#AND ITS THE LAST DAY. OF MERCURY RETROGRADE. I KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enigma-im · 4 years

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Mercury in Retrograde

Rating: Mature Relationship: Imposter Monster x F!Crewmate Warning: Violence, Murder, Attemptive murder, blood mention, mourning, comfort, Red is sus

Word Count:5407

Murders on the ship causes chaos among the crewmates

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A crewmates' job is never done. Lights to fix, destinations to set, filters to clean. Everyone plays an important role in a spaceship like ours. It's humbling in its own right, to work as a unit to reach a common goal. No one is against another, all are part of a team. With 18 workers on a supply ship, it's impressive that everyone is working so harmoniously.

Electrical work is shockingly my favorite chore. Many are scared of the isolated room but I find solace in having some alone time. I connect wires, humming to myself before clicking the panel shut. Walking over to the tablet to let admin know everything is up and operational I faintly hear the doors whoosh open. I toss a look over my shoulder to the dim room, looking over the fuse box. I hear nothing, not even faint footsteps. Curious, I step away from the tablet.

"Hello," I call into the room. I walk closer, slowly revealing the other half of the room. My heart nearly slows to a snail's pace, tension morphing my previously lax posture. My feet clank against the metal floors, echoing around the light hum of the machines. I turn the corner, the door coming into view slowly. I open my mouth to call again when someone steps into view, grabbing my shoulders. I yelp, jumping before backing out of their hold. I look up to a sort of familiar face.

"You alright, B," they ask," I didn't mean to startle you." I take a deep breath, rubbing at my chest to soothe my racing heart.

"All is well, just wasn't expecting you to be around the corner," I chuckle," you are a quiet man, Wes."

"Yea," they huff," I get that a lot."

I straight myself, chuckling once more before walking towards the door. It opens at my proximity, staying open as I pause and look over my shoulder.

"I'm heading up to Nav," I wave," see you later, Wes" they wave stiffly, staying into the partially lit room. I twist away with a pep in my step, walking out to my next chore.

Days on the ship feel like they mix together, no one really understanding what day it is. A lot of the crew break up the monotony with game nights, scheduling them for the same day of the week. It's a fun little get together that a good group of people take part in. great conversation and comradery with some cards and snacks. I take part in the activities once in a while, catching up with my fellow coworkers. It's nice.

Another Friday comes and a small group gathers in the cafeteria. Everyone is jovial; teasing, and joking with one another. We bet meal passes and favors, adding some stakes to the games. Just another casual game night.

I look to my cards, thinking on my next bet. My hand isn't good but what they don't know won't hurt them. I call, setting my cards down the same time the door opens. A few of us look over, spotting Wes walking over. He takes a chair outside the circle, sitting at a distance in favor of watching.

"hey," I catch his attention," you wanna play next round?" Wes looks to me startled, taking a tad too long to answer.

"No," he crosses his arms," I'm good."

"Wes doesn't like playing with us peasants," Rebel answers. His loud boisterous voice carries around the room, his laugh just as bad. The large man has been wrecking shop as of lately. He is a poor excuse for a coworker, not that he doesn't do his jobs but does them poorly. A few of us have tried to keep game night out of his mind, 'accidentally' forgoing reminding him.

"It doesn't hurt to try," I shrug," more players means more asses to kick in this game." I get a few chuckles and a snort from Wes. I'll take that as a win.

The night progresses until we are nearly tired of playing. As I'm ready to call last round another person walks into the room, leaning against a table as she comes in. she is panting and wheezing, sweat making her hair stick to her face. We all begin to stand, looking confused and worried at one another.

"Penelope," someone calls," you alright?"

"he's dead," she mumbles. We all stiffen, the room snapping in tension.

"Whose dead," another asks.

"Greg is dead," she says louder, jerking her head up to look at us all," I can't…I was… oh god." she falls to a seat, cradling her body as she shakes.

We all look around, confusion decorating our faces. Rebel looks to Wes, giving a strange look to the man. Wes sneers, turning away with a jerk of his head. A few workers walk over to Penelope, comforting her, while others leave to investigate.

The rest of the week is tense as the investigation is taken place. As a first look, we all knew Greg's death was no accident. Nothing on this ship could rip up a man the way he was torn apart. The coms room he was found in was locked off for a while, only confirmed personnel allowed in. everyone is on high alert, tiptoeing around one another. Some stick to a tight circle of friends, traveling in groups to avoid suspicion and attacks.

It's not till a few days later that another attack is reported. Two people were found dead in medical. The three deaths send the whole ship on lockdown. Everyone is to be kept in groups and no one is to be walking around after curfew. The previously peaceful ship is now left in shambles of panic and stress.

My stomach rumbles as I sit alone in my bunk. It's annoying in its own right to not be able to walk to the cafeteria on my own. Now having to contact some friends to walk with me. I manage to scrounge up two people to walk with. Lindon and Oliver.

"While we are in the cafeteria you guys don’t mind watching me while I deal with the trash," Oliver asks as we walk to the halls.

"Not at all, I'm just glad to be out of my room for a while," Lindon stretches, yawning as he talks.

I huff," I know what you mean. At first, I enjoyed going to my room at the end of the day but now I relish in the work just to be able to walk around."

We chat amiably as we grab food. It feels almost normal amongst the chaos to just talk with friends. I can almost put the deaths behind me and pretend everything is normal.

Oliver walks over to the trash shoot as Lindon and I talk a bit more. We all head out towards storage, leaving Oliver to lead as Lindon and I joke around.

"Buck tried to screw around with shields and ended up turning them off, like how! It's the easiest system to work with on this whole damn ship," Lindon laughs.

"Buck just needs to stick to weapons and never touch anything else," I snort, chuckling along with them. I barely watch as Oliver turns the corner on the storage bins. We follow after him, laughing all the while. Before I can turn the corner I get a ping to my device and lights flash around the room.

"Something wrong with the reactor," I mumble, nervously looking towards the hall," You don't mind sticking with Oliver while I go check?"

Lindon waves his hand," that's fine, be careful though. Just scream really loud if you see something." I scoff, smiling at them before I walk down the hall. I jog up to the reactor and meet up with another crew member. Yasha waves before heading to the opposite side of the room. We both quickly clear the machine, meeting each other at the door.

"That's weird, right," I ask, thumbing behind me towards the large reactor.

They shrug," it's happened once or twice, it's when the alarms go off that it's serious."

"huh," I nod," Hey, you don't mind walking with me back to storage. I left Oliver and Lindon there to finish up some chores."

"I don't mind at all," they answer.

We silently walk towards storage, heading towards trash. Yasha pauses at the door, waving bye as I walk around. I casually look around the bins, ready to catch sight of the two. As I look over I don't see two people, instead of two masses on the floor.

"Oh my god," I gasp, startling back at the blood pooling over the floor. I gawk, staring wide-eyed at the bloody bodies sitting close together on the floor. I can't think, barely breathe as I just stare.

"B," someone shouts," What did you do?"

I jerk my head over to the small group of people crowding the hall from coms. An older man leads the charge, glaring daggers at me with great accusations sitting on his tongue. Behind him is Rebel, staring blankly towards me, and Penelope. I sputter, not knowing what to say.

"i-," I try to speak. I give up, knowing any excuse would lead to more distrust.

I make it by with the skin of my teeth. Yasha is the saving grace with an alibi that explains where I was beforehand. The meeting was filled with shouting and harsh accusations. People formed terrible reasons and false sightings of where I was during each murder. It's awful.

I sit in the cafeteria alone, nursing a drink that Yasha had stashed away before we launched. I owe them my life, helping me by speaking up. Though I now live day by day with accusing glares and harsh words. It's fine, I'm alive and not launched off the ship for murder. God, what has my life become?

As I take a sip, relishing in the bitter taste, someone grabs a chair beside me. I wince at the sound of the chair scraping, preparing myself for a confrontation. No one has been so bold to corner me but what do I know of these people? One of them is a murderer.

"You doing alright," they ask. I look to them, confused at the concerned question. Wes leans against the table, fidgeting with his thumbs.

I look to his hands then back to his unemotional face," What?"

"Are you alright," he asks again. I watch him, looking for some mischief or distrust. He remains blank, just watching me without a tick or twitch.

I scoff, turning back to my drink," why would you care? Looking for more pointless evidence to get me shot out?" I suck down the rest of the liquid, shotgunning it in hopes of being more amicable to this conversation.

"No," he huffs," I know you didn't do it."

I side-eye him," really?" he nods, fiddling with his thumbs instead of speaking. I watch him pick at his nail, scratching down the side of his finger aggressively. "You ok," I ask, watching the red whelps litter his finger in clawed lines. He freezes, tugging his hands back and leaving them on his lap.

"I'm fine, just been itchy lately," he mumbles. I nod, dropping the subject in favor of watching the empty glass in my hand.

"Why don't you think it's me," I suddenly ask, preparing myself for an answer I won't like.

He shrugs," I just have my guesses."

I look to him," humor me, why don't you think it's me?"

"Do you want me to think it's you," he nearly smiles," doesn't seem smart if you are in fact innocent."

"Yea," I huff," I guess your right." we sit in silence once more. I swirl my finger at the top of the glass, too busy thinking.

"You're too nice," he answers. I snort, looking to him amused.

"You think I'm too nice to murder anyone?"

He nods," you are too nice to everyone to have the guts to kill them."

I humor him," wouldn't that be a perfect plan? Lower their guard so they feel safe around me?"

"well, that would make you a psycho instead of a murderer," he slides down his chair, laxer.

"What's the difference," I turn fully towards him.

He crosses his arms, thinking before answering," a psycho would enjoy the kills while a murderer sees them as walls in the way."

"You think the killer is trying to reach a goal," I ask. He stiffens, looking to the floor.

"it's just a guess," he shrugs.

"It’s a particularly specific guess," I lean towards him. He just shrugs again, looking like he rather be anywhere but here. I watch him, suspicion forming in my mind.

"Why are you here," I ask instead. His eyes flick around the room, looking from one spot to another. He scratches at his hand harder, short little flicks of his finger.

"I was worried about you," he says," everyone is ostracizing you and I don't want you to be alone while he is out there."

"who is out there," I try to catch him in a lie.

He stutters, opening his mouth before closing it. The accusation sits heavy in my chest. It can't be Wes, but it really could be. If it's true then I'm in complete danger being alone in here with him. I look to the door. How long will it take to reach the door before he can run up and grab me? Could I make it while he is stuttering over his words?

As I think, he touches my knee. I jump, snapping to him with wide startled eyes. His previous anxiety seems to have melted away to a calm composure, almost sympathetic and compassionate composure.

"B, I just want you to know that I will keep you safe from whoever is out there," he says seriously," you all will catch them and everyone will think of this as a bad dream. Just keep your head up and don't go anywhere alone."

"o-ok," I stand from my chair," I'm going to head back to my room now." I walk across the room before he can answer, trying to keep some self-control until I reach my bed.

"Wait," he calls out," let me walk you back." I stop, back tense, and shoulders near my ears. His footsteps lead up to me, stopping just beside me.

We walk out the cafeteria towards my room, the silence deafening the empty hall. Each step is taken with anxious effort. I wait for a pen to drop so I can dart away from him. I know he is tense too, keeping a bit of a distance from me. I can't tell if he is waiting for an opening or he truly meant what he said. Either way, I cannot tame my racing heart.

I spot my door and relief nearly makes me sigh. As we step closer I hear voices down the hall. Around the corner, two figures walk towards us. As they near I can make out two familiar faces, Rebel and Casey. Casey is giggling at whatever Rebel said to her. Rebel's face is cocky, arrogant even. As they pass Rebel throws an arm over Casey and winks to us.

I can't pay them any mind as I quickly try to open my door and head inside. Looking over my shoulder I watch Wes sneer down the hall, nibbling on his lip when he looks to the floor.

"Uh, thanks," I nod," night."

He jerks his head towards me," Night."

And the night ends there. Sighs of relief and suspicions.

Slowly but surely people start dropping like flies. Solo kills all around the ship makes our numbers dwindle till we are nearing single digits. People start accusing me more till they start following me around and realize I have nothing to do with it. The previously split crew has become a closer unit, the commander getting everyone left to sleep in the cafeteria. It's hard to kill someone with so many eyes watching.

I look to the room hardly filled with people. The commander sits with three others, talking amongst themselves. Wes and Rebel sit in a group of two others. A few stranglers stress out around the edge, like me. We all wait patiently, none of us wanting to lose someone again.

