#she thinks of herself as unlovable. mostly a weapon you can point and use. she doesn't know what a home should feel like and needs

[lestatlioncunt]

everyone pick which romance i should do first i can't choose by myself this is too hard i need others to decide for me i swear i will follow your judgment

#rena.txt #context if you aren't familiar with my girl: half moon-elf warlock from waterdeep (don't get swayed here skfjsk)/disgraced noble who lived #most of her life under the wings of very abusive parents that didn't love her at all. her approach to love was killing the codependent best #friend she was obsessed with (his fault trust me) and nearly killed the girl she was later in love with (i sense a problem with killing..) #she thinks of herself as unlovable. mostly a weapon you can point and use. she doesn't know what a home should feel like and needs #someone to show her what love is (healthy this time). also she loves poetry and the sea and music and plays the lute and loves good jokes #even if she barely shows her laugh she can and will if you're a friend she trusts. also i fear she's barely in her right state of mind since #she can sometimes hear the dead bestie speak to her and she has his skull in a pouch so she can talk to or unleash her rage on it. #weird girl but who isn't :))) skfjskfks my best friend said i need to let her find happiness OR ELSE so here we are. #i had a tragic demise planned for her but he said i need to stop making my ocs suffer for once #also i'll surely romance both at some point but like. first choice usually fries my brain forever

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, dark red crosses are already completed fics and mint lambda-ish signs are prompts I’ve gotten requests for already).

IT'S BIG SAIMATSU WRITING HOURS BABY ft. that one AU I keep bringing back to life for one fic a year

That prompt has always screamed "47 Survivors AU" to me. To make it short for people who weren't reading my shitton of Hinanami hurt/comfort stuff in the summer of 2017: it's an AU where all three main casts survived Hope's Peak, which they all attended (with the DRV3 cast being the 79th Class, I love clichés), even if they later killed Junko for being ZETSUBOU (btw it's Maki who pulled the trigger). Also Mukuro got redemption and I don't really know how but everyone else did. Even Kork, but that's because a friend and I invented the New and Improved Kork:tm:. Yeet. Also, more info about the AU is in the "47 Survivors AU" series' page, if you have questions about the setting. I just realize I never wrote any real Saimatsu for this AU before today. They've been a background pair in almost all of my fics for 47 Survivors, yet never got any focus, the hell is wrong if your truly's, he doesn't know.

But like I always miss writing Saimatsu whenever I do why don't I fucking write more of it once and for all

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Radio Requiem

Summary: A communication failure is all you need to lose track of someone. Kaede learns that the hard way on one day where she, truly, doesn't enjoy being the head of communications and information transmission. 

Fandom: Danganronpa (DR1/V3 characters, Everybody (or so) Lives AU) Relationships: Pre-Rel Saimatsu (Kaede/Shuichi), Kaede & Maki & Mukuro friendship, minor Kaede & Sayaka friendship

Wordcount: 2.2K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Kaede likes her occupation as the leader of the Communications Branch of her Division. She enjoys broadcasting music to cleanse the populations from despair, soothing the pain of people with well-placed words and to be able to transfer commands emitted by other branches and divisions to the people she’s assigned to communicate with. It’s mostly forces on the field, the Action Branch of the Fourteenth Division, and sometimes their investigators. It makes going to work everyday fun even during the apocalypse and the clean-up needed after it, even when she wakes up almost in the same place she works in, even if she sees the same forty people every single day. It’s fine, because she’s alive, because she’s surrounded by her friends and those who are more than that. To Kaede, every day is fine because she has an interesting and important position to fill, where she leads and is active all-day long, and there is seldom exception to this custom.

Today is not one of the days where she enjoys having this important position in the Division.

 It starts innocently enough, for a day where she serves as the main relay between the investigation lead by the appropriate branch and the rest of the Division: she’s tasked with assuring the communication between the team sent to a Despair-filled hole and her branch, relaying information between both sides and sending orders from the Administration Branch back to the ones on the field. This is business as usual, for her, these days: the Investigation Branch is discovering more and more zones where the Division has to cleanse Despair from the map, following a trail discovered by the head of the branch and ex-Ultimate Detective, Kyoko.

Speaking of Kyoko, she’s noticeably absent from today’s mission. That’s to be expected: people deserve their rest, sometimes, and Hajime kind of forced her not to throw herself in some exhausting mission again by fear of watching her get sick from overworking. Also not strangely enough, it’s combined efforts from Makoto and Shuichi who convinced her to stay put and entrust the mission to her second-in-command.

 And what a second-in-command it is! Truth be told, Kaede is looking forward to being able to mostly discuss things out with Shuichi, who accepted leading the mission (not without some doubts, but he made an effort and didn’t protest Kyoko’s decision). Of course, the latter didn’t send him there alone when he’s, frankly, not the strongest nor the fittest for survival in the Despair Wastelands. Instead, he’s accompanied by whom Kaede could only call a dream duo: Maki and Mukuro.

Their team is small because the hole is small and requires precision work without being spotted by a group of brainwashed renegades. There is no soothing music to play, no wide broadcast of their latest attempt at cleaning the world from misery: all there is, is following strict, military-like instructions. Mukuro is the one who’s going to give the orders about the field matters, but Kaede knows she’s the one who will make sure they’ll still be alive by the end of the mission.

 And the beginning of the mission is smoother than anything she’s seen in a while coming from how dangerous and perilous this stuff always gets. The anxiety pumping in her veins and making her body tremble with a sickening excitation doesn’t thump as strongly as usual against her chest, the expected dizziness doesn’t come to their usual meeting point. The three field agents communicate to her in real time, giving her short descriptions of the location (an abandoned factory, or rather, what’s left of its ruins, floor covered in dried blood and metal walls decorated with decapitated stuffed Monokuma dolls, nothing that scares her anymore), speaking of the people staying there they fight against. Exceptionally, she can hear the scream of one of the brainwashed followers trying to attack her friends, but she then always hears the weapon Maki or Mukuro hold in their hands and the voice disappears from her field of hearing.

They hold small conversations, when it’s calm, in whispers on their part. As expected, Kaede mostly communicates with Shuichi, who is guarded by the two more soldier-like agents. His voice is naturally fairly low, discreet and sometimes hard to notice unless you know he’s speaking and think of tuning into it. Yet, his words are soft, more to soothe himself than her, and she likes to encourage him with a few simplistic words, “you’ll do it”, “you’ll come back, I promise”, “Maki and Mukuto are with you, with them, you won’t be in danger”.

It’s not small talk, but it may have been just as pointless. They don’t really discuss anything of grand matters: Shuichi is usually terrified to speak too loudly, despite his quiet voice, and neither Maki nor Mukuro likes to speak more than absolutely needed. Kaede knows this is the downside of the job: she cannot break their focus, no matter if there are enemies nearby or not. Still, she takes this opportunity to enforce some bonds, make sure none of them feels useless or unloved, and she thinks she’s damn good at that job. This is where she feels like she’s needed and effective, and if Maki herself doesn’t speak against that, then she can only conclude that she is, indeed, competent and maybe made for that position.

 That’s until she starts speaking to pure static piercing her eardrums and forcing her to, for a moment, take off her headphones as not to damage her most important sense.

 The communication has cut off entirely on her and, in that moment, Kaede is blanking completely. Her mind doesn’t react immediately, instead nosediving into panic when it should have been way more useful that fooling around in her brain like that was going to solve anything.

Before she lets herself completely sink into panic, her hands activate to follow the usual procedure in case this happens. She checks the systems she’s using, communicators and operating system alike, makes sure she has a connection to the radio network, and she hopes that it’s the issue there, because Chihiro and Kazuichi will be able to do something about it; but everything is working fine on her end. She tries contacting everyone individually, and initially, her hopes rise up again.

 “Maki? Maki, do you copy?!” She screams in a panic.

“Roger,” followed by a gun recharging.

“Mukuro, do you copy?!”

“…copied,” followed by a shotgun going off.

“Shuichi, do you copy?”

Static.

“Shuichi, do you copy?!”

Still static. It’s like gazing into the abyss only for it to look back at her in complete silence.

 She’s left dumbfounded, realizing Maki and Mukuro are involved in a fight and won’t be able to reply properly until they’re done neutralizing whomever is in front of them. As such, she listens to firearms going off and on with anxiety, only able to tell her comrades are winning because the sound are near her, and she closes her eyes to forget about how bad this is going.

Sayaka must have noticed her sudden uneasiness, because she puts her hand on hers and asks her in a hushed voice is something has gone wrong. Kaede replies with a small nod, holding onto her headphones’ microphone for her life.

 The gunfight ends with the communications still functioning, so she takes the opportunity to get the answers to the questions bouncing around her head like machine gun shots.

“Maki, Mukuro, what happened?! Everything cut off in static suddenly and I can’t contact Shuichi anymore!”

“They detonated a smoke bomb,” Maki replies with a calm that, nowadays, betrays her own stress. “Used that to assault us from behind. When the smoke let off, they attacked and he was gone. We have no idea where he is.”

Kaede’s heart sinks to the ground, but she transmits the information to her higher-up so the head of the Field Branch can decide what to do.

“Are you two okay?” She asks instead.

“We are,” Mukuro responds in a stoic tone.

“That’s a relief.”

 Kaede gets an incoming call from Sakura, head of the Field Branch: search for Shuichi if the situation allows for it. She quickly relays the message to the agents she’s just spoken to, starting the new objective. Things seems to have calmed down for now, but the anxiety remains in her heart: no matter how much she tries to contact Shuichi’s earphone, she can’t reach it, or she gets pure static and nothing else she can distinguish from the mess.

She’s anxious enough to listen to every detail coming from Maki and Mukuro’s lines: footsteps, glass crunching, breathing echoing. They don’t speak, all focused on the matter at hand, and her hands are all over the place. Sayaka puts a cup of tea next to her, giving her a small, awkward but honest smile, and she thanks her with a nod. Her mouth feels like it’s suddenly gone entirely dry on her.

