#i would be less grumpy if my symptoms would make some fucking sense

[puddingcatbeans]

what if u have hanahaki but u also have hay fever

#guess i'll die dot jpeg? #beanstalks #i don't have allergies and my immune system has always been v strong #so i've always been like 'meh i'll just sleep it off' #but this time. whatever i got really is kicking my ass #i would be less grumpy if my symptoms would make some fucking sense

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So I decided back in September that it is Time. The time has come. I am going to try and get a formal diagnosis for my blatant and provable ADHD, because I am very interested in Doing Laundry

And in my defence it has only taken until this week (late January) to kick things off, which I am very aware should probably be part of the diagnostic criteria

Anyway

I have a plan! For the best chance of being taken seriously. If the university can do their in-house screening of me, I can go to my GP and make the following two points:

I am here because my boss felt I said "But everyone does that" one too many times while discussing the ND students, and she wants me to chase this in case it means she can support me better (I of course am charmingly bemused about it because I personally would never try and get diagnosed, no no, only those attention-seeking fakers do that)

An official educational institution i.e. my employer has in fact initially assessed me and deemed me Medically Distractible. I even have an ALN plan, look. So uhhhhh, maybe my boss is right? (I of course remain charmingly bemused about it because I obviously don't really believe it, no no, I could never be the expert on my own experience, but a Third Party is invested, so...)

Anyway yesterday the uni got in touch, and had me do the initial screening.

Now, they're doing it as part of a wider screening process of learning needs, so they also check you for dyslexia, dyscalculia, dyspraxia, and autism, as well as ADHD. Plus how good your reading/writing/maths is. Plus they make you do these really fun tests - one was like a classic American spelling bee, one was a spelling test where they read out increasingly lengthy fake words and you had to spell them (we started with "blit", and by the end she was saying things like "unintarcation" and "iffrig-oggonery" and "self-regulating free market" trololol I JEST), and the other was that she'd read out a string of numbers and I had to type them backwards to test my working memory

Good fun, actually. Anyway, my results were mostly completely fine:

Study skills are good! I mean, we're going orange at the end, look, time management is bad - but that's the ADHD, so expected.

No problems with the tests! I mean I'm slightly grumpy about the social and communication score going blue, because I'm pretty sure it's because I explained how I was bullied in school, which I feel is more about them than me. But eh.

Dyspraxia was a little less solid- that's the time blindness, I think. Also attention and concentration, that's expected. Maths, lol - that's not medical, I'm just bad at maths.

The autism testing. Again, mostly fine, but some overlap with ADHD symptoms, so blue instead of green. Makes sense.

And then

Fucking rinsed.

#tedious personal details #neurodivergence

[ofmythsandmadness]

pretty eyes.

you love diego hargreeves pretty eyes, sober and drunk off your rocker. only, when its the latter, it’s a little harder to hold back your eager compliments.

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WARNINGS & DETAILS: gender!neutral reader. mention of alcohol & drinking, some fighting later on in the chapter (it’ll make sense when it comes), idiots being idiots, mutual pining, a tad bit of angst. WORD COUNT: 6.5k NOTES: at the end (read please).

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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“DO YOU KNOW WHY THE SKY’S BLUE?”

Diego didn’t look back, but from the sounds of tiny pants and dull clunks of shoes hitting the ground, he knew enough to paint a picture. You, struggling to rid yourself of the coat he forced you to put on, dropping the heels you claimed you hated so vehemently, all the while probably grinning from ear to ear like he imagined little kids looked on Christmas Day. He knew you’d be waiting for his answer, just as you always did, expecting something greater than he could give you in his own flustered state.

Sometimes you were predictable. But he liked that about you.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“No, silly! I’m asking you!”

“Oh.” His tongue danced across his bottom lip, wetting the chapped skin before responding. “I dunno. Sorry.”

Only a sparkling laugh and a thump answered him. He whirled around to see you flat on your butt on the ground, staring up at him with drooping doe eyes. It would be an irresistibly pretty sight, if he knew it wasn’t from extreme inebriation and you were completely off your rocker at the moment.

Still, pretty.

“Help me up?” You laughed, waving your hands aimlessly towards him. “Puh-lease?”

Diego grimaced slightly but moved anyways. He grabbed at your hands (clammy, another symptom of your heavy drinking choices)  and yanked you towards him. Only he overestimated you and greatly underestimated his own strength it seemed -- instead of lifting to your feet like any normal person, you practically flew towards him, landing just under his chin and flopping against his chest.

And Diego froze.

Normally he would have pulled away and shrugged it off as a mistake. Neither of you would mention it again and would move on with your lives, forgetting how close your bodies had been and the way your gaze was intoxicating upon itself. He had rules for those things; never getting too close to a friend who made his heart beat in a rather unfriendly way was one of them.

But as you looked up at him, still smiling dopily and eyes almost crossed, he couldn’t remember a single thing about rules or precautions or anything of the sort. All that was on Diego’s mind, was you.

Your smile softened a tad, painted lips closing over your teeth and only hinting at the dimples he had stared at many-a-time before. Up close, he could see flecks of black under your eyes, staining flushed skin with ebony freckles that no one could believe was natural. He didn’t know the word for it, but guessed it was from you rubbing at your eyes and forgetting you had painted them hours before. Despite it, you still looked absolutely radiant.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

Diego blinked, startled by your giggled statement. “W-what?”

“Sooo pretty,” you gushed. One of your hands left his chest -- he hadn’t even realised they had been pressed there, but he suddenly missed the warm sensation -- and caressed his cheek. He shuddered at the touch. “Maybe the pre...prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen!”

If merely standing near you was heart-attack inducing, Diego was certain that all this was going to explode the vessel. Any second at that point, it would just burst and coat your grinning face with its guts--

-- he shook his head, ridding himself of both that image and the foolish thoughts flooding around it. You were drunk. Everyone said and did stupid stuff when they were drunk. Right? Like the time he lost a fight with a lamp post -- he wouldn’t do that sober, but alcohol made everyone a fool. You just chose compliments over actions, maybe.

The saying ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ lingered in his mind for half a second, but he pushed it away. That only worked in late night television or shitty rom-coms, not reality. Not with them.

“You should get to bed,” Diego said gruffly, pulling away from your fingers. He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment on your face, but tried to push it away for his own emotions’ sake. “You’re gonna want to, ‘fore all this hits.”

“You should smile more.”

Diego froze. He didn’t turn back to her that time, knowing it would only hurt him more, but he couldn’t bring himself to move another inch.

“Your eyes are fu...cking beautiful, but your smile?” Clapping echoed paces behind him; his jaw clenched with every smack. “Diego, you’re so pretty!”

He reached behind him blindly, scrambling and feeling stupid before finally launching onto you. Still avoiding your charming smile, he pulled you along, leading you out and into your bedroom. “I’ll be back to get you some Advil. Sit down.”

“I wish you’d smile more,” you said, completely ignoring every word he said. You fell down to your bed with a plop. “It lights up those pretty pretty, pretty eyes so much...so fucking pretty, Diego! I can’t even think of any other words, that’s how be-yew-tiful you are.”

“Okay, I--”

“-- and you always look so grumpy. It’s so funny!”

Diego should have been long gone, at that point. For his own sake and for yours, because you would hate that you rambled on so much, and he was going to pay for the emotional turmoil you were putting him through. But he couldn’t. He simply stood, still and awkward in your bedroom doorway, watching as you tried to twist your face to look like his own.

It didn’t work at all. Your lips fought angrily to smile again, and your eyelids just drooped, so far you looked stoned, or maybe like a zombie ready to bite. But even if you looked beyond ridiculous, his mind still screamed at how adorable it was, and despite himself, Diego smiled.

“See! See, there - there it is!” You pointed frantically at his own face, like he didn’t know it was there. “God, I wish I had a mirror to show you how pretty you are! Lil...lil sunshine boy!”

Okay, ‘sunshine boy’ was new. It took a little bit of the piss out of everything, and he was able to grumble and walk away finally from your singing self. Calls of his name paired with nonsensical titles followed. Diego tried his best to ignore them, but he knew the coos would haunt him later. Even as he searched for a glass, the sounds bounced through his head like injured bats in a cave; no way out and too blind to escape, forced to flit around endlessly until someone ended their suffering.

But Diego, unfortunately, did not know how to do that. So he simply bore the weight of your compliments knowing that they were nothing but sounds and syllables made up by a confused mind, trying to push through the night with as little baggage as possible.

As he walked back to your room, he sighed. This wasn’t how he planned things to go. It had been a good night -- sure, he might not have had as much fun as you looked like you were having, dancing and drinking and laughing, but at least he was with you. And he liked that, and the lax nature you took on when you drank, making him feel less pressure about constantly being the best version of himself. He hadn’t felt like he needed to put on a show, he was just Diego, for better or for worse. And somehow, you didn’t mind that.

He only wished that he could have more than that and all the time.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat after the word came out garbled. “Uh - got you this, you’re gonna want to drink it and take these now. Okay? And I’m putting these here for tomorrow morning, so you can take that as soon as you’re up. You got that?”

Your head bobbed up and down excitedly, but he knew you didn’t take in a word he said. So as you swallowed the tablets and gulped down the water, he scribbled out a note to remind you of what definitely went right over your head.

Diego paused, pen slightly trembling in his hand, before jotting down two more sentences. Thanks for last night. Had a good time being with you, as always. He hesitated, hovering over the slip of paper before cursing and scribbling out the lines with added violence. He tried again, being a little bit more poetic (which wasn’t much, but words really were not his thing) only to be disappointed again, pushing down on the pen so hard he was sure it would burst. Once he was sure nothing but scribbles could be made of the mess, he put the note under the Advil bottle and stepped away.

“You wanna change out of that?” He asked, gesturing to your clothes. “Doubt that’s comfortable.”

“Nah,” you drawled. You smiled up at him and even dared to wink (it was more of a sloppy, half-assed blink, but it still made his head swim). “I’m just comfortable. Do...you…’re you comfortable?”

Diego chose not to answer that. He pushed you back gently, deciding not to fight with you on changing and instead just going with sleep. You didn’t fight him much. If anything you leaned into it, holding onto his hands for seconds longer than you should and mumbling sweet nonsense up at him.

“You know,” you sang, “you know what, Di...Diego?”

He didn’t pause. “What?”

“I would do anything...and everything...in order to make you smile forever. You know? Anything.”

Those were the words that weighed heaviest on Diego’s conscience as he drove back to his place. It was as though they had erased everything else, anything that had happened that day or any time before and just left that in its place. He didn’t know why, but they stuck, and as he wove through the dimly lit streets, your voice floated about like a bodiless apparition, set to destroy his mind and drive him mad.

Diego had had his heart broken several times before. It happened almost easily in his childhood, normally by the hands of his vindictive father. He had learned how to patch it up, sew up the cracks and try to make it so it wouldn’t happen again, and eventually he got better at that. But it shattered again when Ben died, and he realised that they were just kids, forced to play heroes in a horrifically gruesome world they didn’t belong in. That took a while to mend, but he did, until he screwed up at the police academy and Patch left him too. After that he had let the fragments just sit in piles in his chest, digging at his ribs and leaving him winded after long nights in the cold darkness. He hadn’t cared; he thought that was what was expected of him. Nothing but a broken heart to hold him when the nightmares got too bad.

But when you came along, he didn’t have to stitch himself back together. You did it for him. Somehow without him noticing you had snuck into his chest and unravelled the poor stitchwork and blotted out the stains left that he hadn’t bothered to clean up. Over time, you had managed to make it almost brand new again, and it was a whole new experience of smiling and watching as you failed to finish your joke again, only because you were already laughing too hard. Of getting wasted on Wednesday’s when your job sucked more and dancing down the streets up to your apartment, uncaring of those who watched. Of you chiding him for the cuts and bruises collected from his vigilante expeditions, but always being there to wash them out and make a fresh pot of tea. Of you, merely existing, and allowing him to bask in your sunshine a while longer.

But hearing those soft words leave your drunken lips, spilling out like tar from someone so angelic, hurt. Diego didn’t think that was possible with you.

He sighed, turning down the street towards the gym. It would be a sleepless night again.

YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING CONFUSED AND ACHING.

Not as much as you normally would be, which was a nice change of pace -- you assumed you had enough common sense to take premature headache meds, knowing how bad the hangover got for them. But your drunken self did not have the thought of changing out of your stiff, uncomfortable going-out clothes, instead draping yourself across the mattress smelling like the shitty bar you had careened in and leaving every part of your body pissed off. Sweaty fabric clung to your skin, leaving you feeling soggy and misworn and eagerly wishing you could have made better choices earlier.

You groaned and slipped out of the comforter, already missing its heavy warmth. Slowly you staggered over to your desk where you must have left the Advil for that morning. “Thank you, past me,” you sighed, twisting open the cap with a grimace.

A paper caught your eye, small amongst the stacks of work files you had yet to comb through. Downing one pill, you grabbed it, taking in the scribbled letters through tired, squinting eyes.

Leaving this for you because you’re too drunk to remember what I said. Take these and drink water before you die of a hangover. I’d hate to find your body that way. Also left your things on your kitchen counter, they’re not stolen. Also left your burrito in your microwave -- you insisted on buying one last night, so don’t forget about it. Take care.

Underneath were two lines of thick black scribbles, covering up whatever was written under that and leaving only a scrawled ‘Diego’ as your final clue. But, despite whatever mystery the pen covered up, you smiled and pinned the note to your bulletin board.

“Thanks, bud,” you grinned, speaking like he was there to hear. “Hope I wasn’t too annoying last night.”

You went about your morning with a smile despite the pounding pulverising your muscles, and enjoying the lazy Sunday hours spent cleaning up. You even spoiled yourself with a long shower, eating up your hot water minutes with joy, knowing you’d hate yourself for it two weeks later. After an hour of cleaning up, washing your face free of the makeup smudged across your cheeks and devouring that burrito left for you, you finally felt refreshed and better about things.

You glanced up at the time. Diego would be up, probably manning the desk for Al as he did most Sunday’s (the facet of his job he hated most). But, at least that meant he would be available to take your call. You missed him, even after seeing him just the night before, and selfishly craved the distraction of his low rasp. Maybe you could even make him laugh, cheer him up during his boring shift.

But five minutes later, you were left disappointed when none of the three calls went through. You tried not to think too hard on it -- he was a busy guy, and was either working or doing his other line of work, and ignoring your call meant nothing. Course, it probably didn’t look good for a boxing gym, but...you’d settle.

You would just call back later. He would definitely be available to talk then.

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU LAST TALKED TO DIEGO, which was the longest either of you had gone without even speaking to one another in the history of your friendship.

On its own, the fact wasn’t so troubling. You were both working adults who had their own lives to sort through, jobs and bills and other friends that you didn’t like half as much as each other, grocery shopping and patrolling the streets alike, filling up both schedules easily. But the two of you were closer than that, and definitely more than just friends that saw each other every other week. You didn’t care about those friends like you cared about Diego.

