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silvfyre-writings · 1 year ago

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Break your arm? I'll take care of you (BSD Fanfic)

Hiiiiii, I bring a fic of broken bones and soft fluff for Ranpo's b'day.

Don't have all that much to say really, other than enjoy!!! And that this was a collaboration with Saapphirx and that they have some art for this fic :D

So enjoy! And leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed!!!

[14:09]

O. Dazai: There’s been an accident. Ranpo’s in the hospital.

That was the text that Edgar received, and the one that he had nearly missed because he’d been so lost in his writing that he hadn’t heard his phone buzz at first; it was only because Karl nudged the device towards him that he realized he hadn’t imagined the sound and reached over to look at it, and his heart dropped right into his stomach as he read. He read the message once, twice, five times, before he realized that he needed to actually respond. He needed to know if Ranpo was alright—he needed to know how hurt he was to know whether or not he should either start panicking or start planning a funeral.

[14:12]

E. Poe: What happened?

It only took a few minutes for the response to come through.

[14:15]

O. Dazai: The case we were working on went wrong, the guy we were after got a hold of Ranpo and he got hurt.

E. Poe: How hurt?

E. Poe: Dazai? How hurt??

Before Edgar could interrogate Dazai more as to Ranpo’s condition, the man texted him an address; the hospital that they must’ve been at, and Edgar was quick to get ready, replacing his sleepwear with clothes faster than he had ever dressed himself before—it was nothing fancy, just a hoodie and some worn sweatpants, because now was not the time to get dressed up. He had to get to the hospital, and to Ranpo, and see his partner. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind conjured up all kinds of scenarios of what he would find when he got there.

Ranpo beaten black and blue… Ranpo on life support… or worse.

Ranpo dead.

Edgar shook that idea from his head and tried to think positively. Because if Ranpo were dead, then Dazai would’ve called or come to speak to him himself rather than send a text. And if not Dazai, then one of Ranpo’s other co-workers would’ve come. And if Dazai was texting instead of calling, then that meant that Ranpo was just injured; he wasn’t close to death, nor would he be on life support, he would just be injured. It was just a matter of how injured that had Edgar so stressed because Ranpo and injuries were as commonplace as him catching a summer cold.

In other words, it happened a lot.

He still remembered the last time he’d been summoned to the hospital because Ranpo had been injured whilst working; because his love was being stupid, playing some sort of game with his coworkers where they couldn’t touch the floor that had resulted in him slipping and cracking his head open on a desk. And the time before that had been because Ranpo had tripped down the stairs chasing a criminal, somehow managing to apprehend the criminal, but also spraining his ankle. And then there was the Caffeine Incident, the time he and Dazai had both gotten their hands stuck in a pipe—to this day, Edgar still didn’t know the whole story—and not to mention when Ranpo had gotten himself locked in a closet for the long weekend and hadn’t been found until his co-workers returned the following Tuesday; an incident that continued to haunt Edgar to this day, because he hadn’t been in town when it had happened.

So yes, he was worried, very, very worried, but he actively tried to stop worrying as he dashed out the door, making sure that Karl had plenty of water and food just in case he didn’t make it back that night. There was no point in worrying until he knew for certain what Ranpo’s condition was because worrying would only lead to him panicking and that wasn’t going to help anyone—that much was certain. If only because it had happened before.

Because there was nothing like getting to the hospital to see how your partner was doing, only to have a panic attack upon arrival and needing to be walked through breathing exercises by said partner’s co-workers.

Good times.

So rather than take the trains, which would’ve taken longer and most definitely caused Edgar to panic, he elected to take a taxi instead; faster, and he could stare at his phone whilst the driver did his job, staring at the screen and desperately hoping for any kind of update. But Dazai was as cryptic as he was weird, so Edgar didn’t hold much hope in receiving an update from him. Again, something he’d gotten to over the years of dating Ranpo and having to deal with his and Dazai’s very strange friendship.

Bzzt, bzzt.

Edgar’s eyes flew down to his phone the moment it vibrated in his hands, and if he’d been standing, he would’ve collapsed from utter relief because there it was, the update he’d been praying for.

[14:29]

Y. Fukuzawa: As Dazai most certainly neglected to inform you; Ranpo is in stable condition. He’s currently in surgery, but he is stable. I will meet you outside and brief you when you arrive.

Immediately, Edgar promised to send Ranpo’s boss a gift basket of some sort for knowing exactly what his employees were like and taking the liberty to update Edgar himself instead of leaving him to worry endlessly. Stable… he’s stable at least, that’s good. Surgery, not so good, but stable means he’ll be fine. Edgar relaxed into the leather seat of the taxi, letting out all his stress in one, singular breath as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, just relieved that Ranpo wasn’t dying. He focused on that one word; stable, that one, singular word, and repeated it to himself, quietly under his breath at first, before letting his voice fade and just letting the word repeat over and over in his mind.

He continued to repeat it for the rest of the trip.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was a terrifying and intimidating man, one that Edgar only spoke to whenever he came over for his monthly dinner with Ranpo, and even then they only ever exchanged a few polite sentences with each other, although he had gotten better over the years—in fact, he’d managed to hold an entire conversation with Fukuzawa last time, something that he was pretty proud of. But whilst Edgar was normally scared of Ranpo’s boss, this time he was a welcome sight, and the moment that Edgar noticed Fukuzawa standing outside, he made a beeline towards the man, words already forming on his lips.

“Fukuzawa—” Edgar barely started to speak before Fukuzawa raised his hand.

“I have not received an update since the one I gave you just before.” Fukuzawa said before he turned on his heel, and after placing a hand on Edgar’s back, guided him towards the entrance.

“What happened?” Edgar asked as they passed the doors, shivering as the cool air and sterile smells washed over him. He hated hospitals.

“The suspect that Dazai and Ranpo were after took off, and they chased him.” Fukuzawa began to explain. “They split up to try and corner him, only the suspect was expecting them to do that, and attacked Ranpo when the opportunity arose. Ranpo fought back, and the two of them fell down a flight of stairs as a result.”

Edgar sucked in a breath as he listened. He always knew Ranpo’s job was dangerous, had heard far too many stories of near misses to believe otherwise. There’d been far too many times where Ranpo had come home from work with a haunted look in his eyes because whatever criminal he’d been chasing at the time had died, or one of his co-workers had been killed in the line of duty. But seldom had Ranpo been at the end of those events, and that was what was stressing Edgar out. Because Ranpo, while fit and more than capable of holding his own if needed, was so small and scrawny compared to his co-workers, and most criminals liked to try and take advantage of that.

They always failed, because Ranpo wasn’t stupid and loved using his size to his advantage, much to the chagrin of his co-workers—Ranpo had received so many lectures from Fukuzawa about self-preservation that even Edgar knew them all by heart at this point.

“How—how hurt is he?” Edgar asked weakly, just barely managing to get the words out. His hands were starting to shake as his mind conjured up several kinds of injuries, almost forgetting that Ranpo was stable as panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Fukuzawa’s hand moved from Edgar’s back to his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “A broken arm, that’s all. It’s a bad break—hence the surgery—so he’ll be off work for a while—”

“But it’s just a broken arm?” Edgar said before realizing that he’d interrupted Fukuzawa. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

There was another squeeze to his shoulder before the hand fell away. “It’s okay. I understand that you are worried about Ranpo. Rest assured; it is just a broken arm. We just have to be patient and wait.”

Edgar could’ve collapsed with relief right then and there, but he forced himself to keep walking, following behind Fukuzawa as the man led him towards the waiting room. Immediately he spotted Dazai, sitting on one of the chairs with his head on his hands as he glared at the wall. One leg was bouncing up and down, no doubt from the stress of what had happened. If there was one thing Dazai took pride in, it was his ability to predict another person’s actions; it was what made him a good detective in the first place, and Edgar knew he was just beating himself up over what had happened to Ranpo, running over the hundreds of other plans he could’ve used to prevent his work partner from being injured in the first place.

Slowly he walked over and took a seat in the empty chair next to Dazai. He didn’t say anything, but Dazai’s leg stopped moving anyway, and his eyes slid over towards him.

It didn’t take long for Dazai to break the silence. “He got the guy.”

“P—pardon?”

Dazai turned to look at him. “Ranpo; he got the guy. Took a steel bat to the arm, and just held on as they went down the stairs together. By the time I got there, Ranpo was slapping handcuffs onto him with only one arm.”

Oh my god. Edgar buried his face into his hands, because it was just like Ranpo to focus on arresting a criminal instead of himself. “Fukuzawa said it was a bad break…”

“Oh yeah.” Dazai nodded. “The worst break I’ve seen and that’s saying something. But you’ll see what I mean when he comes out of surgery.”

“Or you could just tell me…?” Really, Edgar was starting to grow tired of Dazai’s cryptic answers. He just wanted to know the severity of Ranpo’s injuries, was that really too much to ask?

Dazai threw him a teasing grin. “Now where’s the fun in that, Poe? Just trust me when I say you’ll be shocked.”

And shocked Edgar was.

It took a few hours for a doctor to come out and speak with them, telling them that the surgery had been a success and that Ranpo was being moved to a room where he would stay a few days for observation before being allowed to go home, but that he was allowed to have visitors so long as they were quiet. And really, that was all it took for Edgar to stand and ask—he was pretty sure it was more of a demand than an ask—the doctor to take him to Ranpo. The doctor gave him an odd look before just nodding and soon enough, he was sitting in Ranpo’s room in a chair placed beside his partner’s bedside, just watching as his chest rose and fell, reassuring himself that Ranpo was alive and would wake up from the anaesthesia soon.

Edgar scooted the chair closer to the bed and reached out to grab Ranpo’s uninjured hand, running his thumb over the back of it—taking care to avoid the IV of course—as he rested his head on the covers and just continued to watch Ranpo silently. His eyes looked over the bruising that marred Ranpo’s face, no doubt from his fall down the stairs, and there was a large graze underneath his eye. Edgar was almost certain that there were more grazes and bruises scattered about Ranpo’s body, but they were simply hidden by the gown the other was wearing. Either way, he knew he would be hearing about how painful and annoying they were for days to come.

But that wasn’t what Edgar was focusing on.

No, what he was focusing on was Ranpo’s arm, the one he wasn’t holding; the limb in question was resting on Ranpo’s stomach with a pillow underneath it for support, and said limb was swathed in more bandages than Edgar had ever seen in his life. The bandages covered the entire limb—even a couple of Ranpo’s fingers were bandaged—and disappeared beneath the gown, which was more than enough for Edgar to understand the severity of the injury; as if the fact that Ranpo had just had surgery to fix the damage wasn’t already enough of a tell.

“I did tell you, you’d be shocked.” Dazai’s voice right in his ear caused him to jolt and turn to glare at him. The man cackled as he slunk around to the foot of the bed and leant against the railing. “The doctor’s just updating Fukuzawa so that he can fill out the incident report, and then he’ll be by to update you.”

Edgar sighed and nodded, returning his head to the bed and silence fell upon the room. But despite the silence, Dazai’s presence was loud, the guilt that the other man was feeling, was drowning the room and creating a suffocating atmosphere. And that combined with Edgar’s residing anxiety, was bound to end in disaster; and since Dazai didn’t seem inclined to say anything anytime soon, that meant it was up to Edgar to fix it. At least temporarily. He sat back in his seat, allowing his hand to fall away from Ranpo’s as he fixed Dazai with a look. “Ranpo does not blame you, Dazai.”

A scoff. “How can you possibly know that?”

“I don’t.” Edgar said. “But you and I both know what Ranpo is like, and that he has never said the words I blame you, when he gets hurt in the line of duty. What makes you think this time is any different?”

“Because this time he needed surgery.”