 The silence lasts and lasts, seconds turning into minutes and the clock seemingly freezing on her, the activity in the office unable to distract her as she can’t let herself get her attention on anything but the mission at hand. It’s not just for her, clearly not: she’s worried for Maki and Mukuro, for what could happen to them, even if they inform her of more and more details the more they distance themselves from their starting point (much to her relief and pleasure to know what’s happening to these two), and she’s even more concerned for Shuichi whose whereabouts are absolutely unknown.

Kaede prepares herself for the worse. They haven’t been able to tell where and how he was for more than half an hour: he can’t be unharmed when he’s gone off their radars for so long. At best, he’s injured and trapped somewhere, all alone, but this way not surrounded by enemies; at worse, he’s already dead and they’re searching for a corpse to bring back to the Division and hold funerals for. She tries her best not to picture him as one of the many cadavers she’s seen ever since the apocalypse started, fighting her hardest against the morbid part of herself.

 Nervously, she hums to herself, waiting for a real update. The song’s identity doesn’t matter, that’s not the point. She isn’t here to do a soothing concerto, she’s here to assure a relay she failed to secure entirely, and guilt is clawing at her throat. She’s failed accomplishing the one mission she was assigned by her higher-ups, let down Kyoko for putting her second-in-command in danger, and, most of all, she’s abandoned her most precious friend, the one who is more than a friend in fact, to the horrors of the brainwashed.

How is she supposed to face anyone else, now that she’s let every single one of them down?

 “Kaede! Kaede, do you copy?!” Maki’s urgent tone gets her back to her headphones right as she’s about to slap herself for daydreaming.

“Y-yes, I copy! What’s wrong?!”

“We’ve found him.”

She lets out the biggest sigh of relief before pulling herself back together, drying her tears with the sleeves of her blazer.

“Problem: we’re surrounded by Despair followers. They’re armed with knives, one of them has a gun. If we shoot, they spot us. We’ll contact you again when we’re done.”

“Roger.”

 Kaede presses another button to transmit the information back to the Field and Investigation Branches. She’s certain Shuichi is still alive and breathing by now: Maki would have told her otherwise, wouldn’t make the suspense last and get worse for everyone involved. Mukuro and she know what they’re doing more than Kaede could ever pretend to, so she stays quiet and focus, listens to firearms going off and people screaming in pain, hearing the same propaganda-worthy slogans get repeated and repeated as the Division does its job.

Eventually, the sound quiets down and she can hear his breathing, fast and febrile, as she’s always heard it, even if it’s slightly worse. She doesn’t let herself cry in relief despite the intensity of the emotional rollercoaster hitting her full force by now, her body untensing in one go and leaving her vulnerable but euphoric.

 “Kaede?” A welcome soft voice comes back to her, timid, as footsteps are heard again. “Kaede, do you hear me?”

“Shuichi, you’re back with us?!”

“Yeah… Sorry for the scare,” he coughs loudly, gritting his teeth, “I didn’t see them coming for me. My earphone broke when I fell. I’m borrowing Maki’s for the time being, I’ll give it back to her soon.”

“Are you alright? You sound like you’re in pain.”

“I think I broke my wrist or something, but I’ll be fine. Again, sorry for scaring you and the others so much.”

“It’s fine, Shuichi, it’s not your fault. We’re just relieved that you’re safe and back to us now.”

 Oh, before he gives the earphone back, she needs to tell him one last thing.

“You don’t even know how happy I am to be able to talk to you, Shuichi.”

“I’m glad we can speak together too, Kaede. I’ll have to leave you for now, see you later.”

 With this, Maki takes her earphone back while she regains her enthusiasm. Everything has been fine, today; and even if the stress she stored until now crashes down into exhaustion, she’s happier than anything she could be feeling right now.

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #saimatsu #saiede #saiaka #kaede akamatsu #shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #mukuro ikusaba #sayaka maizono #angst #suspense #communication failure #pre relationship #au: 47 survivors #otp: clair de lune

[mila-regan]

Enough

Little fic that adds to my challenge but also not?? Makes sense, I hope. This fic covers a little about Ethan, a phonecall with Tracie and Aliya and more of Mila’s thoughts! The mistakes in the letter were made on purpose. Edit made by the wonderful Cashew. Thanks to @tracie-beauchamp @aliyatyson and @sophiaravensfromillea

The mood was bright and jokes were being told as the beer was passed around.

For one evening, they were allowed to have fun, tonight they could drink and laugh. Tomorrow they would be back on the field, not knowing who would get hurt or who wouldn’t make it to the next day.

He kept avoiding the events on the television on purpose. Staring at the ground as he tried to laugh along with his mates but he didn’t found their jokes funny. Mostly because all the jokes were about him. They weren’t fond of him. They knew why he was there and what he had done. He disgusted them.

These men had all been randomly selected. They were proud to serve Illéa. Proud that they would die in pride and with a cause. They had real families that were proud of them. Some had wives or were engaged and expecting babies.

He had no one.

He would die in shame and without a purpose.

The guy on the chair next to him slapped him on his shoulder and pointed to the screen. It was his punishment to watch along. Watch the three girls standing next to each other. There were smiles plastered on their faces but he could see that none of them was truly happy.

She wasn’t. He had spent way too much time with her to see her genuine happy. Her eyes would have been smiling. They didn’t.

‘’You have good taste dude.’’ one soldier s houted from the other side of the room as the cameras on television zoomed in on her face. ‘’I would totally do her.’’ Another one yelled. There was agreeing murmur and he gritted his teeth. He had trouble controlling himself. To not punch one of them squarely in the face. No one had the right to talk about her like that.

‘’I would go back for such a pretty face too.’’ There was loud laughter. He clenched his fists in anger what made them laugh even harder.

One of the older men shushed the younger guys as they focused back on the television again.

He didn’t want to see her. He wanted her to be happy but not with a Prince. She should have been living a happy life with him in Bankston. She hated him now. He fucked it all up.

He had nothing left and he knew it. The girl he still loved, was nowhere in reach and hated him. He had left his grandmother all to herself in Bankston without a word from him. She didn’t know that he was left here, left here to die. He abandoned the only family that has ever cared about him.

He was unwanted, unloved and a coward.

One last glance at the television and he knew he couldn’t stand to watch this any longer. When the commercial break cut in, he stood up from his place. The soldiers stick their feet out in order to let him trip but he didn’t fall.

Outside he pushed himself against a brick wall as he started to cry.

Enough. He decided that it was enough. He wouldn’t cause harm anymore. Not to anyone.

They didn’t hear the loud shot.

They didn’t notice his empty seat as the next daughter of Illéa was announced. They clapped their hands, proud of the girl that had won while others had rather picked the other one. They were proud of the next King in line. Proud to serve him.

They finally noticed his absence when they got back to their barracks. The lower bunk was empty, except for a yellow note on his pillow. They recognized his neat handwriting and the founder of the note frowned as he read the text.

‘’Have any of you seen Barret?’’ the founder asked while he looked around the barrack. He didn’t recognize any of the faces that belonged to this bunk.

‘’No. He left the cafeteria when there was a commercial break. Mummering something about shooting a fucking guard.’’ The tall soldier with dark hair laughed loudly as his mates smacked him on the shoulder and laughed with him.

They had been picking on their fellow soldier ever since he came into the group, a couple weeks ago. He was a Three, an aspiring scientist who thought he was better than the rest and a traitor to the Crown. He had committed a crime against Illéa and would not leave this camp unpunished for that.

At first there were small harmless jokes. Hiding his uniform and giving the wrong times to eat dinner so he would be late and didn’t get to eat anything.

Those small things grew into bigger plots. Aiming at him with real bullets instead of practice ones or let him defuse a defect bomb that had a high percent of exploding. He got out of it unharmed every time.

At some point, they just started to ignore him. The traitor was just a stupid guy. A psycho who had love get him so far it had damaged his common sense.

‘’What do you have there?’’ another soldier grabbed the piece of paper out of his hands as he took a quick look. ‘’Is this a joke?’’ he asked as he read the few lines. ‘’I don’t know, dude. I’m asking again, did anyone see or talked with Barret?’’ all the other men shook their heads and murmured no’s.

‘’Damnit.’’ The soldier who found the note whispered and pushed through the crowd of men. He went outside to the barrack where this camp kept their weapons and other protection. All soldiers were assigned to their own weapons but he saw it instantly.

The traitors’ one was missing.

When he ran back to alarm the rest of the camp, it was too late as he already heard shouting.

They had found the traitor already..

‘’Those weren’t real guns, that was just your imagination.’’ I whisper to myself hugging my legs close to my chest. ‘’If it were real guns’ guards would’ve burst into my room, they would have brought me into safety and everything would be fine. No one will get hurt. No harm. Not anymore.” my bedsheets are tangled around my feet and drenched in sweat.

I can’t stop my body from shaking anyway. Shivers run down my spine as the imaginary shot echoes in my head. Why does it come to haunt me right now? This was almost two months ago, I should leave it behind. But when I started to think, it was hard for me to stop. My mind started going places where I didn’t want to go.

They went to Ethan, they always shifted to him.

They were about Haiden too. I haven’t talked to him ever since we came back from the shelter. My great idea of taking him here didn’t end up the way I hoped and suddenly, it made me doubt everything. Him, my reasons to be here and all the recent events.

The darkness of the night changes slowly as the hours pass. When the sky has turned yellow and pink my maids come into my room and get me ready for breakfast. I don’t mind going back to the dresses but I prefer my sweater over any dress. But as Saniya helps me in a soft pink day dress I give her a tight hug. Just because I’m so thankful for her.

‘’Oh Miss, before you leave.’’ Dana stops me as I already stand with one foot in the hallway.

‘’You have special mail today, take a stop at the post office if you can.’’ She winks and pushes me carefully out of the door. I shake my head with a little smile and take a deep breath. I hope it’s from the girls, I could use a little courage before seeing Haiden again. It would be as awkward as I would make it myself but with all the doubt, the tension would still be in the air.

I hurry to the post office and walk in the room as the doors are already opened. ‘’Good morning, Lady Mila.’’ Two guards greet me with a small bow as the one immediately starts searching through a pile of envelopes. ‘’I think this belongs to you.’’ He hands me a bright blue envelop and my smile widens as I see my name messily written on the front.

Kian.

‘’Thank you, gentlemen.’’ I say and make a deep curtsy what makes them laugh a little as I run off with my letter.

