#Jouska's Answers

[jouska-the-deer]

Looking at how Sonic Prime has everyone (except Sonic and main Knuckles with Devon Mack and Adam Nurada) voiced by MLP Friendship is Magic veterans so far, ever get the feeling that if Cream the Rabbit ever shows up in the show or at least a show by the same team as Prime, she'd likely be voiced by Andrea Libman (Fluttershy/Pinkie Pie). Andrea sure would fit her like a glove.

I would honestly love for that to happen. Fluttershy was my favorite of the G4 ponies and Andrea Libman would really be able to do Cream justice.

Though, I have to admit, I don't have high hopes for Cream appearing in anything these days. What was even the last game she was in? Generations? She wasn't even in Team Sonic Racing, a cart racer. Yeah the characters/cars were grouped into Speed, Technique, and Power instead of Speed, Flight, and Power like in Heroes, but honestly, whatever. I'd've had an easier time accepting Cream as a technique racer than I had accepting Zavok... being in the game at all. But no, instead Cream's spot on Team Rose was taken by 4 random chao, one of whom being a robot who's currently a wanted criminal.

I guess to be fair to Sonic Team, TSR already had a billion characters to juggle and it looked hard enough to justify the appearance of a large chunk of them, so even if Cream was there, her role wouldn't have been any greater than the 4 chao in a trench coat anyway. And to be fair to Omochao, they served as a hint guide for plenty of games and also managed to become a medical professional before eventually going on the run for committing medical malpractice.

[memesthatonlycatertome]

[messenger-of-stupidity]

WAIT WTF YOU LISTEN TO JOUSKA??? based. what’s your fav series? mine’s cupcake and their morally questionable vamp (same with the adventures of stardust and cosmic)

Is yes an option?

All of them. I love all of them. I like the fantasy one a bit less though, but i have a love/hate relationship with fantasy settings. The one with the dream god guy? Yes. Kidnap me and keep in a realm after manipulating me. (I have a type hehe)

I need Jouska to say dear and cupcake far more often. I N E E D I T

[dominimoonbeam]

Apologies if you’ve already answered this question or mentioned it on here but will there be more chapters of To the Edge? Like ik jouska has the script for the audio version but will there also be more chapters to accompany it?

Alsoooo LOVE your writing and it’s so cool to have such a talented person in the community that has written some of my favourite stories💗💗

Hi anon!! Thank you so much for this. I'm really happy you liked some of my stories! I am absolutely writing more of To The Edge. I'll post the written out script when the audio goes up and I am finishing the novelization of it too. I wrote this script into my sci fi universe. Stardust's mobster grandma, Galileo, actually makes an appearance in one of the earlier books, Cosmic Dust.

I really like writing out the scripts into scenes and sneakily adding a couple extras while I'm at it.

This was such a nice comment to get. Thank you so much for asking about it! I hope you're having a lovely day/night!!! <3 <3 <3

[dream-of-butterflies]

✦ jouska: a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

A mirror.

A mirror is a reflection of one's self, a reflection of the experiences, the thoughts, the feelings that make up a person in their entirety. It is a rare time one can see such a full reflection of the self, and the ways in which that reflection can change.

Seele stared into that mirror. At first, a neutral expression reflected back at her. It was an expression that didn't seem to convey any distinct meaning, an expression that she wore when she wasn't sure how to feel in the moment.

Next, an expression of her, once a young child, reflected back. In the background of that childish reflection were the streets of Rivet Town, the streets she knew better than any other kid her age could even dream of. The streets that reflected, as if this childish reflection had been staring into a window, rather than a mirror. The childish reflection held a bucket of water in her hand, visibly shaken. As the Seele of the present stared into this reflection of her past, all she could wonder was --

Am I doing the right thing?

The childish reflection of the self dissipated, and once again Seele had been face to face with her present self. This time, a sullen expression seemed to flutter its way back to her, an expression befitting of a guilty memory.

She asks that question out loud. "Am I doing the right thing?"

Seele stares at herself, wondering how this conversation would play out with her friends, her loved ones. Would the others in Belobog tell her she's doing a good job? Would she be reassured by her friends? Is that reassurance something she wishes to hear right now?

"Or...do I just want people to tell me I'm doing a good job...? So any insecurity I hold can scurry away for a little bit longer."

Being a member of Wildfire wasn't easy for her. Being Bronya's bodyguard was even less so. She had the constant worry that she would screw up in several ways, that she would make more work for Natasha and Oleg, or possibly put Bronya's, her friend's, safety in jeopardy.

But even as she has those worries in mind, she doesn't want confirmation or denial of any of them. She's scared that if she gets confirmation that her worries are true, that she'll never recover, and she'll only fall deeper within herself. But if her worries are denied, rejected, then she's worried that she'll grow complacent, that she is only going to falter further.

Seele isn't a perfectionist, no not by any means. But, she is a woman constantly scared of a conversation, one that provides an answer to one, simple question:

Am I doing the right thing?

[biiedwin8]

What is the Difference Between Jouska Syndrome and Maladaptive Daydreaming?

Today, I'll be answering the question of what the difference is between Jouska syndrome and Maladaptive daydreaming. I'll explain the distinction and also delve into why we sometimes don't need to know too much about syndromes, emphasizing what we should focus on.

The difference between Jouska syndrome and maladaptive daydreaming lies in the control aspect. Jouska syndrome is similar to a nervous habit where you engage in conversations in your head or hypothetical dialogues before actual conversations. For example, if you are about to meet your boss or your mom and you're nervous about talking to them due to a strained relationship or social anxiety, you might end up imagining how the conversation will unfold. This can be a normal way of preparing for a conversation, a form of brainstorming, or a tool to enhance communication skills.

On the other hand, daydreaming involves creating imaginary or vivid scenarios and playing them out in your head, constructing an imaginary world or intricate storylines. Both talking to yourself before a conversation and daydreaming are considered normal habits. However, the critical aspect is the control element—when these behaviors become uncontrollable or compulsive, they turn into maladaptive behaviors.

Maladaptive behaviors, whether associated with Jouska syndrome or daydreaming, indicate a compulsive nature that has evolved into an unconscious habit. While I'm not particularly fond of labeling things as syndromes, it's essential to view behaviors through the lens of how they impact real life or serve as a means of escaping from underlying issues.

Instead of fixating on the behavior itself, the focus should be on identifying the root causes of the addiction or compulsion. Whether it's Jouska syndrome, maladaptive daydreaming, or any other behavior, if it becomes uncontrollable, it suggests an underlying, unconscious pain or emotion that needs addressing. Trauma, unhealed wounds, underlying emotions, negative beliefs, or unresolved issues from the past may be hindering you from living in the present.

