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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

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Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there��s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.”

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #imagine spencer reid #criminal minds x you #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #pls like this it took me so long

424 notes · View notes

stardew-atlantis · 2 years

Text

I posted 767 times in 2021

79 posts created (10%)

688 posts reblogged (90%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.7 posts.

I added 1,274 tags in 2021

#sdv - 455 posts

#stardew art - 292 posts

#sdv harvey - 202 posts

#sdv farmer - 72 posts

#stardew valley - 64 posts

#stardew writing - 64 posts

#asks - 37 posts

#stardew memes - 31 posts

#farmer sj - 29 posts

#sdv shane - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#side note: farmer sj would absolutely wear a hawaiian shirt at the beach w/ a bathing suit underneath so she can wear the shirt unbuttoned

My Top Posts in 2021

Not sure if I posted this here but @macithemaci drew my farmer SJ and it's absolutely wonderful, so here it is for all to see ^_^

27 notes • Posted 2021-11-18 02:49:23 GMT

I'd like to share my thoughts on CA's new game

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

That is all.

29 notes • Posted 2021-10-21 22:44:28 GMT

✨Bestie Vibes✨

Harvey(left) drawn by @doctoraceus

30 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 18:53:13 GMT

Wires

-Previous-

This is my version of Harvey's 8 heart event (featuring Farmer SJ). I went in a bit of a different direction for this one so bear with me. This is also a long ass post, you have been warned.

Takes place in the second week of Summer, Year 1.

Summary: It's been a week since "The Incident". Harvey's radio is broken, but Maru refuses to fix it for him.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries, swearing

Word count: 7.1k (You have been warned a second time)

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

On a slow summer day, it wasn't very often that Harvey would receive any phone calls, let alone on his personal cell phone. He raised a curious eyebrow at the unknown number on the screen in front of him before he answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Joanne from Zuzu Electronics. I'm calling about your appointment for the repair job you requested?”

“Oh, yes! Of course. I called last week about having some radio equipment fixed.”

“Right. So, I'm just calling to let you know we've had to move your appointment. Unfortunately, we're all booked up until winter, so we won't be able to send a technician until then. How does the 12th work for you?”

“Winter? I was told someone would be here on Monday between 10 and 4?” Harvey pinned the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he shuffled the papers around on his desk, looking for his appointment slip.

“Yes, but unfortunately there was a scheduling error in our computer system and your spot has been taken. The next available appointment is on the 12th if you'd like me to book that for you instead.”

Harvey sighed and took the phone back into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. “No… no that’s fine. Don’t bother. I'll figure something out. Thank you for calling.”

As soon as Harvey hung up the phone, he began racking his brain for some brilliant plan that didn’t involve calling someone in the city. He'd already resigned himself to waiting almost a week to get his beloved radio fixed, he couldn't fathom going without it during his busy season. With the influx of flu cases and other various seasonal illnesses that inevitably came up during the winter, he needed something fun to help him unwind at the end of a long day. It’s not like there was anyone in town with enough knowledge to fix a 25-year-old radio. Well, maybe one person…

…

“What do you mean, no?” Harvey asked, a little desperately as Maru turned away from him to walk out the door.

“I mean no, I’m not gonna fix it for you.” Maru replied, without looking back.

He followed her out of his office to the area behind the front counter, not ready to let this conversation go just yet.

“But… why not? You’re good with machines. I’ll pay you whatever you want.” Harvey pleaded.

“Keep your money. I have a better idea.”

“And what would that be?”

“Call SJ. Ask her to fix it.”

Harvey shook his head nervously. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I really shouldn't be bothering her right now. She just got her stitches taken out a few days ago. Wouldn’t it be a little hypocritical of me to ask for her help so soon? I don’t want it to seem like I’m taking advantage of her work ethic. Especially after…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it out loud. Especially after he yelled at her for being reckless.

“You're overthinking this.” Maru said flatly.

“Does she even know anything about electronics? She’s a farmer, I doubt she even knows how to fix a radio.”

“She does. Trust me. Will you just call her?” Maru said firmly.

Harvey wasn't used to spending any length of time with SJ outside of treating her injuries from the mines. The only real conversation they'd ever had, that wasn't in the clinic, was at the flower dance. Harvey had awkwardly tried to ask her to dance with him, but she didn't seem to pick up on what he meant and turned him down. He wasn’t prepared to go through another awkward afternoon of overanalyzing his every word.

He hung his head in shame. “I… I can’t.”

“Why not?” Maru snapped.

“Well for one thing, I don't even have her phone number.” He responded in an equally exasperated tone. “I couldn’t call her if I wanted to.”

“Oh!” Maru said, as if all their problems were suddenly solved. “That's fine. I have it!”

Before Harvey could reject the idea, Maru was already pulling out her phone and dialing the number.

“Wait-”

It only rang once. Maru put it on speaker so Harvey could hear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, SJ? It's Maru. Got a sec?”

“Sure, what's up?”

“Do you-”

“Maru, don't-” Harvey interrupted.

She glared at him. “Shush, I'm on the phone...” She turned her attention back to the phone with a smile on her face. “Do you have any extra wire that you could spare?”

“Like, garden wire? Probably.”

Harvey impulsively reached for the phone, Maru caught his wrist before he could take it, holding the phone just out of his reach. Every attempt to stop her only led to his hands getting swatted away.

“No, like electronics. Do you have anything left from your PC?” Maru asked, carefully guarding her phone.

He eventually took to pacing back and forth, accepting defeat. This was happening.

“Yeah, I should have something. Might take me a minute to get to the mountains. I can get it to you in a little bit if that's alright.”

“Oh, it's not for me, it's for Harvey, can you bring it to the clinic?”

Harvey stopped pacing, counting about three seconds of pure silence before she replied.

“Um... Sure. I can do that.”

He tried not to let himself think that her hesitation was because she found out the wires were for him, but it was obvious that for a second, she considered declining Maru's request.

“Thanks, SJ!” Maru hung up the phone and grinned at Harvey. “See, was that so hard?”

“I can’t believe you just did that! What am I going to do with wires? Also how did you know to ask for wires? You didn't even ask her to fix the radio.”

“Will you relax? You’re going to ask her when she gets here.” She said, poking him in the chest. “I can't do everything for you.”

“I didn't ask you to do that! If I recall, I asked you specifically not to do that.”

Harvey could already feel his heart rate increasing by the second. He wondered how long it would take to fix the radio. What would they even talk about for that long?

“I can't believe you don't have her number by now.” Maru giggled. “She's here all the time. You've never asked her for it?”

Harvey couldn't picture any scenario where he could just ask the farmer for her phone number for no reason. He already had the number for the farmhouse in her patient file, there was no need for him to have her cell number. “That would be a bit forward, wouldn't it? I wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea is that? You like her, don’t you?”

“Oh, not this again.” Harvey groaned. “Is this why you wanted me to call her? Maru, for the last time, I’m not interested in SJ.”

Maru had been teasing Harvey about the farmer ever since the flower dance. He got caught staring at her stunning white suit for a bit too long and Maru immediately concluded that Harvey was attracted to her. Was she beautiful? Of course! Maru thought so too. Did he want to get to know her better? Sure! Why not? But she was still one of his patients, and not to mention she was at least a few years younger than him. Just because she made him a little nervous didn't mean he was attracted to her... Did it?

Maru narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, unconvinced.

“What? I’m not!” Even with the air-conditioning on, the room suddenly felt a lot warmer. “I could never… She's a patient! Pursuing any kind of relationship with her would be unprofessional of me.” Harvey said, blush darkening his cheeks as he tried to avoid Maru’s piercing gaze. “And also, I’m not interested in her…” He added, as an afterthought.

It wouldn’t even matter if he had feelings for the farmer, it’s not like she would ever feel the same way.

Maru threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine. She's ‘just a friend’ then.” She said with exaggerated air quotes.

“I wouldn’t even go that far. How many people do you know that are friends with their healthcare providers?” Maru opened her mouth to respond but Harvey cut her off. “-Not including you.”

Maru gave him a knowing smile. “This'll be good for you. We haven't had anyone new move here in over a year, this is your chance. Even if you're not interested in her, which I still think you are, why not tryto make a new friend? I know you’re dead set on being ‘professional’ with everyone so they’ll respect you, but it’s been two years. They respect you enough. It wouldn’t hurt to try and get to know them a little better. You’re allowed to have friends too.”

Harvey had to admit there was at least some truth to what Maru said. With all his time spent working, he’d been a bit reclusive over the years. It wasn’t on purpose, four years of undergrad, four years of medical school, and another four during his residency in Zuzu City, he didn’t really have time for friends. He had classmates and colleagues. The only people he interacted with were the people he saw during his twelve-hour, sometimes more, shifts at the hospital. Somewhere along the way he just forgot how to talk about anything that didn’t have to do with medicine. In the two years since he moved to Pelican Town and took over running the clinic from his predecessor, Maru had been his only friend.

He often found himself wondering if it was too late for him. True, he’d been a bit apprehensive about getting closer to his patients, it wasn’t an easy task, but it wasn’t as if anyone had tried to get closer to him either. This really was an excellent opportunity to get to know the farmer outside of the five minutes a day they spent chatting about nothing in particular.

Harvey sighed. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with SJ. She’s just so… intimidating. I never know what to say to her.”

“How is she intimidating? She's a farmer.”

“Who kills monsters as a hobby.” Harvey pointed out.

As if on cue, the bell above the front door chimed. Both of their heads suddenly snapped toward the sound to see Farmer SJ walking into the clinic. Harvey was a little disappointed to see her wearing a pair of denim overalls and work boots. He hoped she wasn’t in the fields when Maru called. He had told her multiple times that farm work could be potentially dangerous to her recovery.

“She's here.” Maru whispered.

“Yes. Thank you, Maru.” He muttered sarcastically. While SJ was busy reaching into her backpack, he quickly straightened his tie and smoothed out his hair. “Good afternoon SJ.”

“Hey doc,” SJ grinned. “I didn't know how much wire you needed, but I have extra, so you can keep this one.” She placed a large roll of blue wire on the counter and turned to leave.

Maru began gesturing aggressively to SJ, signaling Harvey to say something before she left.

He cleared his throat to get her attention. “Um... SJ?”

She spun around.

“Hm?” she asked, eyebrows raised as she waited for his answer.

“Do you... want to see what the wire is for? If you have time, of course.”

SJ never asked people what their requests were for. Harvey always wondered if she was curious to see what people did with the items that she collects for them.

“Uh...” She quickly checked her phone for the time. “Sure. Why not.”

…

SJ had never seen the second floor of the clinic before. Harvey didn't actually expect her to say yes, and he was still in a state of disbelief, even after she had followed him upstairs to his apartment.

She stood in the doorway for a moment with her hands in her pockets, admiring the place. At least he hoped that's what she was doing. He couldn't seem to read the neutral expression on her face.

“You can come in, you know.”

She blinked as if he interrupted a very important thought. “Oh, okay. Sorry, no one ever does this.” SJ said sheepishly.

“Really? I swear you spend half your time delivering things to people's homes, no one ever invites you in?”

“Nope. You're the first.” She said as she stepped inside.

…

On the left side of the room was a large table, mostly covered in model airplanes, all in varying states of completion. Harvey could already feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment. When he invited the farmer upstairs, it completely slipped his mind that he left all of his modeling supplies out in the open. He braced himself for her reaction, hoping she would go easier on him than Maru did when she found out about his collection of miniature airplanes. Harvey had been adding to his collection quite a bit since his radio broke, but he suspected that he would go broke if he didn’t get it fixed soon.

SJ took one look at the table and smiled. “Did you build all those?”

“Yes. I did.” He said proudly. “I find it relaxing. I know it's not the most interesting hobby in the world but-”

“What do you mean?” she interrupted. “I think it's cool.”

SJ was known for being a bit sarcastic with people, Harvey wondered if she was just trying to tease him. “You do?”

“Yeah! I like this kind of stuff. Building things is fun, keeps my hands busy. I don't have any planes, but I have a pirate ship and a couple of rockets.”

“That's... very cool!” Harvey said, shocked that he and the farmer actually had something in common.

While scanning the room, the farmer's eyes eventually wandered over to the radio. “What's that?” She asked.

“That is actually what the wire is for.” Harvey replied as he moved to stand next to the desk. “It's radio equipment I use for contacting pilots.”

“Awesome! I didn't know you were a pilot.”

It made sense that she would come to that conclusion. Perhaps he should have worded it better. “No, I'm not actually a pilot.” He reluctantly admitted. “I just like using the radio to talk to them.”

“Oh, I see. So, what happened?”

