#to try and go to bed earlier and then by extension wake up earlier

[cetoddle-archive]

computer show me results for how to not sleep so late every day

[a-rat-who-writes]

Late Movie Night w/ Cove

Trying a different style of writing b/c fanfictions take more time and I feel like I need to give yall something because of my extensive break T_T <3 enjoy

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(This Step 3 Cove b/c he lives with his dad still btw)

⁍ Cove loves late movie nights where you two cuddle up on a couch and fall asleep in each other's arms. (It's more so because he doesn't need to ask you to stay the night, and it's an easier way for him to get comfortable sleeping next to you)

⁍ It'll be some sort of cheesy movie that you two talked about earlier or some TV show you like because he's naturally a people pleaser and enjoys seeing you happy

⁍ Even before you two dated you both had movie nights and eventually he decided to keep multiple blankets you specifically prefer and movies you like in close proximity.

⁍ Cove is definitely the type of person to mix different candies into popcorn, but if you dislike that he will always make you a separate bucket with normal popcorn. It consists of: popcorn (obvi), M&M's, different types of chocolate chips, mini Reese's cups (as long as you're not allergic to peanut butter/nuts), and mini marshmallows.

⁍ He naturally is a little bit of an overindulger yet somehow stays in perfect shape. But more on this topic, he goes to the store with you the day before or the night of, and you both raid the shelves of different aisles if there is even a slight chance you two might like something (he makes sure to grab the things you like, so when you ask if you should grab something he will say "Oh, I already grabbed it" and show you.)

⁍ While you two are watching said movie or a TV show, he completely melts in your arms when you press your fingers into his hair and lightly drag your nails against his head. He blushes and closes his eyes when you do this.

⁍ If you are lying on his chest facing towards him and you end up falling asleep, he will make sure NO ONE wakes you up. Even if his dad comes home late and he asks what's going on, Cove will immediately put a finger up to his mouth and whisper "Y/N is asleep".

⁍ He feels honored that you feel so comfortable that you're willing to fall asleep next to him and trust him enough that he will protect you. It seems like such a simple thing to any other person, but to Cove, it makes him feel appreciated.

⁍ In the morning if you're more of an early bird you make a grand breakfast for him which consists of pancakes, eggs, waffles, sausage, various berries, and other typical breakfast items. He will wake up in the middle of your cooking and is met with the strong scent of bacon and pancakes, which brings a smile to his face.

⁍ Eventually after his morning grogginess subsides, he makes his way over to the stool in front of the island and will watch you adoringly as you finish, not wanting to get in your way.

⁍ After you finish you both indulge in your very hefty breakfast and end up going back to your house w/ Mom and Ma and give them some of what you cooked because you made way too much (Not even Cove could finish it all, and that's surprising)

⁍ If you two are dating then he probably ends up going into a tiny food coma in your bed upstairs and you secretly sneak in next to him after he's asleep so you can cuddle with him.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

New Year's Traditions HC's

Technically an extension of my December Drabbles list, all characters are included except faculty (Sorry, some are angsty, it's my Specialty sdlfkjhsdlkfj) TW: Alcoholism/implied addictions in Cater's family, implied underage drinking in prior years, (Cater), unsafe home environment implied in the Trappola household, Kalim is just generally Sad --------------------------------------------------------------- Heartslaybul Riddle: New Year's eve is the night Riddle goes to bed earliest, and not as a direct order from his mother. When he was a kid, it was because he wanted to go into the new year well rested and ready to tackle the next 365 days head on. As he got older it just became habit, and it brought the next day on sooner without him having to fill it with studying. While he couldn't bring himself to "party", the extra sleep meant he wasn't studying, which felt like enough of a break to him. Now that he's in school, Trey makes sure to encourage him to join in the festivities a little bit. Trey: When Trey is at home for New Year's, he isn't in the kitchen at all. His younger sister gets to take the helm, as she loves to make cute little charcuterie boards for anyone old enough to be staying up til midnight. Only once they're all done he sits down with all of them and watches Home Alone/the equivalent with them while his parents get an early nights rest. Whoever is asleep by the end of the movie gets tucked into bed and yes- they miss one night of tooth brushing even under Trey's babysitting simply because he can't bring himself to wake them up. Anyone else who stays awake with him usually ends in a giant cuddle pile that the younger siblings come and body slam to start the new year. Cater: God Cater hates going home for any reason, but New Years isn't....as bad. As long as he can grin and bear his mothers shenanigans long enough, his eldest sister will usually sneak him and his other sister into a party somewhere where they can drink and forget about the year before, and bring the new year in feeling a little less alone or scared because they're surrounded by people. It's also the one day of the year their dad figured out he needs to stay sober so he can go pick up his kids when they inevitably call at 3 am barely coherent and asking for a ride home. Deuce: It's not that big of a celebration, but the entire day is spent cleaning the house top to bottom to make sure they go into the new year with a clean, happy home. They usually finish off the day by baking off two cupcakes they prepped earlier in the day, and spend the evening decorating one for each other. Delia often has to work new years day, so they don't stay up. After having their cupcakes, they try to watch a movie, but his mom usually falls asleep. He tucks her in on the couch and then cleans what's left of the dishes to make sure the kitchen and dining room are just as pristine as they were when they cleaned them earlier so that the new year can start the way they hoped. Ace: He and his brother celebrate it together, avoiding their dad entirely. They go out for a snack run, and when they get home they climb out Ace's window to sit on the roof and eat their snacks and talk about their hopes for the future, or things they'd like to avoid. On years where it's too cold to go out to do that, they have a little hideout in the attic with a window they like to do too, even if they have to bundle up with enough blankets to suffocate a god. Savannaclaw

Leona: He would be forced to attend certain events and niceties, but as soon as he had the chance to sneak away, even as a kid, he would look up at the fireworks and try to wish on them. He's thought of it as rather dumb now that he's older, but a part of him still holds on to the hope that one day one of his wishes, even one of his more minor ones, would come true. He knows now that it would be completely coincidental, but maybe a part of his inner child would heal just a little bit. Ruggie: Aw man, the entire week of Christmas to the second of January is filled with music, partying and food. It's one of Ruggie's favourite times of year as the entire community gets together to make sure they start the new year off with a bang! Clean up isn't all that bad after either - those who can use magic have been taught to use it for very practical reasons from a young age, and the little ones know that if they want to be a part of the next activity or snag a few more treats know they have to help with tidying. It's also his favourite time of year because his grandma will pass down another one of her recipes to him, and he treasures that time with her more than anything. Jack: New Year's isn't a big deal for his family honestly, it's just another day. They do make new years resolutions together and help each other set realistic goals so they can achieve them. After that's done, everyone kinda just goes about their day and does whatever they want, but usually in each others company still. Octavinelle Azul: New year's eve means his mom and grandma's restaurant is open until six in the morning of the new year- it's a lot of work, but it's always worth it in the end. Azul gets the spotlight around 11 to play the piano for the customers, and then open mic night and drinks are served. Usually he would get sent to bed with a plate of his favourite foods, but as he got old enough to help more, he did. Though his nonna still, always, saves him a heaping plate of his favourite foods for the end of the night. Jade/Floyd: New Year's also isn't a big deal for them or their family, so they just kind of treat it as a lazy day. Sometimes together, sometimes in their own space. Floyd doesn't particularly like the end of the year, but once he got to land he loved crashing parties. Jade only goes to pick him up when he's armed with noise cancelling headphones and a mask. Floyd hasn't been allowed to do it again and has no wish to after seeing the look in Jade's eyes at the suggestion that he might. Scarabia Kalim: New year's eve is his least favourite night of the year. Every year, his dad, his mom, his dozens of aunties and cousins get to celebrate in the courtyard with drinks and foods of all kinds. Everyone sounds happy, but after the first few close calls, Kalim simply wasn't allowed to be out there. They tried, one year, letting him have Jamil with him, but the food brought up was what sent Jamil to the hospital. So now it's the one night that Kalim fasts, he's separated from everyone and can just hear them celebrate outside. After the incident with Jamil, he didn't want him to be stuck with him when he could get the chance to spend the time with his family. Jamil/Najma: As kind as Kalim intended to be, releasing Jamil back into the sea of servants only meant that New Years eve was also one of Jamil's least favourite days, however it bears some of him and Najma's favourite memories. The two of them would find little ways to mess around and stay out of the way to celebrate in their own ways throughout the day so the prep for the royals didn't feel as boring or taxing. Now that they're both old enough to help in the kitchen, they rarely leave the kitchen on New Year's eve without having thrown something at each other in a lighthearted way.

Pomefiore Vil: All his photoshoots for the season, all his magicam reels, he makes them well in advance for Christmas so he can focus on just spending time with his dad. While they aren't particularly close, it's the one time of the year his dad feels like less of his sponsor and more like his dad. New years day is Vil's most relaxed day of the year, when he just gets to stay in lounge wear all day and talk to his dad about things not related to work or school. It's always a little awkward, but it's ok. His favourite is having brunch and tea with his dad, just sitting in each others company. The silence is rather welcoming in his otherwise very hustle and bustle life. Rook: New year's day, his whole family goes out to an island they've never been to before and gets given different maps to their starting spots. Once they get to their starting spots, the games begin. The winner of the year prior (being the person who hunted the most game before the end of the day and brought it back to the plane), has a medal they have to wear in a visible and accessible place. In order to win, you have to snatch the medal and hunt more animals down, while also making it back to the plane before midnight. Everyone stays up to prepare/preserve their meat, they camp for the remainder of the night and then head home. Family bonding time! Epel: Harveston is mostly older folks, and because the holiday season is so busy for them with tourists coming from all over for their stocks and wares, new years day is generally very quiet. Epel doesn't mind it now, but as a kid it drove him crazy. "It's the earth's birthday so we gotta celebrate." Now, he mostly just sits and sketches future blastcycle paintjobs as he listens to his meemaw tell him stories he's heard a thousand times before, but would listen to a thousand times again. Ignihyde Idia/Ortho: Research and innovation can't stop for no reason, and a new year is hardly a reason for the Shroud parents to stop their work. However, as soon as Idia was able to solder, new years day became the day that the Shroud parents would teach their kids a new skill, so that the entirety of the next year could be spent developing that skill. The kids would also draft "blueprints" (drawings, depending on how old they were) of something they challenged their parents to build by the end of the next year. On new years day they trade their "projects" and critique and improve them together. Diasomnia Malleus: To him, new year's day is just like any other day. For the fae, years pass by like seconds. But watching the people around him celebrate reminds him that there is worth in every moment, so he tries to set a new goal like the humans tend to try and do every year as well. Like most humans though, it's rarely engaging enough that he follows through with it. Lilia: He knows his days are numbered, so celebrating another year feels like great fun! He tends to go all out, and often drags Malleus, Silver and Sebek into his shenanigans even if they're all a little confused. The confusion often turns to horror as every year he decides to take on a challenging recipe in the kitchen, often in the largest yield he can make it happen. Cakes are a favourite of his, but nobody else's. Silver/Sebek: He and Sebek have been close for a while. They don't see the appeal of parties to the same extent as Lilia, but certainly value the passage of time to a different extent than Malleus. Being some of the folks with human DNA in Briar Valley, they often spend it together. Silver naps all day, so that Sebek can wake him up at 11:58pm so they can make their wishes by 12am in the New year. Usually they both contribute their wish to Silver, on healing him, but Sebek would never admit that.

Others Che'nya: This little shit has been doing this since he was tiny, but he eavesdrops on people's conversations about their plans or their resolutions and then goes invisible and encourages them as a disembodied voice. People can never decide whether it's a good sign to act on what they were planning on doing or if they should freak the fuck out because holy shit a disembodied voice just told them they should follow through with their plans how would that be anything but bad? Neige/Dwarves: Neige typically celebrates whenever he can, and the dwarves he's friends with make it an exciting and bright time. It's usually just them, and they enjoy it that way. A small party celebrating a new year, and another year to being friends and making many memories. Cheka/Falena: They try to call Leona to at least video watch the fireworks together, but Leona never picks up. The fireworks go off at around 8:30pm, but Falena sets all the clocks to 12 so Cheka thinks he stayed up until the new year.

[resignedbiology]

Cake for An Angel

🎂 aka the most almost belated Happy Birthday to Hiori 🎂, featuring the fluffiest Hiorin, as well as Karasu and Shidou making Rin's life a living nightmare in the best way possible, as always.

“I swear to god, working with you is like talking to a fucking calculator —“

“ — and I wouldn’t be so pissed off if you just followed the instructions —“

“Ok I’m colouring the frosting pink since neither of you answered when I asked.”

