#that you become less manic about making sure everyone likes you all the time

[leupagus]

Ted Lasso, the character, is one of the only representations of 'sometimes getting better with your mental health issues means that you are less visibly happy, and that is okay, because you are not required to be happy in order to be loved' out there and I am really discouraged that so much of the audience is angry at that.

#ted lasso #the guy we meet in season one is so so so much sadder and is suffering so much more #than the guy we say goodbye to in season three #but the guy in season three doesn't crack as many jokes and doesn't grin and laugh at every opportunity #I really didn't expect the fandom to interpret that as 'he's even worse off than before!' #when the fact is that when you're able to have an inherent sense of self-worth rather than relying on Doing Everything Right #that you become less manic about making sure everyone likes you all the time #which is what ted did for the first two seasons #I dunno I just wish there was more room for this kind of character #and... for this kind of person #believe mothereffers #theodore lasso

[comicaurora]

You often talk about not being a fan of misery porn, extra gorey scenes or grimdark stuff but you're also a big fan of Netflix Castlevania. Do you think that show lacks these aspects or are they done in a way that doesn't put you off?

It's weird. I didn't expect to like it, for all the reasons you stated. But Castlevania pulled off Dark Fantasy in a way I wasn't expecting, and I think what made it work was the protagonists.

Trevor is a standard-issue dark fantasy miseryguts on first appearance, but the crucial detail is he starts the story at his emotional darkest hour and goes up from there. He's drunk and broke and miserable and he kind of hates everybody - but, and this is critical, he still does the right thing. He makes a perfect foil to Dracula, who experienced very similar heartbreak and decided to work out his grief by burning the world down. Trevor's family and legacy was destroyed by the church and the ignorance of scared, normal people, just like Lisa Tepes was. Trevor being worn down to the bone, miserable and isolated, and still at his core being unable to abandon innocents to die, is not a grimdark concept. It's sneakily a very hopeful one, and, crucially, the story rewards him for trying.

This, of course, leads to Sypha entering the story when Trevor rescues her from the cyclops, and Sypha is a complete breath of fresh air in the story so far. She's unburdened by the angst and tragedy that weighs on Trevor - which is why he, at one point, describes her as a hero while he is not. Sypha and Trevor do equally heroic activities, but Sypha has the hero attitude while Trevor just does it as a job (and a bone-deep sense of justice he refuses to admit is there). Sypha is cheerful, curious and more than willing to crack jokes at Trevor's expense, while still seeming grounded and sensible enough to avoid feeling like a manic pixie dream girl. As we learn more about her, it becomes clear that part of the reason she feels so much less miserable than everyone around her is because of her ludicrously powerful magic that means she doesn't need to worry so much about the rains of hellspawn and nightmare chimeras in the woods and stuff. Sypha also works as a mirror to Lisa, in that they are both educated women who understand the importance of community-maintenance and use their knowledge to help people around them, even at the cost of being seen as a witch. Even though she goes through some heavy stuff, she also retains her hopeful and heroic demeanor and goes beyond just saving people's lives - she actively works to help them rebuild so they can do more than just survive. This is, again, antithetical to the supposed grimdark of the setting.

Alucard is kind of in a story of his own and plays the tragic hero tropes a lot more straight, but that's why he's not the only protagonist. Trevor and Sypha foil off him, mostly by taking the piss and allowing him to lighten up a bit. Alucard probably has the bleakest worldview of the trio, feeling utterly isolated by his half-vampire nature and really only saving humanity on the principle that "Lisa would not approve of genocide in her name." The story makes it clear that his Lone Tragic Hero thing is actively deeply unhealthy and also very unsexy, and he's at his happiest (and sexiest) when he has friends and loved ones around to support him and make sure he showers.

Over and over again the story drives home that saving lives is necessary heroism, but so is saving knowledge and teaching people how to live better lives, because the ultimate goal of the story is to fulfill Lisa's dream of a better world - where people won't be sick and scared all the time. That concept is anti-grimdark. And the rules of the story reward this endeavor over and over again. Not everyone they try to save survives, and not every heroic attempt ends in victory - Lisa died trying to fulfill that dream, after all - but the dream is bigger than any one person, and every attempt has tangible lasting consequences that make the world just a bit better and inspire other people to carry the dream forward. Hidden in this dark, bloody, "everyone says fuck now" fantasy story is an unbelievably hopeful message about how one can actually go about saving the world.

And what really clinched it for me was how the show ended. It goes out of its way to bend logic and luck to reward all of our heroes for trying so hard to save the world when it would have been legitimately easier to end on a bittersweet note. This show essentially proves that it's possible to take the aesthetic of grimdark too-cool-for-school fantasy and then use it to tell an actually hopeful story where the main characters act like real people who aren't selfish assholes. Because while "realism = everyone is a selfish, petty asshole" is a tempting trope, it's more accurate to say that "realism = some people are selfish, petty assholes". It's ridiculous to act like the real world has no selfless, kind people in it.

So yea, highly recommend. Even Season 3, the comparative weak link and overall darkest point, is well worth watching.

#asks #writing stuff

[zombiedumbie]

there really isn't a point, I just wanted to write about a band and put the reader as the drummer (because I'm addicted to drummers). It ended up becoming a slice of life without much purpose, I even thought about writing more, but I didn't feel like I could get anywhere. and I based it on some posts, mainly in @/attyattlaw's band au!! if you want to see: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

5361 words.

slice of life, fluff, band au, pre-timeskip and occ law, complaining about one night stands, slightly zoro x reader, slightly friends to lovers (i'm a sucker for this) friends sleeping together, everyone is of legal age, suggestive language, there's no explict sexual content but it is mentioned a lot. mdni.

A thin layer of sweat covered your skin, glistening. You took a deep breath, tired but still pushing through, your limbs already sore from all the movement, but Law kept urging you not to stop, so you didn't stop.

It had been a few hours since you had been like this, and Law seemed just as exhilarated as you. His skilled and tattooed fingers worked their magic, while his mouth emitted the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard, and apparently, he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Sweat drops traced the spaces between his muscles perfectly, distracting you a bit. He softly called your name, bringing your attention back.

You glanced at your jeans discarded in the corner, focusing solely on continuing.

But your arms felt like they were about to give in, your legs too seemed ready to give up, a burning sensation filled your muscles, but you needed to keep going, at least until the end of this song.

The clatter of the cymbals rang in your ears as that 3-minute segment - which felt like 20 - finally ended. You threw your head back, groaning, feeling like you were going to die from the heat. You had already ditched your jeans a while ago, only a long black tank top covered your body, the little breeze in the room flowed through the wide sides; you were still wearing it out of respect for the homeowner.

You had shared tiny hotel rooms with these guys enough times not to care about it.

Ikkaku handed you a cold bottle of water when he saw you struggling to catch your breath, leaning on the drum set and tilting your head down. "Come on, Law", Ikkaku said. "We've been here for hours! Y/N can't even breathe properly!"

"I..." panting. "Am..." panting. "Fine..." panting.

Law flashed his famous half-smile before responding to Ikkaku. "You're right, Y/N-ya can't even concentrate properly", he teased you while taking the strap holding his guitar from his shoulder, you groaned. "Y/N-ya, you should groan less, you sound like a dog that way", you responded with a middle finger, too dog-tired to even swear back at him. He laughed.

You crawled to the cool garage floor of Rosinante, pressing the cold water bottle against your neck. "What are you all looking at, bunch of losers?!" You asked Shachi and Penguin, who were standing beside your body, they seemed to have some clever comments in mind, but they gave up when they saw your angry look.

All of this because you were going to play at an event, the Grand Line, that weekend, in a not-so-nearby city.

Your guitarist, vocalist, and frontman seemed to be in some kind of frenzy, maybe a manic or perfectionist phase, you had no idea, but he had made all of you cram into the hot garage of his house and rehearse until the drumsticks broke or your fingertips bled.

It wasn't even one of those stupid competitions you used to participate in; he just wanted to look better than other bands, like Victoria Punk or Straw Hats. He wanted to make sure you all were in perfect sync, like a big heart beating at the right frequency to ensure that all parts of a body received blood in the right amount, quality, and at the right time.

And you accepted it, after all, it was Law. You two were like peas in a pod; you would do anything for him, just as he would do anything for you; so you always gave your best to make everything the way he wanted it, after all, that's how friendship worked, right?

Rosinante entered the garage, with his wide smile on his lips and his eyes almost closing. In his gloved hands, he held a tray of hot cookies, smoke rising from the small dough men. Bepo was the first to get up and walk to the door.

(...)

You were all at the train station near Law's house, some suitcases, guitar and bass cases scattered around you as you waited for Shachi and Penguin to arrive in their uncle's pickup truck, affectionately named Polar Tang, to take everything to that damn event.

You were sitting on one of the suitcases, talking to Ikkaku about these events and how you wished they would happen closer to your hometown. Law was sitting on a wooden bench, Bepo was napping beside him, using him as a pillow. The vocalist watched as you conversed.

"Look on the bright side", she commented. "At least there are more people to meet", Ikkaku grinned mischievously.

"As if anyone pays attention to the drummer", you replied, laughing as you put your cold hands in the jacket pockets.

Law found himself looking at you for a few moments, admiring how the smoke escaped from your mouth as you spoke, or the way you swayed on the suitcase, sitting on it as if it were a wheelchair.

"I mean, you're always up front, can easily be seen by everyone", you laughed. "I'm hidden behind drums, overshadowed by the rest of you", Ikkaku laughed at how dramatic you were.

It was late in the day, a layer of orange light covered your skin, indicating that those were the last rays of the sun on this particularly cold day. Law loved to see how your lashes were gently kissed by that light, almost appearing a bit transparent.

"It's not like you're invisible either", Ikkaku commented, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "I mean, you have some people interested in you too, but I've never seen you interested in anyone", you wrinkled your nose.

"I don't like it", you shrugged. "I don't think those people really like me. It seems like everyone just wants a chance to say they fucked with someone from a band..." Ikkaku pouted. "Hey, but that's my opinion, not saying you guys are wrong for it."

You looked back as you laughed at your friend's reaction, saying that you didn't understand and things didn't work that way, and that you were making her feel bad for wanting to be with some people sometimes. Law was looking at you attentively, an indecipherable expression on his face, but it was too late to look away, so he just gave a nervous smile. You responded with a raised eyebrow before turning to calm Ikkaku and say that there was no problem in taking advantage of it.

The guitarist sighed, his cheeks red from being caught looking at you.

The thought seemed too ridiculous to him.

Law would never admit this - he wouldn't even let anyone see him like this - but you made him nervous. He never had any trouble getting any girl he wanted, after all, look at him, his perfectly messy hair, tanned tattooed skin, and golden piercings, not to mention the perfect body he always showed off in fishnet shirts or open jackets with nothing underneath.

But you... You were different, none of that seemed to matter when it came to attraction. He had never seen you interested in anyone, always looking at everyone as if they weren't worthy of your attention, wearing a look of boredom when someone tried something with you; it was a mystery to him.

A mystery he would like to unravel, perhaps out of curiosity - or even caprice.

Shachi and Penguin arrived minutes later with the yellow pickup truck, you insisted on sitting by the window in case you got nauseous, receiving complaints from Bepo because he also wanted to sit by the window, but when he was reminded that the back seat had another window, he stopped complaining, until Shachi reminded him that he had to sit in the middle.

Law made sure to sit next to you, flashing that goofy ass smile of his when he got into the car right after you. You rolled your eyes and put on your headphones. When the instruments and bags were secured in the back of the pickup and everyone was settled in the car, Shachi took the wheel of the Polar Tang.

At some point, you rolled your thumb over the plastic knob that controlled the volume of your headphones, lowering the music to hear what they were talking about. You immediately regretted it when you heard Penguin explaining something about balls; understanding immediately when you saw Law and Ikkaku's incredulous faces and Bepo's red cheeks.

As unpleasant as these situations could be, it was nice to travel with them. Bepo was always responsible for giving directions, but he could never sit in the front and always had to stay in the middle. Those were the moments when you all talked the most, after all, there was nothing else to do. You loved hearing Shachi and Penguin's stories about their uncle, a guy named Wolf, who was always building something new as if he were Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, Law called him Mr. Junk.

You also sang together sometimes, which reminded Law why you weren't the vocalists of the band; but it was fun to share those moments. It was funny to see how they behaved in those roadside shops when you stopped to eat something, Shachi and Penguin liked to pretend not to speak the native language just to mess with the sellers, and you, Bepo, and Ikkaku sometimes joined in, inventing new languages or speaking your language poorly just to confuse them.

You woke up a few hours later, after drooling on your neck pillow. It was just past midnight, and you had the same feeling of waking up in the middle of the night to travel, but in this situation, you already were. The sound was somewhat muffled inside the car; it took you a while to understand what they were saying.

When you finally got out of the car, you stretched, raising your arms above your head, only for Penguin to start tickling you. While you laughed and tried to free yourself from your friend's hands, someone came out of the hotel door, speaking loudly and excitedly.

"Torao!" The sound of flip-flops and the nickname immediately made Law tense up, his muscles tensing. Luffy, the frontman of the Straw Hats, immediately hugged the guitarist, wrapping his arms around him. You marveled at how Luffy could always be so electric.

You all brought your bags inside while Shachi parked the car in the hotel parking lot, Luffy and some other members of his band were at the reception, talking to you as you checked in, Kid and his band were nowhere to be found, Nami, one of the Straw Hats' vocalists, told you.

You saw Zoro on the other side of the room, his green hair was unmistakable; he was the drummer, so you always had something to talk about. You were on your way to him when you heard your name being called.

"Y/N, the rooms here are pretty cheap", Ikkaku told you, getting your attention at the counter. "We can get a room just for us and leave those idiots to fend for themselves", she said with a smile. You accepted without thinking twice; sharing a room with four guys was a nightmare you still didn't feel prepared to go through again.

As soon as you sat on the comfortable sheets of the bed, you realized how tired you were and fell asleep almost immediately upon entering the room.

(...)

It's barely 8 in the morning, and Luffy is once again speaking loudly and being enthusiastic, this time at your room's door. He was knocking on the door of the next room, where the others were sleeping, telling them to come have breakfast and that Sanji had kicked the cook out to prepare the food for all of you.

You didn't bother changing your clothes, heading to the hotel cafeteria in your pajamas, accompanied by five others who made the same fashion choice. The Straw Hats were already there, just as excited as their frontman. You finally got to see the Victoria Punk band, all of them seeming to be hungover, still wearing the clothes from the day before.

Law didn't seem to be in a good mood either, but unlike them, he didn't grunt at anyone who passed by the table. Bepo was almost falling asleep in his chair, and you had to stroke your friend's white hair to wake him up when Sanji arrived at the table, serving dishes for all of you.

"For you lovely ladies, a special dish", the blonde said with a wink as he placed a plate for you and Ikkaku. It looked way too appetizing compared to the others' plates, which also seemed delicious. Law furrowed his brows and crossed his arms.

"Why are they getting special treatment?" Your guitarist asked.

"Mind your own business, Torao", Sanji replied without turning to him.

"Tsk", Law lowered his head, probably trying to hide his eyes behind his hat, which he wasn't wearing. "Stop hitting on my band members."

"Mind your own business, Law", it was your turn, along with Ikkaku, receiving an incredulous glare from Law.

"You guys are unbelievable..."

While eating and teasing Law for being jealous of not receiving any special treatment, you felt a pair of eyes on you. When you turned, you saw Zoro looking at you, with his usual scowl and crossed arms. You smiled at him, receiving a wave in response.

Law seemed to notice this, as when you turned back to continue eating, he was watching you with furrowed brows.

You returned to your rooms to get ready. You had to take the instruments to the Grand Line, set everything up, and then perform at night. The thought of spending the whole day in a pub made your head ache, but you were impressed when you saw the size of the place; the sound would resonate better there, so you wouldn't have to worry about the soundcheck bothering your ears.

Since it was only one stage for the three bands, you would be using the same drum set for practicality. You, Zoro, and Killer, the drummer of the Victoria Punk, were setting up the drums, trying to adjust them so that everyone could play comfortably. You watched Killer add more drums, props, and cymbals to the set, sitting at the end of the stage while taking a break before the soundcheck. You had the feeling of being watched.

Zoro approached with a can, tapping it lightly on your shoulder to get your attention. "Beer?" You accepted, taking the beer.