He sighed. “Well... one of the requirements to become a pilot is to have perfect vision, which is clearly a bit of an issue. Not to mention I have a crippling fear of heights.”

The farmer nodded along, listening but not responding.

“It just never would have worked out. It's fine, some dreams aren't meant to... come true.” Harvey felt his shoulders stiffen, and the familiar heat returning to his cheeks as he realized that's not what she was asking. “You meant what happened to the radio, didn't you?”

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling. “Yeah.”

“Right. Sorry.” He said, wondering why she didn't stop him.

“Don't worry about it. Everybody has that one dream from when they were a kid that never worked out.” She said casually.

“Really?” He asked, suddenly intrigued by the implication that she also had a failed childhood dream. In the spirit of finally getting to know one of his patients, and as long as they were on the subject, he figured it couldn't hurt to ask. “What's yours?”

She seemed taken aback by the question, but her mouth soon twitched into a hint of a smile. “Astronaut. I was a huge space nerd as a kid. I wanted to go to Mars.”

Even her dreams were more interesting than his.

“I actually did this thing online a few years ago where you could send in your name and have it etched into a microchip for one of the Mars rovers.” She added.

“They can do that?”

Her face lit up as she explained. “Yeah! They use a laser to print it on, and then attach it to one of the rovers that they to send to Mars. You can't actually see it without a microscope, they put millions of names on there, but still. I got to put my name on another planet, even if I'll never make it up there myself. You need 20/20 vision for that too.” She said, tapping the arm of her glasses.

“That makes sense. Astronauts and pilots both need flight training, but couldn't you get corrective surgery to fix your vision?” He suggested.

She shook her head nervously. “Oh no. You've seen how I am with needles, I'm not gonna try lasers thank you very much. And have you even eaten freeze-dried food? There’s no way I would survive up there.”

“Understandable.” He chuckled.

“Yeah... It is what it is, you know?” She shrugged. “Sometimes life doesn't go where you want it to, but it finds a way of getting you where you need to be. I guess we’re both proof of that.”

Her wise words surprised him. A majority of their past conversations involved lamenting over how much work they had left to do for the day. They never went into any deeper topics like their childhood dreams. It was a nice change of pace. Perhaps this afternoon could be more fun than he thought.

“They do say hindsight is 20/20.” He added.

That joke earned him a smile that almost made him blush again. “True. Anyway, what did happen to the radio?” she finally asked.

“Right. A few days ago, I accidentally spilled a mug of coffee on it, and it sparked. I managed to clean it up, but it still won't turn on. I hate to ask you this, but-”

“You want me to take a look at it for you?” she guessed.

“If you don't mind.” He said, nervously wringing his hands. “I know how busy you are.”

She was already taking off her backpack and unzipping it as she crossed the room. “Not at all. Let me get my tools.”

“Why do you have tools in your backpack?” Harvey asked.

Did she know what he planned to ask her? No, that's not possible. She didn't even know the radio existed until now.

“Well, I never leave home without at least a screwdriver. But, since I can't go mining, I've been doing some maintenance around the house.” She said, producing a screwdriver from her backpack and setting it down on the desk.

“How come you're dressed for the fields then?” He crossed his arms, hoping she wasn't lying to him again.

“The overalls have a lot of pockets, and the boots are steel-toe so they're a little heavy. I wear them when I'm walking around the farm. Walking is considered mild to moderate exercise, right?”

He grinned. Maybe she did listen to him after all. “Yes. That’s right.”

She placed her left hand over her heart and raised her right. “I promise, I haven't been doing any farm work, and Zephyr's been doing all my deliveries. Even though he absolutely hates it.” She joked.

“I heard. I got the pickles you sent.”

“And?” she asked, with a hesitant smile.

“They were delicious, thank you.” He quickly looked towards the kitchen. “I think I still have the jar if you want it back?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Keep it. I’m glad you liked them. It's the only thing I know how to make, so far. I wanted to get you something more than a cup of coffee to apologize for what I did. I should have listened to you.”

“Well, apology very much accepted.”

…

Harvey paced back and forth behind the desk as he watched SJ examine the radio. She had unscrewed the back panel to try and determine why it refused to turn on. Every so often she would mutter something unintelligible and then say, “Hmm. That's interesting.” which was only making Harvey even more nervous than he already was. Since SJ was sitting in Harvey's desk chair, he brought over a chair from his dining room table to sit next to her.

“So, what do you think?” He finally asked.

“Looks like the wiring's shot. How long have you had this for? It looks older than I am.”

“Honestly. It probably is.”

SJ put down her screwdriver and spun around in the chair to face him. “I hate to say this, but I think it would make more sense to just replace the thing.”

His heart sank to his stomach at the idea of getting rid of his antique radio. “Are you sure you can't fix it?”

She pressed her lips together in what he thought was an attempt at a sympathetic smile. “Come here, I'll show you what I mean.” She spun back around and pointed to a small crack in one of the wires. “The wires are splitting because the rubber coating is all dried out, so when you spilled the coffee, it caused it to spark when it got in those gaps. You waited too long to get it fixed, it's corroded now. I could replace them, but there's a lot of wires here, it would take a while. It might be easier to get a new one at this point.”

“I can't- I... It's got sentimental value.”

“I'm really sorry, doc.”

He sighed. “It's alright. I suppose I knew it wouldn't last forever.”

“Where did you get this thing anyway?” She asked.

“It belonged to my grandfather. He used to be a pilot, but as he got older, his vision started to decline, and he had to give up flying. After he retired, my grandmother bought him this radio as a birthday present so he could contact his pilot friends from the ground. When I realized I would never become a pilot, he offered to teach me how to use it so I could learn how to talk to pilots 'just in case'. I guess he just wanted me to have some hope. I knew it wouldn't happen, but it was still a fun hobby to have. After he passed away, he left the radio to me in his will, and I've been using it ever since. Maybe it's for the best. Planes don't fly over Pelican Town very often anyway, I guess I was just hoping that if I kept trying, I'd eventually find one.”

He looked over at SJ, staring at him with wide eyes and looking like she was on the verge of tears.

“Okay…” She said, her voice cracking slightly.

Without another word, she turned back to the radio and began unwrapping the new roll of wire.

“What are you doing?” Harvey asked.

“What- um.” She cleared her throat. “What does it look like I’m doing? I'm going to fix it for you.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly.

“Yup. I hope you like blue. I'm gonna be using a lot of it.”

…

SJ seemed completely content to sit in silence while she worked, but Harvey thought it would be too awkward if he didn't at least try to make conversation.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked.

“I'm good, thanks.” She replied, without looking up.

Another stretch of silence passed as Harvey tried to think of something else to say.

For as long as he'd known the farmer, he didn't really know that much about her. He just learned she wanted to be an astronaut, perhaps they could talk about space? Although, if she harbored as many negative feelings about her childhood dream not becoming a reality as Harvey did, perhaps it would be a sore subject.

He decided that small talk would probably be best.

“So, how's the farm doing?”

“Farm's good.” She said, measuring a section of the wire. “Zephyr made us a schedule, so now we take turns watering the crops on alternating days. I don't always have time to do it when I'm doing my deliveries, and I really don't like getting up at 6. I'm actually working on putting together a sprinkler system to automate the process.”

“That’s great! I didn’t know you were so good with machines.”

“Not really. Most of them come with instructions. One you see the pattern for how things go together, it’s not too difficult to figure out how to take them apart and fix them. I've built every PC I've owned since I was 16 and I had to replace the wiring in all the lights when we moved into the farmhouse. Don't tell anyone. It's only a matter of time before the town finds out I can do household repairs and I end up adding another line to my business card.” She laughed nervously.

Harvey was in the saloon one night when he overheard Gus telling Emily about SJ's business. It picked up rather quickly after word spread that SJ would hand-deliver anything anyone might need. She was the only one in town other than Marlon who was willing to go into the mines, and the townspeople often took advantage of that.

“I heard you stopped using the notice board and started posting your phone number so people could call you directly.” Harvey remembered passing by the notice board on his way to the general store one day, tempted to take one of the business cards, but he didn't know what he'd do with it.

She cut a new piece of wire and stripped one of the ends off. “I did, yeah. When everyone realized it was just me filling all the orders, I figured they could just call me if they need something. I don't regret it, but it's a lot of work sometimes. Well, you know...” She muttered, glancing down at her stomach.

It had only been a week since SJ had been badly injured by a rock crab and Harvey received a terrifying phone call in the middle of the night. The image of her with her shirt drenched in blood had been burned into his memory ever since. He remembered how angry he was when he found out the request was posted as a joke. That night could have gone a lot worse. If she didn't show up when she did...

Harvey preferred not to think about that.

“And how are you feeling?” He asked.

“A little better every day. The scar looks pretty badass, but it gets really itchy sometimes, is that bad?”

“No, actually, that's good. It means the wound is healing, but please try not to scratch it.”

“Thanks doc,” She grinned. “I'll try.”

“Has... Abigail apologized to you for what happened?”

“I think she learned her lesson.” SJ said, cryptically.

“And what lesson was that?”

“Don't fuck with me.” she said with a smirk, sending a shiver down his spine.

And Maru wondered why people found her intimidating. That right there. Just when he was starting to relax, that sentence was enough to make him squirm. Harvey often wondered where her confidence came from. Even after nearly dying in the mines while fighting monsters, she still wanted to go back. Nothing ever phased her.

He suddenly felt guilty for asking her to fix the radio, she probably had more important things to do than spending her afternoon with him.

“I really appreciate you making time to stop by. I know people ask a lot of you sometimes.”

She cut off one of the old wires from its plug and searched through her backpack, producing a small roll of electrical tape. “It's nice to feel needed. Besides, you're not like them.”

“I'm not?”

What was that supposed to mean? Was that a good thing?

She began counting on her fingers as she listed names. “Alex requests eggs five days a week for his strength training. Elliott has a recurring order for squid ink for writing his book. Pam wants me to start brewing ale for some reason. I'm not even gonna tell you where I get Maru's batteries from. The mayor has me looking for some of his... personal items. Emily already has an order for minerals for the next time I go to the mines-”

Harvey opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“-Yes, I know. No mines for two weeks. I've already marked my calendar.”

Despite his endless protesting to her entering the mines in the first place, he was relieved she was finally listening to his advice about her recovery.

She continued. “Sebastian has my Sundays for helping him with his coding because I'm more familiar with this framework he wants to use, and Gus needs fresh fish and produce for cooking the specials at the saloon. You, on the other hand, have never requested anything.”

“I… suppose I just didn’t want to bother you.”

Harvey never wanted it to seem like he was taking advantage of the farmers kindness. Frankly, he didn’t even need to use the town notice board. The only thing he could ever see himself requesting is coffee, and SJ already brought him coffee several times per week whenever she dropped off Maru’s orders.

While SJ was preoccupied fixing the radio for him, he decided this was the perfect opportunity to return the favor for once.

He subtly glanced over to the kitchen. “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

“Isn’t coffee what got you into this mess in the first place?” she said with a mischievous smile.

He hung his head, stifling a laugh. “True. But I’m serious, I feel bad just sitting here while you work.”

“You're keeping me company.”

“Please, you bring me coffee all the time. I can run over to the Saloon if you prefer theirs.”

She wrapped some electrical tape onto a new connection and plugged it back into the radio. “It's not that. Don't worry about it.”

“It’s no trouble. I was planning on making some anyway.”

She set down the tape she was holding and turned her chair to face him. “I don't actually drink coffee.”

He couldn't tell if she was joking or not. “You- What?”

“Yeah. I just...” she shrugged. “Don't like it. Never have.”

“That doesn't make any sense. Gus said-”

She raised an eyebrow, a touch of amusement on her face. “You talk to Gus about me?”

His face felt warm all of a sudden. “Oh no, of course not! I mean... It was just last week. He asked if I'd seen you because you hadn't come in yet to order your coffee. He said you show up almost every day, so he was worried about you.”

“Oh...” She said, eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah, you weren't supposed to find out about that.” She resumed taping. “I can explain, it's just a bit embarrassing.”

Harvey couldn't fathom the idea of SJ having embarrassing secrets. Whatever it was, it couldn't be any worse than when she found out that Harvey routinely takes part in a dance aerobics class. He was grateful when she promised not to tell anyone, but he hadn't forgotten the look on her face that day when she walked into Caroline's house and saw him in his workout clothes with all the moms in town.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“It's fine, I guess I can laugh about it now. I walked into the saloon one day to bring Gus the produce he ordered from the farm, and he offered me a cup of coffee for the road. He already had it made and I didn't want to be rude. So, I took it, and since my next stop was the clinic, Maru suggested I give it to you instead. Then the next time I went back, Gus offered again, and I couldn't say no because I told him it was good the last time.”