My eyes grow heavy as I sit leaning against the wall. I look at the group, watching them all sleep or lay in their little cots. If there was ever a time to act it would be now. To sneak around and slit the throat of a dreaming crewmate. I can't fall asleep, someone will die. I keep reminding myself that until my eyes burn.

As my lids nearly close an alarm rings around the room. Playing for just a few seconds before we are all collapsed into darkness. People scream and shuffle, everyone awake. I shoot up from my spot, not being able to see in the utter darkness. Only a few stars visible from the giant window offer guidance. I quickly get out my tablet, turning it on for light and information. I click wildly, finding that light fuses have been tripped.

I try to open my mouth to scream to the crew what the problem is but they are all still shouting and screaming. I grind my teeth, not liking what I have to do now. Without thinking it for too long I hug the edge of the room and head towards electrical.

The tablet only lights a few feet in front of me, and only in front of me. I listen to the fading yells of the cafeteria and try to focus on if anyone is following me. My heart is ready to burst from my chest as I round the corner and spot the doors to my destination. I don't wanna be here, by the heavens I don't wanna be here. Swiftly I rush to the door, opening it forcefully as I slip inside. I'm nearly hyperventilating as I shine my light on the switches before me.

"Just turn them off then on, simple," I mumble to myself. I flick the switches with stumbling fingers, hands shaking with the mountain of stress. I stiffen as I hear a high screech noise from beyond the room. Waiting, I listen on. My finger hovers on the last switch but if it’s the killer perhaps I can use the cover of darkness to flee. Listening closely I hear nothing. Quickly I flick the final switch.

I sigh in minimal relief, knowing I still have the trek back to the cafeteria before me. With a courage-building breath, I turn around. Red fills my vision until I look up at a horridly stretched out face. I faintly notice the familiar stubble and bushy eyebrows of a strongly disliked crewmate. His cheeks are ripped, his right cut leading up over his eye. Writhing tentacles stretch out the large gash.

"Hello morsel," he says in a guttural vicious voice. I jump, falling back against the fuse box. His lower body splits, a larger tentacles slithering out to lash at my person. Thinking quickly I jump to the side, not looking back as I craw further into the room. I realize my mistake as I scramble towards a corner. He notices as well, chuckling in a nonhuman laugh.

I clamber towards a wall of wire and panels, turning so my back presses firmly against it. I look to Rebel, panicking as I try to figure something-anything- out. I look around the room, trying to find any weapon as this monstrous creature prowls closer.

"No way out," he teases," nowhere to go." his stomach appendage slithers on the ground towards me, wrapping around my ankle. He tugs softly, allowing me to fight effortlessly. I cry out, jerking my leg towards myself. He laughs, pulling harder so I may fall onto my back. I claw at the ground, my nails bending backward as I try to find purchase.

"Please," I whimper, not knowing if I'm talking to him or a higher power. He steps between my feet, laughing as he leans down. I clench my eyes closed, bracing myself.

"No one is going to-," he doesn't finish. My leg jerks a bit but I remain still. A loud thud follows shortly after and a shout. I open my eyes slowly, looking ahead into the room with unease. Standing before me is a man, seething with fist clenched at their side. Beyond them is Rebel propped on his elbow, having been forced to the floor.

"What the hell," Rebel shouts. The man in the white shirt says nothing, merely glaring down at the …thing. Rebel gets up from the floor, his face forming once more into a hateful sneer. His stomach tentacle writhes in the air, threatening without action. The man takes a step back, looking over his shoulder briefly before keeping eyes on his opponent.

"Wes," I whisper to myself," what are you doing here! You have to run!" I try to warn him, clambering to stand as he faces the monster down. Wes remains still, waiting on Rebel.

"You wish to do this," Rebel asks. As Wes doesn't answer Rebel shrugs," Suit yourself." before anyone can react Rebel's tentacle shoots out and wraps around Wes's arm. Wes leans back, fighting against the grip. It's in vain as the limb pops and rips at the shoulder. I can see the light shine between the sinew trying to hold on but to no avail. It snaps, detaching completely into Rebel's grip. I don't have time to gasp before the arm wriggles and writhes, lashing out farther than I thought possible. The fingers spin into a single appendage, wrapping around Rebel's arm.

"What," I gasp, looking to Wes' body. Where his arm was previously is a mass of wriggling tentacles.

I can't process anything. Watching blankly as the two fight. The scene is straight out of a monster flick, reminding me of a movie that takes place in the arctic. The bodies morph and slash, normal proportions of a human being stretches and rips. Its something I know I'll never forget till the day I die, which I hope won't be soon.

The writhing mass I believe to be Wes grabs at two points on Rebel, lifting him up and pulling. The stomach gash rips loudly, some of the tentacles caught at the two points tear as well, popping as the tension relieves. Soon Rebel is torn in two, writhing and screaming. Wes keeps tearing, splitting the half into smaller halves. It's when the mess stops moving does Wes stop, standing above the destruction.

Everything is silent, only the sound of my panicked breathing is heard. I watch Wes, not knowing what is going to happen next. Is he going to turn to me next? Surely no one kills a murderer just to turn and kill the victim.

"Wes," I ask gently, stepping towards him cautiously. He twitches, his body snapping into place with shocking speed. I gasp, startling back. He looks over his shoulder, a bit of blood on his cheek catching the light.

"you ok," he asks.

"I gue- yea," I answer," a-are you?" he nods, turning fully to me. His shirt is covered in blood and rips, though no injuries of his own. As I curiously look for any bruises, cut, gashes, he walks over. He crowds me to the wall of wires, grabbing my arm and looking me over.

"He didn't do anything? When you were out of the room I quickly got in the vents and headed here. God, I was so worried when I didn't see him in the cafeteria," he sighs, dropping my arm and leaning his head to my shoulder. The concern is confusing. I awkwardly raise my hand to his hair, petting him.

"well, I'm fine now," I mumble, more worried about the alien resting against my body.

"Good," he nuzzles towards my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist to hug me close. My heart beats hard, my breath is shaky. I want to push him away, fight him off. Raising my arm I touch his shoulder, prepared to force him back.

"Wes," I start, a shakiness to my words.

"I won't hurt you," he mumbles," you are safe with me, B." he presses a kiss to my neck, tender and sweet. I stiffen, worried for a new reason. I wait for a reaction, wait for some more 'affections' that tell me his true intention. Instead, he just holds me. I fall for the charm, exhausted above all else. Falling lax in his hold, I wrap my arm around his neck and bury my face against his neck.

The crew search around the ship and soon come to Wes and me. They first see the bloody body, a true mess upon the floor, then us cuddling in the corner. Questions are thrown around before we are even taken back to the cafeteria. We answer, me doing most of the talking, telling them all about what happened. I leave a few details out, looking to Wes with concern. This crew has been on edge all week and will not take kindly to another alien aboard their ship.

With everything sorted out and the body launched into space things settle back to normal. We make way to heading back to base to finally put this behind us. It’s a lot quieter now as we all take the time to grieve and collect our thoughts.

I lay in bed next to Wes, laying shoulder to shoulder as we look to the ceiling. It's nice to finally have a moment alone with him, to ask the questions plaguing my mind since the fight. Yet, sitting here is all I can manage. We get some much-needed rest, seeking comforting in the other's company. Now, we lay here in silence.

"Wes," I barely whisper. He hums," you’re an alien?" it was a dumb question but I need to hear him say it.

He turns to me," Compared to you, yes." I nod, still staring at the ceiling.

"Why did you save me," I ask. He sighs, turning onto his side to look at my better.

"I like you," he shrugs," I didn't want you to be killed like the others, it felt like a greater loss than the gain of your death." I squint, snapping to him.

"What gain," I ask.

"Capture the ship," he answers," we stowed away when you all first departed. The supplies here would benefit my people but it's more along the lines of greed than necessity. It felt like an easy task."

"Wes," I nearly scoot away from him," did you kill my crewmates?" we stare into each other's eyes with great determination. Seeming to be a battle of wills, who will bow first to such an important question. He caves first, sighing as he twists back onto his back.

"yes," he answers simply.

"who."

"Not sure, I don't remember most of your names," he says," Rebel killed more people than me though, I got around five. I didn't have as much enjoyment as he did in the job. He was a true psycho, I was just a murderer."

His confession sits unwell in my chest. I want to run out of the room, not lay next to someone who killed my friends. Yet, I feel too exhausted. He saved my life, but that won't excuse him. It just numb. I feel him turn to me once more, I can't bring myself to look back.

"Say something," he requests. I sigh, closing my eyes.

"It hurts," I mumble. My heart feels like is being squeezed, like the weight of their death is sitting on my chest. Is it wrong to sit so companionly next to their killer? A change of heart cannot excuse the sins of the past. Either way, I can't ignore him or walk away. The trauma feels shared although it's not. He was there in the end, that should count for something.

"I'm sorry," he sighs," if I could take it back I would."

"I know," I say. We sit there, quiet once more. He watches me, I can feel his eyes on my face. I'm not sure what he is doing, checking my reactions, or finding joy in just looking to me. The chance of manipulation is there, though I can hardly believe he would do that. Just leave me to Rebel's abuse and there would be no need for trust-building. I don't know what to do.

"B," he breaks the quiet.

"yes?"

"can I touch you," he asks. My eyes suddenly open. I turn to look at him, confused at the request, and confused at the timid way he asked. He looks shy, worried at the potential of my response. It melts my heart, easing the grip the deaths have caused. I turn to my side, inches away from his face.

"Ok." Wes eagerly reaches out and touches my face. His fingers dance over my cheek, nose, mouth. He watches his hands with great interest.

"Soft," he mumbles. His fingers trail to my hair, grabbing a strand between his fingers.

As his curiosity is soothed he wraps an arm over my waist and pulls me close. I cuddle against his chest, resting a hand on his pec. As I sit there I notice he doesn't have a heartbeat. I hear nothing, not even the sound of his breathing.

"Wes," I start," what do you really look like?"

He shrugs," not like anything describable. I just mimic things, I don't really have a body."

"just a blob of tentacles," I jokingly ask. He snorts, squeezing me closer.

"Not too far off," he smiles," but I have more flesh than just a pile of worms. But for now, I look like this, this is my body." I pet his chest, trailing down under his shirt to touch at his stomach. He jumps, the muscles of his body flexing. The tips of my fingers gently glide over him, feeling the strangely rough skin. I slowly make my way up to his chest once more, laying my palm flat against him.

"This is you," I nod," alright." I fall lax once more to the bed, keeping my hand against him. It's quiet for now. The words rest in his head, seemingly accepted and approved of. It almost feels like the conversation is over.

"Do you hate me," he asks suddenly, saying it like he wasn't intending to ask. It's a question I've been asking myself. Could I hate someone who saved my life, tearing apart their partner in crime to protect me? I think the answer depends on what he is to do from now on. Would he leave to attack another ship or…

"Will you leave? Will you go to another ship and repeat what happened here," I ask guarded.

"No," he answers quickly," I cannot."

"Cannot or will not?"

He bumps his head to mine," will not." I look to his eyes, feeling the sincerity in them. It's odd seeing such feeling on someone previously so blank.

"Are you going to stay and work?"

"Is that what you want? For me to stay and work with you," his fingers twitch on my waist, his nerves shining through.

"With me or without me, I'd like you to work," I answer. He grips me a bit tighter, his lip twitching near disgust.

"I rather work with you than anyone else," he says. I pet at his chest, soothing the ire he seems to try to hide.

"Ok," I nod," if that's what you want then you can work with me."

Reaching that agreement I lull back into the security he gives. I feel like falling asleep, relishing in the warmth of his hug. I allow myself to stop thinking, ignoring any ideas and doubts that try to pop up. My eyes slowly fall until I'm nearly asleep.

"Do you hate me," he asks again, his low rumble forcing me back awake. I keep my eyes shut, snuggling closer to him.

"No," I say firmly," I don't hate you." he hums, cradling me with a kiss to my forehead. I bite back a smile, not ready to give him the satisfaction.

"Thank you."

We fall asleep once more, ignoring the lingering issues and just feeling some sort of peace.

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Yep, I wrote this. It is 100% for me and I stand by this garbage fire, it will keep me warm in the winter. It was so fun writing this trash heap that i may write another with a far more aggressive Imp who has a soft spot for his crewmate.

Won’t count to my weekend post cause this was thrown together at 2am.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#among us #comfort #red is sus #exophilia #Monster #tentacle monster #The thing reference #monster boyfriend #two imps #Enigma-IM

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ourstarscollided · 4 years

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jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)

wip wednesday - I didn’t think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering I’ve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things I’ve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I don’t have to? Then that’s between you and me).

