking Brock, Bucky thought, Of course he would rob me of the one good thing in my life.

Bucky didn’t respond, instead just closing his eyes. You knew he heard you, and you knew he was hurt. You didn’t push the topic, so you let sleep wash over you.

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheets next to you were cold. A frown formed on your face, but you knew what this meant. 

You knocked your head back onto your pillow, letting a groan escape. A part of you felt empty, but a part of you felt enlightened, free to explore what other men have to offer. 

Bucky returned to his apartment, dreading the loneliness that was bound to ensue. He had fallen for you, hard. He hated the idea of someone else holding your heart, someone else taking part in your life. 

He knew he wasn’t supposed to fall for you, but love works in mysterious ways. He loved your laugh, how you got a bit embarrassed when it was too loud. He loved the way you said his name. He loved the way you joke with each other, more sarcasm than he’d ever experienced. He liked that you weren’t afraid of him, metal arm and all. That usually drives people off, but not you. He loved that you bear your feelings to him, your vulnerabilities. 

He longed to hold your hand. He wanted nothing more than to kiss your cheek and tell you how beautiful you are. Truly stunning. He longed to kiss you in front of your friends, call you his once and for all. He longed to be the one you come to after a long day, just for comfort. 

He felt miserable. The one thing that actually meant something to him had been taken. He knew this day would come. He just never pictured it would be so soon. 

He should have told you how he felt. He still should. 

Bucky pulled himself together, put on a happy face and made his way to the gym. He walked in, eyes scanning the area for Brock. He hoped that he wasn’t there, but nothing ever goes the way you want it to. He decided it might be good to talk to him at least.

His eyes landed on the man in question. Bucky took a deep breath and walked over to the weights he was using. 

“Need a spot, Brock?” he asked, hoping that he would say yes. Brock looked at him, realizing who was asking. 

A cocky smile grew on Brock’s face, “Hey, man. If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

Bucky forced a smile on his face, he stepped behind the bench press. Half of him wanted to drop the barbell on the man, but the other half wanted to grill him about you. He decided on the latter.

“So, uh, you and Y/N, huh? How long has that been going on?” Bucky said, trying to casually slip questions into the light conversation. 

A smug look crossed his face, “Around two weeks or so, she’s a cool girl. Surprised one of you didn’t pick her up already.”

You and me both, buddy, Bucky thought, gritting his teeth. “Yeah, she’s the best. Treat her good, man.”

A short laugh left Brock’s mouth. “To be honest with you, I think this’ll be more of a hit it and quit it kind of thing, you know? She’s stupid hot, but not really girlfriend material. Seems like a bit of a whore. I heard she fucks every dude in your friend group.” 

Bucky scoffed. It was taking everything he had in him not to punch the man’s teeth in. 

“Who fed you that bullshit lie? You’re lucky she even considered you, dipshit,” Bucky growled. He couldn’t just stand idly by anymore, he took the bar out of the man’s hands and pulled him up by the collar of his shirt, “If you even think about hurting her, I’ll hunt you down and fucking kill you.”

Brock looked genuinely scared for a moment, before a smile appeared on his face. “My god, you’re in love with the whore! Let me guess, you’re fucking her too?” 

“Alright, thats it. You asked for it, you piece of shit!” Bucky yelled, before charging at Brock. Several punches were thrown before Bucky felt someone pulling him off of the man. 

Steve had a strong grip on the man, guiding him toward the exit. “Dude, what the hell? I know he’s a douche, but you can’t lunge at him in the middle of the gym! What was it even about?” 

Bucky’s hand curled into a fist, “He was calling Y/N a whore, and saying he was only with her for sex. I just couldn’t help myself. I hate when assholes like him get such wonderful women and then drop them like they’re nothing. She deserves someone better than that, Steve. She deserves someone who’ll listen to her, and keep her happy, and take care of her in all the best ways.”

A small smile worked its way onto Steve’s face, “Someone like you?”

Bucky nodded his head, “Yes! Wait—how did you know I meant me?” he looked at the man, clearly puzzled. You two were careful to hide your relationship, you were sure none of your friends knew.

“Dude, you think no one notices how you stare at her? You get this little sparkle in your eyes every time you talk to her, its almost sickening how cute it is,” Steve said, patting his friend on the shoulder. 

“She doesn’t feel the same, anyway, so what does it matter? I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her, Steve.” Bucky said, his eyes glued to the pavement. 