In the dinner room, it’s rather quiet and I sit down with the two other girls. As breakfast is served no one talks to one another so I take my opportunity to open and read the letter.

 Dear Mila,

Momma helped me write this letter to you but I wrote the most of it on my own. I’m really proud of you and all the other girls too! But those dresses you wear seem heavy, do you get to take them off in your room?

Momma has let me stay up every Friday night to watch you and your amazing but that’s good.

Is the Prince still nice to you? Does he know how to do sign language when I get to meet him? I hope so. Papa is still not home. He will be when the Prince announces, but that might be weeks away.

I miss you and I love you very very very much, hope you have a fun time at the palace.

Greetings of your little brother, Kian!

 When I look up from my letter the girls heads are turned to me and I realize I must have been laughing out loud. ‘’Excuse me.’’ I mutter and hide the letter away as I take a sip of my orange juice and try to avoid all the eyes. I had to write a letter back soon to him. he would love that. I would send some pictures of the palace along with it.

With my camera in my hand and the phone in my other I walk around the garden, snapping pictures of flowers and the backside of the palace. With the phone, I am planning on calling Tracie. It has been a long time since we have talked and I miss hearing her voice.

When I arrive at the greenhouse, I let out a deep sigh and sink down on the metal bench. This whole greenhouse beams Haiden.

First date, second- first kiss, maybe a goodbye to be added to this list. Who knows..

I dial Tracie’s number and wait for her to pick up. ‘’Hey Trace, it’s me. I haven’t talked to you in ages.’’ I say and hear her laughing.

‘’Oh Mila! I feel like it’s been years honestly. The future Princess is busy.’’ I shaky my head sadly as I hear her say that. I try to laugh with her. ‘’Not so sure about that anymore Trace. By the way, is Ali there?’’ there comes a strange sound from the other side of the line, as if she is spitting her drink out. ‘’You what? Hum yeah, she’s here and not with Ray for once.’’ Tracie sounds almost annoyed.

‘’Hey Mila! Is Tracie talking to you? How does that feel? I wouldn’t know?’’ I guess I’ve been put on the speaker and I frown pushing the phone closer to my ear.

‘’Is everything okay there?’’ ‘’Perfectly fine.’’ Aliya answers. ‘’Can’t be better.’’ Tracie adds but I can sense the tension. ‘’Why are you not sure about winning? I thought you were going for it.’’ I shrug, they can’t see. ‘’I don’t know anymore.’’ I confess. ‘’Not sure? What?’’ Ali asks confused.

‘’I’m so lost in him after the trip to the shelter.’’

‘’What happened? I thought he seemed even more quiet than usual when we brought you home.’’ She comments and I hear Tracie mumble something about the shelter. I remember the ride back to the palace, it was quiet and uneasy. Even Ray noticed.

‘H-he isn’t a determined to erase the Castes, and it isn’t feeling good to him. Because the Castes have been around for such a long time. He thinks too many people will disagree.’’ I explain and feel that heavy feeling again. failure, the feeling that I hate the most.

‘’You brought him to the shelter? You didn’t tell me that.’’ I shake my head. Sorry Trace.

‘’How can he not- I mean, I’m sorry Mila.’’ Aliya says and after that she and Tracie start arguing about curfews and rules. Something I can’t say anything about to mix in. I just listen.

‘’But have you spoken to Haiden after that?’’ Ali asks after the argument.

‘’We haven’t. I feel that my affection for him is so one sided.’’ ‘’You should talk to him Mila.’’ Tracie insists and I nod. I should, but how?

‘’He doesn’t understand that I love him.’’ I try but Ali defends him immediately. ‘’He can be scared.’’ ‘’He is scared.’’ Trace confirms. ‘’I am scared too! He has two other girls to pick out from but I only have one heart. I am sacrificing my whole future for one decision that he will make!’’ my voice becomes louder and I feel tears burning behind my eyes.

This is my future too, I am making sacrifices too.

After a long pause, Aliya asks the burning question that I have asked myself maybe a hundred times. Often late at night. ‘’Do you think you’ll be happy with him, Mila? Because if you won’t- You can still step out, you don’t have to force this because you came this far.’’

‘’I don’t know Ali, I don’t know anything anymore. it’s all a big mess.’’

‘’You would need a break from him if you want to know what I think. You need to think clearly without him being around.’’ Somehow, I like that idea of Tracie. She has some good ones once a while. ‘’We’re barely talking already.’’ I mutter.

‘’I can kidnap you.’’ ‘’Tracie, seriously.’’ Ali scolds.

‘’I can’t let him break her heart.’’

‘’Rational ideas please.’’

And so it went on.. ending with Tracie and Aliya talking it out. Tracie spilling her heart out which I’m glad she did. She cried, I cried and with jokes of her kidnapping me I hung up. If only she would really do that.

I spend the rest of my day in the garden and my room. Writing a letter to Kian with the balcony doors wide open. My maids play games of cards and read my books. It’s good to have distraction and they are the best at doing that.

In the evening, Dana prepares one of the nicest baths ever. She knows me so good, exactly when I finally could use one she knew it. I take my medicines which were assured to be fine and enjoy the warm water and the comfort of the bath. For once there is no place for Haiden, no place for worry and doubt about love and broken hearts. There isn’t even Ethan to spook around. There are only bubbles and that one book I have wanted to finish for ages.

After an hour or three I get out of the tub and dry myself off with a clean towel. I wrap one around my dripping wet hair and around my body as well. I would sleep early, get some energy and speak with Haiden tomorrow. Yes, I’ll do that.

I even hum to myself as I walk back into my bedroom. As I notice the two figures standing in my room I let out a scream and clutch the towel closer to my body.

‘’TRACIE, SOPHIA!’’ I back away in confusion as Sophia waves a little awkward. ‘’Hi.’’

Tracie smiles bright and crosses her arms. ‘’Told you I was going to get you kidnapped.’’

#mila regan #not a challenge #mine #fic

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, 5

Notes: As always, big thanks to my fantastic editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted!

Five chapters in and our love interests FINALLY meet! I used a lot of an old storybit for it, I admit. And yes, more Beagles! I'll always have plenty of those it pick from!

Summary: The goddess of love meets the unloved god. There is definitely a spark between them, but who would have expected the spark of life?

Gods and goddesses were capable of speaking any language they desired, and being all-powerful magical beings, they could understand any word that came from any creature's mouth. But no one on Mount Olympus could understand what “AuuuuuuuUUUughhhhhhahahaaaaaa” meant. Had it come from anyone else but Minnie, they would have found it incredibly disturbing and tried to shut down the noise. But because it was Minnie, they found the sound adorable and even charming.

She laid on her throne, leaning on the armrests with her face to the sky, continuing to warble in odd moaning and sobbing noises. She ignored the men cooing and fawning over her, dropping presents all around. Even when Pete tried to gain her favor by plopping a pearl necklace into her lap, it merely turned into a macabre version of “he loves me, he loves me not”. As usual, Mortimer, Gladstone, and Pete babbled on about how great they were, how great she was, and how great they'd be together until it turned into a not so great fistfight. Minnie was far too lost in her own agony to even notice.

Mickey, the god of mystery, who was so sweet and so nice and so handsome, hated Minnie. The two conflicting images she had of him swirled around in her head – the Mickey that treated his sea family with affection and sincerity, and the Mickey that wanted to spit in her eye. She wanted to be near him, to touch those strong muscles on his arm, to hear his voice say her name with kindness, to learn every single detail about him...and he called her rotten! After hearing that, Daisy had to literally drag Minnie away from the beach, as the demigoddess was fairly sure Minnie was no longer able to move on her own. Daisy kept saying Mickey wasn't worth the trouble, but all her attempts to cheer Minnie up went nowhere.

“At least I've got real problems!” Pete was snarling, banging his dirty fists against the armor on his gut. “What's the use of bein' the god of war when no one feels like havin' a war? The most I can get out of anyone these days is guys pickin' on some goofball because he's clumsy. It's like wantin' a banquet and just gettin' a measly apple! I'm starvin'!”

“You, of all people, are hardly starving,” Mortimer laughed while poking Pete in the belly. “Look, we can influence mortals, but we can't make them do exactly what we want. That's the way the wine flows.” He yanked his hand back before Pete could break his wrist. “I mean, except for Aphrodite. A girl that beautiful, I bet she could make the ocean turn back the tide with just one wink!”

Not one to be outdone, Gladstone offered his own ridiculous flattery. “I bet she could turn all the dead in the Underworld back to life with just a flick of her tail!”

Pete was always eager to win contests. “I bet she could get all of Troy to go to war over just one look!”

As deep in mourning as Minnie was, it was getting harder to concentrate on her suffering with all this noise. She had come to the last pearl – he loves me not – when she suddenly snapped, “Name my favorite color.”

All three men abruptly turned their heads, surprised that the object of their affection had actually come into the conversation. Having genuinely no idea what the real answer was, they gave their best shot.

“Lucky green!” was Gladstone's, “Wine white!” was Mortimer's, and “Blood red!” was Pete's.

“Those are your favorite colors,” Minnie grumbled, pushing herself into a sitting position. She didn't know why she was bothering with the men who never listened to her before, but they'd caught her in a bad mood. “None of you know anything about me, not even my favorite color! I don't even know what my favorite color is, because you people don't tell me anything. You all claim to love me, but you don't know anything about me.”

“I know all about you!” Pete declared far too loudly, straightening his back and jutting out his chin. “I know that you're prettier than posies, way lovelier than any other lady, and-”

“Is there anything you know about me that's not about my looks?” Minnie interrupted,  knowing that even as she scowled and gritted her teeth and glared as hard as she could, these egomaniacs would still only see her as gorgeous. Within seconds her point was proven as Pete was counting on his fingers, trying to find something he knew about her, anything, that didn't pertain to her appearance. Gladstone and Mortimer were more than happy to one-up him, but to their disappointment they also came up short.

Pete soon gave up, throwing his hands up in the air. “Aw, what does it matter? Everyone on Mount Olympus loves you, but I love you most of all! You're the best thing that's happened to this place since myself!”