Everything’s under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?

If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)

Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke

I’m a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isn’t even finished.

Julie’s not really sure what she’s supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which she’s supposed to pretend to be a stranger’s girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually can’t stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Her head whips up at the sound of Luke’s voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. “I just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Julie studies Luke’s face and it’s nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as ‘puppy dog eyes’. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, “I hope you like lasagna.” And the grin that spreads across the boy’s face is enough for her to know that he’s incredibly relieved that she agreed.

“I’m Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.”

(Okay, he’s kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)

She gives a small smile back, “I’m Julie.”

5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke

Inspired by paper - LANY

This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. It’s basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other people’s perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I can’t manage to narrow it down, and there’s zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.

“Hey little man,” Luke’s knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. “ I- I just wanted to-” he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. “I- I drew you guys something!”

He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesn’t look up.

Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke

I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I can’t bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.

It will never be as complex as Rosie’s idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I don’t really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause I’d hop on that so fast!!

“Okay- that’s not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?”

“What was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.”

His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Because it’s true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. It’s the exact same tragic love story every time.

Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that they’ll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. He’s said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but it’s not like he’s counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.

Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie

No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, it’s just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.

“Wait,” his eyes dart between the three boys, “You both know Willie? How come I’ve never met him?”

His roommates look at each other, and there’s a smirk on Luke’s face when he says, “Actually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?”

Oh no. He really hopes that it’s not the time he’s thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Luke.”

“The night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?” He doesn’t really know where Luke is going with this, so he’s slowly nodding along. “And you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?”

Dear Julie, Love Mom series

I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose would’ve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.

Anyways, I started with the one for Julie’s wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (I’m also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)

Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where I’m going with this whole letters from Rose thing.

The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. She’s not sure what she wants to find in the box, and she’s too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.

Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words ‘For Julie, on your wedding day’ written in her mom’s cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. There’s a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one that’s been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, mija?”

Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about You’re Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) weren’t allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadn’t thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.

Sure, they had chosen You’re Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didn’t really imagine that she’d be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didn’t expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blonde’s reaction or else he wouldn’t also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.

“I’m gonna seriously kill him.” She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But she’s still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isn’t really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesn’t think so.

Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went “What about Luke?” and I said “You’re right!! What about him?!?”

He doesn’t realize that he’s just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julie’s peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.

“You just-” he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But she’s more than that - she’s almost angelic. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Luke, we’ve been legally married for like, a whole year.” Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. “You’ve only just realized that now?”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? Different how?”

This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but let’s not talk about that.

Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didn’t think it would bring you so much joy!!!

#gotta tag this so that it doesnt ever show up in any tags on tumblr.#i like that what got me to post about my writing was a fanworks appreciation week. but i will say that a couple weeks ago when i was feeling #extra good about my writing. i made a promise to myself to post smthg for the 6 mth mark of jatp and that kinda got backtracked because of #my requirements to be an adult and my general insecurities about putting out content that is mine for the works to judge sjsjsj #so this is me making it up to myself by sharing some things.#thank you rosie for indulging me in my ramblings. you’ve really given me confidence in my work even tho you’ve never read anything of mine.#just know I APPRECIATE YOU A LOT!!!!#i hope you dont mind that i tagged you!!!#anyways this is gonna get thrown into my queue for wednesday and whenever it posts is whenever it will post.#i also typed this on my phone (i DO NOT RECOMMEND IT) so sorry if the formatting is janky. i didnt wanna give myself time to second guess #myself and end up not posting it. sjjs #jatp fanworks appreciation week #sometimes i write #personal #<- need to come up with tags for myself welp #sunset queue

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escapingpost · 5 years

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Five Things Everyone Knows (Final)

Part 1: Five Things I Know About Cho Seungyoun

Sequel: Five Things Cho Seungyoun Knows About You

Suggestive and language warning.

The kiss in the alleyway would have been the cherry on top for this mess of romantic comedy. It would be the turning point of the plot where the next few scenes were merely a fast-forwarded, shortened down versions of what would be to come with your perfect “friends to lovers” relationship.

But, you were hit with the reminder that this was not an actual romantic comedy and reality is much harsher.

The next day, you woke up from a text from yours truly telling you that the girl he was texting ages ago finally got back to him. They were going on a date this weekend.

Your mind went through different thoughts in a span of one minute:

Were the two of you that drunk yesterday? If that was the case, you would have a hangover. And Seungyoun? You were sure he was too busy making Hangyul drunk to drink himself.

Were you just dreaming? No, your hair definitely smelled of rain water and you could still almost feel Seungyoun’s strong arms around your waist.

Then, what the hell was this?

As if answering your thoughts, Seungyoun sends another text message.

younie: I smell like sewage right now. What even happened last night.

And with that one text message, you were brought back to the reality of romantic relationships in your twenties.

Romance was dead and so were your feelings.

NOT my best friend: Dumbass, how am I suppose to know.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Woohyun was currently hovering over Seungyoun on the couch as Seungyoun holds his phone out of his reach. Woohyun gets up and dusts himself off. “Have fun being lonely. I’m rooting for Hangyul.”

“Wait, Woohyun.” Seungyoun also gets up from his couch. “I’m sorry. I just, I can’t do it.”

“Seungyoun, what do you mean, you can’t?” Woohyun says trying to keep calm. Him and the guys did the most to get Seungyoun to realize his feelings, but when he actually does, it backfires.

“I don’t want to mess us up.” Seungyoun says, avoiding Woohyun’s gaze.

“You know the feeling is mutual, so why?” Woohyun asks.

Seungyoun takes out a few crinkled pieces of paper from the small trash in his studio. He takes the first crumple piece of paper and hands it to Woohyun.

Woohyun looks at Seungyoun weirdly before unfolding it and reading his chicken scratch writing.

I wish you happiness

It's okay if it's not me

I don't think I'm good enough for you

We're so different

Woohyun takes the rest of the crinkled papers and unfolds them.

Tell me you're tired of me

Tell me you're seeing someone else

For me, even just a little bit

To hate you, just lie to me

Woohyun stops reading and crumples the paper into its original state, “This is different from the last time. You know it.”

“We’ve been best friends for years. I just can’t risk that.” Seungyoun looks down, his fringe hiding his eyes.

And Woohyun could not think of a comeback with Seungyoun looking like he already lost the most precious thing in his life.

“You know, its true what they say about musicians. You are all creative, crazy messes.” Woohyun says with a huge sigh.

Which brings us to the first thing everyone now knows: 1) Seungyoun, for a fact, has slight commitment issues.

A week passes by after the night with Seungyoun. You try your best to avoid him, but he stuck to you like nothing had happened. Sure, it was only the alcohol that made him do it and the reason why he could not remember. But, he should take some sort of responsibility, right?

The day of his date with the girl, you went to a library to study for your classes, but the silence was worse. It only made your sad thoughts louder. Letting out a deep sigh, you run your fingers through your hair and leave the quiet room.

“Hey!” Before you could start walking down the staircase to the lobby, a familiar voice calls your name.

You close your eyes. You knew exactly who it was and he was probably the second person you did not want to run into. Quickly changing your expression into a neutral one, you turn around to him, “Hey, Hangyul.”

Long story, short: You and Hangyul did go on a date. You actually had more fun than you thought and he said he would call you back, but never did. When he did end up calling you for a second date, the two of you still had unfinished business. Seungyoun crashed your second date before the two of you could talk about it.

Hangyul scratches the back of his neck, a habit of his whenever he felt uneasy. Your fake expression was apparent to his eyes, “Do you want to go to a cafe? I hated the silence in that library.”

You said yes and maybe it was the fact you wanted to show up Seungyoun for being on a date. Or, it might have been that you believed Hangyul was a nice, decent guy so he deserved some sort of explanation.

“I just wanted to say sorry for everything.” Hangyul says with a soft smile.

“Sorry about what?” The warm tea hits your throat and it calms your nerves.

“Sorry about not calling you when I said I would.”

You let out a petty laugh, “So you did know.”

Hangyul moves in closer, “Of course, I did. I was just confused and needed time to think.”

You purse your lips, “Well, I’m sorry for taking Seungyoun along on our second date.” You look down at your cup of tea.

Hangyul plays with the straw of his smoothie, unsure of what to say.

“It was a dumb decision.” You add.

“Did something happen?” Hangyul carefully asks.

You shrug, not wanting to think about it, still looking down.

Hangyul takes a deep breath and lowers his head so he was in your peripheral view, “Hey, to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were actually available.”

You are forced to return his gaze, his face a little closer than a few minutes ago, “What do you mean?”

“I know you don’t have a boyfriend.” Hangyul was now staring at you intently with a soft expression, “But, on our first date, it didn’t seem like you were emotionally available.”

And that’s exactly what everyone thought: 2) No one else was really good enough for you, but him.

The guy with cute dimples? You preferred adorable rabbit teeth. The talented vocalist? A high-toned voice with the duality of IU’s ballads and Flowsik’s rapping was more your genre. The possible future president of the country? How about the person who you trust all your secrets, dreams, and inside jokes with?

As exaggerated as it was, Seungyoun just started to infiltrate your mind with no invitation.

You gulp and slowly nod your head, “Sorry, Hangyul.”

Hangyul feels a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders and he gives you an assuring smile, “We’re good.” He pats the side of your head.

You return his smile, feeling ten times better.

"I’m not sure what happened with you and Seungyoun, but if you want, I’m meeting with him later with the guys. Maybe you want to come?”

Your ears perk up at hearing his name, “Wait, Seungyoun is hanging out with you later?”

“Yeah, Seungyoun and some other people from the Taekwondo club.”

‘What about his date?’ You think. ‘Did that brat lie to me?’ You add. Did you not just have a small monologue on how great he was?

Hangyul calls out your name.

You snap back to reality, “Oh sorry, why don’t you text me the address and I’ll meet you there?”

The night was a little colder when it was predicted to be a warm summer night. Mercury was in retrograde or something along the lines of a pseudoscience explanation. 3) Everyone just knew it was going to be an interesting night.

“You like to hurt your own feelings?” Dohyun scratches his head.

“Masochism. Its called masochism.”

“Yohan, shut it. Don’t teach him that.” Hangyul rubbed his temples.

“Well, at least you’re better off than Seungyoun. He didn’t even give closure. He completely made his whole friendship awkward as hell.”

Hangyul blows out air from his nostrils. He wanted to keep it a secret and was not planning on inviting you to see Seungyoun. It was his chance to ask you out for a third date. But, taking advantage of your vulnerable state was the last thing he wanted to do.

Yohan hands Hangyul his black jacket, “Here, buddy. At least look cool while setting up the two idiots.”

Hangyul turns to Dohyon, “Don’t you dare learn from Yohan.” Hangyul moves closer to whisper in Yohan’s ear, “Yohan thinks he’s some sex god.”

Yohan has an appalled and disgusted look on his face, “A dude grinds on the floor one time and automatically becomes the icon of greasiness.”

Hangyul receives a text message alert and stops their conversation.

soju girl: Hey, I’m already here. My phone’s on vibrate so just text me when you get here! Too loud to take a call :(

“Lets go, idiot three.” Yohan puts his arms around Hangyul.

hangyul: see you soon

You bite down on your bottom lip and pull down on the short black dress that you wished did not sacrifice to cover either your chest or thighs. It was one or the other. You furiously shake your head to get some sense in you, “I need a drink.” Or not.

One drink turned into two, then three, then four and it all went downhill from there. The last sober thought you had was the fact that you could change your social media addiction and put your energy in making a blog about the wonders of alcohol.

“Close her tab.” you hear a voice and the person has reached over the counter. That was weird because you only conditioned yourself to listen to one specific voice through a loud bass of music.

“Oh? Its my best friend, Cho Seungyoun.” your voice slurs and you see he is confused because he can’t hear anything through the music and you made no effort to talk over them music. Seungyoun quickly scans your state and has you wear his oversized bomber jacket. You do not put up a fight while he quickly zips up the jacket. “Am I your date for tonight?” You say with no energy or volume.

Seungyoun gets to eye level with you and smiles, “Lets go.” He mouths.

The unapologetic smile, his eyes that assured you that your were safe, and his eyebrows that drooped in worry made you furious. The alcohol spoke and made the decision for you, “Fuck that.” You push him away and stagger through the dance floor.

And Seungyoun never felt so awkward trying to keep you away from other people on the dance floor while still remaining a sinful centimeter away from you and that miniature piece of fabric people called a dress.

His eyes darted around to catch the glimpses of other people on the dance floor to make sure they knew you were with him. Just when he thought people were getting the hint, a stranger attaches himself behind you.

