#sorry I’m like doing a diary entry in the tags. but that that’s new or anything

[fuck-kirk]

I’m in the middle of writing a long ass Danny Phantom fanfic and it’s kinda crazy bc for one I haven’t written a fanfic in almost 7 years, and for two I entered this fandom when I was literally TWELVE how am I still into it…my brain doesn’t get rid of fixations so easily I guess

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Fourteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, gun play, GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, not necessarily all apply]

Info: Ghost is whiny, He’s feeling petty, he told you so!![diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. Stalker!Anakin Character art (as Ghost) MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: September 2nd

I lied. I said I wasn’t mad at you, but I am.

It’s not like I tell you no to anything, so why wouldn’t you just ask me first? Are you just desperate for a moment away from me and too nice to tell me that? Running from your problems won’t help especially when your problem is me.

I did what I should’ve done a long time ago. A new software has been installed on your phone, very similar to the screen cloning software linked to my laptop. Only this one is active all the time, a constant feed of live audio that I’ve taken the liberty of flagging a few words within the code.

Anakin, hate, love, Ghost, annoying, angry… so on and so forth.

The software flagged several sections of audio within the timeframe of your drive to the cabin. I must say, I’m surprised about the things the two of you talk about, I’m never going to be able to look Han in the eye ever again.

I also lied to you about something else. I don’t work tonight, or tomorrow. I switched up my schedule with April for you, cause I have a little something planned for you. A little thing I’ve had tucked away, actually never intended on getting it out and doing anything with it really. It was a gift from Cliegg after there was a murder on the college campus last year.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t me that time.

Anyway, I think it might be fun. For me at least.

“Okay but I don’t get it.” Luke said, propping up his feet on the dash while you drove.

“What about it don’t you get?” You snorted, slowing to a stop at a traffic light. “I think it’s pretty self explanatory Luke.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come equipped with a cooter and I’ve never, nor wanted, the opportunity to see one.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head back and rolled his shoulders. “I just don’t see the benefit.”

“First of all, it’s pretty.” Holding a finger up and adding a second, “second, it feels heavenly.”

“I am a gay man.” Luke scoffed, “Dicks aren’t very pretty. A little jewelry can’t fix that.”

“How does it even work? Does he have to take it out to piss? That’s inconvenient.”

“No!” You laughed, covering your mouth as you turned the dial to quiet the radio. “No, he doesn’t have to take it out. To answer your other question, it’s the metal balls on either end of the jewelry. That’s the point of the piercing you know? It rubs up-“

“Okay that’s enough, thoughts have been thunk.” He covered his ears and did a dramatic shiver of disgust.

“You asked!”

“I didn’t know you’d be so descriptive!��

“You described in great detail all about the massive ingrown hair on-“

“Oh my god! I told you never to mention that again!” Luke reached across the console and whacked you up the back of the head.

“I’m driving!” You squealed, your hand shooting out to the side and shoving his shoulder. “No, don’t you dare touch that radio! For fucks sake if that’s-“

“It’s ABBA.”

“Go to hell.”

————————————————————————

After two hours you reached the small lakeside cabin that was to be your home for the weekend. A cute little place with a loft and two small bedrooms. The kitchen was… lackluster; a fridge and a stove with a whopping number of three cabinets. The living room however did have a pool table, which in Luke’s eyes made up for the fact that your sister beat him to claiming the loft room, because she’d driven separately and arrived before you.

You chose the room to the left of the living room and Luke chose the one on the right. The view from your window was beautiful deep forest green, leaves and moss and huge tree trunks. While Luke’s was the deep blueish green lake water, the occasional white wake following a boat zipping past.

After tossing your bag onto the floor in the general direction of the nightstand you jumped onto the squishy and super cheap springy mattress on the tacky ‘rustic’ log bed. Pulling up Anakin’s contact you tapped the call button and listen to it ring on speakerphone.

“Hey pretty baby.” Anakin’s rich timbre flooded the line.

“Hi Ani.” You smiled despite him not being able to see you. “Just got into the cabin and picked my room.”

“Oh you got to pick?” He said curiously, “you got the loft didn’t you?” You could hear his grin.

“No, my sister did.” You scoffed, “I thought Luke would have a cow over it but he decided the pool table here would offset his disappointment.”

“Pool table hmm?” Anakin tsk’d.

“Hot tub too.” You grinned.

“A fuckin’-“ he groaned and let out a loud huff, “a hot tub?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmph.” He snorted, “someone finally taught you some manners huh?”

“W-what?” You asked nervously, bringing the phone closer to you and hopping off the bed to shut the door. “Manners?”

“You just called me Sir didn’t you?” He laughed. “Been taking some etiquette classes?”

“Oh shut up.” You breathed out a sigh, a breath you’d almost choked on. Your guilty conscience was really beginning to steam roll your daily life, even on your mini-vacay you can’t escape your wrongdoings. Ghost was still haunting you all the way out here.

“Just teasing doll.” He snickered, “Anyway, what’s on your agenda?”

“Nothing for tonight, probably gonna sit on the dock and have some drinks, do a little bonfire, hot tub maybe.” You told him, beginning to relax again.

“Drinks? Be careful baby. It’s not exactly safe to drink and get into a hot tub.” He chided, “I’m serious.”

“I know.” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Good girl.” He said, pleased enough with your response. “So what room did you say?”

“Oh! I didn’t actually oops. I got the one looking out into the woods, it’s real pretty, I’ll send you a picture after we hang up.” You said, shifting your weight to sit more comfortably.

“Aw thanks babydoll.” You could hear his little smile through his words. “Well, I should probably let you get back to it huh?” He sighed.

“If you wanna talk more-“

“I always wanna talk more but I don’t want to keep you from your fun.” He said a bit quieter. “Uh, just don’t forget to call and leave me a message before bed okay baby? I’d love to hear your pretty voice when I get off work tonight.”

“Okay Ani,” nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll talk to you soon then… I miss you.”

“I love you too.” He made a kissy noise and hung up quickly, leaving you with a frustrated, pinched brow that you reached up to sooth with the heel of your palm.

After snapping a quick picture of your view through the bedroom window, you rejoined your trio in the living room where Luke was teaching your sister to play pool. You stood and watched for a moment, seeing them bicker like they were just reminded you of how much you loved summer trips with them.

Growing up with a sister close in age to you was fun, except for when it wasn’t. She went to school before you did, made friends before you did. Of course you were only two grades behind, but there is a big difference between kindergarten and 2nd grade. She had always been happy to play with you until then.

So when she was meant to be paying attention to you, or at least making sure you were alive, while you were both outside… she was busy on the swing set in your backyard. Which is how you found yourself with scraped knees and (surely, most definitely) a broken ankle from your scooter.

A new family had moved in across the street from you not too long before the summer started, you hadn’t met them, didn’t even know they had kids, until you were being pecked on the shoulder by another child’s finger. After that, Luke was found wherever you were; glued at the hip was an understatement, your families were convinced you were soulmates, that you’d grow up to be married.

Jokes on them.

His sister Leia was outgoing and confident in ways that Luke lacked, so during that first summer she gravitated toward your sister. The twins became a binder, something that held the four of you together. Bridging the gap perfectly between kindergarten and 2nd grade as 1st graders.

It stayed that way, for the rest of your school years and after.

Your parents got along swimmingly, the four of you floated between the two houses. Nights often ending up with a pair of kids asleep in the floor, where one of those children did not belong. A quick phone call to the house across the street to make sure your sibling was there, then all was well and your parents would scoop Luke and you up and tuck you in.

You were seven the first summer your parents had the grand idea to spend a week on the lake. It was a tearful goodbye, kids who spent every possible waking moment with each other are not easily pried apart.

Your parents drove the full two hours to a cute lake house they’d found online and within the first 30 minutes of being there your father had enough of the sniffles and whines. By dinner time Luke, Leia and their parents were sitting around fire pit with you.

Thus your annual tradition was born and kept even after the horrid aftermath of Luke’s unexpected outing. Sans parents of course. Your father supported your mother even if his views didn’t fully align with hers. He was a ‘be gay, just don’t be gay in front of me’ type of person, while your mother was more of the ‘send him to conversion camp, he’s tainting my children’ type of gal.

That didn’t really jive with the whole ‘love and positivity’ approach that the twins parents had about the situation. Which leaves you where you are now, reminiscing on those happy childhood memories before everything got complicated, before you discovered the world outside of your safety net, before the consistent visits from your uninvited house guest.

A loud clap broke you out of the fog and suddenly you were hyper aware of your sister’s nose right in front of your face.

“Lauren!” You gasped, your eyes wide before softening into a grin.

“You’ve been staring into oblivion for a solid minute,” she giggled, “I thought about sticking my finger in your mouth but I was afraid you’d bite it off.”

“My mouth?” You asked confusedly.

“Yeah you’ve been catching flies, looking like a mouth breather.”

“Eew! Don’t call me that!” You scoffed, standing up and following her over to the pool table to discuss your evening plans.

——————————————————————————

Anakin watched your little blue dot travel back and forth from the cabin to the dock, he listened the chatter between the three of you as he drove the two hours out to the pine forest your weekend getaway was taking place. The mile long gravel driveway was perfect to stash his car off to the side of, no one would be coming in or out of the drive all weekend.

He walked through the woods, backpack slung over his shoulder, his hood up and mask on. It was 9:57 and the three of you were still on the dock. He could hear you talking about getting into the hot tub through the Bluetooth earbud he had in, that new software was really paying off.

He hadn’t planned to do this next bit, but he couldn’t help himself. He purposefully got his left shoe dirty, twisting his foot side to side in order even dirt for a proper footprint. Then he left his mark on the first step up to the front porch.

*ping*

‘Having fun?’

You laughed, picking up your phone and leaning back in your chair as you crossed one leg over the other and switched the sound off. You’d only had it on for when Anakin texted, and now he was. Or you thought he was until you realized the text came from your own number.

‘No. Don’t engage. He’s not going to know where you are, how could he possibly know?’ You thought to yourself. ‘I planned this in person, I told Anakin at his place not mine. All Ghost knows is that you’ve left for the weekend.’

You swiped the message away and let out a huff, deciding to take the opportunity to walk back up to the house and call your boyfriend.

“Guys I’m going up to the cabin, gonna call Ani.” You said, standing up and taking your hard lemonade with you. “Need anything?”

“Nope, we’re about ready to head back anyway.” Lauren answered, waving you off. “We’ll be up soon.”

With that you walked away, taking the worn dirt path back up to the house and dialed Anakin’s number, waiting for the voicemail to pick up your call.

‘Hey Ani.’ You smiled, crossing one arm across your chest to rest your other elbow on while you talked. ‘I’m probably not going to bed just yet, but I am going back up to the house. I just wanted to fill you in a little bit I guess.’

Once your shoes hit the gravel you absentmindedly kicked a larger rock off to the side, swinging out your leg and shifting your position to walk backwards, looking down at your sister and Luke on the dock.

‘We’ve been just hanging out all evening, made some sandwiches and had drinks by the water.’ You pivoted again as you neared the porch and looked down to ensure your footing before taking the first step up. ‘We’re going hiking tomorrow morn-‘

You scrunched up your face and took another look before backing away from the steps completely, your eyes scanned the porch and saw the cabin door was still shut.

‘Sorry, thought I saw something…’ you muttered into the phone, spinning slowly in a full circle to take a better look at the tree line. ‘I- okay, anyway. Going hiking tomorrow… probably swim too. There’s a canoe moored down there so maybe we’ll try that out.’

Off to the left of you behind your sisters car you swore you heard gravel crunching underfoot, but when you looked toward the dock, Luke and Lauren where still sitting there. You marched over to the opposite side and saw nothing, going so far as to look under her car and yours.

‘Okay well…’ You were certain now that someone was outside and you were not alone, your phone buzzed against you ear and you pulled it away to swipe away the message, not even registering the sender before holding your phone back up to your ear.

‘Uh alright well I’ll talk to you in the morning,’ you quickly walked back over to the porch steps and side eyed the footprint as if you’d expected it to disappear by now. ‘Goodni-‘

A strange feeling passed over you, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a chill ran down your spine like a drip of cold water. You were almost afraid to turn around.

‘I gotta go, Miss you bunches… goodnight.’ In your panicked state you didn’t have the same thought process you normally would, you’d simply ended the call and whipped your head around, expecting to find someone, something, that might’ve caused that hair-raising fear. There was nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief you laughed at yourself. It had probably just been a rabbit, maybe you’d startled it and it kicked up some gravel. The footprint… it could have been there when you arrived, it could’ve been made by one of your group, including you.

You checked the message you’d swiped away and your blood ran colder than ice. Your rational explanations were bulldozed in seconds.

A picture of you, standing in the drive way, taken from behind your sisters car.

The breath was stolen from your lungs. Your sight was locked into tunnel vision, all you could see was the front door as you ran to it and pushed it open. Colliding with something solid and warm as you stepped inside.

Something living and breathing that gripped your hair and cradled you to its chest, something that kicked the front door shut and pressed a cold, blunt object to the temple of your head.

Something that made you want to scream.

Diary Entry: September 2nd continued

I have time to kill and nothing to do while I wait for you. So I figured I’d write alittle bit.

I’m currently sitting under a tree, watching you and your cute little ponytail swishing around while you giggle. You’re so beautiful. Everything you do is beautiful. I’ve never seen something as exquisite as you.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I want to ruin you so bad. Leading you, my innocent doe, down the path of corruption could quite possibly be my life’s work. How would you like that sweetheart?

You wanna be my magnum opus?

Though of course we do have the one small identity issue to take care of. I need to get my shit together and figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. It’s not like I can tippity tap it into Google: ‘how to tell my girlfriend I’ve been stalking her for almost a year’.

No thank you. I don’t trust WikiHow with the fate of my love life.

Let’s be for real. I don’t even trust myself with the fate of my love life because I’ve already managed to fuck shit up. I’m continuing to fuck shit up. What I’m about to do? It’ll fuck the fuck out of the shit.

What can I say other than love makes people do crazy things?

“Ghost.” Your voice was wobbly and unsure. “Is that a-“

“Gun? Absolutely.” He grunted, pressing the barrel into your skull.

“What are you doing? They’re gonna be back soon, you can’t be here!”

“I came to chat.” He said simply, leaning his head down to put the cheek of his mask against your warm skin. “I missed you.”

“Did you miss me? Is that why you left your boyfriend back home? Wanted to let me have you all to myself for a weekend?”

“No!” You snapped at him, twisting your head away from his.

“Heard you on the phone.” He cooed, “still can’t say the L word? Why’s that?”

“If Luke sees you… my sister- they’ll call the cops, you know that.” You pushed against his chest and felt it rumble with a low laugh beneath your palms.

“Stop deflecting, answer my question.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to talk about Anakin with you!” The whisper left your lips tainted in unease.

“I’m aware. That’s why we aren’t talking about it. You’re going to tell me.” He barked, holding you close to his chest and walking backwards toward your chosen bedroom.

“N-no, I won’t. That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair?” He scoffed. “I don’t care if you think it’s unfair.”

“How did you find me?!” You wriggled from his arms the moment he closed the bedroom door.

“I know everything about you baby.” His voice low and much too confident for you to believe anything otherwise. He looked relaxed in the way that he reached behind himself and locked the door, leaning back on it and crossing his arms, one long leather finger running parallel to the barrel of the pistol.

“I just wanted one weekend!” You shouted taking off your sneaker and throwing it at him, he gave you no reaction and it only pissed you off more. “Just one!”

“One weekend away from you! I know you can see everything on my phone, you see and hear everything I do, why do you think I wasn’t the one planning this trip? I didn’t want you showing up here!” Yelling at him in a way you never had before as you stalked toward him with your other shoe pointed at him. “I don’t want to talk about Anakin with you! I don’t want to tell you how I feel!”

“Do you want to know how I feel?” He asked calmly.

“I don’t give a shit!” You chucked the shoe at him and he batted it away easily.

“I think you do.” The gun raised up to his mask as if he were scratching his forehead with the barrel. “I think you care a lot and that’s why you won’t tell me.”

You didn’t answer, because he was right. You did care and you did care a lot. You’d been avoiding telling Anakin you loved him to spare Ghost the hurt of having to hear you say it to someone else.

“No.” You stuttered, hesitating and hating the taste of the word on your tongue.

“Don’t lie to me.” He barked, holding out the pistol and motioning for you to move. “Kneel. Now.”

“Gods, seriously? Put your arms down, you idiot.” He scoffed as he watched you lift your hands and put them behind your head like you were being arrested as you knelt down slowly.

“Well I’m sorry. I’ve never been held at gunpoint before.” You snapped, scowling up at him.

“I’m so lucky to have to honor of being your first then.” He grumbled, tucking it into the back of the waistband of his jeans while pulling the pink silk from his pocket and tossing it at you.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” His voice gruff as the toe of his shoe tapped your knee. “Put it on.”

Ghost shook his head, undoing his belt buckle, the tail end of the leather now forever imprinted with your teeth marks. You did as you were told and heard his pants unzip along with a soft grunt.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, holding his flat palm out to the side to make sure you couldn’t see, rearing back to slap you.

“How should I kn-“ *smack* “ow?! What the fuck?”

“Just making sure.” He snickered, taking off his gloves and putting them in his hoodie pocket.

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

“What was that?” He asked with a playful tone. “You want me to fuck your asshole? Is that what you said?”

“Shut up. You know that’s not what I said.” You muttered, unable to keep your lip from curving upward just a fraction of a centimeter.

“Ah well, the offer still stands.” He chuckled, tapping the side of your jaw with the cold metal barrel of his pistol.

“You’re making me nervous waving it around like that.” You huffed, jerking away from it.

“Good.” He snorted, “open your mouth.”

You did exactly that, thinking you’d feel the warm weighty head of his cock hit the tip of your tongue. Hoping for a taste of the salty precum that wept from his cockhead. You weren’t expecting something small, cold, metallic and pellet shaped.

“Don’t swallow; this is the only time you’ll ever hear me say that so you better listen.” You could hear his smarmy grin. “Roll it around, you feel that?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, feeling the smooth metal and the grooves carved into it, opening your mouth again and he plucked it off the tip of your tongue.

“Your initials, or well… what your initials should be.” He mumbled the last bit.

You hear a series of mechanical and metallic noises, followed by the unmistakable sound of a firearm cocking back.

“You did not just-“

“I did.” He snickered, holding the gun sideways and pointing it directly in the center of your forehead. The blunt edge digging into your flesh and pressing down against your skull.

“Spread your fingers.”

“Why?” You asked as you splayed your hand.

“Do you have to question everything?” You felt thick metal circle your middle and ring finger, dropping to the base of each digit, barely making any contact with your skin on its descent. It really put in perspective just how much bigger than you he was.

Even more so when you felt his warm, calloused fingertips weave their way between yours and squeeze gently. The tender gesture did nothing to quench the fear sitting heavy on your chest. A loaded gun, a loaded and ready to fire gun was about an inch from your brain.

“C’mon, you don’t want to talk? Not even like this?” Condescension dripping from his lips. “Loaded gun to your head and you still won’t talk about your feelings.” He tsk’d.