“That's not love!” Minnie was now on her feet, wagging a finger at all three of them, stepping over all the luxurious gifts she had no use for. “You might as well put a statue of me here, there'd be no difference! Love is not just looks! That's shallow, and silly, and – and – and you can't claim to love someone when you don't even know what their favorite color is!”

And in that exact second Minnie suddenly realized she had no idea what Mickey's favorite color was. Her eyes widened and her finger began to fall – come to think of it, she didn't know his favorite food either, or if Mickey was his first name or chosen name, or why he had muscles, or where he came from, or  - and this hit Minnie the hardest – anything about him besides his looks. Self-loathing welled up in her throat like an urge to heave. She'd been crying and wailing over a man she hadn't spoken two words to. How was she any better than these three, who even now were once again trying to guess her favorite color despite her answer a minute earlier?

“Oh, no,” Minnie covered her face with her hands, horribly embarrassed. Hadn't she tried to find Mickey in the first place because no one knew anything about him? She could hardly call this mission accomplished. She wanted to have information no one else had, so she could stop feeling so stupid compared to everyone else. But now she needed advice on where to go from here, and she wasn't going to get it from the all-mighty peanut gallery. She lifted her head, and with a hard gulp, reluctantly said, “Thank you. All of you.” She jumped down to the mortal plane before giving them a proper explanation – she doubted they would understand it anyway.

Again she was proven right, and the moment she was gone they began fighting over who she was thanking the most. But something Minnie had failed to notice was that with each fight about her, it was getting longer, more violent, and far more destructive. Shouting matches would soon involve the other residential gods, and thrones would be destroyed after being used as weapons. Things were escalating day by day.

Today wasn't the breaking point, but it was on the horizon.

~*~

Goofy's morning routine was mostly the same every day. He would tumble out of his makeshift bed, say good morning to his statue of Millie, find a way to the kitchen, eat a modest meal, and then go into town to either make money or find inspiration. Yesterday had been a make money day – it was particularly successful, as he helped a small crew put together a rooftop and he'd only fallen in twice. That meant today was an inspiration day, which meant he could travel all over town to find anything to stir his muse. He made sure to wave hello to all he saw, despite knowing many would merely roll their eyes and quickly wave back before trying to get out of his line of sight. Only the children would chime back “Good morning!”, since they were too young to share their parents' prejudice. He didn't mind - so he told himself.

Something he did mind was that he hadn't seen Daisy or Minnie ever since that one day. Had they been travelers that were merely passing by? This was disappointing to think of, since they'd been awfully nice, and he was just about done with Minnie's peach. As much as he could tell himself over and over, day by day, that he didn't mind the village's treatment of him, it still hurt in a place he tried to ignore. He was lonely, but there was nothing he could do to change it if the villagers themselves didn't want to change their attitude.

During his walk he could spot the temple of Aphrodite, and more importantly saw some familiar figures sneaking into it. His long face frowned – as much as he cared about the village, it did hold some seedy characters. Whereas Goofy's trouble was the result of mistakes, clumsiness, and not thinking things out 100%, these particular men and one woman committed trouble on purpose. They were thieves, and not even good ones.

Goofy marched straight toward the temple, and as he took one step inside, he shouted, “You Beagles better be on your best behavior!”

The Beagle family was rumored to have a branch in every village in Greece, and the less Beagles one had, the better off the village was. This village had three, making the village unlucky but not terribly poor. There was Burger Beagle, the youngest and the heaviest who was often stuffing his mouth with whatever his fingers could grab – he'd tried to eat one of Goofy's well beyond ripe peaches and was turning green for the effort. Bouncer Beagle was the big brother, who was taller than everyone in the village and had more muscles than most of them, too. There was an ongoing rumor that he had a gold tooth but some people argued that it was just an extremely dirty yellow. Lastly there was Ma Beagle, the matriarch, a heavyset woman with gray hair and a gray disposition. No one was sure if she was the mother of all the Beagles or simply one of many, and any who dared ask tended to find themselves sporting a black eye afterwards.

Ma Beagle placed her hands on her hips – no, now that Goofy looked closely, one hand on was on her hip and the other was behind her back – and pointed her nose upward. “I don't know what you're implying! My babies are always on their best behavior.”

Bouncer, not the fastest horse in the stable, scratched his head. “We are?”

Goofy crossed his arms and tapped his foot, looking from one member of the family to the next. “Then you weren't here to rob the temple, were ya?”

“Robbing a goddess's temple!” Ma placed her hand on her head – the other still behind her – and leaned back as if she could faint at the very notion. Despite the poor act, Bouncer held out his arms to catch her. “Who would ever do such a thing? They would have to be the lowest of the low!”

“Besides,” Burger added after a sick belch, “there wasn't anything here but old peaches and a few coins.” Ma swiftly kicked her son in the leg, causing him to fall over with a cry.

“I knew it!” Goofy stomped up to the aging mother, holding out a flat palm. “You give back that money, it ain't yours! It was an offerin' to the goddess, and it meant a whole lot to someone to give that up!”

Ma dropped the frail old lady act as she stood back up, sneering as she held up the stolen satchel that clinked as it swung from her fingers. “Finders keepers, goof! If it's between someone with rocks in his head and me and my boys, they'll believe me first! Why don't you take that big ugly snout of yours and keep it out of my business!”

“You tell 'im, Ma!” Bouncer cheered after he helped his little brother stand up, and made sure to smack Burger's hands before he could try eating another peach.

Goofy tried to take the satchel back, but Ma swung it away, taking several steps back for every single step he took forward. “You can't take what don't belong to you! It ain't right! You should make a decent livin' for yerself!”

Ma laughed, easily dodging each of Goofy's attempts to grab her. “And you call your life decent? You're the village idiot! Maybe me and my boys aren't going to win any popularity contests anytime soon, but at least we like each other!”

“Mostly!” Burger and Bouncer said together.

“But nobody wants you around!” Ma made a swift turn around the single pedestal, but when Goofy tried the same tactic, his untied sandal caused him to trip. He cried out as he fell over the pedestal, causing it to fall with him and splattering the remains of the peaches on his back. The Beagles laughed harshly, Bouncer even doubling over while Burger held his aching stomach. Ma tossed the satchel up and down in her hands, looking down at Goofy in more ways than one. “See? At least when we're bad, we do it right! You try to be right, and you're bad at it! I bet the entire village would be better off if you weren't around!” Satisfied at the sting in the sculptor's eyes, she headed out of the temple. “Come on, boys, Mama's gunna buy us some nice new clothes!”

“How about an early lunch, Ma? I'm starving!”

Goofy laid there until their mocking voices could no longer be heard, as he was afraid if they saw him making an effort they'd fire off more insults. With a resigned sigh, he sat on his knees and pushed the pedestal back into its original position. This wasn't an unusual day for him – which made it all the worse. “I sure hope Aphrodite ain't mad at me for messin' up her temple,” he mumbled to himself as he picked smelly peach jam off of his fur.

“Oh, I'm sure she's not mad at all!”

Goofy was so taken aback by the sudden voice that his body jerked and he knocked over the pedestal again. Once he set it upright, he looked at the corner of the temple where the voice came from – out of literally nowhere stood Minnie, in the same mortal disguise she had used before. Goofy had no idea how she could have gotten in without seeing her, but he put it out of his mind. “Minnie! Aw, I was just thinkin' about you!”

Minnie smiled – if she couldn't expect any help from Olympus and Daisy had told her to give up, she really only had one other person she could go to for help. “It's good to see you again, Goofy.” She then darted forward for one of her traditional hugs – stopped when the stench hit her nose – then decided it was something she could live with and wound up in his arms anyway.

Goofy chuckled quietly, picking Minnie up into his arms, since she was very light to begin with. “Always an affectionate one, ain'tcha?” He easily stood up, carrying Minnie around in one arm as he walked outside of the temple. They'd both need some cleaning up now, and the local well wasn't too far off. “But yer peach ain't ready yet, I'm afraid. Still gunna need a few more days on that one.”

“Oh, no, I didn't come for that.” Minnie continued to hang onto him, ignoring the townsfolk's stares – Goofy covered in foodstuffs was normal, but him carrying around a pretty young girl was not. Some craned their necks to follow them, while others blinked so much their eyes stung. “I actually was hoping you could give me some advice.”

The tall dog came to an abrupt stop, staring at Minnie as if she'd suddenly gained two extra ears. Did he hear right? “Well! I, uh...Gwarsh! Nobody's ever asked me for advice before.” He couldn't believe he had to say it out loud. He'd been so used to everyone calling him a moron that he believed it himself, so this was throwing him for all kinds of loops. “Are you sure there ain't anyone else you can ask?”

“Not really,” Minnie admitted with a small shrug. “But I trust you! I know you'll be honest with me!”

She had him there. He scratched his head idly, and then resumed walking. “I suppose that's true enough. Never did like liars. One lie always leads to another, and then you got yourself nothin' but trouble.” At the brick and mortar well, he sat Minnie down at the well's edge and grabbed a wooden bucket. “I guess anythin's worth tryin' once. What did you wanna ask me?”

Minnie kicked her tiny legs about, unsure of how to word this the way it needed to be said. While later in life Aphrodite would be known for many accomplishments and stories, one of the few things people would remember is that she first coined the phrase, “I have this friend.” Once Goofy nodded, she continued. “She...she wants to be close to a certain someone, but she doesn't know how to do it. She doesn't have a lot of friends. The first friend she made was kind of by accident. But this someone already doesn't like her. He doesn't even know her, and he wants nothing to do with her.”

Goofy “hmmm”ed the matter over as he tied the well's rope to the bucket and then tossed the bucket into the well. He continued to “hmm” as the bucket sunk into the water, and “hmm”ed once more as he pulled the bucket back up. “Not an easy one, that's for sure.” When the bucket was in his hands, he dumped the entire contents on himself, and then resumed the process all over again. “Y'know, I kinda have the same problem here. Most folks don't wanna get to know me. They hear the name 'Goofy', and turn the other way. They don't even wanna try to learn who I am. You know why that is?”

Minnie glanced up, waving her hand in front of her nose as the smell was still there. “Because people fear change?”