"What happened to Luffy?" You pointed to the man sitting depressed in the corner, holding his hat in his hands while looking at the door anxiously.

"He's waiting for his brothers; they said they'd be here to see him play", Roronoa explained, and you nodded, sipping your beer.

"And you guys, bums, not working?" Kid asked, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're not doing anything either, Gizao", you said with a smile, apparently enough to annoy the redhead.

Before Kid could say anything, a tattooed hand stopped on his shoulder. "Don't annoy Eustass-ya; he's nervous because he has to work twice as hard as us because he's lame", you and Zoro laughed when you saw him turn even redder than his hair, turning to curse Law, who only responded with a sly smile.

You continued talking to Zoro while watching Killer test the drums. At some point, you got up to test a quick segment to see if the drum set was well-suited for you. When it was Zoro's turn, you saw him do his usual move, putting a drumstick in his mouth to play one of the cymbals near his head.

You didn't exactly understand why, but you found it amazing to watch him do that.

"Y/N-ya", a voice pulled you from your thoughts. "Could you please help Bepo?" Law asked, arms crossed, looking a bit annoyed, but you didn't want to ask why. You went to help Bepo set up his timbales and some drums in the corner of the stage, leaving room for people with lighter instruments to move freely.

It didn't take long for the night to arrive. Everyone was in the dressing room, and you couldn't help but feel somewhat suffocated with so many people. Robin and Nami approached you at some point, calling Ikkaku to get ready together. At some point, Kid and Killer approached you all, resulting in a comical moment of the six of you exchanging shades of lipstick. You felt the same sensation of being watched again.

In a way, everything seemed like organized chaos. You saw Robin stepping back a bit to help Franky with his mohawk, which you were sure wasn't natural. Zoro was on the couch fixing Chopper's hair while Sanji did the same, adjusting Luffy's hair, who only stopped complaining that his brothers hadn't arrived yet when Sanji gave him food.

Bepo was chatting animatedly with Chopper, and it was funny to see the two of them talking since they were the youngest, so they seemed to identify with each other. You saw Shachi and Penguin posing in front of the mirror in front of Usopp, who was fixing his afro next to Brook, who was styling his hair. They were sharing the mirror with Jimbe, who was finishing a braid.

When you looked at Law, the feeling of being watched disappeared as soon as your guitarist averted his gaze. You walked over to him, sitting on a high stool in the corner, arms crossed and alone. He was watching you as you approached.

"Aren't you going to get ready?" You asked.

"I'm waiting for one of the mirrors to become available", you nodded, smiling. Automatically, your hand reached for your makeup kit, taking out a small eyeshadow palette, raising his eyebrows, already knowing what was coming.

He let you do his makeup without saying anything, but without moving an centimeter to help; you had to hold his chin to lift his face. It only got worse when you applied your lipstick, pulling the color beyond the corners of his lips.

"Are you nervous?" You asked, feeling his jaw tense under your fingers. With a gentle movement, you began applying red eyeshadow just below his eyes; he looked up to help.

"No", he replied promptly, but you felt him tense up even more.

Law wasn't exactly the easiest person to deal with; he always appeared relaxed, but beneath that, he was always tense, overthinking. And he still had that damn habit of looking at you as if he knew a secret of yours that you would never find out what it was, the smile that no matter how many times he gave it to you, it would always tease you.

He always seemed to be hiding something.

"Then you should relax those muscles a bit", you smiled and moved a bit closer to his face, now holding the eyeliner pencil. He shrugged.

You were too concerned about not poking your friend's eye with the pencil to notice his cheeks blushing more and more. Nami took a photo of you two in that position.

"That's mean, Nami", Robin said, laughing.

"I can't help it if these two idiots are so cute together," the redhead said, looking at the photo on her phone screen. "And besides, I might be able to sell this."

The Straw Hats were the first to be called, apparently following a random order; Luffy refused to go on stage until he was informed that his brothers had already arrived.

"Zoro!" You called him when he was about to enter the wrong door. "It's over there", you pointed while laughing; he grunted and looked away, cheeks red. "Good luck", you said after patting his shoulder and handing him an extra drumstick he had forgotten.

You watched them from the corner of the stage, behind the curtains, singing and dancing with Bepo and Ikkaku. Law was also there, but he didn't say anything, just nodding along.

You were up next, and the nerves barely managed to affect you because of the excitement. Despite Law being a bit manic about his rehearsals and perfection in these shows, you loved to perform. It was fun to see people react to the music you produced.

"Here come the aspiring Limp Bizkit", you heard Kid say, and all of you responded with middle fingers.

Shachi threw himself into his DJ booth, Ikkaku already had her bass in position, and Penguin stood next to her, adjusting his guitar and microphone. Bepo was timidly behind his drums, while Law posed in front of everyone, his leather jacket open to show his chest tattoo and the plumage on his neck.

"We are the Heart" Law said before starting the aggressive chords of the song, his voice intentionally lower and sexier.

Amidst the bright lights, you saw the line of people drooling over Law; you rolled your eyes as you began to play. A brief pause for Ikkaku's fast solo before Law started singing, with Penguin accompanying him on his rhythm guitar and background vocals. Bepo played his timbales more gently than you hit your drum kit; Shachi organized the melody and added an extra touch in his DJ booth, all of you in perfect harmony.

(...)

"Go ahead, Deftones", you said to Kid as you bumped into him while leaving the stage; it was their turn to perform.

"That's unfair", Shachi grumbled when you entered the dressing room; most of the Straw Hats members should now be scattered throughout the pub. "They went on right after we warmed up the audience."

"We also went on right after the Straw Hats", Bepo replied.

"But we're different!"

You collapsed on the couch to rest; your arms were burning from playing the drums so energetically. However, your peace didn't last long when you saw a small group of people enter the dressing room, all smiling and eager to chat with you.

You often felt sad for some people who entered the dressing room to really talk to you because they were fans. You had talked to many interesting people before, but they often got lost among those interested only in taking a piece of you as a trophy to show off to others.

You even considered talking to a cute guy who was looking at you, but that desire faded when you saw one of the girls practically rubbing her cleavage on Law's arm, and he responded with a smile before looking at you.

You got up from the couch as quickly as possible, suddenly feeling more uncomfortable than you should. You tried not to let it ruin your night, heading to the bar alone. You thought about inviting Bepo with you, but he seemed to be having fun talking to an equally shy girl.

You found Zoro at the bar, drinking with Nami and Jimbe. You decided to join them since there was nothing more interesting to do. You even danced with Nami and Chopper, sang some songs in the karaoke after the Victoria Punk show, but nothing could shake that strange feeling in your chest.

"Is something bothering you, Y/N-san?" You heard Sanji's voice as you sought fresh air outside. He was smoking, his hair was messy, and there were some lipstick stains on his neck and collar.

You thought for a moment before responding, deciding whether it was a good idea to tell him or not. "Kind of, Sanji", you replied, sighing. "But it's silly."

"If it bothers you, it's not silly", you had never heard him speak seriously for so long without hitting on you. "Come on, I don't mind listening."

"I'm not sure how to explain," you smiled, looking at the street. "There are some things someone does that bother me, but I don't feel like I can say anything, especially because it doesn't... make sense for me to complain."

Sanji raised an eyebrow, recognizing the slight blush on your cheeks.

"I could resolve this by talking, after all, this person is my best friend, but I don't feel like I have the right to complain."

"I see", he took a drag of his cigarette. "Maybe you're creating the problem yourself; if this person is truly your best friend, they'll listen to you."

You bit your lip, leaning forward as you thought. "You're right, Sanji-san", you replied. Law walked out of the bar, looking around until his eyes landed on you. Sanji saw him arrive and sighed.

"Relax, Y/N-san", Sanji smiled at you, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Not all the answers are within yourself. Don't keep everything bottled up", and then he left, passing by Law and Bepo without saying anything.

"Y/N-ya", Law sounded irritated. "Bepo and I are going back to the hotel", you raised your eyebrows, looking at Bepo. "Shall we?" Maybe he was asking if you wanted to go back with him, but it sounded like an order.

You had no preference between staying and going, so you just nodded. Law stared out the taxi window with a scowl, while Bepo laughed quietly and covered his cheeks with his hands. You were sitting between the two, just enjoying the music from the taxi's radio.

It didn't take long to reach the hotel; you entered your room without saying anything. Throughout the way, you had been thinking about what Sanji told you. Would it really be a good idea to talk to Law about this? Perhaps it would become too awkward, or it could end your friendship. However, given how he acted, maybe he didn't even care. Maybe that would be worse.

Your phone vibrated with a message from Ikkaku. She asked if you could, at least for that night, sleep in the boys' room; she didn't need to say more for you to understand. You didn't get irritated; it was the first time she could enjoy the hotel room for this purpose.

After brushing your teeth and changing your clothes, you left the room even before she arrived. You waited a bit before knocking on the door of the next room, sighing. The corridor that intersected yours was open, with a view of the garden, and the moonlight barely illuminated the flower bushes.

You walked over there; there was a wooden bench against the wall next to it, and you didn't hesitate to sit down, enjoying the silence and the cool breeze. Closing your eyes, you heard the sound of laughter and footsteps of people trying to be quiet; it must have been Ikkaku, and then silence again. It went on like this for a few minutes until you were startled by a voice.

"What are you doing here?" It was Law, the firm tone was unmistakable. You opened your eyes and gasped, startled.

"Ikkaku found some company for the night", you muttered, leaning your head against the wall, slowly regaining your composure and calming your heart. Law didn't bother to apologize.

"I think Penguin and Shachi did too", Law replied, crossing his arms in front of his body before leaning to rest his arm on the wall beside him. "Bepo is snoring in the room", you shrugged. "He got all giddy because of a girl he was talking to today."

"Oh, that girl was cute", you said, recalling their rosy cheeks. "It's surprising that you haven't found anyone either", you commented with a brief smile, looking at the open corridor ceiling; there was an acidic tone in your voice, again remembering what Sanji had said.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Come on, you know", you sighed. "All these groupies, eager to appreciate your finger skills", you chuckled softly, recalling the line of girls in front of the stage, screaming in the hope of getting some attention from the Heart's frontman.

"I won't lie; I have my charisma", he replied with a smile, looking away. This guy was damn hot, and he knew it; you couldn't blame him. "But I wasn't in the mood", you laughed again.

"Funny", he raised his eyebrows.

"And you?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you with someone, or even showing interest in anyone during our shows", your eyes shifted to him, your head tilting to the side as you watched your guitarist.

"I'm not interested in that."

"Not even the lettuce head?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Lettuce head?" You thought for a moment. "Roronoa?" He nodded slowly. "What about him?"

"I saw you talking; it looked like something was going on."

"Yeah, of course, definitely", you replied with irony and a touch of humor in your voice. "He was just giving me some tips not to break my drumsticks anymore; I've been hitting them in the wrong place accidentally", you turned your eyes back to the ceiling.

"And the suit guy?"

"Sanji?" You laughed at the nickname. "We were just talking about the show", you lied.

Law paused for a moment, sighing. He clutched his arm while biting his lip, summoning the courage to continue the conversation.

"Do you... like someone?" He asked, and you looked at him curiously. "Like... you never seem interested in anyone who approaches you... But I know you're not asexual or anything", you raised your eyebrows.

"What makes you think that?" A smile appeared on your lips.

"I've overheard you guys talking."

"Hmm, eavesdropping, Trafalgar?" You chuckled.

"It's kind of hard not to overhear when you guys are talking at 3 a.m. in the same room as me while I'm trying to sleep", yeah, that must have happened for sure. "But seriously. You never approach anyone, or let anyone get close."

"I don't know", you smiled, adjusting your posture. "I think I might like someone, yeah", you scratched your head, your smile slowly fading; perhaps this was your chance to talk about what was bothering you. "But I don't want something fleeting with him, you know? That's not my thing", you sighed. "And I think he's only interested in that, so I've lowered my expectations. I must have just a crush; I don't think I'm in love or anything like that", you murmured.

Law's golden eyes watched you with hope as you spoke, not all was lost after all. He even dared to think that maybe he was the person you liked, if that were the case, all he had to do was show that he was interested in more than sex... was he really?

The thought made him choke on the air, coughing aimlessly. He liked you, a lot, but he also liked his fleeting things, after all, sex didn't have to mean anything. At the end of the night, people would leave your room anyway, so he wouldn't have to worry about the pain of losing someone else if everything was short-lived. But if he thought like that, why was he going so far for you?

It wasn't like a prize that he would spend hours rehearsing with his band to win and then just put it on his shelf as if it were something shiny to look at. You were much more than something as fleeting as a night of sex, far more present than his week-long flings, and more solid than his relationships that lasted less than two months.

You were much more than this mystery he wanted to unravel; far more than anything his whim could provide.

Fuck.

"Are you okay?" You asked. "You look a bit pale. Nervous?" He swallowed hard.

"No, no", he caught his breath. "I was just thinking, that's all", you sighed before clutching the wooden bench.

"Careful, soon there'll be smoke coming out of your head", he laughed, and you did too, awkwardly. "Hey, Law. Is there space in your bed? I really want to sleep", he raised an eyebrow.

"What? Why in mine? Do you want to sleep with me?" Law asked, straightening up on his feet, and his question came out more defensively than he would have liked. You raised your eyebrows.

"You're the only one I see awake that I can ask", Law relaxed his expression, hoping the dark corridor hid his flushed cheeks.

You squeezed into Law's single bed, hugging your friend and intertwining your legs with his, fitting into the small space. He breathed hesitantly, as if afraid of doing it wrong. "Relax, idiot", you murmured against the fabric of his shirt. "It's not like it's the first time we've slept together, right?"

Then you fell asleep, but he didn't. Law made sure to feel every centimeter of your body against his, relishing your warmth as he tried to rearrange his thoughts, which was much more challenging with your breath against his skin.

He thought, thought some more, and then some more until morning came when you got up, saying you were going to get ready to go have breakfast. He kept thinking for a while as his bandmates moved around the room, changing clothes and brushing their teeth.

"Fuck", he grumbled; his cheeks were warm, his heart was beating faster, and there was a smile on his face. "I think I'm in love."

if you like my work, please consider buying me a coffee.

#one piece #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #law one piece #one piece fanfic #law fanfic #law x reader #trafalgar law fluff #law fluff #slice of life #friends to lovers #band au #zombiedumbie writing

[ckret2]

Is there any billford-type stuff in the AU, either past or possible? If there is (and even if there isn't) I'm curious about Ford's thoughts on the situation! Is he scared, angry? Does he really believe Bill is as powerless as he says he is? Is he uncomfortable with, or even worse, would he feel some weird jealousy about Bill paying so much attention to everyone else? Agent Powers in particular.

This anon was an absolute considerate sweetheart and sent me two versions of this question—one that mentions Billford, and one that doesn't in case I'm uncomfortable with answering that. As it happens I've got a really long answer, so I'm using this version of the question to talk about billford-specific stuff and the other ask to answer the other half of the question!

Lately I've been seeing a ship dynamic that's described as "they were never married but they're sure as hell divorced." That's how I see Bill & Ford's dynamic.

Ford spent a couple of years with a slow burning background obsession with Bill as some capricious here-and-gone-again muse who never stuck around as long as Ford wanted; and then spent several months intensely obsessed with this mystical guide and teacher who suddenly was showing up a lot more and tantalizing him with the secrets of the universe. But Bill was always some distant, unobtainable figure, more an ideal than a person. Ford got manic pixie dream girled by a manic pixie nightmare demon.

Back when Ford thought Bill was his friend, I don't think Ford's feelings toward him were romantic/sexual—but I think that at the peak of Ford's feelings, when he'd been isolated from all his other emotional support and hadn't yet realized what Bill was doing, his feelings were sufficiently intense that they COULD have been anything Bill wanted to make them. If Bill had decided to unironically declare himself a god, Ford would have built a temple. (He was halfway there already.) If Bill had called for a revolution, Ford would have asked who they were assassinating first. If Bill had informed Ford he was offering him the honor of being Bill's mortal lover, then Ford woulda gone down like Icarus for Apollo.

Now, with thirty years of ABSOLUTE HELL in between, Ford recognizes how mentally vulnerable he'd been to this abstract space angel muse's gifts and flattery. Even though he didn't fall in love, on some level he knows he could have. He's subconsciously aware of that soft spot, all spoiled and rot-mushy after thirty years of enmity, and he can feel that soft spot getting prodded every time Bill speaks. The mere fact that he could have fallen is something Ford hates himself for. And the knowledge of that weakness is one of the many things motivating him to keep Bill at an emotional arm's length in this AU, to ensure Nothing Happens.

