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ezgithechaotic · 3 years

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The Parent Trap | Chapter Six; to love someone else

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

AU: The Parent Trap, dad!harry

series summary: Identical twins Benjamin and Edward, separated at birth and each raised by one of their biological parents, later discover each other for the first time at summer camp and make a plan to bring their wayward parents back together.

chapter summary; There are so many thing to say, but so little time for Harry and Y\N.

author note; well hello there, ı’m back. It’s been really long and I’m so soryy about it. But I guess you guys are used to it. I will try to write the next chapter soon! Don’t be shy to send me a message if you would like to talk and be friends. I don’t bite, I promise!

I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. My askbox is always open if you want to talk. Please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

Taglist is open. Please send me an ask or comment if you want to be tagged! (22\30)

The Parent Trap Masterlist, main masterlist

Life had a funny way of bringing people together, and it had no interest in their desires. Sitting on one of the blue couches, a coffee in her hand, the only thing Y\N wanted to do was run away and never look back. But she wasn't eighteen anymore; she had learned that running from your problems only circled you back to them. So, she did what every reasonable person would do, stayed put. But now, seeing her hand shaking while holding the silver spoon, Y\N was questioning every decision she ever made that brought her to this point.

So much for getting over him Y\N, well done.

"You look good."

The moment words left his mouth Harry cursed himself silently. You look good. Of course, she did. Is that what he all had? After almost nine years, Y\N still made him tongue-tied. He wasn't the Harry who stood in front of thousands of people to perform; he was a boy again, and he hated it. He was eighteen again, seeing his producer's sister and thinking, maybe he is capable of love. Despite feeling like it was yesterday, Harry wasn't eighteen anymore. He didn't have the opportunities to be stupid and in love. It had been a long time since Harry had lost that chance. Wishing he could say sorry and explain anything wasn't going to solve anything, and it surely wasn't going to bring him his old Y\N, who was naive enough to fall in love with a worldwide star. She knew better now. So, maybe the only thing he could come up with was you look good.

Even though a moment of sadness passed her face, Y\N was quick to pull herself together. She put a kind smile on her face, the way she did when one of her customers made her feel tired, but she still had to keep going. Harry had seen that smile before when he told her he had to cancel one of their dates, again or when he told her that they couldn't be seen together in public.

"You look good too."

There it was again, her velvet-like voice. Y\N had always amazed Harry; she could be kind to everyone no matter what, even when the person across her was the reason for her broken heart. Neither of them dared to ask about their sons and each other. How would you ask about someone you chose to leave behind?

"Can I..." Y\N could feel her anxiety riling up. She took a deep breath and tried sitting more straight. "How is he?"

Harry's heart almost skipped a beat. He couldn't decide if he was stupid to send him away. Would it be less awkward if Benjamin was there, or would it be a dread to explain to him why his mother was standing in the middle of their guest room?

"Look, I know we had an agreement." Y\N sighed. Harry didn't realize how much time it took him to come up with an answer until she spoke. "I only want to know how he is."

"He's... Well, he's good."

Harry apparently lost his ability to form any good sentences that day, but it looked like he was talking to a brick wall. Y\N left her cup on the coffee table, now leaning and resting her elbows on her knees.

"I feel like I'm doing a terrible job." Eyes fixed on the ground and watery, head between her hands, Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen Y\N so vulnerable. "Edward is the sweetest boy, I swear. He's the perfect kid any parent could ask for. And I feel like I'm the worst mother for tearing him apart from his brother, for not giving him the life he deserves. And the only thing I can think of is would he be happier if he were with you." She was up suddenly, pacing around the room.

"And how much I missed from Benjamin's life. Will, he ever know me, or Edward ever know you? Will they ever know each other? Will they ever forgive us for what we did?" She stopped, looking at Harry. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she looked into his green eyes. She wanted to keep going. Scream, shout, cry. But she stood there, looking at him, waiting like he could give her an answer.

Will I ever forgive myself for letting you go?

Y\N wanted to keep asking, but there was no point. She stopped a tear before it could reach her jaw, quickly. "God, I don't know how long I've been holding that in."

Harry was dying to apologize, to ask if she was missing him as much as he was missing her. He was dying to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he sat there, like an idiot.

"We were young, Y\N. We did what we thought was best. Wrong or right, there is no undoing it right now."

Hearing her name roll off his sweet mouth woke something inside Y\N. She had so many things she wanted to say but didn't know where to begin. Her mouth was frantically opening and closing back again, but nothing came out.

Sarah and Mitch were just outside the room, trying to listen to the conversation. "I swear he's so stupid," Mitch whispered. "Just say something!"

"Hey, be quiet. I'm trying to listen."

Before Mitch could say anything, he heard key sounds coming from the front door. He quickly turned to Sarah. "Camille wasn't visiting today, right?" He was praying that it wasn't Camille, but there wasn't anyone outside them who had keys to Harry's house.

"Shit."

"I know you're a great mother, Y\N; I know that. And I know we did wrong things, but that doesn't mean you're failing."

"I feel like I am." Y\N was still standing there, her fingers fidgeting with her white shirt. She wanted to yell, how could he possibly know what kind of mother she was? He was never there. Harry stood up with a purpose to walk to Y\N and maybe to hold her. But his actions stopped when the door to the guest room opened.

And there she was, Camille Rowe with all her glory. Blonde hair sitting on her shoulders, red-colored lips, and long lashes, she looked like she came straight from a runway. And Y\N tried with all her might, but she couldn't hate her. Even though her pants were horrible, even though she always used her beauty to get away with her cruelty. And, true, the diamond ring sitting on her finger was no help, but still, she had no hate for her. It wasn't Camille's fault that she was at his feet, basically asking Harry to fix everything because she was too vulnerable.

How Y\N wished she could love somebody else that wasn't Harry. She wished she could move on as he did. But it was stuck, her whole life was stuck since he left her without any explanation. Sometimes she would feel so ready to love someone else, to find anybody willing to take her this broken. She tried so hard, lying to herself, making everyone believe she got over him. She didn't listen to any of his songs, watch anything that could be related to him. She was running away for the last nine years, not once stopping and looking back. Well, look where it brought her to now, sitting in the same room with him and his fiancee, who had no idea how much history they had.

"I honestly love everything piece you do." Did she? Y\N couldn't tell if Camille knew everything or not. But if she did, she was a damn good actress. And Y\N was terrified of what could come after this if she didn't leave that house right now. "I would love it if you worked on my wedding dress."

Y\N's whole world was upside down at that moment. Her hair on her neck stood on end. Her whole body was shivering; she didn't know if it was rage or hurt. Still, the smile came up again.

"I'm afraid I'm too busy with my new collection."

"Well, I will have to find someone else, I guess." Camille laughed, her hand sneaking up Harry's leg. Y\N was burning, her blood felt like it was boiling inside her veins. She needed to get out of there, quick. "But I'm so glad Harry could reach somebody. He had been looking for that cardigan for days, now. I thought he was going crazy." She laughed again, unlike everyone else in the room but, apparently she didn't care.

"It was no problem, honestly. Jonathan is a dear friend of mine; I was just doing a favor." Y\N couldn't believe how calm she sounded. Maybe she should have chosen to be an actress.

"I'm sure you're very busy, but we would love to see you at the wedding. Right, honey?" Camille turned to Harry, waiting for his approval. Harry quickly nodded as if he was waiting to agree to everything she was saying. "Of course."

"I'll have to see, I guess." Y\N didn't know how much longer she could pretend like everything bathed in sunlight. So, she got up, ignoring the shaking in her legs. "I should go, my team is probably waiting for me."

"It was lovely to meet you." Camille held her hand out. Her grasp was hard like she was telling Y\N to start running and never look back again. Still, Y\N stood her ground, firmly taking her handshake and smiling. Her eyes meet Harry's for a second. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't think anything that she could say would turn this around. So, she lied instead.

"Congratulation on the engagement. You two make a lovely couple."

Y\N couldn't believe she could lie so effortlessly, without any trembling in her voice. Still, shaking Camille's warm hand and seeing her next to Harry with a diamond on her hand made her want to get in her car and run away to somewhere very far away that she could throw up. So, she did that.

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#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #the parent trap #the parent trap au #the parent trap au moodboard #harry styles the parent trap au #one direction #one direction imagine

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 3 years

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Just Coping

Reiner Braun x femme!crush!Reader

word count: 2406

summary: y/n’s mirror breaks while Reiner hears her crying, and Reiner is on damage control. emotional support ensues. angst and fluff.

a/n: I relapsed a week or so back, so this is my therapy writing. I was abused by my biodad as a child and this contains some irl examples of my feelings and experiences. Given that it’s pretty personal for me and lots of tears and vulnerability went into this, please keep feedback positive, respectful and constructive.

tw: mentions of abuse, assumed self-harm, depression, self-hatred, self-isolation

I can hear y/n sobbing again. Is that all she does now? Being a soldier is supposed to make you tough. Granted, I’m not any better. I knock lightly on the door. She must’ve covered her mouth, because her cries sound a little muffled, though the volume is still there for the most part. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quieter.” She calls. Suddenly I hear glass shatter and a shriek.

I quickly push the door open, and find y/n in her bathroom, standing with her legs against the tub, trying not to step in the broken glass. Her mirror somehow fell off its’ hinges despite being newly installed. I’ll have to report the renovation error. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to be polite even though the direction of the question could provide two very different answers.

She looks down and whimpers, “I’m sorry.” Since I’m wearing boots, I trudge over through the mess, the crunch of the glass almost sounding like that of snow. “It’s alright. Let me carry you out of the room?” She nods in understanding, and I sweep y/n up bridal style, placing her on the carpet. I grab the standard broom and dustpan behind every door and start sweeping. “So, mind telling me what those other noises were about?” I ask, and hear her footsteps and the creaking of the door closing, the handle clicking into place.

“You would think it’s stupid.” Y/n says. I can tell she’s trying not to start crying again.

“I think you think I would think that, but I still would like to hear it.” I push. “You’ve been crying every day at this point. You’ve been missing from our group for so long that Porco stopped being an asshole to me. It worries me.”

She sniffs. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, I care about you, so I’m going to worry anyway. It’s kind of my job,” I state, “As your friend, and as your superior. I need you around, no matter which role I’m playing.” I deposit the swept up shards into the waste bin, put the tools away and cross my arms, leaning against the door frame in wait.

“I-“ She starts, then pauses, taking a deep breath. She looks up at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. A fruitless endeavor, really - sorrow is a wild river, flowing of its’ own accord, without regard for fragility of mind - she squeezes her eyes shut as if to dam the water, keep it from overflowing. “I’m not trying to cry, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize.”

“Sorry, I just- I mean- um.” She fidgets, rubbing the inside of her wrist awkwardly. I notice faint scratches. My stomach flips, and I reach out to grab her hand before she can hide it.

“What is this?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I feel my throat tightening, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “Why would you do this to yourself? Do you have any idea how many people care about you? Do you have any sense of self-preservation? I- what?”

She’s murmuring something quietly, the tears she tried to trap spilling down her face like rain on a windowpane. She speaks up, just a whisper louder than she was before. “P-p-please l-let go of me.” I realize I’m squeezing her hand and let go, snatching my arms back and stuffing them in my pockets. Why am I so angry? That’s not the kind of person I’m supposed to be. Who am I supposed to be?

Y/n gasps, the sadness too much for tears alone. She starts shaking. “I’m sorry, I just- when I look in the mirror every day, I- I hate myself. I l-ook like him, inside and out, and, and I see-“ She swallows as if she’s trying not to drown and got water in her mouth. “I see what he did to me. I didn’t-“ She looks down. “I didn’t do that to myself, I-“ Another gasp, like she’s struggling to breathe. “It was done to me. When I was in trouble. So were the other marks. Not that I ever got to know what I did wrong.”

So stupid of me. Why did I just assume? Is it just because of my own ideas? God, this is why everybody thinks I’m selfish. “Other marks? He? Who is he? Is he still around?” I ask.

She sits on her bed, tucking her legs beneath her and hugging her knees, making herself visibly small. A whisper: “My dad.” The two words sting like white-hot iron. The gears are spinning in my head - how to find him, how to make him feel the pain his actions caused and then some for good measure. She must notice, because she says, “Please don’t do anything. It’ll just come back around to me.” The fog in my mind clears when I see her scooting away from me, physically distancing herself from my anger. I sigh, calming my violent thoughts.

I climb onto the bed, crawl toward y/n, and wrap her up in the biggest hug I can manage. Partially to comfort her, partially so she doesn’t see my face while hers is buried in my chest. “I am so sorry,” I say. “For what happened to you, about your mirror, and for getting angry. That’s not helpful to you right now.” I can feel her sobbing quietly into my shirt, the tears making it wet. “None of this is your fault.”

Her voice is muffled, but I can make out: “How can I possibly be good? How can I love myself? How can I not hate everything I see when all I see in that stupid, broken mirror is him, and everything he did to me? Why did he do it? What did I do wrong?”

I sigh, holding in the tears belonging to my own eyes. “Because you’re not him. Even if you look like him, that doesn’t mean you did what he did. You’re so kind, y/n, you’re too kind to even let anybody worry about you. You have so many friends and comrades who respect you, respect your integrity, your thoughtfulness, your contributions to not just the mission but to the entire world. Even if you don’t get a fancy plaque or title for it, you stay late, you do extra, you take the time to do your homework when you have an idea, and people look to you for leadership. You make the unit a family, not just an army. You’re more of a warrior than I am, y/n. You fight, every day, to overcome something so huge, and somehow you still have enough left in you to fight a couple other battles for our people, and for humankind. And you do it for all the right reasons. I envy you. I may be a warrior, but you’re a commander, a ruler, an Emperor, yet for some reason, all you want to do is help other people.” I pause, taking a breath. “He did what he did because he, a small minded, selfish excuse for a man, saw something in you that he knows he will never have for himself. That thing is your heart, your spirit, your character. It attracts all kinds of people to you, and he wanted to break your spirit, because he knew he would always be lonely and miserable. You are a good person, with a good heart, and there is nothing you did that places any blame on your shoulders. You were a child, and he was an adult who made choices of his own accord, and he will suffer the consequences of those choices by never feeling your warmth, never feeling your love.”

She looks up at me, shakily raising one of her hands to touch my cheek. Her fingers feel like the sun, dancing on my skin. She really is light, heating everything she touches. I want to close my eyes, lean into her touch, but her e/c eyes bore into mine, sharing this moment with me in its’ fullness. “Thank you.” Y/n says. “I-I don’t know if I can believe everything you said yet, but I want to try. And thank you for being a good friend.” She looks away and lowers her hand, doubt filling her features with lines. I immediately wish it was back where she had it, but I know this isn’t about me right now. She needs a friend. “I just wish I didn’t have to look like him. After he’s done such ugly things-“ A quick glance at her wrist- “I can’t help but feel...” She trails off, burrowing deeper into my embrace.

On cue, I hold her tighter. “Well. I don’t know how much help it is for me to say it, but when I look at you, all I see is you. You truly are beautiful, and no matter the marks he left on you, his efforts will never hide that beauty. I see a person who can gentle any horse, can make any jerk nice-“

She laughs, “Don’t talk about Porco like that!”

“-And you make the people around you better people. You don’t need a Titan form to be powerful. You already are.” I smile. I’m pretty sure Porco likes her, otherwise he wouldn’t mind his manners and his attitude around her. Something stirs in me - what is that? Jealousy? Or just the usual hatred? Whatever. Doesn’t matter right now. “I just wish you could see you through my eyes. You’d realize why everyone cares so much. So, stop keeping your problems to yourself, we’re called your friends for a reason.” I order.

Her face gets a little red. “Oh. Right. I just... didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“Bother everyone. You owe yourself that much.” I say, getting up after giving her one more squeeze. “Will you be coming to dinner later? No one’s seen you in public for a week.”

She looks at her feet. “I probably should, just so everyone thinks I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to be okay, you know,” I respond, “Just alive, so we can be of help. If you do come, I promise I’ll be nice to Porco. Also, Pieck has been asking about you.”

She smiles. “I do miss Pieck. And Porco. And I missed you, too, Reiner.” Something flutters inside my chest at hearing my name on her on her lips. “But, um. I’m just curious.” She says.

“Hm?” I prompt, giving her my full attention.

“How did you know what to say?” She asks.

I shrug. “I didn’t really know, I just... went with what I would want someone to say to me. I... I can kind of relate. In a way.” I turn the doorknob, but before the door opens, I hear her climb off her bed, rising to her feet. I wait.

“Reiner, I-“ Silence. Her feet pad across the floor, and I feel her arms wrap around me. I let go of the knob and turn to hug her back. “I really appreciate you,” She says quietly. “I’ll come to dinner, if that’s what you want.”

I say, “It’s what everyone wants, but yes, I admittedly, specifically, am hoping you will feel okay enough to show up. Plus, I don’t think staying alone in your room is super healthy.”

“It’s not so lonely when you come to visit.” She says to the buttons of my shirt.

