#my birthday has always been a horrible miserable day and i stopped celebrating it since i always spend the day crying and sleeping

[be-good-to-bugs]

sad :( the oven where im moving is broken

[yandere-daze]

`Til death do us part

Yandere Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

So I recently got into Twisted Wonderland and I love Riddle so much so I decided I had to do something for him ( as I promised with the drawing). This is what I came up with! Thank you so much for your help and listening to me scream about this @naranciabestboi ! I hope you enjoy it!!

Under cut for length!

Summary : Your parents had made plans for an arranged marriage, Riddle however was not pleased by this at all.

You held the letter in your shaking hands, rereading it´s contents over and over again to see if there was anything you had missed. Surely there had to be some kind of mistake on your part, you had to have misread something. Your reading comprehension has never been the best so surely there was a possibility at least? But no matter how long you stared at that cursed letter in your hands, the same cold hard truth was contained within the elegantly written words that were scrawled across the paper in a neat manner.

 “Dear Y/n,

Your mother and me have observed your progress at Night Raven College quite closely and we are proud to see how far you have gotten with your studies. But don´t let this praise get to your head, you still have a long way to go if you want to one day become a worthy ruler and heir of the L/n name. So please remember to keep studying to one day achieve your goal.

But this is not the only reason I decided to write this letter to you. You see I have the greatest of news for you: Crown prince Ayers of the Devereaux family is currently looking for a spouse to rule beside him once he becomes king and ascends the throne. As far as I remember, you two have met before, haven´t you? It was but a year ago at one of the Devereaux family’s grand birthday celebrations. The young prince seemed to be quite struck with you back then, didn´t he? He is currently accepting offers from nobles all over the continent but your mother and me are very confident that you will prevail. A union between you both would be of great benefit to both of our countries and greatly improve our influence. Y/n please hear me out: I know how you might feel about this arrangement, but we are sure that this is for the best so we are not allowing any sort of protest or defiance from you. We have already offered your hand in marriage to prince Ayers. One day you will thank us for this.

Now then, we wish you the best of luck on your studies and we will hear from each other soon. It has been a long time since we last heard of you, so do send us a reply as fast as possible.

Signed,

D/n and M/n L/n”

 You felt as if a burning hole had just opened up in your stomach as the situation you were in finally settled in. Your parents were trying to set you up on an arranged marriage? With someone you barely knew? Sure, you had met Ayers once but you didn´t have too high of an opinion on him. To you he was a bumbling fool that didn´t know when to stay quiet. You had made it quite clear that his presence wasn´t appreciated, but he either didn´t seem to take the hint or he just straight up ignored your resistance, because he kept asking you to dance with him the whole evening and in the hopes of him finally letting up on you, you reluctantly complied. Which looking back on it now was a huge mistake, as it was what put you into this miserable situation in the first place. You remember back then when your parents caught a glimpse of you two dancing, they looked so very excited for you, something you couldn´t quite comprehend back then. But now it all seemed so clear to you: Even back then, they were trying to find someone to arrange a marriage with, seeking to spread their influence and power. They said that they cared about you and that they only had your best interests in mind but you knew that you were secretly just a means to climb the social ladder even further. Because if they had truly cared about your wellbeing then they wouldn´t have forced you into this situation. Now you knew you were done for, doomed to marry someone you didn´t love and wanted as far away from you as possible. Right in this moment you wanted to vent out your frustration and anger: You wanted to punch the wall, scream your lungs out and let your angry tears flow freely but ended up doing none of that, barely containing your emotions as you heard footsteps approaching, heading right into your direction. You had to compose yourself. Whoever this was, you didn´t want them to see you in this state. You straightened your back as you slowly tried to ease the tension out of your shoulder while willing your face muscles to put a small smile on your face. Hopefully this would be enough to convince anyone passing by that you were fine and didn´t need anyone´s help right now.

Clack clack clack

You heard a familiar sounding fall of footsteps growing closer and closer until the sound faded as the person came to a stop seemingly right beside you. You forced your smile to grow just a tiny amount wider as you turned around to face to face whoever came by.

And as they exclaimed your name, you immediately knew just who was standing before you now.

“Y/n?”

-----

Riddle was on his way to head back to the Heartslabyul dormitory after class, as he saw the vague shape of a person standing just a few meters away from him, seemingly distracted. He at first didn´t plan to pay any attention to it, as he had enough important matters to attend to and surely, he wasn´t the right person to vent their problems to but as he got closer and closer, he was able to identify the student standing there. How could he not? He had practically memorized everything about you. Y/n L/n. The one person that was always there for him when all the other turned away from him. You were one of the only people that he felt like he could be himself with and he treasured your existence like no one else. You were the one spark in his otherwise bleak life that kept him going and gave him hope for a bright future. A future with you, ideally. But he couldn´t get too carried away now. Taking one good scrutinizing look at you, he was able to tell that something was wrong, the smile you had on your face looked forced, far too wide to be considered a natural one. You looked shaken and your shoulders were slightly trembling as if you were on the verge of crying. Just what could have put you into this state? Did someone hurt you? If that was the case then he needed to find out who it was and then have a rather stern…talk with the culprit. But first, he had to make sure that you were okay and maybe cheer you up a bit.

“Y/n?”, he called out to alert you of his presence if you hadn´t heard him approach yet. He wouldn´t doubt it from how distracted you looked. But he couldn´t help but feel his heart swell as your eyes lighted up in recognition and your shoulders lost some of their previous tension.

“R-riddle!”, you exclaimed in slight surprise as you shifted your arms around a bit. Riddle didn´t miss how you tried to casually put on of your arms behind your back, a sheet of paper clutched tightly in your hand as you put in the effort to try and hide whatever that was. He couldn´t help but slightly furrow his brow at this. He could easily guess that this letter was the cause of your distress and he felt irritated that you even tried to hide this from him, even if it was a poor attempt. Did you not trust him with your problems?

“Uhm.. fancy seeing you here haha…” He couldn´t help but chuckle in amusement despite the current situation, you very visibly cringed from how fake your own attempt at casualness sounded.

“Y/n I live here. And also, please show me what you are hiding beneath your back, you look really upset” At this, your shoulders tensed up again as you nervously shifted your weight from one foot to the other while you stammered out an excuse. “I-I don´t know what you´re talking about! I´m not hiding anything and I feel fine!” Your voice continued to stagger as your eyes locked onto anything besides Riddle´s face, which he didn’t like at all. Not one bit. Deep within him he felt the desire for you to look at him, to look only at him and no one else. For you to grace him with one of your radiant smiles that he had grown in love with. Yes, love. Oh, he loved you so dearly, your entire being and soul. He wanted to hold onto you tight and never let go. But he was getting sidetracked now, he really needed to get to the bottom of this current issue that laid before him. There was something you were anxious about and even worse tried to hide from him, that just wasn´t acceptable.

“Rules of the Queen of Hearts No. 404: Never tell a lie when talking to your ruler! And so badly as well. I demand to know what you have there behind your back!” Your eyes widened in shock, surprised that Riddle had seen through your oh so flawlessly crafted lie. Then after the initial shock had registered in your system you were quick to raise your eyebrows at his remark. “My…ruler? Really now?” Riddle couldn´t help but show off a proud smirk at that. “Yes, your ruler. Your dorm leader, you know? It´s basically the same thing but really that´s beside the point. You should not be lying to me in any kind of fashion, especially when you look so horribly distraught.” His eyes softened at the last part of his speech. Yes, he was a bit irritated at your stubbornness but he genuinely wanted to know what had happened. And who he needed to have a very stern scolding with.

“Well…okay. Because it´s you Riddle. I-I don´t think I can tell you myself but please just take a look at this letter it´s just….” You weren´t even able to finish your sentence before Riddle practically ripped the letter from your hands, his gaze practically devouring the words that were displayed on the paper. Y/n parents, they want to set them up on an arranged marriage? With someone like this? He couldn´t believe this was happening as he grew more and more furious, he ended up almost tearing the letter apart from how much his hands were shaking in rage. Who do they think they are, taking his dear y/n away from him like this? He had already planned his entire future with them, how he would confess in front of the rose bushes while watching the sunset together, how they would move in together after Night Raven College, how he would one day propose to them and they would get married... Yes married. They would get married one day. He would get his happily-ever after, no matter the cost. Y/n´s parents had the audacity to take them away from him so they had to pay a price! Riddle was much better suited as y/n´s future husband, he had so much more to offer! They would be fools to choose that Devereaux wanna-be noble over him!

You must have seen how infuriated he had gotten as you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and as Riddle looked into your watery eyes, barely being able to hold the tears back, he came to a decision. He had to do something about this, there had to be a way out of this arranged marriage, even if it was the last thing he did. That wretched fool wouldn´t get to hold you in his arms, he would make sure of that. And as you circled your arms around him in a hug and wet his shirt as you finally let your tears flow, he came to the idea of just what he had to do to keep you by his side.

His face was slightly flushed from the gentleness of your touch as he ran a comforting hand over your back. “Y/n”, he murmured and you gently raised your head to look him in the eye. “I think”; he continued in a soft tone, so very different from his current mental state; “I think I know a way out of this miserable situation.” Your pretty eyes widened at this and displayed various emotions: surprise, confusion, intrigue, and also... hopefulness. “How so, Riddle? I don´t think my parents can be so easily swayed, they seem pretty set on marrying me off to some wealthy noble.” “And that´s exactly my point.” Now you just looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean? I don’t know what you´re getting at. I don´t think that- “

“Just let me finish explaining y/n”, he lightly scolded you as he waved a finger in front of your face. How adorable your little pout was. He could look at you all day. And he would.

“So, your parents want you to marry this man because they want to gain influence through combining your countries wealth, right?” He waited for you to give him a reluctant nod before continuing. “But what if coincidentally, an even better suitor appeared right before their eyes and pleaded for your hand in marriage? If they had a way bigger influence? They would drop these silly plans, wouldn´t they?” You tilted your head as if to properly think over what your dorm leader just told you before your expression lightened up, your mouth forming a surprised o-shape. “It seems like you understand what I´m trying to say, right? The Rosehearts name is a prestigious one indeed. I don´t think your parents would ever dare to dismiss the chance for their child to be called Y/n Rosehearts, would they? So, I thought of this solution. We write a letter to your parents, saying that you are already in a relationship with me and that we are planning a wedding in the near future. Because of this you can´t accept their oh so gracious offer.” “And then!”, you continued for him.” And then, when Ayers announces that he found a proper spouse we can stop the act and go back to being friends like before! Riddle that´s a great plan! What would I ever do without you?”

Yes, what indeed would you do without him? He wanted to properly enjoy the notion of being so important to you but the rest of your naively uttered comment left a very bitter taste in his mouth. You wanted to go back to being friends? He´s going to agree for now but that is not how this will end. Surely, after you two had spent so much time together pretending to date, he would be able to steal your heart and make you fall in love with him as much as he loved you. You would be his after this, he won´t let you break things off, surely you would see things his way after this.

“Exactly”, he instead said and told you that you two should get to writing the letter as soon as possible so the arranged marriage could be stopped. The very same day, the letter had been written and sent, talking about how you two had fallen in love during your school days and how you were already engaged to him. Yes, that detail was something Riddle was strangely persistent with. “It´s easier to sway them with this”, he had answered to your questions and you didn´t pay it much more mind. You trusted him completely and that´s exactly what Riddle adored about you.

He ran a delicate hand over the word “engaged” before slipping the letter into a fancy envelope and sending it out to be delivered as soon as possible.

Everything would fall into place and you would finally be his.

------------------

As you had guesses, your parent´s response to you and Riddle´s supposed engagement had been ecstatic, talking about how proud they were of you and how they couldn´t wait for you two to get married. Yeah, you were sure they were; you thought sarcastically. Much to your delight, the plans for you to get married to Ayers Devereaux had been tossed out the window completely as well. At least for the time being. So much to them wanting the best for you, they were only interested in the noble title since the beginning. When you told the good news to Riddle, he seemed almost happier than you were. Well, that is to say a wide smile appeared on his face, which in his standards was a truly rare expression, saved for only very rare moments. This seemed to be one of them.

“I can´t believe it Riddle, your plan actually worked out! I can´t thank you enough for this!” It was true, he had really gotten you out of an almost impossible looking situation, thanks to him a heavy burden was lifted from your shoulder, you felt as if you could finally breathe easy now. “Don´t thank me just yet, y/n. It´s still not over, far from it in actuality.” You tilted your head in confusion at your dorm head´s sudden exclamation, not quite understanding what he was trying to say. “Y/n, don´t tell me you forgot already.” Noticing that you indeed seemed to have forgotten, he sighed in exasperation and lightly shook his head. “Did you already forget the second part of our plan? Perhaps even the most important one? Really, what am I to do with you?” You chuckled in slight embarrassment, not wanting to directly admit that you had forgotten about such an important detail but made it clear that you wanted him to continue. Seriously what was he talking about?  “Alright so think about it like this: Out of the blue, one of the most important students in this school, the dorm head of Heartslabyul has just announced that he was going to get engaged to another student at school. Yet they were never even seen exchanging any kind of affection that could be seen as romantic? That doesn´t make a lot of sense, now does it? You would expect them to act like a couple, wouldn´t you?” You considered what your friend just told you and came to the conclusion that what he just said did make sense, he had a point. “Then what are we supposed to do in your opinion?”, you asked tentatively. You had an idea as to what he might propose but you didn´t just want to assume and push him into something he might not want. He had already done so much for you, you didn´t want to put even more pressure onto him. “It´s quite obvious, isn´t it?”, he answered your question while absentmindedly crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We have to act like a couple if we want people to believe us.”, he added with a slight smirk on his face. You knew it was coming but you couldn´t help but still feel surprised about it now that it was actually said. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don´t have to push yourself like this…” Riddle let out another sigh as he once again shook his head. “Don´t worry, I´m perfectly fine with this. And besides, what would be the alternative to this? Your parents finding out that we were just pretending and going back to that foolish prince to once again start discussions about your potential marriage? Now I´m pretty sure that neither of us wants that.” You wanted to retaliate something, anything, because it seemed pretty awkward for you to act like you are in love with your best friend but you didn´t really have a better idea than him and he was right. “Alright then. So, what should we do first? How are we going to go about this?” “Don´t worry to much about it, I already have everything planned out. Just leave it to me.”, he answered your question with a knowing smile on his face as he reached out his hand for you to take. With a light flush to your cheeks thanks to the gentle contact, you took ahold of his hand and let him lead you to who-knows where.

-----------------------

The first place Riddle took you to was the kitchen in the Heartslabyul dorm, where Trey was already working on preparing the tarts and cookies for the redhead´s afternoon tea session. “Ah Trey, it´s good to see you. Would you care to prepare a larger serving for today? I want to share your delicious sweets with my beloved as we drink tea together.” Riddle had said this so casually, with such a practiced normalcy, that Trey´s shocked reaction of almost dropping the tart he had been working on just mere moments ago contrasted almost funnily contrasted with your “lovers” serious behavior. “Your… beloved? Riddle, did I hear that quite right? I think I might have misheard.”, Trey asked awkwardly while trying to fix the mess he had just caused in the kitchen involuntarily.  “Yes, that is quite right. You see, y/n and me share a special connection with each other so it´s only natural that I want to spend more time with them. I assumed that´s what happy couples do, or am I mistaken?” You yourself where almost taken aback by how serious your friend sounded, even if you knew firsthand that it was only an act he had put on. You knew that Riddle was a genius but you didn’t expect him to be so good at acting as well, you were almost convinced by his words alone and he hadn´t even said more than a few sentences. “So, you two are together? Since when?” Trey looked befuddled as he fixed his head that was threatening to fall off from all of its owner´s abrupt movements. You decided to let Riddle do the talking because he seemed to be much more composed than you felt, you didn´t trust yourself to start speaking now without your voice shaking. “Indeed, we are a couple. We´ve been together for some time now but had decided to keep it a secret until now. Y/n was a bit nervous about everyone knowing about us so I kept quiet about it as well. I hope you understand.” Right at this moment, the teapot started making loud noises, indicating that the water was now boiling and ready to be poured. “I understand. To your luck, I actually already made a bit more than usual, so you are more than welcome to take everything here.” “Splendid!”, Riddle exclaimed before looking at you. “Thank you very much!”, you thanked Trey while grabbing most of everything you two needed for your teatime, causing your arms to be completely overloaded with pastries. You said your goodbyes before leaving the kitchen and following Riddle down the hallway. On your way to what you assumed was the garden a familiar looking figure came into view. Judging from the general large statue of this person as well as the tell-tale white fluffy ears, it was Jack Howl that was currently walking right in your direction. When he came closer and finally recognized your face behind the mountain of treats in front of your face, his ears quickly peaked up as he gave you a greeting. “Y/n, why are you carrying all of this stuff? Is this some kind of punishment from the dorm head?”, he tilted his head quizzically while looking at the mentioned person calmly walking beside you. “We are, in fact, walking to the gardens to have a tea party- date. I would appreciate it if you could move out of our way swiftly.” You couldn´t help but notice that Riddle´s tone had gotten a bit snappish, a light glare lingering on his face, indicated by the way his eyebrows furrowed. “D-date? Uh sure, I will but why are you making y/n carry everything by themselves? They look overwhelmed and you aren´t carrying anything. Come on, let me help you carry this.” You smiled in gratitude as you thanked Jack for his great help as he leaned over to take some of the weight off of you, lightly brushing against your arm in the process. Suddenly, Riddle grew very red in the face, the color now rivaling the intensity of his red hair. “Unbelievable! Stop this insolence at once!” Surprised by his sudden outburst compared to his calm state before, you and Jack turned your heads to properly look at him once more. He was fuming, his hands almost shaking. “What´s wrong, Riddle?”, you asked innocently. What had happened? Had you accidentally broken a rule again? But you had done that several times before and he had never reacted this badly in any of the other instances. So, what was wrong? “You want to know what´s wrong? Rules of the Queen of Hearts No. 420: Never touch your ruler´s property! You´ve made a great mistake breaking this rule, Jack Howl!” He seemed truly mad right now for some reason and with a wave of shock you saw him raising his magical pen. Surely, he wasn´t meaning to-

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”, Riddle screamed as he let his magic roam free. Few seconds passed before the heart shaped collar appeared around Jack`s neck. “Why you-!”, Jack growled. “Riddle why did you do that? What´s gotten into you? He just wanted to help me, that´s why he touched the tarts! If anything, it´s my fault as well.” But Riddle didn´t look like he even wanted to consider your exclamation before he promptly grabbed your hand once more, this time quite a bit more tightly as he started walking ahead and pulling you along with him, not paying any mind to the yelling man you two had left behind. You walked quite some minutes before you two came to a stop at a very familiar sight. You were greeted by the beautiful sight of rose bushed that were painted red and a fancy looking decked table. Carefully you set down everything you had to begrudgingly continue to carry on your own because of what happened just a few minutes ago. The thought still wouldn´t leave your head. Why had Riddle reacted so strongly to Jack touching the sweets? After all, hadn´t Trey technically touched them as well when he made them? How would you even bake something without touching it? You swore, these rules kept making less and less sense to you, this was ridiculous. Seemingly noticing that you were still upset, the redhead sighed as he sat in the chair facing yours as he reached his hand over the table, encouraging you to take it. You were still mad so you refused to do so and instead just stared right into his eyes, trying to convey your disagreement with what he had just done. Sensing your hesitancy after refusing to take his hand even after several seconds had already passed, a steely look crossed Riddle´s face as he sighed once more, this time sounding more disappointed as he decided to take the initiative and practically leaned over the table to take your hand that laid out before you on the table and pulling it more towards where he could reach better. Looking down at your now entwined hands, you felt frustration take over, still not understanding what had happened. “You know”, Riddle broke the lasting silence as he simultaneously ran his fingers over the back of your hand which you interpreted as his way to try and calm you down to make you listen. “I wasn’t mad because of the tarts.” At this, you were surprised. What else could he have gotten mad about then? “But I thought you said that he touched- “ “Yes that is what I said. But I wasn´t talking about the tarts.” Now it was your time to be confused. “But then what…” “You.”, he simply uttered. “Huh? What?”   “I said, you were what I was mad about. That filthy animal was touching you, I couldn´t allow that.” Was he serious right now? “But Riddle, Jack wasn´t touching me inappropriately, he was just trying to help me! It was barely a sliver of a touch!”, you protested. Also... does that mean he saw you as his property? Because that was what the rule implied, wasn´t it? Never touch your ruler´s property! That didn´t sit right with you at all. “That doesn´t matter, he still broke a rule and for that he needed to be punished. How am I going to make people obey the rules when they never get punished for breaking them?” You still didn´t agree with what he was saying but didn´t know what to tell him anymore so you decided to keep quiet and just looked at him with a disappointed glare. Sensing your slight animosity, he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing manner as he tried to calm you down again.

“Okay y/n, I admit, I might have been a bit to harsh to him, so can we please just forget about this and change the topic? I don´t want our first date to start on such a sour tone.” You were begrudgingly going to accept Riddle´s apology, fully aware that it was just in his nature to be a bit strict with rules, until the last part of his statement fully settled in. “F-first date??”, you choked out in shock. Amused by your demeanor, your “suitor” couldn´t help but chuckle.

“That is what I said, isn´t it? If we want people to believe us then we must act more like a couple would, wouldn´t you agree? And one very important part is going on dates with your significant other. Or so I´ve heard. So, let´s make the most out of our shared time together, shall we?” He then reached for one of the two plates you brought along and laid it out in front of him as he put the other one away and meticulously cut a big piece out of the strawberry cake sitting down in front of him. You were about to once again protest, were you not going to get any cake? That was until Riddle dug into the sweet treat with his fork, making sure to gently balance the cut-out chunk on top of the eating utensil as he slowly leaned forward again, fork in hand. You watched him quizzically until the inviting sweetness stopped right in front of your closed mouth as Riddle looked at you expectantly as he softly poked your lips with the fork in an attempt to coax you into opening your mouth for him. “Well?”, he asked with an impatient but also clearly smug expression on his face, “Aren´t you going to open your mouth for me? You don´t want the cake to go to waste, do you?” “Just give me my own pla- “, you were cut off as Riddle used this opportunity to forcefully shove the fork into your mouth and though you were surprised by his sudden impulsiveness you couldn´t help but marvel at the sweet aromas that filled your mouth right in that instant. It was so good, you couldn´t help but let out a pleased sigh.

“See? That wasn´t too hard, was it? And there´s more from where that came from.”, Riddle teased as he cut out another piece of cake with his fork. And though you were flustered beyond belief at his almost out of character behavior, you couldn´t say you minded too much.

--------------------------

It´s been a week since you two started this arrangement and everything had been going according to plan. It all went so perfectly, Riddle couldn´t help but think. He still couldn´t help but blush when he recalled how bold he had been that afternoon when he affectionally fed you cake and how you had seemed to greatly enjoy it as well after your initial hesitancy. You were coming around to the idea of you two becoming a couple for real, he could just feel it already. He couldn´t wait for you two to get married, the preparations were running along so smoothly now. He had picked out the perfect wedding venue, a breathtaking garden that was filled with beautiful red roses that would create a wonderfully romantic atmosphere, though he did have to admit that he wasn´t the most well-versed person when it came to decorations. He guessed that he just had to ask you for your opinion when he finally brought the joyous news to you that you would get married in just a few days from now! Wasn´t that wonderful? You two would be joined in a harmonious and happy union for the rest of your life! Ah he felt his heart swell with longing and excitement when he pictured you in your wedding attire, waiting for him at the altar to exchange your vows of never-ending and eternal love. He wanted to hear it so desperately, that you loved him just as much as he loved you, that you would never abandon him and spend the rest of your life together in a far away home. It was his dream, the one thing he couldn´t live without. He had sacrificed so much during his childhood, he was never allowed to have free time or spend time with his friends, he wasn´t allowed to eat unhealthy desert, he was forced to always give it his all even when he was on the brink of passing out from exhaustion. He wouldn´t let anyone ever take you away from him, you were way to precious to him. That was exactly why he had to get rid of any potential threats that could endanger your blossoming love, and the very first person on his list of targets was one Ayers Devereaux, that foolish prince that had tried to marry his y/n before Riddle could even confess his love to them. It had thrown him completely out of the loop and taken him by surprise. He had felt panic, anger, sadness, despair. All of these very strong and intense emotions that had almost seemed to overwhelm him at the time. He couldn´t ever risk this to happen again so he had to act quickly. Now of course he couldn´t just let the crown prince of a rising kingdom disappear into thin air, it would have been way too suspicious and he wanted to avoid the political drama at any costs. So instead, he went with a more pacifistic approach. Instead of having that noble murdered in cold blood, he had instead opted to look for a different spouse for him and set the two up. And from what he has heard from his messengers, his operation went successfully, the both of them were now officially engaged and that prince posed no threat to their love anymore. And on top of that, Riddle had been keeping a close eye on you all this time, spending as much time with you as he could and driving away any other possible suitors that might try to take you away from him. It wasn´t too hard to keep noisy people away from you, just one angry glare sent at the offending party and a threatening raise of his magical pen was sure to make anyone run for the hills in fear of having broken another one of the 810 rules he had promised to keep up. And while it normally would have greatly frustrated him in any other situation that no one had truly made the attempt to memorize all of the rules set up by the Queen of Hearts, it proved to be a great asset in this matter. If no one except him knew the rules by heart then he could just make them up as they were convenient to him and no one would dare to oppose the Heartslabyul dorm leader in fear of getting their magic locked away. Truly it pleased Riddle greatly to see everyone turn away from you after just making up a few rules on the spot.

“Rules of the Queen of Hearts No 666: At exactly 4:20 pm on any given day, the ruler is to spend a shared teatime with their significant other for at least 3 hours.”

“Rules of the Queen of Hearts No 69: It is forbidden to look at your ruler´s significant other if they are spending time together.”

“Rules of the Queen of Hearts No 420: You shall not approach your ruler´s significant other without their explicit consent.”

No one dared raise an eye at any of these unusual rules, after all the unusual was expected with the Rules of the Queen of Hearts. It wasn´t hard to believe that these could be actual rules so no one had caught onto him so far. And that just meant he could spend as much time alone together with you as he liked without anyone protesting. As he thought on and on about how everything had been going just as he had planned, he felt his heart speed up drastically as he saw you approach him with quick steps, a wide smile on your face. Coming to a stop in front of him you were left nearly breathless as you collected yourself before meeting his loving gaze with a deliciously joyous expression.

