#IM TEARING MYSELF APART I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I WEEP

[cloverkingsmith]

“she used to talk a lot about you, you know.”

“oh?”

“yeah. she really did love you.”

[tobi-momo]

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WARNINGS: a lot of crying from both you and kuroo | cursing | mentions of sex | cheating (kind of? youll know when reading) | angst | mentions of drinking/being drunk | nothing is suggestive!! oh ya yall are married btw

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

taglist: @solar3lunar @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @toosharkinternet @hitosushi @alpha3113 @awmahleebkg

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reblogs are appreciated :))

[king-of-knives]

Ghost of you

I know this isn't supposed to be mine,

I know I don't get to cry like you broke my heart,

When I was the one who did all the breaking,

Then why does it hurt so much.

I don't even know wtf is love,

But goddammit it hurts so much,

It wasn't supposed to be like this,

I thought the tearful nights would end after it.

Look at me weeping to the ghost of you,

Holding onto your collar,

My head pressed to your chest,

I don't who else to ask,

Why does it hurt so much.

Trust me I believe every word you said,

From the start to the end every single one,

You said you'll leave me,

So I did all I could,

To prevent that.

You said you'd never leave me aside,

And I never let you go,

Never kept things from you,

You told me I'm naive,

I believe that too.

You kept things from me,

And that's okay too,

You asked me to choose,

And i was ready to choose you over anything,

But you wouldn't even listen to me.

Push me away,

Then tell me everything is fine,

I told you I hated these things,

And I apologized for just speaking my mind,

Everytime.

You knew everything about me,

Things I fear,

My insecurities,

My demons,

And my flaws.

My worst nightmares,

All poured out to you,

My weaknesses,

Given to you on a silver platter,

And I know I took time,

But was taking some hours really a lot of time.

And I know I don't deserve this,

I don't get to cry like you broke my heart,

But you told me stripping bare for you,

Was mistake of mine,

But you told me you don't recognize me,

I'm not the one you fell for at that night,

You told me I'm doing this,

Cuz I got bored and just want a new muse.

And it's been three months,

You come back to me from time to time,

I can forgive everything I swear,

All the things I say that you did,

I'll take it all back,

I'll even take all the blame.

But your words stabbed me,

Like a million fucking times,

You knew exactly where it hurt,

How am I supposed to believe you,

When the knives are exactly there.

I never hide things from you,

Even the things that would hurt,

You're the only I ever gave everything to,

Tell me who I ask what to do,

If not you.

So it's 3 am again,

And Im weeping to the ghost of you,

The parts of you I can't unlove,

Crying in your arms,

Asking what to do,

Cuz no matter how hard I try,

Or how much it hurts,

You're the only one I'll ever believe in.

I can't go back to real you,

Cuz I don't want to,

You taught me that I can be loved,

Then why did you punish me to love myself,

Cuz God fuckin dammit,

Weren't you listening when I was shouting,

I BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU SAY,

Even the hurtful things you say.

Do you really think it matters now,

When you say you didn't mean it,

Cuz the moment you uttered those words,

They were carved over my stone self,

That I'm naive,

That I overthink a lot,

That it was my fault,

I was acting delusional,

That I'm the bad guy,

Who will get bored and leave you one day,

That I'm not person you fell in love with.

So I ask to the ghost of you,

Baby what am I supposed to do,

Baby who am I supposed to trust,

When the only one I trusted with everything was you,

When I only ever felt to strip myself bare,

Was to you.

I told you I don't have much to give away as my heart,

Weren't you listening then cuz I mean everything I say,

Cuz darling you unknowingly broke me apart,

And I know it isn't all your fault,

But there isn't left in me to go back to you,

Or to try with someone else.

I've too many ghosts hovering over me,

Too less graves to bury them all,

So I guess I'll carry them with me till I die,

But I swear I can't add more ghosts to that,

Before I fell into the grave myself.

I can't tell apart the real and ghosts anymore,

And I know I don't deserve this,

I don't get to cry like you broke my heart,

But I still don't know who to cry to,

When it comes to the dark parts of me,

Except to the ghost of you.

Numb October nights,

Without you,

Cold November nights,

Fighting you,

Lonely December nights,

Left with the ghost of you.

How everything went down,

Seems like the heartbreak was bound,

But in all of the mess we created,

I just have one question to ask you,

I apologized like a million times didn't I?

Holding on to the ghost of you,

Tears streaming down my face,

Can't feel your presence anymore,

Baby how is it that you never said sorry?

And still I try to hold on to the ghost of you,

Cuz darling it's the only thing that makes me feel,

Except the numbness that has been with me forever engraved.

-s.b.

[pillage-and-lute]

In All that I Have Done

Sad. I recommend listening to Arvo P ärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel while reading. Very, very sad, cannot stress this enough. Non-explicit major character death. (Happens of old age but still)

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More than forty years after the fall of Cintra one Professor Pankratz put down his pen. In the last ten years his hands had lost some of their surety, but his quill didn’t shake when he put it down. 

He ran one hand down his face. His beard had started going silver just after he’d adopted the style, but both it and his hair were now fully steel grey, with not even a hint of their former color. He adjusted his spectacles, tweaked the fashionable, but less than flamboyant hem of his doublet, and began to read what he’d written.

The last will and testament of Professor Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. 

I am writing this, sure and sound of mind, if not of body, in the event of my death. For many years I had a living, de facto will, that is, who ever found me dead by the roadside could loot my body for what they wished. As I got older and my body forced my errant heart to settle down I realized that this could no longer be the case. I fear I have put this off much too long, but happily, it seems I was not too late.