“Why did you tell him it was good if you didn't drink it?”

“Because I panicked when he asked, and you told me it was good so that's what I said.”

“To be fair, it was very good.” He suddenly found himself craving coffee again.

“Anyway, it’s gone on for too long now, and I know coffee is your favorite so I just asked Maru what your usual order is so I could ask for that instead. Now Gus thinks we drink the same kind of coffee.”

“Are you telling me you bring me coffee four times a week because you're too shy to tell Gus that you don't actually like it?” That sounded a lot more judgmental that he meant it to.

“Pretty much.” She nodded. “I had just moved here. I didn't want to be an inconvenience. You know when someone tells you their name and you don't hear them the first time, so you just never use it and hope they don't notice because it’s too late to ask? It was kind of like that.”

Something about the way she said that struck Harvey the wrong way. It was an oddly specific comparison, and suddenly he wondered if there was another reason she only ever called him ‘doc’.

“Are you trying to tell me you don't remember my name?”

She burst out laughing. “No! I know your name. That was just an example.”

“Oh… I got worried for a second there, I don't think you've ever called me by my first name before.”

“I haven't?” she paused for a moment to think about it. “Well shit. I guess I haven't. I'm sorry. Everybody else calls you doctor. Doc just sounds a lot cooler. I can stop if you don't like it.”

Harvey found it very amusing that someone like SJ thought he was cool. “No, it's fine. I like it.”

“It was a poor example I'm sorry. I get really shy around people. It makes me do stupid things sometimes.”

“That's not what I meant. I was just surprised is all. You don't seem like the type of person who gets nervous around anyone. You're friends with everyone in town!”

“No, I'm not.” She chuckled darkly. “They only like me because I bring them stuff. You know they call me the “Town Gopher” behind my back because I'll bring them anything they ask for?”

“No… really? Even after... the incident?”

She nodded, sadly. “Yeah.”

“Oh... I didn't know that.”

Harvey didn't want to admit it out loud, at the risk of letting her think he was a loser with no friends, but he also felt distant from the townspeople. He couldn't help but feel guilty that he had no idea what was going on.

“Yeah. It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re still paying me. They don’t have to like me.” She said dismissively. Clearly it wasn’t Harvey that she was trying to convince.

“I’m sure they like you just fine. What’s not to like? I’m sure they at least appreciate all the hard work you do for the town. I definitely appreciate it.” He said in an attempt to cheer her up.

She let out a huff of a laugh, almost as if she didn’t believe him. “Thank you. That means a lot. I’m sorry, I don't mean to dump this on you, but I know you of all people will understand.” She went back to replacing wires and avoiding eye contact.

“It's fine, but what do you mean by that?”

She didn't look up. “I mean, you're not just a doctor, literally everyone in town is one of your patients.”

“And the next few towns over.” Harvey added.

“Really?”

“Yes. ‘Town Doctor’ is more of an honorary title. I’m actually the only licensed physician for about 20 miles in any direction. Closest hospital is about an hour from here.”

“Damn… I didn’t know that.” She blinked a few times, staring blankly at the wire in her hand. Harvey almost detected some concern in her face. “Either way. I can't imagine it's easy to get close to someone who knows your entire medical history.”

“That's true... They like you, and they respect you because of what you do for the town, but you still feel like an outsider among them.”

“Exactly! See, you get it. I just don't know how to approach people unless I have to. It's hard to walk up to someone like, 'Hey, let's be friends.' You know?”

He nodded. “I do.”

Harvey had no idea SJ felt this way too. He thought back to all the nights he spent alone at the saloon, and he realized he never really saw SJ interacting with any of the townspeople outside of her deliveries.

She was just as alone as he was.

…

After SJ reattached the last screw, she picked up the power cord for the radio, staring at it for a moment. “Okay... You ready?”

“It's done?” Harvey asked.

“Yup.” SJ got up from the chair, knelt down, and reached under the desk to plug in the radio. It lit up almost immediately.

“You did it!” He didn't mean to sound so surprised.

“You might want to make sure it works first.”

“Let's see.” They switched chairs so Harvey could sit at the desk and put on his headset. After messing with the dials on the radio for a minute he adjusted his microphone to test it.

“Hello? This is Dr. H at 52 North, 43.5 East seeking aerial response. Anyone out there?”

“Dr. H?” SJ laughed.

“Shhh.” He said, trying not to laugh as well. “You're not the only one who can go by their initials.”

“Maybe I should call you that instead.”

The radio produced nothing but static.

“So, is it working?” SJ leaned back in her chair, comfortable, but still interested.

“Seems to be. The likelihood of an actual plane flying overhead is slim to-”

Harvey stiffened when a voice from the radio spoke.

“Copy. Dr. H on the ground. This is Blackbird Fiver Fiver Zuzu, anything to report?”

He turned to SJ, who had quickly sat up when she hard the voice. “Someone's there...” He whispered.

“Oh shit.” SJ whispered back, a giddy smile on her face. “Well say something! What are you supposed to say?”

Harvey tried to contain his excitement long enough to respond as he turned back to the radio. “Right. Uhh. Standard ground report. Wind at 3 clicks, 36 degrees North of West. Ground Temperature at 43 kraggs. Humidity 53%. Dr. H out.” He immediately turned off the radio, his hands slightly shaking.

There was a long beat of stunned silence as SJ and Harvey stared at each other, soon dissolving into excited laughter.

“That was so cool!” SJ said. “I can see why you like doing that.”

“I didn’t think that would actually work.” Harvey said, still in shock. “You know we might still be able to see the plane from here.”

SJ was already out of her chair before Harvey had the chance to rip off his headset and join her at the small window next to the desk. Sure enough, off in the distance, a tiny plane was flying over the valley.

“There it is!” SJ said excitedly. “That’s so awesome, I can’t believe you were just talking to him!”

As the two of them watched the plane fly by, Harvey turned to look at the farmer. Seeing her genuine smile while she watched the sky, he thought to himself, perhaps getting a little closer to his patients wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

…

“Thank you so much for your help. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. What do I owe you?” Harvey said as SJ was packing up her tools.

He was already looking around for his wallet when she said, “No need. First ones free.”

“Please, I can't let you do that. Give me a number.”

“Seriously, I had fun today. You've never asked me for anything before. This one's on the house.”

“Do all your customers get that deal?” He said sarcastically.

“Only the ones that say they appreciate me.” She said with a wink as she threw on her backpack.

He sensed that she was joking, but he didn't like the implication that people didn't appreciate her work. Was he really the first one to say that to her?

“SJ, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

SJ was always so confident, Harvey wanted to be confident too. He took a deep breath and simply said what was on his mind without thinking too much about it.

“About what you said earlier... I know exactly how you feel. I don't really have any friends in town either. But I was just wondering, do you think that we could be friends? I'd like to get to know you better. Put aside our doctor-patient relationship.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could feel his heart pounding. That didn't sound quite as bold in his head.

SJ gave an amused smile, but it quickly faded when she realized he wasn't joking. She looked around, almost as if to see if anyone was listening. “Oh, you're serious…”

He sighed. “I understand, if that's not appropriate or-”

“We’re not friends?” She asked, sounding a little distressed.

“Oh. Well, I mean, I didn’t think you’d ever… you think of me as a friend?”

“Of course I do! Talking to you in the mornings when I bring Maru’s orders is like, my favorite part of my day. You… don’t think of me as a friend?”

“No, I do! I mean… I’d like to! I’m sorry this isn’t where I expected this conversation to go.”

“It’s ok.” She giggled. “I think I get it. We could definitely hang out more. If that's what you're asking.”

He smiled. “Yes. Yes, I'd like that.”

“Cool.” She started to leave, but she stopped in the doorway first and said, “See you around, Harvey.”

Apparently, she did know his name.

…

The next day, Harvey walked into his office to find a hot cup of coffee on his desk with a note attached:

'Next time you want to hang out with me, you can just ask'

- SJ

On the back of the note, was the farmer's cell phone number. He wanted to call her to thank her for the coffee, but when his heart fluttered at the idea of calling her directly, he began to question Maru's theory once again.

He dismissed the feeling as being excited by the fact that they were officially friends. It didn't mean he had feelings for her... right?

… Right??

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

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38 notes • Posted 2021-09-06 02:53:11 GMT

So it’s like this...

80 notes • Posted 2021-05-12 01:48:22 GMT

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donaldpepys · 3 years

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unclefungusthegoat · 4 years

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FC5/ND Quarantine Fanzine Creation Stage!

Good afternoon guys! So sign-ups are officially CLOSED, and I am over-the-moon to announce that there are a total of 61 participants! Thank you so much everyone for your overwhelming support and interest- I can already see from the range of ideas that have been submitted that this is going to be a really exciting collection of work once it’s finished!

So what happens now?

LONG POST INCOMING!

Well, I have already paired most of you together, however I am short three illustrators. Illustrators, I will be messaging a few of you to ask if you’re prepared to do more than one. I’ve already had a couple of volunteers, but I need three more! Please let me know if you’re willing!

TOMORROW - 10th April 2020

You will receive the name of your partner and your assigned character.

Remember OCs and other characters are welcome in your work, but your assigned character must be the focus of your story and image.

10th April - 11th May 2020

This is the CREATION stage! You have a month to submit both your story and your image to me. You can submit any time in that window, so don’t feel you have to wait for the deadline!

You don’t have to submit together either! If you do submit seperately, please label clearly so I know what goes with what!

This is a collaborative project, and the extent to which you want that to be the case, is up to you! You can decide to work as a pair in one of two ways:

Seperately. Writers control the story content, and artists control the image content. To clarify, this means that while you jointly agree on a general concept and share your work with each other for reference, the writer doesn’t dictate what the artist does, and the artist doesn’t dictate what the writer does.

Together. You can work together, providing each other with ideas and feedback (although the writer still writes, and the artist still illustrates!)

Which way you work is your choice!

Please remember the rules:

Stories must be between 500-1000 words (no more than 2 A4 pages).

Writing MUST be beta-read. (I can help if you need me to!)

Artwork must be in colour! (If you have worries, please let me know!)

Stories and artwork must focus on your assigned character.

You can submit in languages other than English, but please send me an English translation also!

No graphic NSFW.

No non-con

No incest or pedophilia

You can submit your work to me via this blog (unclefungusthegoat)!

Formatting is not too important (although please make sure paragraphing is correct!). I will be sorting typeface and size, and saving all images as JPEG. If necessary, I may make small adjustments, like punctuation, just to get a consistent feel.

12th May 2020 onwards

I will be putting all of your work together in a PDF file, to be shared on here (free of charge!) as soon as I am able! At a later date, I will look at printing it properly, but for now, it’s just all about sharing your hard work, and getting some new, exciting content in these difficult times!

Problems

Fun as this is, we are in a troubling time for all of us. If, for any reason, you can’t get your work to me before the deadline- for example, if you become ill or someone in your family does, or for any other reason, please just let me know!

Biographies!

In the first fanzine, artists had their city/country listed beside their names, and I thought that was a lovely touch, so I’m thinking of doing the same! If you are comfortable in sharing this information, when submitting, please let me know where you’re from!

Cover Art

I’m still giving thought to what is happening with the cover art, and I’ll get back to you soon!

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

Well, I think that’s everything! Sorry for the long, rambling post! Any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask!

Chloe x

#far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #far cry 5 fanzine #john seed #jacob seed #joseph seed #faith seed

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deliriumsetin · 4 years

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So here’s the thing...

I’m really freaking hard to scare. Unlike my cat that just booked it into another room when our UPS guy dropped a package off at the door. Perfect timing, Percy. Perfect timing...

Anyways! I have NOT had a good scare in probably two decades. No matter what fiction I pick up that promises to chill and thrill me, neither happens.

Now keep this in mind.

As of right now I am launching a business and yes, this will tie into the weird opener. Be patient, please.

I am launching Vox et Liber, a publishing house for ALL kinds of stories and ALL kinds of voices. I started working on this in November 2019, what do you mean that was only 8 months ago?! I originally thought the publishing house up after learning a bunch of facts about the publishing world over the summer.

VeL publishing will be a new kind of publishing and I can say that with 100% confidence because I am building this beast from the ground up, with the help of @hazandlouwho, my fiance, and a few other amazing people!

Because this business is getting started independently, which means no investors, we are working with a VERY small amount of cash reserved for start up. Initially all works will be published digitally. We do plan on launching a Kickstarter in September/October to get enough funds to keep this going and to do it right which means getting stories published physically and sold to both indie bookstores and Barnes and Noble. Please be on the look out for that.