“Perhaps I’ll visit more often, then.” I smile. “Just to check in, of course.” She nods her head and releases me, even though I wish she could’ve held me for just an eternity longer. She really does have healing hugs. I smile one last time, then make my exit, closing the door quietly behind me.

I sigh, the usual tension I feel missing from my shoulders. Even if I didn’t say much, opening up even a tiny bit about my feelings felt... nice. Maybe I’ll start visiting y/n instead of sitting alone in my sadness. She has a way of making me feel better, even when she isn’t trying. And she said she appreciates me! That makes one person, at least. I don’t let the smile I feel ghosting my lips stay for long, but it lingers a few seconds while I head down the hallway to the main corridor.

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trikruismybitch · 3 years

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@trikruismybitch

Dialgue Prompt List

“Oh this is nothing”

“I’ve had worse”

“Have you ever loved someone that didn’t love you back?”

“I wish I knew how to quit you.”

“I’m also just a girl standing in-front of you, asking you to love her.”

“And the last thing you will ever see will be me because I love you.”

“Because that’s what you are, that’s what you’ll always be.”

“You have to let me go. You have to let me, let you go. I need you to do that for me.”

“There’s all of this pressure to be all of these things to be fucking perfect but I’m not. I’m not fucking perfect.”

“I’ll always love you cus’ we grew up together and you helped make me who I am. I just wanted you to know there will be a piece of you in me always and I’m grateful for that.”

“I will not be the person you settle for just because you can’t have her.”

“I used to think you were the best thing that happened, but now I think you might maybe be the worst thing.”

“I told you my story and you judged me?”

“Most of the time, most days I feel nothing. I don’t feel anything. It is so boring, I wake up and I think, again? Really? I have to do this again?”

“I don’t know that I find myself anywhere.”

“You can rest now.”

“You have your mothers eyes.”

“Well I am fine, I will be fine, really.”

“(Name)? (Name) come on, you got to get up.”

“All I’ve ever wanted to be is loved.”

“Take her to the moon for me.”

“I would rather die tomorrow, then live a hundred years without you.”

“I don’t want to survive. I want to live.”

“I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.”

“I love her. She breaks my heart again and again, but I love her.”

“I love every broken bone in your body.”

“I miss you. I miss not touching each other. Not seeing each other, not breathing in each other. I want you all the time—no one else.”

“You never loved me. You just loved how much I loved you.”

“You don't have any idea what I have or haven't done to get to where I am.”

“I keep thinking about all the things I never said because I was so sure, there would be other days to say them.”

“What happened to us?”

“You abandoned me”

“I needed you”

“So that’s it then? Your writing me off?”

“I can’t wait around every time to pick up the pieces, every time you freak out!”

“Don’t this, ok? Don’t leave me again.”

“We are done, ok? No more surprises. No more excuses. No more chances, we’re done.”

“I think you should go. You see I love you so much I just want you to be happy, even if that happiness no longer includes me.”

“One day you’re going to have to stop pretending everything’s okay.”

“I don’t want to face my future without you.”

“All I needed was for you to tell me you felt something…and you didn’t.”

“You don’t know what I look like, when I’m not in love with you.”

“Truth is I’ve tried to stop thinking about you. But I can’t.”

“If you lay even a finger on her I swear I will make you suffer in ways even your evil mind can't imagine.”

“Deal with your jealousy. Deal with your shortcomings. Don’t put your crap on me.”

“I want so much for you. For both of us. So much more than this. More then being stuck with someone who feels stuck. I want you to feel free.”

“Don’t look at me like that. Like I’m damaged goods. I’m still me. I’m still here.”

“Tell me it isn’t true. Please. Tell me I heard wrong.”

“Please tell me your joking.”

“If you push me away I promise you, you won’t find me where you left me. My hearts big but not big enough to deal with people, who only decide to love me when it’s convenient.”

“My heart shattered in pieces when I see the way you look at them-the way you used to look at me.”

“Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time.”

“My dream? My dream wouldn’t be complete without you in it.”

“Because I want you! All of you. forever.”

“I’ve realized that I don’t care if (name) is the most perfect (gender) in the world. Their not you.”

“Please don’t give up on me. Promise. Promise me you won’t.”

“When I had no one else you accepted me....and you showed me what it was like to be loved.”

“You’re my person”

“I didn’t fall in love with you because I was lost and lonely. I fell in love with you because when I bonded with you, I had finally found my home where I felt safe.”

“I love everything about you. Even the things I don’t like, I love. And I want you with me. I love you and I think you love me too. Do you?”

“You came back” “I always come back”

“If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that’ll cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it out loud and you go from there.”

“You know I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. You’re just the most amazing beautiful girl I ever met, and I don’t know, somehow you chose me....but how I loved you then, it’s nothing compared to how I love you now. I love you with everything inside of me.”

“I don’t care where we are. I just care that we’re together, you’re my home.”

*“And honestly when I’m with her, I completely forget what I’ve done.”

“If you walk away, it’s for you because I know what I want. I want you (name), I love you.”

“I’m still mad at you because being around you drives me nuts and not being around you drives me nuts.”

“I believe that when you love someone and that person loves you in return, you’re uniquely vulnerable. They have a power to hurt you like nothing else.”

“Anybody capable of love is capable of being saved.”

“It’s not a crime to love what you cannot explain.”

“You were by my side when I needed a friend. You made me laugh. You made me dance. You told me that I would find love again… And, I understand if I have to wait for you, and I will. I’ll wait. And when you’re ready for me, I will be ready for you.”

“Love’s always going to require a huge leap of faith. A big, scary leap over a hot pit of lava. And, you might end up heartbroken, but you might be the happiest person on the face of the earth.”

“Through all of this, you’re the one thing that kept me from giving up.”

“I don’t pretend to be anything when I’m with (name), that’s the whole point. I get to be myself.”

“I would rather spend every moment in agony than erase the memory of you.”

“When it’s real you can’t walk away.”

“If it’d were my choice I’d be with you forever.”

“I’d tell you to have hope because sometimes that’s all that keeps me going.”

“They was your first love. I intend to be your last. However long it takes."

“I don't know who I am without you, but I know that as long as I'm with you, time will stand still."

“I’m not going anywhere. I’d rather burn alive than abandon you.”

“To me you’re the whole damn world.”

“You don't marry the person you can live with—you marry the person you can't live without."

"I swear I couldn’t love you more than I do right now, and yet I know I will tomorrow."

"A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you."

"My love for you is a journey, starting at forever and ending at never."

"You're something between a dream and a miracle."

"I look at you and see the rest of my life in front of my eyes."

“When I look at you, I see everything I've ever wanted."

“You are every lovely word I could think of."

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever."

"For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you."

"If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus one day, so I never have to live without you."

“You have made a place in my heart where I thought there was no room for anything else. You have made flowers grow where I cultivated dust and stones."

"You make me happier than I ever thought I could be and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way."

"I've come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours."

"What I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, I like you, very much. Just as you are."

“It's like in that moment the whole universe existed just to bring us together."

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

"You want the moon? Just say the word, and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. I’ll get you the moon.”

"I love you. You complete me."

"I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met."

“You make me want to be better.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. I have terrible judgment.”

“I’m surrounded be idiots.”

“It’s not my fault you dated a bunch of losers till you met me.”

“Badges? We ain’t got no badges? We don’t need no badges! I don’t have to show you any stinking badges!”

“It’s just a flesh wound”

“Your bleeding out!”

"If I wasn't terrified of heights, I'd like this. But, I'm terrified of heights, so I don't like this."

“That's it, Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow!"

“That’s like a big misconception. I’m not shy! I just don’t speak if I don’t have anything to say.”

“It’s not bragging if it’s true.”

“She is more like “girl with dragon tattoo" than “the girl next door”

“I will slap the taste out of your mouth.”

“Give me a mountain, I’ll climb it. Give me a Katy Perry song, I’ll sing it.”

“There is no such thing as bad ideas. Just poorly executed awesome ideas.”

“I was ambushed. I was shot. Now, I’m vengeful.”

“Kiss me or kill me. We both know you’re only capable of one.”

“I know I called you bro, but I lowkey wanna marry you.”

“If I was meant to be controlled I would’ve come with a remote.”

“I know looks aren’t everything but I have them just in case.”

“You think I’m crying about you? No I’m crying about all the time I wasted on you.”

“Do I regret it, yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”

“If you were my wife I’d put poison in your coffee.” “If you were my mine I’d drink it.”

“if you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.”

“No I checked my receipt, I didn’t buy any of your bullshit.”

“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”

#prompts #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #prompt list #quote prompt #fanfiction prompt #quotes #angst #sad #loving #heartbreaking #funny #serious #wise #deep

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heytherejulietx · 4 years

Text

“I live here.” ~ Jughead Jones.

Masterlists

Requests are OPEN

Notes - I loved writing this you have no idea omg. It’s literally 5am but I just got the idea so I had to write it.

Warnings - Mild swearing.

Word count - 1.2k.

Jughead didn’t really have a problem with lying to most people. He’d lie to his dad all the time whenever he was staying with him, he lied to people at school when they asked him what he was doing or what he thought about something, and he even lied to his friends sometimes, just to seem like less of a dick about certain things.

Though he couldn’t lie to Y/N. Not anymore, anyways.

Jughead and Y/N had been dating since the beginning of summer, and they were inseparable. She’d been best friends with Jughead, Betty, and Archie for as long as she could remember, though she’d always been closer to Jughead. At the beginning of summer they’d both gotten the balls to tell each other how they truly felt, and then they’d started dating that very day.

Though Jughead hadn’t been honest with her about one thing - his living situation. He hadn’t been staying with his dad for a while now, after he’d basically chosen alcohol over his whole family. But how could he honestly sit there and tell his own girlfriend that he was homeless? He didn’t want whatever pity, shame, or even judgement that came his way - and he definitely didn’t want her to worry about him. So he hadn’t told her.

But keeping the lie was proving to be a more difficult task as the weeks went on. When summer had finished and school started back up, they saw each other every single day. At first she’d been suspicious about how he’d turned her down every time she offered to meet him at his house, though after knowing Jughead for so long she knew what his father was like, so she guessed it had something to do with him not wanting to see her father. But the more lies he kept telling the less she believed him. He knew the excuse was wearing thin, and honestly he hated lying to her. So a week after they’d started school again, Jughead wanted to tell her.

“Jug?” She asked as she gripped onto his hand, confused that her boyfriend was leading her towards the Drive-in. The Drive-in that was closed for the night. “What’re we doing here? This place isn’t open until tomorrow. Shouldn’t you know that since you work here?” She giggled teasingly.

“I need to show you something.” Was all he told her, continuing to walk through the Drive-in before stopping at the control booth, turning to face her once they’d stopped at the door. “Look, just... let me explain, okay?”

“Explain what, Jug? Is everything okay?” Now She was frowning, concern washing over her like a wave. Y/N hadn’t ever seen Jughead so worried before, the almost pained expression on his face truthfully scared her.

Instead of answering Jughead just sighed, hesitating for another moment before opening the door of the control centre and letting her step inside.

Y/N just froze in the doorway, her expression unreadable as she scanned her gaze across the room. His stuff was everywhere; his clothes laying across the floor, his school bag and textbooks in a pile in the corner of the room, and other personal belongings across the floor and counter tops. Empty food packets were scattered across one of the tables, with some empty and some full water bottles too.

“What is this?” She swallowed harshly, though she already knew what it meant. She just needed to hear him say it to make herself believe it.

“I uhm, I live here.” Jughead mumbled, frowning himself as he stepped into the room once she’d finally moved further inside.

“Why?” She whispered.

“Things aren’t great with my dad, Y/N/N.” Jughead sighed. “I had to leave. I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

Y/N was staring at his things on the opposite side of the room from him, so he hadn’t realised she was crying until she turned to face him. Though his stomach dropped when she had - red rimmed and teary eyes looking into his own. “Why- why didn’t you tell me? How long have you been here? Why aren’t you staying somewhere else?” She blurted out, her lip trembling as the tears dropped down her cheeks.

“Hey, Y/N/N, don’t cry.” He whispered, before clearing his throat and answering her questions. “I’ve been here... let’s just say longer than I wanted.” He sighed. “And I didn’t tell anybody - I didn’t tell you, because... I don’t know, I didn’t want any pity or judgement, and I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Are you kidding me?” She whispered, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “You really think I’d judge you? What the fuck, Jughead? You need a home! You can’t- you can’t stay here! What the hell is wrong with you why couldn’t you just tell me? I’m your girlfriend! I’m meant to help you!” By the end of her rambled yelling she was crying, her tears falling faster as her expression crumpled.

Jughead wasted no time in gathering her into his arms, frowning as he felt her body shudder against his. “Why are you getting so upset?” He asked softly, letting his lips linger on her hairline for a moment.

“Because!” She choked out, voice muffled by his shirt. “My boyfriend is fucking homeless and I haven’t done anything about it!”

“There’s nothing you can do.” He whispered.

Though despite his words she pulled back from the hug, a teary glare being sent in his direction as she shook her head. “Yes there is. You’re not staying another night in this place. You’re coming to stay at mine.” She told him sternly, lifting her hand to wipe her eyes as she spoke.

“Y/N, I really can’t-“

“Shut up.” She told him, frowning. “I’m your girlfriend, so I’m going to help you. My mum already loves you, and you know she’d help you out. I can’t- I can’t let you stay here another night. Okay? Please, Juggie, let me help you.”

Jughead paused for a moment before sighing, nodding his head a little. “Fine.” He nodded. “Fine, okay, I’ll stay at yours. Just please calm down, baby.” He frowned, wrapping his arms around her again.

Y/N sighed in relief at his answer though was still visibly upset, sinking into his arms as her teary eyes fell shut. “Thank you.” She whispered. “Next time anything like this happens I want to know, okay? I can’t- I can’t let you do this, Jug. You’ve been homeless for so long and I didn’t help, I’m so sorry.” She was getting upset again, evident by the thickness in her voice and the slight shudder of her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” He whispered into her hair, frowning as his hold on her tightened. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, okay? But it’s not your fault, love.”

Y/N sighed, pulling away from the hug enough to look at him. Though instead of saying anything she cupped his fave between her hands and leaned up to press her lips against his, eyes falling shut in the process. She kept kissing him for a long moment before pulling back with a soft sigh as her eyes flickered open to look at him. “Please let me help you next time.”

“I will.” Jughead whispered, nodding as he looked down at her. “I promise.”

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luciferist · 4 years

Text

– how the obey me brothers apologize after a fight (pt.2)

> asmodeus

flirting’s in his nature, don’t you know?

and asmo doesn’t mean it! he’s been so good ever since you two become exclusive, he swears... :( and, well, he loves you the most, over anybody else... you should know that by now.

and you do, you really do. but you can’t help but be jealous. how could you not, seeing your EXTREMELY attractive boyfriend unconsciously make everyone he meets fall in love with him?

you decided enough was enough when he had received the sixth love letter of the week and skipped out on your after-school study session to respond to the sender personally. when he finally showed at the library, you were fuming.

“asmo, where have you been? i’ve been waiting for half an hour.” “oh, darling, remember the letter i showed you this morning? i know you told me not to go but i just HAD to personally thank my fan. plus, it’s not like i actually accepted their confession, so it’s fine, right?”

asmo dove in to kiss you on the cheek but you covered his lips and dragged him out of the library. “why don’t you just tell all of your ‘fans’ that we’re dating? they’ll stop and you don’t have to keep showing up to reject them.”

asmo looked perplexed. “what do you mean ‘why’? ‘cause their letters are SO cute! i just love getting them. they’re adorable when they come up to me with red little cheeks and run away all shy. and trust me, i have, but i guess i’m just that irresistible?” he said every word with a smile like nothing he said was wrong. you couldn’t believe him. how could he not get it?

you walked away without a word, when asmo soon followed, chirping “what’s wrong?”s like a little bird. you didn’t respond.

giving him the silent treatment all the way home, you slammed the door on him once you got to your room.

asmo didn’t understand at all, beginning to get irritated that you wouldn’t just TELL him. what did he do wrong? he was just telling the truth, it’s not like he said yes to the person :(

satan passed by and asmo grabbed him, explaining the situation and asking for advice

satan, who quite obviously wanted to leave and Not Listen, tossed out some generic advice: “hm. try imagining yourself in their shoes. how would you feel if _ continuously stood you up to hang out with one of us?”

now alone, he tried that very thing. hmm, well... if _ skipped out on a date to go see mammon or belphie... ugh! that’d make me so mad. i mean, what’s the big deal? they’re mine, not my brothers’, and they should let everyone know. everyone should know by now... i...

and asmo finally understood. it wasn’t a problem of you thinking he was cheating because in the end, you knew he was loyal, but it was a matter of everybody else knowing that he wasn’t available to anyone else, anyone but you. he belonged to you and that was that.

now how could he get mad at you for something so romantic?

knocking on your door, he began to whisper

“honey, i gave it some thought... i belong to you only. oh, well i guess i have a pact with solomon too, but i can break it off if you want me to... and tomorrow i’ll let everyone at school know really clearly that we’re together, so i’m off-limits. i’m sorry for making you feel insecure about our relationship. i’m yours and you’re mine, right? now let me in, i want to give you kisses and show you how much you mean to me.”