Steve sighed, “What do you mean ‘you weren’t supposed to fall in love with her,’? Why not?”

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat, “Uh, never mind. No reason.” 

Steve didn’t look convinced, but he let the topic go. “You might not have noticed, Buck, but she definitely does. When you aren’t there, all she does is talk about you.”

His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s, his cheeks flushed. Bucky could barely get out a coherent sentence. 

“No, I—that can't be,” he mumbled, but all evidence of doubt was erased when he saw the look on Steve’s face, “Really? But she’s so beautiful and kind and downright great; and I’m me.” 

Steve nodded, “Yeah man, but she wont like you for long if you don’t explain your side of what just happened in there. For all we know, Rumlow could be telling her that you attacked him for no reason.” 

Bucky’s eyes went wide for a moment, before running a hand through his hair. He let out a shaky breath before pulling out his phone. 

“Shit, ok, I’m gonna ask her to meet me at the bar later. Hopefully I can lay everything out and we’ll be on the same page, but if not, be prepared to nurse my broken heart.”

Steve gave a short nod before clapping him on the back, “Good luck, Buck. You’ll do great, I know it.”

After a shower and a quick bite to eat, Bucky walked down the sidewalk, trying to figure out what he would say to you. Would he apologize for putting Brock in his place? Hell no. Would he apologize for letting it get that out of hand? Possibly. Would he tell you how he felt and accept your answer, good or bad? Absolutely. 

He took a seat at the bar, ordering a whiskey, neat. His eyes darted around the bar, his nerves making him a bit jumpy. The door to the establishment opened once more with the ring of a bell, your senses taking in the familiar sights and sound that the bar has to offer. 

You heard shot glasses hit the bar counter; the sharp sound of a cue ball being hit. Your gaze almost immediately caught the glimmer of the metal arm, a smile crawling up your face. Your heels clicked on the floor below you, the sound catching Bucky’s attention. 

He stood up, arms enveloping you in a hug. Rule 1, you remembered, but maybe I can let it slide just this once. Your arms slid around his waist, returning the embrace. Bucky pulled away first, his hands resting on your shoulders. 

“Y/N, sit, please,” he said, pulling the bar chair out for you. You took the seat, still wondering what you were doing here. “I know you said you want to end things because you found someone, and I respect that decision, but please, just hear me out for a moment.”

You sighed, but stayed silent, signaling him to go on. 

“Okay, this might come out the wrong way, but please understand that I mean absolutely no disrespect to you,” your eyes widened slightly, but still you let him continue. “Brock isn’t the guy for you, you should cut things off with him.” 

A short, dry laugh left your lips, “Why? Who told you that this was your decision to make?” 

Hurt flashed across his eyes, but he stayed calm. “Y/N, he called you a whore. He also said that he’s only going out with you to get in your pants. He doesn’t want the real you, he only wants the idea of you. I know its not my decision to make,  but I really think that this is whats best for you.” 

“No, you’re lying. How do you know that? Last I checked you weren’t all buddy buddy with him,” you said, shaking your head. “How do you know whats good for me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Thats my opinion, Y/N. I’m sorry if it’s not what you want to hear, but it needed to be said. If I can save you from this guy, then best believe I’ll put everything on the line to do so.”

“Please, you think I need saving? I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own, thank you very much,” you said, close to tears.

“I know you can, but I’m worried that your feelings might blind you from whats actually going on!” he yelled, but you stormed out. Bucky was quick to follow, lightly gripping your arm. 

You spun around to face him, anger clear on your face, “Why? Why do you care so damn much?”

Both of your hearts picked up, nearly beating out of your chests. Bucky’s eyes looked glassy, he didn’t mean to upset you. All he wanted was to warn you, and tell you how he felt. 

“You wanna know why? Because I‘m fucking in love with you, Y/N! I know I wasn’t supposed to, but you made it damn hard to resist. When you told me about Brock, my heart nearly cracked in two. I didn’t even want to think about him having what I hold dearest to my heart. I’m in love with you for you, not your body, or the idea of you. I love that you listen to me, and confide your feelings in me. I love how much you care for those around you, and the kindness that’s so clearly within your heart. I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, and the smile that makes my heart jump. I didn’t want to fall in love with you, but I’ll be damned if I tell you I regret it, because I absolutely don’t,” his chest was heaving now, and you couldn’t tell if the wetness on his face was the pouring rain around you or tears.

You stared at him, the weight of his words weighing on your shoulders. You wanted to cry, punch him and kiss him all in the same moment. 