To my remaining family, my baby brother Alfons and his wife Iwona, I leave the rights to my songs and other works, and the royalties to them. Have fun. Alfons, Iwona is a beautiful woman and I would have wooed her, but that you were so in love I couldn’t bring myself to steal her away. I write this with a chuckle, Iwona my dear, because if you’ll remember we met first, and I introduced you to my brother only after you’d hit me in the head with a frying pan for flirting. 

I have also set up a trust, a portion of the royalties will be funneled into it for your son, Mikolaj, although he is a strapping young man who may never need it because he is a fine craftsman, as these spectacles he made me can attest. With luck he may spend it on marriage, should he ever woo that baker lad who made those charming blackberry tarts.

To the grandson of my friend Priscilla, Gaj. You have just been born and are a wonder beyond belief. Your parents are lovely people and you are lucky to have them. They should feel lucky to read this since I fear I shall be long dead before you learn your letters. However; there are times I wish I had fathered children. There are also times I remember what those who do go through and am thankful I did not, but you are a miracle. In the hope that you are given the very best of education, I have put in a word with the university. Should you choose, you will have the best schooling the Continent can offer, free of charge, with the compliments of Oxenfurt. Just, when you are someday a raging young student, sloppy drunk on a night out, think of me, if you can think at all. 

As I have of late stayed in quarters provided for me by the university and their gracious staff, I shall relinquish it all in return, as well as whatever items are held within not listed here. There shall be money in the vase by the fireplace for my funeral, as well as a generous tip for the maids, who have been wonderful and kind to an often forgetful and frail old man who is too much in his feelings.

My wardrobe I leave to whoever wants it, apart from my best blue doublet. (The sky blue one, which brings out my eyes) I should hope to be buried in it.

And finally, to my dearest and truest friend, Geralt of Rivia I leave a note, a song, and a gift.

Jaskier once again scrubbed his hand over his face. His study held a chill, despite the fine summer day, or perhaps it was just him. He got cold so easily these days. His breath rattled a little as he took a deep breath and hauled himself out of his comfortable chair. Melitele’s great gorgeous thighs, but his knees ached today. Jaskier paused at the mirror to tease his hair into place, advancing years never having divested him of his style. He flashed a wink into the mirror and shoveled a little coal into the small fireplace. 

He settled again at his desk, a different paper in hand, separate from the will, and began to look it over. This letter held none of the fine penmanship of the other, instead the letters were blocky and easy to read, better for the eyes that may have gained much in a mutation but skipped lightly over letters and switched them about.

My dear Geralt, it read. In all that I have done, I have had but one masterpiece. Critics may disagree on my greatest work, but I know it exactly, and have since the day of it’s birth. My opus was not Toss a Coin, or even the rehabilitation of yours- and all witchers- reputations. My masterpiece was my relationship with you, a wonderful and awful secret masterpiece of the heart, mind, and soul.

I know you do not dally about with words, but lest you misunderstand this last, most important of missives, we must discuss them. The word awful is now so said as to mean the same as terrible, but this cannot be true at all. Terrible is that which inspires terror or creates fear. Awful, or aweful, if you will, is to inspire awe. To be full of it. Sometimes that awe is fearful, sometimes reverential, perhaps a condemnation and sometimes a blessing. You, my friend, inspire awe. And in me you inspired something much greater than that. In all my years, which are so few compared to yours, nothing has so inspired love in me, as you. It has been my life’s greatest blessing.

When this letter comes to you, regardless of how it comes, it means I am gone from this world. I fear it shall indeed be soon, but I do not fear death. Weep not for me, my friend, instead let me bury in this parchment what there is left for me to say.

More than forty years ago I asked you to come away with me. All these decades later I still dream that you would, yet, I understand why you did not, and why you pushed me away. I offered you my heart that day, but it was the heart of a being you would watch wither away, as I’ll admit I have done. You could not be my forever, knowing that I cannot also be yours. There is no apology, no tears, no explanation needed there. 

Indeed, even for casting me away I need no words, and you have always had few to give, my friend. You didn’t keep me away for long, after all. I am like a magnet, drawn to you. Even now I feel your pull, like the tide to the gentle lady moon, but I cannot follow. 

After the mountain we met up again and again, our lives orbiting eachvother like planets, but we never clung so close as those first twenty years. That is the fault of Dame Time, a tricky mistress, as she collected her dues for twenty years of hard travel and ill care on my body.

I wish I could have given you more of my years. I find I am angry, and yet not so. At once, I could have had more time beside you, had somehow things been otherwise, but I know I had more time with you than might have been, perhaps more than I could reasonably expect. Someone, some goddess, or Life, Time, Destiny, or Fate, gave me enough time to finish the masterpiece that is my love for you, and that is enough.

You read here the ramblings of an old man, but I shall burden you with a few more sentences. 

You may recognize the case to which this letter is attached. Inside is my lute, as given to me by Filavandrel. I wish you to have it. I know you have never been musically inclined, but to me this instrument means so much more than music. This is the physical being of us, and all that may entail. I hope that you keep it, and treasure it how you will. If ever there comes such a person that you wish to play it, for whatever reason, gift it to them, but I beg you, tell them to whom it belonged, and how it came to belong to you. 

And finally, I leave you with a few unsung verses that I feel someone ought to read.

To the edge of the world May this letter be born That it comfort and heals you Although it brings you to mourn

I wrote every song And traveled along For my faith in a witcher and my friend before all

I hope you be blessed and continue your quest To be a friend of humanity As I go to rest

That's our epic tale My champion prevailed Defeated every villain And continues the tale

Toss a coin to my witcher, O valley of plenty...

love, Jaskier.

