#I had way too many thoughts about self harm and suicide the last few hours and as soon as I spoke a bit about this stuff to my mother I

[morningmask27]

I am tired, I want to sleep, but I don't want to go to sleep; today has been a shit day and I know I will break into tears as soon as I don't have distractions keeping me at bay

[aleksanderscult]

Analyzing "Demon in the Wood" (book) - Part 5

(Part 1, part 2, part 3 and part 4)

(TW: self-harm!, suicide!)

Did you think I had forgotten about this meta?

ABSOLUTELY NOT

I was just dealing with a small health issue and before that I didn't have the motivation.

But now my meta-analyzing-self has returned with the fifth and last part of the book.

This is the passage from the book that actually made me think "What if Aleksander himself started sleeping less and less as an adult?". He "adopted" so many things from Baghra. It's possible that he did this too. Sleeping very few hours at night and always ready to leap at the first sign of danger.

Also, not Eryk not wanting to get smacked from his mom if she catches him. 😭

“It’s not enough.” His voice made me jump. The Darkling emerged from the shadows onto the lamplit path.

He really can startle people with his silent movements.

And the fact that he has been trained by hunters!

So he has learned from hunters, seers, Kings, Saints. Through all these four hundred years he gained an enormous amount of knowledge. (I would honestly sit and listen to his experiences for free)

HE'S TOO CUTE I JUST--

He really preferred to get interrogated by his mother for his wet clothes than get naked in front of a girl. 😭🫶

We went from this "He felt too shy to remove everything."

To this "His hand slid down to my hip. I felt a little trill of panic as my skirt slid higher and his fingers closed on my bare thigh."

They grow up so fast. 🥹🥹

It's that beautiful realization that he acts like a kid that makes me happy. All giggling and smiling while playing and swimming. This is the life he was supposed to live and he knows it.

He's so happy and hopeful that he starts making plans! 😭

He just wants to stay somewhere.

The Darkling never hated the otkazat'sya. It wasn't hate he felt but (overtime) he just only came to know their nature.

Eryk really liked Sylvi and thought her a good company to have her around.

He was aware of the way men looked at his mother.

I'm sorry but I find this line kind of awkward. It may only be just me. But little Aleksander seeing men giving lustful looks to Baghra is a little awkward. Like, man, not in front of her son. 😭

It was one more weapon in her arsenal.

Actually an anon once sent me an ask saying that the Darkling was promiscuous on his earlier days out of his need for touch and to gain information.

At that time I said that I doubted it since he had other means to gain information (through his spies, his natural charisma etc.) but @stromuprisahat discussed this in the comments and now I agree with her that Aleksander would sleep with someone to gain information. And, in the end, it was this line that fully convinced me. Just like I've said previously, Aleksander mimics his mother in almost everything. He just copies her behavior and patterns. And that's one more pattern that he must have copied. If he didn't have any other choice and was desperate (also it would depend on the person he had in front of him) Aleksander would go in "flirt mode" to get what he wants. Seduction was one weapon out of the hundreds in his arsenal, ready to be used if necessary.

Well hello socially awkward Aleksander.

That might be my hot take for him I think. Aleksander Morozova was actually socially awkward in sensitive matters (this moment right here, revealing to Ulla that they're siblings, his first kiss with Alina).

He was never raised in a stable home, never had healthy friendships and was raised by his mother very strictly and to value power over love. So whatever compassion he had as a person, he had it out of his own character. He was born with it and not nurtured to feel it or have it.

He doesn't know if this question about her mother is appropriate because he normally doesn't have conversations with peers and hasn't learned to.

It's a very sad but true fact about his character.

Eryk: "Thanks mom for nothing I guess".

I don't think people realize how cut off Aleksander was from literally everyone. And it was Baghra that cut him off. Not one single word about his father like she created him by herself or something.

(Now I also remembered how Alina was the only other person Aleksander could bond and be with since she was immortal too but Baghra took that from him as well. That woman really said "You'll have no one but me")

now I'm angry

He really really tries.

I've analyzed this moment a bit here but basically Aleksander was very awkward with others showing a vulnerable side. He isn't used to being close with others since he constantly travels, so here he does his best to comfort Annika as she lays bare her thoughts and feelings. He wants to let her know that her father didn't fail but did his best to protect his remaining family.

Hell nah!! 😭😭

Not my boy being protective over his new friend 😭😭

He only knows her for a few hours and he feels already close to her.

This shatters my heart because he doesn't want to believe the truth. He doesn't want to face it in the beginning. He's like "Oh. Maybe we're playing". He doesn't want to know that his friend has turned against him.

*tears up*

Can you hear me crying in the background? 🙂

He was so ready to protect her against a boy taller and stronger than him. Because they're friends. Friends are supposed to stick together.

*I'm ready to cry*

He's still in denial. 😭

And seeing the difference between this young Aleksander to his older version. The young one being naive, innocent and weak because he lets his emotions get the better of him. While the older one never begged for anything (at least directly), shed that side of him and still died because he still wanted things.

THE STRATEGIC BABY GRISHA IS HERE!!

He cleared his head and started thinking of ways to get out. And what better way of escaping than making Annika and Lev fight each other?

I personally think he said that line for two reasons:

He wanted Lev to know what he is in order to make him come over, break the ice and even stop Annika so he could buy himself some time and escape.

It's very interesting that he said "you won't be able to push her or her sister around anymore". He could have said "When Annika wears my bone she'll be more powerful than you" but he brought up Annika's vulnerable position and that shows that he understands why Annika does this.

But still he won't sit and let her finish the job.

His determination is the one quality that admire in him the most.

Take this moment for example. Someone just hit his head with a rock and he focuses on staying awake and alive. He doesn't allow his own body to take him down.

And here the same thing happens:

He's ready to vomit and pass out but he just forces his body to do more, to escape and survive. He never lets anything deter him from what he wants. And apparently it was Baghra that made him this way too:

She nurtured his strong will and over the years he became a driven, focused and determined person. And it were these qualities that kept him alive all those centuries.

When Alina left him behind on the Fold he survived and kept going.

When Sturmhond left him with a broken ship, a wounded arm and in the middle of nowhere, he survived and kept going.

When Alina betrayed him and brought a building down on his face, he survived, took the throne and rose again.

When his mother committed suicide, he cleared his head and continued his war.

When he came back from the dead, he still continued the march towards his ambition.

Literally nothing could stop him. Even "when he wasn't so sure he wanted to go on" he put his one foot in front of the other and set his eyes towards his dream. Whether that was to provide the Grisha a safe home, or the Ravkans a safe country or himself a companion to have. Or all of it together.

It was enough to make him less a boy than a prize.

A sad existence to live. Especially in your childhood. Your own people seeing you as a trophy to have, to wear and use than a human with a life of his own.

He revealed his gift to Annika when he showed kindness to her and now he pays the price.

His relationship with his mother is one of the most (if not the most) pivotal aspects of his character. Her words and teachings have been implanted deep inside him and can hear her often in his mind (just like he did in RoW).

Did he also hear her voice whenever he was close to dying in his adulthood?

He lashed out of fury, desperation and sadness for everything that happened that day. Just when he thought he had it all, fate came and took them out of his hands along with his hope.

Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.

He succeeded in that. The Little Palace is the greatest proof and people talked about him long after he was gone (and they'll continue to do so).

As a child he saw how Grisha came and went from this world without "touching" anything. He didn't want the same thing to happen to him. He wanted to make something.

(Also the fact that he dropped that iconic, serious line at the age of thirteen. The Darkling at thirteen "I want to make something grand before I die". Me at thirteen: *watching Shakira clips and failing school like nobody's business* 😭😭)

I don't think most of us understand that Aleksander literally self-harmed himself to survive and save his mother's life as well. Used his own power against him to make sure that they won't be burned alive for what he did.

For the Ulle to be so sure that nothing would happen at their camp makes me think that they were being established successfully there for a long time. But that surety and protection faded because of his own people who are so desperate to gain power in order to survive. It's not a matter of selfishness. I don't see it that way. But it's a matter of survival especially since the Grisha are a group of persecuted people that are hunted down for their powers, feared and shunned.

Whether you believe it or not, I've seen people say that Aleksander didn't regret the fact that he was responsible for the burning of that village.

*screaming in frustration*

So. I'll repeat that it wasn't an act of selfishness but a matter of survival. It's not a black and white situation. If Aleksander had said the truth he would be executed alongside his mother for what he did. And the other Grisha wouldn't hesitate to do it since they already feared Baghra. And what people fear, they destroy.

Aleksander opted to cut his leg deep with his own powers, lose unconsciousness and tell a fake story to save his mother and leave from that settlement in one piece. But he didn't take pleasure from it. He wasn't glad when Lev and Annika died and felt sorry for their parents and their reaction. And now he feels sorry for the burning of the village. He knew they were innocent and he supposed they were going to interrogate them or something. But kill all of them? That he neither expected or wanted.

Look. I think Baghra loved her son. But let's be honest. If he wasn't so powerful, if he wasn't immortal he would cast him away the same way she did with his siblings. Sooo....yeah. It's a toxic kind of love. She loves him for what he can offer her (companionship mostly) so it's not an unconditional love. She mostly wanted to keep him safe because, if he died, she would be left with no one.

Bardugo in a podcast called her "a horrible, horrible mother" and she is. But I still find her a fascinating character that I can't get enough of for some reason. I don't like her but I find her interesting.

Honestly, me neither. Annika was not my favorite character in this story but I don't hate her for trying to kill him. She wanted to protect her family and their position in the camp. It's a bleak world for the Grisha and they have to "eat" each other to survive.

Aleksander really said: "I will make my people matter. I'll make them touch this world and make themselves known. We will be seen".

All the Grisha characters that were trained in the Little Palace owe their reputation to the Darkling. Alina would never know who she was and, even if she did, she would waste because she would be unable to use her powers without someone to guide her. Zoya would never achieve that reputation.

Grisha would just continue to live in caves and hidden establishments. Afraid to go out and show their powers to strangers.

By S&B the Grisha were still despised but there was a minority that held them in awe. But that did nothing to change the situation. Now they are seen but used by the Crown. It was the only place they could have in the kingdom.

It rose from the trees surrounding it like something carved from an enchanted forest, a cluster of dark wood walls and golden domes. As we drew closer, I saw that every inch of it was covered in intricate carvings of birds and flowers, twisting vines, and magical beasts.

“Welcome to the Little Palace,” said the Darkling.

He did it. The crazy son of a bitch did it. 🥹🥹

He managed to create a safe home for them. Made sure for them to be surrounded by other people like them, sitting in front of a warm hearth, in unity not in conflict with each other. Somewhere to rest their heads under the gorgeous carvings of vines and birds. A place to practice their powers freely and eat luxuriously. Somewhere to come back to, like all of us do when we want to go home. Somewhere to belong and somewhere to stay.

(fuck you Tolya for what you said in that duology. Fuck you and everyone who talks shit about Aleksander's greatest accomplishment)

That was the end of the book and I absolutely loved that story. I need 20 more novellas like this from the perspective of the Darkling from his earlier adventures. I'll analyze the Graphic Novel next.

[stp-au-wthnig]

Well, This Happens Next, I Guess

Chapter 6: A Curious, Convenient Coincidence

Sorry for taking so long to even start this, had a lot weighing on me. Hope you like dialogue-heavy stuff.

content warning: self-harm implications, dialogue relating to a canon chapter, suicide mention

"And... done."

Skeptic had just finished the last part of his article for the newspaper. He'd been up late into the night writing it.

He stared out the window. It was extremely late. Everyone else was asleep by now, and he was starting to get hungry. He did have a bad habit of forgetting to eat while he was working.

He then remembered something. The convenience store near the park was open 24 hours. Getting something from there would be better than attempting to cook for himself, as he admittedly was not very good.

"Shouldn't take too long." He said to himself as he started to head out.

---

The convenience store was devoid of customers at this time. The only other person there was the bored-looking clerk. As Skeptic put a couple of microwave ready meals and snacks into his basket, he glanced over at the clerk.

He couldn't see her face from how she was positioned, but she looked familiar somehow.

He made his way over to pay for his stuff. After she was done scanning them, she raised her head and spoke.

"How will you be paying?"

Skeptic froze. He could see her face now. It was dull and expressionless, and her voice had a similarly flat tone.

But there was no doubt about it. It was her. The prisoner that he helped to rescue back in the construct.

There were small differences. Her shackles were replaced with a choker and wristbands. Her hair was cut shorter.

But more concerningly, she looked much more tired. Even moreso than she looked back then.

"Sir?"

She snapped him out of his thoughts, and he replied.

"I'll pay by card, thank you."

He scanned his card, and was about to leave satisfied with the knowledge of her existence, but she spoke to him again.

"You've been here before. You and that other person."

Skeptic was surprised she wanted to speak to him. She didn't seem like the chatty type. More surprisingly, he was surprised that she was there when he and Hero went there before.

"Yeah, he was low on food so I took him here." Skeptic explained.

"That's unusual." The Prisoner spoke. "I don't usually remember who comes in here. But something about you and him was... different."

So she doesn't remember the events of the construct. But enough of it has shaped her that she finds him and Hero notable. Skeptic became more and more curious.

"I'm curious. Have we met before?" The Prisoner asked.

Skeptic wasn't sure he should tell her the full truth. It's not like she'd believe him in this state.

"I think we might have, some time ago. It's a bit of a long story, though." Skeptic carefully answered.

The Prisoner looked at Skeptic, her face scanning him, before relaxing a little.

"Must've happened a long time ago." She responded, more monotone than usual. Seems she has a feeling he's not telling the full story on purpose.

But why is she playing along?

The conversation abruptly ended there, and Skeptic returned home with his food.

---

After a few days, Skeptic's curiosity got the better of him and he headed to that convenience store again. Sure enough, she was still there, looking just the same as she did before.

That was concerning. It was the middle of the day and she looked just as tired.

"What sort of shifts do you work here anyway? Last time I saw you, it was the middle of the night."

Prisoner paused for a moment before answering.

"I'm here whenever nobody else can be. Not by choice, mind you, it just can't be helped."

That explained it. No wonder she looked so tired all the time.

"How many others work here?" Skeptic asked. "If you're allowed to say, that is."

Prisoner looked down.

"Just me and two others. We used to have a lot more, but they quit."