> beelzebub (tw: slight physical violence)

beel and you never fight. honest to diavolo, beel is the sweetest boy you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and has never started a fight with you

if you have a problem or you’re irritated with him, he’ll immediately sit down with you and fix it. will never go to bed with you angry with him. he just can’t stand it :(

well, unless he gets into THAT mood, that is... usually he’s good at not letting it get to that point and staying away until it was resolved

but this time was just bad.

beel saw you waiting for him after fangol practice. you began walking towards him with a big smile but he swerved immediately. he didn’t want to risk anything, especially since he was already irritated

see, usually midway through practice, beel had a small snack (a meal about the size of two people’s lunches) to keep his energy up for the rest of the session. but when he went to go eat it, it wasn’t there... because of that, he fumbled the rest of practice

after this, he was fixated on finding the culprit and making sure they never did it again. little did he know that you secretly took it out during class so he’d be extra hungry. it was friday and you wanted to treat him to a big meal at hell’s kitchen. rookie mistake, really, but you only had him in mind.

you knew he why he seemed a little angry and, thinking you were immune to his food mood swings (IDIOT), caught up to him quickly despite being avoided. “beel! okay, i’ll admit, i was the one who took your food, but-”

you should not have said that before letting him see you.

beel immediately turned around and grabbed your wrist with his eyes blazing, easily shifting to his demon form. he didn’t seem to notice it was you even though he was staring straight into your eyes. “where is it? the food you took, no, stole from me, where is it?”

you tugged and tugged, trying to take your wrist back, but to no avail, until belphie ran up, most likely called by one of beel’s teammates

“BEEL! what are you doing?!” hearing his twin, beel’s trance of fury seemed to dissipate into thin air. “huh?”

finally being able to pull away in beel’s moment of weakness, you quickly drop to the ground in fear. your wrist was aching from being squeezed so hard. you were lucky it wasn’t broken, just beginning to bruise a bit.

beel saw your face and had never felt regret so deeply in his heart ever before this very moment. i... i’m a monster. i can’t believe myself. out of fear of what you might say, he fled the scene, running all the way home and shutting himself in his room.

after that were days of awkward encounters and no speaking at all. truth be told, neither of you were actually angry at each other, but you were frightened of what the other would say, thinking THEY were mad

and so beel’s days of going to sleep thinking you were angry began.

until one night during dinner, you dropped your fork because of your bandaged wrist. beel, being the first to notice, saw you wince in pain too. seeing you in pain was something he’d never been able to stand, so out of pure instinct, he got up and ran around the table to you, gently picking your wrist up in his large hand

with the possibility that you might be angry at him now tossed out of his mind, he picked you up bridal style, excusing you and him and bringing you to his and belphie’s room, placing you gently on the bed

“ah, beel, it’s not that serious...” “no, let me wrap it up again for you. it’s... it’s my fault, after all.” moments of silence passed between you two like air while he carefully wrapped your wrist

suddenly, simultaneously, the same words came out of both your mouths: “i’m sor-” “i’m really so-” you both shut up quickly.

you spoke again first. “beel, it’s not your fault, it’s mine. it was stupid of me to take your food when i should’ve known you’d get mad. it’s my fault i got hurt, so don’t worry. i won’t do it again, i promise.” you tried to smile so he wouldn’t worry

he started shaking his head immediately once you began to speak. kneeling in front of you, beel placed the gentlest kiss onto your padded wrist.

“no, i shouldn’t have reacted like that... i need to work on it but i couldn’t help it. i’m really sorry. i would never want to hurt you. i promise i’ll never hurt you ever again.”

> belphegor

belphie would vehemently deny it with all of his soul, but in many ways, he’s similar to his dear eldest brother lucifer

ESPECIALLY in the way that he’s stubborn as heaven

it got really annoying in the way that he still held onto old beliefs and made jokes about killing off the entire human race

like c’mon man. yeah humans aren’t GREAT but they’re still your people :/

one thing led to another and the next thing you knew, you were yelling “HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I JUST KILLED EVERYONE IN THE DEVILDOM DIPSHIT??????” and he was yelling “WELL I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU TRY!!!!!”

out of utter frustration, you stormed out of the room. you though he changed, you really did, but maybe humans were still a joke to him. you thought that maybe, after falling in love with you, he would see that humans aren’t too bad

and you thought he was sorry for the... unfortunate things he did to you, but maybe that was nothing too.

and on belphie’s side, he didn’t understand either

laying on his bed, he huffed out a big sigh

what’s wrong with them? it was just a joke...

beel walked in munching on a granola bar, just coming back from a workout

“what’s up, belphie? are you okay? you’re in bed but you’re not sleeping.”

belphie sat up, looking very serious. “beel, hypothetically, if _ and i were fighting because i told them all humans except them should die... what would you say?”

beel frowned, shaking his head. “that’s so mean, belphie. why would you say that?”

“HYPOTHETICALLY.”

“okay, well... humans other than _ can’t be that bad. i mean, two of them literally CREATED _. and some of them kept _ company until they met us. humans kept them alive and there are probably a lot of humans that _ loves or admires. so you can’t blame them for being mad when you joked about eradicating them.”

belphie thought and thought about this.

hey... wait a minute. you’re onto something.

out of nowhere, without even responding, belphie rose and speed-walked (he doesn’t run, it’s not cool and it’s tiring) to your room immediately

after knocking on the door, you opened it with your hands on your hips

“what do YOU want?”

belphie cleared his throat, obviously not expecting you to have opened the door so quickly.

“ah, um... sorry for what i said earlier. i didn’t mean it and i won’t say it again. but hey, i was thinking... i don’t know a lot of humans besides you. so what if we took a trip to the human world together? i can meet your family and friends and get a better feel for humans so i know better. how about that?”

part 2 done!! sorry for the delay, anon, please enjoy!! and whoops, these got longer than pt.1 >____<

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #asmodeus #om! asmodeus #beelzebub #om! beelzebub #belphegor #om! belphegor #om! belphie #lili writes

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andersunmenschlich · 3 years

Text

"Was I Abused" game

Copied and pasted from this post by @furiousgoldfish (to save space since you can't reformat anything in posts you reblog).

Is it accurate? Who knows! My memories of childhood are incomplete! Besides, a lot of these things seem frankly normal to me and not abusive at all... which, if they are abusive, is probably an especially bad sign. Hm. Anyway, on to the game!

Reblog and bold the things your parents have done to you! Italicize if you're not sure. (copy paste it all and then bold)

Physical abuse

parent slapped me to prove their point / teach me a lesson (I don't remember. It would have been loss of temper anyhow, not point-proving or lesson-teaching.)

parent spanked me as a “punishment” saying it was for my own good (Hey, I was raised full-on Michael Pearl TTUAC-style. This is foundational.)

parent pulled on my hair to force me to move

parent threw things at me while angry, things heavy enough to hurt me (Kind of? She and my sister were on my bed, top bunk. I was cowering on the floor. But I dunno if she was angry.)

parent trapped me in a room/corner so I couldn’t escape them (I don't remember. But I do know, in my very bones, that there was no escape from them. You couldn't run. You couldn't hide. And trying would only make things worse.)

parent hit me when I wouldn’t obey them / tried to confront them (To Train Up A Child, people.)

parent used a twig / stick / belt to lash at my body (Again—this is the Pearl technique. My parents broke a lot of wooden paint mixing sticks on me before discovering this whippy plastic rod about the thickness of a pencil! You could sharpen the end in a pencil sharpener, too. They had a ton of those, it seemed like. And a short one for trips outside the house; it fit in Mom's purse.)

parent grabbed me to force me to pay attention to them

parent pinned me down and physically prevented me from escaping (...Yeah. Again, this is the Pearl technique.)

parent brought me into situations where I feared for my life (I—look, it's not like the fears were rational or anything. It's just that the world is terrifying when you're autistic and so much hurts. And have been taught your whole life that "the world" is a terrible, dangerous place that can kill you both physically and spiritually. Yeah.)

parent made it painfully obvious for me that I’ll obey them or suffer injuries (I mean. TTUAC.)

parent threatened to beat me if I wouldn’t do as they say (This was the most basic part of my childhood. Like air. Under what circumstances would this not be the case? Unimaginable.)

parent forcefully fed me something I refused to eat (Does not letting you eat between meals, and putting the same food in front of you at each meal—over and over again until you either eat it or it grows mold—count?)

parent made an attempt at strangling / drowning / burning me

parent banged my head / body into the wall / furniture (To be fair, I hit him first. And it's not like I broke the table when his punch sent me across the room: I didn't hit it that hard. Just busted open the back of my head a bit.)

parent forced me into sexual activities

Emotional abuse

parent called me derogatory names and slurs more than once (Frankly, I'm still reasonably convinced that I am a monster. And evil. And I am definitely a fool, at least biblically speaking. "The fool says in his heart, 'There is no god,'" indeed.)

parent said my name mostly with hatred and scorn in their voice (To be fair, it was my name.)

parent degraded and humiliated me in front of others for fun

parent insulted and devalued something really important to me (I mean, in retrospect, it was dumb. Just a worthless paper model of a house, that's all. It wasn't even that great. I was a little kid, after all. So what if I'd spent all day on it? It was still garbage, really.)

parent deprived me of something that meant the world to me (I don't remember. I genuinely don't remember, but I still have trouble admitting that I care about anything because part of me is terrified that if anyone knows I like a thing they'll have a way to hurt me, and that fear has to have come from somewhere, right?)

parent yelled and swore at me in anger more than once

parent blamed me for things that were out of my control/not my fault (And they do feel bad about this now.)

parent shamed me for my physical appearance

parent guilt-tripped me for not pleasing them well enough (I mean, they tried. But good luck; I have no idea what guilt feels like. I bought a book about it because I was curious.)

parent regarded me as a burden, and shamed me for needing them at all (Hmm. I don't really do shame either. I was a burden, though.)

parent insisted I couldn’t take a joke after I was hurt by their insults

parent never comforted me / got angry if I reached for comfort (Again, to be fair: I'm autistic. I'm pretty sure they were just having trouble with my body language and facial expressions. Why else would they punish me for bad attitude when all I wanted was to be cooed at and fluttered over with the same concern they showed my siblings when they cried about their wounded knees?)

parent punished me for crying / showing fear / showing trauma symptoms

parent humiliated me for showing excitement and happiness

parent subtly let me know that my feelings and my problems don’t matter (They, uh. They don't. My feelings and problems are mine. Why should anyone else care? It's genuinely not their problem.)

parent got angry at me for feeling depressed / angry / tired / suicidal

parent blamed me for feeling depressed / angry / tired / suicidal (Who else's fault would it be? They're my feelings, produced by my body and brain, experienced only by me, in my own head. Dang if I see how anybody else could be to blame.)

parent compared me to cousins / other children to prove how I’m the worst (Dang you, Perfect Second Child. ... Although... in retrospect... that set-up wasn't great for you either, was it. Hm.)

parent decided for me how I feel when it was convenient for them

parent told me that I was crazy / delusional / need to be locked away (I don't remember. It sounds familiar. But I don't. I don't remember.)

parent threatened me with kicking me out / sending me away if I don’t change (Kind of? Does it count if you overhear your parents talking about it in their locked bedroom? Not their fault I was listening at the door, surely. They were genuinely considering it. I can't blame them. I was a terrible child.)

parent refused to accept my sexuality gender / tried to force it to change

parent required me to act normal to protect family’s reputation

parent isolated me from family activities they all enjoy (Nooo, haha, I did that all on my own.)

parent assured me that nobody will ever want me (I mean... "only a mother could love" is a saying for a reason. And if even my own mother couldn't love me, well! I don't remember whether anyone told me this outright. It just seemed... obvious.)

parent insisted that I was lucky and that I could have had it much worse (I could have!)

parent made me responsible for their well-being and made me the caretaker

parent insisted that their harmful acts were all done “out of love” (The subject of love was confusing. "I don't love you," "I hate you," "I have to love you because you're my child, so I love you—but I don't have to like you, and I don't, I don't like you at all" ...it was all very confusing.)

parent demanded I be available for their requests at any time (Well, yes, obviously. To Train Up A Child was very clear about this.)

parent punished me for trying to establish boundaries (Boundaries, boundaries. Hmm. Interesting concept....)

parent destroyed my belongings as a form of revenge (Revenge? I don't know. Consequences, I think it was. For keeping all my favorite toys on my bed, and nesting in them. So obviously they had to be thrown onto the floor. And at my head. Ahaha.)

parent made inappropriate sex jokes and comments in my presence

parent denied doing any of this and insists that all the blame is on me (I'm not sure they aren't right, honestly. As previously noted, I am a horrible person, and I was even more horrible as a child.)

Psychological Abuse

parent kept pointing out my flaws as proofs that I won't achieve anything (Mmm... was it them, or was it me doing this? Seems like they were always telling me how intelligent I was, how talented, how much promise I had. The voices asking why wasn't I doing anything, why couldn't I use the gifts God had given me correctly, why was I wasting it all, I'm the stupidest smart person ever, garbage, can't do anything right, etc., seem to have always come from my own mind.)

parent called me stupid, incompetent, ignorant, while withholding information that I needed to know in order to complete tasks

parent would change their side of the agreement at a crucial moment and then pretend it was obvious from the start

parent stalked me / distrusted me without any reason / invaded my privacy (I'm really not sure. What privacy? A four-bedroom house with twelve people in it has very little room for privacy. And if you have nothing to hide....)

parent attacked my insecurities and vulnerabilities in any argument (Dad's always been very good at this. It's his emotional intelligence, I think. Never been much of a cryer, but he can do it to me every time!)

parent forced me into degrading actions while they watched

parent threatened to leave me

parent regularly accused me of behaving the way they did

parent never acknowledged, praised or approved of my actions

parent always demanded they be acknowledged as right without any proof / explanation (Sort of? They had explanations. It's just that those explanations were often terrible. Not that my parents were aware of that.)

parent insisted that they’re a great parent using financial support as proof

parent insisted that I should be grateful for how good they are to me (Keeping me safe from the world! The evil, dirty, disgusting world, full of immoral monsters! Oh, the horrible things that could happen to me without their protection! ...Which is not entirely untrue, I guess. But... I dunno....)

parent gaslit me and tried to make me believe my memories weren’t real if I confronted them with what they did

Neglect

parent didn’t notice I haven’t been eating properly (Frankly, I preferred that. I never much cared for being forced to eat things that made me feel sick.)

parent didn’t notice I was sick / didn’t care for me while I was sick

parent didn’t notice I was injured (Eh. After the first few years of my life, that suited me just fine.)

parent didn’t notice I didn’t have clothes / shoes I needed for school (I didn't go to school.)

parent didn’t notice I suffered from trauma (Look, it's—it's the autism again, okay? Living in a world that hurts you horribly at unpredictable moments is traumatic. I didn't know it was trauma. I just thought it was life. So how could they have known?)

parent didn’t notice I was anxious and stressed (Oh, they noticed that.)

parent didn’t notice I was depressed (Once again—I didn't realize. So how could they? I'm really not sure this counts.)

parent didn’t notice I was cutting myself (Whipping myself, actually. With tree branches. Until the skin broke. Hmm, that was when I was in my early teens, though—as a kid I used to turn a little wooden rocking chair upside down and throw myself into the sharp ends of the rockers. To be fair, they might have noticed. Just... who really cares? I was a rough and tumble kid. Scrapes and bruises and cuts and what-have-you were to be expected. Anyway, there was no cutting; I never cut myself.)

parent didn’t notice I was suicidal (I wasn't. I'm not. I won't be. Mind over matter. Ha.)

parent didn’t notice I was being sexually abused

parent didn’t notice I was being bullied

parent failed to get me medical attention when it was needed

parent failed to teach me the very basics of self care

parent didn’t seem to notice any of my needs and feelings except the absolute minimum I required to survive (Uh. Anything more than the absolute minimum you require to survive isn't a need. You need to survive. Do you really need anything else? I mean, it's nice, a definite plus, but....)

when I notified them of these things, they denied it, accused me of lying, decided it wasn’t happening and/or blamed me for it

Financial Abuse

parent made me feel ashamed for needing money

parent made me feel like I was a financial burden to them (But I was. Come on, now. There's no way honesty counts as abuse. ...Is there?)

parent only gave me minimal money to survive (I don't—there were kids out there getting money from their parents? I mean, they're giving you clothes, food, and shelter already. What for would you need money? I must be missing something.)

parent made sure I never have a decent amount of money on me (Again—I never had that much money. Quarters from the Tooth Fairy: that was it. Money from birthday cards or whatever went in the college fund under their bed. "For your future." And I raided that stash later to buy books anyhow.)

parent took the money I earned from me

parent used the money to blackmail me (if you continue this way let’s see who will pay for your bus ticket!)

parent insisted since they “pay for my stuff” they have the right to control my behaviour and actions (and attitudes. Is this, um. Is this not true?)

parent had enough money for luxury but kept me without anything

parent refused to get my medicine / get me medical attention because it’s too expensive while they got everything for themselves (Nah, they didn't visit the doctor either.)

parent would keep me anxious over if they would pay my expenses or not

parent would make me do as much work for them as possible before they would pay for a necessity

parent kept me in the dark over family finances even when I was of age (Was that them, though? Or was that me? It's difficult to know what's going on with your money when you can't go outside during the day—so no bank visits—and you don't have the password to your bank account because you never asked for it, so you can't do anything online. Which was just as well, because my laptop was... not great. Almost certainly terribly insecure.)

parent would make sure I never have enough money to escape them

If you bold more than 5 things, you have been through abuse. For some particular ones, even one true thing on this list means you’ve been badly harmed by your parents. Also this list is not complete, there are many more abusive behaviours not listed here, feel free to add!