“Riddle! You won´t believe this! We did it!” How amusing, were you talking about the engagement of that noble? He had just been thinking about it as well, did that prove you two were connected in some way? You had to be, otherwise the wild emotions you caused within him didn´t make any sense. He had never felt this way before but he knew he wanted to hold onto this feeling forever. He decided to indulge you for a bit. “What are you talking about? What happened?” “You won´t believe it! It´s about prince Ayers, you know, the one that was supposed to marry me? Well he just announced his engagement to someone else! We are finally free!” And Riddle couldn´t agree with that sentiment more, you were finally free to both leave this academy together and spend the rest of you lives together, he could hardly wait. “That´s good to hear. Of course our plan worked out.” You took a small bow in front of the Rosehearts before making eye contact once more.

“Really, I can´t thank you enough for what you have done for me! You pretended to be in love with me, all so I wouldn´t get married to someone I didn´t want to marry! So, thank you!”

Wrong. You were wrong. Riddle didn´t pretend to be in love with you, this wasn´t just an act, why couldn´t you see that? He loved you so dearly with his entire being, what else did he need to do to prove that to you?

“-so we can finally stop pretending to be in love with each other and go back to being friends!”

What did you just say? Surely you were kidding? “Y/n what are you saying? Go back to being friends? I can´t allow that to happen.” Your face was quick to fall then, slight discomfort crossing your face.

“Riddle, what are you saying? We aren´t really together, you know? It was all just an act to prevent the arranged marriage, you know that, right?”

Riddle couldn´t help but let out a mirthless laugh at that which seemed to unsettle you even further as you tried to take a step back. But he wouldn´t allow you to go away, to leave him. He grabbed onto your wrist and pulled you closer again, your shaking and pulling not deterring him in the slightest, instead only making his grip even tighter.

“You can´t leave me y/n, I love you! I love you so much! This was anything but a game to me so please, give us a chance! Even if you don´t feel the same right now, these feeling could still grow! There´s still hope!” His breath was ragged now as his shoulders heaved up and down as his body shook. A look of sympathy and understanding now formed on your face and for just a moment, everything seemed okay. You wouldn´t reject him, you would stay by his side. It would all be okay. But his fleeting hope was utterly crushed as soon as you opened your mouth again.

“I´m flattered to hear this Riddle, really I am! But I just can´t accept your confession. I´m really sorry but there is someone else I love, it wouldn´t be fair of me to play with your feelings like that. I hope you understand.” Your eyes sparkled in sincerity but for Riddle, it felt like his world was falling apart right in front of him. You liked someone else? Who? WHO? Who could have caught your heart like that under his own watchful gaze? Who had achieved what he couldn´t?

“Y/n, please answer me. Who are you in love with? I NEED TO KNOW!” It shocked both you and Riddle himself how he had practically screamed out the last part of his sentence but he couldn’t be fazed by this at all now that his dreams were being destroyed right in front of him while you tried to take another step backwards. Riddle noticed the way you were tugging at his arm as a sign for him to let you go but he wouldn´t have any of that. You two were destined to be and nothing would come between the both of you.

“Riddle please let me- “

“NEVER! Rules of the Queen of Hearts No. 911: Never ever break up with your ruler! Especially not right after he had spilled all of his precious feelings for you and opened his heart to you, just to be trampled on and bested by some other wanna-be when he would be the way better choice!! DON`T LEAVE ME OR IT`S OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

“Stop this Riddle please, you´re scaring me!”, you cried out as you kept struggling in his grasp and then… the tears started flowing. The redhead softened his gaze as he saw the tears run down your cheek and he used his unoccupied hand to gently wipe away your tears as he whispered to you with a decidedly calmer tone.

“Shhh don´t worry, everything will be okay! You don´t need to tell me who it is, I will find out myself and then I´ll make them disappear! I know that you are nervous, we are going to get married in just a few days after all but there is no reason to fool yourself into thinking you love another man! So just let me hold you close for the moment until you have calmed down, okay? This was an eventful day for the both of us so let´s just rest.” As he said this, Riddle pulled your shaking form into a tight embrace and then after meeting your eyes with a gaze that could only be described as utterly obsessed, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

“It´s okay, it´ll all be over soon. Tomorrow we can choose what kind of wedding cake you want and after that we can get your wedding attire measured out, okay? And then, we can finally get married and leave everything else behind. We can finally be happy together forever.”

“´Til death do us part”, Riddle whispered as he got down on one knee to slip a beautiful golden ring onto your finger, adored with a blood red gemstone that cost half a fortune.

Everything went according to plan.

[ur-jinji]

wallflowers: part three

zuko x f!reader modern au

summary: things get heated and tense when zuko gets jealous at a party with you

warning: alcohol consumption, angst :(

a/n: @teelagurl558 and i had a good discussion about zuko & alcohol and i really wanted to make a part three lmao

You gazed out the car window, watching the passing houses and streetlights. You turned towards the driver, Zuko, and he moved his head to look at you for a quick moment, smiling softly. He took one hand off of the wheel and placed it on your thigh, giving it a squeeze before resting it there. Your heart melted completely. This guy made you into putty every time he touched you.

You spent the last month with him and your friends so happily. But sadly, the long break was coming to an end. A new semester was starting in a few days, so this was your last night together; you were leaving tomorrow afternoon to head back to your town. You had been staying at both Suki’s apartment and Zuko’s. Your relationship with him had blossomed so naturally. He asked you to be his girlfriend about a week before. You two weren’t rushing things, and took the time to really get to know each other, go out, spend time together, and even sleeping over at his house. You were willing to do long distance, but you weren’t sure if Zuko was, so you had been afraid that this would simply be a fling. But when he asked you to be his girlfriend, he told you he was more than happy to have a long distance relationship. He told you how special you were to him and even started planning the next time he would want to see you after you left. You really, really liked him.

“I wish you could stay one more day,” Zuko spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I know, me too. I just have so much packing and preparing to do for the new semester,” You replied sadly.

The two of you were headed to Suki apartment. She and Katara had planned a surprise going away party for you. One last hoorah. You were under the impression that it was a simple get together that would include ordering pizza and hanging out. Little did you know, they invited about ten other people you befriended through them during your stay, Toph brought a big ol’ speaker, and Sokka bought a bunch of alcohol (everyone who planned on drinking helped pitch in money for it, of course). And obviously there would still be pizza, among other snacks.

Zuko pulled up outside of Suki’s apartment building. The two of you made your way inside and a couple flights of stairs until you made it to her door. He put his hand on the handle and slowly opened it. Your eyes widened when you saw it was completely dark inside, not a soul in sight.

“What the hell?” You said, very confused. Zuko shrugged in response before grabbing your hand and walking inside. As you did so, the lights flickered on, and a bunch of familiar faces jumped out of nowhere.

“Surprise!” They all yelled somewhat in unison.

You felt your soul leave your body as you flinched.

“Holy shit, is it someone’s birthday?” You asked in response, gaining some laughs.

“No, dummy! It’s our ‘y/n-going-away-and-we-are-sad’ party!” Suki said, appearing from the crowd of people.

“I’m celebrating!” You heard Sokka say from across the room.

“I love you, oh my god! You guys didn’t have to do this,” You said before hugging her and planting a kiss on her cheek. You turned to Zuko. “Did you know about this?!”

Zuko nodded and smirked. You pulled away from Suki and hugged him tight. “Might as well have some fun before you go,” He said, a hint of sadness in his tone.

“Well, thank you, everyone!” You yelled as you pulled away from your boyfriend, but not before giving him a peck on the lips. You made your way around the room, hugging and thanking everyone who was there. Toph surprised you the most by hugging you the tightest and the longest. You swore you could hear her sniffle a little. You eventually made your way back to Zuko, who was holding a wine cooler out for you.

“Thank you, hun,” You replied before cracking it open and taking a swig.

You spent the night eating snacks, talking with your friends, listening to music, playing card games, etc. It was the most fun you’ve had in a while. Zuko was attached at your hip all night, which you were fine with, but it made you a little concerned. Something seemed off with him. He slammed a few drinks with Sokka and went through more pretty quickly after. When you suggested he slowed down, he mumbled an excuse like, ‘I thought this was a party’ and shrug it off. You eventually found yourself on the couch, feeling the alcohol hitting you, but you felt fine. Just a little dizzy. Zuko had drunkenly walked away for a moment to get you some water. Sokka plopped down next you, placing a hand over his eyes.

“I should’ve stopped a few drinks ago,” He grumbled.

“Are we gonna have a repeat of the last party?” You asked jokingly.

“God, I hope not,” Sokka replied under this breath. He slouched over, his head accidentally falling onto your shoulder. You heard some snores. You decided to let him stay there since he clearly was feeling sick. You looked up and saw Zuko enter the room, tripping slightly. His eyes landed on you and then glanced over at Sokka’s head on your shoulder. He gripped the water in his hand tightly.

“Hey, baby, mind giving the water to Sokka? He doesn’t feel too good,” You asked, sitting up forward. Sokka’s limp, sleeping body fell behind you. Zuko suddenly tossed the water bottle at Sokka and walked away. What the fuck?

You got up, letting the drunk boy fall roughly onto the couch, causing him to wake up.

“What happened?” Sokka asked, slurring his words.

“I don’t know. He came in and threw that water at you and left,” You explained. Sokka sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Maybe he got jealous. He gets weird sometimes when he drink. I can go talk to him,” He said, surprising you at how level headed he was suddenly being. He got off the couch and walked down the hallway, and you followed closely. You found Zuko standing at the bathroom vanity, gripping the sink hard and holding himself up. His head hung low.

“Zuko, buddy, what’s wrong?” Sokka asked the weirdly angered boy.

“I don’t know. Maybe don’t make moves on my girlfriend?” Zuko replied nastily as his head shot up, glaring at the two of you through the mirror. He turned around, falling slightly but catching himself.

“Dude, what?” Sokka questioned, confusion in his tone. He walked towards his friend. “I’d never do that to you, bro. Plus I have a girlfriend? Who I love more than anything?”

“Zuko, what are you talking about?” You pitched in from the bathroom doorway.

“Go put your head on Suki then, buddy. Don’t touch my fucking girlfriend,” Zuko snapped, suddenly charging the other boy and pressing his puffed out chest against his aggressively.

“Hey! What has gotten into you?!” You yelled, running over to break them up.

“Yeah. What has gotten into you, dude? Don’t pull this shit right now,” Sokka replied with a bit of an attitude, but trying to keep his cool to not make the situation worse. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know what I saw!” Zuko sneered, pushing Sokka away roughly. His eyes were filled with rage. You backed away in shock, not liking this side of him. Why was he being like this?

“Really, Zuko? My last fucking night here and you want to start a fight over nothing? Sokka is fucking drunk and wasn’t feeling good, and fell on me,” You explained angrily.

“Yeah, man, what the hell,” Sokka added, sounding disappointed. “I’m not fighting you, dude. This is ridiculous.”

Zuko suddenly pushed Sokka again, causing you to break.

“Zuko! Enough!” You screamed before grabbing Sokka by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the bathroom. You pushed him away once you exited the bathroom and stormed to Suki’s room, slamming and locking the door behind you. You sat on the edge of the bed, anxiously running your hands through your hair before fishing your phone from your pocket. You bounced your leg nervously, trying to busy yourself and calm down. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

A few minutes later, a knock at the bedroom door startled you.

“Y/N? It’s Suki and Katara! Can you let us in?” A voice from the other side of the door asked worriedly.

You got up and unlocked the door for them. Two worried looking girls strolled in, closing the door behind them.

“What happened?” Katara asked.

“Sokka’s drunk as fuck, his head fell on my shoulder, Zuko walked in, stormed out, and then we confronted him about it what was wrong, and then he tried to fight Sokka!” You explained irritatedly.

“What? Why would he get so mad about that? Sokka always falls on people when he’s drunk?” Suki questioned. “He falls asleep!”

“I’m just so pissed. You should’ve seen him. He was being so irrational. I didn’t even recognize him,” You muttered, replaying the scene in your head. The girls sat down beside you at the edge of the bed, rubbing circles on your back.

“I’m sorry, honey. For what it’s worth, Zuko sounds like he feels awful,” Katara offered with a light smile.

“I don’t care. I hated seeing him like that,” You mumbled. “I just need to be away from him right now.”

“Sokka told me he’s been feeling down knowing you leaving. Maybe that has something to do with tipping him over,” Suki suggested. You shrugged and buried your face in your hands. The image of the anger in his eyes was stuck in your head.

“Can you guys leave me alone for a bit?” You asked. “I need to cool off and think.”

The girls nodded sadly before getting up and exiting the room. You fell backwards on the bed, staring at the ceiling miserably. A couple minutes later, a few knocks sounded and the door knob started to jiggle. They must’ve locked it on their way out.

“What?” You yelled at whoever was at the door.

“Y/N?” It was Zuko. His voice sounded scared and worried. “Please let me in.”

On the other side of the door, Zuko was leaning against the wood, his hands pressed against it. He felt horrible. He didn’t know what had gotten into him. After you left the bathroom, Sokka got Katara and Suki and reasoned with him, calming him down. After the intervention, he realized what he had done. He felt terrible knowing he had hurt you. He couldn’t imagine how scared and upset you were to see him like that. He hadn’t acted like that in a very long time.

“Y/N, baby, please,” Zuko begged. “Please open the door for me. I’m so sorry.”

Silence.

The quiet from the other side was deafening. A pit formed in Zuko’s stomach. Was he going to lose you?

-

a/n: don’t hate me pwease🥺 part four is coming soon! ah!! thanks for reading!!!

-

taglist: @teelagurl558 @complainsalot @coldlilheart

[artificialqueens]

Take You for a Ride (Crystal x Gigi) - Catrina

A/N: hi! it’s been a long while since i posted here. my mental health had a lot to do with that, but here i am again, hopefully as a better writter lmao. apparently i’m obsessed with gigi and crystal and since it’s still crystal’s birthday here i wrote this inspired by dua lipa’s levitating (thanks gigi’s performance at wtw tour). hope you enjoy it and share your thoughts with me. thanks for reading!

Summary: It’s Crystal’s birthday, and nothing comes out as she expects.

Disappointment. That’s the definition of Crystal’s day.

Disappointment and alcohol… maybe some red velvet cake Jan bought for her. She tastes the bitter liquid and sweet frosting in her mouth as she stumbles in her way to the backyard of Jaida’s house.

She’s sick. Sick and tired, of both the party behind her and her day in general. It had really worn her off, first with her teacher grading her project with a humiliating score of 67 points out of 100, then the ridiculous fight with her mother over the phone (she can still listen to the woman screaming at her if she focuses enough) and her cat destroying her One Direction album with her small and deathly paws, and now — oh fucking now, with some idiot pouring their drink all over her dress in a party that she didn’t even want to attend, or happen for that matter.

This isn’t how her birthday is supposed to be. This isn’t even how any birthday is supposed to be, in fact. Crystal doesn’t get how Jan could get to the conclusion that a party at Jaida’s house would make her feel better.

“It’ll be fun!” Jan had said. “You deserve to celebrate your birthday. I’m sure it’ll improve your mood!”

Spoiler: it didn’t.

Crystal feels just as miserable as she would feel in her dorm. Being in bed and watching bad tv was her original plan for today. Was too much to ask for? Why did she let her friends drag her to a party full of people she doesn’t even know?

Right, because Jan and Jaida had made her puppy eyes and Crystal felt terrible for rejecting such a gentle and thoughtful gesture from her friends.

She groans, sitting down on the grass of Jaida’s backyard and rubbing a tissue over the huge stain in the blue fabric of the area over her chest, groaning again when she realizes the stain isn’t moving at all.

Perhaps more miserable.

It’s a sequin blue dress she had purchased a while ago. It wasn’t really expensive, and it isn’t even her favorite, but fuck, it hurts. It’s like today everything in the universe accorded to make her feel terrible. She usually would shrug it off and continue as if nothing has happened, and she can’t quite understand why her natural sense of positivity can’t wash the sadness away.

Giving up, she tosses the tissue to a side and lets the upper part of her body give up to lie down completely on the grass. She’s lucky everyone else is inside, enjoying the music so loud it makes the whole house pound in rhythm, the intermittent lights that must hurt their eyes, the colorful drinks served by Jan and the closeness of dancing bodies rubbing against each other, so she doesn’t have to worry about someone going out and seeing her throwing a tantrum.

The party is a success. She shouldn’t ruin it with her bitter existence.

The sky is quiet tonight, with some stray stars and the moon shining bright. It makes Crystal breathe heavily, over and over again, until she’s sure she’ll be okay.

But, as her breathing regulates, imagines of every earlier moment when she felt everything but okay flash through her mind, and her lungs are not cooperating anymore.

Her heart feels heavy, stupidly hurt. She knows tomorrow her terrible grade will still be there, and her mother will still be pissed at her for whatever she even got mad about, and her favorite album will remained ruined and her fucking dress won’t be wearable anymore, and it’s fine, because she can make work for extra points to improve her final grade and text her mom an apology and replace the material stuff that isn’t even that important whatsoever, but that won’t help her stop feeling so helpless.

Helpless — that’s a good definition for her.

“Crystal?”

Gigi Goode looking down at Crystal interrupts her pathetic thoughts.

More than the interruption, her mere presence is what makes Crystal blink twice and wonder, for a brief moment, if she fell asleep on Jaida’s backyard grass and she’s dreaming.

She’s used to see Gigi everyday, but since today has been a short taste of hell, it wasn’t surprising when Gigi texted her to say she had to miss part of her classes and Jaida’s party because she needed to find someone to fix the broken temperature system in her apartment.

She hasn’t come to terms of how she feels about Gigi yet, and it’s not something she would like to do at all. For the past two months, Crystal has noticed the way her heart starts pounding violently in her chest when Gigi smiles at her, or takes her hand to lead her through the corridors or when she simply looks at her with those big eyes full of emotion and it’s ridiculous but somehow fitting that the only person she craved to see today was the one she couldn’t.

“What are you doing here?” Gigi tries again at her lack of response, not hesitating to offer her hand to help her up.

Crystal takes her hand without thinking (she doesn’t do a lot of thinking in Gigi’s presence) and lets her pull her up in a sitting position.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking what are you doing here? I thought said your temperature system was giving trouble.”

Gigi chuckles, crouching to be at the same height as her.

“Well, I really wanted to come and Heidi said she could manage it. The girl knows about mechanics, did you know that?”

Crystal shakes her head, breathing out a laugh. “I never would’ve guessed.”

Gigi hums thoughtfully. “Well, she does, thank fuck, because I really wanted to see you, birthday girl.”

Heat creeps up to Crystal’s face incredibly fast, leaving her cursing the power something so small can have over her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I asked Jan where you were, actually. She said some dickhead poured all his drink on you and you were probably in the bathroom but you weren’t there.”

Crystal opens her mouth to vent about her now ruined dress, frowning as soon as a different thought crosses her mind. “But there are like five bathrooms here. You went all around the house looking for me?”

Confused, Gigi nods. “Is that weird?”

It’s extremely sweet, is Crystal’s first answer.

“No, of course not,” she giggles instead. “But why were you looking for me?”

Gigi looks suddenly flushed, as if she was caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“Well, I…” she tears her eyes away from Crystal to look at the party behind her through the glass doors. “What happened to you?”

The change of topic takes Crystal aback.

“What? What about me?”

“Yeah, you’re here all alone, looking like a child who dropped their candy, when you’re usually a little happy ball, and in your birthday,” Gigi remarks, although not harshly. “Had a bad day?”

Crystal hates this how easy is for Gigi to read her. She knows she looks terrible, beside her dress the signals of her terrible day surely mark her face in dark bags under her eyes and pale tired skin, but Gigi has always had a talent to read her beyond that. The simple fact makes her feel even more embarrassed.

“A horrible one,” she finally confesses in a low whine. “A straight up disgusting, draining, fucked up, impossible day! And, I know I shouldn’t feel so pressed about it, but birthdays are supposed to be happy and I — I am not. At least not now.”

Gigi snickers, taking Crystal’s hand in her own to give it an affectionate squeeze.

“It’s okay to have bad days. Now, to have a bad birthday is really fucked up, but it is what it is. Wanna tell me about it?”

“I’m not really in the mood of talking about me being mediocre in life,” Crystal means to joke more than to actually vent, and she loves the way Gigi giggles.

“Dramatic much?”

“Oh,” Crystal’s eyebrows raise as she laughs. “I can be more dramatic.”

But Gigi doesn’t laugh along this time. She purses her lips, and then stands up, offering her hand to Crystal again.

“Let’s go.”

Crystal looks puzzled. She takes Gigi’s hand, allowing her to pull her back on her feet. With her hand still covered by the other girl’s, Gigi begins dragging her back to the house.

“Where are we going?”

“Let’s go for a ride,” Gigi suggests, looking back over her shoulder just to give her a smile that reassures everything.

In the middle of the dark since the backyard lights don’t reach there, the path changes; Gigi takes Crystal through a small hallway that connects the porch with the patio to the front of the house. They meet a few people in the way; some passed out on the ground, others drinking in their friends and some couples making out. Crystal turns to watch them before she realizes they’re crossing the garden.

“Gigi,” she breathes as she spots the motorbike parked on the sidewalk.

The blonde reaches in the pocket of her jacket, her hand still on Crystal’s. She finally pulls out her keys and twirls them on a finger.

“Every time I’m sad, or mad… or high,” she grimaces and Crystal laughs, “I get on this thing and ride away. It usually works to clear my mind and calm me down, so I thought it could work on you too.”

Crystal feels something very close to gratitude. Instead, she knows it’s pure adoration for one called Gigi Goode.

“Okay,” excitement starts filling her face as she smiles. “Oh my god, I’ve never been close to a motorcycle before, wow!”

Gigi laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’ve literally seen it everywhere with me.”

“I know, but—” she eagerly motions to Gigi and then to the motorcycle. “I always see it as, I dunno, part of you. Like, yeah, there’s Gigi and her bike, you know? I’ve never seen it up close.”

Gigi’s light hearted laugh is the answer she receives again. “Well, now is your chance.”

The motorcycle shines in its black neat color, with not a single particle of dust on it or sign of being neglected; Gigi’s perfectionist personality reflecting. Crystal finds herself so absorbed by its beauty that she doesn’t realize when Gigi lets go of her hand and gets on the bike, using her legs to adjust herself as she takes the two helmets from the space behind her on the seat to make room for Crystal.

She reaches forward to pull the key in the ignition, and it only takes a firm move from her hand for the motor to start growling. The sound makes Crystal gasp.

“You think you can get on? I don’t want you to fall,” Gigi warns, but Crystal is already jumping behind her.

Of course, the gravity plays a cruel trick and she has to grab onto Gigi’s jacket to prevent her from sliding off, but Gigi doesn’t seem to care as she snuggles closer. She offers one of the helmets to Crystal, smiling.

“Safety first.”

“This is so pretty,” she drawls, passing her fingers over the shiny, baby pink surface of the helmet.

“Thanks. Heidi suggested me to get it customized that way,” Gigi comments as she puts her own helmet, of a white color, on. “She’s pretty much the only person who I give a ride, so I thought, why not?”

A tinge of jealousy pops in Crystal’s chest, but she forces herself to ignore it as she notices Gigi reaching over the hand grips, preparing herself to move. She rushes to put the helmet on and forces the image of Heidi taking her spot behind Gigi to fade away.

“You’ll probably resent the motion, so please hug my waist as hard as you can and hold your legs onto the sides of the seat,” says Gigi, so easily it makes Crystal think it’s something she has memorized. “I’ll go slowly anyway, since it’s your first time.”

Crystal complies immediately; she wraps her arms around Gigi’s waist and the stupid butterflies in her stomach seem to fly all the way up to her throat, suffocating her for a second, until she realizes it’s just Gigi’s perfume.

Fuck, she thinks bitterly. She smells really good.

The short heel of Gigi’s boot kicks on something at the same time she rotates the key one more time, and the motor growls fiercely.

They start moving — it’s almost magical. At first, Crystal can’t really feel it. It starts as such a gentle motion, but when she looks around, she sees Jaida’s house becoming smaller and smaller in the distance, and the houses around moving around them. That’s when it hits her; they’re moving.

Gigi speeds up once they’re out of the block, turning on the left and then right and moving smoothly until they’re exiting the neighborhood, but Crystal doesn’t mind in following their path.

She’s too busy giggling at the wind hitting her face and making her hair twirl, creating ginger waves at the sides of her head.

The world around them is moving so fast, and all she can recognize in the city at night are deformed street lights and bright colors everywhere she looks at; everything seems so distant but so close at the same time as they slide on the asphalt, and the late life of Los Angeles never looked so appealing.

Nothing seems important now. Her grade, the fight with her mother, her album nor her fucking dress. Her mind is full of Gigi; of her beautiful hair, her endearing voice, her flawless face and how soft she feels under Crystal’s hands; almost as if she belongs there, in her arms.

If Crystal wasn’t starting to feel dizzy for the speed, she would probably never think such a thing; her feelings for Gigi are something unexplored and feared, threatening to destroy their friendship because Gigi is everything and Crystal is barely something that exists. And Crystal isn’t ready to lose her.

It’s the little things, like the fact she went all around the house looking for Crystal or that she even wanted to see her, that she thought of a way to cheer her up, that make Crystal’s stomach coil and tie itself in a too tight knot that won’t probably never be the same. Gigi has some kind of security aura around her that, as Crystal learned, was impossible to ignore. She’s confident, sure, but there’s something more to that attitude; something that demands to be trusted under that bitch façade. She’s kind and loving and funny, and if Crystal has to swallow her feelings to make sure Gigi is always at her side, then she will.

As they speed up into a steady pace, Crystal notices how Gigi relaxes and leans back into her just a little, and without a second thought she leans on her as well.

“You okay back there?” Gigi asks, voice muffed by the violent wind and motor growling under them.

“Yeah!” Crystal exclaims. “Oh my god, Gigi! This is amazing!”

“Wait until you see this!”

Crystal is about to ask what she means, when they turn into an empty street, where a tunnel leans out. There are no more cars or motorcycles around them and Gigi speeds up even more as they approach the tunnel, lights flying around them.