Skeptic sighed. Clearly this store didn't have the best management.

"And you can't quit because of how little staff there are here, right?"

Prisoner didn't respond, but it was clear her silence was to be taken as a yes.

Even in this life, she was a prisoner by nature. Even if it wasn't in the same way.

Skeptic didn't want to bother her anymore, and he got back to the apartments to talk to the one other person he knew he could.

---

"And that's what happened with her." Skeptic finished explaining this whole thing to Hero.

"That's... I can't believe it... she's clearly hurting and just standing there and taking it?" Hero asked.

"I wouldn't say that. I noticed every time I saw her she had a choker and two wristbands, one on each hand." Skeptic said. "I have the feeling she's hiding something underneath them."

Hero thought for a second, and then looked alarmed. "You're not telling me she..."

Skeptic nodded. "In the construct, she didn't hesitate to cut her own head off to escape. If she does that in this world, it won't be the good kind of escape."

Hero began to cry. He may have been nervous around her, but he'd never wish for her to kill herself.

"I know. I'm scared too. But we can't just sit back and do nothing. We have to stop this from happening. We have to figure out a way to save her." Skeptic said calmly.

There was no way he was going to let her fall into despair. He had to save her.

---

The following day, Prisoner wasn't seen in the convenience store at all.

Skeptic looked and asked around but there was no trace of her.

He felt every inch of his body burn and freeze as he grew more and more desperate.

"Prisoner... please... be alive... please..."

It was late once again. He glanced over at the lake in the park. He shuddered, remembering he couldn't swim from a previous mishap where Stubborn pushed him in.

He then saw a familiar figure at the lake's edge.

"Prisoner!"

He ran towards her. One smell from her and he could tell what happened. She'd gotten out of work and went on a drinking spree..she must've passed out here.

He sat her up and gave her some bottled water.

"Thank you..." Prisoner said, taking the water. "Sorry you had to see me like this..."

Skeptic shook his head. "I'm happy to see you okay. It's better than what I'd feared had happened."

Prisoner looked at Skeptic, and smiled sheepishly.

"I don't usually talk to people. I'm used to being treated like some sort of soulless machine that just does whatever you tell it to. But you were different. You actually saw me as a person. I'm glad I could trust you, even if I didn't know why at first."

"You didn't have to go through that." Skeptic said. "Are you still sure you can't leave your job?"

"I can't, no." Prisoner said, her face looking more visibly upset.

"Then tell me when you're working. If I can, I'll try to pop in. Make your situation a bit more bearable. Is that alright?"

Prisoner looked at Skeptic with genuine awe in her eyes.

"You don't have to..."

"I want to. I don't want you to fall to despair. If there isn't a way out yet, there will be. And until then, I'll be there to help you stay strong." Skeptic said, looking confident.

Prisoner's eyes began to look glossy, until she wiped them and regained her composure.

"Thank you."

And so, the Prisoner of a horrible clerk job and the Voice of the Skeptic began a friendship.

[12timetraveler]

I'll Go Tonight, Boys

Summary:

Hosea loved Bessie more than life itself. He spends the first year after her death drunk to numb the pain. On the anniversary of her passing, he tries something drastic.

Inspiration song: Jamie by Zach Bryan Ft Charles Wesley Goodwin

Notes:

CW: Grief, Loss, suicidal thoughts and attempts, alcoholism, vomit.

This is a deep one y'all. Please check in with yourself and make sure you're okay before reading.

Also please note I am not a professional in psychology or dealing with these kinds of issues. The way problems are solved in this story may not be the best way and I'm not making recommendations on how you should respond if you're dealing with any of this. These are characters dealing with these situations using the tools they have at their disposal for their time/lifestyle (which isn't a lot). If you are struggling with any of the issues mentioned in this story, please take care of yourself and seek professional help.

I love all of you. Be safe.

Below is a preview. Read the entire story on AO3

'Cause this life ain't worth livin'