If any awesome people want to donate to help us not break my own personal bank, which will be easy to do since Covid-19 forced me to quit my job working with the public because I’m high risk and unemployment has kept me in limbo for going on 3 weeks, you can tip us on Ko-Fi by clicking here. ALL donations and funds raised go towards launching VeL and all projects under the VeL umbrella.

Bringing it around to the scares. VeL is launching our first project and we need all you awesome writers’ help. As of today we are opening submissions for our first ever anthology, Graveyard Visits. It’s horror with the theme of marginalized voices written as Own Voice fiction. Meaning stories written by marginalized groups with their marginalized groups as main characters.

Submissions are going to be open from July 1st until August 12th 11:59pm EST. Stories are expected to be between 2.5k-5k words in length. We will be paying $.02 per word as well as giving you a digital copy of the anthology. Submission Guidelines can be found here.

Now the whole me being hard to scare; I want to be scared. Submit your best, your scariest, and most bone-chilling stories.

Also, not so subtly gonna add a nudge to @thebibliosphere because I feel like she might have something up her sleeve. If not for this anthology then definitely our erotica one that will be announced later this summer.

We also have a podcast series in the works but I will do another post on that once I or my awesome soon to be brother in law (that’s STILL weird) have a moment to do up some graphics.

Click below for my rant on why traditional publishing right now is a soul sucking leech on EVERYONE.

On average with hardcover books an author is lucky to make $1.50 off each one sold and that’s only AFTER they sell enough to cover their advance. I also found out the average advance is like 3k per book. Some (not including the wicked big names who get a shit ton more) can get as high as 5k but others can get as low as a 1k. An author is lucky to see that twice a year (selling 2 books) because they have to spend time MARKETING book 1 instead of writing book 2.

Keep in mind fiction hardcovers are generally sold between 19.99 (usually YA) or 29.99 (usually adult). Wicked big difference, huh? I get there’s a lot that goes into making a book, trust me I do but the split between should leave the authors getting around $4 per copy instead of less than $2. That $2.50 is just extra that the publishing house takes because it can.

Then there are the mass paperbacks which an author gets paid 50 damn cents per copy. Yes, those books retail for anywhere between 7.99 and 14.99 per book and sell way faster than hardcovers. Take it from an ex-bookseller.

Most books take on average 500 to 1,000 hours of work put into them before they even get handed off to the publisher for the FIRST time. At minimum that author sees an hourly return wage of $6 which is BELOW the United fucking States shit-tastic minimum peasant wage. We devalue the arts so fucking much- arg! But that can be a separate rant for another day.

Then after doing more research I realized just how off balanced the publishing world STILL is in the year of hell 2020. Don’t believe me click the link. Sarah Park Dahlen did a great article with a great graphic on it.

As of 2015, yes I’m paraphrasing to continue to rant, children’s books had ALMOST more books about anthropomorphic cars, household items, and animals than there were books about Black kids, Asian Pacific kids, Latinx kids, or Native American/First Nation kids combined. Talking teakettles and their kindred got a whopping 12.5% while if you add up all the groups above you get 14.2%. None on there own beat out the freaking Easter Bunny! Of course books about White kids are the highest at 73.3%. Yes, this was as of 2015 but as an avid reader who reads middle-grade and up books for fun I can tell you nothing much has changed. Books about black kids maybe SLIGHTLY higher since the BLM movement (fuck yes progress!!) but I’d be heartstoppingly shocked if they beat out talking fucking trucks.

And that’s just race. From what I gathered with all the publishing houses less than 100 books with LGBTQIAP+ main characters are published each year. Wtf? And among that as of 2015 55% percent are about cisgendered males and 31% are cisgendered females. (Thank you @malindalo, you are awesome and I’ve enjoyed meeting you at the Boston Teen Author festival the last few years.) So, just focusing on those 2 first letters, huh? I want to read a story about a kickass transwoman that has to deal with transitioning WHILE demons have torn their way out of hell. That would be badass! Holy shit, someone trans write that!

Same goes for people that live with disabilities whether they are physical or mental, including mental illness and neurodivergents like myself. If you haven’t figured out by this rant just how ADHD I am than you might need an ADHD in your life. My brain works differently and I would have killed growing up to read about characters that have to deal with what I deal with. We have Percy Jackson now and his all ‘verse but it’s not enough and it wasn’t published until I was on my way to college.

All that aside we now have all the bs coming out about what’s been going on in traditional publishing. About all the dickweeds that have been using their power and pull to sexually harass new authors, most often the new authors are young women. I unfollowed people and canceled a pre-order because fuck that shit! Also, I don’t give a fuck how big a name someone is if the hate they spew makes all their trans fans collectively feel like shit for not believing the simple fact that transwomen are women then they deserve to get dropped like the bag of shit they are. TERFs can fuck right off.

All the publishing bs has made me more determined to get VeL off the ground because no, no, no. We’ll have none of that. All the listed above reasons can go play in traffic. We will be paying our authors better and taking care of them from day 1. We will be making sure our catalog is so damn diverse that you’d have to be looking at the wrong website to not find a story that you can’t see yourself in and lastly, if we hear of any of our authors pulling a Myke Cole or a Sam Sykes than they are dropped. It is in the best interests of our authors futures that they aren’t shitbags. /end rant

If y’all have any questions about anything of this, I think my dms are open or if I’m wrong just tag me. My days lately have been chained to my shit dell computer with one or both cats pinning me to the couch. I finish this up as Percy settles in on my legs. Also, thunderstorm is starting up and both are sleeping through it? If only I could be so lucky when the fiance and I have kids...

#publishing #anthology #writing #writing challenge #writers unite #supernatural #horror #writblr

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hyumjim · 4 years

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In a move that’s pretty unusual for a k-pop group, 7/8 members of the girl group ANS have announced their disbandment in a letter they posted themselves on their fansite, and the letter very frankly discusses their frustrations with their agency’s management of them– or lack thereof. With most groups, announcements like this would be vetted by tons of agency staff before they ever hit the internet. But it turns out that ANS were able to do this because they were running their fansite themselves, just like they were doing everything else ANS-related themselves, because apparently the company that was supposed to be managing them… was not actually managing them:

 “Our agency, ANS Entertainment had dismissed almost all of their staff once in March and once in April. They have dismissed the staff members who took care of us including our manager. Therefore, we were without any managers […] We did not even have a practice studio.  Because we were without a manager, we had to contact and plan our schedules ourselves. We also managed the fansites ourselves and acted like a staff was managing it[…]  This is something shameful but none of our members were able to receive any vocal lessons, and each of our members received only 10,000 KRW (~8 USD) per day for our meals. This wasn’t even given to us during the weekends.  In actuality, we did not receive any support or management. We had requested the agency for at least vocal lessons, but the agency rejected our request, stating they did not have the money for it. We understand the difficult situation due to the corona outbreak but the agency has neglected us too much. Furthermore, we could not just sit idly when we thought about the fans who have many expectations from us.  Therefore, we hired a legal representative and sent a statement to the agency requesting them to follow through with the contract we have made - hiring a manager for the group, having a company office space, providing dance and vocal lessons. We requested the agency to deliver the proper measures within 14 days or we will take legal actions for the breach in contract. However, the agency did not take the proper measurements of our request. Instead, they called one of our members’ mothers and threatened us saying, “The agency did nothing wrong. We will be taking the members with good temper and leave the rest to rot like garbage. We will create a blacklist so that they can’t do anything in this field. We will make them so depressed so they can’t do anything except stay at home.”  In response to this, we could not bear this any longer. That is why we have notified the agency of the termination of our contracts.  This is when the issue with Haena arose.  At the likely time when we had sent the statement to the agency, the agency began speaking about the issue with Haena[…]  In actuality, the relationship between us and Haena was not bad. In our opinions, we did not have any special problems with Haena.  Haena joined ANS in December of 2019. She was the youngest member of our group and was attending high school at the time. This year, our group was not able to promote as much because of the circumstances with the company. Therefore, we did not spend much time with her.  The only conflict we had with Haena was when we convinced her to go back to school when she decided not to go anymore after being tested for the coronavirus.  There was a person who tested positive for the virus at the internet cafe that Haena had gone to. So Haena received testing on May 29th. Fortunately, Haena tested negative and the quarantine authorities notified her to quarantine herself for an additional three days.  During that period we were taking care of Haena’s school notices when we received a phone call from Haena’s homeroom teacher. Haena’s teacher told us on June 8th that Haena had not returned to school even after the additional three days of quarantine and did not contact the school to tell them the reason for her absence.  The teacher revealed to us that Haena had missed many school days with the excuse of promoting with the group and the agency. She even told the school on the day of her graduation photos that she had a work schedule with the agency and did not show up to school. When we backtracked, we did not have any schedules on the day of graduation photography. That is when we called Haena out to a cafe and told her the conversation we had with her homeroom teacher. We asked her what was going on and she was not able to clearly answer. She said it was her personal issue. Our members went on to rebuke her that lying is not good and to discuss with us if she has any issues. We encouraged her to do better in the future and we did not curse at her or even raise our voices at her.  To be honest, these kinds of management should have been done by the agency but we had to manage Haena’s school attendance as well because the agency did not do it.  The next day, Haena contacted one of our members and told her that Haena had been suffering from mental issues. Haena stated that she wanted to talk with her parents before making any decisions. We told her that we all respect Haena on her decision and to tell us after speaking with the agency. However, Haena stopped replying to any of us thereafter. Then on June 12th, she contacted two members saying ‘I’m in a mentally difficult state so I couldn’t reply. I’m sorry. I will contact you after I get better.’ That was Haena’s last message with us. Haena did not even attend the fan meeting that took place on June 20th and we went through difficulty trying to change the choreography to fill in Haena’s absence.  Then, the company notified us after we sent them the statement that Haena had gone to the hospital because of us. They told us to go to the hospital to visit Haena but we were wary that the agency might plan something against us. So we were scared and was not able to even contact Haena. Fortunately, there was nothing too serious with Haena and we were told she was sent home. We were relieved to hear the news.  In fact, Haena was having a hard time because of the unclear future due to the agency’s circumstances. She also revealed that she was financially having difficulties because we were not receiving any monetary support from the company.  All our members have no ill-feeling towards Haena, nor did we have any before. We want to resolve any misunderstandings we have between Haena by openly speaking with her.  However, the issue with Haena occurred right around the time when the issue with the contract occurred. When we look back at the time when the agency spoke ill of us and threatened us, we are suspicious the agency has used Haena to obscure the issue with the contract[…]”

 I feel awful for all of the girls and I think what they have done here was brave and necessary. Poor Haena is only 18 and the oldest of them is only 23. It seems to me like they were all backed into a corner. Their agency put them in the impossible situation of managing their own group, in every aspect; marketing, event planning, not to mention choreo and vocal training, and even acting as surrogate guardians to their youngest member, all for EIGHT DOLLARS A DAY. (I especially think it is so goddamn unconscionable to make a group of young women responsible for their youngest member’s education as if they’re her parents; they were literally having parent teacher conferences and shit, which is insane.) In light of all that, it’s no surprise the youngest member had a mental breakdown, after having her own agency literally threaten to ruin her life! Even worse, after they did all of that, the company apparently then tried to take advantage of Haena’s inevitable breakdown and leverage it– thinking they’d be able to gain traction probably because of AOA/Mina’s situation– against the other girls to try and stop their story from getting out. 

More than just mismanagement of idols, this is a story of mistreatment and cruelty from an agency, and I hope they face the music soon, no pun intended. 

The girls signed this letter with their stage names probably because that’s how their fans know them, but those names were probably chosen for them by the company… Then again who knows– maybe the agency didn’t bother and just said you girls can come up with them yourselves, we don’t care. That seems in-character for them. 

Anyway, their last comeback was “Say My Name,” so we might as well address them by their real names since they won’t be ANS anymore. 

Hyunjoo, Sejin, Yeji, Sohyun, Seoyoung, Jiwon, Dayoung and Eunbi! I hope they are all able to recover well from being treated so poorly. Whether it’s as idols or not, I’ll keep following them and I hope they see much better days soon!  (…On the bright side, there’s no reason to take their management’s threats of blacklisting seriously on any level, since this is the same company that couldn’t scrape together a few dollars for vocal lessons. If the company had that kind of influence in the industry then they wouldn’t have been broke in the first place lol. They are so broke, they couldn’t blacklist their way out of a paper bag.)

#their so-called 'management' MUMBLING AND CACKLING MUMBLING AND CACKLING #BROKE PEOPLE SHOULD NEVER LAUGH #ANS #sorry i had to delete this and reupload because tumblrs link function is broken garbage <3 so it is just text now but u can click through.