In essence, rather than getting lost in classifying behaviors, concentrate on understanding and dealing with the compulsive or addictive nature of the behavior. By addressing the root causes, you can regain control of your present life, ensuring that past issues don't dictate your present behaviors.

Note from the Author

If you’re ready and you’d like my help with overcoming and managing your maladaptive daydreaming without spending years in therapy, then you can book a FREE BREAKTHROUGH CALL with me HERE. Happy healing 💙💙. Feel free to share and comment! Use this information with caution, it comes from my own thoughts & bias, experiences and research😊.

[trailblczed]

✧ lyssamania: the irrational fear that someone you know is angry with you.

@frostgnawd asked: jouska: a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head. obscure sorrows drabble prompts ( 1 + 2 ) | Not Currently Accepting.

Caelus is used to hearing voices in his head. There's Nanook's voice, who is often very passionate, the rougher more stern tone definitely giving off the authority an Aeon should have. There's Quilpoth' voice, who doesn't talk all that often, but when THEY do, it's usually in a dire situation or when the Nameless is about to collapse ( sometimes from his narcolepsy, other times when he's roughed up after a fight ) and THEY give him a reminder to find somewhere to sit down that is easy enough for the family, or friends, to find him. There is Xipe's voices, which often confuses him because THEY sometimes sound like other Aeons. Xipe is often gentle or supportive whenever they speak, and THEIR word choice is the only real way Caelus knows it's THEM. Aha, for some reason, occasionally pops in to either crack a joke or to tease and jab at the Trailblazer.

Caelus can, but is not nearly as used to, hear the Stellarons they have come across. The voices are usually faint, and typically not directed at him. It's more like Caelus is listening in on a conversation that he is not apart of. Oddly enough, the lad has never heard the Stellaron in his chest speak. Or maybe it is the reason why he can hear other Stellarons- but he doesn't like thinking too hard into that.. for what reason the one in him in silent, or has simply yet to present itself. It is him? Is his own voice inside his head actually the Stellaron? Does Caelus even have a conscience? Is Caelus the Stellaron itself, and that's why it's never been heard?

So yes, Caelus is very used to voices speaking to him. However... it's sometimes hard to tell when the voices are THEM, or if it's Caelus' own inner voice to where he's talking to himself. Right now is a perfect example of confusion. Who is speaking.. is it him? Or is it THEM?

Talk about a rough day. Honestly, Dr. Ratio is too much sometimes. True, but he is taking time out of his day to give me some basic educational lessons. It is nice of him, for sure. But you have to wonder.. is he actually fine with doing this? Surely, such a renowned scholar as him has to be busy with all kinds of things right? He said he would teach me all kinds of stuff. He often says stuff about wanting to brighten the minds of the ignorant- or something like that. Also true. So maybe this is just a typical day for him. The idea of the professor running around throwing chalk at people for getting an answer wrong is hilarious. Would he actually go that far though? Not likely- or I hope not. I'd rather not find out, especially if it's true. Aeons knows I'd be getting a powered smack down.

..Dr. Ratio doesn't hate me, right? No.. No, I doubt he'd waste his time and effort on teaching me stuff if he did. ...What if he hates me so much for being so dumb that he's only doing it out of spite. Wanting to enlighten a buffoon like me because he hates my lack of knowledge. No, he isn't like that. He may be a bit rough with his words sometimes, but he's always been patient and thorough in his explanations. Yeah but it's not like I am the easiest person to teach. It is probably such a hassle having to always stop and be so meticulous so often.

.....Vertias isn't angry with me, is he? Annoyed maybe. To spend all that time and energy just to have to start all over again each session.. who wouldn't be? Surely if he was mad about it he would say something, right? He doesn't usually mince his words. Also true. His praises are also a little rare, but you know he means every word.

...Maybe I should just ask him next time if he is mad at me. Or just ask if he'd rather not basically be a personal tutor. ... Does he even get paid for all his lessons that he's been giving me...? Oh Aeons. Maybe he hates me for that. Surely money isn't an issue or real concern for him.. in this instance, at least. Yeah, we're buds, right? Not super close on a personal level or anything but..

How close can you be with someone that basically had to teach you your ABCs? Can't deny we don't have some sort of bond though! Maybe it's one of reluctant annoyance at having to teach me something so common knowledge... Maybe he's mad at me for that? Yeah that would make sense.. plus, he looked so.. off kilter last time I seen him. He could just be having some work troubles, or some personal stuff going on. I ain't nosy-- not that nosy. Other people aren't so open book like I am, so I can't just ask him about that kind of stuff.. Of course, if he wanted to confide in me, I would absolutely lend an ear- or a helping hand, should it be needed and I was able.

Is he mad at me because I wouldn't be a good enough confidant? What if he wants an assistant but is annoyed that I won't be a good aide despite all the things he's taught me?

❛ Enough. ❜

Caelus huffs out between sharp breaths, hands tangled in silver locks as he tugs at it in an effort to snap himself out of... whatever that was. It takes a few moments to pry his own fingers out of his hair, not wanting to actually ( accidentally ) yank some of the strands out. It also takes several seconds for him to remember that he was still on the Trailblazer's Stern ( it may be the Feldspar still to the public, but it will forever be the Stern to him ). He had stopped by for a visit to talk with his "Second Mate", who wanted to run a few thoughts and reports by him. Of course Caelus would come stop by as soon as possible.

Now he is just confused as to how he went from talking stats and thinking about decor to becoming increasingly more paranoid about being, apparently, hated by one Doctor Vertias Ratio. Perhaps it was just because the lad had spotted the lavender aboard the ship not too long ago, becoming an unfortunate victim of Caelus' increasing exhaustion messing with his head.

All Caelus wants to do is take a nap. And quite frankly, why shouldn't he? He is his "office" on the ship, there are guests and crew aboard, and the Trailblazer has earned a little treat. Not as if he really has any say in the matter, his eyes already struggling to stay open as he leans over far enough that gravity takes him- his body bouncing as it lands against his soft couch.

I̷n̷f̷o̷r̷m̸ ̴a̷ ̴c̶o̵m̴r̷a̴d̶e̵ ̷o̸f̴ ̸y̴o̶u̴r̸ ̸l̷o̵c̸a̶t̶i̷o̵n̴ ̷a̵n̷d̷ ̴s̸i̴t̶u̵a̸t̶i̶o̴n̴ ̵b̶e̷f̸o̵r̷e̷ ̴y̸o̴u̷ ̵r̸e̸s̸t̴.̵

❛ Yeah.. that'd be smart. ❜

The silver awkwardly shuffles his body around until he can fish his phone out. Several clumsy taps later, and Caelus manages to send a text to the family's group chat saying he was in his office on the stern, and that he was going to sleep for a bit, before tossing his phone out onto the small side table next to the couch.

