Work doodle about the funniest fucking headcanon to me ever

Sam Winchester: Poetry, my love

*credit to the gif owner* 

Pairing: Sam x Y/n/ Reader 

Pov: Sam

Warnings: Sweet moments, Sam writing, Sam falling in love with the reader, Mention of Sams past relationship (With Jessica), Internal monologue, (Quick mention of Dean), Love confession. 

Summary: Sam tries to write poems. All of which end up being about or for Y/n, and all of them are about just how much Sam truly loves her. 

A/N- All of these poems are from Pinterest! 

Word Count: 1.9k 

Masterlist

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen​ 

I remember when I was in middle and high school, how much I thrived in English class. I love to read, but because I’ve read so much in my life. I’ve found out recently that I absolutely love to write.  

I love to write little blurb of what a hunt was like, and I’ve taken up journaling. Some people might say that writing things out can make them come alive, but I I personally think that once it out on paper, then it kind of cleans the mind. Declutter my head if you will.  

Going through my phone my eyes landed on Pinterest. It wasn’t an app I used very often, but I clicked on it anyway. Going through the process of making an account it asked me what I liked and my interest. I assumed based off what I choose the app would give me different things to look at in my feed.  

That is exactly what happened. A few motivational words popped up, and I scrolled through, then a few quotes popped up. But what really caught my attention was the search bar. I wanted to see what other people thought about writing so that’s what I put in the search bar.

I scrolled for a few minutes, and then the word ‘Poems’ popped up. After the years that I’d been writing not once had I tired doing poetry, so I clicked on it. The first poem that was in the stream said the following;  

The most  

beautiful part is,  

I wasn’t even looking  

when I found you.  

Man, that was so calming and peaceful. A true statement. It made me think of Y/n. The way she just was placed into our life, I hadn’t been looking. I stopped looking when after Jessica died.  

I stopped thinking that i deserved to find love. I stopped believing I was worth it. But that was all before Y/n came into my life. She was sweetest person you’ll ever met. She always wears a smile regardless of how bad a situation could get.  

She is nerdy like me, she loved to read through the lore books, making it an effort to help me when I couldn’t quite figure something out on my own. The thing about Y/n is she wasn’t just like me, she disappears for hours, in the kitchen cooking with Dean, or making pie for him. She is the best thing to come into our lives since forever.  

Again, I started to read through posts on Pinterest. I wondered how many of these posts were meant to be about the girl of someone dreams. I scrolled through seeing a ton of different poems. Some were sad, about how breakable a women’s heart really is. Some on the other hand were about falling in love with the girl of your dreams.  

Another poem said;  

If you look carefully,  

She’s slowly falling in love with you,  

But she doesn’t want you to find out,  

Well, not yet.”

This makes me think even more about Y/n. Does she love me? Is she falling in love with me and doesn’t want me to find out? Is she falling in love with me, like I am with her? I have so many questions that I couldn’t possibly ask her.  

I wonder if she sits in bed like I do and fantasize over her. I sound creepy, but I honestly want to know. I pay attention to her, and her actions. When she’s with Dean she isn’t touchy. When we’re on a hunt, she chooses to sleep in bed with me. She talks about everything with me. Let’s me in, let’s me comfort her.  

Is this her way of saying I want to be with you Sam? I once again start to scroll through the feed, looking and reading through all the poems. Coming across another one, this one though made me stop and think. Made me realize a few things more about Y/n.  

“Find Someone who makes you realize three things: One, that home is not a place, but a feeling. Two, that time is not measured by a clock, but by moments. And three, that heartbeats are not heard, but felt and shared.”  

I realized all of those things when I thought of Y/n. When I was with Y/n no matter where we were I felt at home with her. We could be hundreds of miles away from the bunker, deep in a hunt. As long as she was there, I was happy, content, and at peace.  

Number two took me a few times to really figure out. The first time I noticed it was our first Christmas with Y/n. She’d been with us for a whole year, and I couldn’t help but go out and get her something. I went to our local book store, and picked up 3 historical novels, based on what she’d read and what she had with her when she arrived at the bunker. When she opened her gifts, I couldn’t start to describe her smile. And then she dropped her books and run up to me, and crushed in her slender frame. This hug was different than others, the other hugs were ones that were in fear of losing each other, ones that were meant as apologies.  

The second time I noticed it was Dean’s birthday. Y/n and I had gone out shopping for Dean first separate and then together. We wanted to get him a gift that suited him. We walked around the mall, both searching for the best store to choose from. “Oh Sammy... oops sorry I meant Sam. Look over there.” She spoke.  

Moments like this where she was afraid to be like this way with me. “You can call me Sammy, Y/n. It doesn’t bother me when you do it.” I said involuntarily. I little blush rose to her cheeks, “Okay Sammy. There’s a store looks like a cowboy themed place.” She said walking towards the store.  

Rarely would I do something out of my comfort zone, and not ask the other person. But before Y/n could get too far away from me, I grabbed her wrist and slipped our hands together. I made a quick excuse when she turned around and looked down at our hands and then me. “I just don’t want to get lost from you; this place does seem pretty huge.” I had said.  

In moments when we were hurt in hunts. Moments where it seemed like we might say goodbye forever. I had Y/n in my arms in the back seat of the impala, she had a huge gash through her back, thankfully nothing had hit any vital organs or hit her spinal cord.  

She sat in my lap her hands wrapped around my neck, our hearts pressed tightly together, I was grasping tightly to her. Trying to keep myself tethered to her. I focused on her breathing. Focused on the scent of the peach shampoo that still lingered in her hair.  

I would see Dean looking in the back through the mirror. I didn’t have time to deal with his comments so i dropped my gaze, I was trying so hard to not break down, in front of my big brother or Y/n. Y/n needs a strong man, so that’s what I’ll be right now, just for her.  

As  i thought about past moments. I realized that I couldn’t keep the charade up anymore, about I felt towards Y/n. Making myself close out of the very calming app, I clicked on to the massaging app.  

Sliding the small list of contacts, I did I have. I sent Dean an “goodnight” message before slipping out of our conversation and into Y/n and I conversation. I started to type and then deleted it.  

I fell into this rhyme for a what seemed like an hour, of me saying how I felt and then deleting it. I received a “Good night bitch 😴” Message from Dean. I slide it off my screen refocusing on my message to Y/n.  

Then all the sudden it clicked in my head. And I started typing my message out. Careful to phrase words the particular way.  

“In you, I have finally found all I never dared dream I could deserve or have- the kind of love that is rare. Being known in a way that touches the deepest parts of me. Accepted in a way that blows my mind.”  

I sent this part to her. I waited till she has read the massage. Then only a few moments later I saw a message from her pop up.  

“Sammy what are you saying?” Y/n asked. So, I started to write the second part of my message.

“In you, Y/n the love I have always desired to give now has a place to call home, I hope? I have been skeptic, but you are my undeniable miracle. The questions don’t matter anymore.” I sent once again waiting for another message back from Y/n.  

What I got surprised me. “Come to my room, Sammy.” She sent. I quickly uncovered myself from the thin blanket, and slipped on a Henley, along with my slippers.  

I opened my door, and pretty much ran down the hall way, my phone still tightly placed in my hand. I slowed down as I made my way in front of Y/n’s door. I knocked and was granted access.  

“Come in Sammy.” She said in her cute voice. I walked in, and shut the door softly. Before turning on my heels and standing still. “You can come over here and sit down with me Sammy.” So, I did as she said.  

I walked over and sat down next to her. “So, Sammy, what did you mean by your message?” She asked grabbing my much larger hand with her much smaller hand.  

I hadn’t ever noticed that, but instead of answering Y/n question I found our hands more interesting. “Sammy?” She said once again, but her voice was softer and quiet.  

“I hope to god I’m not stepping over a boundary, but what I was trying to say was that I think... Wait No I know that I’ve fallen for you more deeply than I think I can understand. And I hope that you feel the same way?” I said rubbing my calloused thumb over the knuckles on her left hands.  

“Sammy, I think I’ve fallen in love with you too.” Y/n said. Smiling showing off her bright eyes, and dimples on her cheeks.  

“We have finally found each other, and that is enough. Right?” I said still a little worried I might say something wrong and ruin that whole moment.  

“Yeah Sammy, I hop... I know that it’s enough, because when I’m with you I fell at peace and I wouldn’t want anything else then that.” She spoke. I brought my hand up to her cheek cupping it in my hand, and brought her close to my chest.  

I kissed her lips, and god if it wasn’t the most intoxicating thing, I’ve ever tasted. I would be lying, she tasted like dark chocolate, and honey. Our lips didn’t fight for dominance, it was just a sweet kiss. Something that made this moment just so much more real.  

“God, I love you so much Winchester.” Y/n said against my lips. I only smiled and whispered into her lips “I love you too, Y/L/N”  “And don’t worry I’ll keep Dean from teasing the both of us.” I spoke. 

Completed on : 03/14/2021 

I’m on a boat

Topper x Reader

Cutesy imagine about you being a pogue, in love with a kook. Scared of making the fued worse, your relationship is a secret. Until topper decides, he wants to go public with the kooks. I LOVED writing about this💜

Pogues vs kooks. Much like the montague’s & the capulets, it’s a battle that never ends. “It’ll be fine baby, they will end up loving you almost as much as I do” topper said, stopping to kiss me on the forehead as we walked hand in hand to ward Cameron’s big ass boat. Topper & I were the Romeo & Juliet of outer banks. We were crazily in love & almost no one knew about us. I was forced to admit the truth to Kie after a very embarrassing incident where she walked in on us trying to find a moment alone inside an unoccupied pantry at the wreck. “Not on the food!” She had cried while rolling her eyes. Aside from her, no one knew. Of course I didn’t enjoy being a secret, I’d love to be able to bring topper to the chateau & cuddle in the hammock with him while listening to John B tell us the newest insane adventure he’d been on. I wanted him there with me at the boneyard parties where JJ & I were constantly battling it out to see who could drink the most. I wanted Topper to pull me close, wrapping his arms around me while we danced at midsummers. But I was more terrified of losing him. I was afraid of my friends reacting badly & making me choose sides. I was afraid of his friends bailing on him, leaving him alone after all their years of friendship. I’d go to hell & back for Topper but could I give up my best friends? They were the closest thing to family that I had. Could I ask him to give up his? Toppers friends were terrifying, sure. My only run ins with Rafe had been when he was beating the hell out of one or more of my friends. Kelce was always on the side lines, encouraging Rafe or whoever else to start a fight with anyone resembling a pogue. But all that aside, they were still his friends. Because of that, they had to have some good inside them. Topper had his flaws too, everyone does. All I know is that Topper would fight to the death for me. He laid in the sand with me looking at the stars & telling me his dreams. When I was mad, he’d stroke my hair & ask me who’s ass he needed to beat. He’d lay in bed with me nose to nose cuddling & list every single thing he loved about me until I blushed tomato red & hid my face in his pillow which just made him burst out laughing. He had my heart. Which is why, against my better judgement, he was leading me right onto Ward Cameron’s boat. My nerves hit an all time high as we neared his group of friends. Everyone was drinking, dancing, smoking joints & some were scattered about partaking in some harder drugs. This was a full out kook party & one of the things was poorer than the other, ya know? Topper felt my hand clinch & slightly leaned down to where I could feel his breath on my ear. “It will be fine sweetheart. Breathe!” My body shivered, reacting to him even in a room full of people. I pushed away the unholy thoughts about what I wanted to do to him right then & took his advice, taking a deep breath. He kept our fingers intertwined as we walked up to his friends. “Whoa Top, I didn’t think you’d be into banging a lowlife pogue.” Before I even had a chance to shoot Rafe a go to hell look, Topper was face to face with the boy, only inches away. Anger was radiating off of him in waves. “Do. Not. Ever. I mean ever, talk about (Y/N) like that. If I see even a dirty look given her way, your ass is grass. Ya hear me? That goes for all of you. You’re supposed to be my friends. I love her! Can’t you be happy for me?” He asked his anger finally giving way to sadness. Kelce just stared. Rafe started to speak but I took a step forward. I stuck my hand out in his direction. “Hi Rafe, I’m (Y/N) it’s nice to meet you.” He looked at me & walked off. I turned to Topper to see him staring off into the water looking upset. “Babe, it’s okay. I’ll get them to warm up to me. I’m never going to let you lose your friends” I said standing on tip toes to kiss his cheek. “I love you so damn much. Drinks?” He questioned. I nodded my head vigorously.

About 4 shots of fireball, things were a lot less tense. I kept Topper laughing as we danced around & I did my best attempt at moonwalking & the sprinkler. I thought he might actually kill over once I started doing the stanky leg. Toppers loud laughter brought Kelce over. He joined us on our make shift dance floor & proceeded to do the YMCA. Topper busted out with the chicken dance. I smiled at him & Kelce, as we all looked like idiots pulling out our best dance moves. “Shots!” I said running & grabbing 3 shot glasses of tequila & bringing them back.

“Guys! I have the perfect song!” I shouted, maybe a little too loudly in my drunken state. I ran to the aux cord connecting to the boats huge sound system. Kelce followed & chuckled while watching me scroll through my music as I cussed my blurry vision. “Yes!” I cried in victory as I ran towards topper. He caught me, spinning us around as he pulled me too his chest. “Oooh very smooth Romeo” I giggled staring up into his beautiful eyes. He silenced me with a passionate kiss. His hand was on my cheek & his other on my lower back, pulling me as close as two people can be. Alcohol just tripled my love & attraction to my sexy ass kook boyfriend. “You keep that up, we are going to have to sneak out of here and-“ I was cut off by the first notes of my song starting so I shot to the front of the boat, spreading my arms out, & letting the wind blow through my hair, chilling my warm skin. “Oh shit, get your towels ready, it’s about to go down!” I yelled along with the song. “I got my swim trunks & my flippy floppy’s, I’m flippin burgers, you at kinko’s straight flippin copies!” I laughed as I sang along dancing wildly. I saw Rafe watching from the side of the boat. His mouth started to slightly turn up in the beginnings of a smile. I took that opening & danced up to him, taking his hands in mine dancing backwards, dragging him to the middle of the boat with me. “Believe me when I say...I fucked a mermai-ai-ai-aid!” My smile took up my whole face as he sang along with me during my favorite part. Topper ran up & put his arms around both of us, singing along. Then came Kelce. We were all in this makeshift circle huddle singing out hearts out. Some of the other random kooks even joined in on our little karaoke party.

Finally, once the sun had sank completely down & everyone had went their separate ways...Topper, Rafe, & I were laying on the highest part of the boat. We were laid on our backs, looking up at the stars. Rafe passed the blunt to me. I inhaled deeply, held it, then gently blew the smoke into the night sky. “Topper, I’m happy for you man” Rafe said resting his hand on toppers shoulder. “(Y/N) I apologize for being so rude earlier. It’s just, my whole life, I’ve been taught that the only way to be respected in life is through money & power. I was told that a mans worth is measured by his millions so I’ve resented the lower class. If the other pogues are anything like you...I mean, maybe I could rethink my stance.” He said quietly. “It’s all forgiven Rafe, I’m really glad we can be friends!” I said grinning over at him. Topper felt for my hand in the dark & gently squeezed it. “Thank you” he whispered in my ear. “Anything for you. Always.” I said bringing my lips to his then quickly laying back down, completely at ease under the light of the bright moon. Topper pulled my body closer to his as I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way this pogues vs kooks war could be ended. If anyone could it, Topper & I could. Together, we’d take on the world.

Gifts Like These (Lena Luthor x Reader)

Request: Reader slowly coming to the realization that her boss, Lena Luthor, is and has been totally acting like the reader’s sugar daddy ever since she applied for a Job at L-Corp

Fandom: Supergirl

Warnings: one piddly little curse word

Word Count: 2180

It started out perfectly professional, innocent, even.

It started out with Lena Luthor, your boss of not more than four months asking you to accompany her to a fancy National City gala, for strictly work-related purposes, of course.

 “I-, gosh, I...Miss Luthor, are you sure you want me of all people to accompany you?”

High society isn’t exactly your metier, to put it lightly. You weren’t raised among them, and from what little contact you’ve had with them as Miss Luthor’s assistant, you’re glad for it. They barely seem to notice you, and when they do, they expect you to bend to their will, to simply make Miss Luthor be available when you’ve already told them that your boss is not seeing any unannounced visitors, no matter how important they believe themselves to be. You can’t stand most of them, L-Corp’s rivals and allies alike.

“We’ve got that in common already, then”, she says, flashing you a bright grin, after you’ve told her about your feelings towards them. You don’t think you would have dared to ever be so open with any other boss, but she’s told you from day one to never be afraid to speak your mind, and she’s told you a bunch of times after, too, until the message sank in.

“But in all seriousness, (Y/N), this gala is going to be chock full of ruthless businesspeople trying to scope out the competition, intimidate newcomers...and L-Corp is going to seem like a perfect target to them, me being the youngest Luthor, inexperienced and a woman to top it all off.”

“They’re underestimating you.” There’s no doubt about it in your mind.

“Of course they are”, Miss Luthor agrees, “but I’ll still be in hostile territory. I need someone at my side, someone I can trust, to be my extra set of eyes and ears.”

There’s something bitter in her voice when she says the word trust, and honestly, you can’t blame her. She’s already been betrayed so often, by her own assistants, by friends, by family...

The fact that she’s ready to rely on you that much is already baffling to you.

“You can count on me, Miss Luthor”, you find yourself saying before you even have the chance to think it through. Miss Luthor almost seems almost as surprised as you.

“Oh! Oh, good. I’ll have my driver pick you up in advance.” She thanks you, and turns to leave, but at that exact moment your brain catches up to you and to what you just agreed.

“Miss Luthor, wait! I...I don’t have anything to wear for an occasion like this...”

You can feel blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, (Y/N). We’ll figure something out.”

 When Lena said she’d figure something out, you’d thought something along the line of you giving her your measurements and she sending you something to wear the day before the gala would happen. Never in your lifetime would you have expected to be leaning against the full body mirror in the changing room of a boutique, one of the really fancy ones with an impeccably dressed security guard in front of the door. A security guard who seemed to have had some doubts about someone like you sullying this establishment with your working class shoes, but didn’t dare voice them after Miss Luthor shot him a withering glare.

You tried on dress after dress and suit after suit, feeling uncomfortable at first, and embarrassed when Miss Luthor had to pull at your clothes to make them sit right on your frame. Embarrassed and very concerned at the fact that in this exact moment your brain chose to make you aware of the fact that wow, she smells really good and gosh, she’s so pretty.

But you get the hang of it, eventually, both of the clothes and your rapid, irregular heartbeat, and you start actually enjoying yourself, which in turn seems to brighten Miss Luthor’s smile even more as she eagerly appraises every outfit you try on, pointing out when an outfit “really brings out the colour of your eyes” or “fits you perfectly”.

At the end of the day, it all comes down to two outfits you just can’t seem to decide between, so you turn to Miss Luthor for her professional opinion.

“Well, if it’s so difficult to decide, why not get them both?”

You actually choke on air as she says this.

“Miss Luthor”, you cough, “I think I might have to live off of packaged noodles and tap water for a month to afford even one, let alone two!”

Miss Luthor shoots you a puzzled look, and the resulting pause gives you just enough time to catch your breath, before her next words make you inevitably lose it again:

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m not going to make you pay for these!”

You gape at her. The possibility that you might have fainted the second she asked you to accompany her to the gala and that your boutique-related escapades were caused by the resulting comatose dreams seems increasingly likely.

“Miss Luthor...I couldn’t possibly-“

“It’s Lena, darling. I can’t have my date to the gala address me ass Miss Luthor.”

 You’re not quite sure how you manage to keep upright after this sentence turns your knees to jelly.

 It starts with the gala, but it doesn’t end there.

 (The gala itself surprisingly enjoyable, probably owed in no small part to the company present – Miss Lu - Lena never leaves your side during the whole evening, she seems to intuit whenever you need a break from all the rich, stuffy strangers eyeing you with anything from disinterest to unabashed judgement. You do get compliments for your outfit – quite a lot of them backhanded, probably – but they all pale in comparison to Lena telling you in a breathy voice that you look absolutely stunning.)

 But even after the gala, Lena doesn’t stop giving you gifts. Horribly expensive gifts, even. For your the holidays it’s a reservation for you and a plus one of your choosing at one of National City’s most esteemed restaurants. You end up going with your best friend, and as you arrive it turns out that not only did Lena get you the reservation, she seems to have bought out the entire restaurant so you and your friend can eat undisturbed.

For your birthday, it’s a stunning pair of (Y/E/C) earrings. You’re so flustered you drop them twice while stammering your thanks, so Lena has to affix them to your ears with her slender, nimble fingers herself.

On her next business trip to Zürich, Switzerland, she insists on taking you with her. Well, she doesn’t so much insist as gently ask you and you jump at the opportunity. And that is how end up next to your boss and secret crush in the dreamy-soft cushions of her high-tech private jet, sharing some iced champagne. You know Lena doesn’t care for flying much, and she does look even paler than usual as the jet lurches forward, gains speed rapidly on the asphalt track before finally taking off, so you try and distract her by talking about anything and everything, yourself, your hobbies, a dog you saw yesterday...

You think Lena knows what you’re doing, and if the grateful smile she shoots you is any indication, she appreciates you trying.