“Shidou, if you say ONE more word —”

Rin knew he shouldn’t have asked Karasu for help, and if he was completely honest, he couldn’t even remember how Shidou had gotten involved in the first place — oh, right. He’d stumbled into the France Stratum’s kitchen for exactly three reasons. First, it was Hiori’s birthday in approximately an hour and twelve minutes. Second, Rin had completely forgotten said birthday. Third, Karasu had mentioned at some point that he had some baking experience. At this point, being stuck in a kitchen with two other sleep deprived boys who were all trying to make a cake near midnight — he was considering cutting his losses and just being honest to Hiori about his bad memory for birthdays.

Said blue haired birthday boy was sleeping soundly in Rin’s bed (something they both hoped was allowed, despite the fact that they’d never asked). Trying to keep this particular group of footballers quiet was a mission god would give up on. Karasu was the best person to try, but when he inevitably failed, he started to raise his voice anyway. Rin had finally focused himself on a task, at least; cutting slices of fruit into geometric shapes was keeping him quiet enough. Shidou was the least likely candidate, and yet —

“Shh, crow for brains, yer gonna wake the blueberry up,” Shidou chuckled, taking the electric mixers out of Karasu’s hand, handing him a spatula. “You’ve gotta fold angel cake batter anyway, I finished the egg whites so you don’t have to make your wimpy arms tired! Stiff peaks and all, just like —“

“Yeah, yeah, yup, I got it,” Karasu mumbled, taking the spatula and bowl of cloud like foam. Something about the antennae haired menace’s tone when he said stiff peaks was suspicious — it sounded like it was going to be followed by something horrendously lewd about a certain red headed Itoshi brother. Karasu had no intention of dealing with another one of Rin’s rage fits hearing Shidou talk about what he and Sae did after the U20 match. Admittedly… he couldn’t really find it in him to blame Rin much for his reaction. After mixing, he put the cake in the oven, using the greased pan he’d prepared earlier.

“Wait, are we making buttercream or whipped cream —“ Rin interrupted in a mildly hurried tone, flicking his gaze back at the other PxG players.

“Whipped cream, buttercream’s a pain, even if it’s tasty,” Shidou answered without any raunchy tilt to the words whipped or cream, thankfully.

“Okay. I’ll make that. Shidou, can you finish cutting these shapes?”

“Boss-y, just like your bro —“

“Nope!” Karasu exclaimed in a hush, grabbing Rin’s pyjama collar in one fist and Shidou’s in the other. “No. We are here to bake a cake.”

“Because a certain someone forgot.“ Shidou teased, sticking his tongue out at Rin with a grin.

“… you’re lucky I care about Hiori more than I care about hating you.”

“The Itoshi brothers, such hopeless romantics.” The blond trilled.

It was a miracle Rin hadn’t ground his teeth down to dust just from having to share a team with Shidou, but after some extensive conversations from Hiori about not spending so much energy on someone who was purposefully trying to rile him up, it was a little bit easier to ignore Shidou — a little bit. By the end of it, just three minutes before midnight, the three boys were left flour and sugar dusted, scented like vanilla and cream. A light and airy cake sat on the counter, frosted with a little bit of lemon whipped cream and topped with pieces of fruits cut up into Tetris pieces. There was a few extra intricate shapes of garnishes, lemon peel twists and decorations made from strawberry leaves. 

“Didn’t know you had that kind of knife skill, Shidou.” Karasu muttered with earnest surprise. 

“Got bored one weekend in Middle School and snuck into a cake decorating class. Got kicked out when the teacher realised I’d eaten a bunch of the cakes. Still made off with three of ‘em though.”

“That… makes sense for you.” Rin huffed out a breath, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, they’re awful pretty — did Tabito tell ya I liked tetris, Rin? Guess I did love it a whole lot back then.” A voice giggled out from behind the trio.

“Holy shit —“ Rin spun on his heel, almost needing to cling to Karasu’s shoulder to prevent him from wheeling face first into the floor. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his tired brain pushed past the shock, lungs puffing out a soft exhale before he took a few steps forward, looping his arms around Hiori’s waist and sinking to rest his cheek onto his boyfriend’s bedhead. “I mean — happy birthday. It was supposed to be a surprise —“

“Can it, Rin,” Hiori was still chuckling through his words, the warmth of his voice betraying his own sleepiness. “It was still a surprise — sorta. Y’all are real loud, y’know? All three of ya!”

“But ya like the decorations, so I’ve done my part. Goodnight, lovebirds, my job is done here!” Shidou cackled, heading off to his dorm.

“Happy birthday, Yō. Yer lucky — he’s not a bad kid, I guess.” Karasu patted the couple on their shoulders, shaking his head with a tired smile before leaving the quiet hum of the kitchen’s cool toned lighting.

“Now that yer sous chefs are gone… really, this is amazing, Rin, I didn’t expect ya to do any thin’ for me,” Hiori muttered, smiling at the little moment of quiet the two of them could finally share. “… now, Rin — I love ya and all… but yer still covered in flour, and it’s gettin’ all over me.”

“We can take a shower together later.” Rin deadpan teased back, digging a fork into the cake so he could offer Hiori a bite, finally cracking a smile when the shorter boy got the whole bite in one go. Reaching a hand up to brush a little spot of frosting off of his lover’s lip, he changed course and kissed it away, earning a soft, surprised squeal out of Hiori.

“Rin, yer a menace, just eat the cake!” he laughed, grabbing another fork from the drawer and leaning his elbows on the counter to take another bite.

“Had to let the birthday boy get the first bite.” Rin quipped past a mouthful of fruit and frosting.

[writingsofwesteros]

hi darling ❤

I hope you are well, I saw that your applications were open and I was wondering if you could write for yandere/obsessive Otto x innocent reader (viserys's daughter)(reader is a year younger than rhanyra) who has been married to him for a year and is pregnant (7 months) and she begins to suspect Otto and his possessive attitude towards her so she decides to talk to Alicent (Alicent already gave birth to Aegon) she comforts reader but then informs her father 😉 (reader is Alicent's friend and although she was upset because she married her father (Viserys) I support her despite everything and continued to be her friend so she has a yandere/platonic obsession with reader and supports her being with her father) thanks and sorry for the text so extensive 😩 take care of yourself ❤❤

AN:Hi, loved your idea and hopefully I was able to write what you wanted x

The soft sun shining through the beautiful balcony and its sheer curtains had your eyes scrunching up for a moment. A soft moan of discomfort escaping you as you slowly move to wake up. Your hand almost instantly moves over your stomach as you moved to rest on your back.

You softly smiled at yourself as you remembered how quickly your life had changed. You were lucky to have such a loving father and equally loving husband. It had been a shock to you at how sweet Otto was. You reached for the bedside table as you slowly moved to stand. Your white underclothes flowing as you moved.

Thankfully, the stress of the earlier months seemed to have fallen away. You weren’t sure how much more you could have handled. You weren’t sure you could have gotten through it without Alicent and your husband. The relationship between you and Rhaenyra was in near ruins. It had you wondering if such a bond could have been so strong to begin with.

Those were thoughts for another day. A soft yawn escaped you as you looked back towards the bed. Otto’s side was empty like it usually was at this time of the day. A sweet smile came over you as you thought of your husband. It wasn’t long before you wondered where your maids were.

You were about to place a robe around yourself in search of some water when the door opened. Your main two maids wandered in and you softly smiled. “I was wondering where you both were.” You whispered sweetly as another soft yawn escaped you. “Thank you.” You hummed and took the water from them.

“Oh, we have to greet…” You looked over your shoulder in confusion as the maid stopped talking. “Here you go.” The older one gently placed the tea that helped with difficult pregnancies. It was enough to distract you for a moment and you missed the scolding look one of them sent to the other.

“Thank you.” You whispered and struggled to take it. “Can they never make it tasty?” You asked and their giggles were your only answer. “Can you help me dress?” You gently asked. Usually you could do it yourself and preferred it but the pregnancy had you needing more help than you liked to admit.

“Of course, Princess.” You ducked your head as the smallclothes were changed. Your sensitive breasts pebbling in the cold air as you move your locks from your shoulder. The maids placed a pretty, forest green gown with red decoration on you. The silk flows nicely instead of clinging to your body.

“I’ll do the rest.” You gently spoke and looked at them through the mirror as they bowed their heads. You softly hummed a song to yourself as you moved around your vanity and tried to find the gifts Otto had given you. “Of course.” You rolled your eyes and moved to kneel; they had to be at the bottom.

“Love, what are you doing?” Otto’s deep voice came from behind you as the door fell shut. “Trying to open this.” You sighed and looked up at him with a soft smile as he practically melted for you. He reached and gently moved you to your feet. “You should be resting.” He hummed. His hand moving to your stomach before easily opening the draws.

“Hm, not fair.” You whispered and gently placed the golden bracelets on before turning around to the mirror. “Did you rest well?” Otto followed you and wrapped his arms around your middle from behind. “I did, thankfully.” You hummed and rested your head back after placing the earrings in.

He gently placed a soft kiss to your neck that had you near shivering as you hummed. “Where have you been?” You softly asked and fought against the softness coming over you as he traced his fingers through your locks. A soft gasp escaped you when his hands traced up the sides of your breasts that were far too sensitive to be touched.

You didn’t even realise as his lips found yours that he hadn’t answered your question.

~

It was only when you realised Daemon had returned and left in one day that news was being kept from you. By Otto. You knew it wasn’t the first time either as memories of his possessiveness came through your mind now. How had you been so blind? You had to speak to Alicent.

She would understand, you were sure of it. “Oh, I didn’t realise you were with company.” You softly babbled as your eyes caught sight of Larys who bowed. “Princess..I was just leaving.” He locked eyes with the Queen as you moved towards Aegon to keep yourself distracted. His soft cries stopped as he saw you.

“Is something wrong?” Alicent gently asked. Her eyes softened as she watched you giggle to her son. It was the most attention he’d had off anyone but herself and her father. “He’s a beauty.” You whispered and hoped she wouldn’t notice you hadn’t answered her but the Queen was more like her father than you’d ever know.

“Y/N…” Alicent gently moved closer and took your hand. “You can tell me anything.” The Queen whispered as her fingers moved through your locks. “I promise.” She hummed and you could only duck your head. “I fear for your father’s obsessive tendencies.” The words fell without warning.

Alicent had wondered when this conversation would arise and it had shocked her it had taken you so long. “What do you mean?” The Queen asked in false ignorance. “He doesn’t tell me anything. I can hardly go on my dragon…maybe I should go to oldtown.” You began to babble now.

“Shhh, Y/N.” Alicent gently moved you to her bed. “This is all for your protection. He fears for the child you carry and your own health.” She began to whisper the half truths. Alicent was glad the pregnancy cover could last and knowing her father; it wouldn’t be long before you were with another child.

“I understand that..I just, it’s so intense.” You whispered out, ducking your head once more before placing your head on Alicent’s lap. Her fingers moved through your locks as she comforted you. “I know, my sweet. He means well. Truly he does.” Alicent continued to whisper in your ear.

~

“Has Daemon gone now?” Alicent whispered to her father who sat in front of the fireplace of her room. His eyes are always on you as you sleep soundly in the Queen’s bed. The soft snores of Aegon echoing around the room. “Yes. He won’t be returning for a while now.” Otto hummed; his smirk widening.

“Good. We don’t need his presence.” She whispered out as her father only hummed his agreement. “You need to be more gentle with her.” Alicent looked over her shoulder. “Was this the first time she has come to you about such matters?” Otto asked as he finally stood from the chair.

“Yes, of course.” Alicent whispered and watched her father move to your side. His hand gently moved to rest on your stomach as you softly hummed. Your head falling to the side as Otto leaned in and gently captured your soft lips. “I’ll make sure I’m more subtle.” He whispered to the dark room.

“Good.” The Queen muttered to herself. She couldn’t have you leaving her too; not like everyone else. “You should go before she wakes…we can’t have her knowing you were here.” Alicent hummed and moved to stand too. The two Hightowers watched as the sleeping Princess rested; completely unaware of the dangers surrounding her.

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 4

I wake up even more on edge than I was yesterday. 

Last night was…bad. A quiet weapons run turned into utter chaos.

My eyes ache from exhaustion and the sunlight blaring through my window is enough to turn my stomach.

I slide my hands down my face in an effort to ease the subtle pounding in my head that started sometime on the flight back to the citadel.

Last night.

Two minutes. I’ll lay here for two minutes and then I’ll start this Gods forsaken day. 

My skin feels tight, like all the anxiety from yesterday is trying to punch its way out of my body. Seeing Violet yesterday, putting my arms around Liam, the panic from last night. All of it is taking its toll. 

My two minutes are up, and I exhale the breath I’ve been holding before I heave myself out of bed and pad over to the shower.