Not even a minute after he sends the message, Caelus cannot keep his eyes open any longer, taking one of the pillows nearby and snuggling up with it, and promptly passes out.

[shadowedson]

Jouska: A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

“How would life have changed if he’d stayed…?”

There it was again, that empty nagging little question that sprouted from the deepest part of his mind all too often when he found himself alone and in the dark. The words that yanked at the tails of his coat like a persistent child as he walked cold streets from corner to corner. Every time it threw itself upon him, a heat rose threw his body like a vibration, somewhere between anger and anguish. It made him sick to even consider...and yet all too often it was entirely inescapable. For now, he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as though he could wring the intrusion from his mind. 

“Do you think he actually loved us...?”

Those bright purple eyes flew open wide once more, sucking in a heavy breath, shaking on the verge of tears. Calloused hands rose to press the butts of his palms firmly against his eyes, scrubbing at the sensation like it was a foreign invader. There was never a good time for things...never a time where the weight of a silent pitch black room didn’t feel soul crushingly heavy on his shoulders. That little voice always had a way of being brutal, viciously cruel no matter how small it often was, and worst of all it lived inside...it wasn’t something he could just shove back into the deepest recesses of his conscious

“We are nothing more than a mistake to them…”

This time Inethreis sat upright in bed, biting back the urge to scream and turn the whole room upside down...not again, not tonight. He didn’t need to wake his mother, she didn’t need he stress. Instead he slipped from the tossed sheets and moth eaten blankets onto trembling legs, dressed only in the thin layer of cold sweat poisoned thoughts painted him in. Without thinking beyond Impulse, his hands felt through the darkened room for his coat, before snatching it from the bedpost. As he settled it around his shoulders, his hand instantly dug the pocket, grabbing out an old lighter and a half empty pack of cigarettes..

Pale feet barely made a sound as they moved across old wooden floors, only stopping when they reached the window at the other side of the room. With a firm shove the window was pushed open, caught just in time to not smack against the edge of the old stone. Intethreis then paused a moment, doing up the few buttons that still remained on his coat as the cold bit at his bare skin. In another firm push...he climbed right out onto the roof, sitting himself onto the ice cold shingles, pulling his knees up close to his chest.

With a faint click and a spark of flame, he lit the end of his cigarette, taking a long long drag before exhaling….tonight the moon was his only company.

( Thanks @hazriels )

[kryptonitejelly]

Rules: Tag 10 people you wanna get to know better!

Thank you for tagging me in this @arsonhotchner <3

Favorite time of the year: autumn (i am a sucker for being able to be warm and wrapped up; but not the kind where i am frozen to the bone)

Comfort food: anything with carbs in it, but maybe pasta, or instant korean ramen from the packet

Do you collect anything? bags, watches, rings and braclets (i am a consumer, i know) aaaaaand a tiny collection of vinyl figurines from blind boxes (it’s my safe, less risky version of gambling)

Favourite drink: ice cold water (i won’t drink it if it isn’t cold), half and half from shake shack (literally will walk in just to get that and nothing else), fizzy apple juice, wine that is bone dry

Favourite song / artist: drops of jupiter came to mind, and wonderwall - i’m not sure why, but maybe because if those come on i sing them out loud and stick them on repeat for a while

Current favourite songs: (still is) I Ain’t Worried, Great Balls of Fire - the Miles Teller version (lol top gun) and honeypie

Favourite fics: i honestly don’t know how to answer this because i can’t name them all, but off the top of my head - jouska, 7 minutes in hell, crash (into me), a joyful future, yes, mr. president, lifelong and unconventional (yes, all a series of sorts)

Tagging (0 pressure tags pls know this) - @ssahotchnerr @ssamorganhotchner @wheelsupkels @vintagesubmariner @obiwankenobis-lap @sebsxphia @writercole @fuckyeahhangman @katieslotherford @minilpark @helloimhereforabit @bradshawbaby @bradshawswife @dadbodhotch11 @aaronhotchy @doctorstethoscope @indynerdgirl @katebishopsbow @mavswife

[nirikeehan]

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows Prompts, Part Two

I originally made this prompt list for personal use, but decided to make a rebloggable version. Feel free to use for your own writing prompts. 🥰

Adapted from here.

énouement n. the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world.

mal de coucou n. a phenomenon in which you have an active social life but very few close friends.

la gaudière n. the glint of goodness inside people, which you can only find by sloshing them back and forth in your mind until everything dark and gray and common falls away.

fata organa n. a flash of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across the room, idly locked in the middle of some group conversation, their eyes glinting with vulnerability or quiet anticipation or cosmic boredom.

sonder n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

kenopsia n. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.

Mauerbauertraurigkeit n. the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.

jouska n. a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head, which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage where you can connect more deeply with people than in the small ball of everyday life.

ecstatic shock n. the surge of energy upon catching a glance from someone you like, which scrambles your ungrounded circuits and tempts you to chase that feeling with a kite and a key.

anchorage n. the desire to hold on to time as it passes.

kairosclerosis n. the moment you realize that you’re currently happy, which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.

chrysalism n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

heartworm n. a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished.

anthrodynia n. a state of exhaustion with how shitty people can be to each other, typically causing a countervailing sense of affection for things that are sincere but not judgmental, are unabashedly joyful, or just are.

xeno n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers.

the wends n. frustration that you’re not enjoying an experience as much as you should, even something you’ve worked for years to attain.

hanker sore adj. finding a person so attractive it actually kinda pisses you off.

waldosia n. a condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there.

backmasking n. the instinctive tendency to see someone as you knew them in their youth.

Funkenzwangsvorstellung n. the instinctive trance of a campfire in the dark.

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 19:

A/N: Here it is besties, v sorry for this but I live to cause chaos!! They both have some growing and living to do over the next chapters which will span around ten years. Stick around it’s gonna be interesting! Also Hotch looks rlly good here hehe

Warnings: None, really. Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, heavy angst.

———

“I'm scared I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.” - Melina Marchetta

———

08:00

It happens slowly then all at once. He knows he feels lighter, physically, before he’s fully conscious - can’t feel the warm weight of you on top of him. He frowns as he slowly awakens fully, feeling for your body next to him.

When all he feels are sheets, he comes to, a little quicker, opening one eye to look around. When he doesn’t see you, he figures you left to go to the bathroom but a piece of paper on your pillow catches his eye.