Professor Pankratz carefully rolled up the parchment and slipped inside a waterproofed tube, tying it with a blue ribbon that would likely only be lost in the parcel’s travels. He did it anyway, then he trailed his fingers over the finest instrument he’d ever played. Hand tremors meant it had sat silent for many months, but he plucked a few, slightly out of tune strings in a familiar tune. Then he put Filavandrel’s lute away, slipping the note in it’s packaging into the outer pocket of the case.

There was a funny feeling, he felt as he sat back in his large desk chair, to completing your greatest work, but he knew at least one being would remember it forever. He took off his spectacles and leaned back in his chair, the fire in the grate convincing him to doze. His eyes slid shut, and Jaskier greeted eternity with open arms.

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: ANGST/ mentions of depression/ anxiety/ sleep paralysis/ Tooth- rotting Comfort it’s disgusting.

      * Summary: Ezra’s demons come to the surface.

      * Word Count: ~1100

      * I am frankly overwhelmed by the positive response to what I’ve written so far. I’ve been feeling a bit on the lonelier side (as I’m sure so many of us are), so this is pretty much me working through my feelings, so I apologize in advance because this SELF-INDULGENT as FUCK. Additional warning for just, flowery dramatic proclamations and shameless fluffy comfort because I am THAT BITCH tonight.

    * As always, if I have added you to the tags and you wish to be removed please let me know immediately and I will do so.

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE*  *Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*

PART TEN

      Your new lives together began as a languid chapter of existing slowly, of lazing like cats. You often stayed in your bed, at times going hours exchanging soft words and insistent touches. You stayed unclothed for days on end, only donning a robe to accept the occasional delivery. You drank wine and ate fruit and cheese and read to each other from the books you’d begun amassing. It was heaven, bacchanalian. 

    Ezra would sometimes come up behind you at the kitchen counter and press against your back wordlessly, his arousal begging entry. You’d sigh, tilting your head back onto his shoulder as he slid home and made love to you lazily in the patch of sunlight that streamed through the glass to cut a warm diamond across the checkered French tile. You reveled in one another in such a way that each touch was a devotional, each kiss a promise. You had paid for your sins and for the violence of your past mistakes and bloodied intentions with pieces of your souls. What was left were holes you saw fit to fill with each other.

    By the end of that first blissful week, you began entertaining how you would begin to reveal Central to Ezra. You had often walked past a small cafe that had an attached book store on your way to and from the hospital. It was small and intimate, and seemed tailor-made to entertain his whims. Two streets over you’d spied a tavern that seemed outfitted with copies of retro Earth-style advertisements and poorly taxidermied animals. You itched to walk in every time you passed it. After so much isolation, stress and heartache you were desperate to drink in any vestige of civilization, any morsel of culture you could find.

    The first few times you’d brought up venturing out to Ezra, he’d been able to steer you easily with insistent kisses and roaming hands. 

    “Why would we dream of leaving this heaven, that we have sweat and sacrificed and toiled over, for hours unending?” he’d said softly into your neck as his hand crept downward over the slope of your stomach.

    Eventually in your growing restlessness you grabbed his hands as he once again attempted a seductive distraction and you squeezed them until the stream of words slowly died off on his clever tongue. You met his eyes.

    “Ezra, why do you try to distract me when I bring up leaving the apartment?”

    The corner of his mouth twisted upward, but the gesture did not reach his eyes.

    “Sweet love, we have both been through tours of the realms of seven layers of hell. We have almost perished time and again and have committed our fair share of sins too inumerable to count. Please, do forgive me if I deign to want some modicum of comfort.”

    “You can have comfort, Ez, we can both have it. But don’t you want to peak at what’s outside as well? Aren’t you just a bit curious for what wonders Central may hold?”

    As you continued to speak, the mask slipped away from Ezra’s face. A deep crease of worry, of fatigue, formed between his heavy brows. His eyes became distant, focusing on some faraway and unknowable misery. You reached out to cup his face and turned his mournful gaze upon you.

    “Talk to me, my love. Please don’t hide yourself away.”

    Ezra took a shallow, shuddering breath before responding.

    “I fear I may have lost myself down on that accursed moon, Dove. Where I was certain of so much, I now find myself questioning even the simplest machinations. I find such mundane things as choosing clothing or food to eat almost insurmountable when tasked with the quandary of completion. I’m having dreams at night of things I cannot recall, but I’ve begun to awaken paralyzed, with the weight of a succubus upon my chest. 

    “It is a great humiliation to admit to you, dearest, that the thought of leaving this sanctuary, at present, is one that imbues me with an undue panic.” He was no longer meeting your eyes at this point, his gaze moving to focus on a vague point of focus somewhere past your shoulder.

     You fought hard to swallow past the nefarious lump in your throat, lip trembling and vision blurring. You felt heartless. You had spent so much time reveling in every new and good comfort in your life that had stayed so foreign for so long that you had failed to notice Ezra’s pain. You were a selfish fool. You moved to turn away from him in shame.

    Ezra did not let you. When he noticed your actions, his hand reached to grasp your shoulder. He turned you back to him. He enveloped you in his arms, releasing a steadying breath into your hair. He allowed you to weep against his shirt.

    “Ezra,” you gasped into his chest. “.....please forgive me. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.”

    He held you against him as if trying to anchor you. He stroked your hair and the side of your face and murmured to you.

    “Dove, you have been my one saving grace. If I am expressing this to you now it is only because you implore me to do so. I have tried valiantly to act as if everything were copacetic since I awoke in that soulless hospital room. Please do not torture yourself with blame when it does not belong to you.” 