(Spoilers: Something Happens.)

After Ford found out the truth about Bill, he got dragged into the nightmare realm, had ONE confrontation with Bill, and then didn't see or talk to him again for thirty years... but Ford dedicated every single second of those thirty years to finding a way to kill Bill. Obsession in absentia.

So almost half of Ford's life has been spent on worship of Bill—assuming you count Captain Ahab's hatred of Moby Dick as "worship." All that—from a smattering of staggered-out dreams, and a scant few confrontations under three minutes. After thirty years, Bill's become more symbol than person to Ford: an evil Eye of Providence that can be blamed for everything wrong in the universe. 

But once this AU starts and human Bill's stuck in the Shack, it takes less than a week before Ford's spent more time around Bill than he did over the last 32+ years combined. What a shock to the system. The alleged shadowy figure behind every conspiracy theory in history—and Ford figures out where he is in the house by listening for thuds and yelps whenever he stumbles into furniture. All-seeing eye peering out of every wallet and into every dream—and when he naps on the back porch, he lets Ford's grandniece & her friends sit on his back and around him while they gossip. Omnicidal maniac-god—and he begs his captors to let him go to a monster truck show he saw in the newspaper.

Ford's seeing Bill as a person and he hates it. He doesn't know if Bill is a master at fake-acting like a normal person with normal little personality quirks and interests—or if this is some new side to Bill that only exists because he's now human—or if Ford's just never actually met Bill before now.

Before he learned Bill is evil, Ford saw him as a capricious bizarre trickster and font of untold otherworldly wisdom—and he liked that person/thing a lot. Now, meeting Bill as a human, Ford's seeing him as a flighty weirdo goofball who casually happens to know a whole lot about everything. Which is a bunch of synonyms for what Ford used to see Bill as before. And unfortunately he still likes that a lot.

It's just too bad those traits are on the cruel, manipulative destroyer that ruined what should have been the best years of Ford's life and almost killed him, his family, and his universe.

Skipping over the less shippy half of the question to answer in the less shippy ask, and addressing just the jealousy question:

I do intend for things to eventually get real gay, but how soon, how gay, and in what order related to other plot events, I'm not sure yet. Like, at the start of the fic Ford just flat out hates Bill—none of this "hate with secret attraction underneath" business, he just hates him. If that hasn't changed by the time Bill goes and seduces a government agent for information, Ford sure ain't gonna be jealous. If anything he's gonna pity Agent Powers and be relieved for his sake when Powers leaves without Bill doing anything worse than stealing a few government secrets.

Even as Ford's feelings on Bill start to change, and as their relationship progresses from "two cats who hiss at each other on sight" to whatever nebulous probably-romantic place I'm gonna settle on it finishing.... I have a hard time imagining Ford as the getting-jealous type? Particularly given that the target is Bill, here. Most of the "attention" Ford sees Bill giving other townspeople is either lowkey manipulative or strictly sexual; and for Bill, sex is impersonal weird meat games rather than a genuine emotional connection. But then the fact that Bill doesn't think like a human doesn't necessarily mean Ford wouldn't be subjected to involuntary irrational human emotions so, *makes a weighing hands gesture?*

I read an article once on how people react to cheating that basically boiled down to "some people see sexual infidelity as not as big a deal but would be devastated by their partner falling in love with someone else, whereas other people see emotional infidelity as not a big deal as long as their partner remains sexually loyal"—and even though "cheating" isn't part of the equation here, I think that where jealousy is concerned, Ford cares more about whether someone he's interested in is emotionally intimate rather than physically intimate with other people. And Bill... by all appearances, he doesn't do emotional intimacy. No worries there.

Anyway, outside of the immediate household, Bill spreads little bits of attention to a lot of different people—but Ford is one of the few people he gives a lot of attention to. "Attention" isn't a euphemism and the attention isn't a good thing. When he stops letting Ford know how much he plans to kill him, it's only to switch back to trying the "win over the nerd with flattery" technique, which No Longer Works On Ford and is Very Insulting. 

#grunkle ford #bill cipher #billford #gravity falls #bill goldilocks cipher #about my writing #ask #anonymous

[decadentpandawasteland]

Hello! Hope everyone's having a good day! Here is the next part of For All That Have Fallen. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated, and as always, thanks for reading :)

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Damien stared dumbly at the elongated ears of Wryn. A metal clasp encircled part of her right ear, a small chain connected it to a piercing at the lobe of her ear. Her left ear had two simple hoops near the same spot. 

“You're.. an elf?” Damien said. It wasn't quite a question or quite a statement, more a sound of disbelief. 

“The last time I checked, yes. I assume nothing has changed since then?” Her voice was calm, which surprised Damien. He had gotten used to the manic edge to her voice that it was strange to hear her without it. Was it just an act then? He was surprised to feel it made him even angrier. 

“You seem calmer than usual,” Damien said, biting off the words. 

The elf woman shot Damien a cold glare and in the same flat voice said, “Plans made in the heat of the moment will burn up before ever coming close to fruition. Passion makes for a great strength, but will leave you blind in the simplest of ways. If we're to burn this place to the ground, we need patience. Do not mistake calmness for a lack of fighting spirit. Why brawl for a few scrapes when a knife to the throat is always more deadly?” Her tone made it clear that the topic was done. In an odd way, it forced Damien to relax some. Anger and resentment had become his mainstay now. Anything else just felt wrong. 

“Alright then, old wise one, what's the plan?” Damien asked, keeping the biting tone back some. 

“It depends. How do you feel about taking a life?” Wryn asked nonchalantly. She had wandered over to a cupboard in the kitchen and grabbed a bag of something. 

Damien wasn't sure whether it was the question itself or the nonchalance in which it was asked, but his mind had blanked. All that came out was a stuttered “Wh-what?”

“Are you able to take a life? It's a simple yes or no question,” Wryn said. She had started a burner and began heating water. 

Honestly, the thought hadn't fully occurred to him. The Brood was always this faceless entity, the black dragon on the crimson background, faceless entities that had to be less than a person, because why else would they treat people this way? At what point do cells stop being cells and start to become the being they make up? The thought ate at him.

An awkward silence filled the kitchen, lasting long enough for the water to be brought to a boil. Wryn grabbed a metal pitcher, two ceramic mugs and two kinds of cheese cloth. She talked as she worked, stretching the cloth over the metal pitcher and heaping a few scoops of whatever was in the bag onto the cloth. 

“Killing isn't difficult. It never was for them, so why should it be for you?” She stated matter-of-factly. “They've had no qualms in making you suffer, only trying to hobble you and make you a symbol of what they can do. For someone to point at and ask them why and for that Bastard in power to simply say ‘because we can’.” Wryn began pouring the boiling water over the pile of what looked like dirt into the pitcher. She moved slowly and deliberately, pouring in concentric circles. 

A strong, earthy scent filled the room. 

Coffee. 

“How did you end up with that scar?” Damien asked. He had taken a seat at a small table, needing to sit down and mull over her question. Wryn flinched, spilling some water but recovered quickly. She took in a breath. 

“A fight,” she said in a curt tone. 

Damien waited for her to elaborate, but the only sound that broke the silence was the sound of coffee being poured through a second cheesecloth, catching any missed coffee grounds. He was fully aware there would still be some in it. 

“If I'm fighting with you, I need to know your past. What you can do, how you do it, and what's driving you? You're willing to risk everything for a chance of fighting them off even if they have a dragon?” Damien asked. A sudden feeling of deja vu of him and Rost having this exact same conversation less than a day ago.

“Yes,” was her only reply.

There was a clinking of ceramic on metal as Wryn brought a metal tray with two cups of coffee, a small container of milk, and some sugar. She sat across from Damien and plopped in two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk. She offered him the other cup, which Damien accepted. Unlike Wryn, he preferred his coffee black. 

“The mine is filled with voidstone. It's almost like a stone-metal composite. You've almost certainly seen it around.” Wryn said, taking a sip of her coffee. Her face was an emotionless mask.

“What's so special about voidstone?” Damien asked. He tried to remember if he had ever seen any, but was drawing a blank. 

“It has the highest possible storage as a mana conduit. Think of it as an almost infinite amount of storage if it is a good enough quality. Only a few mines can produce it since it required being in a place with an absurdly high ambient mana density,” she said, watching the steam drift lazily out of her cup. 

“Okay, and…?” Damien said, moving his hands in a ‘hurry up’ motion.

“What do you know about magic?” Wryn asked. 

“You're dodging my original question,” He said flatly. 

“You're doing the same to mine. Just bear with me,” she said, still staring at the streaming cup. For a second, a hint of fear and rage passed her eyes. Before Damien could even really register it, the look was gone. 

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, fine. I don't know much about magic. Something about channels, attributes, and affinities.”

“Voidstone can work a saved up charge through a mana channel. You want pyromancy but your affinity is with hydromancy? Now you can. It can act as a check to your own weaknesses. Usually mage's will pick a specialty and the more use of a specific attribute. The use of only one attribute changes the composition of the mana in your own body to create more of that one, as a detriment to others.You're exercising those sections to give yourself a specialty,” she said. Damien's cup had cooled, but Wryn's kept steaming. It was almost more than when she had first poured it. 

“The Emerald Sea used to be more than just grass,” she said. There was a wistful look in her eye. “A very, very long time ago there used to be a forest here. The trees were supposedly massive, some so massive the canopy blocked out the sun. The trees that grew here had the same property of voidstone and the people here lived in a delicate balance with it. For every one harvested a dozen would be planted. But humanity is a greedy bunch. They're a toddler throwing a tantrum because the world doesn't work on their schedule.” A razor-sharp edge was creeping back into her voice and Damien could noticeably tell her coffee was actively steaming more now. He thought he could hear the sound of it starting to boil. 

“It was always one thing or another. ‘We need the lumber to secure some walls’ or ‘How else will our soldiers defend themselves?’. It continued like that until the mountain was bare. The elders of the people said that enough was enough. Whatever human faction that was here fighting someone over there, again and again it would require more and more until the people had nothing left to give, and yet humanity demanded more.” There was a finality in her voice. She had sharpened the edge in it to sever whatever she was about to say next. He could see her coffee boiling over now, running over her hands. Wryn didn't even seem to notice. 

“Humans attacked them. Not just attacked, not just fought. They were slaughtered, Damien,” Wryn's voice broke and he thought he saw a tear roll down her cheek. “We were slaughtered.”

Just like that, it all clicked into place. That's why she was here. That's why Wryn chose to fight every day, at every waking moment. Why the fire in her soul refused to be snuffed out. How she could simply take a life. All of the horrors they had seen separately, separated by untold years all aligned in a sickening display. Something drastic needed to be done, even if it meant becoming a monster to kill one. 

Damien finally took a sip of his coffee. It was rich and earthy, but also bitter. It paired perfectly with the words the decision he had reached. “Yes. To answer your question, yes.” Long after the coffee was gone, he could still taste those bitter words on his tongue.

#fantasy #my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #fantasy writing

[sxugaryx]

Riddle Me This (Fanfic)

New chapter from my main series 🩷

Pinocchio could tell something was wrong right away when his father came home earlier from work with Venigni by his side.

“It’s Arlecchino again” Venigni looked so frustrated.

The plan was to talk about this when work was over however a dead body was found outside the factory, crudely looking as if it was a puppet that was going to be assembled, but worse is a small detail everyone found odd, everyone but Venigni since the corpse had something sticking from its eye, a cruel reminder of his beloved childhood toy the puppet once stole, the toy his parents were making for him.

Everyone had to leave for the police to investigate.

“I hate to admit it but he is too good a what he does, if we don’t stop him now he will only cause more harm” Geppetto knows that the alchemists now have become their second priority.

After all the King of Riddles body count is now 27, not seeming to stop any time soon.

“I believe it’s because of the Ergo that was used on him” Gemini chirped and explained what Arlecchino had told Pinocchio all the way back in Arche Abbey while trapped.

“The Ergo of a serial killer? Well now everything makes sense” Geppetto wondered how he was so methodical, how after so many kills no one was even close to finding the true identity.

It’s not as if the police were the only ones looking, the media and private reporters are as well, that puppet covers his tracks, he makes sure not to leave a trace.

Before Venigni could even open his mouth to explain what he found, the sound of a phone ringing inside the home began to resonate.

“How the hell did he get this number?!” Geppetto shouted he was furious, this is bad, he has their phone number and therefore knows where they live, if Geppetto were alone that would be a nightmare to think of, not to mention he could send danger their way without even being near the house.

Pinocchio took a deep breath and answered the phone, already knowing the phone call was for him.

“What a fine day in the-”

“Give us the dumb riddle” Pinocchio is so done with him.

A laugh robotic laugh could be heard from the other side.

“When did you become such a brat? Whatever, I guess being a good boy can’t last forever, I mean the two of us share a common enemy, And thankfully for me, you are very clever”

Pinocchio stayed quiet, if he gets more angry like last time that will only make Arlecchino happy.

“The alchemists are building something special” Arlecchino smiled, “So they need me to distract the crowd”

Not everything has to rhyme. He is the King of Riddles, not a caricature.

“But they have me bound to their will, alchemists and their weird funny magic you know?” He has always despised them, “I can’t say the name of the man in charge, although maybe if you answer my riddle I’ll give you a hint”

Pinocchio had already demanded to hear it so there was no need to repeat himself, still there was a tense silence from the other line, Arlecchino staying quiet for some reason.

“Well you see the more noise, the more panic, This state making everyone manic; Hiding away their true intentions, It’s easy for them to hide their inventions, But how do you hide something so big? In fact, what is it that the more there is, the less you see?

“Darkness” Pinocchio answered quickly.

“Are you cheating?” Arlecchino sounded annoyed.

“Maybe your riddles are just too easy” Pinocchio had always answered correctly, also he had seen that one before in a book he owns.

Arlecchino huffed from the other line, “Okay fine, Venigni you sure are blind you know that?”

Venigni wanted to be mad but he felt scared, he felt truly powerless, this puppet only torments him, and for what? What does he have to gain from all of this?

Pinocchio looks at Venigni, should he tell him what Arlecchino told him? That he sees Venigni as his masterpiece? That he loves seeing him in pain? How would his uncle react?

“Your hospital has a little rat, who likes to have their fun on the side” Arlecchino was delighted, “Maybe you should check the morgue, a little surprise awaits you all”

The sound of the other line being cut was heard.

They all sat down to properly talk about this while waiting for Venigni to compose himself again.

“He said the alchemists are making something special and that’s true” Venigni took out some papers he had brought in.

“I had to recreate these supposed plans but obviously there are many missing parts, not knowing exactly what this machine is supposed to be also doesn’t help” Venigni showed them incomplete blueprints he had made by recreating his decipher research.

Venigni pointed at one of the drawings, “At the very least I can tell this is a high-powered flame amplifier, although way bigger than the ones we use”

“That’s it, they are making some machine to make anima!” It all made sense to Geppetto now.

Venigni looked confused and they explained it to him.

“Mmm maybe that’s true but there is also something here that doesn’t make much sense” Venigni pointed at another of the drawings, “This is strange, it almost looks like a blood transfusion bag”

Geppetto looked at it, it was definitely something that needed to be connected to pump some sort of liquid as if it constantly had to be run for it to continue to work.

As for the rest of the blueprints, if the two men worked together they might be able to figure out more, for now, there is the matter of the hospital.

“The morgue is in the basement of the emergency services unit” Venigni explained, “Geppetto I know that you don’t like going to them but you are going to have to come”

Venigni was worried now that the King of Riddles knew the address, it wasn’t a good idea for Geppetto to be alone.

Geppetto took a deep breath, it was already hard enough going for his appointments even if things were going better, he can’t be so close to an intensive care unit again.

“It’s okay friend” Venigni had gained back his confidence knowing Geppetto needed his support, “We can wait outside while Pinocchio investigates”

Geppetto knows he has to do this and truly he should be the one comforting Venigni, not the other way around knowing how The King of Riddles likes to torment his friend.

They can both support each other.

——

Pinocchio entered the morgue, if someone were to ask he can just say he was given special permission by Venigni, which is true. To make it a little more convincing there is also the excuse that he is curious about medicine and would like to learn more about it.

Pinocchio looked around the place, he first opened a big fridge thinking that maybe the clue was inside, but there were only preserved body parts and a cake for some reason.