He frowns as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when the doorbell begins to ring incessantly. He looks between the door, the paper and then the door again, tucking the note underneath his pillow to come back to later. He takes a cursory look at the clock -

08:00

He runs downstairs with a grin, thinking maybe you went out to grab coffee and forgot you didn’t have a key, but when he opens the door, icy shock runs through his veins.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Haley?” He replies stunned. He glances behind him, increasingly alarmed now as to your whereabouts.

She averts her gaze from Hotch’s half naked form, it’s nothing she hasn't seen before but there’s a barrier between them now. Even with what she’s about to tell him.

“Can we talk?”

“-This…. isn’t really a good time.” He replies, glancing behind him again. He uses his body to block what lies behind him, clothing littering the floor as evidence of last night. His cheeks run hot when he realises Haley already spotted it all.

“We need to talk. I wouldn’t have shown up like this, but she told me to come by at 8. Said I should talk to you.”

He frowns. “Who?” He asks, despite hazarding a very good guess he already knows the answer.

“Look, can I just come in? I'm really cold and this is incredibly awkward.”

He sighs, “Yeah- yeah come in.” He steps aside to let her in, picks his shirt up off the floor and begins to button it as he invites her to sit.

Haley tells him that she managed to track you down outside your apartment yesterday. His jaw ticks and he runs his thumb over his bottom lip, agitated. “Why would you do that?”

“I figured I owed her an apology. Ultimately I was the one who put her in danger with-” She licks her lips. “With him. I thought we should talk.”

“So you resorted to stalking?” He paces. He can’t figure out why you’d ask her to come by now, especially if you were going to spend the night last night.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She looks sick. “I kind of knew that you felt something for her, and I figured she probably did too. Clearly I was right.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

She throws her hands up. “No! No, that's not what I meant. I need to tell you something but before I did, I needed to tell her, I owed her some courtesy after everything at least.”

He tilts his head and his eyes narrow. “Get to the point.”

She pulls out an envelope and slides it across the coffee table. She breathes shakily, nodding at it. “It’s all in there.”

He watches her quizzically, confused at her demeanour - she’s never been one to be at a loss for words. He takes a seat opposite, studying her as he peels open the envelope.

A sliver of cold panic works its way through his veins as he scans the page.

LABCORP DNA TESTING SERVICES

Sample 1 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

Sample 2 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

“What the hell is this?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows thickly, abetting her gaze. “It’s a paternity test. I’m pregnant.” She tells him quietly.

His chest tightens and his head starts swimming. “What? I don’t believe you.”

“It’s right there on the paper. It’s yours.” She looks like she’s holding back vomit, the colour on her face drained. She studies Aaron for any kind of a reaction but he still looks confused.

“I want another one.” He tells her waving the paper. “How far along are you?”

“3 and a half months.”

“Wait,” He winces as the cold realisation hits him. “You told her?”

She nods.

The colour drains from his face and he shoots up from his seat, remembering everything he’d told you yesterday about how he would do things differently if he ever became a father. Knowing now what you knew then, he can’t begin to fathom what must have been going through your mind yesterday.

He shoots up the stairs three at a time, hoping he’s not too late.

———

06:00

Your eyes burn with the lack of sleep and the aftermath of your breakdown. You lay still against Aaron’s chest, your hand splayed flat against his skin. You’ve been watching him sleep for most of the night, memorising all you can about him, and imagining an alternate future where you could’ve ended up together.

But it doesn’t help. All it goes is drive a stake deeper into your heart because no matter how much you imagine, it doesn’t change your future. The sun begins to rise sure enough, a promise of another day but the lighter it gets, the more your stomach turns and the tighter your chest gets.

You pull Aaron in closer one more time, fusing your body to his and you close your eyes. His hands run down your bag gently as he stirs in his sleep. You take a minute to take him in one last time, despite your aching heart you try to hold onto the happiness you’d felt before it all came crashing down.

You doubt you’ll feel for anyone the way you feel for him. But you can’t be selfish, not now. You whisper to him, barely audible, the words you need to get off your chest and with a gentle kiss to his sleeping face, you slink out of his arms.

You gather your clothes, and from the credenza drawer downstairs, grab a pen and paper.

‘Dearest Aaron…’

Tears stain your face as you initial the bottom of the letter and with a final breath, you fold it and scrawl his initials on top. You reluctantly walk back upstairs and when you see Aaron’s peaceful face in a deep sleep, it takes everything in you to walk away. You place the note on your pillow, and turn away before you change your mind.

But as you approach the door, you turn to take one last look at him, willing your memory to hold on to this image, to the feel of him. To what it feels like to be loved by him.

“Goodbye Aaron.” You whisper.

———

08:30hrs:

He struggles to get his pants on, throwing on odd socks and grabbing the note on the pillow which he stuffs haphazardly into his three day old jacket. He runs down the stairs three at a time, passing Haley on the way as he grabs his keys.

She looks at him with panic and confusion. “Go back to the hotel, I’ll call you!” He tells her. She looks around, stunned as the door slams shut behind him.

He fumbles with his phone, dialling your number, but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries Emily but it goes to voicemail too. He dials the direct line to your assistant and on the last ring, she picks up.

“Agent Hotchner?”

“Leah?”

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

He desperately asks if she has any idea of where you are today, if you have anything on your docket.

“Not that I can see, no. Is everything okay?”

“Look, can you find out if she’s home and call me?” He hangs up and purposely turns on the sirens to weave through traffic to your place. In a cruel twist of fate, he curses the numerous traffic logs he encounters on his way, thinking he’ll deal with the fallout of using his lights without reason later.

He finally turns onto your street, tires screeching as he pulls up behind a blacked out towncar, into which an older gentleman appears to be hauling suitcases. He doesn’t bother closing the door as he exits his SUV, his eyes trailing on the suitcases being piled into the trunk of the towncar when he hears your voice.

He stops in his tracks.

“Alright, James. I think that’s the last of the b-”

The air leaves your lungs when you catch sight of him. There’s a brief moment when you think you think you’re imagining him but your chest squeezes when you look at his face, halfway between confused, devastated and just plain betrayed.

He utters your name with a shaky whisper. “What is this? What’s going on?” He asks unsteady, already knowing the answer.

You hand your bags to James who ducks between you to receive them, the tension thick and heavy. “I’m sorry, I planned on…” You struggle for the words. “Being done earlier than this. This is what I wanted to avoid.”

He retreats, eyebrows shooting up. “This, what? You wanted to avoid saying goodbye to me? You couldn’t even extend me the grace of telling me you were leaving?” He pulls out your note from his pocket, shaking it in front of you. “You left this and thought it would be enough? After everything that happened with us.”