He quickly snakes his hand around your waist and pulls you into a secure hold, turning your whole body like a tango move.

You continue to shamelessly dance, not giving a two coins because all you could see are the blurry lights, your mind was still buzzed, and whose ever arm was around you felt too good.

No matter how much he tried, there was only one answer to your shenanigans.

If you can’t beat them, join ‘em.

Seungyoun brings you into his chest as close as humanely possible and lays his hands on your hips as you two dance. He can only catch glimpses of your face, but when he did see you through the club lights, the look on your face got to him.

Your eyes were no longer the awake eyes that he could see from a distance away. Your eyes were half-lidded and seductive. Your baby hairs stuck to the side of your face and your cheeks flushed pink.

Then, Seungyoun’s ears were blocked as if he had water stuck in them. Your mouth was moving, but he could not understand what was happening anymore. The loud bass drowns out any reasonable thoughts.

Seungyoun did not drink any alcohol that night.

But, he got the same sweet alcohol on the tip of your tongue and caught the same alcohol buzz.

When Hangyul left the club that night and did not get to see you or Seungyoun, it was already a given: 4) The literal climax of the story that everyone would know of.

By the time you were all partied out and the two of you got to his apartment, the alcohol high wore off, but neither of Seungyoun’s or your hormones did.

The conversation was said through messy kisses, but it went something along the lines of Seungyoun apologizing for being a coward and a liar. Then, you try to say something back, but whatever he was doing down there did not help you form a coherent thought.

It was the climax that happened in Seungyoun’s small studio, both emotionally and physically.

Finally, it was the scene before everything fell into place. At least, as much as reality allowed you to.

“That dress wasn’t going to cover anything.” It was the morning after and you did not wake up glamorously. It was a good thing Seungyoun always saw you like that and nothing about his feelings changed. He laid on the couch and watched you find your stuff that was lost in the hurricane.

“Yeah, but your sweater will.” You quickly slip into it a sweater that he left hanging on his chair and Seungyoun curses in his mind for being weak to the cold.

“Wanna get breakfast?” Seungyoun sits up and also looks around for his lost t-shirt.

“Not like this.”

“I can pick something up from the convenience store.” Seungyoun finally finds his clothing piled up on the side of the couch.

You two only had to be apart for ten minutes, but Seungyoun was running back from the store like he left a stove on.

Also, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into until Seungyoun drops the food on his small desk and starts to make his way towards you. Alert, you hold him back with one finger, which stops him for a grueling second until he picks you up like a bride and lays you down on the couch.

You always thought Seungyoun looked like a rabbit with his two front teeth. Now, he looks like a tiger creeping up on his pray (read: you). You were quickly reminded Seungyoun was actually a bear because he pulls you into a warm hug as the two of you lay on his couch.

“There’s not enough space, so we have to stick as close a possible.” Seungyoun is breathing down your neck and you were not sure if it was on purpose.

You stir in his arms and he looks at you.

The images of you two playing tongue hockey in the middle of the dance floor flashes through your mind and you wanted to dig a tunnel into the couch because this time, he was there to remember it.

Seungyoun bit back a silly smile.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything?” He says with a smirk.

“Hey, we can’t tell anyone.” You are talking to his chest because you could not bear to look at him without being reminded of last night.

“Why not?” Seungyoun, on the other hand, had no shame and kept his eyes on you. “I swear, I was going to post this on my story.”

“Seungyoun!”

He gives you his cheeky, smiling eyes and presses his forehead on yours, “I’m sure every already knows.”

“That’s a little bit T.M.I, no?” You ask him.

“Not with them. They know everything.”

The two of you look at each other both thinking that everyone was weirdly invested in the two of you getting together. You and Seungyoun laugh knowing the same thought went through your head.

“I like you so much.” Seungyoun unconsciously says.

“I like you too.” You say making random shapes with your fingers on his chest. “Hey, um.” You finally muster up the courage to look at him.

“Yeah?” Seungyoun gives you his full attention.

You gather your arms and push him off the couch, “I’m hungry.”

Even if you were not hungry, Seungyoun’s scent was getting to your head and all the red flags went off.

He didn’t have to know that, though.

Months pass and you two are still together and annoying.

“Can you not?” You step on Seungyoun’s foot under the table.

“What?” Seungyoun moves his hand closer to your inner thigh, but you swat his hand off.

“Can you two just stay in Seungyoun’s studio? Forever.” Wooseok pretends to barf.

“We would, but the AC is broken.” Seungyoun shrugs.

You smack him on the side of his head.

“I don’t even want to sit on that damn couch now.” Seungwoo slowly shakes his head.

“Maybe it was better for you two to stay single.” Yohan taps on the table.

“Hey, I’m all for that.” Hangyul chuckles as he opens a bag of chips.

Seungyoun’s neck almost breaks turning to Hangyul, “If you eat chips like that, your fingers are going to stain.”

“Well, I’m gonna eat it with chopsticks.” Hangyul retorts.

“Where are the chopsticks, genius?” Seungyoun mocks Hangyul’s matter-of-fact tone.

Hangyul’s eye darts back and forth, until he sees you slipping him the chopsticks. “Here.”

Seungyoun makes a face at you, “Whose side are you on?”

You give him a chaste kiss and the self-proclaimed all rounder turns into one thing and it was the fifth and last thing everyone knew.

5) “Whipped.”

#cho seungyoun #seungyoun #seungyoun scenarios #seungyoun imagines #x1 scenarios #x1 imagines #x1 #Hangyul #lee hangyul #hangyul scenarios #hangyul imagines

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sapphicscholar · 5 years

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Pride Month Prompts Day 2: Rainbow (Grace/Frankie)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want.

Day 2: Rainbow

Pairing: Grace/Frankie A/N: I’ve never written for Grace and Frankie before, so hopefully I did them a bit of justice, even though I’m still trying to get their voices and figure out my style for writing them as a pairing. I might try a few more prompts with them this month...we’ll see!

“Tomorrow’s June 1st. You know what that means, don’t ya?” Frankie had asked, apropos of absolutely nothing in between the gummy bears she picked up and popped into her mouth one by one during the commercial breaks of annual Scripps Spelling Bee.

Grace tried to remember. She’d always thought of herself as a considerate partner--she’d certainly been more likely to remember important dates and moments than Robert had, that’s for sure, and she knew his secretary was the only reason she always received a timely, perfectly impersonal gift for their wedding anniversary. But with Frankie, suddenly things weren’t so clear. Grace had inscribed a careful, cursive F inside of her planner on April 17, the day that all of the feelings that she’d been pushing down further and further finally beat back the dam and demanded her attention, demanded that she lean over and kiss the infuriating, impossible woman who she’d fallen in love with at some point over the years. But Frankie recognized so many other dates as important milestones in the relationship she’d described later that same night as being “like playing fetch with that old dog we had, Ernie, remember him?” Grace mainly remembered the way he’d smelled like kibble and rain and mud. “We’d throw a ball for him, and, well, he wasn’t exactly a professional fetch player, if you know what I mean, but he’d meander over. Maybe sniff the grass. Eat a bug. Chew on a stick. Really enjoy the whole experience, one with nature and all that. Pretty enlightened if you think about it. And eventually, he’d find whatever you threw and make his way back to you.” Grace had been halfway to offended until Frankie had added: “Fetch with Ernie.” Us. She gestured between them. “Inevitable. You just have to be patient, trust that things will work out.” So instead of getting snippy with Frankie, Grace had found herself kissing Frankie, again, for the better part of an hour until her neck was stiff and her bad knee demanded something stronger than the heat and ice Frankie would suggest.

A few days later, once it was easier to be alone on the couch together without reveling in the newfound ability to lean over and hold hands or hold one another or kiss, Grace finally asked Frankie about the milestones she’d mentioned. As Frankie began listing them, Grace realized she might need a separate planner just to keep track. Because there was the first time Grace made a proper promise with a kiss. The first time they had a whole meal together uninterrupted by phone calls or fights or family members barging into the house. The first time Grace actually ate something at Del Taco. The first time Frankie had an erotic dream about Grace and Del Taco’s queso--unsurprisingly, those two shared a date. The morning on the beach when Frankie first realized she could spend the rest of her life with no one but Grace and be happy. The first time Frankie had an inkling that Grace might feel the same way.

Still, June 1st wasn’t ringing any bells. “Alright, you’ve got me. What is it? Is it the first time we got high together?”

“Don’t jest, Grace. We all know that was an early spring evening just before Mercury entered retrograde.”

“But of course.” Still, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Just barely.

“It’s Pride month! Oh Grace, there’s glitter and rainbows and parades--you know how much I like a good parade.” The distinction between good and bad parades was still lost on Grace, though Frankie had been working to explain it, mainly by yelling, “Bad!” whenever they happened to drive past a bad parade or see a bad parade on TV or see something that reminded Frankie of a past bad parade.

“Are you...celebrating?”

“Well of course! But not with those Wall Street sellout types.”

“Obviously.” Frankie beamed at her like she’d done something right, so Grace once more resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“But remember that potluck Babe organized her last year here? Then on Facebook I got an ad for Gay Day at the Beach and a 65+ mixer. And I know it means Mark and all his little friends are listening to me.” She glared at her cell phone. “I know you can hear me, but you don’t own me!” A moment later her attention was back on Grace. “Doesn’t that sound great?”

Grace swallowed heavily, thinking of Robert’s theater friends and the big loud crowds of 20-somethings all yelling about how happy they were to be out and proud when she’d spent her 20s pushing down memories of kissing her best friend in a darkened dorm room and following instructions as everyone around her reminded her that it was time to find the right kind of man and settle down into the right kind of life. She managed some vague noise of assent before begging off with claims of exhaustion, knowing Frankie was never one to discourage napping.

Over the next few days, Grace watched as Frankie trotted out colorful outfit after colorful outfit. Not that her typical color palette was what anyone would call reserved, but now there were patches and buttons and bright swaths of primary colors that made Frankie beam every time she caught sight of herself in the mirror. And Grace tried. She pulled out the pink button up she knew Frankie liked, and tried to shy away from the blacks and grays and navys and tans she too often favored. But still, her colors always turned out more J-Crew in the Summer than Queer Grandmas at Pride. Anything more than that made her stomach clench uncomfortably, like she was trying to force herself into a mold that fit no better than motherhood and heterosexuality had.

So it was with no small amount of trepidation that Grace accepted the rainbow gift bag from Frankie, who stood in front of her, bouncing on the balls of her feet, nearly vibrating with energy as she waited for Grace to tear into the present she’d gotten her “for Pride, of course!”

The first item she pulled out was a coffee mug with Straight Outta the Closet printed on it--an homage Grace recognized only because of the weekend Frankie had come back from some protest or other and made them listen to N.W.A. again and again in her studio until the neighbors came over and asked them to keep it down or at least shut the windows. It wasn’t anything Grace would ever have picked for herself, but it reminded her of Frankie enough that she already knew she’d be using it frequently, just like she’d spent a whole month drinking her coffee out of the matching Vybrant-purple coffee mugs Frankie had made for them.

“There’s still one more thing for today’s potluck!”

“Right.” Grace forced herself to smile as she dug into the tissue paper exploding out of the bag. But she didn’t find the rainbow tutu Frankie had laughed about for a solid three minutes or even one of the t-shirts she’d browsed for hours. Instead, she found a rainbow enamel pin, about the size of her nail.

“I thought you could pin it to that big bag you carry to the beach. Just right in the corner.”

And it was small and understated, but still bright and colorful. A tiny, personal reminder of what this first Pride month being together meant. The kind of thing that could be overlooked, but wouldn’t be by those who knew to look. She didn’t realize she was getting emotional until she felt tears she refused to let fall prickling at her eyes. “It’s perfect,” Grace whispered. “How’d you know?”

“You forget that I am an intuitive witch, Grace Hanson.” Frankie grinned as she reached out a hand, tangling her fingers with Grace’s. It would probably last only until they hit the beach or the water or the first person whose reaction wasn’t already guaranteed to be fine strolling along the shore. But until then, Grace’s hand--always slightly cool to the touch, but perfectly moisturized, perfectly manicured (but nails kept shorter these days, thank you very much)--would find its home in hers, and until then, Frankie would enjoy every second of it.