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goth-bunny · 5 years

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Hey again, I'm Jun, 26 and mentally-ill.

I've been unemployed for over a year, and despite the continuous job hunt, no one seems to be interested in hiring me, and it's not helping that not a lot of companies in my city are looking for my specific credentials.

And now that we're currently in the process of moving to the new house, it's taking a toll on my mental health, making me constantly anxious and avoid staying at home too long. I did apply for a part-time job online early in June 2019, but I wasn't accepted since the moving and clearing my room is eating up my time and mental health.

Also, I did something incredibly careless last weekend and I owe my mom some.

To update from the last fundraiser post: I never got around to opening that new bank account as I used part of the money I got for my psych appointment, and that I haven't paid that bill at all, which I was given a final deadline on August 12th.

I’m about to run out of meds very soon as well, and the last time I wasn’t able to get them, my emotions started going haywire and the smallest of inconveniences made me irritable and miserable, which is something I don’t want to go through ever again. My parents are starting to sound apprehensive about me continuing medication; my dad says he thinks I should’ve been cured by now, and my mom says the meds will eventually damage my liver. But I don’t believe them at all.

Expenses:

Bill: P2,000/$40

New bank account: P3,000/$60 so I can be above the maintaining balance

Meds: P1,000/$20

I owe my mom: P500/$10

Which brings us to a total of about P6,500/$130

I’d need P3,000/$60 so I can deal with my bill and my meds. Paypal takes 2 business days to transfer money so I’d urgently need P1,000/$20 by August 2, so I can be able to buy my meds by August 5.

So now what?

paypal.me/gothbunny (please ignore my deadname) (sorry I don’t have Venmo or CashApp since they need me to open a US bank account and I’m not a US citizen/resident)

Commission me! (I have a ton of free time besides applying to jobs)

What if I can’t send anything?

Please reblog this post! It would be big enough help to me!

Tell your friends and family about my commissions! It makes me happy when my art makes others happy!

#fundraiser #donations #commissions #gofundme #stuff jun says #money talk

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1-800-channie · 5 years

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Cigarettes & Mint | Chapter 5

→ Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (FINAL)

→ Genre: Very Angst / Very Suggestive / Highschool!Au

→ Warning: Strong language; cursing; heartbroken; character death (?);

→ Pairing: Badboy!Hyunjin x Innocent!Reader;

→ Summary: When your ego is bigger than your brain, you don’t mind breaking someone's heart. As soon as the smell of cigarettes and mint invade your nostrils, your heart starts beating faster and your life starts falling apart. I bet you will end up broken.

→ Playlist for the Chapter:

↳ Goodbye - 2N1E ↳ Apology - iKON ↳ Be Alright - Justin Bieber ↳ Voices - Stray Kids ↳ I Am You - Stray Kids

→ Words: +2K

→ N/A: Hiii everyone! First of all, i wanna apologize for posting late but my dad took my phone (I'm using my computer, but it will probably be taken away too) So, if i disappear, know that am alright, and ill be back as soon as i can. This chapter is wayyyyy softer, please enjoy the ending, thank you so much for all the loves, the asks, the reblogs, the notes the comments! Everything, thank you! And oh, prepare your heart ;)

[Previous] [Masterlist]

[10:00 PM/ ONE DAY AFTER THE BET]

The light inside the room wasn't much since it is night time, but it was enough to make your eyes burn a little, causing an uncomfortable feeling. You exposed your orbs once, feeling them too lazy to even move, everything too blurry, so you couldn’t really make out where you are. You close them and open them once again, this time they adjust to the environment around you quickly.

You take a glimpse around, the white walls and the intense smell of disinfectant filled your nostrils. On your back, a pair of fuzzy pillows, on your wrists needles secured with some band-aids. Outside, the sky was reserved with sparkling starts, announcing that better times were coming.

As you were going to run your fingers thru your dad’s locks. You noticed how he is resting his head on the delicate mattress of the bed, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair, his hand sleepily holding yours.

He wakes up in a jolt, too involved to understand that who was stroking his hair. He rubs his eyes, trying to wake up. You used that time to notice that they are swollen and have deep circles underneath.

“Kim Sun…” He cries, standing up and welcoming you right after. You lean your head on his shoulder while he caresses your hair. “I thought i lost you… I was so worried.” His masculine voice gently confesses, missing his daugher more than his rest.

“I'm ok dad, dont worry.” You smile, as he releases you from his firm grip.

“The doctor said you passed out because you were too vulnerable. She explained to me that you didn't seem to have signs of food inside your organism.” You blush flustered, shifting your gaze from his blue eyes to your ghostly white hands. “And i also know what happened at home. Hendery informed me everything…”

“You didn't arrest him, right? It was not his fault he was-”

“Hey, calm down, girl.” Your dad interferes you. “I didn't arrest him, no.” He describes to you calmly, his features turning from carefree to concerned.

“What happened then?” You ask worriedly. “Why are you making that face?” You ask a bit louder, hands shivering and tears at the corners of your eyes.

Something is wrong, why won’t he tell you?

“I got this for you… It was written by him…” Your dad hands you a good-looking letter. The envelope is white and has written ‘For Kim Sunny,’ in his pretty calligraphy.

“What- what does this mean?” You ask in hopes that your dad would say something to ease the tension you feel inside. Something inside your body was warning you that letter was not good news.

“Read it and find out, my daugher.” He kisses your forehead. “I'll go outside tell the doctors and the two other boys outside that you are finally awake.” You nod, hearing him closing the door quietly.

You could hear the sound of the crickets from the outside, due to the sudden silence, singing their song carelessly making you feel lonely.

With trembling fingers you open the elegant envelope, finding a letter written in a sky-blue paper that perfumes like candy, you have these in your room…

“Lovely Sun,

I meant to tell you this earlier, but i didn't have the strength to, you know how weak I am when it comes to you. Some months ago i participated in an audition to train at the SM entertainment, i didn't believe i would be accepted but i was. They said my voice was melodic, that I danced admirably and my looks were definitely of an Idol.

I was accepted. I was feeling so happy and proud of myself, doing something as cool as being an Idol have always been my dream, and you know it, but as soon as i saw that I had to move to Seoul, my joy faded away.

It was hard for me to adapt to Busan, meet new people… How could i go to that enormous city by myself?

That was not the worst part, i didn't want to leave you, i wanted to keep you around me. Because we only have each other… So I thought of staying here, and wait for you. Wait for you to finally love me back, so we could date and build a family, just like i always dreamed for.

But it turns out, that dream was more stupid than the one of wanting to be an idol. We can't make people love us. And i know, i can't make you love me back, the way i want you to.

I swear, Sunny, I'm not angry at you for not loving me back, because we can't choose who we fall in love with. The same way it was not my fault that I fell for you, it isn't your fault that you don’t love me the same way.

So I accepted the opportunity and I’m moving to Seul in two days, so Hm, when you wake up on Friday, I’ll already be there, at the hotel.

I'm sorry for not telling you in your face, but i couldn't watch you in tears, i feel something so strong for you, that i dont know what it is anymore.

Please don’t hate me.

Remember me as your best friend that was always there for you, know that i will never forget you, never. You are my bestie and you will always be…

I love you,

Hendery <3

Ps: i stole your favorite teddy, please don’t be mad, i just needed something to remind me of you. “

When you concluded reading the letter, the atmosphere seemed like it was suffocating you. The tears that escaped your eyes wetted the lovely letter, blurring some letters. Your heart throbbed, really bad, and you felt shameful for what you made your best friend go thru, even though you never meant to harm him.

Deep inside you are proud of him for moving on, you are proud of him following his biggest dream, with or without you.

Still sniffing you put the letter back on the simple envelope and put on the nightstand next to the comfortable bed. You rest your head against the headboard as you try to tranquilize your breathing and to stop the tears from leaving your eyes.

The doctor comes inside silently, followed by your dad and two other characters. You clean the tears with the back of your hand, trying to pretend that you weren't disturbed. As they get closer you recognize Changbin’s and Hyunjin’s bruised face. Both of them had visible cuts all over their appearance, Changbin was even using crutches.

“How do you feel, dear?” The kind woman asks while she checks your pulsation and your temperature.

“Just lightly dizzy, but alright.” You answer shyly, the eyes of all those people reading you carefully were making you ashamed.

“You need to eat more, your body needs the energy and nutrients to stay strong. You passed out due to the pressure, and since you had no energy left your body couldn't handle the pressure properly and decided to enter the resting mode.” She explains. “No intense feelings this week. You need to feel strong so you can finish high school and go to university healthy, ok?” She suggests, knowing exactly what you were just some months away from finishing the 12th grade.

You grin softly, feeling too uncomfortable with all these eyes on you.

“Well, i think these two own you an explanation… So I will leave the three of you alone. If they try to hurt you-” You dad turns to you. “-Scream, Ill be here to arrest these two trouble makers.” He ends by stating, getting out of the hospital room with the doctor that just winked you, making you giggle.

As soon as the door closed an agonizing silence filled the room, Changbin was now sitting on the chair adjacent to your bed and Hyunjin was standing up, playing with his fingers.

You could feel your heart skip a beat at the sign of these two boys in the same room as you after what happened.

“So… I… Lemme go first.” You stumble over your words, embarrassed. “Changbin, just after all this time I realized that I pushed you away, and you didn’t drift apart from me. I really, really like you. You were my best friend, and I'm so sorry i left you behind.” You look deeply into his dark orbs, noticing his cheeks turning red. He also stares at you. He misses you so much, from all the profound conversations to the Rapp battles.

“I'm sorry i agreed to do to the bet, I'm sorry I didn't stop Minho, even when I felt guilty. I just- Hyunjin and Minho are the only friends I have, i was afraid that if i say no, they would leave me behind… alone.” He confesses flustered, burying his face behind his hands.

“I wouldn't leave you alone, Binnie.” Hyunjin shifts his eyes from your pale skin to his best friend. “I am your friend. I would be there for you. I may be cold-hearted, but i would never forget the man that was there when i needed him the most.” The lip ringed boy speaks carefully, care was obvious in his expression.

A comfortable silence now rests around you all, the love so clear in the air. But more important than the love, the friendship.

The next thing you witnessed was both of man's hugging. You could not feel more happy to see that no matter what, they always got each other back. As their part their bodies, shy from the sudden affection, Changbin walks your way and wraps his arms around your small waist, hugging you just like he always did.

“Am i forgiven?” Both of you ask at an identical time, laughing at the sudden telepathy.

You nod your head, content for being accepted back in his life, the weight being lift off of your shoulders.

“Sun…” Hyunjin starts, looking at you deep in the eyes. “I'm so sorry…” He hesitates for a whole minute, trying to find the appropriate words to say to you. “I dont have anything else to say besides I'm sorry.” The moon outside the windows seems to steal his eyes from yours, and you feel relief, too flustered to face him fully.

“Hyunjin…”

“Let me finish.” The tall man interrupts you harshly. “I didn't want to do this stupid bet since the beginning, ask Changbin if you don’t believe me. I wanted to keep you away from me because I thought you were too perfect to be close to me. You always look so free from your mind, so happy. You radiate such a happy aura, and I- I am no one. Not even my dad loved me enough not to leave me alone with my mom.” He confesses moving towards the window, gazing at the sky as he talks, he can’t say these words while looking into your eyes, he will break in tears.

And his ego can't show that…

“Now, I know that you have eating disorders, you only have your dad and that your best friend abandoned you.” Your heart throbs in pain at the memories of Hendery. “I started to feel so good in your company. Your laugh calmed me down and your eyes would make me stop breathing from how pure they were… Even though i may be in love with you, i can’t be yours.” Hyunjin studies at his dusty white Nikes, trying to calm down.

He is telling you the truth, he is opening up after all of this.

“Hyunjin…”

“You deserve better than me.” He finishes speaking and walks over you. His slender digits grab your chin gently, forcing your head up, and while his eyes were locked with yours, his lips came in contact with yours as well, molding against yours like the best creation God has ever made.

“So, what happens now?” You ask as your lips part, unhappy that the kiss was so short.

“I won’t go to study anymore. My mom needs help with money to take care of my little brother, so i will start working.” He informs you walking away from you.

“You could work and study…” Changbin suggests, trying to keep his best friend close.

“I'm not good at school, so its no big deal… I hope you can move on from me and find a man that will treat you the way you deserve.”

Hyunjin plays with the red roses that were resting inside a tall, transparent jar. Those roses reminded him of you, so beautiful, pure and fragile.