    “It kills me that I didn’t notice, Ezra. We’re supposed to be able to take care of each other.”

    “You care for me better than any I’ve known in my long and wretched life, my dearest love. I have these demons through circumstances both within and beyond my control. If not for you I would be rendered truly wretched, unworthy of the lowliest glance from the dregs of the universe.”

    Your hands framed his face, your tears slowing incrementally as his words flowed through you like pure rivulets of gentle intention. You kissed him so gently, so reverently, as if he were a secret thing only reserved for those beholden to the designs of the old gods. Forgotten and precious. Sacred and profane.

     “My soul will always seek out yours, beautiful boy. I will do whatever it takes to help you through this. I will ask nothing from you, ever. If you want to stay here forever I will be by your side. There is truly nowhere else I’d rather be.”

    Ezra’s voice hitched with emotion. He kissed over and over your eyelids, your nose, your cheeks, before settling his parted lips to the crook of your neck, where bore witness to the fluttering of your pulse beneath your skin.

    “I will try, Dove. For you I will move planets. I will raze Kevva themselves to the ground and condemn myself to eternal damnation. For you, I will try.”

Tags: @ifimayhaveaword @thedaysarenotfull @absurdthirst @cinewhore @hopelikethesun @yespolkadotkitty @lose-eels @lackofhonor @din-damn-djarin @mrpascals @theocatkov @thefineandnobleartofavoidance @hellojustheretolookatmeemees @cyaredindjarin @im-like-reallythirsty @mstgsmy @goldafterglow @sistahsarah-sallysaidso @givemethatgold @shaqbutt @sirianisrock @artemiseamoon @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost @f0rever15elf @opheliaelysia @qveenbvtch @hdlynnslibrary @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @spacegayofficial @ezraslittlebirdie @ezrasarm @ezraslittleblondestreak @tintinwrites @kindablackenedsuperhero @darthadeline @alexisinorbit @knittingqueen13 @lueurnotes @xakilicious @keeper0fthestars @huliabitch @di-kut @zombieaurora @corrupt-fvcker @cryptkeepersoul @teaofpeach

[chilling-seavey]

okay so the line "the hay kept trying to swallow her back in" - Daniel got out of the hay super fast but she didn't I think that shows how daniel's on that unstable line between Blythe and getting over Mari so he's quick to avoid- he has this immediate flight response to all these new feelings and people. on the other hand, Blythe is stuck in this circle of potential feelings she has for him but also this element of mystery because she doesn't know mari or Daniel that much

that's also the change in the chapter when Daniel turns to mari so Blythe kinda gets cut off or held back- just like Daniel is holding himself back from getting to know Blythe a little more

wiping his lips with the back of his hand - this is such an indication of his guilt and you slipped that in so well into the chapter. and you when you paired that with this line it was genius - the lingering memory far too real for his aching heart and far too frightening for his grieving soul. because it shows this conflict of emotions Daniel is having. he misses being loved the way mari loved him *tearing up as I write this* and in comes Blythe and it's all these new feelings and gosh Blythe has all these similarities and Daniel can't help but feel taken back to when Mari was there

weeping loudly as he desperately wiped his lips- this is when he sees Mari's grave again and when u used 'desperately' it like amplifies how overwhelmed and guilty he feels especially in Mari's presence-

Daniel gripping the "perfect green grass" just reminds me of how beautiful Mari and his relationship was and how he saw her as perfect, as the Spring to his Winter and he's trying to hold on to every last bit of that season-

"you were it for me" frick im crying okay um - this hits hard because Daniel says "I can't just find someone else" it's like there was this mutual promise between them that Daniel would find happiness somewhere else but mari was it for him-

"We d-deserved forever, Mari. I don’t understand what…what I did wrong. I need you.” Daniel’s voice broke through another sob, “I need you. I need you to tell me that everything’s gonna be okay. I’m so scared, Mari. I’m so fucking scared without you.”" - yeah I'm just going to leave this here. my analysis for this is that it made my cry

"He laid there for a while in that comfort of the sun." - it's like mari is watching him from the sun STOP

"wishing the hard earth was anywhere close to the feeling of Marigold’s loving and comfortably familiar embrace"- yeah I don't have anything for this, it just made me cry

OKAY BUT LASTLY MOST IMPORTANT - note how jack offers to take spud for the night. Daniel doesn't want spud to see this side of him. he doesn't want spud to see the side that breaks down and doesn't know what to do- 🥺 it was always him and mari figuring parenthood and life out and now he's alone with spud. he's been keeping up this façade but it's tearing him apart inside but also note how he finds the comfort he needs in mari 🥺

okay I'm gonna go cry myself to sleep now-

goodnight

Mari only ever wanted Daniel to be happy and to protect their boy no matter what but he felt like she was the only one who truly made him happy and he's so scared to find that again. Who can he be if not with Marigold? He lived and breathed for her.

+ Jack's literally neighbour goals. He took good care of Spud (and Daniel) right after Mari died and his wife brought over meals often so Daniel didn't have to stress himself cooking. But, yes, its very rare that Spud ever sees Daniel breaking down over Mari. Daniel seems himself as the strength of their family and doesn't want his son to see him any less than sure of things...he's who Spud looks towards to know that everythings going to be okay.