“It’s not your business.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong. We’ve already had this discussion haven’t we?” He crouched down in front of you, air rushing past from the quick motion. “It is my business. You were mine first.”

The curved edge of the barrel traveled down your forehead, across your cheek and rested heavily on your bottom lip.

“Give it a kiss for good luck little doe.” Ghost spoke low and steady, almost monotone. Considering your situation you did as you were told once again.

“Good girl.” He stood back up and pushed the waistband of his boxers down by hooking his thumb beneath the elastic. “Now get to work, bitch.”

His tone had changed again, now a sharp and hard edge that smacked you like a cold wind. Emotional whiplash was to be expected in every encounter you had with Ghost, but none so far was as bruising as this.

He’d never brought a gun to a knife fight before.

You hesitated for a moment longer than he was willing to wait, so he dropped your hand, the small bit of comfort he’d allowed you to have. Grabbing the back of your head and forcing his swollen cockhead past your lips, cool metal returning to the center of your forehead.

You gagged and spluttered around his length, the hot and leaky cockhead bruising the back of your throat. Ghost seemed to love the sound, loved feeling you cough and try to gasp for air, his hand tightened in your hair as he let out a loud and gravely moan.

“You suck cock so much better with your life on the line.” He laughed, pulling you away from him and releasing your hair. He watched you cough and wipe drool off your chin and neck with the back of your hand.

“Ready to talk?” He asked, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“Fuck you.” Spitting the words out with venom.

“Sorry sweetheart that’s not on the agenda tonight.” You felt the rush of air before his palm made contact with your cheek, your hand immediately lifting to cradle it and feel the heat radiating from the irritated flesh.

“C’mon doe, I don’t have to be mean about this.” He barked, “Just use your big girl words.”

“L-Luke’s gonna be back up here any minute.” You stuttered, lifting your head in the general vicinity of where his would be.

“You realize you’re only making this more difficult for yourself right?” He asked, not giving you the opportunity to answer when he fisted your hair and forced your lips to meet the tip of the barrel of his pistol.

*shk* *click* **click** nothing.

Before you had time to process the fact that he had just pulled the trigger of a loaded gun in your mouth, you were being choked and not given any hope for breathing. His forefinger and thumb tightly clamped over your nose and his cock lodged in your throat as he fucked your face. Instinctively you tried to draw in a breath, accidentally breathing in saliva, making you cough so hard that Ghost had no choice but to back off.

“Ghost...” You dry heaved on your hands and knees. “I’m n-not gonna tell you.”

“What’s it gonna take huh?” He asked angrily, you could hear the sound of clothes rustling just before he lifted you up and shoved you over toward the bed. “What’s it gonna take for you to admit that you love me?”

“I don’t!” You yelled, taking off the blindfold and tossing it aside.

“I didn’t say you could take that off.” He snapped at you while pulling his gloves on, snatching the ring off your middle finger and shoving it down in his pocket. He whipped his head around toward the door suddenly.

“Shit.” He shoved the gun in the back of his waist band and grabbed his bag without explanation.

“What?” You asked sitting up on the bed.

“Gotta go.” He grumbled.

He grabbed the blindfold and slipped it back over your head, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head back, his lips met yours in a soft embrace. His tongue piercing gliding across the slit between your lips before pushing past them slowly, the taste of cigarettes and gum flooded your senses. He hadn’t tasted like this last time he kissed you.

He took one of your wrists in a gentle grip and brought it to his cheek. Ghost kept a loose grip on your wrist but he allowed you to feel the smooth skin beneath his eyes, your fingertips collecting the smallest amount of moisture in the outer corner of his eye.

He was crying.

He broke the kiss, your lips begging to stay connected to his. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself that kiss felt like home. The fact that he was shedding tears was unsettling, the car crash that was this relationship had officially gone beyond whiplash and into ‘trapped inside, in need of the jaws of life’ territory.

He took the same hand and pressed it to the center of his chest and left it there to put both his gloved hands on either side of your face, pressing his lips to your forehead. Their warmth left your skin and you immediately wanted it back.

He took the blindfold back off and smoothed out your hair quickly, putting the silk in his pocket and putting up his hood. The mask back where it belonged, those black pits where his eyes should be held an emotion that was pouring from every inch of his being. You felt like he was staring through you and straight into your soul. He stood beside the window with his bag slung over his shoulder. Who knew such strong emotion could be felt… seen, without ever laying eyes on the person emitting those feelings.

“Lock your window back.” He nodded toward you and promptly climbed out just as you heard the front door opening, he was gone before you even had a chance to get a second look as he ran off.

You did as he asked and locked the window before checking your appearance in the mirror, a mess was reflected back at you. You looked as if you’d been lost at sea. Tangled hair and ashen skin covered in streaked makeup. The churning in your stomach only rocked the proverbial boat more.

After a deep breath you brushed your hair and pulled the makeup wipes from your bag to clean up with.

“Hey!” You heard a sharp knock on the bedroom door and answered it while still wiping away at your face.

“What’s up?” You asked your sister as she pushed past you.

“Just checking on you before I went to bed, Lukey and I were out there for longer than we meant to be.” She shrugged on her way to jump on the bed, “Ow! Fuck.” She winced and picked up her bare foot, rubbing the sole with her thumb as she picked up the offending item.

“Who’s ring?” She asked, holding it up for you to see.

“Oh it’s just Anakin’s!” You lied, laughing anxiously and plucked it from her fingers, encasing it in your own hand. “Probably just fell out of my bag.”

“He has such a weird taste in jewelry. What even is that?” She pointed to your closed fist, and watched as you peeled back your fingers and exposed your palm.

It wasn’t a lie, it was Anakin’s.

“A centipede.” You swallowed, staring at the hunk of metal. “It- he always wears this one. I don’t… I’m not sure how it ended up in my bag.”

Your throat felt dry, your palms started to sweat. You felt like you might be sick. Why did he have Anakin’s ring? He hardly ever takes it off.

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I should have never taken those fucking rings off. I had to lie to you. It’s stupid I know but lying about something little like that is almost worse than the big secret you know? Cause I don’t want you to think I’m untrustworthy, I am. I’m very trustworthy.

You just let me shoot what you thought was a loaded gun in your mouth. I’d say that means you trust me quite a bit. Ghost, not me I mean. You trust Ghost with your life, but you can’t trust Anakin enough to tell him you love him?

Date

September 3rd (1:45 am)

Anakin jogged to the end of the driveway and hopped into the front seat of his car, taking off his mask and gloves. With the steering wheel in both hands he leaned forward to rest his forehead on the back of his hands. Keeping his grip at the top of the wheel with one hand he leaned back again, looking up at the roof of his car, his other hand going to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone started ringing, he quieted himself and quickly strategized a set of half truths and full lies that he might need to use before answering the phone.

“Hey princess.” He sounded cheery as he picked up the phone, “lucky you, I was just going out to smoke.”

“Oh?” You asked, feeling relieved to hear that he sounded fine. Maybe ghost didn’t chop off his finger after all. “Sorry, I- I have a weird question.”

“I love weird questions.” He snorted, you could hear him flip open his zippo lighter and snap it shut after a long inhale.

“Are you missing any rings?” You asked, hoping he said no and that this was just a very odd coincidence.

You heard rustling on the other end of the line while Anakin frantically searched his pockets, coming up one ring short.

“Yeah I am actually, why?” He answered clearing his throat nervously.

“Which one?”

“My many legged lad.” He answered, instinctively flicking his cigarette ash with anxiety, the miniature embers floating down to his jeans. He quickly swiped them away and tried to remain focused. “I took it off to shower at your place last night.”

“I figured the cat knocked it off the sink or something.” He shrugged to himself, hoping it was enough of a lie to convince you that maybe Ghost snatched it off the sink.

“S-somehow it ended up in um, my bag I guess.” You said, turning the jewelry over in your palm, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Huh, well that’s fucking weird.” He chuckled, “I don’t know, babe. Just keep it safe for me til you get back I guess sweetheart.”

“I will, I’ve got it on the nightstand right now.” You answered, licking your bottom lip.

“Thanks babydoll, listen, I gotta go back inside.” He grumbled, sucking air through his teeth the way he always did on his last drag of his cigarette. “I love you doll. Sleep good.”

“Night Ani, text me when you’re home.”

“You got it baby." Anakin answered, his voice low and smooth.

A perfectly normal conversation. A perfectly normal explanation on his part. A completely plausible assumption that Ghost simply took it from Anakin. Though you’d never known him to be brazen enough to come around with Anakin there and awake.

A perfectly dreadful whisper floated in one ear and out the other.

—————-

Date

September 3rd (2:27 am)

Anakin walked circles around his car, desperate to find an escape, an excuse, an explanation. Something, anything to help him backtrack. He couldn’t go back to your cabin tonight. He’d made you lock the windows and he knew Luke would quadruple check that the front door was locked. He didn’t know your sister or Luke’s sleep habits so he didn’t feel comfortable picking the lock.

He would have to tough it out until tomorrow night.

You were very much in the same boat as him. Waiting anxiously to see if he would come back, to see what would happen.

You wanted to call Anakin again, just to hear his voice, to listen to the calming comfort of it. To affirm that all was well, he was safe and fine. That was the only reason. You just wanted to make sure he was safe. Anakin was perfectly capable of handling himself, but to your knowledge he didn’t own any weapons that he could defend himself with. As far as you knew, Anakin Skywalker was sweet and kind and soft. He was loving and gentle. He was the perfect man, the most wonderful thing to walk into your life.

Anakin loves you and you love him. You love him so much, so much that it hurts. You love him so much that you’ve refused to say it. To protect him, to protect yourself, to protect Ghost from the hurt of it.

That’s just it though, there is Ghost. He’s there at every corner, he’s the creak in the floor boards at night, he’s the figure you see in the corner of your eye, he’s the creepy feeling of being watched, the voice you swear you hear saying your name.

He cares for you, and he cares deeply. You know without having to hear it from him that he believes you’ve hung the sun and the moon, he knows all the stars in the galaxy twinkle just for you and he believes you should be treated as such.

For all his wrong doings he’s done something right, not the helpful little things nor the occasional softness he’s begun to show.

No it’s something else.

It’s a feeling so oddly tangible that you can feel it in your throat each time you swallow. There isn’t a name for it, no term that you’ve ever heard could properly define it. You know that much to be true.

It’s a pull, a strong and undeniable tether. Like a child and their security blanket. Visible or not, where there is one there is always the other.

You’d miss him if he were gone, much like you’d miss the comfort of a fresh from the dryer blanket. The fuzzy warmth that wraps you up so tightly, the feeling of being tucked away from the world in safety.

That heat fades quickly, just like he does. He’s present one moment and the next he’s left you alone and you have to start the cycle all over again. You stare at your reflection and watch the world tumble around you and he watches you from behind the glass until he’s ready to come out again.

You want to fold him up and lay him across the end of your bed. Within reach at all times, you don’t want the dryer door between you anymore. You don’t want the few moments of heat from the fabric.

You want consistency.

Anakin can give you consistency in a way that no one else ever has. You never have to worry about him leaving or being disloyal, you never have to voice your feelings or opinions if you don’t want to because he just knows. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Ghost.

With Ghost you know that you are without a doubt the safest person alive. You don’t have to think, you can just be and know he is there to do anything and everything for you. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Anakin.

————-

Date

September 3rd

Hiking had never been your favorite summertime activity, but you’d come to realize it wasn’t because of all the walking or the bugs, it wasn’t even because of the horrid, atrocious memory of the time you’d walked through poison ivy.

You didn’t like it because it gave you too much time to think. That was exactly the opposite of what you needed right now. Right now you needed nothing, you needed the cold emptiness that comes along with burying yourself in something that took up all your brain power until there was none left to dwell on your troubles.

By the time you’d reached your destination you were drenched with sweat in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. Your shirt stuck to you, the cups of your bra were damp and itchy, your shorts had ridden up and you weren’t entirely sure that you were wearing shoes instead of walking barefoot in a bog.

“Luke.” You grumbled, taking a long drink from your water bottle. “How long have we been out here?”

“About two hours.” He replied casually, not nearly as winded as you and your sister. “Let’s eat and we’ll head back.”

“Are we lucky enough to be on one of those trails that the start is long but the loop around is short?” Your sister asked, wiping her forehead with the inside of the collar of her shirt.

“You’re both wimps,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes, passing out sandwiches and chips. “No, the way back is the way we came.”

“You’re joking.” You complained with a scrunched up expression.

“No ma’am.” Luke responded and thumbed over his shoulder at the overlook you’d made the journey to see. Yes it was beautiful, but worth the blister forming on the back of your ankle? Definitely not.

“Unless you’d like to take a dip off the cliff edge.” He snickered, knowing damn well that you’d rather gnaw off your fingers than jump from this height. “It’d be a couple minutes swim to shore and you’d be at the cabin.”

“No way really?” You said, standing up and biting into your sandwich as you walked cautiously closer to the edge. Gazing down you saw the dock, your eyes traveling up the tiny- hardly visible- dirt path until you reached the cabin.

He was right, you tracked your hiking trail up the curve of the incline you’d suffered through, it was a massive arc. Leaving you staring at the comfort of the cabin, so close but impossibly far away. You looked for a moment more, the lake sparkling like glitter in the bright sunshine. A few boats disrupting the water as they sped past, far off the shore.

You snapped a few pictures and scrolled through them, nearly choking on your food as you spotted something you’d missed with your naked eye. Only seeing it now that you were scrutinizing the photos quality to decide which one you’d keep.

“Jesus, you alright?” Lauren asked, watching you thump the side of your fist against your chest. Breathing heavily through your nose while chewing the food to swallow it and chase it down with a gulp of water.

“M’fine.” You coughed, looking back down at your phone and then to the landscape below to see if he was still there.

You should’ve expected to find him, expected the way he made himself at home on the porch, rocking in a rocking chair. The scene was still jarring, even more so when you realized he wasn’t wearing his hoodie.

His bare arms on display, his chest and abdomen covering by a loose black tank top. You frantically tried to zoom in with your camera. But of course all you could see was a fuzzy blur of inked skin.

What luck.

He was there, in broad daylight without a staple piece of his ensemble, one he didn’t remove in front of you. Now you understood why he told you he’d be recognizable if you were to see his skin. He was covered in tattoos.

And it’s your unfortunate luck that despite being so close to him, it’d take an hour to get there. Your great luck that he’d left himself vulnerable to your gaze at a distance that would prove impossible to decipher his identity. He was doing this purposely, there was no doubt about it. Why else would he do something so risky?

Ghost was baiting you.

Like the stupid little fish you were, you nibbled on the hook until he was able to reel you in.

‘I see you’ You texted him,

‘Creep.’ He texted back, standing up from his rocking chair and walking to the front porch steps. He waved dramatically, the sun shining down on him and catching on the white plastic of his mask, making him plainly visible. You watched through the zoomed in and grainy image of your phone as he moved, hoping maybe it would clear up and you could see something identifying.

Suddenly you were reminded of something you’d learned in school, a book you’d read… maybe Nancy Drew? Signaling using a mirror or something reflective to catch a person’s attention, sometimes used as a means of communication in Morse code. Though this wasn’t nearly as sophisticated.

He had pulled out both his knives and flipped them, the sunlight refracting off the shiny silver blades erratically until it became one concentrated beam as he crossed the sharp edges over each other. Forming an X to direct to light straight at your face, promptly blinding you.

“Fuck.” You winced, stumbling backwards and causing your sister to gasp.

“Christ, what the hell are you doing?” She asked worriedly, standing up and walking toward you but not daring to move as close to the cliffs edge as you were.

“A- a bug or something.” You lied, rubbing your eyes to clear up the imprinted flash of light you saw each time you let your eyelids fall shut.

*ping*

‘See me now?’

‘Asshole.’ You mumbled under breath, looking back over the cliffs edge to see that he’d managed to get out of sight in the time it took for you to recover.

“Alright, let’s go back. I’m hot and sweaty.” Luke said, standing up and stretching. He packed away our trash and then shoved Lauren forward when she complained.

“I’ll push you off the edge if you don’t shut up and leave me be.” He snorted, dodging her water bottle that she swung by the handle at him.

“C’mon let’s go before you kill each other.” You said with a laugh, feeling better now that Ghost was -probably- gone for now.

After another hour of hiking back down the steep incline you’d just traveled up, you were grateful to collapse on the cold wood floor of the living room and bask in the cool air supplied by the window unit nearby.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I’m so jittery waiting around for you guys to get the hell out of that stupid cabin. I have shit to do and you’re gumming up the works. I need to get your bathing suits, I scouted out around the lake last night when I couldn’t sleep. Not in my Ghost mask, I used a bandana. I think it’d be real unfortunate to get the cops called because Ghostface is roaming the pine woods.

Anyway, your bathing suits. I’m taking the ones I disapprove of. Did you know there’s a cabin full of jockey college boys right across the lake from you? You better not have planned that. They have a perfect view of the dock you’ll be swimming off of. Which means they were probably watching you last night when you were having your drinks.

I’m the only one who can watch you like that. Especially when you’re gonna be prancing around with that fucking ass of yours on display. ‘Ani, I’m just gonna wear it to tan in!’ Yeah alright. That’s the only reason doll? That’s the reason you brought a thong bikini to the lake? With a cabin full of testosterone waiting to catch a whiff of you from across the way?

I can’t believe you’re so stupid sometimes. I love you but damn do you have no self awareness? I’d let you wear it when I’m around. But I’m not. Not the way I want to be at least. I want to be there fucking you with my eyes and smacking your cute ass every chance I get. If I’m not standing there watching over you then those idiots might get the idea you’re wearing that shit for them and not me.

They don’t know you’re tanning, making that bangin’ fucking body sun kissed for my viewing pleasure when you return. They just see ass and tits and drool. I might drool yeah… but it’s only for you. I love you. I have eyes only for you and I always will.

Those dick-wads don’t know you or care about you. They lust over every bitch they see. You don’t want to make it easier for them do you? No? That’s what I thought. I know you didn’t do it purposely little doe. You can’t help it. You’re used to me being by your side and keeping you safe, used to wearing whatever you want when I’m around because you know I’ll fuck shit up if someone looks at you wrong. You’ve gotten used to it and didn’t use your little girl brain to make adjustments for the fact that Anakin wouldn’t be there for you.

Just another reason you should’ve brought me along.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Oh my fucking god it’s so fucking hot outside. What the hell is wrong with Luke? Making you walk up that MOUNTAIN. I totally would’ve followed but I’m actually busy trying not to fucking drown in my own sweat. There’s a bunch of reasons Ghost is mostly nocturnal. This is one of them.

I was being baked alive.

Anywho, I showered and now I smell like you, so I’m gonna wander about, have a wee little snack. By the way, I’m really sad you forgot the mustard.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Baby, don’t be mad I didn’t mean to almost make you trip. I just thought it would be a little funny. I was right. But I’m still kind of sorry.

I wish I could’ve seen your face.

‘Oh my god! His shoulders are out!’ Scandalous.

Risky? Yes. Worth it. Yes, can’t wait to hear you whine about it when I fuck you again.