There were two small offices, probably to take notes of autopsies and he began to look around, he started opening journals and anatomy books to see if there was something inside.

“Mmm Gemini this is weird” Pinocchio had opened a strange magazine that had naked people in it, “It doesn’t look like all the other anatomy-“

“PINOCCHIO CLOSE THAT RIGHT NOW!” Gemini was mortified who the hell keeps that sort of thing in their place of work?!

“Huh?” Pinocchio was now confused, “But what if there is something important hidden inside?”

“Trust me, there isn’t” Gemini’s lamp was now red, “I’m doing you a favor, you wouldn’t want your father to know you were looking at that”

Pinocchio didn’t understand but Gemini was probably right that there was nothing important inside.

The only thing he hasn’t checked yet is the morgue drawers, so there must be something inside one. Pinocchio doesn’t want to open random drawers to look at corpses, it feels disrespectful, so he analyzes them carefully and finds what he was looking for, very faintly but you could see a trinity symbol in one of them, he tried opening it but it was locked, none of the keys were working meaning it was stuck and he will need to open it with force.

“Wait” Gemini chipped and got out of his cage, “There is a small hole I can fit into”

The less attention they draw to themselves the better, so Gemini went inside with his tiny sword. It was a good thing, he shinned in the darkness and saw that there was a trap, rigged so that if Pinocchio tried opening it with force he would get electrocuted. Gemini used his sword as a lock pick and opened it, getting out and jumping onto Pinocchio’s shoulder.

Pinocchio couldn’t celebrate Gemini’s ingenuity as he opened the drawer and gasped in shock.

This corpse looked like him, well not like him exactly, more like it crudely was trying to resemble him, this wasn’t just one body it was many stitched together to achieve that look. He looked at it closer and started shaking, no… this wasn’t supposed to look like him, the eyes forced into this corpse were brown and the scalp sewed to the head had brown curly hair.

Pinocchio closed his eyes, didn’t want to look at it, then he felt thankful that his father wasn’t there to see this, it was hard yet he needed to do this. Opening his eyes he examined the corpse, there was a hole in the chest and Pinocchio could tell there was something inside. He reached to touch it, pulling out a necklace with a ruby in its center.

He left still shaking a little, his father asked what was wrong but he didn’t want to explain. Pinocchio showed them the necklace, it was normal jewelry, nothing engraved, nothing hidden, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Oh, that necklace!” One of the nurses had noticed them, “Where did you find it? Doctor Garret has been looking for it”

Venigni knows every doctor who works at this hospital so he knows who Frederick Garret is, truthfully with his famous reputation is hard to not know him. As he seems to know about everything, you can go with him for a heart condition, skin condition, eye problems, an infection, a virus, you name it, he knows how to treat them.

Now that Venigni thinks about it, he has seen this necklace, he sometimes talks with the staff, the man has this necklace displayed in his office, and if he remembers correctly it’s a family heirloom.

“I will give it back to him personally” Venigni was already suspicious.

That left Pinocchio and his father alone, who once again asked if everything was okay.

🔴………………………..𖦹……………………🔴 Tell him about the Body Make an Excuse 🔴………………………..𖦹……………………🔴

———

Venigni looked at the Stalker next to the door, the young girl giving him a friendly smile and explaining the doctor was with a patient.

“Have we met before?” Venigni could tell she looked familiar.

“We have,” Blue said casually, “I did attend many events held by you when I was younger, my parents tended to drag at least two of us”

Blue’s parents tended to mostly take her since she has always been very well behaved, when she was younger people would say she was mature for her age when really it was more that she knew what to do in social situations with adults. Having great manners and knowing what to say to others, or rather how to people please without looking too obvious.

“Oh yeah, you are uhh….” Dammit, why does Mr. Lucero have so many children? Why is his good memory failing him now? She is blonde so, “Genevieve?”

“No, I’m-“ Before she could fully correct him, the patient left and Venigni excused himself entering inside, well at least he didn’t recognize her, which means her mask does work well in hiding her identity.

At least that’s what she wants to think, even if realistically she already knows why he got confused.

“Lorenzini Venigni” Frederick spoke with polite flattery, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you were looking for this” Venigni had his usual charismatic yet a little pretentious tone, “I found it and thought I should give it to you in person”

Frederick looked shocked, “I’ve been looking for it everywhere” He was almost convinced another staff member must have stolen it.

The man looked extremely relieved, almost forcefully taking it away from him to have it in his hands again.

“Do you happen to frequent the morgue?” Venigni asked, “It was found there during an inspection”

“Yes I do, although I don’t recall taking it out of this room” Frederick looked puzzled, something was off, although he had taken it home a few times for personal reasons, “Perhaps I simply forgot it there, with so much work there are a few times I’ve misplaced things”

He has been so busy lately, his job as a doctor and his true goal, it’s most likely the reason he didn’t notice. He should take it back home, he has it in his office to remember her, but if he ever were to lose it again…

Frederick looks tired, almost as if he didn’t sleep well last night. Still, he was trying to act normally, Venigni saw him taking notes with his right hand and noticed something, then he switched to the left and noticed something in the writing as well.

“You look tired” Venigni snapped his fingers, “I should treat you one of these days to a drink so that we can relax together”

“Oh, no thank you Mr. Venigni” Frederick wanted him to leave as soon as possible before he started parroting about whatever things were currently on his mind, “You don’t have to, both of us are very busy men, it is better to tend to our work schedule”

“Nonsense” Venigni began to walk around the room, making conversation about hanging out, when he found himself behind Frederick, he carefully looked at the notes, a quick glance before looking away without the man suspecting a thing.

As he suspected, he had written the word Anima two times.

“Well, I assume your next patient will arrive soon” Venigni gave him a playful smile, “Hopefully we can arrange plans, I would love to hear more of what you do, and even better I would you to hear of my creative genius”

“Yes” Frederick was trying his hardest not to look annoyed, “Hopefully we can spend time together”

Venigni left the room, happy about his findings, leaving behind the doctor and the stalker.

Blue looked at Venigni curiously as he walked away, that man talked loudly so she could hear the entire conversation. Realizing he was trying to distract the doctor for some reason, it’s a trick she has seen many times while attending high-class events.

“Not your business Blue” She had to remind herself, just look for another client, she also needed to have a serious talk with her father about what she was capable of.

—

“So does this mean that Frederick is the one behind all of this?” Geppetto asked.

They were in Venigni’s home now, thinking about what to do.

“It seems so” Venigni doubted he was working for someone else, Frederick is not the type of man to be a henchman, “Is Arlecchino really giving us this information just like that?”

“He hates the alchemists, yet even for him, this seems too obvious” Gemini moved his little antennas in confusion.

“I believe that’s what he wants” Pulcinella spoke up, “He is giving us the obvious answer because it’s making us doubt the truth”

Not only has Pulcinella researched him well, but he knows what he is capable of firsthand, he wants to make them second guess themselves.

“I do have clues on his possible location” Pulcinella showed a map of Krat that had red marks, “Most of his killings tend to be around the same area, aside from the ones made specifically to taunt us”

From Moonlighting Town to the Mallum District, it made sense. Places like Rosa Isabelle Street or Elysion Boulevard are more monitored and secured because of the status associated with them, being basically “rich people” areas.

“So what? Do we investigate there? Where would we even start?” Gemini is starting to feel like a detective, “Mmm Pinocchio are you okay? You seem distracted”

“I’m fine” Pinocchio lied, like how he lied to his father, “Also trying to think about what to do”

Pulcinella sighed, “I believe that for today this is all we can do”

Arlecchino won’t give them any more clues until he makes a new trap.

“In the meantime, Geppetto perhaps you and I should work on the plans for the Grand Exhibition”

“Are you guys making evil mining puppets again?” Pinocchio was reminded of those awful things with their saw-blades and drills.

“Son they aren’t evil, although I get that they can look a little intimidating” Geppetto admitted that to the average person, they probably look a little scary.

“That’s because you didn’t have to fight them” The Grand Exhibition was a nightmare for Pinocchio. He got tossed around like a rag-doll by those things, he wonders how many times Sophia had to save him.

“Come on son, they are actually great for their designated purposes, you see-“ Geppetto wanted to explain to his son so that he wouldn’t have a negative opinion but Pinocchio mumbled something under his breath.

“Technically you made them evil with Law 0 so I’m right”

“What did you say?!” Geppetto shouted, that brat was testing his patience.

“Nothing!” Pinocchio was backtracking hard, “Oh um yeah! That sounds really interesting!”

Before Geppetto could speak up again Pinocchio hugged him and gave him a smile, “I love you too Father”

Geppetto couldn’t get mad after that, so he patted his son’s head, telling him that he was giving him a chance this time.

Venigni laughed, he found it amusing. At any rate, talking about the Grand Exhibition can distract them from this mess while making progress at work.

At least it distracted him, Venigni didn't stop talking for 3 hours straight, aside from Pucinella the rest of them were wondering how he didn't get tired from all that speaking, Venigni's throat had to be something else if he could talk for hours like this on the daily.

—-

“Why would Cat and Fox be with Lorenzini Venigni?” Rusty was moving her feet while sitting on a table, “I thought he hated them”

“He does hate them, so I’m as puzzled as all of you” Tiger was trying to make sense of it, “You said they seemed to be arguing while leaving did you manage to hear the conversation?”

“Unfortunately I couldn’t” Sabertooth hates to admit that she probably has hearing problems, she can’t be seen as weak, “I had to keep my distance”

“Could they have gone to apologize?” Lion was out of ideas, “After all having Venigni out of all people as an enemy is not a good idea”

“But I thought no one else knew about what happened at the factory” Rusty grabbed some desk decorations and started to play with them, “Only us because of our client and also maybe Geppetto’s doll”

“Rusty, obviously Venigni and his associates know about this” Lion said, “I do find it odd he has never made a complaint, although it's possible that he just wanted to leave that mess behind, I can't blame him, honestly I try to forget everything that happened during that time”

“Speaking of Geppetto’s doll” Sabertooth rolled her eyes, “Our client wants us to keep a close eye on the thing”

“Come on Saber” Tiger looked irritated, “I get you aren’t a fan of puppets but let’s not call him that”

“Ugh shut up Tiger” Sabertooth pointed a finger at him, “I get that you have a soft spot for puppets but the rest of us here don’t”

“Dude, they are only objects” Lion crossed her arms, “It’s not as if they have true feelings, it’s more like pretend feelings”

“Yeah it’s the doll Geppetto uses to play family” Rusty giggled. Her family taught them puppets are only tools to serve so that has to be true.

“Whatever” Tiger dropped the subject, “Spying on him will be a hard task”

“How come?” Lion didn’t see the reasoning.

“Because when he is in public he is always either in populated areas or with his father, Antonia or Venigni” Tiger was trying to remember more putting a finger in his face in deep thought, “Not to mention how he seems to have a good amount of knowledge on Krat’s streets”

“Wow Tiger, do you have a crush on the puppet or something?” Lion was teasing him.

“What? No!” Tiger exclaimed angrily, “My parents force me to go to those stupid galas and he is always there with one of them, also I go to Elysion Boulevard and Rosa Isabelle Street often to take pictures, he always wanders around those places”

Tiger loves photography, cameras are a recent invention, and recently now that polaroids were invented he got his hands on one and has started to take pictures, it’s a hobby he loves.

“I wouldn’t blame you, Geppetto’s doll is very pretty” Rusty was also teasing him.

“Huh, it seems you are right Tiger,” Sabertooth said, trying to come up with a plan, “Since you already frequent those places you can keep an eye on him from a distance”

Tiger nodded, that seemed like the best solution.

“As for the rest of us, I don’t doubt that Geppetto will take his doll to the Grand Exhibition” Sabertooth as always took the main direction as their leader, “Lion you and I will observe him there, you should too from time to time Tiger”

Lion was on board, still “Okay, what about Rusty?”

“I can’t spy on the cute doll because I have to be in class” Rusty pouted, it starts in the afternoon but her studies are different than most, not to mention that by the time it finishes, she should be in bed.

“You go to school?” Tiger had never seen her talk about homework or classmates.

“Private tutors,” Rusty said, that’s why she has way more free time than kids her age, as well as why she can be a stalker with no issues.

Despite that freedom, that’s not enough so the others will have to deal with the spying.

“What do you even do pipsqueak?” Tiger pinched Rusty’s cheek, “Starting to think you are only part of the team as decoration”

“Hey!” Rusty slapped his hand away, “You know how super strong I am”

“I guess that’s the plan” Lion grabbed nail polish, ready to make her nails, “Hey Carlo was trying to become a stalker why-

“I have a perfect idea” Sabertooth interrupted her, knowing what she would say, “Carlo was trying to become a stalker, I’m sure the offices still have some of his belongings, we could make an excuse to see Geppetto by delivering them”

“I was going to-“

“Shut up Lion”

“Sorry Saber” Lion knows she is the second in charge, she shouldn’t have tried to outrank Sabertooth.

“I’ll go and fetch them, we need to check where we can get the puppet and Geppetto alone to make this work” Sabertooth praised herself for her ingenuity.

Sabertooth isn't stupid, she knows Frederick is an alchemist and doesn't care because her family is working for him, her parents are alchemists as well, she knows many things others don't, specially her team, she cares about them but she can't let them know the truth.

—-

“Father, can we talk?”

Blue found her father in one of the stables, brushing the mane of one of the older horses.

Her father gave her a warm smile “Sure my candy, what do you need?”

My candy, he gives her and all her sisters cute nicknames, he is a good father just too paranoid about her safety, or maybe that’s what any normal parent would do.

“I think I don’t want to work with Dr. Garret anymore”

“Why is that?” Her father looked confused, “Did something happen? Me and him went to school together you know?”

“Yes, father I remember” Blue’s father is 48, the same age as the doctor, apparently, Dr. Garret wasn’t a popular kid, although he has never told him why, at least until now.

“Don’t worry he was always a little weird” Her father was reassuring him, “Harmlessly weird”

“Weird how?” Blue was confused, okay he is already strange but she wants to know how the man was a child.

“Oh that’s old childhood memories, it’s nothing too important” Her father put the brush aside, “He was very shy and awkward that’s all, he never made eye contact with anyone, I did hear some rumors that he would kill animals, those were some ridiculous rumors, like for the rumors they made about me, have I told you the-“

“Yes father you told me about that weird rumor that people thought you ate a frog” Blue knows that her father tends to repeat the same stories from the past.

“He was always so smart, I was not surprised when he became such a great doctor although I did find it odd considering how many classes he skipped, mhmm, I believe he got in trouble at school for that, It was odd because he would attend school but not the classes, I wonder where he would run off to, probably to investigate things on his own, he was always reading books, maybe school was boring for him due to his intelligence”

Her father seems to have a lot of faith in the doctor, is it because they know each other?

“I had many friends, I was a friendly young man, Frederick not so much, so I wanted to be nice-”

Blue interrupted her father, “I know, I know you were a popular kid, father I want a real job”

“That is a real job, as long as someone has some sort of thing to do it counts as a job”

Blue gave out a sigh of frustration, she was ready to get into an argument with her father when tried walking closer to her and fell to the floor.

“Father are you alright?!” Blue helped him get back up, handing him his cane that had fallen as well.

“I am, candy don’t worry about me” Blue’s father looked exhausted. “I… haven’t been feeling my best, that must be my age”

Her father isn’t that old, Blue knows that this is because of his leg injury, she can tell that her father has been having more issues with walking lately, although he hides it pretty well by riding the horses where he needs to go. Not to mention the damage to his spine, her mother is also starting to get concerned about her father's attentiveness.

“You should rest” Blue was filled with anxiety, “Let’s go back to the house, we can talk about this later”

“I’m not as fragile as I look” Her father teased her, “Say, why don’t we race to the house?”

Blue faintly smiled, that was a good idea, anything that could cheer her father up, she is aware that lately, he has these feelings of feeling useless, of not feeling strong like a “true man”, he tries to hide those feelings. Some of her other sisters have started to notice as well, it doesn’t help that people sometimes talk behind his back.

She is starting to believe the people of Krat are extremely noisy and some have nothing better to do than to start dramas.

Each of them grabbed a horse and had a quick race to the front of the mansion. Blue knows not to insult her father by going easy on him, she gave it her all and still lost, it made her happy that her father had a good time.

She helped her father go to his study while she went to her room.

“Ugh this is ridiculous” She was taking off her boots and mask in frustration.