Edgar shrugged. “Your work is dangerous; surgery was bound to happen sooner or later. Did you blame Ranpo when you needed surgery after being shot last year?”

There was a very long silence as Dazai bowed his head, no doubt remembering the incident that Edgar was talking about, and eventually shook his head. “I did not.”

“Then stop blaming yourself until Ranpo tells you he does.”

Twelve weeks of recovery… that’s going to make Ranpo miserable. Edgar thought as he ran the doctor’s words through his mind again. It was just him in the room with Ranpo now, Fukuzawa and Dazai needing to go back to the office to fill out the appropriate paperwork—although both had promised to come back tomorrow to visit and see how Ranpo was doing. And since Ranpo was still unconscious, Edgar had all the time in the world to just sit and think about what the doctor had told him. Apparently, according to the doctor—and the x-ray’s he’d been shown—Ranpo’s wrist and hand had taken the brunt of the attack, several of the bones snapping upon being struck.

Edgar was ever so grateful that Ranpo had gotten his arm up in time to block the bat from hitting him in the head because he couldn’t even begin to imagine that injury…

But it wasn’t the bat that had wound up doing most of the damage, but the fall that had followed afterwards. Because falling down a massive amount of stairs while holding onto another person with an already broken wrist did nothing but make the injury even worse. So what could’ve been just a broken wrist that needed a cast for a few weeks, turned into a completely broken arm that needed surgery to fix the bones because they had shifted out of place. And a minor concussion; they couldn’t forget the concussion. Edgar let out a sigh, just knowing that the next twelve weeks were going to be a very challenging time; with Ranpo’s arm the way it was, there was no way that his partner was going to be able to do anything himself, which meant that Edgar was going to have to step up and take care of things, which meant that he’d need to take time off from his own work, which meant a loss of income—

“Nngh…”

—and while Edgar had more than enough money to cover all their bills until Ranpo could return to work, and was more than happy to do as such, he knew that doing so would do nothing but make Ranpo upset. Because while Edgar had been born into money, Ranpo had not, and hated accepting any kind of financial aid, preferring to starve and suffer than accept help. Over the years that they’d known each other, it’d gotten better, but Ranpo still insisted on paying his own way more often than not, and he knew that not being able to work was going to hurt him. Still, Edgar would do his absolute best to make Ranpo’s recovery—

“Edgar, you’re thinking too loud again…” Edgar froze as a finger poked his forehead, and he looked up to see Ranpo, barely conscious, but still conscious and blinking slowly at him.

A smile quickly grew on Edgar’s face as he stood and sat on the edge of the bed so that Ranpo didn’t have to crane his head to look down at him. “I think I’m thinking just the right amount, actually.”

Ranpo hummed, looking around the room as he took in his surroundings. His eyes flitted from Edgar to the machine monitoring his vitals, then back to Edgar, before finally falling to his injured arm. Edgar watched quietly as Ranpo gave an experimental wiggle of his fingers and winced as only his pinkie twitched. “Ow…”

“Maybe don’t do that, dear, you just had surgery.” Edgar said, reaching over to carefully rest a hand on the bandages, drawing Ranpo’s attention back to him. “I’ll go get the doctor—”

“No, I’m going to go to sleep. I’m tired.” Ranpo interrupted Edgar before he could even finish his sentence, and shuffled to get more comfortable in the bed before closing his eyes.

I should’ve expected that. Edgar sighed and moved his hand until he could hold Ranpo’s uninjured one, and gave it a gentle squeeze until those green eyes flicked open again and focused on him. “Ranpo, let me get the doctor first. She needs to talk to you, and the faster that happens, the faster you can get some sleep.”

“Ugh, fine. Go get the stupid doctor then.”

“Please don’t call the doctor stupid. She did just put you back together.” Edgar stood and leaned over to gently press his lips to Ranpo’s forehead, feeling even more of his stress leaving as Ranpo smiled at the gesture. “I’ll be back soon, alright?”

Ranpo let out a hum, and Edgar reluctantly drew away so that he hunt down the doctor that was in charge of taking care of his partner. Thankfully, that didn’t take all that long to do and soon he was back by Ranpo’s bedside listening as the doctor spoke to him about his arm and the care that would have to go into making sure it healed properly. A lot was the answer; Edgar listened as the doctor explained that Ranpo was more than welcome to go home to recover, but that he would have to come back to the hospital to remove his stitches and get the bandages exchanged for a cast in which his arm would remain until the twelve weeks had passed.

Unless there was a complication or problem, in which case, he was to return to the hospital immediately, but Edgar was praying there wouldn’t be. He didn’t think his heart would be able to cope with any more stress.

But ultimately, the doctor made sure that they both understood that Ranpo was not to use his arm under any circumstance, no matter how much he wanted to.

Ranpo huffed the moment the doctor left the two of them alone, an unhappy look on his face, one that Edgar recognized easily because he’d seen it on his partner’s face many times over the years. It was a look of despair born from the knowledge that for a short time, Ranpo wouldn’t be able to live as he normally would, that he wouldn’t be able to do what he loved, and that he’d be stuck at home for such a long time. And it was a look that Edgar always hated seeing, so whenever it appeared, he always tried to do what he could to ease the pain.

He slowly rose from the chair and crawled onto the bed, and, whilst being mindful of Ranpo’s arm, stretched out beside his love so that their shoulders were touching, and their legs pressed together. He felt Ranpo begin to relax beside him. “I’ll be there to help you, you know that.”

“I know.” Ranpo’s head dropped to rest against his shoulder as he sighed, good hand fisting the blankets beneath it. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“You help me all the time.” Edgar said with a shrug. “When I overwork myself, when my mental health crashes, when I’m stressing over a deadline, you’re always there. So what kind of partner would I be if I wasn’t there for you when you needed help?”

“A terrible one.” Even though he couldn’t see Ranpo’s face, Edgar could hear the smile in it. “Thanks Edgar, and… sorry if I worried you.”

Edgar smiled, and rested his own head on top of Ranpo’s. “It’s fine, dear, I’ve come to accept that you’ll be worrying me until the day we die.”

“Some people would say that’s a bad thing to say.”

“And you?”

Ranpo snorted. “I think it’s a very you thing to say.”

Five weeks into dealing with Ranpo having the use of just one arm, Edgar liked to think he had a handle on things and that everything was going well. In the beginning, it’d been hard, because Ranpo had insisted on trying to do everything himself and did not hesitate to snap at Edgar whenever he tried to help. And honestly, his partner had done very well at first, taking things slow so he could actually get them done. It wasn’t until Ranpo had tried to shower on his own in that first week that he’d realized help wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Edgar’s heart still skipped an entire year whenever he remembered the thud and the wail that had followed when Ranpo had slipped over in the shower and whacked his arm against the tiles. Somehow, by some sort of miracle, Ranpo had avoided injuring himself even further, but that hadn’t stopped Edgar from being filled with so much stress as he’d called Fukuzawa to ask for a ride to the hospital—he was the only person that Edgar knew of with a car, and Ranpo had been in so much pain that there were tears—and he was forever grateful when the man showed up not even ten minutes later to help.

And with some x-rays—that showed no new damage—and painkillers—that left his partner drowsy—Ranpo was sent home with a warning to be more careful.

After that incident though, Edgar quickly became Ranpo’s personal butler, not that he was complaining of course. He would rather cater to Ranpo’s every whim if it meant not seeing tears in the other’s eyes.

Every morning, he would drag himself out of bed and down the stairs to wake Ranpo who’d taken to sleeping on the couch, claiming that he slept better when he didn’t have to worry about rolling onto his arm in his sleep. Edgar shared the sentiment, but he missed having Ranpo in his arms while he slept; he slept better when he knew Ranpo was beside him, but he would take the other’s comfort over his own right now. After waking Ranpo, came breakfast—always something simple because Edgar wasn’t the biggest fan of cooking, even if he was good at it—and then came the task of getting Ranpo dressed, but only if his partner deemed it a non-pyjama day. Most of the time, Ranpo was content to laze about in the clothes he slept in, which Edgar couldn’t fault him for, because it took a lot of effort to get Ranpo’s injured arm through the sleeves of the shirts he usually wore.

But anyway, after battling with clothes—because it truly was a battle—it was time for Edgar to do some work; his partner had insisted that even though he was unable to work, Edgar didn’t need to stop working because of that. Of course, Edgar protested against that idea, because what if Ranpo needed him and he wasn’t there to help? Trouble always seemed to find Ranpo no matter where he was and no matter what he was doing; literally, Ranpo could be watching a movie and he’d still find some way to hurt himself. It was a skill that terrified Edgar, and one that Ranpo vehemently denied the existence of. But eventually, after a few more arguments, Edgar had compromised by saying that he’d only work half-days, giving him the rest of the day to spend with Ranpo, and Ranpo hadn’t complained—he’d even seemed happy with the idea.

And once Edgar was finished with work, it was time for dinner which was, once again, a simple affair, and then he and Ranpo simply spent time together until one or both of them passed out. Most of the time they would watch whatever show that Ranpo had started that day—being unable to do anything resulted in a lot of free time—or they would read books at the opposite ends of the couch, just sitting in silence whilst Karl curled up on one of their laps or the couch itself. And it was there that Edgar would remain, just waiting until Ranpo would fall asleep in which he would get up and make sure his partner was comfortable, often covering him with a blanket before dragging himself to bed. Sometimes he was joined by Karl, but most of the time he wasn’t; the raccoon choosing to keep Ranpo company while he was injured instead.

And that’d been their routine for five weeks now.

Only another seven to go.

“Edgar, my wonderful writing man, it’s almost lunch time, which means you need to stop sleeping.” Edgar let out a groan as Ranpo’s voice assaulted his ears, and rolled over with the intention of getting some more sleep. He’d stayed up a little too long writing last night, having been hit with a burst of inspiration, so he was rather tired. So instead of getting up, he rolled over and dragged his blanket over his head—the wrong choice to make apparently. “No, Edgar, you can sleep more later. Get up! I’m hungry!”

The blanket that Edgar had wrapped around himself was pulled away harshly, and he let out an undignified yelp as he chased after it, eyes flying open to see Ranpo standing beside the bed, looking satisfied with himself. A quick glance to the clock showed that it was just past one, meaning neither he nor Ranpo had eaten yet, and more importantly; he had missed work. Shit! I should’ve set an alarm.. “I’m sorry, dear, I’ll get you something to eat now.”

Ranpo fixed him with a look as he scrambled to get out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets as they tangled around his legs. He was freed from his struggles when Ranpo stepped on the edge of the blanket and it feel to the ground in a heap that Edgar stepped out of. “You were up late writing again.”

It wasn’t a question or a statement; it was a simple fact, and despite that, Ranpo voicing it still made him flush in embarrassment. “I was… I was about to go to bed when I got hit with some inspiration and I didn’t want to forget. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. You don’t get enough sleep anyway.” Ranpo interrupted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You left your phone downstairs so I woke up when your boss called to ask where you were.”

“O-Oh… did you, um, answer?” Edgar froze in front of the closet door, hand on the handle as he looked over his shoulder towards Ranpo.

Ranpo scoffed. “Of course not. I don’t answer the phone—” that was a fact that Edgar knew all too well, “—but I did send him a text to say you were sick.”

Edgar sighed. “Please tell me you just said I had a cold and not that I was not dying. I’m still getting sent ‘get well’ cards from the first time you did that.”

“Yes, I said it was a cold, don’t worry.” Ranpo said, coming to lean against Edgar’s side and looked up at him, snickering. “Besides, you have to admit that was funny.”

“For you, maybe. For my co-workers, not so much.” Edgar opened the closet door and rifled through the various clothes hanging up, trying to find one of Ranpo’s shirts, which would be much easier to find if Ranpo didn’t just hang his clothes on the first hanger he found. “Are you going to take a shower today?”