——————-

Date

September 3rd

“Okay, let’s get ready for the lake.” Luke stood up and clapped his hands together once, a loud *pop* resounding through the living room.

“Already on it.” You huffed, throwing yourself forward into a sitting position and hopping to your feet.

You entered your room and noticed two things immediately: 1) the ring is gone 2) your red one piece swimsuit is on the bed. Upon further investigation you discovered a note laying on top of it.

Written in quick scratch was a short note from Ghost.

‘Doe,

I’ve taken the liberty of making adjustments to your wardrobe.‘

‘Adjustments?’ You thought, grabbing your bag and dumping it out on the bed.

The only things missing were your other bathing suits and your shower stuff, quickly grabbing the red suit you rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in to change. Pushing back the shower curtain you saw your body wash and shampoo, the walls still wet from his shower. You couldn’t help but let out an annoyed huff.

Your phone vibrated on the side of the small bathroom sink, sliding across the porcelain and falling into the sink basin. You quickly fixed the straps of your bathing suit and retrieved your phone before the leaky tap could wet the screen.

A video message awaited you from ghost, the image from the thumbnail made you laugh in a choked kind of surprise. He was outside giving you a leather thumbs up, your hot pink string bikini on overtop of his black hoodie. As you pressed play the video was mostly silent other than the nature noises of the background until he flipped the camera around and zoomed in.

A low modified whistle left his lips as his camera focused on the bathroom window, your bare back in the frame for a moment before he shifted the camera slightly to get the mirror in front of you, showcasing your breasts as you changed into your swimsuit.

You swiftly spun around going to the window to scan the area, he couldn’t have possibly gotten too far away. Throwing open the window you stuck your head out and looked to the left and then to the right where Ghost had suddenly appeared, inches from your face.

“Ow! Fuck, agh-“ You yelped, whacking your head on the window pane while he laughed at your expense.

“Hey! You okay?” Luke banged yelled from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Y-yeah!” You shouted back, turning to look inside the bathroom again before turning back around to see Ghost had crouched down, out of view if you were to open the bathroom door.

“What are you doing? You’re takin’ ages.”

“Uh- sorry. Wardrobe difficulties.” You squeaked out, glancing back at ghost who was still wearing your hot bikini bikini top, sans bottoms… which was honestly a bit disappointing. You heard Luke walk off, yelling to your sister that you were probably ‘on the throne’.

“Who is he? The Queen?” Ghost’s mechanical voice came from beneath the mask.

“Close enough.” You shrugged your shoulders and watched as he stood up to his full height, his knees cracking upon the ascent.

“Why did you take my shit Ghost? I wanted to wear that!” Whisper shouting at him while you hung the upper half of your body out the window.

“That’s why I took it.” He said plainly. “I don’t want you looking like a fucking slut out there without me around to keep other eyes off you.”

“Who the hell is gonna see me out here!? You shouldn’t have even seen me out here!” You pointed angrily.

“Shut up, I know you’re happy I’m here.” He snarled, getting right in your face, reaching up to grab your chin. “I heard you last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoffed as if you hadn’t done exactly what he was insinuating.

“I don’t want the girl who moans for me to be ogled at by some fucking frat guys.” He barked, shaking your chin and digging in his leather fingers.

You turned bright pink. You couldn’t argue with his statement. You did moan for him. Under him, over him, even without him.

“What frat guys?” You stuttered, avoiding acknowledgement to the first half of his sentence.

“Across the lake.” He pointed, flicking out his knife to gesture in their direction. “Big group of ‘em. Paid them a visit last night just to check things out, you know I worry about you.” He said in a quieter tone, bringing the blade of his knife to your bottom lip and tapping it with the flat side.

“I would’ve never known they were there if you hadn’t told me.” You narrowed your eyes, speaking carefully as the knife rested against your lip.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe not.”

“What’s that supposed- shit, why?” You flinched and brought your hand to your mouth touching the nick he’d left when he quickly jerked the knife away.

“So you’ll think of me when you’re yapping to some no-count bitch boy from across the way.” He snapped back. His leathered thumb came up to spread the blood across your bottom lip and past it onto your tongue.

“It’s just a bonus that you bleed so fucking pretty.” He pushed your tongue down with his thumb, rubbing the crimson liquid into the squishy muscle, then curling the same thumb behind your bottom row of teeth and shifting his cock in his jeans with his free hand.

“Clean it for me baby?” His modified voice lower than usual.

“No, use your mouth doe.” He chuckled when you reached out to grab the knife from him to rinse in the sink.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows but opened your mouth anyway. He placed the blade on your tongue and nodded at you.

“Now suck it.” He grumbled, affectionately patting your cheek twice before using two fingers to push up your chin and close your mouth around the cool steel.

————————————————————————

“What happened?” You sister asked, touching the scabbed line that traveled up your ass cheek and disappeared beneath your swimsuit.

“Well, I just fell.” You muttered, pulling the hem line to cover more of it. “Don’t really know what cut me but it happened a little bit ago.”

“You need to be more careful.” She shook her head, finishing up her job of rubbing in your sun tan lotion. “I swear you’re worse than my toddler.”

“Oh shut up, I am not.” You scoffed, “there’s a difference between something you don’t have any control over and choosing to shove a pebble up your nose.”

“I- that was only one time! When will you let that go?” She asked grumpily. “What am I supposed to do, carry around a fucking periscope so I can see behind me?”

“I’m not- I was kidding.” You sighed, shoving her out in front of you, making her stumble.

You clicked the lotion shut and shook it up, slamming it down on the heel of your hand before putting a generous amount in your palm. You slapped it onto her back and rubbed it in, ignoring the hissing sound she made when the wet glob of sunscreen in your palm smacked her flesh and splattered messily across her skin.

“Caleb is just… an explorer.” Lauren said, trying to make it sound better than it was.

“I never shoved anything up my nose.” Luke chimed in from behind his sunglasses, sitting up against one of the dock posts. “Lauren, you know I was an ‘explorer’.”

“No. You were a bug boy.” You snorted, looking over at him with a little smirk.

“So what? I liked… like bugs. They’re cool okay?” He grumbled waving them off.

“Remember when you had Ants on a Log with actual ants?” You giggled, Lauren crouching down as she let out a guffaw.

“I was seven!” He said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Caleb is two. He can shove a pebble up his nose and it can be excused.” Lauren snorted, catching her breath. “You were seven, you knew better. You have no room to talk.”

“Okay mom,” Luke huffed, you knew without a doubt that he was rolling his eyes behind those glasses. “At least I don’t still pick my nose.”

“Hey! Sometimes you just gotta get up in there.” Lauren pointed at him, a scowl on her face. “Don’t lie, you pick your nose. Everybody does!”

“Uh… I mean I technically pick my nose. Just with a tissue.” You said, supporting your sister in your useless argument.

“So you’re both gross then.” Luke gagged and grabbed his stomach dramatically.

“If I’m gross, so are you.” You said, getting settled on your towel. “Lauren’s right. Everyone picks their nose.”

“You’re both horrible.” He grumbled, shaking his head before standing up and lowering himself into an inner-tube so that he could float on the water.

You all had a peaceful first half of your day, it was refreshing after the hike to relax in the sunshine, letting the heat lull you into a state of calm and the opportunity to think of nothing save for the concentration of singling out different nature noises just because you could. Cicadas, the occasional grunt of a bullfrog, Whippoorwills calling out to each other in the trees, the gentling lapping of the lake against the dock.

None of the city sounds that clouded your head and made it feel cluttered.

It was cleansing, a nice reset for your mental state. Exactly what you needed, exactly what you were so happy to be here for. Now if only you could get some clarity on the difficulty you’d return to after your weekend of being at ease.

Even in peace times nothing is perfect.

The gentleness of the world you’d drifted into was being infiltrated. The distant sounds of a boat zipping through the water at much higher speed that it should’ve, especially with the water skier attached to the towline. What could make it worse? Two jet skis flanked the boat at a good distance away, though it was clear they were all in one group. Shouting and laughing like drunken fools, which you were sure they were considering the way they were behaving.

You licked your bottom lip, reminded of the small nick Ghost had left you with. These must be the ‘no-count bitch boys’ he was referring to earlier. You had to admit, he was definitely right about that. Wrong about your willingness to speak with them though.

You huffed and stood up, deciding now would be a good time to take a refreshing break in the water. The liquid enveloped your skin, the heat of the sun having beat down on you had your flesh soaking up the warmth so much that the water felt cold. In involuntary shiver tickled your spine as you swam over to Luke where he’d floated a way from the dock.

Slowly but surely the boat along with its entourage weaved its way across the water to your side of the lake, you pushed Luke’s inner-tube back toward the dock to give -them- yourself some space.

“Thanks babe.” Luke said, dipping his hand into the water and flicking it at your face.

“Hey! I was trying to be nice!” You scowled, reflexively sliding your hands beneath the tube to dump Luke out of it.

“I could’ve drowned!” He gasped as he resurfaced, taking off his sunglasses so he could wipe the water from his face and shake out his hair.

“Oh whatever, don’t be whiny.” You grinned.

“Me? You’re telling me not to whine?” Luke tossed his glasses up onto the dock and made his way toward you quickly. “All I did was flick you with water and you tried to drown me!”

“I did not!” Squealing as he lifted you up and tossed you farther into the water. How such a scrawny little guy could do such a thing was beyond you, but you had no time to contemplate.

You only had time for revenge. Squinting beneath the murky waters you made your way to Luke, hearing him call out your name in garbled syllables.

Ever since you’d known Luke, he’s had an irrational fear of the tiny possibility that there may be an alligator in any body of water. Didn’t matter how far from the wetlands of the states you were. There was always a slim chance, to him at least.

Holiday Inn pool? ‘But it’s outside, it could’ve crawled in! Will you just check it?’

Tiny dollar-store-bought blow up pool in your backyard? ‘But the creek! The creek’s back there… I’m not going in till you do.’

It got to the point that it was so severe his dad had to come up with a ‘gator gauge’ which was really just a hand-held tennis ball launcher he’d spray painted green and put a ‘gator free’ sticker on the back of so he could prove it was safe. Top-notch, high security, military grade ‘gator gauge’ that doubled as the lazy way to play fetch with their dog.

It was mean. Maybe a bit cruel… but he deserved it. So you swam behind him and put the heels of your palms together, spreading your fingers and creating jaws. You’d disappear from sight for long enough that a hypothetical alligator could’ve dragged you off and you heard Luke call out for you again.

Your lungs started to burn and you knew it was time to enact your plan. Luke stood on his tiptoes in the water, the perfect opportunity to press your fingers and nails into the muscle of his flexed calf. He screamed and thrashed about, you let him go and backed up so you could resurface. You popped up and sucked in a deep breath that turned into a choked laughing fit.

“You little bitch!” He yelled, splashing as he swam at you, pushing you under the water by your shoulders. He quickly pulled you back up and shoved your shoulder. A pink tint to his cheeks from embarrassment, he huffed and splashed a wave of water at you.

“I could’ve drowned!” You mocked him, pretending to cough.

In your short time of distraction the boat and its occupants had cut the engine and let the momentum carry them closer. The jet skis now tethered to the back, the ladder down in the water. Despite the safer option a group of five guys jumped over the side and made themselves at home in your space.

“Hey! How are you ladies?” One of them asked, completely ignoring that Luke was right there with you.

“No soliciting, thanks.” Your sister popped her head up and shook her left hand to show off her wedding ring.

“Whoa, didn’t mean anything like that!” He laughed and his friends agreed. “Just wanted to say hello, see if you guys were up for a drink.”

“I think we’re just fine.” Luke spoke up from behind you.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Sighing you turned around and swam until you were able to touch the lake bottom, walking the rest of the way to the shore.

“Hope you’re going to get some mixers.” A different guy shouted.

“Going to get a restraining order if you don’t leave.” You shot back over your shoulder, earning a round of laughs from them, the opposite of what you’d hoped for.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that! Just give us a chance. We’re good people.”

“Good at ruining my day.” Luke mumbled, following behind me and scooping up his stuff and getting ready to leave.

“You’re going? Serious?” One of them laughed.

“You came over here uninvited, you’re not entitled to our company.” You said, turning around and walking toward the house.

“That may be true but you’ve certainly made up for it by jiggling that ass.” His friends snickered and one smacked his arm.

You reminded yourself that you were here to have fun. Not to argue with a man who has half the brain capacity of a drunk squirrel.

Deciding you couldn’t let them win, you figured you’d beat them in your own way. You continued on without another word, pretending you hadn’t heard them, instead pulling out your phone and sending a simple text message.

‘You were right.’

The answer was an immediate: ‘I know.’

Diary entry: September 3rd

I hate to say I told you so. But I will.

I. Told. You. So.

I was having a great time watching you, it was reminiscent of how I used to watch you have dinner and I’d eat with you. You’re so cute and playful… I love you so much. I know that Luke is super gay, that’s not why I’m jealous. I’m not worried about that. I’m not stupid and I’m not paranoid, I know better. I’m jealous because it should’ve been me that you were playing around with.

I’m jealous cause you didn’t invite me. I’m jealous that you got to swim and I’m sitting in a tree, soaking my shirt with sweat. I’m jealous that Luke had a beer. I’m jealous that your sister took a nap. I’m jealous that those shit-for-brains tried to talk to you. (I love your sisters fucking comeback though.)

I’m jealous that they got a better look at your sweet little ass than I did too.

I’m pleased that you were so off-put by their behavior that you texted me little doe. What a very good girl you can be, but, oh so good at being bad too. You’re just like me. Maybe I’m making it worse, maybe better. I don’t know, I don’t really care either.

I’m just excited.

My little doe is feeding that flame of deviancy hanging out deep within your stomach. I knew you had it in there somewhere, gods you’re just so fucking perfect. I’ve never felt more lucky. ‘Ghost, I’ve got one more day here. What if they come back?’

What if indeed.

Men can be unpredictable. A woman is safer in a pit of snakes that being alone with a man she doesn’t know. Which is why I try so desperately to protect you especially in situations like this. That delivery guy? He seemed harmless. But I dug a bit deeper and well, he wasn’t so harmless after all.

Now, these boys might be disgusting pigs who prefer to wallow in the squalor and bask in the glory of their custom made beer can wall. They don’t deserve anything too harsh. Also; Wow. It’s amazing how they’ve managed to drink that much and none of them have been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. But back to business, I personally don’t feel like killing anyone. I know for a fact you don’t. I also know that even if I did feel like it, I couldn’t because you’d definitely know it was me. Then what the hell would I do?

You had no good ideas. Which is not your fault, you just can’t think about these things on your own. You need guidance and that’s what I’m here for. So, I settled on something you’ve never done, I haven’t done in a long time, and it’s not technically illegal here… just heavily frowned upon. I hate their shit attitudes, they’re gross and they’ve disrespected you and that’s unacceptable. So a nice little bit of property ‘destruction’ is in order. Middle school memories, how sweet.

TP the cabin? Absolutely. Destroy their beer can wall? Definitely. Silly string their vehicles? Duh.

Fuck you before and after? Yes. Always.

Part Fifteen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero r @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @hemmoxloser

Thanks to @rottencandyblood and all their love❤️

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ The Subtle Art of Death — Nanami Kento

A/n: so, it’s kinda messy? But yeah; Tw: character death, unhealthy way of coping (tagging @draecys because I’m despo); angst

16 months, 17 days and counting.

He sat there always, a subtle smile playing on his lips; he stood there always, eyes focusing with concentration as you try the new recipe; he lay there always, when you opened your eyes—

who? Kento did.

Where?

Beside you.

But.

It wasn’t him, it was Kento— but it wasn’t—the smile was the same, the one you used to see rare, it was ever present around you now—the hair wasn’t perfect anymore, the tie often lay astrew—on nights that you needed him, he was there.

Life could be described good.

“You look good love, red’s always been your colour hm?” There was a teasing edge to his voice, red—he saw red.

“Why are you here?”

A silence, a pause—“thought you loved having me ‘round,”

Ever since Shibuya, ever since that day—things took a turn.

That night, and then a forth coming month you’d slept alone—come to your surprise, a shy morning, there he’d been all along somehow, lips muttering a sorry as they remained pressed to your shoulder.

The darkness that you’d let engulf you was suddenly gone—the spider webs that had begun lingering, gone.

Forgive.

And you forgot.

However, attention to detail- those weren’t the only shifts, he spoke different, he seemed different, he was different.

Kento Nanami, he wasn’t yours though.

“Do you like what I’m wearing?”

Ah, you did—always, Kento could wear a rag and you’d marry him, the blue suit was a blessing at that—blue suit.

The one you’d bought him for the birthday, two years ago— oh how he’d blushed, he didn’t do that anymore.

It never showed up on his pale skin, you’d cried a week when you realised.

“S’good,” you sounded tired, you always were—partially because of him, “it’s Christmas Eve,” he mused, you sighed.

There was a tradition a small tradition—you weren’t sure, how could you be?

“I’m not doing it,”

“Not going to read me a Christmas Carol?” A chuckle sounded through the room—your eyes paused at the spider web in the room, when did that happen?

“It’s about you know, ghosts and self realisations…and you know, love,”

Your eye twitched, you couldn’t spot the spider, why?

A hitched breath—he wasn’t there anymore, no he was beside you, his shirt didn’t seem crisp as Kento used to keep them, exhausted.

“In the end, you remember? Scrooge let go of his miseries—you’ve ought to as well,”

“Please leave me,” a beg, “I- why are you back? I was doing so good—why don’t you leave me?”

“Do you not love me anymore?” A sly smile the body held—white flashed for you, no body that he had though.

“You’re not- no, I’ve never loved you, stop it. Stop being here,”

“You love having me here—it’s the reason I am,”

“No, not you- I-”

“Not me? Who held you when you shook and wheezed and cried-”

“-shut up. Shut up right now-”

“-when you swore that i was the one who-”

“-you’re nothing, you’re nobody, you’re not him- leave- I,”

A gasp- he was gone.

Slow breaths you exhaled, sharpened inhales—the room was dark again, as it always was after outbursts such.

The arm chair that he’d say on, your eyes narrowed—you swore you’d cleaned it in the morning, why was it coated in dust?

Your eyes trailed down- finger tugging at the flint on your black sweater—red he’d seen—red, you’d worn it, sure.

The christmas before last.

When Kento was there.

Kento was still—no, no.

Kento wasn’t there, something like him was, you tried to leave under it—under the pretence, it couldn’t work.

The spider to your misery were you, the moth? You, the flame? You.

Nobody struggled due to your mind more than you.

Ah, you realised.

It happened again.

lips pressed beneath your teeth you swore, fingers numb as you prepared to fill in the next entry in your diary—all progress over the months gone in an instance—you’d thought of him, again, and again and again.

Christmas and holidays were tougher ever since he died.

He was there when you wanted—kento- no, the ghost of Kento.

16 months and 17 days, counting.