A raw “puff!” echoes in their ears as they storm into the tunnel, and Crystal laughs as she feels the force the motorcycle is traveling through it. She feels light, like the butterflies flying around her stomach, levitating at the right speed and watching the world around them as secondary.

Gigi starts slowing down at the middle of the tunnel.

“Hold your arms up,” she tells Crystal, eyes locked at the front. “Just for a second, so you can feel the wind.”

At first Crystal hesitates, but the speed is steady and there are no more vehicles around, so she slowly pulls her arms away from Gigi.

She raises both arms, wriggling them at her sides. She makes a quick mental note to remind herself to thank Gigi later, because the air hugs her limbs in a way that almost tickles her, the soft touch running on her naked arms and she closes her eyes for a moment, wondering if she could fall asleep like this.

Of course, when the motorcycle runs over a bump and she has to hold on Gigi’s torso to avoid jumping out of the seat, that idea is quickly denied.

“Oh, right,” Gigi laughs. “I should’ve warned you about that.”

Crystal huffs, sleep knocked out of her as they leave the tunnel behind.

The rest of the way is calm; Gigi decides to go slow this time, so Crystal has the chance to see everything in a clear way (according to her, it’s very important to appreciate the view) and Crystal takes the moment to rest her chin on Gigi’s shoulder and wrap her arms around her middle, just like before, but this time without the messy rush of fearing being thrown out of the motorcycle by a bump.

The proceed to threat a way through town messily, going around buildings and onto streets Crystal doesn’t even know, but Gigi moves skillfully, like she knows exactly where she’s going, and Crystal trusts her. Soon she noticed that Gigi actually knows where they going.

She recognizes her surroundings as they approach the apartment complex where Gigi and Heidi live. She’s always complained saying that her place is small, but the few times Crystal has come over, she’s loved the cozy feeling that takes over her as soon as she crosses the door, which makes her feel even more excited.

Gigi parks carefully on a spot near the front gates. She pulls the key out and the motor shuts down, as she leans back with a pleased smile.

“I didn’t ask you if you wanted to come here, but I thought you didn’t want to go back,” she whispers, barely having to turn around to see Crystal’s face resting on her shoulder blade.

“You thought correctly,” Crystal sighs with content before a thought crosses her mind, making her gasp. “Shit, I gave Jan my phone before going out—”

Gigi reaches on the inside pocket of her jacket, pulling out Crystal’s phone.

“She gave it to me when I asked for you,” she explains to a stunned Crystal. “She thought we would leave together eventually.”

“How smart,” Crystal mumbles.

She unlocks it while Gigi takes her helmet off, noticing the time; almost two in the morning. She tugs on Gigi’s sleeve, pointing at the screen.

“It’s late, won’t Heidi be pissed if we come in? She could be sleeping.”

“The girl wouldn’t wake up even if a rock fell in her head,” Gigi rolls her eyes, gesturing for Crystal to take her helmet off as well. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

Crystal shrugs as she does so, too wrapped in the thought of spending more time with Gigi to care. She gets back on her feet with a little jump, following her inside the building as they carry the helmets with them. Gigi talks about her day while they’re making their way to the third floor through the stairs, blame the elevator that never came back to the lobby, by Crystal’s request. She wanted to know how she had been doing while she was miserable, and Gigi complies, walking through the empty building.

“I noticed this temperature thing was broken because, c’mon, California will never be hot enough to make fucking ice cream almost boil,” she says just when they walk into the right corridor, Crystal trailing behind her. “It was a nightmare, everything was so fucking hot. I hope Heidi could fix it.”

The metal of her keys knocking makes the only sound that fills the air as Gigi opens the door. She reaches for the switch and the small living room lights up, cool air receiving them.

“She fixed it,” Crystal muses, smiling.

“God bless her,” Gigi sighs, taking off her boots. “Could you leave your shoes by the door and the helmet over the coffee table please?”

Crystal steps on the soft carpet on her short blue socks, watching as Gigi makes her way to Heidi’s bedroom door. She opens it just enough to poke her head inside. After exchanging a few words with her roommate, she turned back to Crystal, closing the door behind her.

“Heidi was just going to sleep.”

“Oh,” Crystal’s eyebrows raise. “Tell her hi?”

“I’m not sure she’ll appreciate me bothering her again,” she giggles. Her mouth opens again, but she closes it seconds after, thinking for a second on what to say. Finally, she gestures at the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

The apartment is small, Gigi’s right. The living room has barely enough space for a couch and a coffee table and is too close to the kitchen. The bathroom is that white door carelessly next to the television hanging on the wall, and Crystal bets Gigi and Heidi’s rooms are just as small, although she has never seen them. The few times she has been there, with Jaida and Jan, they simply preferred to stick to the couch and a barstool they would drag from the kitchen.

Gigi’s room suddenly becomes source of her curiosity, but she nods, remembering Gigi’s question.

“We’ve got a great menu tonight, in honor of your birthday,” Gigi hums as Crystal sits on one of the stools of the kitchen bar. She opens the fridge, eyeing the content blocked to Crystal’s view by the fridge door. “We have… well, we’ve got beer, and pretty much nothing else.”

Crystal laughs. “Beer! Just what I wanted!”

Gigi is beaming under the kitchen lights as she tosses her a beer and takes another one for herself, nonchalantly kicking the fridge closed. She leans a hip on the kitchen bar, worryingly close to Crystal, and holds her beer up.

“Cheers,” she clicks their cans together.

“Cheers,” Crystal repeats. She stops right before taking a sip, frowning. “But what are we exactly cheering for?”

Sipping her drink, Gigi breathes out a laugh.

“You just killed the moment, babe.”

Babe. Crystal’s ears burn with the name, and she attempts to conceal her surprise by pretending she’s genuinely confused.

“Well, who cares?” Gigi shrugs, holding her beer up again. “Here’s to terrible birthdays, a broken temperature system, and…”

“Motorcycles,” Crystal fills in for her.

“Yeah,” Gigi grins at her. “Motorcycles.”

Crystal leans back to take a long sip of her drink, savoring the slightly bitter taste going down her throat. She notices Gigi staring at her when she places the beer back over the bar, with the ghost of a smile on her glossy lips.

“What?”

“What,” Gigi repeats, snickering.

“You’re looking at me,” Crystal points out, smiling to cover her worsening blush.

“I like looking at you,” the blonde simply says, as if it’s obvious. “I always wanna look at you.”

“That’s creepy. Do I need to call the cops?”

Far from looking bothered, Gigi shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe.”

Crystal scowls with no genuine annoyance, but her face softens as Gigi’s smile somehow widens.

“You’re weird, miss Goode. I thought being weird was my gig,” she jokes, making Gigi throw her head back in laughter.

Internally, Crystal is praying this moment never ends. Seeing Gigi under the dim lights of her kitchen, toying with that beer and looking so effortlessly gorgeous is having the same effect as when she was feeling the air hit her face on the motorcycle, and her head already feels lost in space, far away from the apartment.

“Why were you looking for me earlier?” Crystal asks, voice small.

The intimate atmosphere created around the two is beginning to feel suffocating. Crystal can feel Gigi so close, like she’s the only real part of a dream and the rest of the world was nothing but a wallpaper for her wonderful figure to stand in front of and lead Crystal through the rest of the night.

“Nothing,” Gigi doesn’t even look taken aback by the sudden question.

“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be nothing,” she whines as Gigi takes another sip, purposely taking a long fucking time doing so. “Gigi, c’mon. Tell me!”

She leans forward, making her lower lip stick out in an exaggerated pout. It seems to work catching Gigi’s attention since her whole face seems decomposed when she glances over.

“Don’t do that.”

Crystal frowns. “Do what?”

“Don’t pout.”

“Why not?” she quirks en eyebrow.

“Because it makes me wanna kiss it off your lips,” Gigi deadpans. She takes a final sip from her beer before walking to the fridge again, not minding if Crystal just froze on her spot.

Crystal laughs nervously, trying to convince herself she just misheard. Her heart is beating so fast on er chest, if she watched any medical tv show she might be worried for it to pop out of her body through her nose at any second.

As time passes, she wonders if that’s possible.

“What did you say?”

Gigi sighs, returning with another two beers. She looks uncharacteristically shy, sheepishly placing the new beer in front of Crystal, eyes glued to the carpet.

“This is dumb,” she blurts.

“Gigi—”

But Gigi leans in to kiss her, and suddenly any word forming in Crystal’s head dissolves.

It’s slow and tentative at first, but any doubt disappears when Crystal’s hands move to cup Gigi’s face, pulling her even closer.

She feels light. So light, like when she was holding her arms up in the tunnel to feel the wind, and everything moved so far away from her, she felt ethereal. And now, moving her lips against Gigi’s and feeling the texture of her lipstick between them makes her wonder how Gigi can make such raw sentiments be born in her, riding a goddamn motorcycle or kissing her in the tiny kitchen of her apartment.

Gigi’s hands are tight at the sides of her waist, tugging a little tighter as she pulls back to grab some air.

“That’s why I was looking for you earlier,” she confesses after a while of comfortable silence.

Crystal feels pulled out from a deep trance… or rid over by a bus. Whatever sounds romantic as she stares at the blonde’s deep blue eyes and runs her fingers over her shoulders.

“I think I’ve felt this way with you for a while… I mean, you’re pretty, and I have eyes, so I can tell that you’re pretty,” Gigi continues and if Crystal wasn’t focusing on breathing she would’ve laughed, “I thought that I could keep it friendly, but this morning, when I knew the temperature system was broken and I couldn’t make it to class or the party, I was so pissed. I didn’t wanna let you down.”

The butterflies in Crystal’s stomach have eaten her tongue. Yes, that’s why she’s speechless.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Gigi finally asks and everything fits in Crystal’s head.

“Why would I be mad at you? You’ve literally described how I feel for the last semester with this crush I have on you,” Crystal blurts out.

Before regrets covers her entire face, she notices Gigi raising an eyebrow, with a smirk threatening to form on her lips.

“Last semester, huh? That much?”

“Shut up,” Crystal tries to sound pissed, she really does, but with Gigi being so close, her blushing cheeks betray her initial expression.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you’re flattering me.”

They both laugh. A warm feeling spreads across Crystal’s chest at the fact.

“This day… it was hell,” she mumbles, and almost smiles at how Gigi looks at her, having her entire attention, “and I also was thinking of you. It was weird… like, as I said before, birthdays are supposed to be happy and while I was sad and grumpy I couldn’t help but think ‘I wish Gigi was here, because she would make everything better; she’d make me laugh or help me or just make me feel like I’m not alone’ and I hated the idea of not getting to see—”

“The love of your life?” Gigi suggests, sounding way too hopeful.

“I was gonna say that blonde bitch,” Crystal grimaces, “but if that works for you…”

Gigi laughs, mumbling something about who was the real bitch is as she reaches over for her second beer.

Leaning her side on the kitchen bar, freshly open can in hand, Gigi smiles again. It’s a show of her teeth and little wrinkles at the sides of her eyes that Crystal remembers noticing the day they met that morning at History of Art class.

Glancing at that very smile, Crystal’s pretty sure she’s dreaming. Did she fall asleep on Jaida’s lawn? That’d be pathetic. Someone could think she’s dead tomorrow morning when everyone’s hung over and oh, the idea frightens her, but she has to be dreaming. She can’t be this lucky — she’s never been lucky. What are the chances someone like Gigi can have a crush on her?

This flawless, beautiful girl with a golden personality that Crystal’s been making heart-eyes at for months has a crush on her.

God, she thinks. If I fell asleep Jan better never wakes me up.

“Crystal?”

The redhead blinks a couple of times, meeting Gigi’s eyes in the process.

“You were lost in thought, babe. You alright?”

The fucking pet name again. Crystal isn’t dreaming; her brain wouldn’t be mean enough to make up scenarios like this.

“Was I? Sorry.”

That’s not the answer Gigi wants. She drags the other barstool from the other side of the kitchen bar to Crystal’s side, sitting down with her beer still in hand.

“Stop overthinking.”

It’s not a suggestion. Crystal attempts to laugh, but no actual sound comes out of her mouth.

“Well, I can’t,” she babbles, “it’s hard. This doesn’t feel real.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” she whispers, more to herself than to the other girl. “I always thought that you were…  romantically different than me.”

Gigi looks utterly confused. “Please elaborate?”

The butterflies are not dead. They’re flying around Crystal’s stomach now, begging her to not fuck it up.

“I never thought you’d feel the same,” she admits, too quietly for her taste.

Vulnerability is not a good look on her, she has decided years before, and definitely not in front of Gigi. She has all the time in the world to be a cry baby in the comfortable privacy of her dorm, not right now, for Christ’s sake.

“This is real,” Gigi gestured at herself, then at Crystal. “We’re real. Everything is. I can’t understand why you’re so impressed about it, but I know for sure it’s not enough of a reason.”

Crystal nods. Gigi’s right, as always, and she’s just wasting time questioning why has her day taken the path it did instead of enjoying it.

“I’m just being stupid.”

Gigi rolls her eyes, pulling her again for another kiss — a shorter one, but Crystal can’t help but try and memorize how her lips feel against hers. She’s never stopped and think of how it would be to kiss Gigi, and she’s somehow glad; none of her expectations would have been better than the real thing.

“I like you stupid,” Gigi comments once they part, receiving a smack on the arm by Crystal. “You know I’m kidding; you’re never stupid, but I do like you.”

“I like you too,” Crystal breathes, feeling every of her limbs relaxing. Gigi doesn’t say more, and maybe it’s the end of their conversation, but there’s something else forming in Crystal’s throat and before she knows it, she blurts out, “thank you.”

Gigi looks up, puzzled. “For what?”

“For the ride. It was the best birthday present ever.”

Under the dim lights of a small kitchen in an even smaller apartment somewhere in Los Angeles, Crystal knows there’s nothing better than Gigi Goode.

[keichanz]

Possession

Okay so I stayed up super late last night to try and get this out, but I couldn’t do it because i was so tired lol and now I’m kicking myself because I could have posted the first half of it because honestly the last five pages aren't even that relevant but eh whatever. 

This came out a lot longer than I anticipated, but only because I wanted to have the argument between Inuyasha and Izayoi resolved and that will be posted later today, but not as an official Spooktober prompt. It’ll be more like a bonus chapter. 

and once more, the prompt has nothing at all to do with anything spooky or Halloween related lmao oh well there's no rules saying that is has to XD

Spooktober Day 25: Possession

Izayoi stared at the festive and brightly decorated door of her locker, feeling oddly detached as she took in all the well wishes and brief, personal messages from her friends. As was a custom whenever someone in their tightly knit group of friends had a birthday, they always arrived early to decorate their locker with homemade cards, cut out stars, dollar store cheap decorations and silly little messages.

Rin’s was, of course, front and center, her handwriting big, bold, and loud, just like the girl herself was. Kohaku’s messy scrawl was just beneath hers, and she’d spotted a few other birthday wishes from people she knew of, but didn’t talk to that much, probably just sparing a second to write down a quick happy b-day as they passed by.

Seeing Kohaku’s had made her think that maybe someone else had taken the time to write something too, but upon realizing that his name was missing from all the rest, the disappointment had been swift and stinging.

Thinking on it now, however, Izayoi grudgingly admitted that it made sense; being two grades above her, Raiden was in a different part of the school where his own classes were located. She hadn’t seen him all day and didn’t know if he was even here today and if he was, certainly he had no reason to venture this far out of his way just to write a silly little message for a silly little girl with a not so little crush on her birthday.

And why would he, Izayoi thought bitterly, features twisting into a pout as she put in the combination and roughly yanked open her locker door. Probably wants nothing to do with me now, the girl with the crazy overprotective jerkface of a father. Not after Friday.

She knew it wasn’t the end of the world or anything. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that. She was young, blah blah blah.

Didn’t stop it from hurting, though.

Sighing, Izayoi carelessly tossed her bag on top of her texts and her eyes landed on the sleek device sitting quietly on the top shelf. She hesitated for a fleeting moment – it was lunch period so she was allowed to have it – then gave in and reached up to grab it. It was cool against her skin as she brought it down and her face was reflected in the dark, smooth glass of the screen.

Despite her current mood she had to smile a little. She’d found the cell phone in her backpack that morning when exchanging her books for first period and she’d been so surprised she’d nearly dropped it. The note taped to the box it was in had nearly made her cry on the spot, and thinking of it now Izayoi once more felt her throat tighten and her eyes to feel hot.

The note had simply said “Happy birthday, babygirl. Love, Mom and Dad” and it had been in her dad’s handwriting.

She still hadn’t spoken to him since their argument Friday. All weekend she’d actively avoided him and though it was clear her mom disapproved, she hadn’t stopped her either, and Izayoi was grateful. She was still angry, still hurt from what he’d said and done and she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.

Surprisingly her mom wasn’t trying to play mediator like she usually did, and even more surprisingly, her dad hadn’t tried to approach and talk things over. He was giving her the space she wanted, respecting her silent wish to leave her be until she was ready.

The fact that he was letting her come to him made her feel a guilty, and that just made her feel even worse, and round and round the vicious cycle went.

God. Here it finally was, her thirteen birthday, making her an official teenager, and here she was, absolutely and completely miserable.

Izayoi closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and once she felt like she wasn’t about to break apart, she tucked the phone away in the back pocket of her jeans and swung the door to her locker closed.

“Hey, pretty puppy.”

The breath left her lungs in a deep, aggravated sigh and she grumbled, “Leave me alone, Daisuke. I’m in no mood to deal with you right now.” Or ever.

“C’mon,” he crooned and swiftly stepped in front of her when she moved to walk away. “You’re not still mad about what happened, are you? It was an accident.”

Izayoi snorted. “Maybe on your end,” she mumbled under her breath, not really caring if he heard her. Because breaking his nose had definitely not been an accident.

“Look, it’s your birthday, right? So lemme make it up to you. Let’s do something after school, my treat.” He grinned charmingly down at her, probably thinking it was actually going to be that easy.

“No thanks,” Izayoi said and moved to step around him. “Rin and the girls already promised to take me out and I’m doing something with my family afterward.”

Lies, but he didn’t need to know that. Or at least the first part was; she was pretty sure her parents wanted her home at some point so they could have a small celebration with family, cake, and ice cream and embarrass her by singing “happy birthday” horribly off key. And normally that would have appealed to her, but right now all it did was remind her of the plans she used to have today, and her chest ached.

“So they can come with us,” Daisuke said with a shrug, frowning when she went to step around him. Once more he intercepted her, using his longer legs to his advantage. “The more the merrier, right?”

Izayoi set her jaw and pegged him with a peeved glare.

“No,” she said firmly and again went to brush past him, their less than stimulating conversation over as far as she was concerned.

Daisuke darted a hand out and caught her arm, preventing her from leaving.

“Alright, I get it,” he said, ignoring her annoyed growl as she yanked at her arm. He held fast and continued with a smirk, “My pretty puppy’s playing hard to get. Fine, if you won’t go out with me tonight, then go with me to your parents’ Halloween party.”

He paused, and then frowned. “Wait, you can still go with me even though you live there, right—”

“I’m not your anything, Daisuke,” Izayoi hissed, ears pinned against her head and amber eyes snapping fire at him. “Let me go. Now.”

“We can meet somewhere and go together,” he said, completely ignoring her. “It’ll be like a real date.”

Amber eyes narrowed as she said through gritted teeth, “You want me to break your nose again?”

Daisuke blinked and frowned, however he did loosen his hold enough for her to jerk her arm free.

Glowering at him, her patience for his idiocy worn out, she snapped, “I’m not going with you to the party. I’m already going with somebody else.”

As soon as the words left her mouth Izayoi wanted to take them back. Oh, why did I say that? It’s not true. At least, not any more.

Aaaaaaand she wanted to cry again. Great.

Daisuke blinked and he proved that he was capable of feeling more than just arrogance as confusion crossed his features.

“Wait, you are? With who?”

Izayoi merely crossed her arms and looked away. She would have left already, but she knew he would just stop her again so there was no point.

Daisuke’s face darkened and he scowled a little, jealousy flashing in midnight eyes.

“Who the hell is it?” he demanded in a low, dangerous voice, not wanting to believe someone had gotten to his pretty puppy before he did. She was supposed to be with him, dammit!

Izayoi cut her eyes to his briefly and muttered, “None of your business.”

He growled and stepped forward. “Dammit, who—”

“She’s going with me, dickless,” a voice interrupted from behind her and as Daisuke whipped his head up to level a glare at the intruder, Izayoi fought against the urge to weep in relief because one, he had perfect timing, and two, he still wanted to go with her to the party. A part of her also wanted to laugh because he’d called Daisuke dickless, but that was easily suppressed.

Daisuke scoffed and with his attention on the other demon he didn’t notice Izayoi take a step back to put some distance between them.

“You can’t be serious,” the wolf said with a derisive snort and crossed his arms, lifting his chin haughtily as he stared down his nose at the dark-haired dog demon. “It’s you?”

Standing just a few feet away with his arms crossed and an unreadable look on his face, Raiden regarded Daisuke mutely for another minute before crossing the distance between them. With Izayoi’s back facing him he couldn’t see her face but he didn’t need to; her scent told him everything he needed to know.

He purposely positioned himself in front of her and crossed his arms again, unaffected by the snarl Daisuke was currently aiming at him.

“I’m completely serious,” Raiden finally answered and he heard Izayoi inhale sharply behind him. “I’m her date, she’s not available, so you can go now. I can take it from here.”

Then he actually smirked and Izayoi bit back a snicker.

Daisuke snorted again and mirrored the dog demon’s pose, crossing his arms and giving him a once over, his expression suggestion that he was not impressed.

“Please,” he scoffed. “Inuyasha Taisho would chew you up and spit you out barely breathing if a pathetic weakling like you ever came near his precious daughter.” Then he returned the smirk and added, “And you’d go running with your tail between your legs so you can lick your wounded ego.”

Raiden merely cocked a brow and drawled, “And yet, here I am.”

Izayoi slapped hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

That particular implication wiped the smirk right off of his face and Daisuke scared incredulously at him before narrowing his eyes in disbelief.

“You mean you actually faced off against her old man and came back in one piece?” he asked, the idea clearly ludicrous to him.

Raiden stared at him before slowly looking down at himself, as if to check that he was, indeed, all there.

“Seems like it,” he said and this time had to grin when Izayoi failed that time in smothering her laugh.

Daisuke scowled, not amused by his show of nonchalance and cockiness. He’d had enough of this wise guy and his holier than thou attitude and it was time to end this pointless conversation.

“Listen here, smartass—”

“No, you listen,” Raiden interrupted and Izayoi watched in fascination as his face twisted into scowl, something she’d never seen on him before. “I’ve seen the way you act toward her, like she’s some kind of possession, a thing to claim, and I’m sick of it. She’s not your ‘pretty puppy’ or your anything; she’s Izayoi, she’s cute, funny, smart, and she’s my date, so do both of us a favor and back off, Matsuno.  Your advances are clearly unwanted, and maybe you’re too dense to understand that, but I’m more than happy to demonstrate in a much more physical way if you continue to bother her. And by physical I mean my fist to your face, just in case you need that clarification.”

Daisuke surprisingly had nothing to say to that, his face flushed in anger, jaw clenched, and blue eyes swimming with all the loathing he had for the dog demon in front of him. Raiden was unmoved, staring steadily back at him, an unmovable object against an unstoppable force.

Gritting his teeth, the wolf shifted his gaze to the hanyou standing silently behind his advisory, seeking some kind of sing that the dog was wrong, but Izayoi wasn’t even looking at him. Her golden gaze was trained solely on the damned dog and he could have sworn there were goddamn hearts in her eyes.

He blinked and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Well. That was his answer, wasn’t it.

Straightening his back and turning his eyes back toward Raiden, Daisuke set his jaw, glared into eyes that were the weirdest freaking shade of blue-green he’d ever seen, then with a barely perceptible nod, he turned and wordlessly stalked away.

The second he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, Raiden exhaled loudly and turned around to face the pretty silver-haired hanyou he was starting to develop some serious feelings for. Feelings that he maybe, sort of, wanted to explore, but first he had to get passed the fair lady’s guard and protector.

Easier said than done, as he’d found out first hand, but he was sure as hell going to try.

Realizing that he may have overstepped his boundaries a bit, Raiden grimaced and cautiously peeked at her face. He was met with the smiling countenance of said fair lady, her pretty golden eyes soft, and slowly he relaxed.

“Hi,” he said lamely. You know, like a dumbass.

Her smile widened. “Hi,” she breathed, eyes suspiciously bright. “Thank you. For saying all that. You didn’t have to, and...” she trailed off, shrugging and shifted her gaze to the side, her face flushed.

Raiden frowned. “I did have to,” he said firmly. “Otherwise I don’t think he would have ever left you alone. I’m sorry, I...probably shouldn’t have said some of it—”

“Did you mean it?” she asked him, voice serious, eyes searching his own.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Her smile was bright and beautiful and, yep he was a goner. Shit.

“Then don’t be sorry. I’m not.”

His eyes widened.

...Oh.

Oh.

Ridiculously Raiden felt his face heat and he coughed into his hand, looking away briefly to regain his bearings.

“Jeez, woman, warn a guy,” he grumbled and was rewarded with her soft giggle. Sneaking a glance, he saw her looking away too, but she was still smiling with a soft blush on her cheeks, and oddly that helped to regain his scattered nerves and he sighed before reaching into his pack pocket to pull out his reason for seeking her out.

“I wanted to give you this,” he stated, holding it out and Izayoi blinked in surprise, her smile never fading as she reached out and took it. “I waited for you at the cafeteria but when you didn’t show, I got worried. Now I’m glad I went looking for you.”

Izayoi turned her smile on him. “Me, too,” she whispered, her gratitude obvious in her eyes and voice.

With a small grin Raiden watched her open the simple card he’d gotten her and had to admit, he was very satisfied with the way her flush deepened and her smile became positively radiant. It wasn’t much, but he’d thought of her when he saw them, and knew he had to get them.

The card read, “Happy birthday, buttercup. —Rai” and tucked inside was an artificial stem of golden buttercup blossoms.

It was so simple, a little cheesy, and Izayoi absolutely adored it.

“I love it,” she said honestly, lifting her golden gaze to meet his own blue-green depths. “Thank you so much, Raiden. It...it means a lot.”

Raiden grinned and innocently turned his head, lifting a hand to not so subtly scratch his cheek as he rolled his eyes heavenward, waiting.