“Nope.” Goofy dropped the bucket with a thud into the well. “Cause people don't like feelin' dumb. They'd rather stick with the wrong facts than think of themselves as bein' dumb. Feelin' like that, it's the worst, cause you hear all the time how other people talk about dummies. You don't wanna be seen as one of them, don't wanna be a target. People'd rather be mean and ornery than admit they were wrong. Might be the case with your fella.” After dumping the water on his back for a second time, he wrung out the water from his long floppy ears. “Does he know anythin' about her at all?”

Minnie leaned back as she recalled that moment, tapping her fingers on the stones of the well. “I think the only thing he got right was her name.”

“He doesn't even know what she looks like?”

“I don't think so, no.”

“Well then, I'd say it's pretty darn easy!” Goofy grinned, his teeth sticking out in a bit of pride and glee. “Why doesn't she go up to him and not tell him her name?”

Perhaps to a more seasoned goddess, one who had been taught more about mortality and the ways of the world, this idea wouldn't have sounded like a good one. But to Minnie, young and fresh and desperate, this was perhaps the most brilliant plan she'd ever heard of. “That's – that's it! He doesn't know my chosen – I mean, her nickname!” She'd only given it out to Daisy and Goofy – Daisy would only tell her husband, and Goofy didn't even know he had befriended a goddess. Many had assumed she was Aphrodite just by looking at her, but that didn't mean she had to confirm it! “Goofy, you're a genius!” She jumped into his arms, and laid a big fat kiss on his cheek.

Goofy's cheeks reddened, and he pat Minnie on the head, humbled by such rare praise. “Aw, it ain't nothin'! I bet once that guy gets to know your friend, he'll like her a whole lot.”

Giggling in ecstasy, Minnie squeezed Goofy even tighter, almost delirious in joy. “Oooh, you're the best, Goofy! I bet Aphrodite is going to double your reward! Triple it! She's going to make you the happiest mortal in the whole wide world, just you wait!” She kicked her feet about, and Goofy found himself caught up in her euphoria even if he didn't entirely understand it. They laughed merrily together as he carried her around the well in their own sort of miniature parade. Those that stopped to stare before now found themselves feeling warm in the chest, kind of wishing they could join in.

But when Goofy finally finished cleaning himself, Minnie had vanished, and he couldn't recall seeing her go off in any particular direction. He figured he'd see her again, and he could only hope her friend would have good luck with her odd problem. Maybe if he left another offering to Aphrodite, things would work out. Having long since grown sick of the smell and sight of peaches, his next offering would be a crate of oranges – which he still didn't realize he was supposed to burn.

A quiet rumor grew the following day that he was doing it on purpose so the awful smell would keep thieves like the Beagles out. It was the first day of changes for Goofy, though not the biggest. That would come in its own time, for which he would receive both the greatest blessing and the most tragic curse.

~*~

Minnie didn't flounce off to Mickey's island right away, as tempting as the urge was. Before she willed herself back to the shore with sharp rocks, she spent many hours trying to make herself look less pretty.  The idea was that if she didn't look like an all-perfect goddess, maybe Mickey wouldn't assume she was the one he loathed. But much like Donald had trouble controlling his appearance when he was enraged, Minnie's beauty was its own battle. When she tried to muss up her spitcurls of black fur around her ears, they bounced back into shape even curlier than before. When she washed off the make-up that appeared on her face, she found herself gorgeous with natural blush and full colored lips. She ripped her dress in her hands, but instead of looking like a poor degenerate, now she resembled an Amazon princess who had escaped war without a scratch.

It was when she was almost inclined to give herself a black eye that she realized perhaps she was going too far. If Mickey liked her or not, he'd ultimately decide that on his own when he met her. So Minnie, biting the bullet before it was invented, willed herself to the island with only hope on her side. On this downcast day full of dark clouds, there was no sign of the unknown god, nor any splashes from his nautical friends. Minnie bit on her lower lip and wandered around for any sign of her target and only stopped when she came across a single cave in the rocky mountainside.

The cave was nothing special, and so Minnie was puzzled. Surely a god – even a minor one – would adorn his home with some sort of decoration, or an announcement of his greatness. That's what she'd seen of the major ones on Mount Olympus. But there was nothing spectacular or even unusual about this dark cave that stood over the ocean. It looked like the same you’d find anywhere else on earth. She stood in the entrance of the cave, peering into the blackness –

And then something peered back at her.

Minnie held a staring contest with the thing with yellow eyes. A grinding sound echoed in the cave, followed by clicking and whirring. Minnie stepped back, but as the cave's torches illuminated the figure, she felt less fear and more confusion. She remembered seeing this unusual creature back with Mickey the first time, the thing that didn't blink or move or do much of anything unless so ordered. It was human in design, but it was gold from head to toe. Gold skin, gold eyes, and as Minnie stared at this creature, she could see screws in her – this thing was female, no doubt – elbows and neck. It took on the design of a human female wearing a civilian’s robe, but it could never have actually passed for it. It was just too strange.

She knew she'd seen that face somewhere – and not simply from that one day – but she just couldn't place it. The being stared at her, and Minnie stared back. The woman carried no emotion, Minnie couldn't even guess what it was thinking – if she could think. The love goddess took a deep breath, arched her back, and put bravery into her voice. “I would like to see Mickey, if that's all right with you!”

Axelia hadn't been designed to shoo away visitors because Mickey never thought he'd have any. The mermaids and nereids would never make the effort to crawl all the way up to the cave, and no one else knew he existed or just didn't care. Thus Axelia saw no reason to deny Minnie her wish, turning around and heading back inside. “Follow-Follow-Follow-me. Master-Mickey-Is-Deep-Inside-And-Working-Working-Working.”

Hadn't that been easy! Minnie's muscles relaxed, and she couldn’t help herself – she started giggling. It was all just so absurd, like a dream. “You call him Master?” she asked as she walking alongside Axelia. “Is he that powerful a god?”

“Master-Mickey-Created-Created-Created-Me.”

Minnie fumbled in her footing, utterly thrown off by that repetitive fact. “Created!” she exclaimed, now moving around to get a look at anything she might have missed about Axelia. “My goodness! That's amazing!” Gods and goddesses could summon anything with a snap of their finger, but Mickey made a moving, talking, fully sized person all on his own? Her astonishment only grew as they passed by more caves where other Axelias were hard at work carving minerals and ore from the rocks. “Then does that mean he made all of them, too?”

“Yes-Yes-Yes. There-Are-Are-Are-Twelve-Of-Us.” No pride, no boredom, facts and only facts.

“That must make them your sisters!” Minnie replied as she tried to catch up to her guide who hadn't stopped walking. “What are their names?”

“We-Are-All-All-All-named-Axelia.”

“...Really?” Her enthusiasm slowed down a smidgen. “Doesn't that get confusing?”

“No-No-No.” Maybe Mickey wasn't so good at coming up with names, but his craftsmanship wasn't lazy. Minnie could tell the metal maiden was made with careful dedication and love. She wasn’t just functional, she was beautiful. Each and every single Axelia was clearly made with precise deliberation and gentle hands. “The-Master-Made-Me-Me-Me-Third.” Axelia answered, eyes ahead, perhaps unable to go in any other direction. “He-Created-Us-Us-Us-To-Assist-Him.”

Minnie had many more questions, but then the ground underneath her stopped being dusty and hard, and now was soft and smooth. She was no longer walking on a cave floor, but the floor of a home, and she looked up to see the elaborate workshop of the blacksmith god. On the walls were scrolls of maps and blueprints drawn by hand, and six other Axelias were involved in their own tasks – cooking, cleaning, constructing and bending tiaras and sharpening spears. Shelves of finished weapons and ornaments lined the walls, showing off Mickey's latest accomplishments. Colors smiled at her from these lovely trinkets, and Minnie longed to wear them.

Heat billowed across the room, coming from the ceiling, where lava from the volcano lazily flowed into a large black forge. Sitting before the forge on a gray stone work bench was the very man she'd come to see. Up close, it was clear how dirty Mickey was, how long it'd been since he last bathed, the faded colors of his torn robe, and the sweat rolling down his greasy fur. He hadn't noticed the company, as he was hammering a long, zig-zagged object that glowed intensely. Minnie had never seen anything like it, and it crackled with electricity every time he struck it. With each blow, the shape became more defined, tighter, and he welcomed every spark that trailed up his arm.

Axelia spoke. “Master-Mickey-You-Have-Have-Have-A-Visitor.”

Mickey's arm stopped in the air. He slowly lowered the tool to his side – and began roaring in laughter. The sheer idea of anyone coming to see him, of making that effort, was so impossible that it bordered on ridiculous, especially coming from his stoic servant. “A visitor! Th-that's rich! I bet there's one, why not a thousand of 'em!” He slapped his knee, and then bent over, holding himself due to laughing so much. Perhaps it'd been because he hadn't laughed in so long that this simple misunderstanding was causing him to react so wildly. He then began to turn around and Minnie saw one of his legs – his left- drag. “Didn’t know you girls could have a sense of humor-”

He promptly shut up the moment he saw Minnie, as most all living things did when they first saw her. She was used to it, ever since she first woke up on the bubbly shell, but for the first time she was actually grateful for it. Now it gave her a few extra seconds to think of what to say on her end, though she didn't think it'd last this long. She nervously played with her dress, waiting for him to get over the initial shock, but he didn't. Instead of giving her time to think about what she should say, she instead found herself memorizing more of him.

Mickey was small, his fingers tinted with smudges of dirt and oil. He wore a small brown robe around his waist, and that was it, modesty long since forgotten. He was covered in grime and sweat, and Minnie found to her own surprise that such filth rather excited her. It was proof of his exhaustion, proof of his dedication, and she even found herself enjoying the smell that came off him – the smell of work. She smiled at him, and he looked ready to swallow his own heart, eyes bulging out and mouth hung open. He hadn't even realized he was making a long “UHHH” noise until Axelia calmly walked over and pushed his jaw closed.

The touch affirmed Mickey that he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating, which was well enough since he knew his imagination would never have come up with someone this breathtaking. But even if she'd been as ugly as sin, he would have been shocked for ages – who would come visit him and why? But she wasn't ugly as sin, she was a perfect virtue of loveliness, and he became suddenly very aware that he wasn't. He remembered his leg, his clothes, his dirt, and mortification overcame him so greatly that he wished for death.  When he spoke, it was barely above a horrified whisper. “Wh...who are you?”