[ashisgreedy]

Imelda Reyes x F!MC

“In Her Embrace”

Tags: Smut 18+| F x F | First times | Cunnilingus | Gay Awakening(?) | Aged up 18+

WC: 2,500+

AN: Guess who I have a crush on 🥴

Dear Diary,

I'm sorry I haven't written in you for a while. In the past few weeks, something wonderful happened… and I have been otherwise occupied with this new, incredible thing. I can't stop smiling as I begin to write this. I would like to start from the beginning so I may paint the full picture for myself to recall as I grow older.

My best friend Imelda and I have been growing close lately. After my last break-up, she encouraged me to stay single for a while. I had been dating back to back as you can see in my previous diary entries. But, something about the way she was almost begging me to turn down Andrew Larson’s invitation for dinner made me seriously consider it. I took her advice and decided I would stay single for a bit longer to really help remind myself of who I am.

She was happy when I told her this, telling me she always hated all my boyfriends, that they didn’t deserve me. I smiled at that, remembering a time when she wouldn’t have spoken so freely to me. It used to be low blows and curt comments from her, but now, since we’ve grown as friends and I earned her respect on a broom, I’ve been privy to how she truly feels. 

Two weeks ago, it was girls night. We planned a sleepover in my dorm room over the holiday. All my other roommates were gone for the extended weekend back home and Imelda and I took full advantage of the privacy, making a pillow fort by my bed and reading to one another out of the fantasy book floating around the Slytherin girl’s dorms. The book was something someone brought from back home, a muggle story where the main character was female and went on all these badass adventures. It's now Imelda's favorite.

She braided my hair, a bit too tight I might add, I had to loosen it to stop the headache from forming, and I manicured her nails. She keeps them short for her quidditch matches and I made sure to add a tiny heart to both her thumbnails in black paint.

When it came time for sleeping, we both changed into our pajamas and tucked into my bed for the night. We could hardly stop chatting even long after the lights were out. Imelda was so giggly this night, in a better mood than I had seen her in a while. Her laugh was contagious and I couldn’t help but share it.

We found ourselves tangled up, giggling about nothing and everything late into the night. There was a moment, just one, where I felt a shift in our dynamic. She looked at me, her legs twisted with mine, her hand sliding through my hair, and she just stared into my eyes. I didn’t know what to do. The laughing had died down and I supposed she was growing tired as the hours went on.

“Good night, then…” I finally said, breaking whatever tension had begun to build around us. I pulled up the blanket and snuggled my head into the pillow.

I saw her face go from bright and cheery to dark and stormy in a nanosecond. She huffed a ‘night’ to me and turned away. My forehead creased at the sudden change in her demeanor. Had I done something wrong? I scoured my mind thinking of the entire evening all the way up until this moment.

“Imelda… Is everything alright? We were just laughing moments ago.” I tried, my heart swirling with fear that I had somehow caused a rift to develop between us. I reached out to touch her arm, the one my hands had already been all over this evening to provide her comfort.

"You didn't do anything wrong..." She mumbles. Her voice was wavering and a piece of my heart broke.

I rubbed her arm with more confidence. “You know you can always talk to me about anything. We’re best friends.” I used my most reassuring voice. “I’m here for you.” There was a distinct sniff that came from Imelda so I immediately wrapped her in my arms and held her to my chest. “You can talk to me about anything, Mel. I mean it.”

She didn’t cry as I held her, she fought off the tears as best as she could. I could feel the war inside her body as she held back, trembling and squeezing her eyes shut. She was always so strong and I wanted to allow her the space to feel whatever emotion she was feeling if she was in the mood to express it.

After some time, she calmed and her breath became even. Imelda finally rolled over, looking at me. The light from the window spilled over her features and I gave her a small smile. “What has got you so worked up?” I asked. I was waiting for a spitfire answer but she just stared at me again with those big brown eyes.

 She wrapped her arms around me and I did the same to her. We shared her pillow while I rubbed her back. She adjusted herself and my hand went a bit too far, grazing her backside.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling my hand back. The blanket’s slid down cooling off the body heat between us.

She smirked and grabbed my hand, placing it on her thigh. “It’s fine. You can touch me anywhere.”

My fingers rested on her exposed skin, a bit higher than proper since her sleep shorts were riding up. I froze, unsure of what kind of joke this was. She teased me constantly, but never like this. Her toes grazed my foot as she brought her leg closer to me.

“What… do you mean by that?” I asked, hand still stiff on her exposed skin.

She took in a deep breath. “I mean what I said.”

She didn’t elaborate and I found my thumb sliding in small circles on her thigh. Chilled bumps rose and I gently squeezed her thigh where it transitioned into the swell of her ass. My mind felt blank as I did this, driven by a tiny voice inside my head for more. Her skin was soft and warm and she smelled of the same floral soap I used.

“Hey,” Imelda said, cupping my face and taking me out of the trance I was in. “If I am wrong, please tell me...”

I watched as she slowly inched forward. I looked down at her dark rosy lips, slightly parting as they neared mine. I leaned forward and our noses brushed, her breath fanned over my cheeks, then our lips met. I didn’t feel confused like I thought I should, kissing another woman. Instead, I felt free, like I was soaring. As Imelda tilted her head to deepen the kiss, I found my hand traveling up and down her form.

I’ve never felt the spark most people describe when kissing a lover. It's always been just that, two lips touching. But this… it felt right in every way possible. The way her lips quivered pressing into mine sent a bolt straight through me. What was once a cup of the face to pull one close was now a caress of affection and devotion, and what used to be groping and foreplay was a gentle escapade to explore one another for the sake of admiration and longing.

The entire world could be burning just outside but it wouldn’t even compare to the sudden passion that was set ablaze in my heart for her, for my best friend. Imelda lay back on the bed and pulled me with her. Her tongue darted into my mouth and I couldn't suppress the noise that escaped me. Now this, this was the feeling I'd been seeking all my life in the arms of another. I smiled into her kiss realizing it had been within my reach this whole time.

I touched her soft hair and slid my fingers down to her waist. I felt her curves and the strong muscles underneath from her many sporting practices. I then dared to move my hand up her stomach, splaying my fingers out to feel all of her. She had given me permission to touch her, but I wanted to give her a chance to change her mind. The closer I got to her chest the more her breathing picked up.

I cupped her breast in my hand and felt jubilant when she moaned for me. I was falling apart, breaking and shattering, and being rebuilt by her touches and sounds. I squeezed her breast again, the thin layer of her sleep shirt leaving nothing to the imagination, and rubbed my thumb over the soft peak. Her body came alive for me, her nipple hardening under my touch. I groaned into the kiss, a new feeling sweeping over me knowing I had this effect on her.

She was my best friend, my closest ally, and here she was, moaning and rubbing her body against mine as we tangled together, pining for more of my touch. I wondered if she was just as turned on as I was. I felt the heat between my legs and couldn't get over the idea that maybe she was just as turned on too.

"Imelda" I breathed "May I… uh" I tugged at her sleep shorts, the thin fabric stretching as I did.

She started kicking them off in a flurry. "Gods, yes."

I helped her out of her shorts and panties. On a roll, I pulled off her top and she tugged mine off too. Her hands cupped my newly exposed breast and her lips moved to kiss my nipple. A jolt of pleasure shot through me at the soft yet pleasurable sensation.

I moved my hand to her thighs and pushed until she parted for me. I had been trembling but nothing like this as my hand made its way up her leg. I felt embarrassed by the shaking but adrenaline was making its way through my veins in a frenzy. Imelda whimpered when my fingers grazed her center. My breath caught when my digit ran down her slit and found her so wet.

"I want to taste you." I gently pushed her to lay flat on her back again. "Please, please Imelda. Say yes," I begged, the warmth of her slick on my fingers causing me to lose my mind.

"Yes!" She pushed on my head until I was between her thighs. A smirk grew on my lips seeing her beautiful personality come out, the one I'd grown to love.

I pushed her legs apart, looking at the sight before me. Fuck, she was perfect. Every ounce of her body was beautifully and wonderfully made just for me, it felt. I used my thumb to reveal her clit and sighed when the nub was just as pink and swollen as I'd hoped.

Imelda groaned and rocked her hips, bucking against nothing. I ran my finger down the seam and met her entrance. Effortlessly, my finger slid inside. Her walls were silky smooth as they flexed around my intruding digit.

"That's enough teasing." Imelda decided.

I nodded. "I'm sorry, I will take time to explore you more later" I apologized, giving her clit a soft kiss.

Imelda groaned and tangled her hand in my hair again, pushing until my mouth was fully on her pussy. I licked and pressed my tongue down, feeling the bud roll over my tongue and give way to pressure. Imelda was practically panting the more I lapped at her clit

I circled my lips over the swelled clit and sucked lightly until her breath hitched. I used my tongue to swirl in circles until her legs were trembling around me. Her moans and reactions were all I could have ever wanted from her. I let up, giving her clit a momentary break while I moved down her cunt to taste the wetness unfolding. The taste was like no other. I groaned as I ventured more into the source.

I pressed my tongue flat and ran it all along the seam of her pussy. I gripped her rocking hips, keeping her at the perfect angle for my mouth. Imelda yelled my name with a string of curses and began to arch off the bed.

She didn't have to tell me, I knew, I could tell how close she was in the way her body amped up. I focused on her clit again, slipping my finger back inside her and rubbing circles over her g-spot. She was pulling at my hair, anchoring my face to rub her clit all over my tongue in a desperate manner.

I had never been so turned on in my life than when her moans became lewd and her cunt throbbed around my finger. I had known her for so long, I thought I’d known everything about her. But, this was very new. The way she whimpered my name, her lewd low moans, how she arched forward, keeping eye contact with me as pleasure pulsed through her. I reached up, cupping her breast in my hand and rubbing to add just a hint more pleasure to her euphoric moment.

When she came down, I kissed all over her thighs. I moved up her stomach and kissed her breasts again. I moved to her neck and tasted her skin and a hint of sweat.

She gasped and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight to her warm body. We lay like that for a long moment before I was pushed down, looking up at her.

It was my turn, then it was her turn again… then my turn again, over and over until the sun filled the bedroom.

We got about 45 minutes of sleep before we decided it was fruitless and got up for the day.

We took a shower together, and I got to wash her beautiful hair for her. She helped clean me off with the wash rag getting every inch of me clean. We made-out in the shower under the warm running water. I told her how beautiful she was and got to watch her cheeks blush in the light for the first time. She rolled her eyes playfully and pulled me in for an even hotter kiss.

We floated through breakfast and held hands under the table. We didn't leave each other's company until days later for her first mandatory quidditch practice began. The holiday break was over and classes would be starting up again soon.

I sat outside the quidditch pitch studying to get a head start on various classes until she was done. The next time I saw her, she had her hair back in a low ponytail and wore her green quidditch uniform. 

She had a single yellow flower in her hand as she joined me on the lawn. She offered it to me, twirling it in her fingers, with one question "Will you be my girlfriend?"

The hug I gave her had me tackling her to the ground. We both giggled and I said yes, a thousand times yes, as I kissed her neck and cheek. We finally looked at one another, her smile more wide than I'd ever seen it, and shared our first kiss as a couple.

So, Diary, that is why I haven't been around the last few weeks to update you. I will try to keep up with my entries in the future, but I can't promise I won't be swept away by my girlfriend yet again.

M.C.

[ndjournal]

hello! so i’m wondering if i’m sending this in correctly but i’m just gonna trust that i am. so literally august 30th i had a realization that there is no 3d vs 4d. i am not a human just doing what they have to do nor are things required of me because there is only consciousness (or self? not going to trip over the wording) and then all early morning, i’m talking about up until 5 AM, i read all of the submissions in the understanding concepts tag and boy oh boy. so many bombs were dropped and i just? i had to laugh when i read some of my old diary entries; my gosh i was so cute and deep into it. i realized that i was being Vanessa and actively trying to become someone else and obviously this doesn’t work. realizing that it’s not about changing the dream but to realize you are dreaming in the first place; to become lucid. then i realized what i could apply this to and it just hit me like a ton of bricks.

so as a shifter (you know the whole “reality shifting” thing), something i regularly do is “make scripts”. it’s quite fun to start from scratch and make all kinds of backgrounds with different families and just coming from different walks of life. even if i script something “undesirable” i never care too much about it because i see it for what it is—i know it’s not as deep and if i don’t like it, i can just change the script. so then i thought, “hey, what if Vanessa is a script too?” and i really started to think: “Why not treat Vanessa the same way you treat other scripts; other versions of yourself?” because i will literally come up with a story (as the observer, just picking a new character) and this character could have the hardest life and the most prominent obstacles and i feel absolutely no way about it, just a “yeah, i think that would be cool to experience.” and all i’m thinking is like, “bro..then what makes Vanessa so different from these scripts? from these people you make with these backstories? and then discard when you don’t care for ‘em anymore?”

and that, that’s something i’m just probing. along with letting Vanessa think every thought and feel everything; she’s perfect and she’s in her own little movie playing her part as she was designed to. I, as the observer, would send poor Vanessa on a goose chase of trying to realize things when she’s just like, “what do you mean it’s not real? i’m in it! and i see it, and i feel it! and this happened!” like if you were to step into a movie and told the characters about the problem not being real, they would look at you like you were crazy. they don’t have that luxury, but I do—because i’m not the characters, I AM.

sorry for the ramble, i am just like a kid in a candy store. i just wanna disbelieve i was ever Vanessa, and i am excited to do that. thank you!

Thank you for sharing your thought process, I'm sure it will help other Vanessas too. I know exactly what you mean. This is what can make LOA a struggle because it's basically telling people who don't understand what their true self is, to deny the ego's reality while identifying AS ego and that often results in a LOT of mental confusion and torture (and no actual desired results because all that effort is the opposite of our true being which is effortless) - GOSH ego is trying to tell itself that something isn't real when it so very obviously is because ego is part of the world! It's like stepping into any fictional world and telling the characters they're not real - but to them, it IS real, it's the only world they know of.

Keep disbelieving and see what happens :)

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Klopp’s Journal

Short blurb I wrote as LFC therapy. Hurt no comfort

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @rubybecker-rb2

Milner sighed as he rummaged through the piles of files in the away office. It was another frustrating result; and it felt worse, too, since it came directly after that huge rout of United.

He reached for a stack of papers when his hand hit something leathery. Curious as to what it could be, he dug through the stack until he revealed a black, leather-bound book.

Milner regarded the book with suspicion; he didn’t remember seeing this with the plans. He could only assume it was Klopp’s plan book, since he’d seen him writing in it sometimes.

August 6, Jahr 2022

Drew v. Fulham. Disappointing start, we conceded too many chances. Plans aren’t working. Bad omen, maybe?

August 15, Jahr 2022

Another draw. Darwin received stupid red card. I don’t care WHAT somebody says to you, going all Zinedine Zidane on him isn’t the answer Darwin! I like you, but you didn’t need to do that.

Lucho and Ali rescued us again. I don’t know what we’d do without them.

August 22, Jahr 2022

A loss today. I don’t want to talk about it, but hint: it involves manure with a capital M.

By the third entry, Milner was pretty sure this was a journal of some sort. He started to put it down, but part of him urged him to keep turning the pages. His curiosity won the day, and he continued reading, skipping a few pages ahead to save time.

Oktober 9, Jahr 2022

Arsenal BEAT us. Lucho’s injured, Trentski’s injured and the refs totally cheated. And I hurt Milly’s feelings, could today get any worse?

We beat this guy before by four goals to nil. Now we lost. Ugh, I never should’ve sold Sadio.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just being a grumpy curmudgeon as always,” Milner chuckled wryly, thinking back to the Arsenal game. He’d been feeling insecure about his place, and as usual Klopp had reassured him that he wasn’t just a surplus. 

Oktober 12, Jahr 2022

We beat the Rangers 1-7 away. Harvey got his first goal and I’m really happy for him. However, I can’t celebrate yet. Every time I celebrate a win it turns out feeling like a fluke. I go in with the same tactics and the boys save me. They did a great job, not me.

“That’s not what we think,” Milner muttered to himself. “You do so much for us.”

Once again, he flipped a few pages forward in time. A draft blew in from the open window, flipping the pages further forward.

November 12, Jahr 2022

The boys were pretty stable and played well today. Pep did such a good job down there, he had all that energy. Still…he’ll be surprised when I take him out to dinner tonight! I’m excited like I’m still in high school, this is weird.

Milner fondly rolled his eyes at the entry. “Our loveable idiot of a manager in a nutshell.”

Milner turned the page again, and he realized that the next entries would be talking about the World Cup. He’d learned that Klopp had been pretty depressed by the team leaving, both for friendlies and the international tournament. So he skipped a large chunk of the diary and ended up in the New Year, on a page with sporadic dots in the paper.

Februar 4, Jahr 2022

I led the boys down the tunnel again and to a loss versus Wolves. It was limp, energyless and against the philosophy I tried to install.

They say the fish rots from the head, and this is solely my fault. I didn’t do anything, I just stood utterly by.

My boys, I’m so sorry. You never disappointed me—only some of your actions. If you want me to leave, I will. I’ll leave for the greater good, I promise you. I can’t take much more of this. The anxiety is killing me.

Milner gasped as he realized what Klopp had been thinking. Of course their manager wasn’t entirely guilt free, but he wasn’t the whole guilty party, too. Nearly every player on the squad had been involved in a bad game or individual error at one point in the season, and the referees hadn’t been completely fair either. It was a perfect storm that year for Liverwool: bad decisions, sloppiness, injuries, bad luck and bias had all cost them dearly during the season.

With a sigh, Milner flipped to the most recent entry. It had been after their 7-0 win vs. United—which now seemed like a fortnight ago.

März 05 (haha), Jahr 2022

I love my boys SO much, I can’t find words. I always loved them, but right now I feel a surging outpour of love that I haven’t felt in a while. Adoration can’t get enough of them relief thankfulness Love. Just like that.

If I had to choose between my boys and the job, I would all have us live together in Kirkby for the rest of history! Here’s hoping for beautiful days ahead.

[moodywyrm]

omg aaa okay hmm what about 🦋 ?? if that’s not taken i’ll think of another hehe but i’m sorry you’re not feeling super great :( i hope you get some good news soon to cheer you up !! you’re doing a good job in the world even if it doesn’t feel that way today 💕 + thank you for being so lovely omg im getting my nose pierced in a week or two so i can have a butterfly or heart stud !! ☁️💘 + same !! they are so !!!! i need series two RIGHT THIS MINUTE their fights had me like 💕💗💘💓💖 + aaa i had a quiet day kinda uninteresting except for scrapbooking, modding an old ds of mine + ordering a powerpuff girls poster and an ellabs poster (payday thankfully) they’re gonna look so funny next to each other on my wall, The Duality 😭 but i hope you don’t mind these super long messages moony !! ⭐️ - lipgloss femme

The butterfly is not taken and it suits you perfectly!!