“Come on, Aaron. You know that’s not what I meant. But you know why I’m leaving, it’s why you’re here. And I knew you would do this, I knew you’d try and talk me out of going. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

The desperation inside him starts to claw at him. “You don’t have to leave. We’re adults, we can figure this out.” He takes both of your hands tightly in his.

You shake your head. “I won’t put you in that position, I know how important this is to you. I won’t put myself in that position either.” He opens his mouth to oppose you but he knows as well as you do that this is the end. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but this was easier when I had a stalker, all I had to worry about was making it through the day without being murdered. But things are real now, you have a career and a family to worry about, I have to go to college. I guess we just didn’t think this through.”

He retreats slightly, a hurt expression on his face. “That doesn’t mean it was wrong.” He says, quietly. “I told you I’d wanted to be with you for a long time, and I meant it. I don’t regret any of it.”

You cup his cheek. “Neither do I. But we both know what needs to happen. I can’t stay.”

He caresses your hand on his cheek with bereft eyes. “You changed me, you know?”

You laugh dryly. “With your gig at the BAU? Forget it, you’ll be saving people left and right.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice cracks. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t have more time. I think this could have been something.”

“Did you read the note?” He shakes his head. “Wait until I’m gone to read it - you don’t have to. But if you ever find yourself doubting or second-guessing who you were to me - who you are to me? You should read that. It has everything you’ll need to know.”

He brings his forehead to yours, glassy eyes watching you with so much affection you think you might just break. “Can we stay here? Just for a minute? I’m not ready to let you go yet.” He asks.

You nod and loop your arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach his height. He hugs you back with ferocity, face burying in the crook of your neck as he takes you in, memorises the way you body slots against his, how you smell and feel. He presses his eyes shut, willing his brain to commit every last feeling to memory, terrified that there may come a day when he no longer remembers how he loves you.

You muffle your sobs as best as you can, clutching at the material of his shirt, and the small tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. Try as you might, when you close your eyes, all you can see is a reel of your relationship with Aaron, spanning from the moment you met to now.

All of it comes rushing back: the gazebo, your apartment, numerous late night coffees and dinners, his face in the cabin, the hospital and of course, the nights and days you spent in bed. The pond, the balcony, the laughter. The love. You feel a hole consuming your chest and you struggle to breathe, cursing yourself for falling in love with the one man you couldn’t possibly ever have.

James beeps from inside the towncar, and you reluctantly loosen your grip on Aaron, sniffling as you let him go. It feels infinitely harder to detangle yourself from him now, like tearing a bandage off of a raw wound, but you know you need to go.

And so does he.

His eyes are watery when you look at him, yours mirroring his heartbreak. “I guess this is it.” He rasps.

You clear your throat. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Can I kiss you goodbye?”

You nod solemnly. His hands cup your cheeks lovingly, wiping away a stray tear. He leans in, and presses his lips to yours for the last time. He takes his time, allowing himself to linger in the moment, and convey everything he can in this kiss without having to say it. Wants to remember how soft your lips are and the way you taste.

Your tears fall steadily now, your own hands tangling in his hair. You selfishly wish you could stay here, throw away any and all integrity just to keep him for yourself. But you both have things to do, futures to live.

You break the kiss, forehead resting against his. His hand cradles the back of your head, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, lips lingering before he finally lets go.

You fish in your pocket and take his hand in yours, dropping your key into his palm. He looks at you quizzically. “Keep it, give it to the super, I don’t mind. But lock up for me?” You ask him.

He nods, closing his hand around yours, a desperate attempt to keep you close for a few more fleeting moments. He presses a desperate kiss laced with finality on your lips as you release yourself from his embrace.

Watching you reach for the car door sends him into a tailspin. You’re just about in the car when you hear him call your name. His voice is strained. “Listen, I just- before you go. There’s something I need to tell you.” His face is contorted with desperation and his voice laced with something utterly heartbroken.

You know where he’s going with this. You weren’t sure if he felt it until now, horrible fucking timing, but it’s still something.

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say, Aaron. Please don’t.” You sob. “This is already one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, please don’t make it harder. I know what you’re going to say. But before you do… just please don’t?” You plead.

He swallows thickly, choking back tears, too. “I do, though.”

You breathe through the hole in your chest. “I know, Aaron. I do, too.” Your smile is bitter as you open the car door and step inside gingerly, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk where he stands. He walks over to you, tangles your fingers with his briefly before cradling your chin, wiping another stray tear.

“Maybe in another life?” He whispers.

“Maybe in another life.” You tell him with a sad smile.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

I love you.

“Goodbye, Aaron.”

I love you.

He watches the car peel away longingly, muttering aloud the words that he’d whispered two nights ago when he thought you were asleep.

“I love you.”

———

09:15

Your car pulls up to the airstrip forty-five minutes later and you can hear the deafening engine of the plane before you even step out of the car. You place a $50 in the hand of the man who opens your door for you, throwing a quick thank you his way as you obscure your puffy eyes with a pair of sunglasses.

You offer the men loading your luggage a small smile and hand them their tips, before boarding the plane. You spot Emily on the far left side of the plane, her face buried in a copy of Mother Night.

When she sees you, she shoots up from her seat, throwing her book onto the table in front of her. “Oh my God! You came! Hi!” Her good arm wraps around your neck for a hug and you stiffen against her. “What made you change your mind?” She asks.

You close your mouth just as soon as you open it when the curtain dividers open.

“Darling!” Ambassador Prentiss emerges from her office, behind a divider on the plane. She has a phone receiver against her chest, you assume to muffle her voice to whoever is on the other end. “Emmy and I are so glad you decided to join us, we’ll be taking off in around 15 minutes.” She tells you, glancing at her watch.

You shoot her a polite smile and thank her, and she looks between you and Emily, excusing herself back to her office.

“I’ll let you girls catch up.”

Emily leads you to the seat opposite her, her face now showing signs of concern. She watches your face for an answer but when nothing comes, she asks outright.

“What happened? I thought you were going to stick around and see what happens? You had a date right? Her words scratch your skin.

“Date’s off.” You swallow.

Her eyes widen. “What? Why?!”

“His ex is pregnant and it’s his.” You reply nonchalantly, rapidly blinking back tears behind your sunglasses.

Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You reply, gazing out of the window.

Emily watches you in shock, unsure of what to say. She can tell by your demeanour that you’re in shock but she can’t do anything except hold your hand and tell you she’s sorry with a quiet voice.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

———

09:00

When he keys open your apartment door, he’s hit with an eerie silence, a heart wrenching emptiness. He attempts to turn a lamp on but the electricity has been turned off, leaving the living room cold and dark.