“Only if you take one with me.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, having expected that answer. “As if I’d let you shower on your own until that cast comes off.”

“That was one time, Edgar. One time!”

“And one time too many. It was terrifying to see you on the floor like that.” Edgar finally found a shirt and pulled it out to show Ranpo. It was one of his own shirts actually that he’d even forgotten he owned, but it was big and would probably be much easier to get Ranpo into—and out of—than one of his own. Ranpo studied the shirt for a moment before he nodded his approval, and Edgar returned his attention to the closet. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom. Please be careful if you try to undress yourself.”

“You need to stop stressing so much, Edgar, otherwise you’ll go gray.” Ranpo called over his shoulder as he made his way into the bathroom, leaving Edgar alone on the room, not that he would be alone for too long since he would be joining Ranpo momentarily anyway.

He rolled his eyes fondly at the words, quickly pulling out some clothes for himself before he followed Ranpo into the bathroom, snorting when he stumbled upon Ranpo in the middle of a wrestling match with his shirt. “Do you need a hand?”

“No!” Came Ranpo’s response as his head disappeared into the shirt. Edgar watched in an amused silence as Ranpo squirmed about before his head suddenly reemerged and he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it into the corner of the room. “See? I got it.”

“Okay great, and what about your pants?” Edgar asked, stepping further into the room to place the clothes on the counter top. He crouched in front of the cabinet and searched through it, looking for the roll of plastic wrap he’d put in there so that they didn’t have to trek to the kitchen every time Ranpo wanted a shower. Where is it—ah! There it is. Edgar grabbed the wrap and stood, turning back towards Ranpo.

“I got them covered too. Just watch.” And watch Edgar did, as Ranpo hooked his two working fingers into the waist of his pants and shimmied them off, along with his underwear, before he threw Edgar a massive grin as he tossed them over to where his shirt lay. “See? After five weeks, I’m not a total invalid.”

Edgar merely rolled his eyes, and held out the plastic wrap, waiting for Ranpo to hold his arm up before he began to wrap it until there was no chance of water getting through. As such was their routine every time Ranpo had to take a shower—which wasn’t too often because it was simply easier to fill the bathtub and get clean that way, but there was just something about showers that soothed his partner, so if Ranpo said it was shower time, it was shower time, and nothing could change his mind.

Once Ranpo’s arm was wrapped, Edgar ruffled Ranpo’s hair affectionately. “You’re doing very well, dear.”

Ranpo’s cheeks began to burn, and he ducked away from Edgar’s hand to slip into the shower. “Of course, I am! I’m a genius after all; there’s nothing I can’t do!”

“Well, there are the trains—”

“Edgar, please shut up.”

Edgar very much liked showering with Ranpo, even before Ranpo had broken his arm and needed someone to be in the room—or in the shower because who was Poe to turn down showering with his partner? —with him to make sure he didn’t slip and fall. There was no explanation for it really; just there was something about awkwardly standing under the showerhead together, sharing the water, and washing each other’s hair and bodies that was calming and just… loving. Every time that he and Ranpo showered together, it was just… nice. And this time was no different; Edgar made sure that he kept his touch gentle as he ran his hands through Ranpo’s hair, washing it free of the shampoo he’d just washed it with, smiling at the pleased noises that the other was letting out as his head rested against Edgar’s chest, eyes closed to avoid getting shampoo in his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep there, my love.”

“’m not sleeping… it just feels good, that’s all.” Ranpo murmured, lifting his head off of Edgar’s chest just enough for his eyes to be seen, if only to try and prove that he hadn’t just been dozing. Edgar wasn’t stupid though, he knew Ranpo far too well to be fooled by that, and he wasn’t going to say anything because it made him feel happy that Ranpo trusted him enough to keep him upright when he was tired.

He hummed and guided Ranpo’s head out of the shower spray so that he could scrub some conditioner into his hair. “I’m almost done, so you’ll be able to take a nap if you’re tired.”

Ranpo’s face scrunched up. “I’m tired of sleeping all the time. I want to do something else.”

“Well, you have been stayed inside for five weeks, so we could go outside for a bit?”

“No thanks.” Ranpo said even though he looked like he was truly considering taking him up on the offer. “Knowing my luck, I’d fall down the stairs and break my neck—hey, I know! We can play a game together!”

Wait, what? Edgar’s hands stopped moving, experiencing mental whiplash from the sudden change in topic.“I’m sorry?”

“Ugh, you heard me. I want to play a game.” Ranpo repeated, slower this time, tilting his head back to look up at Edgar. “I haven’t played any of my games since I broke my arm, and I want to.”

Edgar had to stop and think over what Ranpo said for a moment, tilting Ranpo’s head back just enough so that he could rinse out the conditioner, running his fingers through his partners hair to make sure that he got all of it out. “Okay… but how exactly do you expect to play if you can’t hold a controller?”

“You know, for someone so smart, that’s a really dumb question. You’re going to hold the controller for me, obviously.”

A sound idea, if only for one problem. “Uh… Ranpo, you do know that I’ve never played a video game in my life, right?”

“It’s not that hard, Edgar. You just have to listen to what I tell you, and you are very good at that.”

Somehow, Edgar doubted it was as simple as that, but like usual, there was no point in trying to argue with Ranpo whenever his mind was set on something; in this case, videogames. He sighed and reached over to turn the shower off. Something told him he was going to regret his decision, yet he still opened his mouth to agree. “Alright, we can give it a try. But please, don’t yell if I don’t understand. I learn quick, but not that quick.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Ranpo stepped out of the shower and stood, patiently waiting until Edgar grabbed the towels, draping one around his shoulders, and using the other to dry Ranpo’s hair. Ranpo grunted and continued, “can we hurry it up? I want to play!”

“Patience, my dear.” Edgar said, letting the towel drop to rest around Ranpo’s shoulders while he lifted his own to start drying his own hair. “We still need to get you dressed.”

Ranpo huffed, but nodded. Edgar was glad when Ranpo fell silent since that meant he could focus on what he was doing and not get distracted, and therefore, be done faster. He was quick to dress himself, pulling on one of his turtlenecks because the days were starting to get cold, and then some paw-patterned shorts that Ranpo had gifted him a birthday ago. The entire time, he could feel his partners eyes watching him impatiently, and he did his best to ignore it as he used his fingers to comb his hair back and tie it up a little, letting half of it fall against the back of his neck. If Ranpo was going to coerce him into playing a game, he wanted to be able to see what he was doing.

Once he was dressed, it was time to tackle the battle that was getting Ranpo into clothes, which wasn’t as difficult as it sounded, but was still only possible with two people. It would’ve been different if Ranpo had been able to use his fingers, but the cast on his arm only allowed him the use of two of them, and Ranpo was impatient, so it was easier to just have Edgar help him in the first place. First came the shirt, shoving Ranpo’s broken arm through the sleeve before pulling it over his head. Next came the pants, in which Edgar simply crouched so that Ranpo could use him for balance as he lifted one leg through the hole and then the other.

And that was that. “All done.” Edgar said as he stood and left the bathroom, Ranpo trailing behind him. “What game—”

“We’re not done yet!” Ranpo interrupted, making a beeline for the closet, searching through it until he emerged with two pairs of socks. “It’s cold! I don’t want cold feet, and neither do you!”

With a roll of his eyes, Edgar complied with the unspoken demand, helping Ranpo into the socks first, making sure that the pants were tucked into them just the way that Ranpo liked them, and then pulled the other pair over his own feet. He didn’t care much for socks, not in the way that Ranpo did, but the socks that the other had pulled out were the ones that had been handmade for them by one of Ranpo’s co-workers for Christmas a couple of years ago, and whenever Ranpo wanted to wear his own pair, Edgar was expected to wear them too. So he did, even if the weather wasn’t quite cold enough for woollen socks.

For the same reason that he was about to play a videogame for the first time in his life.

Love.

In hindsight, Edgar should’ve known that Ranpo wouldn’t hold up to his promise of not yelling, but he also should’ve known better to expect Ranpo not to in the first place. How many times had he had to listen to Ranpo yell at the characters in his games for being stupid and failing to survive? Too many times, far too many. After the first yell, in which Edgar had jumped and nearly thrown the console in his hands, he should’ve called it quits then. But he didn’t, because he was an idiot in love, and despite the occasional yells, there was so much life in Ranpo’s eyes, life that he hadn’t even realized was missing in the first place.

Not that he was saying that Ranpo had been lifeless of course, but his partner certainly hadn’t been as happy as he usually was over the past weeks, so it was nice to see that happiness return. And well, it wasn’t that bad really; Ranpo toned down the yelling after the first jump, although he was still loud by Edgar’s standards. And if he really had to admit it, gaming with Ranpo was just another bonding experience—one he probably wouldn’t engage in again once Ranpo had the use of his arms again, but he may just sit and watch Ranpo play one day.

And no, it was not because the game that Ranpo had picked was one that required him to think, not at all.

“No, don’t put him there, Edgar, he’ll die. He’s a mage, not a tank.” Ranpo whined from where he lay on the couch, stretched out with his back against Edgar’s chest, arm resting on the pillow he’d stolen from the arm chair on the other side of the room. His head thudded against Edgar’s shoulder as he threw it back with a groan.

“Then where exactly do you want me to put him?” Edgar cried, tilting his head to the side so that he could see the screen better, and looked just a little frazzled at trying to figure out what it was that Ranpo wanted him to do with the character. As much as Ranpo knew what he was doing in this game when it came to strategies and the characters, his instructions to Edgar were very much unclear, and it was just a little frustrating. “He kills everything in one shot!”

“Yes, so put him two spaces backwards out of enemy range.” Ranpo pointed to the square in question, speaking as if the solution was obvious, which as he spoke, Edgar realised it was, but still. “And then move the actual tank in front of him as protection, just in case.”

“Dedue is too far—”

“I don’t mean Dedue, I mean Felix!”

“Felix isn’t a tank!” He may have never heard of this game before, but that much he knew from the few hours they’d been playing this game already, mostly because of how many times he’d gotten Felix killed until Ranpo had taught him how to increase stats. And then he’d become their strongest character.

“So? He’ll dodge all those enemies and kill them, so therefore, he’s a tank.”

Isn’t a tank supposed to take hits, not give them? Edgar thought, but did as Ranpo asked. He was the expert here after all, but he was still going to say something about it. “I find your logic there a little flawed, dear.”

“Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing. So, unless you think you know better, do as I say.”

Edgar rolled his eyes, and fell silent, and thankfully, Ranpo did as well, only speaking up to give new instructions. And honestly… it was nice, to have Ranpo resting comfortably against his chest, to feel his heart beating and his warmth; all things that Edgar hadn’t realized he’d been missing until this moment. Because, sure, Ranpo had been home for five weeks, and would remain home for another seven, and they had been spending more time together than they usually could because of their conflicting schedules, but not like this. This was different, and Edgar wanted more of it. He wanted to hold Ranpo close until his beloved fell asleep in his arms, regardless of his injury, he wanted to help Ranpo more even though he’d already been doing more than enough. He wanted to—

“Edgar, your phone’s buzzing.”

Huh? A quick glance showed that his phone was indeed buzzing from its spot beside him. “Oh, it’s Fukuzawa.” But before he could even pick the phone up to answer it, Ranpo leaned over and swiped it up. “Ranpo!”

“What? He only calls you when he can’t get a hold of me.”

That may have been true, but that wasn’t the point. But before he could say as much, Ranpo was thumbing the screen and answering the call. Edgar sighed, and shuffled down the couch a little, putting down the console—after saving of course—and stretching out his legs so that he was laying on the couch instead of sitting, just listening as Ranpo chatted with his boss. With one hand, he wrapped an arm around Ranpo’s waist, holding Ranpo’s injured hand and thumbing over the cast—Ranpo wouldn’t feel it, but it was the gesture that mattered—and with his other, he reached up and stroked his hand through Karl’s fur; the raccoon had been sleeping peacefully on the back of the couch the entire time they’d been gaming, and let out a quiet chatter as he was petted before pulling his tail over his nose.