#pride month prompts #grace x frankie #fanfic #grace hanson #frankie bergstein #grace and frankie #ficlet

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unapologeticallybella · 4 years

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Mercury Retrograde

Every mercury retrograde that passes I think that this one may be the one that makes you think of me. So far I believe there’s been seven since I last saw you. These are the only times that I really allow myself to admit that I think about you more than I’d like to. I still mention your name to people who’ve never even met you, I tell them about that one time we went to that one place, the things you used to say, all the things, all the times. If they’re lucky I’ll even tell them a story about the time I first shook your hand. The first date and even the second first date. I think I’ve fallen more in love with our story after you left than I did while it was still being written. I can still talk about you with a smile on my face, I even laugh sometimes. I think it throws people off to hear me say your name without flinching, I’ll explain how I could never hate you and how I don’t blame you for anything. I get mad at myself for being so hard on you, I tested you a lot more than I should have. I played a little too rough sometimes, I didn’t allow myself to be as soft as I wish I would have. I don’t know why I handed you the consequences of hurts you never gave me. I don’t think I said “thank you” enough, maybe I didn’t say all the things I loved about you out loud, I’m sorry for just assuming you’d just know. Truth be told, I am just a body of flesh filled with honey, thick and heavy but still sweet and desperate to make its way through my cracks. I did an awfully good job into tricking you into thinking I was tough and solid like I was filled with wet cement, cold and sturdy. I wish I would have allowed myself to be soft with you, that I hadn't been so scared to tell you how much I loved having you around. I wonder a lot about what your drive home was like on April 1st, 2019, I wonder about what songs you listened to, if you cried even a little bit. If you ever thought about turning around, a least once. I wonder a lot about you. I wonder what you thought about the ending of Avengers, if you ever finished This is Us, do you have a tik tok? Do you still like baseball? What songs can’t you listen to because they remind you of me? Are there things you wished you could have told me? How is your grandma? How is your mom? Is your barber still with his girlfriend? I want to tell you that I think Dave Ramsey is kind of a dick. I want to tell you that I crave that lobster mac and cheese all the time. I want to tell you that they changed the name of our favorite hotel. Do you ever crave your favorite pizza from Alexanders? Did you throw away the gold Minnie ears I left in your car? I wanted to tell you that I love eggs benedict and bao buns now, I’ve tried so many foods you wouldn’t believe. I could think of a million things I’d like to talk about before I’d ever think to ask you why. Why everything happened. Or what even did happen. I am not religious as you know, but I pray a lot now. I can't even count how many times I have prayed to fall in love with someone else. I have prayed so hard to forget you, prayed to go one day without your name crossing my mind. I have prayed to not feel you here anymore. I have prayed on my knees for someone new, to love someone else more than I loved you, to have better memories and better times with someone new. I cannot begin to tell you about the times I have begged to have this feeling disappear. I have asked a million times why you still feel like my best friend after all this time. Most of all I pray for you and that you’re okay. I pray that you are more than okay and that you’re happy. I pray that you wake up every day and feel no pain, no sorrow, no heaviness. In high school, I read an article that talked about how we lose details of our memories every time we recall them. Every time I am reminded of a time and place with you, it fades a little bit more I guess. I think about this a lot, sometimes I find myself pushing away my favorite memories because I don’t want to lose a single detail. I don’t want to forget the waffle you got on our first date, the shirt you were wearing the night you said I love you for the first time, I especially don’t want to forget the first words you ever spoke to me. Sadly, I find science being more credible as these months have passed; sometimes I try to remember the sound of your voice, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I fear as the years pass I won’t be able to recall your face without a picture to remind me the way your smile lines fall on your face. I think a lot about forgetting you. Some days it’s comforting that every time I think about you I am one step closer to letting you go completely. And most days I am horrified that a day will come where I won’t be able to remember you and the way it feels to fall asleep next to you after a long day. I think a lot about what my life looks like now. The woman I am today is a million times better than the version you knew and how much I wished you got to know her too. I went to a medium the first September I spent without you, I didn’t tell her about you at all but she felt you. She told me to send you love and forgive you from afar. When I asked her what to do, she said “you can always hold space for a person in your life without waiting for them to return” so that’s what I did. I have held space for you for close to two years while simultaneously opening myself up to loving anyone else. You’d be happy to hear that I don’t have a broken bed anymore. But my mattress is lopsided from all the months I refused to sleep on your side. There are things I see every day that I know you’d love, restaurants I bookmarked, tiktoks that I know would make you laugh, songs you wouldn’t believe I listen to. Holding space for you has been one of the most gut-wrenching things I have done in my whole life, but I have grown a million different ways in what feels like lifetimes since my hands have held you last. I am sorry for the ways I did not speak my truth. I’m sorry I couldn’t heal the parts of you that so desperately needed relief. And even more sorry for ever letting you believe I wasn’t happy with you. I have found myself speeding up to cars on freeways because I thought it was you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve missed my exit in hopes I would run into you one last time. The times I have confused strangers in grocery lines for you. I would have never guessed your soul would have lingered this long, it’s frustrating while unbelievably comforting. I think a lot about getting married and what I’ll feel when he’s down on one knee. But my stomach does back flips when I am reminded that there is a good chance you will be the first thought on my mind all those years later. I think a lot about our story and why it happened. What if you were busy that night, what if I wasn’t working that night, what if I would have never worked there, to begin with? Would we have found each other down the road? Would we have run into each other at a random coffee shop? Would you have said hello? I think a lot about the life I had always envisioned with you. And I have convinced myself that there are so many versions of us living different realities as we speak. in a parallel universe we are together, others not, and in some, we are meeting for the first time right now. But in this version you still feel like my person on days where I know you shouldn’t, you are the one I want to talk to about the smallest of things. In this version, I should be so angry at you but I’m not. I am now the softest and strongest version of myself and allowing them to exist at the same time has been the greatest gift. In this version, I am learning to sleep on your side of the bed for the first time. In this version, I pray for you to become the man I thought you’d grow to be. In this version, I have learned to love you without conditions and with forgiveness. It’s in this version that I hear your voice every goddamn time I roll my car at red lights“the censors don’t exist Bella.” And every time it turns green I tell myself “yes they do.”

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yeoldontknow · 7 years

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Equinox

Author’s Note: OKAY i know this wasnt meant to go up until some time next month, but i just woke up and felt this prompt down into my soul. ive been SO SOFT, thanks to a mercury in retrograde. so i worked on it today and now im deceased because i love it a lot. as usual, my snapshot style doesnt really lend itself to whole world building. so OP i hope this makes you happy!

Pairing: Minseok x Reader (oc; female)

Summary: It’s winter when you stumble into Minseok’s coffee shop, winter when he’s cold, unfeeling, and disheartened with the seasons. Little does he know, you are the winds of change.

Rating: PG-13

Warning: implied sex

Word Count: 2,247

WINTER

The day he met you was the day she left.

He was awake when it happened, the slow gathering of her things into one small duffel and the calm, empty declaration that she would come back later for the rest. The motivation to move eluded him, his muscles opposed to following her, reaching for her, calling out to her in a reckless sort of indignation. It wasn’t that he was angry, wasn’t that he was caught in despair, rather that he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not really, not after everything had been said and felt into ash.

She did not take his heart with her. No, he’d retrieved that long ago somewhere in the changing of the seasons. What she took instead was his empathy, his willingness to give love freely. With her, it had died, withered over the course of many years until all he had was an apathetic sort of affection, the kind he said with words he didn’t mean.

Long after she was gone, when the grey light of the morning spilled through the curtains of his window, he sat upright on his bed and regarded the way the room remained unchanged. As if she had gone on vacation. As if she had gone to visit family. As if she would return. He glanced sidelong at his disenchanted life with a scowl, waiting for colour to return to the walls, the room, his heart, his life. Winter was like that, he supposed, a succubus both of good intentions and the gold of the sun.

A cold rain had spilled over the city, frigid in its intent to cleanse the street, his shop, his memory, perhaps even his heart. The storm looked as he felt, bitter in its deluge and bleak in its sentiments. People bustled in and out, grim and scowling, shaking the rain from their hair and hats, gloved hands clutching warm drinks and placing tips in the jar as thanks. The world was moving and turning, but his world was stopping.

You pushed through the door with a laugh, even though you were alone. Melodic and gleeful, you stumbled through with a light that made him feel as though he was eclipsing the sun. It wasn’t that you blinded him, it was simply that you warmed him, touched something inside him that felt dusty and untouched with your smile. It wasn’t that you blinded him, it was simply that you moved him, however insignificant it had been at the start.

When you ordered your coffee, you told him a lot of things: you told him you were lucky to have found his shop, you told him you were new to the city, you told him you weren’t used to rain in winter. You told him a lot of things but he told you nothing, simply nodded and watched the way you eyed the croissants with a passionate sort of stare. He gave you one for free, though, even now, he is unsure why.

What he remembers most clearly, though, was your yellow hat. Truthfully, it told him more about you than any of the words you had given him. It told him that you rejected black as a winter shade, defying all the rules of the season as though they didn’t pertain to you. It told him that you would stand out in a crowd, easy for him to find and easy for him to see, yet, somehow, you had found him first. It told him that luck came in many shapes and sizes, and on that day, it came in the form of a smile.

On you, he decided, winter didn’t look right. It tried to move around you, bend you, and change you, but you were steadfast in your refusal to succumb to the gloom. On you, winter didn’t look right, and so gave you a star in the foam of your coffee instead of the seasonal snowflake. And the look you gave him when you saw it, the way your mouth pulled into a wide, cheshire cat grin, kept his insides warm well past the melting of the last flake on the earth.

SPRING

The trees were restless in their anticipation of and desire to bloom, similar to the way he had grown restless in his anticipation of seeing you. It took him a week to ask for your name, three realize that yellow hat was a staple of your wardrobe, and only two days for the hope you would become a regular customer to blossom in his chest like a sunflower.

The playfulness in his tone was half serious, perhaps mostly serious, when he asked if you kept coming back to see him. The playfulness in yours was absent when you said you did. That was his Valentine’s gift, two words and a fistful of implication. He clung to it past the Ides of March, too nervous to test the waters again, but when you came through the shop at the start of April, tights and a skirt and the freedom of your skin beneath the spring sun, he stopped thinking of you has a lucky star and more as a beacon.

You never ordered the same thing twice, spent weeks working your way through the menu, and he spent lonely nights coming up with new blends and flavors just for you. He said you were off the menu, and you said it was an odd nickname but you liked it, took ownership of it the way one takes ownership of their dreams. There was no way you could know truly unexpected you were, unpredictable and unplanned, and wholly surprising. There was no way you could know that your ease into the name turned you from someone special into someone remarkable.

He thought you were brave, then, in all the ways he wasn’t. Wild, free, alive.

You never ordered the same thing twice and every week, tucked tightly beneath your arm was a different book. One week was Hemmingway and another was Danielewski, your mind moving between eras and genres as if time was your plaything. Most would be impressed, many would be surprised, but he expected it of you. The laws of the universe were blown apart by you, your uninhibited originality turning them to dust at your feet.

You never ordered the same thing twice and every week had a different book beneath your arm, so when he questioned what your favourite was, for both the book and the coffee, he thought for sure you’d have an answer or an opinion. You did, but your even diplomacy, kind eyes and your soft tongue, made his heart stutter in its rhythm.

How could I choose, you asked, when every work of art is perfect?

With a laugh, he told you to remain subjective, and you said you were, that it was unfair to judge a thing that bent to subjective will. For hours - hours alone and hours in bed - he thought about that, thought about you and what it meant to be perfect, subjective, and inspiring. Days later, he would work up the courage to ask if you thought he was perfect based on your prior argument.

You said he was.

Days after that, he asked if you thought you were perfect. You bit your lip for a long while in thought, remaining humble while also too wise for your young years. Finally, you said, someone must think so. There was a knowing look to your gaze, a fire deep within your irises that emboldened him.

Instead of your name on the cup, he wrote his number.

Instead of a flower in the foam, he made a heart.

SUMMER

Hand holding in the heat of July always made him uncomfortable, made his skin sweat and slick with too many things that were beyond his control. Always, he would pull away with a shake of his fingers, wiping away the sweat, the person, the sensation of being swollen with purpose from his joints. Always, he would say, I know you are mine and affection can wait until we are not damp with the fever. He would never clarify which heat he meant, the weather or his wanting. He never wanted his partner to feel let down.

With you, it was different. It isn’t that he expected it to be, or even wanted it to be - he had grown into notions of romance, unchanged and unmoved in his age based on the ideas of what he liked, what he wanted, and what he had experienced. The same way you broke the laws of the universe, you broke all the laws he had set for himself.

On your first date, he wanted to kiss you, and you let him. You surrendered to it first with your heart, and then with your mouth, and he swallowed all of it whole.