A few birds flew her way, the birds flocked to her room from the opened window each time she arrives. One of them had a letter in its beak, she picked it up, a message from one of her sisters, they have this secret way of communicating.

She wrote back what her sister needed to know, sometimes living in the lap of luxury can be exhausting when you have to follow all the social norms, not being able to say what you truly want to say, specially if you are a woman.

So they came up with this system to give themselves tips or say what cannot be said out loud.

Blue spent time in her room for hours, only going downstairs for dinner, the dark was setting and she turned on her special lights, her stupid fear of the dark taking over her.

It’s not like it is her fault, if those bullies hadn’t locked her in that dark horrible basement at boarding school she wouldn’t have this irrational phobia.

She remembers that it was Sophia Monad who found her sobbing inside, apparently all those moths fluttering around were her pets. Blue wonders what happened to Sophia, no one has ever seen her since her parents' death, and most likely she died as well, that’s so sad, Sophia was a nice girl.

Blue changed clothes, getting ready for bed, the birds flew away to rest too, and she closed her eyes.

Hopefully, she can come up with a way to quit her job without upsetting her father in her dreams.

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p game #lies of p fanfic #ao3 link #this is in ao3 too #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p geppetto #lies of p oc #lies of p king of riddles #lies of p venigni #lies of p pulcinella #lies of p gemini

[pandoricpies]

Theory: MC’s Choice

Based on the short questline from the Jorvik Stables Open House with Sabine - boy did those get my gears turning. Squeeee is one of my headcanons actually becoming canon-

I’m sure you all have a general understanding of where I’m headed with this whole ‘choice’ idea - that is, in short, being a choice of light vs. dark, good vs. evil. What if- just what if- the MC was given that choice? What sparked me into thinking this could actually become canon (and not just my personal angsty OC dark rider headcanon) was that whole dialogue section with Sabine (along with a few other clues/hints). She was really pushing the MC to be defiant towards their Soul Rider friends - granted these small mischevious acts such as letting the Sunfield animals loose don’t exactly chalk up to world domination standards, but they are still inherently “evil”. Kinda draws on that ‘planting a seed of evil’ idea - a small start is still a start. Also, wtf was up with the description of the jacket Sabine gave us - “do you dare wear this in front of your Soul Rider friends?” I mean sure, that dark heart mark is on the back, but why would MC even accept it in the first place - much less, have a desire to be almost secretive about it (if we view the item descriptions as MC’s personal thoughts about said items)? That’s all fine and well, however that is one short scene out of an entire questline -  is it really that indicative of an MC that could go either way? However, this isn’t the only time we’ve gotten evidence towards this theory; I bulleted a few evidence points below with my personal thoughts about each, feel free to add your own ideas!

#1: Catherine’s Journal

- Specifically, the latter entries; reading over them, I noticed a certain trend towards the last few entries. Catherine began writing about having “dark thoughts” and seemed almost manic? when discussing the fact that others fear her (specifically in that case her Moon Sister and Eva; she describes knowing the look of fear “all too well”). Tying all of this to the MC and this theory, we know that both MC and Catherine posses(ed) extremely powerful magic - this magic not without its dangerous consequences when placed in the hands of teenagers. Could this ultimate power have been what drove Catherine almost ‘mad’ in a sense?

#2: Light and Dark (Black and White)

- Something I’ve noticed playing through the recent (past couple of years) quests is how stressed the ideas of “everyone possessing both light and dark” and “not everything in the world (motivations) is black and white” - Catherine specifically stressed those ideas for Justin’s sake in her diary, and referenced Thomas - who was pretty much predisposed to end up involved with Garnok like his father - in saying that he made the ‘right’ choice. This makes me think that potentially, the MC has the ability to be a ‘key’ for both sides; my final conclusion was this: MC is the final key needed for both the dark ceremony and the light ceremony - the dark ceremony being the key to Garnok’s prison, and the light ceremony being the only thing that can keep him imprisoned. This would also explain why Sands and Darko didn’t want to kill the MC in their encounters with them - as Darko said, he only wanted to capture MC. Essentially, the dark riders need as just as much as the soul riders do - this leads me to believe that Sabine was almost trying to recruit MC (or at least plant that seed) at the open house.  This could also explain why Catherine was so adamant with that whole “light and dark” idea - not only for her son’s sake, but for MC. MC has a choice of what cause they want to fight for - they truly do have the power to choose their own destiny.

As fun as it is to theorize and imagine our MC OCs being dark riders with tragic coming-to-evil stories, I don’t think this choice idea will necessarily work with the way the story and gameplay are currently set up. However, that’s not to say that we won’t possibly get a scene or two of the MC trying to make that choice or more of the dark riders trying to recruit them - it just won’t be truly our choice as players, as this would require the design of two completely opposite quest paths.

As always, I’d love to see your input; I’ve seen this idea swirling around ssoblr here and there, so thought I’d go ahead and give my own view/evidence on it.

#star stable #sso #star stable online #soul riders #dark core #mr sands #starstable #garnok #keepers of aideen #sso theory #star stable theory #god I need to start a yt channel already so I can actually put sense to my word scrambles vocally

[iamlivingmusic]

There are just an overwhelming number of posts under both the cyclothymia and quetiapine tags which bring me down. They're sad and hard, about medication not working, uncontrollable mood swings, depression, side effects, social deprivation.

So I thought I'd tell my story, for a little bit of hope.

To start - I am a 32 year old woman from Aotearoa New Zealand. The psych who diagnosed me with cyclothymia six months ago suggests that I've been experiencing symptoms for about 20 years - since puberty. I've been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, chronic fatigue and ADHD. None of these were correct.

Cyclothymia is a mood disorder in the same family as bi-polar. It means I experience depression and hypomania. My highs aren't as high and my lows aren't as low as bi-polar 1 or 2, and I'm on a shorter cycle - generally my depressive episodes last 2-4 weeks, and mania 2-5 days. There is nothing else, just the rollercoaster.

I take 250mg of quetiapine each evening for two reasons. First to even out those mood swings. My depression becomes closer to even keel, and on top of the medication can be managed by actions - fresh food, fresh air, time with people I love, routines to make it easier to get out of bed and maintain a hygiene routine. My mania is less effected, but the most important thing for me is that I'm aware that I'm manic - it makes it much easier to ensure I don't over-commit myself (which screws me over when the fog descends).

The second reason I medicate is the long term impact of unmanaged cyclothymia. In this sense, it can be thought of like pre-diabetes. Not a guarantee you'll develop the disease - in my case the much more harmful bi-polar 2 - but if you are careful you can squash that possibility. The more I actively manage my condition, the less likely disorder evolution is.

Sure, I experience some side effects. Orgasm is a little more difficult. I have such a dry mouth some morning it sounds like I'm slurring. Getting up in the morning is hard, but let's be honest, getting up in the morning when you're depressed isn't exactly a picnic.

Over all, after 6 months of medicating? My life is measurably better. I'm better able to spend time maintaining relationships. My overall sex drive is more consistent. I don't feel like I'm racing ahead and everyone round me are idiots who can't keep up with my train of thought. I don't over-commit one day, to under deliver the next. In 6 months, I haven't once thought I don't actively want to die, but wouldn't it be easier for everyone if I never existed?

I'm a better friend, partner, colleague. I'm more me. I play piano and sew dresses I'll never wear and read absolute trash romance novels. I collect vinyl - I order an album and anticipate it's arrival, not forget in a fog. I can budget, because I can find happiness in more than just consumerism and an endless cycle of couriers.

It's not for everyone, and it's not everything. I still need to take a walk, plan my week, make more of an effort than neurotypical folk. On recommendation, because 2023 is going to be a landmark year for me, I'm starting cognitive behavioral therapy so I have more tools when life gets more intense.

But I wouldn't go back.

#cyclothymia #quetiapine #mood disorder #bipolor #mental health #depression #mania #hypomania #hypothymia

[secondhandbagofholding]

This is just a rant post because I don’t really have anywhere else to put it and need to get some thoughts out of my head at 1 am.

I don’t hate my parents.

I was basically disowned by my father. But I don’t hate him. He’s just a sad broken man who’s lost everything and couldn’t stand seeing his son happy and successful while he wallowed in his own bad choices.

I don’t hate him. I also have nothing to do with him or his side of the family. He was abusive to my mother, and his family supported him in it.

My mother is a product of an entire life of abusive relationships, and inherited trauma from the abusive relationships of her own mother. She tries so hard, but at this point I think she’s mostly incapable of a normal healthy relationship. I don’t think she even knows what love and safety feels like anymore.

I try so hard to help her, to be there for her. I talk to her daily. I know everything that everyone has said to her that hurt her feelings. I know everything that’s made her cry. I sit with her on the phone while she cries. I tell her I’m sorry. I tell her it’s not her fault. I don’t know if it is or not. Maybe it is. I don’t know. I don’t talk to the other people. I’m not there to solve problems. I’m just there to make my mom feel less alone.

Except doing so is making me alone.

I know how my brother screamed at her the other day. I know what he said. And I believe her. I’ve been on the receiving end of one of my brother’s manic episodes. They aren’t pretty. He holds nothing back. He rips you to shreds down where it hurts the most. So I believe her. I tell her to forget what he said, his brain just works differently and sometimes that differently means he hates everyone around him. I’m right. But that doesn’t help when she has to live with him.

I know my little sister put my mom on speaker while they were trying to work through conflict so her roommates could hear what she was saying. So they could “protect” her. I know it broke my mom. I know my sister was overreacting. She does that, often. We had the same mom. She can be pushy, but she’s rarely mean to the point of needing back-up from secret confidants. I tell her my sister is just being young and stupid and trying to figure out her life. Leave her alone and it’ll blow over. I’m not sure it’ll blow over.

I know my brother and sister-in-law came to visit and my sister-in-law didn’t speak to her for a whole day. Not a single word. Which is likely. She’s just kinda like that. Not very social. Not very affectionate. Not very friendly. But she came to visit, and she spent time with her. I know they got in a fight. I don’t know about what. I try to tell her people fight when they are about each other, otherwise it’s not worth the bother. She won’t tell me what they fought about. They seem to fight a lot. I know about every single one. And I know my brother always blames my mom.

I know too much. I don’t want to know any more. I am isolated from my family by the knowledge of their various flaws and faults. All the pain they’ve caused. And I don’t even know if it’s real.

In trying to make my mom feel less alone, I am becoming alone.

[tavarillasgalen]

I was thinking today about how I spent years in a relationship that should have ended in months for 2 primary reasons: 1) I was afraid of being alone and I thought someone was better than no one, and 2) I felt like it was what I was supposed to do and like it would be selfish and wrong of me to end it "just" because I was bored and our communication styles didn't mesh.

And since ending it...

1) I was PETRIFIED of being alone. I was so, so scared. I've always been someone who goes from a lot of friends to no friends, which is common with bipolar (manic "you're my friend!!" vs depressed "everyone hates me, I'm a burden, I'm isolating myself"). And I have not had friends since university. I still have no friends and im trying to learn how it is that you make friends as an adult.

But the weird thing? As soon as I broke up with him, I felt so much less alone. My relationship with my family is better than it's been in years. My relationships with my little brothers are better than they've ever been in our entire lives. I'm so much less lonely.

Somehow, in the relationship, there was only time for my ex. I'm not sure how it happened. I think our stark cultural differences maybe played a role, because we have such different views on what makes a "good" family, and I feel like his poisoned mine. He'd rant about my family and mock them, but then i'd mention something I didn't like about how his family worked, and he'd get all up in arms. It was only ever okay to criticize the American way of doing things, to breathe a word about how I didn't like how his family did something was xenophobic, somehow.

It felt like a constant trap, like he had free rein to criticize and mock my family and how we do things endlessly, but if I got upset about it or dared to even suggest something like my being upset that his parents were trying to tell me, a fully grown adult and not their relative, what I can and cannot do with my life, it was just the worst, most offensive thing ever.

But since breaking up with him, I almost immediately got my family back. I don't have friends, I'm working on it. But I'm so much less alone than I was in the relationship.

2) I still struggle with this sense of obligation, of doing what I feel like I need to rather than what I want to. It's something I've struggled with for as long as I remember. Like, I remember being a child at the playground with my friends, and I told them I couldn't play with them because I needed to watch my little brother. When, I definitely could, and my mom was watching my little brother, but because she was also talking to her friends, I remember being worried that she was too distracted, even though my mom's not that type of person to let a conversation distract her from her child. So, I spent the time at the playground watching him instead of playing with my friends because I felt I had to.

And so even though I knew after a few months that this relationship wasn't for me, I ended up staying for 7 whole YEARS because I felt like I had to, like it was expected of me, like it was selfish and inconsiderate to break up just because I didn't want to be in the relationship when he clearly did. And so I'd act happier than I was, i'd ignore things, i'd let myself just go along with things. I eventually stopped fighting for what I needed in a relationship because he'd make all these promises and never see them through.

And I felt like I was being horrible when I finally ended it, but... The MOMENT I did, I felt SUCH relief. I've mever felt SUCH a rush of relief and glee lile that in my entire life. I cried 1 time, because I had no one to talk to before I fixed things with my family. But that was it. I had absolutely zero regrets about ended it and I instantly become so much happier and less anxious, it was like a miracle.

And yes, this is something that I easily recognize in books and had no problem telling people "you deserve better" when they'd raise concerns about being bored or mismatched communication in their relationships. It made perfect sense for them to leave. But me? No, no, that would be selfish and awful.

So, people keep telling me I was "so brave" for leaving. I was "so brave" for finally saying enough is enough, I don't deserve this. And I rolled my eyes at first, because I was like, how is it brave to break up with someone? But I get it now.

And honestly, this doing things out of obligation is something I still really, really struggle with. It's something that has kept me from pursuing a lot of my dreams. It's a lot harder to deal with than repairing relationships with family, because it's something i've struggled with for as long as I can remember.

But I'm working on it. And I'm happy I finally am.

#personal #something something only daughter syndrome maybe

[literenture]

1656, Amir becomes the Archivist.

“How’s Shinya? You just got a letter from him, right?”

“Mm,” Amir mumbled. “He’s fine, I think.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Amir shrugged, wishing his mentor would just drop it already.

“He doesn’t really talk to me much these days,” he admitted.

Farhad raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you two were close?”

Amir frowned and looked away, embarrassed.

Truthfully, he had thought the same, but over the last few months their correspondence had dropped off. Just when he’d finally had a chance to see his friend for the first time in a while, Shinya had been acting oddly. He seemed overworked, with deep bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but he carried a manic energy as he’d spoken to Amir.

He wouldn’t say just what, but it seemed his research had made some breakthrough. However, something else had been on his mind, and even that good news was soon lost as Shinya’s mood darkened.

“How much has the Archivist told you about what we’re doing here?” he’d asked suddenly.

“Farhad?”

Amir, slightly taken aback, thought.

“Well, you’re all researching different things, right?” he hedged. “And you’re focusing on en and how it works…”

“And? Did he mention why the Observer started this group in the first place?”

Amir pondered that with a finger to his lips, head tilted and brow furrowed.

“I assume to, uh, research…things?”

Frustrated at his lackluster answer, Shinya had sighed and tossed his bangs out of his face. He had not cut his hair in a long time, and it fell in straight, reddish-brown sheets across his freckled face. He glanced up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to Amir. His black eyes seemed bottomless, a void so vast it threatened to suck Amir in. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“So you don’t know, either, huh…”

There was a deep sense of disappointment in his words, and Amir felt like he’d let him down. Shinya looked away as he bit his lip, various seething emotions roiling across his face.

“Shin?” Amir asked carefully. “Is everything okay? You look…”

Unwell, he thought, but he swallowed the word as Shinya turned away from him, one hand against his forehead.

“There’s no helping it then,” he muttered so quietly that Amir didn’t know if he was speaking to him. “Ah, that’s really too bad.”

“You’re kind of making me nervous, Shin,” Amir said. “Are you getting enough sleep? I know you’ve been working hard, but your health is important too…”

He placed a hand on Shinya’s shoulder, and the other man set one of his own atop it.

“Yes, you’re right,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry, it’s just been so crazy with Matoba and Arataca snooping around.”

He let out a long sigh, shoulders deflating, then turned a tired smile toward Amir. Still, Amir could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong. He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could, they had been interrupted as Mamoru came to join them.

After that, Shinya had seemed more or less normal, albeit tired and subdued. Amir had not known what to do, and, afraid of overstepping a boundary, he’d not pressed Shinya any further.