Then, Edgar closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the arm of the couch, letting Ranpo’s voice fade into the background a little. He was rather tired from working, and making sure that Ranpo was taken care of, more than he thought he would be. Edgar closed his eyes; perhaps he’d take a quick nap, and enjoy the feeling of Ranpo’s back against his chest, warm and heavy. It’d been far too long since he’d last been able to hold his love, and it was one of the many reasons why he wished that Ranpo’s arm would heal quicker, you know, aside from the fact that Ranpo’s arm was broken—and also, itchy, and achy according to the complaints Ranpo voiced every other day.

But he also didn’t mind it, because it allowed him to dote and take care of the person that meant the most to him in his life, it allowed him to cook and clean, and make sure that Ranpo was comfortable, but most of all, it allowed him to spend time with someone he usually only saw on weekends because of their conflicting schedules. And it made him a little sad to know that once Ranpo’s arm was healed, that life would go back to the way it had been.

But just a little.

Edgar didn’t know how long he slept for, but the next thing he was aware of was a finger gently poking him in the cheek. He opened his eyes to find Ranpo staring up at him, and yawned. “Yes, my love?”

“You need to sleep more if you’re passing out on the couch when I’m chattering in your ear.” Ranpo commented as he stood, offering a hand towards Edgar. “Fukuzawa says hi and thanks as well. Apparently he thinks I’m being annoying. As if, I’m a delight to take care of.”

You just keep telling yourself that, Ranpo. Edgar’s lips twitched, and accepted the hand, using it to pull himself upright. “What did Fukuzawa want?”

Ranpo shrugged. “Just to see how I was, but also to let us know that he’ll be bringing dinner over tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s problem, right now, you need sleep.”

Edgar didn’t even try to argue as Ranpo dragged him out of the living room and upstairs, and he didn’t say anything as his partner nudged him into bed, but he did speak when Ranpo crawled in after him. “Ranpo, what are—”

“Shut up you, I’m not stupid.” Ranpo said as he forced Edgar to lay back before he curled up into his side, resting his arm across Edgar’s stomach. “You’ve been wanting to cuddle.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“No buts!” Ranpo pressed a finger against his lips to stop his words. “Just accept what’s happening and sleep. My arm will be fine and…” Ranpo’s voice turned into a whisper, “maybe I missed this too.”

Edgar simply smiled and reached down to drag the blankets over the both of them. “Well then, I can’t say no to that then now, can I?”

“Nope! Now hurry up and sleep!”

“Yes, dear.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #ranpoe #edogawa ranpo #edgar allan poe #hurt/comfort #fluff #domestic bliss #injury #writing #fanfic

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the---hermit · 1 year ago

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Red currants I harvested the other day, and some recipe notes belonging to my great grandfather (not the recipe I tried today, but it was such a cool find I had to share it).

26|06|2023

My post exam resting continues, and I don't know how long it will last, but I am enjoying every moment of it. Today I started planning a trip I'll be going on with my parents this weekend. I really like planning these kind of things, and I'm really excited to go on this trip. I really hope my anxiety won't fuck it up for me, but I am trying to focusing on the positive things, and in the worse case scenarios I have my meds to help me. Today I also took some time to try a new recipe I have never done before with my own hands. It's a family recipe both my grandmas used to make, and judging from the smell I have a good feeling about what I have made with my first attempt. I'll only be able to judge in a couple of days, but my hopes are high. I also worked on a reading challenge update post that has been in my draft for months and that I will hopefully post soon. I was also thinking about making a specific post on what I read in the year so far, but I honestly don't know how to structure it yet (so if anyone has any ideas let me know, I might look for a tag or something). I wanted to work in my garden but by the time I finished cooking I was tired and today it was way too hot for me to do a good job, so I have postponed that to the next few days.

Productivity and self care:

read first thing in the morning

monthly therapy session

did the first big part of my travel planning

tried making a family recipe for the first time

listened to a feel good playlist

worked on a future post

Irish on duolingo (still just doing reviews of old stuff because my burned out brain cannot focus on new topics)

listened to the newest episode of the books unbound podcast

crosswords

📖: The House In The Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

🎵:25 by The Pretty Reckless

#studyblr #studyinspo #uniblr #university #student life #productivity #self care #journaling #currently reading #journal #knife gang #mine #the---hermit

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crimeronan · 9 months ago

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i lost the entire weekend to whatever's wrong with my back and now today i need to drive around a lot and run a lot of errands before an important appointment tomorrow and i do feel like i'm going to burst into tears. i should get a call from my doctor's office with my x-ray results today or tomorrow and then be able to make an appointment for treatment but in the meantime my body hurts so bad and moving around sucks and it keeps feeling worse and worse but i can't do anything about it because i am a grown-ass adult and sometimes that means needing to do grown-ass adult shit while in catastrophic amounts of pain and there's nothing that can be done about it. if i get home from making various photocopies and printing various things at the library and just collapse inside and start howling like a wounded dog it'll be the best case scenario because then at least i'll have DONE MY FUCKING ERRANDS,

#instead of doing chores or anything around the house ive just been crawling into bed and sleeping #and i wish i could do that or could at LEAST lay in bed and stream toh or something #but no. i have to get up and be an adult. and cry the whole time #at least i'll have the car so i can scream hysterically and sob behind the wheel #doing this on buses is frowned upon.#autoimmune tag #negative

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iantimony · 1 month ago

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almost a thursday wednesday tuesday

as of posting it is actually a thursday oopsie

listening: found the band 'the last shadow puppets', they are faintly arctic monkeys-y in a way that all blends together so i don't have a specific song to rec, it's good driving music though. and i did a Lot of driving last weekend.

the new sammy rae album is sooooo good. not linking a specific song rn it's all just really yummy. i need to remind myself to buy the show tickets for later in oct.

reading: 5-Minute Sketching: Landscapes by Virginia Hein - my mom got this from the library recently and i yoinked it as bedtime reading. it's good! some really strong technique ideas in here, most of which i'd seen before but some that were new (like the stuff about sketching on the go, which i want to get better at) and i liked it.

This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation by Alan Lew - some of my friends from temple are book-clubbing this and i am, of course, behind in the reading. i've only just started it so i have about 30 pages to read to catch up so i will at least be ready for the next one.

relatedly: i have been practicing the yom kippur torah reading that i was asked to do for services! i really wanted to learn to chant it but at this point i'm not sure i'll have the time, i don't know the trope marks and i feel like it's a little late to try and learn them :( but damn it i'll try. worse case scenario i can just read it day-of, it's not a huge deal. weh.

watching: is true friendship dead? (mina le): as someone who just added hours to a driving trip to fit in pickups/dropoffs for people to train stations/airports, the idea of like, Not doing those things for the people you consider your friends is insane to me. to be fair i do have limits on what i'm willing to do, especially on short notice, but in general, idk.

everyone wants your time (drew gooden): interesting little thing on the attention economy.

making plates with mouldy clay (florian gadsby): like every amateur potter i love florian.

'mommy marketing', luxury baby products, & registry etiquette: as someone who ostensibly plans to have kids nebulously one day, this is wild. i cannot imagine spending $200 on what is essentially a backpack. what. no.

playing: fallow unless we count thinking really hard about minecraft

making: mostly fallow :( i guess now's a good time as any to blast that i've been stream-of-thoughting on @contra-positive on tumblr (and i think will start crossposting to dreamwidth as well). i do daily journalling (or try to) but that's more for my own day to day bullshit, i don't really brain dump in there because i can't write as fast as i type and i end up thinking about the words too much to have it be a real brain dump. shrug! bad word vomit blog. thumbs up emoji

eating: had some good ass food at some best friends' wedding this past weekend. otherwise fallow :((( hoping tomorrow for some good ass rosh hashanah food that i will be cooking/baking.

misc: i have been at home with family for almost three weeks, which feels like a lot of time and also no time at all. friday i fly to visit my grandma and this time next week i will finally be gearing up to be back in my apartment. i miss my cat! i miss my space!! i miss my crafts and activities!!!

#tuesdayposting

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onrainynights · 10 months ago

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journal entry. June 26th 2023. this is what I'm glad to leave behind this year. (cw self harm and suicidal ideation)

I've been having a hard time over the past few weeks. despite having down time on the weekends, I find myself feeling similarly to back in middle and high school—dreading the next morning, pretending it's not going to happen, etc. On Friday I had a really bad meltdown at work and hurt myself. it was really dark. I thought I broke my hand. I found myself in a state of thinking the pain was good, that I needed it to stay composed, and would hit my hand hard again whenever I felt the pain—and my composure—fading. at one point I thought that if I'd had a knife, I would've stabbed myself with it.

mom didn't seem to care. she blamed me for it. it just made me feel worse. I needed this weekend to emotionally reset, and physically heal a bit, but now I just feel raw and horrible and like I'm back in 8th grade. a month ago I almost looked forward to work each day. now it's a nightmare. nobody prepared me for what it would become and now they're blaming me for being blindsided by it. part of me wants to just keep going out of spite, but another part doesn't know how I'm gonna eat lunch at his house every day and pretend like nothing is wrong. I think I'll take my lunch in the shop, at least for a little while. I don't think it's wise for me to force myself into social situations if it's not necessary. I'll need the time away from people to calm down.

I finally see the appeal of self-harm. it scares the shit out of me but it also made me feel so much better. the physical pain was like an emotional painkiller. not sure how that works, but it did.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to listen to music and podcasts tomorrow like nothing is wrong. what if roger wants to train me tomorrow. fuck. I don't wanna talk to him. I think I'd stutter if I tried.

I wish people didn't have to know me. I wanna be a stranger to everyone, always. I never wanna meet new people ever again. god. I was happy. I was so happy but it never lasts and now I'm worse than I've been in a while. I hate when I get back to this place. I wish people understood me. I wish I had something concrete I could point to as a reason why. but I don't. wish I could just break both my legs and be bedridden for months. I need therapy. but I don't have health insurance and I definitely can't afford to pay for therapy out of pocket. let alone actually get to appointments. teletherapy is still a hard no. can't risk anyone overhearing. I'd talk about her eventually and someone would hear and my life would blow up and that's the worst-case scenario. worse than a brain tumor and 6 months to live.

at least it'll be over soon. the work stress I mean. at soonest, early August will calm things down. at the latest, the job ends in October or November. at least come 2024 I'll know I'm never coming back to this hellhole. I'd rather go back to retail for less pay than have a repeat of the last week. and I don't know if worse is yet to come

maybe I'm being a bit superstitious but I don't think I'll ever say "I will" again when someone tells me to have a good day. it just seemed to backfire.

can't end the day disappointed if you don't start it with expectations of anything

The day is the day, can't be bad or good or nothing. It just is.

I wanna sleep for a year. I wanna not die but not live through what's coming for me. I feel like I did so long ago and I hate it. I hate this. Someone give me some god damn antidepressants or something. Everyone in this fucking family is medicated and therapized except for me, why am I the exception? why do I have to fend for myself when nobody ever taught me how? I think id be more stable if I was homeless. at least then I'd know never to expect anything good

And there it is again, the urge to run away. seems like the happy medium until I remember my family would worry and I'd have to get rid of my phone, and I'd have shit food, and who would take care of Henry if I was gone? nobody. and I couldn't take him with me.