And it hurt, that he was going to such lengths to avoid you.

Every time you stopped by his gym, Diego was gone. Al simply shrugged off your questions with a non-committal ‘I don’t keep track of the shithead’ and even when you went to knock on his door to check if he was lying, you got nothing. No regulars knew either, which was strange; he always liked to spend his afternoons training with a couple people, sometimes you if you showed up at the right time. You considered doing just that and waiting for him to show -- but even after hours of sparring, the man was nowhere to be seen.

You had tried everything, to the point where Al was annoyed and you felt like you were losing your mind. Surely Diego hadn’t just disappeared off the face of the earth. That didn’t seem right or possible and you knew you hadn’t made him up, because you had the pictures and notes to prove it. You could see his face, disgruntled and sometimes smiling in the photos you had snapped of him -- so why couldn’t you find it anywhere else?

With all options exhausted, you gave up for a few days, allowing yourself the chance to catch your breath. However, with that came the exhaustive process of trying to figure out why on earth Diego was avoiding you. And unfortunately, all that linked back to your last night spent together, and the bitter realisation that you must have fucked up the night somehow and left him not wanting to see you again.

And that thought broke you.

Thursday night was spent crying alone on your couch, trying to push past the depressing thoughts and failing miserably. You couldn’t remember half of what you did that night, but you knew he hadn’t been drinking as much as you, and alcohol always rendered you a ranting, rambling fool that he must have had to deal with. He had got you home, but for what? And what if it was all in that stupid note he had left you, scribbling out the real reason he was leaving you high and dry?

You threw the note out that night, staring down at it in the trash with tears pooling in your eyes. If only you could know why.

The issue was, Diego was more than just a friend to you. Sure your relationship had been built on totally platonic foundations, but it soon blossomed into so much more. He was a companion, your partner, the man who made you feel comfortable enough to wheeze into laughter-induced tears with, or just sob against his shoulder without feeling judged. He was the guy who brought you fast food when you forgot about dinner when work ran late, and the one who let you sleep over when you didn’t want to be alone. He made you smile by just being there -- like, you would open your door (or window, usually) and just grin like an idiot at the mere sight of his face. He was just Diego, but that meant more to you than you had ever been able to say.

Maybe, hell, you loved him. Was that so bad? It hadn’t been intentional to fall -- one day you had just been eating pizza on your countertop way too late in the night, and you looked over and realised your heart had only ever fluttered so violently for him. That he was the guy you could imagine spending the rest of your days with and never getting bored. Of course, you didn’t act on it, knowing that it was a platonic relationship and admitting such would destroy it completely -- but that didn’t mean your official break-up didn’t hurt any less.

You skipped work Friday, something you never did.

When your coworkers called, you wrote it off as illness related, while still drowning in the sorrow of being left high and dry.

Friends hit you up to make some ‘end of the week’ plans, but you ignored them.

You fell asleep at nine that night -- the earliest you had in aeons.

You stayed in bed for most of Saturday, staring at the ceiling or the photos pinned to your walls of the two of you, wondering if this was all just a weird dream you were going to wake up from.

Six hours later, you hadn’t woken up from your dream, but you had made up your mind.

One hour after that, at almost ten o’clock at night, you were rolling up to that same boxing gym you had haunted for that week, dressed in dark activewear and parked a ways away from the actual space. Steely-eyed and with your jaw clenched, you marched out the vehicle and into the building, knowing full well what you were going to find. You had a plan, and whatever it took, you were going to put it into motion.

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest plan, and maybe you had only just come up with it, with barely any time to consider it’s workability and whether or not you were just throwing words together, but nevertheless, you persisted.

You were going to get Diego back.

“DIEGO FUCKING HARGREEVES,”

The man, back turned away, stiffened and immediately went to move,

“run and I will end you, boy,” you growled, stomping towards him with force; he could practically feel each stomp echoing in his chest, cracking him down to the size of a pea. Somehow, he couldn’t move, frozen in place by your command. “Okay?!”

“H-hey, I--”

“--why the hell have you been avoiding me?!”

His eyes were wide and panicked and frantically, he searched all around for a way out. Unfortunately, your body in front of him blocked his only exit, leaving him stammering for answers you knew he didn’t easily have. “Look, I--”

“--I have been worried and scared and sad and out of my mind this entire week,” you snapped, jabbing a finger into his tank top, pushing him back in his steps. Your anger dug deep into him, thorns grabbing onto every bit of vulnerable flesh -- and the worst part was, you were absolutely right.  “You know that? I have called everywhere I could -- I even called the police, wondering if you were in custody and I just missed that news drop. But no, you were just gone, avoiding me for who knows what reason!”

“I didn’t--”

“--what did I do, Diego? What happened, what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing.”

“Then why won’t you even look me in the eyes?” you hissed back, staring up at him in hopes he would catch your gaze. But he didn’t; his eyes still looked far away from yours, searching for something to give him a way out with. “You won’t even look at me, that’s how pissed off you are at me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I get if I did something wrong, but you can’t just pull away from me like that -- this friendship isn’t built on shit like that. I can’t cope with this void left by you deciding you don’t like me anymore!”

“That’s not what happened,” he insisted, his own voice raising in volume. “I swear!”

“Then what, Diego? What possible reason could you have that isn’t related to me doing something wrong? Because that’s all the evidence I got out of this and unlike you, I have zero detective skills so I’m working on one freakin’ theory here!”

His eyes averted to the ground, staring down at the both of your feet, one pair tapping angrily and the other shuffling in hopes of escape. He felt himself folding in, a habit he had broken a long time ago with you, one he thought he had killed off forever. But apparently it hadn’t. 

“You can’t even answer me,” you shuddered. Your sneakers squeaked against the shiny linoleum, leading you back a step. “You - I don’t understand this. At all. And you can’t even give me an answer why? D-don’t I deserve a reason for why I hurt you, Diego?”

“No, c’mon. I…” he hesitated once more as expected. Whatever he was planning on saying died in his mouth and thickened his tongue, leaving him once again stumbling for an excuse. He felt your eyes on him as well as his father, reproachfully clicking his tongue at once again, his stuttering, bumbling fool of a son. “I did...I didn’t…”

“Forget it. Screw this.”

“W-wait, don’t leave--”

“--I’m not leaving!”

He froze, holding onto your bicep in an attempt to stop you. Slowly, his hand fell away, “w-what?”

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, and slowly he watched as a devilish smile stained your cheeks, pulling away the angry lines of before. “I didn’t come here to leave, I came here for answers. And I guess I just have to fight you for ‘em.”

At that point, Diego’s head had been through the wringer so much, he felt like it could just pop off if he wasn’t careful. And yet still, his eyes bugged out and he stared at you in complete shock, unsure just how he was supposed to process that last sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

You shrugged like it was nothing at all, “c’mon. I know you’re better with the physical stuff and I wanna catch you off guard, finally get an answer out of you. I’m gonna, like, fight you for the truth.”

He watched as you toed off your shoes and shrugged off your thin jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with little care. You seemed ready, like you had planned this all along -- and had you? What was the reason behind all this? Was there something that he just wasn’t getting, in his state of emotional disarray? Or were you just losing your mind because of him?

“L-look, I’m s-sorry, but I,” he paused, trying to form the syllables in his mouth so they weren’t so thick and jumbled. “I can’t just fight you.”

“Sure you can. We spar all the time.”

“But w-w-why?”

Once more, your shoulders lifted and fell; ever the nonchalant dramatic. “Call it a bet. I win, you tell me why you avoided me for so long. And if you win, which you probably won’t but if you do…” you grimaced. “I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

Diego baulked. “I don’t want that.”

“Clearly you do,” you jabbed back. “Right?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

You huffed; clearly you didn’t believe him, but you also seemed set on the idea that you were definitely going to win, so he wasn’t sure where he stood in that. “Fine, pick your prize and keep it to yourself. I don’t care.”

Diego still hesitated, hovering to the side as you wrapped your hands. There seemed no way out of the situation, but surely there had to be - surely you weren’t just going to hop into the ring for an explanation.

Was this some ill-fated revenge?

You must have noticed his expression, because he heard you laughing from a whiles away. “I’m not looking to hurt you, Diego. Trust me, no matter what you do, I’d never want to do that.”

His heart fluttered.

“It’s just,” you cocked your head, thinking over your words before smiling again, “like you said when you first started training me. Freestyle, baby.”

You had deepened your voice tremendously to mock his own -- and while it was a horrible impression, it did call back to the one you did before of him. Not that you seemed to remember that, you had been piss drunk, but the thought still made him cringe.

All this, because of him. He screwed it all up and for what?

“Rules are the same as always. First person to pin the other down for more than five beats wins. No serious hits, so like, don’t break my nose or anything.”

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, even as he stepped into the ring. “We don’t need to do this. We can just talk.”

You sighed and looked back at him. There was a fierceness in your eyes, a determination for something he wasn’t quite sure of -- like there was a plan in motion, only he couldn’t figure out where the steps lead. “I didn’t come here to walk away, Diego. I’m here to win a bet and get my friend back, and also kick his ass if I have to because I’m desperate. You can’t convince me to leave, so wrap your hands and let’s get this going!”

“But-”

“-it’s either this or I just stare at you until you crack,” you said, no longer smiling. “And I doubt you want that typ’a torture, do you?”

He stared at you askance. “Really?”

You didn’t answer him with words that time.

The fight was fast, and almost evenly matched -- you had a slight advantage with your eye on your prize, and he was faltering with every other blow knowing he couldn’t bear to hurt you. But the pace picked up and soon it was like you were one fluid being, predators locked on and desperate to claw the other away from them while simultaneously, drawing them back in. Fists flew and every so often he saw the sparks fly from the fire in your eyes, catching on everything he turned from and leaving him surrounded by the flames you spilled.

For a moment, Diego thought he had it. He had managed to pivot away from your last onslaught and pulled you away from the centre, edging into the corner where he could finally pin you down. His arms outstretched and for a moment he was actually smiling because it felt like the good old days -- sparring way too late into the night when he should have been working with the girl he secretly loved and the stars watching from way above, admiring the gruesomely pretty sight.

But in a flash, everything switched.

He lunged, you slid.

When he fumbled, your legs wrapped around his own, pulling him back and flipping over one another like beetles rolling in the hot sun.

You were everywhere, smothering his smoke with your body, forcing him down before he even realised what was happening.

Diego blinked, and suddenly you were on top of him, legs on either side of his waist and your hands holding his own up above his head. Your expression edged on feral as you grinned down at him, straddling him and fighting everything he pushed back with.

But he couldn’t fight back. Not when you were on him and everywhere and he could smell your shampoo as your hand dangled around him, dripping your scent around him like he was in that poppy field from Wizard of Oz, ready to give into the toxin and be one with the flowers. Your hands held his own and he wished he could slide his fingers into the clasp, holding them to him and kiss each bruised knuckle with tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Your hips, legs, chest pressed against his own, both heaving and waiting for the other to move and interrupt the tension rising with every passing second.

“One,” you began, voice low and teasing. Did you know what you did to him? “Two…”

Diego writhed in your hold, but it was no use. You had him. He was yours and he would be satisfied to be so for the rest of your days, if only you never let him go. His gaze flitted across your face, tracing the way your eyebrows furrowed and relaxed with the numbers, eyes still wide and filled with emotions he didn’t quite know how to read. Sweat beaded on your brow and stained your cheeks and yet still, he thought you were as perfect as you could be, mere inches from his own darting eyes.

“Four...four and a half…” your smile grew and you got a little closer, almost touching his face with your own. “Five…”

He didn’t dare to breathe.

“I win, Hargreeves.”

But despite the hushed declaration, you did not move. Your body stayed over his, hands pushing his own down with gentle force but keeping him locked under you. Your eyes remained on his own, locking them in place as your face grew nearer. Soon enough your nose was just touching his own, nudging softly and turning so it fit better against his lips, which were parted and so close to pressing against your own-

-but you pulled away.

Just as Diego’s eyes had shut, your weight left his and he was left to sit up confused and watch you stomp away. You slipped out of the ring and down to the ground with a soft thump. He watched you unwrap your knuckles and to his surprise, he saw your hands shake with the movement. 

“This was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear. “This was stupid, I have to-”

“-don’t go,” he mumbled. In one swift movement Diego had jumped back to his feet and pulled after you. You stumbled back a few paces; he raced after, hurrying to your side with an aggression he didn’t know he possessed. “Don’t go.”

“Diego, I-”

“-I pushed you away because I screwed up,” he said, all in one breath and so fast he wasn’t sure if you could understand him. “I messed this up. We’re only supposed to be friends, I know that, but I-I can’t not be in love with you, not when you’re that perfect and so beautiful and you make me smile e-even when I feel like the shittiest sh-sh-shit and-”

“-kiss me.”

“What?”

You stepped forward, angling yourself just under his chin. Your chest heaved. “Kiss me, asshole.”

And slowly his hands moved on their own accord, cupping your cheeks and holding you to him. His eyes darted down once, staring at the pink lips before reaching your own again for a silent affirmation. When you nodded in his hands he acted, pulling you to him quickly and pressing his lips against his own, finally.

It was fast and passionate, both beings pulling at the other, urging the other closer than the skin they already pressed against. His one hand left your jaw to hold your neck, angling your face so he could better caress it, smudging himself across your lips with little care. He felt your own touch against his back, sliding down to his hips and pulling -- without even thinking, he moaned, feeling your lower body roll up against him and leave his mind in overdrive.

You pulled away for air finally, gasping only to be pulled in again for a softer, gentler kiss. He pecked the corners of your mouth before finally taking your lower in between his teeth, biting softly before sucking on the tender swollen skin. He pulled away then, dropping his forehead to your own as you both took another breath.

“If…” you paused to inhale, grinning through the gasp of oxygen, “if I knew you were holding all that back, Diego, I would have kissed your ass a lot sooner.”

“I’m...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmured. He felt your hands leave his waist, pulling up to the one he still had cradled against your cheek. Your head leaned into the gentle touch. Even as your fingers held his. “I just...is this why you stopped talking to me?”

Diego shook his head softly against your own. Once more his heart faltered and threatened to burst, but he ignored it. “No, I just...I realised that I was-”

“-sorry, I don’t - you have an eyelash.” He froze as your fingers stroked his cheek, pulling away the evidence that had caught your attention. Your eyes darted up to his for a moment, and he watched as they widened and brightened under his perplexed gaze. “Your eyes really are pretty.”

His heart stopped for a beat.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s why I stopped!” he exclaimed. He pulled away from you then, gesticulating wildly around like the air was going to supply you with answers. “That’s why!”

You frowned, cocking your head like a lost puppy. “You...because of your pretty eyes?!”

“What? Wait, no, that’s not why.”

“I’m so confused right now, bud, and I just--”

“--last week,” he rushed, cutting you off before he could lose momentum again. “I took you home. You were wasted, and you kept talking and - and you told me I had pretty eyes.”

Still, you looked bewildered.