Izayoi immediately caught on and laughing, strangely not at all shy or embarrassed, she stepped in close and leaned up to brush a kiss across his cheek. When she leaned back he was as smug as can be with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face and once more she had to laugh. What a goober!

“Score,” he said proudly, taking the fake flower from her hand and carefully tucking it behind her ear.

The soft flesh flicked against his fingers and he had the insane urge to grab the appendage to see how soft it really was, but he refrained and dropped his hand, admiring the splash of golden color amidst the sterling silver of her hair.

When he flicked his gaze back to her face, he was amused to see that it had gone red again and her bright amber eyes were wide as she gazed at him. Her fingers brushed the delicate faux petals and her pleasure from the simple act was obvious in her brilliant smile.

Raiden was momentarily struck stupid but got ahold of himself quickly and stepped back to give her some space. He tried not to read too much into the flash of disappointment he saw on her face before it disappeared.

“So, uh,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’re still on, right? For the party I mean.” He gave an easy smile and shoved his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxed.

The happiest she’d been all day, Izayoi eagerly nodded, relieved that he still wanted to go with her.

“Definitely!” she answered and then suddenly remembered the phone in her back pocket and with a little sound of exclamation, Izayoi reached back to fish it out and proudly present it to him.

“And look!” she gushed, grinning as she woke up the screen. “Birthday present from my parents. I found it this morning in my bag, those sneaks.”

Raiden positively lit up and he took it from her, unlocking the screen and nodding in approval.

“Wicked,” he praised, going into her message app. “I’m sending myself a message so I can have your number.” He paused and glanced at her. “If...that’s okay—”

“Yes!” Izayoi immediately answered, then blushed at her enthusiasm and cleared her throat. “Um, yeah. That’s fine.” She smiled and tried to act cool.

He grinned, secretly pleased and shot himself a quick text with the peace sign emoji. He politely didn’t mention the heart eyes emoji next to his contact info as he handed the mobile back, trying not to smirk proudly.

Izayoi secured her new phone back into her pocket and beamed at him, clasping her hands behind her back.

“So we’re still going to the store after school, right? I’ve been browsing the website and I think I have a few ideas,” she stated, bounding a little on the balls of her feet in excitement. She suddenly couldn’t wait for Halloween!

The grimace that crossed Raiden’s face, however, was not encouraging and Izayoi blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. His next words had a ball of dread forming in her stomach and her ears wilted atop her head.

“Listen, buttercup,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to the side. “I don’t think that’d be such a good idea after...well. You know.” He shrugged and dared a peek at her face. Her completely dejected expression threw him for a loop and his eyes widened in horror.

“Oh,” she whispered, biting down on her lip and blinking rapidly to stave off the tears. She’d thought...did he change his mind? Did he not really...want to be with her...?

“Wait,” Raiden said suddenly, urgently, and his hands landed on her shoulders, prompting to her lift her wide-eyed gaze. “Hear me out, okay?”

Swallowing thickly, Izayoi nodded, desperately hoping she was wrong.

Squeezing her shoulders, Raiden began, “Rin told me about the blow out you had with your dad after I left Friday and I feel...well, I feel pretty damn horrible about it.”

Izayoi winced and looked to the side. With a wry smile, he continued, “It’s my fault you got into an argument, and I wouldn’t feel right whiling you away to look at costumes while you guys are at such odds with each other. I think you should go home and talk this out with him, buttercup. I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you two. Family is important, and if we...well.”

He cleared his throat and flushed slightly. “If things...uh, go any further and your dad doesn’t trust me, I don’t want you to have to choose between them or me. Because it should always be them, buttercup. So before we go gallivanting off into the sunset”—he was rewarded with a watery giggle at that and he grinned—“I need you to make up with your old man so you can stop him from ‘chewing me up and spitting me out’ when I come face to face with him again. I sorta like all my limbs attached to my body, you know.”

Izayoi released another wispy laugh and wiped at her eyes, heaving a sigh. He was right. Of course he was right. And anyway it wasn’t like she didn’t want to make up with her dad. It had been eating at her all day and the phone was a burning reminder of it. She needed to stop being a baby and make things right. He’d already demonstrated that he wasn’t going to start anything, so it had to be her, didn’t it? Just like she wanted.

Izayoi released another wispy laugh and wiped at her eyes, heaving a sigh. He was right. Of course he was right. And anyway it wasn’t like she didn’t want to make up with her dad. It had been eating at her all day and the phone was a burning reminder of it. She needed to stop being a baby and make things right. He’d already demonstrated that he wasn’t going to start anything, so it had to be her, didn’t it? Just like she wanted.

Ugh. Easier said than done.

“Okay,” Izayoi agreed at length, nodding and offering a small but genuine smile. “I will. But...tomorrow, though?”

Golden eyes, like rich honey, pleaded with him and damn, how could he possibly say no to that?

Expression softening, Raiden grinned and couldn’t stop himself from gently tugging on a lock of sterling hair.

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “And I’m already looking forward to it.”

Izayoi’s smile was genuine, her eyes were soft, and her voice was fond as she replied, “Me too.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Raiden dropped his hand only to wrap his arm around her shoulders and steered her down the hallway. Izayoi blushed but leaned into him. Damn, she was cute.

“So,” he said conversationally as he lead her toward the cafeteria. He glanced down at her with a cheeky grin and asked, “Did you really break his nose?”

“Ohmigawd,” Izayoi groaned as she buried her face in her hands while Raiden, the brat, threw his head back and cackled gleefully.

[arcadiaoaksusedbooks]

Event: Fountain of Youth

As his mother took a nap, Balor took her phone and tapped around the address book for a certain number. It should be about noon where she was in the world, he just hoped his aunt would pick up the phone when it rang. It ran about three times before going straight to camera mode.

“Hai, moshi moshi~!” Alora chirped with a high pitched voice. She had on sunglasses, a sunhat that didn’t flatter her at all, wearing a tank top and jean shorts while sitting in a grove of pink trees. All of this, along with the audio, took Balor a couple seconds to respond.

“Mushy mushy?” he greeted back with confusion, making his aunt laugh.

“That’s how you answer the phone in Japan. How are you doing, Balor? You’re just in time for my flower viewing picnic.”

“...what?” he asked flatly. Alora turned the phone to a small square shaped box with various foods Balor didn’t recognize in them. There were several more boxes nearby, unopened, as his aunt listed a bunch of foods and words he didn’t know. He was mostly tuning them out until Alora tilted her phone to bring her face back into view.

“...but you didn’t call to see what I brought on my picnic. What’s up with you and mom?”

Finally. Balor slumped in his seat as he tried to explain.

“My birthday is coming up--”

“Yep! I’ve got you a ton of stuff from here that I think you’re gonna like a lot.” Alora chuckled. “But you can’t have any of it until the end of the month, okay?”

“--but what I want most is a sibling.”

Alora paused before suddenly bursting out laughing. This just made Balor feel worse about his thoughts, and he slumped harder. Alora recovered after a few seconds.

“Booger, that’s up to your mom and pop, not you.”

“Everyone says that!” the young troll growled.

“Okay, well, why do you want a sibling so bad? You lonely? Need someone to share your toys with? Need someone to take the blame when you eat all the condiments from the freezer for the third time in a month?”

“No! I just want my mom to be happy!” Balor blurted out loudly. “She’s super sad and distant all the time, and all I really want more than anything else in the world is to just see her happy and smiling again! She’s always happy around babies! So I want her and dad to make more babies so she’s finally happy again!”

He felt like crying after that outburst and he wasn’t sure why. It also made Alora go quiet. She moved herself to lean against the tree, no longer smiling or teasing.

“Balor, you’re a kind and caring kid. You’ve really inherited your mother’s generous spirit.”

“BUT?!” Balor spat out, daring his own aunt to continue. She didn’t seem threatened at all.

“Wanting someone else to be happy for your own benefit is pretty selfish. I know you love your mom, and you want her to be happy or make her happy, but if you’re just doing it for your own peace of mind, well, that’s not a very kind thing to do.” This made Balor pause and start to wipe tears away. “Besides, it’s your birthday this month, not hers. You could save the ‘make mom happy’ wants for next month when it is her birthday, alright?”

“Yeah...” Balor groaned. “She’s just been sad a lot lately. I don’t like seeing her like that.”

“Something happen?”

“I don’t know. We don’t talk much anymore, or do anything together.”

“Have you asked her?”

“No...” Balor mumbled, hiding his face.

“That sounds like step number one to me. Ask her what’s up and what you can do. And think about what you’d like for your own birthday. Maybe ask in a passive way what she would like for her birthday, then focus on that when your celebrations are over. How does that sound?”

“I guess...” The whelp continued to mumble. Alora made a thinking face before smirking a bit.

“Is the adolescence kicking in finally?”

“...what’s that?”

“It’s the stage between childhood and adulthood. Most trolls sit through it for a good two hundred years. It makes you moody and indecisive, aggressive and not wanting to do anything people tell you.”

“Mmmmmph!” Balor grunted, making Alora chuckle.

“Sounds like you’ve got it tough. Double the reason to tell your mom about how you’re feeling. She can’t help you if she doesn’t know.”

“She treats me like a baby whenever I talk to her...”

“....have you told her that?”

“Whenever I do, she backs off and... stays backed off. Like she can’t help.”

“I think she’s just trying to give you space. You’re a growing boy, and as a Shardborn troll, you’re growing waaaaaay faster than a normal troll. You look and sound about a hundred and ten, and it’s your FIRST birthday coming up! You’re going through a lot in a very short amount of time, and it’s gonna be a couple hundred years until it all catches up. Or at least until you’re considered your average troll. None of that is your fault, and you’re Nadia’s first child. She has zero experience raising a kid, human or troll. You’re both working through your trials together, so you need to tell her how you’re feeling and what’s going on, and she needs to listen.”

Balor tried to listen, feeling more and more miserable as Alora explains, sounding pretty serious for once.

“....sometimes I wish I wasn’t Shardborn.” Balor grunts.

“Hey, I know it’s hard.” Alora sympathized. “But it’s not all bad, right? I heard you went to the zoo the other day and got to pet an elephant, ride a camel, feed some goats and chickens, watch a wolf howl..... you wouldn’t have been able to do that if you were still a diaper wearing baby, would you?”

“No.”

“Or explore your woods. Or get your own floor of a wizard’s tower. Or know magic that makes even your mom jealous. Would you rather not have any of that until two hundred years from now?”

Why did Balor hesitate? What made him wish he was just a normal troll? He did like doing all of those things, he liked who he was, but at the same time he hated feeling this way. And if being a quickly growing Shardborn troll was the price he had to pay to have all these wonderful things in life but feel so confused and horrible....

“No. I like doing those things now.” he said numbly.

“I know Elisi is visiting, and she’s raised at least fifty Shardborn trolls in her life. I bet she knows exactly how you feel and what’s going on. Why don’t you ask her, I’m sure she can help you out better than I could. And you know you can tell her anything, right?”

Elisi was one hundred thousand times more protective than Nadia was, and was terrible at keeping secrets. So was Alora, but at least the former Gumm Gumm didn’t judge like her sisters did. Balor wasn’t sure how to talk to Aunt E without feeling like a baby again.

.....wait.....

He felt an epiphany grow rapidly in his thoughts, and just barely kept his excitement at bay. He had the most AMAZING IDEA!

“Okay. I’ll do that.” he agreed to Alora, hoping to end the call soon. He had a lot of work to do. “But thanks for talking to me, Auntie A.”

“Anytime, booger.” Alora chuckled, which just made Balor frown again.

“...stop calling me booger?” 

“Anytime, shitbird.” Alora teased. “Anything else going on that you wanna chat about?”

“Nah. I need to go ask Auntie E about some stuff. Can I call you back later?”

“Sure. I’ll be out here for the rest of the day, having my cherry blossom picnic. By myself. I’ll send more videos with stuff I found I think you’ll like. Cheer up, my dude, okay?”

“Okay.” Balor nodded. “Have fun in Japan. Love you, Auntie.”

“Love you too, kiddo. Ja ne~!”

“Jaw-nay...” Balor wished awkwardly, and the call hung up. Quickly and carefully leaving his mom’s phone where he found it, he rushed off into the woods.

There was a lot to gather in a short amount of time!

-------------------------------------------

Moon up, Nadia and Elisi were just finishing dinner. Nadia was in a turkey mood and Elisi helped with some potato gratin and steamed veggies. Both were chatting about their day so far, things they wanted to catch up on, and plans for the rest of the week. Disneyland was in the cards, but it was going to get busy closer and closer to the weekend.

The conversation got a bit more hushed when it came time to talk about Balor’s birthday present.

“I’ve been hard at work on it for a week.” Nadia giggled in hushed tones. “Glasswork isn’t what it used to be. Now it’s just a matter of what to put in the tank.”

“How big is it?”

“Sixty gallons so far. And I’ve made an oval shaped one just in case. I think it’s a nice shape.”

“Fish prefer corners.” Elisi explained. “So the rectangle one will be better. Gods, it’s been ages since I last tried to raise fish. I’m sure someone at the pet store can give better advise than me.”

Nadia smiled brightly. Balor loved fish so much, so it was natural to assume his own fish tank with plenty of fish to care for would be perfect. He wouldn’t be so lonely, and maybe the pestering for baby siblings would stop for a month or so. By then, she’d be ready, maybe...

There was a thump in Balor’s room, which sounded like him falling out of bed. Again. Elisi chuckled.

“Speak of the handsome little devil.” she chuckled. “Want me to tell him dinner’s almost ready?”

“I’ll get him.” Nadia insisted, stepping away from the stove to Balor’s room. Elisi let her go to start putting turkey meat and veggies onto plates. Not even a minute goes by when the shriek rose in pitch up and down the tower. 

Elisi dropped the plate to run for it, immediately spilling food and porcelain all over the kitchen floor. She bounded up to the third floor of the tower to try and find her sister and nephew, ready to beat whatever startled or hurt them. The second she stopped in front of Nadia, she looked around frantically for the fight waiting for her. There was none.

Nadia was crumpled on the floor, with a look of horror, hyperventilating as her body commanded her to shed tears and cry. Balor was nowhere to be immediately seen. Elisi’s nerves started to freeze up. Something terrible happened and she couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Nadia?” Elisi asked in a frightened whisper. Nadia looked up to her older sister, and slowly raised herself to her knees, holding a cloth bundle in her hands. Something wriggled in it, peeping for attention. Elisi slowly came foreword, and moved the cloth away to see what Nadia was holding for dear life.

It was a baby Yateveo pup. No bigger than Nadia’s palm. Tanned in color, eyes still unopened, moving his head around and peeping for food. Some familiar horn jewelry was shuffled from the movement and clambered to the floor, with no owner to wear them. Or at least, the owner was now too young to wear them. 

Elisi was still not sure what was in front of her. Where was Balor? Who or what was Nadia holding? Before Elisi could instinctively call out for her nephew, a parchment of paper and a glass bottle caught her attention on Balor’s bed. She walked to it to investigate. The bottle was bone dry, and smelled sweet but strong. The paper had Balor’s handwriting on it.

Mom,

You’ve seemed really sad lately. But really happy when you have babies to take care of and watch over. I grew up from being a baby, so you stopped being so happy. So I changed myself back into one. I’m sorry if I scared you, but this way, you can raise me like a normal troll and I can grow as one. So we can be a normal family again, and you have a baby to take care of if dad won’t give you one.

I love you, mom. All I want is to see you happy every day again. Being a baby again is the only way I can do that. It’s all I want for my birthday.

See you again in a couple hundred years,

Balor, Son of Angor

“Balor, what the fu--” Elisi exclaimed as Nadia again shrieked in horror. Neither had any idea what to do now. Both were panicking. 

Tiny little Balor peeped louder and louder until he started to cry in despair. He was so hungry.

[letscuttothefeeling]

season three episode three

Let me start off by congratulating the producers – not you Ish – on this great episode. I finally feel like we’re back to THE SHOW. Not a weird Bachelor spin-off with minimal drama and blatantly horrible editing (see: Juliette’s grad party scene, where Chloe’s nails change color DURING THE PARTY.) Nope, we’re done with that and back to the good stuff, so on that note, let’s cut to the feeling.

Come ON MTV it’s like you weren’t even trying. And yes, I created this, and no, I don’t have a life.

I know I’m going to like an episode when it starts off with the angelic sounds of my lord and savior, Ariana Grande. As break up with ur girlfriend, i’m bored plays, we zoom into Cara’s house. Personally, I’m hoping to see Victoria. Alas – it’s just Cara…and Garrett. God, Garrett STOP. Your ex-girlfriend has already outlined exactly how Cara is using you – since she did the exact same thing - and you’re still asking Cara on dates? This is so cringe. Where’s Victoria?!

Even though Garrett can’t score a date, Brandon can! Maybe instead of asking Cara to go look at babies, you should ask her to rollerblade, G Baby. As Amanda and Brandon glide around the Key, we learn that Brandon is celebrating his 24th birthday on Friday! And it’s “24, Like, Karat Gold Slash, Like, Pirate, Sort Of” themed, of course! He debates whether or not to invite Juliette while giving us viewers amazing helmet safety tips. Meanwhile, after Cara has removed G Baby from her property, she makes her way to Chloe’s to checkuppé on her. This is where we learn that Chloe has officially called the cops and filed a police report. I have a lot of opinions, but more on this later.

Okay, something I haven’t touched on because I wish it wasn’t happening I haven’t had time is that Kelsey and Jared have sparked a little romance. If you don’t remember, while Kelsey was dating her random LA boyfriend, Jared was the 86th person she cheated on him with. I see this going well! I mean, it always works out when you leave someone you cheated on for the person you cheated with. Right? Plus, there’s Twisted Tea and mudding involved, so Kelsey can rest assured she’ll be going on sophisticated and expensive dates instead of the shitty and poor dates that Garrett used to take her on.

FINALLY, the C + V scene I need and deserve. Donning a black one-piece that contrasts perfectly with her frozen fruity pink drink, Victoria is effortlessly exuding two polar opposite, chaotic energies. I’m getting “sassy”, but I’m also getting “I’ll fuck you up if you insult my 90’s Quiksilver skater shoes.” AKA, I’m getting Avril during the Girlfriend era. And I love it. As she floats next to Cara in the pool and shockingly proclaims that she’s not into guys, (what?!) I’m on my knees praying to God himself that she become a main cast member vis-à-vis a relationship with Cara. It’s Victoria’s show, and we’re all just living in it, baby. After Cara’s bizarre comment about how her parents punish her by locking her in their wine cellar (weird flex, but okay) Victoria giggles about how dumb Garrett is and we move on.

We leave C and V for a Madisson and Kelsey reunion, but it’s not a happy one. Madisson delivers the unfortunate news that Chloe may be pressing charges. Oh no! I would be really upset by this, but I can’t focus on the content of Madisson’s words because of how she’s delivering them. Madisson, we fully understand that you’ve been to an acting class in LA because you won’t shuttupé about it, so you can stop over-enunciating everything that comes out of your mouth. Thanks!

After Kelsey tells Juliette about her impending stint in Florida prison, she gets understandably upset. Luckily, Boring Robby is there to teach Juliette how to apologize. Don’t say he never did anything for her! I want to point out that Kelsey truly has been redeeming herself this season. She’s been pretty level headed and a very good friend. If only Boring Robby could do the same… Later in the day, Kelsey confronts Robby about another thing Madisson spilled during their meetup. Apparently, while Juliette was fighting everyone last week, Boring Robby had the audacity to applaud her! How gauche. Boring Robby vehemently denies these claims, saying, “Always take the high road, because the low road is way too crowded,” and, “Silence is the best way to react to a fool, and happiness is the best revenge.” First of all, stop lying about things that were FILMED on national television. You’re now Boring Robby: The Liar. Second of all, why are you the human embodiment of my ninth grade Pinterest quotes board?

Grab your pillows and sleeping bags because we are heading to a SLUMBER PARTY! But before anyone can start braiding each other’s hair, Chloe begins to stir the pot, yet again. She delights in bringing up Brandon and Amanda’s new relationship right in front of Madisson. But to distract from the awkwardness, Amanda changes the subject to her missing phone. After the fight, she lost her phone and no one has been able to find it. She starts to give us a play-by-play analysis of why and how she thinks Boring Robby: The Liar stole it. I’m sorry, am I watching Joe Goldberg on You, or am I watching Amanda on Siesta Key? 

It’s the day of the BG’s bday, and I’m so excited to see everyone’s 24 Karat Gold Slash Like Pirate themed outfits! They don’t disappoint - G Baby and Victoria are even matching!! I’ve never screamed so loudly in my life. Garrett obviously refuses to drink, and we’re off to the party. But first, there’s one guest who needs to arrive.

As Alex descends from his family’s PJ strapped with Louis luggage, a BEER, and fresh digs straight from the Siesta Key mall, I can feel the blood coming back into my body. I can feel individual atoms multiplying. I can feel my soul re-entering my empty, hollow frame. I feel exactly like Bella in the fourth Twilight novel, Breaking Dawn. After her half-human, half-vampire baby has eaten its way out of her uterine lining, Edward is forced to do the unthinkable: steal Bella’s mortal soul by turning her into a vampire so she has a shot to survive. (It’s the second time in the series that vampire Edward is forced to resist sucking all of Bella’s enticing blood to save her – that’s true love.) As she starts to respond to his venom, each and every one of her cells begins to freeze over and restore life to her body. Suddenly, she is awake. Her vision is sharp, her mind is clear, and she’s never looked better. And that’s EXACTLY how I felt as Alex exited his plane.

I expect nothing less than for Alex to arrive at BG’s party with three underage Ukrainian mail-order brides. And he doesn’t disappoint. Unfortunately for the brides, he immediately begins discussing relationships with Cara. It’s fun to see Cara pride herself in not cheating on people for the past year. I kind of feel like that should be a given, but okay. As they’re undressing each other with their eyes talking, Garrett is having an interesting convo of his own. Classic Chloe starts stirring the pot AGAIN by telling Garrett that Cara is using him. Really Chloe? Cara is supposed to be your best friend. What’s more shocking is that VICTORIA starts to betray Cara as well. This causes an immediate fight between Carrett. They leave the party and start screaming at each other in the jungle. I’m so enraptured by the fight that I momentarily forget they’re at a themed party and fixate on Garrett’s outfit. Why am I watching Garrett Miller scream in a jungle dressed as a pirate? Oh, right. Anyways.

Even though Cara and G Baby are scream fighting, the party continues to rage on. And everyone is makingoutté. Kelsey and Jared, Amanda and Brandon... something is in the air! It must be the pirate theme. #LetsGetScurvy. But one person isn’t feeling the love – Madisson. With Dad gone, she has no one to kish. Clearly bothered by watching her friend and ex-boyfriend eat each other’s faces, Madisson decides to give Brandon the sad news that Amanda is using him. Whether or not she is, Madisson has no right to give her opinion on the matter. And BG says exactly that. Good for him! Another person surprisingly not making out with someone is Alex. He’s too busy being an asshole to Kelsey and telling anyone who will listen that Boring Robby is bad news. Probably true, but literally no one can be worse than he is, except maybe Pauly Paul. In other news, WHERE IS PAUL.

Unfortunately, the next scene doesn’t involve Pauly or Victoria – just Chloe and Juliette. Juliette shows up after Chloe gets out of work to hopefully avoid jailtime hash things out. Now strap in because I’m about to explain exactly where I stand with the Chloe/Juliette drama, and if you aren’t completely focused, please take a 10mg Adderall, wait ten minutes, and check back in.

Okay, hopefully, you’ve taken amphetamines and can really dial in. Here goes: I realize that Chloe is a necessary evil - it’s an indisputable fact that there would be no show without her antics. No one is as shameless when it comes to talking shit and completely ruining their friendships for the sake of television. And for that, I deeply respect Chloe. (I realize that sounds sarcastic but I am dead serious. Thank you for taking one for the team, Chloe.) But I simply cannot stand when she gets what’s coming to her then plays the innocent victim. Obviously, violence is not cool, and Juliette should be embarrassed by her behavior. But Chloe knew exactly what the outcome of that conversation would be. She was banking on a wasted Juliette reacting horribly. With Chloe, you simply cannot win. Earlier in this episode, Chloe verbatim says to Madisson and Cara, “If the roles were reversed, I would have shown up at her house, apologizing.”

Now cut to this scene, where Chloe verbatim says to Juliette (after Juliette shows up at her workplace) “I really don’t know why you’re here, so if you can please leave and leave me alone.”

Juliette said it best herself – “Chloe is my best friend when I’m miserable. When I’m actually thriving…this type of stuff happens.” Let’s take a moment to analyze the similarities and differences of how Chloe and the rest of the cast handled Chloe’s altercation with Amanda during season one, in which Amanda broke Chloe’s nose and sent her to surgery. After sending Chloe to the hospital, Amanda justifies her actions by saying that Chloe started it first. So everyone is okay with Amanda decking Chloe. The fact is, Chloe started it first here, too. Chloe swatted at Juliette’s hand first. So why did everyone grab coffee with Amanda, but ostracize Juliette? Amanda even had a sit-down conversation with Chloe after her surgery expecting Chloe to apologize. The inconsistencies and hypocrisy present…I CANNOT.

Chloe acts like everyone’s best friend to stay relevant and betrays them the second it benefits her. While I do agree that Juliette is only apologizing because she’s scared Chloe will press charges, I think people who talk shit, unfortunately, get hit, on occasion. Until next week!

[jennycalendar]

imperfections (55/?)

read it on ao3!!

some HIGH emotions this chapter.

Buffy honestly wasn’t sure how to feel about her eighteenth birthday. Sure, she always loved the birthday fun, but thinking about her seventeenth birthday made her feel all weird and miserable. If she was being honest with herself, her eighteenth birthday felt less like a birthday and more like the one-year anniversary of the time she’d screwed up hard enough that all her friends got hurt. She didn’t like the thought of that happening again.

So when Giles broached the topic of her birthday at Wednesday’s Scooby meeting, the one with her mom there for some weird reason, Buffy felt almost nauseous. “Maybe now’s the time to tell you guys I really don’t want a big celebration,” she blurted out before Giles could finish his sentence. “Last year was kinda terrible and I really don’t want—”

“Oh, you didn’t like the party?” said Cordelia, sounding almost injured. Xander and Willow both gave her a Look. “Ohhh,” said Cordelia. “Right. ‘Cause your boyfriend went all psycho and almost killed Ms. Calendar.”