I'd miss him and Bella to much

They're the reasons why I haven't done it yet

I think I'd have killed myself if not for that cat or that girl. he'd die without me, and my heart breaks at the thought of never seeing her grow up, of her never really knowing me. wouldn't even have a memory.

but how am I supposed to endure this? just the thought of going back makes me want to destroy myself. makes me want to be invisible again. I was invisible once. nobody knew or cared who I was or what I thought or what I could do. I was one of hundreds, unimportant, like a little ant in a whole colony. and here I am now just holding on to these routines I've built myself, tracks for my trolley to run on, grooves carved carefully and deliberately over time until they're so deep I can't climb out of them unless pulled out by something external—and when a vulture grips my shoulders and tumbles me out I can do nothing but watch and lash out but there's no one to hurt but myself, the vulture is gone, and I am broken by my own hand. I look ahead to my grooves and they've been destroyed, washed away by my tears, and I am starting over because I have no other choice. but my grooves are gone and so I don't know where to go or what to do. how did I make those grooves in the first place? what did I use? I used this shovel, I think, but I can't find it now. the vulture took it. I am back on flat ground where I began and I am lost. the vulture wants me to follow him, to fly, but I can't make new grooves in the sky. I need grooves. I need grooves. trolleys aren't supposed to fly. they'd crash and break and take people down with them. I'm not afraid. I just know better. I walk in a direction, I don't think it's the same one as before. I don't recognize that tree. but I keep walking until I'm back where I started. and then I keep going, tracing over my own footprints. and again. and again. and again and again and again again again again again and I walk in the grooves and I push my trolley with everything I need and everyone I love and it's ok, finally okay.

and then I remember the vulture.

#tw self harm #tw suicide #for context I wrote this after the worst public meltdown I've ever had. it resulted from my boss criticizing my work routine which #he previously allowed me to develop and had no complaints about. he forced me to completely abandon my routine #and I had to create a new one completely from scratch during the busiest month of the season #I did end up staying out of spite #but this specific experience was horrible and made me feel some pretty nasty things #ok to rb if u want lol

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robotslenderman · 1 year ago

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asdf

Was really tempted to get a new case for the trip. My current case only has two wheels and they're shit. Like, one wheel skips every other second -- not one specific wheel, they take turns doing it -- so wheeling that thing over anything smoother than ice has it lurching from side to side as one wheel fucks up and then the other wheel trips. It's a real pain, especially if you're in a hurry. I'd been using it for trips out north west and I've been drooling at the four wheeled cases for years.

But like. It'd cost hundreds of bucks to buy a new case. So I ignored the siren song of The Case.

But. I do need a carryon for next year when I start making weekend trips down south to go apartment hunting. And I'd really not like to deal with those shitty wheels when I'm in London and sleep deprived.

So when Mum made a comment today that the old case was "buggered" I just went. fuck it. @nevertrustanoracle mentioned that there was a sale on at Strandbags so I went there, looking for a bright, appropriately visually offensive case. Because my sleep is a precious little fairy and there is a fair chance that, worst case scenario, by the time I get to London I will have gone 40+ hours without sleep, so I need something nice and bright and unmistakeably mine that even sleep deprived non-medicated me can immediately recognise it and yank that shit off the carousel.

Strandbags had some revolting cases but I'd seen something online that was nice and bright without being revolting so I went to RainbowBags. I didn't actually intend to buy anything from them but WHAT A COINCIDENCE they ALSO had a 30% sale on

so fuck it

bought a couple of fire engine red cases. one in medium size, the other in carryon size primarily for Melbourne, but I'll use it at London too. when I go to London it'll be late spring here and late autumn there -- I can pack a coat, cardigan, gloves and beret in the carryon and put everything else I need on the plane in my airport jacket so that when I get to London I don't have to go rooting around in my big case for something warm to put on. Because I googled it and apparently late autumn temperatures in London are worse than deep winter Sydney temperatures. and Anglesey is gonna be EVEN WORSE. I should buy a beanie next time I remember, the berets won't be enough.

so yeah I did that. Cost a fair chunk of my London budget, but still less than I was dreading -- just under $400. Which is how much it costs to breathe in London for like three minutes (affectionate, despairing).

Definitely not wearing the London winter outfit on the plane tho because my stopover is in fucking Singapore and fuck that.

#London 2023 #also THE POUND KEEPS GOING UP AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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oraclekleo · 1 year ago

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Oleo

Hi Kleo! I’m glad to see you post 💕

I saw your “Wednesday wisdom” post today, and it’s crazy because something happened to me on Wednesday that made me think “wow, I’ve really been through it but I’m still here, in perspective it could’ve been worse but there’s still so much I can do and look forward too, so I’m grateful for it”

I guess it really was “gratefulness Wednesday” too 😂

Also I just remembered I never replied to this https://www.tumblr.com/oraclekleo/714960471848075264/hi-kleo-i-just-booked-a-soulmate-reading-through and I’m so sorry 🥺

I know it’s been a while, but since I saw you would be doing these little by little, I was thinking you could maybe do whatever reading you feel called to doing? if you want to, of course... I love surprises and I’d rather you enjoy doing the reading and flow freely.

Have a nice weekend! Though you said you’ll be busy, I hope it isn’t too hard on you and you get to have nice moments of peace in between 💕

Hello!

Wow! I never thought the gratefulness Wednesday will actually have such an impact.

Also well done you have endured all you did. Yes, sometimes in retrospect we get pretty astonished what we have survived. Keep on going. Overcoming hardships brings rewards even if they seem small or insignificant ones at the time being, they can actually make the day. 💖

My plan is to do the readings people asked for but thank you for the permission to go freestyle with you. 😁 It's actually interesting to try. Who knows what the cards want you know, right? This way they at least get a chance to speak freely. 😂

Have a nice weekend, too. Make sure you rest and relax as much as possible whenever you can (from experience I know it's sometimes once in a blue moon) and keep the positive mindset. I usually say that the most sensible thing one can do in life is to hope for the best but be prepared for the worst. I know that if one is overly focused on coming up with worst case scenarios, they can happen by being manifested that way. However, ignoring the possibility of something bad happening isn't wise either because when you're not prepared, the consequences might be worse. So! Manifest the best possible outcome but be prepared for the possibility of the worst one, too. 😁 If that makes any sense to you.

I'm actually going to visit a dog shelter today in the late afternoon. I'm going to meet two dogs I have liked on the shelter's website so we will see what is the chemistry in between us. I'll keep you informed and if I actually adopt the two dogs, I'll flood you with details and pics. 😂

Thank you for hitting my inbox! Have a great time! 💗

Kleo 🦄

#oracle kleo #kleo talks

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ericaportfolio · 2 years ago

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I think the game does take inspiration from the realism of the homeless issue and how cities and the government don't do much to help and if they do their either temporary solutions or ideas that make the situation worse than before. In the universe of Hello Puppets, the city leaders with some government officials (which that's a good thought to consider), and even some officials at the very top, kept their heads in the sand to have a short-term solution which is very illegal. Because of that, they do whatever they can to cover it up. Fridge, come to think of it, maybe they went so far as shipping homeless people to the city, hoping the puppets would get them, which makes the situation WORSE! Anyone who comes so close to discovering the truth, the leaders will pull up any record of that person, Anthony for example, to use as an excuse not to listen to them or blackmail that person to oblivion if they come out. Scout's Host on the other hand, is a college student with a possible clean record and comes from a "normal" life, only for that "normal" life to take a turn as a trip through hell and back. And reasonably, Host would walk out of this with trauma and survivor's guilt. Unfortunately, this causes problems for the leaders and officials to be unable to blackmail Host, especially if people like Scout Harper were to come out with their stories.

Scout Harper probably knows that Mortimer's Handeemen are a cult since they were brought to life by a religious book, which is another red flag for any official who listens and is an expert in cults. The games do have this message on mental health caused by abuse, trauma, life choices, life experiences, etc., and how it affects people, even those who find themselves in cults. I can see a sequel where it's Host and Scout Harper and anyone who joins in the fight to take the puppets down but be careful they don't find themselves in a Jonestown or Waco situation where everyone dies in a worst-case scenario. However, I got another theory that revolves around Host and Scout (especially Host) after the ending revelations from Midnight Show. I'll see if I can get that out over the weekend before Anemoiapolis comes out. But also, if you haven't seen it yet, watch The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals on YouTube.

Hello Puppets' Secret Villains?

So I had a thought about this just now. I want to get this out before I go crazy when Anemoiapolis gets released next week. For the universe of Hello Puppets, I'm starting to think Mortimer's Handeemen aren't the only villains in the series. I believe there's another group of questionable people we should start talking about just in case this is revealed in another prequel or sequel to Hello Puppets. Let me explain...

I guess that the original purpose of the studio headquarters before Mortimer's Handeemen moved into the building was a factory or plant near the city hospital of the time, Sacred Mercy Hospital. From Riley's wing, probably a meat plant. I'm not sure how Owen got the building in the first place other than his dad helped pay for it, but either way, setting up a studio in a former plant like a meat plant was a bad idea, health, and safety-wise. The way the news portrayed the fire in the newspaper made it sound like it was an accident, and the authorities retrieved the bodies of the dead cast member due to the death count mentioned. But wait for a second, this doesn't make sense after playing the original game. Owen's body is still in there. Jake Bowen is still there possessed by a sock puppet. At Midnight Show's ending, Carla and Joel are still possessed, and Owen's spirit is in the body of Matilda, another crew member. I don't think anyone went in because someone like Scout Harper told the authorities about what happened and didn't want to risk going in there to get possessed themselves.

However, here's the twist, so bear with me. With the homeless becoming victims of the puppets, why isn't the city taking this seriously and didn't listen to Anthony, who was investigating the case, and went to stop it? Well, that's because the city leaders are covering this up to decrease their homelessness problem. Think about it! The world was affected by recessions, lockdowns, and economic/crime problems harming big cities over the years. Because of this, the city leaders let the puppets continue with their crimes to have the city appear safe to live with a low homeless and low crime report. If Anthony got the word out for everyone to listen, not only the puppets get destroyed, but the city leaders from over the years could get questioned and arrested if found guilty. With Anthony missing, it seemed they didn't have to worry anymore. That was until Scout's Host escapes the HQ with a dead puppet stitched onto their hand.

If the hospital is still nearby and not relocated, and someone found Host and took them there, the doctors and nurses would question what happened. If they believe they're going to tell security to phone the police. If someone at the police department takes this seriously, actions will have consequences for the puppets as the police and detectives make one horrible discovery after the other. Then Host's potential family and friends, their college, and the college editor who sent them might catch wind of this which would create rightful outrage. If nobody listens, unfortunately, the puppets would take that as a cue to start taking over the world, ready or not. With that, everyone gets possessed by a puppet. In my opinion, in a headcanon, anyone left is just the human actors/actresses playing a part and singing against their wills, similar to Starkid's The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals, like it's a Sesame Street episode. Those who don't obey get bagged in a meat locker. Whatever the ending is, karma will bite the city leaders over the years eventually for the greedy roles they played to make themselves look better.

I'm sorry this is long. I had to get some theory about this topic out there to get the ball rolling. So be free to add anything to this to expand this theory. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!