I turn the water to scalding, tilting my face up, letting the steady stream soothe the ache that has now wormed its way into my temples.

“You’re going to be late.” Sgaeyl gruffs in my mind.

I sigh inwardly, “Hear me out, what if we just went out flying today?”

“I am not the one in need of convincing. My studious rider is the one who will need the convincing

I give her a short, tired laugh.

Stepping out of the shower is a feat of pure willpower, but I manage to leave the comfort of the warm water. I quickly towel off and tug my uniform on. I’ve taken more time than I have this morning. 

Standing in the mirror, I smooth my hair back and check each detail of my appearance. Another weapon in my Arsenal. Another lesson from my father. I examine my flight leathers. My jacket is mostly bare, just the two pins denoting my rank and wing. Anything else feels unnecessary. Strategy comes most often from secrecy. From keeping things close to the chest. 

I give myself one last look over. I feel a hell of a lot more like myself than I did last night.

I pull open the door and walk down the hallway towards the staircase that leads to the Rotunda.

Garrick and Imogen are standing at the bottom of the steps talking. Imogen stops mid sentence and tilts her head up towards me with a mischievous grin and says, “Hey Riorson, running a little behind this morning.” Another smirk, “Anyone, I mean, anything bothering you this morning?

Have I been that obvious?

Yea. Yea I have.

“Hey Imogen, running your mouth a bit extra this morning?” I bite back, but my mouth quirks to the side as she lets out a laugh. The disaster of last night tucked away.

We fall in line together, and Garrick and Imogen carry on their earlier discussion about…I listen for about five seconds and roll my eyes

Dagger pommels. 

“The pommel itself is more important than the blade, every hand, every arm is different so the pommel has to be the foundation for that extension you know?” Imogen says animatedly, her hands moving wildly as she talks.

Who in Malek’s name talks about dagger pommels at seven in the morning?

I throw an assessing look their way and I wonder, as I always do when they’re together, why Garrick won’t let her in. 

But I know why he doesn’t. You can’t let yourself fall in love like that. 

Lust? Sure. 

Sex is easy, it’s quick. It satiates something akin to companionship.

But love requires time, and the always looming threat of death makes it hard to make time for anything else. 

Certainly not the potential grief that comes with love. Grief is dangerous.

We meet Quinn and Arvel in the gathering hall. We fill the seats next to them, and everyone begins their usual early morning chatter.

If any of my friends notice the distracted silence I’ve fallen into, they don’t say anything.

I sit in that silence, mind elsewhere, until Garrick bumps my shoulder and says, “We gotta get to Carr’s class early, I don’t feel like dealing with his glares all morning.”

“You wouldn’t get glared at if you got there on time” I mutter under my breath.

Garrick scoffs and looks pointedly at Imogen, “He really is in a foul mood today.

Imogen smiles and gives us a lazy wave, but her eyes linger a little too long on Garrick’s face. 

The headache I woke up with has returned and each step I take is accompanied by a spark of pain behind my eyes. 

Garrick takes a look around as we walk down the pillared hall, “This is a ruthless batch of first years.” All of the first years are typically blood-thirsty, and desperate to prove themselves, but Garrick’s right, this year there is something far more electric in the air.

Bodhi is leaning against the wall, the picture of boredom when we exit the gathering hall.

“Good morning, brothers.” He says cheerfully, clapping Garrick and I both on the back.

Garrick and Bodhi immediately start chatting behind me.

Garrick’s right, I am in a foul mood. Their chipper attitudes normally wouldn’t bother me, but right now I need a breather.

I turn away from both of them and my eyes dip below to the swarm of cadets making their way to morning classes. 

I let my shadows wander, snaking their way around the large building. 

I’m trying to tell myself it’s just to blow off some steam, let my power run free for a minute, but somewhere in the back of my mind, those same shadows whisper her name. Seconds later I feel them twist up my neck and around my ears, and my eyes snap to a corner of the rotunda.

Where Violet is edging her way around one of the large pillars. I watch as she walks toward the center of the room.

The skin behind my neck prickles and I have to repress the shudder that courses its way through me as Violet looks up and meets my eyes. I can’t look away. 

I can’t help myself. I need to know her, to understand her. 

It’s too strong for me to even try to hide it anymore. The only thing I can do now is hope that she misinterprets my curiosity for cruelty. 

An almost imperceivable movement behind Violet catches my attention and I see Dain emerge from behind the same pillar she just appeared from. 

At least I’m not the only person who’s having trouble being subtle.

My eyes find Violet’s again and I can't help the way my brow raises. 

Or the irritation that turns my throat dry. 

Or…jealousy?

Aetos? Really? 

She turns to face him and the look that flits across her face is unmistakable.

Shit. That’s definitely jealousy making my stomach burn.

I call out to both of them, my voice projecting across the rotunda, “I already knew your parents are tight, but do you two have to be so fucking obvious?” I don’t even try to hide the smile on my face as I look between Violet’s wide eyes, and Dain’s flushed cheeks. Got him.

“Let me guess, childhood friends?” I’ve turned my irritation into arrogance, and that arrogance into a weapon, aimed at both of them “First loves, even?”

Violet turns her head back to Dain and begins whispering. 

The shadows at their feet feed me every whispered word, “He can’t hurt you without cause, right?”

Gods, I’m not about to throw down in the middle of the courtyard. 

The image that flashes across my mind of Dain, shadows curled around his neck, is only slightly appealing. 

More whispering from Violet, “Without cause and calling a quorum of wingleaders because you’re a squad leader. Article Four, Section Three.” 

Dain at least knows better than to whisper, “Correct.” He says it as a warning, “But you’re not.”

My annoyance sparks again at the implication in his voice, “I expected you to do a better job of hiding where your affections lie, Aetos.” 

I start down the steps toward the two of them. Aetos is going to cause problems if he can’t distance himself from Violet. She’s already a target.

Favoritism between lower years always creates an invitation for violence.

Dain’s command is crystal clear “Run, Violet,” The last word comes out sharp and definitive, “Now”

Aetos is a prick, and if he honestly thinks Violet’s best bet is to run in the face of conflict, he’ll get her killed before the end of the week.

I walk down and stand at the base of the steps, waiting for Dain to make his way through the crowd.

He stops in front of me, his back ramrod straight and jaw locked.

His self control is solid, I’ll give him that.

Because that is pure fury behind those eyes.

I raise both brows at him, a small smile playing on my lips, “Really Aetos?” I ask, noncommittally waving a hand in the direction that Violet ran.

“Don’t act like it was unwarranted to assume you might hurt her.” His voice is calm but I can see the way he grits his teeth when he’s done speaking.

“And you think making her run is going to stop me?”

[sickly-kari]

Novemetober 2023 - Day 11: Totally drained/exhausted

@monthofsick, Prompt-List

Summary: Experiencing chills in first person

INCLUDES: extensive chills, inability to move, mild vomiting and fainting towards end,

         I sneezed and only moved my head slowly, when I searched for the chair, which I had left my clothes on since yesterday. It was close to my desk, but I did not quite feel like standing up yet. I sat on the side of my bed for a while longer, gathering myself and leisurely letting my eyes glide over my bedroom. The morning sun painted the outline of the window against the wall opposite to me. It stood a little different from usual, I had woken up earlier.

         The room felt colder than usual. I frowned and pulled my arms around myself, beginning to shiver. My body felt colder than usual too, from my arms to my chest, a shiver ran over my shoulders. My skin felt thin, my head weirdly hollow. I tried not to make any sudden movements while reaching for the blanket and pulling it towards myself. It was kind of heavy, and it ended up being easier to pick my legs up from the floor and roll back onto the mattress.

         My breath quivered, shaking with each little shudder of my chest. I turned on my side, pulled my knees towards me, and tried to slide a little deeper underneath the blanket, until it was up to my nose. It worked, slowly I felt a little warmer.

         I laid like that for a while, occasionally opening my eyes and wondering if anything had changed. I tucked the blanket more tightly around myself, ensuring not even my toes would be caught by a stray wind. I hoped I could go back to sleep and let my body handle itself, so I could wake up all better. But I did not feel tired at all. Just weak.

         Slowly breathing in and out, even sitting up again seemed like too much of a hurdle. I was thirsty, I realized and remembered that I would likely get worse if I did not drink anything. The thought passed, there was nothing I could do about it. I licked my lips and tried to listen for steps, but it did not seem like anybody was getting close to my room.

         As soon as I lifted myself up from the mattress again, cold air immediately washed over that side of my body. I only sat for a few seconds until my entire body was shivering, hands shaking in place, muscles in my legs contracting and relaxing, shallow breaths over quivering lips. I raised my head, trying to calm my chest, and then tried to shout. My voice felt brittle, like twenty individual fragments rather than one proper word. I called for [redacted], who should be around, then simply for help, even though that was not something I wanted to do lightly. Afterwards, I practically let myself fall back into the warm spot where I had been resting.

         A while later, I realized that no one had heard me. Neither my shouting nor the sneezing that kept shaking my entire body. I was sure it was loud enough, even if it sounded hoarse. But without a response I was left shuddering under the blanket and dug my head back into the pillow wiping away some snot from my nose with it.

         I must have managed to simply wait for an hour or more, not asleep but not thinking of much either, until the need to visit the bathroom became noticeable. I tried to ignore the subtle tug and hoped I would get better shortly; then I could go. I almost felt warm again, so maybe I would try to get up again in a while.

         The shape of sunlight on the wall had travelled far. Every warm breath that I sent under the side of the blanket felt comfortable. Wiggling around slightly, I could move my feet, legs, and arms all fine. I went over the trip to the bathroom in my mind, memorized which doors I had to open. I could also get something to drink, while I was there. I waited for a while longer, somehow hoping that I would simply get better or that someone would notice. Then I sat up.

         Exhaustion or something of the kind swept over me, sending alarming stings all over me. I took long deep breaths, my lungs filled themselves slowly but reliably with the frigid air before exhaling it again. I was able to keep myself steady, felt each cell on my arms and legs prickle as they withstood the change in temperature. I was doing well, my palms on my knees felt warm even. I would only briefly close my eyes to rest.

         The unsteady pull of gravity circled around me like a pendulum, I could not figure it out, until I blinked and remembered what I was doing. After a couple confused turns of my head to look at the room, I found the door. I let some drool that had gathered in my mouth drip onto the blanket. It would be too heavy, so I left it behind, pressed one hand to my chest to control my breathing, then pushed myself up with the other.

         I must have stumbled forward in a daze, until I grabbed onto the door handle. My eyes fluttered open, as I pulled on it with stiff fingers. Something brushed against my right shoulder, the doorframe bent, I tried to hold onto it, but my trembling hand missed it. The corridor in front of me was twisting itself around a corner, the floor was moving and suddenly coming upwards towards. Then, my head and shoulder suddenly hurt. I felt the rough surface of the carpet grate against my skin.

         The cold was piercing into me, deep enough to make my toes curl. My shoulders and torso were shaking like I was riding an old train. I wanted to raise one hand to cover my eyes from the light, but it felt so heavy that I barely managed to lift it from the floor. My breath got stuck, I sneezed hard and was left with even less strength, gasping for air on the floor.

         My nose itched, a tense pressure had filled my head, I sneezed again and could not breathe afterwards. Weirdly enough it felt hot in my throat, I had not thought it possible that there was a warm spot on my body left. My eyes were barely open anymore. Alarm bells were ringing in my mind, but the cold had made them sound dull and far away.

         I bent myself, another sneeze robbed me of any energy that I had left. My head spun; I could remotely feel a weird taste on my tongue. Several jerks went through my body, my chest felt sore and pulsated hot and cold interchangeably. Breathing quickly, I let my mouth hang open, my lips felt wet despite how chapped they were. The last thing I felt before passing out was a moist warmth creeping over my chin and cheek. It was comforting, up until the chill made my mind go blank.

[hebuiltfive]

::makes you a cuppa::

manner minded: [character] remembers their good manners while sick. Parker

It may have taken me a couple of months to get back to answering these prompts, but as promised, I did not forget! Hope you enjoy this one, @janetm74, and, once again, thank you for the asks! These are really fun to write up!

Manner Minded (feat. Parker)

Penelope always had a cup of Fortnum and Mason’s Green Earl Grey tea when she woke, and Parker was always the one who made and served it. Seven thirty sharp (unless a prior arrangement for an earlier wake-up time had been made) in the breakfast room of the Creighton-Ward Manor. In all his years as Penelope’s faithful shadow, combining the roles of chauffeur and bodyguard with those more traditionally domestic titles such as butler and housekeeper, Parker had never once missed a morning tea round.

So, he certainly wasn’t going to allow this stinking cold to get in the way today.