#furiousgoldfish #'Was I Abused' game #child abuse #?#memories #Isaiah muses

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intheseautumnhands · 3 years

Text

Sorting The Last 5 Years

Hello I’m back with yet more tiny fandom sorting because I have Thoughts and also, Feelings. Let’s talk about The Last 5 Years, which has ranked consistently among my favorite all-time musicals for so very, very long, and has such great characters for dissecting.

First some brief housekeeping: This is based specifically off the script for the stage show, and the cast recording version by Norbert Leo Butz and Sherie Rene Scott in 2002. I have not been lucky enough to see this live. I also promise no consistency with the movie because I just... nope, sorry, don’t like it. I think I remember things being consistent enough that this’d probably be good for both, but I’m not gonna try to include movie-based thoughts.

Second: I am not purposefully getting into the great “who was at fault” debate but I think my thoughts on them as characters makes it clear that I think both of them have flaws, and that while Jamie crossed a lot more lines at the end, neither of them are blameless for the relationship’s issues. SHC is always kinda YMMV, but even moreso than usually, if you’re really biased towards one side or the other, we probably read these characters very differently. Which is cool and I’d love to hear other opinions! But I will not be surprised if we disagree somewhere along the line.

I’m going to do this slightly different than usual -- since we’ve only got two characters to talk about, and I want to discuss how their houses bounce off each other, I’m going to go by house instead of discussing by character. In addition, I’m going to go Secondary first, because I have a lot I want to say about their Primaries.

Secondaries

In his second song of the show, Jamie tells us exactly how he approaches life:

But I say no, no, whatever I do I barrel on through, and I don’t complain No matter what I try, I’m flying full speed ahead.... Things might get bumpy, but Some people analyze every details Some people stall when they can’t see the trail Some people freeze out of fear that they’ll fail But I keep rolling on

If I had to pull out one singular moment to crystallize how he approaches things, that’d be it. Jamie doesn’t bother to stop and consider or change his approach. He sees what he wants, and he goes for it, and he’s lucky enough that that works out really, really well for him. And even when it’s a response to hardship, that’s still his approach. Just look at I Could Never Rescue You: so we could fight, or we could wait, or I could go. He decides there’s nothing else worth trying, calls someone else to help him leave, and goes.

Even when it’s not the best idea right now, when tempering what he has to say might help him get what he wants (If I Didn’t Believe In You) he doesn’t do it. Jamie charges, he’s stubborn, he’s set on what he wants -- he’s a pretty intense Lion, in other words.

Cathy tries to go after what she wants, too, but she ends up with several more obstacles in her way. While a lot of that is luck of the draw, she’s also a little more hesitant overall. Look at her running internal monologue throughout Climbing Uphill, second-guessing every decision (why’d I pick these shoes, why’d I pick this song, why’d I pick this career). In The Schmuel Song Jamie alludes to the same hesitance: maybe it’s just that you’re afraid to go out onto a limb(-o-vitch), maybe your heart’s completely swayed but your head can’t follow through.

She comes off as having that preparedness of a foundational Secondary -- I don’t see any hints of the breathless charge and certainty of a Lion, or the adaptability of a Snake. I honestly think either Bird or Badger would be suitable for her, and could easily be played into in either direction depending on small acting choices.

Absent of other interpretations, I’m going to lean Bird, off that line from Jamie above and some of the little nuances of Sherie’s performances. There’s a lot of frustration that this all isn’t coming more easily that, while it probably has a lot to do with how easily things have come to Jamie, also leans me away from Badger a little bit; but she’s clearly not unwilling to put in the work, and I could absolutely see that interpretation working just as well.

Primaries

Interestingly, Cathy is outright stated as having the traditional Snake-y trait: don’t you think that now’s a good time to be the ambitious freak you are? That’s not why I’m going to say that Cathy’s a Snake Primary, and Jamie’s clearly got ambitions too, but it does make me smile a little.

Loyalist Cathy’s earliest (timeline-wise) songs are so full of Snake wrap-myself-up-in-my-favorite-person sentiments and lines. Goodbye until tomorrow, goodbye until the rest of my life, and I have been waiting, I have been waiting for you. You don’t have to change a thing, just stay with me. I want you and you and nothing but you, miles and piles of you. I don’t mean to put on any pressure, but I know when a thing is right. Once Jamie’s in her life, that’s it, he’s a priority. It is heartbreaking to go back over this show and realize how much more of what Cathy says is directly about Jamie than the other way around.

Even later on, after we get the first tiny signs of tension, it’s still there. In The Next Ten Minutes: I don’t know why people run, I don’t know why things fall through, I don’t know how anybody survives in this life without someone like you. I could protect and preserve, I could say no and good bye -- but why, Jamie, why? In Summer in Ohio: I found my guiding light, I tell the stars each night, look at me, look at him -- son of a bitch, I guess I’m doing something right.

It’s not even the first time she’s done this. In I Can Do Better Than That, she talks about a previous relationship in the same terms: I gave up my life for the better part of a year. When Cathy gets serious about someone, she makes them her priority,

And that’s what she gets, until that’s all she has, and she lashes out with the exact same thing she wanted at the beginning: you and you, and nothing but you, miles and piles of you. And I don’t think it’s because she didn’t actually want it. It’s because she thought it would be less one-sided.

Because idealist Jamie does put her high in his priorities, but he doesn’t put her first in the same, fixated way. Jamie’s instinctual and set-on-his-decisions Lion Primary chafes against Cathy’s expectation that he’ll put her above what he wants, fed into by that charging, bold instinct from his Secondary.

Which is not to say that Cathy isn’t important to Jamie. But the downfall in their relationship is that what that looks like is so different between the two of them, and they never figure out how to meet middle ground. They’re both unreliable, biased narrators in this story, and neither of them see what the other needs.

A while back, I talked about how different Primaries love. Jamie and Cathy could be case studies in what I said there, and especially in how that love can go bad.

Lion Jamie sees that they both have big dreams, and encourages Cathy to push her way forward on her dreams: Shouldn’t I want the world to see the brilliant girl who inspired me?... Stop temping, and go and be happy! He uses the thing that is most important to him -- his writing -- to encourage her, show her that he sees her hesitance and he believes in her. And when they’re having problems, he puts the blame on how her dreams are going first: Is it just that you’re disappointed to be touring again for the summer? Did you think this would all be much easier than it’s turned out to be?

And that’s where we get, I think, one of the biggest highlights of how they misunderstand each other: If I’m cheering on your side, Cathy, why can’t you support mine? Cathy feels unsupported, Cathy feels like everything has become all about Jamie -- but Jamie feels the same way. The kind of support they need is different, and neither of them see it.

(Even at the height of their love story, the one moment they’re at the same page, The Next Ten Minutes, it says so much to me that Jamie keeps getting these lines about a bigger picture that he and Cathy are just part of: there are so many dreams I need to see with you -- not dreams about them, dreams they can see come true together. I will never change the world, until, I do.)

And Jamie withdraws, and takes her more and more for granted, and steamrolls over her both accidentally -- A Part of That, and Cathy’s fierce declaration of I will not be the girl who gets asked how it feels to be trotting along at the genius’ heels getting disproven in front of her eyes -- and then purposefully, when he decides it’s time to stop trying.

Meanwhile, Snake Cathy sees that as the betrayal. She puts him first, makes him the priority, and when she doesn’t get that in return, she sees it as everything being about Jamie instead of the balance being equal. Fed into by her own ambitions going unfulfilled despite her own best efforts, she clings tighter, until he feels suffocated by it: all that I ask for is one little corner, one private room at the back of my heart, tell her I found one, she sends out battalions to claim it and blow it apart.

Until Jamie leaves, and Cathy is left bitter by it: Jamie is probably feeling just fine. Jamie decides it’s his right to decide. Run away, like it’s simple, like it’s right. Because to her steady, solid foundational Secondary and person-focused Snake, Jamie’s impulsive choice and quick action is cowardice at best, proof he doesn’t care as much at worst.

In summary:

Cathy Hiatt is a Snake Primary/foundational Secondary, either works with the text, but based on OCR, likely Bird.

Jamie Wellerstein is a Double Lion.

And Cathy’s person-first version of support VS Jamie’s dreams-first version of support, and their lack of understanding what each other is trying to provide and needs to recieve, is the entire crux of why their relationship fails, with some help from their uneven amounts of luck in their dream careers.

#sorting hat chats #Sortinghatchats #the last 5 years #the last five years #it is truly ridiculous how much of this is just me straight-up quoting lyrics with nothing else to add #which ALMOST makes me feel less ridiculous about it being almost 1500 words #if you read all that you get a cookie #i am SURE other people could read them totally differently #but that's theater for you!

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bunnieresources · 4 years

Text

killing eve season 2 sentence starters.

“ i know where you are. “

“ do you know how to dispose of a body? “

“ ____ did it to show how much she/he cared about me. “

“ sometimes when you love someone, you will do crazy things. “

“ has something happened? you can tell me, ____. “

“ how long have i been here? “

“ you’re really good at stealing. you should do it more. “

“ yes. i am funny. “

“ don’t apologize. it’s a waste of my time and yours. “

“ ____’s on the move, if she’s/he’s alive. “

“ why am i here? “

“ when did you find out about this? when were you going to tell me? “

“ i know you better now. i know you better than anyone. better than you know yourself. “

“ never trust people on their looks, ____. you can see scary people from a mile away. it’s the good people you have to worry about. “

“ if ____ is alive, you need to find her/him. “

“ i thought it was a ghost. i hate ghosts. “

“ you will be careful of ____, won’t you? “

“ stop it, ____. i can feel your excitement. “

“ i think you’re going to bleed to death. “

“ this is what you get, ____. “

“ who do you think you work for, ____? do you think you can just do whatever you want? “

“ honestly, it feels like i’m losing my mind a little bit. “

“ ____’s a parasite. she gets into your brain, eats you up to make space for herself. “

“ you still have something worth having. don’t let ____ take it. “

“ you think ____ loves you? “

“ i feel like you want me to fail, ____. “

“ are you trying to make me jealous? “

“ tell me where my family are. “

“ you have no idea who ____ is sharing information with. “

“ i’m going to offer you something ____ won’t. “

“ this is a terrible hug. “

“ maybe you shouldn’t have shot me. “

“ you’re not still mad about that are you? i aimed to make sure not to kill you! “

“ you aimed at my heart. “

“ nice and clean, just like you taught me. “

“ never, ever go behind my back again. “

“ it’s all in hand, ____, i promise. “

“ this kind of work pays a lot of money. “

“ what’s with the shirt? seriously, do not go shopping on your own again. “

“ get a real life! “

“ i think ____ has made you go a little soft. “

“ you’re the best person i know. always have been. “

“ i wanted this job for exactly the same reason that you did: i didn’t want to die of boredom. “

“ it’ll be easier if you come with me. “

“ so you’re just going to tie me up outside like a dog? “

“ just because ____ is going along with this... it doesn’t make it a good idea. “

“ you’re being very sneaky, ____. “

“ this is a little hurtful. you were pretty happy to shoot me. “

“ you’re a mess. ____’s making you weak. “

“ why do you do it if it’s so hopeless? “

“ i thought i had your support on this. “

“ you are actively putting yourself and this whole operation in danger---why? or do i need not ask? “

“ you saw it happen. how can you even think about this? “

“ if you can’t stomach this, i’m sorry. that’s not my problem. “

“ i’m dying for a drink. “

“ you don’t seem very surprised to see me. “

“ that’s a little arrogant, don’t you think? “

“ you know, i should be more afraid of you. “

“ i’m expensive. will you give me everything i want? “

“ i’m just looking out for you, ____. “

“ would you like to watch? “

“ i got you what you wanted. a ‘thank you’ would be nice. “

“ what did you do to ____? what did you do? “

“ i didn’t know you had it in you. “

“ don’t you dare talk about ____ or i will kill you! “

“ i came here to tell you that you don’t have anything to worry about. “

“ do you want me to love you or do you want me to frighten you? “

“ ____’s too normal for you, you know that. “

“ you will never understand how much harder it is to be nice and normal and decent than it is to be like you. “

“ don’t speak to me like that, ____. i like you, but i don’t like you that much. “

“ i have real trouble telling the truth. i don’t understand the concept, actually. “

“ most of time, most days, i feel... nothing. i don’t feel anything. “

“ it is so boring. i wake up and think ‘again? really? i have to do this again?’ “

“ what i really don’t understand is, how come everyone else isn’t screaming with boredom too? “

“ i try to find ways of making myself feel something, more and more and more but... it doesn’t make any difference.

“ no matter what i do, i don’t feel anything. i hurt myself, it doesn’t hurt. i buy what i want, i don’t want it. i do what i like, i don’t like it. “

“ i’m just so bored. “

“ why do rich people talk like children? “

“ i dread to think where you’ll be happy, ____. “

“ oh, i get it. you’re a bully. why would i bother to have a conversation with someone like you? what’s the point? “

“ you don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not? “

“ i feel things when i’m with you. “

“ whatever you say, boss. “

“ i don’t like rich men. “

“ i like buying things. i like owning them. i like looking at them. “

“ i’ll be on standby if you’re desperate. “

“ do you love ____? “

“ if something happens, you and ____ are on your own. “

“ i told you you’d be bored. “

“ i know everything about everyone. you’re the only person in the world i know nothing about. “

“ i thought i smelled a rat but i wasn’t expecting that. “

“ you’ll get bored with ____. “

“ you’ll never get bored here. i’ll make sure of it. neither of us will ever be bored again. “

“ i’ll give you everything. you can have all of it. “

“ you weren’t supposed to kill ____. “

“ we’d never get away from someone like that. i did us a favor. “

“ it wasn’t your decision to make. “

“ you wanted to save me. and you did. “

“ you were in shock! you needed a surprise. like hiccups. “

“ you think you’d be fine without me? you’d be dead in five minutes. “

“ if i get shot, i want you to remember that it is your fault. “

“ if you see anything scary, just leave, okay? don’t be brave. “

“ you wanted ____ dead. “

“ it was never going to be bloodless. “

“ ____ wouldn’t do the same for you. “

“ you are the worst. “

“ i don’t get scared. “

“ do you think if we died down here anybody would notice? “

“ nobody would bother us there. we would be normal. “

“ you wanted me to do it. “

“ i wanted you to know how it feels. how did it feel? “

“ you’re ruining the moment. “

“ what do you think is happening here? you’d think we’d be, what... bonnie and clyde? just go out on a killing spree? “

“ you want me to be a mess. you want me to be scared. but i’m like you now. i’m not afraid of anything. “

“ this is what you wanted. “

“ i love you, i do. “

“ you don’t understand what love is. “

“ you’re mine. you are, you’re mine! “

“ i thought you were special. “

#rp prompts #rp memes #roleplaying memes #roleplaying prompts #inbox memes #inbox prompts #roleplaying resources #ask memes #ask prompts #sentence starters

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darisu-chan · 4 years

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whatever our souls are made of (his and mine are the same), pt. 22

Hi, welcome back to another installment!

Hope you like this one-shot.

You can also read it here.

See ya!

every day (a brand new day)

Prompt: surprise

Summary: Rukia decides she wants to surprise Ichigo, not realizing she does that every day.

Rukia wants to surprise Ichigo.

That is the decision she makes one day out of the blue.

Although her thought process might not make much sense to an outside observer, it is very clear in her mind.

Ichigo does a lot for her.

Every time she visits him, he shows her something new.

Which is a surprise, basically.

So the logical conclusion is that if Rukia wants to show appreciation for the things Ichigo does for her, she must surprise him in return.

Yes.

There is no other way.

Or at least that’s how she sees it.

However, the real question is how she is going to surprise him.

Ichigo is not really a guy that can be surprised often.

First of all, he has quick reflexes (a result of Isshin’s good morning fighting routine) and can be very intuitive.

He can easily sniff out if something’s out of the ordinary.

If he bothers paying attention, of course.

Sadly for Rukia, he pays a lot of attention when it comes to her.

So it would be nearly impossible to plan a long-term surprise for Ichigo.

Which means that, basically, she must be spontaneous.

And that is an even bigger problem.

Because there are not a lot of things out there that could, potentially, surprise Ichigo.