If the love that you've been given

is taken before you are

I'll go tonight boys,

I don't mean no harm

I just miss my lovin' lady

and layin' in her arms

~~~~~~~~~

"Arthur," Dutch called out, grabbing the young man's arm as he passed. Arthur paused, seeing the worried crease to Dutch's brow. "Arthur, will you ride into town with me?"

"Sure," Arthur drawled. "Why?"

"Hosea," Dutch sighed. Arthur groaned.

"I thought you were watching him, keeping him in camp?"

"I was," Dutch huffed. "But I stepped away for five minutes to relieve myself. When I came back he and Silver Dollar were gone,"

"I'm sure he's fine," Arthur sighed. "Just at the saloon. He'll stumble back in a few hours, drunk off his feet but fine." In truth Arthur was getting a little tired of worrying about Hosea. The man had practically raised him through his later teenage years. It was... Uncomfortable trying to take care of him now. He was a difficult drunk. And while Hosea would never raise a fist to Arthur, even out of his mind with drink, it still brought up some awful memories of Lyle Morgan.

They'd been doing their best to keep Hosea in camp, keep an eye on him, and try to limit him to a bottle or two a day. Arthur had handed John all the booze left in camp and told the teen to hide it somewhere Hosea would never think of.

But if Hosea slipped away for a day and went into town, well they'd just have to work harder tomorrow to get him sober.

Even if they had to bail him out of the jailhouse, they'd do that just fine. The local sheriff was a reasonable man. He knew Hosea well enough. They'd stayed in the area this past year, not wanting to drag Hosea too far away from his beloved's final resting place. Many mornings Arthur found himself on Sheriff Jorgenson's porch, hat in hand, promising he'd do better to keep his friend in check.

The others in the gang had already given up. Susan just flat-out avoided Hosea. Her screeching at him and scolding him had only resulted in some harsh words. Only Dutch, Arthur and John still held out hope that they could save Hosea from his self-destructive path.

"Arthur," Dutch said darkly, "Don't you know what day it is?"

Arthur paused, doing a quick calculation in his head. If last Sunday was... And that was how many days ago...? Then today was...

"Shit," Arthur grumbled. "Is that today?"

"It is," Dutch said grimly. "One year since he lost her,"

"We gotta find him before his temper gets him killed," Arthur said, turning and striding toward his horse. Dutch fell in alongside Arthur.

"Or his melancholy,"

[dumblildog]

Why I don't sell content :3

"Do you do OF?"

"No."

"You should."

This conversation keeps happening with people. I used to sell content before OF was a thing. I'd definitely do it again if I looked like that still. I have so many fucking scars now I'm just.. idk plus I'm as pale as bb vampire so it's just a gross contrast on my skin. I have this overwhelming amount of self hate especially about how I look. If my last relationship wasn't a sexless lonely cage of self doubt and hate I probably wouldn't be sooo hateful but like having someone look at you dead face and say "I'm as attracted to you as I can be" it's like huh.. what's the point.. when someone doesn't want you for so long for years.. but also won't let you go when you beg for it you just let go of yourself in so many different ways. I lost all grips of myself and now I just dont recognize who or what I am. I was already so lost before that relationship just a lil drug addict with no money & horrible self destructive habits. I'm so surprised I didn't die that spring with my daily habits. For so long I survived off nothing but substances, self harm, and sex. I was having so many adventures and got second hand affection from the attention my actions brought me but I still was just so so lonely. I gripped onto the first person who wanted something more than my body my bed or my connections. I didn't see what he was using me for before it was too late. I stopped doing drugs anything anyone would offer, drinking anything I'd get my hands on, stopped smoking anything and everything I could light. Gross mixed bowls and cigarettes turned to nothing but green and dabs. Alcohol and nothing but coffee and espresso turned into simple teas, coffees so much water. From eating a few times a week went to having full meals sometimes more than once a day. I stopped cutting and burning myself and started wearing glitter. I got a job, then two, then three. Parties, bars, mosh pits, basement shows, trespassing, staying up to see the sunrise turned into movies, car rides, museums, and early bedtimes for tomorrows responsibilities. Handfuls of roommates and people in and out of my bed at all hours turned into a one bedroom apartment and a bed shared with only one. Tho I quickly left that bed for the couch and slept there most nights. My life was so different but I was still so lost and empty. I thought I had what I wanted but when the person you're sharing your life with doesn't want you back.. the emptiness is so all consuming. I changed and the depression and agoraphobia got so much worse. So much isolation. My body changed my habits changed. Now I'm just plagued with chronic nightmares and the emptiness. I'm free from the grips of the lonely relationship but I lost myself day after day to 4 years. Tho I've learned so much about myself in that loneliness. I know what I'd like now and what I want but my body and brain are so fucking gone it's so out of reach and I don't feel like I can do it on my own. Everything in me tells me I'm wrong and if I was this or that maybe just maybe I'll be happy or loved. Then the echos of my past lovers cruel words bounce around that empty space in my chest and remind me that even through out all those different versions of myself I still wasn't enough for any of them to actually want me. They lied, cheated, hit, hurt, hid, and then left. No one has ever wanted me for more than a thrill or a self fulfillment. I myself, I've never been first choice to anyone friendships family lovers... it's hard to be my first choice and with little to no support or recourses and with a broken body and brain it's hard to change and reach for anything. I feel like a burden on those I love and I'm not really living for anything but sparing them the grief and guilt of my suicide.

I'm tired of this existence.

I'm tired.

[1nm2]

The night her parents were shot by concrete couldn’t have been colder. The sky was made suddenly brighter by stars when the rooftop had flung off.

No more low ceiling from the bunk pressing down on her so heavily that sometimes Wanda woke believing she was laying underneath the bed instead of on top of it.

The half cracked-off legs of chairs and cupboards roar up in endless grids, playing the crowd. She leads Strange through the winding path between the broken furniture, a year after the madness of wailing and screaming from injuries and her child-self cowering with her brother. They’d picked themselves up in the next hour. In these parts, calamities and disasters were part of life.

Pietro had put himself in harm’s way for her. His heart of pure goodness would even have him kill himself for a stranger.

He used to steal motorbikes to ride through the town. He would say hello-hello to the girls, and complain that no one cared about bikes. It’s just a bike.

You don’t know what I saw.

Vision’s eyes strain to hide his agony again, as if love weren’t truly cynical.

They last such a long time, jostling against the thundering whip of her magic, lashing from her fingertips in electric crackles, growing arms and legs, reaching into the recesses of his skull. They hook all the words of sorries into the whispers of his thoughts. They show him the calm eternity they had together, the homely feel of their house, his friends, and all his flowering plants she didn’t know the names of.

Yes…. I know I try to suicide, uh…. but it’s okay, I’m alive… Don’t worries I’ll be fine.

Too many voices tumble in too freely. Wanda shoves something out. Someone. All the maze of broken walls and their roughly chipped edges open up to the building’s edge, the steep drop below them, and the full sky ahead. Light from the crack of sun washes over them all in a single band of pink. The pink turns to orange. The wind batters unevenly from a few blocks away. The peace is like no other. She makes clear the phosphorescence in the air, the tiny yellow sparks floating and flitting about.

Wanda looks up, around. The giant mirror shards behind the clouds become palatable. She doesn’t know how long she’s been gaze-locked, framed in pleasant red, staring at herself. Her heart begins to hammer. She feels dirty all over. Now she misses Vis so much she wants to die. A hard, physical longing, as if springing both arms down a hole to grab at what lay. He must know, so much isolation bars in her. So much power rests uncomfortably in that fragile chest with the unfillable graves where people once lay.

‘  If I hadn't killed Vis, would there be a reality we could have brought half the world back and saved him?  ‘

❛ When you take a life, you take your own. ❜ stephen to wanda

[lookedafterchild]

Part One - A brief before and after being put on a Section 2 I struggled with many issues at the time, anxiety, depression, suicidal tendencies, and self-harm. I had been battling a battle in my head for over ten years, but things started to get too bad. now I could not hide these issues as well as I may have been before. Moreover, after the incident(s) at school, I was admitted to the hospital and blacklisted from taking my exams in the future. Can you imagine walking into your Psychiatrists office? After a massive string of events both at school and at home? Dr. Bertrand Nairac was giving me 5 minutes to make one of the hardest. And most confusing decisions of my life. "By the time I return to this room, you need to make your decision. Are you going to admit yourself on a volunteer basis or send the doctors and police to force you there? The Choice [caption id="attachment_13699" align="aligncenter" width="1024"] Sectioned under the mental health act aged 18. At Kent and Medway adolescence hospital, (woodland House) Staplehurst Kent (KMAH)The Complete story[/caption] As I sat in the therapist's room, it felt like an eternity. The walls seemed to close on me, and my heart was racing. What is a mental health hospital anyway? Is this some asylum where they lock up people who are crazy or something? The feeling of suffocation and confusion were the only thoughts going through my head. Dr. Bertrand Nairac Returned to the office. Moreover, I looked at myself and my foster carer Carol Thompson. "Well, you made up your mind," said Dr. Nairac. He advised once again that going as a volunteer patient was the best way to do this. Unless I wanted to make a big scene. I agreed and waited for days in my home until I received word from him with an available bed at a young adolescent Mental Health Hospital Woodlands house in staple Hurst My Fate Was Clear Three days went past, and it was hell. I knew it was just a matter of days until I am driving miles away. From my hometown, there are a few parts of those three days that stick with me. I had missed school and was not recommended to communicate with them, so I remember telling a tiny handful of friends about the situation with mixed responses. Furthermore, I was spending the weekend with my mum. Wondering what would happen what my future was going to be like? Nevertheless, the worst thing… it was the last night before I left.,  to Kent, and Medway Adolescent Unit, Woodland House. Moreover, Carol had ordered fish and chips. We were all gathered together, eating as a family like we always did on a Friday night. I was unsure if this was the last meal, with the people who raised me into the person I am. The people who supported me through the worst…., I could not hold back the emotions and the tears started pouring out. There was nothing I could do but let the future unfold. No surprise, but I did not sleep very well that night. In less than 24 hours, I would once again move away from the home I had settled into and this time into a downright bizarre and unknown situation. Getting admitted to Hospital [caption id="attachment_13705" align="aligncenter" width="800"] Kent and Medway adolescence hospital, (woodland House) Staplehurst Kent (KMAH), this is where the post thumbnail was taken (C) 2010 Philip Durrant Photography[/caption] Morning finally came round, and my anxiety and mood were not good at all. I remember being very silent and reserved, waiting to determine my fate after dropping off the other Foster Children at school. We started the long and painful drive to Staplehurst. (Around an hour and 20min, but it felt like a lot longer.) Stopping off to pick up Tomo (Carol's Husband, Whom We Referred to as Tomo or John (His real name) from his workplace. We finally arrived at Woodlands House (For anyone interested, Click Here For A Virtual Tour). As we walked in, the receptiongreeted us. It was an attractive layout. Not reasonably what I had expected, certainly not for being classified a hospital.

 Moreover, we approached the desk and handed over the paperwork,waiting for the team leader to arrive and assess me. After what felt like a lifetime and what seemed to be a crisis, (Someone's Panic alarm within the hospital was set off, and someone got restrained. not too long before I walked in.) We finally had a quick look round and were shown in one of the meeting rooms. The team leader and one of the nurses told me, Carol, and John, what would happen, and I have to fill in some paperwork. These were questions asking me to state out of 1-10 or how likely, or unlike me; I remember they were all ranked low at this point; I felt I could not feel any worse.  I completed it, and I led to the medical room (where anything on-site medical-wise was given). Then I was given an ECG test and had my blood taken. It was a very formal process. Also, they made notes of doctors, medication, and allergies. Furthermore, that is when we parted way. I said goodbye to my foster parents, and I was left to socialize with staff and patients Part Two - one month at Kent And Medway adolescence hospital [caption id="attachment_13704" align="aligncenter" width="604"] Photo of Li Jean-Luc Harris at Kent and Medway adolescence hospital, (woodland House) Staplehurst Kent (KMAH) - outside Shed[/caption] Introduction: By the time I was checked into the Kent and Medway Adolescent Unit, Woodland House, and the careers left me. The day had already gone. It was around 17:00, and I was given options for food. The first place I went was the lounge. Many very friendly and reassuring service users and staff started to introduce themselves to me. They were warm and gentle with their words. They could see I was very reserved and did not want to talk or do anything. I am sure every one of them had gone through the same thing. It is scary, after all. New surroundings, new faces, and new scenarios. No one can know what you have just walked into. https://lookedafterchild.com/addicted-to-drugs-and-then-homeless-and-finally-now-im-a-homeowner/ The First Night [caption id="attachment_13701" align="aligncenter" width="1024"] Sectioned under the mental health act aged 18. At Kent and Medway adolescence hospital, (woodland House) Staplehurst Kent (KMAH) - Bedroom - image taken from the Explore Woodland House Virtual Tour[/caption] After eating what I was shocked to say a delicious meal, I remember spending some time once again in the lounge for the evening before it was time for us to go to bed. As much as I wanted to crawl straight into bed, we had to follow strict guidelines. Everyone had to be awake, and out of bed by 10 am, and no one can return until 7 pm. My bedroom was lovely, it had a double bed, a desk and an ensuite but,  it still was not my bed from home. I also missed my phone, my technology, and the familiar faces from my foster home. Daily Routines My Daily Routine was very different from what I was doing back home. Breakfast between 7 am, and 9 am. Everyone had to be out of bed by 10 am. We had a few group sessions in the morning, one being education lunch between 12 and 1 pm—three more activities before dinner between 5 pm and 6 pm, and then free time. Accessing the outside world I was not allowed any technology on-site, and the only time I could use my phone or the internet was when I was on my mobile phone outside of the unit. Even in the education sessions, I was given special restrictions due to past incidents with my secondary school and me hacking into their system. So, for this reason, I was only allowed the internet on my mobile outside of the unit. (for someone who previously lived online, it sucks!) Getting Put onto a Section 2 Under The Mental Health Act [caption id="attachment_13703" align="aligncenter" width="638"] Section 2 under the mental health act Leaflet A Scanned front page of the leaflet i was given explaining the section two[/caption] I was both homesick and just witnessed a small group of patients kick off and cause a riot.

(Insert Link to Future Post) I was not enjoying my stay at Woodlands House, the therapy seemed unhelpful, and the group sessions I refused. To make things worse, I was just put onto 1:1 Eyesight, so I declared to discharge myself. And I was served a Section 2, meaning I was now forcefully detained for 28 days. Moreover, now I could not even use the internet in my free time. I was a prisoner of the system, scared and upset. This just further pushed me away from getting my issues solved. Being in section 2 meant I lost most of my rights. I was no longer allowed to use my phone. Many care decisions were now being made for me without my input; I was placed on 1:1 Eyesight as a precautionary measure. They were still unsure of many things that were going on with me, due to 4 years prior trying to fight the system, because I was too scared to let them know “The Thing” that caused me all this trauma and pain. Thankfully I had lots of like-minded people who shared their advise and looked out for each other.  1:1 Eyesight meant I now had someone follow me and was always within Eyesight, even when sleeping. Nevertheless, there was a limitation to the toilet/shower, as long as I kept talking to them non-stop. A Scanned front page of the leaflet I was given explaining the section two First Visit From my foster family When I knew Carol and Tomo were coming, I was excited. I could not wait to see the familiar faces and receive some more clothes and items to keep me going. I had missed the presence of Carol and John. It had only been a month. However, they encouraged me to carry on with the treatment, and soon I will be home again, getting back on with life. They were very encouraging and motivating, but, I could tell it was hard for them and myself. First Vist From Mum and my brother Michael This visit was long overdue. They had a very long train journey all the way from Margate to Staplehurst, but, I was so happy to see them both. We spoke for ages and caught up. The first time seeing them, I was not able to do much being on section 2 But, I was just relived to be in the company of my family. But I want care in the community! [caption id="attachment_13706" align="aligncenter" width="800"] Kent and Medway adolescence hospital, (woodland House) Staplehurst Kent (KMAH) this is where the post thumbnail was taken (C) 2010 Philip Durrant Photography[/caption] This was something many people heard me say. Additionally, it all came with the same response “But we have been offering you this for years, why now?” it was a good question. However, the shock of being in the hospital was enough for me to want to get my life on track, and continue with my life and education in the community. Nevertheless, all the professionals had said the same thing. You will not be released until you start co-operating with group sessions and therapy. Therapy Sessions Therapy sessions, we all hate them. They hurt and make us vulnerable. Something was stopping me from talking in person with anyone willing to help me. I could speak about everything, apart from “the thing”. I spoke about family, school, emotional unbalances, depression and anxieties. However, in-depth details into self-harm I locked away from everyone. Including myself, After a few sessions, I was told by Dr. Oliver that my only chance of release was to talk about these areas and let them understand and advice for future treatment/help outside of the hospital. Furthermore, I explained, although I want to talk, whenever I try, I freeze up. I get scared, vulnerable. This is when for the first time, I was recommended the following technique:“When you are in a bad place, take a pen and paper, write your thoughts and feelings, Furthermore, bring them back to me.” Moreover, when this worked, I was then tasked to do the same, but to write about “the thing…” so I set out to do this….. To Be Continued. Thanks for sticking by and reading through this story, it has been a hard one to write,

but the story is as it is… and the next part will be the conclusion to my stay at a mental health hospital. have you read some of my other posts? The Story Of My Spice Addiction The incident at school that led to my hospitalization. Addicted to drugs and then Homeless and finally Now I'm A Homeowner Part Three - How I Got Out Of Kent And Medway Adolescence Hospital And Off My Section [caption id="attachment_13700" align="aligncenter" width="1024"] Sectioned under the mental health act aged 18. At Kent and Medway adolescence hospital, (woodland House) Staplehurst Kent (KMAH) - Lounge, Facing Front Entrance - image taken from the Explore Woodland House Virtual Tour[/caption] How did I end up at Kent and Medway Adolescent Hospital Woodland House? a photo of Li Jean-Luc Harris at Kent and Medway Adolescent Unit, Woodland House Mental Health Hospital If you're asking this question, then you're new to the blog! this is a platform of therapy first discovered by me in hospital and will be discussed later on in the blog post. But before you get there. I highly suggest you read the following posts to get yourself acquainted with me. And so you know the full story of how I ended up at Kent Afnd Medway Adolescent Hospital (Woodlands House) The Incidents at School That Lead to my hospitalisation at Kent And Medway Mental Health Hospital Explore The Days Leading Up to me transferring from Foster Care To My Placement at Kent And Medway Adolescent Hospital How I become homeless aged 18 and addicted to drugs. Now Your acquainted with the past. Let's dive into the next chapter of the story. This is going to be quite a long post so grab yourself a coffee. And prepare for a rollercoaster of a story.  Therapy Sessions With Dr Oliver Continued. As previously explained, Oliver had just handed me over a piece of paper and a pen. Let's try something different. Take these and write everything that you're scared to tell. Or struggle to face. In Face to Face Scenarios. I sat and thought about it but told Dr Oliver I will try it. And that I did. I remember going to the communal areas, finding somewhere quiet, and I sat there thinking of what I could write. How do I explain it? Or if I should even try. But I did, only because I was getting desperate to get out of this place. I Started with the events leading to the situation so the psychologists Dr Oliver could get an idea of my state of mind. And then I told him about the events leading to the biggest self-harm incident that I had done. And the one that is a continuing issue even right now almost 10 years later. I keep promising you the story on "The Thing" which is this event of self-harm, but I'm still closing this chapter and will create that blog post shortly. Once i finished the agonizing reliving of my life. I posted it in his office. (On Site) and I heard nothing for a day. Until I was told I had to attend a meeting with Dr Oliver And a Medical Professional. How Did pen and paper become a therapy for you? Now I knew I could speak out and voice my concerns without facing them directly and at the moment. Allowing me more time to prepare myself for the outcome. And think of responses. So after realising the power of it. I've used it as a platform for communicating my emotions for a while until I stood up in 2017 and launched the blog to make it public. From then on, your support has allowed me to help others and realise. That my realistic goal and aim in life is to help as many people as possible whom have had a poor start in their lives. [caption id="attachment_13702" align="aligncenter" width="604"] Photo of Li Jean-Luc Harris at Kent and Medway adolescence hospital, (woodland House) Staplehurst Kent (KMAH) - Indoor Meeting Room[/caption] How Did The Professional Meeting go? - what was the outcome? Actually, I don’t know what happened prior. The Professionals would not allow me to the discussion part of the meeting and could only attend to the outcome part of the meeting, but from what I could see, it was not the best of news for me.

I was told of the damage I had caused. I was told I was lucky to survive. Or didn't have other complications, and they referred me to Maidstone Hospital For a medical examination, but I'm not yet aware I'm about to become lost in the system. I discovered later this later on in life. I tried to get out of Kent And Medway Mental Health Hospital! I've co-operated let me out! I've done as you've said, so why am I still being punished? But they set the reality. Even though after 2 months I cooperated and allowed for myself to be checked over. I still can not leave. No matter how persistent I was and then I ended up on a section 3. as guess who tried to discharge themself again. Getting Put onto a Section 3 Under The Mental Health Act Because I wanted to leave again, they placed me on a Section 3 of the mental health act. Section 3 allows for a person to be admitted to hospital for treatment if their mental disorder is of a nature and/or degree that requires treatment in hospital. And Whilst detained under Section 3, you do not have the right to refuse treatment apart from electro-convulsive treatment (ECT) which can only be given without your consent if specific criteria are met. This was because at the time they could not release me as I was still at risk and at the time they created no treatment plans. And the lead clinician was still trying to get my care sorted out back in the community.   The End of my Foster Placement With Carol And John Photo of Li Jean-Luc Harris photo taken at woodland house Kent And Medway Mental Health Hospital! I've written two posts about carol and John already. They are a massive inspiration to me wanting to work in residential child care. As well as fostering in the future. If you want to read more about their effects on my lives, you can use the following links:  My Second Foster Care Placement With Carol And John The Breakdown Of My Second Foster Care Placement       But as we know, all good things end. And I had just found out that my foster carers had to end the placement and that when i was discharged I could no longer return to this Foster placement. Sadly, this is the way social services work. As they deemed me of higher risk at this point. And that Carol And John were no longer suitable placements. This broke my heart and now meant that I would move to complete strangers again and have to build new relationships with another foster parent... (Unknown to me at the time that i no longer could go into a foster care placement...)  Discharge Papers Are In. The Big Day. I was given the discharge papers. In two weeks, I would be allowed out in the community and to get my freedom back! I was so excited about moving and being able to see my family but still not to my knowledge I've got a roller coaster to attend for the next 3 Years experiencing many 16+ Services that the wonderful Kent County Council (KCC) Social Services Had to show me. But right now i was more excited to get back to some normality. And resume with my life goals at the time.  What is Next For Li Jean-Luc Harris? Hi Everyone, what a productive couple of weeks. Both professionally and in my personal life. We've completed the Kent And Medway Mental Health Hospital Series. but this is not the end of the Blog posts in the Mental Health category. Next in Li's Story; we will talk about his other placements within Social Services. I had 4 more placements and then became homeless. I was ripped away from my foster carers, lost my rights and then told i would return to a completely new situation in life. Including Children's Homes And 16+ Transitioning Care / Semi-Independence Placements and how I spent two years in areas that I've never been too before.  How about Jump The Gaps and find out some of my future?  Addicted to drugs and then Homeless and finally Now I'm A Homeowner Spice / Legal High Addiction the Story (1/2) Thanks once again for your time and dedication to my blog. And life. See you in the next one.