The wake-up had been brutal. His nose was stuffy and his head… ‘Cor blimey, his head felt like multiple high-speed trains were constantly running through it. When he stretched, bones cracked in unusual places and muscles screamed at him to just stay still and don’t move. He knew he was getting old, but did his body really have to make such a big deal over it all?

Parker ignored the wave of dizziness as he finally rolled out of his bed. He knew Her Ladyship wouldn’t mind him taking the morning off but his strong sense of duty had him pressing on. There were things on the agenda that he really should see to. His body, and by extension this cold, would just have to shut up and put up.

Getting dressed proved a marathon. It took him twice as long to get changed out of his pyjamas and into his usual go-to uniform of comfortable black casual wear. His feet were caught up in the legs of his trousers and, despite checking thoroughly after the third attempt, he had managed to put his shirt on the wrong way a total of five times.

By the time he was fit enough to leave his room (though the true meaning of that word ‘fit’ varied heavily today, it seemed), Parker was already exhausted. He cast a glance at his bed, all readily made up and tidied just as he prepared it every morning. Later, he promised himself.

————————————————————————

The breakfast room’s doorframe collided with his shoulder, causing a shooting pain to go straight down his arm. The tray, upon which the tea he had so lovingly crafted not ten minutes earlier, fell to the floor in an almighty crash that had Penelope running out into the hallway.

“Parker? What’s going on?” She asked as she opened the door to the carnage. Her eyes were filled with concern, glancing from her ever-faithful companion to the mess on the floor, and then back again.

“H’it’s fine, m’lady.”

Penelope was at his side in an instant, taking his elbow to guide him into the room. Cautiously, she deposited him on one of the chairs at the table. Sherbet yapped at his feet. Parker tried to tune out the noise.

“Are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to be forced to guess?”

The support the chair offered was a great comfort to Parker, who was currently trying to battle nausea. He felt sweat drip from his brow and catch on his eyelash. With a simple, shaky swipe, he wiped it away. “Just a cold, m’lady.”

“This doesn’t seem like just a cold to me, Parker.”

His blocked nose seemed to tickle and Parker managed to get his handkerchief to his face in time to catch the sneeze. “Sorry, m’lady.”

Sherbet continued his incessant barking, his paws padding at Parker’s legs.

Penelope tutted quietly, bending down to retrieve the pup before it could be of anymore annoyance. “Now, now, there’s no need for apologies.”

“But the rug…” Parker tried to gesture with a pointing finger but found the effort to keep his arm extended for more than a few seconds too tiresome.

“The rug is unimportant. Your health, however… Take the day off, Parker.”

“But, m’lady!”

“There is nothing on the agenda today that can’t be rescheduled.” Penelope crouched so she was eye-level with him. “Go back to bed, Parker. I can clean this all up.”

Once again, he tried to protest, but Penelope simply held up a hand to stop him. 

“No. Bed. Now. There is nothing more important than you resting and recovering. I’ll be up later with some medicine and breakfast.”

Parker knew that tone and he knew better than to try and argue his case. He stood from the seat, and paid no attention to the sway in his step as he slowly left the room. “Yes, m’lady.”

The stained rug he carefully tiptoed over had his cheeks burning up in shame. Never in all his years of service had he made such a mess by accident. He knew what Her Ladyship had said, he knew that she was right in what she said, and yet he still felt a pit in his stomach that wasn’t down to his illness.

He wasn’t aware of the shadow following him as he made his way back to his room, only noticing Sherbet had trailed after him once he’d got himself back under the warmth of the covers. In normal circumstances, the dog was barred from Parker’s quarters, but whether it was because he had no energy left to chastise him or because he actually appreciated company of any sort, Parker made no complaints when the comforting weight of Sherbet settled on his chest and lulled him back to sleep.

[silvercaptain24]

Not My Dad Yet (but only because of my fear)

@shyrule @socialc1imb @arsonisticscholar @pokegeek151

I wrote this in like an hour and have no idea how.

Finally.

He was done.

What time…

Wars looked at the clock on his computer- 2 AM.

Oh. Wonderful. He had to get up for school in four hours. 

Okay. Double check the planner, cross off the essay-

He’d forgotten his history reading.

No! He couldn’t have! He’d done-

The English reading earlier.

Warriors groaned, blinking back exhausted tears. It was fine. It would be fine. Really.

It’s not like he needed the sleep anyways. Mask always came first, and for him to come first now meant getting good grades in school and not slacking off so Fierce wouldn’t get mad at him and by extension Mask and it would be fine. Really.

It wasn’t like this was the third time this week he’d gone to bed after midnight. Nevermind the fact that it was Wednesday… today, actually, and he always ended up working a longer shift Wednesday. Nevermind the fact that he hadn’t had the stomach to eat dinner, even though he loved lasagna. It would be fine.

It had to be fine, he told himself as he opened his history book.

It had to be.

When Fierce got up and noticed Wars’ door open and the light still on, he peeked in. The boy was asleep at his desk, head pillowed on his arm and history textbook. Fierce couldn’t help but note how tired he looked, and he hated to wake him up.

Against his better judgment, he did so anyways, placing a hand on Warriors’ shoulder. He let out a sleepy moan and burrowed further into his arm.

“I know, but it’s already six thirty, you have to get up or we’ll be late, “ Fierce said gently, shaking his shoulder a little bit. Wars turned his head and blinked, then shot up immediately in his seat. 

“I’m so sorry I swear I set my alarm I don’t know why it didn’t go off-”

“Warriors. It’s okay,” Fierce said gently. “I just didn’t want you to be late.”

Wars looked at him, nodded jerkily, and moved towards his dresser.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs!” Fierce called as he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Lon (“For the last time, Warriors, please, call me Time.”) taught his history class just before his lunch in fourth period, and Wars had never been happier to slide into a seat. P.E. had been absolute torture, but Time’s class always kept his interest.

Or, usually kept his interest. Today it was taking everything he had in him to even focus on the board, much less the words.

The bell startled him badly when it rang, everyone else quickly packing up and heading out. Warriors pulled on his straps and stood, suddenly feeling lightheaded. White specks danced across his vision, and he buried his face in his scarf, trying to ground himself.

“Warriors? Is there something you needed?” Time asked.

Warriors tried to say something. “I need to sit down” or “I need to go back to my guardian’s house”, anything.

“I-” was all he could get out.

His backpack felt like it was pulling him down, and it was all he could do to not letting his vision go black, letting his knees buckle instead. There was a shout, and a sound of clattering, and then, suddenly, something warm around him and pressing against his side.

Was…

When had he ended up on the f     l        o            o           r   .    .     .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time hummed under his breath, content. It had been a good class, with a couple of very interesting questions that he’d make sure to remember to tell Malon and Four about later. He placed the papers his students had turned in inside his bag, but looked up when a flash of blue caught his eye.

Ah, Warriors. 

Who admittedly didn’t look like he was doing too well…

Fierce’s words from their weekly phone call last night flashed into his mind, “Would you keep an eye on him for me? I keep trying to reach out to him, but he doesn’t want to talk to me, and I’m worried about him.”

“Just the one eye?” Time had asked then.

Now though…

“Warriors? Is there something you needed?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice gentle.

Warriors began shaking. His mouth opened as if to say something-

Time jumped his desk, and then a chair, just barely making it before Warriors hit the ground. He held him close, worry flaring higher and higher each moment. His phone was in his hand on instinct, thumb hitting the first number on his favorited contacts.

“Time?” Fierce asked, sounding confused.

“You need to come pick up Warriors,” Time gasped, “He just fainted in my classroom, I’m taking him to the nurse.”

“I’ll be right there,” Fierce said, anxiety cutting through his normally steady voice, and hung up.

Time looked down at the boy in his arms. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if this was Twilight. They were around the same age, and his mind filled in the missing pieces automatically.

He shook his head to clear the images. Now was not the time.

“Oh, son, what did you do to yourself?” He muttered under his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fierce knew for a fact that he broke the speed limit the entire way to the school. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. His son was in trouble.

Time was at the door of the school, looking worried.

“What’s the news?” Fierce asked.

“Temp of 102. Severe dehydration and exhaustion. They think he just has the flu but that stress made it worse.” Time reported.

“How did I let it get this bad?” Fierce muttered.

“Hey. This isn’t your fault. You did the right thing and let him have space,” Time protested. 

“And now he’s in the school’s infirmary with a temperature of a hundred and two,” Fierce said. 

“Which is not. Your. Fault. Nor is it your fault that he hasn’t been able to bring himself to trust anyone other than Mask. It takes-”“Time. I know,” Fierce said, cracking a grin at the unintended pun. Time chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything felt fuzzy.

Veeeeeerrrrryyyy fuuuzzzy. And then there were bright color-

Oh he knew that face!

“Fi’rce?” He slurred, getting annoyed when his tongue wouldn’t work like he wanted it to.

“Yeah, it’s me. Come on kiddo, let’s get you home so you can rest.”

Hm. He was moving. That was kind of fun, actually. Then what Fierce had said clicked.

“N’p soun’s n’ce,” he got out.

“Yeah, you can take a nap as soon as we get home and get some meds in you, okay?”“Mmmhmm,” Wars said, resting his head on the warm thing again. It felt nice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fierce shook Wars’ shoulder, and the boy moaned sleepily.

“I know, but we need to get you inside and have you take some meds, then you can sleep,” Fierce said, gently carrying Wars inside the house. A few minutes of searching revealed some generic flu and cold medicine, and it took all of twenty seconds for Wars to swallow it down, grimacing sleepily at the taste.

“There we go,” Fierce praised softly, “Let’s get you to your room so you can sleep, okay?”“M’k,” Wars voiced, but only barely, sleep beginning to take him. Fierce smiled, then picked him up once again. 

The stairs up to the bedrooms weren’t too hard to navigate, the only difficulty being the stairway railing pressing against Fierce’s hip in an effort to keep Warriors’ feet from hitting the wall. It was even easier to slip back the blankets on Wars’ bed, slip off his boots, and tuck him in. His phone pinged- it was Malon, asking if he needed anything from the store. He sent her a couple items, then looked back at Warriors, looking more at peace then he ever had before.

“Get some rest, Wars,” He whispered, “I’ll take care of you.”

[masterwords]

a fine line

This WIP has been sitting in my drafts forever waiting for...something. And I don't have that something, so it's just here. Hotch's injuries after Perotta should have been a little more extensive, and I can't be held responsible for putting Morgan in a situation to help him out. (2.2k messy, pointless, choppy and unedited words)

**

“Aaron?” Haley asked, swiping her hand over the once warm place he'd occupied in their bed. It was rumpled enough that she knew he had come to bed. Later than her, she'd been there hours before he came home, and now he was gone again. “Aaron?”

Silence. At first, but after a moment she could hear him in the bathroom. The shower was running, hot steam filtering slowly beneath the door. She thought about getting up, checking on him, but it was 4am. He was probably being called in and he hated to be bothered while he got ready for work. There was a certain routine he insisted on in order to prepare himself for the work he would have to do, the things he would have to stomach, the pieces of his soul he would have to guard. He had to set his mind right, block out everything that made him human.

They had argued plenty over it. She only wanted to help, to make him coffee or breakfast, help him in some way. Be part of it instead of always being on the outside. But she couldn't, and at a certain point she stopped trying. So, with one fearful glance at the closed bathroom door, she lay back down and pushed her face beneath the covers to go back to sleep. His side of the bed smelled like him and she would have to be content with that for now.

Jack woke while he attempted to drink a cup of coffee. Just a diaper change and a bottle, both of them managed to stay entirely silent so Haley could stay sleeping. It was both the most and the least he could do in his condition. Jack was a baby, he didn't need conversation, he needed action.

He managed to slip out of the house before she woke again, his starched and stiff collar high on his neck, tie pulled tight. The bruises, Perotta's marks, had deepened in the hours since the junkyard. His neck was flooded nearly black with bruises, one deep red pressure cut slicing through the middle garish and mad. Walking from his car to the front door, his mouth filled with saliva and the thought of swallowing it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He'd been spitting into a cup for the last few hours, the swelling in his throat finally reaching the point that swallowing was nearly out of the question. But he couldn't spit into a coffee cup in front of Quantico so he forced himself to swallow and nearly cried for the pain of it. His grip on the coffee cup tightened while he rode the elevator, while the saliva once again built up with nowhere to go but down or out. If he wasn't careful, he'd be sick, and then he'd really be in for it.

Gritting his teeth, he made his way from the elevator to his office without more than a good morning wave at the few people who were in earlier than he was. They probably had actual work to do, he was just hiding his injury from his wife. Home only long enough to sleep for a couple of hours. She wasn't going to understand this one, not with a new baby at home. It was a miracle he'd managed to come home and leave without Jack crying and waking Haley, and he knew he couldn't do it again.