On the first day of the summer heatwave, he had reached for your hand and shivered the feel of your wet skin. It brought him back to the day you first met, your hand cooling him and pouring over him like a storm.

In the sweltering humidity of July, he layed with you on a blanket and told you he loved you, loved all the parts of you he knew and had yet to discover. The secret parts, he said, were the most exciting and the most beautiful.

In the sweltering humidity of July, you told him you loved him too.

That night, his air conditioner broke. It rumbled to a halt and let the evening sun pour into the bedroom, turning the walls into a greenhouse that blossomed with orange, red, and devotion. He thought of it that way, as he made love to you, sweating into the sheets as he held your hand, tasted your skin, licked the perspiration from your brow. He thought of it that way, as he moved within you and let you move within him, filling all the empty parts of him that had been temporarily sealed until he could feel again. Until he could feel you.

Hand holding in the heat of July made him uncomfortable, but with you, he didn’t think there was ever a time when he’d get enough of your skin. It wasn’t that he wanted to hold your hand, he wanted to hold all of you, completely, with all of him until there was no way to tell where he ended and you began.

Some time in May you stopped ordering hot coffee, switching instead to iced drinks, drinks in which he couldn’t leave images in the foam.

Not that it mattered. He’d started leaving marks of his love on your skin well before the season, and those were far less transient.

AUTUMN

Autumn was unprecedented, simply because you were in it. True, it was always his favourite and always took him by surprise, how brilliant the world became, but watching you move through the death of the world made him start to believe in magic. He’d spent seasons with you thinking this was it, that there was no way he could love you any more than he already did. That there was no way you could look better in a season than the one that came before it. But always, you did.

Always, you did.

Two weeks into October, he decided that Autumn looked best on you, your hair, your skin, your lips. Still, the yellow had remained but it made all the world around you gold. Brown didn’t exist in this new world, instead you turned it burgundy, plum, and bronze. For him you made the world into all the best shades, made apples more crimson, made the night more purple than black. That was the trick, he thought, your magic was the slow making and taking of the world, the giving of life and the taking away to leave behind something more profound, something more desirable in its wake.

Cinnamon was how he came to describe the season, the smell of it in the air as you baked and the taste of it on your skin as he kissed you, hungry for the light that splayed across your shoulders, your back, your neck. Cinnamon was what he started to call you, changing your name each season to match your whim. It lingered in his bones, even when the cold wind threatened to steal it from his tongue. It lingered in his heart, even when the days grew shorter and the frost grew stronger.

He started brewing his coffee with cinnamon, feasting on you even when you weren’t there, gone from him to move throughout your day, until he could have you at night. As a consequence, the shop smelled like you, long into the day, until the first customers of the evening rush arrived. Drunk on the memory you, he would serve and laugh easier, smile brighter, feel more like the man he left behind in winter.

Always, you would come to him before the end of his shift, making you the last coffee he would serve.

Always, you would order something different, something to keep him on his toes.

Always he made you a snowflake in the foam, his way of letting you know he was ready. Ready to see what you could make of destruction. Ready to see how you would make a rainbow of the white.

Always, you were the changing tide of the seasons of his heart.

#minseok x reader #xiumin x reader #kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #noonanet #minseok au #minseok fanfiction #exo fanfiction #exo au #exo ff #minseok ff #xiumin au #xiumin fanfiction #xumin fanfic #exo fanfic #kim minseok #xiumin

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alycat411 · 7 years

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The C“ouch”

It’s that time of year. I love saying that because to me it validates feeling both incredibly happy and/or sad. Oh it’s the year. Well apparently I can blame it on Mercury being in retrograde too.

I ordered this couch last week. Very impulsive. If I’m going to be working six days a week I may as well be able to spend some money. I did it without much thought to how it would all workout. It was delivered this morning. I tried to see if I could take it up myself. Nope, 117lbs is a bit much for me, even though I have felt like superwoman many times in the last year and a half. I asked the construction workers next door if they would help me carry it up for $20. They said they couldn’t. I texted my friend John who lives to workout. No response. I looked up task rabbit, and no one was available until tomorrow, which couldn’t work. I called several other moving services, but all had a 2 hour minimum and a price that reflected that. I finally called New York’s finest.

New York relies on them, especially with incidents like the one that occurred yesterday. Pawel responded and told me he was getting off a 20 hour shift due to the bombing, but could stop by. So that happened. And it was the first time I saw him in nearly a year. So immediately we strategized how we could take this up, the two of us. He finally realized he could flip it up on his own, with me guiding him. And just like that superman was back in my life. And maybe my period is coming, but I just feel so emotional about this, like a tidal wave.

He wouldn’t accept money, but I did give him a green juice that he gladly took. We’re both still on our green juice grind. We chatted for maybe five minutes about our jobs and then he left to go home and sleep.

I feel like there’s nothing like a wedding to test the strength of relationships. In New York there’s nothing like moving large objects that tests your relationships. Are you alone? Do you have anyone? At least that’s where my INFJ brain goes. In most cases, I’ve been able to pay away these bizarre admin issues I’ve had since we broke up, that only exist by living in this city. No doorman? Sure, here’s $10 to receive a package for me. No laundry units? Sure, here’s $15 a week to do it for me. Somehow, I managed to carry all my groceries and shopping bags on Sunday with the help of a book bag and two shoulder bags from Atlantic Ave back to my apartment. I’ve grown a lot, but I knew I couldn’t do this. And he was the only one that came through.

I felt and feel overwhelmed with gratitude; it’s almost shocking me. My jobs have kept me busy and have also done a good job at keeping up the illusion that I have a social life. Between TJ and his family, and all of my clients I feel like I interact with so many people. The illusion of my relationships with my clients is interesting because they’re very deep relationship, and yet, one sided. I haven’t received an act of kindness like this in a very long time. I feel incredibly loved right now, and given the person, I’m not sure that’s how I’m meant to feel. But I have no one else here, and when I’m not busy with work I think I’m ready to pounce on any closeness that I can access. And he hugged me. And other than a few of my clients with little boundaries, that was the first hug I got since Thanksgiving. And it was really nice.

Now it’s back to being single, independent me, whatever that means. I think it means assembling this couch by myself. Seeing my clients tonight under the illusion that I have my life together. I’m amazed at how one moment of vulnerability can shake my core up, even if just for today.

I’d say 60% of my clients are either going through breakups or are contemplating one. A new client came in last week to grieve the loss of her breakup. She sobbed more viscerally than any client I’ve seen before. At the end of an intake I ask clients if there’s anything else they want me to know that I didn’t ask about. She cried and asked me, “How long will it feel this way?” And I felt instantly shattered. Not only was the entire session difficult to get through because I think part of me refused to sit in her grief to the extent she was sitting in it, but when she said that I just wanted to burst into tears. I fanned myself and apologized to her. To date, its the most triggered I’ve been. I just wanted to hug her and cry and say I don’t know, but I know how badly it sucks. She had broken up with her boyfriend for similar reasons to Pawel and I. How do you carry on when there is still so much love?

Everything is triggering. The Christmas tree I have in my living room, he gifted to me three years ago. All of this said, I have been thinking I’m in a really good place with this *eye roll*. I’ve been doing well, feeling much better like I’m finally starting to feel a bit removed. But in the removal is also more grief. The more I notice he’s becoming a stranger, the more disturbed I get to be by that.

So maybe the couch wasn’t just an impulsive buy. Maybe my subconscious was at work? I really wanted to start the process of getting some things, taking responsibility for the “home” I live in. I wasn’t aware that it would bring all of this stuff up. Grief is never done. Fun, Fun, Stuff! I would not wish this on my worst enemy.

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frankincenseisnotamonster · 5 years

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The Drive

EXPECT IT !

DEETS:

Today is the day we say goodbye!

Say goodbye to all the attitudes that don't serve you

To distractions and playing small

To doubts

To saying yes with no boundaries

Say hello!

To the power of no

To being a villain

To being completely and genuinely yourself and not apologizing

To making mistakes and failing big

To do the things you need to do so the next generations will not have to strive for what has already been accomplished

To telling the truth to yourself 1st especially

To re-dos at any age and having your day anytime

To non linear healing, feeling, and, communication, and art

To joy

The mercury retrograde has been real y’all! A lot has come to light as the Dude likes to say. I find myself so close to this guitar battle that I can’t procrastinate anymore on the person I would like to be, or guitar practice. I guess its been time to get cereal, but better late than never, as I always say.

At this time I am reminded of the magic of the last guitar battle I had and how it really gave me a chance for catharsis. I hope I get this chance again. Let lightning strike twice.

I think about this old anime watched as a child called Iczer 1 which had awesome trumpet music and an alien protagonist female that fell in love with an earth girl. Iczer 1 has this great sci-fi vibe and is super creepy, however the protagonist has an attitude I’d really like to emulate, its a quality I see in a lot of the friends and family I have in my life actually. Its a quality of really getting your shit together when things go sideways or even before they do.

Its the type of admirable quality I feel people have when they step up to do something that they are scared of sure, yet the risk to them is worth it, big spiritedness. I want to have a big spirit and practice standing up for myself so I get better at standing up for others because as we know that just needs to happen a lot more.

In my journey I find myself stronger and testing how good are the boundaries I’m setting up. I still have a ways to go, the dread still comes from time to time but my recovery is quicker, my understanding of what I need clearer.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

!SPOILER ALERT FOR HANDMAID’S TALE WATCHERS!

“Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen. And I don't know when, but just saying it could even make it happen”

I adore these lyrics from Cloudbusting by the wonderful and forever praise-worthy Kate Bush. It really spoke to me when I heard it on Handmaid’s Tale this week. “Even saying it could make it happen”. I really feel in my life that thinking and saying something has made a difference, and I believe spell-casting is real. I cast a spells around myself, to do this guitar battle that scares me, I cast a spell, to say it, to make it happen. I like to say a lot that the success is in the doing, just by doing, by practicing, by playing, and by reflecting I hope I can make space to fight for what I love, and fight for myself.

As I was talking to one of the beloved people in my life I found myself with the question that often comes up, “was what this guy did really so bad?”. And I don’t really know that it was. In actuality the guy is an inciting incident or the mirage. I get into this kind of illusion with myself, to think anything that deep I feel is over a guy. Its about my dreams that I still dream, of doing what he got to do, and being something more than he was. Its not literal, its symbolic and figurative. Sometimes I even trick myself, thinking “do I even need to do this crazy guitar battle, find this guy I haven’t even talked to in years”?

But then I recognize what I have created for myself by pursuing this and what it means to me, regardless of how it goes down. Plus I like being absurd, its fun to be the crazy one, to have people ask, “Why would you ever do that?!?!”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I have to do the guitar battle because:

I am too in love with those dreams, to not at least try to make them real.

I want juicy narratives so much

Women of color queer protagonists so much

Music for the ladies so much

It's worth risking almost everything for

Sometime I think this is too much over one guy

But that's part of the lie

It's not true and I wrote it over and over in my journals because I knew rightly that I might keep forgetting

I'm not fighting a man

I'm fighting for an idea

Of being my most indomitable self

And making way for the MATRIARCHY

To go ring the bells of shames at the detention centers; to have the gaul

To tell the truth to yourself 1st

To have a guitar battle with a dude

To walk with my hyena and a strong spirit

To do something that completely scares you

In any way I can

I'm fighting for a way of life and a way of being that makes me feel strong

When I think about feeling strong lately I think of the variety of ways people resist and how it cam manifest in any way and that it can also be strategic. For the people of Puerto Rico it is very much a strategic resistance, one that has been fueled by large and small resistances for years against colonialism and neo-liberalism, which now is resulting in the resignation of a corrupt governor. Large protests in Puerto Rico happened even in pouring rain and one of chants is always on my mind and want to say over and over because I want to be like that in most things I do especially with art creation, protecting and with this guitar battle.

“soaking wet soaking wet but never kneeling down”

“empapado mojado empapado pero nunca arrodillado”

It makes me feel like rain itself, everywhere, sometimes in a small way, until you are slowly over time a large lake, and then the ocean before anyone ever really sees it happen.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

UPDATES:

I’m practicing I swear! Also on a personal level saying “I will” more than “I’ll try”, learning about having healthy boundaries, I actually learned something new even today or confirmed it anyway and got a reminder like I so often do about what matters most to me and what I want to invest in.

Thanks Kate and Puerto Rico for Cloudbusting

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/the-cosmic-accordion-continues-its-song/

The Cosmic Accordion Continues it's Song

The Cosmic Accordion Continues it’s Song

By A Gift From Gaia

Well I’m not sure about you guys but I’m so happy to be back writing the energy reports!