“Tactful,” said Ms. Calendar, her mouth quirking. “And Buffy, we’re not talking in terms of party time.” Her smile faded, and she glanced up at Giles, who looked similarly concerned. “This is something that I think Rupert has to tell you guys about.”

“Regrettably, I agree,” said Giles. He paused before beginning. “There is a tradition in the Council with relation to the Slayer’s eighteenth birthday,” he said, and Buffy noticed that he was gripping Ms. Calendar’s hand so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. “By telling you directly about it, I am breaking that tradition.”

“Okay,” said Buffy, frowning. “Why break it?”

“Because it is an archaic exercise in cruelty,” said Giles stiffly. “Because you are—” He swallowed, hard, and Buffy felt a lump in her own throat; this was the most affected she had seen Giles by anything. “Because you are important, Buffy,” he said. “To me, and to the rest of the world. I don’t give a damn about what the Council thinks of my efforts to protect you from the Cruciamentum; this world is a better place with you in it.”

Buffy stared at him, mouth half-open. All she could think about was the thousand and one times she’d thought, furious, back in sophomore year, I wish Giles would stop looking at me like some faceless tool to fight vampires with. Not once had she imagined that he ever actually would.

“The Cruciamentum, for which the Council has already arrived in Sunnydale to begin preparing for, involves drugging a Slayer, without her knowledge, and in some cases against her will,” Giles continued, his voice shaking. “When she is stripped entirely of her powers, she is locked in a house with a generally ruthless, murderous master vampire, and she is to use her wits alone to kill him.” He seemed to notice how tightly he was holding Ms. Calendar’s hand, and loosened his grip a bit, letting out a shaky breath. “It is not something that I can put you through in good conscience, and it is a subject on which I entirely disagree —”

Buffy crossed the room and pulled Giles into a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

She wasn’t really expecting him to hug her back, but then he did, making a little sobbing noise and pulling her right back into him. “Oh, Buffy,” he whispered, stroking her hair like she was a little kid. “Your destiny is no longer a burden that will rest on your shoulders alone. I want you to go into adulthood knowing that.”

And that made Buffy start to really cry.

“So do we have a plan?” Faith asked. “’Cause if everyone’s just standing around crying, I feel like we’re gonna be totally fucked when the Council rolls in.”

“I think they kinda needed to get that out in the open,” said Jen, who was going through some of the papers on Giles’s desk. “And no, right now we don’t actually have a plan. We’re working on it. Step one of the plan was telling you kids about it.”

“Step two is probably gonna have to be talking B’s mom down,” said Faith. “She’s pretty pissed that some old dudes wanna basically murder her daughter.”

“Her and me both,” said Jen, giving Faith a small, tense smile.

Faith hesitated. Then she said, “Hey—I turned eighteen pretty recently, at least on Council records. How come they didn’t fuck me up too?”

Jen’s hands stilled. She put the papers down, turning to Faith with a small, proud smile. “You were a lost cause,” she said, and stepped over to Faith, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her fingers traced Faith’s cheek in a way that reminded Faith of—of being five, and getting scraped up in the rock quarry, and her mom looking at her all distant-and-soft. “My kid from day one, remember? Even the Council was able to pick up on that one.”

Faith leaned into Jen’s hand, closing her eyes. The sharp, angry fear left over from Boston was still there, might always be there, but…it was muffled, and lessened, when Jen called her my kid like that. “Love you, Mom,” she said, because she could always play it off as a joke as she wanted.

Jen exhaled. Faith could almost hear her smiling. “I love you too,” she said, letting her hand drop to squeeze Faith’s shoulder. “Ready to make a plan to fuck up the Council?”

“Eh,” said Faith, opening her eyes. “Are there snacks?”

“That’s my girl,” said Jen.

“Okay,” said Buffy, standing at the head of the table. Her eyes were still a little blotchy, but she carried herself with the same focus and determination as always, and Giles felt ridiculously proud. “So we need to get these Council guys off our backs about the Cruciamentum, right?” She hesitated, then said, “Giles, I know you’re not gonna like this, but—”

Giles saw where this was going. “You are not partaking in that barbaric ritual,” he said shortly.

“Look,” Buffy persisted, “it’d be different if I didn’t know it was going to happen, but I do know now, and that changes the game. I know vampires, okay? Maybe I’m not gonna be able to fall back on strength and speed, but I can figure out other ways. Booby traps. Water guns.”

“Rupert’s right,” said Jenny from next to him. “Buffy, you’ve been trained to rely on your strength. That’s the whole point of being a Vampire Slayer—”

“The point of being a Vampire Slayer,” said Buffy firmly, “is to be prepared for absolutely everything that might go wrong. Maybe this isn’t the safest way to figure it out, but it is so better than trying to mess with the Council and ending up with Giles fired. We need them on our side.”

“We really don’t,” said Giles.

“You say that now because they’re still an option!” Buffy objected, indignant. “At the very least, you should have the choice—”

“Buffy,” said Joyce suddenly. Her voice was very sharp.

“Mom, don’t you start in on me too!”

“I’ve seen you patrol,” said Joyce. “You’re quick, and you’re smart, and you knock those vampires sprawling. And I don’t like it, but I can at least know that you’re strong enough to hold your own against those things. Taking that away from you—what do you have left?”

Giles didn’t at all think that this was a very good way to phrase their argument. “No one doubts your skill and intuition,” he began hastily.

But Buffy’s eyes were full of tears. “Sure you don’t!” she snapped. “You’re all just flipping out because you think I might break a nail! Well, news flash, I don’t need my Slayer powers to be the Slayer, and I think maybe I’d like to prove that to all of you!”

“You are not proving your worth by getting yourself killed!” shouted Joyce.

“God, Mom, for once why can’t you just trust that I know what I’m doing—”

“STOP IT!” shouted Willow, tears in her eyes as she sprung up from her chair. “Buffy, just stop for a second and think about what you’re saying! You’d be going in after a vampire drugged! Not without your powers, you would be drugged, and you would get killed, because that’s the kind of thing the Council wants!”

“They don’t—” Giles objected without thinking, then stopped, reeling. He felt Jenny’s hand on his elbow, and turned to look at her, knowing that there must be a horrible, horrified look in his eyes. “Oh,” he whispered, raising a hand to his mouth. He thought he might vomit. “Oh, dear lord.”

“They don’t make up this stuff to test you,” persisted Willow, who was now really crying. “They don’t make up this stuff to make a good Slayer. They don’t poison people to make a good Slayer, Buffy, and you can’t just go along with it to prove a point. They want Slayers like Kendra, remember her? They want you dead and some other Slayer there to boss around until they kill her too.”

Faith was very pale. “B, she’s right,” she said. “They said I was a liability ‘cause I was Jen’s kid and not their Slayer. They want girls who are gonna die in the line of battle for the good of the fight, and you’re not that, okay? You’re better than that.”

She stepped forward, taking Buffy’s hands. Buffy stared at Faith like she was the only bright spot in the room, and Giles thought, a twist of recognition in his chest, oh, darling girl. Don’t waste time.

“You are better,” said Faith softly. “You’re everything.”

Buffy’s face collapsed. “They don’t want me dead,” she whispered. “They don’t! I’m not—I’m not supposed to die I don’t wanna die Faith I don’t—”

On instinct, Giles rose, nearly knocking over a chair or two in his haste to get to Buffy. For the first time that night, and for the first time since knowing her, he was the one to pull Buffy into his arms, letting her cry against his shoulder. “Those Council bastards don’t know a thing about the war we’re fighting,” he whispered fiercely. “All right? You’re not going anywhere, not if any of us have any say in the matter.”

“You don’t,” Buffy sobbed. “I’m the one—the only—”

“Since when?” said Faith suddenly.

This startled Buffy so much that she stopped crying. Giles, too, surprised by Faith’s succinct and accurate rebuttal, let his arms drop, though Buffy still leaned heavily against him. “I’m sorry?” he said.

“Uh, if we’re looking for examples of the Council’s logic bein’ absolute shit,” said Faith, “I’d say we’ve got Exhibit Goddamn A right here.” She gestured to herself, adding a hair flip for emphasis. “They said one girl in all the world, B, but we got two, and that ain’t happened in generations.”

“Exhibit B,” said Jenny solidly, standing up and holding out her crooked fingers, then arching her neck to show off her vampire bite. “Tortured by a master vampire, remember? And all because I was Rupert’s girlfriend? The Council would have had him leave me, and that’s the last thing I want. Ever.”

“Exhibit C,” said Willow, her voice still wobbling. “Us. We love you so much, Buffy, remember? And Slayers aren’t supposed to have that. Maybe the Council’s got resources and history and all that stuff, but it’s been way too long since they’ve actually been in the thick of the kind of stuff we face every day.”

“You said once that I was so useful,” said Giles softly, “sitting in here with my musty old books. I rather think you should direct some of that admirable ire towards the Council, rather than blaming yourself for not being enough of a Slayer. You’re the strongest Slayer there is.”

“I got you guys hurt,” Buffy whispered, her fingers curling around Giles’s lapel like a small child’s. “You a-and Ms. Calendar and Willow and Xander—”

“We choose to be here,” said Giles, placing his hand over hers. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

Joyce exhaled, a sobbing sound, and stood up herself. “Buffy, I am so sorry,” she said helplessly. “Everything I say seems to be the exact wrong thing. I only want you to know how—how safe I want you to stay.”

“I know, Mom,” said Buffy, and sniffled, resting her cheek against Giles’s chest. “It’s just been kind of a tough night.” She looked up at Giles. “But if the Council’s so terrible,” she said, “then why are we—I mean, what’s the point of even trying to fool them?”

Giles blinked. “What?”

“They suck,” said Buffy. “That’s established. Haven’t there ever been rogue Slayers who don’t need a Watchers’ Council?”

Giles wavered.

“I think that’s a conversation Rupert and I need to have on our lonesome,” said Jenny carefully. “It’s a pretty big life decision for him to make, and we’re trying to ease into it.”

“If this Council is hurting my daughter,” Joyce began, eyes narrowed.

“Joyce, we’ve established pretty clearly that hurting Buffy is the exact last thing we want to do,” replied Jenny, giving Joyce a tired, reassuring smile. “It’s just that—”

But Giles looked down at his hand, feeling Buffy’s own underneath it. “No,” he said quietly. “Jenny, I think that Joyce and Buffy are right. My continued association with the Council isn’t worth the resources if it puts Buffy at risk.”

Buffy looked up at him, stunned. “You’d give up being a Watcher?” she asked.

“I’d give it up in title,” Giles answered, squeezing her hand. “My calling hasn’t changed in the slightest.”

[nettheworldonfire]

Scans, Birthdays, and a Good Old Fashioned Death Virus...

This past week or two, the kids and I have been super sick.  A death virus that rivals the ‘rona, plus ear and sinus infections, has had us coughing a symphony of woes since the holidays.  While I am super grateful that we’ve had a zillion negative rapid and PCR tests, I am seriously getting tired of dealing with this “cold.”  We’ve all had multiple doctors’ appointments, antibiotics, and so many homeopathic and OTC meds.  I actually went home early from work and took THREE sick days this week.  I don’t know if I’ve ever done that, for something other than surgery/recovery/childbirth.  I just can’t stop coughing.  Long story short - I’m miserable.  And now, Owen is starting to get sick too - so this is just fabulous.  

On Monday 1/10/22, I had my CT scan (this time 4 months out).  I drank a delish Barium smoothie, and radiology sent my report THAT VERY NIGHT to my oncologist. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the results (or word from a professional) until I badgered the office via the patient portal.  If you have ever been waiting for diagnostic results -- you know that scanxiety is real, and it’s horrible.  Being super anxious and quite annoyed, while super sick, was just the snotty icing on my phlegm cake. 

Thursday 1/13/22, the report entered the portal -- and I was able to look at it and read that there was only “marginal growth” -- which is certainly a good thing. I was a little freaked out that there was a 5th tumor included in the measurements that usually is not there (despite having like 30-50 tumors, they consistently only measure and report change in growth on four of the largest).  And I felt really frustrated that I didn’t get a call or more info from my oncologist right away.  Dr. T. wrote me back later that day saying that it was a good scan, but she was going to look into it more because I asked her to tell me, how much “marginal growth” can happen until it becomes real growth?   Today (Friday) afternoon she called me and said that after speaking with the tumor board and the NET radiologist, the growth is really minimal and she thinks this treatment will continue to work for years (obviously this is a super broad amount of time), and that when it does stop working, we will probably move to targeted liver therapy (chemo/radiation directly to those spots) -- something we’ve been told about but never really explored yet.   (See image below wirh report - left is new, right is old).

I want to feel super positive about this, because it’s again, the best it can be.  However, I can’t help but to just feel stuck.  I’ve been stuck in cancer-land forever it seems, stuck in a pandemic, stuck in a tough job, stuck in parenting, stuck in health/weightloss, stuck in hobbies (or lack thereof), stuck in sickness this week...just stuck. And I just feel drained.  I don’t feel like myself.  I keep thinking about Tuesday being my birthday, and while I haven’t had much of a birthday in a few years, like the rest of the world, I feel like this year’s celebration may be a box of tissues, bag of lozenges, and an 8 pm bedtime. 

And as I am writing this, Charlie comes running through the room hacking up a lung, only to vomit all over me when I attempt to help him blow his nose.  Parenting, man.  Side note — I’m super thankful for my mom and Owen’s mom who have been juggling our childcare during this shitstorm of a month!

I have an actual telehealth appointment with Dr. Teitelbaum on Tuesday (a true birthday present) and I hope to ask her more questions and get more of an opinion about things -- but I am pretty sure I’ll just hear the same vagueness I always hear, leaving me waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

We are in a good place right now, and I am going to try my best to get into that good mindset, as well.  Here’s to only three scans a year, marginal (or no growth) and seeing 39 years here on Earth.  <3

[shesasurvivor]

Meadow Grows Green, Chapter 3

by @shesasurvivor

When I saw that @loveinpanem‘s April challenge was focusing on spring, hope, and renewal, I couldn’t resist using the opportunity to post the next chapter to my post-Mockingjay fanfic, Meadow Grows Green. It focuses on those same themes, and I’ve drawn upon my own real-life experiences recovering from grief, trauma, and PTSD to write this. If you’d like to read the first two chapters, they are available on FFN and AO3.

HUGE thanks to @deinde-prandium for cleaning up my mess, and to @bigbigbigday006 for pre-reading and providing advice and insight.

Summary: Putting yourself back together after falling apart is the hardest thing to do. But Katniss has always been a survivor... And maybe now she can even learn how to thrive. Post-Mockingjay, canon compliant, Katniss and Peeta healing and growing back together.

Rating: T

---

It makes no difference to me that it’s my birthday. As far as I’m concerned, I shouldn’t ever have had one again. I’m not entirely sure I should have had one to begin with. If I hadn’t been born on this day eighteen years ago, how different would things be? I can’t help thinking of all the lives that would still be preserved today. Would Prim still be around? Would she even have been born if I hadn’t, triggering that sequence of events?

Maybe it would have been just as well. Then she never would have had a life to lose in the first place.

The others insist on celebrating my birthday. Well, by that, I mostly mean Greasy Sae. No doubt, she’s acting on orders given to her by Plutarch himself, who probably would have made a nation-wide event of the whole thing if I weren’t so unpopular for ratings right now. No, the Mockingjay who murdered the wrong president is not the right person to be making a fuss over at this point. That’s fine by me. The last thing I want is any more attention.

Haymitch, of course, can barely be bothered. Though I will admit that I have been seeing more of him lately than I had before. At least he’s leaving his house again. I still haven’t been over there to see what kind of state it’s in. Oh well. Maybe I shouldn’t judge. My house would probably be every bit as bad right now if Plutarch weren’t paying Sae to make sure that I’m not doing anything rash, or just plain stupid.

Peeta seems more excited for my birthday, though that may only be since he’s been entrusted with the task of baking my cake. Things have been a little tense between us since his episode a few weeks ago, but we’ve still both made efforts to try and cross that barrier. Regardless of how I feel about celebrating, I think Peeta baking my cake will do him some good, so I don’t try to fight it.

At least somebody will get something out of this whole affair.

It’s not really anymore exciting of a day than any of the others since I’ve been back, which suits me just fine. It starts out with our usual breakfast get-together, but with a special treat.

“Cheese buns?” Peeta asks, holding a bag up as he steps inside. “They’re Katniss’s favorite,” he informs Sae and her granddaughter.

For a second, I just stare at the bag. “You remember?” I murmur, more to myself than to him.

“So that is real,” he says. “I kind of wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah. It is,” I admit. “But you shouldn’t have.”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

Why not? Well… the truth is, there is no real good reason why not. Except maybe the old standby, that I don’t deserve it.

“It’s for your birthday,” he continues. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” I say.

“I know,” he says. “But it helps me to bake. Consider it a part of my rehabilitation, letting me make these for you.”

Of all things, a smile begins to creep across my face. Because as weird as it might be, knowing this does somehow make it easier to accept his gift. I take it from him with a nod, and head into the kitchen to put them on a plate. Peeta follows.

Sae enthusiastically praises him before they start in on their buns, but as I take one of my own, I can’t help looking over at him, examining him. As if sensing this act, his eyes rise up to meet mine, and he offers me a small smile. Something rushes through me. What is it? There’s a warmth to it, but also something bittersweet as well.

As I bite in, I’m pleased to discover that he also hasn’t forgotten the recipe for these things. They taste exactly like they did before he was hijacked.

The rest of the day between breakfast and evening is business as usual. I find it in me to get out and go hunting for a little bit. I don’t come up with much, just a couple of squirrels. Then I feel tired, and head home again. Maybe we can have them for dinner, if I have the energy to skin them once I get back.

It’s when I approach my home that things start to get aggravating. Greasy Sae and her granddaughter have already returned, with Peeta in tow. They insist on throwing me a small party, and have begun decorating.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Sae tells me.

“But I don’t want a party,” I tell her.

Sae fixes me with a smile. “You’ve overcome a lot to live this long,” she says. “You deserve a party.” Her voice is gentle, but firm.

I want to fight her on it, but I’m still so drained from hunting that I don’t have it in me. Besides, I realize, how big of a party could it really be? Few people are even in town to invite. I go over the potential list. Greasy Sae and her granddaughter, obviously. And Peeta. Maybe Haymitch. Thom? I don’t really know many others of the recovery crew, and not many people have started to return to 12 just yet.

Besides, I doubt any of them will have much energy to celebrate, either.

I don’t care. I really don’t. But I decide to go ahead and let her do it. What’s the worst that could happen?

I’m proven wrong a few hours later, after the party finally starts. I’m miserable. I don’t want to be here at all. Actually, what I want is for everybody to get out of my house and leave me alone. No. Come to think of it, I still wouldn’t want to be here, even then. Because what’s the point? I’m awful. I hate myself. I shouldn’t be alive.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I blurt out in the middle of the celebration.

There’s a pause in the air as everyone looks at me. I can tell that no one even knows what to say. They probably agree. They shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I should be in jail. In some executioner’s block or something.

“Well we are, girl. So shut up and deal with it.” Haymitch growls.

I feel an anger burn inside of me at his comment. I know I don’t deserve any kind of gentle treatment. But it doesn’t make it any easier to actually hear it from someone else.

Sae gives Haymitch a look, then turns back to me. In a much gentler tone, she asks, “Why do you say that, dear?”

I’m still looking Haymitch over as she asks this. He just looks back at me, and we sit there in silence for a long moment. So it’s still the case, is it? That Haymitch really is like me. I see it in his grey eyes, that he knows what’s going on inside my mind.

“Because I killed everyone,” I spit out. “They’re all dead because of me!” I turn to Thom. “That huge hole in the Meadow. You wouldn’t have to be digging that if it weren’t for me.”

“That’s not true, Katniss- “ he tries, but I cut him off at the pass.

“It is true,” I protest. “Because I refused to follow orders. That got everyone killed. Isn’t it?”

There’s a dead silence as I wait for anyone in the room to answer. They all look frozen to their spots. None of them have any idea what to say. It’s because they know I’m right, they have to know it. But at the same time… at the same time, a part of me is hurt that no one rushes to comfort me. To tell me it’s not true. I mean, I know I’m horrible, but do they have to rub it in like this? Haymitch, I never expected to comfort me, but what about Sae? Peeta?

When no one does respond, I turn on my heel and run out of the room, leaving the stunned party behind me. I don’t really go far--just into the kitchen - but it’s enough just to be away from all the eyes and expectations and judgements. Suddenly depleted of energy, I sink into a chair at the kitchen table, bury my head in my arms on the tabletop, and feel myself begin to cry.

I don’t know how much time passes while I sit here like this. Honestly, time doesn’t seem to have much meaning for me anymore. Is it a couple minutes? An hour? Has an entire night passed since I left, and everyone has gone home? And that door I hear opening, is that Greasy Sae coming in to cook the breakfast I know she only comes by to make because she’s paid to do so?

It is Sae, but when I glance up, I see it’s only been about five minutes since my outburst. She sits down in a chair besides me, and wraps her arms around me.

“Don’t!” I protest.

“Why not?” She looks at me, confused.

“You don’t need to pretend anymore, Sae,” I tell her. “I know you’re only doing this because the Capitol hired you to look after me. Just stop.”

I can feel her muscles freeze in her arms at my words. But she doesn’t remove her arms from their embrace. Instead, if anything, she tightens them around me. Pulls me to her while she rocks with me. I don’t want her here in my space. Do I? No. I don’t know. She shouldn’t be here, anyways, because I don’t deserve it. She shouldn’t be so close to someone as awful as me! But I don’t have the strength to push her away or tell her this, even though I know that I should.

“You poor thing,” she says softly.

“I deserved it all!” And that’s when the tears begin to fall.

Greasy Sae just rocks me in silence for a long, long time, letting me cry in her arms. She shouldn’t - I know she shouldn’t - and the right thing to do would be for me to make her stop, to let her go help someone who truly deserves to be comforted. Because they didn’t ruin the lives of everyone in this nation the way I did. Because they weren’t so blinded by vengeance, they let their own sister get blown to bits.

But I don’t do it. I can’t. Because now that the tears have started, I can’t make them stop. And all I want is this comfort, to feel safe in someone’s arms, even though I doubt I’ll ever truly feel safe ever again. How could I, after everything? I want this comfort, even though I know I don’t deserve it. Greasy Sae makes soothing noises and pats my hair as she lets me cry myself out.

“You’ve been through so much, dear,” she tells me after I have finally calmed down. “And you didn’t deserve a single bit of it.”

“I did!” I mean to yell it, but it only comes out as a sob.

“No,” she says evenly. “You were just a child. You’re still just a child, who’s been through too many grown up things. You and Peeta both.”

I mull over her words while I ride out this current wave of sobs as she rocks me gently. Is she right? I won’t deny that a huge part of me finds solace, finds vindication in her words. I was only 16 when I went into the Games for the first time. For all my survival knowledge, and efforts to keep my family alive, I was still a child.

What about after I came out? I was a murderer. It’s safe to admit that much now, at least. Now that doing so doesn’t lead to accusations of treason, to whippings and executions. I was a murderer. But only because I had no choice in the matter. Did I? I could have died in that arena and spared everyone all of this. I wish I had. I wish I had died, and then Prim would still be alive, and Finnick would still be alive, and all those people whose lives were lost in that hospital would be alive, and… my mind begins reeling at the mere thought of everyone who would still be alive right now if I had just died instead in the arena.

All I ever wanted was to save my sister.

And protect Peeta.

At least I managed to do that much. But was that really anything noble? Is Peeta happy that I kept him alive in the arena, after everything he’s been through? Or does he feel he’d be better off dead, too? I remember Finnick’s comment when the took us away on the hovercraft after the clock arena. I wish they were all dead, and we were too. It would be best. I couldn’t think of a good response then, and I certainly can’t think of one now. Except Finnick actually is dead now. Just the thought makes another round of sobs well up in my chest. It seems to come from someplace deep inside me, some lonely, desolate place that knows nothing but anguish and heartbreak lie around every corner for the rest of my life.

If Finnick was right, that it’s for the best that he’s gone, then why do I feel this way? Why can’t I find peace in knowing he’s someplace better? But no. He’s gone. He’s wherever Prim is. Where Rue is, and Boggs, the rest of Star Squad. My father. The victims of the hospital. The fallen tributes of the Hunger Games. Maybe even Coin and Snow.

There’s a horrible thought. What if they’re all in the same place, after all that? But maybe not. Maybe they’re gone forever. In fact, they probably are. It’s too much to hope there might be something else after this. Life after death was never a subject talked about much in 12, but it did come up once in awhile. Those who had lost someone--which admittedly was most of us, be it from the Games, or starvation, or the coal mines--often hung on to the archaic belief. I suppose it gave them something to hold on to, when the darkest moments of loss hit them. After I lost my father, I didn’t know what I believed. It wasn’t until Rue that I realized a big part of me wanted it to be true. That I wanted a place with no Games, no war to exist, after what she had been put through in this miserable excuse for a life here.  Even when I sang her to sleep, I know I was hoping she was heading for a place like the Meadow in the song I was singing.

But I know now, that it’s too much to hope such a place does exist. I think when we’re gone, we probably are really gone. And I find myself spiraling down that path of despair again.

“Katniss.” A voice reaches me, tethering me back to the present. I feel a pair of hands on either shoulder, holding me firmly. “Katniss,” it says again. Except it sounds different this time.

I blink, and I’m back in the room with Greasy Sae. And now, Peeta has joined us. That explains why the voice sounded different the second time. One of them must have been his. I shake my head to clear it. It’s jarring to be back, but comforting, too.

“I think maybe what she needs is a good night’s sleep,” I hear Sae tell him. Well, yeah. Wasn’t that what I had been trying to tell them from the start? It would be better to just leave me alone all together.

“Will she be okay?” I hear Peeta ask. The answer to that is no. Obviously I won’t be okay. And he isn’t okay, either. Wasn’t he just holed up in his own house because of an episode a few weeks ago?

“With time,” I hear her respond gently. “The first year is the hardest. You’ll see. All the firsts without them, and, well- you know.”

The house begins to empty as the few “friends” that had come over for my birthday take their leave. Sae leaves me curled on the couch to bid them farewell, a task I know should fall on me. But I’m too weak to do it.