He looked like he was going to speak up again, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. It wasn’t at all rushed like your past ones, but more passionate and loving. His arms were protectively wrapped around you, your bodies pressed close. 

You pulled away, resting your forehead on his, “Buck, we broke rule five.”

A smile was on his face, “I think we broke all of the rules, but fuck ‘em, especially rule five.”

Rule five wasn’t a rule you talked about often, because it was understood by all parties. Technically, the ‘unspoken’ rule. 

Rule 5

Do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with the other. 

[mon-blanchetts]

Can we please get and update or a sneak peak ?? any story would do !! Dying to know what happened in Winning means losing, so let's go till the end !!! PLEASE !!!!

I’ve wanted to re-write Winning means losing for the longest time so that it was set in the late fifties/early sixties, à la The Crown, but, man, that just feels like so much work right now. Instead, here’s some material for Thieves Among Us I wrote way back when, though I still don’t know if I’m actually going to use it or not. It’s an unedited version, so forgive me for any glaring errors/plot holes:

“She’ll need a room for herself,” she mused out loud, before returning the figurine to the desk, “though I’m not sure it will be her old one.” Their old one, she thought—when they were forced to share a room, a bed, despite both of their protests, all of which had fallen on their mother’s deaf ears. Arya’s feet were always cold as ice; how she used to enjoy pressing those limbs against her, making her yelp.

“Aren’t you happy about this?”

Sansa looked at Jon. Disappointment shone through his grey eyes that never left her face. Something hardened inside of her; she tilted her chin up ever-so-slightly, just as she was wont to do as of late.

“None of us know when she’s coming back,” she argued, glancing speculatively at Bran, but her brother’s face was passive. “I know what it’s like to be happy for something that’s still uncertain. Besides,” she turned away from Jon as she moved towards the door, “it’s you she’s eager to see most of all, isn’t it? The direwolf was for you only, not me or Bran.”

“Where are you going?” Jon’s voice was strained with exasperation, but she wouldn’t be moved to sympathy.

“Seeing to a room for Arya whenever she decides she’s ready to come home.” Sansa pictured her sister’s face if she were to announce that she was to share her bedchamber with her, just like they did when they were little girls; she smiled when nobody could see, knowing full well how appalled Arya would be at such a proposition, regardless of the person she had shaped into. Maybe later tonight, if the motivation still stood, she’d visit Bran and see what he might be willing to divulge if she pushed hard enough. Most of it was too cryptic for her, but there had been more than one instance when his comments were clear as day, observations that hearkened to past events no one but herself were privy to. She could never pretend to understand how it worked, but she was living in an age where everything was possible now.

Behind her eyelids, Sansa could still picture Daenerys’s dragons dancing in the sky, circling above Winterfell in a way that sometimes made her feel like they were entrapping those within. Magic has returned when the dragons were brought back to the world. She didn’t remember who had told her that, but they were accurate words, nonetheless. Would she be in their company forever? Or would it be until she bent the knee to their mother?

The world spun on her—the only thing she realized afterwards was Jon’s face, hard and worried. Fatigue was etched in the lines of his frown, but on the rest of his face had a pallor that was just as telling. Sansa blinked at him, her arm growing warn where his fingers were wrapped around.

“You’re not even going to stop for your king when he calls you now?” he demanded, his breath turning to thin clouds before his face.

“My mind was elsewhere,” she admitted. Even she was surprised by her lack of attention; staring at Jon’s face, she wondered if her own exhaustion was apparent. Sansa knew she should have tried getting some rest after returning from the godswood just before dawn broke, but her actions hadn’t quite settled. Maybe they never really would, no matter how deep a hole she dug. That was a thought for another time, though; she steeled herself for what was to come. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, really,” she insisted, while Jon continued to search her face. If he was looking for any hint of her deception, he was right to be doubtful, but that didn’t make it any easier for her to swallow. Jon was always speaking to her about truth and honesty, but he had underestimated the complexity behind both of them just as much as she had.

“What did you want from me, Your Grace?”

The corners of his mouth turned downward and he looked away, abashed, just like he always did whenever she addressed him like that. They were standing outside for their people to see; if Jon was looking to make a scene, Sansa needed him to think otherwise. There was a steady hum of sounds and voices below them, but she knew that ther were more than a pair of eyes on them. “Your Grace?”