Edit: I got some weird results when I looked up the 🦋 to add your tag and turns out it’s like very linked to ED stuff?? It makes me kinda uncomfortable and if you wanna pick another one you can :( I’m sorry, I hate to make you do all these runarounds with your emoji :(

I will literally start crying if y’all keep being nice to me, I had a Moment bc I was listening to Noah Kahan😭😭 I’m doing my best out here but it is Brutal

A nose piercing!!! Nose piercings are so pretty, i love them 💕💕 idk if I want face piercings but i think they’re gorgeous 💕

No literally sometimes I go back and just watching their fight scenes bc Awooga 🥰 ofc I want them to take their time, especially with the writers and actors strike which I feel like will affect the show? I also just miss my girls, so we make do with rewatches and fic 💕

A quiet day but a lovely one!! Scrapbooking is so cool, I have a bullet journal but it’s pretty basic 😭 your old ds!! I left mine at university and I’m so sad, it has all my Pokémon games 💔 posters!! I love posters!! Shout out to payday, I don’t have a job so I’m Roughing It because I’m literally just staring at my Amazon wishlist like 👁️👁️ what if 👁️👁️

I love the long messages!! They feel like lil diary entries, and they’re so soothing :(

[thelukaskaiser]

Keep Going

Lukas’ Blog - January 1, 2023 - 5:30PM

Blogging isn’t really a thing anymore, but that isn’t going to deter me from re-starting this one. Sorry about that. I know it’s been a minute since you’ve engaged with one, so I’ll forgive you if you’ve forgotten what to say or do. Let’s just sit here for a moment and relish in the fact that we’re still alive - and both old enough to remember “blogging.” 

I remember the first time I found a “blog” - it was in 1999 - and I found the Livejournal of a graphic designer I really liked who was living in New York City. And in 1999, I was living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin - on the East Side, near UWM. If you’ve seen the movie American Movie, the place where Mark edits his film was about a block from my house. 

And in 1999, I was a hyper creative high school senior, 17 years old and entering into his final year of school, hoping to be accepted (early acceptance) to NYU so he could pursue his dreams of becoming a filmmaker / comedian / media person (which, hey, I was able to achieve - so that’s damn cool). 

And I was into comic books and indie toys and cool stuff and there was this plush toy I bought through Giant Robot magazine - which was a wildly influential magazine on my sensibilities and likes at the time (and hell, probably still is) - and the plush toy came in the mail and the tag to the toy had a URL to the artist’s blog. 

Not “Vlog” but blog. Because you couldn’t really host videos at the time. I mean, it wasn’t that normal for people to have websites either. I had a couple sites - I had taught myself how to make stuff in HTML - but I had never seen a blog before. It was a LiveJournal - and I was absolutely stunned. Blown away. 

Because I just sat there for days on end and read about this artist’s life. Mundane things and important things, triumphs and tribulations - and I was absolutely enthralled. That I could just see how a normal person lived - and lived, in particular, in New York City. Because that was where I wanted to live. 

And I would write down on paper the places the artist would go to - the restaurants, the stores, the bars. And I would just dream - dream I was with him - and feel less alone. 

Blogging wasn’t ever something I kept up regularly, but as a consumer, man, did I absolutely love the Blog era. I mean, we talk about Twitter and independent journalists and all that - but in the mid 2000s, I worked for and ran several blogs. And we were making REAL money - off of advertising and merch and other stuff - and it was a grind, but it was an honest one. And we had our own audiences and fans - and some of those people who became fans of mine from that era still follow my work to this day. It’s a trip. 

So, I’ve decided to blog again. In short bursts and longer bursts too. I don’t really care how many people read the “blog” per se - though it is important for me to publish these entries. I think that in addition to my various daily / weekly journals I keep for myself - my morning pages, which are like a brain dump right when I wake up, along with my “Simple Diary” - which is a regularly updated, quite personal record of my life for the last couple years or so, I want to begin to craft a public persona - one that I’m okay with sharing with complete strangers. 

I had a call with someone about a potential project - something I don’t want to share yet. And on the call, we began to talk about my experience in media and the entertainment industry and it was clear that I really don’t write down or share with anyone my experience. 

Now - that’s sort of normal to me? I feel like most people don’t document their lives - or at least they used to not? I suppose social media has turned us all into oversharers, certainly. But like, if you go to Facebook and look at some of the connections you have from your hometown - there are a lot of people who haven’t posted on their social media pages in years. Because this constant deluge of personal information isn’t normal. 

And, look, am I normal? No. I’ve always had a skewed perspective on life. I have pushed myself to self promote at many times throughout my life. It’s just that the last couple of jobs I had - my current gig at Westbrook and my previous gig at Viacom - were both sort of “insider” roles that worked best when no one knew the roles existed. The Viacom one was in part because there was a ton of writing we were doing - a lot of it comedy writing - but we weren’t part of the WGA, even though our shows were all signed to the union. 

We were just nameless / faceless “Creatives” - sort of ad agency model. 

And at Westbrook, working with public figures to craft their digital brands and personas is a very behind the scenes role. If you’re doing your job right, the public figure you work for seems to be generating this content and this digital brand from thin air, seemingly effortlessly so. 

Which - at times, is true (okay that’s never true). But at times it’s like, well if I tooted my own horn here, it would actually hurt my whole business model. 

Now - we have evolved what we do at Westbrook Media a considerable amount - yes we still help some public figures with their social media, but we mostly get paid to MAKE CONTENT. And I think just about anyone would know that making content takes a lot of effort - both hard effort - like writing and planning and editing and shooting and all that - as well as soft effort - like strategic thinking and positioning and making sure your clients are making the RIGHT content and not just making what they think is going to be hot. 

And I’ve realized that in both the hard and soft labors at my current gig - managing an incredible team of creatives who are truly some of the smartest and most innovative thinkers I’ve ever been able to work with - it doesn’t help anyone for me, as the boss, to set the example of being the humble behind the scenes guy. Because then everyone feels the pressure to have that dance - should I take credit? Should I not? 

It’s tough! But rather than “take credit” I think I want to try to begin to focus my energies on exploring the things I’m struggling with - the things I’m excited about - and using my work, and my experience, and my day to day life (with a lot of discretion) as the medium to explore these topics, knowing that my life may be a good example for other people. 

So - this is to say I’m excited to be back in the business of writing and publishing written content in this space. I will likely attempt to turn these posts into audio / video things as well at some point, though my space is not clean enough or well laid out at the moment, and the anxiety of showing off my messiness would be too great to bear and I’d explode into a million pieces or something. 

Regardless, I am in my space - and I am lucky to have a space to create things in. Both in my professional as well as my personal / creative life. And I do not take that for granted. 

I remember quite clearly the five years when I was living in my mom’s attic, working from home, constantly grinding to try to freelance and publish content and become a writer - and how painful it all felt - and how isolating it all was. 

Look - people definitely can go longer than five years to try to crack through - and I had some positive experience mixed in with those painful ones - but from when I graduated college, in 2004, until I landed as a junior writer/producer at Spike TV in 2009, I can say without a doubt I skated quite close to the edge of fully giving up on my dreams. And every time I tried to pursue something BIG or CREATIVE or IMPORTANT - like the screenplay I wrote with my former boss, or my stage play, or the podcasts I tried to launch at the time, or the sketches or digital content I was trying to submit, or the numerous late night TV packets I was writing and submitting every single day - it would always blow up in my face. 

Now, looking back, it was amazing that none of that stuff worked out - because I was clearing out my mind of all the horrible, bad ideas I carried around with me while getting the experience of DOING THE WORK… 

I was learning how to write screenplays and how to direct videos and edit and all that - skills I still use to this day, in a much more professional setting - but learning how to do those things in practical ways that school could never teach you. And thankfully, none of my output was good, so the cringe-y and stupid ideas I was churning out will hopefully never be seen by anyone. 

I can look back at my isolation and loneliness and anger at that time with fondness - knowing that I was growing so quickly, even though it didn’t feel like it. 

And maybe you’re at home, feeling like you’re hitting your head against a wall over and over again - maybe you’re publishing content that no one seems to care about, or you’re applying to job after job and no one cares. It SUCKS. I know what that feels like. 

But if you can somehow orient your mind around gaining those SOFT SKILLS in the process - and understanding that a few years of obscurity will allow you to be BETTER - well maybe it won’t be so painful all the time. 

The surprises in store for us in 2023 are going to be painful - it’s going to be extra hard for people to get things SEEN and to get things MADE. Our normal modes of selling content, our normal ways of distributing things to audiences - it’s all going to feel so lost and so pointless. So we damn well better focus on the GROWTH and not the SUCCESS. Because otherwise, I’m telling you, every day is gonna feel more painful than the last. 

And the goal of making stuff is to feel less painful - less judged, less alone. So if the stuff you’re making is just making you feel more lonely, more rejected, it’s gonna push you to give up your dreams. And that would be a damn tragedy. Because you never know who’s moved by your stuff - you never know who needs an encouraging word. You never know who’s at their wit’s end and feels utterly isolated and alone. 

Yknow, how I felt less alone as a teenager in Milwaukee, reading those entries back in 1999. In some ways, all the therapy and personal work I’ve done to transform myself over the last 2 or so years has done something remarkable - it’s made me actually REMEMBER more. And it’s given me a helluva lot of empathy for myself in those vulnerable and quieter moments. 

I kept a diary after I fell in love with blogging, with the hope of turning it into a blog one day. It was the year 2000 and I was a Freshman at NYU at that point. I lived on 10th street and Broadway in a dorm called Brittany Hall. Which at the time was the only dorm with no air conditioning.

We lived in these big, concrete rooms - 3 of us, me and my two roommates. And we were all so hopelessly depressed and horny. Wanting to meet new people - yearning for life - knowing we were at the precipice of a new life experience (which ultimately was 9/11 - which happened the next year - we just didn’t know it yet). 

And I kept this journal - and the entries were PAINFUL. They were overwrought and filled to the margins with grumpiness and sourness and angst and WANT and DESIRE. 

But they were fucking VULNERABLE too. And as I began to make friends - I had a sketch group from the Upright Citizens Brigade and we would hang out at Max Fish - and I had a job teaching kids writing and reading and became friends with my co-workers - and I got an internship at Mass Appeal magazine, and joined The Plague - our college humor magazine - as I began to form a more confident persona, I would look back at those vulnerable journal entries and WRETCH from embarrassment. 

And when I graduated from college, I hid those journals for a while - until one day, actually in 2010, a year after getting my “break” in the industry and in the process of moving from Long Island (where my mother had been living - long story, she moved from Milwaukee) to Brooklyn (to the place I still live in to this day in BK), I took the notebooks and, instead of packing them, I tore the pages of the diary entries to shreds and threw them in the trash. 

Because I was mortified that I was ever that lonely and desperate and in pain. Because it had been so long since I had felt that way. 

But now, 13 years later, I’m really, really mad at myself for having done that. Pain is a real feeling. We don’t find ourselves confronting “real” things that often. And I wish I could look back and thumb the spines of those notebooks and glaze my finger over my handwriting - which hasn’t changed in decades - and try to connect with that little boy who was in pain - and tell him it’s going to be okay. Because it was going to be okay - it was okay. He ended up being just fine. 

And I disrespected him by throwing away his journal entries. The ones he cared about. 

Which I forgive myself for doing, but man, do I regret having done that. We don’t so often leave ourselves a trail of bread crumbs back to our past experiences. So when we do - when we write in journals or keep up a blog or whatever - we’ve gotta cherish those things and let them be. 

This “blog” doesn’t have to be anything other than a dumping ground for missives and dumb ideas - again, a place where I can quietly shape my public persona, which I so desperately need to craft and then use for the next chapter of my life. 

But I’m not going to disrespect the space. I promise myself that now. 

Anyways, I’m going to do some other writing now - this was honestly really nice. Hopefully I can keep it up - and perhaps it’ll be something you find useful or helpful or interesting. And if not, then I’m sorry. 

By the way, the artist whose livejournal I fell in love with was Mumbleboy. It looks like his early entries are gone, just like my old journals.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Eden: One

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, mentions of mental illness; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The mc suffers from agoraphobia. After a new neighbour moves in across the street, her home becomes even more of a prison.

Note: So I've decided to try something new. I'm hoping that you don't mind the new format. This story is written in first person in the form of diary entries. Transcripts will be included at the end of chapters to accomodate any who have issues reading the images.

I am still working on Omerta but chapter 12 is taking me a little bit longer to complete so hopefully this can tide you over until tomorrow. Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Transcript:

Sunday

It rained today. I hoped it would break the humidity but the air is still balmy and thick. The garden is starting to droop without the usual June sunlight. The shrubs look healthy but I don’t know if the mums will bloom. It is late for them.

The windows are clouded now the rain is gone. Once they dry, it will be suffocating again. I should have pulled out the old patio set last weekend but Lorena was here for the groceries. My meds are running low, I’ll have to remind her.

Oh, I found the old afghan grandma used to use. The one with the knitted flowers. Not a single hole. I’ll wash it and hang it over the loveseat in the lounge. It still smells of her. It’ll be two years next week. I miss her.

The kettle is whistling. Lorena bought a new flavour of tea; a spiced rooibos. It smells more suited to the winter but I’m anxious to try. It’ll boil over if I keep writing. 

I found a documentary on a country house in the British Midlands. I might watch that with my tea. Or maybe fall asleep on the couch. Again.

Monday

I have a new neighbour.

Today, I went out to check the bulbs I planted two weeks ago. I don’t think they’ll bud. It was humid and I had sweat in my eyes as the large truck pulled up across the street. The orange moniker on its side was faded and its white paint was almost yellow. I peeked out the gate as they backed it up. 

The beeping was horrible, almost deafening.

A car was just behind it. I shouldn’t be so curious but grandma always said I was a watcher. Watching is easy; doing is… difficult. 

My new neighbour is a man. He has dark hair and a thick beard. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the rest of him. His arm shone in the sunlight. It’s metal! I’ve never seen anything like it. I never saw a prosthetic that ended in anything but a hook or a blunt stump. I guess, I never really thought much about it.

I think he saw me too. It is hard to see behind the ivy that covers the front gate but I swore he could see me. I hid before I could make sure of it. It’s rude to stare. That’s what grandma would say. So went back to the flower bed and dug up the bulbs. They were dead.Lorena is coming tomorrow. I’ll ask her to grab more.

Tuesday

Lorena came buy today. She commented about my new neighbour. I acted surprised.

I gave her my list and reminded her of my pills. She was gone for a while before she returned. When she returned, I helped her bring in the bags. We unpacked them and she told me about her new niece; Cora. I think that’s a pretty name but Lorena thinks it’s too old fashioned. She said I would like it given my usual tastes. 

She asked if I was wearing grandma’s shirt. I lied and said I wasn’t.

I showed her the garden and she had some tea after helping me set up the heavy iron patio set with the mosaic tabletop. 

She showed me pictures of Cora. She said when she marries Shelby, she wants to adopt but her sister offered to be her surrogate. I thought that was nice.She left shortly after. I’m in the garden, staring at the old shed as I write. The frame around the window is starting to fall apart. I should fix it soon. And maybe clean the--

Later

The man was at the gate. The one with the metal arm. He scared me.

I hid behind the ivy as I looked out at him. His eyes are very blue. Piercing. Despite the heat, they made me want to shiver. His metal fingers wrapped around one of the curlicues of the gate. He said hello and that his name was Bucky.

I nearly swallowed my tongue as I ran away. I didn’t dare grab my diary until the sunset. He was gone, thank god. I hope he doesn’t come back.

Wednesday

Doctor Tisha called today. She wants me to come in at the end of the month to have my prescriptions reviewed. I told her they were helping much better than the old ones. No more vertigo or manic fits, but my dreams are really vivid. She also reminded me that I should make more of an effort to go beyond the garden. The pills can’t do all the work. Well, I think there are parts of me that just can’t be fixed.

I cleaned out the birdbath but the shed window is still drooping. There’s a spider web above the door and I’m working up the courage to open it. My grandma was always the brave one; she called her slippers ‘the exterminators’. She always made me laugh.

Then the man returned. His knuckles make an odd clinking on the gate when he knocks. I didn’t move at first. I’d rather have faced the spider and her web. But he kept on and it was getting rather annoying.

He pulled some of the ivy aside as I got close. I kept to the edge and peeked out at him. He held a box of freesias. 

“Hey again.” 

 He speaks as if he knows me. I don’t like that. He didn’t even care that I didn’t answer. 

“I see you like to garden so I thought I’d bring you some flowers. To introduce myself…. Better. I’m sorry if I scared you yesterday.”

I didn’t know what to say. The freesias were all shades of red, orange, and yellow. Young with a bit of growing still to do. I shook my head.

“You don’t want them?” He asked.

I frowned so hard it hurt my cheeks. I haven’t talked to anyone by Lorena or Doctor Tisha since grandma died. I was never good at that.

“No, I don’t know you.” I felt as if it was someone else talking.

He blinked and I suddenly felt very dizzy. I ran back to the shed and ripped the door open without thinking. The web caught in my hair as I slammed it shut behind me. I sat in the shadows as I tried to wipe away the web. The old rubbermaid lid warped beneath me, if not cracked. 

 I didn’t come out until the musty air made me sick. As I ran into the house, I noticed he had left the flowers on the other side of the gate. I locked the door behind me and shuddered. I swore I felt eight legs crawling down my arm.

Thursday

Sure enough, the flowers are still there. They haven’t wilted at all despite the intense heat of the sun. June is in full effect and the days get brighter and longer. 

 I found the old weather vane grandma said was swept away in a storm. It was hidden behind the row hedges along the stone wall around the yard. It’s bent but fixable.

 I went inside to eat at noon. I looked out the window as I ate; the strawberries were sour. I saw a shadow through the gate. I watched for a while, sure it was the shifting of the sun. Then I saw the metal fingers and the man’s square jaw as he tried to see past the ivy. He knelt and touched the dainty petals of the freesia. He lifted one of the small pots to sniff and placed it back in the box.

He left shortly after. I won’t go back out. I need to work on the house anyway. All this dust is making me sneeze.

Friday

The flowers are still there.

I refuse to look at them. Instead I focus on my own. I brought the old sony tape deck out to listen to the radio. Grandma always said it was older than me. I believe her. The speakers crackle and the antenna kept falling off.

The robins and sparrows were at the birdbath and a pair of cardinals have taken up in the old painted birdhouse around the back. The squirrels broke the window frame on the shed. Well, I’ll deal with that next week.

The flowers are starting to bloom nicely. I thought they might not, given the late showers and the sudden drought. 

There was a monarch butterfly by the carnations. It flew away before I got too close. My mother liked monarchs. I remember she had one framed in her room. Like the picture of her in grandma’s.

I try not to think of her. Or grandma, too much. 

It makes me sad. Doctor Tisha says this isn’t grandma’s house anymore, it’s mine. My life is mine, she tells me. It’s never really felt like it but I’m trying.

Saturday

The lock on the gate is broken and the flowers are gone. They didn’t go far. I found them planted by the lilies. I had tears in my eyes and my hands shook terribly as I wound an old bike lock around the gate. I picked up the pieces of the old latch. It’s totally ruined.

I haven’t been out since. I’m scared. Was it him? 

It seems like a kind gesture but the memory of the busted lock makes me think otherwise.I’m confused. What does he want?

He should’ve let the flowers wilt and die. Or maybe I should just learn to tell people to leave me alone. Out loud.