“I-I have been obsessed with you since the day I met you,” he said, soft and unsure if any of the words would come out right. Or if they themselves were the right ones to say. “I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t let myself act on it because I knew that it wouldn’t wo-wo-work out, you’d get mad and I’d lose you. I rathered having you as a friend, then losing you cause I was in love with you.”

“Love?” you questioned, barely a breath of a sound lingering between them.

“But that night, you went on and on and I realised then that I was too gone to keep it in. And I realised that you wouldn’t feel the same...and I didn’t want to hurt you, so I left. And…”

“Diego Hargreeves, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

His brow furrowed low, anger mingling with befuddlement on his flushed skin. “Hey, I-”

“-first of all, you really think I would just hate you because you thought of me as more than a friend?! Even if I didn’t like you - which I do, by the way - I wouldn’t do that, I value you too much. But second of all, you’re telling me that you never noticed how much I liked you back?!”

“I-”

“-I have felt like an idiot for the past year, holding in my feelings for you and wishing you could feel the same way. And when you left, I thought - I thought that was it, and that I screwed things up when I was drunk, which I guess I did but-”

“-you didn’t screw anything up, I did!”

“No you didn’t, I did! I’m the drunken initiator!”

“I shouldn’t have just left!”

“Okay, so we both screwed up!” you shouted, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. “But dammit, Diego, I have loved you for ages, and you - we - this is what it came to?!”

“Well, I-”

“-I can’t believe this!” you chortled. “All this time?!”

“I guess so,” he said, voice catching on the ‘so’. “I guess, yeah.”

“Holy crap.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

“I love you,” you giggled, breathless and still flushed, messy and beautiful in the shitty gym lighting. “I love you, Diego Hargreeves.”

His heart didn’t break. It didn’t even crack. Diego instead felt the slight twinge as the organ settled in his chest, content and buzzing with the panted cry. The breaklines of before didn’t feel so harsh, mended by your shiny eyes and swollen lips that he wanted to stare at until the end of his days. For once, his heart actually felt whole.

“I love you too,” Diego mumbled, smiling like a little kid. The muscles in his face, rusted over with age and disuse, groaned at the extreme grin but he kept it on anyways, smiling down at you with the strangest feeling of happiness coursing through his body. “A lot.”

And you beamed. “Have I ever told you, your eyes look like, a thousand times prettier when you smile?”

A/N: WHY DO I KEEP WRITING ALCOHOL BASED IDIOTS TO LOVERS FICS?? Have I any other creative thoughts?? Does this make me seem like that’s all I think about?? These are the thoughts that now run through my mind as I rush to post this...and truthfully, I don’t have an answer. I swear I’m a little more creative! I just...have a hankering for these things. Oops.

I wrote this weirdly super super fast and it’s super nonsensical, especially the middle bits? But I weirdly like it. I’m not sure. The plot is a ~little~ wonky but I’m rolling with it!

I’m open to make more stuff on here, I’ve gotten quite bad at it but I like writing these things as practice pieces. So, if you want to read more, requests are open and you can find a list of prompts (if you want them) in my masterlist. I’m putting out an updated list later on in the month, but I also am just open to have any sorts of requests. xx

(also as always - if you enjoyed and you want more, follow, reblog, and consider buying me a kofi! linked in my bio bc tumblr doesn’t like direct links on posts, please check it out if you’re feeling generous because I’m recently unemployed and any bit helps. but sharing this post and showing others the work is appreciated a great deal and i love you if you do!)

#diego hargreeves x reader #mine #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves imagine #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #hargreeves x reader #gender neutral reader

[keyofjetwolf]

What was your first?

So a horse walks into a rehab and says “ouch”. And not a lot. Then a great deal. While also saying nothing. It’s BoJack, in rehab, and going about as well as you might think!

“The Stopped Show” may not have been much about BoJack, but “A Horse Walks Into A Rehab” makes up for it by being 99.9% BoJack, setting aside the brief appearance of the other characters to set their stages for when we get back to them. Diane’s in a shitty motel, Todd’s in a seedy alleyway, Princess Caroline has her porcupine baby, and Mr. Peanutbutter continues to deliver cheer while everything around him burns AND drowns. I’ve now touched base with them about as much as the season premier, and we’ll get busy ignoring them.

As I said, BoJack is the star today, and we continue his quest for ... what, exactly?

Trying to pin it down, that “what is BoJack looking for” question, it’s a lot harder to answer than I expected, which marks another instance of me fucking myself, GOOD JOB ME.

I initially said “punishment”, but that isn’t true, or a least, is too easy. BoJack wants accountability for his actions -- which is a very different thing than punishment -- but he wants it in a way that also absolves him from having to do any work to rise above it. So you’d think he’d love this, the constant claim in rehab that he’s powerless. It seems like the answer to everything, a blanket pass to excuse his behaviour because he’s powerless. Why doesn’t he? I’m not sure I’m entirely clicking with the heart of that, so come with me as I have a poke at it.

For one, I doubt very much rehab would begin and end with “you’re powerless, oh well”. Addiction is some nasty business, but in and of itself, it’s a symptom, not the problem. That in mind, we swing back then to BoJack having to put in the work, only now it’s with the removal of his favourite coping mechanisms.

I think what he was hoping to get out of rehab was more along the lines of “Vodka is a naughty irresistible siren who topples even the most noble of men, but if you cross your eyes and click your heels, you’ll be free from her spell forevermore.” And yeah, no.

I think we get some of that in how, for a while, rehab seems to suit BoJack.

To the point I very specifically said to Doc as I was watching this, “Oh shit, did BoJack just become even MORE insufferable?” He’s okay so long as he has the comfort of the scripts and the regimented plant therapy and the same hike every day. When he starts to get fucked is when he has push further, when he has to work harder, when the treatment demands MORE.

“I notice you tend to deflect when I ask you about the source of your addiction,” his therapist says, causing BoJack to immediately deflect, first with a joke and then, when that doesn’t work, attacking the entire system. Getting to the root of his problem is the last thing BoJack wants, to the point where the entire episode ITSELF is one giant deflection. I made a joke in passing up there about our passing moments with each of the other main characters, but that’s actually it, that’s the heart of this episode.

Each of these are efforts by the episode to deflect what’s going on NOW, tempting us with something shiny and interesting, if only we’d take the bait. I ONLY JUST MADE THIS CONNECTION WELL FUCKING DONE SHOW

And of course, there’s Jameson’s story, which is part deflection, part contrast. She’s intended to appear at first like someone BoJack can relate to, a Sara Lynn Pt. 2 that he wants to save and in whom he sees so much of himself. In equal parts, he’s the adult trying to guide her and the force enabling her, and I’d have to do a bit more thinking on whether I thought his success with her was about him walking both sides of that line, or Jameson just, at the end of the day, being lucky. Either way, it’s also not really about her, so much as BoJack talking a really good game at her, while giving her all the tools to make the worst choices.

Which is, I think, where the episode finally settles. BoJack’s choices have been his own, but they aren’t made in isolation. Throughout this episode, we get moments, presented in reverse chronological order, that could on their own answer that key question: When was the first time you drank?

To settle your nerves to get through a scene everyone was counting on you to nail?

To fit in with the cool kids at high school?

To win your father’s approval?

What’s brilliant to me about each of these flashbacks is that the further into the past we go, the more willing we are to absolve BoJack. In the first, he’s a professional actor required to kiss an attractive and consenting fellow professional in the course of a performance. Nervous? Makes total sense. Getting plastered to do it? LESS SENSE.

The high school one is the most damning, which I adore. BoJack’s the butt of some light bullying by the jock, and I don’t mean to completely dismiss that it sucks, but the remainder of events before he starts in on the beers shows he’s hardly an absolute social pariah. And even if he were, once he begins to drink, BoJack doesn’t just become the life of the party, he becomes cruel (demonstrating quite well that jokes aren’t his only tool of deflection). Worse, that he KNOWS he’s doing it, but cares more about his positive attention than their negative. Still, BoJack’s a kid and peer pressure is a hell of a thing. This isn’t a good look, but it’s also not damning, if he’d come to learn from it. 

Now we jump the line to, I’d guess, ten or eleven year old BoJack, who walks in on his father having an affair with his secretary, but too young to recognize what he’s seen. Butterscotch can’t take the risk though, so he effortlessly manipulates little BoJack into getting drunk and passing out, then uses BoJack’s shame about it to keep him quiet on the whole evening. UNDER THE GUISE OF BEING HIS FRIEND AND DOING HIM A FAVOUR BY THE WAY. No question, Butterscotch is a son of a bitch, and the only thing BoJack did wrong here was crave his parent’s love.

Even with the high school one being a little more grey, they’re all pretty cut and dry. Remember that we’re following the thread of “When was the first time you drank?” and to land on the answer “When my unrepentantly dickish father lied to me to save his own ass” puts a pretty solid punctuation mark on the whole affair. Addiction may not be at fault, but Butterscotch Horseman is. Case closed, we can go home.

BUT WAIT WHAT’S THIS

Right at the end, when you think we’re done, there’s one more flashback. A party of some sort, possibly New Year’s. The house sounds empty, there’s only the looping of the record player, stuck repeating the same five seconds again and again and again. Butterscotch and Beatrice are passed out drunk, judging from the empty bottles around them. Was it a good party? A bad one? She has her back to him and they’re about as far apart as they could get while still remaining in the room, but also, nothing’s broken? It’s impossible to know.

What we do know is that BoJack, aged about where we saw him in the “Free Churro” flashback so maybe seven or so? Very young, at any rate, and he’s alone. There doesn’t appear to be anything in the room for a child, so it’s probably fair to say he wasn’t included in the festivities. Did he have something to do instead? His own party maybe? Friends to play with, someone to watch him? Did he even get dinner? From what we’ve seen, “no” is a much more likely answer to any or all of these.

AND NOW THE FIRST TO PUNCH YOU IN THE HEART

Tiny BoJack knocks back several gulps of vodka (like a fucking pro, may I add), then crawls onto the couch next to his unconscious mother, pretending for just a few minutes that she’s cuddling him until he, too, will fall into a drunken slumber.

RIGHT SO WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO WITH THIS JESUS WEPT

Had you told me “Just wait, seven year old flashback BoJack is going to muddy the hell out of this” I wouldn’t have ... okay, well, I know the show, so I probably would’ve believed you, but I would’ve been preemptively grumpy.

This isn’t his fault! But it is! This isn’t his parent’s fault, but it super super is! Nobody MADE BoJack drink the vodka, as the scene goes to great lengths to show. There is nobody to tell him to do anything at all. Beatrice is three fucking sheets to the wind, she has no idea he’s there and he could have pretend cuddled all night AND stayed sober. Did baby BoJack, like adult BoJack, take the drink to calm his nerves for an expression of physical intimacy? Would baby BoJack have even known that was an option? Remember, this is framed as the answer to the question “When was the first time you drank?” Not “took a drink”, but “you DRANK”, the phrasing of which I think is important. It’s all about the root of the problem. What I get out of that question is then is “the first time you drank to numb yourself”.

Baby BoJack is looking at this disaster, this mess that is his every day no matter how many party hats and streamers you stick on it, and he wants anything else at all. So he turns to the easiest thing he knows will take it away the fastest. The situation isn’t his fault. The opportunity isn’t his fault. But the response IS, in a way that EVEN AS I SAY IT, makes me feel shitty.

CONGRATS BOJACK HORSEMAN FOR MAKING ME SEE A LITERAL CHILD SLAMMING BACK VODKA STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE AND MAKING ME GO “okay, but”.

SEASON SIX SHOULD BE A WALK IN THE PARK

#jet wolf watches bojack #it’s no wonder the answers for bojack are so hard to find #when even the goddamn QUESTION requires a dissertation and three hundred caveats #oh i didn't have a place for it really in this essay #but i love the use of the space/planetarium overlay when bojack is really wrestling with his urges

[fae-fucker]

Zenith: Chapter 33-36

Chapter 33

So we’re back in Andi’s POV, finally. She’s woken up by Dex who is all worried and Andi vomits in his lap and then thinks about how sexy he is. Mind you, they are in a ship filled with corpses and there’s an unconscious and busted Valen near them who’s probably dying slowly, plus the vomit.

But I guess that just turns Andi on more? Discuss.

They find Valen barely alive among the corpses and Dex is surprised he’s not dead.

Hey bud. Didn’t you throw the guy down a flight of stairs a few chapters ago? I don’t think you’re in any position to make glib remarks, my guy.

Andi takes out the pilot with a shoelace, which, alright, and Dex says something about how she’s still afraid to fly a ship because she asks him to do it. Wow, an actual symptom of PTSD? In my Zenith? What a time to be alive. 

The chapter ends with Andi angsting about how she’s had to murder another person. Except she didn’t have to do that. She could’ve just knocked the pilot out and locked them in the storage with the other corpses to get rescued later. The pilot didn’t know there were live people on board so they wouldn’t know who attacked them anyway. I mean yeah they’d probably sustain brain damage but they wouldn’t be dead.

Methinks Andi really likes murder and justifies it to herself by saying it’s a necessity. 

Chapter 34

We’re in Dex’s POV and he’s complaining about how everything smells like trash on the Marauder now that Alfie took the door off the trash shoot. 

Hey. Hey why don’t you just ... blast it out? Like. Just shoot the trash out. Why do you store it on the ship that gets lighter and faster when you spend ammo? You’re in space. Just blast that shit. Or convert it into biofuel. Apparently it smells of “unmentionable” things so that makes me wonder if they store their actual shit in there as well? What the fuck is in their trash department that it smells so bad? If they can’t blast out the trash (which makes no sense), why didn’t they get rid of it when they were getting repairs before the mission? Why didn’t they get rid of it during the numerous times they’ve landed? Why the fuck does this ship have a dedicated trash department anyway? 

The little fire-haired gunner had wanted to know if the blood on Andi belonged to her or some “now-ball-less bastard,” to which the giantess had responded, Of course it’s not hers, Gil. And don’t say bastard. Say prick.

Comedy. 

Dex is being patched up by Alfie (who is described as “fawning” over his wounds, which doesn’t sound right), and thinks about how he’s gonna drink himself into oblivion later. Alcoholism? Love it. I bet Shinsay will know exactly how to handle this, with how many references their super cool and mature characters make to getting absolutely shitfaced.

Dex sulks himself out of the “med bay” (Why don’t these idiots have medical staff? For the same reason they don’t have mechanics I suppose.) to go and update General Cortas on their progress. 

The general is all grumpy and shit and reminds Dex that he’s in charge and can fuck him up good if anything happens to Valen, and tells him to keep Andi away from him. Because he thinks Andi will ... kill Valen too? I guess he thinks Andi is addicted to murdering his kids or smth. 

Anyway, Dex gets all mopey because the big scary man said some mean things but then he hears classical music and enters Andi’s room. It’s time for some bullshit, lads. 