Finally, she returns to the room. I wonder if she’s the only one left, until I pick up on an all too familiar tread behind her. So Peeta is still here, too.

“We should get her up to bed,” I hear her tell him. If he responds, I don’t hear it. It’s not a good idea, though. Because if I fall asleep, I know the nightmares will hit. I haven’t slept well since before the Quell. I glance over to Peeta, who watches me with sad, understanding blue eyes. He knows. Does he remember? How he used to hold me at night, how his arms were the only thing that could make the nightmares go away?

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed by the want to ask him to stay here tonight. If I’m forced to go to bed, I want him to crawl in next to me, to make the nightmares leave like he did before. But just as suddenly, I remember what’s happening. How he was hijacked. And asking him to sleep in the same bed as me is a dangerous idea. The truth is, I’m still scared to be in the same room as him, even if it does seem he’s worked through the worst of the tracker jacker venom.

“I’m fine,” I tell them firmly. They both look at me in surprise; it’s the first I’ve spoken in close to an hour. I guess they both thought I had checked out for the night, at least mentally. I kind of had. But I can’t stand sitting here, listening to them plan to make me do something I know would just make me miserable. I’d rather they leave, and I be left to my own devices.

“Katniss-” Sae tries, but I just shake my head.

“I’m fine,” I repeat, shaking my head. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It might make you feel better.”

“No. It won’t.” It’s Peeta who answers, not me. We both look over at him, surprised. Sae, surely, because she didn’t expect him to side with me on this issue. But I know, somehow, that this means he remembers.

“Well…all right,” she finally agrees. “If that’s what you really want, Katniss.” I nod. Greasy Sae promises she’ll be back in the morning for breakfast, right on schedule. Peeta just watches silently. But just before they turn away, as I’m closing the door, his eye catches with mine. He gives me a final look before he follows.

I’m alone, at last, in this big, empty house. Just as I had asked for. It’s just me and the ghosts now. For a second, I’m tempted to call Peeta and Greasy Sae back here. I don’t, though. I might as well get used to it being this way. I’ll be living this way for whatever short amount of my life remains. I return to my seat on my couch, and collapse.

I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming over my latest nightmare. Something awful, with Snow and Coin, and watching my little sister be blown to pieces again. I feel more than I’ve felt for a long time. Anger, hatred, sadness. Despair. Hopelessness. I don’t know what to do. My heart is beating hard, and I pant as I try to orient myself to the here and the now, my eye adjusting to the darkness and catching sight of every minor thing in the process that I’m convinced is another monster that’s been sent to take me out. Great. I knew I was crazy. Did I really need the extra proof?

When I finally catch my breath, I slump onto my back and stare off into the darkness. I’m not exactly thinking about anything in particular. In fact, it’s the opposite. I wish I could turn off my thoughts and all my emotions, and never deal with any of it ever again. Life would be better that way.

My mind begins to wander. It’s been so, so long since I’ve had a truly good night’s sleep. Even before the Games started, I had had a very hard time staying asleep ever since my father died, and I became haunted by nightmares of him trapped in the mines. I begin to wonder how I ever had one to begin with. I know the answer to that between the Games. It was Peeta.

Peeta. What’s he doing right now? Is he asleep? Does he sleep better now that half his memory has been wiped? Does he remember the nightmares of the arena as well as I do? Something tells me he probably doesn’t sleep all that well, though. I remember that night, in the sewer below the Capitol streets before the mutt attack, when I caught him lying awake on my watch. It wasn’t until I talked to him, encouraging him to get some rest, that he finally fell asleep.

I also know he is haunted by what happened in the arena. Which means he does have memories of some kind. Bad memories. The kind that do keep you up at night. The real question for him, of course, is whether or not they are real or not real. I guess for the question at hand, it doesn’t really matter. A lack of sleep is a lack of sleep. Still, I know Peeta stayed in the Capitol because he was receiving therapy. He seems better now than he ever did during the siege on the city, or especially back in 13. All that treatment has to have accounted for something, right? Maybe he does sleep better. Maybe I should follow up on that therapy. Call Dr. Aurelius tomorrow. It hasn’t helped so far, but have I really given it a chance?

Then again, would it really do me any good? At this point, it seems impossible to ever come back from this feeling of desolation. I should have just died in that same explosion at the City Center, or in the sewer attack, or in either arena, or any of the other number of times I could have died, but didn’t seem able to. I just can’t seem to die.

On and on it goes, my mind going in circles. I think I drift off to sleep once or twice, but snap back awake almost immediately. Which is fine. I don’t think I want to go back to sleep now, anyway.

After the slow, painful wake of night, I drag myself to the bathroom and splash some water on my face and smooth my hair back, an attempt to at least somewhat freshen up before the usual breakfast crew arrives. I know they’re going to be looking for signs I’m unstable after what happened last night, and I don’t really want to give them any further cause to watch me. Even though the truth is that they’re right. I just don’t want them to know it.

When they do arrive, they look surprised when they see I’m already up and waiting for them. Sae gives me a once over, then looks downright pleased, as though somehow I’ve proved her right. Good. Maybe she’ll leave me alone for the time being. At least until I know what I’m going to do.

We eat breakfast, and they leave. Another notch in the old routine. I hear a knock at the door later in the morning. It’s Peeta, standing there with a bag of something in his hands.

“Do you feel better?” he asks as he follows me to the kitchen.

For a second, I think about it. Not because I’m not sure - I know I don’t feel better - but because I don’t know what I should tell him. At last, I decide to just go with the truth. “No,” I admit.

“I didn’t think so.”

Immediately, I feel defensive again. “I don’t want to hear about it,” I snap.

“Hear about what?” He asks, looking confused.

“About what you and Sae were talking about last night,” I explain. “About going to bed and getting better and stuff. She doesn’t understand, Peeta!”

“Yeah,” he agrees. It surprises me, because it’s not what I expected. Peeta is pretty big on the belief that we can get better, when he’s not being sidetracked with an episode. I look at him now, seeking an explanation. He just shrugs. “She doesn’t understand, what it’s like to go through what we’ve been through.”

Well, that’s the truth. No one understand what it’s like to have gone through all this. No one except for Peeta and myself. Suddenly, I find myself with the urge to launch forward into his arms. But it doesn’t seem appropriate somehow.

“I think she is right about one thing, though,” he continues. “This first year is going to be hard. It was hard after the Games, too. Our first Games, I mean,” he says. “And now we have a lot more we have to figure out.” He catches my gaze and holds it. Then his eyes flit away. “But I think… I think we need each other, Katniss.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. He’s right, I can just feel it. But I want to hear his reasoning out loud for myself.

“What do I mean? I mean exactly what we just said. We’re the only ones who have been through what the other has gone through… for the most part,” he explains. “And… and there are things… gaps in my memory I could really use your help on.”

I don’t respond, just stare off to some point behind him. I knew this was the case. I remember thinking it when the Real or Not Real game was first devised, that most of what haunts Peeta will remain up to me to clear up. But I honestly don’t know if I can give Peeta the information he wants to hear. Can I? How could I?

He’s watching me now, those blue eyes of his trained on me, taking in my reaction to this. I don’t know what to tell him. In truth, I don’t know what to think myself. “I… don’t think I can,” I whisper.

I can tell he’s disappointed by this answer. But he does his best to mask it. “Just little things,” he says, clearly trying to backpedal. “That’s all I meant.”

When he leaves shortly after, I watch him from the window as he crosses the lawn back to his own house. He really has come a long way since our days in 13. Even since the day of the execution, the last time I saw him before he returned to 12. He’s strong again. That limp is still there, but some of the steadfastness seems to have returned. He seems more and more like the boy I knew before. Like the Boy with the Bread, who warded off my nightmares in the dark of night. But he’s different now, too. He seems so much older now. Of course; what we’ve been through has aged us both about a thousand years. Yet, at the same time, he seems somehow more vulnerable.

Something familiar twists inside me, and then I feel guilty. That feels familiar, too. I think about Gale, kissing that other pair of lips in 2. I think about my sister, who will never get to kiss a pair of lips. At least, not as far as I know. I don’t think she was kissing anyone before… before she was taken. It’s not fair, it’s not right that she never got that chance, and I did, when it was never something I had originally wanted.

But deep somewhere inside of me, as I watch him cross the lawn, I know how much I liked kissing Peeta.

“Peeta?” I call, poking my head in through his front door. It’s rude, I’ll admit, but I tried knocking first. When there was no answer, panic began to set in. What if he’s in trouble? What if he’s having an episode, and needs help? What if… what if an unforeseen complication of the tracker jacker venom caused some sort of health issue? What if he’s dead? It’s paranoia, I know this on some level, but the anxiety takes over before I even have a chance to combat it. Fortunately for me, Peeta’s front door is unlocked when I try it, though that also worries me as well.

“Katniss?” I hear his voice come drifting down the hallway.

“Yeah,” I answer, feeling a little more secure as I close the door behind me, making sure it’s locked this time. Then I unlock it, because if Peeta does have another episode, I might need someone to get in here fast to help me. Better to not take any chances.

“In here,” he says. I follow the direction the voice came from. I find Peeta in his study, which it appears he has actually turned into an art studio. He sits behind a large canvas, studying it intensely, only taking a second to glance up at me and raise his eyebrows in greeting.

“Hey,” I say, standing in the doorway of the study, watching him. It’s weird being in here. Our houses are almost exactly the same--every house in Victor’s Village is, for that matter. But while mine remains relatively untouched now, Peeta has strewn paintings and supplies all over the place. And in the middle of it all, he perches on a stool, paintbrush in hand, as he plans his next stroke.

“Hey,” he says. “Did you knock?”

“Yeah. Sorry, you didn’t answer and I panicked.”

“No, it’s okay,” he’s quick to assure me. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear it, that’s all. I would have let you in myself.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “Um, it looks like you’re busy, though. I can come back later.”

He shakes his head, and finally tears his eyes away from the canvas so that he’s looking at me. “No. Stay. What brings you over here?” he asks with a smile.

Now I pause. I don’t really know how to answer. Even I don’t know what force prompted me to come over here. “I just… wanted to see what you were doing,” I mumble, feeling stupid.

He motions to the room around him. “Well, now you know.” He smiles at me, making me feel less awkward.

“What are you painting?” I ask. I cross the room so I can take a look at his easel. The brown walls, the large, hot oven -- I recognize the bakery immediately. Peeta is painting a scene from his home life before the Games.

“It helps,” he tells me. “It helps me to remember them.”

I’m quiet as I think about it. I realize I’m not quite sure what part of Peeta’s memory is intact, and what was tampered with in the hijacking. “Do you remember it very well?” I ask, hoping against hope my question won’t somehow offend him, or, worse, trigger something in him. He’s gotten better, but I still never know when he’s going to be set off.

“Yeah. They didn’t really mess with the memories from when I was a kid. I still see them pretty clearly. I think.”

“Oh. So just the ones that involved me, then,” I say.

He looks bad. But he nods. “That’s why I need your help,” he tells me. “Because you can tell me things. You can help me remember what really happened.”

I don’t say anything, but I have my qualms about this. Mostly because I can’t help wondering what makes him think he can trust me to tell him the truth if part of his hijacking was not trusting me at all. Or maybe he made enough progress in his therapy that he knows now that he can trust me? Still, a huge part of me suspects it’s for the same reason I was nervous to play Real or Not Real with him during the siege on the Capitol. The things that really bother Peeta, that I know he’s still seeking the answer to, I don’t know if I’m ready to address. Or if I’ll ever be ready to address them. Would there even be a point? There’s not much left of me for Peeta to love. Just a broken shell of a person. A wasteland underneath.

“I don’t think I’m the right person,” I say.

He looks surprised. “Why not?”

“I can’t help you,” I say. “Peeta, there’s not much left of me!” And then I can’t help feeling a little shocked myself. Because I can’t believe I finally said it. Finally said the truth about what I believe to be the case about me.

He looks a little stunned himself, as he watches me in the awkward silence that ensues. Then his face softens. “Katniss- “ He begins.

“No,” I shake my head. “I don’t want to hear it. What’s the use? You don’t know.”

Now he actually looks upset. “You think I don’t know?” He asks. “I lost my family, too, remember? My entire family. And they took my mind on top of that!”

I just stare at him, not sure what to say. I feel guilty. In fact, I feel downright insensitive. Of course, Peeta does know exactly what it’s like to go through all of this. I’ve just been wallowing so much in my own misery, that I haven’t been able to see it. “You’re right,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No. And they told me it was your fault, too.”

This sends a jolt down my spine, as it begins to dawn on me what’s happening. Something about the tense way he holds himself now, the animosity seeping into his glare... He was forced to revisit his own memories, and that must have set him off. And it’s my own fault. For pushing him too far. How do I stop this before it’s too late? I position myself so I can quickly make a run for the exit if I have to.

“Peeta, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m so sorry,” I breathe, hoping against hope I’ll somehow get through to him. To the real Peeta, who I know is still fighting not to let this hijacked version of him come through again.

He shakes his head again. I’m preparing to defend myself if necessary, but his words surprise me. “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m trying- I’m trying to fight it. But- “ he shuts his eyes tight, trying to ward off the false memories.

“It’s not real,” I promise him. “It’s not real, Peeta.”

“I know,” he gasps. “But- “

“Hang on, Peeta.”

Peeta grabs onto the back of a chair, taking my words literally as he hands on so tight, his knuckles start going white. He keeps his eyes shut tightly while he takes deep, deep breaths, fighting the battle that wages on in his head. “You’re here to finish the job. To kill me,” he whispers.

“Not real,” I whisper back. Then I repeat myself, louder this time. He takes a few more breaths, like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s the truth.

“No,” he agrees at last, and a touch of conviction is unmistakable in his voice. “They hurt you just as much.”

“Real,” I say, nodding my head vigorously. I feel a round of tears threatening to make their appearance, but I stubbornly force them back. Now is not the time to cry. I have to stay strong.

Fortunately, this technique seems to be paying off. Peeta takes several more deep breaths, before he finally opens his eyes. When he does, they’re clear and calm.

“Peeta?” I ask, testing the waters, just to be sure it’s safe.

He nods his head. “I think it’s passed,” he confirms. “Thanks.”

“For what?” I feel like the biggest idiot in the world for even asking, but I have to admit, I’m a little dumbfounded. I feel like all I did was make the problem worse. It was because of me he was triggered in the first place, after all. It’s because of me they even did this to him in the first place.

“For staying. For helping. For getting me to grasp onto reality,” he explains. “I think the chair helped.”

“Oh. Good,” I say, feeling like a little bit of a fraud. When I told him to hang on, I hadn’t meant it literally. But Peeta seemed to take it that way, and it worked in the end, so does it really even matter?

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Just like the handcuffs did in Tigris’s basement. They helped me stay focused, and keep a hold on what was real.”

I think back, remembering the way he had insisted on putting them back on after I had cleaned his wrists from the blood. He had just suffered an episode then, too, leading to the blood on his wrists. He had made me put them back on, and even slept with them on, chained up and everything. It can’t have been very comfortable, though I can see why the pain would help him hang on to reality a little bit.

“You helped. Really,” he smiles at me, and this actually surprises me, how much of a positive effect it has on me.

He agrees to going downstairs, and getting a drink from the kitchen. I just sit and study him closely as he moves about the room, trying to make sure he really is okay after that episode. But he seems like he is. “I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen you recover,” I finally admit to him.

“I think so too,” he nods. “I’ve been working with Dr. Aurelius a lot on developing ways to stop them. I think we might finally be getting somewhere.”

“I thought you had done that already,” I reply, confused. I thought that was part of the terms holding him back in the Capitol before the would allow him to return to 12.

“We did,” he concedes. “I had to get to a certain level of control before they would even allow me to leave. But I still had a lot of work to do. Still do, really.”

“Oh,” I say. It doesn’t seem like enough, but I’m not really sure what else there is to say. “Well, you did look a lot better when you first showed up here. Compared to how you were before, I mean.” And then I kick myself, because out loud, it sounds like one of the meanest, most insensitive things I could possibly say to him. Even if it is true.

But Peeta just smiles. “You remember that?” He asks.

“Of course I do,” I say, feeling a little taken aback. “Why wouldn’t I remember that?”

He shrugs. “You just seemed… a little out of it, when I showed up on your doorstep. Like you were half asleep or something.”

I remember that day. “I guess I was, a bit,” I agree. And then, for some reason, I tell him the truth about what had happened that morning. About the dream, about waking from it and hearing his digging, and running out to yell at the dead. How, for a split second after I saw him standing out there, I was convinced it really was a dream, it had to be. Because it was too much to hope that he really had come back. I tell him all of this.

There are tears in Peeta’s eyes when I finish. His next words come out in just barely above a whisper. “Real or not real?”

I feel a lump in my throat, that he even has to question it. “Real,” I tell him, on the verge of tears myself.

He smiles through the tears. “Then I’m glad I came back.”

That makes two of us.

I stay up long into the night that night, not even wanting to try and fall asleep. I just know the nightmares will be bad tonight. But I’m also surprised by the amount of energy I have. It’s more than I’ve felt in a long time. My legs carry me down the hall, into the room where my belongings that were brought back from 13 are still sitting. For the first time, I pull them out and really look over them. I hold the spile, so cold in my hand, and am immediately brought back to the Quarter Quell arena. Finnick and Mags, building that hut. The four of us lined up at its entrance, watching the nightly projection of the dead broadcast in the sky. The heat, the humidity, that pink sky entrapping us all. I quickly set it back down, the memories becoming too much for me.

Next, I reach for my parents’ wedding photo. Here, alone in the night, I study it for the first time in ages. So much has changed since it was taken. So much has changed since my father was killed. It feels like it was another life completely.

I take each item, one by one, examining each and every one of them, dwelling on the specific memories they bring back. Savoring them in my mind, closing my eyes to try and get as clear a picture possible. The bow, my father’s jacket. I even discover Peeta’s pearl, hidden among the other items. I’m not sure how I managed to overlook that when I first looked through these.

At last, I get to the book. It’s comforting, looking at this thing again, reading over all the entries that various members of my family have submitted over the years. Particularly when I get to the entries I know belonged to my father. It’s one of the only relics I have left of him, aside from his jacket and a few pictures.

Turning the page, the style changes again, and my stomach twists. I know this handwriting, because it is my own. It is the start of the section that I worked on with Peeta. His drawing, so delicately, precisely done, caps off the page. I remember when I found this book during that first walk in 12 after the bombing, when I rescued a few of our belongings. The book fell open, and I had to shut it quickly, because the illustration belonged to Peeta.

It’s strange, isn’t it? How much can change in less than a year? I have Peeta back now. It’s everyone else who is gone.

I pore through it, trying to keep my mind off all the memories threatening to overtake me, but it’s no use. The tears begin rolling down my cheeks, and the next thing I know, I’m bent over, sobbing. Not that this is anything unusual. I’m either sobbing, or feeling nothing at all. In the end, I sob until I have no energy left for tears, or much of anything else. Then I curl up, right there on the floor, using my father’s jacket as a pillow, and hold the book tight against my chest as I finally fall asleep.

I’m still in that same spot when I wake up the next morning. The mid-morning sun streams through the blinds. I’m aware that someone is standing over me.

“Katniss,” a voice says gently, and hand shaking me equally as gently on the shoulder. “Wake up.”

My eyes open just a crack. Two familiar blue eyes are looking back down on me. Peeta.

“Hey.” He smiles when he realizes I’m awake.

“Hey,” I say, sitting up. I feel groggy, and my body aches from sleeping on the floor.

“Did you sleep here all night?” he asks, glancing down at the jacket I have rolled up into a pillow.

I guess I did. The book is still in my arms. Peeta looks down at it, too, and a glimmer of recognition flashes through his eyes.

If he remembers all those days we spent working on this book, though, he doesn’t say anything. He just helps me up off the floor, and joins me in the kitchen for breakfast.

“Want to go for a walk?” he suggests after the dishes have been cleared, and Greasy Sae and her granddaughter have left for the morning.

“Another?” I ask, remembering how well the last one ended.

He just shrugs. “Even I need a break from painting sometimes.”

While this may be true, my guess is that Peeta has more on his mind than just needing a break from painting. Sure enough, after we’ve left Victor’s Village, he shows his true intentions.

“Why were you sleeping on the floor last night?” he asks with a sideways glance.

I’m quiet. I don’t really want to answer. Why, I’m not sure, exactly, except that it was a private kind of thing, my own tribute to the people I’ve lost. But it’s Peeta. If there’s anyone I can feel safe sharing that stuff with, I know it’s him.

“I was just going through some stuff,” I tell him. “Stuff that was brought back from 13 when they sent me back here.”

“LIke what?” He asks, looking genuinely curious. I wonder how much of it he will remember. Some stuff, he probably would have no clue about, like my parents’ wedding photo. Unless he saw it sitting in my house one of the times he came over after our first Games. Actually, knowing Peeta, he probably did pick up on that.

“My father’s hunting jacket,” I tell him. He nods; that was an easy one. Everyone in District 12 saw me in that thing. “My bow and arrows. My parents’ wedding photo. The spile from the Quell arena.” I look over at him, wondering if he remembers.

“I remember,” he says, as though he was reading my mind. “I saw it in some of the footage they showed me.”

I’d forgotten about that. How they’d used footage to turn him against me during the hijacking; and then they had used footage to try and bring him back once he was in the rebel’s hands again.

“What about the plant book?” I dare to ask him. “Do you remember that?”

He’s slow to respond, just looking out at the horizon for a long time. “I wasn’t sure if I did or not,” he finally confesses. “It was one of those things, where I wasn’t sure it had really happened or if I had just hallucinated it.”

“It was real,” I say, noticing the crack in my voice. The idea that Peeta couldn’t tell the plant book had been real makes me very sad. It was the only really normal memory we had together. “We worked on it when my foot was injured.”

“We did?” He asks, looking concerned. “Why was your foot injured?”

The question is like a punch in the stomach. I have to remind myself that there is still plenty Peeta probably doesn’t remember, even if he has made significant strides in his recovery. But there are still gaps he hasn’t recovered, may not ever recover.

On the other hand, I’m not sure if I ever told him the real reason I had hurt my foot that day, even if Peeta had remembered the situation. “I had told you I had slipped on some ice,” I tell him. “But that’s not what really happened.”

“It wasn’t?” He looks at me, interested. “Then what did happen?”

My first instinct is to hide the truth from him, until I realize that it doesn’t really matter anymore. It’s no longer illegal to go beyond the fence. We’re free. “I had snuck out to the woods,” I tell him. “The Peacekeepers had cracked down on security and were whipping people left and right for insubordination, so I couldn’t tell anyone where I had gone. But they turned the fence back on while I was out, so I climbed a tree to get back in, and landed on my foot when I jumped from the branch. That was how my foot got hurt.”

“Wow,” he says. “What made you go out to the woods?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I think I just wanted to see it one last time before I said goodbye. It was one of the few things I had left of my father.”

He nods. “I wish I had more left to remember my father by,” he says.

Once more I’m reminded that for as much as I’ve lost, Peeta has lost just as much. Maybe even more. His entire family is gone. And so are half his memories. “Don’t you have anything?” I ask.

“Some stuff. A few pictures. Nothing as nice as your jacket.”

We walk in silence for the rest of the way. I don’t really know what else there is to say. I guess the only thing left now is to figure out where we go from here.

It’s while I’m looking at the book again later that night that I get the idea. I’m flipping through the pages again, looking at my father’s entries, looking at Peeta’s drawings. When I rescued this book from the house when I came to see the rubble of 12, I couldn’t stand to even look inside its pages. Seeing the memento from Peeta, knowing he was in the hands of President Snow, was too much for me to handle. But at the same time, it was almost comforting, knowing that it was at least there. That I still had a piece of him, aside from the pearl. And the same could be said about my father’s entries.

There are still pictures of everybody. Or at least, of most people. Peeta told me himself he has some pictures of his family. Or at least he does of his father, but probably the rest of his family too. And Peeta is still such a good artist. That was something he never lost. I think back to his expert skill that I spotted immediately on that wedding cake he made for Finnick and Annie. If we can’t find photos, then maybe we can draw them.

“I had an idea,” I tell Dr. Aurelius the next day, during my weekly appointment with him.

“What’s that, Katniss?” He asks, I can tell his interest is piqued. He sounds hopeful. So I tell him about my idea for the book, to put together memories of everyone that’s been lost.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” he says when I’ve finished. “I think it could help you a lot.”

“Really?” I ask, feeling a little proud, as stupid as that may be.

“Absolutely,” he says. “Do you have everything you need?”

I don’t, I realize. The district is still establishing itself after its destruction. Supplies come by train, and they’re currently at a minimum. Food. Water. Building materials. But other things can be sent, too, if they’re requested. Dr. Aurelius promises that he will see to it himself that my supplies for the book will be sent out on the soonest train possible.

I make Peeta go to the train station with me to pick them up. “What did you order?” He asks me, looking curious.

“Stuff,” I say mysteriously. “I’ll show you when we get back home.”

When we make it back, he sits at the table and watches as I cut open the box and empty its contents on the table. All kinds of stuff is in there. A book cover, blank white pages, binding. Pens and paper and paints, though I’m guessing Peeta already has us covered in that regard. Still, he looks happy to see them. He picks a pack of paints up. “What’s all this for?” He asks me.

“I want to make a book,” I tell him. “Sort of like the plant book. Except, I think- I want to put in a page for everyone that we’ve lost.” I peer over the box to try and gauge his reaction. Part of me is nervous he’s going to hate it, I’ll admit. Maybe it’s too stupid. Maybe he won’t want to revisit all those memories in his head. Now that I’ve actually said it out loud, I’m a little afraid it could even be bad for him. What it something about it sets him off, and he has more episodes?

But Peeta looks interested. “I like it,” he says. Relief washes over me.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s a great way to memorialize everyone we’ve lost. And maybe it might even help me recover more memories along the way.”

That was one aspect I hadn’t thought of. But now that he brings it up, I realize he’s right. Working on this book dovetails perfectly with his request to help him with his memories. Finally I feel like I might be doing something right.

“Okay,” I say as I take a seat. “Who should we start with?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks. “We start with Prim.”

I hadn’t really thought of that. Or maybe it’s really more that I didn’t want to think of it. Because now that it’s been brought to mind, I’m not sure I can really go through of it. “No,” I shake my head. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t?” Peeta looks a bit surprised.