[sunscreenstudies]

hey ik this is random but I was scrolling thru the leaving cert tag and saw your post abt your results. Firstly congrats (even if it is 3 years late haha), secondly I’m currently in 6th year and was wondering if I could ask for some English advice? I’m looking to go up a grade (h3->h2) and was wondering if you have any particular tips for studying english, the exam, technique, or for literally anything relevant to the subject. There’s no pressure to answer this, ty either way :)))

Hey! Thank you so much for the ask and i am so sorry i’ve only gotten round to it now XD

LC English tips below!

Okay so it’s been a while since I did the LC but if things are more or less the same, then you’ve got your three texts to answer a question on.

Tip #1: Even though there is an awful lot to learn, you just need to remember key words, and you’ll sail through! 

In the comparative, you need to compare your texts in every. single. paragraph. You could write a fantastic essay, but if you don’t say “In comparison to this…” “Text 2 however differs from this…” “Similarly…” “The two texts are different in the sense that…” etc. you will get zero marks at all.

When answering your poetry question, you need to keep referring to the style of the poet. Every past poetry question can be broken down into two simple questions: What did the poet write about? and how did they say it? If you can answer both these questions on every poem you learn, you’ll do great! 

Also, do not learn any more than 5 poems per poet and don’t learn any more than 5 poets to begin with. This covers you completely no matter who appears on the day!

Tip #2: Please please pleaseee remember that for the comphrehension section, you must answer one question A and one question B from two different texts! If you answer from the same text you will get 0 and worse than that, this section is worth 12.5% of your total paper which means you will be down an entire grade immediately.

The length of your answer needs to correspond to the marks going for that question. In question A you usually have three parts, worth 15m, 15m, and 20m. Your 20 mark answer must be longer than your 15 mark questions.

For every 5 marks a question is worth, you need 1 A4-page pararaph. Unless you’ve got tiny writing, this is usually 5 to 7 lines of the page.

Your teacher has undoubtedly told you all about timing and “don’t spend any longer than 40 minutes on your question A” and yea they have a point, to an extent. I spent about an hour answering my question A and then sailed through question B because for me, I found the second question a lot easier to answer. Don’t panic if you don’t stick to the “recommended time” because every single person is different and what you find easy might be difficult for someone else.

In saying that, if you are spending loadsss of time on one particular section and you can feel the clock ticking, then move the heck on. Take a deep breath, leave a blank page for yourself to come back to that question later, and start your next part. Every question has a finite amount of marks, so no matter how brilliant your 20 mark answer is, you can only ever get 20 marks for it, and if that answer came at the expense of not getting question B done at all, then you’re down a grade already.

Tip #3: They want your opinion. Let me repeat that. They want your opinion. No matter what the heck they ask you, whether it’s about poetry or your novel or a Shakespearean text, the examiner will be checking to see what you thought of the text. I know firsthand how weird writing things like “In my opion...” or “I believe that...” but this is how you get the marks. Don’t lose the H2 you’re aiming for cause you’re feeling a bit awkward. After the exam, that feeling will never matter again, but your grade will!

Link every single paragraph in every single answer. This doesn’t have to be complicated, you don’t even need to write an entire sentence. Just start every new paragraph with phrases like “However...” or  “Therefore...” or “In contrast to this...”. If you don’t link your paragraphs, the examiner will think that you don’t know what you’re talking about and that you have no opinion of your own (see Tip #3) so use those joining phrases!

Tip #4: For that letter/article/diary entry question B, make sure that whatever part of it you answer, you know the layout for that style. Reports must have a title, introduction, work carried out, findings, suggestions, recommendations, and conclusion sections. Essays need to have a clear introduction, 5+ paragraphs, and closing. Even diary entries should begin with ‘Dear Diary’ which physically causes me pain to write, but it’s what gets you the marks!

Letters are the most asked question B but the most diffuclt to get good marks in. First things first: Figure out if it’s formal or informal. Formal will be editors, principals, government, or anyone that you would address as “sir” or “ma’am” in real life. Informal will be your friends, close family members, penpals, or anyone you’d hug goodbye and laugh with in real life.

Formal letters begin with your own name in the right hand corner of the page, with your own address directly below it. Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and be sure to check the question for any hint about what this date should be. If you’re writing a letter to your boss asking about organising a staff barbarcue for staff morale, then you wouldn’t date it in the middle of December, right? Sign off with something professional like “Kind regards” or “Thank you for your time”

Informal letters begin with your own address on the top right-hand corner of the page but do not write your name! It’s an informal letter to your friend; they know who you are.  Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and pay attention to the time of year again. Sign off with something casual like “see you later!” or “talk soon!”

Tip #5: Section 2′s composing section is worth an entire 25% of your paper. If you want to get a good grade, you need to get a good grade in this. If you’re aiming for a H2, then you need to get a H2 in this section minimum.

Your essay  should be between 4 to 6 pages, or 1000 to 1250 words. At least.

Always open with a quote, a rhetorical question, or a shocking statistic. I went online the night before my Paper One exam, and wrote down 10 quotes from well-known people about the most popular topics in life, eg. Education, Love, Money, Travelling, Death, Youth & Aging, etc. and just learnt them off in half an hour. I ended up using three of them on the day, and you have no idea the relief you feel when you’re guaranteed that at least one thing in your composition will get you marks!

Take an entire A4 page and plan your essay before you start. Not only is it just common sense and super helpful to get all your ideas down before you forget them, but if you run out of time for whatever reason, then the examiner will be able to see what you were planning to write, and will give you an extra mark or two. Your plan doens’t have to be complicated and you definitely shouldn’t spend any longer than 5 minutes on it. Just throw down a few words, organise them based on paragraph, and then start writing.

And finally (i’m so sorry that you had to read all that) remain calm! No matter what happens, whether you get a H1 or a H7, as long as you do your best then no one can say anything to you! You are more than your grade and you are more than some English exam that won’t matter in ten years anyway. Stay calm, always put your mental and physical health first, and remember that this paper is not the end all be all of anything. You’ve got this.

[criticizing-blogger]

I Promise - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: cursing, gory details

Word count: 1973

Sam and Dean sat at the motel room table, going over the small amount of evidence they had collected. The men still had yet to question the parents of the other missing kids. They had called it quits for the day because it was getting late. Sam’s laptop sat in front of him, multiple tabs open about mythology. Yet, he couldn’t figure out what’s been terrorizing the town. Of course, they do have little evidence to go on. Dean, on the other hand, had books open of almost every monster that they had faced.

Sam sighs as he closes his laptop, rubbing his face with his hands afterward. "I can rule out most of the monsters we’ve hunted."

Dean closes the book he was reading. "Same here. We just need to keep figuring this out. And fast."

Sam nods leaning back into his chair. With it being late at night, he decided to check the local library in the morning to see if he could find any information for the case. Maybe a folktale, since the internet isn’t giving him much, the books Dean was reading weren’t helping either. Hopefully, the library will help, Sam thought. The two brothers didn’t have a clue as to what was terrorizing the town. “I’ll check the local library and see what they have. Check with the parents of the missing kids and see what they have to say.”

Dean nods his head.

__________

It was early in the morning when Dean woke up. He sits up stretching his arms over his head and yawns. He grabbed the pillow that laid behind him, throwing it towards his brother. “Rise and shine, Sammy.” But there came no response. Usually, Dean would hear a groan or a shout, or would even be hit back. He looks at his brother’s bed only to see it empty.

The door to the motel room opened to Sam in joggers clothing walking in. Shutting the door, he looks over at the brother in bed to see him staring. “What?”

Dean rolls his eyes and groans as he falls back onto the bed. He closes his eyes hoping to fall back asleep. 

“Dude, get up.” Sam spoke but when he got no reply, he told him again. And still, no reply. Sam knew Dean was just ignoring him so he huffs and grabs what he needs for a shower. When the man in bed hears the bathroom door close, he pops one eye open looking towards it. He hears the water start running and a grin makes its way onto his face. Dean stretches his arms up over his head then flips onto his stomach, putting his arms under his head and gets comfortable.

Not much longer later, Sam finishes his shower, quickly drying off and getting dressed. He walks out just to see Dean had fallen back to sleep. Sam walks over to his bed grabbing the pillow. He slowly and quietly made his way over to his sleeping brother. Knowing Dean, he can fall asleep faster than Crowley can snap his fingers which according to Sam, it did not surprise him.

He stood next to Dean’s bed, the pillow raised with his arms. The white object slammed right into the sleeping man's head. Sam quickly pulled it back in time just as Dean pulled the gun out from his other pillow sitting up, pointing it at Sam. “Damn it, Sam!” He sticks the dangerous weapon back in its original place. “I was having a hot dream with a sexy stripper.”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam states with disgust evident in his voice. “Get ready.” When Sam turned around, Dean sticks his tongue out at him.

____________________

Sam got dropped off at the town's public library. He walks in through the clear glass doors and looks around as he walks towards the books. Only three, maybe four, people were here. Of course, Sam didn’t think people were just going to wake up early in the morning just to read.

He starts at the town’s history section. His hands reached for books called ‘The History of Southhollow,’ ‘what Lies in the Hollow Tree,’ and ‘The Diary of Edgar Smith,’ and so on. Gone through so many cases before, especially with small towns like this one, Sam knew how to go about research. Specifically topics of witchcraft, rituals, and even folklore that might’ve taken place at any point in time.

Sam looked around more and grabbed books he thought would help him solve this case then headed towards an empty table in the back corner of the library. He sets the books he chose down and gets as comfortable as he could get and starts reading ‘The History of Southhollow.’ 

The History of Southhollow 

Southhollow, founded in 1659, was one of the many permanent settlements in what would become part of the United States.

On September 1st, 1659 the governor, Edgar Smith, declared the land he and his men discovered to be called Southhollow. The site for the new town was quickly picked for many reasons.

It only took Sam a couple of hours to the short book as it did not contain information that would have been relevant to the case. He sets it aside and starts on the next book.

‘The Diary of Edgar Smith,’ Sam thought. ‘ this might give me something.’ 

February 3rd, 1659

It was evening when my men and I arrived at this empty plot of land surrounded by trees. I chose that we are to camp here for the night and return to search for new land on the morrow. The journey to America was rough as storms clouded the seas and the tides were difficult to pass. My men and I come from Europe. We are in search of land in America to make a new home. 

 Sam read the entry, and just like the other book, he didn’t see anything of importance. He started to feel hopeless. The first book didn't give him the information he needed. So Sam had decided to skim the entries not to waste any more time as he did on the first book. 

 _________________

        Dean, on the other hand, was on his way to talk to the parents of the first missing child and to find out any more information Sam might have missed. He steps out of the impala, fixing his suit as his eyes roam over Johnson's large, luxurish house. He shuts the vehicle door and makes his way to talk to the porch. Dean rang the doorbell hearing Mozart play as a jingle. The man closes his eyes and sighs muttering, “freakin’ rich people.”

Movement from inside the house could be heard causing Dean to quickly fix his stance, opening his eyes as seriousness took over his face. It took a moment before a woman’s voice was heard through the door. “Yes? Who is it?”

“My name is Agent Lee, ma’am. I’m with the FBI,” he grabs his fake badge from his black suit pocket and flashes it to the lady through the peephole. The door sounds an unlock and opens to show a brown haired woman. He puts the badge back as she moves to let him in the house. His legs carry him through the threshold as his eyes look over the expensive objects.

“I’m Elizabeth. Can I get you anything to drink?” She asks, closing the door and watches him turn around at her voice.

“Coffee, please.” Dean smiles.

She nods her head, gesturing her hand towards the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Dean watches her leave before taking a seat in a chair that sat on the right side of the room. A coffee table, with a photo frame and flowers in the middle, sat before him and a couch on the other side. His eyes notice a photo of a man and woman whose arm is hooked through his and a young boy. Dean carefully picks it up and examines it. It reminded him of when his parents were alive and he didn’t know monsters existed.

“That’s my husband, William, and our son, Noah.” She walks into the room holding a tray with two cups of coffee on saucers and a bowl of sugar cubes. She bends down, setting the tray on the table. “I’m sorry. I don’t have milk or cream. How many sugar cubes would you like?”

Dean sets the frame back down. “Uh, none,” he spoke and he watched her shaky hands hand the cup and saucer to him, taking a seat on the couch. “What can I help you with, Agent?”

“I’m here about your son's disappearance.”

Elizabeth nods, a sad sigh leaving her mouth. “You must be partners with the other man that was here yesterday. He disappeared a month ago. My husband left for work early leaving me to take Noah to school. And when I went to pick him up at three p.m., he never came running to my car like he did everyday after school. I waited for thirty minutes thinking he was doing a test or something. After those minutes had passed, I walked into the building and walked to his classroom. He wasn’t in there and none of the staff saw him leave.”

Dean nods for her to continue.

She took a deep breath. “I went straight to the police station. They said I cannot file a missing persons report for twenty-four to seventy-hours. So I left calling my husband. He wasn’t worried. He thought Noah probably went to a friends house. I called all his friends' parents but none of them saw or had him. So all I could do was wait. The next day, a new police officer, Oliver Davis, was doing his rounds outside of town the next day. He noticed something bright red in the trees. He drove down the path into the forest and stopped a long way in. He went to check it out. He took a good look at it and saw my son's name on the tag.” She let out a loud sob. “The sheriff gathered a search party a day later and it lasted late into the night. No one found anything until the third day of searching. A group found an abandoned house and told the sheriff through the walkie talkie. He searched the house and found my son's dead body.”

“Was there any scratches or bite marks of any kind?” Dean asks.

“There were scratches over his chest and stomach and back. I, uh, I have photos.”

He watches her get up and walk over to the entryway dresser by the front door. She pulls the top drawer open, grabbing a manila-yellow colored envelope. Elizabeth makes her way back to her seat handing Dean the proof. "The coroner said it was an animal attack." 

He opens it pulling out the crime scene photos. The woman looks away not wanting to see them and puts a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out.

The picture shows Noah’s full body lying on his back. His red shirt torn with a piece missing. Deep scratches lined from his chest to his belly. Pants littered with holes and dirt and no shoes with one dirty sock. He moved onto the second photo. It showed a close up of the cuts. Flesh could be seen and pieces of skin ripped in multiple places as blood oozed out. On the last photo was a trail of blood leading to the body on the abandoned house floor.

Dean looked up at the mother and felt instantly bad for her. He couldn’t imagine what it was like losing a child. “Can I borrow these?”

“Take them. My husband wanted copies but I don’t. I want to never see those again. Is that all?”

_________________________________________

DEAN X READER TAGS:

akshi8278

[cassieoh]

First & Last Lines Ask Game

Obviously I just answered this for a first lines version, but it got me thinking about first+last pairs so I wanted to look at that and thus

Rules: List the first and last line of your most recent 20 ***completed*** stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns, choose your favorite pair, and tag some of your favorite authors or friends (if you want)!

Note: there are spoilers for the fics in question here so tread carefully if you'd planned to read any of them, but I think it’s really neat to see the lines paired <3

On the Banishment of Peonies

In the early days of the village a house is built on the highest hill.

Months later they spend the longest day of the year introducing Anathema to the witch who haunts the small copse of trees behind their cottage.

Panaceae

The bark is smooth against Aziraphale’s hands in the way that only the very oldest of her kind ever manages; like silk, frozen in a breeze that long ago found itself dispersed to the four corners.

He carefully coats his hand in the remnant of one the oldest beings on the planet and presses it to his final diary entry. (my favs from this set)

Ravel

A lot has been said about what it means to Fall.

Very quietly, a little voice at the back of his mind asks, “What if She didn’t even notice you went? What if she never cared about you the way you cared about the stars? What if you really are nothing more than something meant to squirm at Her Feet?”

my wet heart catches on every thorn

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I must ask you to repeat yourself.”

He stands, offers Aziraphale his hand, and they leave the townhouse together.

The Dust In Our Tread

It’s time to wake up, dear. (technically it opens with an epigraph, from which the first line is, “Hundreds of thousands of lines of code, seventy-nine pyrotechnic devices, each have to work perfectly.”)

Finding their answers. I see what you mean, love. (again, technically this closes with an epigraph as well, “We made it this far. Now, watch us go.”)

But a Pip to Start

“Please, Nanny, won’t you?”

“Well, it started under an apple tree just like this one….”

A Moment Suspended in Sea Spray

Wind, Crawly had discovered, hurt.

Hope. (i swear to god there are sentences with actual structure in this fic good lord)

His Infinite Variety

Crowley wakes on his back, already aching.

He drifts to sleep with a smile on his face.

Headwind's All We've Got

“I can’t believe they’ve done it.” Crowley’s voice is muffled through the thick scarf around his face.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Rootbound

“Don’t you be that way. I know you don’t like new pots, but really, you started it getting all eager about growing.”

He could hear Aziraphale cursing as his daily bread-attempt went up in flames, signaling the end of Crowley’s time in the garden. “Welcome home.”

Empty Spaces

“Are you sure?” Crowley smiles because of course Aziraphale feels the need to check-in.

Aziraphale holds him close, closer, closer and, when he kisses his forehead again, the benediction fills him with light and he wonders if the emptiness was worth it if it means there’s space in him for this.

Yeast and Other Microorganisms

The bubbles rise up, in tiny pockets and lines and pools, gathering together and falling apart and Aziraphale cannot help but watch in wonder because they are so small and so powerful.

The bread from it, baked in three weeks’ time, will be the first loaf Aziraphale doesn’t burn.

On Enumeration

The first gift ever given was shelter.

The 137993165713301st was a vow, breathed to life in the space between them and a kiss given by a demon to an angel.

Lampyris Noctiluca

Are you sure this is a good idea?

I love you too. Now, let’s go welcome Warlock to Tadfield, hm?

Whereas by an Act

Crowley scowled and poked at his thigh, watching in pain-detached disinterest as blood welled up.

He knew nothing more.

Mealy-Mouthed, Dirt-Bellied

There is a moment, before Crowley opens her eyes, when the world doesn’t exist.

It really is shaping up to be a wonderful afternoon.

No Such Thing As Breakeven

When Warlock was small, he and Nanny played a game.

Warlock would make himself be heard.

Cat’s Cross

Okay, so the thing is this, Crowley isn’t what anyone in possession of their full faculties could call inexperienced.

In later years, Warlock will swear he heard Nanny Ashtoreth laugh at something Brother Frances said, but no one who knew the pair will ever believe him.

Error 404: Translation Unavailable (Doctor Who)

Language is a funny thing. A billion species, give or take a few hundred million depending on the year, roamed the cosmos speaking and signing and scenting and projecting upwards of a trillion languages.

“Quite right, too.”

A Glint of Light on Broken Glass

In the end, neither Heaven nor Hell played a part in the Ending of the World despite their best (and worst) efforts.

But, that’s tomorrow.

I feel like it’s hard to pull out a pattern here for me (though I might be too close to them/know too much of the context), but there are definitely a few places where I like the very short ending idea, kind of distilling those last thoughts I think. I also clearly like ending in the middle of a scene which I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing haha.

also if you decide to read any of these, please check the tags and ratings, some of them are rated E.

As usual, I’m not gonna tag people, but I love seeing other folks answers to this sort of thing so please do it if you’d like!