[crisishauntline]

I’m so fucking sad. I really wanted to see her. I’m still sort of and entirely glad I did, and sort of and entirely like my heart tore its way out of my body and now I’m wearing it like a fucking albatross.

We talked for an hour or so, just catching up, before we got to the Big Talk. She was so painfully beautiful. Her long hair swept over her shoulder, her eye makeup as sharp-winged and luminous as always—I think her eyeshadow was a dark pink. I wish I could remember more precisely, or that I'd taken a picture somehow. Of course, taking a picture of her would have been weird as fuck in these circumstances.

I asked her as many things as I could think of, about family and work and friends and hobbies. I asked about her dancing, about all the space news from the past 6 months that I've wanted to get her take on, about how she's sleeping. She had fascinating answers. Her grandma has pancreatitis but otherwise her family/home life is ok. She told me that she's trying to move out next year, which made me hopeful for her. Her hours were cut significantly at the planetarium, so she's going to start working with her old teacher/boss again at the school in January as a part-time physics tutor. She's exercising and dancing a lot, especially this one style that's newer to her, Guerrero. She learned a danced where you balance a lit candle on your head. She's also been getting into photography lately, and has lots of ideas for paintings. I really wish I could see any and all of it.

She didn’t ask me a question until I prompted her. “Is there anything you want to know about me?”

“Everything,” she replied, and I believe she meant it. But I still felt that familiar twinge of disappointment and frustration. I don’t know where to start with a question like that—it’s honestly still not even a question.

She wishes I had allowed her to carry more of my struggles when we were together, and I acknowledge I could have communicated them better. But it’s hard for me to do that without being asked. I have overshared and regretted it too many times. And I just wish there was a way for me to know that she’s not just supportive and in love with me but also genuinely and specifically curious about me. I don’t want a sympathetic bystander, I don’t want a witness, I don’t even really want an admirer—I want an active partner who wants to learn with and from me, in the same way I want to with them. I also think I need to know I am interesting to someone in order to feel loved by them. Probably related to my larger need to be remarkable or “special” in some way in order to be worthy of all the love and resources I have received, and therefore be someone who deserves to live. And because curiosity is one of my strongest ideals, being “special” means being worthy of curiosity.

If I have been vulnerable and truly myself with someone, it hurts when they don’t have at least a few follow-up questions about an interest, a memory, an idea, or an area of expertise I’ve shared. I either don’t feel seen, or, if im in a more depressed headspace, I feel like there must not be anything to see in me.

After I prompted her (though I didn't say anything in the previous two paragraphs), she asked me all the questions I’d asked her, about the well-being of family members and pets, about work, about holiday plans and hobbies. I told her I'm getting a pedal harp soon. And then when the waiter started taking the chairs inside to close the restaurant, she asked where I thought we were going, or what I hoped we could be.

I told her that mentally speaking, I am a couple steps up from the bottom of a bottomless well. I didn’t get deep into the specifics of my self-harm or SI but told her I’d had suicidal thoughts as recently as last week, and I don’t think that’s a good place to be when entering any relationship, let alone reentering this one. But I miss her so very much, I told her, so I hope we can be friends.

She said she couldn’t just be friends with me, unless there was some understanding we were moving towards dating down the line. She offered in a couple different ways that we could "hang out/make out and not call it anything," but that she couldn't do that if there was no chance of getting back together. I said I understand, and acknowledged that I do see a chance for us to get back together—that I in fact have a desire for that too, and that I still love her and want her in that way—but that I couldn’t see a fair way to hold space for that expectation given how much I doubt that I will ever grow or learn how to love or know what I want or be the person she deserves to have as a partner.

At one point she asked me, playfully serious, “What do you want, woman?”

“I want to be a different person,” I said.

We each talked about why we feel how we feel, and I think we both understand well enough at this point. Not much has changed since we talked in August. We’ve both been working hard to strengthen ourselves and our friendships, but it seems to be paying off only for her. Neither of us wants to be apart or knows how the fuck to stay in each other’s lives.

That’s essentially how we left it, with the vague agreement to check in after the holidays. When I got home an hour later I sent her the song “Little Wind” by Haley Hendrickx, which kept coming to mind. She called me and we talked for another hour. She wants to be part of me becoming/being ok, and feels like she’s grown in ways that she could share with me. And she quoted this Joanna Newsom lyric, “Time is taller than space is wide.” There was a whole explanation she gave along with it, but now I remember nothing. Fuck.

Anyway, I floated the idea of doing couples counseling if we decide to give it a go in the future, and she thought that was a great idea. I also asked if we were to start hanging out and "not call it anything," would that mean she would stop trying to find someone better? Because I don't want her to stop trying.

It's also not just about her finding someone better. I also still wonder if there is someone better (suited) for me out there too. If I am meant to be with anyone—and maybe I'm just not—what if I can only really handle being with someone who isn't also mentally ill? Maybe this love I have with L, no matter how true or powerful, simply isn't big enough to hold us both.

Whatever happens to me, she knows I love and believe in her always. She knows I will always be with her in one way or another. I wish I could have said it in my own words, but I didn't want to worry her. She'll hear it in the song at least. If not now, then certainly after I'm gone.

I might go to town and drink myself away Find a singing bird and try to step inside her cage I might go to waste, and I might be a coward Little wind, I’m with you in the roadside flowers I wish that I had stayed in that river house with you Pulled away the weeds and let wild roses bloom But all the hanging plums one day will go sour Little wind, I’m with you in the roadside flowers

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Sneak Peak)

 (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader) 

Summary: Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega (who's clearly been through some shit). 

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Polyamory, groupsex, sexual and non-sexual Dom/sub undertones, heat sex, praise kink, brief humiliation, Spanking, knotting, breeding kink, emotional abuse, physical abuse, forced mating marks, graphic murder scenes, negative self-talk, self-esteem issues, non-verbal characters, abandonment, PTSD, hurt/comfort, gluttonous fluff, agoraphobia, implied/referenced self-harm, suicidal thoughts and brief desperate suicide attempt, unreliable narrators. Gender dysphoria, transgender characters, internalized homophobia, internalized transphobia, internalized misogyny, unintended outings, epilepsy, 

W/c: 100k+ (87k completed so far)

A/n: long time no see~ this is what I’ve been working on for the last few months! I hope everyone will like it. Updates will be once a week on fridays or saturdays at 5pm EST. This will also be cross posted on Archive of our own. 

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“You shouldn’t be out here- you’ll get cold.” 

Your hands play on the bannister. In the fountain, something trickles though it’s not full. It’s too early in spring and the flowers in the garden are reluctant to burst through the ground for fear of frost. Yoongi wonders how you’re not shivering. “It’s not the 1800’s Yoongi- people don’t die just from being cold”  your revealing dress is probably something that your husband chose for you. it makes Yoongi’s blood boil. 

You look a little bit better tonight, though Yoongi can't tell if the color in your face is actually real or from the thick layer of makeup that hides the bruises. The haze in your eyes, like you’re dissociating from everything, isn’t there anymore. Tonight, You’ve got a clarity that Yoongi savors. The scar is healing well, pink and hardly notable under the line of your jaw. Yoongi wouldn’t know it was there if he wasn’t looking for it.  

Yoongi searches your face. “You misunderstand me, I said that I don’t want you to be cold, but maybe if you caught a cold- I could help you get better.”

He knows his words don’t make sense- but still you recognize what he wants to say but can’t. I could love you, I could make it better, I could care for you and only treat you with the gentleness you deserve. But Yoongi doesn’t say any of that- no- he only leans forward and offers his hands. “One dance? Before I take you home?”

Yoongi will drive you away from here- will take you and go to some gritty fast food place and get you full of however many calories your husband has made you skip. And he’ll spend the whole drive thinking about leaning across the console to kiss you. He could do it- quick. You’re not wearing lipstick and no one would know. Maybe he can’t help you yet- so starved of love that you look like a ghost. But tonight, he can surely make sure your stomach and your heart is full with the careful care that Yoongi knows he’s good at giving.

You keep Yoongi at an arm's length as he leads you in the waltz, day dreaming of a hypothetical illness, some sickness that can be fixed by a few days rest and some warm soup that Yoongi could provide. The two of you pulled together in a bed however big or small- you wouldn’t mind as long as you got to be this close. His hand on your forehead crooning, “you’ve got a fever lovely.” 

It’s a beautiful day dream, but not better than reality as he pulls you in tighter against him in your skimpy gown. It’s only to keep you warm- he justifies. And you melt into his hold. His hands are wide, warm, and better than any jacket as they cup your sides and the small of your back. You stumble on the uneven cobblestones of the garden and Yoongi heaves you up so that you’re balanced on his toes.

He spins you, going faster in the practices steps, making you giggle- a sound that he’s never heard from you and wants to hear again and again. You slow to a more gentle pace, Swaying softly from side to side. You rest your whole body against him and Yoongi holds you up.

For the first time he can smell your real scent, you smell sweet and bready, like a freshly baked cake, something warm inside on a day that the rain pours outside. You smell like cozy lazy Sundays and cupcakes. Yoongi wants to bury his face in your neck but won’t without asking.

He wonders if you like his scent just as much as he likes yours.  

Before he can ask, you pipe up. “You just had to take all the good didn’t you?” its not said bitterly, but musing. Out of two brothers, why would one have so much more softness than the other? One gentle and kind while the other is bloodthirsty and violently selfish. Why did you have to choose wrong?

“What would it be like Yoongi? If you took me away from here what would it be like?” you’re crying, barely daring to utter the words. The two of you both know from experience that tempting fate never ends well but you’ve never wanted anything so badly. 

Yoongi struggles to hold onto your happy scent. You know how much wanting something you can’t have can hurt you. Reaching out like you’re prepared to grasp the future he’ll paint for you, holding onto the lapels of his coat as you cry. Yoongi just runs his hands up and down your back to comfort you through the longing. 

Like this garden aches for rain, Yoongi aches to give, anything and everything, his heart on a platter if that’s what you wanted.

“We’d get takeout every few nights and play rock paper scissors to decide who gets to be the little spoon, we’d have a rule of no yelling in the house, I’d take you out to the ocean and make you s’mores whenever you wanted. You could steal my clothes and I’d never ever say a word about It.” 

You laugh at that- somehow, Yoongi just knows that’s something you’d do. He’s known enough omegas, he knows that courting one means you voluntarily give up half of your sweatshirt collection. He keeps speaking softer, like to whisper his wishes out loud is like trying to hold onto a shooting star.  

“And-” Yoongi takes a deep breath, tilting his face forward so that your foreheads are aligned. So close. This is the closest Yoongi has ever let himself get to you. “-I’d love you until we’d both had our last breath. I’d leave you sticky notes on the refrigerator telling you that I love you every time I had to leave. I’d never- ever let you be cold. And I’d show you my pack”

Yoongi can feel you swallow thickly at his promises- and he hopes- hopes more than anything else that they’re not empty ones. You always forget that he has someone else- that there are several someone-else’s who have Yoongi’s attention the way you do. He is the moon and you’re just something he orbits around. There are other celestial objects caught in his orbit. “What are they like? What’s it like to have a pack?” 

Yoongi tries not to let himself get misty eyed, “it’s everything, it’s love and having everyone there all around you but it’s also so much fun, you’re never alone- you always have someone to be around and it’s not even- it doesn’t even feel tiring. Even when you want to sleep you’d rather stay up with them.” Yoongi slides his finger underneath one of the straps of your dress, playing with it. “Telling you what they’re like- well- that would take me hours” 

Your laugh is pretty, and it slips through yoongi’s fingers like smoke “That sounds beautiful.” Yoongi holds you like you might be a piece of that- a piece of his pack that he hadn’t known he’d been missing. That's probably why your next words hit him so hard. 

“I wish I could have seen it. Get back to them safe alright? Do me a favor and love them like you would have loved me.”

*Part 1 Coming Friday April 9th @ 5pm EST* 

[becomingbts]

Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the  burning spotlights and the applause and  the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

Ask or comment to be tagged!

1.5k

Warnings:  The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences  mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway. 

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there. 

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there. 

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me? 

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word. 

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting. 

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen: 

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button. 

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head. 

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. 

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day. 

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.” 

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them. 

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here? 

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal. 

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything. 

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert. 

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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[littlemissnoname13]

I have always known- Part 2 (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Summary: What happens when you find Draco Lucius Malfoy standing on a ledge at the Astronomy tower, ready to pitch himself off

Pairing: (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!reader) HBP era

Warnings: Mentions of suicidal tendencies, self harm, angst, smut

Words: 1500+

A/n: Thank you to everyone who read part one from the bottom of my heart. It means so much to me! <3

If you haven’t already, you can read part one over here.

Draco let the revelations sink their way into his brain as he carefully and meticulously recalled that fateful day at the ledge once more.

He recalled how he’d sat alone, hugging his knees at the tower later that night after you’d convinced him to get down from the ledge.

His shirt sleeve—pushed up as he stared at the nasty looking snake and skull etched into his forearm all the while fighting a strong urge to gnaw at the flesh till the mark came off.

And just when he thought he’d cave into his urges, something fluttering,speckled in black and orange caught Draco’s eyes.

The paleness of the moonbeam made the Monarch butterfly seem almost iridescent and he held his breath watching it land gently on the palm of his hands.

“I should have known.” Draco finally shouted pacing back and forth in the room of requirement as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Of course it was you—How could I have not realised! I mean who else would even want to turn into a butterfly at will?!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked as you walked towards him—completely ignoring the fact that your shirt was still lying somewhere on the floor.

“The fucking butterfly tattoo, the whole the-world-is-full-of-goodness-and-sunshine attitude.” He scoffed. “Coincidence? I think not.”

“Draco—” you attempted to reach for his hand but he instantly pulled it away.

“Only you would be stupid enough to stick around a bloody death eater despite knowing.”

“Please just calm down—” You began reaching for him once again and he winced at your touch like it pained him as you gently grabbed onto his wrist.

“No.” He shook his head as he cut you off hastily. “Listen to me y/n, and listen to me carefully —You need to stay the fuck away from me.”

“Malfoy please. Just hear me out. I’m sorry for sneaking up on you that night. I shouldn’t have.”

You took a few mindful steps towards him.

He looked absolutely furious at first glance with his bloodshot eyes, heavy breathing and slightly flared nostrils. But when you observed him more carefully, you saw the helpless and vulnerable boy from the ledge again. Tucked away somewhere in the depths of this tired and sunken eyes.

Branded at such a young age.

Forced to give up his youth and any shard of innocence he had left inside of him.

While his friends may have been playing quidditch, getting into trouble and stressing out about their homework, here he was stressing out about the god damned cabinet like his life depended on it.

You felt a sharp stab at your heart when you remembered.

His life did depend on it.

“Please y/n. Just go away.” He pleaded with this voice cracking as you slowly wrapped your arms around his stiff torso and placed your head on this chest. “Don't make it harder than it already is.”

Draco was right.

This was wrong on so many levels.

You knew better than to melt into the arms of a death eater.

But you were already too fucking deep in.

You knew exactly what you were in for when you gave him a smile at potions class. You knew how grave the situation really was every time you walked towards the Slytherin common room with your book bag full of food you’d snuck out from the kitchens.

You knew full well that the task given to him was no child’s play.

Even though he’d barely said anything during your nights at the tower, you’d gotten to know him by the way his eyes widened when you kept blabbering about the most mundane details of your day.

You’d learned him and the way his brows furrowed in frustration while he spent hours on end trying to fix the vanishing cabinet. He was completely unaware of the fact that you constantly looked up from your book to steal quick a glance at him.

“Okay. I’ll go away.” You whispered pressing yourself impossibly close to him.

“Good.” He mumbled even though his slender arms found their way around your waist. He rested his chin to the top of your head and the smell of your smell of your shampoo comforted him.

Contradictory words and actions. Nobody did it better than Draco and Y/n.

You held onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards you until your lips were pressed against his. As your lips moved against his, you noticed that he had let his arms fall from your waist.

But before the waves of disappointment could hit you, Draco’s right hand made its way towards the base of your neck while he raked his left hand through your hair.

It would be an absolute understatement to say that he kissed you feverishly.

He may have told you to go away and you may have agreed but the way your lips moved together told a different story altogether. The way he lightly bit your bottom lip before hungrily exploring your mouth with his tongue gave everything away.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was a goner.

The passion and aggression in your kisses had you both tugging at each other's clothes- gasping for air.

It wasn't long before you found yourself pressed up against the wall again while your bra quickly got discarded.

“Stunning.” He breathed trying to commit every bit of your exposed skin to his memory.

He wasted little to no time covering the exposed bits of your skin with open-mouthed kisses. The already existing marks on your neck only darkened with each kiss as you let your fingers comb through this hair—gripping. Encouraging him to kiss you harder.

And when he placed his lips over your taut nipple, he had to remind himself to be gentle with you even though It was impossibly hard for him.

That wasn’t the only thing that was impossibly hard.

Especially when you whimpered and moaned his name over and over again.

You gently pushed his shirt back indicating that you wanted it off and while he hesitated for a brief second, the shirt was quickly discarded next to your bra on the floor.

He suckled and caressed your breasts and you dug your nails on his biceps arching your back, desperate for more.

His fingers skillfully touched you in places that made you blush as you kept moaning deliriously.

Over and over again.

Soon enough, you were lying on our back on the floor as he hovered on top of you, propped up against his elbows and you were seconds away from begging him to take you then and there.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to y/n.” He said softly. His darkened grey eyes went back to their normal color and you could see the sincerity in his eyes while he asked you.

“I want you. Please. I just want you.” You pleaded bucking your hips as you caressed his face in reassurance.

“Fuck” he hissed as he slipped inside of you and you struggled to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when he started to move. Slow and steady at first before he took you harder and faster.

You felt like the last days of summer in Draco’s arms as he took you.

The kind of day he desperately wanted to hold onto before an impending Autumn.

There was a cacophony of sounds in the room of requirement.

The sounds of skin against skin.

Your pants, and moans.

His grunts and curses.

Draco.

Only his name escaped your lips when you fell apart at his mercy. Waves upon waves of pure, unadulterated, leg spasming pleasure as you came.

Y/n.

And only our name rolled out of his tongue when he found his release inside of you. Glistening beads of sweat on his forehead and veins slightly visible on his neck.

When it was over, he conjured up a blanket and wrapped his arms around you, greedily scooping as much of you as he could into his embrace.

You felt his fingertips trace the outline of your butterfly tattoo before he placed his lips over it. Kissing it gently.

The gesture softened you just like you softened him but he wasn’t going to admit that. Not anytime soon anyway.

“Why butterfly y/n?” He whispered tracing shapes onto your bare skin. “Your tattoo, your animagus.”

“Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect Draco?” You asked, pushing his hair away from his eyes as he shook his head.

“They say that when a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world, it causes a storm elsewhere.”

He blinked his eyes at you in confusion and you gave him a small smile before placing a tiny kiss at the corner of his lips, continuing.

“Every small change counts Draco, a small change in the present can garner a completely different outcome in the future.”

He stared at you as you shook your head and mumbled “I just like to believe that our actions matter you know. I don’t know. I just—nevermind.”

You soon fell asleep in his sturdy, safe arms as he held onto you tightly staying up all night to savor the moment.

Little did you know, the butterfly effect stuck with him.

It stuck with him through the war and even after the war.

Just like you did.

The girl who kept him alive and kicking.

The girl with her butterfly tattoo.