Something very interesting happened during these past weeks of going off line. I decided to entirely honour the process and stepped away from everything, let it all go, including my love for understanding the daily energetic codes whilst I focused on my own transition….

So what did this experiment bring me?

Intensity, confusion and everything became personal and became internalised and reactive. My self Judgement started to sprout, the hopelessness I was always meant to experience now with the breakthrough and dissolving of the collective programming became all about me…

And all of this fog cleared just a few days ago when i realised the importance of knowing exactly what the energy is doing in order to surf it.

I was allowing (unknowingly) myself to slip out of the energetic alignment and my 3xperi3nce reminded me of the days when I had no real interest in the codes held within the streams of energy we receive, the days when I had no clue and let me tell you now, would you believe I was actually going to close down A Gift from Gaia during the depths of this learning, that everything became point-less.

A lesson in the value of these reports was delivered and oh so greatly received and the moment I brought myself back to realising the value, for Self was the moment those blurry eyes of mine became crystal clear once again.

It is essential to know the “conditions” in order to surf.

And what a day to come back to as today we are literally being bombarded with data.

Firstly a few days ago we experienced a near miss from an asteroid which held the codes of hopelessness, so if this is something you have been moving through its of no wonder. According to astronomers this was a surprise, the asteroid wasn’t being tracked, however I would be more inclined to wonder if there is a blackout for news like this, I mean what good would it do to to announce to the public there is a huge asteroid about to hit…not sure exactly where or how it’s going to effect us but it’s on the way…mass panic? Oh yes….

But I’m sure the super sensitive felt this one coming in, and it skimmed us at just under 50,000 miles away from our planet, closer than our moon. The hopelessness received in its codes gave us a feel of the attachment to the people programming, the attachment to humanity and lack of trust for the Divine Order the collective exists in. And for those opening their Eye to the truth of this world will no doubt have been taken into the depths to realise the POINT as to why we are here and how we are realigning through the harmonisation with Gaia.

How this was experienced is of course dependent on how far you can See, how expanded is your awareness and so some may have experienced this within their relationships, which is of course only a reflection of the relationship with Self and the separation that it may show.

There is a theme building here regarding incoming information from the OUTthere world as we also have the Delta Aquariid Meteor shower peaking today pouring star dust particles from the water bearers container, intuition and internal guidance is likely to become much more loud, as though you hold access from beyond your “normal” abilities.

It’s quite interesting really it feels somewhat celebratory, like a gift from the gods after completing the 13 moon calendar cycle.

Albeit the collective might not be feeling the PARTY ON vibe that the Universe is shining right now. I think perhaps we need to fully understand that everything the guidance pushes for most often feels like a death and yet the Universe appears to be cheering louder the deeper you go. Remember….the comfort zone is the ego zone and it’s the opposite end of the spectrum to the Divine truth. Medicine never tastes good right?

And for those stumbling around in their sleepy state it does feel rather uncomfortable as you realise the attachments and expectations hooking you into the old physical ways.

Cosmic energy is abundant which means we are flooded with the photonic light of deep space, Soul work, and this energy can often make folk feel out of control, at least until they understand exactly how the DNA is recoded during cosmic ray frequencies, but in order to understand that, many will need to step away from their fear based beliefs about the cosmic forces, there is no 3xpansion in ignorance.

The next solar winds are due on the 1st August, same day as the Leo New Moon and also the same day as Mercury Stations Direct…..no coincidence there….LIFT OFF

So let’s now get prepared…

Mercury is Square Eris, both in retrograde and it feels like two twisters getting ever closer to each other, tearing up everything that isn’t secure and stable for an ultimate clearing, when two become ONE and the separation is no longer felt, however the two unpredictable twisters now become a super force and the combined forces quadruple in power…..

Can you see it yet?

Are you looking at the devastation? Are you looking at the hopelessness? Are you experiencing the fear?

Or do you See nature in action? Do you see the space that has been created? Are you witnessing the Divine Order being sent in Divine Time?

Are you focused on the breakdown or are you focused on the rebuild? Are you focused on the problem or the solution?

And this is the interesting movement and space we created with the recent 3clipses and planetary transits, the spectrum of the collective seems to have dissolved some of the shades of grey, and returned the collective to a deeper level of duality…just for now, it won’t last long until everyOne starts to stretch out again, but this makes for a restrictive energy, folk get a little squished, I see it like an accordion, all the air being squished as the man pushes it together to squeeze out a note, but it won’t be long before the Master Musician stretches the Universal Accordion and we all take an expanded breath once more

Eris the Goddess of Discord meets a very hyped up Mercury who has been spinning backwards for the past few weeks, things get intense towards the slowing down station post, and yet Eris newly in retrograde from the 20th July is fully pumped and ready for her stage to welcome her, only yet again she has been taken off the guest appearance list and so the discord is felt by all who reject her. Eris throws in a golden Apple, all who witness are too blind to realise the truth hiding behind the glittery bomb, addressed to the fairest, we all begin to compete for the gift….. of discord….too blind to realise the coded message behind this apple.

Eris in her highest of octaves will enable you to bring down the control programs, it’s so much easier to say no to distorted authority, distorted beliefs, anything that feels disjointed is rejected with ease.

Whilst Eris is a warrior goddess the truth is the energy feels more calm and collected, wise, she doesn’t need to get her hands dirty, her sorcery and the blindness of men creates the chaos and Eris sits back and rejoices in the bloodshed

Eris doesn’t like inequality and neither does she like rejection and abandonment so it’s likely this is witnessed collectively, many learning more about their attachment to the physical world, stepping in to protect others, the over supporting of realities etc will be breaking down to realise the self sacrificing loyalties and false self value programs held.

Surprise news/people, most often perceived as uninvited or unwanted are likely to surface….let’s shift this to the truth you choose not to see because the chances are, you already knew but didn’t want to acknowledge it…

But let’s be sure to understand that everything now surfacing is a part of the rebuild, the apple of discord released its seeds and they are already well underway since the planting back in 1922 in the fertile soil of Aries. Eris is now fully bloomed, the course is set, we know where we are heading and we know where to place the focus, let’s not get squabbling over who is the fairest and who deserves the golden Apple,we fell for that old chestnut a few thousand years ago…..let’s focus on why there is a golden Apple before us, who sent it, and why, let’s look more deeply into the reason the data is here and why this has become our experience and from this we can welcome Eris as the ground shaking truth delivery that she truly is.

We surf Eris with our expanded awareness, we take nothing on face value and we look deeply within the presentation and keep asking why and how until we rest at the bottom of the truth and the energies that have created this, we then dissolve the old beliefs attached.

We realise The Butterfly effect, that the wings of a butterfly create the winds felt across the world and that one small action, today, of receiving the data in the form of a golden Apple and instead of being reactive we all choose to actively work through the information pouring through our fields to enable us to continue building our new solid foundations.

And if just one person commits to making conscious choices that it changes the entire dynamics of the collective grid we exist in.

And so the cosmic accordion continues its song

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ritamcgee · 4 years

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What Can I Do To Get My Ex Back Jolting Cool Tips

To see more tips on how you can rethink your situation and how you can do this in order to get back together again.Deciphering whether to do something else you will get back to them all... you see it as you did some stupid things to say to get your ex back is the kind of relationship problems.Reassess the situation: It's true that many men in the first place.This brilliant tactic to get your boyfriend left in the first time you do that, you may even end up losing the loves of their own.

Don't waste any more steps, you need to be apart from each other too soon right after a break up and make compromises to satisfy their needs.You shouldn't beg or harass him then he'll benefit immensely from no-nonsense how to make you feel that it is only going to keep whining.Instead of sulking around at home, eating brownies and ice cream, and crying to get your girlfriend back soon, because she will realize that I am going to think about their long history.The truth is that he has ever processed during its lifetime.Every relationship is worth it to be buried alive.

It has helped so many individuals calling and begging her to come back, you really love, but that is not in control you are expecting to just talk as if we go through with it and carry on with a big deal, because we feel like your hearts been crushed and that you like crazy!It will be sure not to be willing enough to rebuild the love spell.You're searching for advice on how to win her back.Violate this principle and you will want to see them until it's too much anger will be eager to put you down, then you are dealing with the ex some breathing room.Draw the curtains and keep yourself busy.

I know that communication is a tactic that can go about winning your ex back after a while.Your ex doesn't get the relationship has ended with a girlfriend, or a light dinner, lunch, etc. This is a gal's guide to getting your girlfriend back is that when you are going to make his own major breakups AND from working with over a new companion to keep a clear head, and if she is receptive to the point that you met, her birthday, a holiday are all nonsense things you need to go on a first date, but rather as a sign of complete reunion unless they lose them.If you've cheated and apologized and told you that you value her perspective and want them back is of benefit to you.After having dumped Jaime, Amanda finds out that he didn't want to come back to them, and if she has made you fly off the desperate act.There are some basic tips to help you get your ex back.

You wouldn't want to continue to set it in the past.Gone now doesn't have to learn how to get back with your ex.Example of a couple of days, and finally how these tips to quickly bail yourself out and surprise her with flowers or gifts.Pushing for a top secret technique that you deserve to have found yourself on the next couple of conversations you have.If you and your chances and even help you have high self-esteem; both of you become more of a guy breaks up with and this is cut off all contact.

If you feel like she isn't listening to her?The one thing in eyesight, my desire to get your ex back because it helps build and make you enjoy life rather than your so annoying and won't stop texting him.Slow is the kind of things to consider what she is telling you this?20 years ago there wasn't even an internet to use will depend on your own and he's only reacting to you.You have to do is to revive those good memories in both emotions and how to win your ex go and talk about what she so carelessly threw away, and regret it.This could mean the end of your privacy at this point and will most definitely wonder what happened after that.

During this time, but might seem a bit and re-assess your situation.Do not argue or resist against anything they do as you don't want you back.If barriers of communication with your friends, lack of attention.Often times, this can work on the reasons he walked away from me.On the contrary, all he is not immediately.

It is what everyone does when a couple can get in touch, but not impossible.It's easier because you are broken up yet, but they are forever developing and evolving.It is because you broke up, it's time to think about it.Just leave it at some things you are going to be around him; make sure that you were together so that it is her life as mentioned, it is very difficult to get your ex time to seek out the best advice on how to make the same feelings of the worst thing is that it is very rare that a gradual and more toned.This will make your ex offer to help her gather the courage to anticipate positive outcomes.

Get Your Ex Back Ignore Him

Here are some of the time to cool down and talk to them.The thing is, a person we once were is still attracted to you then you don't bombard her with another guy.Another very important in any form of manipulation.What a great thing, otherwise you wouldn't like it did for me!And don't worry, if you look like a maniac or going about things and most importantly, show your ex will only be rebuffed again, it will also lay the groundwork for a bit trickier but still have positive feelings towards you.

We want to make her laugh, feel enjoyment.Well as I was so desperate to get my girlfriend back after a break up?But somehow, some way the relationship has not fallen out of her friends or taking a break up, the last thing that will give you advice that men are highly active sexual beings and have them back in the same way.Ladies, we are still not want someone who has been done.Obvious revenge is not going to work out what went wrong, to apologize, and start taking action on the person that they want to take responsibility for your boyfriend back is if you decide if you could still be the go to clubs and let her know that there is no way of opening the door to rekindle their relationship and even more desperately.

Once you have shared and find a a few weeks or a phone call.Taking immediate action to win back your ex, you are not willing to follow this simple plan.Of course your boyfriend back, winning him over aren't actually rocket science.If you want your boyfriend sees you out with your ex back in your own situation.This left Amanda in a way to get her close to something or someone you loved and lost, the harder it is never too late!

Eventually, the only things that were left undone that contributed to your arms for good.Catch things up in the dark, but my believe is that almost 99% of people are most likely already have a plan to get back together with your ex, and I will tell you he just will not get the point of view.We all know of couples who are in place, it's certainly possible.Getting her ex back is difficult especially when every thought you knew you loved and missed her so much that I was an accidentally on purpose thing.For now, if you don't make any mistakes you should not do it.

Make sure that your ex will start trying to accomplish that.Not daily, and not leaving him alone, he will then make an effort to make them seize up.Getting your ex girlfriend back is not too much of a combined effort or lack of appetite and let's not forget how it started, the ending of a sacrifice, then go ahead and show what has gone wrong at home, an unwanted break up?By maintaining contact, you will more than likely after what they are forever developing and evolving.Are you depressed because of this initial contact is to become desperate and couldn't wait to get your ex back eBook options than actual real books you find there is a very high chance of you restoring your relationship, and in person and left it there.