[sourcherrybomb]

SoKai Week 2020 - Day 2 - For ____ Eyes Only

Synopsis: During the time period Kairi was within Sora’s heart, she kept a handy mental diary of all the places and people she encountered. Let’s take a peek at it, shall we?

Sneak Peek: I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it’s unsurprising.

Tags: Light Romance, Adventure, Comedy, All Ages, F/M

Prompt for the Day: First Meeting / Unseen Adventures

Words: 3.5k

Fanart By: @softpinkbee​

Entry 1: Welcome to Sora’s Heart. Population: 1 (I think)

Sooo… This is a thing that’s happening. All because of a stupid, literal world ending storm.

Oh wait, aren’t I supposed to start with “Dear Diary”? Not like I’m physically writing in a journal since I don’t have a body anymore… Ugh, Sora and Riku would probably poke fun at me if they found out that I kept one. Well sorry that I like to be sentimental and have a way of remembering and planning our future adventures, lazy bums.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’ll do this once to get it over with.

Hello there (mental) diary, my name is Kairi! I’m 14 years old and I lived on the Destiny Islands before I somehow ended up in Sora’s (my BFF and lazy bum #1) heart. That little mishap took place right after I met this weird old guy in brown robes in our Secret Place. I don’t know where Riku (my other BFF and lazy bum #2) ended up, but somehow Sora got sucked into a black hole that sent him… Or is it us? To another world called Traverse Town.

I mean the boys and I always planned to travel to other worlds, just not like this. We were supposed to travel by raft, I was supposed to have a body, and it was going to be all three of us… Okay maybe I asked Sora if he wanted to go alone with me, only to end up chickening out at the last moment, but this current situation is not what I had in mind!

Apparently these monsters called the Heartless destroyed our world, sending us to Traverse Town. I feel bad. 

Sora was lost and alone. I knew because I felt it in his heart.

Luckily, Sora has met a lot of new people since arriving. There were these two girls, Aerith and Yuffie, that I would have loved to talk and meet with. Selphie definitely would have loved to meet Aerith, she was so pretty! Besides them, Sora also met this edgy guy named Leon (who kicked his butt) and a cranky old mechanic named Cid. More importantly, Sora met this talking duck and dog named Donald and Goofy. They’re pretty entertaining, so I hope they can keep Sora company since I can’t speak to him and we lost Riku.

I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it's unsurprising.

I just can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something… no, someone else in here.

Entry 2: Topsy? Turvy? Definitely Crazy.

Is it possible to have an out-of-body experience and a fever dream at the same time? Because that’s what Wonderland feels like.

Geez, where do I even start with this one? I guess with the talking rabbit entering the talking doorknob? Granted that rabbit was kind of cute, if not panicky. I could get used to that. Sora shrinking and entering a place full of playing card soldiers and a cat with a decapitated head (I think? He reattached it) are things that are going to take a bit to get used to.

Gosh, that feels like the understatement of the century.

I knew other worlds would be different than the islands. It’s just that going from a quiet city to a place where gravity is bonkers and playing cards can kill a person makes a girl really question what’s out there.

I wish I could take pictures so people would believe my words. Luckily this cricket named Jiminy has a journal where he keeps track of Sora’s journey. He stays safe inside Sora’s hood, so it’s sort of like we’re neighbors and journal buddies! I’d love to give him my point of view on things once I get my body back.

Oh one other thing before I forget, there was this one girl named Alice. I don’t know why, but she was giving off this really familiar aura. I couldn’t help but feel oddly drawn to her.

I feel like this won’t be the first time we come into contact with her.

Entry 3: Anyone else hear horns?

Like seriously, Sora and I both hear horns coming from this world, but neither of us have any idea as to where they’re coming from. This (extremely small) world is the Olympus Coliseum.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy got thrown into some challenges and ended up fighting waves of Heartless. Really makes me think about how I should have tried sword fighting with Sora and Riku. Sure, I’ve picked up some things by just watching them, but I think actually practicing with them would have helped me in the long run. I mean, I totally could have fought off that weird guy in the brown robes.

Ugh, just thinking about him gives me bad vibes. 

Going back to the challenges, Sora totally got his butt handed to him by this guy, Cloud. It was way worse than the loss Sora took against Leon, I don’t think Cloud was holding back. 

I’m thankful he didn’t finish Sora off. Partly because he’s my best friend, but also because if Sora bites the dust, then I’m also gone. It was rough seeing Sora lose again, but watching him take out a giant three-headed dog right after certainly was a sight. Although I swear I heard Hercules whisper to his little red friend, Phil, next to him that he weakened the monster. 

Maybe. But since it felt like I was fighting alongside him, I’m not ready to count Sora out just yet. He’s grown so much stronger day after day.

Entry 4: Note to Self, Never Let Sora Drive

You know, if the three of us did leave on that raft as planned, I always had a feeling that Sora might fight with Riku over where to take us. Sora’s never been one for his directional skills, that was always more Riku’s forte. Because of this, I always mentally prepared myself for the event where Sora would get us super lost.

WHAT I DIDN’T MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF WAS FOR SORA TO CAUSE A GIANT SPACESHIP TO CRASH BECAUSE HE ARGUED WITH A TALKING DUCK!!!

That’s not even where it ends! This Deep Jungle is nuts! There’s a leopard that’ll attack you like every five steps, there was a giant Heartless that turned invisible, and Sora even got a gun fired at it! Granted that last one was because of some hunter jerk with a stupid mustache, but if he’s from this world, he’s part of the problem.

The only saving grace was the fact that there are giant tree trunks that act like slides and as many vines to swing on as I wanted to. Tarzan has got to give me some tips when I have the chance to meet him, it was like he was flying through the trees! I’d honestly enjoy the chance to talk to Jane myself as well. She seems so smart and would have so much to talk about. I think she’d make pleasant conversation. That being said, when she showed Sora a picture of a castle in the slideshow, I couldn’t shake this sense of… familiarity. Like I had seen it or something like it before. But where…?

Even though this world and I got off on the wrong foot, once I get my body back, I’m definitely making Sora bring me here so I can do all that!

Although I still have no idea how that’s gonna happen.

Entry 5: I don’t know why, but this place feels oddly familiar

Today may have just been one of the best days I’ve had since I’ve been living in Hotel Sora’s Heart, over here!

For starters, dogs. Sooooo many dogs! Leon told Sora about all of these Dalmatian puppies that got scattered across the various worlds. They’ve been taking the time to rescue all 101 of them, and they’re absolutely adorable! Ahhhhhh, I can only imagine playing with everyone one of them.

Secondly, I’m finding Traverse Town a lot more comforting than I originally did. Something about the tall building walls makes me feel nostalgic. I never was from the Islands to begin with, but where I originally came from is a mystery to me. I don’t think it was Traverse Town, but maybe it was another city. I’m sure that in travelling to other worlds, I might be able to remember more!

Today I even got to talk to Sora a little bit, albeit by accident, when he and his friends wandered into this old tower. I looked around and said to myself that it reminds me of the Secret Place, all dark and surrounded by stone. I never expected Sora to hear or see me! I had so much more to say, but when this wizard guy showed up, Sora couldn’t hear me anymore.

But that’s not even the best news: Right after, Sora ended up running into Riku! He’s safe! It was brief, Riku ended up disappearing moments after, but now we know he’s out there and can protect himself. Sora was even able to protect Riku from one of the Heartless!

Never thought I’d see that day where the roles were switched. It suits Sora.

Entry 6: I hate sand.

I may find not having a body to be a major inconvenience, but for once I’m quite pleased at the fact considering Agrabah, the world Sora and his friends just left, was full of sand.

At its worst, sand was rough, coarse, and irritating. It already got into my clothes back on the Islands, but around here I’d imagine it gets everywhere.

That being said, this world has got to be one of the most adventurous we’ve been to so far! Desert temples filled with treasure, magical genies, all in a faraway kingdom? It’s like all the games Sora, Riku, and I used to play when we were younger. If only Riku joined with Sora back in Traverse Town, he would have loved this!

One odd thing though, we ran into another woman, Princess Jasmine, who gave me the same vibes as Alice! Turns out she’s more than just a regular old princess, but one with special powers. I wonder what it could all mean...

Entry 7: Did you know that the stomach would eat itself without the mucus lining its walls? 

Back on the Islands when Sora, Riku, and I made plans to leave on the raft, we always wondered what kind of animals we’d see. The one that would always pop into our minds was a whale since they might be big enough to swallow us whole.

We always laughed it off and went back to working or playing, so actually getting swallowed whole by one feels very ironic. It’s a lot grosser than I thought it would be. Smells like fish everywhere you go, so I really hope Sora, Donald, and Goofy take some showers once they leave.

This whale named Monstro even swallowed this old man and his son, Gepetto and Pinnochio. The latter is somehow a walking, talking puppet!

But what’s even crazier is that out of all the worlds, Riku shows up here, only to kidnap Pinnochio! And not just that, I think he knows where my body is. Geez, Riku was being a real jerk about it, though. Said that Sora was fooling around and not helping, when I know for a fact that he’s doing more that Riku has! I mean, I’m in the guy’s heart, that’s gotta count for something!

I wish I could tell Riku that all this time, Sora has been protecting me. I know I give him a hard time every now and then, but out of all the people in the world, I’m really glad I ended up in his heart.

Entry 8: Rival Redhead Acquired

I know that my last entries make me seem like a jealous person, but mental diary, trust me when I say that I’m not usually one to be envious of others.

Until now.

Being in Sora’s heart, I sort of get a feel for his emotions. By all means, even without being inside him, Sora is pretty much an open book to begin with. It’s just that in being directly connected to his heart, I can feel almost every emotion he has. That includes the mess of emotions he felt when he came into contact with this mermaid named Ariel.

Yup, a mermaid. Atlantica is full of them.

It’s a pretty cool world! There are sunken pirate ships, an underwater kingdom, even a giant sea witch that Sora defeated! But nope, the thing that makes Sora’s heart flutter is another red head when he already has one right here! Ughhh, I’m really glad this diary isn’t physical, I might die if Sora or Riku ever found out I think stuff like this.

Still, Ariel isn’t a bad person so it’s not that I dislike her. She also loves adventure and wants to see other worlds. Moving past my jealousy, I think I’d love to be friends with her some day. Ariel and I are similar, but I think I at least have something over her.

Sometimes when Sora talks about me, he gets this squeezing feeling in his heart. Now I’m not gonna let Sora or Riku tease me over my feelings, I’m sure gonna tease Sora about his once I get my body back.

Entry 9: A lot more tricks than treats!

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I enjoy going around to houses and getting candy, but I enjoy scaring Sora even more so. I mean, I definitely did that outside of Halloween, it’s just that the holiday made it feel special.

Needless to say, Sora finding a world exclusively dedicated to it is probably one of the best things I’ve ever found out! When Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrived, they even got special outfits to blend in! With Sora being a vampire, I could see Riku being a werewolf, but when it comes to me, I can’t choose between being a witch or a scarecrow.

There are even monsters! There was a talking skeleton who was surprisingly nice, a mad doctor, and a giant living sack of bugs! (It was super gross when he was defeated.) Sora got a bit squirmy when he died, so I really wish I was there to double down and make Sora sora yell out loud!

I definitely want to go to Halloween Town when all of this is said and done.

Entry 10: I miss candy…

So Halloween Town was fun for the thrills and chills, but felt severely lacking in candy. I may be a disembodied heart without a body, but my heart aches for something sweet! Which is why the 100 Acre Wood was torture for me.

Pooh Bear and I would get along. He loves honey, I love candy, it’s like we’re two peas in a pod. I too would probably get myself stuck inside a tree if I was desperate enough for a sweet snack. 

Pooh’s other animal friends are all so cuddly and adorable! Out of the cutest, I’d have trouble choosing between Piglet or Roo. Tigger reminds me of the stuffed animals I keep in my room. Part of me really wants to hold onto him and see if he can bounce around with me on it, like a pogo stick! When it comes to Eeyore, in all honesty I kind of just want to give him a hug...

Honestly this place is a nice change of pace. No Heartless to be found, it’s always a clear and sunny day out. When it’s night time there aren’t any clouds so you can see all the stars in the sky. I remember all the stories that Sora used to tell me about the constellations instead of learning how to find his way with them. That was more Riku’s job.

I’m glad to know that what I’m feeling when I look up at the sky, Sora is feeling the same. Take your time and relax, you’ve earned it.

Entry 11: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s Sora, Donald, and Goofy!

Forget swinging through trees, forget playing with countless puppies, and forget scaring Sora, when I get my body back, I’m making Sora take me to Neverland so I can fly up high in the skies!

Wait no Kairi, focus, there are more pressing things at matter. Mainly, Riku has become a full on jerk, has sided with the Heartless, and is dragging my lifeless body around with him! I mean, my eyes were open, but my body was basically a ragdoll without me in it. I mean on the brightside, Sora was absolutely brimming with joy when he realized my body was safe.

That may or may not have made me feel an indescribable amount of joy and embarrassment, mind you.

I mentioned having an out of body experience in Wonderland, but having a literal one felt even weirder. When Sora got close enough it was possible for me to twitch my hand a little, sort of like I was reconnecting with my body. Sucks that it ended up being dragged away, I was this close to getting it back. What sucks even more is that Riku ended up fleeing to this Hollow Bastion place with it.

Still it wasn’t all bad. Body or not, I was still able to fly around with Sora. He doubted that I’d believe him if he told me.

I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him what I’ve been up to in his heart.

Entry 12: Riku…

I’m back in my body. I wish it was as simple as Sora making contact with it, but things took a turn for the worse this time around.

I need to start from the beginning.

Right before we reached Hollow Bastion, Sora was able to connect with me. He awoke a memory of mine that I’d long forgotten since I came to the island: my favorite story that my grandmother would always tell me. Remembering it gave me this warm feeling, one that intensified when we arrived at Hollow Bastion. 

Only to have that feeling crushed when Riku took the Keyblade from Sora.

I’m glad Sora was able to get it back and knock some sense into Riku, but for a moment Sora really felt at his lowest. Sora was able to become his old self again, but deep in his heart was so much hurt at the fact that he lost Riku to the darkness. Not just any darkness, but from this man named Ansem. He was the one who revealed I was inside Sora’s  heart. Sora was able to beat the possessed Riku, but in the end he made a sacrifice I don’t think I could ever pay him back for.

Losing Sora in my arms made me feel even more useless than I did while I was inside his heart. Interestingly enough, when my heart left Sora’s body, I felt another leave as well. It wasn’t like Sora’s heart, but certainly had similar vibes to it.

Regardless, somehow I was able to bring him back from being a Heartless, but the feeling of losing him in my arms like that is something I don’t want to experience again.

We ended up leaving Hollow Bastion shortly after that. When Sora and I were alone, I was finally able to tell Sora that I was with him the entire time. I had so much I wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t enough time in the world. Not to mention all the unfinished business we had back at Hollow Bastion. I wanted to come with Sora, but he was right. It is dangerous, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t really have any ways to protect myself...

I gave Sora my lucky charm. Wherever he goes, I’ll be there with him.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Entry 13: For Our Eyes Only

Hi there diary, this might be the last time I update this formerly mental journal. 

Sora’s gone off on another adventure to save Riku. He saved all of the worlds, but wasn’t able to save his best friend. If I was in Sora’s shoes, which I might as well have been, I would have done the same thing for either of them. As for me, I’m back on the islands safe and sound. Part of me wanted to jump across the darkness and into Sora’s arms once more. But after fighting for so long to keep me safe, I think the best I can do for Sora is to let this one wish come true.

I know he’ll come back for me. After all, he still needs to give me back my lucky charm. And when he does, I’ll make sure to give him this handwritten diary to help him understand just exactly what I went through on this adventure. No…

Our adventure.

---

When I started this fic, I was honestly thinking about dropping it and starting from scratch with a new idea. Quite frankly, I’m glad I decided to keep at it. I’m pretty proud of the result and feel that I’ve made a somewhat creative little oneshot!

Once again, thank you to the Sokai: Destined Oath Discord server for introducing me to SoKai Week 2020! Special thanks to the server member Gee for acting as my Beta Reader.

Thanks for Reading!

[chelsfic]

Chapter 2 - The Sacrificial Bride - Dracula x Agatha Fanfic

Part One

A/N: The long awaited follow up to my (dare-I-say-popular?) Arranged Marriage request response featuring Drac x Agatha! I was very surprised at the initial response I got to that little drabble so I hope you guys like this follow up. I’m not intending to make this fic super long--like maybe six parts total? Just because I am also working on another multi-part fic that is meant to be really long and I can’t keep up two at once. Uh, sorry for this diary entry of an Author’s Note. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, just let me know! Thanks!!

One Month Later

“Oh, Agatha, not this again, surely?” Dracula whined as he descended the grand staircase, his brilliant black cape sweeping behind him.

Agatha was sitting in the window seat staring out at the front courtyard. Her posture curled in on itself, her face was slack and despondent. She was in one of her despairing moods. Dracula rolled his eyes as he entered the room.

He’d made this little parlor quite cheery for her, importing luxurious furs and plush cushioned furniture for her comfort. It was as if he was trying to win her over--which was utter nonsense. What was there to win? Dracula owned her as surely as he owned the furs and couches in this room. But what Agatha had discovered in a month of living with this creature is that he desired more than just her body. He wanted her soul as well.

Well, he could not have it.

When she first arrived at the castle she spent several days without sleep. The Count retired each morning and only emerged again at nightfall, but she found that she could not rest for fear that he might come upon her the moment she closed her eyes. So, she stayed up for three whole days, clutching the wooden stake she’d secreted in her skirt pocket and praying fiercely for her Lord’s protection. Her Lord did not answer. But on the third day Dracula came to her room and stood in the doorway watching her with a look of bemused pity. 

“Agatha, you’re exhausted!” he’d exclaimed. “You need to sleep. What can I do to reassure you?”

She tightened her fingers around the stake and brandished it toward him, “Nothing you say could reassure me, Count Dracula. You’re a spawn of the Devil. Lies are your native tongue.”

Dracula actually chuckled at this and raised his brows at her.

“So dramatic!” he admonished under his breath. “Alright, nothing I say will reassure you. How about something I do? Hmm? What shall I do to make you feel safe here in your new home?”

Agatha sat up straighter in her bed and raised her chin in defiance, “You can let me go at once.”

Dracula shook his head and sauntered further into the room, coming over to the side of the bed and leaning in to her space. He walked right up to the tip of the stake and pressed forward, letting it dig into his chest a bit.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, capturing her in his bottomless, black gaze. “Try it. I won’t hurt you. I want to show you something.”

Agatha’s eyes flashed with doubt. He was giving her the chance? It had to be some kind of trick. But Agatha, ever confident and brave, wouldn’t let the moment pass. She grit her teeth, tightened her grip and plunged the stake forward.

The stake met nothing but thin air. Agatha whipped her head around, frantically searching the room. Dracula leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room, his arms crossed casually over his chest and a smug grin on his lips. 

“H-how did you…?”

“Vampire, darling, remember?” he said condescendingly. “Agatha, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to show you. I can do anything I want to you and you….you can’t stop me. But I haven’t! And I won’t. I don’t want to force my advances on you. I want you to come to me...I want you to beg me. And believe me, sweet Agatha. By the end of all this you will beg me.”