#hello puppets #hello puppets midnightshow #hello puppets theory #hello puppets anthony #hello puppets host #hello puppets scout #hello puppets harper

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takamishinko · 3 years ago

Text

karasuno and nekoma scenario + headcanons for ftm reader

pronouns: he/him

warnings: dead naming, slight harassment and tranphobic comments like using the wrong pronouns.

a/n: this was a request from @mi-ts i hope you enjoy this and this is what you're looking for :) i added in some headcanons of my own as well. pls tell me if i said anything offensive in there by accident, i was also super tired when i wrote this so pls excuse me for any mistakes :'D

karasuno:

i feel like the entire team is pretty supportive and definitely not transphobic

the only person that i could possibly think of that doesn't understand transitioning would be tanaka but even then he'll still support you in whatever decision you make

let's start off with the first years

hinata and kageyama definitely uses correct pronouns though i feel like kageyama might forget sometimes but he'll just use they instead

tsuki doesn't care much and i don't think he cares a lot about anything other than maybe yamaguchi

yamaguchi would be really sweet about it, correct pronouns 100%, no mistakes or mess ups. he'll probably pay more attention to you and help you with whatever you need

kinoshita and narita are both super supportive people so they wouldn't care that much but they would definitely use right pronouns and all that

ennoshita is kind of the leader of the group right? i feel like he would advocate your pronouns only if ur comfortable with it though

alright third years

suga.

supportive supportive supportive super supportive

makes sure your absolutely 120% comfortable with your surroundings and if there are people bothering you he's not scared to get asahi and daichi to square up with them

daichi is pretty lowk about it. respectful of course. always tries to help you with suga but doesn't end up helping a lot but that's ok

lastly asahi would be…

pretty nervous about making sure he doesn't use the wrong pronouns or make you uncomfortable

like overly cautious but you find it funny and adorable

__________

"yo y/n! what took you so long? practice started 10min ago." tanaka shouted from across the gym.

"sorry…i got caught up with something." you replied with a sad tone in your voice.

the team immediately noticed something wrong. you were usually a pretty cheerful person and sulking like that didn't seem right to them.

"woah woah, you good man?" noya said while tapping you shoulder.

"yah i'm fine guys, thanks." you lied.

"even a dumbass like hinata and king over there would know you're not fine, what's wrong." said tsuki.

"hey we heard that! but seriously y/n-kun, is everything ok?" hinata said while walking over with kageyama.

"it's nothing much really… some second years called me uhh… "baby girl" today and asked me if i had anything to do after school. they wouldn't let me go either even after i told them i had somewhere else to be…. and the fact that i'm not a girl anymore."

"they fucking what now?" suga said with an incredibly hostile smile on his face.

"do you know their names?" daichi asked.

"yah its f/n l/n and f/n and l/n…"

"those two sons of bitches??" tanaka and noya screamed in unison.

"yah do you guys know them or something?"

"they're in the class beside ours, we don't know much about them except that they're annoying as fuck. they've been making girls uncomfortable all year long." noya replied.

"oh… they must've thought i was a girl since i didn't wear a… y'know."

"that's still no reason to do that to you y/n. first of all you weren't comfortable with them flirting with you, second of all you also told them that you're a guy and they still called you that." asahi said

"yah that's true." daichi said with the rest of the team nodding their heads in agreement.

"don't worry y/n, we all know it's not your fault the binders don't work. no matter what you wear or how you look, the team will always see you as who you want to be!" suga said with a bright smile on his face this time.

a smile appeared on your face with warm thoughts entering your mind. knowing you have friends that care about you this much is truly a blessing you don't want to lose.

"on a side note, suga and i know those 2 as well. in fact we know their homeroom teacher too, i'll go report to their teacher tomorrow. he loved suga and i, we were his best students."

a small giggle came out of you and so did some happy tears.

"thanks guys! it really means a lot." you said to all of your friends.

the rest of the practice was filled with joy and laughter. a few days later you received a handwritten apology from the two assholes you were talking about.

__________

nekoma:

same as karasuno i'm almost 100% sure none of them are transphobic and they would all be supportive. same case of tanaka with yamamoto though if anything

after you came out kuroo just gave you his signature smirk and a big thumbs up and continued to do his chemistry.

kai.

omg don't even get me started

he is SO supportive and just the nicest person possible

he's not aggressively supportive like suga but he's literally just always there for you. before you even realize you need something he already has it.

water, food, whatever it is.

yaku (personal nekoma fav), super chill about it

"oh cool, just let me go tell lev so he doesn't mess up your pronouns."

"lev for the last fucking time it's y/n and he/him it's not that hard to remember."

bonks lev everytime he messes up but he eventually got it

fukunaga just goes:

":3 👍"

so precious, never messes up your pronouns and names

kenma definitely doesn't mess up, remembers it well and i think he would just be like:

"cool, make sure you let the team know. especially lev…"

yamamoto would maybe mess up but he's trying his best

inuoka and shibayama:

i love these 2 so much btw^

inuoka would be excited cuz this is the first time someone ever came out as trans to them.

shibayama is just beside inuoka also being excited and nodding his head agreeing with everything he says

in conclusion these 2 are baby

__________

"hey guys what's up!"

"ah y/ns here." kai said with s bright smile on his face, greeting you to practice.

"yo! what's up we're just getting started can you help me set up the net?" yaku said while waving over to you.

"yah i'm on my way give me a sec."

"kenma go help yaku-san get off your game." kuroo said while poking at kenma.

"give me a sec. I'm almost finished."

inuoka and shibayama were on the side listening to yamamoto talk about something. you and shōhei rushed over to help yaku with the net.

"there, all done. thanks guys. kuroo let's start practice." yaku yelled

"yah everyone get ready-"

just as kuroo said that, two boys entered the gym. they didn't look like they were up to anything good so kuroo stepped up and asked them what they're here for.

"how can i help you two?"

"we're just here to find d/n, oh there she is. hey~ you haven't answered our question yet, you free this weekend sweetheart?" one of the boys said as he attempted to move closer to you.

kuroo lost his shit immediately and pushed them away from you.

"first of all his name is y/n, second of all it's he. lastly if you don't have anything else to say, please leave, our practice is about to start."

"chill captain~ we just wanted to talk to this beautiful lady over here."

"for the last fucking time you bastards it's-" yaku cut off kuroo before he could finish.

"leave it to me. you, tall one on the left, f/n l/n from c/n right?" yaku asked.

“y-yah why?”

“your chemistry mark, 53% and you didn’t pass the test you took on thursday.”

“w-what ??! i don’t even know my mark yet how do you-”

“and you, the stick on the right, f/n l/n. you’re even worse, 49% as your total and your test? i’d embarrassed for you.”

“what the fuck?? w-who are you?!”

“yaku morisuke, 3rd year. the assistant for your chemistry teacher. now if you don’t want your marks leaked to the entire school i suggest you leave y/n here alone and get out.”

“tch yeah whatever !” the 2 boys said as they scurried away.

“yaku-san!! that was so cool!!” everyone said.

“don’t worry about it! it’s what y/n deserves” he said with a huge thumbs up.

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princessofmerc · 2 years ago

Note

How are you feeling about Mercedes chances in Barcelona?

I'm hopeful the upgrades will work, and if not they'll have something else in mind and keep trying I hope the gap doesn't increase but it is what is is..This weekend will be good data to help improve the car regardless at what happens and hopefully help stop these problems happening the W14. Lewis and George will do their best to maximise the car and bring some good points.

Okay so this is gonna be long.

I think what we saw in FP1 and FP2 in Miami already was promising and showed us the true potential of the car without major updates (there was the wing I know but I'm talking floor, maybe sidepods etc as has been discussed for some time by now). And I think that gap that you're talking about to Ferrari and Red Bull isn't as big as we might think if they can get into that window ,I'll call it Miami window for now, more consistently.

Best Case scenario: They find something big and it helps them close the gap to Red Bull and Ferrari to enable them wheel to wheel racing with them.

Worst Case scenario: they take a step back for a race or two and a team like Alfa, Haas or McLaren overtakes them for the 3rd best car on the grid, which won't make much of difference because of Lewis and George. (Actually there's another worst case I'm not even considering because, cmon guys we're talking about Mercedes here, innovation and development is sort of their thing)

Ultimately, I think we're going to end up with a mid thing between them at first and from then on we see an even bigger upwards trend with Mercedes than we have already. I know a lot of people, especially those who started watching around 2020 think the season is lost because they're not dominating, but if you actually take some time to study Mercedes, even though it's been worse than other years, Mercedes has started on the backfoot before and have surpassed their own problems. They're not 8 times world champions for nothing.

Maybe RBR and Ferrari are too strong and we need to wait for the W14 for another Championship chance. Maybe we'll be able to join them on Sunday already. Maybe they're too busy beefing with each other that they forget about Mercedes and George and Lewis will be able to consistently grab valuable points that the others leave on the track.

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arminbitchlover · 4 years ago

Text

reincarnated lovers (1)

armin arlert x f!reader

summary: in their past life, reader and armin's love journey is cut short with the tragic death of reader from a deadly plague. now, they are once again reunited, but somehow everything feels wrong between them.

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: death

1349

"Armin... it hurts." You dazed off and felt nothing but sharp pains all over your body.

Your throat was dangerously dry, and your stomach grumbled from the lack of food you couldn't properly digest. You suffered from the feeling of a knife being pushed into your lungs and when you tried to pick up your head, black dots overtook your fuzzy vision. Every time you tried to move a muscle, the pain would exponentially heighten, and experienced your abdomen compress with an exorbitant amount of pressure.

"N-no please don't leave me yet. What about all our plans together? Going to the beautiful forest behind the hills for our anniversary next week, building a house to move in together, getting married, a-and start a family..." Armin's voice cracked as tears cascaded down his cheek and dripped onto your arm.

You sensed a soft warm hand grab yours which caused your heartbeat to quicken as you felt it coarse throughout your body.

This is the end.

You knew this was your last few moments on earth with your soulmate. It was over so fast. Too fast. You couldn't believe you wouldn't be able to fill the promises you made with your lover. This was your only and last chance at this life, and it was over in nineteen years, only four of them being spent with the person you thought you would grow old with

"Stay away... get sick..." You jerked your arm away from Armin unaware that you didn't feel the need to chug a gallon of water to quench your throat and that the nauseating feeling from hunger completely vanished as you kept slipping in and out of consciousness.

"Don't do this shit to me right now, I'm staying by your side no matter what." He lightly caressed your face not caring about the black lumps that engrossed your skin.

He knew he would become infected sooner or later and understood that this would be it for you even though he couldn't find it in himself to believe it.

"I-I-I'm sorry." You felt the back of your throat get knotted up but couldn't produce any tears.

You slowly moved your hand back down to your side, not feeling the aching pain that had taken over your body, as you barely brushed his fingertips.

"Baby, what are you apolo... not your fault." He looked down to your palm and intertwined his fingers with your cold limp hand. He trailed his eyes back up to your face and saw your closed eyes.

"Y/n?" His breathing became shallow and irregular as he gently shook your body in an attempt to bring you back to consciousness.

You lightly squeezed his hand with the last bit of energy you had in you; letting him know that you were still with him.

This isn't the last time... swear to you we'll find each other again... I'll... protect you. I lo..."

And that was it.

The last words you heard.

Passing away was more peaceful than you imagined. It was just like going to sleep, except you knew that you wouldn't wake up with Armin by your side.

...we'll find each other again...

His last words kept replaying in your mind before your brain completely shut off. It made you happy. He made you happy. You died happy knowing that there was a chance to meet him again, but who are you kidding, this was it. It's over now.

Right?

Present Day

"I don't know if going on a date is the best thing to do right now, Sasha. I just got out of a three-year relationship with Jean and that was really rough." You grab a bag of chips and plop yourself onto your bed.

"Comeeee onnnnnn, y/n, I think you would really get along with this guy. I mean he's smart and kind anddddddddd has a pretty face!" She walks up to you and quickly steals a chip from you.

"Hey! Well as tempting as your mystery man sounds, my professors decided to assign a shitload of work, so I have to get busy." You pull out the box of textbooks from under your bed as you mentally prepare yourself for a draining weekend.

"Ugh, you're hopeless. Well, I'm going with Niccolo for a while, so have fun with... that! But if you change your mind, I'll text you his number." She grabs a Twinkie and skips out of your dorm room.

You figure that maybe she's somewhat right, but you know it's too soon to go out with another person. You and Jean had been together since high school and only broke up because you agreed that both of you needed time to find yourselves in college. It's very apparent that you still have some type of feelings for him even if it isn't love and it certainly didn't help that he goes to the same school as you.