After a few glasses of champagne she is starting to become more talkative, and a cute, fait blush has spread across her cheekbones. She gestures animatedly as she tells you about all the things she has planned, showing you around the city, taking you out to the fanciest restaurants. As much as it sounds like heaven to you, it also makes you think. Lena never liked to spend much time away from L-Corp, trying to cut her business trips abroad as short as possible. In fact, you remember multiple occasions on which she asked you to book her flight back on the same day her business meeting was set to conclude, despite your protests that such a strict timetable was far too stressful and she deserved a proper night’s sleep. But this time, she had planned a stay of a week – a whole week! – in Zürich, and the only tangible difference between this trip and all the others is, well, you. Which means that she was doing all of that for your sake, going way out of her comfort zone for your sake...and you can’t for the life of you figure out why. Well, you have one theory...and it’s sad, it’s terrible, and you have to stop it in its tracks.

What if Lena thought she had to buy your loyalty with gifts?

“(Y/N)?”

Her soft voice and a gentle touch of her hand over yours shake you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Lena, I was just...” You were just what? Second-guessing every interaction you two have had up until now? Lena is smiling at you, patiently waiting for you to finish your line of thought.

“I was just wondering...”, you take a deep breath, “why are you doing this?”

You heart clenches as you see Lena’s smile drip from her face like icy water.

“I-I’m sorry?”

This might be the first time you’ve ever heard her stutter.

“I just...I just don’t know why you insist on buying all of this stuff for me.”

Lena’s hand slowly retreats from yours as she sinks back into her seat. You instantly miss its warmth.

“I – shit, I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, (Y/N). I always thought I’d stop before it got too much, before I got too overbearing, I never meant to cross that line, I promise.”

“Lena, hey, it’s okay. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just need you to know that you don’t need to do this. You don’t need to buy my loyalty, I’m already on your side. Always.”

Lena leans towards you again, her brow furrowed, her eyes wet.

“Is that what you think I was doing?”

You shrug, helplessly. “I don’t know why you would waste so much money on me otherwise.”

She closes her eyes, sighing deeply, and you can almost see her shrink into herself in front of your very eyes.

“You’re really going to make me spell it out for you, are you?”

She carries on before you can even answer, and her next sentence knocks all of the air straight out of your lungs.

“I have feelings for you, (Y/N), I’ve had them for a very long time. And believe me, I know how inappropriate it is, and I’d never, ever try to manipulate you into anything you don’t want, but...you deserve so, so much, (Y/N). You’re one of the best, kindest, most loyal people I know, and even if I can’t be with you, I just wanted to give you a fraction of what you deserve.”

All of that pours out of her at such an incredible speed you have to take a few moments to catch up.

“You...have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?”, you ask, unsure if you can believe your ears.

“I do. And I understand if you can’t continue working for me anymore now that you know, and I’ll make sure you find employment somewhere –“

“Lena. Hey. Don’t get ahead of yourself”, you say, as softly as you can, and this time it’s you placing a hand on top of Lena’s. You squeeze her hand gently, to reassure both her and yourself, as you’re still not quite sure this is really happening. Nobody can be this lucky.

“My point from before still stands”, you continue. “You don’t need to buy me gifts, you already have me, if you want me.”

Lena’s openly crying now, and she’s looking at you like she can’t quite believe you’re real.

“(Y/N), are you sure? I’m your boss, and I’m a Luthor, and –“

“None of that scares me”, you whisper, cupping Lena’s cheek in your free hand to brush away a wayward tear with your thumb. “Not when I’m with you.”

You’re not sure who leans in first, you or Lena, or if it’s some strange magnetism between you two, but your lips brush hers and it’s soft and perfect and it’s just...heaven. Both of you don’t think of anything but each other on the long, long flight to Zürich.

 Lena still insists on taking you out to that horribly expensive restaurant, even though you try to insist that she really doesn’t have to.

“I’m not trying to bribe you into staying, I’d never manipulate you like that. It’s just...” she breaks off, blushing furiously and avoiding your gaze, “I like it. I enjoy spoiling you. I’d do it every day, if you’d let me.”

And it makes you blush, too, it makes you imagine having Lena treat you to fancy food and spa days and exclusive clubs and showing you off on her arm, and yeah, that sounds like heaven, too.

 (“So does that mean you’re my sugar mama?”, you ask her cheekily, making her groan and bury her face in her hands.)

The Anxiety Life

Entry 1  

I cast my mind back to 2o13, black 2013......

My karate sensei announced he was quiting teaching classes, after 4 years and several belt grades into my training under his guidance. A teacher of not only karate, but a teacher of life, a figure I and so many other students looked up to, and were inspired by.

That's where it all came crashing down around me, that's what I believed to be the trigger.

The mental illness I would eventually come to nick name as the black dog.......  

       Back in the late 80's, in a time I consider some of the best times of my life, the nostalgia of those later high school years where I felt invincible, achieving in mostly anything I put any kind of time and effort into. Excelling in sports and music, all the things that the "in kids" were into.

Back then, as it probably still is today there were different social classes, or I guess a social pecking order at school. At the top there were the really cool kids, who were usually tough, and bent or broke the rules often, rebelling against any form of authority. At the other end of the pecking order, you had the straight laced somewhat dorky misfits and bookworms, you know the types, that would often go on and peak in life, becoming highly successful long after school days were long gone. I was neither at the top or the bottom of that pecking order, rather, some where in between. I had a good group of friends, and came from a good middle class home where home life was also pretty good.  

     Even in those salad days, as early as my later high school years It was there.....

and my first recollection, that I could remember when it started.....  

Standing at the light switch in my room, the last thing to do before I hopped into bed," ok turn the light switch on, then off, then on, then off, how many times was that,  

it has to be six times, ok jump into bed", my head voice now in full gear, loud, and relentless.  

"You better get get back up, and back to that light switch or something real bad is going to happen to you". Now back at the light switch again",1,2,3,4,5,6 on off on off", this cycle occurring over and over, before that inner voice was silenced, and I could finally go to sleep.  

Entry 2 Black 2013

 I think it was a month or so after my sensei, and life mentor left the Dojo when it began....

I woke around 2am in the early hours of the morning, feeling uneasy, but what was more unsettling was my racing heartbeat, and the horrible feeling like I couldn't take a decent breath in. The more I tried and couldn't, the faster my heartbeat raced,  and the more I panicked.....waking my wife up in the process I remember spiraling into a frenzied terror.

My wife was trying to calm me down, telling me to try and calm down and focus on measured breathing. But it was to no avail, I couldn't be calmed, I just kept yelling in desperate panic "feel my pulse, feel my pulse im having a heart attack, I can't breathe I feel im going to blackout at any second", but right at the point where I really felt like I was going to pass out, I got control of myself, I started to feel my breathing return back to normal, and after a while my heart rate slowed down, and although shaky from the ordeal after about half an hour and some comforting from my wife I felt ok.

Things got worse, a couple of nights later I had the same night repeated all over again, only this time, in my sheer panic, of once again feeling all the symptoms of a perceived  heart attack, the heart palpitations, some chest pains, difficulty with breathing, (hyperventilating), this time, t frantically threw some clothes on at the end of my bed, slipped past my still sleeping wife, and without any rational thought, grabbed my car keys, got in my car and sped off like a mad man, to the closest hospital emergency department, which was about 10 minutes away.  I had totally lost it, thinking I was going to die, I sped through red lights, driving as fast as I could, with only the single thought in mind, of making it to the hospital before I passed out,

I got there still frantic, I pretty much ditched the car anywhere I could, close to the emergency department.....

After some hours past, and a panicked wife that woke to realise I had gone MIA....

I got the all clear from the emergency doctor, and I made my way back home.

ENTRY 3

I have been in the workforce now for over 30 years, and I still don't know what I want to do in my working life, in fact as the years roll by I've  certainly discovered  more and more about  what I don't want, but feel lost when it comes to finding my purpose in working life, and for that matter  life in general.

I hate my job, I feel like i'm surviving, not really living, and I feel like my only friend

once i've clocked on, is time ticking away, until It's tools down and I can go home.

I'm constantly in search for a possible career change, I covert all the online employment guides, and career guides, I also take online career adviser tests, constantly trying to find my fit, but nothing has ever jumped out at me, screaming here I am, the career choice that's right for you....don't get me wrong, I am not afraid of further study and or training, or putting the work in, for the right role, but my fears lye in the fact that I am getting to, if i'm not there already, an age where a career change would be very difficult, especially when I still don't really know what my best career would look like.

ENTRY 4

People and socialising can make me feel tired, I feel like it takes a lot of energy to go out on a social outing and have to socialise with groups of people, even family social gatherings can wear  me down quickly. It's not like I don't like people, I work in a job role that sees me interact with people throughout my day, I know that I mentioned that I hated my job in my last entry, but it's not necessarily, the interacting with people part that I dislike about the job, I feel it's more the overall picture of my job, and how it fits with me as a person.

I feel my social skills have declined, particularly in recent years and especially the older I get. I find the art of small talk particularly hard, I think mainly because i'm of the philosophy, that if you don't have anything "real" to say, or something that has meaning, It's  better not to say anything at all. Perhaps this has been one of my downfalls in recent years, and why I don't have many friends, particularly close friends. The other point is, I guess I don't put in the effort required to maintain a friendship either, I suppose this all comes back to putting in the required  time, and effort, into building friendships, something I haven't felt a strong need to do. Maybe it might just be that I haven't found people that I naturally find interesting and I can relate to, friends that I don't feel the need to make forced, awkward conversations and interactions with, where I don't feel uncomfortable if I don't have something to say for the sake of filling in silence, where socilaising is actually enjoyable, and doesn't feel like it's soul draining.

Sometimes I wonder if I am normal. as I really like my own company a large percentage of the time. I have interests that I like to endulge a lot of my time with, and I am a very goal orientated person. For the sake of keeping my identity anonymous, I have chosen not to disclose my interests, only to describe how they play a part in my life.

ENTRY 5

I am a very nostalgic person, I find myself reflecting alot about the past.....I often sit and think about how the past always seems to have been the best times of my life, and how the present can never measure up to be as good. I often think back on the fond memories about late high school life, and my first years as a young adult, post high school in the late 1980's and early 90's.

Partnered with my frequent daydreaming and reflecting on life and the past, is my life long love for music. I think music is one of the greatest gifts in life. to me, there is nothing that can conjure up emotions and can elevate your "mood," whether it be, sadness, happiness, aggression, or any other state of mind, quiet like the power of music. One of the many joys of music is it's ability to serve as an audible photo album, a sound track to our lives. How many times have you heard a song on the radio, and it's a song that you may have forgotten about over the years, which you haven't heard since you were a teenager, all those years ago, in a certain time in your life, and then bam! those familiar song notes hit your ears, and there it is, and you are instantly transported back to that time, only, unlike a photo, a still frame captured in time, music is alive it's a truly awesome thing, that for a moment, can take you right back to that time, the smells, a girlfriends kiss, or some special accomplishment back then, a special thing that only the power of music can deliver.

ENTRY 6

Back in black 2013, I had many trips to the hospital, with varying symptoms that seemed like heart attack symptoms.....

It was on one particular occasion, where the hospital ran a thorough range of tests on me, which all came back normal, the doctor started asking me questions i'd never heard before, followed by a paper questionaire. This included questions like, have you ever thought about killing yourself, and do you often feel like you have a lack of motivation in life, and other questions along those lines. After submitting my answers to the questionaire, the doctor came in to discuss the outcome with me, and in summary, concluded I had Anxiety depression issues, and perscribed medication, and discussed having me see a phsychologist.

A couple of days after that consultation with the ER doctor. I woke up early one morning feeling like I wanted to jump out of my skin, I felt terrible, on edge and my heart was beating  100 miles an hour, and I felt myself loosing control, and spiraling into yet another panic attack episode.

Apart from that, I also had other horrible underlying feelings like, an over whelming sense of helplessness, and feeling like everything was just too hard to deal with, and I was just too tired to face the realities of life.

mental health

anxiety

depression

{{ the donor diaries: entry two; the monster mash }}

Who: Shosh & Cass

Where: The Dracula Mansion

When: April 2020; Easter Break; Henry William Halestorm’s Birthday

Cass was pretending that he was only doing this for Shosh. The truth was, he quite enjoyed dressing up when he had cause to. And this was properly dressing up- a black tailcoat, high waisted trousers, crisp white marcella shirt. Vampire society was high society, something he’d thankfully learned that Shoshana had considerable experience with, given her history as a classically trained pianist.

They’d spent the whole day together in his room, hanging out, writing music, getting ready for the evening. Shosh helped him with his cuff links, Cass helped her shimmy into her impossibly tight clothes.

As Cass took a bobby pin out of his mouth to slide into Shosh’s hair, he listened downstairs. Soft string music had been drifting upstairs for an hour or so now, and Cass listened for guests, something that was particularly hard given half of the guests lacked a heartbeat and the other half only really spoke when spoken to. He waited until most of the familiar voices had filled the ballroom before raising his brows at Shosh and giving a quick breath in and out.

“You wanna head downstairs?” Cass asked, knowing full well that Shosh had probably been ready to go to this party hours ago. He offered his arm, and as she took it, they waltzed out of his room, down his hall, and to the top of the stairs. He stiffened, sucking his teeth as he took in the room, flicking a glance to Shosh. 

He hadn’t anticipated the strongest emotion that came up when he saw his father’s friends. Protectiveness swelled through him, his arm that was meant to steady Shosh tightened as the feeling swelled in his chest. It was so surprising and uncomfortable that Cass couldn’t put words to it, so he just shrugged at her look, and then started downstairs.

Shoshana would never admit that she was nervous. But as the hours ticked on hidden away up in Cass’ room on the day of the soiree, her stomach knotted more and more noticeably as the party drew nearer. She hadn’t even felt like eating, but Cass had her on a fairly strict iron-rich regimen and Shosh figured it was especially important tonight that her blood smell appealing, so she ate what he gave her anyway and kept herself otherwise distracted with writing some new music, and studying the thick binder she’d filled with Cass’ lessons on vampire society (even though Shosh had it well memorized at this point), and taking extra time getting dressed. Which, admittedly, was fun for Shosh—she’d always loved dressing up, and it was satisfying to put Cass into clothing that actually looked quite good on him without him pitching a fit over it. 

It’s not that Shosh was nervous they wouldn’t like her; plenty of people didn’t care for Shosh and it never made the slightest scuff on her brimming self-confidence. It was more that she wanted this, a lot—more so than she was openly showing to Cass. And in all other areas of her life, Shosh knew what she was good at and what she wasn’t, so she could rely on succeeding with flying colors at the things she was good at and not bothering with what she wasn’t. But here, there was uncertainty. She’d done everything she could to prepare based on what Cass had taught her, but would that be enough to prepare her for the real thing?

Still, she replied with a nervous-excited “Sure,” when Cass asked if she was ready to go downstairs, and her heart rate picked up as she checked her reflection one more time—she’d forced Cass to bring her in a mirror for tonight, stating firmly that there was ‘no effing way’ she was getting into formal wear without one—and then took his offered arm. 

Cass hesitated at the top of the stairs, and Shosh looked at him curiously. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this, after all? But he shrugged and her and she nodded back; too late to turn back, now. Showtime.

The first thing Shosh noticed was that people watched them as they came down the stairs; not everyone, but enough that Shosh straightened her spine and held her head up as they walked down the steps, thinking again of Eliza Doolittle trying to fool everyone into thinking she was royalty. And why shouldn’t you be? You’re the fucking Queen of Hearts for all they know, she told herself firmly. And Shosh looked it, too, in a red satin ballgown with a bateau neckline that showed off the pale, unmarked skin of her neck and collarbones—which did stand out in the sea of high necklines Shosh saw all around her. It would stamp her as a new donor, she’d been told, to show off this part of her body so brazenly. Which was fine with Shosh. She wanted people to look and to talk and to be jealous; in fact, the vengeful part of Shoshana wanted whispers of her being here to get back to one old bitch in particular. 

It made sense that people looked; Henry was the host of the soiree, and Cass was his son. In fact it was him Shoshana was most eager to meet and most keen to impress. When they’d made it down the stairs and into the throng of partygoers, Shosh leaned close to Cass’ ear and said, “So, do you wanna introduce me to your dad first and get that out of the way? Or should we start smaller and work our way up?” She smirked sidelong at him, swaying to the delightful sound of the classical music coming from the string quartet—it felt like it had been a hot minute since she’d heard anything resembling her preferred type of music, and she missed it.

Cass nodded in greeting to a few people who made eye contact with him, largely ignoring the puzzled looks from donors who noted that he wasn’t there with Pomonia. The vampires, to his surprise, appeared largely unphased. As they made their way down to the main room, a waiter floated past with a tray of red wine. When Shosh reached for one, Cass deftly took it out of her hands and had a sip, himself, shaking his head. “White for you, red for me.” He explained, hoping that she would read between the lines about what was really in that cup. 

He listened as his gaze scanned the room, internally only really looking for one person. When he was certain Pomonia wasn’t there, yet, he listened more intently to Shosh, blinking. “Uh, yeah. Father first. He’ll want to meet you.” Cass put the drink down on a tray that floated past them, then led Shosh across the room, swallowing as he approached his father, whose back was turned. Cass cleared his throat, and the vampire turned.

“Ah, Cassius, glad you finally decided to join us.” Henry said, amused. Henry was the spitting image of Cass. While Henry was over a century his senior, the vampire was frozen in time from his twenty first birthday, youthful features still showing, but his expression and manner were evident of a man from a bygone era.

Cass gave a sigh of irritation, then straightened when Henry’s expression shifted to Shosh. “Father, this is Shoshana Edelman. We’re in the same class at Hogwarts.” Normally, he’d introduce his father and his donor to Shosh, but in vampire society, their business came first. 

“Charmed,” He said, in recognition of the girl, but then turned his gaze back to his son. “Where’s Pomonia?”

When his father said her name, Cass felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. That he’d been expecting her there, that his father knew nothing of what happened, absolutely wrecked him. Cass wet his lips, fingers tightening against his suit jacket. “Pomonia won’t be attending,”  He said, and he saw his father’s frown deepen, so Cass spoke again. “I’ve taken on Shoshana as my new donor. We can talk about it later.” He insisted, though Henry’s expression showed that this conversation was very much not over.

“I’m sure we will.” Henry kept his voice measured, because he was in public, and the last thing he needed was for their friends to think his half-human son had lost his way. Then, he turned to the girl at Cass’s side. “Shoshana, then. A pleasure to meet you. My name is Henry, I’m Cassius’ father. My donor, Cynthia…” He cocked his head at the woman. Cynthia was a refined woman, like most of the other donors in the room. She held herself with grace and dignity, and looked down at Shosh like she was a bug that someone had forgotten to squash. “I’m sure we’ll spend plenty of time getting to know each other. I must admit, I haven’t heard your name before. Edelman, was it?”

Cass rolled his eyes. As if his vampire dad would forget anything. “Shosh is Muggleborn, father. She’s a classical pianist, actually. She and I play together pretty often.”

This made Henry’s eyes light up, looking at the girl with renewed interest. “Is that so? I’m glad you’re widening my son’s auditory horizons, then. I’ll have to have the piano brought from downstairs. It would be delightful to hear you play some time. I’d hoped to teach Cassius, but sadly it’s just sitting, gathering dust. He chose an electric guitar.” Henry said this, matter-of-factly.

Shosh licked her lips, her dark eyes still fixed on the deep red liquid in Cass’ glass with interest, but she folded her hands in front of her and nodded, to indicate she understood. “Right. Of course…” By comparison, she hadn’t yet seen a single tray carrying white wine, whereas she’d seen several with red—but she supposed that made sense. Alcohol, even when it wasn’t diluted by blood, had a much lesser effect on vampires than it did on humans. And no one wanted the donors getting drunk so soon into the party. 

But, no matter, Shosh didn’t mind waiting; she wanted to have a clear head while she made all her most important introductions, anyway. And then if all went well, she’d enjoy a glass of white wine later as a reward for herself. 

She followed where Cass walked, holding onto his arm, her pulse picking up. Breathe… When Henry turned to face them—and there was no mistaking who he was, not with his shocking resemblance to Cass—Shoshana smiled, bright and polite. Henry glanced at her cordially and Shosh blinked twice, smiling still, lashes fluttering, but it was clear this was not her turn to talk and she didn’t try to. She did feel Cass react, though, at the mention of Pomonia’s name, of course he did; Shosh kept her outward composure but she did squeeze his elbow where her fingers were still wrapped in the crook of his arm, supportively. I’m here. We can do this. 

And then Cass asserted his intention to make her his new donor, and—even if all of this was just for show, even if Shosh knew, for once, the difference between what was real and what was imagined in this situation—even so, hearing Cass say it could not have filled her with a greater sense of pride. She stood up taller, beaming as Henry’s attention (and likely, momentarily, his scrutiny) returned to her. Shosh felt ready. Let’s do this.

“The pleasure is mine, Sir—I’ve heard so much about you…” she said, demure and downright humble in a way that was very un-Shoshana as she bent her knees just slightly to dip into a tiny, well-mannered curtsey. Her gaze then flickered up to Cynthia and Shosh inclined her head at the woman just a nudge in acknowledgment; she’d been briefed on the structural hierarchy in place here and instructed to let ranking vampires lead all conversation (“don’t speak unless spoken to”), so Shosh looked up at the woman briefly with a challenging gleam in her eyes but did not say anything to her, and then she turned her attention fully back on Henry. 