Chapter 35

So finally we get the scene where Andi “dances” with the dead, which turns out to actually just happen in her head while she spaces out and cries. She imagines herself on a stage with an audience of ghosts of all the people she’s killed, and they come up and dance with her one by one and she “memorizes” their features. I’m not sure how she does that because the narration during action scenes keeps emphasizing how quick and cool she is so I have no idea how she can “memorize” the features of someone she’s probably only looked at for a couple of seconds at most. Also, I dunno why she’s memorizing something she clearly already remembers. I know it’s a nitpick but it’s just bad, y’all.

If this is supposed to be atonement ... God I hope it’s not. It’s honestly written like it makes Andi some sort of pure angel who just Does What She Has To, instead of just being a coping mechanism. Behold:

Tears streaked down Andi’s cheeks, pulling her from the vision she’d created so clearly in her mind. The music grew louder, silencing her tears. She closed her eyes and forced herself back into her mind. She owed this to the dead. This pain, this dance, this time where she gave herself fully to their memory.

Anyway, the last ghost is Kalee of course, and I’m not entirely sure how many people Andi’s killed if every single dance is as detailed and long as the ones with latest ghosts (the descriptions are quite lengthy so I assume it’s a couple of minutes or so), but it looks like Kalee’s ghost has to sit there and wait a while lmao. Even in death this brat can’t catch a break.

Sorry, I know I’m laughing at trauma here, but it’s not real trauma, it’s badly written melodramatic trauma. Like, I just don’t see someone who genuinely doesn’t like to murder people keep “crossing that line” (yes, apparently whenever Andi does a murder, she “crosses a line” she’s set for herself, wowza) and all they do for atonement is keeping a mental list and queue of all the fake made-up ghosts she needs to dance with. Like. I get that people cope differently but this is less of a coping mechanism and more Shinsay crossing shit off a list to make Andi more palatable.

I just don’t believe it. Not after I’ve seen how proud she is of being the Bloody Baroness and how Glorious it feels to Do A Murder.

Also, this chapter is rife with weird fucking grammar and writing in general. Some examples: 

[Kalee] was dressed in a shimmering blue gown that swirled around her ankles like fragments of cloud.

“Fragments of cloud”????

The transport creaked. Groaned, as the fire licked closer and closer.

Why did you. Break, the sentence up like that. 

The chapter ends with Dex giving Andi some time to pause her PTXD so they can have the talk she promised him. Which is nice of him, I guess. Despite being obnoxious and a dweeb, Dex manages to be better than every SJM love interest ever? Wow.

Oh but don’t you worry, it lasts uuuh until just now.

Chapter 36

Andi thinks about how sexie Dex is now that he’s washed the blood and vomit off and changed some clothes. Which ... there’s no mention of him doing since he returned from the corpse hauling ship ... The last chapter from his POV had him arriving at the Marauder and having his wounds checked, after which he instantly went to call General Cortas, and then he went directly to Andi. 

I guess he’s got time travel powers? Or are we supposed to believe he showered before being brought into the med bay?

Whatever. 

Dex says that Andi doesn’t know the “full story” behind the reason he turned her over to the Patrolmen, and Andi responds with:

“I loved you, and you threw me away like some common whore!”

But god forbid we actually say the word “sex” or stop being immature little shits every moment we make a dirty reference, amirite guys? Calling women whores and sluts is a-ok but if you even TRY to discuss sexuality in a mature and relaxed way you WILL get eaten by the mommy police.

Dex is like “pwease wissen to me :C” and she’s like “fucking dammit he’s just so hot not to listen to”:

She wanted him to hurt. To feel the soul-deep pain, just as she did. Physical wounds would heal, but the internal scars never would.

SOUL-DEEP PAIN. 

Not sure Andi has a soul but go off.

“You were my whole world. You showed me that I could still be loved. When everyone else—an entire planet full of people—hated me so much they wished me dead, even my own parents...I found you. I started to live again. I started to trust. Then I lost you, too, just like all the others. You turned away, just like they did.”

Thanks for mapping out the exact reasons for your angst, Andi. It’s not like we’re clever enough to know you have trust- and/or abandonment issues.

More like Angstdi amirite?

Dex gets all defensive and instead of giving her the real reason for his betrayal, he starts mouthing off and justifying himself.

“I turned you in because you were running from the law! You lied to me about your past, Andi. I did nothing that wasn’t expected of me! My duty as a Guardian was to the welfare of the galaxy, not to some runaway Spectre who’d failed her entire planet! You made the choice to fly that transport ship. It was your hands that crashed it. Your failure that killed Kalee! You ran, Androma.” 

H-hey bud? This is, as far as you know, your only chance to justify yourself. Maybe calm your tits and tell her what you’ve been keeping secret instead of confirming her beliefs about you? Since you were so desperate to talk to her?

No? Ok. For someone who displays some amount of emotional maturity (good god I can’t believe I just said that about fiking Dex Dogtective), you sure do get fired up easily, huh. Must be all that will-they-won’t-they tension.

They circled each other like predators, blood boiling, bodies shaking with rage as the stars looked on.

I can promise you the stars have better things to do than to give a shit about this petty squabble, Shinsay.

“Did you ever think about my side in all of this, Androma?” Dex’s voice cracked suddenly as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. “You may think you know the whole story, but you are so consumed by hate that you only see yourself.”

SO MAYBE STOP JUSTIFYING YOUR ACTIONS AND ACTUALLY TELL HER WHY YOU DID IT IF IT’S SO FUCKING IMPORTANT FOR HER TO KNOW?!

But no, we can’t have that yet. He follows it up with this:

“Your side of the story doesn’t matter. You sunk a knife into my chest. You stole my ship and left me to die.”

BECAUSE YOU TURNED HER OVER TO THE PEOPLE WHO WOULD MURDER HER. 

CAN YOU MAYBE NOT?! 

HOLY SHIT DEX DOGTECTIVE YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING MORON, AREN’T YOU? 

No wonder she fuckin stabbed you. I would’ve stabbed you multiple times and made sure you were actually dead before leaving your sorry ass.

Anyway, they stare at each other and Dex is all “uwu ur the only woman I ever loved” and we all know that doesn’t mean bi!Dex because Shinsay can’t think of a their manly man getting dicked down by another man, nu-uh.

Then we finally get the reason Dex did it. You see ...

They had his dad. And threatened to kill him if he didn’t turn Andi in.

Yeah. That old chestnut. It does unfortunately open up all of the plot holes. Like for example, if they knew where Dex was, why didn’t they just ... find him and thus find Andi? They knew she was with him. He was a Guardian at that point, surely they know where their men are stationed? Apparently he’d known Andi for a year when he turned her in, and he hadn’t realized who she was until the general’s men approached him. So ... how did the Patrolmen realize he was with Andi if even he didn’t know it? Or did they just threaten a family member of every Guardian on the off-chance that one of them knew Andi and would give her up to save them?

Maybe there’s something I’m missing, but this smacks of contrivance for the sake of conflict. 

Anyway, apparently Dex had tried to give Andi a head start the morning before he turned her in. By giving her a vaguely worded warning that she didn’t get. 

What a peach. 

They bribed Dex on top of threatening his father, which is like, beating him with the carrot stick, and I don’t understand it at all. But Dex feels very terrible about what he did to teh womaine he wuvs :c and apparently tried to plead with them that she was young and made a mistake. 

“Andi,” Dex whispered. “Please. Look at me. Tell me we can move past this. We both made mistakes. We both made our choices, and we’ve had to live with them.”

Seems a little manipulative there, Dexyboy. I’m getting a lot of mixed messages, but the loudest one seems to be “you did a bad and I did a smaller bad that’s justified and I feel kinda bad but also you’re also at fault and can we bone again please” and I’m not into it, Dexyboy. 

You wanted her to get away, to give her a head start. You agree that she’s innocent and she made a mistake when she was a child. Yet you blame her for stabbing you and fleeing from certain death? Ok. 

I mean, I get it, getting stabbed probably ain’t so fun, especially when it’s the womaine you lurv :c, and sure maybe it hurts both physically and emotionally to have her turn on you so fast and without hesitation ... BUT YOU DID PROVOKE IT BY TURNING HER OVER TO PEOPLE WHO WOULD DEFO 100% MURDER HER ASS. If you love her so much, can’t you extend just a bit of sympathy for her actions? Since you are the reason she did those things in the first place? Fucking dumbass.

Also, why the fuck have you been acting like a huge cocky asshole this whole time since you reunited? For kicks?

I get Shinsay wanted a sexie snarky love interest just like SJMommy but they’ve done it at the cost of consistent characterization.

Andi says that there’s no getting back to how it was and tells Dex to leave so she can cry and carve more tallies into her swords.

It’s very deep, y’all.

#eff reads: zenith

[ariahearthockey]

Love Me, If You Will - Chapter 3

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

_/_/_/_/

Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Tags: 2017 NHL Playoffs, Concussion, Memory Loss, Medical Inaccuracies, Unexplained Medical Conditions, Alternate Reality, Time Travel (sort of), Pining, Fluff, Porn With Feelings, Happy Ending (sort of)

Soundtrack: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott

_/_/_/_/

Chapter 3

He feels odd walking down the familiar hallway towards the locker room in the PPG Paint Arena. Everything looks as it should be and yet, it feels somewhat difference. He has just finished a brief chat with Sully in his office, relaying the good news after his follow-up check-up with the team doctor. As expected, Dr Vyas has cleared him to play in game five but not before he is reminded to keep a look out for any more symptoms. He has decided not to enclose his issue with his messed-up memory, and it is arguably the most conflicted he has ever felt. It feels a lot like a betrayal of trust to the management, but with the playoff on the line, too much is at risk.

On the drive from their house to the rink, he has some time to think about the matter on hand and he has decided not to let anyone know other than himself and Geno. He is still shaken about it for sure, but years of practice has allowed him to compartmentalise his fear and do what needs to be done. And what he needs is for this to not interfere with his chance to go for the Stanley Cup with his team.

It took him more than half an hour in the staffs' parking lot to convince Geno. Geno has looked so offended when he has first suggested to keep it a secret. Geno was absolutely appalled and almost recruited Brisson to talk some sense into him until he begs Geno not to. He talked to Geno with as much sincerity as he could muster, reasoning with Geno that there would not be a quick fix to his condition. What if Dr. Vyas decided to pull him out for the rest of the playoff? What good will that do to the team?

And Geno had been so angry that he said to hell with the playoff because everything else pales in comparison to Sidney's health. Sidney would have been really touched by that, that Geno is genuinely scared for his sake. If only he wasn't a selfish bastard.

He pried further into Geno's weakness and used it to his advantage. He pleaded Geno to understand his desire to keep playing, telling him how much it would mean for him if he could raise the cup over his head again, how happy it would make him if they could kiss the cup again and bring it home together. And that if his memory never comes back, then at least he could have this, and they could build new ones together. It was a cheap shot, borderline manipulative to be taking advantage of Geno's kindness like that, but he was desperate, and it did get him what he wanted. Geno's reluctance was torn down bits by bits, and finally crumbled down when Sidney promised to come clean right away when he feels any worse.

So, as of right now, the secret is safe. 

In a moment of honesty, he is willing to admit that he has never been as shaken as he has. He is somehow thrust in the center on an entirely different life that he knows nothing of. He has a husband and a beautiful, doting 3-year old daughter. Sofya, the child who is rightfully theirs through surrogacy. He is still not done digesting the fact that his own sister has volunteered to donate her egg and carry the child to term. It feels all too weird at first, but when he sees the picture of his—their daughter—on Geno's phone, he has never been more thankful. Dressed in tiny hockey gears, bright smile on her face, and clutching a giant penguin plushie in her tiny arms, she is just a ball of sunshine that makes him want to weep. A little bit of Geno and a little bit of him, she is just the perfect little miracle that melts his heart through and through.

And then he wonders to himself, how could I have forgotten my own child, as sweet and as beautiful as her? And all that has accomplished is making him dispose of any doubt he has for keeping his condition under wraps. This whole thing about not remembering is messing with him quite a lot. He can't seem to shake off the gnawing feelings his guts. It grows stronger with more stones being turned, and he can't ignore that something is disproportionately wrong with him. He thinks that it is his body trying to tell him something, that maybe his time as a hockey player is dated. That thought leaves him petrified and that further pushes him to make the most out of whatever time he still has.

He doesn't know what to expect when he pushes the door into the locker room. It smells just as it should be right after every practice session and just as loud too, maybe even louder. The picture of twenty over something men in all states of undress is a comfortable norm to him and for brief moment, he feels at home for the first time since he woke up. He doesn't know why but he comes in, prepared to feel somewhat out of place, but the warm greetings and lame chirps from his teammates give him a sense of familiarity he didn't know he craves until now. It calms him.

Geno is already out of his gear—thankfully with his undershirt still on—when he makes a beeline over to Sidney. He ducks down to give Sidney a chaste kiss on the mouth and hears some of the guys in the room hollering at them to get a room or something along that line and Geno chirping back. He doesn't know what to make of that little display of affection, nor he has the time to, because his mind is still reeling with it as he is being escorted back to Geno's stall. It isn't much, just a brief touching of lips on lips but it is enough to keep him stunned for a bit. The guys don't seem to bat an eye to see their captain and their alternate kiss, which tells him that it may be something of a frequent occurance. 

Oh, yes. Of course it does. He just remembered that he and Geno have been married for five fucking years. They are practically one of the old married couples now.

"Sid, talk with Sully okay?" Geno asks and he almost can't hear it when the younger guys throw a couple more dirty chirps their way that comprises of their sex life. Sidney blushes and nods at Geno as a respond before they are once again interrupted, this time by Cully who comes by and gives his back a couple of friendly pats.

"Hey, babe. Good to have you back in one piece. You scared the hell out of a lot of us when you stayed down on the ice, especially your protective Russian bear over here."

"It's true, I can attest to that." Chimes Phil who looks like he has just came out of the shower judging by how his hair matted on his forehead. "You know, this guy here looked about to hurl when you went down and it took three of us to physically stop him from going over to make Niskanen pay."

Sidney chuckles when Geno grumbles disapprovingly at the two babble mouths and to his surprise, he finds Grumpy Geno kind of adorable. "Well, it's really just bad luck that he got me that way. It's just how it is, right? I don't think it was on purpose or anything. It's just ill-timed, is all. I think he left me several texts, probably apologising, but I haven't check them out yet, so."

"Ill-timed my ass! More like perfectly timed to me, man. If he hits any harder, who knows if it's gonna end it for you right there and then, huh? I don't know about you guys, man, but Flower definitely agrees with me, right Flower?"

"Huh?" Flower looks up from his lap where his helmet is on, and takes a few moments looking back and forth between Kuni and Sidney to catch on to what is being asked of him. He tosses a roll of tape onto the bench and smooths his long fringe away from his eyes. "Oh, yeah. For sure, man. Sid, so glad you're okay. What Nisky did was so not cool and I'm gonna make sure he knows that we're very upset with him."