But it is college. Even though the love you have towards Jean is still slightly there, maybe going out with another person was what you need to get over him. Even then, you wasted all your high school years getting good grades and being an A+ student that you never got to enjoy yourself and you weren't going to mess it up again. Besides what's the worst thing that could happen?

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

roomie <3

Today 5:12 PM

can you send me his number

AHH I KNEW IT

here ya go ;)

contact sent

ur a pain but thank u

you better tell me how it

goes!!

duhh

love u

love you moreee

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

While gazing at the contact, you can't quite explain the feeling you have in your stomach and could only call it excitement, but why?

You're just going out with a guy you've never even met before and for all you know, he could be some creepy perv who just wants to make you feel extremely uncomfortable for his own liking. You giggle to yourself as you keep on thinking of worst-case scenarios and become very aware of how in need you are of getting out of your dorm.

You sit and stare at your phone, wondering how to text someone who may not even remember his conversation about you with Sasha. But fuck it, it was just a date.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Maybe: Armin Arlert

Today 5:20

hey armin, i'm y/n and i don't

if you recall giving your number

to sasha but she said we would make

a great match so i would love to go

out with you later today !

Hey y/n, I do recall Sasha

talking about you and everything

so I would be honored to take you out! (:

Do you want to go out for

a coffie in about an hour?

yeah, that sounds great !

We can meet at the library.

alright, see you then (:

Read 5:31

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

You feel your face warm up, excited to finally do something out of school and maybe have the possibility to meet someone who could be special. You waste no time sitting around, given that you had only an hour to look your best, and got ready.

You have ten minutes to spare after prepping yourself and decide to walk to the library a bit early. You head out of your dorm, still in disbelief that you're going out with someone who was a stranger. It's definitely more of an exhilarating feeling than a nervous one; this would be the second person you've ever gone out with, Jean being your first and only partner and you have to admit that you feel good. You could feel yourself growing as a person even if this was just a silly first date that could potentially mean nothing.

You make your way to the front of the library and right when you were about to open the door you hear your name being softly called out. You turn around and see a blonde boy with a blue-collar shirt and khakis.

Damn, you have no idea who this boy is and you don't care, but why is someone this gorgeous calling out to you? His doll-like skin complexion looks so soft and smooth while his shirt matches his blue eyes perfectly, and his khakis just adding on to his soft persona.

"Are you y/n?" He snaps you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

"Oh, um yes, and you're Armin? How did you know it was me?" You can't keep your eyes off of him. This is the mystery man that Sasha fixed you up with and, fuck, he's more beautiful than you could've pictured.

"Sasha showed me pictures of the two of you and I must say you're more stunning in person." His cheeks turn into a bright pink as he looks down, feeling as if he's embarrassing himself.

"Thank you and you're a lot more attractive than I ever imagined." You give him a friendly smile when he looks back up as he hears your compliment.

"The uh coffee shop is not far off-campus so we can walk if you like." He rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to begin your date.

"Yeah, that sounds great." You both walk together in awkward silence, not knowing how to start a chat with each other.

"So, Armin, what are you majoring in?" You turn your head towards him, but Armin seems to not want to make any eye contact with his hands in his pockets.

"Oceanography."

"That's cool, have you always loved the ocean or are you just experimenting with different fields?" You try to carry on with the conversation, hoping he would open up to your about his studies at the least.

"I've always loved the ocean."

"Are the classes you're taking pretty difficult?" You feel your face heat up as he continues to be difficult about continuing your attempted dialogue.

"No."

You start losing your patience with this boy. It frustrates you that no matter what you did he can't try to at least engage in the conversation. You knew from the beginning that this could've been a disaster, but it hadn't even started, and it's already exasperating.

You start to genuinely think of ideas to bail yourself out before it could get any worse, but no, you're going to finish this date whether it's awful or not and move on with your life. You told yourself you were evolving as a person and to bail would only be taking you a step back from the new you.

"How do you know Sasha," you ask him, making it your last-ditch effort to start a conversation as you arrive at the coffee shop.

"We met through a mutual friend at a party." He opens the door for you and both of you enter the cafe.

You and Armin are kindly greeted by the barista as you walk to to the cashier. Both of you order your drinks and sit at a table that's next to the glass wall.

"So, did you meet Sasha because you're dorm mates?" He finally ignites some type of conversation as he fidgets with his fingers.

"We actually somewhat knew each other through my ex-boyfriend and we randomly got paired to be dorm mates." You grin to yourself, thinking about how close you and Sasha got over the year.

Even if it was a bitter-sweet moment mentioning Jean, that you realize may not have been the best thing to do. You hear you and Armin's name being called, but right when you're about to get up Armin quietly spoke, "Stay here, I got it."

You watch him get up from his seat and walk back over to the cashier. He pulls out his brown leather wallet, pays for both of your drinks, and makes his way back to the table with a cup in each hand.

"Thank you for paying, you really didn't have to do that." You feel your cheeks get hot as you grab your drink, slightly grazing his fingers.

"It was no biggie." He shrugs his shoulder and slumps back to his seat.

Subsequently, the awkward silence is back, but a lot stronger than before. You can't understand why it's so difficult to get along with him if this was the date where you're supposed to get to know each other and have endless topics to discuss. You keep reassuring yourself that this would be over soon anyway and now you know that Armin just isn't the one for you and you're completely fine with that. At this point, you only see Armin as the boy you went on the most awkward date with and didn't even picture him as a friend.

"Sorry about this, I've never done anything like this before," he mumbles while tapping on the side of his cup, not wanting to look at you because he felt ashamed.

"O-oh, don't stress about it too much, it's my first date after getting out of my relationship so we're on the same boat." You both exchange warmhearted smiles, trying to break the tension but nothing seems to work.

"We can go back to campus. I have some assignments I need to finish up anyways," he suggests and you feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders. Even though Armin seems like a great person, both of you assume that your wavelengths couldn't match, and it was just best to end it.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I also need to catch up on schoolwork as well." Both of you grab your drinks and head back to school without trying to strike a conversation, knowing that it would just make the tension even more awkward.

As soon as you make it back to your dorm, you must say that you never feel happier to arrive in your shitty box.

"Well, thank you for the coffee and I hope you have a great weekend."

"Yeah, you too." You both wave bye and you walk into your dorm, feeling displeased.

While you didn't expect your date to be completely perfect and for you and Armin to fall in love, this was by far the last thing you wanted to happen.

It didn't take long for you to forget what had transpired as you change to comfortable clothes and start heavily working on your assignments. While you were finishing up on one of your worksheets, you feel your phone vibrate and see a text from Sasha.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

roomie <3

love you moreee

Today 7:47

you better still have some energy

left in you

i'm heading back to get dressed

cause we're going to go PARTYYYY

oh god sasha

i don't do well at parties

pleaseeeeee

i can introduce you to my friends

they're really cool

okayyy sure

so get dolled up

i'll be there soon <3

alright

Read 7:53

next chapter | series masterlist

#tw: death #armin x reader #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin arlert smut

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music-class-quotes · 3 years ago

Note

My format is also recordings! We have to perform a page of a grade IV solo and two scales (that have between 1-4 sharps and/or flats).

-auditions anon

ahh I'll try to help but I'm not sure how much of a help it'll be.

mainly what I did was know the deadline and schedule out things from there. like for an audition I did for all-state orchestra just last fall, the audition was due on a Monday night or something. I was gone for a marching band trip that weekend so I knew I wasn't going to feel up to recording anything over that weekend. Instead, I recorded things the weekend before that. I had it done and submitted a week early and I didn't have it hanging over my head during the marching band trip!

as for actual recording, take a lot of recordings! if you screw up a little bit, just keep going and finish the recording. that way, you still have a finished one to submit just in case everything else you record is worse. If you screw up majorly then you can stop and try again from the beginning. I've tried to record everything 4-5 times to make sure I get the best possible take.

(if you can record in pieces that's even better, like solo in one recording, scales in another, that's a huge help, but I would definitely make sure that you're allowed to do that before you try to do it that way)

What I would also say is to rehearse everything you need to say/what order you need to play things in before you start recording, but I wouldn't do a full run-through before recording (just in case it ends up being your best run-through and you weren't filming!) others might disagree, but I'm thinking in a just-in-case type scenario

Take breaks between each take, try not to get stressed out (I know I do!) even if you had a really bad take. just breathe, acknowledge what you messed up on, maybe run through that bit a couple times, then once you feel up for it, you can try to record again!

I don't know if any of that will be helpful but it's some stuff that I've done/wish I had done for auditions.

Good luck!!

#mod answers #not a quote #auditions anon

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one-abuse-survivor · 3 years ago

Note

reporting from the milky way again :)

yes, i did get the exams and project out of the way (the main reason i worked on the project so much last weekend was because i had to turn it in until sunday night) but right now were in the process of getting all the grades back and tbh i'm less than happy about it. So far i'm not happy about math, physics and chemistry and there'll be even worse grades in geography, german and music.

and my dad did not realize the extent of my struggles and seems to think that i'm just a rebellious teenager or something

i know that my mom will be around tomorrow afternoon and i am planning to talk with her then but that'd be a one-on-one conversation and i'm not sure if i can handle that at the moment but we'll see. i can tell you how it went afterwards.

and i'm really excited for friday bc it's the last day of school this year and afterwards we have a 7 week break and i'll be able to go out for lunch with a friend whom I haven't seen in two years because they moved to the US.

okay so this is milky way again and i wanted to let you know how trying to talk to my mom went

spoiler alert: it was worse than disappointing

i didn't start talking about my suspicions of being neurodivergent because i wanted to see how helpful she'd be first so i just kinda started with how i struggle with concentrating and not getting distracted at school and my sleep issues and that's about as far as i got before i got a feeling of how pointless this was.

the only thing she did was telling me that others have it worse (since i still have above-average grades), that everyone has this kind of existential crisis at some point during their teenager years, that the sleeping and concentration issues are just teenager issues that everyone has and that everyone feels like their struggles are worse than everyone else's even tho most of the time they actually aren't and finally that she can't help me

i of course quickly got the hell out of the room and went to bed (so i can be by myself in my room in the dark with my door closed). on one hand i'm absolutely furious and on the other hand i am disappointed, sad and dejected and i don't really believe myself anymore. seriously, what if she's right? she's had about 40 years more life experience and she was a teenager too at some point so she'd know this kinda thing, wouldn't she? what if i'm just complaining too much and talking over the ones that are actually struggling and can actually prove it with grades and stuff?

i feel a lot worse than i did one hour ago and i should've just not started talking in the first place and i regret it so much because i know this conversation will haunt me for the next week if not more.

i'm just angry angry angry

at myself, at her, at the way she compared me with literally everyone else at my age, at how i'm not sure of myself and at everything

i haven't felt this bad since last november and that was when things got really really bad (suicidal thoughts and self-harm included) and i'm so so scared of being there again because i'm on a 7 month 2 week streak with self-harm and i don't want to have to break it

sorry that this is just me venting and that this is so long

tl;dr i tried talking to my mom, now i'm angry at myself and her and i'm terrified of myself

Hi again ❤ I'm really sorry your grades aren't as good as you wanted them to be and that your dad keeps acting like your struggles are just a teenage rebellious phase and not taking you seriously :( I hope you have a good time with your friend, at least!

I'm so so sorry talking to your mom went so badly. I hope you're feeling slightly better now, but if not, I'm sending you the biggest virtual hug. I know how hard it can be to believe you're actually struggling at first, especially mentally, and I can't even imagine how horrible it must feel to have those fears "proven" by the very people meant to help you and support you when you reach out for help.