She waited until Cass and his father had finished their exchange—of talking for her and about her as if Shosh wasn’t standing right there—before Shosh added with entirely genuine enthusiasm, “I would be honored, Sir.” Shosh took a breath, her face shifting to an expression that was simultaneously both genteel and enigmatic, in a way that only Shoshana could truly pull off. This was her chance to prove her own worth. “My family, the Edelmans—we’re from Austria, originally. In fact I studied music under Herr Adrian Steiner, of the London Philharmonic? He’s of Viennese ancestry—court composers dating back centuries—so he made certain to instill in me a deep appreciation for the pillars of musical expression. Strauss, Brahms, Liszt, Mahler, Sibelius…” Though she listed these casually, as if discussing the weather, Shosh had extensively done her homework in preparation for this; she knew Henry was born in 1902 and that late- and post-Romantic symphonic composers, such as those she’d mentioned, would have been in peak popularity for classical music at the turn of the century. “…and, naturally, Debussy and Stravinsky—though I always considered Petrushka a particularly grim punishment.”  She said this with a wry conversational inflection; a light bit of humor that those with elevated taste and historical knowledge would understand. And though she’d been warned by Cass not to refer directly to a vampire’s age or year of birth, Shosh had cleverly dropped in enough vague references to the era—particularly Debussy’s Pelléas and Mélisande premiere in 1902—to hopefully evoke a sense of nostalgia in Cass’ father. 

Cass was certain Shosh would have ripped his eyeballs out later for speaking over her if he hadn’t prepared her for the… Odd way that vampires often conversed over, for, and around their donors. It was even more apparent at Caro, where the blood bags weren’t even acknowledged. It had been a bit of a mind fuck at Hogwarts, coming from how Cass had grown up. Thankfully his nanny had prepared him for a lot of it.

He turned to look at Shosh, genuinely curious about how she would handle his father. Sometimes, being around full vampires, especially a room full of them, was too much for humans. At least they weren’t feeding. That was where things got fucked up. Cass did everything he could do set Shosh up for a good introduction- and by the way his father responded to her, it must have fucking worked.

Henry’s eyes lit up when Shoshana spoke. First, impressed by a girl who knew so much about her lineage. Then of her tutelage and general knowledge of music. The final nail in the coffin was rattling off those songs. Cass noted with some amusement that it seemed to piss Cynthia right off. Good. She’d always been a bitch to him.

To Cass’s general mortification, Henry chuckled at Shoshana’s joke, smiling. His fangs, although not properly elongated while he wasn’t on the hunt, showed. Cass wanted to fucking die. “Okaaaaaay,” Cass said, trying hard to keep up with his sense of decorum but getting more and more embarrassed by the pair of them as time went on. He squeezed Shosh’s arm. “Thank you, father. I’m sure you two will have plenty to catch up on.”

“Of course,” Henry agreed, then let go of Cynthia’s arm to take Shosh’s hand, raising it to his lips respectfully, before letting it drop. “Shoshana, it really was a pleasure to meet you. Give your contact details to Cassius, won’t you? We should meet another time. Perhaps over that piano.” He winked, and Cass rolled his eyes, thanking his father and steering Shosh away. 

Cass gave a shaky breath out, eyeing Shosh as they walked away. “You did good,” He breathed to her, knowing full well that his father could hear him anyway.  “You really knew all that about all those musicians and stuff? Huh.” He shouldn’t have been surprised. 

As they walked away, Cass looked around the ballroom, visibly more relaxed now that the hardest part of their evening was done. He cocked his head, wondering who he should introduce her to. While he was deciding, a red-faced wizard in dress robes approached him, holding his wife’s hand. “Cassius!” He boomed, and Cass swallowed, looking to Shosh and then back at the wizard. 

“Uhhh. Minister. Good to see you,” Cass hesitated to introduce Shosh. He couldn’t know Shosh was a donor. “This is my friend from Hogwarts, Shoshana Edelman.”

“Oh, isn’t it lovely they let you bring a friend!” The witch gushed, taking Shoshana’s hand and squeezing it with a good-natured smile. She was obviously excited to see Shosh and Cass, who were the most human couple in the room, apart from them. Cass had explained to Shosh earlier, that most of the vampires would ignore any ministry members. They tolerated their presence as strictly necessary to their existence.

“Shosh, this is Manhoor Hookman. And his wife Artois. Mr Hookman is the head of the Being Division. He uh, he organised stuff with Hogwarts when I got my letter. You know, like, the rules and everything…” He looked at Shosh, hoping she’d get the picture.

“Oh, yes! And liaison with the school, updates and such. And you’re about to graduate! Seven years! Paving the way for all the others…” Manhoor boomed, and Cass felt like he was going to die again. Why was everyone at this party so fucking embarrassing? “Tell me, Shoshana, do you think your class is more tolerant than society has been in the past? Do you think Cassius integrated well? That was our hope with Cassius’ admission.” He was anxious to hear her opinion.

Cass was annoyed with Manhoor. The dick. Cass knew full well about the little ‘social experiment’ of his admission and it bugged him. He plastered on a smile, like most of the other vampires did around the man.

Shosh looked down and gave a humble, assenting nod, smiling sweetly, to indicate her acknowledgement of Henry’s suggestion while respecting the etiquette law of never having the final word over a vampire. It was a good thing Shoshana was such a quick and meticulous study, because there were a lot of fucking rules. And hey, she was just a little bit smug about it.

And even more so when Cass confirmed she’d done well. Shosh grinned proudly and just nodded in reply while they were still in Henry’s earshot. 

She was reeling with adrenaline, flushed and energized and elated with how things were going so far. She wanted to do something celebratory, and was about to ask Cass if he knew how to waltz when they were approached by someone else. Shosh felt Cass tense beside her and she gave the approaching couple a once-over; neither looked like vampires, so Shosh read the sign and made a hasty decision to let go of Cass’ arm and put several inches of space between them, folding her hands innocuously behind her back. 

And her instincts were right; this was someone from the Ministry. Shosh drew in a breath and held it, forcing her smile not to look nervous. Though she wanted to seriously gag at this lady’s patronizing comment. ‘Little friend?’ Ugh. Regardless, Shosh could act her way easily through this; she simpered with affected gratitude, her hand that wasn’t being gripped and shaken in a death-vice fluttering up to rest above the sweetheart neckline of her dress. “Oh yes, such a fascinating cultural experience! So much to learn from our undead brethren…” Cass would catch onto the bare traces of sarcasm that underlined Shosh’s words, but this Ministry Dimwit and Mrs. Daft would be none the wiser, so who cared? 

“Really?” she continued, glancing at Cass wryly and then adding, “…how noble.” Seriously, this self-righteous idiot made Shosh want to scream. But she held her polite expression with perfect poise and gruelingly feigned interest. 

She hesitated when he asked for her opinion, nibbling at the edge of her red bottom lip. Shosh knew she was supposed to be on her ‘best behavior’ tonight, but come on—this guy sucked! And not in a good way.

Her eyes darted to Cass in her peripherals once and then fixed on Manhoor. Fuck it, he deserved this. Shosh took a breath, and then in the most positively amiable and polite tone, she said, “Actually, Minister, it’s Cassius who’s the tolerant one—gracefully accepting treatment as a secondary citizen undeserving of the same basic rights as his peers, by a government with the means to pave the way for his success yet who chooses instead to consistently undermine and impair him at every turn. ‘Ignorantia juris non excusat’—those are the words printed on the Ministry’s seal, are they not? ‘Ignorance of the law excuses not’…I’m merely suggesting, sir, that perhaps the law itself ought to deal a little less in ignorance and excuses.” Shosh smiled amicably, paused a beat, and then said, “Well! It was lovely meeting you both…Cass, shall we? You promised to show me the drawing room…”

And as they walked away, Shosh could have sworn she saw the subtlest hints of approval from vampires all around her—some raised red chalices, a few nods and winks, the gleaming pearly white of grinning pointed teeth...

...To Be Continued...

792.

What would you call your body type? >> I don’t call it anything. Most of the time I’m trying to forget I even have a body.

Are you a morning person? >> Yeah, something like that. Particularly on sunny mornings.

Have you ever been to Target? >> I’ve been to Target many times.

Do you like iced tea? >> Sure, as long as it’s not loaded with sugar.

When is the next time you'll be at work? >> ---

Do you have a savings account? >> I do have a savings account. There’s rarely anything of note in there, though. The only reason there’s a goodly amount in there now is because of the stimulus check -- I took an opportunity to put in the amount of one month’s payment for my computer, just in case my finances got fucked up one month or something.

Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? >> Not to my knowledge. If so, it was probably an account I’d already abandoned.

What color bedsheets are currently on your bed? >> Grey.

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? >> I’ve never been.

Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? >> Sure. All forms of language need some kind of rule system in order to be effective, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to communicate with others at all. Even the dialects that people deride for not being “proper” have grammatical rules -- as becomes painfully obvious when non-Black people try to use AAVE lmao. As far as capitalisation is concerned, I use the proper forms of it on surveys (I don’t know why, I just always have) but an “improper”, casual form almost everywhere else on the internet. My familiarity and ease with the English language is pretty well demonstrated by all the different forms of it I switch between on a regular basis, and I enjoy playing with and learning the variations of language like this.

Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? >> Yeah, I can wrap a gift pretty well.

Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? >> No, the hampers are in Sparrow’s room (her room is just bigger, lol).

What would you say is your favorite television show? >> I wouldn’t, really. I like a lot of shows.

Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? >> I don’t really have a feeling about them. They’re not something I care about, but I’m not necessarily averse to them either.

Is your vision good? >> It is.

Is there any piece of jewelry you're constantly wearing? >> Just the jewelry in my piercings.

What is one thing you desire as of now? >> It’s complicated.

What kind of phone do you have? >> Moto g6 Play. The only reason I remember this now is because my headphones always announce the name of whatever it’s connecting to.

If you could move anywhere, where would you choose? >> Somewhere southerly.

Do you have any obsessions? >> I mean, maybe. I just don’t notice anymore.

Do you blog a lot, if at all? >> Not formally. I just reblog stuff on tumblr and sometimes make an original post. Also, I do this.

Is your present hair color, natural? >> Yeah.

What makes you the most angry when it comes to people? >> I just hate how contemptuous other people can be of stuff they don’t understand. Instead of just being like “eh, I don’t grok it, it doesn’t jive with me” it becomes “that’s so sad that people do [x]” or “I’m not a loser, I don’t do [x]” or whatever. Even when it comes to calling people “stupid” and “disgusting” for their opinions or their lifestyles. I am far from being a particularly kind person, but every day I try my best to evaluate people’s actions for what they are and how they affect me instead of just labelling them inferior for not being like me; but people who will call themselves kind in a heartbeat are the first people to just tear into someone for not upholding whatever standard they’ve got built up in their heads for humanity. I’m just sick of it, and it’s why I don’t really get involved with people all that much. There’s always going to be that moment when they say something judgemental, and as it goes, eventually that judgemental attitude is going to be turned on me.

Describe your current outfit? >> It’s just a pair of harem pants, an undershirt, and a thin sleeveless top with a weird design on the front, heh. I don’t know where I got this top from, but I need about 15 more of them. It’s so comfortable.

What was the last thing you ordered online? >> I think the last thing I ordered was a new nightstand.

Have you ever felt as though you were drifting apart from a best friend? >> No.

What color are your eyes? >> Dark brown.

Have you ever worn color contacts? >> Yeah. My first pair were violet, and later on I wore white ones (or one white one, Marilyn Manson-style).

What's the best thing about a hug? >> I don’t know. I don’t receive any of the benefits of hugs. (Inworld hugs are very nice, though. They feel warm.)

Biggest fear? >> Some vague hyper-imaginative stuff about death.

If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? >> Can Calah has been here for about 9 years, I think, and with Sparrow it’s been 8 years. My general idea is that Can Calah was here for about a year before the thing with Sparrow started, so that’s how I measure it.

Do you know any genuinely friendly people? >> Sure.

Do you buy your friends gifts? >> Not usually.

What was the last thing you plugged in? >> My laptop.

How old are you? >> This is my last day being 32.

What color headphones do you own? >> Black.

Have you ever shopped on Urban Outfitters? >> Nope.

Where do you buy the majority of your clothing? >> I don’t really have a place that I buy the majority of my clothing from.

Would you rather wear necklaces or earrings? >> Necklaces.

Do you consider yourself fortunate? >> Sure, in some cases. Not so much in others.

Do you enjoy watching fights? >> No.

Have you ever been in a physical fight? >> Yeah.

Do you tend to talk badly about people? >> No, if there’s one thing I consider myself committed to working on, it’s how I speak about and treat other people -- like I was discussing in an earlier question. I guess it makes up for my lack of emotional attachment.

Where are your parents as of now? >> ---

Does your computer cooperate most of the time? >> Yeah, my machines have always gotten along pretty well with me. I try my best to treat them well and I like to think they operate at their best because of it.

Does your family have any cheesy traditions? >> ---

When did you last go to a book store? >> Whew, good question.

What's the closest book store where you live? >> Maybe Schuler’s.

How much money do you have on you right now? >> I don’t have any money on me, but there’s like five dollars in cash in my wallet-thing.

Favorite personal feature? >> ---

Are you wearing make up at the moment? >> No.

Favorite television channel? >> I don’t have one. My favoured streaming service is Hulu.

Describe any piercings or tattoos you might have? >> Ehhhh I feel like I do this constantly.

Have you ever been fired from a job? >> No. Unless Second Life jobs count, lmao.

Are you currently losing a best friend? >> No.

Describe the worst day of your life: >> ---

Do you play any video games? >> I do.

Would you say you hate anyone? >> I would not say that.

Do you think freckles are cute? >> I don’t have a feeling about them one way or the other.

Last time you went to the mall? >> God... December?

Name something that's your favorite color: >> This cool ring I have.

Have you been to Red Lobster before? >> Yeah, a long time ago. I nearly lost my mind when I tasted a cheddar bay biscuit for the first time.

Do you judge by appearances? >> Judge what, exactly? There is some information I process through appearance, yeah -- like, I assume that a person wearing a Behemoth t-shirt and black jeans with a chain wallet is probably a metalhead. Or that a person with impeccable hair and nails and makeup is probably really fussy about their appearance. The thing is, these are still things that I could possibly be wrong about, but it’d be harmless.

Do you follow a certain religion? >> No.

Who is your role model, if you had to choose? >> I don’t have to choose, and there’s no one I would choose.

Would you rather have nice hair or lips? >> What...

What are you most self conscious about? >> Just... existing. I don’t like being observed at all most of the time.

Do you have any family members who live out of town? >> ---

Do you consider yourself short? >> No. I mean, I am short in comparison to a lot of people, but it’s not something I think about like that.

What room are you in? >> Mine.

Hoodies or jackets? >> Hoodies.

Are you outside a lot? >> Not a lot, no. There’s nowhere to really go, especially nowadays. I’d sit outside more often if I didn’t live in an apartment complex. Like, this would be a great day to just lounge about in a yard.

Have you ever been dumped via text message? >> No.

Do you like dreamcatchers? >> I mean, they’re pretty.

Favorite crayon color? >> ---

What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? >> V. (I don’t know why I have a favourite letter of the alphabet when I don’t have favourites for so many other things. It just be like that.)

Do you hate repetitive people and things? >> Er... like, not as a rule, I guess. But there are some repetitive things I hate, like certain sounds.

Do you think autocorrect is a blessing or curse? >> It’s neither to me, I just don’t use it.

Do you believe in any particular curses? >> I don’t have any experience with curses.

Ever play a Ouija board? >> No, I never got around to making one and now I just don’t care anymore.

What movie scares you the most? >> ---

What was your bedtime as a child? >> Damned if I remember. Probably like eight.

Reason why your favorite holiday is your favorite: >> I just enjoy the vibes. Also, I’ve got a thing for old St Nick.

Do you work with any close friends? >> ---

Do you consider yourself spoiled? >> No.

Do you listen to any country music? >> Sure.

Have you ever taken a keyboarding class? >> No.

Favorite high school teacher: >> ---

Do you ever get drunk? >> I’ve been drunk many times, but it’s not something I get into much these days. I like a good buzz, but anything beyond that is just overkill.

Have you ever had highlights before? >> No.

Favorite number: >> 9 / 19.

Do you still sleep with any stuffed animals? >> I sleep with way more stuffed animals now than I did when I was a child, actually.

What is your biggest regret in life? >> ---

Do you enjoy social situations? >> I enjoy ones I have explicitly chosen and that I have some measure of control over. Not like, control over the conversation or anything, I just mean the interaction is happening in an environment I find comfortable and/or I can leave whenever I feel the need, stuff like that.

Would you say you think you have a mental disorder of some kind? >> I don’t care about whether I have a mental disorder of some kind, I just care about learning to live with myself without punishing myself for not being “normal”.

Are you normally an independent person? >> I have a disordered attachment style which makes me feel like I need to be independent all the time, but I cognitively know better than to think humans really work like that.

Do you have any paintings? >> Yeah.

What is one clothing fad you wish never existed? >> ---

Do you like to be organized? >> Yeah, I really do. It makes me feel peaceful to see an organised space.

Have you ever failed a class before? >> Probably. I also got no credit at all for one class, which is probably worse.

Ever been judged because of your weight? >> I mean, probably, even though I’ve never been particularly over- or underweight. People will judge anything.

What is your favorite breakfast cereal? >> ---

Ever had a wish come true? >> ---

Do you regret meeting any of your exes? >> Nah. It’s not that deep. (It’d probably be that deep if any of them had been, like, violent abusers or something like that. But nah, they were just... people. With all the flaws inherent thereof.)

Do you own any coloring books? >> Yeah, but I never use it anymore, lol.

What's the meanest thing someone's called you? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever bullied someone? >> No.

Do you ever watch Lifetime? >> No.

Ever tried to intentionally sabotage someone's grade? >> No. How would one even go about doing that?

Do you own any brown clothing? >> Yeah, I have one Dark Tower shirt that’s brown. I hardly ever wear it, though, it just fits weird.

What color are your walls painted? >> Off-white or whatever.

Last thing you drank: >> Water. (Wourder.)

Have you ever seen a tornado in person? >> Nope. I hope to see one one day. (hope it isn’t the last thing I see, hah)

Do you have an inground pool at your house? >> No.

What is the first digit of your phone number? >> 6.

What's the prettiest town you've been to? >> *shrug*

Do you tend to sleep a lot? >> Nah, my body seems to err on the side of sleeping less rather than sleeping more.

Silver or gold jewelry? >> Gold.

Do you sometimes celebrate holidays early? >> No.

Have you ever been in love? >> I don’t know.

What's the best gift you've ever received? >> I don’t know.

When was the last time you showered? >> Monday afternoon.

Would you consider yourself attractive? >> No.

Has anyone made you mad today? >> No.

Favorite smell: >> Oh, who knows. There are a lot of good smells in the world.

Are you afraid of insects? >> I’m knee-jerk afraid of some. Like anything that makes a buzzing sound (wasps, bees, flies, whatever), because the sound startles me badly and triggers my flight response. But I know I’m not just overall-afraid of bees or anything because I love bees, love watching them, and I’d totally let a bee just crawl around on me without feeling the same impulse. It’s just that damned sound.

Do you have any children? >> No.

If so, what are their names? >> ---

Would ever consider having children in the future? >> I’ve considered it. And I’ve concluded that I’d rather not.

Have you ever lived on a farm? >> No.

Ever played any sports? >> Briefly, in school.

Do both of your parents have jobs? >> ---

Where is the best place you've been on vacation to? >> New Orleans.

Are you afraid people won't accept you? >> What people? Generally, I’m not fussed about being accepted by just... random people. But I’d want, like, my friends to accept me...

Are you, for the most part, an honest person? >> Yeah.

Did you make prank phone calls as a child? >> No. My father definitely would have whooped my ass for that.

Do you like to make donations? >> I don’t make donations.

Favorite movie at the time being: >> The Fountain.

What is your current ringtone? >> I have no idea what the default ringtone on this phone is, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.

Meet anyone from your past lately? >> No.

Have you ever called a teen suicide line? >> No.

Have you ever caught something on fire? >> On purpose, sure. Like a cigarette or a candle. Not anything that shouldn’t be aflame.

Ever been obsessed with a show? >> Yep.

What type of perfume or cologne do you use? >> I use a roll-on oil.

What's the last book you read? >> The last book I finished was The King In Yellow. Well, I finished the good stories, anyway.

Dream career: >> ---

Have you ever climbed a mountain before? >> Yeah, but not like, the whole thing.

At what age do you plan to get married? >> I was married at 32.