He would have to find a way to make it seem better than it was.

The hum of the fan in his office was calming. His heart beat in time with its quiet rhythm and he popped the top off of the coffee cup to spit inside, praying no one would come and witness it. He was lucky, just barely got the lid back on before Gideon sped by with a quick glance and a wave. Anyone else and they might have stopped to chat, but even if Gideon had figured him out, seen what he was doing, he doubted very much that he would stop and inquire. Close call. He set the coffee cup on his desk and settled into his seat. There had to be something he could do to entertain his mind, focus him on something other than the strangling pain in his throat.

Garcia showed up with donuts, the giant pink box filling her arms to the brim. Maple bars, pink sprinkles, chocolate, all the classics. His stomach growled just thinking about that glazed blueberry cake donut right there in front. She was holding the box open and indicating it, like she'd picked it out just for him. “Sir?” she asked, curious at the look of desire on his features but his lack of motion. “The blueberry one is most definitely for you. The last one they had.”

He'd already attempted talking, just to himself in the car, and there was no way he could do it without coming under instant scrutiny. His voice was strangely crushed sounding, gruff and breathy, air through a bent straw. So he just smiled and reached out for the donut, placing it on the napkin she'd put on the desk for him and trying to force the words “Thank you” out as quickly and evenly as he could. She caught it, just briefly, but didn't know him well enough to say anything. He was intimidating enough with his frown set, that deep crease between his eyebrows that told her not now, maybe not ever...so she smiled at him and closed the box.

“You are ever so welcome, sir,” she said a little quieter, a little more serious before turning and leaving. Maybe she would talk to Derek, he seemed to be the only one who ever talked to Hotch with any sort of confidence. Sometimes it was uncomfortable to watch, the way he stood up to Hotch's orders, questioned them either in public or in private, but there was something there. Some mutual respect or admiration, so when he did that...Hotch listened. He may not always side with Derek when all was said and done, but he would always give Derek the floor and to Garcia that spoke volumes. So, with her box of donuts, she made the rounds until she ended at his desk.

“Hey, you,” she said, leaning against his desk. “You want some sugar?”

“Not during office hours, hun,” he replied, swirling around in his chair and waggling his eyebrows at her. “Ohhh you got maple bars!”

“Nuh-uh, that last one is for boss man's afternoon snack. You know how he gets when he has meetings through the lunch hour...I got you the chocolate with sprinkles.”

Derek scrunched his nose and frowned, but in the end he only shrugged it off and grabbed the chocolate frosted donut gladly. Any donut was better than no donut. In truth, he doubted very much that Hotch would feel like eating that or any donut after the junkyard but Garcia didn't know that, she didn't watch it happen. He was waiting for the right time to approach him about it, and watching Gideon breeze past Hotch's office told him that time hadn't come yet. If Gideon didn't think it appropriate, he would wait too.

Until Garcia opened her mouth. She leaned forward and in a hushed whisper that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, she spoke. “I don't think he's okay,” she started, flicking one finger against a crumb of frosting stuck in the corner of Derek's lips. “Can you check on him? Please?”

“Babygirl,” he sighed, shoving the last bite of the donut he'd made very short work of into his mouth. “If he's in bad shape after last night, he'll wanna be left alone for a while. He's here in the office, that's something.”

“Not enough,” she huffed indignantly, pushing the giant box at Derek's chest. One final donut remained. “Take this up to him later. That's your excuse.” He rolled his eyes but there was no telling that woman no, so he agreed. He'd go up in a bit, give Hotch time to settle into his day. Curiously, he clicked around until he was in Hotch's schedule, he had full access to it as his lead, as his former partner, and usually all he did was add things to it but slowly he poked around finding things he could pull off instead. A consult here, a deposition request there, until his schedule looked light enough that they might have time for a chat in a bit. Sure, Derek had his own work to do, but Elle and Spencer didn't look too busy so he was able to pass things on down the line.

“Hey, Hotch, you got a minute?” Derek asked, just after the lunch hour, after an entire day of tooling around without seeing Hotch leave his office one time. Not even for a quick bathroom break. Hotch nodded and slipped his hand around the coffee cup on his desk, sliding it out of the way. As if Derek wouldn't immediately notice the shift, the slight movement, and frown.

“You go to the doctor like Gideon told you to?”

Hotch glowered, his eyebrows dangerously close together. “No,” he rasped, his hand immediately flying to his throat without any thought. The sharp burst of pain at the first word he'd spoken since thanking Garcia was shocking and if he'd been standing, he might have found himself more than a little weak in the knees. Derek didn't need any other evidence before shutting the door behind him and entering Hotch's office completely.

“Let me see.”

He set the maple bar down beside the untouched blueberry donut and came around Hotch's desk, leaning his hips there casually. He reached out slowly, and backed up just a little when he caught the slightest hint of a flinch, like he was afraid. It was gone as fast as it came, and if Derek was anyone else he might blurt something out, mention it, but Derek had experience. He'd been there through others, he'd held his hand in the ambulance after Bale, he understood deeply. So he pressed forward until his lithe fingers tugged gently at the knot in the tie, loosening it just enough that he could unbutton the stiff collar on his shirt. Immediately he found himself faced with a sight he wasn't prepared for, the brutality of it immense. He ached to go back in time, the pressure of the gun in his hands, a direct line of sight to Perotta's forehead. One bullet, right between the eyes, and this damage might not be so bad.

But this was his failure. He listened to Gideon, and he let this happen. “Hotch,” he whispered, his fingers lightly dancing over the other man's jaw, trying to get a view of each angle. “I'm so sorry. I shoulda shot that bastard. I had him in my sights.”

“You did...” Hotch rasped and Derek shook his head, pressing his thumbs lightly around Hotch's adams apple just to see. He had some limited EMT training from his days with Chicago PD, and he was rusty but it was better than the nothing Hotch was willing to consent to outside of this office. The swelling was obvious, he could feel it with barely any pressure. “Gideon's orders.”

Derek scoffed. It was a little louder than he intended and he saw the corner of Hotch's lips tick upward in a small attempt at a smile. Derek loved Gideon in his own way, but he didn't like him much tehse days and he certainly didn't trust his judgment. Maybe he hadn't since Boston. “Yeah, well...”

“It's okay Derek.”

“No, it's not,” Derek said quieter, lifting Hotch's jaw to feel beneath the sharp angles. Hotch didn't fight him, didn't move a muscle. Breathing hurt enough that he was on the verge of tears with every swallow, every breath in, so arguing with Derek felt more than a little out of the question.

“Alright. Alright, I'll stop beating myself up if you stop talking...deal?”

Hotch kept up his end of the bargain, but Derek did not. He couldn't let it go. Slowly, carefully, he opened Hotch's collar the rest of the way and told him to wait a moment. Out and back in a flash, straight to the freezer for an ice pack and a cup of ice chips, then the door was closed once again. The ice pack was rested gently against his neck, against the worst of the bruises, and he let Derek hold it there for just a minute before Hotch took it in his own hand and breathed frigid relief against the cooling of his fevered skin.

“Haley must not know yet, huh? Otherwise I doubt you'd be here right now...”

Hotch couldn't help smirking and shrugging, met with only a nod of understanding.

Derek nudged the cup of crushed ice and the spoon in Hotch's direction with a smirk. “Betcha skipped breakfast...and lunch.”

Ice chips. He was starving and Derek had ice chips for him. “You want me to run out for some ice cream or something? I could use a reason to get outta here.”

Hotch smiled and nodded, still not eager to talk. Derek doesn't need him to say a word, but before he left Hotch pushed both donuts in Derek's direction. Getting to have the coveted maple bar didn't feel quite as good now, not while he was sitting here in Hotch's office being given the strangest silent treatment of his life. The first time he'd ever demanded it. But he did enjoy those donuts while he sat there in silence thinking about putting a bullet in Perotta's skull.

Right between the eyes. Pow.

[bracketsoffear]

A very, very late 'character that I wish got submitted' post for a Stranger avatar submission since I wasn't there to do anything about it. But I digress, let's talk about this guy, who I'm sure some of you may (or may not) be familiar with:

Yes, this guy. The guy with a ridiculously long self-introduction that people made into a copypasta. Yoshikage Kira, the main antagonist of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable. Let's see what we have here; business suit, shirt, and a tie. If there's nothing remarkable about him (maybe besides his tie), good; that's what he wants you to think.

For a big part of his life, Kira prefers the comfort and solitude that can be found from being in the background. Yes, he's good at academics and sports, that all should've got him some more acclaim, but he'd rather be third place on purpose, getting himself average grades. He'd rather blend in with the crowd, becoming a faceless stranger. This continued to his adulthood, where he seeks to "live a very quiet life" and integrate into society. Except, Kira grows up to be a serial killer, specifically going after women who have beautiful hands (by whatever fucked up metric he gets from the Mona Lisa and goes by). And so Kira puts up a mask; the mask of a hardworking man, the mask of a law-abiding citizen, the mask of yet another townsman in quaint little Morioh. The monologue I've mentioned earlier is one he mentions once he's caught for the first time. Here it is in its full glory:

"My name is Yoshikage Kira. I'm 33 years old. My house is in the northeast section of Morioh, where all the villas are, and I am not married. I work as an employee for the Kame-Yu department stores, and I get home every day by 8 PM at the latest. I don't smoke, but I occasionally drink. I'm in bed by 11 PM, and make sure I get eight hours of sleep, no matter what. After having a glass of warm milk and doing about twenty minutes of stretches before going to bed, I usually have no problems sleeping until morning. Just like a baby, I wake up without any fatigue or stress in the morning. I was told there were no issues at my last check-up. I'm trying to explain that I'm a person who wishes to live a very quiet life. I take care not to trouble myself with any enemies, like winning and losing, that would cause me to lose sleep at night. That is how I deal with society, and I know that is what brings me happiness. Although, if I were to fight I wouldn't lose to anyone."

While comical at first (as is about nearly everything in JJBA), the monologue shows that Kira stresses as much as he can that he's simply just someone else who refuse to get into any unneeded conflicts. Just another stranger in the background, doing and minding his own things.

His Stand (basically a superpowered extension of one's soul), Killer Queen, at first doesn't seem to fit with the Stranger. In fact, it's abilities matches the Desolation much closer, what with it making explosions and instantly deleting things in fiery smoke. But it's what Kira does with it that counts; tapping into the Stranger, Kira uses his Stand as his primary murder weapon, blowing up his victims and leaving no traces of both the killer and the killed. Even outside of that, the Desolation and Stranger seems to be on mutual terms, as the Cult of the Lightless Flames was commanded by Nikola to burn down Gwydir Forest (MAG 89)

And then, we finally get into the entire Kosaku Kawajiri debacle/arcs; "Yoshikage Kira's New Situation", and "My Dad Is Not My Dad". Hoo boy. Just by the title of that last arc, Kira reeks of so much Not-Them energy; specifically MAG 77. Let's start with the first arc.

"Yoshikage Kira's New Situation" kicks off with a wounded Kira, fresh off a battle with Koichi (one of Josuke's allies), finding a man named Kosaku Kawajiri. He then coerces and drags along Kosaku to come with him to a salon ran by Aya Tsuji, whose. Aya's Stand, Cinderella, allows her to switch the attributes of people. Kira then swaps faces and fingerprints with Kosaku, who he already killed, effectively taking his place. Sounds familiar?

As 'Kosaku Kawajiri' (or should I say Not-Kosaku), he now has to live a someone else's husband and a father. His 'wife' finds his behavior just off enough compared to the real Kosaku to raise some suspicion; He cooks for her and take breaks in-between to clip nails, he uses a razor instead of an electric shaver, he somehow has enough money to pay the landlord instead of financially hitting rock bottom. But Kira plays it off as mundane, family things. He tries to fit in, pretending to be someone he isn't, hiding his true nature as a killer by putting on the mask of a good husband. His 'son' Hayato, starts noticing just how wrong his 'dad' was; after all, why would someone need to practice their own perfectly fine handwriting?

We reach the aptly named "My Dad Is Not My Dad" arc, where the situation escalates further as Hayato eavesdrop Kira saying that he doesn't need to kill him to hide his identity. From this point on, every time the Kawajiri 'family' gathers, tension fills the air as 'Kosaku's' wife remains unaware of who the man next to her truly is. The entire thing from Hayato's perspective reads like a Not-Them statement, with Hayato knowing full damn well that the man in front of him is simply someone or something else pretending to be his father, and he is now engaging in chats and family bonding time as if nothing is wrong. Kira bathes with his 'son', as if spending family time with Hayato when in truth he's telling him that he knows what Hayato's doing regarding his identity, leaving hints to warn him of not going too deep.