[du0tine]

well, fuck.

this isn’t great. frankly its horrible.

it’s never fun being suspended so high in the air with the harsh winds blowing roughly in your direction forcing you to seek shelter against the icy and snowy mixture of rock that sits atop the towering mountain.

to be honest, had it been any other day this would’ve been thrilling. being up here in harsh conditions, struggling to hold on and testing my mental and physical capabilities would’ve been so much fucking fun.

but there are days where you just imagine the rope that holds you up so high, snapping and slicing against a sharp piece of rock as you plummet to your death. the sky is the last thing you see, the butterflies in your stomach going mad from the sudden drop and you can’t help but think, “im going to die.”

most people, in this case: climbers that is, don’t want to die. they understand the risks, they know that given what they do things are bound to happen and im someone who understands that concept very well. but some of us are just so desensitized to the point that death feels like nothing, we’re used to losing team mates, friends and lovers. i just didn’t understand why i wanted for it to happen to me so much.

climbing is a large part of my life amongst other things; friends, family and other significant factors. all pieces both large and small that factor into what i call my life, something that i can’t help but be grateful for. but sometimes i realize life is fleeting. i realize just how short it is and sometimes i realize that, you know what? im okay with dying. whether it be today, tomorrow or the day after, i understand that death is inevitable and sometimes i just yearn for it to happen a little faster.

it often comes and goes, starting with tears and ending with cold, blank and rather monotone eyes gazing into the emptiness. i don’t know what it feels like exactly, the physicality is easy to understand but when i have to put into words its too hard. but it feel freezing cold, isolation hurts, solitude is pain. im all alone with nothing and no one and in fact, i do think im alone despite everything.

i just know im alone.

i have so many people in my life but it’s hard for me to understand why they’re here, it becomes difficult for me to keep them in my life. i find it hard to continue to speak with lifelong friends, keep in touch with cousins and other family. my parents and siblings (my brothers only being 3 & 5) being the only people i can speak to without feeling so choked up.

i speak to people ive met here (tumblr) but it never goes past a few conversations that occur from time to time and to those i do talk consistently with i can’t help but feel like i annoy. sometimes people reach out to me for advice, for guidance and of course, i aid them. it only pains me a little to never be asked if im okay in return but whatever right? as long as the people are happy, then im happy.

here in nepal, it’s been nice. people are nice. the way of life is one that no one takes for granted and it makes me feel out of place, like a spoiled brat who just yearns so much to escape but i try my best to just take a deep breath and indulge. the buddhist culture here makes me understand the ways of life, living alongside other climbers and watching sherpas dance to the tune of death, twisting around and just barely sneaking past almost every time.

despite how beautiful it is with the towering peaks, glaciers and fields of luscious green grass. death holds a strong presence here, one that’s covered by the tourism and clusters of climbers. but one that’s never ignored, everything being worshipped. pooja ceremonies being held for safe journeys and honouring the beautiful land, the mother of it all with offerings. mother nature is honoured and yet, she still plucks us one by one.

last year on my winter expedition i met a boy, well a man. someone who was 12 years older than me, someone i grew to have feelings for that in fact were reciprocated. despite seeming inappropriate, it was all consensual, it was positive and perfect. there was no dirty intention behind it and despite the large age gap it quickly flourished into a sweet, relationship but i found myself growing distant.

we were both sponsored by the same company which is how we met, the both of us being skiers and climbers. people who understood the dangers of venturing out into the wild, knowing what it meant to leave it all behind and pursue your wildest dreams.

he was perfect for me and yet, i broke up with him while living in nepal. i didn’t know why i did at first and it took me a lot of thinking. a lot of time being alone and realizing that throughout my whole life id been accustomed to supporting myself, knowing that there was no one else for me but me. perhaps it was the mixture of dreadful trauma id faced when i was younger, things i never told anyone, things that i only now realize just how bad they were.

regardless, the past is the past and i know i can’t let it hold me down and yet it’s just so hard to keep living when you know just how gravely you’ve been damaged. but i always tell myself that there’s someone out there who’s got it worse, someone who hasn’t stopped suffering from the day they’ve been brought into this world and until this very day.

like them i also wander the earth and yet i have an advantage, one that i should never take for granted and that being that everything that had happened, is over. i shouldn’t let it bring me down and ruin all the good things i have now.

so anyways, what lead to me ultimately breaking down was when i found myself like i mentioned before climbing upwards, fifteen pitches ahead in the air with my team around me. belayed upwards as i find myself freezing momentarily when the snow from above comes falling down, raining down on me as the wind whips me in the face.

it felt so cold, i couldn’t help but press my forehead against the wall and look downwards at my dangling feet. my hands were numb, my ice pick wedged into the snow and ice, my toes just barely warm. i just found myself observing how far away the ground was from where i hung. the distance from where i spiralled about to the ground was like how disconnected i felt from the earth. physically i am here but mentally im lost. where am i? i don’t know, maybe ill know someday? but what if i just don’t try anymore and let it all go, the place im in isn’t a bad place to die in fact, it’s beautiful.

but i can’t let myself plummet to the ground in front of people i know, i can’t traumatize them. i can’t be selfish and hurt others, id already done it once and that was to the man i loved.

pushing forwards we finished climbing, taking in the air at the top and looking down at everything. feeling like we were in fact on top of the world when really this was only one of the peaks we decided to acclimatize to in preparation for the everest/lhotse push that would happen in the next two months.

the feeling was the same as always, a feeling of satisfaction. you feel unstoppable at the top of the mountain, like there’s nothing and no one in your path and yet for the first time i felt anxious.

i felt like i was going to throw up. it didn’t feel great to be up here, i didn’t know why at that moment but when we began rappelling downwards i couldn’t help but think about how cold hearted i was for breaking up with him. there was no reason for me to do so and yet, i just did. it wasn’t right and it took me sometime to realize why. i needed to make sure i could at least put in the effort to do something.