“But Hyunjin, I dont want another man, i want you.” Those words shocked him. Inside of him, there was a war, his brain was screaming at him to leave but his heart crying your name aloud.

“If you leave me, you will be just like your dad… Will you be able to live with that regret? With that lonely love? When i am right here, forgiving you, and giving you one last chance?” You ask him, your voice cracking from the sobs that wanted to escape, as you close your eyes.

“Man, we can help you out. We can study with you, work with you, help you earn money… We are here for you, let that pride go for once. Tell your ego to go lower just a little.” Changbin states, watching his best friend fight on the inside.

Silence involved the three of you for a while, while Hyunjin fought against his demons.

Suddenly, you feel his strong arms around you, pulling you closer to him. The familiar smell of cigarettes and mint calming down your poor, broken heart.

“I will stay with you… with both you… but give me time to adjust to this, alright?” Hyunjin shyly takes your hand on his, and looks at Changbin, watching him with the biggest smile on his edges.

Hyunjin was finally and genuinely happy after a while.

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bleepblopbloop56 · 5 years

Note

for fanfic requests, i'm a sucker for tiny! virgil (in a g/t sense) or virgil angst of any kind...

im gonna focus on the "virgil angst of any kind" part of this ask because I don't know enough about that to write it and also ive been itching to post this story somewhere vampire au, blood, minor character death

\\\

12 days, 12 murders, the news reporters and mothers on facebook were losing their minds. But in one mansion, one on the outside of town that had been there for nearly hundreds of years, there were 3 men who weren't worried. well , at least not abot the things everyone else was worried about.

“12.” roman said, pacing the livingroom back and forth, throwing the newspaper onto the coffee table, the headline “12th murder victim found- when will the violence end?!” was circled in red ink. “12 people found dead, and there will only be more. Logan how long can we let this go on?!”

Patton wrung his hands nervously from his spot on the couch. He was just as nervous as roman, and yet logan was only frowning down at the ink on the morning paper he had yet to get his hands on.

“It is not our place to intervene roman, we are not the local law enforcement, and we have no proof your hypothesis is correct. Figuratively speaking, we have no choice but to be ‘sitting ducks’ “ logan had a frown on his face that looked as if it was carved into his skin a thousand years ago. He reached forward and looked closer at the paper, romans ink covering it, circled lines and arrows dirtying the pages and seeping through to the other side. On the top corner roman had attached the headline from nearly 90 years ago. “17 dead” the headline screamed at him, mirroring the words on the paper from today.

“Look! The paper from when we found patton. they are EXACTLY the same! Logan. There another one of us out there” pattons face went flush as he looked away from the papers in logan's hand. 17 days alone and suffering with only one thought on his head. “Hungry”

He always felt hot spikes of shame through his gut when he remembered those days.

“And the same thing when you found me. There's some kid out there who needs our help logan” roman pleaded Logan stayed classic. Half of logan's conversations happened through looks, not words. It was infuriating.

“Maybe he's right lohan…. People are dying” patton mumbled, hands shaking as he pulled his mug up to his mouth. He didn't need to drink, not anymore, but it made him feel human, and eternity was too long to give up hot chocolate. Logan kneaded his temples like he was tired of dealing with them, the classic frown pulled over his face, one that meant roman and patton had won

“fine. “

Hungry. Need to eat need to drink. It hurts. Virgil pulled his hood up over his head and ducked between the streetlights and alleys, he was in the bad part of town but it didn't matter, he was the most dangerous thing in the shadows tonight. In a shop, an old woman was sweeping the floors, a couple was loudly having an argument with a window open, and in the alleyway, there was a man nearly twice virgil's size on his way home.

Something in virgil lost all control. He was so hungry, in so much pain, and this man could take away that pain, and he didn't have a choice. Virgil pounced, taking the man down with hardly more than a shove, and before the man could make a sound, virgil's small fangs sunk into the man's neck.

13.

“Do you smell that?” roman asked patton, gripping the sleeve of his cat hoodie he had shoved on when the rain began. “Blood. Fresh human blood. Hes near” pattons face grimace. He was the youngest in the group, and despite being nearly 118, the smell of blood was sweet and nearly made him weak at the knees. Stay strong pat, he mumbled logans words to himself, the ones he had repeated countless times, your more than this. Roman pulled him down to a street, texting logan where they were before laying around one last corner. The smell of blood was intoxicating. His hands were shaking with want a little voice in his head still spitting that desire had tried so hard to beat down. Logan had no hesitation when they caught up to them, walking straight into the alley before stopping. The boy was crying.

“What the fuck did i do” virgil thought to himself, looking down at the body on the hard ground, his blood covered virgils face and clothes. He rocked himself back and forth. His ears throbbed, straining to hear anything that wasn't virgil's own heart racing. Maybe that wasn't what he was hearing, he was pretty sure his heart had stopped doing that nearly 2 weeks ago.

He was a horrible person, this man was just trying to live his life, he probably worked in one of the nearby shops, maybe he had a family, virgil would never get to know. He was killed for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and it was all his fault. But the pain in his stomach had gone away, and he felt good. Full.

Sobs wracked his body, and then there was a hand on his shoulder.

A frightened boy whipped his head around, shining bright red eyes into logans black ones. His face was dripping with blood, and tear tracks streamed down his face. A new one. He couldn't be older than 18.

“Shit..” logan hissed, motioning for the others to come closer, “he's just a kid” he squatted down beside the boy, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping down his face. He was frozen stiff, terrified and shaking he let this stranger wipe down his face of the blood.

"I'm sorry" he cried "I didn't.. I didnt mean to. I was just so hungry and he was right here and" sobbs racked through his body. Tears mixed with the blood in his face before both were cleaned off by Logan.

"I know kid it's okay." He mumbled, trying his best to comfort the tiny murderer infornt of him "you're safe now, we got you"

“Who are you?” he asked quietly in between sobs. 2 weeks ago maybe the remark would have been said with a little more venom than genuine hope. Logan shoved the handkerchief into his pocket on his trench coat, straightening his posture and offering a hand to virgil to stand.

“Logan. This is patton, and roman, and you are?” he quirked an eyebrow at the teen, staring down at him like he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar..

“Virgil..” he said quietly “I'm sorry.. i .. “ his voice began to shake again, his shoulders hunching in on himself'' I didn't mean to hurt him… -” the man in the cat hoodie stepped forward cutting him off with a small shush

“I know honey. Listen things are gonna be okay, we got you.” he smiled wearily, pointedly keeping his eyes on virgil, and not the body beside him.

“Patton, roman, you two get rid of the body, i'll take virgil home.” logan ordered, begging to push the kid away from the gruesome scene before catching patton and romans faces. Pattons knuckles were white, gripping onto romans arm with a scrunched up pained face.

“I can't” he said smally “ I don't trust myself”

Logan looked between them and shoved virgil forward “fine. Go get him cleaned up, ill take this myself” he hoisted the body onto his shoulder, it was significantly lighter without its blood, and leapt onto a building, before running off to dump the body in some woods or body of water.

Romans arm wrapped around the boy, guiding him back to the mansion at the edge of the town.

The sun would be up soon.

13. There had been 13 murders in 13 days.

#thomas sanders #sander sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #tw blood #tw death #bloodlust au

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samanthajameswriter · 4 years

Text

Today’s post will be the tale of a royal exit written by guest poster Simone T. Whitlow from the blog History and Imagination. Whitlow discusses and tells the life story of Princess Sophia Dorothea and her exiting the royal family. The consequences were enormous. it is a story filled with an unhappy marriage and daring escapes.

I have taken a few shots at writing it under the auspices of a whodunit, but I don’t think there’s any doubt who the murderers are. I then had another run – this time as a faux fairytale, an OG soap opera? I had a line from John Wilmott, Earl of Rochester kicking round in my head about his patron Charles II, and thought what about riffing off that; this is an example of what a crazy, swinging place Europe’s courts were in the late 17th Century after all… but I abandoned all of these.

Then Megxit happened; The Sussexes – Harry and Meghan – announced they were leaving ‘the firm’. In some quarters there was shock, and I understand there was an urgent family meeting. Harry didn’t get thrown into a cell in the Tower of London. There was no clandestine dash for the English channel (like the aforementioned Charles II after his defeat at the Battle of Worcester in 1651). No disguising himself as a servant. No hiding in oak trees. Public discourse re-centred on whether you wished them well, or thought them a pair of spoilt brats. This brought me back round to this tale again… Imagine you’re a deeply unhappy royal, but it is 1694. Does Sophxit play out any differently?

This tale begins on the evening of July 1st, 1694. The setting, Hanover – a Germanic Duchy which would eventually be subsumed into a larger German nation, and whose first family would go on to be kind of a big deal. A young man, aided only by moonlight, sails along the Leine river till he reaches the Leineschloss – the palatial riverside home of the duke and his family. He moors his boat, then cautiously enters the property. The man is Phillipp Christoph, Count Konigsmarck – an aristocratic German born Swede from a long line of mercenaries. His father had served King Gustav II Adolph in the 30 Years War, rising through the ranks to Field Marshall. Phillipp himself had fought the Turks for Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I. At this point in the tale however, he was under the employ of the Elector of Saxony. Tonight he’s been summoned to met his paramour – Sophia Dorothea, princess of Celle – the very unhappy wife of Duke George Ludwig.

Count Konigsmarck

Princess Sophia Dorothea

Duke Georg Ludwig

Sophia, though surprised- she never summoned him – is ecstatic over his arrival. They haven’t seen each other for weeks. She is also a little perturbed and angered at ‘that woman’s’ gall. “Well, clearly she’s still spying on us” I imagine one saying “Never mind, in a day we’ll be out of this nightmare” the other may have replied. With rather less poetic license you can imagine the rest of their night – Konigsmarck had not come to play solitaire after all, nor Sophia to play old maid. I like to imagine Sophia enfolding the count in her arms as he left and whispering “keep safe, hell hath no fury and all” but that is a little anachronistic – Congreve would not publish ‘The Mourning Bride’ till 1697. This is the last time Sophia Dorothea would see Count Konigsmarck – in the following hours he would disappear from the face of the Earth, never to be seen again.

Joining ‘The Firm’.

To explain how Sophia Dorothea found herself in an unhappy marriage, I need to take us back a generation. The first fact worth knowing is there was no German nation in the modern sense until January 1871. People could be ethnically Germanic, but Germany was a collection of feudal states for most of it’s history. Until 1806, they were also overseen by a ‘Holy Roman Emperor’. From 1346 the Emperor was elected by a council from the Elector states – This is important to know later. The second fact is marriages of convenience were very much a thing in the 17th Century, particularly among the aristocrats. Third, this tale concerns two duchies, Brunswick- Celle and Brunswick- Luneberg, afterwards known simply as ‘Hanover’. These duchies were ruled over by two brothers. Fourth their leading citizens of the duchies wanted to see the two areas reunited one day. Now that is out of the way…

Sophia Dorothea’s father was a man named Duke Georg Wilhelm of Brunswick- Celle. Georg W had been engaged to a princess from the neighboring duchy of Rhineland Palatinate (her name was also Sophia, though she hardly gets a mention beyond this point), but he was desperate to stay a bachelor a little longer. He cancelled the engagement – passing her on to his brother, Ernst August, Duke of Brunswick Luneberg. The leading figures of Georg W’s duchy were furious, but when Georg signed a legal agreement stating he would never marry – and would pass his duchy to Ernst, (merging the duchies) on his death, all was forgiven. Georg was not exactly out of the firm, but was free to enjoy his newly acquired freedom. The problem was Cupid laid Georg W low after he crossed paths with the beautiful Frenchwoman Eleonore d’Olbreuse.

Georg immediately knew they must marry and start a family. His own duchy and brother Ernst were unimpressed, so Georg W approached Leopold I, Holy Roman Emperor for permission to marry Eleonore. Leopold gave his blessing, but many years after the fact– at this stage Georg and Eleonore had a child, Sophia Dorothea, now 10 years old. There was a caveat to Leopold’s blessing – Georg W had a daughter, Ernst a son (Georg L) – the two cousins would marry, uniting the duchies. This suited all, but the two cousins themselves, who detested each other.

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Georg Wilhelm

Eleonore d’Olbreuse.

Ernst August

Sophia Of Hanover

Complicating matters further, both Georg L and his father Ernst were openly having affairs outside of their marriages. Given what transpires it is worth mentioning Georg L’s double standards with affairs. The key fact to take on however is Ernst, Sophia’s uncle-stepdad, was involved with a lady named Countess Platen.

The Konigsmarck brothers.