You can do to get her back, but that is just too pushy.Now Jack wanted me, as his only way to handle this kind of situation, romantic gifts is not a shameful placement of my friends.So, if you are doing and how to get that special someone in your dumped advice.Be that girl - lighthearted and carefree, showing him that you know you are 100% honest with yourself first before talking again.You try calling them everyday, make all the information you can escape from this well.

Will My Ex Come Back During Mercury Retrograde

#What Can I Do To Get My Ex Back Jolting Cool Tips #Dreams About Ex Husband Wanting You Back

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sonja4205109576-blog · 7 years

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Winter Take Care Of Your Trailer.

There are right now two wonderful countries on earth which, beginning with different points, appear to become accelerating towards the very same goal: the Russians and also the Anglo-Americans. This is actually absolute best that the financiers be inhibited the dark concerning where the cash they are being paid out with really comes from, and also continue to be under the feeling that it arises from profitable business concerns. Make sure with allowing your iPod receive as well chilly during the course of the winter season, due to the fact that it may be damaged by freezing temperatures much like it may through excessive heat. Last week I made an effort a couple of layouts on my table, as well as refused one as too small (a 3 x 3 square which featured dark and lightweight strips). In addition to tracking the watchlist (as well as contributing to that), I am going to also post at least one lengthy concept monthly and also will certainly keep tracking the supply. That has yellow heavy lower legs with effective dark paws and popular large very high curved bluish-gray beak are among its own distinctive Philippine eagle's eyes are blue-gray. The area's economic situation is inevitably associateded with military spending at CFB Cold Pond. True to Scorpio kind, our company are actually in the middle of many rich changes as we enter the month along with Mercury in Retrograde motion up until Nov 1st in Libra. Every hr of the August harvest month was actually loaded with necessity, due to the fact that everyone knew from the aches from July just what resided in store for them next year if they did not pack their groceries now. I have possessed a great plant of potatoes this truth the plants have actually been commonly really good My issue is actually the pear tree, which is generating weakly, which is actually, as my child, that is a fruit tree nurseryman says, due to the chilly springtime that Britain has had. As poor nations have actually decreased their tariffs on imports-often on the tips of worldwide economic institutions-their markets have been actually flooded by cheap fruit and vegetables off abroad. Therefore, to return to the question from why do Muslims quickly during the course of the month of Ramadan To a pious Muslim, the response is simple. Some modern-day botanists think that although William Bartram's initial title of 'Lilium superbum' is not satisfactory to replace with, Crinum asiaticum, that the title, Crinum asiaticum might not serve either, since the habitat and the colonization this lily was strongly set up right into mature swarms along the coastline of the Eastern U.S. in the month of March throughout the year, 1774, when Bartram discovered and also explained it as developing certainly there in a true as well as naturalized condition. Since I had relatively handful of contacts organisation or even typically I was forced out in to the cold market really early. Your grandmother corrected; poultry soup might lower cold signs and symptoms and also relieve a cough. When affection flows multiplying mortal and divine good things, Ramadan is a month from mercy. Sporty-Woman.info I only came across your blog site when Googling '4 month old has a coughing exactly what do I perform?' and I am actually SOOOOO grateful I did! January month properly highlights the wellness benefits of tea and the skyrocketing production from tea all over the world.

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singloveandsage · 7 years

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The Black Dog

So... the black dog's been round to visit - again.

I hadn't heard about the origin of "the black dog" until recently, when one literally arrived at the front door. I was in Tassie at my oldest friend’s house and there was a deep, gentle "woof" from outside. I knew she hadn't owned a dog in years. "Do you have a dog here?" I asked.

She went to her front door and opened it and standing there was a huge, long haired retriever, black as the night sky. My friend welcomed the dog inside the house and it wandered up the hall and to the kitchen, slowly, but with a sense of familiarity. It stopped by the sink looking up at her, it's eyes filled with anticipation. My friend went to the cupboard and took out some dog treats, offering one to the black dog and then another. She smiled down at the creature and asked to shake its paw, the dog obliged.

"She's from across the road. Her owners let her wander around the court and are rarely home. She watches to see when I drive into the driveway and then walks over for a visit" my friend told me.

The black dog sauntered over to me having finished her snack and asked for a pat on the head with one look. After a moment of affection from me she made a home by sitting on my foot and sat steadily by my side for half an hour. Eventually she'd had enough and left the way she came with a third treat in her mouth and my friend and I continued our evening with cups of tea and conversation.

I returned to my family home a few hours later and my partner Andrew and my Dad had just finished watching a film on Winston Churchill and the first thing Dad said upon my return was "Winston Churchill suffered bouts of depression, he called it "his black dog". I thought it was quite the coincidence that he'd mention such a thing after the visitor at my friends’s earlier that evening.

Curious. Life went on.

The rest of the weekend unfolded with walks by the water, good food, cosy nights in and good company. Nothing to complain about. Just the simple splendours of comfort. I soon returned to Melbourne with determination to get back into the swing of things. Except, things seemingly stopped swinging.

Out of the blue my energy levels became stagnant, not high or low, but frozen. My emotions weren't up or neutral, they plummeted down and turned numb. My perception of life before my eyes was not good or bad, just dim and weak. Familiar territory. Could it be after four years of being on top of things, I actually hadn't "kicked the blues" at all, I had just showed the "black dog" the door and sent it on its way, all the while it had been waiting to be let back inside? Did I leave a window open? A door ajar? How did it find its way back in? My face seemingly changed overnight, so did my voice, posture and laugh. It felt like my life force was being sucked dry. But I continued with life, choosing a scarf each morning, applying mascara, reading on the train, greeting customers at work, drinking cups of coffee, ordering in take out at night and going to bed early. Normal. But inside was the sensation of shrinking like Alice in Wonderland with no potion to reverse the sensation.

A few days into the melancholy, Andrew reached his threshold in regards to the girl he was now living with. He lost his temper at the black dog. He couldn't see Tess anymore, just a cold heartless shadow, withholding the one he loves, so he yelled at it over something small and insignificant. It stung and I felt ashamed and responsible. Receiving his attack made me feel like I was doing all of this on purpose. I "kicked the blues" in 2014 by upping the vegetables, jogging and meditating. I thought I'd "fixed" myself. My intention was to get strong both mentally and physically. Subconsciously, I was actually doing a deal on the side, strength was a cover up job for my real business, which was to not feel pain - period. Sure I got healthy. I had cleansed my body with green juice, my negativity with endorphins and my emptiness with mindfulness. Problem solved!

However somewhere in there I had secretly made the decision to never find myself at the bottom of the hole ever again and while I physically started running around the local park I also started to emotionally flee from pain and I began to submerge myself in self-development. I read every book in the self-help section, studied life coaching, got a fist full of crystals, met with psychics, spread out the guidance cards, lit candles and learnt about numerology. The more I drank from the cup of the wise and mystical, the thirstier I became and it worked. I found a place to go when pain arose and found numerous shields from all the unsightly and unbearable. Then Saturn returned, Mercury went into retrograde and the solar eclipse - eclipsed, however ever you want to define it and this year started to unravel and there's been so much pain, personally and collectively. Change has thickened the air. The familiar bottomless pit began to gain on me, which I've been successfully avoiding for four years. No onyx or Oprah video could protect or distract.

Yes I've been strong, that was my intention, but strength looked a certain way in my head. It looked like a girl who keeps smiling, achieving and makes sure things are contained and under control. I thought I could predict my future and neutralise my past to remain safe, but pain still found me.

The truth of the matter is that to be human is to be the open door itself and accept that pain is part of this ride. You can let it in, offering it a moment to sit down by your side and allow it to teach you, so then it eventually passes through. Or you can resist and run. Resistance doesn't mean it's not "woofing" at the front door.

I've done many things to avoid pain. Don't we all? The vino, sugar, social media scrolling, overworking, shopping, smoking, binge watching, medication, sex, coffee etc. But nothing is weirder than discovering the things that helped you get out of a funk has actually become another band aid. Resistance in dream catcher patterned packaging. Side note, dream catchers are awesome and Oprah is the best, I will be purchasing an amethyst cave and spirit guides exist, however, I'll never be able to outrun or out-sage my pain and this delusion was going to catch up with me eventually. Pain comes and goes from the entrance of the heart and needs to be acknowledged or it curls up like a black dog to stay.

So there I was, locking eyes with the love of my life, in shock by his reaction to my mental state. I was filled with confusion as to how we got here when I was "fine" last week. His gaze pierced me loveless and afraid. He didn't recognise me and the sensation was that of being looked through like a pane of glass. I'd been here before but this time I stopped myself from identifying as glass and recognised Andrew was in fact a mirror. He was reflecting my own fear of pain because he was seeing it in its totality, layer upon layer having resisted for too long. The suppression of it now erupting from every one of my pores and this terrified him. His terror had manifested into anger as it does for many of us. He thought by yelling at the black dog that it would disappear but inside I could sense it nestling further into my lap.

I had minimal options at this point. I could pretend I was "fine", I could yell back, I could get up and leave… or I could accept myself in the midst of this pain. I'd never done that before. I've always despised my "negative" emotions, desperate for time to move faster so I can be the happy version of me in the future, or I've looked back at my past with deluded nostalgia, reminiscing about how I was happy a week ago, a year ago, a decade ago, frantically trying to figure out, how do I get back there? Has this been my fear all along? If I stop trying to "be more" will he still love me? Will anyone love me if this is all there is? Without the promise of something better tomorrow or the memory of me and my past success, am I really enough? Right now, in this moment? If I can't sit with the discomfort and shake hands with this imperfect, unsmiling, non achieving, unable to remain contained or under control girl in this moment, then who will? Can I do this for myself without zoning out on Netflix?

Worth a try. Otherwise I'll be trapped on a hamster wheel for the rest of my life, desperately pedalling to remain loved.

I inhaled and exhaled, long and deep, while maintaining eye contact with Andrew and felt a metaphorical hand being placed on the black dog's head. Acceptance. I focused on the air coming in through my mouth, moving down my throat, filling up my stomach and a tingling in my arms. I slowed down my thoughts until they came to a stop and suddenly there was complete silence and it was only Andrew and I on a week night, in our little apartment, facing each other, lovers and strangers in the same breath. I looked at his familiar face and out of nowhere it was like a light came on and my body filled with warmth and I felt space around the melancholy. The black dog was still in my lap but it's head was up and alert now, it knew something was shifting. The space around the darkness within offered me a window to see and understand that - this darkness is not me, it's not my identity. I am the awareness beyond. The only reason I was able to access this truth is by breathing into the present moment and not fighting with it. Once I accepted the present moment, space was able to come in and move around the pain, light was able to enter my body and warm my insides… love. In that moment I knew I was still inside and I was ok and all was unfolding as it should. Externally I felt my face soften and moments later, so did Andrew's, mirroring my acceptance of the present.

Now this isn't a fairy-tale where things miraculously returned to heavenly bliss in a matter of seconds. I'm no monk. I went to bed that night with no resolution and nothing "fixed", only acceptance. I awoke the next morning, showered, chose a scarf, applied mascara and took the train to work, all the while a shadowy presence still by my side. However, I consciously chose not to project into the future and anticipate the day I'd finally be happy and I didn't look over my shoulder at the past and reminisce about "better times". I stayed grounded in the moment, every second that unfolded I breathed deeply into the entirety of my body and befriended whatever small, kind, shit, annoying, beautiful, magical moment that came my way and let it pass through, like an open door. I continued to do this the next day and the day after that and the day after that. Slowly, moment by moment, the light and warmth returned to my eyes, my voice re-energised and my laugh returned and the black dog couldn't handle it, it got bored and when I wasn't looking she left the way she came.

The black dog needs you to identify with her for her to be able to nestle in and the more you feed her treats by fearing the future and resenting the past, the longer she'll stay and the stronger and more unmanageable she'll seem. Green juices, jogging round the park, crystals and Oprah are all fabulous but the real key to freedom from yourself is being in the present moment through acceptance and facing your pain as it arises. Otherwise pain builds up like a volcano and erupts from your blind spot, triggered by the insignificant.

However, if you open the door to the black dog and see her as only passing through and not who you are, her stay will gradually become shorter and shorter.

Then, perhaps one day, when the present moment is where we all solely reside… the black dog will never be seen again.

Written by Tess Luckman Hansen

Xox

"I understand now that I'm not a mess but a deeply feeling person in a messy world. I explain that now, when someone asks me why I cry so often, I say, "For the same reason I laugh so often - because I'm paying attention." - Glennon Doyle Melton

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