That had been weeks ago, and since then he’d only received a rather terse, short epistle. He tried to tell himself that the other man was busy and he was being clingy, but Amir didn’t know what to think of how he’d been acting.

The whole Fair had been on edge with the constant attempts from Matoba Industries and its associate companies to buy them out. They had managed to work out some sort of deal for the time being, but it was predicated on their cooperation and truthfully was merely a stopgap measure. It had sent everyone into overdrive, their research temporarily halted as they poured their collective efforts into appeasing the energy company.

So it made sense that for Shinya, it was an especially difficult time. The Lily Fair was his entire world, he lived and breathed for it. As jealous as Amir got at times, there was a beauty in the way Shinya upheld his ideals. He truly believed in what the Observer and the others were doing, so to see it invaded by some foreign pest was surely unbearable. Amir knew that if the same had occurred at the orphanage, he would be a wreck, so perhaps Shinya was doing as well as he could be.

Farhad watched as Amir mulled over how to respond, waiting patiently. Unable to come up with any sufficient answer, Amir finally sighed and,

“Everyone at the Fairgrounds is pretty on edge,” he started slowly. “And Shin handles so much on his own, of course he’s been busy. It’s not like I mind that much.”

“Is that why you’ve been checking the mailbox every day?” Farhad asked, not unkindly.

Amir felt his ears grow hot and he ducked his head.

“Th-that, I just, I was just mindlessly checking,” he stammered. “Habit. No reason.”

“Hmm.”

Farhad smiled but didn’t press him. He turned to start walking back to the orphanage.

“Well, when we get back, why don’t we get out the board and play a game of…“

His words died off as his pale green eyes grew wide. Amir turned to see what had caused his teacher to have such a reaction, and his heart dropped.

“A fire? That, can’t be…”

Before he could say anything more, Farhad burst into a sprint. Amir followed behind him, mind racing as his feet slammed into the dirt. He had lost sight of the Archivist, but there was only one path to the orphanage, so he took a deep breath and pushed himself to his limits.

He nearly ran into Farhad as he came around a bend. The Archivist was stopped in the middle of the road, and as Amir arrived he whirled around with a panicked expression.

Farhad grabbed him about the upper arms, his pale brown hair falling over his face.

“Amir, I need you to keep going,” he said urgently. “No matter what happens, get to the kids. Nozoe’s gonna need your help.”

Confused, Amir looked into his teacher’s eyes.

“What about you? What’s happening?”

“Go!”

Farhad shoved him in the back just as something heavy impacted the ground where he’d been standing. Amir stumbled forward, gaping, as a figure dressed all in black stood from the spot, a wicked spear gripped in its hands. It had its face covered with an unpainted fox mask, and as Amir gaped it turned toward him and prepared to lunge.

“I told you to get going already!”

Farhad’s voice snapped Amir out of his stupor, and combined with the terror he felt he bolted away without another thought.

Behind him, he heard the sound of a fierce battle underway, and his footsteps faltered. However, he shook his head and picked up his pace. The Archivist was immortal, after all. He had to help the children first. Then he could come back for his teacher.

He fled at top speed, long legs stretched to their limits in the hopes of reaching the building even one second sooner. Low hanging branches whipped by and tore up his face, but Amir didn’t feel a thing. The only thought in his mind was that he had to get to the others.

When at last he burst through the trees onto the flat lawn, he saw to his horror that the entire orphanage was aflame. He glanced around frantically, hoping nobody was left inside.

“Amir!”

A strong voice called to him as he reached the base of the inferno. He turned and to his relief saw Nozoe standing there. The tall, white wolf-god had an uncharacteristically fearful expression on her soot-stained face, and he hurried to her side.

“The children!?”

Nozoe looked grim.

“I got everyone I could, but…”

She glanced up to the fire on the upper floors. Amir stood panting for a moment before he dove into the little fish pond. Before Nozoe could ask what he was doing, he leapt up and into the burning building.

The air inside was dark with smoke, and Amir held an arm over his face as he scanned the room tearfully.

He heard screams and rushed to the nearest ones, finding a young boy named Tomin huddled beneath a table. He grabbed him by the hand and escorted him out to the waiting arms of Nozoe, who yelled at Amir the moment he emerged.

“Are you quite mad!? You’ll die!”

Amir ignored her and ran back into the flames. He heard cursing, a splash, and was soon followed by the forest god into the blaze. The two gestured to one another, splitting up in their search. They pulled another three children from the flames, but Amir could still hear more cries. He headed to the stairs, but they had collapsed due to the fire. He stared in horror at the gaping hole, just able to make out a few huddled figures on the platform.

Nozoe soon joined him, and when he pointed above she nodded, positioning herself as close to the children as possible. Even at her impressive height, it would be a long jump. Still, they had to at least try.

Things went smoothly for the first two of the five on the stairwell, but as the third was working up the courage to jump, a massive crack resounded through the house. Nozoe’s eyes widened, and as she caught the two children who jumped together in fright, she turned toward Amir.

“Get them out, now,” she demanded.

He hurried to do so, planning to turn around as soon as they were clear of the blaze.

However, no sooner had they gotten a few steps away than did another thunderous crack sound out, followed by an immense weight of wood collapsing in on itself with a fearsome whoosh. Amir whipped his head around in horror as the remnants of the orphanage fell.

He stared in disbelief, holding onto the two children in his arms as they wailed. He would have stayed stunned like that for a long while had not a large, shaggy beast burst from the wreckage. It carried a small form in its mouth and gently set it down before crouching and resuming the more humanoid appearance Nozoe usually assumed. She was breathing heavily, bright red blood streaming from her snout as her tongue lolled over sharp teeth.

Amir hurried to her side, but she waved him off.

“She’s not breathing,” she said urgently, gesturing to the child beside her.

Amir turned and saw it was Nena. She lay lifelessly in the grass, blood pouring from the side of her head. Kneeling down, Amir could tell immediately that Nozoe was right. He wasted no time in placing his hands on her chest and pumping before breathing air into her mouth.

“Come on Nena,” he said as he kept trying. “Don’t give up on me now.”

She didn’t respond to him, head lolling with every push as he tried desperately to get her to breathe, to open her eyes, to call out his name. She had always called him her “big bro” and followed him around as he worked. He promised to never be annoyed with her again, should she just come back to them.

Nozoe had led the other children further from the blaze to where the rest of those who had escaped were huddled. She returned to Amir still trying with all his might to get Nena to wake up.

“Amir…”

“2, 3, 4…”

“Amir!”

He ignored her even as she shouted at him. Nozoe put a large, clawed hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off and continued.

“You’ve done enough,” she pleaded.

“Just a bit more,” Amir said, voice cracking. “She’s almost here, I know it.”

With one final desperate push, he breathed air into her mouth, and sat back, hoping against hope.

“She’s already—“

Nozoe was interrupted by a harsh cough, and then Nena was struggling to sit up, tears streaming down her face.

“Where is—?”

She was immediately scooped up in a hug by Amir, whose own face was streaked with tears and soot. Confused, the young girl patted him on the back.

“There, there,” she said. “Big bro did a good job.”

Nozoe urged Amir up so that the three of them could get to a safer distance. They joined the rest of the children at the edge of the forest, where they were watching in wide eyed terror.

Amir’s heart sank as he realized that only about a third of the kids were gathered here. However, he didn’t have time to do a proper headcount. He turned to Nozoe.

“I need you to lead them to the old shrine up the mountain,” he said. “I have to find Farhad.”

His tone brooked no argument, and Nozoe nodded uneasily.

“Be careful. Something strange is in the forest tonight.”

He nodded before rushing back up the path toward where he and the Archivist had parted ways. Blood roared in his ears as he ran, and the distance seemed to stretch beyond its limits. He hoped desperately that his teacher would be okay.

As he rounded a bend, his pace slowed, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

The Archivist stood over a crumpled figure, its spear embedded in the trunk of a tree. Farhad’s long, mousey brown hair hung loose of its usual ponytail, wisps going every which way. His face was bloodied, but he didn’t seem to be injured too severely. Amir was grateful to see him, and wondered if he had been too hasty in his concern.

“Ah, you did it.”

At the sound of his voice, Farhad whipped around, but his expression was not one of relief. Rather, his eyes were wide and he looked appalled. Amir slowed his step, confused, as Farhad flung an arm towards him.

“I told you to get out of here!”

Amir cocked his head, but before he could ask anything, a wet thwack sounded, and he stumbled forward. It felt like someone had punched him in the shoulder, not particularly hard, just enough to push him slightly. He started to turn when something was wrenched from within him, and heat spilled down his back. He coughed, moisture spattering his lips. As he tried to take a step forward, his legs went out from under him, and he toppled to the ground.

“Damnit— Amir! Hold on!”

All that he could see was a darkening sky ringed by trees. His strength had left him and he didn’t think he could even turn his head, let alone get out of the way. He saw his assailant tower above him, similarly garbed in black with a blank fox mask. Before he could even blink it had flown over him towards Farhad.

His vision was growing fuzzy and his body cold. He shivered as the sounds of battle grew distant, hoping that the others would be okay. He wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep, but as he was about to he spied movement in the corner of his eye.

With all the remaining strength and willpower he could muster, Amir turned onto his side, before crying out as loud as he could.

“Behind you!”

Farhad, locked in a battle of blades with the knife-wielder, turned just as the spearhead was sent flying past his face. A bright red line opened up along his cheek, spilling blood down his chin. Surrounded and armed only with his curved short sword, Farhad glared at the two assailants before glancing at Amir. His eyes were full of sorrow and regret.

Would have been nice if I could’ve seen you smile one last time, Amir thought wistfully. But at least I got to be by your side, at the end.

He coughed as he slumped down to the ground, droplets of blood spraying. He closed his eyes, wondering just how long it would take for him to bleed out. It would be nice if he could just get it over with. This hurt far more than he had expected.

As he sat there, it slowly dawned on Amir that the Archivist’s numerous cuts and scrapes weren’t healing. His mind was muddy but he was sure that his teacher was slowing down. A deep terror clutched at him as he realized that Farhad might actually be in trouble.

As if to punctuate that thought, Farhad stumbled, and the spear wasted no time as it bore down on him. He managed to half-roll away, but the heavy blade slammed into his calf, splitting it. Amir screamed as he watched, clutching the dirt in desperation.

A strange twang suddenly rang out over their heads, and for a moment everything stopped. Then, as Amir opened his eyes to see what had happened, a force like a shooting star slammed into the ground where one of the masked figures had stood a moment earlier. From the dust, he saw the glint of metal, and then a long, single edged sword cut through the cloud. It lashed out with the precision and venom of a snake, followed soon after by the figure of the Observer. Beside him was a large black panther-like creature—Amir realized that it was Sowaca with a stunned look.

While the two engaged the assailants, Farhad dragged himself to Amir’s side, cradling him in his arms. He brushed Amir’s long black bangs from his clammy face, and Amir saw that his fingers were stained bright red. He stared up into the Archivist’s face with unfocused eyes, trying to steady his breathing. He reached up with a shaky hand to Farhad’s cheek, and the older man grabbed his fingers, squeezing tightly.

“You’re, okay,” Amir wheezed. “Then, everything—“

“Shh,” Farhad soothed with a sad smile. “You need to save your energy.”

“I’m, already—“

Another coughing fit overtook him, and blood filled his nose and mouth. He leaned back, looking at Farhad with a small smile, tears streaming down his face.

“I was happy,” he managed. “That I got, to meet you. That made everything, worth it.”

“Don’t talk like you’re giving up, Amir,” Farhad said urgently.

But Amir knew he was fading fast. No matter what they did, there was no coming back from such an injury for him. He could no longer feel Farhad’s cheek beneath his fingers, nor his hand squeezing his. Everything felt cold and far away. He had completely forgotten about the battle raging just beyond them, fighting his fear even as he accepted that he was dying. His eyelids were growing heavier by the moment.

“…I was really happy to meet you too,” Farhad said in a voice barely above a whisper. “You are, and will always be, my precious son.”

He placed his forehead against Amir’s.

“I’m sorry for burdening you with so much, and for all that you’ll suffer because of this. But I leave everything in your hands.”

In his foggy confusion, Amir didn’t understand what the Archivist was saying. He simply bathed in the small warmth of the other man’s forehead against his, a last remaining link to this world before he must cross over.

“May the Archives watch over you when I cannot. I know they’ll welcome you with open arms.”

The next moment, something seemed to burst inside of Amir’s head, a roaring, screaming pain that made him forget that he was dying. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His vision burned to white, and in the next instant

everything was still.

——-

The Observer cursed as he parried a knife blow aimed at his neck, sending the blade flying. He ducked beneath a swing of the spear and shot forward toward the disarmed attacker. Behind him, Amir lay grievously injured, Farhad not faring much better. This was not a time to pull his punches, so he adjusted his grip on the sword and brought it up and across the masked figure’s body. It tore through with minimum resistance, and he stepped back, gaping. The only sign of the vicious sword strike was torn cloth, but the skin underneath was bare.

“I thought you said their gates were active?”

“They are!” Sowaca hissed. “How else would they be drawing in en at this rate?”

Before he could get clear, the Observer felt a knee crunch into his guts, sending him flying. He choked up blood as he hit the ground. Sowaca roared in rage, swiping with his claws at the assailant. Unlike his Fang, these could just as easily rend mortal flesh as aberration, and blood erupted from the wounds. Despite the immense injury, the figure made no sound aside from their ragged breaths.

Sowaca howled suddenly in pain, the massive spearhead erupting through his chest.

“Sowaca!”

As he got to his feet, Rui’s hand passed over a hard object. He glanced down at the knife that had earlier been cast aside. Gripping it in his free hand, he dashed towards his companion, staying low to the ground before leaping into the air, spinning with both weapons. The enemy attempted to skewer him with the spear, but their aim was off and it slipped by the Observer with a whistle.

Just like earlier, the sword made barely any difference, but as he followed up with a stab of the knife blood gushed from the figure’s torn neck. The two toppled to the ground in a heap with Rui crouched on top. He raised the knife high, ready to stab it down with fearsome precision, but he hesitated.

In that moment, everything erupted in blinding white light. He was sent tumbling back in the shockwave, knife still in hand. Before he could get his bearings, a wave of heat washed over him. It felt like all the hairs on his body had been set alight, and he instinctively snapped his head around toward where he had left the Archivist and his charge. Sowaca, less badly injured than Rui had first assumed, cast him a grave look.

“Those two ran off, but they might come back. You should…”

He lowered his gaze towards the pair on the ground.

“Fara…?”

The Observer stumbled to his feet, unsteady as he made his way to where Farhad lay crumpled beside Amir. Blood was pouring from every part of his face and ears, streaming down from his eyes like thick tears. Rui dashed to his side, falling to his knees as he grabbed the other man in his arms.

“Fara!”

“Not so loud.”

“Ah…?”

For a moment, the Observer’s heart leapt at his friend’s good health. That was until he noticed the fine lines and fissures slowly snaking across his skin. His eyes widened and he glanced at Amir.

The young man’s hair had gone half-white, an unnatural division along his scalp between it and his black locks. His eyes were closed, but his breathing had steadied. Rui’s hands shook as he looked down at Farhad in his arms.

“Don’t tell me you…”

“Shh.”

The Archivist reached one shaky hand up to Rui’s cheek, cupping it fondly. His thumb ran gently down his face.

“Don’t make me comfort the both of you.”

The Observer gaped as tears welled up in his eye. He shook his head, grabbing Farhad’s fingers and squeezing.

“That isn’t fair,” he whispered. “You knew how to break the curse after all.”

Farhad smiled sadly.

“Let’s just say it’s something of a special case. Besides, I only passed it on, and to someone who deserves far better.”

His eyes slid towards the unconscious Amir, pain and pride both mixed within those pale green orbs. Flakes of skin fell like plaster from the side of his face, and to Rui’s horror, his fingers began to crumble within his hand.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” he asked petulantly, knowing he was being unfair, but not wanting to believe this was happening. “You’re my dearest friend, I can’t…”

“You’ll find a way. You have a lot of people who care about you.”

One of his fingers cracked and fell from its base, shattering into pieces as it hit the ground. Rui cried out in agony, scrambling to hold his friend together as long as he could.

“But, you’re—“

“Rui.”

His voice was feeble but it carried a strength that stopped the Observer mid-sentence. Farhad gave him a weak smile, his crumbling palm yet warm against his cheek.

“Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything,” he replied immediately.

Farhad’s gaze returned once more to Amir, eyes softening as he looked at him.

“Will you watch after this child for me? He’s not very good at making friends, and I imagine he’s going to have a very lonely future left to his own. I think the two of you are rather alike in that way.”

The Observer choked back the sobs threatening to overwhelm him. He sniffed, leaning into Farhad’s palm.

“Are you sure you really want me to be the one to do that…? Doesn’t Amir find me annoying?”

Farhad chuckled.

“It’s only because you get him out of his shell. Without someone like you, I fear he’d become a library shut-in in no time. Like a certain someone I know some years back.”

At the memory of Rui’s own reclusive fifty years spent almost entirely in the Library, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, you can’t blame me. I had some pretty good company, y’know?”

“Then you know exactly what Amir will need. If he’s left to shut himself away, I don’t know if he’ll ever return to the world. Please, Rui. He’s still but a child.”

“I’ll do my best,” the Observer promised. “Though I don’t know if I’ll be able to live up to your expectations…”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Unable to argue, Rui nodded. As he did so, the last of Farhad’s hand gave way, crumbling all the way up to his elbow. He gasped out and started to panic but the Archivist calmly called to him.

“Rui. It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” he said. “But I’m glad you came. I was afraid if it was just me, we might not make it.”

“Of course, how could I not—“

“How did you even know to come?”

His question was sudden, and even Farhad seemed surprised that he’d asked it. Desperate to keep him talking, Rui spluttered out an answer.

“Shinya mentioned something that got me kind of worried, so I figured I’d use the strings to get an idea of how you were doing, and…”

The Archivist’s eyes widened and he struggled to get up even as his body fell to pieces.

“Wait, what are you—“

“What did he say?”

“Well, not him so much as Mamoru, or well, that’s who told me—“

Farhad’s face was filled with urgency even as chunks of it fractured.

“Exactly what did he say, Rui?”

The Observer opened and closed his mouth rapidly, trying to organize his thoughts coherently.

“It, something about Arataca, they were doing some exercises in the area, and I thought it was weird because well, why would anyone in their right minds go into Kanamori for something like that? Besides, it’s not like it’s rich in heavy metals…”

Farhad closed his eyes and sighed.

“What?” Rui asked frantically.

“He’s been your envoy to the Three, right? For a while now?”

“Yeah, him, Parvati, Ditmur, and Maria all go together. What’s…?”

“Then, that makes sense. Am I overthinking it?” Farhad muttered to himself even as his arm sloughed off at the shoulder.

“Fara, what?” asked the Observer with growing urgency.

“It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that he was the reason. I guess it makes sense, of course he’d hear any rumors. But… why was there a rumor at all for such a small party?”

“Meaning?”

Farhad’s eyes snapped up to Rui’s, staring intensely. As he watched, one fell within its own socket, but the Archivist forced the words out.

“If there had been more than two, maybe three to four at most, Nozoe would have known. So tell me, how does a rumor spread that can reach even your assistant’s ears about an elite force from Arataca if it was such a small operation? That suggests secrecy of utmost importance.”

The Observer gaped at his friend.

“You don’t mean to suggest…”

“Parvati, Ditmur, Maria, or Shinya. Mamoru might even be in on it. One of them has a better relationship with Arataca than you might know. Possibly, they’re all involved.”

It seemed impossible to Rui, and had it not been his dearest friend saying so, he would have scoffed. And yet, Farhad was pushing himself to his utmost limit on the verge of death to tell him this.

“But, they would have told me,” the Observer stammered. “They know it’s weird for them to come out here—“

“Unless,” Farhad said through gritted teeth, a slight whistle in his voice. Just how much longer would his body hold together? Not knowing what else to do, Rui cradled him closer. All that remained was a featherweight in his arms, and he fought back the despair that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Unless, they were working together with Arataca. I have a bad feeling about this, Rui. These weapons—these fell arms, nobody should know of them outside of a select few of our number, and none would wish them revived. The only literature there is, I’ve kept under seal in the Archives.”

He winced and his other eye collapsed. Despite the horrific appearance, he was able to continue speaking, and did so rapidly.

“We always have such little time when we most need it. But, Rui. One of them is working with the enemy. And I suspect that the Mask Seller may be involved. He’s the only one older than me who might… I need you to believe me.”

The Observer pressed his forehead to Farhad’s, tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t want you to go.”

The Archivist’s mouth softened into a smile.

“It’s been a long time coming. I’d say I got more than enough out of my life. To leave this world in the arms of my fondest friend, besides my dear son, what more could I ask for?”

His tone turned urgent once more even as his throat began to collapse.

“Promise me you’ll figure out how this happened. Speak to the Mask Seller.”

“I promise,” Rui vowed.

He watched, unable to do anything, as the last vestiges of Farhad’s body fell to dust.

“And thank you, Rui,” the Archivist said at the end. “For being my friend. I’m going on ahead, but try not to rush after me. I’ll always love you bo—“

When Rui opened his eyes, all that remained were the tattered articles of clothing the Archivist had been wearing and loose dust which further disintegrated into nothingness. He sat there for a long time, even after Sowaca had made sure the attackers were gone.

“Go make sure the kids are okay,” he said finally in a monotone voice. “I’ll catch up to you.”

“How are you gonna carry—“

“Go on ahead, I said.”

His tone carried a sharp warning, and Sowaca lowered his head. He limped away towards the orphanage.

Rui knew he was being cruel, but right now, he needed time alone. He glanced over at Amir before he set about the unpleasant task of digging about what little remained of his friend. It dissipated like so much smoke under his touch, and he had soon gathered the man’s numerous earrings, rings, and the necklace he had worn about his neck for as long as he’d known him. He placed them carefully into an inner pocket before he set about gathering the clothing. It would need to be washed; any blood that had been spilled before he’d transferred his title hadn’t magically disappeared.

Still, Rui folded everything gently, determined to mend it as well as he could for Amir. He had an idea as to just how difficult things would be for the boy once he woke up. Sudden immortality, and at the expense of his beloved mentor… just how would the sensitive boy react? He was only 22, barely more than a child. Rui sighed, placing Farhad’s garments in a neat pile before kneeling beside Amir.

He stared down at his unconscious face, watching his chest rise and fall.

“Is he an idiot? Trusting me with his kid…”

Rui sighed and scratched his head furiously.

“Ahh, shit. And all that shit back home…”

He frowned as he thought about it. He would have to speak to Nozoe about the long term; it would be good if Amir could ultimately go back to live with her and the kids once Rui had made sure his transformation was complete. Newly hatched immortals could always be a gamble, and rarely had control of their own powers. It would be best if he brought Amir back to the Fairgrounds, at least for the time being.

Still, he felt uneasy as Farhad’s words rang through his head. Would the boy be safe there?

“…and besides, how am I supposed to carry you anywhere on my own?”

He crossed his arms as he stared down at Amir. He had grown much taller than the Observer, with the muscles of an active life despite his somewhat weak appearance. Even just trying to lift him up by the armpits and drag him was difficult, and Rui finally decided to simply wait for Sowaca. He took Farhad’s folded cloak and placed it beneath Amir’s head.

Once they’d spoken to Nozoe, the three of them would take the waystone back. Rui didn’t want to risk knocking Amir around too much with short distance jumps, so he resigned himself to having the boy carried by Sowaca.

There would be a lot for him to do once they returned to the Fairgrounds, and he felt grim at the mere prospect. However, he could not risk Amir’s safety on the off chance that anyone was hostile towards him.

He gripped the hilt of the strange knife he’d picked up. It was curved at the end with one side lined in sharp teeth. Gems of some sort were set into its side, an odd choice on such a brutal looking weapon. They almost looked like eyes, and he felt a strange aura emanating from the weapon.

As soon as they returned, he would have to sit everyone down and have a very, very careful conversation.

He was adrift in a vast sea of grass. The plains spread out in every direction, never ending waves of gold glittering in the dying light of the sun. He felt himself sway with the grass, until he was the grass, his body given way to countless roots and complex systems beneath the dirt, until he was the dirt, cooling after a warm day, cradling the dead and decaying like precious jewels in his bosom, watching after all of the things that crawled about without sight here in the depths. His mind fractured over and over, a never ending mandala of form and function, one after the other. Everything seemed to swell within him until he contained multitudes, a miniature universe in and of itself. Births, lives, deaths, over and over, over countless years, tracing back to a time he could only recall through the most base sensations. Everything fell into itself and out once more, until he had just about forgotten what it even meant to be human.

But then it all came to a sudden halt. Despite the abruptness, it was somehow gentle, like someone had dimmed the ambient noise he had not noticed was deafening him. Not silence, but a clarity unlike the earlier visions he’d seen.

A figure stood before him, face blurry and out of focus. He struggled to recall who it was, even though he felt certain it was someone terribly important to him.

“It’s time to wake up, Amir.”

His eyes snapped open and he gasped as he lurched forward. His mind was racing as he looked around the empty room, not recognizing its high ceiling nor exposed wooden beams. He tried to get up from the bed, but as he did so he toppled over in a heap of limbs and sheets. His shoulder and back throbbed with red-hot pain, and he bit back a scream as he clambered to his knees.

“Is everything— Amir!?”

A familiar voice reached his ears, and Amir looked up to see Shinya rushing toward him. The older man knelt beside him, offering his shoulder and helping him to his feet. Amir grunted as he was set back down on the bed, rubbing his chest.

“How long… how long has it been? Where’s Far—where’s the Archivist?”

“Calm down,” Shinya urged, placing a hand on Amir’s shoulder.

It was like he was the Shinya of the old days, warm and concerned. And yet, just then, Amir couldn’t care less.

“Where is he?” he demanded, voice rising.

“That’s…”

Shinya couldn’t meet Amir’s eyes, and his face had a complicated expression on it. Unable to stand his avoidance, Amir grabbed his sleeve and yanked.

“Tell me, or I’ll go find out for myself.”

Reluctantly, Shinya turned toward Amir. He still wouldn’t quite look him in the eye, and he bit his lip so hard it drew blood before continuing.

“That—“

“You shouldn’t be here, Shinya.”

A low voice sounded from behind him as Shinya whirled around. His eyes widened as the Observer approached them.

“That’s,” he stammered. “I heard a thud, and I was worried…”

“And why were you hanging around up here in the first place?”

Shinya glanced toward Amir and then to the floorboards. The Observer’s face was grim.

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, get out.”

Bowing his head slightly, Shinya headed for the door. He cast one last look back at Amir, an unspoken question on his face. The Observer hurriedly shut the door behind him before turning toward Amir.

His expression softened considerably as he approached the young man.

“I’m sorry, I know this is all a lot at once,” he said in a steady voice. “But can I ask you a few questions?”

“Where’s Farhad?”

The Observer’s face was awash with one complex emotion after another, each only for a heartbeat, but Amir understood. Still, he resisted the dawning realization.

As the pain and exhaustion caught up to him, he slumped down. The other man quickly came to the bedside, helping Amir settle down. He ran a palm over his forehead before settling back with a furrowed brow, gaze cast aside.

“First, can I ask for your name?”

Amir narrowed his eyes, not sure what the Observer was playing at.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

But he shook his white-haired head at the question.

“Please,” he implored.

After a long pause,

“Amir. You know it’s Amir.”

Visible relief flooded over the Observer’s face as he nodded.

“Okay. Good. Can you tell me what year it is?”

Amir rolled his eyes.

“Enough already. I don’t have a concussion.”

“That’s not it.”

The Observer’s tone was soft yet stern. Amir turned his head to see the other man leaning in close. Unusually, his right eye was uncovered, and for the first time Amir found himself staring into a golden iris in a peculiar five pointed shape, surrounded by pure black. Every now and again it would pulsate in a strange way, giving off a dim glow. It reminded Amir of some strange flower.

He swallowed his protests and answered carefully.

“It’s 1656. We’re in Kanamori, southeast Ibaragi.” He hesitated. “Or, we were, when… the orphanage!”

Heedless of the tearing sensation in his shoulder, Amir bolted back upright. He grabbed one of the Observer’s hands in a frenzy.

“That fire… Was that what happened? Did we get them all out? Observer, please, I need to speak to Farhad.”

Desperation crept into Amir’s voice as he clung to the other’s sleeve. His asymmetrical eyes were wide as he begged the Observer, even as a part of him knew that something had happened to the Archivist.

The Observer stared at him with pity in his eyes, but he patted Amir’s hand gently.

“It’s okay,” he said in a soothing tone. “You did great. Nozoe has the remaining—… Nozoe is watching after the kids. Right now, you need to focus on yourself pal. You’re recovering from a serious injury.”

Panting from the effort of keeping himself upright, Amir slumped back against the pillows. There was a damp heat on his back, and he tried in vain to remember just what had happened.

It was obvious that the Observer was avoiding what happened to Farhad. Even in his daze, Amir could tell that much. He closed his eyes as he steadied his breathing, feeling lightheaded and woozy.

“I need to see him,” he said, voice breaking.

Before he knew it, tears were welling up in his eyes. Even those odd three on his right side, which he had so long assumed unable to, shed tears in abundance. He placed an arm over his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow.

“Please. The Archivist, what happened—“

“Amir.”

A warm palm was placed on the top of his head.

“I need to tell you something, but I need you to stay calm.”

Amir sniffed, rubbing his face hurriedly and trying to compose himself. He nodded at the Observer, biting his lip to keep the tears from running.

The Observer looked back at him, scratched his head, then sighed. His expression was grim as he gently stroked Amir’s hair.

“You were hurt, very, very badly,” he started slowly. “You remember the fire, so you know what happened in Kanamori. Do you remember the attackers? The ones in masks?”

A schism of pain erupted in Amir’s head and he clenched his teeth against it as he nodded hesitantly. Vague memories of figures in black floated through his mind, snapshots still distant and blurry. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to remember.

“Those strange weapons,” he said at last.

The Observer nodded.

“Fara—Farhad, he… To save you, he, well, to you, the title? And so he transferred it, er, or, well—“

“Just tell me,” Amir snapped. “Is he… gone?”

The Observer ceased waving his hand about and his shoulders deflated as he heaved a long sigh. His mismatched eyes looked away for just a moment, before he totally destroyed Amir’s world.

“To save you, he transferred his title of Archivist to you,” the Observer said in resignation. “Unfortunately…that meant that his own body…”

He reached into his robes, withdrawing something and placing it in Amir’s palm. As Amir slowly opened his hand to reveal the object, his throat caught.

There was a small pendant on a copper chain. It was in the design of a desert rose, finely detailed and elegant even with the years of wear evident in it.

For the first time, Amir noticed that there was a latch on the small pendant. He pressed it and it sprung open on well oiled hinges.

He froze.

Within was a small, sepia-toned photograph of three figures. One was so large that their face was out of frame, but her abundant white fur gave Nozoe away. Beside her stood the considerably shorter Farhad, his lopsided grin and heavy lidded eyes staring out with pride.

Amir let out a small gasp as he saw the small boy whose shoulders the two had each placed a hand upon. He brought the tiny image close to his face, memories of that day overflowing within him.

Farhad had been so excited about testing out the new camera he had picked up somewhere along the way during his travels. It was an old, boxy thing that stood on three legs, and it took him most of the day just to set it up. By that time, the rest of the children had grown bored and gone off to play.

There weren’t many of them in those days; the orphanage had begun almost entirely by accident and grown slowly over the years.

Amir remembered how he used to shadow the two adults, never getting too close nor straying too far. He had worn a mask given to him by Farhad, a simple papier-mâché item that was his armor against the world.

That day, he had wandered up when Farhad had been busy setting up the camera. Cautiously, Amir had crept closer, step by step, until he was sat within arm’s reach, staring in fascination as the Archivist set up the odd black box.

Farhad noticed him and offered a smile, careful not to spook him. Amir had been flighty in those days, instinctively watching out for any sign of violence. He had slowly lowered his walls since Farhad had brought him to the orphanage, and that day he was the first to break the ice.

“What’s it for?”

The Archivist paused for a moment, glancing over at Amir. The sky was starting to turn amber as the sun marched toward the horizon. He grinned and gestured for Amir to come closer.

“Here, I think it’s all ready. Nozoe, you too,” Farhad added, calling out to the wolf woman standing nearby.

Nozoe snorted and lifted one bushy eyebrow, narrowing her blue eyes.