Ever been in a car accident? >> No.

anonymous asked:

👻(for Verity, Carine, or Ranulf )

the-scirocco asked: 🕯️ to have the lights suddenly go out with my muse. Verity had had every intention of going home after her classes. That was until the darkening clouds overhead let of a hearty rumble. Adjusting the strap on her shoulder the woman glimpsed up to appraise the risk of continuing on her way. Catching sight of a curtain of rain worked its way through the gardens of the campus Verity took to running for the nearest building. Not quite making it before the downpour managed to overtake her, the woman heaved the door of the field house open, letting it slam shut behind her. Leaning her hips back to the wall she took a moment to breathe. With fall came cooler rain despite the drops remaining heavy. Collecting herself eye-liner lightly smudged, curls slicked to her brows as she took in the open space. It had been over a while since she’d ventured in to deliver the picture with the tin of cookies. Breathing in the smell of coffee she was beginning to wonder if it was a scent that most field houses came with or just this on. Making her way across, hair still dripping and clothes covered in seeping speckles, Verity eyed the coffee, rather than simply help herself she moved towards the office door. Wrapping at the door frame, figuring she’d at least announce her presence before she dared indulge in the warm drink. “Can a mouse have a cof…ffee?” A sudden crack of thunder wrang out from a nearby lightning strike, any power or candles that had been relayed to the building cut off, leaving the pair briefly blind in the dark. ———————————————————————————————————–

The sudden stark drop of light, and the wind arcing through the field house. The sudden disparity in the room as Farad’s chair made an audible screech across the floor with his push to stand. His fight or flight kicking in and then slowly subsided as he realized it was just the storm. A shake of his head and the room was once more in focus. Taking his seat once more as he reached to pour out two cups of coffee, setting down the mug to the other side of the desk. His mind slightly ringing from the singular instant of darkness, but it was brought back to a much calmer sense as the brunette was in front of him. His voice sat low as he spoke. “It’s good to see you again, I’d actually had planned on dropping by to see if you wanted  to grab a drink at the dead end one of these nights, your recommendation was appreciated.” There was something about Verity that seemed to calm the Elonian, maybe the wry humor, or the way she moved. It was quite easy to tell he was enamored with the woman. Yet this…something was different. He waited for a long moment to see if she would answer his offer of a second outing from school grounds, at first the pause felt as if it was heavily considered no, or a sheer discomfort… yet an answer never came. Her eyes were glassy, and didn’t carry the depth he’d seen within her before, worried for her state, maybe the chill and rain had simply taken to much of a toll on her. His hand reached out across the desk to jostle her own. “Verity?” As his concern for the woman began to take even further forefront of his mind, there was a soft wrapping to his door frame behind him. His eyes scanning from the unmoving face of the artist towards the door. The voice came before he saw the guests face. “Can a mouse have a cof…ffee?” His mind raced to process that no…he was just here, talking to Verity… how was she now at his door. a loud ripple of thunder sent a shock through building, a heavy burst of wind blew out the candles and lights, leaving the pair in the utter dark. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A long form continuation of the previous Ask! Thank you @verity-daine  V-Verity F-Farad V Hearing her name had piqued her curiosity as she hadn't cleared the door for the coach to know it had been her. Catching the glimpse of curly hair sitting across from him just as the lights went out, left the woman blinking several times. Turning left then right as she herself tried to let her eyes adjust. "I'm.. sorry. I can come back later." As the shadows began to take shape she was able to note the pair of coffee mugs on the desk. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Stepping to the side to the middle of the door, Verity looked about the office. A puzzled expression claimed her features as she stepped back into the larger gym space, hazel hues drifting through the dark as she wandered where whomever had just been there had gone. Clapping her hand on the door she shook her head, "Sorry..." She echoed stepping back once more as she pulled a handkerchief from her satchel to wipe any rain left on her face and correct her liner while she considered where to wait out the rain. F It was clear that Farad was just as puzzled, there was a the sound of his chair pushing back. The slow flashes of lightning illuminating the room lightly, the glow of moonlight spilling through the clouds in a temporary reprieve. The seat across from Farad was vacant, just the warm coffee remained at the edge of the desk. Farad forced his fingers against his eyes for a moment, either delirium or sheer dementia finally taking the man early.Struggling to put the sequence of events in order...they'd happened...more than once. In perfect harmony leading to one another. His words were slow for a moment through a visible startle. "No...please, Verity come in... I must have just nodded off." He looked towards the still steaming cup in the soft blueish light of the moon coming through the window, dampening with clouds once more. "I...I have a towel around here somewhere, it's probably a lot better than your handkerchief." He looked across his desk for the pipe matches he kept on hand, flicking the stick to his boot as it provided on a small semblance of clarity to them, a singular vocal point in the spanning dark. V Her retreat slowed, though the puzzled features that were eventually illuminated. "You don't need to go digging for a towel. It's just a little rain." She tried to reassure and downplay how wet she'd gotten despite it being obvious. Stepping back near the door, her hazel hues took in the contents of the office once more. Turning at her hips left then right as if to find someone besides himself. "There wasn't a woman sitting just there?" She pointed to the empty chair and steaming coffee. Lips parting and closing then shaking her head, "I thought you had someone in for a meeting." Lilting her gaze up to the taller figure she offered a softened smile. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, "I suppose your chair is a better place for a nap than under the bleachers. You were having a pleasant dream I hope?" F giving a small chuckle, finally managing to settle his heartbeat, but not exactly his mind. He was also somewhat listlessly searching about the room for it's missing third guest as well. A clean white towel was offered to her out of the dark of the slow burning match before the Elonian moved to light his small desk candle. "It's no bother at all Verity." Subtle things about the room did seem a bit off, a trio of ink quills lay in a star like pattern on the desk, even all of his mugs upon the book shelf were separated, stacked three high, then three high, then three high once more. He tried to take in the information as he sat down. Lifting his own coffee for a long sip to try and clear through the mental fog. The ordeal causing him to speak without thought. "No...I guess there wasn't.." He looked up towards the sopping wet artist for a moment, his brows lightly scowled in thought. "I thought I was in here talking to you." he spoke plainly, no inhibition to stop him as he pieced through his own mind. V Accepting the towel, Verity dipped her head in thanks. Stepping further to the room she fell still eyeing the pattern on the desk and the peculiar way she'd assumed he'd stacked the books. Not one to judge people's preferences she turned back and eased her satchel to the floor next to the desk. Opening the towel and opening the clip that had held her hair back, careful hands began to work at scrunching the water from her hair. Noting the scowl her features softened from their curiosity to one more of concern. Canting her gaze, "You're alright? I had heard you talking. When you said my name I thought you'd seen me come in." Her hands slowed drawing the towel in front of her, still appearing well wet but less of a mess than when she'd entered. F Running his hands through his hair, pushing the graying locks from his face as he managed to take a moment to assess himself, he must have simply daydreamed the woman joining him. There were similarities yes, but ones brain can do such.He shook his head lightly as she spoke. "Yeah... I think I'm alright now." A long sip of his coffee as he reclined lightly in the chair. "Sounds like both of us just need some damn sleep. Glad I got a second chair." He mustered through a laugh to cut his own tension.He looked up towards the Chronometer on the wall, measuring the time but missing the fact that the mechanism hand stopped counting forward. "Lose track of time in the studio or simply taking in the glorious weather? I can imagine hiking back to your cabin in all of this would be shit start to finish." V Eyes narrowed on his as he claimed to be alright. Lips pulled back in a warming grin. "I hadn't thought it was so late. I wasn't expecting it to rain either. Usually I've got a nose for those things." She explained sinking down into the seat  that was now empty, but not before spreading the towel out over it, not wanting to wet it too much. Her gaze followed his own up to note the time. Brows bounced at the thought of the trek home. The dogs were going to be pleased. "The dogs are going to hate me in the morning." Her gaze falling to the odd placement of the pencils. "My own thoughts have been drifting. Getting distracted has been far easier than even I like to be." Came her confession as she looked back to Farad."The season got you up late?" F He gave a slight nod towards her, kicking one leg over the other, attempting his best to let the evenings oddities slip away from him. mostly keeping his sight towards Verity, the longer he looked elsewhere the more it became.He almost half expected her to walk in the door a third time but a hand to his chin, running his fingers across the late five o'clock shadow brought him a tactile way of not losing his thoughts."Well I could always send you with more rawhides, there are still plenty more after last I stopped by, Just in case I bring Samarah with me." He gave a pause as she spoke about the season and it's pull upon the mind."Fall is not usually a pleasant time for me, but this is my first in Kryta, so I hope to make the most out of it, even spending time with Mr Darrow recently." he gave a small laugh towards the raucous issues the bar likely caused on a nightly basis.The moon once more began to fade behind the clouds, leaving just the single candle to blow in the field house' own breeze. Illuminating mostly just their features as they spoke. The chill in the autumn air creeping as the night was truly taking hold. V "Again?" The woman's grin slipped further. "So that's how you got passed to leave the mug." The pieces of the past week slowly coming together. "Here I thought they were just bad guard dogs, find out they're mercenaries." The woman laughed and leaned back  to the seat. While she'd in part been avoiding another visit until she'd gotten her thoughts straight, she found herself falling back into the easy conversation. There was a knowing nod that came in answer to his mention of the fall. "Same for me, not the first time in Kryta business, but..." She started to ramble, tucking a fallen curl back once more. Brows rose hearing he'd crossed paths with Finn, "There's never a dull moment about Finn. That's for certain. I still need to harass him into doing a tattoo for me. If I can work up the courage." A hesitant hand reached for the mug of cooling coffee that had been poured. It felt odd reaching for a cup that had been poured for someone else or herself, she hadn't been quite sure. With the chill of the rain and to cool of the evening in the building she welcomed the warmth that seeped from the mug. F he gave a softer chuckle. His sandy eyes closing lightly. "No, I know my mercenaries well, I should get them some Duskfall bandanna to wear by the end of the week." He shook his head once more, a soft creaking sound fell from his chair as he leaned back.He'd started to get used to how the woman moved from tough subjects, letting her blather on and indulging her escape route. "A tattoo? I've a few myself, but I didn't know they were that common until I saw Darrow.... for the minutes that I did before racial epithets and narrowly missing a giant of a man get beaten up by nobles." It took a few minutes, but the bright candle light let the corners of the room fade into blackness. The dark consuming details of the room as they spoke. It grew colder with another strong wind through the rafters. "I've got a few blankets if you'd like, I doubt either of us will be comfortable, but you can at least be warm." V Verity's gaze fell to the coffee in hand, "They might actually enjoy that. Danny more than Spud." She chuckled lifting her gaze as she took a sip. Setting the mug back to her lap there was a bob of her head in a nod. "There were a good many who had them in Lion's Arch. Still are I'd imagine. I never really considered one till recently. Still not really sure where I'd put one." She hummed in soft thought. Lips pursing in hearing of the trouble at the Dead-end. As the edges of the room darkened and the room chilled further, the woman had a shiver travel down her spine. "I wouldn't take your blankets. It's my own fault venturing out with not more than this." A hand freed from the mug giving a tug at the light sweater she wore. Canting her gaze on the man across from her, "Does it often get this cold in here?" F "I'll requisition a few of them from the board commissary then." He chuckled lightly and contemplated "I supposed that is all really based on what you would have inked to flesh." It was late and cold, reaching back he picked a thick wool blanket off the side table near his desk and passed it over towards her. "Come now, you cant always be -this- accommodating mouse. Please warm up, it will make me feel better knowing I didn't let you freeze." He took a moment to look around the room. "No.. it usually doesn't, but the summer heat was usually insulated well." The sound of a basketballs loud pang of dribble, then a series of more of them bouncing along the hard wood floor beyond the door of the office. It was hard to see into the yawning black past his door as he turned quickly.He debated simply closing the door to seal them in against the rest of the building. But he took to standing to peer out into the room... V There was a reluctance in accepting the blanket but in the end with his added persistence she did. Setting the coffee to the table she gladly unfurled the blanket and tugged it about her shoulders and about her smaller frame. "No I'm not always this accommodating. Though my pride tends to get in the way." A pointed look had fallen towards him but was quickly drawn towards the door and beyond into the eerie darkness of the field house. It hadn't been nearly as dark when she'd come in nor had it been as ominous. "Are you sure I didn't interrupt?" she asked again, rising to her feet and stepped along side Farad and the door. Her gaze likewise lingering out before up. While she wanted to trust him at his word, she couldn't shake the feeling of having seen someone sitting in his office and now the drifting shadow she could have swore was another within the building. F He felted the pointed stare for a moment from his peripheral vision but the pressing concern of who was with them in the building set his instincts kicking in. Beside her his left arm slipped under the back of his jacket, clutching something steel and leather clad that was hidden beneath his uniform. A brief flash of lighting showed a shape emerging from the darkness far inside of the court, one of the basketballs rolling nearby. A slightly brown figure, nude, and with very tall hair went running through the darkness and out into the rainy weather through the main doors, a lithe blonde woman with a pile of clothes in her arms went after him from beneath the bleachers, her voice calling out in frustration as she had to climb over the knocked over crate of balls that had just been spilled. "Omar!" She called before darting of into the night.Farads grip settle, the clench to his jaw fading as he released the scabbard at the small of his back. Relief setting upon his face.He turned towards her, having only released how close the blanket covered woman was to him. He saw the suspicion hanging in her question."Verity, I don't know who was in my office... or if I was dreaming, but I was talking to you, I'd just asked you if you would have a drink with me, and then...the lights went out." He knew she was incredulous about him, guarded often since they met. "Only you." V With her gaze held on Farad, the distant figure went unseen. Upon hearing the youths bolt and catching the glimpse of them streaking off and out into the rain had the woman bringing a blanket covered hand to cover a laugh. The laugh faded, however, once she heard and further yet saw the insistence on his own features. Lips pursed as she nodded. "I believe you. Well that you believe that. It's just...You're probably right in regards to the sleep." She tried to shrug the oddities off once more. Leaning back against the opposite side of the door. "You want a drink with me enough to dream about it then?" A confusion filled her eyes but for different reasons than when she had arrived. Surely he'd heard rumors in working with the elite students. She weighed the odds but the thought interrupted with the hairs rising along her spine with another chill. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't imply or make it seem that I thought you were lying." F His hand slipped behind, taking a hold of the door to his office, closing behind him as he began to settle into the cold air once more. Hoping the candle gave some warmth.His own features fell after her laughter struck his ear. "I get a bit on edge at night is all, forgive me." He admitted, letting his heart slow from its racing beat. Years as a soldier had affected heavily how his body handled stress, rarely in a healthy fashion.If he had heard rumor about it, it was never mentioned and it didn't seem to hold any weight upon his speech. Giving a moment for the tension to settle. "You are likely right Verity if it's the season or the hour simply playing tricks on us." He asked finally for a moment. "It would seem that I do, if that isn't the oddest thing I've admitted to a woman before." Either it was a real Verity or simply a figment of his mind it is likely that his own desires colored the vision of it. "Still sure you made a better choice joining me instead of Omar under there?" V "You don't need to apologize." She eased from the door after he chose to close it. "It took me a while to get used to staying in the cottage alone. I understand some." She tried to assuage his concern. Twisting as she moved closer to the desk she glimpsed to the door as if she could see beyond it and the youths running off. When she twisted back, she managed to nod. "I'm sure. I really did only want a nap that morning. I'm sure you saved my clothes with that coffee. No if I wanted what the lot of the others want under there, I'm a little more creative than that." She offered the last with a quick lightness to her tone letting him take the information how he would. "Alright. I'll have a drink with you. But if it's to be a proper drink I might suggest a setting that's not the Dead End." The words came almost casual as the woman returned to her seat and silently hoped that the color that touched her cheeks wasn't given away in the candle light. F while dark beyond the door, the moon had settled past the clouds once more, illuminating the building in a soft lunar bask. For now even the chill had passed as if it came in waves with the darkness.The admission hit closer to home than he let on. Transition to a life far different then before was something they shared. His sage and somber visage upturned into a quiet laugh as he sat down through her separation from the rampantly hormonal youth's. "Artful even I imagine." He chuckle with a slight chiding turn of phrase.Hard to tell if the soft change to her complex was caught, but Farads near sand colored eyes were always analytically locked upon her face when they spoke. Heavy kidded as they may be from a lack of sleep."If it is for you to say yes, I'll oblige any suggestion." His smile showed the whites of his teeth as he covered his mouth with a hand.The soft ticking of his clock had begun once more, clicking finally past the hour where it had frozen. Farad leaning back and fighting the sleep that was gripping for him in the haunting night. V Adjusting her blanket as she settled into the chair. "Artful... you might be surprised I've not ventured that route." brows knit as she considered it briefly. Her own chuckle mingling with his own until she felt the weight of his gaze on her own. "It doesn't have to be anything extravagant. But a date among addicts and potential of a bar fight, either run the risk of dampening the mood." She teased lightly. Bringing her legs up to cross at the edges of the chair, it was her turn to return the appraising look. though her features remained softened if not a touch nervous at accepting the invitation. "Worse case you find out I'm not what you thought." There was a roll of her shoulder. The hand that cupped about the mug slipped a finger to pick at the edge of the handle. "If it's keeping you up, it's the least I can do." When the nervous gaze lifted from the coffee it was a more sincere smile that found the Coach. F The subtle look of consideration gave an even deeper heft to his laugh, she did continue to surprise him, whether it was a pointedly sharp jab, or an off the cuff weird aunt comment.His face had softened, his stony jaw relaxing from the stern look many of the students had come to expect of him over the past month he had been on the staff.He looked down for a moment, turning his ow half drunk mug around handle away. "Would you like mine instead?" He offered."I've a few ideas that wont involve either, but I like to remain a man of mystery, it little what I have left." His body leaning back to comfortably place a foot halfway up his desk. "You've the right of it, the only weight placed on it is what we put there. I said before, you'll always be welcome for coffee." It was as if the witching hour has passed. The oddities and subtle changes had subsided for now, perhaps it was all simply consequence of the storm, or the years catching them both on edge. V Brows knit briefly as he offered his coffee instead and was quickly followed by a shake of her head, “oh no, this is fine.” She chuckled. Further confirming with lifting it for a sip. “I’m that case I won’t pry. I’m rather fond of surprises. The good ones at least.” Watching him ease into his seat her figure seemed to follow suit as she pulled the blanket further around.“I feel like I should apologize for falling distant. I know you said there was no need to. It’s not that my interest wasn’t there. But as you said this time of year is difficult.” Came her own confession. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I was asked for a date either. You rather caught me off guard.” The last came with a quiet laugh as if any louder and she’d disturb someone sleeping. F He followed suit with the quiet tone of her voice. Giving an understanding smile, assurance of his words as they came. "I simply assume you a busy student, we've all got our histories to content with Verity. Having one is no reason to apologize to me." He spoke as he lifted his jacket from his torso, turning it over to lay across his crossed arms. The heavy leather making a comfortable blanket.His eyes lightly closing as they upturned to the ceiling as he admitted to her comfortably. "Its been years since I've done so myself. I would hope a younger self was far more suave about such, but I doubt such is true." The comfortable pose gave him an air of peace that was rare, it was likely that sleeping was one of the few reprieves he had. V "That's true." she quietly noted in regards to histories. Running her thumb over the handle of the mug, eventually lifting it to take a pair of drinks before setting it off to the desk.Running a hand through her hair, brushing the drying curls back from her face. As he settled into his seat with the jacket for cover, her own gaze lifted considering the hour and if the storm had passed along with the image of a younger Farad and potentially suave attempts at wooing another. Lips curled with a quietly breathed laugh. "I'm sure you managed well enough. Not that I know you well enough to say. Given what I do know it's hard to imagine otherwise." F He motioned with his hands along his head,and running down to the middle of his back. "Gods I had such long ebony hair, even in those awful sulfur pits, I kept it immaculate.." He chuckled softly "I had my moments, only very few of which I should probably say I am proud of." He gave as a complete admission that he was likely not much better in his youth than the basketbrawl team. While the storm had lifted, the groan was still simply a soupy mess, trek-able if one wished, a bath was likely all that would be needed after it's long trek."You laugh, but I thought I was incredibly serious and full of mystery." He gave a soft self introspective laugh at his personal dig.He kept his eyes closed, adjusting to the dark. Sleep wouldn't be far behind, and he made no push to remove the woman, or to stop her if she chose to take leave. V "I think those moments are more like a right of passage." A canted gaze lingered across the desk towards her company before glimpsing up towards the time. She'd seen plenty of moments where men had fallen asleep in their chairs, often regretting it come morning. Rising then to her feet, "I'm not sure I'd call those bad attributes. So long as there's a humor there too." The blanket was pulled from her shoulders and folded to rest over her arm with a hand resting on top. "I should let you go get some rest. It sounds like the rain's stopped, I can be on my way." Turning the blanket was returned to the table from where she'd seen it collected, Verity followed suit with the towel she'd been allowed to borrow. It was a deepened inward breath and a glance towards the door that she prepared herself for the journey home. Months of living in the middle of no where had taken some getting used to, there weren't many things she feared as they often had explanations, but the quite that came with night occasionally mingled with a tinge of unease. Collecting up her satchel, any thought gone awry  pressed to the back of her thoughts, leaving a pleasant smile to find the Coach. "Thank you for the blanket and the coffee." F As she began to clean up around the office, placing away all of items as she prepared. His eyes fluttered open. Slowly placing his foot down and coming to stand before her. He was relaxed and comfortable, heavy lidded but sure of himself.He didn't move to stop her, but meet her by the door, cracking it for her for when she chose to take it. His prosthetic hand, reached out to give a surprisingly gentle and dexterous hold to her own. A small squeeze of appreciation to her. "If you want to head home, stay safe. if anything happens I'll be right here." He simply seemed reassuring, and generally supportive of her process, her choices, having many of them similar. Neurotic focused energy from loss and life. "Ask the dogs when they'd be willing to let you out for an evening." V Verity went still when his hand collected her own. She didn't withdraw, instead returned a squeeze of her own. It wasn't until after that she realized that he might not feel it. Lifting her gaze to meet his own. "I will. So long as you don't let yourself fall asleep in the chair." she countered. "Feel free to surprise us. They're pretty understanding, especially if you keep paying them off." lips pulled back in a tired but affectionate smile. There was a reluctance to free her hand from his hold, when she did it moved to slide over the side of his waist, "Good night, Farad." With a dip of her head the woman started for the open door and make her way home. F turning back into his office lightly. "I promise." He smiled, looking back in hopes that his military cot was still in here somewhere in one of his trunks. While he truly couldn't feel the squeeze, the movement of the asura tech was precise, he knew something moved. And the reluctance to let go made him smile slightly." I'll make sure to keep my bribe on me." Moving back to remove himself from her path, he was watch until she exited the building. His voice was enough to be heard across the court with it's near silent dark. "Good night Verity." He moved back into the his office and shut the door, an ever present smile simply stapled to his face before finding something other than his chair to sleep on.It was only in the middle of the night, once all had slipped from consciousness, would the clock stop once more. Three A.M. it remained for only a quarter of a bell, the spirits one by one rising from his office and slipping back out into the night. Only one remained, cold and focused on the Elonian, watching in her frigid violent envy. It's allowance of spirits through the aged ancient halls was over...