This, at least, Minnie was prepared for. She curtsied, taking her time to make it long and respectful. “My name is Minnie. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mickey.”

Mickey gaped for words, and then he flailed his limbs at emotionless Axelia. “W-Why didn’t ya tell me I had a visitor?!”

“I-Just-Did-Did-Did,” Axelia replied, and her tinny voice almost seemed to carry a hint of amusement, but maybe Minnie was hearing what she wanted to hear.

“Well ya shoulda told me sooner!” Mickey yelped, now very aware of his exposure, and his filth, and he felt a great need to cover himself – or die, whichever came easier. He tried to get up on his own, her presence so overwhelming he forgot his own disability, and he promptly fell over. Minnie could see it clearly now, his deformed left leg that refused to work. It twisted at an unnatural angle, but thankfully Mickey didn’t appear to be in pain – physically. Emotionally he was a wreck. “I-I woulda gotten the place cleaned up! Made her some tea, o-or somethin’, and, aw, gee, this place is a pigsty! Look at me! No, don’t look at me!”

Minnie stifled a giggle. Normally most men and women she came across got over their surprise fairly easily, and then treated her with utmost respect, speaking calmly and with reverence. She found herself enjoying Mickey falling apart at the seams. It was very real, if she had to put a word to it. A very mean aspect of her kind of wanted to wind him up further, but she held it back. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. Was I interrupting your work?”

Axelia didn't help Mickey, which Minnie found odd. Instead, he pushed himself back up before Minnie had a chance to offer aide, and he glanced quickly to his project. “No,” he lied. “Nothin’… Nothin’ important. I’ll get to it later.” His tail flicked back and forth, and he rubbed one of his arms, nervous. “Uh… what brings ya by?”

Seeing as her mere presence was sending him into a heart attack, Minnie knew she couldn't tell Mickey that she'd become utterly fascinated by his mystery and needed to learn more about him. But Daisy was wrong, mermaids weren't useless ditzes, because they had given Minnie a perfect idea. “Well, I saw those lovely trinkets you made for the mermaids and nereids, so I was wondering, if you could...May I have one?”

Mickey scratched his nose as he listened, but stopped soon enough as he appeared to realize this was not something one does in front of a lady – a lady lady. But in its own way, her request seemed to both deflate him and cheer him up. Of course she had come for his handiwork – it was all he could do. As if anyone would actually come for him alone! Yet at the same time, his fame had reached out and clearly impressed someone – he wasn't sure if she was mortal or spirit or something else altogether – and they'd made the effort to come all the way out here to his humble home. Ultimately he decided to take it as flattery. “A’course I can make ya somethin’. That’s my specialty. What did you want?”

Alas, she hadn't planned this far ahead, and Minnie fidgeted. “What? Oh, um, I...I'd like anything really!” When his eyes narrowed, she panicked, and she tugged so hard on her sleeves she was worried she'd tear them off. “A bracelet? Anklet? No, a necklace! I, uh, I'm not sure, I mean, I'd really be happy with whatever you made!”

What Minnie didn't know was that Mickey wasn't annoyed. It was hardly the first time he'd come across someone indecisive. Sometimes he welcomed the challenge. As Minnie sputtered excuses, he picked up his walking stick and brought himself up. It took two and a half steps to approach Minnie, and when he stopped, it was his turn to study her. He cupped his chin, nodded once, and then used his walking stick to lift her dress – just a bit, to see her ankles.

Minnie was a new goddess, and a new life in general, but even she had the faint notion that this wasn't something done between man and woman on a first meeting. She froze, her cheeks becoming redder than the lava flowing from above. “Wh-wh-what are you doing?!” She was so shocked it didn't occur to actually stop him.

“Lookin', what's it look like I'm doin'?” Mickey answered coolly, oblivious to how this appeared. “See, you don't need anklets. You're the type to wear dresses that cover your legs, so it'd either get tangled or ignored. Even if you did, people would look at your toes anyway, that's what would catch attention instead of an anklet.” He dropped her dress, and then seized her wrist in his hand, turning it over. “Hmmm...nope, you don't need a bracelet either. Got thin wrists, it'd irritate your hands.” He dropped her hand with ease, leaning back to scrutinize what was left. “No on the necklace. You're a modest gal, you wouldn't trust people's eyes there. Can't do earrings either, shape is all wrong. You'd have to use all that space to make an impact, that'd just be a hassle day by day.”

Minnie's disappointment grew with each well-meaning assessment – had she come all this way for nothing? What other way could she strike up a natural sounding conversation with him? Yet as Mickey squinted at her forehead, there was a glint in his eyes. “Do me a favor, lower your head. Just a bit.” Minnie obeyed, unsure what else to do, and waited as his eyes darted all around her forehead and between her ears. Finally, Mickey pounded the ground once with his stick. “A tiara!” he declared with a finger up. “That'll work just fine! Got plenty of space around there, so it can have hanging jewelry – no, seashells! I'm seein' seashells, and sea glass!”

He turned to his right, calling out, “Axelia!” To Minnie's continued confusion, only the one that had been working on a spear no one would use lifted her head. “Get three others and start work harvesting materials from the tides! I want results by tomorrow night.”

Minnie didn't wait for permission to pop her head back up, now elated beyond measure. Not only had the idea worked, but the very sound of this gift seemed delightful, and she could feel it already sitting atop of her head. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I would love a tiara! Thank you, thank you!” She practically skipped up to him, ready to give him one of her classic hugs and he clearly hadn’t expected her to get any closer – he scooted back as far as his awkward leg would allow, blinking rapidly and his cheeks coloring. Minnie stopped, and there was a stiff pause between them, the two of them unsure of what the other's attitude meant.

After a soft swallow, Minnie dared to start things up again. “Is there anything I can give you as payment? I have a lot of treasures myself.” Every day her throne was filled to the brim thanks to admirers who had only caught a glance of her.

Mickey’s mind jumped –  for the first time in his life he was physically attracted to someone, so the idea of payment from her gave him all sorts of images - he bit the inside of his cheek to stop it. “Aw, I don’t need nothin’. I got everythin’ I need here, who could ask for anythin’ more?” He shrugged the offer away dismissively, telling himself if he had asked for a kiss on the cheek, either she would have thrown him into the lava, or he'd have jumped in himself. “Might take a few weeks, I got a bunch of other orders to do. Can't just push you to the head of the line.” Speaking of that, he decided his personal project could wait. He waved for the nearest Axelia to pick it up to stow away, and have it replaced with an unfinished necklace.

“That’s very kind of you,” Minnie kept smiling, and soon he smiled too. Some of the other Axelias had stopped what they were doing to watch them. The two mice held a very long gaze that made Mickey feel as if he was shrinking, while Minnie was deciding some things for herself.

Mickey took a breath, and then turned away from her, hitching his shoulders up. “Guess I better get started.” That would be the signal for her to leave, and he picked up his hammer. It would be a very interesting couple of weeks, he knew it, as he waited for her to come back and marvel at what she had made him. He was already picturing the tiara – blue with streaks of the sea – but when he lifted his hammer, he heard his bench creak, and saw in the corner of his eye that Minnie was now sitting next to him. She was close enough that he could feel her dress on his good leg.

Mickey awkwardly kept his arm up, staring at her. “…You forget somethin’?”

“No,” Minnie had her hands in her lap, with that ever present smile on her face. “I wanted to watch you make it. Do you mind?”

Whenever Mickey had tried to discuss how he made his projects for his family in the sea, he could see their eyes glaze over in boredom, and in seconds they'd be trying to change the subject. He couldn't blame them. No one could understand or see the same fun and excitement he did when he was crafting. To others, it was long tedious work. To him, it wasn’t work – it was his reason to be. He still held his arm up, perhaps forgetting it was even there. “I…uh…well… i-it ain’t any fun-I mean, for yourself, wouldn’t be any fun… and you’d just get all dirty.” Even now, the ends of her dress were starting to blacken in grime and dust.

“Please, can I watch?” Minnie knew a bat of her eyelashes tended to make things go her way, as they were doing now. Normally this would annoy her, as it meant no one was paying attention or even thinking about why she was asking what she asked. But only for him did she employ the full powers of her beauty, watching his heart flip-flop in his eyes, telling herself it'd be just this once to get her foot in the door. “If you’ll let me, I’d really like to learn.”

His hand shook, but it finally came down, banging his hammer against the hardening project on the anvil. “D-do what ya want,” he finally managed to stutter out. “I ain't gunna tell ya whatcha can do, no sir…” he mumbled as he kept hitting the copper, very aware of Minnie leaning on him. Surely she'd get tired of this in no time. “This, uh... this here's copper. It's good stuff to work with. You can use it right away instead of havin' to extract it from ore. Doesn't react to water, which is another bonus, especially when you're makin' stuff for folks who live in water.”

“What does that mean?”

Mickey, again, found himself at a loss for words and stopped what he was doing. The question itself was simple and he could answer it in his sleep. But the existence of the question meant not only was she was listening, she was interested in what he had to say. He was, for one of the few if not first times in his life, having a fair back and forth conversation. “Uh. Well. It has to do with rust. A lot of metals rust, that's when they get exposed to air or water or other things and turn color, sometimes turning brittle.” Minnie asked for an example, and he spoke of iron, of both its useable qualities and its small annoyances. Then they were back to copper, then to tin and bronze, going to minerals like azurite and turquoise, what elements worked together, and for each new fact Minnie had a new question.

It was one of the best conversations either of them had ever had in their lives. Minnie didn't feel like an idiot for not knowing these things, because Mickey was patient and calm, happy to tell what he spent his life on. Mickey lost some of his stutter as he was allowed to gush about designs for weapons he couldn't use – the giant yellow thing had been deemed a “lightning bolt”, part of a security system that he admitted he had no need for since no one was after him. He showed her how heat allowed him to twist metal and glass to his whim, and she praised his cleverness while hoping he wouldn't burn himself. She learned his favorite color was orange – a hazy, setting sun orange, to be exact.