~~~~~~

And that’s it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tagging those who wanted a part 2: @imbadwithunsernames @dumbassswhore @larywitchlingacademic @lainphotography ❤️

[simsadventures]

Panopticon: Chapter 27: War Path

Alpha Steve x Omega Reader

Summary: Steve is livid and tries to find you but somebody keeps putting obstacles in his way. You, on the other hand, get to meet the devils and learn some harsh truths.

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, angst, abduction, slight mentions of torture, life in captivity, lying, swearing, mentions of violence against women, shitty people in general, loads of feels, I would hope, mentions of suicide, mentions of death

Word Count: 3800

A/N: Du dun… Who is ready for some angst? Many of you weren’t happy that we’re taking this route, but it needed to happen because the world is full of assholes who try to make people unhappy. Anyway, so excited about this one, and I can’t wait for you to tell me what you thought. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

< Previous Chapter 

“That won’t help to find my Omega, so no!” Steve yelled across the whole room, and even the experienced Alpha fighters gathered in the room couldn’t help but shudder at Steve’s authoritative voice. They were trying to help, coming up with new ideas to try and bring the Circle down, or at least make somebody from the inside communicate with them to tell Steve and his team the location of his Omega. But no idea was good enough for Steve. 

It had been four days. Four days without his precious Omega, and Steve felt like he was slowly losing his mind. He desperately needed you next to him, just to feel your warm, soft skin pressed against his, or to see the light in your eyes whenever you looked at him. But he had nothing. 

He often saw broken Alphas after all that went down on Earth a few years ago, and while he couldn’t really imagine what they must have been feeling at that time, walking like dead men, some of them on the brink of death because they just couldn’t handle their lives without their loved ones, Steve understood it all now. 

He knew he had to concentrate because he felt you in his veins, felt that you were alright considering the circumstances and, most importantly, that you were still alive. That was the sole reason why he didn’t end it yet. But he was hanging on a thread because each day and night he had to spend without you, his mind was going just a little more insane. He was hearing your voice and this morning, he even saw you standing by the bed. He was elated, but when he blinked a few more times, he realised that it was his brain playing tricks on him and that none of what had happened was just a nightmare. 

Moreover, he had to orchestrate a funeral for Peter and Gamora. The sadness over their loss was embedded deep in Steve’s soul, and he knew he would never get over it, even if he got you back. When he got you back, he scolded himself every time he thought of it, but it was to no avail. The desperation and pain seeped deep into his bones, and the once positive Alpha, who used to be full of life was just a walking shell of numbness. 

Sam and Bucky tried to pick up the mood in the room now and then, but they knew all too well that there was nothing they could say or do to make the situation better. The only thing Steve really needed was to get you back, and they empathised with him. Moments after the realisation hit them that you were indeed gone, they rushed to their own huts to check on their own mates. Their bonds felt fine, but the fucked-up situation got into their heads, and they needed to see their loves for themselves. Both Meera and Tina were sitting comfortably in their houses, unaware of the terror going on just mere meters away from them. They all spent the afternoon scenting and crying, their hearts clenching for their friend who was lost in his thoughts and his pain. 

But Steve tried to come up with a solution. He knew Rumlow would take you somewhere far, but not far enough not to brag about it. The circle was almost a day drive so Steve would have bet Rumlow’s hiding place was somewhere between his own house and the hell house they called the Omega haven. But that was still too much land to cover just by foot or by car, since there were so many abandoned houses and warehouses, not even talking about all the hidden places deep in the forests. So, just going somewhere blindly was not an option. 

Then, he thought of using what was left of the functioning camera system between the city and his lands, trying to see if he could pinpoint at least the direction where Rumlow and his team went. But he came up with nothing since most of the cameras had been destroyed soon after the war had started. 

Steve even thought of taking some military dogs and making them sniff your clothes to find you, but that would mean hundreds of kilometres to search, and that was just impossible. Every single thing Steve came up with was a nonsense, and the longer he couldn’t figure out how to find you, the more desperate and angry he had become. His people knew it was nothing personal, but his yelling and blaming was sometimes too difficult to bear for any of them. Steve knew he was being a dick, and he apologised every time his nerves got the better of him, but it was like he couldn’t do anything about it. 

It was when Bucky spoke up with a guilty look that Steve finally got a good idea from somebody. Not that he particularly liked it, but it was something useful at last, and Steve was actually quite angry with himself for not thinking of it sooner. The idea was to call Peggy because she was always able to find Rumlow a little easier than the rest of the world. How that worked exactly Steve never asked, because Peggy was one of those who kept their work pretty shut, and she wouldn’t brag or even talk about it, so Steve had barely any idea of what Peggy really did. There used to be times when he minded when it drove him up the wall, but not anymore. He didn’t care how she did it, the only thing Steve needed was to get you back. 

He called her almost immediately, listening to her smooth voice as she assured him that she would devote a majority of her time to help him because, after all, she still cared for him very much. Steve thanked her from the bottom of his heart and resolved to wait for her to come back to him since there was literally nothing else to do for him but to wallow in his pain. 

Surprisingly, it only took a few hours for Peggy to reach out and tell Steve that she might have found him. His heart started beating like crazy as if feeling that he might be getting you in his arms sooner than he expected. Peggy told him that she got the memo that Rumlow was hiding in an old warehouse south of the manor, around 70 kms away, and Steve just growled, knowing he was kind of right in his assumptions. He quickly gathered his team, not really speaking much, but they all understood. This was a life or death mission because most of the team was sure Steve wouldn’t survive that if they didn’t find you. 

Steve pretty much jumped out of a moving car when they neared the building, and he got to work immediately, going into the commander mode, assigning roles and talking strategy for when they would come in contact with Rumlow’s team. Everything was meticulously planned, and Steve had a good feeling about that. The only issue was that he couldn’t smell you. But he simply thought that he was still far enough to be able to do that and that they were probably keeping you in some shutoff room.

The closer to the building they got, however, the weirder the whole situation felt. No men were standing outside on the lookout, there were no specific smells to tell the team that there were indeed people hiding inside, and when they finally got in, they found the place completely empty. 

They rummaged through all the rooms, even in the basement and on the roof, but the only thing they got was some cloth lightly smelling like Rumlow, but not enough to tell them how long ago he was at the warehouse. Steve screamed in frustration because there was no sign of you, not even a hint of your smell that he so helplessly craved. 

Bucky and Sam shared distressed looks before they each grabbed Steve from one side and brought him back to the car, hollering at the whole team that the mission was over and that they needed to come back home. Steve didn’t speak the entire ride back, just staring out of the window, thinking of all the times you two would take such rides to and from the city, always discussing new books or just sharing stories from your youths. Steve now found that he took these moments for granted. He enjoyed them, sure, but not enough. There was the nagging voice telling him that he should have done more, that he ought to have taken you with him to that fucking meeting, and none of this would have happened. 

“Stop it, punk. None of this is your fault so stop with the self-blaming and call Peggy to tell you what the fuck happened that her tip wasn’t true,” Bucky interjected Steve’s thoughts, and as many times before, Steve wondered whether Bucky could just read him like an open book or if he had a direct link to his brain. Steve shook his head and dialled the number. 

“So, happily ever after?” Peggy said smugly, and if she stood anywhere near Steve, he swore he would have hit her. 

“Nothing and nobody’s fucking happy, Peggy. Nobody was there except for some piece of cloth that was supposed to smell like Rumlow. Who the fuck gave you this tip? I need to find my Omega, and I don’t have the time to drive around the city and march into every single abandoned building just because you have a hunch. I need real information, Peggy, and if you can’t give that to me, then you’re just wasting my time,” Steve said more tiredly than anything else, but Peggy’s face contorted in annoyance on the other end of the line. 

“I never waste your time, Stevie, you remember that. Look, I thought the info was top-notch, but I’ll keep looking. How about I come to your place, and we can think of a plan together?” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever, it definitely can’t harm us. I’ll be expecting you,” Steve sighed and hung up, nodding at Sam who was watching him through the rearview mirror. 

“Peggy said she’d come and help from the mansion. I mean, I’d rather have the whole fucking team together looking for Y/N, but I can’t fly everyone here from god-knows-where, so anyone who wants to join in is welcomed.” 

Sam nodded but didn’t like it one bit. He understood that Steve was desperate, but Peggy was and had always been bad news, and Sam had a hard time trusting her even back in the days when they had to fight side to side. All the secrecy surrounding her just stank, and Sam was sure he’d keep an eye on her, just in case. He wanted everything to go over smoothly for Steve, and nobody needed a sneaky bitch who would throw them under a train the second she got a better deal from the opposing side. 

You let your hand slide on the ground underneath you. It was rough with what felt like small rocks that were cutting you in the palm. You were seated, and your whole body hurt since you have been in this position for hours. Nobody talked to you since they killed your friends and abducted you. They just blindfolded you and tied you up, changing positions every few hours probably to disorient you since you doubted anybody really cared how comfortable you were. All you could do was rely on your senses and learn as much about your surroundings as you could. You weren’t even sure why you cared, but your brain couldn’t take thinking about anything related to Steve, so you busied it by making sure you knew everything you could. 

You learned that there were three places they would keep you in. You presumed that they were all in one room, but they changed whether you were sitting or lying down. You weren’t even sure what time it was and slept when they put you laid you down. Nobody ever touched you inappropriately, and that’s how you assumed not one of those people was Rumlow. 

The first place they would let you sit in was in an old crinkly chair made of rough wood as you had a few splinters from rubbing your hands against the arm-holders. It had four metal legs, and from the sounds, it made every time you shifted, you thought it was a rather old and overused piece of furniture. 

The second place was where you were sitting now. It was by the wall, which was cold and smelt of moss, and you even though you sensed death a few times, you knew that was just your exhausted brain playing games with you. The ground was full of rocks and shards of glass, so it was your least favourite place to be of the three. The ground was colder than all the other areas, and every time they made you stand up, there was a wet patch where your ass touched the ground as the coldness accumulated against your hot body, making you wish you could just change. But your abductees would never answer to your pleas, so after what you assumed were a few days, you just gave up asking them altogether. 