“This is it, Sansa. It’s everything we’ve fought so hard for, our family and our home. Bran is here, and Arya’s due any moment now, no matter where she is. We’ll be together again—”

“Until you leave for the Wall,” she cut in. Sansa tried to ignore the way his fingers tightened around her arm; she was a woman changed, she convinced herself, just as she’d been telling herself ever since the godswood. “We’ll be apart as soon as we’ve come together, and where’s the joy in that? No doubt Arya will probably want to follow you when you leave, just like she wanted to follow you when you joined the Night’s Watch, and it will be the same thing all over again, only this time none of us are so naïve. At least there’s that.”

Jon stared at her, crestfallen. She thought he was at a loss of things to say, but when he spoke, it was with a carefulness she hadn’t anticipated.

“I once told Dany that I wanted to be happy, that I needed to be in order to live. She things Starks like you are immortal, but I told her were just bent on survival.”

It was so petty and out-of-place, but Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if their conversation had taken place while they’d laid naked in each other’s arms, Jon toying with her locks while her head rested on his chest. What else had they discussed in private? What else had they found in each other, other than love and intimacy, while she’d struggled to keep his countrymen from abandoning his cause?

How strange of him t talk about happiness when, at the very least, he’d found a small piece of it in Daenerys Targaryen; any hope for hers had been ripped from her, soaking her bed linen red with blood, a sacrifice she had to make so that Jon could keep his crown, so that he might come back with his honour and reputation intact.

“Sansa?”

She came to again, pushing away those dark thoughts. “That’s a high compljment for her to offer, considering our family histories,” she pointed out, pretending to be interested in the happenings beneath them.

“What were you thinking about just now?”

“Many things,” she insisted quickly. “There’s a lot on my mind right now, now that winter’s here.” A thought dawned on her, and she faced him. “Aren’t you happy, Jon?”

“Are you?”

“I’m happy as I can be, considering the circumstances. Who knows—this may be the extent of it.” She let out a sigh. “We alter our perceptions with the things that come out way…if I held out for childish dreams and beautiful songs, I’d be awfully miserable, don’t you think?”

He didn’t respond. What was going through his mind?

“Can we begin anew, Sansa?”

“She was taken aback by his sudden request, eyes widening with confusion. “Begin anew?” she echoed.

“Bran knows what we’ve done,” he said. That made her straighten up. Suddenly his hand felt like a pair of iron shackles, holding her in place, imprisoning her for a crime she never committed. She pulled her arm back to Jon’s surprise, but he released his hold.

“Did he tell you as much?”

Jon shook his head, his face sullen. “I know from the way he looks at us.”

Sansa thought about his words. He might have been projecting his own worries, but it was more than likely. Bran never explained what he was now capable of; that had been divulged by his companion, but Meera Reed didn’t seem to entirely herself either. There was something in her that reminded her of Arya…

“What’s done is done,” she said, words that someone had said to her not too long ago, though it truly felt like it was from another life. “Are you thinking we ought to be open about it to him?” Gods, how would Bran react, if he chose to react at all?

“I’m thinking we should be open about it to each other.” His voice was but a low whisper. “If we can’t be happy the way we want to, can’t we at least be true for the sake of what’s left of us and our family?”

He wanted things to look fine in Arya’s eyes whenever she decided to return; Sansa wasn’t sure if her own desire ran in the same vein, but that didn’t she disagreed with him (?).

“Would you at least tell me what I might do to make things different between us?”

Different, or better? Could it be the same thing in Jon’s eyes? Sansa blinked at him once, twice, before looking away. The more she watched him, the more she saw Daenerys’s dragons soaring through the sky, cutting through the clouds high above. He had called her Dany again when he spoke about her; a part of her wished, in some twisted, ludicrous way, that Jon was doing it to hurt her, but even she knew the invisible dagger in her heart had never been intentional at his part, and that was even harder to accept. Funny that she had wanted him to ask her that one too many times, but now that he had, Sansa didn’t actually know how to answer him. In a world of her own creation, free of logic and all of deepest reservations, Jon would tell her the lies she wanted so badly to believe, instead of those heartbreaking truths she knew he harboured, but those she couldn’t fault him for. It made the distance between them so desirable, but it was becoming more apparent that they couldn’t live like this forever, not when things were changing the way they were. Tell me you love me as much as I love you, Jon. Tell me I was enough, at least. Tell me what we shared was enough.