Pining For A Prince | Part 1

Pairing: Keith x Lance 

Warnings: little bit of language

A/N: So I saw this adorable Disneyland AU by @caelestee a couple of weeks ago and was obsessed with the idea of this AU so I decided I needed to write it. It’s the first Klance thing I’ve ever written but it’s also one of my favourite things I’ve ever written so 🤷‍♀️ It’s primarily Klance but there’s some background Romellura, Hunay and Adashi too. I don’t know how long this is going to end up being and how long it’s going to take to update every time but it will be finished eventually so I hope you stick with it if you enjoy it!

Word Count: 2663

*

Keith wiped the excess sweat from his brow as the little girl and her family walked away. He was boiling alive in the early-afternoon Californian sun but seeing the smiles he put on the faces of the little kids who came up to him made it all worth it. Contrary to popular belief, Keith actually wasn't as shy or brooding as most people assumed, he just naturally gave off a loner vibe in everyday life. He was great with kids and he loved being able to make others smile, his job at disneyland was a dream.

A soft gasp met his ears and he turned towards the sound, finding a young girl with bright red hair tugging on her mother's arm not far away.

“Mummy! Mummy! It's Prince Eric, I have to meet him!”

“Okay darling, go ahead.” The girl squealed with delight and ran towards him as her mother followed at a more leisurely pace.

“Ariel! Could it be? I've been looking everywhere for you!” Keith expertly feigned his character's surprise and joy at seeing ‘his princess’, his reaction making her giggle, the sound purer than anything he'd ever heard.

“Noo-o-ooo-oo,” her laughter broke up the drawn-out sound into more syllables than it should have been as she shook her head, “I'm not Ariel, she's my favourite princess though!” Keith gave her a thoughtful look as he crouched down to her level.

“Are you sure? You look just like her!” The girl giggled and blushed some more. “If you're really not Ariel then what's your name little princess?”

“Esme, but I'm not a princess, Prince Eric.”

“Esme, huh? Well that's kind of a pretty name. Princess Esme, it's an honour to meet you.” He stood and gave her a little bow before crouching down to talk to her again. After a few minutes she was ready to move on.

“Can I get picture please?” She asked before leaving.

“Of course princess!”

The girl's mother took out her phone and Keith posed with the girl for a couple of photos before also signing her autograph book. He promised to tell Ariel all about her before she met her later and the girl walked away with a grin wide enough to split her own face in two.

“Well who knew Mr brooding could be so charming? I may just swoon.” The teasing voice of Matt, or as he was known to park guests - Peter Pan, came from right behind him and he almost jumped out of his skin. He looked around quickly, seeing that the immediate area was mostly clear.

“Jesus, Matt! Warn a guy next time.”

“I'd say sorry if I was.”

“I appreciate that. And obviously I can be charming, I had to be to get the job. It remains a mystery how a menace like you managed to get cast though.” He smirked at his friend who just shrugged and grinned back as they both headed towards a cast member-only area for a break.

“Why do you think I got Peter Pan?”

“How's it going with your sister as your new Tink?”

“She's doing good so far, definitely has the mischievous persona down, and she's warming up to all the meeting and greeting.”

“That's good to hear. Honestly I was surprised when she told us the news, I always thought she hated kids.”

“She doesn't really, she's not a fan of the idea of having them but she's pretty good with them when she tries.” Matt shrugged and grabbed a bottle of water, downing the whole thing before reaching for another as Keith did the same. He almost choked on it a second later as a voice he'd recognise anywhere reached him.

“Keith! Matt! What's up guys?” Lance. Neither he nor Matt could reply immediately, Keith too busy choking and Matt laughing at him. “You okay buddy?” Lance came over to him and clapped a hand between his shoulders in an attempt to help.

“Yeah...I'm good.” He managed to splutter out and Matt finally managed to stop laughing.

“Great. Well, I've gotta get back out there, Allura's waiting on me. I'll see you both before the parade!” Lance disappeared almost as quickly as he'd arrived and Keith was left staring at the space he'd occupied just moments ago. His brain struggled to catch up with the swiftness of the interaction as it continued to fixate on where Lance's hand had rested on his back.

“If you don't stop with the dewy-eyed schoolgirl look in the next five seconds I'm telling everyone about your crush on Lance.” Matt threatened after spending a good 30 seconds waiting for Keith to snap out of it. The threat had the desired effect and Keith whipped his head round with a glare so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash.

“I will kill you if you even think about it, Holt.”

“I'd like to see you try.” It was an empty challenge, they both knew Keith would easily beat Matt in a fight but they also knew Keith would never hurt a friend. “But seriously, you should ask him out anyway.”

“Not unless you stop making heart eyes at the girl from the gift shop and actually talk to her.”

“Hey! I'll make a move eventually.”

“We all know that's not true, Matt.” A new voice joined their conversation.

“Shut up Shiro, you don't get to judge when it took you 3 years to ask Adam on a date.”

“Touché. You're still hopeless though.” He grinned as Matt scowled and Keith gave him a high five, glad to have someone on his side.

“Not as hopeless as your brother - the Prince of pining.”

“True, it must run in the family.” Keith shot his brother a betrayed look.

“Et tu, Brute?”

“Keith, you've had this crush on Lance since your sophomore year and you barely ever even talk to the guy, you brought the teasing on yourself.”

“Don't you have work to be doing?” Keith's voice was almost a growl, siblings really were the worst sometimes.

“Nope, I'm on a break. I've got a full 20 minutes to irritate my little brother.” He grinned the kind of grin which strikes pure fear into the heart of a younger sibling for it promises the kind of mischief and evil only an older sibling has the power to rain down on them. Keith, all too aware of the depths to which he and Shiro would go, wisely decided to make a swift exit at the sight of it. Yeah, he still had about 10 minutes of his break left but he decided just to take some extra time before the parade. No way was he going to suffer through Shiro's teasing if there was another choice.

“Well in that case I'm going back out. See you later guys.”

“Later Keith!” Matt called after him as he practically jogged away.

“You can't escape this forever Keith! I'm going to tease the shit out of you back home!” Shiro's not-quite-farewell earned him the middle finger from Keith and his answering laugh seemed to follow Keith even after he was well out of earshot. Brothers really were hell.

*

An hour after his brief encounter with Keith, Lance's hand was still tingling as if some of Keith's very essence still clung to it and the constant reminder was only prolonging his internal freak out. He spun Allura with practiced grace as they performed together for a small crowd in New Orleans Square but even the feeling of her hand in his couldn't rid him of the memory of how it had felt to touch Keith.

Finally their dance came to an end and Lance spent a few minutes talking to the kids and taking photos alongside Allura before they headed off to get ready for the afternoon parade. He couldn't keep the grin off his face or the spring from his step as they walked over to where the rest of the cast members gathered, so excited to get to see Keith again. However briefly that may be. The boy was beautiful, Lance was unafraid the admit that, especially in his Prince get-up, and even just a glimpse of his smile could make Lance's heartbeat go wild.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when he'd started developing a crush, certainly it was back in high school sometime. Back when Keith had been little more than a brooding shadow at the back of his classes, an enigma that Lance had spent far too much time trying to figure out instead of focusing on his studies. Knowing it was hopeless though, he'd buried that crush deep down for a long time and moved on, that was, until they'd both gotten cast as princes at Disneyland and Lance had found himself falling all over again.

It had been a shock, if he was honest, that not only had Keith auditioned (Keith! brooding, slightly menacing Keith wanted a job at Disneyland!), but he'd actually got the job. Knowing what the job entailed meant re-evaluating everything he'd thought he knew about Keith and, with this new perspective on the guy, Lance knew he was screwed. And that was before he'd seen him in costume!

“Someone's excited to see his Prince Charming it seems.” Allura's smirk was clear in her voice and Lance didn't even bother to turn his head to see it.

“He's Prince Eric, not Prince Charming. Wrong movie Allura.” He replied without thinking and it took a few seconds for him to realise his mistake. “Shit.”

He could feel the triumph radiating from the girl beside him and wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up right there. Allura loved nothing more than to tease him and he'd just handed her all the ammunition she needed to make his life hell for at least a couple of months.

“Oh my god! You finally admitted it Lance! I finally got you!” She bounced along beside him and clapped gleefully. “Oh this is perfect!”

“Allura, I swear if you breathe a word to anyone else I will stop helping you with Romelle.” He didn't particularly like having to use that threat, he wanted Allura and Romelle to get together as much as anyone, but desperate times call for desperate measures. She pouted at that but agreed.

“Fine, I won't say anything but nothing you can do is going to stop the teasing. And I am sooo helping you get him, it's now my mission in life.”

“You're a nightmare.” He rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation but his voice was fond.

“Yep, but that's why you love me...almost as much as you love Keith.” She grinned and ran ahead to join the rest of their friends before Lance had a chance to retaliate and he sighed once again before walking over at a more leisurely pace.

“Lance!” Matt and Pidge yelled in sync, identical mischievous smiles on both their faces as they waved him over. He didn't trust those smiles one bit.

“Hey guys, how's it going?” He asked, somehow managing to keep his suspicion out of his voice and off his face.

“Oh same as ever, just now with the added entertainment from my darling sister.” Matt pulled said sister into a side hug which looked to be crushing the smaller girl.

“Fuck off Matt.”

“Language Pidgey! This is Disney, no swearing allowed!” Lance gave her the disappointed parent look and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You can fuck off as well.” The two boys just sighed.

“You really are a delight to be around you know?”

“I try.” Her smile was falsely sweet as she batted her eyelashes before something behind Lance caught her eye. He watched with growing dread as that smile turned downright wicked and spun around to see what caused it. His stomach dropped as he saw Keith and Ezor a few feet away, deep in conversation, whatever Pidge had in mind was not going to end well for him.

“Keith! Dude come over here!” Keith looked over at the shout and Lance saw his face twisting with some sort of emotion he couldn't decipher as he saw the three of them. Ezor, however, looked knowingly between them and smirked before dragging over a reluctant Keith.

“Fancy seeing you here,” She said by way of greeting, still with that oddly knowing look.

“Considering it's their job as well as ours, that shouldn't be so surprising.” Keith helpfully pointed out.

“You're no fun.”

“Leave him alone, it's not his fault he's intrinsically grumpy.” Pidge finally managed to extract herself from Matt's hug in time to properly tease Keith.

“I hate all of you.”

“Liar.”

“Pidge, if you called me over just to be mean then I'm going. Maybe the princesses will be better company.” Lance felt himself wilt slightly at the prospect of Keith going, the break before the parade was one of the few times in the day he had a chance to have a proper conversation with him. Even when he could hardly manage to say a word, he could at least be in his presence and sometimes that was enough.

“Y'know, I expect they would be. YO ALLURA!” The heads of all the girls whipped around at the yell. “Bring your princess troupe over here, these guys are boring.”

“Coming!” She, Nadia, Romelle, Shay, and Nyma came to join them though the rest of the princesses elected not to, they'd never really gotten comfortable in this particular group of friends.

“What's up?” Nadia greeted them and Lance zoned out the conversation for a bit. Keith had shuffled closer to him to make room for the girls and he became uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from him even through the heat of the day. He spent most of the next 10 minutes sneaking glances at Keith whenever there was no attention on him. He couldn't help it, whenever he was around him his gaze was drawn to the boy like a magnet and he was long passed trying to resist the pull.

“Alright, 5 minutes to show time, everyone in place!” Coran interrupted both Lance’s thoughts and the group’s conversation, all of them heading off to their respective floats. He chanced one last glance at Keith, only to find him already looking at him. Cheeks heating alarmingly, Lance whipped his head back round and boarded his float where Allura was waiting, a falsely innocent smile on her face as she pointedly didn’t look at him. It was a deliberate tactic to irritate him into talking to her and letting her tease him. He knew this but he still asked anyway.

“What’s that smile for.”

“Oh nothing, just planning you and Keith’s wedding, it’s going to be beautiful, a private beach ceremony at sunset, fireworks later, fairy lights everywhere, you two sneaking off to dance and kiss on the beach and under the stars during the reception. Shiro will be Keith’s best man, Hunk yours, your niece will be the cutest flower girl ever and Pidge, Romelle, Veronica and I can be your bridesmaids. You can do the bouquet throw and we'll all let Shay catch it and Hunk will be all flustered as it gives him the courage to finally propose to her. Everyone will be happy crying and we'll all eat too much and drink too much and we'll have the biggest party ever. No one will ever want it to end. It will be even better than Shiro and Adam’s.”

“Shiro hasn’t even proposed yet.”

“I know, but I have their wedding planned already as well. Yours will be better though.”

“I’m not marrying Keith, Allura, it’s just a crush. An unrequited one at that.”

“Sure it-” before she could finish their float started moving and they had to quickly get into character. It was hard for Lance to concentrate with Allura’s teases circling around his brain. He had to admit, she had planned his perfect wedding. Right down to his perfect groom.

Flashback: An Outlier Lunch

The Outliers have been together since before middle school, but these are the years they solidified as a group and stuck together for the rest of their lives.

May 12th 2025

“Yo, seriously. What do you guys think?”

Kwin McCall sat across from Zig-Zag at lunch but looked around at his friends to see who would answer first. Gabi sat to his right and was already halfway done with her food. She’d left her library class early to snag their favorite picnic table outside, while Harlo, Zig, Kwin and Jonah walked from the annex to get their food. 

“Zig with a vlog channel?” Harlo asked, opening his bag of chips and dumping them on his tray. 

“No, about starting a porn channel… Yes, the vlog.”

“Fuck it,” Kwin shrugged, twisting the cap from his water bottle. “You’re more interesting than half the people who have a lot of followers.”

Zig stared across at him down the rim of his glasses, gaging whether Kwin was being serious. When Zig realized he meant it, he nodded, “Thanks Kwin.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jonah chuckled. 

Kwin’s mother always packed him a water bottle for lunch, whether he had a meal to go with it or ate from the cafeteria. Three days a week he trained at Knox’s Dojo after school- the water bottles she loaded him up with every day were a measure to ensure he stayed hydrated. In the past few weeks, she’d started packing extra for Jonah. Kwin handed the boy to his left a water, which his friend accepted graciously. Harlo nudged Zig in his side and smiled with a mouth full of pizza. 

“You can get the new celebrity here to guest star, probably pump your views up.”

“In the porn or the vlogs?” Zig smirked.

“I don’t see why you can’t do both,” Jonah suggested. 

“Oh, look at that, Zig,” Kwin nodded to Harlo with a slight smile, “You don’t even need followers, you’ve got your own biggest fan right here.”

“Oh, we’re sorry, are you not used to being all big and famous yet?” Gabi feigned ignorance.

Last month, Kwin’s grandfather brought the boy out to a red carpet premiere and to do interviews with him in support of a new movie, The Package Boy- a  horror film Sam McCall wrote and produced. The main character of that movie, Joseph, was heavily inspired by Kwin himself, so Sam invited his grandson along for some publicity and a few minutes in the spotlight. Thinking back on it, he had the sneaking suspicion that Sam pulled him out of school that week for the press run as some kind of gesture. A “Hey, sorry I’m not around much and never really talk to you, how’d you like to be on TV?” sort of gesture. Kwin didn’t care for it in hindsight. Especially since his friends wouldn’t let him forget it. 

“Oh, come on, Kwin,” Harlo grinned. “You were a natural out there. You’ve got a future, I can see it!”

“Three Pines Middle School’s first celebrity alumni,” Zig-Zag bucked his eyebrows.

Gabi pulled out her phone. “I’ve been meaning to check back on that, by the way.”

“Check on what?” Jonah leaned forward and craned his neck to get a better look. Kwin rolled his eyes when he realized Jonah was goading him. 

“To see how much attention our Kwinjamin here is really getting.”

Kwin hated that nickname, but couldn’t get mad at Gabi. Being friends since primary school got her a lot of mileage. “You don’t have to check on that.”

“Sure I do. Let’s see, I don’t wanna check the official video’s comments. The only people commenting about you on that vid are middle aged housewives talking about how much more well-mannered you are than their kids. Oh and pushy movie nerds talking about how the horror genre is dead.”

“That’s not the kind of pumping up our boy needs,” Zig agreed, staring at Kwin with an appraising look. “Yeah, go where the teenagers hang out on the Internet, see what all the hype about our boy here is about.”

“Got it,” Gabi snapped her fingers. “Kenny Mischief covered the news.”

“Wow, he did?” Kwin leaned over to inspect the phone. Zig snorted. 

“Talk about worthless vloggers.”

“I’ll have you know, Zig-Zag, that Mister Mischief has quite the teen following,” Gabi tutted. 

“Don’t remind me.”

Gabi cleared her throat and loosened her shoulders before sitting up straight. “Lisa Lee says: ‘That dude’s grandkid looks like that? Social media stalking intensifies’. Charlotte Hermes commented: ‘I wish boys at my school were that cuuuute’. She added the weary emoji face too,” Gabi pointed down at the phone and stared up at Kwin with an appraising stare. 

“I really hope these comments are from, y’know, people our age. Cause this could get weird,” Zig chuckled. 

“You made your point, yeah?” Kwin laughed. Jonah glanced up at him, able to read his embarrassment in a heartbeat. 

“Mm, I have, but now I’m just having fun. Lucky Babe commented: Does he come with the tickets? Tracey Two-Step Smith says: ‘Oh he’s cute for a white boy… And a Ginger’. A heated race debate ensued in the replies over that one,” Gabi chuckled. She set the phone down on the table. “Okay, now I’m done.”

“Told you you’re a ginger,” Harlo laughed.

“I’m not… Douchebag,” Kwin threw a chip at Harlo, who caught against his chest and popped it into his mouth. “Gross.”

“When are you going to accept your people, Kwin?” Zig asked, eager to continue this long-running debate.

“My hair’s blonde.”

“Eh, reddish blonde,” Jonah shrugged.

“Hey, you’re drinking my water, you’re supposed to back me up.”

“Just accept it so you can move on, Kwin. We need to settle it,” Harlo shrugged. “Closure once and for all.”

“You want me to prove it?” They stared at him questioningly until he stood up and unhooked his belt with a daring smile. “I swear, I will. I’ll give you some closure you’ll never forget.”

“Oh, God, please don’t,” Gabi smacked Kwin’s leg.

“Please do! Wait, I need to get the camera out first,” Zig rooted in his bag for his new DSLR. “We can get this vlog started off right now.”

“Kwin, what are you doing?” Jonah laughed.

“Whaddaya say, Harlo? Should we settle it? Get three coffins ready,” Kwin dramatically shifted his gaze to Gabi and unzipped his fly for full effect. “My mistake. Four Coffins.” 

“Jonah, you said you were gonna stop letting him watch that movie,” Zig sighed. 

“I did. Harlo, back down please. You know he’ll do it.”

Kwin knew Harlo well enough to know he always buckled first in any game of chicken. Especially games like this. Some of the other middle schoolers in the courtyard glanced in their direction, but Kwin was undeterred. In fact, it sort of thrilled him. He locked eyes with Harlo.

“Okay, okay,” Harlo held his hands over his eyes.

“Say I’m not a ginger,” Kwin smirked. 

“You’re not a ginger, geez. You are crazy, though.”

“Crazy’s okay. I can handle crazy,” Kwin zipped and buckled back up, feeling triumphant. 

“You’re the worst,” Jonah shook his head yet was couldn’t hide his smile. Knowing how to best get to Jonah, Kwin wrapped an arm around him, laying his head on his friend’s shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t be the worst without my best,” Kwin patted Jonah’s shoulder even as Zig-Zag snapped a photo. 

“You guys are just so cute,” Zig lilted. 

“So wait a second,” Harlo pointed a fork at Zig. “Your mom paid you to help her out at the camp, right? The all girls camp?”

“Cool your jets, I worked in the main office.”