The third place was a makeshift bed, created out of a few pieces of wood pushed together and an old and smelly mattress. You tried to ignore all that the smell evoked in you, but you sometimes choked on your own saliva as you shifted and changed position, getting another whiff of what smelt like a hundred of butts and sweat. But it was a mattress, and you could get a few hours of sleep, so you couldn’t dwell on the details. 

When you found out everything there was with your surroundings you tried to pay attention to your abductors. And while you couldn’t say precisely how many there were, you had a pretty good idea. As you were an Omega, blindfolded and cuffed, they always came alone, and you recognised each of the people by their steps. There were four of them, each of them having differences in their weight, the length of their steps and the carefulness with which they handled you. That’s how you came up with the number of four. 

Number two was by far your favourite. They (you assumed it was a he but you couldn’t be sure) would always leave you alone even when you needed to use the bathroom. You knew they were in the room, but they had the decency to at least not physically touch you, and, in your mind, you created this picture that the person even turned around to leave you to do your business. They would also give you the biggest amount of water, seeing how you were parched because number four was a complete asshole and would always allow only a gulp before he drastically took the cup away from your mouth. 

And that was your days, filled with diverting your brain from thinking about the graver questions, like where were you, would Steve ever find you, what did they want from you, etc. Every time any of those popped up in your head, you choked up, and had to start touching your surroundings or else you’d have gone insane by now. 

It was when number three was supposed to come and let you sleep that you heard it. It was faint, but your ears perked up at anything that wasn’t your own breath or the sound of boots of your abductors hitting the ground. And this was neither. These were human voices talking about something behind the door. Your heart-rate picked up immediately because, while you hated the routine of four guards and three positions, you also knew that routine was good. Anything that was out of the routine could possibly mean death to you, and you tried to do anything to avoid that. The voices grew nearer, and you shuddered involuntarily, bracing yourself. 

When the door opened, the cold air hit your face, and you hid it between your shoulder blades. 

“Well, well, well, here is the famous Omega the world is searching for. You look so pathetic, it’s actually quite funny,” you heard a female voice say, and your brows knitted together. You heard it before, you just couldn’t place the voice for the life of you. 

“Yeah, well, the sooner she stops pining for that pathetic excuse of an Alpha and becomes mine, she will look much better. I mean, not that anybody’s gonna see her since she is just an Omega pussy, but she is my Omega pussy, so,” the man trailed off, and you didn’t have to think to place this voice. This voice haunted your worst nightmares, so you were pretty familiar with it. 

Rumlow

“Whatever, Rumlow. All we need is to get rid of her mating mark, and we’ll be good. Steve called me and found the warehouse where I sent him empty, and I, as a devoted friend, told him I’d help him from the mansion so I’ll have easy access to him and I will divert him from here if need be. You just need to do what you must so that I can have him back,” the woman spat, and it was as if a light bulb switched on. God, you felt stupid for not suspecting she had her ugly fingers in this. Fucking Peggy who obviously wanted Steve back even when she visited him all those months ago. 

And while it was nice that Steve didn’t feel the same, this woman was clearly a maniac, and she wouldn’t stop at anything to get what she wanted. 

But, there was one more thing that caught your attention. They wanted to get rid of your mating mark, and the thought paralysed your whole body. There were only a few ways to do that to any mated couple, and none of them was humane or accepted by most people. You’ve heard of Omegas trying to sever their bonds as they didn’t like who chose them, and so they cut a clean line across their mark, but even then the bond couldn’t be severed completely. There was also the option of just biting an Omega hard enough where their mates’ mark was, and trying to beat mark with a mark. 

You also heard that true mates were inseparable, and while Bruce told you that you were true mates, you could never know for sure. The inseparableness of true mates could just as well be some old maid tales, it was one of the things your mother used to tell you, but you had no idea where the truth was. 

The only thing you did know was that however they wanted to do it, you would go through hell, both physically and mentally, and that there was a more than likely chance that you would die in the process. 

“You’re not afraid she’ll die on you?” Peggy asked more curious than concerned because, for her plan to work, your ties with Steve had to be cut. She would have preferred killing you since it was easier, quicker and with long-lasting results. But Rumlow had been obsessed with you ever since he lost the fight with Steve back at the Circle. When Peggy heard about it, she just scoffed and told him he was an idiot, because if he would have called her, she could have just snuck you out without anyone knowing and they wouldn’t have been in this mess. 

“I mean, there’s always the possibility, but I’m not letting her run around with his mark. I wouldn’t like pounding a pussy marked by somebody else. Besides, she’s stronger than she looks, isn’t it right, pussycat?” Rumlow asked, for the first time addressing you. But you knew better than to talk, so you just remained quiet, and from the low hum coming from his mouth, you assumed it was a good decision. 

“And what if that bullshit about true mates is real?” 

“Oh, please, not you too. Nothing like true mates exists, Peggy, I told you. Some just smell nicer to particular individuals than others, that’s it. I don’t even know why we’re losing time talking about this. Go and do whatever you want with Steve and his estate and I’ll just do what I want with this one,” Rumlow rumbled, and the next thing you heard was the clicking of high-heels against the hard floor, leaving you alone in the room with the devil. 

“Now, sweetheart, I think we should begin, hm?”

“Oh, Stevie, you don’t look good. Here, let me bring you to your bedroom so you can rest and the team and I will search for your mate in the meantime, hm?” Peggy suggested nicely, and Steve nodded, happy there was somebody who could possibly save you. But before she put her claws on his arm, Sam appeared out of nowhere and stopped her hand. She hissed like a cat and Sam gave her an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. 

“I think it would be better if you stayed down here, Peggy, as you said, you are such a valuable asset to this team that I wouldn’t want to you to waste your time by going with Steve here. I will accompany him to his bedroom so that he can get some sleep, and, meanwhile, you can work with Bucky,” Sam smirked but didn’t wait for her response as he led Steve towards the staircase and up to his bedroom. There was no fucking way in hell Sam would let Peggy be with Steve alone. And since he shared his worries with Bucky, there were two of them looking out for their best friend, which left Peggy in a tough position. 

She watched Sam and Steve leave the room, and Bucky would laugh hadn’t it been such a delicate situation, because Peggy really looked like the Goddess of Revenge. That just further proved Sam’s theory about Peggy being fishy, to say the least, and Bucky was starting to question whether she didn’t have something to do with your disappearance. 

Peggy saw right through them, and she smirked to herself. If they wanted to play games with her, so be it. She would get Steve alone and inject the serum in him she had been making for so long, and they would finally live happily ever after. Just like they were supposed to. All she needed was to stay close to Steve for a couple of days, get him alone enough times, and he would be all hers. 

/ Next Chapter > 

Tags will be in reblogs xx

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - -  - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX

“I realize this is incredibly difficult,” the Nautolan Soul Healer said calmly. “But in order for us to help Obi-Wan, we need to determine the cause of his current disconnection with reality. Based on the drug panel, and convenient surveillance, we have, to the best of our ability, ruled out temporary psychosis brought on by a drug interaction.”

Cody stiffened further, not sure how to react to anything anymore. When a brother tried to end his own life, it was usually obvious why.

Sife Aerdo continued on. “There have, of course, been cases of Jedi Seers giveing into their fears of the future, or losing their sense of reality, but every case study involving such an extreme reaction was the result a gradual degradation over the course of many years. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Obi-Wan experienced a vision, and it may have impacted his breakdown to some extent. The more we know, the more successful any attempts to convince him of reality will be.”

Bant furrowed her brow in thought, trying to replay three decades of increasingly vague discussions of nightmares.

”Considering the high profile nature of his position, we cannot rule out some kind of psychological attack, perhaps even a darksider incursion.

Anakin leaned forward intently, the inside of his skull buzzing with white noise.

"All that being said, we must be prepared to treat Obi-Wan’s self harm as the  culmination of a long and quiet mental health struggle. He would not be the first in the Order to disguise such a thing with durasteel self-discipline.”

At that, Bant and Mace took a moment to release their feelings to the force, while Anakin raised his shields defensively.

Master Aerdo finally hesitated, before continuing in the same smooth tone. “I would ordinarily prefer to structure this kind of conversation quite differently- allow Obi-Wan time to share his feelings first and invite you each separately to support him in the healing process. But he’s gone from fighting sedatives and force compulsions as though the fate of the galaxy depended on it, to a self-induced coma. All while barely lucid, yet still somehow maintaining Master Class mental shielding. We need to get a better understanding of his mental landscape if we’re going to even begin the process of treatment."

It is necessary to note that everyone in that room had led, in one way or another, a somewhat miserable life. This was the main reason none of them could claim that the next five hours were the worst they had ever experienced. 

“But he’s always had terrible sleeping habits.” Anakin said hoarsely.

“Yes, but I think they got worse after Qui-Gon passed,” Bant argued, not sure what point she was making. 

“When I pointed out he couldn’t be getting more than three hours a night he told me that he could manage on meditation” Cody offered irritably.

“That’s technically true,” Mace confirmed. “If the Master in question is well-balanced otherwise”

“So its like his eating habits, crushing responsibilities, and repeated exposure to violence, then? Completely fine for a Jedi, in less it’s not, in which case it’s a major red flag?” 

“I think it would help to establish a timeline.“

Aerdo actually dredged up old mission reports, leading to the group reluctantly contacting Ashoka for her memories of Mortis.

At her Master’s insistence, she told them everything she remembered, hazy as it was, nervously elaborating on her own memories of falling. To her confusion, Master Windu all but brushed past that, assuring her that the important thing with stepping into darkness was the choice to the return to the light. Anakin bizarrely agreed with Windu. Out loud. Unnerved by the cooperation more than anything, she put her holographic foot down and demanded to know what was going on. 

Anakin took the comm-link into a separate room to speak privately.

Upon return, he informed the group (with a visibly red and puffy face) that Kit would be escorting her back from Mount Cala cleanup early, daring anyone to disagree. Windu nodded and the conversation continued on.

Together they rewatched holo-footage of Obi-Wan laughing amongst Ghost company the night before last, and debated reports from psychometric investigators who had scoured the cantina as well as Obi-Wan’s personal quarters for traces of illicit substances. Between that and another drug panel, they were finally forced to conclude that despite the timing, the alcohol at most confused Obi-Wan’s perception of a vision, or possibly simply loosened his tongue.

Bant prodded Cody to repeat every word from the holocar ride to the temple, taking furious notes. Cody was unable to stop the heat that crawled up his face.

Just when the looming horror of Obi-Wan actually preparing to intentionally die started to break over Anakin, Windu interjected.

“You don’t see what I do,” the Harun Kal said grimly. “Something galaxy-sized shattered around Obi-Wan and he didn’t break from it. The closest comparison I have is Master Yaddle’s presence when she meditated on her confinement. He’s chosen to keep going, even when, quite frankly, death would be a release. We’re missing something fundamental.”

“He said there were ‘other dark forces at work.’ Even if the fight was objectively hopeless... there’s no way he would choose to die because of it!” Anakin agreed vehemently, shaking off morbid fears.

“But he did choose to die.” Cody said quietly. And the wind went out of Anakin’s sails.

“Lets go back.”

Anakin gritted his teeth as they picked apart everything ‘unusual’ Obi-Wan had said and done leading up to his visit with Bant.

“What exactly did he...”

“So Plo Koon was able to get a read through his shields?”

“Did he have anything to eat?”

“How did that compare to...”

“When he's mentioned things in the future...did it seem good or bad to you?” Bant asked.

“Bad.” Cody and Anakin said in unison. Remembering the trip to the temple Cody spoke again, “Definitely bad.”

“Right. When we were talking he sometimes used the wrong tenses for things, people. I confronted him on not knowing ‘when’ he was after Knight Skywalker left. He told me that he knew what was real, but he was “enjoying not fully living in the moment” he also said that he intended to “wake up”

“Enjoying? That’s the exact word he used?” Cody asked incredulous. 

“He did seem...mostly happy yesterday. Giddy, at points.” Anakin said, slumping in on himself.

Bant looked at her notes once more before addressing the group.

“This isn’t vision psychosis in any manner I’ve heard of before...but I think I might have a theory. He used to have intense visions when we were kids; plenty of us did sometimes, but Obi-Wan would be unable to sleep after. What terrified him more than anything was the uncertainty that he might make the wrong choice- even when the vision was about something good, or neutral. His visions gradually stopped coming around puberty. We just had a conversation about this a few months ago- how relieved he was to only have to manage flashes of precognition. If he had a random, horrifying vision of a terrible future...suicide wouldn’t be his reaction. It’s too final.”

“Even if he blamed himself for what he saw coming?” Mace asked.

“Especially if he blamed himself.” Bant said. 

“What’s your theory?” Aerdo prodded.

“What if...what if he was telling the truth when he said he could separate out what was real and what was not? What if there was no distortion or blurring between now and then? What if he was just wrong about which was which?”

“That...would be a very extreme and abnormal manifestation of force-induced psychosis. He has training in distinguishing reality from visions. The continued presence of his mental shielding means that the fabric of his mind can’t be so horrifically collapsed in on itself.” 

“What if the vision was actually that realistic?” Bant said, pushing back against the soul healer. “So detailed and vivid that it effectively was a reality in itself, and everything else, all of us...”

“Were just memories” Anakin finished. “It would...actually explain pretty much everything. You said he wanted to wake up and when...when I found him.” He stopped, swallowing. “When I found him, he argued with me...what if he wasn’t trying to hurt himself? If you’re right...that would mean I found him trying to get back to reality.”

“It could explain his behavior in the halls...his desperation to wake...” Sife mused “But it runs counter to every other experience I’ve had with those managing prophetic visions. Master Windu, could that explain the shatterpoints you saw?”

“I’m not certain. It would have to have been extraordinarily real to create the echos of Shattering I witnessed. I don’t know if that depth of vision has occurred before, but then again, many things are possible in the force.”

“You really think he might have been...trying to wake up from dream? By killing himself?!” Cody asked incredulous.

“If that ends up being what happened I am going to give him such shit. That is the worst way to end a vision.” Anakin replied.

“Yes. It is.” Bant said pointedly. “That’s why it’s a last resort, after every other attempt to wake fails.” 