It wasn’t, of course. Oh, to be fed lies, just like Littlefinger had, but it took a stronger woman to face the truth. It took a Stark to embrace and value the truth, even when it did nothing but tear her apart. And what about the things she was keeping from him? Would she ever have the heart to tell him what she had done, and would Jon understand?

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, fingering the chain distractedly. “I can’t answer you, not now.”

“But you’ll give me one soon.”

She shrugged, eyes still fixed on the scenes taking place below them. “Perhaps,” was all she said.

It was like a shock to her sense when she felt his gloved hand on the side of her face, coaxing her gently to face him. Sansa wanted to jump out of her skin, if only she could, but she was better than that.

“No more uncertainties, Sansa,” he pleaded, shaking his head once, his grey eyes bright with determination. “We can’t go on like this—I won’t let it. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“All this for Arya?” She meant to tease him, if only to quell the strange feeling between them, but it came out more as accusation. Jon frowned while she held back from wincing at her error.

“All this for us. I keep telling you this, don’t I?”

Jon wasn’t wrong, but believing him was another matter. “When I figure it out, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“Two nights,” he bargained. “You have to answer me in two nights.”

“Three,” she insisted, pushing his hand away from her face. He always wanted to touch her, as if he were trying to convey his feelings through his actions, rather than his words, but what were they? A fragment of love that had mostly dwindled, if it had ever been real, or the last vestiges of lust?

Jon never took his eyes off her face. “Three nights, then,” he declared.

[gxlden-phoenyx]

RWBY Volume 5 OST Prompts

The Path to Isolation:

“In it’s place there’s nothing, just an endless empty void...”

“The Path to isolation is littered with the dreams that lay destroyed.”

“The cold, seems to grow in my soul it’s consuming me.”

“Confused, like I’m losing myself in the storm...”

“Can’t find myself when I’m constantly forced to conform!”

“Enemies surround me, but the worst appear as friends.”

“Everything is breaking, right before my eyes.”

“Looking in the mirror, I see someone that I don’t recognize.”

“The joy that my heart used to know is eluding me...”

“Everything my mind wants, in conflict with my heart.”

“Every day I’m falling more apart.”

“Who is staring back at me?”

“A stranger to my heart has filled my mind...”

“Who am I?”

Smile:

“You’ve done no misdeed.”

“You’re as perfect as the wind and sky.”

“But we have a chance to make it right.”

“This is what you’ll do.”

“Show them how you smile.”

“It’s only for a while.”

“Take what you need.”

“Leave them to bleed.”

“Let them know bitter while your revenge is sweet.”

“Keep the secret, pretending you’re just like them.”

“Play their game now, do what it takes to win.”

“Steal it back, all they keep from you.”

“They refuse to look beyond your skin.”

“You’ll gain from their malice but your heart will know when the time is right to end the lie.”

“You’ll know what to do.”

“You might think, maybe they’re changing.”

“You’ll pray that their hatred is waning.”

“You’ll be glad you’re not their kind.”

Ignite:

“Hello there, my enemy.”

“Welcome to my punching spree.”

“This is where I lay waste and you go home bleeding.”

“Should have stayed out of the fray.”

“Now you’re heading for a beating.”

“Didn’t mother warn you? Now she’s gonna mourn you.”

“Being damaged’s how you’ll end this day.”

“You’re a big mess.”

“I gotta tell you, I’m on fire today!”

“Some lessons are just hard to learn.”

“But just as light conquers dark, there’s a beauty that’s greater than pure symmetry can contain.”

“Let’s start the game!”

“Usually I devastate, this time might annihilate.”

“Any minute now you’re gonna rue our meeting!”

“Messing with my family, means that soon your history.”

���The moments of your life are fleeting.”

“Lookin’ pretty tattered.”

“Your blood has really splattered.”

“Wont be long until I end this game.”

“You’re looking toothless.”

“i’m feeling ruthless.”

“Watch me burn as you go down in flames.”

“Play both sides.”

“Any remarkable heart has gone through the hardship and shame.”

“That’s just so lame!”

“I dominate and desecrate, leave you in a foul state!”

“I put you in the trash with that nonsense you perpetuate.”

“Why’d you get me riled up? Can’t you see I’m wild bruh?”

“Bet you’ll understand when I’m pissin’ on your ashes, huh?”

“I told you, I’m torturous.”

“When you feel the force of this blast, you’ll crash like a cardiac explosion, bitch!”

“Try to get away... But there’s no escaping Alcatraz!”

“Look what you made me do!”