By now he has a deep understanding of how the Soul Society works.

As he had explained it, for him is like feudal Japan.

A society reminiscent of how humans lived hundreds of years ago.

This means that the most interesting part of the Soul Society for him is Seireitei.

And he has already seen most of it.

He has personally met the most influential Shinigami.

He even hangs out with them.

Quite frequently, might she add.

He knows several nobles, including the Kuchiki elders!

(And that’s as influential as one can get)

The fact of the matter is that, outside of fighting, life in the Soul Society is not very thrilling.

It can be very depressing, actually.

And Rukia wishes her home were as exciting as Karakura is for her.

That there were newer things to see or places to visit.

That there were more things that she could show Ichigo.

She wants to give back to him everything he’s given her.

She wishes to amaze him.

To watch his eyes brighten up and a grin spread across his face.

But this dream seems impossible with the way things are.

That is, until she catches wind of a new event.

“The moon festival?” Rukia says out loud.

“Yes! It’s a new festival being organized on the first district!”

Kiyone tells her excitedly one day.

“And what is it about?”

“I have no idea, but word’s on the street that there will be lots of food and performances! It’s going to be great!”

On that Rukia can agree.

There are seldom any festivals in the Soul Society.

With the exception of the New Year’s Festival and other seasonal festivities.

But after going to the same event for decades, they do get a tad boring.

And Ichigo has already experienced them.

Now, a Moon Festival, on the other hand, is not something Rukia had ever heard of before.

The idea of trying something new is enticing.

Yet it doesn’t compare to the feeling it would give her to finally surprise Ichigo with something new.

Something that could be as fun as everything he shows her constantly.

She’s now got a plan.

Thankfully Kiyone gives her all the details she needs.

The date and place and time.

All that is now needed is for Ichigo to agree to come.

Asking him to come to the Soul Society is easy.

It was his turn to visit her anyway.

Tricking him into thinking there’s nothing going on turns out to be more difficult.

Rukia has to insist several times that they’ve got no plans that day.

While simultaneously making sure he doesn’t make plans with anybody else.

Thankfully it doesn’t occur to him to go out with his other friends or anything.

That Saturday morning he simply goes to train as always, giving Rukia enough time to set her plans into motion.

She lays out a new kimono for him in his room at the Kuchiki Manor and leaves him a note telling him to meet her by the gate at 7 pm.

Ichigo does as he is asked and goes to the gate wearing deep blue robes, which coincidentally match her own kimono.

“Rukia, what’s going on? Where are we going?” He questions.

“You’ll see.”

That’s her cryptic reply.

He is clearly intrigued but she doesn’t say anything else.

And so, she guides him till they reach the festival.

When they get there, it’s not what Rukia expected at all.

For starters, there is a lot of yelling but not the kind you would expect from a festival.

This is angry yelling.

There’s trash everywhere.

The food vendors are trying to scam passersby.

The audience is booing the actors and dancers trying to perform.

There are hungry children asking for food, but getting ignored.

Some people even kick the poor away so they don’t ask them for money.

Even worse, Rukia can see Shinigami acting haughty towards other souls.

In short, it is a mess.

It is definitely not the delightful scenery she was hoping for.

It displays out in the open all the terrible things about the Soul Society.

All the inequality.

The discrimination.

It tastes bitter in her mouth.

And she suddenly remembers.

What it felt like being poor and unable to get a meal.

How it felt when adults mistreated you.

And how scary Shinigami can be for young souls.

On her right, Ichigo looks as disgusted as she feels.

He furrows his brow and glares at all the Shinigami trying to intimidate other souls.

This is not a festival.

It is barely an event.

It is a travesty.

A demonstration of how down in the dumps is everything outside of Seireitei.

A reminder about the inner workings of the Soul Society.

And this is just the first district.

Where life is mostly good.

Rukia doesn’t want to imagine how a festival may go down in Inuzuri.

But she has seen enough.

“Let’s go, Ichigo.”

She tells her companion and the two walk away.

She is not sure where she’s going yet she cannot go back to Seireitei after this.

Eventually, they reach a lake.

It is peaceful out here.

There’s no one else around.

It is idyllic, even.

The perfect place to rest.

She drops to the ground and keeps her gaze set on the lake.

Ichigo follows suit and the two stare into the lake for a while.

“I’m so sorry for today.” Rukia eventually says.

She feels like an idiot.

But mostly she feels terrible for disappointing Ichigo.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault.”

He quickly tells her.

“But it kinda is.” She retorts. “I wanted to surprise you and take you some place fun. Instead we just witnessed how horrid the Soul Society can be.”

Ichigo contemplates her words in silence.

Finally, he speaks again.

“The Soul Society is not unlike the Human World, though. I know you enjoy it there, but it can be just as bad as the Soul Society. Even worse. So, don’t beat yourself too much about it. It’s not your fault there are shitty souls here.”

In truth, the situation outside of Seireitei isn’t just because there are shitty souls in the districts.

One could argue souls act according to their necessities.

And that the way the nobles and Shinigami treat other souls is the root of the problem.

But now is not the time for that conversation.

“I just wanted us to have fun.”

Rukia says and her tone is so pitiful Ichigo double takes.

“I know there’s more than that bothering you.”

And of course this is when his intuition kicks in.

He can easily tell the real reason behind her discontentment.

It is probably written all over her face.

So she sighs and decides to come clean.

“I wanted to surprise you with a fun activity. Whenever I visit you, you always show me something new, something exciting. While, when you come here, there’s never any surprises. It’s all just the same as it’s always been. And I just… I guess I just wanted you to find my world as fun as yours is to me.”

Ichigo blinks and then smiles at her.

“Rukia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t think the Soul Society is dull. Every time I come here, something happens. Whether that is Kenpachi looking for a fight, drinking with the guys, running away from Kurotsuchi, arguing with the Kuchiki elders, or even training with Zangetsu, there’s always something to do. Things I can’t experience in Karakura.

And even if there weren’t, you still surprise me every day.”

He admits sheepishly.

“I surprise you?”

Rukia turns to look at him, dumbfounded.

“Yeah. With your reactions and comments, and the things you say and do. You even surprise me by just being here, next to me.”

He blurts out this last bit and his cheeks turn red for a reason unknown to her.

“My point is that it doesn’t matter if today didn’t turn out exactly like you wanted, because I have fun just by being here with you.”

And for the first time in all evening, it feels as if the festival wasn’t such a waste of time after all.

“Thank you.”

Rukia replies earnestly.

“So, if you still want to hang out after this, I promise to surprise you in other ways.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Ichigo tells her as the light from the moon reflects on him.

So that night Rukia ends up realizing two things.

1. That somehow she already surprises Ichigo enough.

2. He looks particularly good under the moonlight.

(Now she does have a reason to call it the Moon Festival)

#ichiruki #ichirukimonth #ichirukimonth2020 #pro ichiruki #ichiruki fanfiction #my fanfiction

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dear--charlie · 3 years

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Dear Charlie,

TW // Mention of suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self harm, alcohol, drug use, eating disorder

First of all I am so sorry this has to be the first letter of the year, I wanted this year to have a great start, I really wanted this letter to be about how excited I am/was about my future and all the things I´ve learned about life and myself for these past months but if I don’t get this out of my head I will just feel worse.

You see I was genuinely feeling better, I was reading, I cut my hair as I always wanted and also making peace with my body and trying to eat healthy without skipping any of my meals. I know this doesn’t seem like a lot but for me it’s the happiest I’ve ever been in years. I guess I could say 2020 wasn’t that bad for me although it’s just because 2019 was one of the worst years. In fact, I wrote you a letter about all the things that happened to me that year, that has to be here somewhere among all these letters, and long story short I relapsed on self harm, I wasn’t eating, I had a lot of suicidal thoughts and it was just horrible.

The worst part of all was a day after Christmas that I was having dinner with my family, they started talking about something I don’t remember and somehow they end up talking about myself and how I never tell them about my problems and they started asking questions and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I was thinking of which part of my fucked up life to talk about, would it be the suicidal thoughts? or the way my classmates fucked up my reputation because I didn’t like back one of those boys? or maybe about all the abusive relationships I’ve had with boys who treat me like shit and make me feel so little? or perhaps about how I felt in love with a girl in high school and since then I realized I’m bisexual? or what about the eating disorder I developed at 13?

I felt like I was gonna explode if I didn’t tell them the truth so I chose the suicidal thoughts and I thought maybe it had to happen so I can finally receive the help that I needed. I have never cried like that day, my throat hurt like the words were burning me, I couldn’t breath, my heart was racing and at the same time I felt a bit of liberation.

My parents cried too, they said some things I don’t remember anymore. I guess the only thing I remember now it’s they said: “don’t worry, we’re gonna get you help.” And for once I trusted them and waited but the help never came. To this day they act as if it has never happened, I didn’t tell anybody about that, not even my closest friends, but I keep thinking about that day. I can’t look into my father’s eyes without thinking he’s pity about me, or being alone with my mother because I’m afraid she talks about it and said I’m just faking it or that it’s just because of hormones, I can’t even sit in the place at the table that used to be mine since I was a kid, I can’t have a single moment of joy with my siblings because I always think I’m supposed to take care of them, not them taking care of me. I think I failed to both of them and they’re who I love most in this world.

I know it’s pathetic I can’t stop reliving that terrific day but I’m just mad as fuck with myself and my parents, and everyone around me. Charlie, I simply don’t understand how they can tell me they love me to my face but not make a single effort to help me, does that mean I am as alone as I think? Why did I think it was a good idea to talk with them about it?

My dear friend I’m so sorry about writing all this shit to you but I’ve got more to say. On January 6th of this new year my uncle tried to kill himself. He’s been a bad person almost all his life but recently life’s been treating him like shit, his wife left him (it wasn’t a good relationship both of them are shitty people but i bet that hurt him), he can’t find a job, he’s been consuming lots of alcohol and told his siblings he used to do cocaine, he moved in with my grandpa but grandpa got tired of his shit and asked him to leave, he got arrested and a lot of other stuff.

I’m not saying I’ve got it worse than him or that he got it worse than me because at the end of the day we both have shitty lives and our problems affect us in a different way, neither of us deserve having these voices inside our heads. What I’m saying is this kinda stuff happens to everyone, it happened to me, a 21-year-old person who is about to graduate from uni and seems to have their life together and it also happened to him, a 40-something-years-old man who maybe shows more signs of it. We both need help, we both are in danger.

The only difference it’s he actually tried to end it and I’ve never crossed that line because I know if I do it nothing is going to be the same and I had think a lot about the consequences, and also as some girl said, although suicide is seen as cowardice it takes a lot of courage to just try it and I don’t have it. But Charlie does that mean I am not suffering? Or that I am okay? Because I don’t feel like that at all.

As I said earlier in this letter mom and dad never helped me, I’ve been learning to help myself since June, because on my birthday (July) I always feel sad but I didn’t want to feel that way last year so I tried really hard, and it almost worked. The day of my birthday my uncle got arrested and mom went running to solve his problems and left me with my siblings. I understood it because she had to be there but it still hurt.

This time I am really trying to take care of myself because I finally realized I cannot count on them. I have to take care of myself, otherwise I’ll always be fucked up. I wanna be myself without worrying about my weight, how I look, the way I laugh, if I have friends, if I love women or men, if I am even a woman.I want to be enough for me. I want to just stop giving a fuck about what people think of me. I want to do all the things I once dreamt about. I want to dress however the fuck I want to dress. I want to sing, dance and write without being afraid I don’t have the talent. I want to love myself. I want to be myself. But Charlie, why do I feel so mad at my parents and my uncle?

After January 6th my mom constantly talks to him and asks him how he is feeling and you know what? She’s even searching for a psychiatrist and a job so he doesn’t try it again. Am I being a shitty person Charlie? I hate feeling this way, I shouldn’t be jealous of my mom’s brother but I am. What did I do wrong? Why didn’t they help me? Is it the fact that I just think about it but I didn’t try to really do it? Do I have to show them the scars that I gave myself on my wrists,arms, ankles and hands? Do I have to tell them about the times I drank brandy all alone until I felt numb? Do I have to talk about the parties where I drank vodka like water just to feel free and stop thinking? What do I have to do to get that promised help?

I am just so tired and angry with them seeing me as a joke, but I guess it’s my fault for trust them with something this big. I shouldn’t have told them in the first place. Why did I think the man who so many times said I am a drama queen would help me? Why did I think the woman who always reminds me of my defects would help me? And I’m so mad at myself for giving a fuck about what they think of me.They didn’t give a fuck about me at 13 when my life started falling apart and they will not care for me now.

I’m so fucking sorry I write all of this shit in the first letter of the year, I really wanted it to be special. I promise you, my dear Charlie I will get better. I will not let this fucked up head of mine listen to that shit anymore. I must save myself.

All the love as always,

Dorian.

#dear charlie #Dorian

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Communication Issues (Alternative Title: Three Touch-Starved, Insecure, Metaphysical Beings Constantly Misinterpreting Each Other and Yet Somehow Falling in Love)- Chapter One

Ao3, MasterPost, Chap.2, Chap.3

Relationships: Eventual Analogince, implied Moceit

I usually have new stuff up on Wednesdays, Sorry this is late. I hope the length and angst will make up for this slight :) Also, because of how long this fucker is, I did not go in and manually add italics, so you can just. Imagine them there when you need them.

Warnings: Panic attack (?), overworking oneself, self-hatred and insecurity, Excessive Amounts of Hurt/comfort, eventual friends-to-lovers, slow burn, arguing, crying, angst w/ a happy ending, swearing, creative blocks, mentions of isolating oneself, excessive hugging.

Word Count: 6,396

What do you do when you find someone crying, and it’s all your fault? What do you say when you hear the muffled sobs and frantic words behind the blood-red door? When you know that, no matter how much you never wanted to hurt him- never wanted to hurt anyone- you still did. Is there anything you can do to fix it, when you’ve spent so long pretending that nothing was broken? When you’ve spent so long pretending that you didn’t care if things were broken or not?

Well, if you're Logan Sanders, a metaphysical representation of the logical thinking of one Thomas Sanders (and you are, for the purposes of this story), then you book it down the hall in a desperate effort to find someone more emotionally competent to solve the problem.

The search is short, lasting just to the bottom of the stairs. As soon as your feet touch down on the living room carpet, your haste brings you slamming into just the side you were looking for. Hands wrap around your middle, narrowly stopping you from stumbling over.

“Geez, L, what’s the-” Virgil doesn’t finish his sentence, his expression wrinkling in concern when he sees your face. He leans down to your level, his gaze flickering over you to search for injuries.

You take a step back and shake your head, struggling to explain.

“Roman- I- He-” you’re supposed to be articulate, intelligent, eloquent- but when it comes to feelings, you never are. You never have been. You try so hard nowadays, but God, do you still need help sometimes. Like these times. These confusing, awful times when you hear dear sweet Creativity sobbing self-deprications loud enough to be heard from well outside of his room, many of which are dramatized repetitions of things that you have said to him.

“Is he okay?!” Virgil, bless him, snaps you out of the oncoming mental panic before it renders you any more useless.

“Physically, yes- as far as I know- but emotionally, well-” you cut off, terrified of choking up. He seems to catch your meaning, though.

Virgil doesn’t ask any follow up questions. He grabs your arm and the room blurs. Static hisses against your ears and pricks at your skin, this form of transportation being mostly foreign to you. You don’t even rise up, merely popping into existence right in front of Roman’s door. Virgil throws it open before you have the chance to react.

Roman doesn’t notice the increased population of his room, which is concerning. His back is to the door as he works fervently at his desk, but evidently not making progress, shaking as he is. He’s muttering under his breath, much quieter than what you’d overheard before, but you can hear distinct utterances like ‘unrealistic… overused… disappointment…’ et cetera, et fucking cetera.

“Roman, what happened?” Virgil’s voice is distorted, loud and quiet all at once. You barely keep yourself from covering your ears.

Roman clamps his mouth shut mid-wail, his hands spasming in surprise against his desk. His quill drops to the paper with a soft clatter, a sound that echoes about the walls. Then, the only noise left is his staggering breathing.

Slowly, Roman peers over his shoulder at you, eyes puffy and red with mascara practically dripping down his chin.

A gasp draws from you, against your will, at the sight.

Roman makes some strangled throat-clearing sounds before trying to speak.

“Oh, hey-”

“Nope, none of that,” Virgil is across the room in two strides, effortlessly taking the lead in this situation. You can’t push yourself any further into the room, but you do shut the door behind you. Probably best not to involve any of the more unpredictable sides in what was sure to be an… emotionally charged discussion.

Roman looks absolutely mortified, jolting up from his chair and backing into the wall like a cornered animal. With distance between himself and Virgil reestablished, he then buries his face in his hands. He trembles like a leaf caught in the wind of fall, and he’d probably crumble just as easily.

Many times in your life, you’ve wished that you couldn’t feel. You even had yourself convinced that you couldn’t, for a while there. Now, all you wish is to know how to feel correctly. You’re meant to know things, Logan, aren’t you?