“Do they not harvest one’s soul? A dangerous toy indeed.”

“Oh come on,” Farhad said, rolling his eyes. “Do you really believe that hogwash? It’s just superstition.”

He cajoled Nozoe into finally joining them, then gestured to Amir.

“Come, come.”

Hesitating a moment, Amir finally stepped forward. Farhad turned him toward the camera, pointing at the lens.

“Okay, so all you do is, look right there, got it?”

Amir nodded with uncertainty. Farhad grinned before he dashed over to the box. He hemmed and hawed a bit as he adjusted things, then, satisfied, he squeezed an odd ball on a line before rushing back to his place beside Nozoe.

“Make sure to smile wide, okay?”

Amir wondered why he’d say that if he was wearing a mask. As they waited, he decided it must be best without a mask, and he quickly slipped it off.

The photo showed him with a bright smile on his face, happiness overflowing from him.

Tears blurred his vision as he hunched over the locket, clutching it close to his chest. The Observer said nothing, merely brushed his hair with one hand as Amir sobbed.

#writing #Aelmidean #Lily fair #amir #Observer #wip

[roseandpatchouli]

tw! // mania started today again, fellow polar bears you’d know what it’s like. i think i’ll make it a point to document the dates like some sort of log book, probably better written in a journal or my notes app: but as i said: one, my handwriting isn’t straight anymore. holding a pen is a bit of a struggle when your hands aren’t as steady as they used to be. two, the notes app just doesn’t sit right with me, it’s too narrow for the small words. during the course of my constant relapses and mania’s i’ve realized i’ve developed an obsessive penchant for cleaning: everything down to body and to objects and surfaces, i’ve rearranged and changed the contents of my bag at least five times, assessing and reassessing what needs to be in there, putting in, taking out, and putting things back in again, as if i have anywhere to go. i religiously and vigorously wiped my electronic devices with rubbing alcohol and wiping off the screen tissues, the slightest dust particle would throw me off, and then the cycle would start over and before i know it, the sun has risen and i’ve done nothing but clean. then, there’s the showering, a far cry from my relapse stages: i’d wash my hair five times in the hopes i’d come out not just cleaner but, as i said, also different person. perhaps i should contact sir dane again. but i’m afraid it’s one of those things that’s only going to confirm the answer i know something too. i’ve discussed the less minor issues with my condition with dra rondain several times in the last month. the problem with rondain is, she doesn’t like to use labels. when i was tested, my results came out as “generalized mood disorders”. not bipolar or borderline, just simply generalized mood disorders. so, i was kept in the dark, for the most latter part of my teenage life until 2019 pandemic hit and i went batshit crazy. by then i was 25. however, the issues now in her perspective; are nothing too worrisome. heck, i’ve told her once about not eating during depression mode and all she said was that it was going to help with the dietary issues for my pcos. (the fuck?) my behaviors rn are actually considered “productively normal” because she knows how lazy i can get. apparently, cleaning even though w/ repetitive patterns is normal. but at least, i have enough self awareness to admit now, that i’m worried. i’m becoming obsessed with details i shouldn’t be, my “mild schizophrenia” where i walk into a room and think things are about me is getting worse — heck i thought my cousin no longer wanted to stay over at our place was because of me — but: mind over matter is what they’d always say. is what everyone else would say. but cognitive therapy can only do so much when you feel like there’s an elephant in the room. yet, these things don’t concern them. because this was nothing compared to the manic streaks i used to have around 2020: The frequent shopping to fill the void, the constant existential crisis that never left when i turned 20, the fear of the unknown…‘ At least, you don’t throw tantrums anymore, at least you’re not suicidal anymore, at least you’re more productive than the last two years, at least you’re more self aware now.’ obviously, not per verbatim, but i’m sure this is what she’s been saying to me in a in summary, this is merely in my own understanding. because she doesn’t seem to be to concerned. dra rondain seems to only focus on life and death situations. because i’m not suicidal anymore she only cares about maintenance. — but here’s the thing doc, i’m tired. i’m tired of the constant of mood swings that change more abruptly than the seasons. i’m tired of not being able to live a normal life, that nobody seems to get the restrictions of. it’s like i want this? it’s not like i was given a map and compass or guidebook to navigate life with this mental illness. who the fuck wants to be in a constant state of push and pull of ups and downs? Im not sui anymore, but goddamn… i. am. tired. i just want to wake up one day and for this mental illness to be over. i didn’t even think i’d be here this long…

Mental Health Log 001: Mania, 08/03/22. Let me vent like a normal person lmao.

#mobile #personal #mental health awareness #bipolar disorder #bipolar disorder awareness #freeform writing #journal entry #journal entries #personal entry

[capseycartwright]

“No you don’t understand, I have to get back!” :))))

Their job had its dangerous moments. Eddie didn’t really consider it a dangerous job – no, it wasn’t always dangerous. Sometimes, the job was rescuing cats, and breaking in locked doors, and sometimes – sometimes it was fires like this. It had been a bad fire long before it had been upgraded to a five-alarm fire – a multistorey apartment building that had gone up like a tinder block, clearly not adhering to a single building, or fire safety standard. Half the residents were students, too many people living in each apartment and scared out of their minds, and the rest were families.

The scene was chaos – it had been from the moment the 118 had come on scene, the third unit called in, Hen and Chimney trying to deal with triaging patients and Buck and Eddie right on search and rescue.

Eddie would probably be more scared of his job if he had to do it without Buck. Walking into every rescue, every fire, knowing he had Buck by his side – it made it less terrifying, because Buck was the best goddamned firefighter Eddie had ever met. He was quick, and clever, and he’d always had Eddie’s back, and it made the dangerous moments feel so much less overwhelming.

The evacuation order had come, a few hours into the chaos. Bobby’s voice had cracked over the walkie-talkie, calling them out immediately. The building wasn’t safe, Bobby had roared – they were calling it. It was about to collapse.

Those moments, when that call came through – those were the worst moments, Eddie decided. There were people in the building – they knew that for sure. There was eight people unaccounted for, and they were about to become eight people they weren’t going to be able to save. Eddie had joined the fire department to save – to rescue, to heal, to put out fires – and every day they weren’t able to get everyone out, they were bad days.

Eddie didn’t know the eight people’s names – but he’d imagine who they were, long after they cleared the scene. He’d wonder if they had a partner, or kids, who their families were – what kind of job they had. If they’d been happy. The magnitude of the loss of a human life was too much to comprehend – let alone eight.

Chimney’s wide-eyed look made Eddie’s stomach twist, as he finally made it out of the burning building.

“What?” Eddie looked at his colleague. “What did I miss?”

“Eddie,” Chimney’s voice was hoarse. “Where’s Buck?”

If Eddie didn’t have the medical knowledge to know otherwise, he’d say he was having a heart-attack. “He’s behind me,” he said, sure of his words. Bobby’s evacuation order had come through, and Buck had tapped Eddie on the shoulder, and nodded, letting Eddie lead the way out of the fire. Eddie hadn’t checked, because Buck was always behind him.

“Eddie, he’s not,” Chimney’s voice was gentle, but his worry was clear.

Eddie felt wild, with the knowledge that Buck was still in a burning, collapsing building. He’d barely gotten his mask off, but he was putting it on again, shaking his head. “I’m going in,” he said, not asking – he wasn’t going to ask for permission, not when it came to Buck.

“No, you’re not,” Bobby’s tone was firm as he joined the conversation. “He’ll get out.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’ve got to go back in,” he said in a rush.

“Eddie, I said no.”

“No, you don’t understand, I have to get back – I have to get back inside,” Eddie practically begged, hating the way tears welled in his eyes as he begged Bobby. He had to get back, and he had to make sure Buck was okay – because it couldn’t end like this, in the middle of the night, at a shitty, chaotic apartment block fire.

“Eddie, they called the evacuation, you cannot go back in,” Bobby said. “He’ll get out. Okay?” he didn’t wait for an answer, clicking on his radio. “Firefighter Buckley – report, please.”

Silence. Overwhelming, terrifying silence.

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby repeated. “Come in, please.”

The static crackle of the radio felt like it was being played at top volume, Eddie’s heart thundering in his chest. There was – there was so much he still needed to say, things he still needed to tell Buck. He’d been so sure they finally had time, now, because now they were finally on the same page, and Eddie was ready, he was so ready for the next chapter of his life with Buck, and he hadn’t told him.

What if he never had the chance to tell him?

What if – what if Eddie had missed his chance?

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby tried again, the tremor in his voice the only indication that he was as worried as Eddie felt, in that moment. “Come in, Buck,” he pleaded. “Please.”

There was an agonising pause, and then a shout – a shout from Hen, of all people, their colleague waving manically from close to the building where she was triaging a patient who needed a gurney.

Eddie’s life felt like it was flashing before his fucking eyes as he realised it was Buck, who was stumbling out of the building, his mask cracked and his helmet damaged, but he was alive – he was alive and Eddie’s feet were moving before his brain fully came back online, Eddie sprinting as best he could in his heavy turnout gear, skidding to a stop as Buck stumbled, and collapsed right into his arms.

“You were supposed to be behind me!” Eddie couldn’t help his accusatory tone, kneeling with Buck in his arms, his best friend’s chest heaving as he tried to suck in some oxygen. How long had he been in there, without a mask? Eddie ripped his own off, sliding it over Buck’s face with a practised ease, letting Buck burrow into his chest.

Eddie held Buck tightly – more tightly than he probably should be, given Buck was definitely showing signs of a concussion and needed to be looked at by an actual medical professional – but he couldn’t help himself, holding tightly to the younger man as tears streamed down his dirty, soot covered face.

Buck’s fingers tapped against Eddie’s arm in a signal that had become so familiar, over the years. Fires were loud, and sometimes you couldn’t talk – so they’d developed their own system for communicating, a series of taps and touches that helped them navigate their worst scenes.

I’m sorry.

Gently cupping the back of Buck’s neck, Eddie traced the letters, unable to say the words, just yet.

I love you.

Buck practically melted, in Eddie’s arms. Two taps, to Eddie’s arm.

Eddie couldn’t help but grin – he knew what that meant.

I know.

send me a prompt from this list

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #prompt fill #thisissirius #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic

[roscgcld]

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || sweet but ‘scary’ s/o

request: How would Satour react if crush/future s/o was sweet and caring person, but could turn into a deadly assassin badass when they need too?

note: i feel like you’re a returning requester because the of the typo for gojo’s name lol. I see you reappearing in my inbox so much. i’m chilled with it, it makes me happy that you enjoy my writing enough to come back c: i did change the request a little cause i couldn’t finish it after writing half of the headcanon lol - so i hope you don’t mind c:

i based this around this post!

pronouns: them/they

everyone knows you as the ‘sweet and warm sensei’ that everyone can turn to when things start to get too much

a parental figure that will listen to their issues without judgement, or feeling the need to give them advice; just someone who they can just rant to without needing to hear anything back in reply 

on days where they are just overwhelmed with work, you’d come into the study room with bags of snacks, asking if they want to go to the rec room in their dorm for a well deserved break

you’re the same for your co-workers/fellow graduated classmates - when you were a student in the college, you are considered as the sweet and caring senpai who bakes snacks for everyone

so you cannot believe their shock when you had gotten together with gojo - to which everyone threatened gojo at least twice to take care of you; unless he wants to feel their wrath 

and i headcanon that even though gojo always claims that he is the ‘strongest sorcerer alive’ - an angry shoko never fails to send shivers of fear up his spine

but in general, after awhile they realised that somehow, you managed to tame the ‘wild and rambunctious’ gojo satoru into becoming your doting and ever loving boyfriend. who is still a huge pain in the ass, but at least he is loyal lol

you’d help to do the group laundry on your off days because you hate the idea that everyone is running out of fresh clothes, whilst teaching nanami and haibara how to use the washer and dryer (cause nanami gotta learn how to be the perfect man from someone)

on days when you’re on dinner duty, no one misses them because you cook the best and most warmest meals for them all - makes them miss home a little less

although you always have this super sweet and caring front, there was a side to you that gojo had never told anyone of; it’s nothing bad. but when he first saw it, he was definitely taken back

he witnessed it when you are sent on a mission together - there were a group of troublemaker kids who had entered an abandoned hospital that had been inhabited by a Special Grade that seemed to be trapping them inside

so you two were sent to go and retrieving the kids if they are alive, but your job is to exorcise the curse no matter the outcome 

gojo knew that you hated that answer, so he allows you to drag him about the many hallways of the school, trying to find the young kids before the curse gets to them

when you found them, your motherly side came out as you fussed over the sniffling and crying kids; using the small first aid kit you had on your person of all time to help them clean and bandage any scratches and wounds they had on their body

gojo was annoyed that you seemed so focused on the kids, but he still stood guard like you had asked him too; arms crossed and an annoyed pout resting on his face

he was about to whine to you again, asking when you’re done when he freeze at the sudden strong source of Cursed Energy that was radiating from somewhere

he had just turned to warn you when a sudden blur passed him, causing him to blink his eyes in shock as he glances over at where you were moments ago; only to be faced with equally shocked kids

“wha-” he mutters before he turned to poke his head out the classroom you had taken refuse in, just in time to see you with your weapon drawn and already stabbing the Curse without hesitation

he was stunned at the sight of his lover, his sweet and kind bunny, going absolutely ham on the Curse; exorcising it within a second

gojo just stared at you in shock, which was rare as it is; his mouth parted in awe as he watches as you dust yourself off and made your way back towards him; your kind smile painted on your features once more

“well - shall we leave then?”

gojo had gone back to the college with you after you had dropped the kids off with the cops; unsure of how to bring up at how different you were when you are serious and have your head in the game

because of this, he had never really told anyone about this side of you; since he really saw no reason to reveal it. he just learns to accept it, and that it is just another part of you that he loves as much as he loves you

fast forward a few years, now you and gojo have been together ever since the third year of high school; having raised megumi together as a couple, and had officially became one of the teachers of the school

many of the students had yet to see this ‘side’ side of yours. whilst people like nanami and ijichi had seen it first hand; and had both unanimously decided to never piss you off

however, your beloved students just saw you as the sweet sensei who made them muffins and cakes on their birthdays, who teaches them things they’d need to know to become an adult

you’re a familiar pillar that they can lean on during the darkest of times; so they never believe when Yaga-sensei or Nanami try to tell them that beneath that kindness there is something that they should watch out for

the students cannot imagine their kind and soft-spoken sensei to be this scary killing machine that is known to be one of the best sorcerers to deal with heavily infested areas

they had no reason to believe so - until Yaga-sensei had approved for them to shadow Gojo-sensei and you for your latest mission

they stood at the side with Nanami and another First Grade Sorcerer to watch as the both of you entered the abandoned office block on the outskirts of tokyo

you had noticed the students, and after giving them a warm smile and wave you and gojo made your way inside of the building as the curtain was completed; blocking the outside world from looking in

at first the students were not sure what they were actually waiting for, since they couldn’t really see any action from where they are standing - which was the entire reason for their trip 

they questioned nanami as to why they had to stand at such a distance away, but nanami just held his hand out and told them to be patient and wait for a few more moments

suddenly there was a huge bang! before what seemed to be a figure shooting out from the exploding rubble; a manic glint in your eyes as you spun your weapon in your hand so it pointed downward as you started to fall 

the students watched in horror and shock whilst you seemed to be having the time of your life, gojo just standing behind you with a soft grin as he protected your back; yet made no real move to get in your way 

they watched in horror at the sigh of you exorcising the Curses around you without hesitation, a dark and determined look shining in your eyes. a far cry from the sweet smile you always have on your face

no one knew what to say as they continue to watch as you exorcise the masses of Curses. too shocked to really process everything happening before them. even megumi was stunned, since he had never seen this ‘dark’ side of you before

whilst gojo looks like he was having a blast, even cheering you on from the sidelines, nanami was just shaking his head with a tired sigh

“so much for ‘educational purposes’,” nanami hummed tiredly as he turned to the other first grade sorcerer, who just smiles back in response. “shall we grabbed some hot chocolate for the kids? there is a cafe that we passed whilst driving over here.”

when the other person agreed the two of them started to usher the kids away, nanami waving off gojo’s whine of how he was going to be missing the best parts

“you fawn over your lover by yourself, gojo - i am going to make sure the kids don’t go into further shock then they already are.”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jjk headcanon #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru headcanon #gojo satoru fluff #jjk gojou #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo sensei #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #gojo satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x y/n