“Right, and the first thing you buy with your money is a fancy camera? That wasn’t a red flag for her?”

“Ha, very funny, Harlo. She helped me pick it out. I told her vlogging was gonna be my new hobby. And Gabi helped me buy it, too.”

“Yeah, so be careful what you do with, or we’ll both go down for the crime.”

“What’d your mom say about your vlogging idea?” Kwin asked around a mouthful of chips. Zig shrugged.

“She said it’s better than getting to high school and selling weed. For some reason she thinks that was my fate.”

“Still a red flag,” Harlo smiled.

“Oh! Speaking of,” Gabi pointed an accusing finger at Zig-Zag, whose eyes grew wide.

“What’s with people pointing at me today?” 

“Outlier Court is in session,” Gabi narrowed her eyes.

“Yo, can she just call a trial in session by herself?”

“I thought she was the judge,” Kwin shrugged and took a bite of pizza.

Outlier Court held a very special purpose in their friend group: It was their way of calling each other out on transgressions. “Hit us,” Jonah said, dramatically pushing his food to the side and steeping his fingers. 

“We’re Outliers, right?” Everyone agreed. “So we’re all of the understanding that we don’t do basic shit.” Gabi dramatically enunciated her words, which meant this case was already closed. Kwin looked from Zig to Gabi in anticipation, his mouth full food. Gabi set her arms on the table, lips pressed in a thin line. 

“What’d I do?” Zig shrugged.

“Oh, I think I know what this is,” Harlo laughed around food, using a hand to cover his mouth. His eyes squinted with joy. “Sorry, bud. I was gonna ignore it.”

“But that’s not how we correct the behavior is it, Harlo?” Gabi continued. Kwin was confused. Jonah voiced that confusion.

“Somebody explain it for Kwin, he’s lost.”

“If we are, in fact, Outliers, and we’re already past basic, annoying phone etiquette… Explain to me, Zig-Zag Sutter, why I’ve been woken up the past two mornings with mirror selfies from you. In the group chat of all places,” Gabi admonished. 

“That’s right!” Kwin slapped the table. Some of the other kids in the courtyard glanced back their way. 

“I was wondering what that was about,” Jonah nodded. 

“Yo, everybody relax. There’s a perfectly good explanation for it.”

“The court would like to hear it,” Gabi crossed a leg over her knee and folded her hands, the picture of professionalism. 

“You guys know I’ve lost a lot of weight-,”

“All of it,” Harlo corrected. 

“And I like to show it off - shut up- but I can’t do it just anywhere cause I’ll get clowned. Nobody cares so I gotta vent where people do care,” Zig-Zag shrugged.

“Well we don’t care either,” Jonah shrugged. 

“Sure as hell not six in the damn morning.” Gabi added. 

“There’s also, like two more reasons. One, it’s everybody’s wake-up text.”

“I’d rather have a regular text, though,” Kwin smiled. 

“Also, I kinda like showing off how much better I look by the time I get to school compared to when I just wake up,” Zig flashed a rare grin.

“You look trash when you wake up,” Kwin chuckled. 

“Yo, will you relax?”

“You look trash now, too,” Jonah added. The group’s laughter unfortunately spread to Harlo, who was in the process of drinking milk. He instantly coughed it back up and sent the liquid spraying in all directions, thought most of it ended up on his face. The group roared louder as Harlo wiped his face with his shirt, still shaking with laughter. 

“Number All My Bones: There and Back and There Again” Part 1, Chapter 4

Beginning: https://bit.ly/2NtGPgu

Previous: https://bit.ly/2H5dDej

Next: https://bit.ly/2tD9Q03

It’s only a taser; I know. I know the basics about these types of guns, although violence isn’t my main research preference. Still, I duck inside, my heartbeat still somewhat yelling at me, my head definitely yelling at me to get back to my work, that it’s probably just some sort of census. But the doorbell rang, and Papyrus immediately sprang out of his seat, with that golly-gee smile impressioned all over his face, and sprinted towards the door. Sans sprinted after him, and I after Sans, all of us except Papyrus seeming to remember the rule that no one was supposed to answer the door except for me. But the door opened before I could say anything, and there stood the one woman I would cry over just a few weeks later. Her name tag read “Ica Grey, Head of the Anti-Monster Department”, the “Jess” part obscured by a shadow for a little while, but I knew who she was. The streak of grey hair, the crossed arms, the badges on her blue dress told me everything. She was the one who had started the “MF” tag, the one who had started the monsters coming home without any sort of occupation, the one who had started the monster children not allowed to take the same classes as humans, the monsters being denied from the hospitals. The dehumanization process didn’t need to be done; it simply was, and it was since when we were born. My smile stretches until it turns taut. “Hello, Miss.” Her hand settles on her taser for a moment, but it stutters just before it settles by her side. “Hello, Doctor. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I nod. “I can say the same. Especially with your ‘MF’ endeavors. What does it stand for, though? I’ll take a wild guess. ‘Monsters Forbidden.’” She nods back, although I can practically see her teeth gritting. Her hand moves closer to the gun. Betty whimpers a little, and Sans and Papyrus hush the other children away before they get embroiled in the grown-up soup of politics and science. In another world, maybe I would have gone with them. But that world is faraway, much too far from now to even think of existing. Miss Grey put her hand by her hip. “Are we conducting the meeting or not?” I nodded, although I didn’t even think about giving her any more than that. I was prepared to send all of the children upstairs, thinking they went into the living room, but it was only Betty, reading a history book for her tutoring program, no doubt. I was about to say something, but one look at the scary lady behind me all in blue sent her tiptoeing away and making her way up the stairs. As we sat on the couches, the coffee in the pot cold by now after my morning cup, I made my move, even though I knew it wouldn’t work by a long shot. “Do you mind putting the gun away? I have four little kids here, and I don’t want them getting-” She laughed, ran her long fingernails through her hair once or twice. “Of course not. You’re the scientist, aren’t you? You should know by now that it’s only a safety precaution. Not that I’d willy-nilly fire at one of your kiddos, right?” I sighed, went into a conversation about geothermics I wouldn’t give to my students until it was May and the graduation caps were being shipped. I counted myself using the words “entropy”, “enthalpy,” “quasistatic”, “Carnot cycle”, and “calorimetry” at least twice each before she started to nod off before nearly bumping her nose on the edge of the couch. Science that would have gone over her head even if she had a fifty-foot mitt to catch it. She jerked herself up so quickly that she started falling forwards, and I almost stretched out my hands to catch her before she could regain her composure.“Well, Dr. Gaster, this was all very, very informative, but can you please focus on the effectiveness of your project?” I went into a slight smile. Finally. “Alright, Miss. The expansion of the Core will help to power our city by-” She put a hand over her mouth in mock shock, but I knew she was yawning underneath. A professor tends to notice these things easier. “So it basically makes our gas bills cheaper?” I laughed, and I almost put a hand over my own mouth. I shifted into a different language, one that politicians love to speak. “What-?! No. No, not at all. If the expansion is complete, you won’t even have to pay for electricity at all. Ever. And thanks to it, we’re starting to see a big change. Not only in the bills-” I stopped. I was getting a little preachy. I laughed again. Even if I was preachy, it wouldn’t ever stop me from loving the feeling. So I gave in when she asked how the Core worked. Just this once. “Well, it converts geothermal energy from the mountain to-” I couldn’t say “magical”, but there was another word for that. A word I could use. “-idiopathic energy by using the underground chambers. These chambers have magnets with turbines that allow the electricity to be transformed from idiopathic to-” She put her hand over her eyes, although I know they were closed underneath. “It converts electricity to heat.” “Oh, I see.” Huh. So she wasn’t asleep after all. “A non-polluting, unlimited, self-sustaining power source. Of course…” I stand up, and she puts her weight on her toes as if she’ll follow, but she stays right there where she is. People say I’m a good judge, even though I’m a better scientist, but in cases such as this, I can’t always pull out a clear verdict about someone. “...none of this would happen if you don’t sign the agreement tomorrow.” She nods, but puts her hand closer to her taser just in case. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.” “What do you mean that doesn’t mean anything? I’ve just explained an energy agenda that I doubt you’ll find anywhere else, and-” “That still doesn’t explain the rest of your kind.” “Are you-?!” “Yes, Doctor. I am. You think that just because you’ve made energy out of the dirt means that you haven’t come from it. You come up here and steal our jobs, steal our money, all because you think you’re better than the rest of us. You-” I stretched out my hand, reach for anything looking vaguely like a door handle to push. “Miss Grey, I didn’t say any of that-” “Oh, just because you didn’t say it doesn’t mean it isn’t-” I saw her in the corner before I heard her. Betty had come back from upstairs, probably because of all the fuss we made down here, and was looking at me with some of the most terrified two eyes I’ve ever seen. “Excuse me, ma’am.” She didn’t bother me as I went over and patted Betty’s shoulder. Poor girl. Only a few minutes here, and already we’ve escalated beyond what I would ever think of doing if Jessica wasn’t… Jessica. “Betty, it’s alright. The both of us were just having a discussion, alright? It’s very important. So what I need for you to do is to go back upstairs and-” “Doctor.” “Just a minute. What I need for you to do is go back upstairs and tell the others that everything is fine. And even if it does escalate, I’m stronger than I look, huh?” I patted her shoulder again for good measure. “Doctor, please. You’re not talking to anyone.” “Miss, what do you mean I’m not talking to anyone? Betty’s right here, isn’t she?” Chara and Asriel have come back down, too. I suppose the conversation died just enough. “Isn’t she?” Chara shakes his head, while Asriel shrugs his shoulders. “She’s still upstairs playing puzzles with Papyrus. An’ I think she’s learning how to play chess, too.” I look to my right, and Betty’s gone. Anxiety can do more than you could ever imagine, I suppose. If it can keep me staying awake at night after a dream that only mildly alarmed me, it can do what it just did. Anxiety also kept me heading towards my room after Jessica left, after calling down the kids and getting Papyrus to help me fix a pizza and some chicken, telling them that dinner was probably right around the corner. And just as anxiety foretold, something’s wrong. One of my books on human-monster history has fallen on the floor, but even without any sort of education in physics, I can tell it doesn’t fall like that. It’s at least halfway across the room, my bookshelf still in place right next to the door, and when I picked it up, another eerie fact sent a chill down my spine, and I almost felt my coat shaking along with it. It was open only a few pages in towards the end. Experience has taught me otherwise. If books don’t fall flat on the covers, front or backs, it normally falls with the middle pages open and spread out. Meaning if it didn’t fall, someone had to have taken it. Was it Sans or Asriel or Betty or anyone being tutored by him, forgetting to pick it up after they’d left? Or was it Papyrus, who was trying to get his own little revenge for me not getting him the book at the library? Alright. Focus. It’s probably one of them. I put back the book, and I sighed, going out to fix myself another cup of coffee. Anxiety can do everything, I suppose.

Metamorphosis (5/10)

Metamorphosis (5/10) | Once upon a time, Dan Howell and Phil Lester were best friends. They did everything together, from hanging out at each other’s house, to sitting next to each other at school - but one day, Dan was torn away from Phil by none other than Phil himself. Five years on, and Dan still doesn’t know why his best friend threw Dan away. Was it the fault of the bullies who relentlessly picked on Phil, or was it Dan himself? Dan just didn’t know. So when a chance to protect Phil and get his best friend back arises, Dan jumps on it in a heartbeat, and uses his own confidence to boost Phil’s just enough to make the bullies back away. | Phan | Teen and Up | High School AU, Bullying, Getting Together, Make Over Fic, Kissing Booth, Kissing Lessons | 2,733 Words this chapter 

Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

Thanks again to my beta etoilesdephan for her wonderful help editing this fic <33

(Ao3) (Previous)

Chapter Five

“Alright,” Dan announced when the two had finally wiped their tears away and picked themselves up off the ground. Phil’s face was completely red and flushed, a mix of embarrassment and the remnants of his crying, but he was at least looking at Dan rather than shying his gaze away. In fact, there was so much wonderment in his gaze that it made Dan’s heart hurt, and he offered a smile in return. “About the theater club,” he began, despite the fact that he’d rather not bring it up at all if he could avoid it.

Unfortunately for him, the theater club was the whole reason he and Phil were even here, now.

Instantly, Phil’s gaze fell away, and he took a small step backwards. Dan bit his lip against protesting, but he felt his arms twitch at his sides, wanting to reach out and stop Phil from running away. He didn’t, however, never wanting to make Phil uncomfortable. Instead, he sighed and shoved his own hands into his pockets.

“I’m really sorry about the whole kissing booth thing. I didn’t want to put you in that situation,” he said, getting straight to the heart of the matter. His gaze trailed to his own feet, and he scuffed the toe of one sneaker against the linoleum of the cafeteria floor. “Franklin's an asshole, and the others just kind of… don’t know how to think for themselves,” Dan explained. “I wish I’d thought of something for us to do before Franklin could put us in this situation, but…” and this time, when Dan trailed off, he straightened his shoulders and stared at Phil straight on. “But I promise I’m going to make it better.”

At that, Phil’s head snapped up in surprise. He hadn’t put his hood back on from earlier, and his hair was an absolute mess on top of his head, but despite how disheveled it was, he actually looked… good. For a moment, Dan was actually distracted by the vision in front of him; Phil with his fringe side swept over his forehead, eyes sparkling wide behind his glasses, face actually visible for once, and… strangely even more attractive than Dan had once remembered it.

Phil had always been attractive, but now, he looked entirely ethereal.

“How?” Phil asked, but Dan wasn’t listening. His mind was already far, far away, tumbling down a rabbit hole of plans and ideas that might just help Phil to get along better with their classmates; at least so far as getting them to back off from taking advantage of him. A slow grin started to take over Dan’s face, and, without wasting another moment, he pushed into Phil’s personal space and begin to fiddle with his clothes.

Phil squeaked instantly, cheeks going so red that Dan thought Phil’s face might set aflame. Rolling his eyes in reaction, Dan reached up and snatched Phil’s glasses away from his face, brushed his bangs further to the side until it was completely out of his eyes, and unzipped his jacket in order to yank it free from Phil’s form and reveal his crumbled uniform beneath.

“What are you doing?” Phil squeaked, trying to stumble back and away from Dan, but Dan didn’t let him. Instead, he laced his fingers into Phil’s belt loops, and pulled him back towards him until their chests were practically touching. The warmth of Phil instantly seeped into Dan’s body, and he found himself rather more interested in the sensation than he probably should have been, but he ignored it to instead focus on yanking Phil’s shirt out from being tucked into his pants.

“Changing your appearance to make you more confident,” Dan replied, grinning up at Phil and laughing a little when Phil reared his head back as if Dan’s face were too close to his own. “Calm down, Phil, I’m not going to do anything,” he promised the other boy, though his thoughts flashed over kiss more so than punch the way Dan was certain Phil was thinking of. He really wouldn’t mind kissing the other boy, but that was neither here nor there.

Phil didn’t need to know that Dan had long since felt far more than friendship for the boy he’d once been so close to.

It wasn’t something Dan thought too much on anyway. He’d never wanted to complicate their friendship when Phil was already struggling so much with his own self confidence, so it didn’t matter at all, now. In this instance, despite Dan enjoying the closeness of their bodies, nothing was going to happen; Dan would make sure of that. Phil needed to feel safe and secure first, if anything ever did happen, but if it didn’t, that would be okay too.

“Now come here,” Dan insisted after he’d loosened Phil’s tie and taken a step away from him, doing a quick glance up and down to make sure he looked to Dan’s satisfaction. “Let me take a picture of you, and then you’ll see what I’ve done,” Dan explained, pushing Phil over towards a blank wall so he could get a good shot. Phil went easily enough, though he stumbled over his own two feet, and had to catch himself on the wall before he turned around. The sight made Dan smile, and he shook his head with a little chuckle as Phil ducked his head and messed up the way Dan had situated his hair.

Stepping forward again, Dan pushed it to the side, and murmured, “Stay still,” to Phil, watching as Phil’s face went a deep red all over again and he appeared to catch and hold his breath.

Deciding not to think too much on this fact, Dan moved back away, pulled out his phone, and snapped a photo before Phil could do anything to mess up Dan’s carefully constructed image of him.

“Part of the reason the others want to take pictures with you in order to make fun of you is because you make it so easy with the way you dress,” Dan began to explain, snapping another two photos for good measure, mostly for himself, before clicking on his gallery and picking out which one he liked the most. “You hide your face like you’re ashamed of it, hide your body like you don’t want anyone to see… it makes people want to take advantage of that fact,” he continued as he bit his lip and squinted at the images of Phil. He had a good idea of which one he liked, but he had a feeling Phil would find this one more appealing... “That’s probably why Franklin came up with the kissing booth idea in the first place. He knew you weren’t going to have any confidence to fight off the assholes, and that would just make bullying you easier.” Stopping on the photo Dan liked, he then stepped forward in order to hand Phil his glasses so his friend could actually see the photo Dan had taken of him.

As Phil took his glasses and Dan’s phone from him, Dan continued to speak.

“The first step to building confidence is dressing like you care about yourself, even if you don’t. Do you think any of the assholes in our school actually have any self confidence? No, they just dress themselves up so they look good and they can pretend the whole world wants to kiss their feet,” Dan explained, noting the way Phil’s eyes widened as he looked at his picture. Dan felt satisfaction curl through him as Phil raised a hand to tentatively tap at the photo, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

“That’s why I think we should start building up your confidence by working on your appearance, and then we’ll get back to work on helping you see just how wonderful you actually are,” Dan explained, a slow smile taking over his own features as he continued to stare at the photo Dan had taken in in total awe. “Maybe if we work on changing the fact that you try so hard to blend into the shadows, the other kids will stop bothering you so much, because they won’t see you as such an easy target.”

Phil almost didn’t seem to be listening. He was too busy smiling, his entire expression having lit up in a way that Dan wanted to see for the rest of his life.

Gently, he reached out and placed his hand on Phil’s shoulder.

“You aren’t alone anymore, and the next time we have to run those stupid kissing booths, I won’t leave your side for even a second.”

**

Neither Dan nor Phil ended up going to the rest of their afternoon classes. Instead, Phil devoured the remainder of his lunch, and then he and Dan snuck out a backdoor out of the school and headed out to town. Phil’s hands were shoved into his hoodie pockets, and he’d pulled the hood back up, but he was chatting quietly with Dan and didn’t even seem to mind too much when Dan bumped his shoulders with Phil’s. It was a massive improvement from even that afternoon at lunch together, and it was something that Dan would not underestimate.

Some of the ease of his friendship with Phil was slowly slipping back, and it was wonderful.

“So first of all,” Dan began as the two of them turned into town and the Manchester shopping center with their backpacks hoisted on their backs and a few passerby giving them strange looks, “You need a haircut.”

Phil blinked owlishly at Dan from under his hood, thick bangs still mostly hiding his eyes, but Dan knew how wonderful he could look if he just tried to style it all.

Dan patted his friend on the shoulder.

“It’ll be fine. You don’t have to cut it short, just something more manageable than what you’ve got. Remember when we were kids, you always wanted to cut your hair like the emo guys in our favorite bands?” Dan asked, teasing a little, and then pointing at his own fringed hair. “Like mine, see?”

Phil’s cheeks instantly went red, out of embarrassment, Dan assumed, and he looked away like he didn’t even want to face Dan. Dan tried not to frown at that as he was forced to remember just how long it had been since he’d properly spoken to his best friend.

“Unless you’re not like… into that anymore. I just figured, it’s a place to start,” Dan added quietly. He couldn’t help the little tinge of sadness to his voice, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “We could look through some magazines or something instead, if you’d like. Or we could just skip the whole thing altogether,” Dan continued when Phil said nothing, suddenly regretting he’d ever even brought any of this up. What was he thinking, trying to change Phil? What kind of a friend did that?

Before Dan could berate himself any further, however, Phil turned with a wild look in his eye and practically shouted, “no!”

His face burned an even deeper shade of red as a few passerby in the street stopped to give the two of them strange looks, and his feet seemed suddenly glued to the floor as he came to an abrupt stop. Dan watched as Phil ripped his gaze to the floor, seemingly ashamed, and stopped walking as well. Slowly, Dan turned on his heel to stare worriedly at his friend.

“Phil?” he asked.

Phil shook his head.

He’d yanked a hand from his pocket and moved it to cover his mouth. If Dan hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Phil was crying, but then he realized that he didn’t know any better, and he felt his heart shatter all over again.

“Look, Phil, I didn’t mean to say - we don’t have to change anything about you. I could just give you pointers on how to dress a little more confidently, if you like. You don’t have to get a haircut or anything, I just -”

“That’s not it!” Phil blurted out again, interrupting Dan and finally managing to lock eyes with Dan. They were wild, unsure, and yet held a certain amount of terrified desire that Dan’s heart actually skipped a beat. His mouth dropped open, but he didn’t say anything else, waiting for Phil to explain himself.

“It’s just -” Phil began, cutting himself off and looking away. “I don’t… think it’ll look as good on me as it does you,” he finally admitted after another moment.

If Dan’s mouth hadn’t already been open, it would have dropped open then.

How could Phil think such a thing, let alone say it? Didn’t he know how wonderful he looked already with long hair? He just needed to add a little style to it and get it out of his face, and he’d probably be the most attractive guy at their school. Eyes wide, Dan merely stared at Phil numbly for a moment, and then laughed.