His mind fills in the spaces between the emptiness, picturing you sitting on your couch, or on the bar stools around your island. Can hear the incessantly loud TV, and your laughter from your room.

Your room is just as empty too, a few stray clothes hangers remain in the wardrobes and when he turns to look out at your balcony, he swears he sees your shadow outside. He makes sure the doors and windows are secure and makes his way back to your living room, the entire experience harrowing, like walking through a graveyard of memories.

His legs give out as he walks back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. A picture of you catches his eye on the side table next to him, the same one he’d caressed gently when you’d been taken by Jordan. He’d thought then, that was the worst moment of his life, had he known what was to come, he’d have reserved his judgement.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he gently brushes a finger over the glass, unable to keep the tears from coming now. He wishes with everything you could have stayed, can feel it deep within him that you’ll keep a part of his heart for years to come. Then he remembers the note.

He opens the folded paper with trembling hands.

‘Dearest Aaron,

I sit in your living room right now, struggling for the words to write but I can’t seem to come up with anything that truly encapsulates how I feel. How I’m incredibly sorry to have to leave like this, how I wish with everything in me that I didn’t have to, I wish this could have ended differently.

I want to say thank you. You may not know or understand this, but for all the good and bad, you truly changed my life. I met you during the darkest and scariest part of my life, when I had nobody - when I was all alone. And in you came like a light and protected me fiercely, taught me everything I needed to save my life. You did that.

You saved me.

You changed me.

Despite the circumstances, we did have something, a friendship, maybe the start of something more - something real. Don’t ever doubt that. The last two days were two of the best of my life, a fitting reward, I thought, after everything I’d been through. But I couldn’t let you talk me into staying, because I know you, and you would have tried, told me that we could’ve worked something out - and it would’ve been selfish of me to stay.

I want you to know that I am so incredibly happy for you. This wasn't an easy decision, but I’m leaving of my own choice. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be an amazing father. That child will be loved and oh so lucky to have you and your warmth as a father. I know how much this means to you, how important it is for you to give your child a better life than the one you and Sean had.

And you will.

Thank you for everything you did for me, thank you for saving me over and over again. Thank you for teaching me to be brave, and for coming into my life. My hope for you is that you’ll build a wonderful life with your beautiful little family and achieve everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

You’ll change the world one day.

Know that I will always have a special place for you in my heart.

I’ll never forget you.

All my love.’

He swallows the burning in his chest. Two days were all he had with you and he stupidly saw himself able to imagine a future with you, could imagine loving you for the rest of his life - but then he’d been in love with you long before you’d asked him to stay.

He winces as something digs into his chest and he reaches for his inside jacket pocket until something cold makes contact with his fingers.

His heart stops, molten lava running through his veins.

Your necklace.

He grips it until the sharp edges of the pendant feel like they’re about to puncture his skin.

Maybe he wasn’t destined for peace, for love. The love that he wanted. Maybe a happy ending wasn’t written for him and he’d have to make peace with that. At least he had the memory of your face burnt into his brain, the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter.

That finite part of you would get him through eternity.

———

20:00

You’ve rejected every meal you’ve been offered by the staff aboard the plane, instead choosing to down Emily’s bottle of red wine. It eases the heaviness in your head, that’s true but the ache in your chest still remains.

Emily’s since drifted off to sleep, her book laying open against her stomach, meal half-eaten. You stare at the blinking lights of the plane and the clouds below you until everything starts to blur.

You love him. He loves you. That much is true. You never had believed in the concept of the right person but the wrong time, how could you? If the person was right, the timing would surely be inconsequential.

That was until you met Aaron.

In this life, in the grey harsh reality, after everything you had been through with him, the simple fact that two people love one another pales in comparison to the bloody reality of commitments, matters of the mind and sacrifice.

He loves you and you love him. It just isn’t enough.

He aches for you and you ache for him. But it’s still just out of reach.

Your hearts aren’t your own anymore. But you have to go on anyway.

———

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[jouska-the-deer]

Op of that little mermaid post made WAY more than two trucks. He's been around the internet for a minute. Other bangers he's responsible for are "Bustin", "Touch-tone Telephone", "Cabinet Man", and of course the legendary "Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny"

I googled his name right after seeing it and the first thing that stuck out was the he created Potter Puppet Pals and also a few songs for Gravity Falls (but only one got used).

This is the same feeling I got when I learned Gerard Way created Peni Parker and The Umbrella Academy.

[attollogame]

"jouska" for Dreamwalker please?

jouska – n. a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head

“Am I doing this right?”

He’s standing in the corner of the room, hovering by the banquet table that’s lavished with various food items; mini pastries, dishes with wine glasses, meats of all kinds, and so forth. His eyes skim over each item, and although he feels the pangs of hunger, they’re overridden by the twists of anxiety instead. 

“What do you mean?”

The response plays automated in his mind. In his peripheral, he sees a woman in a green gown watching him over the rim of her glass. Her eyes are a sparkling blue, and her smile is laced with underlying intentions. He turns his head away and pretends that she doesn’t exist. 

He isn’t interested in being someone's trinket—not tonight. 

“Am I making you proud? Standing here in this room as people shake my hand, blind to the red that transfers onto them as they pull away.”

The woman moves towards him, oblivious to his subtle messages. She comes to a stop beside him and says something that he doesn’t catch. His head is spinning and he can’t look at her right now. Her perfume is so heavy that it’s making him nauseous, and his hand subconsciously touches the bottle in his suit jacket pocket. He says something, maybe an apology, before pushing past her and moving towards the doors.

“Are you doing it for the right reason? Will it save more people than sacrifice?” 

“Ah...” The sound that escapes him is more of a pained hiss than anything else as he steps out of the venue, his hands coming up to press his palms against his eyes. His head hurts so, so much, and he is so, so tired. 

“I don’t know. The lines are all blurring together and I don’t know anymore.”

He tilts his head back and looks at the sky, at the faint lights of the stars above. He takes a deep breath in, holds it for a moment, and then slowly exhales, repeating this process over and over. The shaking in his hands gradually recedes. 

“Then I can’t give you an answer just yet.” 

The conversation always ends on the same note—ambiguity. It’s this ambiguity that drives him forward though, that drives him to obtain an answer. He readjusts his suit jacket, touching the bottle in his pocket once more to ensure it’s there, before turning back to the venue. 

The only way to go is forward. 

[neocityarchive]

a lover’s dictionary | n.y.t.