We’ll come back to this lot in a second, but first let’s discuss Count Konigsmarck. He has quite a fraught backstory too. Konigsmarck was brought up at court, and knew the rest of this cast well. Both he and his brother, Karl, were sent to England in their mid teens, around 1680. They were sent off to learn courtly skills and mingle, but both brothers soon got into trouble. Phillipp’s trouble involved losing huge sums of money through gambling. Karl’s trouble was on a whole other level.

The two brothers began associating with several high society Britons- including Charles II. Karl had become smitten with Elizabeth Seymour, Duchess of Somerset. Elizabeth was – you guessed it – caught in a loveless, arranged marriage to a wealthy, cheating husband – the wealthy landowner and MP Thomas Thynne. On 12th February 1682, Thynne was travelling in a carriage through Pall Mall, when three men with pistols – Christopher Vratz, John Stern and George Borosky gunned him down. The three men were captured, and named Karl Konigsmarck as the man who hired them to make the hit. The assassins would hang, Karl walked free – but both young men were outcasts in England from this point on. Both returned to Europe and joined Leopold’s army. Karl would be killed in action fighting the Turks in Greece in 1686. As an aside, not long after Thomas Thynne’s murder, a poem circulated through London.

“Here lies Tom Thynne of Longleat Hall Who ne’er would have miscarried; Had he married the woman he slept withal Or slept with the woman he married.”

Let the Dangerous Liaisons begin.

In 1688, after eight years service in the wars with the Turks, Phillipp Konigsmarck returned to the court of what was then Hanover. The ladies of the court fell for this dashing, young soldier. He became a close friend and confidant of Sophia Dorothea – a sympathetic ear who would keep tales of Sophia’s horrible husband, hideous uncle/stepdad, and terrifying mistress of uncle/stepdad – Countess Platen, confidential. Konigsmarck also began an ill advised affair with Countess Platen himself.

The young count soon realized; one, he had fallen in love with princess Sophia – and two, Countess Platen is a dangerous lunatic he should have never become involved with. He took on a new military commission and left Hanover, hoping the countess would forget about him.

On his return to the court in the spring of 1690 he began wooing the princess. The countess, meanwhile resumed her wooing of the count. When left unrequited she hired spies to follow the couple, and intercept their letters. By 1693 Countess Platen stopped even attempting to repair the broken seals on the couple’s love letters. Phillipp resumed his affair with the countess, hoping to placate her; at the very least to stop her from spilling the beans on them. Phillipp and Sophia make the decision to run away together; to start a new life elsewhere- far away from courtly life. This presented a problem for the two. Phillipp was lousy with money, and currently broke – he had not been working, while wooing two ladies. Sophia, upon marrying Georg L, ceded all her possessions to her husband.

Phillipp took a commission with the elector of Saxony, in Dresden in May 1694. Sophia sat tight and waited for Phillipp to make some money. 1st July, at the urging of a counterfeit letter, Phillipp returned to Hanover. Possibly aware it was a trap, Phillipp had saved a month’s worth of wages. Most of the court were away at their summer house at the time – Georg. L included. Tomorrow morning they would run away – and begin a new, happier life together. The following day Count Konigsmarck was nowhere to be found. A distraught Sophia Dorothea eventually hears the scuttlebutt from the markets “the witches of Dresden…” lured Phillipp away.

So…. what happened?

Let’s work through the facts – and suppositions – of the case. There are at least five possibilities. It’s generally accepted the counterfeit letter came from the countess. She had spies watching the couple, who reported to her that the couple were planning to abscond the following day. It is established fact also that Countess Platen informed her other lover, the uncle/stepdad Ernst, of the two lovers’ plan. Ernst ordered four cavaliers to arrest Count Konigsmarck immediately. The four men caught him outside the palace, swords were drawn. When the men eventually faced trial they claimed the count had drawn his sword, a fight broke out, and the count got stabbed to death in the melee.

What happened to the body? Who the hell knows? That is the real mystery. The four suspects were never on record on this matter. One theory has his body thrown into the Leine river, or immolated, or buried on the property. There was excitement in 2016 when bones were dug up on the site, but DNA proved the bones belonged to five separate men (none Phillipp) and a selection of animals.

Possibility one is simple as this, manslaughter. Count Konigsmarck, the battle hardened soldier of fortune thought he could fight his way out of an awkward situation and the four men got the better of him. It was, at most, a case of manslaughter.

Two, when Ernst August sent the cavaliers out to stop Konigsmarck, did he give the order to murder him before the elopement uncovered his dalliances, causing him embarrassment? He may have wanted him out of the way for this reason. Besides personal embarrassment, Hanover had only just been appointed an elector state, who help choose the Holy Roman Emperor. A scandal involving their royals may have jeopardized that position.

Three, well that ‘hell hath no fury�� motive is also out there. Countess Platen was jealous, and involved in high level stalking behaviour. She had laid this trap for the couple, does it not make sense to go that one step further. Did she kill Count Konigsmarck, solipsisticly to say ‘if I can’t have him, no-one can’?

Four, did Georg Ludwig know of the affair, and order the assassination? An elopement certainly would have left him a cuckold. Working counter to this, Georg L seemed unaware of the affair till after the affair was exposed. As soon as he heard, he divorced Sophia Dorothea. He exiled her to house arrest in Ahlden Castle, another family possession. She was kept prisoner until her death 32 years later. Here’s my reason to doubt Georg as the mastermind – he divorced and imprisoned her six months after Count Konigsmarck disappeared. Perhaps Georg was an endlessly patient man? I doubt it.

Now, I want to put a fifth suspect on the table – I said I would not mention her again – but I need to in order to tie this to the Sussexes at the very least. Ernst August’s wife, Sophia the elder, scorned by Georg W, and in what one would imagine as unhappy a marriage as anyone else in this tale – Her husband was cheating on her with Countess Platen after all – well she had a dream.

Discontent with her lot in life, married to a petty duke of a tiny duchy, she daydreamed of a time when herself, or her son would run the larger archipelago to the north-west. This did not seem such a crazy daydream. Her grandfather had been James I of England. In 1685 Charles II died leaving 14 illegitimate children, but no heirs. The crown passed to his brother James II, who was deposed in the ‘Glorious Rebellion’ of 1688. This saw a joint rule by James II’s daughter Mary, and the Dutch Import William of Orange. The line of succession had gotten a little complicated of late, and Sophia the elder’s daydream was seeming less and less blue sky thinking, more a genuine possibility – just so long as a giant scandal didn’t break out about her cheating husband, cheating daughter in law, and surrounding rogues gallery. I can’t count her in, but I certainly can’t ignore she too has a motive.

By 1702 both Mary and William of Orange had died. The crown passed to Mary’s sister – Anne. Anne fell pregnant 18 times – and suffered six miscarriages, five stillbirths, and none of her remaining children lived beyond two years of age. When Anne died on August 1st 1714, the crown passed to one Georg Ludwig, of an obscure German duchy, henceforth known as George I of England, whose family sit on the throne of England to this day.

How do I feel about the Sussexes and Megxit? Well, I am glad for the couple that it is 2020, not 1694 – and I wish them well.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Simone T. Whitlow is a musician, history blogger, and occasionally a squeaky wheel, working for well oiled corporate machines. Simone is based in Auckland, New Zealand and writes most weeks for Tales of History and Imagination.Tales of History and Imagination is a collection of strange and eccentric stories from our collective past. From Victorian Boogeymen to forgotten wars in far flung nations, mysterious super-weapons to people who simply took a path less traveled – Tales of History and Imagination is a compendium of the stories never told in history class.

FOLLOW SIMON T. WHITLOW:

WEBSITE: https://historyandimagination.com/

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/Talesofhistoryandimagination/

TWITTER: https://twitter.com/TalesofHistory1

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The Deadly Sophxit of Count Konigsmarck and Princess Sophia Dorothea Today's post will be the tale of a royal exit written by guest poster Simone T. Whitlow from the blog…

#biographies #BOOKS #history #ROYAL HISTORY #tales #world history

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queenofallwitches · 4 years

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Venus trine MC, my MC lies in Saturn and Saturn is in 9th house Aquarius.

Saturn Return, and my Soul Journey into 12th house Sun conjunct Mercury (in Aries) bound by the 12th house Shadow Secrets. Jupiter is Leo and Mars is softened by my conjunct cancer moon, both in my 3rd house. The kicker is Chiron simultaneously sitting over in my wounded goddess divine feminine Luna moon compelling me to build a home, a base and a clan of like minded souls. cancer and Chiron sit together and Chiron is akin to the wounded healer. I have a complex but alchemical natal make up and its been 6 years of accepting the square and oppositions in difficult places to come to terms to work with my natal astrology in a way I can become creatively involved in.

23/3/20 initiated the formal induction of my Saturn return as saturn transited to Aquarius for the first time since 92/93.

It’s a taste of the full saturnine swing coming up after the December 21st astrology grand conjunction. Saturn will be in Aquarius up to July. before moving briefly back before that grand Conjunction with Pluto/Jupiter later in 21/12/2020. (activity period from 14 April 2020 until mid-July 2020) Venus trine MC

Yeah on a tangent but one day I will be thankful this was forged. I am will using my moonchild manifesto to track the astrology and transits for my own wounded healer journey. I don’t have the consistency of a computer to hoard things as I did before the big brother fascism came full formed this year and cannot freely trust anything can be stored. I will be putting things online purely to keep a record of what may soon be lost, unable to be accessed.

Plus I’m burning my journals after I take the photos of them and upload them for a ritualistic purpose.

It’s part of this creative alchemy and trauma soul retrival quest I’ve found myself on. I note this as my Saturn is returning home for my FIRST Saturn return. I have been formally initiated for the infamous, enigmatic Saturn return that marks the passage from “adolescence into adulthood”. (Funnily last time I heard a university lecture on neuroscience, the latest research noted recent findings that the brain of a fully, functional prefrontal cortex in adult brains don’t become fully formed until age 28-30. This first sparked excitement and also uncertainty about the privilege cast to the “teenage myth”. As kids brains are still developing when things like getting a driving cars, choosing a life career, alcohol privilege and making other major life changes at those critical developmental stages are still as risky when a 12-16 year old does it. So now psychology and neuroscience knows that the adult higher order thinking that marks the turn of a mature and civil adult come in the late 20s. Not the teens. So until after 25 a brain cannot be fully assessing its choices due to underdeveloped prefrontal higher order thought processes This was fascinating in the social science side of things where we look into social constructs of society and how teenager was a made up archetype for a post war period. I remember being in my early 20s at the time and my life was no longer a race as it had been made to be prior.the schools of the latest brain neuroscience confirm my impulsive nature could change before age 30. I was hopeful. Maybe I wasn’t a gifted genius who was highly sensitive and afflicted with the contrasting “ADHD or Attention Deficit Primaily Inattentive” which could only be “treated” (as far as I had experienced), via heavy duty schedule 8 drugs. The kind of medication that calmed me down but other people wound beg me to have. Meaning in the past people in my life around me were constantly trying to turn into their party high by taking advantage of my disdain for psychostimulants. But my love and need for money back in that time. Fuck fake friends I say. Taking advantage or dysregulated prefrontal cortex with or without all my labels was still, after all, a risky business, when it comes to juggling psychopharmacology and a myriad of labels that resulted in other medicines given to me that may or may not be accurate. No brain scan or confirmation has been given that my brain is anything aside from ADHD. So my academic quest in childhood was confounded due to this.I learnt a lot about my childhood and growing up with a long list of multiple mental illness diagnosis, and the medical pharmacology given to me for those things; was beyond measurable.

But my neurochemistry was tweaked ineffably by both psychiatric pills pushed on me from age 9 and for things I may not even need. The end result of what my social science teacher termed “social constructs akin to mental illness medical model DSM labels”. My self pursuit of understanding my own brain was a hard thing to understand in the sense that prior to hearing about this from the side of academic and professional training, I had spend 12 years in expensive and possibly more damaging than beneficial treatment for “mental illnesses”. My life was a focal point for the goal I set to help women with the “borderline stigma” after I had fixed my own borderline.

Clinical psychologist was my end game until I found the trauma truth sweeping me into a existential soul contusion merged with trauma after trauma therapy went into flooding memory. Academic research and the psychology and counseling journals I spent my spare time fine combing. For answers. For my why and how. By the time I found any sense of this it became a painful limbo of dancing with my demons, coping destructively and limbo between the underworld and the reality I found my body and mind entwined in.

Now it’s even more synonymous to my own Saturn return journey and how the Saturn return is the mark of adulthood. This can be a speculative musing I make now on celestial astrology and how it aligns to our inner psychological makeup. (The Jupiter return is age 12, puberty ; and the other inner planets all mark significant development milestones in growing up. I’ll go into that more in later blogs).