Mickey offered her his ideas and she was allowed to give her opinion on what worked and what didn't. He took them in stride, thanking her for her honesty, and she asked, asked, asked, and he answered, answered, answered, and they were happy. Hours passed, which meant nothing to a goddess, but it did mean something to a god that was immortal in youth but not in spirit. His words began to jumble and his eyelids drooped. It wasn't until he yawned for the third time in a row before he put down his tools. “Sheesh! I dunno what you're made of, Minnie, but I need to get some shut-eye.”

“Oh!” That's right, there was supposed to be something off about him, like his leg, but Minnie had completely forgotten. Didn't Daisy mention it during Minnie's first lovestruck stupor? Something about ambrosia – she'd have to catch up with Daisy about that. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to keep you up. I just lost track of time, this was so much fun!”

Mickey chuckled, finding he couldn't disagree. “Gotta admit, this was different. Wasn't so bad.” He'd been so pleased by the entire day's affairs that he never got around to asking what she was – and decided it really didn't matter. He picked up his walking stick, and stumbled to get around his work bench, his left leg dragging on the floor.

Minnie sprang to her feet, trying to take his arm. “Here, let me help you!”

The affectionate aura between them was abruptly interrupted when Mickey sharply pulled his arm back, clutching his stick. “No! That's...No, I don't need help.” His cutting voice rolled into a mumble, eyes moving down. It wasn't as if he had forgotten his leg, merely that it wasn't important in those flying hours. But now it was important, and he was a hideous, malformed reject, and he would not take pity about it – even if he wasn't correctly identifying what was pity and what wasn't. But he still wouldn't have it, not even from a pretty girl who had made him feel less alone for one day. “I've never needed anyone's help, not in years. Just...just remember that.”

As Mickey hobbled his way to his room, Minnie was utterly baffled – what in those few seconds had she done wrong? Did five words destroy a wonderful moment? “I...I didn't mean...I'm sorry.” Even if she had no idea what she was apologizing for, it came. “Can I still come back tomorrow?”

For the last time that day, Mickey paused due to bewilderment. He gradually turned back to look at her, wondering if he'd heard right. “Huh?”

“I said, 'can I still come back tomorrow?'” Her hands were knotted together, pleading and expecting. She thought she had insulted him again, but Mickey honestly didn't think she'd want to come back until her tiara was ready. “I promise, I won't help you at all! Can I still come? Can we still talk? Can I still ask you things?”

Still, still, still, as if she'd been expecting to come back all along and this was merely a sidestep! Mickey didn't know anything about love – it was as foreign to him as most manners – but he did know happiness, and that bubbled in his throat like fresh seafoam. He covered his mouth with the back of his palm as if that would stop the silly looking smile from appearing. He had to force his voice to sound masculine, which was difficult for someone naturally squeaky. “L-L-Like I said before, I ain't gunna tell ya whatcha can do.”

Minnie took this as a positive, and she jumped with a hard clap. “Oh, thank you, Mickey!” She would've tried to hug him again, but she didn't want to risk upsetting him again – which was a shame because he would've welcomed it this time. “I'll be here bright and early, with lots and lots of questions! I want to know all about sea glass!” How did mortals end these things? Ah, yes! She curtsied again, “Goodnight, Mickey!” And flounced down the cave's entrance, each step merrier than the last, humming a made-up song of serene notes.

Mickey raised an eyebrow as he watched the girl until he could no longer see her. Were girls, not made of scales and screws, all like her, or was she weird all on her own? Not that this was a bad thing. He stayed there a moment longer, and then went to bed, though sleep didn't come for a while. He laid on his sheets, hands on his chest, saying her name over and over – he feared if this all really had been a dream, he'd forget with sunrise, so he hoped that by repeating her name he'd never forget.

Minnie, Minnie, Minnie - he had a thousand questions of his own to ask, but felt he had no right. Maybe in time she would tell him without his prodding. Maybe, maybe, maybe, Minnie, Minnie, Minnie – and he fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

~*~

Minnie could sleep whenever she wanted, but now she was far too excited to do it – she felt as if she would never sleep again! He enjoyed her company! He answered her questions! If only there was a way to make everyone feel the way she felt now! Of course, no one on Mount Olympus would understand, and Minnie often found Daisy by schedule or sheer luck. Minnie needed to express this somehow, someway, and as she danced through villages, spreading her glee unknowingly – many mortals that night would wind up having soothing dreams of their special someone – she remembered that she owed part of this joy to Goofy, and it was high time to pay him back.

Sadly it was the middle of the night, and Minnie knew it would be rude to awaken him for this joyous news just yet. But he had to be rewarded, and as she let himself in his quiet house, she saw the statues and thought of Axelia – a statue that could move, made by Mickey's hands and will. Minnie looked her at her small hands, so tiny and often helpless – but Mickey was tiny too and he had done incredible things.

Minnie wound up in front of the sad statue of Millicent, forever lost to the sea and forever reminding Goofy of his lost love. The goddess gazed at her with a new expression – perhaps, she too, could create.

~*~

Goofy's morning routine was mostly the same every day. He would tumble out of his makeshift bed, say good morning to his statue of Millie, she'd say good morning back, he'd find a way to the kitchen, eat a modest meal, and then go into town to either make money or find inspiration. As he began cutting his bread for breakfast, he thought about his point-by-point schedule.

Maybe I ought to change things up, he pondered, so I can find me some inspiration. Do something new. Every day I do the same ol' things. I get out of bed, say hello to Millie, she says hi back, I go to the kitchen, I -

Goofy's hand halted mid-cut. Something about that train of thought didn't seem right. He went through it again. I get out of bed, say hello to Millie, she says hi back, I -

She...SHE SAYS HI BACK?!

Dropping the knife, Goofy ran back to his bedroom, which wasn't easy since he had to slide and shift among his many differently shaped artworks. He fell into his bedroom, and when he sat up, there stood a black furred poodle folding his bedsheets and fluffing his pillow. When she finished and saw him, she smoothed down her dress and smiled at him. “Did you forget something, Goofy?”

To Goofy's credit, he did do something new that morning. For the first time in his morning routine, he fell over in a dead faint.

#disney #fanfic #love like lava #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #goofy

[helloleleslifeme-blog]

LIFE.

People don't ever really think about it, but if you do, you can remember something from when you were about five. My earliest memory was a moment when my mom moved me and my three siblings into a house with other people because we couldn't afford to live on our own. It was this big green house with a large garage that my mom and the owner of the house turned into two bedrooms. One for my mom and her partner, and one for me and my older sister. My two brothers slept in the house with the other boys who lived in the home with us. All together there was about eleven of us in that one house. It was a one story house, with a huge back yard for the animals, and a huge front yard with a short gate around it and a huge tree for the kids to play in. The owner put up a little play house in the yard for us girls to play in. i can’t remember exactly how old i was at the time, but i was pretty young. Couldn't have been older than about four or five. There’s times in people's life’s that they remember more than others. They either remember all the good or all the bad, or maybe even bits and pieces of both.  Some of mine were good but most of mine were bad…

Growing up they try to prepare you for when your parents set you loose into the real world where you have to care for yourself. But what they don't tell you is that, that moment come fast and its abrupt for most kids. My mom was always into drugs and my dad didn't get to choose when he had to pick us up from moms because she made him care for us. But little did she know that you cannot make someone love someone they have hate for. I was an unholy baby. Created out of wedlock, hate, revenge, and adultery. My dad wife apparently told my mom that my dad would never touch her, so my mom took that challenge and went for it. And guess what? She got me. Revenge. A mistake. A war. Living like that was hard for a little girl who never understood why her dad never looked at her the same way he looked at her sisters. My mom loved me, i have no doubt about that, but she wasn't capable of caring for anyone but herself when she got high. Or when she was off them for that short period of time. So my sister who was too young to understand why mom was never there when we needed her, took me under her wing. She cared for me when my mom couldn't, loved me like her own, and gave up her childhood for me. And i don't ever think i could ever express how grateful i am of her and the life she gave me as a young child. She gave it all up, for me.

My second earliest memory was preschool. I can’t remember everything but i do remember sleeping by the door a lot. A really good memory i have from around that age was a christmas. My dad did something that i'll never be able to forget. He taught me how to tie my shoes. You know, that “loop it around and make it into bunny ears then loop it through here”. At this time we were living in a different home. I don't remember the inside but i remember the outside. We had this great big tire swing hanging from this humongous tree that my grandpa had put up. We had this goat, yes a goat. And we had planted watermelon seeds. And we lived across the street from the school my brothers and sister had gone to. We lived in waterford for all of these memories. It was a peaceful place. We never realized how peaceful until we started moving again.

Growing up i have lived in probably around a hundred different homes. i have gone to well over twenty schools. And we never stayed in one place for long. I never knew every reason for us moving, but mostly it was because we never got our rent in on time and not all the landlords were understanding of our situation. We had to wait for my dad to do his stuff with his business before we got the child support which paid our rent and utilities. So we never got it on time because my dad never found it important to send it before he did all the stuff for work. Like hey who cares if his kids are out on the streets?

Food always came from the food stamps we got from my mom having us in her care, but we had to sell our food stamps sometimes to get money for gas so that my mom can take us to school or doctor's appointments.  So if we ran out of food stamps then we didn't have food for the rest of the month and we had to rely on the food boxes that the church handed out every sunday, which wasn't always much. Sometimes it was just cereal and powdered milk, and other times it would be both of those and some other good things, like canned foods or granola bars. Me and my brother were the only ones living with my mom at this point in life. My sister had moved out and into my dad's house because she couldn't handle the abuse anymore, and my oldest brother was god only knows where living his life how he wanted to. We got scattered like bugs. And we all missed each other but were too afraid to say it.

The thing about the Aguilar’s is, we have high pride. We never let anything stand in the way of family, no matter how bad it may be. We were beaten on, neglected and unloved at points in our life by those who were supposed to love us the most. But no matter how battered we were, we stayed a family. We all always came back to being one. And i think that's what our problem was. We let each other do whatever they wanted and just stood by them. That's what landed my brother in prison doing a long sentence and the off and on stints he did in jail as he got older. My other brother leaving us and never speaking to us again. And my older sister. I can't really tell you anything wrong with her. She's been perfect my whole life. She has her depression but it's genetic in our family. Her case just wasn't severe enough to put her on medications like mine and my moms i guess. She was just always strong. She knew how to handle anything that was thrown at her with a good attitude.