the trek back to base camp was agonizing. i felt like i couldn’t breath properly, falling out of tune with my surroundings and just marching forwards. my team looking like blobs of colourful parkas. silently i felt myself weeping and just feeling like shit. i hated this.

it was embarrassing, i always made sure to peel myself apart and cry when there was no one around and yet here i was crying with people i knew and got to know around me. one of my leaders, who was a single mom that was a total badass in the mountains and one of the best ski mountaineer ive met (she’s also my team lead) spotted me falling apart and staggered behind to talk things out with me and i began to find comfort in consolidating in someone.

this was something i never even did with my own mother. this was the first time i looked for guidance in someone who’d lived longer than me and understood how grief, sadness and just a clusterfuck of emotions works.

with every step i took i slowly pieced the answers i needed for my puzzle piece and now here i am sitting inside my tent typing this foolish rant. my fingers lingering over the call button of the contact id for my ex boyfriend.

i think ill call him and apologize.

it’ll be a good first step.

update: things have been solved (relationship wise) but i don’t feel too good mentally nor physically. unfortunately, i received heartbreaking news that my bestfriend passed away and i feel lost. i don’t know what’s going on, what’s going to happen and i just feel guilty and pathetic. despite that comment, the less people see this the better, it’s not good energy and it’s just negatively going to affect others but i can’t dip without an explanation.

things are on a queue.

[dapandapod]

A song unsung

I am so fucking sorry. Here’s a headsup. I wrote such a sad thing today, so much angst, I hate myself a little for it, I did what I never said I would do.

Honestly, I cried writing it. Here it is on Ao3 too... Here there will be death and grief and sadness! Enjoy! T_T 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her small body lies lifeless in front of them. Her small dress is bloody and broken. Her eyes blank and glassy.

They failed. The monster is dead but so is the child. She would never have her fifth birthday. Jaskiers entire body hurts. He has a big scratch on his arm, but his heart bleeds more. Her tiny frame lies unmoving on the grass.

Next to her, on his knees, sits Geralt. He stares, his face unreadable. Her lifeblood is still dripping from his face. He was too late. Too slow. Not enough to save her. Jaskier approaches him, laying a hand on Geralt's stiff shoulder.

”It was not your fault.” He says softly. Geralts says nothing. They stand together in silence.

”We should go back. Bring her to her mother.” ”We can’t.” Geralt's voice is steady. ”She will wake up soon.”

It breaks Jaskiers heart into a thousand tiny pieces. He knows what must be done. What Geralt must do.

”It’s not fair.” He can feel his eyes burn, tears threatening to break free. ”There is no other way. She will hurt less this way.” The first tear falls down Jaskiers cheek when Geralt unsheathes his dagger. They wait together.

And finally, her eyes open. Black and cruel. Geralt push his dagger in her heart. She screams. Geralt cuts her head off. She never makes a sound again.

They refuse to burn her together with the monster that killed her. They gather firewood for two. Her funeral pyre is so small. They take the small dress with them.

The village elder meets them at the outskirts of their gathering of houses. He and a few others are gathered, waiting. When it is clear that no child is with them, a loud wail breaks from one of the women. The mother. She screams and sobs, clutching at her chest.

“Did you kill it?” The village elder asks them quietly. Geralt nods, his expression stony. “Is she…?” The man's voice wavers. “Yes.” Geralt grounds out, lowering his eyes to the ground. “I couldn’t save her.” Jaskier reaches out to touch his arm in support. When Geralt hands them the small dress the wails turns to screams.

The mother twists out of the arms of her husband, howling with rage. “You killed my little girl! You did this! You monster!” She snatches the dress from his hands, her face a picture of despair. Another heart wrenching sob, and then she pounds Geralt with her fist. Her husband grabs her arms, tries to pull her back. “You coldhearted freak!” She spits in Geralt's face. She keeps screaming and wailing as they drag her back to their house.

During the entire assault, Geralt just stands there. Watch the mother mourn. He takes it.

Jaskier can see from his posture alone that he truly thinks he deserves it.

The elder hands Geralt a pouch of coins. “Take it. You killed our monster. You earned it.” Geralt turns away, without taking the pouch. Jaskier looks after him for a second, then he accepts the pouch from the elder.

He follows Geralt towards their camp and Roach.

They sit across each other. A fire is crackling, the darkness has fallen anew around them. Jaskier is for once very quiet. There are no words. He has shed his tears, and now there is a hollow place inside his ribs.

He looks over at Geralt. To most people, he looks the same. Like he is the indifferent monster like they want him to be. He sits there, cleaning his blades. The dagger rests in the grass beneath his feet. The fire is reflected on it’s smooth surface.

“Have you ever lost someone before?” Jaskier asks, breaking the quiet. Geralt doesn’t look up. “...Yes.” “Is it always this hard?” The nightbirds are coming out. Geralt finally relents and meets Jaskiers eyes over the flames. He swallows. So much repressed emotion. Fuck those who say Witchers can’t feel. “It never gets easier. I don’t want it to get easier. It has to matter.”

There is silence again. Jaskier tosses another clab of wood into the fire, which licks at it greedily. Roach is softly chewing on the feed they gave her earlier.

“Do they always treat you like that?” A sad smile finds itself on Geralt’s face. “She mourns. It helps them, I think.”

Jaskier does not say it. But he wonders how she would have treated a knight, or any huntsman being a human.

“Did you ever lose a friend?” Geralt is quiet for so long Jaskier thinks he won’t answer.