In short, Kira is the twisting of mundane and familiar into the weird and unfamiliar. Kira may be a serial killer, but his fear doesn't lie in violence and murder, or the destruction that comes from his path; his true fear lies in the fact that, before anyone figures it out, Kira, the killer, could be anyone; Kira could be the grocery cashier that you just checked out with, Kira could be the salaryman who keeps to himself but works well, Kira could be your quiet but diligent and nice classmate. Just about anyone can be worse than what they present, putting on masks to hide monsters. You Do Not Know Him, and that scares you because the monster of a man known as Yoshikage Kira could be anyone you know or have met before.

.

[mythrilpencil]

Stellar Acclimation—Chapter 3: Haven Valley

The next few days blur together with a rhythm. Scout wakes up now and then, either Bronzemarch or Semyon or both check on her. Sometimes she’s in the mood for food, sometimes she’s not. Eventually she starts waking up earlier and earlier and for longer and longer until she actually wakes up with the sun and is able to stay up most of the day.

Soon enough they remove that IV thing, and they even start to help Scout try walking around the small shack a bit. It’s horribly dizzying, and the first few times she nearly keels over from the sudden feedback shooting from her side into her brand, but eventually that calms down enough she can manage a lap around the shack. 

But a couple days later—after a few more test laps around the shack and after handing her a pair of slip-on shoes and a soft burgundy t-shirt he got from somewhere—Bronzemarch finally decides Scout is ready to step outside for once. 

It’s near sundown when Scout scoots herself off the bed, with Semyon hovering nearby as always, and follows Bronzemarch out the eastward door. The sunlight is dim inside the shack thanks to the heavy fabric covering the windows, but as soon as Bronzemarch opens the doors, Scout is hit by still-radiant sunlight, tinted pink by the sunset and bouncing off of the sands all around the small sandstone patio. Scout has to duck slightly to avoid brushing her head against the heavy blue and yellow fabric overhanging the patio like an extension of a tent—as does Semyon, but Bronzemarch walks under the fabric just fine—but past it her feet find soft sand and the light around her dazzles for a moment. 

True to the name, the environment Scout finds around her is a small desert valley, shielded on all sides by high rolling hills reinforced by dozens of maroon-bark palms. The sun itself is already hiding behind the taller hill to the west, just behind the shack; but it’s rays are still stretching across the sky, tinted coral by the dust in the atmosphere. The pink tint kisses the wispy clouds and makes the very air feel the same. 

There’s a few tall hills in the middle of the valley, scattered here and there. The biggest ones have similar drapes of blue and yellow hanging from logs jutting out of the slope and attaching to similar patio walls made of tight wicker framed by hewn sandstone. The yellow stripes in the fabric catch the ambient sunlight, turning to glittering gold.

Scout can’t help but whistle as she meanders. Bronzemarch, who is several paces ahead of her down the gentle slope, turns around to look at her, shoulders bouncing with a small chuckle. “Amused. Do you like the valley?”

“It’s kinda…cute,” Scout says, her voice peaking to a whimsical whistle and a hum as she looks around. Her footsteps are meandering, only barely following her head.

“Content. It is rather quaint, isn’t it,” Bronzemarch agrees. Then he lifts a hand and waves his fingers towards himself, drawing Scout’s attention to reign her back in. “Directing. Don’t wander off, Scout. We’re going this way.”

Scout whistles again, only now realizing she has started to walk entirely perpendicular to the direction Bronzemarch is leading, and corrects her meandering trajectory. But even as she follows him and Semyon to the second-closest tall hill in the valley—one not far from a small stone fountain and a nearby tent-like pavilion of some sort—she can’t help but get distracted by everything. The palms above keep swaying in the gentle breeze, their oddly striped fronds dancing in shades everywhere between magenta and cyan. Birds of sorts Scout can’t even begin to identify glide down to the ground, finding sand-hidden nests for the night.

And the stars are beginning to twinkle through the dusk sky. Hundreds of sparkles of red and blue and gold, looking down upon her like hundreds of smiling faces.

But Scout doesn’t recognize a single one.

She pauses mid step, just over halfway to the hill Bronzemarch is heading to. Semyon notices her pause first and pauses himself, looking at her with a tilted head and a slight frown.

“Something wrong, Scout?” he asks. Bronzemarch pauses as well, looking back at Semyon and Scout with a simulated blink.

After a moment, Scout registers the question and fizzles, “Where are we?” 

Semyon shares a glance with Bronzemarch, carefully answering, “Uh…Haven Valley? Didn’t Bronzemarch…”

“No, bigger’n that. Where’s this planet?” Scout points up to the sky as yet more stars show face. “I don’t know these stars.”

Semyon and Bronzemarch both glance up at the sky at that. As they do, Bronzemarch makes a click sound as if simulating the tsk of an organic tongue before noting, “Understanding. Ah, that. Informed. We’re in the Aaoe Veil system. Sector A6. It’s a fairly central sector, if uneventful outside of trade routes.”

“Trade routes?”

Bronzemarch nods, glancing at Scout again. “Informative. This planet is actually on a minor trade route between population centers. That’s part of the reason we settled here.” He waves his hand again as he turns to continue walking—which pulls Semyon’s attention back from the stars—as he adds, “Casual. Riku can tell you more about that, if you wish. Let’s go meet him.”

Semyon glances Scout’s way as if waiting for her to move before he does. So after a moment and after another glance at the stars, the back of her mind trying and failing to map the twinkling stars above her head to the ones she vaguely senses within, she keeps going.

The door they’re approaching opens when they’re still several yards away. Another man—shorter than even Bronzemarch, with bright pink arms splotched in large dusty grey spots across his face and the back of his hands, with an almost pastel green spot under his chin—steps outside the door, simultaneously dusting the sandstone brick with one hand while straightening his vivid red vest with the other. He glances up—with three eyes as red as his vest—from under the off-white hood he wears, then all but beams as he hails, “Bronzemarch! Good evening!”

“Friendly. Evening, Riku,” Bronzemarch greets back as he leads Scout and Semyon over. “Sociable. I trust business has been going well today?”

The smooth-skinned man, who apparently is this Riku everyone keeps mentioning, nods with a faux-frown that only lasts for a moment as he hums, “Oh, well enough. You know how this time of year is.” Despite this seeming like an oft-repeated conversation, Riku’s face still splits into a warm grin that makes two of his eyes squint slightly as he chuckles and quips, “Space is an ocean, after all. Seasonal routes and everything.”

Bronzemarch chuckles back with an agreeing nod. Scout just tilts her head, looking briefly Semyon’s way as they join Bronzemarch’s side. Semyon just shrugs with a dismissive twist of his lip.

Riku glances at them as they walk over, and his three eyes fix on Scout. Beaming again he says, “Ah! And this must be Scout.”

“Yer…Riku?” Scout hesitates, studying his red-on-red eyes.

The corners of Riku’s lower two eyes crinkle with a grin again as he confirms, “That would be me, yes. Riku Getsumei. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He gives a quick bow that might look stiff on anyone else but looks fluid as water on him as he just as fluidly shifts from bowing to waving the three of them inside. “Come! Let us talk more inside.”

Riku holds the door open for them as Scout follows Bronzemarch into what is apparently another shack built into the very hill itself, like a well-furnished burrow. It’s bigger than Bronzemarch’s shack, with a main room just past a small entryway and down a few steps. There’s a bed tucked behind one support pillar with sheets as red as Riku’s shirt, and against the wall on the far side of the room is a small table and chair set up. A long shelf lines the perimeter of the room, just below the ceiling. Part of the shelves are hidden behind more drapes of fabric like the ones outside. And most of the space on the shelves is filled with assorted crates and nic-nacks. 

A small fire-pit is built into the center of the room, filling the room with a warm smell and a flickering light that keeps drawing Scout’s attention whenever it crackles. 

“Now Scout, I hope you don’t mind my saying,” Riku begins as he closes the door behind him, “But you are quite the curious sight to behold.”

Scout turns around with a startled static pop. “Huh?”

Riku doesn’t stop smiling—is he even capable of not smiling?—but he does tilt his head ever so slightly as he studies her. His eyes keep flicking specifically towards her wispy corona, especially as she shifts awkwardly, the unsettled fizz in her plasma sending the wildest wisps upward, unbound by gravity. He gestures to her as he says, “You glow like the warmest sun. I have met many curious peoples in my travels as a merchant, but only rarely a Novakid like yourself.” 

Scout glances at herself, at her glow seeping through the knit fibers of the t-shirt and making the odd loose wicker weft under her feet glitter. Meanwhile Riku slips his sandals off before weaving around her and the others, almost hopping down the steps into the room proper. 

As Bronzemarch follows Riku down the shallow steps, with Semyon close in tow, part of what Riku said registers in Scout’s mind. “Wait. You’ve met more folk like me?” she wonders, plasma pulsing a bright curiosity. She’s not the only one?

“Of course!” Riku confirms as he crosses the room, “Granted, not very often. But I have met one or two. One I met must have been quite old for your kind. A bit…rough around the edges, you could say. Barely gave me the time of day, much less agreed to talk commerce. But he had the most bizarre collection of firearms I have ever seen! I’ve seen other Hylotl with odd collections, but not one like this fellow’s. Why, there must have been—”

Bronzemarch rolls his eyes with a tinny harrumph and interrupts, “Stern. Riku.”

Riku blinks at Bronzemarch—oh, he can make expressions other than smiling—but then scoffs good-naturedly at himself, “Oh! Forgive me, I got carried away again,” as he waves dismissively through the air in front of his chin.

Bronzemarch just shakes his head as if that’s a common occurrence. He meanders around the edge of the room until he comes to the small table, then leans his hands lightly against the tabletop as he redirects the conversation. “Curious. Anyways. Riku, I was wondering if you had any contacts that could help identify Scout?” he asks, voice lowering a degree of volume.

Riku cocks his head and taps his green chin contemplatively with a webbed finger as he slides fluidly into the chair. “Identify…? Hm. I don’t quite know.” He pulls a small drawer under the table open and procures a thin red-and-white tablet from it, then quirks a peculiar look at Bronzemarch as he adds, “Frankly I would assume you’d still have such connections.”

“Curt. You know I lost contact with such a long while ago.”

Riku’s only reply to that is a hum. Scout can’t read either his or Bronzemarch’s expression for the life of her. She just fizzles, plasma brightening briefly then churning with focus as she looks between Riku and Bronzemarch before giving up and glancing at Semyon for answers. He has a strange expression on his face as well for a brief moment—a twist of wistfulness buried behind his thick eyebrows—before he blinks and notices Scout looking at him. Then he just shrugs.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Scout buzzes disappointedly for a moment until Riku pauses tapping and swiping the screen of his tablet to glance at Bronzemarch again. “By the by, did we ever finish reinforcing the other hill?”

Bronzemarch pushes off the table with a huff. “Disgruntled. Not yet. Been busy. Chagrined. Why, do we have another move in soon?”

Riku nods and sets the tablet down on the table. “Actually, yes. Another human, in fact.” He chuckles as he stands back up from the chair, noting, “They don’t seem to be related, as far as I can tell. Perhaps they’re friends, passing the word along?”

“Resigned. Who knows. But if this continues I’m going to have to build a whole other house again,” Bronzemarch shrugs, his LED eyes narrowing to disgruntled rectangles with a sigh as one of his hands reaches down to…something on his belt. There’s a small click that almost masks with the crackling of the fire as Bronzemarch detaches the thing from his belt.

It’s a blocky, dusty yellow horseshoe-shaped device not much smaller than his head, with a grey handle well worn into fitting his metal hands and a strange lens attachment in the end connector between the yellow parts. The lens lights up a soft blue when Bronzemarch clicks a red button on the side, just above the handle. And immediately after, a laser shoots out, projecting a holographic cube of…wood?

Bronzemarch hums as he taps the trigger near the handle of his device, changing the hologram from wood to sandstone. “Disappointed. I’m going to have to restock,” he grumbles. 

