forgivenunforgottens

[forgivenunforgottens]

(Copy-pasting this over here, you know, for posterity.)

Well, if you thought I was dead, you've made a grave mistake.

I'm not dead, my surgery went better than great actually, I've only got one ovary now though.

With the exception of a few people, I've been pretty hard to reach, Hell, even for those people I've been hard to reach, or as Adrian put it when they texted me today: “I didnt know you had surgery, WTF Nessa.”

I had surgery in January, and it went well. It's the beginning of keeping an eye on my misbehaving, self-destructive lady parts though, but, I'm mostly good. 90% good, I'd say. Most of the crying is done with and all that.

I just plain didn't really feel like talking much. The time I spent recovering at home turned into cabin fever really quickly and even then, I just could not work up the energy for talking and making half-hearted conversations, and that's just the straight up ugly bitter truth. And being the way that I am, I am a little sorry for that. Not because I spared myself that exhausting ordeal, but because, APPARENTLY, I worried a few people. More than a few. A good chunk of people. And that's what I'm sorry about.

Being how I'd begun ghosting out of sight for a while before my surgery I figured it'd be no big deal, but I was wrong, and that happens often, and I really want you to know I was very touched.

I'm okay, better than okay, giddy-levels of okay. I'm working and having fun and maybe some time soon I'll even feel like I'm ready to step into another character's skin and get some of these really big shapeless emotions out through some fictional puppet. Maybe even my rusty magnet son.

I'll try and make the honest effort to at least open Skype again once in a while. Kinda had to get it off my phone when I was in one of those really dramatic moods where even the best intentions in messages feel like annoyances. You know the ones. Most of y'all know how depression works in ugly ways like that.

That's being handled, too.

I'm genuinely happy for the first time in a long time, I can tell you that.

Some of the weight from last summer's finally leaving my chest and I dont feel like crying when I see little ghosts everywhere either.

I'm good, I hope you are too.

Talk soon,

Nessa being extra.

[forgivenunforgottens]

Reblog is you think Tommy is faster than Pietro.

[forgivenunforgottens]

There's something a little therapeutic about watching that sweet porcelain complexion get utterly destroyed, however briefly. Something very calming about knowing Erik can bring Lottie down to his level without having had intention of doing so. It certainly makes his smile a little more genuine, the line of his shoulders a little more at ease, and following those little guillotine-sharp steps a lot less dreadful. Beautiful as a field of flowers. Even in his head it sounds as wry as it ought to.

His miracle will need to be a bit larger if the glare she’s leveling at him is any indication. “I never! I do not look old. I’ve half a mind to…” No. No, this was neither the time nor the place to cause a scene. Throttling the magnet could wait. “I’ll deal with you later.“  The sour expression melts from her face, quickly replaced with a smile that positively drips honey. She crosses the room with a stern ‘click’ of Chanel against linoleum. “Gentlemen. Hello…”

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He could push for a 'pretty' to precede that please, but it works wonders on its own. "As long as it's quick." It wont be painless, but, it'll do. Just enough to be honest and reasonable. He can handle five more minutes, can't he? Maybe even ten if heaven's willing to send a little miracle. "And stop looking at me like that. It makes you look old."

“No. I’m sending you off like a man prone to violence. Am I mistaken in my assessment?” She could mask her irritation, but she doesn’t bother, lips pursed in a delicate show of distaste like a proper Xavier woman. Her grandmother would be proud, God rest her soul. “I don’t think either of us believes that, but fine. Just don’t do anything rash. Please?” 

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-sits down on Erik's desk cause visiting-

Is this the beginning of a noir detective film because.

“Please. Make yourself comfortable.” 

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At that, he sputters. Erik will deny, to his grave, that it has anything to do with the idea of sending her in alone and being a lady. He'll eat sand before calling her that without sarcasm riding on the words. But he balks all the same. "Are you sending me off like a child? I can behave myself." He's not convincing himself. "... I can act civil. For a while longer." Which is a more generous lie.

“Mm, perhaps not,” she agrees, though she’s already tidying her hair and pinching colour into her cheeks. Charm has never been her greatest weapon, but it’ll do in a bind. “But they’re hardly worthy of your time… or a prison sentence. Go wait in the car.” 

[forgivenunforgottens]

"If there is one thing those men are not, it is 'nice', dear Charlotte." The whole sentiment is as smooth as sandpaper and even the falter in her expression isn't enough to soothe those grumpy lines away from Erik's face.  Alright, maybe just a bit. A flicker. Nothing more.

[forgivenunforgottens]

Charlotte Xavier aesthetic! This is my first aesthetic, hope you guys like it!

[forgivenunforgottens]

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[forgivenunforgottens]

“The flowers destroyed by war, the bees visited blooms of rust in the ruins. The larvae grew strong on iron honey, wielding stings of steel.” -QuietPineTrees

[forgivenunforgottens]

ur magnet ass is grass

son 

just dont

[forgivenunforgottens]

get off my dash u grass magnet

grass

magnet

[forgivenunforgottens]

[forgivenunforgottens]

"Didn't think it was." A lie but one he can make easily and convincingly. "Just maybe start to leave notes if you're gonna only stop in every so often then leave before I even know you've been here so I don't think you got kidnapped and murdered." He turns back to his book, searching for his spot again.

"I don't think that I've pissed off anyone quite that much, Jim." Well.Actually.But that's a story for another time.

[forgivenunforgottens]

Lilo shrugged which unfortunately threw off her balance. After picking herself up from the ground, she plopped back into the chair and swung her legs over the side. She trying to hide how bothered she was but anything less than blunt honesty was never really her forte. "He.. hasn't been around much. I was starting to think he'd ran off with you actually but...well now you're here. And he's not."

"Oh." And whatever thing imitating emotion or energy in him falls away back into a much more familiar numbness gnawing at the joints between his bones. "... No, you're right. I'm afraid I'm not responsible for his being missing." and the word 'shame' doesn't come close to measure the ugly swell in his gut.

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Jim glances up when he hears Erik shifting around, brow furrowing at the question. "Fine. Just been worried about you, needlessly as it turns out." So he'd gotten used to the presence of another person in the apartment and was having trouble sleeping lately, that was neither Erik's fault nor his concern. It was Jim's fault for getting too comfortable with how things had been.

He's sleepy and tired and thinks he's old, but not blind, entirely. "I know it's all come at a weird timing. That's coincidence. It's a money thing, not an attempt at avoiding you... thing."

[forgivenunforgottens]

They didn't live that far from the parlor that Erik couldn't have come home after busy days, and the comment on leaving early would almost make Jim think he was being avoided. It was clear the man was ready to sleep, though, and he doubted he'd get anything more from him. "Whatever. Get some sleep. I'll make dinner before I go to work tonight," Jim relents with a sigh, pulling a book off the coffee table.

Oh no, he's not off the hook. If Erik has to actually feel guilty, he'll not go down alone. So it takes some minor contorting to face Jim without having to get up before he's speaking "Are you alright?"