“I did.” Geralt says quietly.

That night they put their bedrolls close together. Geralt says nothing then Jaskier leans against him. Doesn’t protest when he wraps an arm around him, fitting himself against his broad back, holding him close.

It takes two days for Jaskier to touch his lute again. He strums it softly, a soft, achingly sad melody. He doesn’t sing, but he writes.

The song is never sung when Geralt is near.

Jaskier only plays it when they are apart, on nights when it feels hard. He sings of failure and mourning, of a long and lonely life lined with loss. About taking the blame, about every ache a heart can feel.

It nestles itself in his audience's hearts, weep and feel for those who can’t any more.

It is only years after Jaskiers passing that Geralt learns the words.

A young bard sings in a tavern where he and Yennefer are eating their supper.

He knows it from the melody, a melody he heard many times before.

And Yennefer holds him tight, so tight, under the stars.

~~*~~

“She took me in, she loved me dear, for her I kept them safe They trusted me, they hugged me close, for them I kept her safe

For many moons, for many suns, with them we all were safe But then it came, it took my pup, we were no longer safe I

I love them all, I love them dear, I need to keep them safe I hunt the beast, I flash my teeth, Im a beast that'll keep them safe

I fell the fiend, I used my teeth, but know I was too late The blood run red, the blood is hers, I was so very late

Her skin is cold, her tears ran dry, I couldn't keep her safe I bore her home, home to them, I couldn't keep them safe

She shuned me hard, she ran me off, I loved her very much For her I killed, for her I left, I loved them very much

My pup I mourn, my pup I lost, I couldn't keep her safe I miss them all, I miss them still, I hope that they are safe”

[buffyromanoff]

A Month Without You

Warnings: Kind of angsty, kind of fluffy

Requests: ▪Hi! Idk if ur still taking requests (sorry if I’m too late) but would u be willing to do a nat x fem reader fic where they live together and had a fight and aren’t really speaking but nat finds out the reader is sick with a cold and decides to take care of her and forget the fight?

▪Hi! can i request fighting + making up with nat?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You knew what you did was wrong, but apologizing to your girlfriend just wasn't enough this time. You and Nat always had small insignificant fights that you both forgot minutes after they ended, but when you decided to go on a mission that was so secretive that you couldn't even tell your girlfriend about, she wouldnt just forget about it in a few minutes.

Natasha had been crazy worried about you. She spend the entire month asking Fury if he knew anything about you and he obviously did, but he couldn't risk telling her anything without jeopardizing the whole thing so he acted like he didn't know anything at all.

Nat wasn't talking to anyone, not even to Bruce, Steve or Tony. She couldn't sleep for the entire month you were gone, thinking that you may have been taken away. She even escaped an Avengers mission to go look for you in Russia, interrogating some grudged old enemies and risking her own life to find you. But it was worthless. You were untraceable, and she would have been proud of your amazing spy abilities if you weren't using them with her.

You returned to your shared apartment around 3am. You opened the door without making any sound and headed to the bedroom to find an empty.

‘‘you better have a fucking great explanation’’.

You turned around to see your girlfriend. Her face was extremely serious and also angry but her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying.

You walked towards her to wrap her in a tight hug but she walked away, leaving you hanging with both your arms open.

‘’It was a secret mission Nat, i was specifically told not to tell anyone about it, not even you’’. You were trying to explain your sudden disappearance.

‘’i thought you were dead, y/n. Do you know how terrifying was to live my life knowing you could be in mortal danger?’’. Her eyes started to water up and you tried to hold her hand but she hid them inside her pockets.

It hurted so much to see Nat like this. And the pain got even worse when you realized that the reason she was like that was because of you.

The talking turned to screaming and then crying. Deep inside, Nat knew that you had to do what you done, it's the nasty part of the job and sometimes the mission requires that kind of commitment.

‘’I've been alone for over a month, one more night isn't going to hurt more’’. Natasha grabbed her keys and slammed your apartment's door shut.

You were a mess, and not only emotionally. Your mission required you to be working under freezing temperatures and lack of sleep, not to mention being constantly stressed out so now that you were home and safe, your adrenaline dropped and all the symptoms started to manifest.

You wanted to run after her but your head was so heavy and you were exhausted so you decided to go directly to bed.

You opened your eyes the morning after but you couldn't get up. Your head felt like it was breaking in half your throat was like sandpaper.

Hours later, your bedroom was covered with used tissue and Nat was nowhere to be seen. You texted her but got no answer.

You slept the entire day and your symptoms were not going away.

Suddenly, you heard the front door opening.

‘’Nat? Is that you? ‘’. Your voice sounded raspy and stuffy.

She didn't answer and you heard the door opening and shutting again. She left, again.

You were a weeping mess. But then, the door opened again.

Natasha walked into your bedroom with a bag full of medicine and vegetables.

She placed her hand on your forehead. ‘’you're burning up’’. She pulled up the blankets to make sure you were warm enough.

Nat started to pick up all of the used tissues and came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and an ibuprofen.

‘’here, take this’’. Her tone was still cold and serious.

‘’Nat im so-’’.

‘’don't talk, just take this, you’ll feel better’’. She interrupted and you obeyed her. Minutes later you fell asleep.

You felt the mattress sink a bit on your side and when you opened your eyes, Natasha was there. She was sitting next to you holding a hot cup of tea she just made.

She handed it to you and you thanked her.

“y/n i'm sorry i left like that, i wasn't thinking straight and i was angry at you, and also at myself for not being able to find you and i just-”.She sighed. ”i was worried about you”.