— words from A to Z loosely defined from a lover’s perspective

genre: fluff, angst, poetic

pairing: yuta x y/n

word count: 1.7k +

warnings: bit of suggestive smut

definition guide

a/n: i wrote this on a whim. i wanted to try different writing formats so i really hope u guys like this one 🥺

inspired by david levithan’s “the lover’s dictionary”

Alexithymia (n.)

— Yuta was scared to admit to himself he was already falling in love. But as he watched you laugh a little too hard at his bad impression of Mark, the crazy, out-of-hand beating of his heart left those three words hanging on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

Babble (v.)

— As much as the whole group chat loves to see Yuta this happy for the first time, they couldn’t help but mute their notifications after he flooded the chat with keyboard smashes and random heart emojis after he got home from your first date.

Cafuné (Portugese) (v.)

— The strands of his hair lightly tickled the spaces between your fingers as you tugged on them gently. Yuta smiled against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hands desperately trying to get rid of your ponytail and every other article of your clothing.

Debunk (v.)

— Your friends didn’t trust Yuta at first. They seemed to believe he will be just like everyone else who dated you before him: gone when they’ve taken what they could.

“Did you believe them then?” he asked when you told him about it.

You couldn’t answer. You just shrugged. Part of you used to be worried they were right. But Yuta didn’t need your words to know what you think.

“Do you still believe them?” He looked at you, barely masking his hurt expression.

You shook your head immediately. “You’ve proved them wrong every step of the way.”

Eccedentesiast (n.)

— “Hyung,” Doyoung said, surprised when he opened the door to see Yuta on a Sunday morning. Everyone knows his Sunday mornings are for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing. Can I crash here?” He entered Doyoung’s apartment without waiting for his permission. “I’ve been up all night.”

“Sure, but are you okay?” the younger asked.

“Of course.” Yuta smiled but his chest felt like it was being ripped apart at the seams. His head was pounding from the headache of having drank a few bottles too many last night. He never liked being in a fight, especially with you. It rarely happens, but it always makes him question everything about himself.

Fika (Swedish) (n.)

— After a long and hectic week, you and Yuta decided to just stay at home and cuddle all day. At 4 PM after watching all the movies on your watch later list, he proceeds to pepper you with soft kisses, muttering I love yous in between your giggles.

Guffaw (v.)

— Yuta’s laughter can be heard from the other side of the hall, strangely sounding like that of a Disney villain. He clutched his stomach, eyes disappearing as he watched you ask a stranger for some change after losing on a bet with him.

Happiness (n.)

— It’s all those moments between waking up and going to sleep, such as when Yuta leans over to the passenger’s seat to peck you on the lips before the stop light turns green again or when he brings you your favorite doughnut when you’ve got too much work on your hands.

Interstice (n.)

— You reached out to the space on the couch beside you, expecting to find Yuta’s hand waiting to be intertwined with yours, before remembering you decided to take a break on your relationship after he walked out on you a few days back.

Jouska (n.)

— “Move in with me,” Yuta rehearsed in front of the mirror for the hundredth time that day. He shook his head, still not satisfied with how he said it.

“Y/N, please move in with me,” he said again, his mind thinking about all your possible reactions. Would you say yes? Would you say no?

“Do you wanna move in with me,” he tried once more, almost giving up on himself.

“Y/N, move in with me?”

“Okay.”

Yuta jumped, not realizing you’ve been watching him for the past two minutes, laughing to yourself as you watched his silly antics.

Koi no yokan (Japanese) (n.)

— Yuta was a stranger to you before he was anything else. The coffee shop was too crowded on the day you met. He needed a place to sit as he waited for his friend, and you happened to have an extra seat on your table.

He told you he didn’t usually talk to strangers, but you were crying that day and he couldn’t help but ask if you were okay. You said yes, but the book you were reading is killing you inside.

He laughed, and upon glancing at the book in your hand, said, “If it helps, that book killed me inside, too.” He flashed a smile. That perfect smile. “I’m Yuta.”

“Y/N,” you replied.

It was a normal conversation with a random stranger, and yet, at that moment, you couldn’t help but think he’s gonna break my heart someday.

Lacuna (n.)

— It wasn’t your physical absence that made this whole cool-off thing hurt, Yuta thought. It was the Y/N-shaped hole in his chest that he had no idea how to fill up.

Maybe (adv.)

— A vague answer. A not-so-safe response;

“Do you think it’ll rain tonight?” he asked one rainy afternoon.

“Maybe,” you answered.

“Do you think it’ll be us til the end?” he asked a little while later.

“Maybe,” you replied.

Night (n.)

— These are the hours where Yuta would either hold you close or push you to your edge.

Oblivious (adj.)

— Before you started dating, everyone but you and Yuta knew that you were whipped for each other. When you two broke up, everyone but you two knew you were still whipped for each other.

Procrastinate (v.)

— It’s those extra five minutes of cuddling that Yuta begs for every morning, making you miss the bus to work. But it’s also those hour-long make out sessions that makes you two late for your dinner reservations at night.

Quibble (v.)

— “That’s not the point!” You were already raising your voice, unable to control your emotions. It was 2AM and Yuta just got home from god knows where without so much as texting you.

“There is no point. I’m already here, Y/N. What more do you want?!” He was drunk. Not so drunk that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but enough to let his guard down and say things he didn’t really mean.

For a moment, his legs became shaky, making him lose balance. He leaned against the kitchen counter for support. But as mad as you were, you were still concerned about him.

“I want you to stop acting like there’s no one who gets worried about you. Why do you always have to be so reckless?” you snapped, helping him steady himself.

But Yuta moved away from you. “You’re not my mother. Hell, my own mother doesn’t even care about me. So stop acting like you have control over everything in my life.”

He was drunk, but sober enough to recognize the pained expression on your face. It was only then that he realized had crossed the line.

Right (adj.)

— It includes everything from the way Yuta touches you to the way your name drips from his tongue like honey.

Sunday (n.)

— It doesn’t matter what went on during the week. Your Sundays were Yuta’s, and Yuta’s were yours. It’s the day of walking up short mountain trails or discovering new restaurants or skinny dipping in lakes or even just staying at your apartment to binge watch Netflix. It doesn’t matter where your mood will take you as long as your Sundays are for each other.

Tacenda (n.)

— “I’m sorry,” Yuta muttered as soon as you opened the door. “I know you’re right. It’s my fault. Let’s just–“ he swallowed. “Please, let’s fix this.”

That was all it took to have you break down in front of him. You’ve only broken up for three days, but it was three days too many.

Yuta took a step closer, still testing the waters if he could put his arms around you. When you didn’t move away, he pulled you in his embrace. Your entire body melted into his arms, your face buried in his chest, your arms almost subconsciously wrapping around his torso.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice as fragile as you were.