They all sat in silence, processing various implications. Cody was unnerved by another terrifying insight into force powers, as well as the idea that the General might vividly remember Cody being inexplicably mind-controlled into trying to kill him. Anakin was trying to understand what this would mean for them, and the conversations he had thought they had had. Did...any of it count, if he thought he was offering it to a hallucination?

“Alright, this is a valuable working idea, but let’s make sure to examine everything with an open mind before we draw any more conclusions. Anakin, what happened after you left the healers office?”

Obi-Wan’s critique of the practicalities of visiting a soul healer could be and was interpreted multiple ways. The incongruity of peacekeepers in war sparked a rehash of earlier discussion. More apologies. Self identifying as ‘crazy’ inspired new debate, especially in the context of the new theory. 

“When I saw him enter the fountain room I assumed he had had a brutal run-in with  dark force user.” Windu explained. “Based on everything we’ve gone over, I don’t understand when...but some of the more insidious sith compulsions work by taking whatever small anger or hurt you feel and magnifying them until they consume you. If Obi-Wan was already experiencing self loathing...”

Cody sucked in a breath. “Then a Sith mind suggestion would bring him to commit suicide. It...sounds like something he might do, if he was partially in control. Take the blow rather than let himself be used as a weapon against anyone else, even his worst enemy.”

“Hells, it could have been an even vaguer compulsion, driving him to attack the person he hates the most,” Bant added darkly.

Anakin buried his head in his hands, trying to hold it together. He couldn’t afford to lose control or get angry. Hells, getting angry at Obi-Wan for ‘failing him’ when in pain could be the reason Obi-Wan was currently in the healing halls. The man said he loved him unconditionally, then practically had a breakdown over how much Anakin pushed that unconditional love to the breaking point, then killed himself. How was he supposed to-

“Anakin? Are you alright to continue?” someone said.

“Yes. No. There’s more I have to tell you...I don’t know if it will help but - it was hurting Obi-Wan...I...”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time. What happened after you left Mace?”

Apparently even Cody somehow knew more about Bruck Chun than Anakin. Master Windu and Eerin told different sides of the same sad story, which spiraled back into a conversation about Obi-Wan’s inadequacy issues, which somehow devolved into a long rant about Qui-Gon Jinn that Master Windu had apparently been holding back for years. 

“My apologies.” He said afterwards, clearing his throat as the group stared, taken aback. “Old grievances. Go on Anakin, what did happened after you got to the ‘secret spot.’”

“He...was skirting around whatever was bothering him...I pushed him...told him I wanted to help...he said I couldn’t...because it was me...because of what I...”

Anakin stood up suddenly, feeling the walls of the room closing in.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I-” 

He ran out.

He turned around almost immediately, pacing in the small corridor, knowing he couldn’t leave, simply needing a minute to catch his breath.

Master Windu followed him out after a moment, not saying anything, just standing there. Watching him.

“What!” Anakin finally snapped. “What do you have to say that I don’t know already!”

“Knight Skywalker-”

“Don’t call me that! I DON’T DESERVE-” 

Anakin let out a frustrated snarl, punching a wall. The crumble of stone beneath this fist briefly made him feel better, but then he remembered Obi-Wan’s heartbroken expression in the light of an underworldly glow, and the tiny, choked sound he heard when the healers moved him and Anakin just...collapsed, falling to his knees.

Master Windu sank down gracefully beside him.

“Anakin. This isn’t about attachment issues, is it.”

“Not really, no. I mean, maybe you’ll blame attachment but it’s more about...”

“Anger.”

Anakin looked up at that, trying to regain the meditative calm he had felt for a glimmering moment yesterday, right in-between making peace in the cave and everything burning to ash. 

“You know that I have had my own struggles with anger. It is how and why I came to develop Vaapad.” 

“Yes, but you’ve Mastered your anger. And you’ve never...never given in to hate.”

A beat passed and Windu watched some of Skywalker’s familiar breaking points flicker into view. 

“You’ve done something. Something you know the Jedi won’t forgive.”

“Obi-Wan forgave me.” Anakin said, whispering. “He said that even though I couldn’t fix what I did he loved me anyway and I just needed to...to honestly regret what I did and not do it again. I told him I’d get rid of my lightsaber and I meant it and...I thought he forgave me. I was ready to go to the Council with him, come clean about everything. And then I left him alone to get dinner and when I came back...he was holding my lightsaber. My lightsaber.” 

Anakin buried his face in his hands, shuddering with creeping cold.

“I’m not going to critique your and Obi-Wan’s attachment to each other right now. I’m well aware that much of the order has turned to personal ties to maintain their stability given the ongoing horrors of war. I am, for many reasons, wary of the risks this brings us, yet it is also true that risks do not automatically mean failure. I myself have mastered my emotions in a different manner than conventional wisdom councils.” 

Windu spoke carefully. For all that he and Anakin had similar relationships with the force, they rarely saw eye to eye on any given subject. At a certain point, Mace had accepted that the volatile young man was determined to find the worst possible interpretation for anything he said. And Mace was not the order’s most patient diplomat.

“As for your crime, whatever it is, l will tell you this: Unless you choose to renounce the code and leave our number, you will be treated as a Jedi Knight, subject to our protections, as well as our judgement. You will receive appropriate mental counseling. If you are judged to be a danger to those around you, your actions will be curtailed and monitored, possibly through temporary confinement.  The Jedi do not believe in punitive measures for their own sake, but you may be required to provide restitution to those you harmed, perhaps indefinitely. 

Silence hung perilously between them. Windu watched a tremor run through the unfathomable kaleidoscopic of shatterpoints that had orbited Skywalker since he was a boy. A small one broke inward, and an attached tangle of larger, darker ones fell away, crumbling to dust. The rest faded from view, invisible for the moment. A choice had been made, some decision that closed off at least one path to the darkside.

“There’s no one to make restitutions to.”

“...You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

“Let’s go back inside- I don’t want to do this twice.”

They returned to the increasingly hated meeting room.

Anakin spoke in an outpouring of words about love and hate, about misplaced revenge and now uncertain forgiveness. When he finally finished, the room was deathly silent.

The three Jedi sat quietly while Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess this is why Jedi have the no attachment rule, huh? I admit I never really got it, but I suppose even if I-”

Bant abruptly lunged up, fumbling to bring her lightsaber to Anakin’s neck. Everyone jumped to their feet, except for Anakin, who stared at Bant with a wretched expression.

“MASTER EERIN! This is not-”

“Did you do it?” she asked, ignoring the Master of the Order.

“Bant!”

“It was my first thought after I saw him. We all rushed in expecting a fight, or a bomb, only to find you, insane, and him with a hole next to his heart. I didn’t want to believe it of course, but you’ve always had a violent streak that Obi-Wan, force help him, couldn’t quite soothe away. A fight gone wrong. Master Windu said it was suicide, and I believed him, and I’ve been trying to make sense of that ever since. But Mace found you after, didn’t he? After you felt guilty? Did you think he was going to turn on you?”

“Bant Eerin, you are dangerously-”

“No.” Anakin whispered.

“Obviously I might be why. But I didn’t- I couldn’t. I know I’m not good but I can’t even imagine- holding a saber against him like that. Kriff, do you not get how much I can’t handle losing people I love? I was insane when you saw me because I saw someone trying to kill Obi-Wan and I couldn’t even fight them.”  

Bant held his gaze for several lingering seconds, deactivated her saber and dropping it with a clatter. They stared at each other, breathing heavily and not blinking. She returned to her seat, moving jerkily. “I apologize Knight Skywalker. That was uncalled for.” 

“I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your shoes” he responded lowly. Bant made a tiny, unintelligible noise in reply. 

Cody collapsed back into his chair, holstering his blaster.  “Alright then...so after you finished sitting in the fountain room...what happened next?”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re handling Anakin’s confession somewhat dispassionately. We’re simply surprised.” Mace said slowly, returning to his seat at the same time as Master Aerdo fell into theirs.

Cody shifted uncomfortably. “The vod were trained in a wide range of enemy suppression tactics. While we’re extremely glad the Jedi have never asked us to employ them, I’m not...unfamiliar with this scale of deliberate slaughter. At least in the hypothetical, sir.”

“I see.” Aerdo said. “That is a valuable insight to have, thank you. Knight Skywalker-”

“Just...call me Anakin. Or Skywalker.”

“Anakin. When did this happen?”

“About two years ago, immediately before the First Battle of Geonosis.”

“And have you had any similar experiences with giving into the darkside since?” they asked placidly.

“I don’t think so but...we went to war the next day and....I don’t know if I’ve stopped fighting since it- since I did what I did.”

“Hmm. Anakin, would you mind stepping outside the room and waiting in the corridor for a moment please?” 

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and quietly walked out the door while the Masters decided his fate. He leaned back against a wall, desperately wanting to see Padme. 

To his surprise, the door opened barely a few minutes later, and he was politely invited back in.

“Anakin.” Master Windu spoke. “Thank you for telling us this. It’s an important insight into Obi-Wan’s feelings right now, and I recognize that you could have kept it a secret. As Head of the Order, and with the advice of a Senior Soul Healer, I have made a decision. You will be assigned a personal soul healer, who you will start seeing tomorrow. Commander Cody pointed out that over nearly two years of continuous warfare, you have maintained some of the the lowest trooper casualty units of any division, by a significant margin if we evaluate based on mission risk level. Your civilian and enemy casualties will be reviewed, but even considering constant war, since your massacre of the Tuskens, you have clearly managed to at least... direct your violence away from the innocent. We do not consider you a threat to the inhabitants of the world. For the time being, I see no real benefit to limiting or tracking your behavior within the temple or on planet, but you are barred from leaving orbit. I have decided to delay a full reckoning before the council until such time that your former Master is well enough to provide his own opinion. Give me just cause, and I will have you confined to a force-suppressing cell. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, bowing in acknowledgment. All things considered, it was...honestly better than he expected.

“Now, as Cody” Windu paused. “My apologies, as the Commander was saying-” 

“Cody’s fine, sir” Cody said, wrung out in a way different from anything Kamino had trained him for.

“...I think we can all consider ourselves on a first name basis at this point.” Bant said with a snort. She paused. “That includes you Anakin. I really don’t know how to handle what you did but kark it, I don’t want to hate you. For myself.”

Everyone nodded.

“As Cody was saying, what happened next?”

Peace. Comfort. Hunger. A warning in the force...

-

“I tried to pull the saber back but his finger was already on the igniter...” 

“You probably saved his life. Even a second later-”

“I know, that’s almost the worst part.”

-

“-his neck”

“Why would he change weapons?”

“What if-”

-

“He said what to you and Healer Che?”

“That has to support the detailed vision idea, think about-”

“I’m sorry, Emperor?”

-

“I think we’re done.”

Anakin stared blankly at Sife. “But we didn’t figure anything out.”

“Not conclusively, but we’re unlikely to make any more progress, you’ve given me enough information to preform a meaningful meditative scan, or guide a conversation, should Obi-Wan wake, or navigate through his mind, should we decide to make a more decisive attempt at his shields.”

“Master Aerdo... I leave the final judgement up to you, but I strongly urge you to make a more decisive attempt. I am more convinced now than I was...” Mace glanced at the chronometer “five hours ago that this was motivated by a specific, external stimuli, likely dark. Do you disagree?”

“No.” they said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to underestimate how much underlying factors might have contributed to his response to stimuli, including underlying factors that none of you were aware of.”

The Nautolan Soul Healer stood up, tucking their hands into their sleeves to address the room with classical Jedi serenity. It was a little irritating.

“In any case, we all need to sleep, eat, and meditate. Master Eerin, you have the rest of the day off, I've cleared it with Master Che already. Master Windu, I leave the final judgement up to you, and I am aware that your duties as Master of the Order are unceasing, but I urge you to take some time to center yourself before returning to the council. Commander Cody, I would be more than willing to arrange soul healing for you or any of the Vod, please let me know. Anakin, you will receive a comm later today with further details on your future healing sessions. 

They bowed low, then glided out the door.

Bant stood next, bowed individually to each soul, and sped walked out.

Commander Cody cleared his throat awkwardly, “Mace- what should I tell the troops? We’re supposed to have command briefings later tonight.”

“If anyone asks about General Kenobi, tell them its classified.” I’ll schedule a briefing on the subject. Now go find Captain Rex and take care of yourself, that’s an order.”

Cody saluted, first to the high General, then to Anakin.

Finally it was just Mace and Anakin.

“Is there anyone who you trust who I can call to stay with you.” Master Windu asked.

“I can manage on my own” Anakin replied, not willing to give the Master of the Order anything else he could use against him, even after everything.

Master Windu held back a sigh.

He continued once more, making a deliberate attempt to soften his tone. “Anakin- I know we’ve had our differences, but this is not a trick, nor a trap. You’ve suffered a series of great shocks in the last 24 hours and handled them with immense maturity. I myself am struggling to deal with the emotional fallout.”

Anakin looked up at that, surprised. He didn’t seem to be struggling, but maybe that was what made him a good Jedi Master...

“As I told you before, I am not going to begrudge you the comfort of attachment. I’m rather convinced it would do you more harm than good at this point. I don’t want you flying right now, and you don’t have to be alone. I hope we have come to a better understanding today, but I doubt my presence is suddenly a comfort, though please correct me if I’m wrong. Now is there someone I can call?”

-

Padme ended her call with Master Windu extremely discomfited. She had barely heard from Anakin since he ran out on her the night before last to take care of an apparently extremely drunk Obi-Wan. He had messaged her a few times that night, promising to make it up to her, but had been comm-silent since. She had been starting to get worried, and now the Master of the Order was asking her to pick him up from the temple. Fortunately, she had already cleared most of her meetings for the week well in advance (Courascant leave usually meant THEM time, not that she was jealous of Obi-Wan, of course).

The speeder ride back from the temple was silent. All Anakin would say was that he would explain everything once they were in ‘a secure location.’ 

The door to the apartment had scarcely closed behind them when Anakin fell into her arms, shaking.

“Anakin, talk to me love, what’s wrong?” She gently guided him to the couch, arranging him so she could hold him protectively.

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

She let out a harsh gasp, “No! He can’t have, he would never-” 

“I got to him in time, but Padme... he was holding a lightsaber to his heart. It was...really close” He burrowed deeper into the folds of her dress, and she gripped him fiercely.