“Alright, so I’ve been having a bit of a rough time,” Roman’s voice cracks and wavers when he speaks, “It’s just writer’s block. Sure, I got a tad bit frustrated- but I’ll be back on track in no time, I promise! You needn’t concern yourself with my momentary lapse, I’ll have a new story for you by Saturday at the latest!”

He’s looking at you. Virgil is standing right next to him, but he’s looking at you, all the way across the room. He’s trying to… appease you? Reason with you? Give you what he thinks you want?

Say something, Logan.

“You need to take a break, Ro,” Virgil’s voice slips back to normal, “C’mon, you’re overworking yourself,” he tries to be nonchalant, but it’s obvious just how concerned he is. You can hardly blame him. When he reaches his hand out, Roman recoils, showing his face enough to see the guilt written across it.

You need to say something, goddammit.

“I can’t just ‘take a break’,” he spits, “I can’t stop now. I need to get this done first- I’ll stop when I finally do this properly. So, maybe never, right?” He laughs, horrible and twisted, and he looks at you because he’s really, truly asking you. Is he really expecting you to agree? Is that the impression you’ve left him with?

You say something.

“This is all my fault.”

Clearly, neither of them expected that. You press on.

“Your worth as a side-” no, not quite right, “-Your worth as a person is not measured solely by your productivity. I know we’ve talked before about the damages of excessive perfectionism, but I know I may not have been effective in ‘showing not telling’ that your ideas don’t need to be flawless. My harshness. My Coldness. I thought I was doing better, but obviously... I was wrong.” Again.

Virgil looks half-way to anger, but it’s unclear what he’s directing it towards. You aren’t sure of anything right now, really, except for the general upset tugging at your stomach.

“L, no, if this is anybody’s fault- it’s mine,” he turns to Roman, and what. “I didn’t know how hard you were taking all this. Dude, I had no idea. But I owe you an apology, I have for a while, for making fun of you about your insecurity. Like, kind of a lot. Long after you stopped doing it to me. Honestly, I can’t believe that I didn’t realize how much it was actually getting to you.”

“What? Virgil, I truly appreciate what you are trying to do, but I was clearly the one who pushed Roman too far,” you find the courage to step a little closer as you argue Virgil’s point, spurred on by how ridiculous you find this exchange.

“Well, I mocked his sensitivities. This is my responsibility!”

“But you didn’t know you were doing that- I acted like I didn’t care for him, and now he thinks I don’t! I am doubtlessly the one to blame.”

Virgil looks ready to snap back, and you’d be just as ready to retort, but a quiet sniffle alerts both of your attention to the matter still at hand. Roman, standing back against the wall, growing increasingly bewildered. He’s still crying, a surprisingly open display for a prideful trait such as himself, but you get the impression that he simply can’t hold it back anymore. You can see him squirm under Virgil’s and your gazes.

“It- It’s nice, that you both are attempting to take the blame for my failings, but you don’t have to. I can figure this out for myself. Then, I’ll finally prove myself to you, and no one will need to worry about anything. Which is why I need to keep working.”

“You have proven yourself to me,” Virgil darts from the desk to Roman. He grabs the trait’s ink-stained arm, gaze fierce and unyielding.

“Why, then,” Roman mutters, eyes downcast, “doesn’t it feel like I have?”

“I never tried to do right by you. Like you did for me.”

You watch them sway, awkward, and finally, finally push movement into your legs. You step to Roman’s other side, much slower. It probably appears to be deliberate, but in truth you just feel unsure. You place your hand on his shoulder in a way that is hopefully comforting.

“The same, in a different sense, is true for myself. But if you would allow us to make it up to you…?” you aren’t sure where to go from there. Virgil nods, though, granting you a hint of pride. You don’t quite buy it when he says he’s part of the problem, but you’d rather not start any arguments at this particular moment.

Roman won’t look at either of you for longer than a second, like he’s not sure if you’re serious. Just so he knows that you are, you gesture to your necktie, giving him the tiniest smile.

He buckles to the ground immediately, a mess of sobs, the both of you letting yourself be dragged along. He clings to Virgil, and you try to keep an arm around him as well. He needs all the support he can get, really.

“I-I’m so so-rry, I don’t- I-”

Virgil shushes him and shoots you a deeply concerned look: This is really bad. I’m not letting him go. You rub Roman’s back as he shakes and return your friend’s gaze with a nod: I’m not either. We’re going to help him. Don’t worry.

The three of you sit there for what feels like hours as he cries, and cries, and cries. None of you say a word, letting him get it all out. You let him hold onto you- you hold him as well, because you’re nearly as dismayed and unsure as he is.

But eventually, you need to talk. Once he finally settles, his head resting against your collar and his legs splayed across Virgil’s lap, it’s you who gets the proverbial ball rolling.

“You already know that overworking yourself leads to exhaustion, which in turn leads to an overall drop in productivity and quality of work,” Roman’s eyes fill with guilt, but you’re quick to elaborate, “but that isn’t at all my primary concern. I won’t carry on acting like it is for a moment longer, now that I see how it’s hurting you. Hurting you is something I would never intend. You mean so much to me. There are so many arguments I could use to convince you why you need to give yourself a break, but I’ll settle with this: a hypothetical ‘perfect story’ is not worth your suffering, and it never will be.”

Roman looks up at you, once more crying, so that was probably a very unhelpful thing to say. But he leans into you and hugs you close, recontextualizing his emotional display. Relief washes over you.

“Thank you, Logan.”

Virgil clears his throat.

“I know I’m not as, um, articulate as Lo is, but- for what it’s worth- I care about you, too, and all.”

You stretch out the arm that you had around Roman’s back, pulling Virgil into the hug. Roman lets out a shuddering breath from where he’s cradled between the both of you. It’s the deep, relieved breath that means the sobbing is through with, leaving only tired eyes and silence.

It is at this point of alleviated tension that the uncomfortable nature of the floor begins irking you. Like hell you and Virgil would live Creativity alone like this, so after brief deliberation you stand to move as a unit. An amoeba of facets making their way down the hall, in a manner likely comical (though thankfully no one is around to see). Your room is the optimal place to rest, as it eases emotions and calms overthinking minds, even if it is a little chilly.

You let your fellow traits drop down onto the couch, passing Roman the TV remote. Yes, whatever you like to watch, you inform him. Yes, really, anything, you confirm, waving your hand to conjure some blankets for them. The smile he gives you, though small, is enough to boost your hopes considerably.

You really can’t fix everything- at least not immediately. But perhaps, with Virgil to fill in your gaps, you’ll be able to make things right for the Prince.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

So looking after this insecure dumbass is totally your job now. Said dumbass, of course, disagrees strongly; he tells you he’s doing better, and thanks so much for the one afternoon of help, Virgil, but he can totally take it from here. You do not give a single shit about what Roman claims, because he is very obviously lying, because he doesn’t want to be a burden. Yeah, as if.

You’re taking care of that idiot if it kills you.

Thankfully, Logan is on the same page as you (proverbial page, as he would specify). It almost surprised you that he didn’t make himself scarce as soon as he told you about the situation, but it’s certainly a pleasant surprise to have him by your side in this. Roman needs all the help he can get, and you can’t think of anyone better.

The pair of you only begrudgingly leave him alone after a sufficient several hours of Comfort Time, retreating to the hall so he can rest. He looked so fuckin’ tired, face a dull red and eyes puffy, but he was smiling. You count it as a temporary win.

The first thing that you do, naturally, is slam your back against the wall and let yourself slide down to the floor out of sheer emotional exhaustion.

Logan sits next to you, much less aggressively. It’s a nice gesture, considering how he absolutely despises sitting on the ground and this is the second time he’s had to do it in one day. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He keeps trying to say something, before clamping back down on it. You bump your shoulder against his, telling him that whatever it is, you’re listening.

“I feel-” which is already a testament to how serious he’s taking the situation- “horrible.”

“Yeah, same- I mean, big mood- no, that’s worse, fuck-” you take a deep breath, hitting your head back against the wall, “I mean, me too. So, at least there’s that, right?”

Logan shoots you one of his patented Microscopic Smiles.

“I suppose that counts for something, yes.”

You manage a laugh, leaning even more against your friend. You’ve got a whole contradictory bundle of feelings coiled up in your chest, and it sucks, but also it’s a relief, but also it’s the worst thing ever. You exhale slowly, your eyes falling shut.

“I don’t wanna leave him alone, ya know?”

“I know. We’ve done all we can do for now, though.”

“I guess.”

“I’m just glad he let us help at all.”

“Well, assuming we did help. Who knows, we could’ve made him feel a million times worse by confronting him, and now-”

He cuts off your spiraling immediately.

“But we didn’t. He clearly needed intervention by that point. Besides, If we’d been making it worse, it’s unlikely he would’ve let us stay for so long. Nor would he have accepted your plan of ‘helping him deal with all this shit from now on, no matter what he says.’”

“Right,” you take another deep breath, “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

You elbow Logan in the side, playfully. He smiles again, wider and brighter in a way that most others probably wouldn’t notice. It could, from some angles, in the right lighting, possibly maybe be considered a little bit pretty. Not that you think about things like that, of course, that would just be weird.

You stop leaning so heavily against Logan, only to find how much your back hurts from sitting in the hall. Come to think of it, the hall might not be the best place to calm down from emotionally charged interactions. The only issue is that your room is literally the exact opposite of a good place to chill out right now, and you’re reluctant to move.

“Hey, uh, would it be okay if I- like, my room isn’t the best for times like this, and I-”

Logan’s already standing, taking your arm to help you up.

“Come on. I’ll set up the Planetarium for us.”

“Thanks,” God, you’re thankful for somebody like him. Such a simple word, when you aren’t crazy about spelling out all of the gratitude and nervous tension that lays behind it, and he picks up on the layers perfectly. He gets it- he gets you.

Things will be okay.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

Once upon a time (ha), you felt appreciated. Of course you did, else how would you remember it so vividly? How would you long for it so desperately? Yes, you can safely say that you, Roman Sanders, had once been cared for. But that was countless screw-ups ago, before hundreds of your careless insults, your many vicious words followed by weak apologies and unchanging ways. The distant past of a disgraced royal- one far too imperfect, far too cruel to be forgiven without first proving himself time and time again.

That’s what you’d thought, anyway. When you expressed such beliefs to other sides for the first time, just a few mornings after said sides comforted you in the midst of a breakdown, they told you it was the stupidest thing they’d ever heard. Direct quote from Virgil.

It was stupid, apparently, because you were forgiven so very long ago, and you are actually considered to be better now than you were then. It shakes you up inside to think about. In a good way, for once.

They hover around you almost always, offering you plenty more of those somewhat aggressive reassurances whenever you give the vaguest hint of self-deprecation. You were sure they’d brush it under the rug after those first few days, perhaps even tease you about it, but it seemed that was completely false. It’s been a good week.

They’re with you this very morning, chatting idly while you wait for the kettle to shriek. You let the drone of Logan’s voice wash over you as you finish fixing your tea. You don’t believe all of their reassurances just yet, but God are you trying. You want it to be true- more than you’ve ever wanted anything- when Logan says their care is unconditional, or Virgil says that he likes spending so much time with you.

You turn around, the mug in your hands warm against your chest, and stare at the sides on the couch. The three of you are in your corner of the Mindscape; they had already invited themselves in when you awoke. You quite like that they do that- you still aren’t sure how to express that you want to be with them, without prompting. You would feel clingy. Greedy.

“Thank you,” you settle down Virgil, smiling groggily. He waves his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it, man. What’s on the agenda for today?”

That’s another thing. It’s not all crying and hugging, Lord knows how old that would get- but they just end up hanging out with you. Sometimes it’s just Logan, if Virgil’s having an off day, or sometimes it’s the opposite, when Logan’s particularly busy, but you really like it best when it’s the three of you.

That didn’t used to be unusual; you used to spend all of your time surrounded by all of your family (or most, in light of recent acceptances), laughing and joking and working all together. Then, slowly, you stopped, just as things became more complicated for everyone. Camaraderie was a waste of valuable time, time that could be used coming up with ideas that would finally be good enough. They got the hint easily enough, allowing you to isolate yourself until you were perfect for them.

No, you aren’t thinking about that right now! It isn’t the time to worry about how this will all have to end eventually. You’ll have to think about it soon, but not now, dammit!

You swing back a sip of scalding cinnamon tea, letting it clear both your throat and your mind.

“I have a wonderful idea for today!” You puff your chest out and straighten your back. In actuality, you haven’t had a ‘wonderful’ idea in ages, but you hope the confident stance will give you one.

It doesn’t. Logan notices this.

“I sincerely hope that this is not yet another attempt to ‘cure’ your writer’s block and attempt to get ‘back on task’?” he chides you. You falter, letting the regal pose fall away. Logan tells you that what you need is rest. You do not want to rest. But you don’t want to get lectured, either.

“I do not have any ideas for today. Or in general,” you grind out, the second part tacked on bitterly. You don’t look at them, even as Virgil knocks your elbow with his.

“Good, that means you can come play Scrabble with us.”

The hesitance must show on your face, because Logan sighs and adds:

“I will allow you to use your original- completely nonsense, meaningless, irrational- words, if butchering the English language makes the game more fun for you.”

Now that. That is a tempting offer. You really would be a fool to pass it up.

You might as well indulge yourself this much, for however longer they’re willing to let you. It’ll be a nice memory to draw from when you do get back to work.

Good God, your ribs hurt. You can’t breathe.

“I’m just saying, you can’t prove that the earth is round,” Virgil claims, staring mischievously across the table at Logan. Logan fumes. It is fucking hysterical.

“That’s ridiculous! Putting aside the overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary for a moment, you can literally see the curve of the earth on the horizon!”

“Uhh, it looks pretty flat to me. I’m not buying your government propaganda, Lo,” Virgil’s very clearly trying not to chuckle, and his resolve is impressive. You’ve already been reduced to unintelligible cackling at their interaction. This exchange has brought the progress on the jigsaw puzzle you’d been solving together to a screeching halt, but you couldn’t care less.

“What do you mean ‘propaganda’?! This is common knowledge!”

Virgil cracks, bursting into raucous laughter. He grabs onto your arm as gravelly chuckles escape him, the both of you scrambling to keep upright. Logan narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Unbelievable. Infuriating. Intolerable, the both of you.”

You compose yourself just enough to stick your tongue out at him teasingly, before hunching right back over into your giggle fit.

Then, you notice it as it happens. The aggravated expression etched across Logan’s face shifts, but he keeps staring at you. It’s inscrutable, and also weird.

“What’re you looking at?” you challenge, voice broken up by subsiding laughter. You turn your head to Virgil, as if to say wow, what a nerd, huh?, only to find him staring at you with much the same expression.

“Guys? Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” Anxiety amends.

“I’m sure we were both just caught off guard, is all,” Logic adds, his attention redirected from you to the carpet hastily.

“In a good way, though. It’s nice to see you smile- ugh, that sounds so weird, I just meant- it’s been a long time since you’ve. Done that.”

You blink, taken aback, only to feel the dull ache in your face. You reach a hand up, pressing a finger to the corner of your upturned lips. It really has been a while since you’ve laughed like this, hasn’t it?

A selfish, malicious creature that stalks around in your chest tells you to stop smiling. If you’re happy it means that their job is done, then you’ll be all alone again. Is that what you want, Roman?

You almost listen to it. Before-

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten what you said just because Roman laughed, V.”

“Nah, you never forget anything, O keeper of memories,” Virgil flicks a puzzle piece at Logan, smirking just enough to show off his sharp teeth.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” he flicks another puzzle piece. Logan’s face twitches in what is either a barely suppressed smile or a grimace, but likely a combination of the two. When Virgil finally aims a piece to hit his face, he snaps, throwing little bits of the jigsaw back at the anxious trait.

“Wow, L, you’re really just throwing away all our progress like that? Tsk, tsk.”

“I will end you,” he lands one smack on Virgil’s nose, earning a hiss. The puzzle continues to be destroyed by their squabble.

You don’t think you could stop yourself from beaming at them, even if you wanted to. Toothy, confident, amused- oh, how you’ve missed this.

How you’ve all missed this.

It hits you with the swiftness of a bullet, right when you least expect it. You’re just sitting in the living room, idly sketching as you half-watch TV with Patton beside you on the couch. You offer a laugh when he pipes up with a pun based on whatever’s on screen, but your mind is far elsewhere.

You’ve got an idea. A really good one.

You’ve filled up a page with mindless doodling while the thought was still forming, for fear of jumping on it too suddenly and losing the inspiration, but you find it solid as you continue to mentally examine it. Perhaps a bit overeager, you flip the page, scrawling excited concept sketches across the thick, rough paper. The details flow and evolve in your mind’s eye, and it becomes something of a struggle to hold back your creative aura from infecting the common area.

That confident smile, one you’ve been wearing more and more often these past few weeks, graces your face once more. The semi-subconscious expression brings a memory from just nights ago: Logan told you that your face was built to wear such a grin (‘Speaking architecturally, of course,’ he cleared his throat awkwardly, ‘The form that you’ve chosen for yourself is suited to it. Objectively.’).