Astrology is a map of the soul, psychology makeup, can be so deep too. How does it measure up to statistics? Sun sign horoscope is nothing versus the natal chart and how it corresponds to planetary magick and Kabbalah. I have been seperate in my magick and academic work but it was always my will to merge these at one stage I could research it. But now the sands of time are shifting, and Aquarius Saturn is calling for novel innovation I never could convey due to academic being seperate as spiritual, magickal practice is something I was careful to keep silence on when working with clients, peers and mentors, forget telling my psychologists or doctors who wound dismiss any test as “bipolar mania”. I remember once I read “the difference between the mystic and the mad man is the mystic knows who NOT TO TELL.

Now it’s my time to informally but officially start logging my journey into my own healing, soul mapping, I call it cognitive alchemy, gnostic psychology, soul psychology, metagnosis.. I’ve had many a name for the potential inspiration from my true will calling. But I can now forget about the archaic bonds from the academic world I was schooled to excel in by confirming. I am also a high iq gifted kid and having been labelled gifted but “adhd” simultaneously while having traumatic events left right and center is a mix of confusion for me. Teachers classed adhd as a learning disability, my in attention confused with inability to listen to simple tasks. This meant my mind never adapted to that school conditioning but my education was still installed due to the private school system somehow making my alters succeed without effort. Most of my spare time as a kid that wasn’t dissociative was reading books. By me processing my own literature in my spare time, I knew so much random stuff but hid it in order to seem dumb bc that was accepted. But in private in encyclopaedias and non fictional library quests I’d devour books. for my 10 maximum haul of borrowing books. This was a routine my mum and I went to do each week but my reading speed was beyond anything known, as I read and synthesised up to 10 books mostly in one day, from age 6 onwards.

I also stole books and hid my reading habits at school due to a deep shame of not being liked due to reading being for losers without friends, as girls bullied me over my gifted weird quirks. I was pretty but saw my self as ugly for trauma will deprive the mind of seeing it’s own true perception. I was never understood how my looks became a thing used against me by girls who were jealous until I learnt about this myself. I recently accepted and remembered this all after 3 years of integrated healing. I was doing this all on my own. the spiritual and metaphysical work is my primary tool that was keeping me here. Actually saving my suicide program from self destruct after the March 2017 incident I shall not talk about now. But I’m here now, alive, kicking, Saturn here to shove my shadow to consciousness without prompt and this change can bring me into a 30 year blueprint of setting things right.

Now in order to build a solid and functional framework and foundational life. I have a litany of secrets I need to get off my chest. I think to share my growth, my thoughts and my experiences for my own liberation of my deep dark secrets finally free to be released into the public domain.

I have no choice but to share this.

I do this co consciously as a part of my integrative process.

Maybe One day it might be a guide for someone who was as alone as I feel doing all of this self work without support. Maybe it will fade into the cyber void forever. Maybe I’ll use this as a tool to help clients in the future. Whatever this is means nothing but what the process of alchemy can do to forge my liberation from soul loss and traumatic dissociative trauma.

As a therapist I always wanted to avoid what I went through growing up. Now more so. I never want another lost dissociative mental health client who was also stuck between professional and academic pursuits being my “purpose” and having to sacrifice career and my study and research to sit in my shadow to see the shit.

In order to break the shit therapist mould I list journey through my own shit first. This meant I needed to be away from all therapy both as a client and practitioner and student for awhile. I’ve been off since the end of 2017 and now it’s clear it was neeed, how do I heal without healing my own shit first? Am I not the finest example of how bad therapists can get away with their bullshit and be paid for it but never really know who they are. I’m never doing that. I never was about that. So due to therapeutic negligence. I am finding my gift was the lesson. Those a shitty therapist who are a dime a dozen were the anti mentors I saw too often: but my purpose was to be a therapist. But a therapist who did things the way I never had.

Never did I want another to go into the heavy weight of shame from the secrets of sexual wounds, childhood schemas, mixed up and messed up conditioning made to seem functional to outsiders. But that was all alters. Now it was a spiritual journey as magick and my mystical path entwines to save my soul. The self awakening, trauma revelations, merging with the dark night of soul, and the shadow work. Plus everything else coming out is not a journey I can say is or was at all easy, I suffer more now as a co conscious intergrating my trauma. I feel it all without the dissociative switch to save me from witnessing all the shit. Now I see my entire life and it’s fucked up raw and grim reality and I have to do something because I survived it this far? Again I never suicided or stopped into self destruction when I knew my own inner child’s wounds were no longer blacked out but burning bright longing for love. Symptoms for survival and the survival was part of the dissociative switching making my outside self seem so functional, but never seen. It’s not something they needed to drug me for, but it’s another thing I have to address now. My symptoms they drugged with medications that were mind altering and powerful for anyone let alone a developing child’s brain, were suppressed by many meds. Who knows where that ends and the damage via trauma and other things begin? It’s a mess of some thing I was never aware of but always trying to silence due to the need for people to accept me. But that was many mes all living a life that appeased many people, but not for me. Here we are.

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rachelroams · 4 years

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COVID-19 "ASK ME ANYTHING”

Are we permitted to share your story?

Go for it! I have made all posts on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter public so that sharing is easy.

Can you make your story shareable off-platform?

You got it. Because you’ve requested to share with people who are not on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, I’ve published this shareable, blog-style version of my experience: https://bit.ly/Covid19RRTumblr.

What do you think the incubation period was from when you got coronavirus to when you started actually seeing symptoms?

Tough to say. According to the CDC, symptoms can take between 2-14 days to appear, “with a median time of 4-5 days from exposure to symptoms onset.” My symptoms appeared on March 14th, but I could have been exposed anytime between March 5-12 during my travels on the East Coast. My incubation period was therefore somewhere between 2 to 9 days.

Do you have any idea where specifically you might have gotten Covid? Does anyone stand out as sick from your travels?

Unfortunately, I don’t know. I could have caught the virus as soon as I stepped off the plane in NYC on March 5th, or it could have been during my final flight back to PDX on Mar 12th. I don’t recall anyone appearing worryingly ill along the way.

Did you contact people you encountered to warn them you might have Covid-19, or was it too late?

As soon as I was administered the Covid-19 test on March 19th, I reached out to the colleagues I had worked with over the last week and a half to let them know of my potential exposure to coronavirus. This was perhaps the scariest part of my journey: informing people I know and love that I may have contracted the virus during our time together.

What supplies do you suggest people have on hand in case they get sick? // What essentials made you more comfortable?

To navigate my individual list of symptoms, I needed an ample supply of the following:

Acetaminophen for pain and fever relief

Daytime cough suppressant (dextromethorphan-based for dry cough)

Nighttime cough suppressant (dextromethorphan-based for dry cough + sedating antihistamine diphenhydramine or doxylamine for sleep aid)

Cough drops (natural herb with menthol)

Hydration (Gatorade, chamomile tea with honey and lemon, broths [miso and bouillon])

My husband and I noted my symptoms three times per day to watch for any changes—once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once before bed. In order to keep detailed records, we needed:

Thermometer

Note pad

Pen

Due to my high fever, it was impossible to regulate my body temperature. I fluctuated between very hot and very cold, including sweating and shivering. Three things that made this experience more bearable were:

Stockpile of clean, dry changes of clothes (mostly pajamas)

Pile of blankets I could throw on or off

Occasional soak in hot water (standing shower avoided due to weakness and potential for dizziness/falling)

Did you change your eating and drinking habits while you were sick? If so, how? // What did you feel like eating?

I lost my appetite completely when I was sick, so the main concern became keeping hydrated. During that time, I subsisted on water, Gatorade, chamomile tea with honey and lemon, and bouillon and miso broth. I also nibbled away at the occasional cake cookie, inspired by bingeing The Great British Baking Show.

Once I began recovering, a friend sent me this personal account of Covid-19, which was published in Bon Appetit. I think it’s a helpful guide, and wish I’d read it before I fell ill:

“What I Wish I Did: A Guide to Getting Through Covid-19 Alone”

What was your favorite escape? A good book? Video games?

When I was sickest, there was little I could do but lie still and seek distraction from my condition. Reading, gaming, moving, and even talking presented too much of a challenge, so I spent my days catching up on shows and movies I usually don’t have the time to watch. Favorite escapes included:

Great British Baking Show, Love is Blind, Call the Midwife – Netflix

Counterpart, The Expanse – Amazon

Harry Potter, Hook, A Little Princess, essentially any content from happier times

Did you stay isolated from your partner the whole time? // What precautions did you take to keep each other safe? // Did your husband ever develop symptoms? // Was he able to get tested?

When I first got back from my work trip on the East Coast, my husband and I decided to self-isolate together for 14 days in case I had brought any illnesses home. We did not think I would actually get sick—we simply figured we were taking precautions to protect others “in case.”

Unfortunately, we did not start isolating from one another until I was already ill with Covid-19. In hindsight, we should have isolated from one another as soon as I got home, knowing that no matter how young and healthy we figured I was, I could still pose a risk in the days to come.

Thankfully, Todd never developed symptoms. As a result, he was not eligible for a Covid-19 test where we are. That said, we believe he was likely a “silent carrier” who contracted the virus but did not show symptoms.

Would you know if your symptoms would be classified as mild, medium or severe? I’ve read that 80% of people experience no symptoms to mild symptoms, but wondering what mild even means.

Based on the severity of my symptoms, my case would be classified as somewhere between mild and moderate. Severe to critical cases, according to the CDC, involve: dyspnea (difficulty breathing without assistance via supplemental oxygen or a ventilator), hypoxia (deficiency in the amount of oxygen reaching tissues), respiratory failure, shock, multi-organ failure.

Did you get a flu shot last year?

I did get a flu shot in fall 2019. It did not prevent transmission of Covid-19.

Was there ever any thought or conversation about requesting hydroxychloroquine?

There was not.

In your opinion, what do you think happened to your test?

I wish I knew. Since sharing my story, I have heard from a number of people regarding missing tests across the country. Below are just a couple of those messages.

“I know someone in Texas whose test also went missing.”

“Sadly, you are not the first (nor would I guess, the last) person I have heard of whose test swabs went missing or got separated from documentation so that results will never come.”

If your test got lost, does that mean you were counted in the statistics of Covid-19 cases?

Because my test was lost, my case is not counted in official statistics.

Did they not offer to re-test you after your test was lost?

They did not offer to re-test me. Since I was informed that my swab was missing 13 days after I took the test, new tests were being given to patients who needed them most at that time.

Have your doctors given you any advice on what to expect in the short and long term as you continue to improve?

This virus is so unfamiliar that no one really knows what to expect. I was advised to stay home, rest, and recover in isolation. Here’s a new NYTimes piece on the subject:

“We Need to Talk About What Coronavirus Recoveries Look Like: They’re a lot more complicated than most people realize”

Was there anything you did in terms of physical exercise that you feel helped with recovery, or did you feel that rest helped more?

Rest, rest, and more rest. It has been over a month since I first experienced symptoms, and I’m not yet back on the horse when it comes to exercise. Normally, I work out 5-6 days a week. Right now, I’m just doing my best to listen to what my body’s requesting, and that is time and space to recuperate.

Are you okay now?

I'm finding that my recovery ebbs and flows. Some days, I feel mostly normal again, and some days I feel so low on strength and energy that I just want to sleep for a couple days straight. Whatever the day brings, I’m doing my best to trust the healing process, and remember how hard my body has been fighting to defeat this unfamiliar threat.

When you think about it, it’s amazing that the human form is figuring out how to fight something both brutal and completely new to our species. I find that inspiring.

Would you consider donating plasma for the Covid antibodies once you’re well enough?

Absolutely. I am already registered with the Red Cross to donate. They will contact me as soon as antibodies tests are available.

Have you reached out to news orgs with your story?

I have not. My main goal with sharing my story was to help others feel better informed, or more likely to stay home, or even just like this virus now has a face and is therefore more real to them. That said, if any of you would like to share my story with outlets for further publication, please let me know. I am happy to consider sharing anywhere that my story can be of service to people.

Do you think it has influenced your lifestyle or approach to life in the coming years?

Fascinating question! It’s probably too early to tell what long-term effects this virus may have on a person’s life—mine included. However, I do know that this slowed-down moment in time has offered me the invitation to take each day as it comes. It has presented me the gift of perspective. And it has reminded me that joy lives not in what we accomplish each day, but rather how present we are while we’re living it.

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RESOURCES & CONTINUED LEARNING

CDC: https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/index.html

WHO: https://www.who.int/health-topics/coronavirus

JHU: https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html

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