“You don’t have to say anything anymore,” you said in between sobs. “Just please don’t walk out on me again.”

A tear slipped from Yuta’s eye. “I’m sorry.”

Umpteen (adj.)

—You could no longer count the number of times Yuta has said “I love you,” but weirdly enough, it makes you feel the same way every time.

Vandalism (n.)

— When you opened the book you borrowed from the university library, there was a small note written in the corner of the page you bookmarked: “I can’t wait to kiss you senseless again when you’re done with all this studying.”

Your cheeks blushed as your eyes scanned through Yuta’s handwriting once again. You closed the book and looked around, hoping no one saw how your boyfriend defaced school property to send you a flirty note.

Whiskey (n.)

—“No,” Yuta said firmly. “The last time you had a shot of that, I had to physically stop you from stripping while standing in Taeyong’s dining table in front of everybody.”

“But–”

“No.”

X (n.)

— You couldn’t help it. Your nails drew crosses on Yuta’s bare back as he softly grunts your name.

You (pron.)

— “Mine,” Yuta whispered in your ear before kissing you goodnight.

Zing (n.)

— The feeling you get when Yuta’s fingertips graze above every inch of your skin, your chest rising up and down heavily in anticipation.

[dominimoonbeam]

Hey hi hello!

I just went through and reread all of the "To The Edge" series. I remember reading it alongside listening to Jouska the first time. I got so excited when you announced that the last part was handed off to him that I just finished another rub with everything you have posted on here and fell in love with it all over again! The characters have such strong chemistry and I really appreciate that I can trust them to be aware of their surroundings, like Stardust recognizing Rory actually does like them. I know you answered this question before with a solid maybe since the patreon is down, but is there any possibility of having access to chapter 27? I understand if not! Thank you for sharing these two and their world with us! I'm looking forward to the last part!!

Thank you so much!!! I'm so happy you're liking the Stardust and Cosmic story! I was posting the novelization chapters on my patreon back when I had one up.

I'm thinking I'll probably throw 27 up somewhere on ao3 and when I finish writing the last bit of the script out into novella, I'm going to edit and self publish To The Edge in the sci fi romance series I've got going. Whatever happens, I'll definitely post/link about it here! <3 <3

[dingalingalingis]

Panic

(Sorry I just had a dream that went like this and decided to work on @imperial-palace s amnesiac AU, check out their page its great!)

LIfe itself was absurd and grotesque, sharpness that tears away the understanding of modern life, grounding the static charge of emotional imbalance with the sudden yet normalized focus of pokemon zoos and organ transplants and fiction and life insurance, he realises that when Green grimaced against his chest at an old photo from the war.

A shutter clicked, Red frowned.

"Don't like that?"

"It's horrible, Red..."

 It meddle with the fence of his expectations, weeding out the invasive truths his brain refused to hear as it formed the mush of a perennial good that laid understandable and unimaginable to the tongue of the mind that speaks so much yet so little.

Red gently patted down Green's hair in comfort, he hated it too. The whips, how people treated pokemon back then. Pikachu digs into Green's stomach with a whimper and Green cuddles hm close. Another shutter click.

It is ambedo, dancing against his sclera in a melancholic dance that digs into the colors seen and unseen with sensitive precision as sensory details etch into the lobe of his brain that tips with creativity, briefly soaking in the experience of existing in something so calm and content that it makes him forget the vibration of his own deep rooted anxiety of Green waking up from this back to his closed off form, wasting away in the bright colors and loud sounds before the walls crash down like thin glass against the pavement.

Then it starts by crawling up his throat in waves of blissful destruction, the catoptric tristesse, twisting around the sadness in his gut as he could hear Green speak in tones and tongues intangible to his own head. 

He was panicking.

He's scared to lose Green.

He couldn't understand his words through the static in his head, how he thought of losing Green while he was finally happy, the image of him distorted and cracked, as if it was a mirror that tried to look itself in the eye.

He felt Green's lips against his cheek and Green tracing shapes onto his cheek, his feelings for him bloomed, a sympathetic nod that reverted them back into childhood where they were bleeding words together as they brushed hands and he blinked at his arm bent wrong.

'Oh'

'Your arm!!! Hol awn I'll get Daisy!'

It was a jouska between them, his words appearing in his head as he replied in thoughtful hues of confusion that spoke wonders, a cathartic dialogue that made being in the presence of so many scribbled out faces easier to handle, but they never escaped his mouth as he sat there against the windowsill.

Aimonomia dug at his tongue and formed it into lead though he just wanted to reminisce again, hear his name and repeat it again as memories that moved like the childlike crayons he used to draw with on a board that talked to ghosts crossed his mind’s eye. 

He didn't want to lose Green.

Green spoke first against his ear, soft words pswirling away like the tires they stole to put on their bikes years ago, moving away like the kite string a child follows, likely lost to a romantic storm of their friends growing up or devoured like a carnivorous tree that was familiar yet not.

Lethobenthos was something he was unfamiliar with, never becoming close enough to people to remember much about them until the familiar warmth of Green's form laid against him like he didn't run away and hide up on a mountain and speak words he still didn't want to listen to but now rested heavily on his conscience. A click, louder, a scream. He's 14 again and climbing up a mountain just to get away from the cameras and reporters. He's forgetting to tell Green and he hates it.

It made him wish his life worked like a sitcom, beginning with a ‘previously on’ that would give him the perfect answers to continue on the distant romantic plot arc that still lived within their edges that bit at each other and then end with ‘to be continued’ when his emotions get to wild and it goes back on the tangent of back to back reruns for months.

“Hey…” It was the first word he tore through his clamped teeth, panic settling down, tongue still full of lead as he suffered through breathing through his nose like an animal in distress. The place was too calm, he thinks he can hear the camera shutters quiet down.

 He turned, looking over his old rival, now friend, now he hopes he's something more. Finally after months of escaping through the shadows of his own terrors only to come back cradling an unconscious Green in his arms. Gnasche tore away at his gums as he shifted his gaze back to the ceiling and spoke out an "I'm scared…"

“I know…" 

Green gently patted down Red's hair, cooing out softly and this isn't right. He should be the one helping Green get his memories not panic at the thought of what might happen when Green gets them back.

Green leaned, pressing his lips against Red's softly as he carded his fingers through Red's hair. He pulled back, his eyes were alight like always, worry in them.

"I'm scared to lose you."

"You won't lose me."

His tone was final, his smile bright and Red could feel the panic tugging at him fading away into static and then into nothing.

...

Red is utterly in love.

(This one is a stand alone, part three is coming later!)