“Oh gods, is he-”

“He’s physically healing, but he’s still...not all there. I spent all of today locked in a room, trying to figure out if it was a Sith Attack, or an insane vision, or..or me”

“Anakin! What do you mean ‘me’ - Obi-Wan loves you, you-”

“I know.” Anakin interrupted her again, knowing he was being unfair; he was just too exhausted to be patient.

“He told me loved me. He...he...found out about what I did to the Tusken village, You should have seen his face, Padme, he was horrified, but he still told me he loved me, and he was willing to forgive me, even though he shouldn’t”

“Of course he forgave you,” Padme whispered. “You’re not a monster, Anakin, I know you would never do something like that again.”

"And then after we talked, I left him alone and he-” Anakin choked out into her dress.

Tears ran down her face, heart breaking. “That’s- that’s horrible. Anakin...it must have have been a attack, Obi-Wan wouldn’t do that.” she said urgently.

He pulled away, horrified. “I made you cry. I made Obi-Wan cry too. I’m sorry- Padme please, promise me you won’t-”

She grabbed the sides of his head. 

Her nails bit into the soft skin behind his ears as she pulled him down so they were face-to-face, vowing, “Never. I swear by the force itself, I will never choose death over life.”

He let out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Now you,” she demanded

“As long as I have anyone to live for, I swear by the force, I will never choose death over life.”

She pulled him the rest of the way in for a bruising kiss. He lifted her, and they desperately clung at one another as he carried her to bed. They continued like that, clinging and grasping, until exhaustion carried him to sleep. She pulled the covers over top them both and curled around him defensively as the day slowly faded away.

Part XI

[1nm2]

(reposted sample unedited writing close your eyes)

❛ When you take a life, you take your own. ❜ stephen to wanda

The night her parents were shot by concrete couldn’t have been colder. The sky was made suddenly brighter by stars when the rooftop had flung off.

No more low ceiling from the bunk pressing down on her so heavily that sometimes Wanda woke believing she was laying underneath the bed instead of on top of it.

The half cracked-off legs of chairs and cupboards roar up in endless grids, playing the crowd. She leads Strange through the winding path between the broken furniture, a year after the madness of wailing and screaming from injuries and her child-self cowering with her brother. They’d picked themselves up in the next hour. In these parts, calamities and disasters were part of life.

Pietro had put himself in harm’s way for her. His heart of pure goodness would even have him commit suicide for a stranger.

He used to steal motorbikes to ride through the town. He would say hello-hello to the girls, and complain that no one cared about bikes. It’s just a bike.

You don’t know what I saw.

Vision’s eyes strain to hide his agony again, as if love weren’t truly cynical.

They last such a long time, jostling against the thundering whip of her magic, lashing from her fingertips in electric crackles, growing arms and legs, reaching into the recesses of his skull. They hook all the words of sorries into the whispers of his thoughts. They show him the calm eternity they had together, the homely feel of their house, his friends, and all his flowering plants she didn’t know the names of.

Yes…. I know I try to suicide, uh…. but it’s okay, I’m alive… Don’t worries I’ll be fine.

Too many voices tumble in too freely. Wanda shoves something out. Someone. All the maze of broken walls and their roughly chipped edges open up to the building’s edge, the steep drop below them, and the full sky ahead. Light from the crack of sun washes over them all in a single band of pink. The pink turns to orange. The wind batters unevenly from a few blocks away. The peace is like no other. She makes clear the phosphorescence in the air, the tiny yellow sparks floating and flitting about.

Wanda looks up, around. The giant mirror shards behind the clouds become palatable. She doesn’t know how long she’s been gaze-locked, framed in pleasant red, staring at herself. Her heart begins to hammer. She feels dirty all over, from scumbucket’s failure declared by betrayal. Now she misses Vis so much she wants to die. A hard, physical longing, as if springing both arms down a hole to grab at what lay. He must know, so much isolation bars in her. So much power rests uncomfortably in that fragile chest with the unfillable graves where people once lay.

‘  If I hadn't killed Vis, would there be a reality we could have brought half the world back and saved him?  ‘

[ilovebokutokoutaro]

Faded

Langa x reader

Warnings : self harm, mental abuse, physical abuse, crying, screaming, abandoning, depression, blood and angst and angst, not proofread.

Overview : Angst.

When your boyfriend, langa, left for japan, you knew you'd be lonely. They were your only family, you had no one except them, his father's death had hit you so hard you could kill yourself but you had to stay strong for langa. Living alone with no one by your side soon became a routine, the routine you had before you met langa, his family, they loved you.

Your father was straight up a drunkard and your mother, let's just say she opened legs for other men more than she opened her arms for you to hug or if she ever did.

You couldn't leave to stay with langa and his family, when your parents fought, resulting with you lying in your room after being hit by them, they needed to let their anger out and who was the best to blame except you? You were the reason they were both like this, they had said, hitting you over and over untill they calmed themselves down.

Your friends were worried for you, not only had langa left but also you were covered in new bruises and injuries almost every other day, barely eating or talking.

Langa called daily at first but soon his calls lied from once a week to once a month before you could comprehend anything that was happening. He would tell you everything about japan, his new friend reki, how he met so many people who skated so amazingly it was enchanting. Maybe the network wasn't so good on his side, that must be the reason he couldn't see your eyes hanging dull, your body looked like nothing but bones and skin, all the bruises, the injuries must be not so visible with a poor network.

He loved you afterall, he'd worry too much either way so it's okay. "Oh God reki is so awesome, you know y/n" and the rest you never heard your ears ringing in pain, as much as you wanted to listen to him, it hurt. The way he ignored all your well being and focused on some strangers he had met just a few months ago. it hurt so much but you couldn't speak it out, so you chose to end the call abruptly.

Sobbing into your knees, you sat on the bed feeling ever so lonely, you were starting to question everything and anything. Why were you even alive at this point, if only you died somehow. Soon it became a routine, crying till you passed out for an hour or so then getting up to go to school.

Your social media had died down to nothing, your life had died down to nothing. You were so tired of everything at this point, a murdered would stab you with a knife and you'd thank him for it. Soon langa's facetimes turned into voicecalls after your abrupt ending of the call.

You'd still receive calls from his mother but you barely picked them anymore, to say she was worried was an understatement. But langa was so busy, so happy with his life she couldn't get to tell him how worried she was for you.

you had started deeming yourself unworthy of living, of being with anyone, the mental and physical abuse from your parents only worsening to the point you couldn't breathe straight. You had switched to self harm as a coping method sooner than you had thought.

Not long before suicidal thoughts picked at your brain all the time, you were starting to fail classes, anyone could see how miserable you were, but no one ever cared enough to talk to you, or so you said, pushing everyone out.

It's been weeks since you last talked to langa, since you last went to school, choosing to burry yourself in your room instead. You parents were happier than ever, there abuse starting to get negligible, they weren't even near you anymore. your mother being pregnant with another child from your father. They were ecstatic, but you were not a part of it, the celebration stayed between them and their friends, tho your parents had started treating you better.

You found yourself falling deeper the more you struggled, your mental health declining to the point you were starting to loose all hopes in yourself. Your hate for others soon turned to hate for yourself and your self harm increased, many times your father would see your lying in you bedroom with bloody wrists, they were all worried for you, they stated, "go to therapy, y/n. We don't want to loose you" your mother sobbed to which you stayed there not moving. She hugged you, cried till you nodded your head. But therapy brought no good, just dragging you further down.

Langa had started getting worried sick and so was his mother, he had ranted about everything to his friends, whatever your friends told him. He wanted to talk to you even if once more, but you were fixed on isolating yourself more and more.

It was not long before you called langa, "I'm sorry, i was busy" you said, your voice was nothing more than emotionless and he begged you to tell him what was wrong but you stayed silent, his worry soon ending up with him screaming for you but you never answered. Not before he heard a loud crack and your parents screaming your name.

Langa stood frozen as he heard your parents cry and scream for you to wake up. He just wanted to pretend you were okay and alive. He was sitting in joe's restaurant, silently sipping the juice he was given as reki and shadow tried to distract him, suddenly his phone rang cutting off the awkward silence, and his mother told him to stay wherever he was and that she was coming to pick him up.

He just wanted to pretend you were okay, but it all came shattering down as his mother banged the door open, her face stained with tears as she fell on her knees sobbing and crying about how you had hanged yourself the day you called him, everyone remained silent, langa only sitting there not moving a muscle, oh God he wished he had stayed with you just a bit longer, called you a bit often, asked you if you were okay, he was selfish so selfish, if only he had noticed everything before maybe just maybe you would be talking to him rn.

Reki and shadow tried to comfort his mother who was now sobbing on the ground while langa just sat there frozen. He never thought a little lack of his concern could drive you to killing yourself. He wanted to blame someone and as much as he hated it he was the only right choice he found. Langa's phone pinged, a message from your mother's number. A page, stained with blood and tears, coming in his sight.

He saw your beautiful handwriting turn into nothing but a mess,

"I'm sorry, i love you i swear i do. But it was so hard living like this langa, there was no one, no one. I was so lonely so lonely, i thought cutting myself would do me any good, but it only drove me into more hunger for blood, and soon i wanted more than the stinging pain against my skin. I wanted to kill myself before i even knew it, you looked so happy when you called me that time. Stay smiling like that for me forever won't you? I'm sorry again langa i love you."

The letter was so abrupt as if you were in a hurry, as if you were dying. And he started sobbing before he knew it, surprising not only himself but everyone around him. His mother only teared up more she saw him crying. Cherry and joe desperately trying to calm the mother and son down.

It was a mess, the mess you left behind for them to handle, the mess you were going through all alone now cut short and stuck to everyone who loved you. Maybe if they all noticed sooner you'd have been here. Maybe just maybe if they told you they loved you sooner you would've been here.

..........

A/n: hey, so uhm idk i just wrote this in a flow. Just know if you, or someone you know is going through Something you can always seek help or go try to help someone, nothing you'd say to a depressed person would ever be meaningless, maybe your kindness saves a soul. Hope you all are doing fine hahhaha. Lot of angst for a day whew.

Anyway, thank you for reading🥺🥰🥰. Reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥺☺️💜

[mochiable]

TW: mental health, disorders, illnesses, suicide

guys, if you’re seeing this, please stop scrolling and take your time to read this. reblog this to spread awareness.

i. mental health is as important as physical health, and we sometimes forget that. your disorders/illnesses will probably make you think there’s no one by your side, and that you have to go through all of this alone. but that’s not true. ask for help, there will always be someone willing to help you. i promise you, there will be someone giving their all to support you and stand by your side.

i know that for you, suicide is an option. that you believe it’s the only way to end the pain, to stop living and feeling what is tearing you apart inside. i know because i’ve been there too. please seek help before you make a decision, please.

also, if you have the opportunity and the strength and confidence a good psychologist would do you a lot of good. i know it can be scary, telling your family or just being there with a person you don’t know at all, telling them your problems and seeing how they write them down on a blank piece of paper as if you were telling them about the last book you read. but i assure you that if you both do your part, both them diagnosing you correctly and you being honest about everything that happens to you, it really can make you feel a lot better, you’ll feel as if a great weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and this, in times like these, is a great relief.

and i don’t like to promise things that have a relative percentage of not coming true. but things can change. i look back now and think, what if i had done it that night? i wouldn’t have discovered kpop, i wouldn’t have met the boys, so i wouldn’t be in this community rn; i wouldn’t have met all the wonderful people i’ve met, especially this past year. i wouldn’t have been able to live through any of this if i had made another decision. and i don’t regret any of it.

i swear that although you now see life in different shades of grey, there are many more colours to discover, there are many more places to visit and many more people to meet. and think that if you had given up all those times you were about to give up you wouldn’t have met the wonderful people who are now with you. and i know it’s hard to believe, i know it won’t help you if i tell you that everything will get better or that in a few years you’ll see how you’ve been able to overcome all this torment. but now i think about my thirteen year old self that wanted to end it all, that wanted to disappear and get rid of all the pain and i think “thank goodness i didn’t” because i’ve met great people who love me and support me when i need it most, i’ve visited new places and i’ve finally discovered new colours other than grey. it takes a lot of strength, willpower and mental capacity to stop hurting yourself, but maybe you don’t lose anything by trying, don’t you think?

ii. for those of you who know someone who has suicidal thoughts or is self-harming. never make them feel guilty about it. they feel guilty enough about everything else without having to add anything else to it. try to understand them, try to put yourself in their shoes, try to get them to open up to you, to trust you. give them a hand when they fall down, and a hug when they get back up again.

people who have committed suicide are not cowards, they are not weaker than you, they are not selfish. they are people who have suffered things they shouldn’t have suffered and who have made a decision that they believed was the right one. they are not a worse parent, a worse sibling, a worse cousin, a worse friend for having committed suicide. they are a human being who drowned and who couldn’t find a lifebelt to pull them out of the water.

oh and, speaking before about psychologists, you have to stop looking down on people or giving them the cold shoulder or making nasty remarks about going to a psychologist. i’m a person who firmly believes that everyone should be able to and should go at least once in their life. going to a psychologist does not make you crazy. it is highly archaic to continue to think this way, and it’s unacceptable.

iii. don’t pretend to have mental problems, don’t pretend to self-harm, don’t pretend your own death, don’t pretend to have committed suicide. just don’t pretend.

a) is it really worth it? is it really worth losing all your friends just for a few hours of attention? and now think, do you really consider them your friends? i would never want to make my friends worry about me on purpose. is it really necessary? to put on a whole show to make people worry about you unnecessarily, just to get attention?

b) you are hurting them, you can’t imagine how much. receiving a message saying that a relative or friend of yours has taken their life is not at all pleasant, far from it. and inevitably you make them think that they are guilty, that they could have helped you, that they should have helped you and didn’t, that they could have done a little more for you, that they could have tried to avoid it. avoid something that never happened because you decided to lie.

c) it’s a serious lack of respect for people who suffer from mental illnesses and disorders and for those who have taken their own lives and their families. what you achieve by doing this, apart from fucking with people’s trust and causing them to have trust issues with other people who really need help, is that people who really suffer from these problems are believed less, they are told that they’re just looking for attention, that they’re exaggerating. what you achieve is that with the little progress that has been made in trying to integrate these people back into society, the whole process is taken backwards.

so i repeat, is it really worth it?