The sound was loud in the middle of the pavement, attracting another few concerned looks as passerby took in their stopped forms and strange behavior. Phil’s gaze snapped back to Dan’s all over again, the sun glinting off of his spectacles, and Dan offered him a gentle smile.

“You’re an idiot,” Dan said, still chuckling a little bit. “You really think you couldn’t pull it off better than me? Phil Lester, I have to straighten my hair every day to get it like this! Imagine how wonderful you’d look if you just styled your hair a little bit. Remember the photo I took earlier?” Dan asked, waiting for Phil’s embarrassed nod before continuing on, “Imagine how much better you’d look if your hair were styled that way, and not just combed out of your face.”

Phil didn’t respond, but he did duck his head again, and that seemed plenty enough of a response to Dan. Sighing softly, he stepped forward, and without regard to how it would look, pressed his fingers underneath Phil’s chin and forced him to look up. The touch must have startled Phil, because his head snapped up without Dan having to guide it, and he stared at Dan with wide eyes. Dan merely offered him a gentle smile.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Dan asked. “If you don’t like it, you can crop it short and it’ll grow back again. Right?”

Phil’s eyes were so very blue. There was that swirl of yellow Dan had long dreamt about getting to properly see again, and just the fairest hint of green. Hazel blue eyes, Phil had. Beautiful, hazel blue eyes, trembling with fear.

He swallowed, and Dan watched as his adam’s apple bobbed.

Finally, Phil nodded, and for the briefest of moments, Phil flashed Dan a smile.

“Okay,” he managed, voice so small that Dan had to strain to hear the words. “Let’s do it.”

Instantly, Dan was grinning, and he made a low “whoop!” as he reached out and took Phil’s hand in his own. He didn’t even care when Phil’s cheeks stained crimson again, or the way his fingers flexed in Dan’s like he was unsure. Dan chose to just have that moment, and he turned to start leading Phil down the street again. It just felt so good to be doing something for Phil that Dan was sure would help him.

Sometimes, something as simple as stepping out of your comfort zone could change everything.

“Great! Maybe you can dye it black like you always wanted as well!”

Phil laughed, the sound gentle and small, almost broken, like he hadn’t properly done so in a long time, but it made Dan grin nonetheless. His expression, when Dan glanced at him, was pleasantly surprised, as if he hadn’t been expecting the sound to come from his own mouth either.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Phil agreed, and allowed Dan to lead him inside of a beauty salon, where a maninstantly walked over with a giant smile, and took one amused look at Phil, before turning back to Dan.

“Hey Daniel. I’m assuming since you were just here last week that it’s your friend I’ll be helping today?”

“Hi Fabrice,” Dan greeted in return with a grin. Gently, he let go of Phil’s hand and pushed him forward via a gentle shove against his back. “This is Phil, and he’s in desperate need of a makeover.”

(Next)

Ups and Downs

I have always been one to react to traumatic situations differently. I have a tendency to act fine in the beginning and then all the sudden days, weeks, even months later, I break down and it’s never pretty. For the first 6 months-1 year of having diabetes, I did AWESOME! Always checked my sugars, (4 times a day) ate breakfast, lunch, dinner and all my snacks at the same time every day, and always counted and measured EVERYTHING. My mom was more than I could have ever asked for in a parent. She got up early every morning before work and school and made me breakfast. Measured my cereal, milk, juice, fruit, all of it. She packed my lunches, and always cooked my dinners in the same manner. I learned from the beginning to do my own shots. (My mom was terrified of needles, she even took a class for new diabetic parents where they had to check their sugars and take saline shots for I think it was a week, and she would start sweating and shaking every time. 😂) So not only was I taking on the responsibility of the disease in itself, but I was always in charge of giving my own meds. In retrospect, it was a lot to take on at such a young age, and I should have let more people help me, but I was super stubborn lol. It’s a blessing and a curse! So anyway, about a year passes and I officially got into middle school. (I was in 6th grade when I was diagnosed and turned 12 the next January after the hospital stay.) With the stresses of middle school, sports, hormones, and also the fact that I was getting a new sibling, (yay!!!) I lost it. I started getting very angry and depressed, although at the time I didn’t know what was going on. One day at school, I just completely lost my marbles and drew a line on my wrist with red marker and said when I got home, that was what I was going to do. That was the beginning of my mental illness. I spent about a week in OSU Harding Hospital, which to most would be called the looney bin. 😂 I was diagnosed with major depression, ADD, and borderline personality disorder, which was later just dropped to major depressive disorder over the years. I later developed a hair pulling anxiety disorder called trichotellamania and it caused me a lot of problems in high school because at a certain time I had no hair on the top of my head and I had also pulled out all my eyelashes on the top and bottom and my eyebrows as well. I wore scarves to cover my head and even had to get special permission from the principal because student weren’t aloud to wear anything on their heads unless it was for religious purposes. (This mostly pertained to Muslim and Arab girls who wore the scarves around their faces and heads to cover their hair.) It was a really hard time in my life and I was put on a lot of different medications. Depokote for mood swings, Prozac for the depression, Anafranil for anxiety and Concerta for concentration. After a year I was taken off Prozac and was put on Zoloft, which is the only one of these meds I still take now.

That was the first of 3 different hospitalizations at Harding Hospital. It was around that first hospitalization that I really started to neglect my sugars. I also ended up being diagnosed with hypertension at age 14 and was put on Lisinopril. It was like pulling teeth getting me to check my sugars, to take my insulin and also to take my pills. One thing I remember vividly from my childhood was my moms voice screaming, “TAKE YOUR PILLS!!!” 😂 I would even make up sugars and just write them down in my log book right before my appts with Doctor Sotos so I wouldn’t get yelled at. 😳🙄 When my a1c blood work would come back, they would know I was lying. This would eventually cause Doctor Sotos to drop me as his patient when I was 18 for noncompliance. It would later be one of the biggest regrets of my life losing him as an endocrinologist, as I never again found one I liked as well as him. The more I was asked to take care of myself, the more I wouldn’t. This behavior put me in the regular hospital, OFTEN. In middle and high school, it wasn’t so bad up until 11-12th grade. But all throughout school, I used my diabetes as an excuse to get away with EVERYTHING. Always getting out of class, used it to borrow money from people all the time to get snacks I didn’t need to have, to get out of marching when I was in band.. you name it, I did it. I ate whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to. My mom was very strict with me but her and I had a very tumultuous relationship when I was teenager. Whatever she asked or told me to do, I did the exact opposite just to spite her. We fought constantly and every single day I regret all the things I’ve put her through. I was very mean, and hateful to EVERYONE except the people that didn’t matter. It was an awful time for me. When I was 18 I quit school and also quit my meds including my insulin on most days. I do believe that was the year I was hospitalized every single month of the year with diabetic ketoacidosis. Ketoacidosis is something that people with diabetes get when they have long term bouts of high blood sugars. It causes flu like symptoms which include fevers, dehydration, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea. (TMI I KNOW, but necessary and important in the story. Deal with it 😂) When I was 19, that’s when I started drinking pretty heavily. I also ended up pregnant with my son Aden that year. I was a high risk pregnancy both because of my diabetes and because of my hypertension, so I should have been going to a specialized doctor every two weeks. I NEVER went to the doctor. I had a lot of complications, including bleeding, I also caught pneumonia and my sugars continued to be all over the place. Everyone in my family was getting fed up.

At 20 years old, I was 5 months pregnant and still completely in denial that I needed to grow up. My mom and I had a huge fight (I don’t remember what it was over) and she gave me an ultimatum. She said I needed to either get a job and start taking care of myself for me and my child, or I needed to leave. I was so hard headed, that I told her I would rather live in a shelter than listen to anything she said to me- so that’s exactly what I did. I only ended up there for about a week, maybe 10 days, and then I got a bus pass and road to my moms work, and BEGGED her to take me back in. I swore I would change and that I would do the right thing. Little did I know, the damage had been done. I never got a job, although I filled an application or two out on occasion to keep my family off my back. On May 7, 2008 I went into labor with my son, and it was the worst experience of my life, even worse than being on dialysis or having to get a transplant. I have expressed my sorrow before to others and on social media, and I know for a long time people didn’t believe I was truly pregnant or had a child because of how secretive I was about the whole thing. There were reasons for that in which I will not elaborate on, but it was real, and the pain I felt, the tears I shed and the loss I experienced were not imagined or made up. I was in ketoacidosis when I got to the hospital, and so when I went into ICU and I had been stabilized, and taken to the maternity floor, they couldn’t find a heartbeat for the baby. When I saw the still, silent screen and they told me the reality I never imagined I’d have to face, I had never and probably will never feel that type of emptiness again. My heart sank to my feet, and I just sat there with tears streaming down my still, emotionless face. The image of that screen will forever be burned into my brain. On May 8, I delivered my stillborn son, Aden Bryce Sadler. I held him in my arms for quite some time after all was said and done. I have never talked about the things I said to my son that day or what I am going to describe next TO ANYONE, but I feel it’s time. Part of the reason I’m doing this blog is because I need to get everything out and forgive myself for the mistakes I’ve made. Everything I’ve done, wrong and right has brought me to where I am and no matter which angle you look from, I’m blessed to be alive and considering my situation, things could be a lot worse. DO NOT CONTINUE READING THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU ARE EASILY EMOTIONAL, AS I CRIED WRITING THIS.. They wrapped him in a little blue and white stripped blanket, with a blue hat. I remember the color of his poor lifeless face and the hat were almost the same. He had my lips and the shape of my eyes, with long eyelashes just like mine. Dark hair that poked out of the sides of his hat, but only wavy, not ringlets like I had when I was born. He had his fathers nose, and big ol’ head, haha. I had never seen a creature so beautiful and I’d never felt so much love and so much sadness at the same time. I couldn’t tell you how many times I kissed him and rocked him close to my body, as I knew it would be the first and last time I ever would. All I could say in that moment where time stood still was this, “I’m so sorry, I love you so much. I’m so so sorry.” I just kept repeating it over and over again. The nurse came in and told me it was time. It felt like it had only been a moment and she practically had to pry him from me. I cried until I had no more tears, so long and hard that I dry heaved a few times. The worst part about it, was that I was completely alone. I was completely alone and the reason was because I pushed everyone away and locked them all out. For the first time I realized how wrong I had been, but I had too much pride to admit it. I went on for the next two months like nothing was wrong, until I got sick, and this time a simple hospital stay wouldn’t cut it. This was the first time I hit rock bottom.

Run // 1

Pairing: Kihyun x Reader

Words: 3.3k

Genre: Zombie apocalypse AU (Contains mild gore, cursing and hopefully a whole load of angst :’))

Part: 1 // 2 // 3

A/N: This is a super suuuuuuuuuper late birthday request for @laviette :D and my submission for Kihyun’s day of mxweek. I’ve been trying to write this for ages, and only recently did I kinda realise where  I was going with it. I was going to write this as one extremely long fic, but I wanted to do my bit for Kihyun’s day so here it is lol

Run.

That word had been on repeat in your mind for the last two weeks.

‘Keep running. Always moving. Don’t ever stop.’

That was how you lived now, always moving, never letting your guard down. Your life was at stake at all times and you could never forget that.

But you’d been moving for 5 days on and off, and you were so tired. So when you came across a small house at the edge of a seemingly deserted town, you figured it would be okay to rest for a short while.

The house was in shambles. The windows were smashed and the front door was hanging off the hinges. But once you went inside and looked around, you noticed that there was exits on either side of the house meaning you could make an easy escape if anything were to happen. You also had a long range view from the ground floor windows, so you should be able to see if anyone, or anything, was coming.

Those little things convinced you that it was safe enough to close your eyes for a short while, but mostly it was the exhaustion. You decided on a spot on the concrete ground at the back of the house, where you figured you were safest. The ground was cold but you did your best to wrap yourself up in the dirty hoodie you had on, and curled up into a ball on the ground. You pulled your hood up and over your face and clutched tightly onto the rusted crow bar you’d been carrying around for days.

Once slightly comfortable, you closed yours eyes and tried to relax. But your heartbeat wouldn’t stop hammering, and your stomach was so empty that you couldn’t settle. So you resorted to resting your eyes while thinking back over everything that had recently happened.

That day marked 5 days since your world collapsed around you. 5 days of pure torturous hell.

Everything in life had been going so well recently, and the day itself had been perfect, up to a point.

After all the recent rain, there had finally been a cloud free day. The sun was shining, the flowers were blossoming, and you’d been getting ready to collect one of your friends, Kihyun, from the airport. He had been the only one of your group to move away for college, which wasn’t a common occurrence in your small town.

The place where you grew was a small remote area, a place that modern technology had  forgotten. There was no high rise buildings or speeding motorways, just a few scattered apartments buildings, the basics in education and health, a few old factories and a transport station which worked both as a bus and train stop.

Many of the young residents were orphans, like yourself, due to a factory collapsing several years earlier. The company was accused of not having taken the proper measures when building the factory, so they were forced to payout to the surviving families. In an attempt to save face, and money, they instead agreed to provide for the orphaned children for the foreseeable future. Bills were paid for, and food was delivered every week, but no money was ever seen which meant we were all stuck here.

Considering the lack of money in the town, many people never left, even those with families. But Kihyun was the smartest, most dedicated person you knew, and all his hard work and studying finally paid off when he got offered a scholarship at a top college. Which unfortunately happened to be located over 500 miles away from where you all lived.

It had broken your heart to watch him leave that day, not that you’d have ever told him. Kihyun is the type of person who would have dropped everything if you had asked, so of course you kept your mouth shut.

But it was all supposed to have gotten better that day. Kihyun had finished his first year of college early and was on his way home for the summer months. You had offered to collect him, seeing as as the rest of your friends were tied up until later.

Shownu and Wonho had both decided to begin working after graduating, not wanted to pursue further education. They had both been working multiple jobs, meaning they often wouldn’t come home till late at night. Jooheon and Changkyun, the youngest of your friends, had been finishing their last year of high school, and you always insisted they stayed to study after class. That left you, Minhyuk and Hyungwon who had all been in first year in the local community college, which is where most people with any ambition went. You had been the only one whose classes finished early that day, so it had been left to you to meet Kihyun, not that you’d been complaining.

It was just as your were stepping out of your apartment door, that you heard the first screams. You remembered seeing people running down the streets, screaming and crying, with panic etched on their faces. They all seemed to be running in the same direction, towards the transport station. You had tried to stop someone on the street, but no one would listen to your questions. They’d all just repeated the same thing.

“Run.”

So you had.

You weren’t one to blindly follow a crown but you also weren’t stupid. You’d known there had to be something seriously wrong if all the villagers were moving away from one side of town. You had just hoped that your boys were running with them.

It wasn’t until you had almost reached the station before you ran into someone you knew. Shownu had appeared, running from the direction of the factory, and you moved him, thankful that you’d found someone you knew. When he had noticed you approaching, he rushed to meet you halfway, and enveloped you in a hug.

If you had known how things were going to go after that, you might have cherished the hug a little more instead of pushing him away and demanding an explanation for all the craziness in the town.

“Zombies,” he’d said, as he continued to drag you towards the station “It’s actually happening. We’re all going to die if we don’t get out of there.”

You didn’t believe him at first, it sounded too crazy. People always joked about these things, and you never truly believed it could happen. You might never have believed it if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes.

The small station that Shownu had been dragging you towards was built on top a high slope at the village edge, giving all its occupants a bird’s eye view of the village.  It was there that you’d first seen the zombies.

Even from a distance you had been able to tell that the human shaped creatures that were following behind the townspeople, were in fact not human at all. Aside from their blackened skin and rotting flesh, they moved like nothing you’d ever seen before. The myth that zombies moved at a slow pace and walked as stiff as a board were in fact lies. These zombies moved at an abnormally fast pace, limbs flying out at inhuman angles while they scurried up the streets and even over buildings. They were able to climb like nothing else and the sight had reminded you of something like a swarm of spiders on the attack.

“Quickly,” Shownu had said as he had dragged you through the station. His strength had made it easy to push through the hordes of frantic people. There’d been one train at the station, and people were climbing over each other to get one.

Shownu had pushed through until he’d gotten to the front of line, and shoved you onto the train.

“Shownu! What about you?” I’d shouted after him as he had turned to walk away from the train.

“I need to find the guys. I’ll be back I promise.”

But he never came back. The train had started moving and there’d been nothing you could do to stop it. You’d screamed and cried at the conductor, begging him to wait.

“There’s already too many people on board. The best you can do now is pray for your lost friends,” was all he’d said to you.

You’d ran up and down the train, as quickly as you had been able with the amount of people, and scanned every seat for anyone of your friends. But none of them had been there.

After that you had just sat and cried as the train moved further and further away everything and everyone you knew. You couldn’t believe what had happened, that you’d just left all my friends behind and didn’t know if you would see any of them again.

By the time you had reached the next station, the word had already spread and people in the town had begun to panic. People had tried to force their way onto the train, where as you had tried your hardest to get off it. The doors were totally swarmed with people, so you had taken an alternative route and shimmied yourself through an open train window. One side of your body still held the bruises you’d sustained when you’d fallen out and onto the concrete platform.

Getting out of the station had been easy. Everyone had been crowded at the entrance, but there was no one by the exit. People hadn’t even given you a second glance, as you’d ran down the streets in what you thought was the right direction. Your head had been spinning and all you could think of was the need to make it back home to your friends. The town the train had stopped in wasn’t that far away, you had thought you might have been able to walk it.

But the next thing you’d seen had stopped you in your tracks.

You’d just gotten to the edge of the town when you’d started to see the smoke in the distance. The sky above your town had been black with it, and you’d faintly been able to make out the sight of flames in place of your old home.

It was a sight you’d never forget.

You’d dropped to your knees as the tears streamed down your cheeks. That had been the final thing to send you over the edge. You thought you had nothing left. The town had been destroyed and your friends were probably gone with it.

You still remembered the sense of loss you’d felt at that moment. You’d never forget it for as long as you live. But you’d also never forget what happened next.

Through your tear blurred vision, you’d noticed a splash of a familiar pink color from the corner of your eye. It was such a vibrant color that your tears had temporarily stopped, and you’d gotten up to walk towards it.

It being a pink flower, sprouting from between the cracks in the pavement. As you drew near, it was like something clicked in your mind and you remembered where you’d seen that same shade of pink, remembered that you still had something to live for.

Kihyun.

The last time you’d gotten a letter from Kihyun, he’d included a picture of himself from a school event. You hadn’t taken much notice of what was going on in the picture, aside from the fact that Kihyun’s hair was a bright pink color. The same color as that pink flower that’d drawn your attention.

‘If you ever decide to come to college, never agree to any bets’, Kihyun had written in the note accompanying the photo. You and the guys had laughed for days over it, but now you think it might have been a bit of a blessing.

Seeing that same shade of pink reminded you that Kihyun hadn’t been home when the zombies attacked. He’d been at the airport, some place which you could only assume, and hope, was safe.

But that assumption had given you the push you needed to get up, rather than let yourself succumb to the grief that was threatening to overwhelm your entire being.

There was a high chance that Kihyun was alive, and you needed to find him. He was all you had left to live for.

So you’d gotten up and began walking around, an idea forming in your mind as you scanned the building surrounding you. You’d been looking for some sort of general store, some place were you could stock up on supplies. It hadn’t taken you long to find one, but the place had been ransacked, which meant there hadn’t been much left for you to take.

You’d found a piece of torn cloth on the floor, and bundled up what pieces of food you could find. You hadn’t known how long it would take you to make your way to the airport, so you’d made sure to take everything. Once done, you’d tied up the piece of cloth, and looked around for some sort of stick to hand the cloth off of.

Outside the smashed store font, you’d found a crowbar on the ground. More than likely it had been used to smash in the windows, but you were thankful that whoever had used it, had left it behind. Not only had you been able to attach the cloth packed with food to hang off it, but it made for a good weapon too.

You’d placed the crow bar over your shoulder, like how you’d seen homeless people carry their belongings before, and set off in the direction that you believed the airport to be. You didn’t bother trying to get back on the train, you’d known it would’ve been over crowded, and chances were it had already left and wasn’t returning.

So you walked. And walked. And walked.

For 5 days you did nothing but walk, resting only for short moments when you felt your legs were about to give out beneath you. You’d walked until arriving where you were now, in this abandoned village.

Your food supply had finally ran out this morning, meaning you were weak on top of being tired from lack of sleep. These facts all contributed towards convincing yourself to take a rest here.

You didn’t think you’d be able to fall asleep, not with your heart racing as fast as it was, and your stomach growing from emptiness.

But you did. Or at least you must have, because one minute there was complete silence, and the next there was a shuffling sound coming from nearby.

Your eyes shot open.

The sound, it was one that you’d heard before, and it was coming from inside the house. But you had checked the house when you got inside, which means it had to have gotten in from the outside. It had to have opened the door, which would’ve made noise. Which means you fell asleep, and didn’t hear it. You didn’t hear the telltale shuffling sound of the zombies, as they made their way into the house. The creatures were fast, when they had a target in front of them. But when they were roaming around, with nothing in their view, they were known to move at an extremely slow place.

All these thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to asses the situation.