Sidney frowns because Flower is usually not much of an instigator but he must say, he is curious to see what Flower would do to show his dissatisfaction. "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it. I'm sorry for making you guys worry about me. But hey—it's game four. You guys are gonna kill it tonight, eh?"

"Hell yeah, baby!"

"You bet your gigantic ass we will!"

"We're gonna take this game for you, man!"

"For Sid!"

"Watch and learn, boys. I'm gonna make Ovi cry like a baby tonight."

To say that Sidney is touched by the support from his teammates is an understatement, especially when Horny make his way over without a word and gives him a tight, bone-crushing hug. It lasts longer than any ordinary locker room hugs should be, and probably longer than Geno has liked because it has him practically prying Horny's arms away to end it. When they part, Sidney thinks he caught a glimpse of Horny's watery eyes before he heads out of the locker room. At that moment, he thinks himself as the most privileged guy to be surrounded by these group of good people and he is grateful.

He stays in the room while he waits for Geno to come back. Geno is with Dana in the equipment room, sorting out some issue Geno has on his pair of new skates. Some of the rookies come to him and they talk for a bit, mostly asking how he is doing and talking about how to improve their plays. Shearsy—who is also out for concussion—sits quietly beside him and listens when he comments about Jake's wrist shots.

It is nice to be having these talks with the boys. It makes him feel like he is contributing something to the team, as much as it distracts him from searching for answers that never seem to be there. For what it is worth, apart from being called Mrs Malkin every five minutes or so—all in good fun, of course—the team is still more or less the same. They are still the same driven group and he wants nothing more than to help them achieve their best game, regardless if he is playing or not.

Optimistically, everything will return to normal once he regains his lost memories. But realistically, the brain is quite a fickle thing and God knows what will happen to him in the near future, if his health will deteriorate drastically at some point. Whichever way his health leads him to, he wants to be able to look himself in the mirror and says that he has done everything he can to help his team be the better team.

"Okay, rookies. Time's up. I'm take husband back now."

"Come on, Geno. Don't hog Sid all to yourself, man."

"I'm hog because I'm put ring on it. Now fuck off, Olli."

Geno squeezes himself into the space between Olli and Sidney and pushes Olli's blonde head away. Olli pushes back playfully and it makes Geno loses his balance a little, causing him to land onto Sidney's lap. Sidney catches a lapful of Geno and his hands flies up to Geno's waist on instinct, just as Geno wraps his arms around Sidney's shoulders. He has to bite back a moan when Geno moves to sits himself more comfortable and—probably not deliberately—grinding onto his crotch. He can't help the blush that rises when the rookies give them some horrified scandalous looks.

"Oh, come on. Really? Stop with the foreplay, dude. You know we can't unsee this, right?"

"Don't be baby. You see worse." Geno snarks at Jake as he make a show to tease the watchful eyes around them by tracing his hand slowly down the line of Sidney's spine. Sidney can't help the shiver that wrecks through his body and hides his profile behind of Geno, shielding his blush that is unmistakably colouring his cheeks.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I'm still trying to bleach that image of your naked ass out of my brain."

"Hey, is good ass." Geno counters and defends his ass further when the rookies shakes their head in disbelief. "You not believe me? Wait, I'm show—"

"Yeah, okay. I think we're just gonna go now and leave you two to it. And Sidney, try not to drain too much out of Geno, okay? We kinda need him tonight? Alright. Good talk, team. Dismiss!"

It is amusing to see how fast the rookies can disperse at the threat of seeing Geno's ass. Just in a few minutes time, Sidney finds himself alone with Geno in the room, with Geno still perched comfortably on his lap. He is in no hurry to get Geno off, and he will never admit it to Geno, but he is starting to lose feelings in his legs.

"Sorry for long wait. I'm make sure Dana do job."

Sidney glances up and stunned to have Geno's face just inches away from his. "It's fine, G. New skates, I know how it is."

"Yes. Dana say Sid worse than me."

Sidney shoves him away with a firm push and laughs a little guiltily when Geno lands on the carpeted floor with a thud.

"Hey, why Sid push me? What I'm say?" Geno asks as Sidney straightens his suit and heading for the door.

"Yeah, keep playing dumb, Geno. Come on, I'm hungry. Hurry up or I'm leaving without you." He shouts over his shoulder just as the door closes, and hears Geno chuckling lightly on the other side of the door.

_/_/_/_/ 

#sidgeno #fanfiction #Love Me If You Will #ariahearthockeywrites #men's hockey rpf

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

Aaand... here. [ffnet] [ao3]

Me notes: I’m living dangerously and haven’t actually looked up the possible lingering symptoms of lead poisoning up till a week ago. And yet, it’s disturbing how legit my guesses were, even past the chronic pain lmao??? Shit’s wild, yo.(Won’t come up, but among other things, it can fuck up your cognitive abilities, that is to say, make you stupid(er)... our genius Law’s IQ was probably so broken that it needed to be nerfed to hell, yet he’s still one of the smartest jackasses in the series. somehow, this info delights me… what a force of nature.) (I’m definitely winging the shit as to why those things happen tho, this is just a shitty fic project, I don’t need nor really want a PhD in neurosurgery and whatnot. … for now, at least. I’d be happy with a teacher’s degree. And something to prove that I’m by no stretch bad at translating stuff.)

26. Shenanigans

As soon as Kat reaches her destination, Nami poses a question immediately; “What was that about?” All she could see was that Law was both mad and… well, confused, while trying his darnest to be civil. Which in itself is a point of interest, just like the fact that her new friend here also seems kind of lost.

Kat sighs. “I’ve been too,” Honestly, how should she summarize this? Uh... “well... nice?”

“Too… nice.” On second thought… the navigator feels she shouldn’t be surprised that the Heart captain would find that unwelcome. He’s not exactly the buddy-buddy type, hell, probably even paranoid.

“Like... I felt kind of guilty for skipping all that practice and being a general nuisance,” among other things she cannot talk about... “... so I brought down some rice crackers and tea after breakfast and washed his dusty mug that must have been lying around for months for him,” she looks up, slowing down a bit to get her thoughts in order; “We had, like, a tea party. Which was still okay, I guess. After having managed to sit out the new training shit proper, probably looking like a maniac during it all… I definitely overdid it by buying a teddy at the fair for his suspiciously big bear themed collection.” It really seems excessive and random in hindsight. “Man, can you imagine I even considered to buy a gigantic one? I couldn’t bring myself to pay up the twelve grand, but… pfff.” she mumbles mostly to herself, putting on a faint smile over the mental image of chucking that monstrosity at him again, then places a hand on her cheek while contemplating the general idea over in vague confusion. She settled for the small one, but... sheesh. On the other hand, she likes being charitable, and it’s been too damn long since she had both the financial background and an excuse to buy a gift for someone apart from the obligatory job stuff. Thinking about this makes her want to give a little ‘thank you’ gift of sorts to both crews… except, well, she ain’t got jack as far as ideas are concerned. They already have everything they could need, too.

Nami rolls her eyes upon hearing that. “Geez… it’s like you’re wishing him a belated happy birthday and he’s complaining over the attention. Which… is not all that surprising, I guess,” she concludes then with a shrug. “He did the same when we threw him a party before arriving in the country,” His main complaint was that he had his private party with his crew a few days back… none can do for Luffy if he wants to party, however. “On the other hand… you do realize that you sound like an overly apologetic boyfriend, right?” Nami muses while returning her attention to her, finding sudden enjoyment over the image of Knight Kat and her grumpy liege.

“Well… he is a princess as far as I’m concerned,” Kat nods in agreement. “While I’m not sure his highness would agree, I can see where you’re coming from, though,” she adds, scratching the sideburns in embarrassment. “I’m… not really good at taking care of anyone or anything in general, no lie. The moons must have aligned, or something.”

“You must be underestimating yourself,” the other woman states, leading her towards the table with the still steaming drink on it. Sanji must have been here a mere minute ago. “People who have no sense of nurture would never be able to do your job, you know?”

“Work is different,” she protests, crossing her forearms in an X, and squints at the back of Nami’s head where some small creature seems to be very, very lost in the orange sea; “Because… I know I have to do that stuff, and I must pay attention at least some of the time, you know? If I didn’t, I’d get fired. When just home, or hanging out… I get way too comfortable, and next thing I notice after spacing out is that the day is already over. Flowers unwatered and still full of lice or whatever, dog unwalked and unpooped, cat unfed and has knocked everything off the table, and then there’s me, also hungry and dirty... Can’t just do all of that quick before going to bed, can you?” She sighs. “I’m happy I’ve gotten far enough to be able to take care of myself, you know.” Sometimes she still forgets to eat, or keeps going just one or two more days without the designated bath. It’s so… it’s beyond embarrassing. And infuriating. Occasionally… even humiliating.

She picks up her cup and stirs the beverage, then downs half of it immediately. A sugar chunk in her mouth and the barely comfortable temperature remind her that she probably should slow the fuck down. Oh well… if she already has half the cube, might as well lick it away.

“... I still think you are selling yourself short, but… can’t say I haven’t met the problem.” Getting started after Bellemere was… overwhelming. Although they helped out a lot since they were little, and there wasn’t a lot more extra work to do, neither her nor Nojiko had an idea where to start with the household, even though the villagers cleaned up the mess in the house that Hachi had left behind. The laundry seemed to be more when it was less, the cooking more challenging... even the tangerine grove felt bigger and more intimidating than before. Everything appeared to be more than what it was in reality. When she noticed some work waiting to be done, she handled it on autopilot, but there really was a lot of spacing out while doing stuff. From what she just said, Kat seems to be in a similar state of mind, albeit near permanently. “Either way, that already is something. You talk as if you were worse about it, so there’s nothing to be worried about. That forestside cottage won’t tend itself once you get there.”

Kat lets a smile creep on her face, being reminded of her silly life goals. Nami was listening in on her and Robin’s conversation, huh? “I guess… but I’m still eons away from even attempting that.” Finishing the sentence, she also finishes her coffee and puts the cup down. Now, let’s address that minor annoyance that’s been bugging her quite literally for a minute… “By the way, turn around a bit?”

“Turn…? Why should I?” the redhead asks, complying with the request regardless.

Kat reaches into her hair and picks out one tiny black dot after short looking around the neck area. “You had one of these really small spiders in your hair,” she says, lifting the little goober for her to see. The wind carries these all over the place.

“Eeeh,” Nami gets shivers turning back to her while holding her locks, zeroing in on the barely visible animal. “Oh, god, get it away….!”

A mischievous smile appears on Kat’s face; Nami knows her just enough to step back and eye her with suspicion.

“Away?”

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

Another step back is followed by a step forward by Kat, and they start waltzing faster and faster, until Nami starts sprinting and runs into Sanji, who is bringing out drinks for her and probably Carrot, as Robin should be having her coffee now.

“Shield!!” she shouts, flinging him in between. The man keeps enough balance for the layered cocktails to barely sway; quite impressive. He’s also visibly pleased with the development.

“Oh, Nami, dear~ you are so passionate today. What brings you to me~?”

“An itsy bitsy spider,” says Kat, bringing it up to his nose, almost.

“Oh, a spi---” the smile freezes onto Sanji’s face upon turning towards her, then he emits a sound alike a deflating balloon before arching back all of a sudden over Nami in panic. The utensils in his hand can���t compete with the sudden movement, and are wobbling precariously, until the tray itself starts to tilt; noticing that, Kat snaps her hand towards said objects to stop them from falling, and the spider, having had enough of these shenanigans, uses the momentum to make an exit with a jump into the greenery.

The drinks, along with every layer, practically stop in time; Sanji looks over to them, still in shock.

“Sweet catch,” says a bubbly Carrot who has likely seen everything as she's sliding down the mast.

“... thanks…” Kat squeaks. Something about this feels… weird, though. “And, uh, sorry,” she adds, looking over to the cook. “Didn’t know you felt this strongly about creepy crawlies.” She almost ruined those drinks and potentially could have broken the glasses, too...

“I-it’s fine,” he croaks with the frozen smile still on his face, shaking a little both from the position and scare.

“That was mean, Kat,” Nami grumbles, pushing the man back onto his feet, checking the grass for the small stowaway. “Don’t bring bugs near me… or Sanji, -sorry, Sanji,- they are gross!”

“After this, I really won’t,” she mumbles, slowly setting the glasses back into position on the tray now that Sanji’s calming down and is not shaking things all over the place. The contents, however… need extra care? They are levitating by themselves, so she needs to move them along with the glass. What is she doing differently, here?

“Thank you,” the man mumbles with the last item returning to its place and having recollected himself.

“No need to, I was the one brewing trouble in the first place.” Being done with the extra task, she feels relieved. “The falling things save is an aspect that I’ll definitely miss, no lie,” she breathes then; the odd feeling from before has not left her. There’s a notion that she can pinpoint every last detail around the ship, to the last strand of hair… she can even feel the little tiptoes of that tiny arachnid under them; taking a look to the side, she can spot a dot exactly where she thinks it is, too. And two butterflies flapping around the garden, flies all over the place, and just in general a lot of all kinds of small creatures all over. Even the positions of people moving around on board, whom she can kind of identify by size, position, what they might be doing or the way they walk… as well as the different layers in the drinks, which appear to be the most detailed ‘feeling’ thing. There’s just a lot of stuff not belonging to places, and it’s a little overwhelming.

Her perception being off is apparently noticeable, as Nami picks up on it as well. “You alright?” Kat has a tendency to space out or look out of it, so she’s always a little worried that there’s something like a pulled neck muscle going on. Most of the time, though, she’s just daydreaming.

“No, I’m alright, it’s…” Suddenly, she feels enlightened. “Oh, I think I know what this is…”

“What would that something be?” Nami asks, blinking in confusion.

“I think I just activated this scanning stuff by accident,” she informs her, looking down at her hands. The trigger must have been reaching for the glasses, but… how does one turn it off?

“Scanning…?” the woman mumbles. This must be something Ope Ope related.

“Like… I just know where a lot of stuff is, all of a sudden…” Thinking about it, she knows specifically where living things are, and the overall shapes of objects. And… possibly the density of things, because, those drinks...

Sanji notes her sudden interest in said beverages. “Would the resident changeling fairy like a glass of her own?”

Oh god, he’s already back to cheesy descriptions level… ANYWAY.

“No, thanks, I don't drink... I do like looking at pretty cocktails, though.” Honestly, sometimes they smell really nice, so it's hard to resist.... like these. There’s some chocolate and raspberries in there… but all she has to think of is the bitter aftertaste and the temptation is no more.

“Actually,” she continues as Nami gets her cocktail to sip on and Carrot walks up to them, asking whether she can have the other one, to which Sanji informs the mink that it was meant to be hers anyway; “mind if I try something with one of these…?”

“Oh, are you going to do some cool tricks?” Carrot asks with excitement; “I’ve been wanting to see the stuff Bropper has been talking about, too!”

“Ah, right!! I wanted to show you some stuff, anyway!” she says while sucking up some of the radiating fuzz buzz up, too.