You find your smiling widening, just as it had when he first told you.

So caught up in your art, half-listening to Patton, and also vaguely following along with the show he’s watching- you don’t even glance up when Virgil rises up and seats himself at the arm of the couch. It’s the way he huffs a laugh at something Morality says that first catches your attention, and suddenly he’s got all of it.

“Virgil!”

He grimaces at the volume, tilting his head to look at you.

“Something got you excited, Ro?”

“I’ve got a story! That is to say, I’ve got a premise, but also characters! Look- it’s- come here, let me show you what I’m drawing, it’s easier than explaining,” you chatter happily, shuffling your way to Virgil’s perch. You hold your sketchbook out to him and jump into explanations.

The drawing is messy, and not nearly finished, but it’s you and it’s good and it’s new. It’s a scene- heavily annotated to explain some of the more abstract concepts in the image- depicting an ent-like creature towering over a young woman, who holds a flower crown up to him. You tell Virgil about the story based around the two, some of the major plot points already planting themselves in your brain. You inform him that it just came to you, and you’ve got so many different ideas for what these two will do, what will happen to them, and how they’ll get out of it all. When you look up from your rambling, all the excitement slips off your face. It’s replaced by awe.

Virgil is grinning, showing a good deal more of his fangs than he usually likes to, enthusiasm dancing in his eyes. You’ve never seen him emote that much ever, not for any purpose. You would be lying if you said that those huge chompers weren’t at least a little hot.

“Okay, I totally wanna hear more, but pause for a sec. I gotta get Lo, ’kay?” And with that, he’s gone as quickly as he arrived, pausing only to toss the sketchbook back to you. You twist around, eyes wide with shock, to find Patton smiling softly at you.

“You saw that, too, right? Or have I gone mad?” you ask him, earning a chuckle.

“I think Virge is proud of you,” he shuts the TV off as he talks, moving to stand, “I am, too! It sounds really cute!”

“Thank you,” Patton arches up to stretch, tossing the remote down on the couch. “-Er, where are you off to?”

“I think I’ll let you three have the living room, to talk all about your story.”

“I’d hardly mind if you wanted to hear about it!”

His eyes dart to the side, an awkward smile stretching across his face. His noticeably pink face.

“Oh, I- I was planning on spending some time with Jan today. I was about to take off, anyhow.”

“Aah,” you start sketching again, if only to spare Patton your wolfish grin, “Well, if you’ve already got plans.”

He gives you a tiny wave, sinking out immediately. Thus leaving you alone with your thoughts. Fuck.

It crosses your mind that- now you have an idea to work on, an idea you’re proud of- your slump is over. The creative block has been cured. Logan and Virgil won’t need to coddle you anymore.

Your hand ghosts over the paper, and for a second you consider tearing it up. Pretending you lost the spark, pretending you need more time and help and companionship. Guilt rises in you at even the thought of being so selfish, the doubts and worries overpowering your former giddiness completely.

You can’t imagine anything worse than that brilliant smile Virgil gave you turning to disappointment, if you pretended to lose your inspiration. Or the disdain that would surely flash in Logan’s eyes at having his work interrupted for absolutely nothing. Plus, if you did so, what’s to stop them deeming you a lost cause and abandoning you anyway?

If you’re being honest, you need approval more than anything. And dear God, it is so close. You have to tell them, and hold on to whatever scraps of praise it earns you before the three of you revert back to normal. You’ll fall back into seclusion, as that seems to be one of the few things you’re good at, and they can actually get back to their own existences.

There’s a whoosh behind you. You spin around, forcing the tension out of your shoulders.

“Well hello there!”

“I want to hear about your story,” Logan cuts straight to the point. You couldn’t care less about his bland bluntness because he is watching at you in a way so unbearably fond. They both are. You push your reservations down and present him with your sketches, diving into what you’ve come up with so far (plus a few extra points off the top of your head, which isn’t an uncommon method for how you develop plotlines).

When you’ve finished, not quite as exuberantly as earlier, Logan continues with the theme of surprising the fuck out of you that this day has established.

He settles a hand on your upper arm, but really he might as well have swept you up in a hug. You blanch, the touch fuzzing up your brain, just like it has been doing so often now and God you don’t want to lose this.

“I told you so,” he sounds playful.

“What?” you question, vaguely dazed.

“I think that L’s saying we were right about you just needing a break. Seems like the rest cleared up your burnout pretty well,” Virgil loops around to your other side, patting your shoulder awkwardly.

The euphoria from being touched is broken once you actually manage to process the words.

“Oh! Right, yeah, I'm- I'm so excited to get back to work!”

Logan removes his hand and you burn cold.

“No, you aren't,” you hear his confusion, like he's trying to unravel why that could possibly be and wow you are not as good an actor as you’d hoped. “What's upsetting you?”

You try to say that it's nothing, but your voice pitches up embarrassingly. You clear your throat, but you can't make yourself maintain eye-contact anymore.

“Dude, you can tell us what's up. Are you just overwhelmed?” Anxiety is worried and caring in a way you didn't know he was capable of and it hurts worse because you don't know how to tell him that you're just selfish. But you knew this was coming- and you aren't going to make these two waste their concerns on you any longer. The problem has been solved, Roman, get that through your skull!

“I- I suppose I'm just- I’m lamenting the end of this. It’s unimportant.”

“You are upset about the end of your writer's block?” Logan tips his head to the side and gives you a bemused look. Frustration stabs at your skin.

“No! That's a good thing, obviously it's a good thing- I'm saying that I'm going to miss… I mean, I'd gotten used to spending time with you. The both of you,” Virgil's eyebrows shoot up, Logan squints at you, so you backpedal like there's no damn tomorrow.

“See? It was stupid, I know I can't always have all the attention, any-”

“You're right, that is stupid,” Virgil cuts you off with a grumble. You must deflate visibly, though, because his voice softens, “That you think we aren't gonna hang out with you, I mean.”

You feel something. You think it’s hope. It almost feels foreign- unbelievable, even.

“What?” a murmur, too small and doubting for you to associate with it, though it must be yours. Pathetic.

Logan leans forward, as though he's studying you. Good God, who let him be so tall?

“Were you under the impression that we were going to cease contact with you once you resumed productivity?”

“Wha- I mean- when you say it like that it sounds… bad.”

“It would be bad. It would also be incredibly manipulative; being kind to you only so as to get you back in working order, rather than being kind to you to provide genuine help.”

Virgil nods his agreement.

“Yeah, you aren't getting rid of us that easy, Romano.”

You recall the first Big Conversation you had with the two left-brained sides. They'd insisted to help you, despite your lack of understanding in the beginning why they'd do so. Similarly to that talk, this is filling you with an almost painful fondness, almost too much to bear.

“But, you already helped me, just like you said you would!”

“Why did we help you, Roman?” Logan inquires, in a way that makes you feel like you should know the answer. You do not.

“Because you were worried about me?”

“Why would we be worried?”

“Because you… felt bad for me?”

He groans, tapping Virgil on the shoulder. The anxious facet rolls his eyes.

“You're our friend and we care about you, stupid.”

You clear your throat, attempting to say that you knew that (even if that isn’t entirely true), but Logan interrupts you.

“In case it wasn’t clear why, allow us to explain: one, as I’ve stated before and will likely state again, we don’t value you for your ability to create alone.”

“Two,” Virgil cuts in, “You’re, like, fun to be around. Way less stiff than us, and honestly we probably need that.”

“Three, we were never opposed to being around you even before the- this. You claimed to like being alone. And I’ll admit I’m not the best with subtext.”

Virgil looks ready to add a fourth. You don’t let him, waving your hands wildly. If you verbalized what you meant to convey, you’d definitely start sobbing, and that’s just embarrassing. Thankfully, Anxiety seems to pick up what you’re laying down, giving you a moment to collect yourself. You take a few breaths and try to pretend that you aren’t being watched like a hawk.

Aaaand you’re already crying. That’s probably the point of no return, isn’t it?

“Ha, and I thought that you two weren’t the sentimental ones,” the effect of your teasing is ruined by how much your voice wavers, “You’re just big softies, aren’t you?”

Logan’s expression is caught somewhere between concern and confusion.

“You are quite literally sobbing? How are we-”

“Shut up,” you retort. The effect is once again ruined when he comfortingly pats your back and you absolutely fall against him.

“Wow, again? You’re really set on making a habit out of this,” Virgil hovers uncomfortably apart from the set of you, eventually landing on wrapping an arm around you. And it’s so him, that you can’t help the little chuckle that breaks through your crying. You really have been doing this a lot more than you’d like lately.

“I- I’m okay,” you stammer, “I’m good- this is- just- I’m relieved. Why am I crying? I’m happy!”

“It’s alright, man.”

“Yes, take as long as you need.”

You tear yourself away from them, scrubbing at your eyes, but grinning all the same. Your skin burns, you’re shivering, but you’re sick of clinging to them and crying and the desperation that tugs at you. You feel so many things, but there’s one that’s overpowering, one thing that’s so familiar and has been so distant. It’s a blur, a mash, but it goes something like this:

The people you care about, that you work so hard for- they aren’t going anywhere. No conditions. Logan repeats it plenty, Virgil shows it to you quietly, but only now-

Now you believe them. You feel looked after. Cared for. If you’re being bold, you could even say loved.

You feel secure.

“Thank you,” for being there, staying there, helping you, everything. You can’t thank them enough for everything.

Virgil shrugs.

“You’re worth it.”

#sanders sides #ts #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #analogince #analogical #logince #prinxiety #panic attacks tw #cursing tw #logan #roman #virgil #patton #implied moceit #my writing

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spectraspecs-writes · 3 years

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Korriban - Chapter 96

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 95. Chapter 97.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

———–

We wake up at the same time, to the sound of Jolee coyly saying, “Good morning, you two.”

Carth awkwardly covers himself, which is adorable, because the last person who’s going to judge us is Jolee. “I was wondering why Carth never came back to his bunk last night,” he says, “And why Mission has been squealing all morning.”

“Mission squealing?” I say, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Apparently she came in earlier looking for some spare parts and found the two of you,” he says. Well, damn. I mean, she was going to find out eventually, I had just hoped to do it on my own terms. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. I’m surprised she didn’t wake you.”

“Hang on,” Carth says, “You keep tabs on me?”

“We’re on a Sith planet, and you’re going to judge me for keeping my eyes open?” Jolee says in his finicky old man voice, and he scoffs. Then he turns his attention back to me. “Now, lass, I can certainly see the allure of staying in here all day, but I think Master Uthar would feel differently, don’t you?” he says, “Unless you don’t plan on finding the Star Map today.”

Oh shit. “The Star Map. The tomb - I completely forgot!” I start to scramble for my robe.

“I thought as much,” Jolee says, “Try not to keep the Sith Master waiting too long, hmm?” And he leaves.

As much haste as I feel right now, his smile felt good. It would be so easy for him to not approve and be vocal about it. Not that I need or want his approval, or anybody’s for that matter. But these guys are my friends and knowing that my happiness is important to them is comforting. Like I said yesterday, despite her promise, Bastila is going to have a problem here. And Juhani definitely will. And I understand where she’s coming from - even if it was just for a few weeks, she fell to the Dark Side, and the Jedi told her that love leads to the Dark Side so she’d just be trying to shield me from my pain, spare me her experiences. She has no idea that I’ve thought about all that already and that Bastila and I have gone round and round on that particular topic a number of times before. I’ve got a handle on it. But knowing Jolee is supportive, and seeing it on his face, is a good feeling.

Pants! I have found pants. As I start to put them on, Carth starts laughing softly at me. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You can get away with wearing my jacket, but if you keep trying to put on my pants we’re going to have a problem,” he says.

His--? Oh. Right. These are much thicker than mine. “It’s the Sith’s fault for making everything balck,” I say, tossing his pants back at him, “You coming to the tomb?”

“Yeah,” he says, “if you want me to.”

“Of course,” I say, reaching for my lightsaber belt, “Where would I be without my protector?” I lean in and kiss him. I only meant for one, but then he kisses me again. And again, with his hand softly resting on my cheek, like he doesn’t want to let me go. And I don’t want to let him go, either. But if we don’t get moving, Jolee is going to come in again and that was weird enough yesterday before Carth and I had slept together. So I break first and pat his face. “Come on, hot stuff, get dressed.”

He pulls his shirt over his head with a smirk. “‘Hot stuff’? Not flyboy or… what is it Canderous called me once, ‘Captain Killjoy’?”

“You knew about Captain Killjoy?”

“Mission cannot keep a secret.”

“Well,” I say with a smile, “that was just Canderous’ nickname for you. No, with me you’ve unlocked a whole new suite of nicknames.”

“Like what?”

“You’ll just have to stick around and find out,” I smirk.

I make sure to grab my flashlight before we leave for the Academy again. Naga Sadow’s tomb must be pretty dangerous to be the final test, and I don’t want to add the inability to see ten feet in front of me to the dangers. I’ve also got some rope in my pack, and a knife. I know Uthar would want me to approach this like a Sith, and the Jedi would want me to approach this like, well, a Jedi, but I think it’s best if I approach it like a scout, like I’ve done a lot of things. Approach the space as a cave ecosystem, as well as a relic. A space with its own life and soul, welcoming me in. There is nothing inherently evil about a space. And I don’t give a damn about the Dark Side energy in there. I’m going to take it at face value. Respect the space, and do what I have to do within it.

Master Uthar is not standing in the central chamber of the Academy like he has been. Yuthura is. “Ah, good,” she says to me, “There you are. I take it you are ready to travel to the tomb of Naga Sadow? Our moment is finally at hand.” She’s clearly been waiting for a moment like this for some time. “Uthar is already waiting at the tomb for us.” She glances at Carth and Jolee. “Your slaves will have to remain here, however. You will face the test alone.”

Carth stiffens a bit, and his hand brushes his blaster. I look back at both of them. “When Uthar said ‘alone,’ I thought he meant no help from the Academy. I guess I misunderstood.”

“Part of being a Sith is relying on your own strength, not that of others,” she says, “We should leave now. Your final test should not be delayed.”

Wait. That’s not a good feeling. This… isn’t going to end well. Not even just Yuthura’s inevitable betrayal, it’s going to get worse than that. “I just need to do one thing.” She rolls her eyes a bit but doesn’t say anything. I turn to Carth. Jolee can probably already sense the exact same thing I can, but Carth has no idea. I need to tell him. And I need to tell him I’m coming back. I reach into my pocket for my droid tool kit and hand it to him. “Would you hold onto this for me?”

He takes it, confused. “This is your tool kit - you don’t think you’ll need it?”

“I think it’ll be better in your hands than mine right now. Just… don’t lose it, okay?”

“I promise.”

I hug him, and I have to stand on my toes to whisper in his ear. “Get to someplace defensible, this could get messy.” I feel him nod a bit. Message received. So I break and turn back to Yuthura. “I’m ready.”

“Then we go now.” She walks ahead of me past Carth and Jolee, who make their way back to the dormitories. Whether that’s where they’ll be when I get back or not, I know they’ll be safe when I do. “That human,” Yuthura says, referring to Carth, “you are… close with him?”

“Yeah,” I say, “More than close.”

“I see,” she says simply, “As your teacher, I would advise caution.” Don’t tell me the SIth are going to advise me against love, too - this is ridiculous. “He could use your affection to betray you.”

Oh, that? Ha, ha, that’s a joke. “He really doesn’t have it in him to betray anyone.”

“Only a fool would think that,” she says, “And you are no fool.” No, I’m not, but I know Carth. “It is only a matter of time before any slave betrays her master.”

Well, that’s an interesting way to phrase that. Because we were talking about Carth, and she just referred to a “her.” “Sounds like you speak from experience there.”

“I…” she says hesitantly, “… was a slave on Sleheyron, if you must know, to a cruel master, Omeesh the Hutt.”

“How did you get to be here, then?” I ask.

“You don’t need to know any more,” she snaps, “Why are you asking?”

“If I’m going to be your apprentice, I’d like to know more about you. And I’d like to be your friend.”

“I… see,” she says slowly, “Very well. I suppose there's no harm in the tale. The Hutts control everything on Sleheyron, and a slave is nothing to them. I was determined not to be 'nothing'.” Ugh, that could get ugly. “One night when the drunken worm had me alone in his chambers I stabbed him and escaped the compound. I stole onto a cargo ship and was not discovered by the crew until they reached the next system. They left me for dead on a desolate planetoid, alone… but that was fine by me. I was glad to be anywhere other than Sleheyron.”

“I can imagine.”

“It was not luck that I was eventually rescued, of course. The Force was strong with me, though I didn't know that at the time. Not until the Jedi told me, that is.”

“Neither did I,” I say, “I was constantly in touch with it for my work, but I had no idea that’s what it was until they told me. And it must have been something special for them to train me as an adult, though damned if they’ll tell me.”

“That was my tale as well - I was older than most Padawans, but they took me in and trained me anyway.”

“How far did you get?”