She is not right, nonnie, no matter how much she insists she is. First of all, I think there's at least some truth to the idea that teenagers tend to think the world revolves around themselves, and to feel uncomprehended at times. But I also think that's completely understandable. I mean, you're experiencing what it's like not to be a kid anymore for the very first time; you're facing many grown-up problems and feelings for the first time. And all of that while hormones wreak havoc in your system. How are you not meant to be at least a little bit angsty at times? But you know what? That doesn't mean you don't deserve help and guidance from your parents! It is a part of parenting to guide your kids through their teenage problems and to help them deal with emotions and issues they'd never had to face before. So even if she was right, and all you were going through right now was a typical teen existential crisis, you would still need and deserve her guidance and support. And you would still deserve to see a doctor about your struggles with sleep and concentration even if it turned out it was a teenage thing. There is no scenario where you deserve to suffer and push through your struggles alone just because your problems don't come from a serious enough source.

Second of all, grades are not indicative of how much you're struggling. I got some of the best grades in my school during years where I was going through abuse. I know a person who managed to get into a medicine degree with undiagnosed ADHD (and you have to get some really high grades to study medicine here). I also know a person who passed 3/4ths of her uni subjects and graduated university while in a depression so severe she could barely walk. Your grades do not dictate whether you need help.

And third of all, she might be older than you, and I'm sure she had a lot of learning experiences as a teenager herself, but that doesn't mean she knows you better than you know yourself. No one knows you better than you know yourself. No one has experienced all life experiences and gets to decide what other people are or aren't going through. And most importantly, there's always going to be someone who has it "worse" than everyone in this world, but that doesn't mean everyone else doesn't deserve help to manage their struggles. There's no such thing as not struggling enough to deserve help. Either you're not struggling at all, whatsoever, or you are to some extent—and no matter what that extent is, if you feel like you need help with it, then you need help with it. No one gets to tell you you don't.

From what I know, it's not unheard of for neurodivergent people to get told by their parents that their experiences are universal and therfore "not a big deal", and for it to turn out that their parents have some signs of neurodivergence themselves and just never got diagnosed. I of course don't know if that's the case here, but I want you to know that regardless of her reasons to tell you your experiences are universal—whether she also went through that and never had it acknowledged or she's saying it to gaslight you and make you question yourself—her behaviour is still neglectful. And you deserved so much better than to be made to feel like you're making things up, exaggerating and talking over others when all you did was ask for help with your personal struggles.

Sending a giant hug your way ❤️

#milky way anon #ask #abusive parents #neglectful parents #emotional neglect tw #self harm mention #suicidal mention #suicidal tw #Neglect tw #Abuse tw #Abuse

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ayanacam · 5 years ago

Text

Stand Still

:03

Four Months Ago...

August 6th, 2022

"Alright class, let's bring our legs into a bent position and begin to do our quick breaths." Instructor Carson Bengali spoke happily.

Dallas held up Christen's legs, her stomach rounded more than ever at the fifth month mark. Dallas smiled as Christen huffed at her discomfort, Christen restless than ever since she couldn't lay on her stomach anymore. Her ankles were starting swell and her hormones were everywhere. She wasn't allowed to work, according to him, afraid of not being somewhere he knew nothing weird could happen without his supervision.

"Are you okay?" Dallas whispered into her hair.

"I'm going to be when I give birth to your daughter. She keeps moving and it's annoying." She answered with annoyance.

Dallas chuckled into her ear, "Well I think you look sexier than ever."

Christen could feel the heat in her body travel up her neck and into the chubbiness of her cheeks. Lately she had been horny as ever and nothing could satisfy her, even countless hours mounted on her husband. They would spend weekends simply trying to satisfy her craving for him.

"Alright class let's begin." Carson clapped.

Quick breaths exercise ensued and Dallas had even joined in along with the other soon to be fathers. Christen looked around, other partners around the room, laid out on a variation of colored mats. Other wives looked as uncomfortable as she felt, the prospect of having her vagina on technical display a little awkward. Christen began to focus on Carson, her breaths following the rhythm she was pacing out for everyone in the class.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha," Carson brought her arms up and down, "Partners make sure your wives are getting enough air into their diaphragm. Don't let them short themselves because of the tempo."

Multiple significant others brought themselves around watching their girls, making sure they were acquainted with everything.

"Are you okay baby?" Dallas smiled.

She nodded, her breaths on a consistent pace. Her throat was burning with the quickened pace of breathing but she was doing this to make sure she could get through the birth of their little girl.

Dallas held his wife's legs up as she breathed, a warm sensation rushing throughout his body. He was undeniably excited, so ready for what was to come. He had been wanting a child for what had felt like years, but he wasn't so sure he'd get them, that is until now.

"Alright class, five more seconds and then we're done!" Carson announced.

Present Day

January 17th, 2023

The class had ended that day on such a happy note from what Christen could remember. They had gone to lunch and enjoyed their simplistic meals before heading over to the park and walking for a few minutes so she could get her exercise of the day in. It seemed like so long ago but if she thought about it, it was only weeks; sixteen weeks to be exact.

"Christen?" Andrew's voice abruptly brought her to the car.

The windows were frosted, tinted over in a clear dust in just the few minutes that the car had been sitting in the parking lot. The engine had been cut off for a minute or two, but that didn't stop North Carolina's winter frost from creeping over the two of them.

"Yeah?" Her voice thick, almost like she had swallowed a glob of peanut butter.

"Are you okay? Do you need to talk?"

She shook her head, her eyes focused on the small parking lot of the police station. She could slightly remember the night her and her late husband had gotten caught for streaking on the small town's river that one night, but that was years ago and the man she knew then was nothing like the man she had realized he had been during his years on this earth with her.

"I just need to know," she spoke suddenly. "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About what he was doing? Did you know...about the other..woman?" She choked.

Andrew's heart broke. Andrew hadn't known, but he might've been thrown signs that hadn't clearly stood out to him. His head shook, his eyes watching her every move in case of a small breakdown.

"Why didn't I see the signs?" She questioned herself softly.

It was all starting to make sense. The business trips and how secretive he was about the bank accounts. They were always separate; she had hers and he had his. Nothing was ever joint in the making of their marriage, except their license. Her mind was racing, searching for all of the times something could fit into this catastrophic puzzle of events. This was her life, this wasn't a scenario that someone could make up.

"Christen, you had nothing to do with him and his ways." Andrew testified, he refused to see this woman beat herself up over a man that wasn't a good one to stay faithful and honest.

"And what if I did?" Christen's voice was even thicker, something Andrew couldn't tolerate.

Tears dropped heavily across her cheeks, staining and drying streaks on the way down. Her face was dry and cracked, lack of moisturization and hydration playing into her state of madness. Her curls strewn across her face as she tried to hide from the cameras and the pitiful stares of the hometown people. Everyone knew, everyone. There wasn't a soul in this world that didn't know, at least in Christen's eyes.

"Christen you can't blame yourself for his mistakes and secrets. He isn't worth it. He was never worth it." Andrew started the car.

She nodded, not truly taking in his words but instead disbelieving.

Christen's thoughts were everywhere and no where. Her body still being in a state of shock, hearing information she didn't quite believe. She had thought something else for the last few years of her life, her trust never failing against Dallas. Her perception of him was completely altered now, something she could never get back.

"I want to meet her." she whispered as Andrew slipped onto the road and continued straight.

Andrew's face pulled into one of shock. His emotions were way less worse than what Christen must have been feeling but even he knew it was probably a bad idea to meet the woman, whom carried Dallas's "bastard" children in a way, so soon after the incident. He knew Christen would be even more broken if she was given more truth on top of her dwindling mental state. That trip could lead her straight into a mental hospital, that he positively knew.

"Why?" Andrew spoke after a few more moments of silence.

"She's hurting too Andrew," Christen explained quietly. "She has kids with Dallas, at one point living a picture perfect life or somewhat. He wasn't there. I don't know what Dallas had set up for her." she choked, thinking this woman was just as set as she was. That Dallas had everything taken care of in case something did happen with his shady past. "I also need to be in touch for the insurance policy since he's gone. He didn't have a will, so everything is rightfully mine. She deserves support too."

Always the person to have a big heart even when she was broken. Andrew was in full disbelief in what Christen had presented. She was going through turmoil, a destructive and disastrous one, yet she wasn't even thinking of herself. Her husband and her daughter were both brutally murdered, her the only survivor to the madness. She had also been hurt, her ribs and face busted.

"If that's what you want."

Christen simply nodded. She couldn't find the words to say what she really wanted to say. That she was hurt, obliterated, and exhausted. She didn't want to admit that she felt like disappearing. She, at this point, could care less about Dallas. Her anger shining through subtly. Her own daughter was taken away due to his careless mess. She wanted her daughter more than ever.

"When would you want to go?"

"As soon as possible, preferably." Her voice sounded.

She sounded far away, her ears still disheveled after being hit on the side of her head.

Andrew nodded, "I'll get her information and I'll let you know."

The car pulled into the motel parking lot. Andrew hadn't wanted to take her to the house. The crime scene was still commenced and blood was everywhere. He had been their as soon as he was called to be Christen's lawyer. He had to know what he was dealing with. Seeing his best friend's body was one for the books. Eyes were wide open while blood, that had dried over the last twenty-four hours, sat around the entirety of his body. His face was as white as a ghost, blood drained. His body was upright, and spread eagle across the foyer floor. They suspected that was Dallas's demise, being thrown off the balcony from upstairs.

The rest of the house was covered in blood spatters and broken memories. Pictures, with their broken frames, covered the stairs and upstairs. The nursery bed was broken, luckily Angela hadn't passed that way. Didn't mean that it hadn't been a painful death, but Andrew knew he wouldn't be able to deal if he had seen his god daughter smashed by the bed. Her small body would've been crushed, splattering everywhere in vicinity. She had passed after being suffocated in her car seat, patiently waiting for her mother that had almost saved her.

What Christen didn't know was that there was camera footage of the whole incident, there security cameras working faithfully. They had them installed after Angela was born so that they would always know she was safe. Andrew had seen everything.

His stomach becoming queasy, he opened the car door and puked. Christen immediately jumping to his aid while his arms forced her back. Tears streamed his face as he let the contents of his stomach go.

Eventually it had subsided, Christen standing to the right of his door. She wanted to reach out and console him. She knew this situation had taken a toll on him just as it did her.

"It's not your fault." Her voice broke.

Andrew shook his head, his breathing even but tears trailing down his cheeks.

"I should've protected you Christen. That was my promise. Ever since that night, I tried to keep it. I'm so sorry." Andrew admitted through broken syllables.

Christen shook her head, here was not the place to discuss the night she realized her feelings for Andrew. That maybe she had chosen the wrong man to spend the rest of her life with.

"You couldn't have known. It's not your fault Andrew." She whispered through her erratic heart beating.

She pulled his arm, dragging him around his mess and pulling him to the side.

They hugged while he leaned against the car for support. His head buried in her hair, she smelled of anesthetic and disinfectant. Somehow calming and disorienting in the least, but that was the least of his worries. His heart was beginning to calm down slightly, his breathing returning to normal.

"Come on." He spoke softly. He tapped her shoulders and spun her around to lead her to the room. It was nice, two beds with a full access bathroom and windows. He kept the curtains closed in case of cameras sneaking pictures to incriminate Christen.

"How long do we have here?" Christen questioned.

"As long as you're comfortable to stay here. I didn't know if you wanted to start looking for apartments."

She nodded, sitting on the bed.

"Can I sleep?" Christen wanted nothing more than to do just that. She wanted to sleep the rest of her life away so that she no longer had to deal with the emotional repercussions of this situation.

"Of course."

She pulled the bed sheets back and slipped in, still wearing everything but her shoes that she had discarded at the front door.

Her eyes shut and soon enough, as Andrew peaked at her a few moments later, she was fast asleep.

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