What is that thing?

~~~~~

<< Previous || Next >>

[kierrasreads]

Haruku Murakami Manga Stories: The Second Bakery Attack, Samsa in Love, and Thailand (Haruki Murakami Manga Stories #2) by Jean-Christophe Deveney (Adapter), Haruki Murakami, PMGL (Illustrator) Review

Plot

With their trademark mix of realism and fantasy, centering around Murakami's signature themes of loss, remorse and confusion, the three stories in this volume are:

The Second Bakery Attack: A newlywed couple lie in bed, hungry. The man tells his wife that ten years earlier, he and his friend tried to rob a bakery. The baker told them that if they listened to Wagner's Tannhauser and The Flying Dutchman with him, they could take what they wanted. They did so and left with enough bread to feed them for two days. On hearing this story, the woman suggests they try the same thing. They drive around Tokyo looking for a bakery, but the only place open is a McDonald's. With a shotgun they demand 30 Big Macs. They find an empty parking lot where they eat until their fill. The man feels calm and satisfied after this experience.

Samsa in Love: is an extension of the tale of Gregor Samsa in Kafka's Metamorphosis. The main character wakes up finding himself transformed into someone named Samsa, and then falls in love with a hunchback woman who comes to fix the lock on his door.

Thailand: A middle-aged woman takes a break from her job as a doctor to go on holiday in Thailand. She learns from a spirit doctor that her sterile life and inability to forgive have created a rock in her gut, which will be all that remains of her after she is dead.

These new graphic versions of classic Murakami short stories will be devoured by his fans and will provide a new window onto his work for younger readers not yet familiar with it!

Discussion

I would say that this one is on-tier with the first one! These were definitely different stories, and I have to admit I like them more than the ones in the first volume. Of these three, Thailand is my favorite, with Samsa in Love coming in second.

Rating

5/5

[bella-studyblr]

Task Management:

Creating + Maintaining a Schoolwork Schedule

Key elements

Your schedule suits your individual time/task management preferences.

It is flexible enough to accommodate sudden changes, plus fluctuating energy levels, states of concentration, symptoms and moods.

Daily tasks are not over-whelming; they are small enough that they are achievable.

You do not get “burned out.”

It allows you to be consistent.

Steps to create your schedule

Decide if you want your planner to be paper or digital

Find an “order” that’s logical and achievable for you (more on this later)

Refer to your addendum/syllabus and write down all the assignments, tests and other events taking place that week/month (and their due-dates).

Then break these down, assigning tasks to each day of the week (more on this later).

Break down your tasks even further (more on this later).

Decide if you want to follow a simple daily to-do list or a timed schedule (more on this later).

Find your “order(s)”

Mandatory: Schedule assignments around other commitments (work, social, hobbies, etc.).

Do the hardest task first to get it out of the way (so that the rest of your tasks are less daunting, and because your smaller tasks require less energy therefore can be done even after completing the hard task).

Do the easiest task first to build momentum (give yourself a feeling of accomplishment which will motivate you to continue, and boost your self-confidence early in the day to establish a positive mindset for the rest of the day).

Do the task that’s due first to minimize deadline stress, and so your assignments don’t fall through the cracks (causing you to get discouraged and lose momentum).

Plan according to your energy level throughout the day and week: Do you have Pilates once a week? Maybe you can reserve that day for easier assignments. If you know you’re going to be tired for whatever reason, account for that in your planning.

Consider your state of concentration: If you know you’re too groggy or spaced out for the first hour of your day, you can either schedule easy tasks in that time, or none at all. If you take a medication in the afternoon/evening that makes you tired, schedule easier tasks or none, and get harder tasks done earlier/later in the day. If you have ADHD and crowded places mess with your concentration, but you like studying at a café, go when it’s not busy.

Be mindful of your emotions and symptoms: If you have depression, or are prone to depressive episodes, you’ll need to consider that when scheduling. You might have to rework your entire schedule when you get into a depressive episode (like adding lots of breaks). If suddenly you’re going through a big life event (like a breakup), you need to account for that when scheduling. For instance, if you can’t stand to be alone, maybe you can go out instead of staying in, and if your motivation is low, you may need to up your reward-system or break down your tasks even more.

Break down this week/month’s tasks

Refer to your addendum/syllabus and write down all your due dates for the time period you’re scheduling for.

Based on due dates, outside commitments, predictions of energy/mood/symptoms, assign assignments to the days of the week/month that make most sense for you.

Break down daily tasks into sub-tasks

You can do this (in advance) for your full week/month’s assignments, or do it every morning/evening.

Generally, your assignments will follow a variation of this formula: brainstorm, create an outline, research, write rough draft, edit and revise. Test/exam prep will look something like: check to see what the test is based on, pinpoint important sections, review to see how well you know the material, create a list of items to study, rewrite select notes, make flash cards, study topic 1, study topic 2, etc.

What are the individual components of these steps? Here are some examples. Brainstorm: what should my topic be, what should my thesis be, what points can support my thesis, what do I need to research, what questions do I need to ask my prof? Outline: topic, thesis, points, conclusion. Research: write down all the important parts from each source (separately), then sift through to sort into Supporting Point 1, Supporting Point 2, etc. Rough draft: opening statement(s), intro, point 1, point 2, etc., conclusion, closing statement(s). Edit/revise: read and check for grammar only, then read again and check for spelling only, read again and check for cohesiveness only, etc. Topic 1: Part A, Part B, etc.

Each of these small components can be individual items on your to-do list. Big tasks like, “write essay” are too big for most people. Even “write rough draft” is daunting. If you start with something specific and small like brainstorming, and work your way up, it’s a lot easier to approach. Plus, being able to check off tasks more often and more easily will boost your confidence and your sense of competence, thus building momentum.

Here is a sample to-do list: Research X for Point 1 of Literary Essay, create outline for History Essay, Edit/Revise Assignment 1, study Topic 1 and Topic 2 for Test 1.

To-do list or time-based schedule?

To do list: Write down all your assignments for the day. Put them in the order you want to do them, or go through them intuitively (based on what you feel like doing, or what’s most practical at the time/place you’re at).

Timed-based: Write down all your assignments, then write down the time you’re going to do each of them. You could set reminders or alarms if you want, or simply refer to the list. There’s an awesome app I recommend if this is your thing. It’s called Structured (iOS only).

Curate your study environment for maximum focus

Eliminate distractions such as uncomfortable clothing, sounds (or silence), phone and computer notifications, clutter in the room and on your desk, people who may try to talk to you (shut your door and/or inform them that you’re busy).

Designate a space to doing homework only and avoid spaces that you associate with other things (do not study in bed, as you will want to relax or sleep, and/or you will mess with your sleep by weakening the bed’s association with sleep).

Build associations: Incorporate other events and items into your study/homework routine that you only use while doing that, so that you associate those things with studying/homework (examples: specific playlists, pencils/pens, cups/bottles, scents, rituals, decor, etc.).

Ensure good lighting (preferably including daylight).

Get dressed in clothes that make you feel good about yourself. They don’t have to be “professional” and they should definitely be comfortable. Do not stay in your pyjamas. Believe me, I know this can be hard, and I love PJ’s. But they are not good for productivity.

Don’t “multi-task.” It may feel like you’re getting more done this way, but by splitting your focus, not only do tasks take longer, they also diminish in quality. Commit to the task you’re doing.

Meditate: You can even meditate for just 1-5 mins right before studying, homework and/or classes.

Practice self care (daily!)

Sleep (enough, well, and regularly).

Daylight: Get outside, work by windows, use a light therapy box. These can help regulate your sleep, improve and maintain mental health, and boost energy.

Fresh air: Getting outside even for a couple minutes can help you refresh and reset, and feel good about yourself and your life. Fresh oxygen can help you wake up and is great for your health. Even just opening your window can do a lot for your mood, energy and motivation.

Movement: Try to move at least once per day. The benefits of exercise are numerous and immense.

Healthy and consistent eating: Avoid spikes in insulin levels by eating regularly so you don’t have extreme dips in your energy level. Also, brain power uses calories too, so make sure you’re eating consistently, and try to eat healthy. There are so many other reasons eating consistently is good for your health (and by extension, your productivity).

Relaxation and leisure: Make time for fun and socializing, as well as intentional relaxation. Hobbies, movies/tv, time with friends/family, meditation, baths, progressive muscle relaxation, etc.

Therapy: Your therapy sessions are not daily, but you can do 5 minutes of inner-work per day based on what you and your therapist are currently working on. Working with a therapist is a great way to stay on track with your goals, and develop the skills and positive mindset required for success in school.

Reward yourself

Track progress: Reflect on all the assignments you’ve completed and your grades to remind yourself that you’re capable!

Completing to-do lists daily maintains a sense of accomplishment which keeps your momentum going. Check those items off! Or give yourself gold stars! ⭐️

Treat yourself with non-food rewards: Tie completed school work with fun tasks like video games, or take yourself out for coffee, or some other small (non-food) outing. What I’m trying to do right now is not do my leisure activities until my daily tasks are done.

Develop a positive mindset

Take promises you make to yourself seriously. The more you break promises to yourself, the easier it will get to continue breaking promises. You will lose respect for yourself which lowers motivation, and you will lose trust in yourself which can become debilitating as well. The more you keep promises, the easier it will get, the more motivated you’ll become, and the more you’ll trust and respect yourself. Your confidence will improve, and you’ll feel better about yourself. Productivity is choosing yourself. Discipline is choosing what’s best for you instead of what you feel like doing in the moment. Discipline is a muscle, and like any muscle, it can be strengthened, and it can atrophy.

Remember your “why.” What is the end goal of being in school? What’s your career path, and why did you choose it? What will your life be like when you have that career? What would your life be like if you gave up and didn’t make it to your goal? Aiming for your dream while running from your nightmare is a great strategy for maintaining motivation. Lighting a fire under your *** can be a huge motivator.

Remember how good you feel when you get schoolwork done, and let this motivate you to stay consistent. You can also remember how you feel when you don’t get work done, but definitely focus more on the positive!

Go to therapy and/or hire a coach. There are SO many benefits to therapy and I’d honestly need a whole other post to get into it. You don’t need to be depressed or mentally ill at all in order to benefit from talking to a therapist. They can even help you with time management, procrastination, motivation and more! If you can afford it, please do it. It’s such a worthwhile investment.

Be consistent

No “zero days.” Do at least a bit of homework or studying every day so you don’t slip into vacation mode. Make schoolwork a daily part of your life, so it just becomes the norm.

Build productivity momentum (track progress, check items off your to-do list daily, treat yourself, keep promises to yourself, remember your “why,” remember how success feels).

Stay on top of projects. Your assignments are made up of smaller tasks you assign yourself across time. “Success is the sum of small efforts repeated day in and day out.” - Robert Collier

Avoid burnout (more on this later).

Keep it interesting (more on this later).

Avoid burnout

Self-care: shower and/or bathe regularly, maintain proper sleep habits, stay hydrated, take care of your skin, do relaxation activities like meditation and reading, do fun activities, pamper yourself every now and then with face masks or foot baths, take your meds as prescribed, eat well and regularly, get outside often, move daily, etc.

Break up study/homework sessions into small, manageable chunks of time, with constructive (refreshing) breaks in between.

Break assignments down into even smaller tasks so that you aren’t over-working yourself during the course of a day, and so that you don’t overwhelm yourself (the stress can lead to burnout).

School-life balance: Keep up with your social life as best as you can, make time for your hobbies, maintain self-care, say no to things that don’t serve you, etc. Try to follow through with scheduled schoolwork 100% of the time, but know that you won’t. Sometimes you’ll need to prioritize mental health over schoolwork (be careful though, this is a very fine line, and a slippery slope). Sometimes things will come up and it’ll be out of your control. But more than anything else, there will be times when you just decide to prioritize something else like fun and socializing over schoolwork. This is why your schedule needs to be flexible: to accommodate sudden invites to hang out and random decisions to skip a homework/study session, but more importantly, flexibility will reduce the odds that you’ll skip in the first place. If your schedule includes hobbies and socializing, and anything else that’s important to you, then you won’t feel deprived. If you have school-life balance, you’ll have more of yourself to devote to schoolwork when it’s time to.

Keep it interesting

Romanticize your life by putting effort into making all of your daily tasks a special occasion.

Make meals and drinks special by using your favourite dinnerware and cutlery. Perhaps even incorporate extra elements such as: a beautiful tablecloth, napkins, candles and/or dim lighting, music, wearing your favourite clothing, etc.

Pretend you’re the main character in a movie about a successful, productive student (because you are the main character in your life).

Make games out of studying if this is something that interests you (the Forest app comes to mind).