“I never progressed beyond Padawan,” she says, “I had discipline, but no peace… and after my treatment at the hands of the Hutts there was little room in me for the ways of the Jedi.” Yeah, I guess you have to heal your inner trauma before you can grow. Jesus, did I swallow another Jedi tome? “I wanted to use the Force to free the other slaves I knew, to fight for what I knew was right. The Jedi restrained me until I couldn't stand it anymore. They claim the dark side is evil, but that isn't so. Sometimes anger and hatred are deserved and right. Sometimes things change because of it.”

“I guess I agree with you there - how the Jedi can stand by and do nothing with all the suffering and injustice in the galaxy just boggles the mind - but… has anything changed?”

“No…” she says contemplatively, “… not yet. But my anger has not diminished, nor my desire to see change. The more time I spend with the Sith the more I am certain that one day I will be able to fight as I must.” She lets out a small chuckle. “I know this may sound strange, but only my compassion stands in my way, now. Once that is gone let the slavers beware.”

“But…” I say, because that doesn’t make any sense, “…if you lose your compassion, will you still care about those slaves?”

“I…” she starts to say, and then she changes gears. “…yes, of course. I mean losing my compassion as in… holding back…”

“Well, still,” I say, “it’s a commendable goal. I admire your spirit.”

“Thank you,” she says, “I only wish I was as strong with the Force as you are. You could change much yourself, if you wanted to.” But then she shakes her head. “But enough of that,” she says, “I’ve talked about myself too much. There will be time for more once Uthar is dead.” Even so it’s clear I’ve given her something to think about. A seed of doubt, maybe.

Naga Sadow’s tomb is on the left hand side of the Valley of the Dark Lords, in the back corner. It’s interesting that it doesn’t look all that different from the other three tombs. Don’t get me wrong, the thing is still massive and imposing, but on sight alone it’s not all that different from the other three. I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart on my own. Yuthura opens the tomb door and we both walk in. Uthar is standing in the entrance chamber. “Very well,” he says, “We are now ready for your final test, young Sith. You have earned the right to see if you shall become one of us.”

“Indeed you have,” Yuthura says.

Uthar looks at her curiously. “Is that a tone of mischief in your voice, dear Yuthura?” he asks rhetorically, “You should know by now that no scheme is certain.”

“As should you, my master,” she says, “But I was only agreeing with you.” God, the dramatic irony here is amazing. “Should we not get on with the test?”

“Yes,” Uthar says, “Yes, of course. We are in the sacred tomb of Naga Sadow, young one, the one discovered by Darth Malak and Darth Revan years ago.” They discovered it? Revan just continues to impress me with his attributes. I mean, first he knows enough about computer tech to gain access to the memory core of the Star Map on Kashyyyk, and now I learn he’s also a tomb crawler? Damn, this dude could have been my best friend. “You are to follow in their footsteps and reach the ancient Star Map that lies deep within. There you will find a lightsaber, amongst other things.” Because I don’t have enough of those. “The lightsaber is for you: your initiation present. Return to us once you have it, for you the test does not end there.”

“Be very cautious, here,” Yuthura says, “This tomb is like the others in this valley, and many of its old defenses remain active.”

“Do you understand what I have told you? Are you ready to begin?” Uthar asks.

“Can you give me any hints about what’s in here? Animals, anything?”

“No.” How unhelpful. “That is part of the test. Overcome the obstacles that lie ahead on your own.” I plan to, I just wanted a hint.

“Okay,” I sigh, “Find the Star Map, return with the lightsaber. Got it.”

“Good.” Uthar nods a little. “Yuthura and I will await your return.”

Hoo. Deep breath, Rena. Open the door. Out of the entry chamber. The door closes behind me. It’s just another cave. Just another cave. Look at it like one.

Evidence of large reptiles, judging by the skins they shed. Egg shells. I guess beyond once a year they can live their lives here like normal. No sign of tuk’ata. Maybe the reptiles prey on them? And why would a prey hang around a predator’s nesting site? Odds are there’s plenty of places in the tomb that people can’t get to. Plenty of places for a prey species to make its home. The hall opens into a much larger chamber, with three pathways, one on my left, one on my right, and one straight ahead. The right hand side has far more traces of the animals. In fact… I see two of them. They’re hulaks. And is that… they’re mothers. Both of them. Past them another rounds a corner, much bigger than the two of them. The pack male. The mothers snarl at me. But I am no threat to them. The only movement I make is to sit down on the floor. One of the babies starts to walk towards me, but its mother stops it. Understandable. I concentrate on them, just as I did the tuk’ata matriarch yesterday. I tell the mothers why I’m here. I am no threat to you or your young. I am not like those who have come before, seeking only power, eliminating anything in their way. I am not one of them. I will not disturb your nests, slaughter your young, or take your food. I respect your greater knowledge of this place. I will do what I have to do, and then I will leave you in peace. The mothers relax, and the pack male turns away again. They may not trust me, but they do believe me. They can tell I’m telling the truth.

But I’m not done yet. They know more about this place than I do. They can tell me what’s here. I seek a map. Of course they do not understand maps. They don’t need to. Why do you need to see your path when your nose and ears can tell you so much more? But I can show them what I seek. And they tell me, in more than words. Many have come seeking this stone. Not like any other stone. It glows. Many have come seeking it. Many have fed the pack. Many have killed mothers and children themselves. The stone lies on the path ahead, past a foul-smelling pit that has killed mine and ours. We do not approach the pit or the waters that burn within it. And I have one further question. What lies behind me, on the path that few of their kind have tread? Again, they tell me in more than words. Death lies along that path where our feet do not tread. A large beast and its mate. They consume mine and ours. A strike from their claws makes one sick, to suffer a slow and painful death. They have dwelled here longer than the pack. Many of your kind have attempted to slay the beasts. Only one spoke as you do, with mercy toward mine and ours, with kindness to the pack. Their flesh fed the beasts. They did not survive. But there is one mercy. The beasts are big, far bigger than mine and ours, and their size keeps them contained in the place of death. We do not die, for we do not approach. Your kind have fed the beasts. Mine and ours do not. And with that I let them leave. I don’t stand up until they round the corner, out of sight.

Again it was more than words that they told me. More like concepts and feelings, images. The Star Map, the stone that glows, lies to the south, ahead of me. But in between me and the map is a “foul-smelling pit with waters that burn.” And to my left, in the east, two predators. A mated pair? But only two of them? Or is mate more like friend? Or is the meaning less important than the fact that there are two of them? Obviously Shaela Nur came this way. I suspect she was the one who was kind to the pack. They had no images of her. So she would have been here before their lifetimes. But I know she was here. The description of the beasts sounds too much like a terentatek to be a coincidence. And two of them… well, that’s terrifying. Maybe I don’t have to go that way? But I’m not about to start hoping for shit again.

Let’s check out the direct path first. Water that burns is a lot less terrifying than two terentateks. So I go forward and open the door.

Whoa! They weren’t exaggerating about foul-smelling. I can only imagine how bad it is to a reptile’s amazing sense of smell. And the water that burns… would appear to be acid. Can I just jump across? Figure out my angles… No, ceiling’s too low. I don’t like my chances. And there’s nothing to hook my rope onto on the other end, even if I could reliably toss it over there. So much for the easy route. Maybe I could neutralize the acid? But I wouldn’t know how. How much water would it take to get the pH to neutral? And what chemical would that make? It could easily be just as dangerous, if not more so.

So I guess the thing to do is make it safe to cross. How to do that would depend on the acid. Making a rock bridge makes the most sense at the offset. But would the acid dissolve the rocks? I break out a chunk of the floor and kick it into the acid. It dissolves in a fit of bubbles. So that’s not a viable solution. I can’t cross it at the sides, the pool spans the whole floor, wall to wall. If I was stronger, Force-wise, I could probably make a path through by parting the pool down the middle, but I don’t think I could hold it on both sides long enough to get through. And I don’t want to push my luck.

Ugh, chemistry isn’t really my strong suit. All I needed to know was cells and cell chemistry. Acid is not my thing. But… hang on, it’s not a Sith thing either. No one at the Academy was talking about chemistry. The solution to this is probably dead simple, a brute force kind of deal. A grenade --? No, that’s a terrible idea, any explosion with fire would create toxic fumes, killing me instantly. But what about a cold explosion, like a cryoban grenade? It would take a fair few of them to freeze a pool this size, and I only have a couple on me. But I could make some if I can get the parts. I’m sure there’s lots of tech around here, left behind by failed test takers.

Unfortunately, that means I’ll have to go face the terentateks on my search for parts. Damn.

#star wars #knights of the old republic #autistic artist #fiction #kotor #kotor fic #specs writes stuff #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #revanasi #carth onasi #jolee bindo #yuthura ban #uthar wynn #korriban #chapter 96 #the good place

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slaxl-rose · 3 years

Text

Heather (roger x reader)

summary: reader has developed sort of a love/hate sentiment towards Heather due to her being the apple of rogers eye. Reader wishes she actually "were Heather", as in more like her, so that roger would likewise be attracted to her. But in realizing that she can't be her, she also wishes something bad would transpire to remove Heather from the scene. So conclusively, we can say that reader is jealous of Heather since she possesses qualities which are causing roger to be "mesmerised" by her.

words: 2.1k

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing loudly next to my bed. I decide to just leave it there and let it ring until it stops but unfortunately my plans failed as the ringing somehow managed to get louder. Probably just too early in the morning. I groan loudly and pick it up "hello?" i answer, my voice full of sleep

"darling!" a loud echo shouts through the phone. It is too early for this. I recognised the voice right away and wiped my tired eyes with the heels of my hands "hi fred"

"aw my dear, did i wake you?" he asks with pity in his voice "yeah but i needed to get up soon anyway" i responded so that he doesn't at all feel bad. "any plans for the day, love?" he asks. I think about how i'll probably be sleeping or watching Netflix for about 90 percent of the day, so no. No plans.

"uh- no not really"

"perfect! you must come down to the studio my dear! we need more opinions on our newest song"

that honestly did sound like fun. I've loved all of the queen songs lately and i'd love to watch them play in the studio. I also remember that i haven't seen fred or the rest of the band in a couple weeks so this would be a nice catch up. "of course i'll be there!" i happily agree.

We bid our goodbyes and hang up the phone. With me promising to be there at 10:00

Soon enough, 10 am rolled around and i was making my way to the studio to see the boys and to listen to their newest song. The sound of that excited me. But what excited me more was the fact that roger would be there. To be honest, I've taken quite a liking to the blonde haired drummer. In my eyes he was smart, funny, talented and not to mention, absolutely gorgeous. The thought of seeing him again made my heart race.

I pushed open the studio doors when i heard a faint 'y/n' from behind me. I turned around quickly to see Mary jogging up to me with a girl I've never seen before by her side. A bright smile on her face as well as mine. "you sure do walk fast" Mary says as she catches up to me. I smile at her and look over to the girl beside her.

"y/n, this is my friend Heather" she then turns to her friend and introduces me to her. I politely smile at her and shake her hand. "hi!" she says cheerfully. She really was beautiful. She had wavy blonde hair that came down just past her shoulders, dark green eyes and was about 5'9. She looked like somebody you'd find on the vogue magazine cover.

"hey!" i say back just as happily. Not realising that soon she'd be the source of my sadness. We all continue to walk through the double doors and through the hall to the studio where the boys were recording. Mary walks in first, then Heather, then me. All four boys sit up once they spot us walk through the door. Freddie stands up to hug mary, and roger stands behind him. I was about to lift my hand and wave but i saw that he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at heather. Next, freddie makes his way over to me and brings me in to a tight embrace. "darling I've missed you so much!"

freddie was the only person to know about my feelings for roger. I didn't plan on telling him but one day he asked me because apparently 'i was staring at roger for so long it was just obvious!' So yeah he kinda picked up on that. Thankfully i trust freddie enough to know that he won't tell anybody. Once i pull away from freddie, i look over to see roger talking to heather. She laughs loudly at something he just said. Probably wasn't even funny, i scoff to myself and made my way over to brian and deaky to mutter a quick 'hello' and a smile.

2 hours later and the boy are still recording. Currently they are still in the booth. They promised by the end of the day we could listen to the full song. Every now and then they would take a quick break and roger would always sit on the couch next to heather. It made me extremely jealous.

only if you knew, how much i liked you, but i watch your eyes as she walks by

roger comes back out of the booth and sits on the empty seat next to heather, across from me and mary.

what a sight for sore eyes

i watch the way he wraps his arms around her shoulders

brighter than a blue sky

and the way she leans into his touch

shes got you mesmerised, while i die.

i sit up abruptly and excuse myself from the room. Not being able to watch them anymore. Roger hardly even acknowledged the fact that i was in the room. He only talked to me once to ask if i could 'pass his drumsticks, love'

i scoff and took a seat on the bench outside. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes. So much for having a good time. I just wanted to leave and not tell anyone i was going home but i know freddie wouldn't appreciate that very much. Speaking of freddie, i jumped as the outside door opened. please don't be heather, please don't be heather i chanted in my head. I didn't turn around until the person spoke up "love?" freddie says gently. He must of seen how quickly i left the room

i turned back around to face the front of me, looking down sadly. "yeah fred?" i replied with no emotion present in my voice "darling why don't you come back inside? it's freezing out here" freddie asks while sitting on the bench beside me. Ha, that's the last thing i'd want to do.

"nah, think i'll stay here" i say as i don't look away from the ground. I wasn't about to cry anymore, i was just numb. I heard freddie sigh from beside me

"i see the way you look at him love"

you finally look up "yeah, and do you see the way he looks at her" freddie frowns as i say that and i do too. "i'm sorry darling, i can talk to him if you'd like-"

"and say what? hey roger, y/n is in love with you but you're in love with another girl" i reply sharply with my voice full of sarcasm. Freddie falls silent and i start to feel bad. "i'm sorry fred, you're an amazing friend i shouldn't take my problems out on you. It's okay really, i'll just get over it" i say trying to sound genuinely ok but my voice just sounds broken. It's sad really. Freddie wraps an arm around me and pulls me into a tight hug while i cry quietly on his shoulder. 'It's ok darling, you're ok" he coos softly. We both know i'm not ok but freddie was just being a great friend. Looking out for me. What would i do without him?

About 10 minutes later, i tell fred that he needs to get back to recording and that i'll be in shortly after i fix my makeup in the bathroom. He suggests coming into the women's bathroom with me to comfort me because he, and i quote 'doesn't want me to be alone'. I chuckle at that and reassure him that i'll be just fine. He places a soft kiss on my cold cheek and makes his way into the studio again. I make my way down the hall and into the female bathrooms where of course heather is looking at herself in the mirror. I hold my self from rolling my eyes. It's not her fault that hes in love with her and not me i suppose. She smiles once she sees me but a concerned look crosses her delicate features. I guess my mascaras run a bit. I almost turn away when i see her wearing a jacket that i could of sworn roger was wearing earlier. I look up to her

"that rogers?" i say nodding my head towards the jacket. She looks down and that bright smile returns to her face once again

"oh! yes it is, he gave it to me, said that it was getting quite cold" she chuckles softly. I force a smile

you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

i turn to the sink and begin to wipe my makeup. Not wanting to look at her any longer.

but you like her better

she looks at me frowning, "are you alright y/n?" i almost roll my eyes, does it look like i'm alright?

"mhmm"

she catches on to my cold tone and realises there's no point in talking. She excuses herself from the bathroom and leaves. I stand up straight and sigh as i look at the door she just walked through

i wish i were heather

~~~

3 hours later and my depressed attitude hasn't changed. Every now and then i hear giggles from behind me on the couch coming from roger and heather. I decided to move away from them so now i was sitting by the mixing desk next to deaky and freddie. I see heather stand up from the couch as she tells roger shes just going to get a quick drink

how could i hate her? she's such an angel, but then again kinda wish she were dead as she walks by

i turn back to the front so i was watching brian record his part for the song. It's better to distract myself i think. Soon i'll be able to go home and i won't have to put up with them being so close to each other.

what a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky

Roger smiles brightly as she walks back into the room

shes got you mesmerised, while i die

finally i'm able to collect my bags and leave as the boys were finished recording. I bend down to pick up my bag as i hear roger and heather announce that they were about to leave. Together. I sigh shakily as i pull my bag onto my shoulder. don't cry, don't cry. I look up to see freddie looking at me with a pitiful look, i send one back. There's nothing i can do about it, i just have to accept it and move on.

but you like her better

I watch as they walk out of the room together, hand in hand.

i wish i were heather...

a/n- i hope this one wasn't too sad! and i hope you enjoyed!!!! also i didn't have time to proof-read this so i hope it's not too bad.

----------

lyrics for 'Heather'

by Conan Gray

I still remember third of December Me in your sweater, you said it looked better On me, than it did you, only if you knew How much I liked you, but I watch your eyes

As she walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerised While I die

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester But you like her better Wish I were Heather

Watch as she stands with her holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda wish she were dead

As she walks by

What a sight for sore eyes

Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerised While I die

Why would you...

#rogertaylor queen queenband freddiemercury brianmay johndeacon

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