Agatha narrowed her gaze at him and scoffed, “Very reassuring, Count Dracula. Thank you.”

But...in the end she had slept. She kept the stake tucked under her pillow but she was able to sleep. After all, his point made sense. He had not tried anything. Not a touch, not a kiss, nothing. If he was telling the truth, if he was truly waiting for her consent...then all she had to do was not give it.

In the beginning it had seemed like a simple battle between the two of them. But then...then the Count’s dinner guests began arriving. 

Most of the time Agatha could ignore her captor-husband’s proclivities because she did not see the evidence. Dracula left the castle to hunt in the early evening and would return back to “sup” with her before long. She never saw so much as a blood spatter on his perfectly tailored suits. But about once a week the Count’s creature, Renfield, would acquire a meal for his master to enjoy at home. And these were the true tests of Agatha’s fortitude. 

He forced her to sit and watch as he poured drinks and offered his victims seconds and thirds. She watched as they grew sleepy from wine and rich foods and the influence of her husband’s hypnotic stare, no doubt. Then, when they were silly and vulnerable, he struck. His eyes clouded red with blood lust and his fangs grew before her eyes. He always, always locked eyes with her before plunging down to savage the poor unfortunate’s neck. 

It was bloody and gruesome and appalling. Agatha watched him cradle them in his arms as he would a lover, cooing and shushing their pleas, tenderly stroking their hair. It turned her stomach and she said so...often. 

On her good days. 

On her bad days, like this one, she was almost catatonic. She missed her mama. She missed her research. She missed her God, who could not hear her in this place. On these days she simply sat and stared and time was nothing to her. Dracula preferred her feisty. 

“No, no, not this again, Agatha,” he whispered as he pressed in next to her on the window seat. “What’s the matter, my little nun?”

She curled her lip at him as she murmured, “Not a nun. Thanks to you…”

Dracula’s gaze lit up, “There she is! Now, who knows? You could be a nun yet. Oh, Agatha, just think of it. A vampire nun? Isn’t it delicious?”

She pulled away from him violently and moved to sit in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. She hadn’t met his gaze since he came down the stairs.

Dracula tilted his head and regarded her as she stared into the flames.

“No?” he asked in a mocking little voice. “Well...I’ve been thinking, Agatha. And I think it might help you to have something to look forward to on the horizon. It might help to bring you out of your sadness on days like today. A little...contest?”

Agatha didn’t bother looking up, but he could hear the hint of interest in her voice as she answered, “A contest?”

He latched onto that interest, standing up and coming forward to kneel on the hearth in front of her--a mockery of a man going down on one knee before his lover.

“Yes, a contest. And I think you’ll find the terms are very fair. Now, if after one year of… ‘marriage’...you don’t wish to stay here with me then I will release you and you may go on to your little convent. How does that sound?”

Agatha finally lifted her chin and met his eyes. He saw the flare of hope in them, quickly snuffed by suspicion. 

“What is the catch?” she asked, accusation in her tone.

“None!” Dracula put a hand to his chest as if she’d wounded him.

“Oh, spare me, Dracula! You’ve never let any of the others go. Why am I different?”

“Because, dear Agatha,” he murmured, taking her hands forcibly in his own, “I’ve learned something after all this time. It never worked with any of the other brides and I could never tell why. I chose all different types of girls, tried feeding them from my own veins first...took varying amounts of blood from them...it never worked. What I was missing was...consent. To have a true bride she must be a woman who chooses to join me in the darkness. Do you see?”

Agatha rolled her eyes at him, “You mean to tell me you’re a hundred year old vampire who is just learning that a successful marriage is based on two consenting parties and not one?”

Dracula shrugged and laughed, “I’m a slow learner.”

She sat back and looked down her nose at him, pulling her hands from his grip, “And yet here I am...against my will.”

Dracula smirked back at her, “But just for one year, darling. And...like I said...you’ll be begging me before the end.”

Tag List (Message me if you’d like to be added/removed!)

@the-life-and-times-of-a-nerd​ (you seemed to like the first part so much I decided to tag you--let me know if you’d prefer I don’t!)

@chrsitophwaltz​

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Amnesia - Hearts ~ Aug 4.

Malignant emptiness had secured reign over your heart. Slowly it spread throughout your system, beginning its quest to contaminate the liquid coursing through your veins. Not a single atom would be spared – each memory attached to your skin would be vanquished. The simplest touches to the warmth of your best friend, nothing would remain. Any efforts to combat the virus plaguing you was futile; you were no match for the craftsmanship of an ethereal being. As your final memory was seized by the excruciating cleanse, the person you once were ceased to exist. Born anew, y/n, welcome to your game.

The sound of foreign voices engaged in casual conversation had jolted awake your dormant senses. Due to your malfunctioning hippocampus, your face had naturally scrunched up as fragments of still-shots flickered inside of your head, resembling a filmstrip with numerous punctures. The only image that persisted long after the others incinerated was of a bed-headed male crouched on a staircase, with his face buried in his hands. It was the same male that regarded you with such concern the second your eyelids had fluttered open.

“She’s awake.” Within seconds, the droopy eyed stranger was at your side, his irises searched yours for any sign of injury, while yours struggled to retain any recognition. “Hey, y/n. How are you feeling?”

That was a valid question, one you were not prepared to answer, not because you did not want to. But because you did not know the answer yourself.

Groggily you pressed your hands on either side of the single mattress, as your elbows threatened to cave in, Kuroo slid an arm around you, stabilizing your movements. Behind him Makoto released a sigh, locating a hand to her forehead as she mumbled a comment about her blood-pressure.

Your heart skipped an involuntary beat the second his fingers connected with the fabric draped over your skin. The sensation, however, was prompted by fear, rather than fondness. Kuroo, who had felt your muscles tense, had removed his arm after confirming you were steady.

“Y/n, honey. Can you say something?” Makoto proceeded a cautious step closer, with a reassuring smile on her lips. “Are you in pain?”

Your y/e/c irises focused on the black-haired girl’s ensemble, searching for any indication of where you were or who you were with. A nametag had revealed her identity along with their location – Jack Rose. A small ache developed in your temples as you repeated the café’s name, striving to instigate any recollection. Using two fingers, you applied pressure to the throbbing location, with your gaze settling on your own uniform. Y/n – employee of Jack Rose was sewn into the right corner.

The reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on you. From what you could gather, something had occurred during your shift and now you were experiencing a form of amnesia. Miraculously, the realization had not thrown you into a state of distress. The memories would come back, they would have to... You just needed a trigger.

“I’m okay. Um…Where’s my phone?” The sound of your own voice had startled you – a fact that had chipped away at the little hope you were clinging to. How could you forget yourself? What had happened to you…?

If there was anything that would kick-start your mental processes, it would be past photos or videos. For now, it was vital to discover your relationship to the three people gawking at you.

“She’s asking for her phone, how typical. She’s fine.” Makoto clicked her tongue in distaste, while fetching the device from her apron pocket. “You dropped it when you fainted, silly bird.” She then lobbed the phone towards your lap.

“I don’t know…I still think we shoul’ take her to the hospital.” From the very moment he arrived, Atsumu’s attention had remained secured on you. The older male was tracking your every movement to form mental notes that he could relay if need be to a physician. “What do ya think, ‘surou?”

“If she won’t answer our questions, then we have no choice.” Kuroo’s response did not register as your attention was solely on the smart device held within your palm. The quest to discover your identity began with Twitter – your profile to be exact.

It was strange to say the least to read over your inner thoughts with no recollection. Twitter was in some forms the new generations version of a dairy. What had you meant about acting on your feelings? Feelings for what? Or feelings for who? The guessing game was brought to a pause as an incoming message demanded your attention.

It’s not safe…? The three simple words had punctured your lungs, the air within the confines of the lunchroom could no longer be accepted. Dread etched across your chest, yet the small voice in your head directed you to present yourself as collected.

“Y/n?” Suddenly the blonde male had a palm over your forehead to assess whether you had a fever. During your little exploration, Makoto had exited the room and only the two boys remained.

“I’m fine, guys. But I am a bit tired, do you think I could go home?” A weary smile was forced onto your lips to verify the truth of your words –but it failed to convince either of them.

“You already worked a shift today; I can help in the kitchen. It’s alrigh’. Take her home. But if she doesn’t feel any better, take her to the hospital.” Atsumu lifted his shoulders into a short shrug, the response was evidently directed at the black-haired male who agreed with a nod.

“Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

The journey home was laced with silence, outside of the occasional inquiries from the younger male on your health. He was insistent, you mentally noted, but also endearing. Before leaving Jack Rose, you skimmed through your contacts and following to ascertain the names of those closest to you. The one from earlier was Atsumu – the person you had tweeted about. The girl was Makoto, your co-worker and perhaps one of your best friends. The person who was currently staring at you questionably was Tetsurou. At one point a spark of longing had flashed in his irises, only increasing the guilt hovering over you for forgetting his existence.

Well, if it made him feel any better, you also forgot your own –

“Oi. Where are you going?” Kuroo’s fingers tangled with the fabric of your collar, tugging you a few steps back as you accidentally missed the entrance of your building. “Did you forget where you lived?” The latter part of the sentence was spoken through a slightly higher pitch, demonstrating his growing concern.

“Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought.” Artificial laughter bubbled in your throat, irritating your tonsils in the process.

“If something was wrong, you would tell me, right?” His hands found refuge in his jacket pockets, yet his gaze did not waver from yours. Your attempts to reassure him were once again dismissed instantly. Withholding the truth from him was beginning to become more difficult, and you were unsure whether you could – he was incredibly perceptive.

“Yes… I promise. After some sleep, I’ll be brand-new.” Or so you hoped.

“Okay. I’m going to hold you to that.” Truthfully, there was nothing you could say to ease his concerns. But a promise would suffice for now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen whole minutes until you were able to determine what apartment number was yours. The task would have been much simpler if you checked your ubereats account rather than scrolling through your messages. A small sliver of hope had ignited within your heart when you twisted the key in the lock, perhaps seeing your apartment would trigger a memory or two. Anything would be helpful at this point; you were sincerely grasping at straws.

Instantly any hope that lingered deflated, only to be replaced with frustration. Answers – you needed answers. Retrieving your phone from your bag, you tapped on messages and alerted the one person who knew about your predicament that you were home.

No, this could not be happening. An elaborate joke, maybe, but not the truth. How could you digest this information – how could anyone? A sob clogged the back of your throat as fear washed over your system. Desperate to confirm you were simply stuck in a warped nightmare, you forced yourself to search the apartment for anything that would make sense. If you had to accept this reality, how could you arm yourself without your memories? Who was friend or foe?

It was only when you crumpled onto the ground in defeat when your eyes landed on a charm glimmering under your bedframe. Attached to the dazzling piece was… a dairy. Instinctively, your fingers brushed along the cover before tugging on the string to where the latest entry was written.

                                                                                                             Aug 3rd.

One day will it be different…? Will he wake up and see me differently? Or am I destined to feel this way forever? Ah, unrequited love, the subject of many Shakespearian stories and the source of my latest dilemma. Could he come to love me? See me beyond a sister-figure? The question remains unanswered… and I doubt I shall ever know it. And so, I welcome this bittersweet misery.

Ew, this sounds like a cheesy poem, not a diary entry. I feel sorry for my future self, having to read this garbage. But my problem remains. To be or to not be? Just kidding, this isn’t Hamlet. To tell one of my childhood best friends that I love him or to not? I guess not.

 Amnesia - Hearts ~ Aug 4.

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: I really hope the formatting on this didn’t fuck up. someone pls let me know if it did. 

Tag-list: @kara-grayson04 @namyari , @cuddlesslut , @iloveanime691 @shakiraisawesome @idiot-juice-enthusiast@fangirling-25-8 @krynnza @yetchann @chxrry-wxne​ @tsukiak4ri​

[surviiived]

Guidelines

If you don’t agree to these rules and don’t want to follow me back—and if I have already followed you—please just HARD block me. It’ll help keep my dash cleaner, as well as make sure in my forgetfulness I won’t follow you again. Don’t worry, I won’t be upset lol. Thank you so much for looking at my rules!! 🖤🖤

Basic Rules:

-SEMI SELECTIVE AND MUTUALS ONLY.  This is for my own safety and feeling of security. If you want to roleplay with me, follow me. I will do the same for you if I’m willing to interact.

-OCS, AUS, AND ALL OTHER CHARACTERS WELCOME. I don’t care who your muse is. I’m all for OCs, crossovers, AUs, anything!! Just know I’m a bit more selective towards fandoms I don’t know about lol

-NO ONE-LINERS. I need some more interest in our thread from your end so I don’t lose muse as well. One-liners are fine for crack threads, but nowhere else. I’m fine with single to multiparagraph, and that’s how I will be writing.

-NO GODMODDING. I cannot express this enough. It’s my biggest pet peeve. Just don’t, or I’ll end the rp immediately.

-PLEASE USE CORRECT GRAMMAR. I’m a bit of a grammar freak, so seriously. At least try. However, If English isn’t your first language, I COMPLETELY understand.

-MULTIVERSE, MULTISHIP. Every thread is a different verse, every ship a different verse. Simple.

-DONT REBLOG THINGS FROM ME. Honestly, guys this just gets on my nerves. It’s a bit irrational...but also irritating because when I check my phone and see a notification from a mutual, I get excited because I think it’s a reply! But then I realize you just reblogged that meme/musing/whatever. Please, only reblog threads from me and everything else from the source. This includes memes, musings, pictures, and promos. Also, pls don’t reblog my PSAs, if you agree with them let me know so I can post it to my rp memes blog, which I would LOVE for you to reblog it from!!

-REBLOGGING ASKS AND TRIMMING THREADS. I’m not as strict as a lot of people over this, but some mutuals of mine are so please trim your threads when you reply to me. If you are in a situation where you can’t, that’s perfectly fine. However, thanks to this new Tumblr update I cannot trim asks because I don’t have xKit. So I ask for you to trim them for me, and if you can’t either then I’ll figure something out. Also with asks, I’m fine with you reblogging an ask to continue it. I will turn it into a separate thread for my friends’ sake.

-UNFOLLOWS. There’s a low chance I will unfollow someone, and the only reasons I can think of are spreading drama, being inactive for over a month without a hiatus, something else that annoys me, or too many OOC posts. The latter is why I am hesitant to follow back personal blogs who roleplay on said blog, but it’s not impossible. I won’t follow personal blogs from side blogs, but if you let me know you are a side blog I will gladly follow where you roleplay.

-DONT INVOLVE ME IN DRAMA. I hate drama. I’m the type of person who wants absolutely nothing to do with it. If I ask about what’s going on, then you’re welcome to tell me, but other than that, don’t talk to me about it. I won’t take sides. I won’t tell other people what’s going on. I’ll only act like nothing’s happening.

-SPOILERS. This is kinda hard with an Identity V blog... I don’t really anticipate there being any spoilers on this blog?? But if a new diary entry comes out or a deduction for a new character, sure, I’ll tag it for a couple of weeks.

-REQUESTING MUSES. If you don’t request a specific character in an ask or a starter call, I won’t write it. I just don’t have the time to go to you and ask which character you want, nor try to guess what you were thinking when you sent something in or liked a starter call. So I just won’t respond to whatever it is. This is the case when requesting one of my muses or picking one of your muses, if you’re a multi like me. Sorry..!!

Romance Rules:

-NO SMUT. I can’t stress this enough. It’s not that I’m a minor (which I’m not), it’s that it makes me uncomfortable. You will never see smut on this blog. I’m fine with heavy make out scenes, but when the clothes start to come off is where I request a fade to black.

-I LOVE TO WRITE ROMANCE THREADS. I’m a pretty big hopeless romantic, as that’s where most of my muse is generated from. I may want to add a ship to our thread at some point, but will never force it.

-REFUSALS. NO pedofilia, NO incest, NO rape, or ANYTHING nasty like that. I understand that sometimes in writing dark situations occur, as some of these things are in my muses’ backstory. So, if you write any of those things, I’m not going to block you. However, if you request to do any of that stuff with me, I’ll say no. Press the issue, I’ll hard block you. I shouldn’t have to hear you request it the first time, as it’s right here in my rules and that means you didn’t read them. But I’ll go easy until you cross a line.

-THERE MUST BE CHEMISTRY. Don’t bother trying to make a ship work that just won’t click, it’s a waste of time. But I’m more than willing to try things and see how they work..!!

-PLEASE RESPECT MY MUSES’ SEXUALITIES. You can tell a muse’s sexuality by what it says on their about. Most are bi/pan, but a few may be different.

Rules and things about me:

-I HAVE LOTS OF WRITING EXPERIENCE. I’ve been writing since I was maybe even seven years old, played games where I pretended to be a character irl since I was five, and have been actually roleplaying for approximately 7 years now. I’ve been roleplaying on Tumblr for three years. I really love writing, you know?

-WARNING, I WRITE GORE. I tend to go into detail about pain, suffering, death, and just very demented topics. That’s just a warning. If you have a problem with that, you may not want to follow me…

-TAGGING. Gore, murder, suicide, and other dark and triggering things will be tagged, but swearing will not. I swear far too much for me to remember to tag it. Also, I don’t post NSFW images or threads on this blog, so don’t worry about that, but I will tag asks and memes that can be perceived as nsfw. I tag things like this (using death as an example): “tw: death”. If you have any triggers, PLEASE let me know so I can tag them. There’s always a chance I might forget about something, and if I do please tell me. I’ll make sure not to forget a second time. Also, I ask you all tag vomit mentions, even if it’s just written, and ESPECIALLY TAG VISUALS OF THROW UP!!!! That is my ONLY trigger. Thank you.

-RESPONDING TIME. I’m a college student, high school student, and I work, so my responding time isn’t what it used to be lol. Please don’t pressure me over that..!! I also post most threads via queue unless I just need to send it out ASAP. I won’t bother you if it takes a little while to reply. We all have lives outside of Tumblr!!

-I’M NOT GOING TO SEND IN PASSWORDS. It just adds to my anxiety, and I don’t like that. That’s why I don’t ever ask someone to send a password in and just ask that they like my rules post! Just know I will always read someone’s rules before interacting.

-I’M ALWAYS HERE IF YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO. Honestly, I want to help! If something’s wrong and you want to tell me about it, I’m all ears. I hate being upset or depressed myself, so I like to try to make others feel better. It helps with my own sadness.

That’s all for right now..! Happy roleplaying~!!

like this post if you have read it and agree to it, please.

Hello! My name’s Kiki. There isn’t really much to say about me, except that I love to roleplay!! That and write, of course. And draw. And sing. So I guess I love a lot of stuff lol. Also, I am diagnosed with ADD (attention-deficit disorder), so please bear with me..!! One last thing, I’m 18 as of November 2020. 

If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m right here and always accepting PMs!!

My main account is twx-sid3d, but I’m rarely ever on there so here is the best place to contact me. I also have a multiverse oc sideblog @hxlf-bred​ that’s connected to my multi, @nycttophilic.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day~!