Use lots of colours in your notes and buy colourful stationary! 🌈

Vary your approach/methods if needed to avoid boredom.

Study with friends (online or in person).

Reward yourself often.

Remember your “why.”

[oomisluvr]

sakusa takes care of a drunk reader, a drabble

synopsis: y/n is talking to a stranger about her sex life and kiyoomi is on damage control. it's an uphill battle to finally tuck her into bed. give this man a break, please.

“he be blowin’ my back out, girl.”

“she means we very gently and very passionately make love.”

“just beatin’ this pussy up!”

“i do no such thing.”

“absolutely drillin’ and killin’ my shit.” you motion with your hands. sakusa reaches out to stop you, a blush deep on his face.

“y/n.”

“this boy folds me like a pretzel.”

“y/n!”

“my ankles be touchin’ my ea- mmph!”

sakusa covers your mouth with his hand, “you’ve lost your talking privileges. give me your drink, babe,” you glare at him, defiance burning in your eyes. he glares right back, “now, y/n.” he looks to the woman you were talking and apologizes on your behalf.

you relent, releasing your grip on the drink you were holding. sakusa take it and relaxes the hold he has on you, "you always kill my fun, omi!"

"no, i keep you safe." his gaze softens and his voice follows, "c'mon, it's late now. let's get you home."

you're surprised by the gentleness in his tone. wordless, you nod, extending your arm for him to take and lead you out of the club. it's raining tonight, and sakusa all but demands you to stay at the entrance doors while he runs to get the car.

you'll get emotional if you think about it too much, about exactly how much he sacrifices for you. he accommodates for you in every aspect of his life, oftentimes without you ever having to ask. you're part of him, an extension of his own body. he quite literally could not live without you. he loves you, with everything in him. he really didn't have to come out with you tonight, but you know he did it because he cares about your safety.

when the car pulls up, sakusa jumps out, umbrella in hand, escorting you to the passenger door, opening it, and closing it once you got situated. you giggle at the little jog he does to get to the driver's side. the sound of rain hitting the windshield makes you sleepy. upon noticing your tired state, kiyoomi removes the jacket from his shoulders, draping it across your figure. you yawn, snuggling into the heavy fabric and allowing his scent to lull you to sleep.

the next time you wake up, sakusa's at the passenger side of the door, lightly shaking you.

"c'mon, we're home now." he stretches his hand to pull you out, closing the door behind him, and snaking an arm around your waste, bringing you to your shared apartment.

after fumbling with the keys, he unlocks the door and kicks off his shoes, turning the lights on. sakusa leads you to the couch, descending on one knee to remove your heels, fighting with the straps and buckles.

"try taking it off with your teeth."

"try tak- what the hell? i'm not doing that."

"awww, c'mon, you know you like my feet."

"y/n, stop being weird," you wiggle your toes, making him loose his grip on the clasp of your shoes, "and stop moving."

you giggle, still feeling buzzed from all the alcohol you downed, "i know you secretly have a foot kink."

"i do not."

"it's okay, it's okay," you soothe, roughly ruffling his hair, "it's just me and you here. you can tell me if you wanna suck on my toes. i won't judge," finally removing your shoes, sakusa stands to his feet, stretching his hand for you to take.

"i don't know where you're getting this from, but you need to go to bed. i think you're delirious." you pout like a child, not wanting the fun to be over.

"fine. only if you carry me." you flop back on the couch to emphasize your unwillingness to walk yourself, stretching your arms up, "please, oomi?"

you're so cute, but sakusa can't let you know that. huffing loudly, he bends down to pick you up with ease, arms hooked under your legs and back, "you owe me in the morning. i didn't sign up for this."

you giggle, enjoying the attention from him, "you're so strong, oomi. look at these muscles." you grab his bicep, "what is this? a bowling ball? is there bowling ball in here? did you eat a bowling ball?" sakusa fights back a smile, but a blush manages to break through.

strolling through the bedroom, sakusa drops you on the bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, mumbling in your ear, "why are you only nice to me when you're drunk, hmm? pretty girl." leaving you on the bed, sakusa digs through your dresser, approaching you with your usual pajamas, "put this on."

"no." you resist.

"y/n."

"put them on me." you kneel up on the bed, manipulating your arms and back to reach the zipper of your dress, dragging it down and shimmying out of the loose fabric, "look, i made it easy for you."

sakusa will never get used to seeing you in just a bra and panties, and his face turns beet red at the sight. you're sitting on your thighs now, legs folded behind you, feet touching.

"you're so difficult," he sighs, his blush only deepening when he moves to touch you, "arms up." you giggle, shaking your head and crossing your arms, he clenches his jaw in an effort to focus on the task at hand.

"oomi~" you flirt, "i still have my bra on. i can't sleep with a bra on. it's not good for me."

"then take it off."

"take it off for me."

"y/n."

"i won't go to bed until you do."

"fine. turn around." you shuffle on the bed, your back now facing him. with anxious hands, he unclasps your bra, the soft fabric falling to the bed. your bare back greets him, and he bats away impure thoughts. before you can turn around, sakusa grabs your arms and forces the shirt on you.

"oomi! don't be so rough."

"then listen and i won’t have to be so rough,” yanking the shirt over your head, he sighs, “there. all done.” you’re scrambling to get under the covers when sakusa grabs your ankle, “not yet. you need to do your skin care,” you open your mouth to protest, but kiyoomi interupts you, “let me guess, you want me to do it?”

you nod your head in excitement, “carry me oomi!” scooping you up, he carries you to the bathroom, setting you on the counter space. you’re rambling about god-knows-what, incoherent and broken sentences flow from your lips. sakusa tries his best to listen, he really does, but he can’t tel the difference between makeup wipes and micellar water.

“sorry to interrupt you, angel,” he kisses you on the forehead to calm your protests, “but which one do i use? the micellar water, right? you said the wipes burn sometimes...”

“aww oomi,” you bring your legs to wrap around his legs, pressing him into you, “you know me so well,” you mumble against his lips. your arms wrap around sakusa’s neck, hands tangling into the soft hair at his nape, lips building a rhythm against his.

it takes everything in sakusa to stop you, but he knows where kisses like this lead and getting you in bed is top priority.

“no, y/n,” he breaks the kiss to peer into you, “you need rest.” his eyes are soft and full of love, “let me take care of you, baby. sit still, please.” you nod and give him a quick peck, a silent promise to give him the reigns. relaxing the hold your lags have around him, kiyoomi gets to work.

he dabs the micellar water on your reusable cotton pad, gently swiping it across your face. you close your eyes, humming and mumbling the words of a song he heard earlier. using this time, sakusa admires the softness of your face, love swelling in his chest.

“all done.” you kiss his cheek in thanks, moving to hop off the counter. his hands fly out to hold your hips, keeping you placent, “not so fast.” he moves away from you, searching through the cupboards to find all the pieces of your routine.

after gathering his materials, he starts with dropping a clear, cool serum on your face.

“remind you of anything?” you joke, giggling mindlessly at your own joke.

"stop talking."

"boo, go back to being nice!"

"shh!"

you sigh loudly, swinging your legs and humming louder. sakusa works moisturizer into your skin with such vigor, your body starts to move. for good measure, he squeezes your cheeks, making your lips appear fish-like, laughing when you whine, "oomi, stop! let me go! are you done yet?"

moving to put all your things away, he nods, "yes, y/n. all done."

"carry me back then!"

"i lied. you still have to brush your teeth." you open your mouth to speak, "and no, i will not brush them for you."

"but i'm tired!"

"too bad. look, i even put the toothpaste on for you." he hands you the toothbrush. you snatch it out of his hands and vigorously brush your teeth. smiling at your attitude, sakusa begins to do his own nightly routine.

looking at him through your peripherals, you admire his physique. he really is built like a greek god. shamelessly, you rake your eyes over his body, observing the contraction of his muscles; the way the light reflects from his skin. sakusa kiyoomi truly is beautiful. catching your stare, he pokes your stomach.

"stop looking at me."

"what? i can't look at you?" foam flies everywhere.

"not like that."

"like what?"

"like you want to eat me."

"i do." you spit out the toothpaste, rinsing your toothbrush and putting it away.

you straightforwardness makes him blush, "tomorrow. i'm all yours tomorrow, but for right now-" he approaches you, his lean frame towering over your own, "-let's get you in bed."

you don't have to ask him to carry you; he does it anyway, throwing you over his shoulder and laying you on the bed.

"are you going to tuck me in, oomi?"

"what kind of question is that? of course i'm going to tuck you in."

i know i reference sakusa picking the reader up a lot but this man is 6'4" 176.8 pounds (192 cm, 80 kg) and could therefore bench press you without breaking a sweat, no matter what your weight is. my baby is strong. periodt.

[cushionydeer4]

Christian De Vil

Warnings: slight against to come but it all turns out fluffy in the end so for this part nothing really

Summary: You are scrolling through your tiktok and you find a new designer, who’s going designs you really love, When a package from said designer comes in the mail Christian gets quite jealous at what all is in the box

On a boring Tuesday afternoon you were scrolling through tiktok when you happened to stumble upon an on the rise designer who’s work really impressed you. And while extensive fashion knowledge wasn’t your forte, you do listen to Christian when you rambles on about different aspects of what he has to do throughout his day so, you know enough. You liked the video you saw and decided to explore his page to see what all else the person could do.

About an hour passes and Christian comes home. You're still very engrossed in stalking this designer’s page (you ended up following him too) “hey dove,” Christian greets as he sets his things down on the island table. You look up from your phone and greet him with a warm smile “hi” but then you immediately look back down at your phone. Your boyfriend furors his brows a bit but shrugs it off because whatever. “What are you up to, hmmmm” “oh, nothing. I just found this creator on tik tok that I really liked and got invested in their page” you respond. Christian nods his head and says “cool” and not putting anymore thought or care into it, because why should he.

You guys settle down for the night, after already having dinner and watching an episode of your favorite show, to you bed. You find yourself back in that designers page looking at all his work. He just posted a video showing off a new custom piece he made and was auctioning it off to his followers. Interested in it you comment how you would like it. Almost immediately he replies back saying “omg I love you so much, dm me your shipping address, this piece is yours” Slightly shocked by his “I love you” but thinking it was just because you post funny, wholesome videos on insight into you and your famous boyfriends life, you decide to dm the creator.

You:Hello, you are so very kind for gifting me piece

Him: Oh of course! I’m such a big fan of your boyfriend and of you. I love to watch the cute videos you post of the two of you.

You: Aww, why thank you! And like you asked the shipping address is 34213 De-Vil Estates.

Him: No problem, and thank you! I’ll make sure to get this to you ASAP!

Christian leans his onto your shoulder, “who ya’ texting” he peers down at your phone. “Oh, that tik toker I told you about earlier. He’s a designer and posted a video about giving away this really beautiful dress and I commented that I would like it, not thinking much of it because a lot of people were. But anyway he responded to my comment by saying to dm him, which leads us to here,” you say , letting Christian look at your messages. “Hmm” is all you get from him in response. “Hmm, is that a good hmm or a bad hmm” “nothing just a hmm” Christian replies “it’s just, I don’t know, I could’ve made you a dress like that if you liked it and really wanted it.” “I know that,” you say “but sometimes I like to support others who aren’t as successful, and who are trying to get their name out there” “yeah”he says “you’re not upset are you babe?” you ask, turning a bit to face him “no no” he responds, turning to look at you also. “Let’s just go ahead to bed, huh? I’ve got an early morning tomorrow and I wanna snuggle with you to sleep” Christian says, trying to get of the topic of his maybe jealousness. You were about to interject and state that there was no reason for him to be upset, but considering it seemed like him just wanted to drop the topic, you agreed. You put your phone on your bedside table and snuggled down into your covers, cuddling up to Christian and laying your head down in his chest.

When you wake up the next morning, Christians side of the bed is vacant, which is to be expected. You get get and continue on with your morning routine, eating breakfast and getting ready for your job. Grabbing your keys you head out your car and get on your way.

A lot of time passes by and Christian is home first. He made sure to grab the mail and is about to head back inside when he sees a package on the front porch. He’s a little confused because he can’t remember ordering anything recently and you hadn’t mentioned ordering anything either. Then his minds trickles back to last night and the dress. But he thinks that that person couldn’t have gotten the package to you that quickly, surely right? He takes the package inside none the less.

A little while latter and you arrive back home. “There’s a package here for you” Christian says as soon as you walk through the door. “And hello to you too” you laugh out, setting your things down and walking over to your package. You then are like “I’ll need a knife” and go over to the draw to grab one.

Slicing the sides and down the middle of the box you set down the knife to open up the box to reveal a letter on top of a layer of tissue paper, addressed to you. You set it to the side at the moment and open the tissue paper.

Under the paper you are greeted by a cute small sleek black heart shaped purse with matching accent colors to the dress under it. You gasp at the purse, picking it up and admiring it. You then grab the dress and unfold it and hold it out in front of you.

“Oh it’s gorgeous!” you exclaim as you now bring it up to hold against your body. You look up at Christian, “what do you think baby?” “I love it” he says earnestly, looking it up a down. “I need to remember to thank that tik toker yet again… better yet! I’ll make a post tagging him in it! I think that would be nicer, what do you think?” you turn to Christian.

*I’m sorry this took so long and that it’s going to need a part two. Life is hectic but expect a more works to come in the near future