Sanji raises a brow and puts on half a sulk. It takes a second to let the notion of food being tampered with slide, but if it’s for the greater good and less frustrating body statuses… Indeed, the thought of everything in the universe being in its rightful place puts his head back in the clouds. “I’ll be on my way, my lovelies, call if you need anything~” he swoons while disappearing back in the kitchen in a whirlwind.

Nami also gets going direction library and waves goodbye while drinking, which gesture the remaining two return.

“So, so,” the mink starts again, lifting up the glass to Kat; “what do you want to do with this?”

“What I want to do with the drink specifically is probably not that interesting, but even if it’s a total failure, I’ll make it up to you right after,” she notes. She has about one shot at this, anyway.

“Tee-hee~ Show me watcha got,” the rabbit girl says with a smug face to challenge the cocktail’s opponent.

“As you wish,” Kat responds with a smile of the same smugness level; Carrot snorts at this.

“You legit sound and look like Bepo’s captain right now,” she giggles.

“Hey, hey, careful,” Kat half-laughs while trying to keep the glass upright; “I need this thing as it is right now.”

“Alright, even if you will suck at this, you’ve already redeemed yourself,” the mink states as they waddle with combined efforts towards the table to put the beverage on. “Purely on a basis of a spot-on impression that you ruined immediately after.” She wasn’t there for the first performance anyway. “Bonus points for not even trying, tho.”

“Well, Carrot, to catch the pray…” she looks around with shifty eyes as the glass clinks on the polished surface; “you need to become the prey.”

“Well, well, well, Kat… I literally am prey,” she nods, releasing the object at last. “Also… are you saying you are out on a hunt? Hmm?” The smug smile returns, and this time it’s accompanied by a knowing look and crossed arms.

The girl needs to consider this for a moment, and she also puts on a comically exaggerated thinking face. Is she trying to go for Law's jugular in any way or form? She's had worse company, but... "Not really. Or deliberately. Unless hunting for funny situations for either person counts as such." With that she also lets go of the poor liquid that still retains most of its original form.

Carrot nods wisely after a few seconds, eyes entranced in the cloudy horizon. “... that’s fair, can’t blame you for that.”

Kat needs to hold back a smile, then decides to put an end to this banter. “Okay, alright, I may have finished off my coffee in like three shots, but I’ll have to hurry regardless,” she waves her hands around. “Let’s see this bad boy,” she groans while dropping on a chair; Carrot follows her lead and watches intently.

Okay, so… she still has that feeling going, that’s good; she also tried to keep the drink stable while holding it, which seems to have been a success. Now, how to do the thing she has in mind… She touches the glass again, which seems to power up the sensation somewhat; even if it’s a placebo effect, being in contact seems to make things much easier. There is definitely a difference between the glass and its content... what she’s really interested in, however, are the individual layers, which also seem different… they feel different. Especially the lightest and heaviest ones.

What if she just tried, took the lowest, dark layer, and...

“... Kat, what part of reality are you breaking again?” asks Usopp in a vaguely wary manner while passing with his tool box, his eyes catching the liquid blob pass a rather opaque layer following her finger before settling on top. Carrot breathes a ‘cool’ as she watches on with her head on the table.

“... density or gravity, I guess.” If not both. Those are kinda correlated, aren't they...? Eh, fuck physics. She can break all the rules, anyway.

As the layer settles in, she takes a look at the one now below it; a motion of another finger lowers it to the middle, then she raises it up again through the static ones. After that, she puts the reddish, heavy goop back to its place, with the lightest layer over it. Releasing it all makes the whitish liquid phase through multiple other ones, stirring the entire cocktail up. Looks rather nifty, with all those vertical stripes in it. Last part notwithstanding... if souls or whatever feel just as different, and she can make them slide through another... after some refinement, this just might be the thing she needs.

#Kate writes #KMKY #opfanfic #been a while since I tagged it like that so

[sleemo]

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do

What is cooler than one multibillion-dollar box-office hit? Two multibillion-dollar box-office hits. 

British actor Daisy Ridley is about to have both to her name as she returns as Rey in the next instalment of Star Wars. Emma Brockes meets her as she prepares for superstardom. — ELLE UK, December 2017

A few weeks after the release of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Daisy Ridley, who plays Rey – Jakku scavenger, desert-planet survivor and feminist hero – went on holiday to an island off Croatia with friends from the crew. The actor, who was 23 at the time, had been warned that after the release of the movie – number seven in a franchise that has made more than $42bn (£33bn) – her life would dramatically change, and she was terrified. This was, after all, her first big-screen role. 

In restaurants, she scrutinised waiters to see if they were being too nice to her; she wondered if she’d ever be able to use the tube again. On holiday, her friends started calling her Linda, ‘as a jokey alias’, she says, ‘and then they started calling me Paranoid Linda’ when she became convinced a man was following them around and wondered if he was a private detective employed by the studio.

Two years later, 25-year-old Daisy is sitting opposite me at a restaurant in downtown Manhattan, dressed in a shirt and capri pants in clashing blue-and-white prints, her hair still wet from the shower. She’s brimming with the kind of enthusiasm that reads on screen as charisma, and that helps to explain her meteoric rise from stage-school graduate with a few TV credits to her name to one of the most recognisable young stars on the planet. Paranoid Linda still makes an occasional appearance, she says, but mostly she has managed to adjust to life after two Star Wars movies.

Daisy clings to the fact that fame doesn’t need to have a warping effect. It also fits in with her belief that the best way to survive the pressures of high-voltage exposure is to try enjoying it. Everything is ‘amazing’ in her world and everyone is ‘remarkable’, ranging from her mum (‘a great person’) to Barbra Streisand, with whom she recorded a song in 2016 (‘a fantastic woman’), Harrison Ford (‘awesome’) and ‘Colly’ – Olivia Colman to you and me – who she starred with in Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express and who she found ‘incredible’, naturally. There is no hint of sycophancy here; it appears that Daisy is simply joyfully happy.

This cheerfulness has acted as a useful screen to hide behind during the years since she made Star Wars. Now her character, Rey, is back for The Last Jedi, the new Star Wars movie, directed by Rian Johnson. But Daisy found this one to be much more pressure than the first movie. ‘I suddenly felt a much bigger sense of re- sponsibility,’ she says. ‘I didn’t think I was good in the first film, and I was struggling with that.’

This is no humble brag. Daisy’s candour when it comes to her own performance is kind of startling. As a child, her general inability to disguise her feelings occasionally sent her into scatter-brained overdrive, an impulse that her loving London-based family: Mum, who works in internal communications; Dad, who’s a retired photographer; and two sisters – a model and a musician.

Daisy sometimes reads as posh – there is a certain ringing tone to her accent. In fact, she says, her family is more bohemian than posh. The accent, meanwhile, probably comes from boarding school. Aged eight, Daisy went to board at Tring Park School for the Performing Arts in Hertfordshire – not, she says, from any desire to be an actor, but because a friend of hers had gone to boarding school and it sounded like fun. ‘I was such a grumpy child,’ says Daisy, smiling at the implication that she can still, now and then, throw a big wobbler. ‘I used to get super-distracted – once I’d done my work, I would be annoying to everyone else – and my mum thought if I was busy, I’d be less distracting. I always sort of felt like I didn’t fit in.’ This anxiety wasn’t just a result of being a bookish teenager, but a feeling of unreadiness to go out and meet the world as an adult. ‘At 12 or 13, I didn’t know how to do make-up,’ she says, ‘and I still don’t know how to do my hair. And people wore high heels at that age!’

Even now, Daisy retains some small sense of herself as an outsider looking in. How could she not? Her CV at this point is extraordinary: as well as Star Wars, the actress has starred in Ophelia opposite Naomi Watts, and shot Murder on the Orient Express alongside Judi Dench, Penélope Cruz, Sir Derek Jacobi and Olivia Colman. It was on that last set that Daisy finally cracked. ‘I turned to Ken, wiped away a tear, and said, “I can’t believe I’m here, thank you so much.”’ Daisy adds, only half-jokingly: ‘“Did someone make you cast me?”’ (No, he said.) The self-deprecation is real. It’s not just the burden of fame or lame faux humility. There have been times in Daisy’s life, most notably after the first Star Wars movie was released, when she was literally uncomfortable in her skin.

At 15, she was diagnosed with endometriosis, a painful condition of the uterus lining that, along with other symptoms, can result in severe acne that is exacerbated by stress. You know, the kind of stress that comes when you find yourself the star of the biggest-grossing film of all time. ‘I was in my flat going nuts, and then my skin got really bad with the stress of it all, and I hadn’t been well – I had holes in my gut wall and stuff – and we were trying to figure out what to do with that because I’d felt poorly.’ She did what she always does in times of stress and turned to her family, moving first to her sister’s house, a few streets from their parents, then to a flat she rented on her own in the same west London neighbourhood.

Still, says Daisy, it was scary. It is difficult to think of a more in- tense introduction to Hollywood than winning a big role in a new Star Wars movie, nor a bigger professional leap than Daisy’s jump from small parts in the usual roster of UK dramas and long-running soaps – Casualty, Silent Witness, Mr Selfridge – to the first day of filming The Force Awakens in Abu Dhabi. She had only turned up to the audition when a friend mentioned she was going, too, and now here she was, on day one of the shoot, with a production assistant holding an umbrella over her to keep the sun off while she looked around and ‘freaked out’. And then JJ Abrams, the director, yelled ‘action’.

Daisy will never forget that first scene, in which she had to dismount from her Speeder bike and walk a short distance with BB-8 while saying something like, ‘We’re going to get you home.’ Is it true that, after delivering her line, JJ called her acting ‘wooden’? Daisy laughs. ‘It is true! After the first take, he goes, “Just a bit... wooden”, and then we carried on. But JJ is the kind of person who before a scene says, “Don’t fuck it up.” So he said, “Just a bit wooden”, and I was like, “Oh my God.” But it got better.’ She is still laughing at the discrepancy between how bad it sounds (quite bad), and how bad it was. ‘It’s only because that word “wooden” is so loaded. But it was just tense. And I thought, “OK, loosen that shit right up and it’ll get better.”’

In fact, Daisy found JJ Abrams and the rest of the production crew to be incredibly nurturing, to the extent that she was rarely aware of the Star Wars ‘ma- chine’. It was a friendly set, she says, where she mostly hung out with John Boyega, the 23-year-old Brit who plays Finn, and with whom she had the greatest number of scenes, although her best friends were among the crew. JJ Abrams had deliberately hired hair and make-up for Daisy from the team who had worked on the Harry Potter franchise because, she says, ‘aside from the fact that they’re amazing, he knew that they had looked after Emma [Watson], Daniel [Radcliffe] and Rupert [Grint] for however many years. I felt very well taken care of.’

Harrison Ford, meanwhile, reminds her of her dad – ‘They both have an earring and are fucking awesome,’ – and the first time she shot a scene with him, he gave her a hug and said, ‘She’s so adorable’, and she felt right at home after that. (Mean- while, when her real dad visited the set, he went up to Mark Hamill and, in classic dad fashion asked, ‘So, who do you play, then?’) 

In fact, the most difficult thing about the whole Star Wars experience has been reconciling the terrible warnings she received about how life would change with the reality of what actually happened – that, and the anxiety of shooting the second film. In the first instance, ‘Everyone asked me, “Are you ready for your life to change?” And that gets into your mind.’ Throughout this period, she tried to hang on to a piece of advice given to her by the late Carrie Fisher – not to shrink away from the success, but to enjoy it – ‘And that was wonderful.’ Beyond that, she threw herself back into work. ‘At work, you’re normal, you’re not the anomaly, unlike in other situations.’ 

Surely she has occasionally been starstruck herself? ‘Absolutely not,’ she says. ‘I’ve never idolised anyone, really. I never had a crush thing. So when I met Barbra Streisand, for example, I was blown away, not because of her work, but because she’s a fantastic woman.’ It was JJ Abrams who recommended Daisy to Barbra, who was looking for a young star with a good voice to feature in Encore, her album of 2016. Daisy ended up singing with her on the song At The Ballet from A Chorus Line, and finding a new role model for herself. ‘I went to her house and we talked about [psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl] Jung because my dad loves Jung, and we were talking about dreams, and I left and got super emotional, not because she’s famous, but because she’s amazing. Part of her reputation comes from being a woman. If it was a man being “controlling” about his career, people would just say he knows what he wants.’

One of the things Daisy has struggled with in the wake of grow- ing fame is the responsibility of being told Rey is a role model for young girls. She has been asked about feminism and has had to scramble, on occasion, to form an opinion, not because she is bland or apolitical, but because everything she now says has the potential to come back and haunt her. For someone struggling with self-doubt, this can have a paralysing effect, and it is testament to Daisy’s seriousness that she has the sense to acknowledge it.

Of course, whatever kind of attitude you have, being a beautiful young woman in Hollywood means you are exposed to constant scrutiny. Daisy, like Anne Hathaway and Jennifer Lawrence before her, will have to weather the salacious interest that undercuts anything she has to say and, if she seems less confident than her peers, it’s not only part of her charm but also, paradoxically, speaks to some deep-seated security that one assumes comes from Daisy’s family; it can take greater courage to admit to one’s weaknesses than to cover them up with bravado or a fake kind of self-confidence.

She has also learned to sit back and relax a little, although shooting the second Star Wars movie, in which she had fewer scenes with her pal, John Boyega, made her briefly very stressed. ‘It’s not this big adventure that I’m on with John [unlike in the first movie]. I was thinking I did the first one because I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into and I was having loads of fun, and suddenly I’m realising what this actually is, and I can’t fucking do this.’

She says all this with a smile to acknowledge how neurotic this was. ‘I’m highly dramatic – so it’s all “oh my God”. And [director] Rian [Johnson] just said, “We’re going to do this, and these are the scenes, and this is how it’s going to work,” and finally I was like, “Oh yeah, this is working.” The fact is sometimes you’re not good at your job, and sometimes you’re better at your job.’

Having that kind of experience helps, but Daisy still has moments when she has to check herself to make sure it’s all real. There was one night on the set of Murder on the Orient Express when she found herself sitting around playing cards alongside Sir Derek Jacobi, Olivia Colman, Penélope Cruz and her husband Javier Bardem, who had come to support his wife. (Judi Dench had retired early to bed.) The next day, she and Sir Derek sat around doing the crossword. Even Paranoid Linda couldn’t worry the fun out of that one.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi is out on 14 December.

— ELLE UK, December 2017

#i forgot to post this earlier #* #uploads #daisy ridley #elle uk #interview #rey #star wars #tlj #the last jedi #the force awakens #john boyega #jj abrams #harrison ford #rian johnson #kenneth branagh #murder on the orient express #carrie fisher #q

[careforselfs]

Tips that changed my young life

Part  1 (one)

 As a kid with ADHD, sleep deprivation and a severe case of laziness, at one time in my life I had stressed myself out to the point where suicide was looking like a viable option. No young person should have to feel that way, especially if it’s because of preventable habits. Around the start of high school my time was spent being unproductive and feeling miserable. I had no motivation to get any work done, I was tired 24/7 but I hardly got any sleep, I was grumpy and depressed and unfocused, and my social life was suffering. Although these are still problems that I (and everyone on this planet) face, I’ve gotten a lot better at handling myself and I’ve stopped putting up with my own bullshit. Although not all of these tips are going to help/are practical for everyone, hopefully some tired and sickly kid like me will find this list and feel a lil more inspired to get the most out of life. 