“No. I’m- I’m just not ready. To deal with it yet.” I know I want to do something for her. Prim deserves to be immortalized in whatever way I possibly can, in every way that I possibly can. But the thought of confronting those memories, those thoughts right now, it just feels like too much for me. I know I’ll lose it if I do. And I’ve been losing it a lot already. I’ve got to get a grip, before they ship me off to the Capitol again or something. Though maybe it’s not a bad idea if they do. It worked for Peeta, didn’t it? Still, I know I would rather be here in 12 than back there. Even if it does mean dealing with the ghosts. “I don’t want to do my father yet, either,” I add for good measure.

“Okay, got it. No sister, no father,” Peeta ticks them off with his fingers. I’m grateful he doesn’t question my request any further. “I have to admit, I don’t really want to start with anyone in my family yet, either. So who does that leave us?”

“Lots. Too many,” I murmur, as the full weight of this project finally begins to sink in. We go over everyone lost, but it’s hard for both of us to make a decision. Peeta suggests Rue, but it’s too close to Prim. I would be set off for sure. I suggest Finnick, but that’s too fresh for us both as well.

In the end, we decide to go with Mags. It seems a good enough compromise. We both knew her well enough to have our own memories of her, but neither of us were close enough to her to seriously lose it by working on her page.

We set to work. Neither of us have any pictures of Mags, so Peeta draws what he remembers from memory.

Greasy Sae arrives with her granddaughter for dinner, surprised to find Peeta already there, and that we’re both hard at work on something. We explain to her what we’re working on.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” she tells us. And I can see by the look on her face that she means it.  She looks over our shoulders, and asks whose page we’re working on now.

“Mags,” I tell her, not thinking to elaborate further. I’m so engrossed in our work, it takes me a minute to remember that Sae wasn’t in the Quarter Quell with us. She watched it, I’m sure, but does she remember Mags? The way she sacrificed herself by walking straight into the fog so Finnick could get Peeta and me to safety?

“I liked her,” Sae says quietly. “I was sad when she sacrificed herself.”

She leaves us to our work while she sets to work herself on our dinner, and her granddaughter settles in to play with Buttercup. We take a break to eat once the meal is ready, then Sae does our dishes, and excuses herself and her granddaughter for the evening.

Peeta and I work late into the evening. When he’s satisfied, we work on a list of everything we can possibly remember about Mags. It isn’t much, I have to admit, because neither of us knew Mags as well as Finnick did, or Annie.

“Maybe we can call Annie tomorrow, and see if she can suggest anything,” Peeta suggests.

I agree, saying it sounds like a good idea. I haven’t thought much about Annie since I left the Capitol, which makes me feel awful. Watching Peeta’s hands work as he cleans up the sketch, I try to imagine what it must be like to lose your husband after you’d only just married. I hope she’s doing all right. I wonder if my mother spends very much time with her. Maybe I can ask her to look after her; check up on her sometimes.

It’s nearly midnight when I let out a large yawn. “Me too,” Peeta says, looking up from his work. “I’m exhausted. Though I can’t say I really want to go to bed,” he gives me a wry smile.

“Because of nightmares?” I ask quietly. I know the feeling all too well.

“Yeah,” he says. “I still get them.”

I don’t say anything. Instead, all I can do is wonder if he remembers, the way that we used to protect each other from them late at night. I know he mentioned that one time in 13 that he had memories of nights on the train. But the implications then were all wrong. That those nights were about something else, and not about keeping each other’s sanity. Does he remember?

“Stay here tonight,” I say, and even I’m surprised when I hear myself suggest it. Is it even a good idea? It doesn’t seem very wise, considering I’d be vulnerable to one of Peeta’s episodes if he were to be triggered for some reason. But the more I think about it, the more I realize I want him to do it. Despite the fear of what might happen. “I have an extra bed.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” he asks warily.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Katniss. I can’t risk hurting you again. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I should probably go home.”

I’m silent as I watch him gather what little belonging he brought over with him. He makes a move for the door to leave. “Stay!” It comes out without permission, but I can’t say I’m all that sorry I let it out. It’s the truth about what I want. How I feel.

Peeta stops and looks at me, completely unsure of himself. I can tell he’s debating with himself how to respond, if he should listen. If it’s even a good idea, like I know he originally felt it wasn’t. “Katniss- “ He begins, probably to start some sort of argument to convince me why he shouldn’t, why it would be safer for him to go home. So I cut him off at the pass.

“Please,” I say, my voice taking on a near pleading tone. “Stay.” With me. My mind fills in the blanks on its own, but I can’t say it out loud. Not right now. “Are you really even all that dangerous when you sleep at night?”

This seems to get through to him. “I guess not,” he says.

“You told me once that you don’t scream or thrash around in your sleep. You just come to, paralyzed with fright.” I’m not even sure why I’m telling him this. But I can tell, by the way he freezes in place, that it’s still the truth.

“I did?” he asks.

“Yes,” I nod. “But you didn’t have to. I knew you didn’t move in your sleep. Because I was there.”

He looks conflicted as he thinks it over. The look on his face is familiar -- it’s the one he gets when he’s trying to decide if a memory is real or not. At last, his body slumps. He gives in. “All right, Katniss,” he says. “I’ll stay here tonight.”

I lead him upstairs. Since I’ve been back, I haven’t bothered to go in any of the other rooms on my own. But I know there’s one I won’t be disturbing. Prim’s old room. I can’t bring myself to go in there just yet. There are too many memories, too many ghosts I’m not prepared to deal with. But one of the others should do. I pick one at the far end of the hall, just to give us that extra safety net, should it come to that. But I really don’t think it will.

The room is untouched. I pull the covers back on the bed in a pathetic attempt to be hospitable. “The bathroom is just down the hall,” I tell him lamely. As if this isn’t the exact same floor plan that his own house is.

“I know,” he says. I just nod again, feeling kind of silly. “Okay. Well… goodnight, I guess,” I say, turning for the door. But just as I’m about to close it as I exit to the hallway, I turn back around and look at him. “Peeta?”

“Yeah?” He looks at me, his blue eyes curious.

“Thank you. For staying.”

His eyes are soft and knowing when he responds. “Always.”

[adriannanderson]

The cement suit

Saturday at 12:05 pm marked 3 years that you have been in Heaven and we have been on Earth.  The week leading up to that day was filled with tears and all the memories that your final week brings with it.  There are amazing things like the way our friends, family and community prayed for a miracle and lifted us up in ways that could never be repayed.  There are relationships that were built around your last week with friends, family, and hospital staff that are to this day some of the best relationships we could ask for.  There is the knowledge that your 3 years in Heaven are so much better than your 3 years here on Earth would have been.

And there is the hard, miserable parts.  The longing to hold you, the heavy understanding that we are entering another year where we will not see you with our eyes.  The memories of those long days of the unknown, the raw empty feeling of helplessness as we watched you change from the baby we knew and loved to an empty shell with no life left inside.  

The bigs wanted to have friends over Friday night, so I just had to explain to them what Saturday was, and how I didn’t think friends over would be a good idea but I really didn’t know how I would feel.  We had to be up early for basketball games.  I dressed us all in our Team Little Fish shirts and we enjoyed those games of your brothers.  We came home and relaxed - took a couple naps - and then your dad and I went out for supper with friends.  It was ok - I cried only a little that day.  Cooper wanted to know if it was a holiday.  I wasn’t sure how to explain to him what that day should be classified as.  We settled on it being an anniversary - a day that we remember and keep space for in our hearts.

I imagined that in your baby sisters life there would be moments that would be hard to take.  I expected when she began to crawl it would hard - because you never did.  But it wasn’t.  I expected when she got more than 2 teeth it would be hard - because you never did.  But it wasn’t.  I had these expectations and was ok that they weren’t being met because it meant an easier, more manageable time for my heart.

Since last weekend, I have worn the cement suit.  It’s a feeling that cannot be described any other way than that - a heavy but hollow feeling that encompasses my entire body and makes daily things like taking a shower and folding laundry something that I have to talk myself into.  Moment after moment I am fighting with myself inside my head that I MUST get up and accomplish this task.  And my head is screaming back BUT YOU CAN’T - YOU CAN’T MOVE - IT’S TOO HEAVY!! 

I expected that to begin to subside after Saturday.  But it hasn’t. 

Tonight I was talking with my cousin’s wife whose little girl is just a few weeks older than Emry.  We were discussing 1st birthday plans for their little girl and it hit me - Emry’s birthday will be the milestone that brings me to my knees.  When I think about it or talk about my chest is heavy, my breaths become short, my lips begin to feel numb, and the lump in my throat makes swallowing impossible.  

I have always enjoyed planning our kids birthday parties.  Since losing you the spark has gone out of that but I don’t dread them.  I am dreading this one.  And that is a horrible feeling.  I want her to be celebrated.......but the pain of knowing you didn’t get that stops me in my tracks.

We will do our best to celebrate her in the way that she deserves.  She is an amazing little girl, who brings us so much joy and laughter.......and love - ohhh does she love us and we love her.  

I miss the ease and lightness of life before grief.  

I miss you...............those words will never truly tell the story of what it’s like living without you every day.

I am so grateful that Jesus holds you now but I cannot wait for the day when I don’t have to miss you anymore

[rishicat]

The Origin Story

(an AU short story about what I think Peter telling Tony his origin story would be like)

Tony woke up in a cold sweat. He saw some light coming out from the crack in the bedroom door and realized someone was awake. Trying not to wake Pepper, who came to the Compound to manage the property for the weekend, Tony slowly slid out from the sheets and tiptoed to the door. Quietly, he turned the knob and opened the door slightly. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Peter, sitting on the living room couch, eating Pop Tarts from the large crate they had stored in the kitchen, which sat next to him. He then realized that something wasn’t right, and quietly snuck up on him. Peter swiftly turned around and grabbed both of Tony’s arms, but then let them go, realizing it wasn’t dangerous. Tony knew that wouldn't work because Peter’s heightened senses allowed him to sense oncoming threats or scares. He softly chuckled. “Hey, kid.” He plopped down on the couch next to him, and rummaged through the Pop Tart crate, finally finding a frosted strawberry pack. He ripped it open and offered one to Peter. “No thanks, Mr. Stark. I’m not in the mood for strawberry,” he said. Peter miserably took a large bite of the chocolate fudge one he was holding. He sighed and said, “Sorry about your Pop Tart supply. I need to eat 10,000 calories a day to maintain my metabolism, and I skipped dinner.” Tony realized that Peter had been crying, evidenced by his red eyes and a small pile of tissues he was trying to conceal underneath the mound of Pop Tart wrappers. He rubbed his back and said, “What’s wrong? Looks like you’re stress-eating, and trust me, I know what that looks like. So, tell me, why are you mowing through my Pop Tart crate?” Peter slouched and looked at the crumbs on his hands. “Yesterday was Uncle Ben’s birthday, and...I missed it. I always bring a gift for May, but today I was out on my ‘Stark Internship’, so I can’t stop thinking about it.” Tony knew everything about Peter, except for this “Uncle Ben” that he kept mentioning. He decided to let down his walls of ego, and ask for once, “Who’s Uncle Ben? You’ve never told me about him.” Peter sat up and eagerly looked at him. He realized that something had sparked in the kid. Peter took a deep breath and said, “Uncle Ben was...well...my uncle, as well as May’s husband. When my parents died, they took care of me. I was specifically close to him because he raised me to be the person that I am today, with good morals and life lessons that made me more mature. When I first got my powers, I decided to try them out in a wrestling ring. I won the match, but that same night, my uncle was shot...by a rogue robber.” Peter started to tear up. Tony realized that he needed to console him, be the father figure in this situation. He pulled Peter closer to his chest, and he comfortably snuggled. He continued, “That day was when I needed to realize that my powers were meant to be used for good and that my uncle needed to be avenged. So, after a long time of investigating, I caught the robber that killed my uncle. I decided to follow one of my uncle’s best lessons: ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ That was the day that I took up the mantle of Spider-Man. That is my origin story. Since his death, May and I celebrate his birthday every year to remember him. So, I got really emotional when I missed the celebration.” Tony felt horrible that this high schooler has gone through so much at such a young age. “Y’know, kid, I was in university when my parents died. I didn’t love them enough to say goodbye to them before they left for the last time. I had no one else, so my butler and my selection of nannies took care of me. You, on the other hand, lost so much at such a young age. You’re just a kid. I know how it feels to not properly grieve, but it’s okay. You loved him enough to remember him, fight for him, cry for him. So you can rest knowing that you’ll always celebrate ol’ Uncle Ben.” Peter wiped the dripping tears from his face and blew into a tissue. For the first time in 20 minutes, he grinned at Tony and suddenly lurched close for a tight hug. He was surprised, but then put his arms around Peter and rubbed his back. “It’s okay, kid. I know.” Peter let go after a few minutes and stood up from the couch. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. That really helped.” He then hastily gathered all the wrappers and the tissues and hurried over to the trash can. Tony whispered, “Friday, what’s the time right now?” Friday whispered back through his smartwatch, “It’s 4:45 a.m. right now, with the weather at 28 degrees, cloudy.” Tony turned around and saw Peter trying to push all the snack crates back in without messing them up. He then got up and looked back at him, questioning, “Mr. Stark? What’s wrong? Did I do something?” Tony faked a disapproving look and replied, “Wow, staying up ‘till almost 5 a.m.? Save it for your finals. You’ll need it then. Now go get some rest. The ‘internship’ isn’t over yet!” Peter chuckled and “walked” back to his room by climbing on the ceiling. Tony thought it was kinda creepy without the suit, but he never pointed it out. He then realized that Pepper would panic if he wasn’t next to her, so he snuck back into the bedroom and slipped into the sheets. He stared at the ceiling for a while, but his growing cloud of thoughts was interrupted by a voice. “So, what did he tell you?” Tony looked around the room, but no one was there. The voice said, “Look to you right.” He looked right and saw Pepper was awake. “Wh-why aren’t you asleep? It’s 5 a.m., and work starts at 6,” he said. She replied, “It’s Saturday tomorrow, so I thought I’d sleep in. Anyways, what did Peter say?” Tony explained everything, in detail. Pepper intently listened, staring at him as he talked. After the explanation, Tony said, “The kid’s been through a lot, but I didn’t think that it was this serious. He’s lost two father figures, his actual father, and his uncle, who he trusted would be there to raise him.” Pepper sighed. “Make sure he doesn’t lose a third.” She turned over and fell asleep. Tony thought about that for a moment and settled in, sleeping contently. He now had another reason to wake up in the morning, another responsibility...            

The End

(it may be cringe, so sorry if it is, but I really like to write stories and thought that this situation was perfect to tell)

[wishingfornever]

1/8/18 – No Contact:  Skyrim Rant

Just turned 12.  I realized that my depression has returned.  Or maybe it was triggered by my mom leaving?  Perhaps this is just onset guilt? I don’t know.  Regardless, suicidal thoughts… they’ve returned. I got really dizzy, like a weird sort of high where my body was just buzzing and I couldn’t focus my vision.  It didn’t last long but it was unusual.  Was while we were taking my mom to the airport.  We had PDQ afterwards.  Wanted to take my mom but there was no time.

It’s storming now.  Thunder, lightning, and rain.  I walked home in it. It wasn’t that bad.  I didn’t really notice it.  However, Max is scared.  So, Adela is currently trying to convince him to go upstairs.  It’s business as usual between us.  She told me good night, I told her good night.  Then I told Max good night, who looked at me seemingly confused.  He likes to linger downstairs and have Adela call him upstairs.

My lips have split.  My toes itch.  Just… ugh…  I’m not all that well right now, but I’ll get better.  Not sure about the depression though.  I posted a joke on Facebook.  I guess it was more a cry for help, talking about visiting a psychiatrist and telling her “I want to fucking die!” and she responded, “Same, Fam.”  I ended it by saying she gets me.

I do want to fucking die.  I predicted I’d die at the age of 27. That’s in a few months.  Can I wait that long?  Maybe on my birthday.

Of course, that prediction…  I was in high school at the time.  Don’t remember where I got it from.  I think I was being a typical Narcissist piece of shit, actually.  Celebrities die at 27 all the time.  Janice Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Kobain.  Obviously, I’d suffer a similar time of death because obviously.

Thing is, I always believed I would die at 27.  Even if I don’t become famous.  Maybe if I do try to kill myself, this would be the year to do it, I guess.  Hrm…  Can I wait 7 months?

We’ll see.

Work was fucking horrible, btw.  I don’t suggest it.  Got two roses, one blue and one pink for me and Adela.  If there were a yellow one, I’d have grabbed that.  Blue was Esther’s color.  It’s mine now, though.  Such is life.

Current time… 9:20.  Took max out, just came back.  Last night, I had a dream I was in college.  Second day and I had to leave in the middle of the first day when something came up.  So, I had no idea where anything was.  I bumped into the wrong class but found out where I needed to go from there.

I went to an advanced English class and the professor was Danny Devito. He was really mean to me.  Like, he tried to throw something at me but I knew a bit before he did.  He asked me a question before that and I couldn’t hear him.  He started asking the class other questions and a student who had answered the first question originally told me one of the acceptable answers non-verbally. “Throw.”  He was asking for a specific type of verb but it was dumb.  I can’t remember the words used.

Regardless, I don’t like being late and I don’t like being publicly chastised.  Who does?

The dream brings up a couple of things.  Firstly, I do believe I need to go back to even a Junior University but I feel like it’s too late for me.  Second, I couldn’t help but remember the story I tried to tell but couldn’t because my computer crapped itself.  So, I guess I’ll tell it now that I have a day off.

It was either during the summer when I was going to high school.  It was out, obviously, so my dad, my sister, and I went to Reno.  Part of an appointment.  Before we left, I noticed this white button up shirt hanging in my clothes and I decided to explore my style.  I put it on and rolled up the sleeves, something I ended up doing for a little while as part of my personal design and do again for my formal-casual appearance (ie, what I wear for parties with friends as opposed to meetings with the CEO).

While at Reno, we get fuel at one of the places and we go inside this gas station to eat something.  I don’t remember what it is.  My dad notices that my shirt has the right side on top of the buttons.  He and my sister point out that this shirt?  It’s not my shirt, despite having several shirts just like it.  It’s a woman’s shirt that belonged to my sister.

They tore into me.  My dad, being so loud, ridiculed me in front of EVERYONE.  I looked around and everyone was looking at us.  They weren’t laughing but they felt bad for me.  They pitied me.  My dad and sister didn’t care.  They didn’t notice.  Even if they did, they wouldn’t care anyways.

During high school, I ended up wearing the same M65 camo jacket, even during the hottest days.  I stopped exploring my fashion sense until the end of my senior year.  It was heavy and hot and I hated that jacket but it’d prevent that disaster from happening again.

At least I learned about clothing and which side determines a masculine or feminine shirt.  Still, between my dad and sister it wasn’t easy growing up.  It’s not easy with them now, or at least not easy with my dad.  He’s not the most kindest of individuals.  Rather, he’s quite oblivious living in his own world and not realizing he’s tolerated because we live in an age where we must RESPECT our elders but quietly judge them in our heads.

Esther saw me yell a lot, usually while driving.  Road rage is pretty bad, I’ll admit, but I’ll never yell at customer service.  I know their job is hard because I work it.  My dad?  It feels like every time we go out, he yells at them.

I love my dad, but I don’t like being with him.  He is oblivious of his own actions.  I guess I was pretty similar last year, though. Ironic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1D2jEF4LO4

Random video.  It made me smile.  Maybe it’ll make you smile too?

Current time is 5:45.  Just came back from walking Max.  Full walk, too.  I haven’t been able to do full walks due to my job and my mom being here.  It went just as well as it usually does.  I had a lot of time to think about… well, things.

If my life were to be made into a movie, specifically what happened between myself and Esther, I’d hope it were made into a musical.  A sort of tragedy-esque musical, sort of like Les Miserables but with less disappointment.  No offense to those who made it, but… I really wanted to like it.  I REALLY wanted to like it but I couldn’t. My favorite characters died in dumb fucking ways and just… a bunch of little things.  It could have been better.  It had so much potential.

Sorry. Regardless, I’m not sure how well it’d be.  Sort of mediocre in appearance.  Tedious, really.  And the names I thought of… “Obsession,” “Spectre,” “Midnight Spectre,” and other things… they come off as a bit horror based.  Those were just a few I thought of.  All from my perspective, of course.  Not sure how Esther’s perspective would be, let alone Dennis’s.  Though, I imagine his title would be, “Fucking Finally!” because hardy hardy har.

Ah, well.  I doubt a movie would be made about my life.  Besides, a little story telling tip:  Is what you’re being shown the most interesting thing about the character’s life?  If not, why aren’t you showing me that? Zero Punctuation taught me that.  I should probably focus on that because I know I can get… tedious.  A LOT of build up at times.  Slow, even.  I’m mindful of this. Working on it though… just not today.

I’m being bad.  Watching an old movie.  I thought it sounded dumb but it is apparently really good.  Treasure Planet.  Interesting concept, looking forward to watching it.  There was this one movie that has a similar concept but was… dumb.  Don’t recall what it was. Apparently, it did really poorly but was well-received by critics.

That’s life.  Even if you’re good, that doesn’t mean you’ll do well. It’s better to be lucky than skilled.

Finished the movie.  It was… actually better than I expected.  Visually, it’s better than a lot of classic non-CGI cartoons.  A mix of Early 1800’s and Late 1700’s style and design with scifi stuff.  Of course, it should be early 1700’s and late 1600’s due to the source material, but whatever.  A lot of questions though, like do the life boats have artificial gravity?  Where did the barnacles come from?  How does turning left or right at the helm move the ship up or down?  I get that they can… breathe… space?  Yeah, I get that they have oxygen in space and they have solar sails which accelerates the ship to perhaps faster than light speeds, but I can’t overlook everything.  Where does the artificial gravity begin and where does it end?

Also, why the fuck does every Disney character have to be SUPER agile with amazing dexterity?  Like, really?  Look at the hunchback of Notre Dame.  Tarzan.  This main character.  Others, of course.  All slipping and sliding without a care for the world.  Surfs up at Disney Animation Studios!

Seriously, it may have been cool the first time but now it’s just cheesy.

Like the Khajiit captain… well, she’s a cat person so whatever, but still.  The captain shouldn’t be doing the rigging of the ship. What’s she doing up there?  Stahp!  Also, landing in heels?  That surely must hurt, regardless of weight and feline agility.

Still, a decent movie.  Better than Atlantis.

Anyways, back on Youtube.  It suggested something talking about a multiplayer mod for Skyrim and how Bethesda, the company who makes Skyrim, doesn’t like the mod.  There are some theories apparently how that would be competition for ESO.  As someone who LOVES Skyrim to the point that my pen name was actually originally for a Khajiit I made from back in the day (my first character will always be a nord, but I have three other characters I roll with and the Khajiit is the most fun by far to just write for) allow me to say this:  Skyrim doesn’t need Co-op.  However, it’d be nice to have.

Skyrim doesn’t need to be an MMO.  It doesn’t have to be.  Part of the fun is just running around doing dumb shit and becoming A LITERAL FUCKING GOD walking around among mortals.  The mods are AMAZINGLY FUN and adds a lot of life.  I played Elder Scrolls since Morrowind.  Jer got me into it.  It was hard, at first, but it grows on you.  Like a tumor.

Oblivion was SO much easier that it pissed me off.  Skyrim easier still.

However, for co-op to work for Skyrim, it shouldn’t be a focus.  As in, it shouldn’t have a spot lite.  It should just be available.  That’s the problem with A LOT of games with co-op, there is a lot of focus on co-op that there are two characters constantly running around and you’re dealing with a dumb AI for the entirety of the game.  In Skyrim?  The dumb AI is optional.

Thus, for a dungeon crawler hacker and slasher sort of game, there should be no focus for co-op.  The gold shouldn’t scale, the difficulty shouldn’t scale, the quest items shouldn’t scale.  Meaning if you do a quest for 100 gold then you get the hundred gold and have to split it with your teammate, preferably manually.  If you get an AXE OF DISCO INFERNO, then you only get one.  If you have a buddy with you, then you decide who actually gets the axe. If Skyrim had a co-op, it’d be me and Jer.  Of course, there would have been a point where it was me and Esther too, but for this example it would be me and Jer.  We’ve done co-op before and allow me to assure you it’s been fun.

With me and Jer, we have different playstyles so that makes things easy. Two players is fine.  With four, it would involve Dennis and Shane. That’s the classic set up.  However, it doesn’t need to be four. I think that’d be too much for play, honestly, especially considering how narrow the game can be at times.  Two is the right number for co-op.  Too much is wasted resources, imo.

That said, the intro to Skyrim is a classic.  You’re a criminal!  That’s how all Elder Scroll games begin.  In jail.  The best.  This way, you’re reminded that you’re a piece of shit low life scum for being the main protagonist in a roleplaying game.  You’re literally worse than Alduin could EVER be.  Because his disasters are all scripted.

Regardless, let’s talk what the co-op would be like for Jer and I.  We’d have to make our characters at the same time.  It’d be on Xbox 360 so no mods.  He’d make a Dark Elf and I’d make my Nord.  I’d take… FAR longer than him to make my Nord because I’m vain and every detail matters.

So, that’s a point against co-op.

Regardless, afterwards you go through the tutorial.  Basically.  Then you’re forced to choose a side.  For him and I?  We went Stormcloak because you were literally about to be decapitated by the man.  So, even if you side with the Imperials later on, you should probably take your opportunity to stick it to him now.  Not an issue.

But what if your friend is incredibly thick and runs to a trigger before you? That’d be another point against co-op.  Thus, the best way to have co-op would be to not allow it at the start? Rather, because MAGICK is a thing, you should probably make co-op more lore friendly.  But how? Make unlocking co-op a quest.  A trivial quest, maybe, but just something to be able to fuel a wizard and have him bend space and time.  Maybe he already has an Elder Scroll (which were originally really pointless but they became something more important in Oblivion and perhaps less important in Skyrim because they’re everywhere it feels like).  Maybe because he has that Elder Scroll, he’s waiting in the starting town (NOT THE STARTING CITY WITH WALLS).  I was thinking, “Maybe he can interrupt” or whatever, but that’d be giving co-op too much power.  Rather, have him explain to a dumb villager on the way out of town why he needs this quest to be done.