‘You idiot, you absolute idiot,’ you thought to yourself as your tried to move up off the ground and into a crouching position. 'You’ve been so careful all this time, minding your back, and you take one stupid break and it’s gonna be the end of your dumb ass because of it.’

You fought back the tears that were threatening to overflow. Tears from all the anger and exhaustion you felt.

You had let your guard down for a few hours, even though you’d been nothing but overly careful for the last 5 says, and it was going to cost you your life.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

The shuffling sound was getting louder.

Your eyes darted around the empty room your were in, assessing your escape options. It sounded as though the noise was coming from the room to the right of you. The back door was to your left, not too far, but it would put you in the line of site to the room where the zombie supposedly was.  

Your hand tightened on the crowbar you were holding. You needed to go now, there was no time for deliberating. Once they got their eyes on you, they’d jump. You had to get out the door before they had time to cross the room.

1, 2, 3.

Go.

Using what energy you had left in your legs, you sprinted across the short distance to the door. Your shaking hands grasped the lock, trying to twist it open.

Behind you, the shuffling noise had stopped. You didn’t dare turn around. You knew by now that they would’ve seen or heard you, which meant you’d be dead in a matter of moments if the door didn’t open. You gripped the lock with all your might and tried your hardest to get the door to open.

But it wouldn’t budge.

Something must have been stuck behind the door, or the hinges must have been rusted, because it wasn’t opening as easily as it should have. Not having much time to think, you braced yourself and threw your shoulder into the hardwood.

You could hear snarling sounds from behind you, signalling the the creatures had indeed noticed you, and were on the prowl. You didn’t allow it to deter you, continuing your assault on the door. There was no time to turn around, no time to run. Only one way out and this was it.

When the door finally moved an inch, you could’ve cried. But there was no time. You forced your fingers into the small opening, wishing you could shrink down small enough to fit through. With all your strength, you attempted to pry the door apart, drawing blood from your fingers as you dug them into the wood.

But you weren’t quick enough.

A burning pain spread from your shoulder as you felt one of the monsters come up behind you and bite down into it. You couldn’t help the scream that followed as the pain registered in your brain. A sensation unlike anything you’d ever felt before spread from your shoulder as you cried out. It was so intense that your legs gave out and you collapsed forward, the zombie coming down with you.

The door fell open with the force of yours and the creatures weight hitting it. It was ironic that your path was now free but you couldn’t go. You might have laughed had you been able. You hit the ground full force on the side of your injured shoulder and you thought you’d pass out from the pain.

‘Maybe it’d be easier this way’, you thought as you rolled onto your back, and dark spots danced across your vision.

The force of the fall seemed to have dislodged the zombie from your shoulder, because you could now see it out of the corner of your eye as it lay facing you, blood covering its mouth. Up close you could see the true horrors of its face. Where once there would have been a face of skin, was now covered in a green mold, which had eaten away at the soft tissue. Instead of a nose, there were two empty holes in the middle of its face. Its lips had been peeled back, and eyelids disintegrated, so it seemed to be staring right at you, with a big grin on its face. You’d never forget the sight, nor the smell from its breathe as it heaved in your face.

You barely rolled over in time to empty your stomach’s contents onto the floor.

The bile you spat up mixed into the red blood pooling on the floor. The zombies teeth in your shoulder had acted as an unwelcome stopper in the wound, but now that it was unplugged you could feel the warm blood gushing from your shoulder.

Distracted, you hadn’t heard the other zombie that had been in the room as it crawled over to you. But you felt it as it sunk its teeth deep into your ankle. You didn’t have the energy to let out another scream, but a whimper escaped your mouth as you felt the zombie dragging your body back into the room you’d tried to escape from. You were being pulled along like an animal would its food, and there was no fight left in you to try struggle free. With the wound in your shoulder bleeding out and the lack of sensation in your foot from the zombie’s bite, you knew you wouldn’t make it if you tried to run.

Black dots danced across your vision and you knew this was it. All the running and fighting you had done, and now your were nothing more than a piece of meat for the zombies to feed on. You were never gonna make it back home, never going to find Kihyun. All the unspoken things you wish you’d said, ran through your mind as the world around you faded away.

“Kihyun, I’m sorry…”

Hi! First of all, I’d like to apologize for the random, empty account… I haven’t been on in forever and can’t for the life of me remember my login info. Oops. This is also going to be kind of long, sorry!

I need some advice about a friend who has recently gained a lot of weight. Before you cringe, let me assure you: I’m not looking for advice on how to get her to lose weight or anything like that. I loved and supported fiercely her when she was thin, and that’s equally true now that she’s fat. Anyway, my friend, (let’s call her Anna) has gained maybe 50 or so pounds over the past 6ish months. I won’t speculate as to why or how, and I honestly don’t really know. It doesn’t matter. I’m proud to say that while our group ranges from thin to “average”, we all try extremely hard to be body- and fat-positive. We’ve made a massive effort to eliminate fat shaming, negative body talk, assigning “guilt” or other traits to food, etc. We’re certainly not perfect, but what I’m trying to get at is that none of us think negatively of Anna for gaining weight and we want to make her feel as safe and supported as possible.

This is the first time in her life that Anna has been fat. She comes from a thin family, and as I said, our friend group is pretty much just varying degrees of thin. No matter how fat-positive we try to be, I get that she’s probably feeling a lot of conflicting emotions and that it has to be extremely hard to go from being conventionally attractive to not. We’ve all been trying to treat her normally, but it seems like everything we do is wrong. For example, we used to all go to a spin class followed by brunch every Sunday morning. It was something we really enjoyed.

Now whenever we invite her, she says it makes her feel like we’re pressuring her to lose weight. If we invite her to a meal, she says she’s worried that we’ll start judging her for whatever she eats. If we don’t invite her, she says we’re embarrassed by her and don’t want to be friends with her because she’s fat. She doesn’t want to go shopping for obvious and understandable reasons. We’ve had some low-key nights in at someone’s house, but we’ve always been more inclined to go out and explore the city, try new restaurants, etc. Anna included. She’s lost all interest in that. Based on my own experiences with depression, I think she’s likely depressed. We’re kind of at a loss. Every invitation is interpreted as a judgment, but if we do something without her, we’re shunning her. We’re trying to have more movie nights since she seems to like those, but the rest of us have things we want to do out of the house together and while we would like Anna to be with us, we can’t collectively put our lives on hold to walk on eggshells around her. We certainly try not to flaunt group outings that she isn’t a part of, but we’re not going to lie and say they didn’t happen, either.

We’ve tried to gently encourage her to maybe talk to someone about what she’s going through. Most of us have been through therapy at some point, so we’ve tried opening up about our experiences and how they’ve helped. We also complied a list of fat-friendly practitioners in our area (we used different language, as we had a hunch “fat-friendly” wouldn’t go over well) but she said that she’s fine and that we’re, again, judging her. I want to take her word for it, but she’s seemingly lost interest in everything and has withdrawn from everyone she used to be close to. I’m worried.

Things got a lot worse a few weeks ago. I’m getting married in a few weeks and she is, of course, one of my bridesmaids. We all picked out the bridesmaids dresses together back before she gained weight, and while I was down for everyone to pick different styles, the entire bridal party ended up loving the same one and unanimously chose it. Awesome. Unfortunately, the dress she picked and was measured for no longer fits and the brand does not go up to her new size. Which is terrible in its own right, but we can’t go back in time and pick a more inclusive designer. She was really embarrassed at the fitting, understandably, because no matter how body positive you and your homies are, that’s an awkward situation. I told her I didn’t care at all if she wanted to find a different dress to wear, but she said she doesn’t want to stand out as the “fatty” (her words) who couldn’t fit into the same dress. Understandable. She says the only way she’ll be comfortable is if we all get new dresses. While I really want to be down with that, and I am in theory, there are a couple issues. Between the dresses themselves and the alterations, all of the bridal party has sunk a good amount of money into these dresses and none of us can really afford to just eat the cost. Especially because everyone would also have to buy a new dress. It’s too late for us to get refunds. Anna offered some choices that could fit everyone, but they’re all way out of our budgets at this point and probably not available on short notice. Anna is now very committed to all the bridesmaids matching so that she doesn’t stand out. We could try to find things off the rack, but there’s no guarantee we’ll find something that works for everyone and I’m really not comfortable asking my grad student friends to sink even more cash into my wedding.

I really don’t know what the solution is. Everything that Anna feels would make her feel comfortable is too pricey, but I also want her to feel loved and supported. I very much want her in my wedding party, but not if it’s going to be bad for her mental health. If we had more cash or time or both, every single person would gladly shell out for a new dress, but that’s not our reality. We’re doing our best to find something inexpensive, but as you are aware, it’s not exactly easy to find affordable clothes in a wide range of sizes. Anna’s called me several times crying, saying that everyone hates her for this, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. We love her, we want her to be happy, but we don’t know how to help. At one of our movie nights she drunkenly confessed that she’s started self-harming again, and I’m honestly just really worried about where she is emotionally.

So… help. I know I probably sound narcissistic as all hell going on about my wedding party, but I feel like all of this has really brought her insecurities and anxieties to a head. I don’t know what to do. Do you guys have any advice? What can my friends and I do to help Anna get to a better place? What can we do to make her feel more supported? And finally, do you have any advice on finding a solution to the dress issue?

Sorry for how long this was and for all the venting. I hope it doesn’t come across as me just dumping on Anna - I can’t stress enough that I don’t blame her for any of her feelings or how she’s dealing with them. I just want to help. :( She is a beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny person who deserves to wake up every day knowing that. If I could put my life on hold until she’s in a better place, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t, so I want to be for her however I can, whether that means finding new ways to be her friend or giving her space. Any advice you have is really appreciated.

This is hella real.  I’m proud of you for being upfront about the situation. You’re not entirely blaming the situation on Anna and also you’re admitting you’re not perfect. You’re aware of the reality of the situation in spite of everyone’s expectations [ including your friend ] , and you’re trying to work on middle ground so everyone can feel welcomed.  This is what we go for here at fatphobiabusters. But its harder when it comes to fighting inner demons.  Its no secret that we can be our own worst critics, and as much as you try to be supportive of your friend here, Anna’s got her own battle to fight. This is a classic textbook case of internalized fatphobia , where she has such a hard hate for fat that she hates herself because of it.  This isnt new; we fight people all the time for their internalized fatphobia [ or at the very least make themselves  aware of it ]  and while its heart wrenching to see charming, bright and worthy people beat themselves up for something so harmless as fat, there’s nothing really that can be done. Its their choice and battle to work on finding ways to build their self-esteem.    You and your friends are perfect proof of how we’d like to see fat people be treated–no different. You include her to all your activities and still want her to be a part of your life.    You even realized that the situation of her depression might be a little out of your range of support and offered her some better help in the form of counselling.  It was Anna that went against it as well as the offer to find a dress specifically for her.  Anna hating her body for the weight gain and refusing to continue on with life is a classic example of internalized fatphobia. I cannot say that I know what she’s been through because i’ve been fat all my life, so I never had the experience of a sudden change of weight, but I’m sure any drastic change to someone who isnt ready for it can be hard.   You and your friends have handled this new situation really well. But it sounds to me that Anna is the one thats really having trouble accepting her body for how it is right now. She’s  is allowing her demon’s expectations of how a body should look stop her from enjoying life and being happy. ‘Cause its not the fat. Fat people still live happy and fulfilling lives. That fat isnt grabbing her and forcing her to stop living life. It’s her.  Now, as far as advice, it sounds to me like you did the right thing. You let her know that she’s still welcomed into the wedding and you can help her find a dress that is simular [ perhaps in color ]  and in her size or maybe one that will make her new body type dazzle. Or, at the very least you can even suggest about finding matching acessories [cute matching earrings or same colored shoes! ]  to still support her. But, just because she’s feeling self-coucious about her newly added weight shouldnt put the breaks on your special day. I really admire that you’re trying to accomodate Anna as well, but you’ve done a lot of support and help already, and it sounds to me she’s doing very little to help herself.  It does take a lot of time to coordinate a wedding …and while it sucks that something happened beyond control, there shouldn’t be a complete stop and change because one person is feeling uncomfortable.  This is a good time for boundaries… and of course it can be done with love, compassion and compromise.  She may be upset with that answer. She may  be mad and hurt. It might be an interesting talk. But, the way I feel , if you keep reminding her that you’re still her friend and you don’t see her differently because of the change and weight, then that’s all you can do.  Because, when all of this is said and done, we are not in control of other people’s emotions. They are in control of taking care of themselves,  whatever that self care looks like , as well as what coping mechanisms they decide to use.  This could also be a good time to suggest to her about finding that peace with her body. Perhaps show her this blog or others and help her come to terms that its okay to be fat! I apologize if the answer is long winded [ you gave me a lot to work with! ] but I hope this helps. Keep on being awesome and congrats on the wedding!  - Mod Dom

Have you ever found poems that speak to you and seen perfect for your favourite shows? Do you ever read a poem and think it really fits a character, either yours or Butch Hartman's? I have, plenty of times - "The Stolen Child" makes me think of Cosmo and Wanda adopting Timmy, "The Erl-King" makes me think of Vlad trying to take Danny away from Jack, and "The Phantom-Wooer" makes me think of Danny seducing Paulina. But I wonder if others do this or if I'm just weird.

I… hate poetry.

I just.

Uggggghghghghghghghg poetry makes me cry.

Like, it’s FINE, and I’ve written plenty of poems myself, and songs are okay, but just…… dfgjdligjidlkgjdjsldf I don’t wanna think about poems nope nope.

Tfw you take creative writing classes but they only give you writing prompts and deadlines and don’t tell you anything about grammar or structure or finding an agent or self-publishing or ANYTHING, you just write poems all the time, and the class is peer-graded and your peers give you an F at the end of the quarter because they “couldn’t understand the characters’ accents”, so you have to go in and talk to your teacher about why she accepted this as your actual grade without bothering to check when she KNOWS you can do better than that. Fortunately she DID change my grade. Jerks.

Shel Silverstein is my only poet, and if a certain Follower of mine makes a wisecrack about his death then I’m done with everything.

Really, it just boils down to people’s tastes. Some people pick songs to match different characters. Some might pick written poems. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that. It’s just not a thing I myself do. “Ozymandias” is a good poem, which I’m probably biased towards because of “Children of the Lamp”. But I like Silverstein, and Jack Prelutsky, and don’t really care for anyone else.

For anyone curious, I’ve included the prose piece (from 2014) they graded me an F on here, because I’m still MAJORLY salty about this. Fun Fact: some elements of Jake were eventually recycled into Anti-Sanderson.

Be They Mouse or Squirrel or Chipmunk:

Baylor hissed whenhe saw the wall. He gave a yank on Prince’s reins, and the iguana lumbered to ahalt and sat down.

“Curse thesecloudy skies: We’ve been going in circles.”

A second mouserode to join Baylor on the sand dune, his mouth set in a hard thin line. Hebobbed his head several times as he counted each hut in the human villagebelow.

“’S definitely thesame one we left this morning,” he reported to Baylor, and then for goodmeasure added, “We’s gotten lost.”

Again, Baylor gavea hiss through his teeth. He removed his hat and used it to fan his face whilehe scoured the sky. The sunset painted the sand in a bloody red circle and casta soft glow on the surrounding clouds. Through the wisps of petal pink, Baylorcould only make out a single star in the sky.

 The mouse replaced his hat and turned in hissaddle to look at the half dozen in his shabby party. He didn’t see Jake andfor a split second wondered if the chipmunk had made a dash for it across thedesert without the rest of them noticing. But then a big black and white mousemoved her iguana forward, revealing Jake stumbling along behind. His wrists werestill bound, but the ropes were notched and fraying, and wet with saliva.

“The owls will beout soon,” Baylor called, flicking his tail to the left. “We’ll make campbehind that north hill. Simon, I want you and Weston to gather tumbleweed forfire. No,” he corrected himself, frowning at the brown scales on Prince’s back.Baylor shook his head. “We’re much too close to the humans for that. We’ll gowithout tonight.”

The othersgrumbled, but Harold, who was still perched on his steed on Baylor’s right, soonput an end to that. He rode his iguana forward and set about scolding theoffenders.

Baylor turned tolook again at the sunset. It was fading fast, and already the cold night windshad begun to stir. Grit blew into his fur and stung his eyes. From somewhere inthe distance came the howl of a coyote.

“Oh Rita,” hemurmured, “What are we going to do?”

Smoke rose fromthe huts below. A mother called out to her dark-skinned children who had beenplaying in the dusty road. Even from up on hill, Baylor could smell the stew,still hot.

Over the next dunehe dismounted and tied Prince to a cactus beside the other steeds. Jake sat afew paces away working at his wrists, stopping only when Simon yanked hard onhis ear. Baylor had him moved across the camp, as far as possible from theiguanas. Bound wrists or not, the last thing they needed was for the chipmunkto set them all free during the night. Or worse, make a getaway on themhimself.

They had no fire,but when the moon rose in the sky it was round and bright, and they had a nicemeal of tortillas and beans. The food was cold, but Baylor refused and pleas byWeston to warm them with fire.

“We’re too closeto the human settlement. We lost a lot of time today going in circles. Tomorrowthe sky will be clearer, and we’ll be able to follow the sun.”

The black and whitemouse - Baylor realized he still didn’t know her name - grumbled something, andElliot joined in, but Henry shushed them both with a hiss. Baylor couldn’tblame them for their complaints. They were three days behind schedule as itwas.

Henry offered totake first watch, but Baylor refused. As the others began to settle down, hejoined Jake in the far corner of the camp. Obviously the prisoner had nointention of sleeping either. He had given up on untying his wrists, or so itseemed, but he leaned against a dark red boulder with one leg crossed over theother and his bound forepaws tucked behind his head.

“Can’t sleep?”Baylor asked him. He’d taken care to step quietly and the wind was blowingtowards him, but Jake didn’t twitch when the mouse’s voice suddenly broke thequiet.

“No sir, not awink, sir.”

Baylor noddedslowly. He took a sip from his canteen without looking away. Jake’s casual grinstarted to slip. His nose twitched and one eye darted over and then away.

“Thirsty?”

“Yes sir, butseein’ as I plan to be long gone in the morning I’d advise ya not to waste anya’ tha’ precious water on li’l ol’ me.”  

Baylor wrinkledhis nose. “I see two long days of walking hasn’t cured you of your sharptongue.”

The chipmunk ducked his head, but Baylor couldsee him grinning. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but it takes a bi’ more’n sorefeet an’ a few cloudy days to cure ol’ Jake of his only skill worth ‘aving.”

“So I see.” Baylor folded his arms and put onefoot up against the rock. Together he and Jake gazed into the sky. The cloudshad shifted over the past two hours, and more and more stars were blinking intoexistence with every heartbeat. Jake raised his bound forepaws.

“Right there,” he said, “tha’s Terrin thefarmer. He’s got his hoe wit’ him, see? Legends say tha’ when he was defendin’his family he used it a’ take out thirty-five trained soldiers ‘fore one of ‘emfinally got close enough ta send him to the stars. Backstabbin’ rat got ‘imright in th’ back, he did.”

Baylor squinted his eyes. He could make out theconstellation only vaguely, but Jake plowed onward before he had the chance tosay anything.

“An’ over that way, just above that big sanddune, tha’s the river brot’er, Shrio. He’s the one tha’ near flooded my villagewit’ one of his temper tantrums. Oh, he ain’t all bad, though: He brings th’rains down from the moun’ains too.”

“Oh, does he?”

Jake nodded enthusiastically. He gnawed on hisropes for a second or two, then gestured to a third constellation with hisnose.

“She’s my favorite,tha’ one.” His tone turned reverent. “Mother of all the stars, Rita.”

“You chipmunksbelieve in Mother Rita?” Baylor’s ears pricked forward. His foot slid acrossthe red rock and thumped awkwardly in the sand. Jake turned to stare at him,brow wrinkled and whiskers twitching.

“An’ wha’ssamatter wit’ it? You believe in her too, sir. The whole lot a’ you do. I’veheard ya talkin’.”

“Of course we do,”fumbled Baylor, furious that he felt the need to explain himself to a prisoner,“but that’s different. She’s a kangaroo rat. Key word, rat. She’s one of ours.”

Jake cocked his head. “E’ery one of us rodentsbelieves in Mother Rita, be ‘em mouse or squirrel or chipmunk. You peoplewho’re always goin’ an’ raidin’ peaceful farmin’ towns like mine ought a’ know that more’n anyone.”

Baylor refused to rise to the bait. Instead hetook a great gulp of water from his canteen and scrubbed a defiant paw acrosshis face when he was done.

“I don’t believe you. If Mother Rita were yourgoddess too then she wouldn’t pick favorites between you and me and all therest. She’d send her blessings to her own kind, and that’s what she’s done.That’s us.”

Jake flicked his eyes up and down. His whiskerswere trembling more than ever now, and his beady black eyes had squinted intoslits. With some effort he licked a paw, drew it back over his ear, and thenflopped against the rock with his back to Baylor.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but a mouse ain’t arat either.”

The chipmunk was gone by morning light, alongwith a roll of tortillas, a packet of matches, and Baylor’s favorite hat.

(One of the critiques I got on this piece is that my peers couldn’t tell Jake was a prisoner until they read “the prisoner”. Actually, they thought Baylor sat by Jake AND a prisoner. What is wrong with these people?)