“Told you, I would slaughter you.”

“Fools you lose.”

“Ever, you’ll never contend. I win!”

“Now I gotta ask; Do you REALLY wanna piece of me?!”

“Hope you’re ready for the pain.”

“Suffer, when I hit your brain.”

“Fool you shouldn’t stare into these eyes of fire.”

“You’re going to regret this little fight!”

“You don’t wanna mess with me, I’m something higher.”

“Anguish, you’ll know from your miserable plight.”

“Soon you’ll bemoan your mistake of a life.”

“You’ll watch yourself suffer.”

“You’ll watch me ignite!”

Triumph:

“Back to the show.”

“Backed to the wall and there’s nowhere to go...”

“Helpless and doomed, and there’s no way to win...”

“Lost and forlorn impossible odds.”

“That’s when you’ll learn you’ve been messing with gods.”

“Send in your Grimm, tear off my limb.”

“Strike me with bolts of lightning.”

“I wont die!”

“All we need’s a miracle.”

“We’re going up, we’ll never be denied!”

“Can’t wish away the dismal days...”

“Can’t bring back what is gone.”

“Won’t waste more tears on yesteryears.”

“Instead we’ll carry on!”

“We’ll win, we’re sure we will endure!”

“Though our goal is far...”

“We’ll be the ones to touch the sun!”

“The Triumph will be ours!”

“Nowhere to run now, no time to grieve.”

“Die or believe.”

“This is the moment, this is the day, this is the place and we came here to slay.”

“Yeah, I’m a girl. But I’m also a gun!”

“Fast and I’m deadly, you’ll never outrun.”

“Strike down my friends, I’ll never bend.”

“Right to the end, I’m fighting!”

“We’ll never stop.”

“We’re heading towards the sky!”

“It’s not destiny, it would be a grave mistake to think so.”

“Every choice is ours and ours alone!”

“This hasn’t all been mapped by fate.”

“This is the future we create!”

All things must die:

“Step by step you crawl closer to your ruin...”

“Life is just a journey, your’s is near it’s end.”

“This is the end, here’s where you’ll die!”

“No one will miss you, when you’re finally gone.”

“At your conclusion, sing your swan song.”

“Just close your eyes.”

“Don’t fear demise.”

“All things must die...”

“Just pray for mercy at your time of death.”

“Be glad you existed, enjoy your last breath.”

“Rest now, subside.”

“It’s time to accept, to abide.”

“Admit that the hour’s arrived.”

“It’s time to be one with the sky.”

“Surrender your pride.”

“Let death be your guide.”

All That Matters:

“Never thought you’d stay forever.”

“Never asked you to commit your life.”

“But I can tell you in my heart, I never thought you’d up and leave me...”

“And now your standing here with that look in your eyes. The look that makes me hope I’ll just believe your lies.”

“You’re lost, you’re found, you’re hard to pin down...”

“I’ll never know if you’ll come through.”

“Thought that I could pull you from the shadows.”

“I’ll risk it once again to have you near my side.”

“Another chance to let you just destroy my pride.”

“I feel like I’m running out of energy, while you’re taking everything in strides.”

“Its sad but its true, that the one thing I can count on is that I can’t count on you...”

This Time:

“Friends listen closely, and I won’t say this twice!”

“Hope’s running out and we haven’t much time!”

“Please understand that the life we once planned on is over.”

“Now is the time you must fight for your lives.”

“The battle is on, you’re already inside.”

“Don’t turn back now. There’s nowhere to hide.”

“Here. Now, is all that we’ve got.”

“Ready or not, there’s a war to be fought.”

“Only one way through.”

“This time, the way’s of the past we’ll get over.”

“We’ll climb, enlighten a new state of mind!”

“I’ll stand with you shoulder to shoulder!”

“Rise up from Shadows and into the light!”

“We’ll stand undivided our futures aligned!”

“This warning is dire, my words you must hear!”

“Our downfall is near.”

“I still believe that the peace we’ll achieve’s growing closer.”

“First blood must spill like the wine at a feast.”

“The calm only comes once the carnage has ceased.”

“Fight or die, there’ll be no release.”

“No way to avoid the warfare.”

“No way to escape this strife...”

“Hear now, listen to me!”

“This time retreat spells our final defeat!”

“We must win our life!”

“It’s time, the world sees what we’re made of!”

“It’s time, we change the spite to love.”

“The past is gone and soon behind us.”

“We will restore.”

“We will win this war!”