Or, as an idea… what if the co-op was the quest.  Like, you follow him to a nearby cave if you accept and he summons your friend to your world.  Refers to this drift of existence as the host.  Do it as part of science for the imperial academy.  Then after he acknowledges that it’s possible, regardless of if you summoned someone or not, he’ll let you know he’ll be at the starting city with a friend of his. That friend could do the PvP stuff.

I think the Elder Scrolls missed out on some prime 6v6 team death match or free for all action.  Like, in the Shivering Isles, there were these two factions:  Dark Seducers and Golden Saints.  They fought over places on the Isles in the futile attempt to win Sheogorath’s favor.  That would have been a super fun sort of map think. Pre-selected classes like archer, warrior, and mage.  Perhaps customizable classes like in Call of Duty? It’d be difficult to balance but would be super fun.  And with the Civil War? Stormcloak vs Imperial?  That would make for some good matches. Thus, if there is a second summoner he can focus on non-canon warfare combat based on canon topics like Golden Saints versus Dark Seducers or Stormcloak vs Imperials or whatever.  The original can focus on academic pursuits by attempting to summon willing minds to share theories with.  He’d be the more peaceful of the two.

This way, both accounts would have to reach a certain point.  The host would be the trigger for certain events.  Of course, maybe there should be a wall that slows down the guest or that pauses.  Like, “The Threads of Fate Keep you from pushing forward” or something. And any loot they make, they should be allowed to take back into their world.  Yes, meaning you could theoretically dual wield specific items.

However, they shouldn’t do what Fable does.  They shouldn’t limit the weapons you get to force co-op on you.  Rather, co-op should be ENTIRELY OPTIONAL.  No achievements should be attached to it, that’s how little it means.  If you can’t 100% the game by yourself, then you’re playing a bad game.

That said, you could try to prevent powerful overuse by saying, “This item’s return would destroy the fabric of your reality.  It must stay” assuming you already have one.  Or if you already completed the quest, maybe the game should do… something else?  Not sure. Legendary artifacts are the hard part to account for.

Of course, mods would probably have to be TOTALLY IDENTICAL unless they’re cosmetic only.  That’s a hard part with a game like Skyrim.  It wouldn’t be an issue for me and Jer, however, who would have played on Xbox.  I got the PC release relatively recently.

There could always be the option to merge worlds, I suppose.  However, the problem with that is that if one player wants to play, they can’t without the other player.  So perhaps the merging and unmerging of worlds?  That’d be really difficult to program and account for, I fear.

Anyways, assuming it’s like how I described.  Jer and I would basically go to the starter city, do our quests together, and perhaps discover we’re BOTH dragonborn!  The dialogue would have to change to accommodate the both of us… or there could always be a shroud which makes the guest a difficult player to understand.  As in, they’re acknowledged but they blend in with the rest of the world and hardly recognized.  They can interact, but they’re never remembered because they’re not from that world.  Someone would die but their friend wouldn’t remember the dark elf or nord who killed them but remember the Dragonborn who killed the others. If you do most your explanation at the quest, you can avoid explaining the rest.  ;) Jer is usually a heavily armored magic user. Meaning we’d compete for armor but not weapons, really.  He’d cast spells and I’d get in the way.  Friendly fire should be optional, selected through the NPC who summons.  “We can enhance his link to make your friend more attuned to this world but you’d have to watch your swings.  Would that be alright?” or “We can decrease his link to make your friend less attuned to this world so your weapons will fly right through him as if he weren’t really there.  He’d still be at risk of being hit by others, of course, but you wouldn’t affect him.  Would that be alright?” I think we’d turn it on at first but after a few duels, we’d turn it off.  Which would bring up the issue of… death.  I play pretty… brutally.  I don’t like getting rolled over, but I can appreciate fighting back.  I like to hit hard but I also like to be hit hard. Meaning, I don’t like enemies with a lot of health but I don’t mind if they hit like a run away bus.  Basically, if Dark Souls wasn’t so long.

The difficulty would have to be set to the host’s desire.  The game would have to inform Jer that I changed the difficulty and he’d have to be okay with it.  Of course, he wouldn’t mind anyways because he’s more adventurous than I.  He starts his games on the hardest difficulty to get the achievements faster.  He likes to get them, I really don’t care.

That said, achievements could be done similarly to Fable.  Do something or be there with someone when something is done.  That wasn’t a bad idea.  Just… a lot of the rest was.

Concerning death itself, maybe include a system where you’re basically unconscious and if your friend dies then you die too and have to load a previous save.  I like how the companions in Skyrim die, they can’t come back mid-battle.  I mean… maybe they can, I haven’t tried casting healing spells on them now that I think about it.  I only heal myself…

Dammit, Esther was right about me only caring about myself!  D’oh! That was a joke, calm down.  Anyways, that’d be interesting.  Make restoration important to have.  Run up, give them a health potion through a prompt or cast a healing spell on them to bring them back to the fight.  Add a new healing spell called, “Resuscitate” or whatever which means “revive, but he’s not dead yet.”  Have it able to be used on NPC’s who take a knee so you don’t have to wait for them to stand back up.  It’d be… a very useless but convenient spell.  Could attach it to a couple quests if needed, but it’d be target only.

Riding horses and instancing…  I think it’d be cool if you could ride the same horse like in El Dorado.  They shared a horse because… well, because they had to.  Little fun fact, a symbol of the Templars was two men riding one horse because they were originally really poor.  Not the point.  The point is, it’d slow the horse down and only one person would be able to actually steer but it’d be nice for when you can only afford one horse.  And the game gives you two quest horses.  Jer can ride Shadowmere and I’ll ride Frost.  I wish Frost were a white horse so we can complete our salt and pepper shaker look, but that’s life.

Instancing would be a bit more difficult.  How Skyrim works is there is this thing called “Cells” which is perhaps the real reason why you start as a prisoner.  Because you’re going from one cell to another.  You never really become free, your prison just becomes larger.  Such a beautiful sandbox.

I guess it wouldn’t be TOO bad because the next cell will be loaded for the xbox individually so Jer could run ahead.  However, I’d have to be told “Slow down,” “Wait for me,” or “Dammit, Stephen, where did you go?” I have a tendency to run off in random directions and get lost.

When Jer finds me again, we’ll take time to consolidate resources. Interacting with Jer should open the companion trade thing on BOTH screens, with both of us being containers.  However, they’ll get a prompt asking if they want something to be removed or added to their inventory.  Or what items they want can get highlighted and when both people click on it, it moves over.  That way, you can’t join someone’s game, steal their immediate shit, and run away.  Of course, if something is placed in a chest, can’t help that.  Or you could if you have a lock spell.

Which was available in Morrowind. Anyways, explaining people dropping from the game could be that the spell is somewhat unstable so if they lose connection, they can try rejoining?  They have to talk to the guy in their world but if they’ve already played with the character before, they can just spawn in the cell on top of the host. I’d do a lot of dickish things, so I might stand over a ledge and try to have Jer fall off a mountain.  To prevent this, maybe certain falls should just be insta-death.  Have the life force connected so if Jer insta-dies, then so do I.  It’d prevent shenanigans like that and explain why if you’re knocked unconscious and your friend dies then you die too.

Holy crap, I just made PUBG single player.  Lel! That’s not a bad system.  It works.  Not sure how well it’d work in Skyrim. Yeah, and what else does PUBG do that might work in Skyrim? Guns? No…  Not guns.  Unless they’re flintlocks and even then.

Oh, I like how you REQUIRE healing.  You can’t just wait to get healed. That’s something I appreciate.  And you can only heal so far and need a different sort of healing, but that wouldn’t help in an RPG.

Rather, healing should require healing items or spells.  It’d make the game less streamlined, but it’d be worth it and it’d make items where you CAN regenerate health very worthwhile.  That’d be a technical healing item.  :D Oh, and you wouldn’t have to fucking specialize in FUCKING EVERYTHING to reap the full rewards.  Jer can be the alchemist and enchanter and I can just smith.  That’d be nice.  Better than nice, really.  And, tbh, we don’t need an alchemist because I tend to pick up restoration.  I basically play a Paladin berserker.

That’d have been helpful in Morrowind.  I’d repair Jer’s armor and he’d enchant it.  Oof, that’d had been nice.

Of course, in order to hit level cap of 81, you need to do EVERYTHING… which isn’t that hard, honestly.  I don’t like how they basically gave you the option to prestige, though.  I mean… yeah, I get it, but also no.  And I don’t like the number 81.  I think you should start at level 0 and then after the tutorial you become level 1. That way, the cap is 80.  Just a thought.

Anyways, where would we be…  Right, we already discussed cells and combat and then specialization which means we’re back in town.  When the host is talking to an NPC, the guest should be able to just walk around.  Meaning the host can talk to an NPC about something specific.  If the conversation doesn’t keep going, the NPC should just say, “Seeya,” and return to their thing.  Rather, they should do that sooner.  Why? So the guest can run behind them and steal their shit while they’re busy.

It’d be more accurate than the bucket on the head to be honest.  The one thing is, if a player doesn’t want the other player to be a thief they should be able to kick them.  But, when they’re kicked, it loads the last autosave or could optionally load the one before that. So, if Jer is the host and is getting the next quest, I’m not in the back murdering people.  If I am, he should get a warning saying, “Your friend just committed a crime worth 1000 gold” which isn’t a prompt just a line (because it could be part of a plan).  “Your friend just committed a crime worth 25 gold” for when he steals something.  If he gets caught, the bounty goes to you (hence the need of the autosave).

Concerning autosave, I think the game should only autosave when the hosts prompts an autosave by entering a new cell.  If the guest enters a new cell first, it’ll save them where they are or what they’re doing.  Or, if it’s easier for the game engine, they should just basically be frozen with the option to return to the cell until the host joins them in that cell.  If the game engine will run fine without freezing the guest, then it should be an option limiting the freedom of the guest the same way you set the option for friendly fire.  This means while I’m murdering innocent people in the next cell and Jer is comparing stats in the old cell, he brought that suffering on himself.  Of course, he’ll be prompted that I’m committing crimes, but he didn’t limit my freedom.

If the freedom is limited then I shouldn’t be allowed to leave the cell entrance or go too far.  Meaning, I might be able to stab some people or shoot some people with a bow, but I won’t just blitz and go to the city without him to murder even more people.  If I do something that gives him a reason to ban me, he’ll press start and ban me from there.  Or it could even be a spell.  Some mods give you spells that control said mods.

Concerning cells that you enter through a quest like say we get kidnapped by pirates and we’re through in a torture device and we need a scripted rescue, it may require the need of a second torture device. Of course, the guest won’t get acknowledged.  He’d be interacted with but forgotten.  So, he’d be next to you but the bad guy would still yell at the main character while the guest watched.  Like in Fallout 3 (different game, same studio) you’re taken by the bad guys and you’re in this… sort of bubble cell thing where you’re looking through a force field?  Yeah, they’d have to redesign that cell to add any guests. And, the box where your loot is taken like when you’re arrested for crimes together, should have two separate boxes.  One for you and one for your guest.  However, this is totally unnecessary but if you go to jail, then both characters need to lose their things.  That coding may be a bit harder than others but the gear would actually go in the same box lore wise.  So, again, totally optional.  But it would give the opportunity for a guest to rob the host.  Thus, they’d have to load an autosave.

Still, probably won’t get that far and has a solution.

So, Jer and I are now in jail.  We have two lockpicks because we both smuggled one in.  Robbing the cabbage booth was harder than we thought.  We’re in Cidna Mine now, so it won’t help us much.  I guess we’ll either serve our time or do the quest early.

Jer opts that the quest needs to be done correctly.  We find pickaxes and start mining.

We’re finally out, but we want to do a quest that doesn’t require us getting arrested again.  Thus, we opt to do a quest that gives us something better than gold or weapons:  Buffs.  Certain blessings that stick with you as an active effect, meaning it doesn’t go away and stays with you for the rest of the game.  Really worth getting. This one requires us to… break into a church, however.  A lot of women.  Women who worship Dibella, she who is beautiful and is dtf. Do we really want to piss off a goddess? Yes.

We break in but my clumsy nord ass mixed with his clumsy dunmer ass leads to us getting caught.  We’re prompted by dialogue we can’t weasel our way out of.  I’m the one who is spotted.  However, because my soul is connected to Jer’s, they acknowledge me but are pushed towards him.  Meaning if I’m caught, so is he in a sense on quests that require stealth.

That means you won’t be able to set elaborate ambushes.  They’ll sense my presence if they sense his and vice versa.  That should be explained by the co-op wizard.  That’d save time on coding.

However, that’d make stealing harder to do.  So it’d still require some coding to make that viable?  Maybe?  Hrm…

Regardless, the priestess sees me, points at me, turns to Jer, and runs to him to say, “FUCK YOU DOIN’ IN MY DOJO?!?” and he’d be like, “Whoops, this isn’t the bathroom!”  Then we’d get the quest.

We’ll do the quest and afterwards, we BOTH get the buff.  I take it back with me to my world and do the quest again.  Does it stack?  No, it does nothing because I already have it and the game tells me but also tells me that “Destiny appreciates your selfless sacrifice” which pisses me off but is a lore friendly way to say, “You did this for nothing because of co-op.” Leveling and looting can’t be static anymore.  The world can’t freeze anymore when you pause or check your inventory.  If you level, you need to have your friend be there to make sure you’re not going to get rammed by a Dwemer Centurion (which were FAR less scary in Morrowind; smaller as well). Which sucks for me, because I tried leveling in front of a Dwemer Centurion because I really needed to heal without magic or potions and that Dwemer Centurion decided not to wait for me.

Of course, I feel I should have been the one to trigger it waking up. Otherwise, I go right up to the gate.  However, we talked about triggers earlier.  I guess when prompted by a trigger, my character should just freeze and have a prompt saying, “You feel as if there is something ahead and decide it’s best to wait for your colleague.” So, I wait and let Jer know that the universe is about to fuck us.  We make sure we’re ready, go forward and that’s when the Dwemer happens.  Of course, I wasn’t ready because why would I be?  I already told you I tried to level mid-fight.

As I put points in, my character is getting ragdolled.  I can see the health drop from the screen and Jer is calling me stupid, either over the headset or in the same room.  Now that I think about it, if it’s over the headset we’d be using my internet because I got Skyrim back in Amarillo plus Xbox live.  My net was way faster than his.

Regardless, his is faster for some reason and he tells me I’m dumb.  He tries to get it’s attention.  But how? Attention of a hostile target in video games is colloquially referred to as “Aggro.” Pulling aggro means you’re getting the attention of a hostile target (referred to as a “mob”) and you’re fighting it.  So, I have all the aggro right now.  Jer?  Not so much.  He’s smart where I’m a dumb Nord.

Most times, a certain amount of damage can determine aggro.  However, you could make aggro a spell.  If you cast a “Fury” spell, it often enrages a target making a peaceful target into a warlike one. HOWEVER, fury is a worthless spell when you’re already in combat. Fury could be used to pull aggro as well, rather than trying to outdamage someone.  The opposite of fury is calm which is used to make a hostile target into a non-aggressive target.  Maybe that could be used to view the caster as a non-threat so in the event of singleplayer play, you’ll see no change as they stop attacking you. However, for multiplayer play calm would only affect you meaning if Jer couldn’t handle the Dwemer Centurion by himself and I managed to heal, he could calm the centurion down and regain his health whereas I could take over without say in the matter because I can’t cast spells.

There are some drawbacks.  In Singleplayer, a calm spell wouldn’t help companions.  They’d still fight their target.  That would need some help and improvement. Anyways, we realize aggro isn’t working because I don’t remember if Dwemer Centurions and the like are affected by fear, calm, or fury.  They’re robots, really, so I don’t think they are.  Regardless, we manage to defeat the centurion without the need to try to calm it or enrage it.

We manage to get to a place with an elder scroll.  Jer tries to progress but I backtrack intentionally by pressing the wrong buttons.  I laugh and Jer sneers.  So, he opens his spells and finds “Target Companion” and it freezes me from interacting.  He’s used this before to be a total dick but I told him I’d leave if he kept doing it and it’s hours ago!  So, I forget about it and start dicking around.

If the roles were switched, I should still be able to have that spell on my non-magic Nord.  Reason being is because our souls are connected for lore reasons so the spell shouldn’t have magic and it shouldn’t even have to hit me.  He casts it on himself basically and to release me from that spell, he casts it again.

We progress, find the elder scroll which I grab because he wasn’t allowing me to have fun pressing buttons.  It’s fine, though.  It’s a quest item that can’t be dropped but should be able to be shared. I’m able to give it to Jer but I don’t.

It shouldn’t be necessary.

We take it to this guy who needs it.  He takes it off us for… reasons unknown as the guy I’m thinking of doesn’t usually.  He takes it, though.  And it comes from my inventory, even though I’m either in a different part of the room or even in an adjacent cell.  Thus, quest items just need to be picked up considering they can’t be dropped.

Besides, if Jer is so important in his world then why is he carrying all his shit around?  I’m destined to carry his burdens hurdy hur.

Irony is, that would require a bit more scripting to allow and the game might break.  It’d have to check both inventories instead of just one.

Regardless, quest is done and we get the book that increases ALL your skill points.  Like the buffs, does this increase EVERYTHING for each player?  Does the host decide what to do with it and how the levels will be gained? No. Rather, the host uses the book but it doesn’t vanish.  In order for the guest to use it, he must be given the book by the host.  This could lead to some interesting developments like if the host doesn’t want to share? Of course when the guest returns to their world, they can’t just do the quest and level twice.  I mean, come on.  I believe it vanished in Oblivion.  Not sure if it was in Morrowind.

All quest rewards go to the host.  NOTHING goes to the guest unless the host allows them to take it in a trade.  If the quest reward is lying around and the guest picks it up, then they pick it up.  That’d be the only time when they get loot.  When they loot it.

Jer and I would have a system at this time.  In big rooms with loot on each side, he takes the left and I take the right and we work our way to the end of the room and continue.  At the end, we go through our stuff and trade gear that we could use now or need later on.  Even when we trade gear, the game doesn’t pause despite both of us being in a loot screen.

We make it out of the dungeon and back in town.  LOADED with treasure. However, Jer needs to talk to some quest people.  I, the guest, should be allowed to interact with shop keepers and other people who provide goods or services.  Normally, if I try talking to someone, they respond with a disinterested “Hello” or a random fact.  I can’t engage them in conversation.  With those who can train or sell?  I’m greeted by a message prompt:  “Train or Trade” or whatever. That way, I don’t need to give all my stuff to Jer and he can sell on his own time.  I have a higher speechcraft than him.  The reason why is because I’m selling EVERYTHING the moment I can.  However, his speech is really low.  We realize this when prompted by a quest where bandits confront us.  We’re outnumbered and these fuckers have muskets, despite being NPC’s on the Xbox 360.  We’re baffled and recognize our imminent demise.  We only have one auto-save that places us in this one room and the rest corrupted!  How?! Well, not to fear.  He is given a chance to explain things through… a speech check.  However, he has no speech skill.  I, however, do!  With speech check, the guest should be taken into consideration despite not actually talking.  That way, it’s not a near worthless perk tree.  However, we both benefit from speech checks as a whole.  However, perks concerning bartering? Perks where all merchants get 1000 gold immediately? No. That’s different.

With the investment, that should be shared among both players.  That means there can be a pretty hefty investment if both of them get it. However, if they get the one that doesn’t require an investment? Then no.  That should affect the individual and not the game.  And the prices should also be determined by the individual, meaning if one player such as myself actually have better prices then it’s better for Jer to just make me his shop-bot and sell EVERYTHING.  He just carries it to lessen the load.

Alright, so we are now selling loot.  Still have some left over.  Jer has a house now.  I can’t purchase a house because the game ignores me and everyone refuses to talk to me.  He’s married and I’m the best man, meaning I’m at his wedding.  He waits so he can just get to the marriage and I have to wait with him.  However, he knows I hate that so he says we can sleep in the inn instead.  I thank him for not ruining my immersion and he tells me, “Please stop talking in that dumb Scottish accent and I’ll stop freezing you whenever you’re run off too far” and I agree.

So, we get a bed… but it’s only big enough for one person!  But… we’re still getting a prompt?  Oh, and it’s actually cycling through the hours!  Guess they forgot about this part.  Wait, we’re not well rested?  “Shared a bed”?  What does that mean?  Oh, because we shared a bed with someone else, we get a slightly weaker buff.  If the bed were bigger, it wouldn’t matter because the other person snores loudly!  Probably me, tbh, but the game doesn’t say.

However, if there is an option to become… more than friends, then it should be lover’s embrace.  ;) Funfact, Jer and I actually got married to one another in ESO.  It’s great!  I mean, it gives XP boost and was quite nice.  Too bad the game was meh.  Typical MMO stuff.

Anyways, he gets married.  Had we become more than friends for that XP gain whenever we slept, then marriage shouldn’t be possible but marrying me should also be impossible.  After all, the guy who would marry us wouldn’t be able to notice me or remember me.  I’m just background noise.

He goes home to sleep with his lovely wife, one of the ladies from that Dibella Temple we ransacked and looted after receiving the blessing. He sleeps in their house and I sleep… with them.  He get’s Lover’s Embrace.  I get “Slept in the Guest Bedroom but Heard EVERYTHING” which gives me a debuff.  D’oh! Kidding, but it would be interesting to see.

The next day, after sealing the deal, Jer discovers a black soul gem. Rather than go outside, he decides to MURDER his wife which I protest to.  However, he casts soul trap on her and I cast soul trap on her as well.  However, he doesn’t fill the soul gem.  I don’t have a black soul gem, so her soul wasn’t captured by me, either. However, it would have been since I was the last one to cast that on her.  If that’s how it works in the original game, I’m not sure. Not a lot of NPC’s cast soul trap, especially not ones with soul gems.

Angered by this, Jer kicks me.  He and I play with other people, I do my own thing which is basically completing quests and he plays with Jake or Brian.  They do some quests that I don’t do and have yet to do. After some time, Jer forgives me for ruining the reason why he murdered his wife and invites me back to his world.  I see she’s still alive and was glad to see they finally settled their issues but noticed that Jer’s game was more ahead than me.  He was even a higher level.

This concerns me.  I’m 10 levels lower and the game increases the difficulty based on your level.  Maybe there is a middle ground? No. The game should level to WHICHEVER player has a higher level.  This may mean that lower leveled players can get incredible loot sooner rather than later, but it doesn’t remove the challenge from the game.  I can get Daedric before I even see ebony.  However, if I were a total cheat wagon, I’d find a way to COMPLETELY break the game.

That’s a theory of mine.  If the goal is too distant, like level 100 in World of Warcraft, then people will take as many shortcuts as possible.  If the goal is a bit shorter, then the grind won’t be so bad and people will be alright with it.  If there are little cheats here or there or some corners cut, then that’s fine.  So long as you don’t need to murder animals in the wild for three hours just to fight the next boss like in Final Fantasy.  Don’t give a player a REASON to cheat and he won’t look for a way to cheat.  Sure, some will, but the general experience will still be really good.

Sorry, I derailed a bit.

What else…  The Civil War… well, that doesn’t matter because the host.  It’s their game, you’re just being brought along for the ride.

Oh, we stumble upon a quest where certain things have to be done and they measure the arrows used.  You get archery related stuff at the end of it.  Agni is her name?  Some isolated lady on a mountain.  For that quest, only the host should be able to do it.  It shouldn’t register shots from the guest, even if the guest uses the correct arrows.

That quest is a bit tough, mind you.  I had trouble with it because I use melee items mostly.  The bow had to be complemented with an ONSLAUGHT of arrows.

Regular companions should work as usual but friendly fire and all that jazz for the guest shouldn’t affect them.  Really, the limit should be the dog and nothing else.  The guest shouldn’t be able to interact with the companions at all.  You shouldn’t really need them, tbh, but I do know of QUEST companions!  Eh?  Eh?  Yeah, they suck.  For the Companions… you get a Companion… as a Companion?  Yeah, then you get locked in a cage.  For that, I think maybe the guest should just teleport on you or something.  That’s harder than triggers, tbh.  x.x Companions shouldn’t be able to carry EVERYTHING either.  Like, half their normal inventory if that. That’d be a bit much but it might be hard to implement without affecting Vanilla Singleplayer too much.  The Elder Scrolls must be SP before MP so perhaps allow standard stuff if it interferes with SP? Oh, purchasing spells!  That has to be done individually.  Especially since the guest will be a literal resource drain.  Of course… it already is done individually.  Because you purchase items…  Hrm, I believe I forgot that.

When confronted by the guards, one guard should initiate empty dialogue with the guest while another speaks with the host.  If there is only one guard, then when the host is confronted, the guest should be auto-frozen.

I can’t think of anything else.  It’s technically the next day at 12:16.  If you read all that and thought, “Wow, this is really harsh for the second player” then you’re right.  It should be harsh for the second player.  The priority should be the host and the world they’re playing in above all else.  If it feels like the co-op experience is tacked on, then I assure you that it’s better than a game that focuses on co-op play but allows singleplayer.  I’d rather have Co-Op be an afterthought than the main meal.  That’s the sort of thing I didn’t really like in Borderlands.  Very reliant on other players.

I don’t want to be reliant.  Playing with a friend should be a luxury, not a staple.  If Jer and I get to fucking kill dragons then it shouldn’t end with a Disney song talking about the virtues of friendship and how I needed him all along or how he needed me all along.  If Esther has taught me anything, you can’t rely on people being there every step of the way.  Things happen and you’ll have to be able to rely on yourself.

Thus, the best way to do anything is to be able to rely on yourself before needing to rely on others.  When you rely on others without being able to rely on yourself, you won’t be able to progress.  You wait around, hoping someone will stop by to help you in your hour of need and you’ll delay your entire life just because you couldn’t rely on yourself.

Of course, my depression is coming back, so maybe I’m not the best person to discuss this with.  Regardless, self-reliance is PIVOTAL in story driven gameplay like Skyrim.  In games where you’re just another cog in a machine, then you don’t need to be good.  You just need to be there.  Look at Battlefield 3, 4, and the Battlefronts (Star Wars, the original Non-EA ones).  You could be the best on both teams but your team would still lose.  I’ve had games where I was the most kills AND most deaths.  I was negative.  But, that’s part of the machine.

So… yeah.  It’s getting late.  Tomorrow, I have things to do but I can’t remember what.  Or rather, today.

Oh, shit.  I have to write a tax policy for my region.  DAMMIT!!!  Good night.  ><