1. Self-care isn’t what you think it is:

A few years back my idea of self-care was so skewed that my habits ended up doing more harm than good. Whenever I felt bad, I’d usually curl up in a blanket, watch some netflix or scroll tumblr, wallow in self-pity, and eventually fall asleep. While admittedly that is something we can all benefit from every once in a while, when that becomes a daily ritual is when it becomes counter-productive. Self-care is supposed to make you feel good; not only in the moment but in the long run too. Blanket pity cave feels great at the time, but when you finally emerge into the light you find that you’ve wasted time, you still feel sleepy, and nothing has been achieved. But what else could self-care possibly be?!?! you may ask. Well I hate to be the one to say it, but sometimes self-care is doing the last thing that you feel like doing. If you’re feeling tired and sad, often the best remedy is to go for a quick walk around the block. If you knew me at all, you would know that walks are not something I very much enjoy. Especially when I feel like curling up into a sleep-ball, exercise is the last thing I want, but the first thing I need. And I always end up feeling better in the end. And exercise isn’t the only form of self-care! It’s getting a glass of water even when you’re too tired to get up from the bed. Its doing your god-damn homework even when you’re so fucking sick of calculus oh my god I can’t even bare to look at it. Just do it. Even for, like, 10 minutes. Then take a break. It doesn’t seem like much but you’ll feel a sense of accomplishment and therefore feel more motivated. Please, just take this from me. Two years ago I would have laughed in your face if you had suggested this to me “I can’t do homework if I don’t feel like I can do it! Are you crazy? That's not how ADHD works!” Well suck it up kid. You gotta take care of yourself. Think long term!

2. Just ask for help:

I like to be independant. I like doing things by myself, without help, because that's what smart people do right? Wrooong. Nobody is born with the innate understanding of how to do everything. It’s a waste of time if you’re trying to get stuff done but you’re stuck because you don’t understand something, and instead of asking a simple question you stubbornly sit in your chair for hours wracking your brain for the answers when you know in your heart they aren’t there. Asking for help can be embarrassing, especially when you think the question is stupid or you think you should be able to do something by yourself. But teachers/parents/chaplains/whoever are usually more than happy to answer your questions, and will rarely think badly of you. They need help sometimes too! And help isn’t only for school work. At some point in time you’ll realize that you need mental health help, or physical help, or emotional help. Those aren’t things to be ashamed of. I used to/still have a lot of trouble getting motivated to complete basic tasks. Before I’d just sit on my ass and wait for the motivation to come naturally, but it never would. Finally I realized that if I simply asked my mom to help me (set a timer, check up on me, go through things step-by-step) I could... actually accomplish stuff. And yes, asking for help, especially for simple and “easy” tasks, is anxiety inducing. Sometimes I felt like a child, incapable and useless. But if you get help straight away, then you learn how to be independant sooner rather than later, and you’ll need less and less help. There’s really no shame in it. Everyone needs help at some point in their life. Everyone. 

3. Identify and treat any underlying health problems you may have:

I was diagnosed with ADHD in grade four, but it didn’t start to affect my life until high school. The second semester of grade ten I noticed my marks dropping an unusual amount, and I was struggling to stay motivated. I was tired, disoriented, grumpy, all the things I’ve listed above. Finally my mom took me to see my old psychiatrist, and she put me on medication. It took a very long time to find a combination of pills and coping strategies that worked for me, but now I find I’m able to cope a lot better. And I know that I’m not just lazy, or dumb, or useless. My brain is wired differently from the norm and I’m not able to function well in the environment that modern society has created. And now that I know that I’m able to adapt. And mental health problems aren’t the only health problems that can affect your outlook on life. For a long time after I had settled on the right meds, I was still feeling tired and hazy. I was weak and pale, had absolutely no strength or energy, and fell asleep so uncontrollably that I started to wonder whether I was narcoleptic. After a blood test to check if I could start new medication, it was discovered that my iron levels were non-existent. All my symptoms were symptoms of low iron. It was such a simple and common health problem, but it had gone undiagnosed for so long that it had started to severely affect my life. I started supplements and added iron-rich foods to my diet, and two years later I’m a completely different person. I can go for hikes. I can wake up early and not feel tired. I have the energy to do whatever I put my mind to, and even my thinking is clearer. Don’t just chalk up all your problems to “I, as a person, just suck.” Sometimes, our “quirks” or “faults” are actually symptoms. 

4. Love unconditionally: 

This tip doesn’t focus on you, but your perception of others. My whole life I’d been in a toxic friendship. My best friend didn’t treat me or others well, but she was all I’d known and therefore I didn’t know any better. She was extremely quick to judge others, on their clothes, hair, and personality. If someone did something she didn’t like, no matter how small, she’d cut them off completely. After a while I learned to think and act the same way, and eventually, to our surprise, we ended up with no friends but each other. I just thought that people were mean. That I was better than them. I understood how the world worked and everyone else was immature, and not worth my time. Unconsciously I ended up judging people by their flaws. I’d disregard all their good traits, their kindness, their loyalty; I’d look through all of that to see only their faults. And nobody is perfect, so I had no friends! My “friend” had even higher standards than I did, so naturally I was cast aside after 10 years of loyal friendship. I was shook, to say the least, and I started to reevaluate how I viewed people. All along I’d obviously known that everyone makes mistakes, you should love people with their flaws, blah blah blah, but I actually started to put that mindset into practice. And I discovered a world full of beautiful, beautiful people. I began to realize that if a friend did or said something I didn’t like, I could still be friends with them. We didn’t have to agree. Sometimes people say or do stupid things. Sometimes people have outbursts, take all their anger out on you. Sometimes they can be unkind or unloyal or untrustworthy. But those things don’t define them. For all their flaws, they have 100 more beautiful traits. You shouldn’t let their problems outshine who they really are. And that’s what I’d been doing! I missed out on so many wonderful friendships because I couldn’t get over the fact that sometimes people aren’t 100% awesome. They can make mistakes and it’s alright! Sometimes they even make big mistakes! And that’s alright too! You can work past them together. I find that when someone is shown unconditional love, instead of taking advantage of you like you might think they would, they tend to become more appreciative of your friendship, and become a more confidant person. But it’s important to remember that it’s also ok to cut toxic people out of your life. Sometimes, for no reason at all, you won’t get along with someone. Your personalities just don’t mesh, or some of their traits just rub you the wrong way. You’re not obligated to be friends with everybody. You don’t have to hate these people, remember they have good things inside them as well, but you also don’t have to devote any of your time to them. It’s also important to remember that some mistakes are just unforgivable. It doesn’t matter what it is, but if someone does something that affects you so much that you don’t know if you could handle keeping them in your life, it’s ok to let them go. You can’t say “it’s fine whatever” when in reality you’re going to suffer. Sometimes, people’s negative traits can outshine their positives in your life. They might not be a bad person, but they can be a bad person for you. All in all, I find that it’s easier to just accept people. I have sooo many more friends now. I’ve been exposed to different types of thinking and different ways of being, and I’ve only become a better person because of it. 

#mine #text post #long text post #life tips #advice #life advice #writing #authors of tumblr #essay #life hack #tips for starting university #actually adhd #actually ocd #actually anxious #stim #stimming #life #list #studyblr #school #back to school #friends #relationships #romance #cope #disability #tips for improving your health #healthy #illness #chronic illness

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTE: NaNoWriMo is in full swing! I told you I would try my best to update while it's going on and I will, even though it's obviously not as frequent as other months. Enjoy!

Yeah, I have no idea what went on over at the Chau residence. They took a few pictures of me on their phones to at least have examples ready, but it would have been pretty annoying to stick me in the back of the car — and besides, Stephen made a really good point that I might shatter if they dropped me, so after that nobody much wanted to take responsibility for schlepping the stone girl around.

But I got the general synopsis of what I missed from listening to their chatter. And thank GOD I finally had some entertainment, because lying around in an empty house all by yourself when you can't move is just about the most boring fucking thing ever.

Knives had her mom translate for her, since she can't speak Chinese, and asked her father if he knew any way to undo a spell, or curse, or mutation, or whatever the fuck this was that made people turn into rock-people. At first he said something a teensy bit racist that nobody would repeat, and then he asked for how the symptoms started. When they explained that it started from a feeling, and showed him the pic of my stomach, he kind of figured out what she would need.

Apparently, the house was quiet for so long because they had to go back to that place where Scott got the Soft and head to "Giant World", whatever that means. When they came back, they had another potion that was supposed to do something else. All I got was its name, not what it was supposed to do.

"So once Knives takes the Micron, we'll all stand watch," Steph was saying. Being a little older than everybody but Wallace — when did he show up? — she had kind of elected herself in charge. Also, nobody else wanted to be in charge, anyway. "Take turns. Like, I'm not sure what we can do, but we have to be ready just in case…"

"How long do we think this is gonna take?" Wallace asked, glancing at his trendy chronometer. "I'm supposed to meet up with Mobile at the new club where the Rockit used to be. Supposed to be a lot more catered toward our particular tastes now."

Knives's bottom lip quivered. "You don't care what happens to Kim, do you?"

"In an overall sense? Sure I do… but you guys didn't even remember my birthday. Tit for tat, you know."

"Hopeless," Stephen sighed. "No wonder Joseph hates you."

His trim eyebrow went up very slightly. "That catty bitch hates everyone. Can we get down to business? Kim's life hangs in the balance, just like my punctuality. They're both pretty important. Besides, I'm the only one here who can feed Knives any chi once she's through the gates; you need me as an E Tank."

"Fine!" Huffing, Knives grabbed the potion and downed it in one gulp. There were a few gasps, and Steph said something about "but we weren't through planning!" but it was too late; she had taken the plunge. And I was kinda glad, because at least now I would get to find out what the hell they were talking about, since they were leaving out so many details due to not bothering to include me in their conversation.

Not that I could talk back, anyway. But I could hear.

At first, we thought nothing had happened. Then I could tell something was weird. Everybody in the room was getting taller! Wait, that wasn't it… Knives was getting shorter. And shorter… she was shrinking right in front of my eyes.

"Hurry!" Stephen hissed, and Steph picked her up and sat her on my stomach once she was about toddler-sized. She kept going, slipping down my stomach when she was about the size of a Lego figurine, and then I couldn't see her anymore on the other side of my boobs.

At first, I thought that was it; that she had disappeared, and I felt a panic that I couldn't properly express while held suspended in this pavemential state of being. What the fuck had they done to my girlfriend?! But then I saw Steph bend down and do something else, holding her hand against my stomach.

"Hurry up… oh God, I hope Wallace knows how to use that thing."

WHAT thing?

"Me, too," he sighed as he pulled on the red fingerless glove. "Seems simple enough."

Shit. That thing. And I couldn't even scream as he slapped me in the forehead.

                                                          ~ o ~

When I woke up, I didn't know where I was. I mean, I was definitely nowhere I had ever been before, and I kind of accepted that much… but still, why was the sky all pink? Why was the ground day-glow blue? Why was the path leading into the far distance so gold and shiny? Why was everything moving a little, like I was actually living inside a heat haze? Just freaking psycho crap.

And there she was.

"Knives!" At first she didn't turn around, but when I shouted again, she finally did — and took a huge leap backward.

"AAAAHHH! A GHOST!"

"A what?" Looking down, I saw that I was half-invisible, and my legs disappeared into a wispy thingy. Reminded me of an actual cartoon ghost, but the tops of my legs were still pretty distinct. "Oh. Well, that's annoying."

Her hand reached out, drew back again, and then reached forward to touch my legs… and she passed right through. She shivered as she whispered, "Whoa."

"Yeah, um, don't do that again."

"Okay. Oh, Kim! I'm so glad you're okay! Kind of!" She moved to hug me, then remembered and drew back again. "Oh, oops. Sorry."

"It's okay. God… I'm such a mess, I didn't mean to make everybody… well, anyway, it's too late now. What are we doing here?"

"Huh? Oh, right! You know, that whole thing you told me about? We have to fix that or we can't reverse this, since we didn't get to it in time. So I took the Micron because I'm the one with the most training, and my dad has this thing in Brazil he has to take care of so he can't."

"What? I mean… damn, how long do you think we might be in here?"

Looking apologetic, she whispered, "He said… maybe a couple years?"

"YEARS?!"

"Or not! It could only take a few hours, if we don't get hung up on the Rubik's Cube."

"Rubik's-" Only then did I catch on. My eyes narrowed in utter disbelief, waiting for her to yell "PSYCH" or something, but she didn't. "Wait. You're talking about all that bullshit I spewed at you when we first started hanging out again, aren't you?"

"Yeah! I mean, I'm ready for the rhino and the warthog, I'm pretty sure, but the rest I'll… have to… what is it, Kim?" she asked when she could tell I was even paler than a spirit already would be.

"It was all a lie. I mean… a joke, but I didn't expect you to actually believe me, and I never got the chance to tell you any differently because you ran off." Sighing, I turned away slightly, not wanting to look at her right then. "If this isn't some kind of crazy fever dream, or rock-dream or ghost-dream or whatever, and you're actually trying to fight your way through my body… then I think you're wasting your time. I have no idea what's about to happen to you in here."

"Well, that's okay," she said instantly. "We'll just figure out what the challenges are if they're different. I'm even stronger than I was before, you know; I kept up my training since all that happened at the Chaos Theater. Knives Chau is buff and knows her stuff!"

Gritting my ghostly teeth, I hissed, "Don't you get it? I want you to leave. Stop trying to help me, I'm obviously more trouble than I'm worth. Just… just go."

For a few seconds, everything was quiet. Then I saw her walking down the road into the distance. I was relieved for just a second; relieved and sad. At least Knives would be okay.

Then she called back to me, "You coming, or are you just gonna hang around here in the middle of your stomach?"

Once I caught up, trying not to let my pleased smile be seen by anyone, I asked her, "Stomach?"

"Sure. The portal is in your belly button; the only way in past the stone. Well, we could have tried your ears or nose, but the journey to your heart would have been a little longer, and we couldn't be sure of the path. This seems like a straight shot."

"Oh. Well… I mean, um… I don't really get this. Why are you trying so hard for me? I suck as a girlfriend, and I suck as a friend. All I did was kind of… hang around you and be grumpy all the time. Then statue-ified myself. "

That got her to stop walking and blink at me a few times. "You really think that's all you gave me, Kim?"

"Well… yeah."

"Don't be dumb. You were so sweet."

"ME?!"