They say that growing up your hero is someone in a movie, or someone who fought cancer or something like that, but not always. A hero can just be someone who saved your life, and not just from dying, not that drastic but just someone who came in and cared for you when no one else did. And that's why my hero is my sister. She funny, like she just cracks the dumbest jokes sometimes and they're just so strange you have to laugh because you find that proud and amused look on her face when she says it. Shes loving, she will come to the rescue if you need her. Always. She's caring, she always goes all out the best she can to compensate for my dad not being around much. Shes smart, like she could be a great teacher. I don't know what i'd do without her. One night she seen a video of this girl who got into a car crash while she was drunk and her younger sister was in the passenger seat and they were recording the whole time, and the older sister had no care in the world that she had just killed her sister. So my sister texted me out of the blue to tell me she loved me. And that had gotten me worried cause i was curious what was wrong, like why’d she text me that this late? So i called her and we talked on the phone for a while. And it made me realize that my sister really is my hero, not just because she said she loved me, but because something like that made her so upset thinking about losing me. Because she's been my mother for as long as i can remember. I love my sister. And she is my hero. There are things and people in life that will make you question everything you have ever belived in. i had my moment the first time i had sex. He had me question everything about my self and my life. He made me question my body. I had another moment when i ran away from home. I did it in a instant but the whole time i was gone, i questioned everything about myself and my life and i didn't like what i was figuring out. I was alone, and i was always going to be alone if i stayed with the people i was with. I never couldve been happy, i'd always be running. And running. And hiding. And alone. These events made me question everything about my self and maybe my change didn't happen right away, but lord did it change me. I became less gulible, less fragile, less frantic when bad things started going on around me.  You start to realize that not everything is good to question but somethings are great to question.

People say you should never judge a book by its cover. But where i come you have to look at the person before deciding if you approach them. You have to see what tattoos they have, what gang they're in, and what they're holding (weapon wise). Everyone was always holding something. A gun, a knife, a pocket knife, and believe it or not, a machete. You  had to always be prepared for anything. Where i come from, this is a place where you have to fight every day to make it through the day. If you wanted to finish high school you had to fight every week to get people to leave you alone. If you ran your mouth but never did anything, they'd catch you on the streets and you'd be gone. Life isn't always “lets go out for coffee”. You'd have to see what buses run in the area, what time they get there, then you'd have to go downtown to switch buses and figure out what bus you take from there to get to where you need to go, and again, what time it gets there.  And the same coming back. Unless it was close enough to walk then you had to catch the bus or ask people for a ride, either way you had to scrounge up money you don't have for that bus fare, or gas. Everyone always wants something, no one ever did anything for us out of the kindness of their hearts. Life isn't easy. But i guess in virginia it is.

The world has always been the same, poor people get left behind and rich people rise above and get higher every day. If you didn't have riches, you didn't have anything. When we were homeless and had no place to go because everyone was on drugs and weird or just didn't want to take us in, my dad and all his money came to the rescue, because it was he either put us in a hotel or he had to take me and my sister home with him. And he didn't want us there as much as i didn't want to be there. Weve lived in homes with no electricity, no air in the summer and no heat in the winter. I remember this one hot and muggy night my mom put a net over our porch and then put our bed on the porch and hooked this portable tv up and we just stayed out there because it was so hot in the house and we had no electricity to have any air so we just stayed outside. We had no water at one point also for a long period of time, so we’d go down to the church and fill up big barrells of water that we had to wheel all the way down the road, back and forth to take baths or we’d have to go to my moms aquantences house down the street. They had the sweetest dogs.

There’s a moment in life when you realize that nothings fair anymore, and nothing makes any sense. You have to learn things quickly, things you never wouldve imagined having to know before. I had this realization when i was nine. And my dad kicked me out of his house because i told his wife she wasnt allowed to hit me. He told me he was tired of my shit and to pack all my stuff and get out. That's when i realized that nothing was fair anymore, and it didn't make sense why he kept choosing her over me. It never made sense why he stopped coming around and calling because she told him not to. Nothing ever made sense to me anymore when it came to why my dad didn't love me anymore. I never understood why he dropped me off that night and didn't come back till two years later,then came back for two weeks to tell me he had cancer and then left me again for two-three more years. And now comes and goes as he pleases. I’ll never understand why people have kids just to not love or care about them.

There’s an innocence to not knowing everything.  You can still be a child, you can still be free. Because once youve seen or done or even heard things, your innocence is quickly ripped away. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing remains the same. Life turns it self upside down and the world stops turning. Life changes in the blink of an eye. One minute youre five and the next, youre seventeen and working while going to school.  You become an adult so quickly in life and you don't even realize it until the growing is already done and over with. Some people can bring some great innocence into the world, have children, raise them right and set them free so they can make a change in the world. And some people bring in a common innocence. One that will be sweet for a while, then turn into the creatures their parents are and raised them to be. Don't get me wrong, im not saying everyone is like that,  you can have some horrible parents but be the best person out there. It all depends on how you choose to live your life as you get older and start to realize the truths of the world. Not all people are meant to be who they try to be.

They say with age comes wisdom, and i have to stand by that. As you get older you start to learn new things and you start to have experiences that teach you the value of life. They teach you that life is something that's meant to be cherished. Because in the blink of an eye your life can be taken away. There was this boy i knew, Marcus, he was just turning 18 and he died in a horrible car accident. He was being chased down by some gang bangers and he was going too fast and swerved and caught a tree.. And i wont get into the rest of the details, but it was so sudden. And no one expected it. Especually from him. He was kind and friendly, to all the gangs. He had no rep and he had no problems except petty teen boy drama. He was still trying to find a girl that was right for him, he was still learning things in life, and he still had so much time and life left in him. And just like that it was all taken away. Did he know everything there was to know in life? I don't know. No one does. But i'd like to think that he knew everything, seen everything and heard everything there was out there, and that is why he was taken from this world soo soon. The point is, cherish what and who you have because before you know it, you wont have it anymore.

Does one person deserve something more than the other person if theyve lived life then same way you did but had a better attitude about it all? Like a scholorship or a grant to college, or an extension on rent, or maybe even a free meal. I feel like its not about what you go through, but how you handle the situation. For example i wish i was as strong as my sister and that i didn't need medications to deal with my anxiety and depression from the things i have gone through in life. But its just how i handle my life. Do i want to be better? Do i want these pills that make my brain work normal? Do i want to feel that slight craziness when i take my pill every morning? Yes i want to be better, doesnt every one? No i don't want these pills, but i take them because i don't have the natural brain reaction to bad situations. And no i don't like this crazy feeling i get every morning when i take a pill that will sabilize my depression. And i hate getting that worried feeling when i realized that i forgot to take my pill that day.

I remember when i first went on my medication. I remember why too.. It was probably one of the worst months of my life. Within the month of Febuary i was cheated on, got kicked out of school and got charges pressed against me for doing something i'd never do in my life, got an infection which i had to take multiple medications for and had an allergic reaction to them and couldve died. When i had my reaction i was standing at the counter in the bathroom putting my make up on getting ready to go eat with my mom and sister and i started to get light headed and dizzy. So i stopped what i was doing and sat on the floor for a second, and my mom and sister are telling me to hurry up cause they wanted to go eat and i figured i was just hungry and i hadnt eaten yet so i got back up to finish getting ready and suddenly my vision starts to go black.. And i get scared and want to yell but my whole body just freezes up.. And i fall.. I don't remember hitting the floor but i remember hearing my sisters scared voice yell for my mom, i couldnt breath and my whole body was going numb. I couldnt feel my legs or my face or hands. I guess when i fell i had hit my back on the side of the door frame which caused me to fall weirdly and my mom was scared to move me so i stayed laying in that postion until the ambulance came to get me. It took them a while considering i live so far out of town but they got there and lifted me up, and it was the most excrutiating pain i have ever felt in my whole life. I went from being numb, to feeling every bone and nerve in my body in just seconds. Anyways, after that month, i started to go in a spiral, having to stay in bed or on the couch because of my back, i was kicked out of school and i couldnt work, it made me sink into a hole. One that i really thought i'd never get out of. I wasnt eating which made me lose weight, i stopped talking as much and i wasnt going places. I felt like i was sinking more and more everyday. And it was hard to breath.

Trust is a five letter word that can have such a huge affect and has so much meaning behind it. If you don't trust someone then you don't have much left. They say if you love someone but don't trust them then it wont work out, and that's true because it doesnt matter how much you love someone, if you think they're doing something behind your back or lying to you then youre constantly gonna be in question of them and its unhealthy to always feel like you have to go with them everywhere or check their phone everynight. I guess you could work on getting the trust back, but how do you do that? It takes a long time to get someone to trust you, but it only takes a second to make someone not trust you anymore.

There was this teacher. I wont say her name. But she ruined my life. She made one accusation and it turned me upside down. She made my life her play ground. She got me kicked out of school where i wasnt allowed to go to my boyfriends games, my prom or homecoming dances. I made a mistake of letting someone really get to know me, get me to open up, and they screwed me over. And it caused a  huge friction between me and another girl i went to school with. We let it get to the best of us and the other girl and i got to arguing, NOT FIGHTING, just arguing. And this teacher took advantage of this situatuion and stepped in. She said that i assaulted her and hurt her badly enough where she needed time off of work but couldnt go without a paycheck. She then pressed charges against me for assault and battery.  After months of going to court and them reschedualing, we finally got what she wanted on the table. I had to do time in a holding cell, wasnt much just a few hours, but it was hell.. I had to do community service, and apolopgize to her in front of the whole court for something i didn't do. This woman was horrible. Every chance she got to mess with me she took it. When i went to the high school for my SOL she made every attempt at getting me to see her and react. My axiety from this woman ruining my life kept me quiet until i broke down and became a mess again. Then at court she smiled the whole time because she knew what she was doing. She knew she was ruining my life. And she had fun doing it.

Life is a complicated process. You should have a focus, a thrive, a vision. There’s irritations and complications but theres also laughs and smiles. Your outcome is how you handle things, not the things you have to handle.

-”anonymus”