"Yes, you," she giggled as she resumed, setting a swift pace. Not that I minded, since floating alongside her didn't seem to make me any more or less tired. "Sure, you tried to bury it under like, your whole 'cool' attitude, but I've… never had anybody make me dinner before besides my mom. And you were always there to talk to and you really listened to my babble, and we could always play games or watch TV, and you were so awesome about not rushing me with sex stuff… held my hand. Kissed my cheeks. Made me feel important to you, even though I could tell it was really hard for you to do that. Gosh, Kim, who wouldn't love you?"

For a few minutes, all I could do was float alongside her. Something about this inner-spirit state I was in prevented me from crying, but I definitely wanted to be. Was kind of frustrating, actually, needing that emotional release and being unable to have it. But I certainly had no words to follow up hers with.

When we got to the outer gates, it looked like a giant walled city, and the multiple colours of the doorframe reminded me of Fruit Stripe gum for some reason. Anyway, as I had been worrying about… there were the guards. Giant mutant animals that just barely weren't copies of villains from an old cartoon I loved when I was little.

"Oh wow, okay," she breathed, whipping out a couple of her huge daggers. "Do you know their weaknesses? Because like, if I can stand on that piece of wall and stab down with my weapon continually-"

"Did you say… you love me?"

"What? Oh, um… yeah, I think I did? Is that okay?"

My noncorporeal eyes nearly bugged out of their invisible sockets. She started to look even less sure of herself, glancing back and forth between me and the enemies. So I quickly said, "Yeah, yeah. It's great. I mean, uh… sorry. Just never had anyone… say that to me before. Damn."

"Hmmm. Didn't know a ghost could blush."

"What?!"

"Kidding," she giggled just as my hands went up toward my face. "Come on, let's get this done. I want to help you."

Humming to myself, I tilted my head up in their direction. "No idea. But I have this vague feeling that if we kick one of their asses, they'll both go down. Well, if you do. Not sure I'll be much help like this."

"Might as well try it!" Then she started sprinting for them. "HEY YOU GUYS!"

That… was not how I would have handled it.

                                                          To Be Continued…

#kim pine's precious little knives #scott pilgrim vs. the world #forkanna writes #scott pilgrim fanfiction #transgender representation #forkanna the writer

[survivorcostarica]

Ep. 1 - “Imagine suffering, imagine euthanizing yourself, imagine losing your will to continue on...” - Randy

i cant see pls send imitrex

i have a crush on cole, i'm in this game and virgin islands with him and i really like talking to him.  he is really genuine and easy to talk to, i feel ridiculous for admitting this but this was the first thing i thought to confess about lol

I want to shoot myself in the fucking face what is my tribe?! 

Cole is such a messy thot, Kevin is that but without being remotely good at the game, Arika and Julia are best friends IRL and 1000% will be working together. Louise is a fucking saint but that also terrifies me because I can't do shit against her without being a terrible person. At least Madison is really down to earth and chill even thought I've known her for two days and met her on Club Penguin. I don't know Bryce, Noah or the other one so they're 1000% my go to people right now.

Ohkay hi hi. My name is Bryan and I’m here to try and NOT flop at this game. Ok sooo. I’m looking at my tribe and i notice. My best friend Madison is here. Just kidding i HATE her. Or at least that’s what i will want people to think so we aren’t targeted for our friendship or whatever cuz we had BEEF in our last game. Um. Josh is also here. I was in another game with him but i didn’t really get to talk to him that much. Other than that cole and Kevin seem nice enough and are talkative so that’s good. I guess I’ll just be able to talk more with other people later.

Imagine suffering, imagine euthanizing yourself, imagine losing your will to continue on in an ORG you were last minute filled into. I literally hate this whole tribe so much, and I'm going into this game with the mindset that we are losing every single immunity and reward. When I saw the first three cast reveal posts i prayed i wasnt on the orange tribe. i actually believed and god, and asked him for forgiveness for all the sins ive committed and pleaded my case to on why i shouldnt be on this tribe. but, alas here i am. so its time to play i guess I'm not good with social game, and thats why i usually fail at survivor. I always have a good first few days, but then its just me being inactive and skirmming my way until my inevitable premerge eviction. But in this game im literally going to pull all the stops i can. I will start to set up my reputation as a good survivor player. And it starts here. Even if nobody pms me I will take this game by storm. Meaning right now its getting good with the influential such as Jay and Drew. They have a few buds on the other tribe, and working with them can only help me when we hit merge. i'm also going to keep Chrissa tight because she is just such a good ally, but its also going to be hard to protect her as she is such a shit competitor. But thats all plans let me talk about to cast Cameron: Love cameron our last org played together we made final 3, and he asked me to cut him. I will keep him under my sphere of influence especially since he said he isnt familiar with this group of players Chrissa: I also love chrissa. She can be a little annoying sometimes, but she always has good intentions. She is fiercely loyal, and thats something great to have in an ally because numbers are more important in survivor than big brother Constance: I don't like him. I want nothing to do with him. The closest association I ever had with constance was us two being on the same cast reveal post. And I'm far more than content with that interaction. He's from facebook, and that means he is going to stir the pot when there isn't any stirring necessary. He is going to make a move just to make a move, and if I cut him earlier the better. But if I can work with him, and test and experience how he plays this game. I do think it would be more entertaining Drew: I have good relations with him but really havent played an org with him. I have no intentions on backstabbing him especially in this cast. I do think he will either slide into the shadows, or emerge as the person calling the shots for this tribe. Jay: Same as Drew tbh. They're together as a duo, so anything one does the other will follow. I'm not going to beef with him Jill: I haven't met Jill before this. but she is the driest person i have pm'd in a while. Me and her are having forced small talk, but i dont want to lose connections with her yet. I'm hoping she isnt well liked or well received so she can leave. Reagan: Me and her have butted heads so many times in vls. If you wanted a fight. Its going to be between me and her i bet your hat. Sam: I dont know if he's a newbie or from a community. But me and him kicked things off really well, and I'm feeling natural chemistry with him. I'll keep him near my sphere of influence for sure. Roxy: Going against Roxy is such a stupid move. Because she's just going to waste her whole entire game trying to vote you off. She gets really bitter easily, and i dont know what the hell she's saying half of the time. I dont understand her game or her mouth so im just gonna let her be...

[12:25:40 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: dam stop tryna out do my intro  do I have to add my likes too?  tch [12:25:48 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: I like big BUTTS and I cannot lie [12:25:53 PM] Chrissa Bullard: lol [12:26:54 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: okay Ill admit idc about the size of your butt [12:27:01 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: even if you have a small butt id still potentially like u [12:27:12 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: but yall are gay so like  what can a straight gal like me do [12:27:29 PM] Chrissa Bullard: hello sam and roxy with her butt equality [12:29:22 PM] Jill: if u wanna be my friend add me and SAY hey bc i forget to add people [12:29:53 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: and I say HEY what a wonderful kinda day [12:29:54 PM] Jill: also msg me ur pronouns thanks [12:29:57 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: you can learn and work and play [12:30:26 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: my pronouns are "my lord" and "your highness" [12:30:51 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: I said I was a she cause dan didn't take me seriously even tho imma hella serious [12:30:52 PM] Cameron Bee-Culpepper (Atomic Admin): my pronouns are he/they and they are actually serious :) [12:31:02 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: oi how dare you say I aint serious [12:31:36 PM] Chrissa Bullard: your highness is serious do not get my lords pronouns wrong :P [12:31:41 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: :/ I'm the lord and the queen roxy herself [12:31:42 PM] Chrissa Bullard: seriously though [12:31:47 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: of course my pronoun is your highness [12:31:57 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: thank you ! see? chrissa gets it! [12:32:02 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: look I even have a crown as proof [12:32:07 PM] Chrissa Bullard: true [12:32:13 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: i trans-itioned from being a commoner to being a queen [12:32:51 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: also if i don't pm you its cause i avoid social interactions at all times [12:33:00 PM] Chrissa Bullard: a mood [12:33:05 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: and i haven't left  my house in 9 days [12:33:13 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: apart from an hour once to go to the gym [12:33:17 PM] 👑 Queen Roxy 👑: i haven't recovered since i take medicine. its called coffee. it helps releave the symptoms of being dead inside

My tribe is probably going to be useless. Which means that we have to turn it OUT for immunity. Randy, Roxy and I are all attempting to make flags. I have faith in Randy's abilities... roxy, not so much. But she does have a good artistic ability, so I hope she turns it out for this. We can hope. We can hope.

Blah blah blah. Confessional confessional. The immunity comp is a flag making competition. Which means i can’t really participate. The one we have so far tho is super cute!! There’s a Julia on our tribe. I have to start learning people’s names. Ugh. Too much work. 

I think like our tribe will win immunity, looking at cadejo’s scores, they seem like flops I mean that tribe is super ugly so ya know… cute is gonna devour gorgeous. Anyways Anthony is doing great at the flag I gave him the ideas, he executed them for me so everyone is great. Also i got this red KEY

I really don't like my tribe but I think I like the other tribe even less just from the few people I've encountered before or at the very least heard about. If anything though that's great for me because I have all of two or three people I remotely care about so I have no issues with taking people out.

RANDY'S FLAG LOOKS TERRIBLE! but we're going with that one anyway!!! even though its literally furry meme nonsense!!! so i hope to god i dont get targetted when we lose bc i made an effort not to be a grumpy ass beyotch!

ummm roxy said she and sam wanna align with me!! it's so early!!! I may work with Reagan bc we worked together previously I think!! Everyone else seems fine. I'm gunna msg drew and everyone else tomorrow or later and say hey I've been napping!!! Go team

I honestly think im going because peop le don't tell me anything I'm scared 

[3/28/18, 1:55:57 AM] Drew (heuse1ac): "I love y-...ughch..." [3/28/18, 1:56:05 AM] Drew (heuse1ac): Cameron 2k18 im just gonna put this here ;)

Anyway. Here's some tea. Roxy thinks I talk too much about being in the hospital. Sorry sweaty, I'm disabled, I'm gonna be in the hospital. And I have the right to talk about whatever I want. ANYWAY, Constance, the literal loml, gave me this tea so that's great. I LOVE HIM. So we made an alliance of me and drew, because drew has a "bad reputation" (sweetie, you were the one making tasteless comments night one, let's not get it twisted here!!) We talk a bunch, we have good laughs, and we head to bed. I went into this round wanting to target Roxy anyway, but she just went painted a bullseye on her back for me!

This first round felt so nostalgic to me, in the sense that being gone from these games for a while allowed me to step back and revitalize the way that I play games. In the beginning of the game, I felt an immediate connection with Cameron. He is someone who has a really nice, personable outlook as a person and I could see myself becoming really good allies and friends outside of this game. I also really enjoy Drew, Sam and Jill. Drew: I was excited to see him in this game because we just met a few days before the game started because he flirted with me a little and I thought he was a nice guy in general. I haven't had the chance of getting to know him all that well yet, though he stated to me that he will not write my name down throughout the game when we were first added to the tribe, so I hope that stays as promised. Sam: We both come from the same community but we both individually transferred to Tumblr at different points in time. I don't know him well enough to say he could be someone I stay with for the long run, but I have had a few calls with him and he seems pretty straightforward about what he wants in this game and where he wants to go. I'll leave it at that for now. Jill: She is literally everything that is me. "I'm going to see my sugar daddy," "I am eating a whole barbecque chicken pizza to myself," "I need money" I LOVE THIS CHICK! We need to align and become friends for sure because I can't see myself without her! One smaller relationship I have is with Chrissa and that will require some work on my part, both game wise and friend wise included. We had a rough past on a personal note but we are working our ways around it to become friends again on a personal level, not even on a game level. I feel like if Chrissa is able to handle herself in this game with me the way she did in Arrakis ages ago, she should be good to go with me! The people I really don't talk with or connect with right now are Jay, Roxy, Randy and Regan. - Jay just hasn't spoken a lot, but that may be subject to change? - Regan has this huge negative perception that everyone has given about her and I'm honestly not about holding past games or whatnot against anyone. If she is as crazy or as ballistic as people say she is then that will happen on it's own accord. - Randy is..Randy. I'm not really putting a whole lot here. He comes off extremely weird to me and I'm not feeling it. - Roxy and Randy both share the same trait they don't mind expressing: their messy players. I'm not one to want to play with people who are going to knowingly make things difficult for me in this game moving forward. I feel like getting out people who tend to be wildcards for my individual game will boost my ability to better know the personalities I surround myself with. Intended Target: Roxy Reason: I had a call with Sam and discussed some feelings about the challenge for the flag that had taken place. In my individual opinion, expressing the idea of putting in effort for a challenge and then doing the opposite of what you said you would do, shows a false sense of sportsmanship and that bothers me. Roxy said she would make a temporary flag as a concept, but never did and constantly said "I'm lazy, so I don't want to do it." Adding on to the reason above, I was asked if I wanted to be added to a call with Sam by Roxy as they were both speaking with each other and I said I wouldn't mind joining. We both tried asking Roxy about potential ideas for the vote off and Roxy made it clear that Regan would be too easy to get rid of. Then came the critical point of the conversation where Roxy would bring up Cameron and Drew's names, stating that Drew apparently has a bad or weird reputation in the Tumblr community of games, but this is COSTA RICA not any other game. She also stated in regards to Cameron word for word that, "I just think Cameron talks about themselves too much in the main chat, and that brings people to feel for them more, and that makes them look bad" and this was in relation to when Cameron stated he was in the hospital. I found that to be extremely bothersome because otherwise, Cameron has never talked about himself constantly or anything like that. My intentions are to pull myself, Drew, Cameron, Jill, Sam and Jay to vote out Roxy. I started the idea when I asked Sam on call blatantly and he agreed and I calmly took it by step. That's all I have folks! I hope this works out and if for some odd reason I go home first, well then it was fun while it lasted! 

Okay so I need to catch yall up on how shit can turn into bliss SO reward I literally ate shit in. i scored to lowest out of everybody in the whole cast. Making myself inferior to competition flops like Chrissa. So that wasnt really well. However my soccial game has been stepping up. Even though im lacking a little bit in the pm part of my game. I have been having good chemistry with literally everybody in the tribe chat. I have also led us in the flag immunity. So me and Cameron made a flag. And the tribe had to pick which one, and it was pretty set even. I do think the end result wouldve been the same but it was nice to see people on my side and supporting me. So then we lose the tribal flag, and im literally yeeted away from the tribe. Which is really good since with this tribal vote i wouldve been thrown under the bus. allegedely roxy has been throwing names around, and had i stayed in the tribe it might of been my name that was thrown around since it was my flag that lost. so im happy to avoid the drama of the first vote. but now that people have bonded since roxy's polarization im starting to become more outcasted. I just need go stronger for immunities and amp up my social game even more. Since ive been to the other tribe I have a feeling on whats happening. Cole is aligned with all them bitches. Literally Madison Louise are people he's played with before, and when we talked in pms he said this tribe is full of his friends. He is very safe in his tribe which is really nice. Since the League of Gays need to work together at the merge : ~)

#survivorcostarica