“You don't have to apologize Nat, i'm the one who messed up, i should have sent you some secret message or something for you to-”. Your sentence was interrupted by a sneeze.

Nat stretched her arm and grabbed more tissue paper for you to clean your nose and gave you one of those soft smiles.

“You didn't do anything wrong, we both know what comes with this kind of job and sometimes when the mission is too urgent, there's no time for explanations, we know that”.

A tear streamed down your cheeks as you sipped the tea and Nat wiped them off.

“I missed you so much Nat”. You threw yourself on her with the little strength you had and gave her a hug. She held you tightly rubbing soft circles on your back. “i missed you too honey, so much”. She was crying. “And judging by your condition,you're not going anywhere for at least a week”. You both laughed. “And i'm going to stay here taking care of you until you're better”.

“But what about your job?”.You asked and then blew your nose.

“Oh don't worry, Fury owes me a big one after keeping you away from me for that long”.

Nat started moving her lips against yours. “I love you so much y/n , i would do anything for you, did you know that?”. You answered her by kissing her harder until you realized something”.

“Wait, i don't want you to get sick too”.

“When was the last time i got sick?”. She kissed you again and then you remembered that she has been enhanced by biotechnology, making her immune to diseases and stuff.

Nat ended up snuggled against you in bed, her fingers softly caressing your face until you fell back to sleep once again.

Hours later you woke up alone in bed, your now less stuffy nose could identify the delicious smell that came from your kitchen.

You stood up for the first time since she got here and followed the scent.

“Go back the bed baby, i'll bring you the soup, alright?”.

You walked towards her and hugged her from behind, resting your head on her back.

“but you're here! I'm going to miss you”.

“says the person who disappeared for over a month without even saying goodbye”. She teased.

“I said i was sorry!”.You pulled her even closer and she turned around to kiss you.

“I know, now go back to bed and i’ll meet you there in five minutes”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I combined those request since they were similar, i hope its ok. Let me know if you liked it :)

[peachy-inserts]

Could you write for Aizawa's s/o opening up to him about her past? She's an underground hero like him but she used to be a criminal and she's finally opening up about how her early life lead her down a dark path but she wants to be better? She just needs some help getting there. I love the way your write the characters!!❤️❤️

That means so much anon, thank you! Your words are very reassuring

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Aizawa had been together now for only a short number of months, but could tell already that it was becoming a very serious relationship. You could see the difference in his eyes whenever he said your name, and the way you two discussed the future was almost if it everything had already been decided. Yes, things were going quite well for you as a couple.

But something had been bothering you lately. Shouta was quick to catch on, not wanting to press you on it, but hating to see you troubled by something. Maybe they’ll tell me, if it’s important enough, he thought. He resisted the urge to confront you and tell him what was wrong, because it was plain as day that you weren’t happy the past few days, and instead watched in silence as you went on through the day as if everything were fine.

You both went out on your separate nightly patrols, kissing each other goodbye and making your ways off to your designated posts. After his shift, he stopped by his agency, shared by several other heroes, to go over some reports. 

“Motherfucker” he groaned, not bothering to apologize to the offended looking receptionist. With a heavy sigh, Aizawa shuffled the immense stack of papers that had been delivered to his desk and flipped through them. Getting to work, he settled in, accepting that he would be here working for the majority of the night.

Meanwhile, you had only just made it to the end of your patrol, feeling satisfied in your work, even though there was nothing to do other than watch the public on this particular night. Doing hero work was the most fulfilling thing in your life; you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You loved everything about it! Although you were an underground hero, you were finally doing something good for once, something worth living for, something that you could take genuine pride in. And the best part about it? You got to live authentically - being a hero meant that you got to be yourself, because nothing was more important to your career than the identity that you created for yourself, and it was all up to you. It was the realest thing in your life, and what made you wake up ready to take on the world every morning, despite having received some troubling news recently.

Your work as a villain had been exposed, and evidence was being held against you by a suspicious e-mailer. They went as far as to send you death threats, but what could you even do about it? If you dared to ask for help or advice, then you would just be exposing yourself, and everything that you had worked so hard for all these years would be taken from you in a matter of seconds. If Shouta saw, you were sure that your relationship would be in jeopardy, because how was he supposed to ever seem you in the same way? You thought about all this on the way back to his place, having agreed earlier that you would go there after work, since you were working the night shift and it was closer than your own home. 

You fell asleep almost immediately after crossing the threshold into Aizawa’s apartment, your head hitting the pillow like a rock. At around three in the morning, you were suddenly woken up by the front door abruptly slamming shut; he was rough with everything that he did, it was his personality.

“Shouta?” you said, slipping out of his bed to make your way into the entrance, seeing him turned away from you, locking the door, and holding a small stack of papers. “I was waiting for you, did anything happen?” 

He turned around, eyes dreary and heavy with stress and exhaustion. He needed to shave exceptionally bad today, too. “No” he replied. “It was uneventful, but I went to go do some office work, and-” he cut himself off, struggling with the weight of what he needed to talk to you about.

“Is something the matter?” you frowned, shuffling your feet beneath you and slipping his heavy coat off from his shoulders, storing it in the hall closet adjacent from the kitchen entrance, which was off to your left. 

He left no answer, just darting his vision away from you and moving towards the dining room table. He laid the papers out, one over the other like a set of cards in a poker game, and sat examining them.

“Were you ever going to tell me? Is… is this some kind of elaborate joke?” he was clearly hurt, pain was written all over his face. It was the most emotional that you had ever seen the man. 

“T-tell you what?” he sputtered out, knowing damn well that the same sick person who had blackmailed you had given in and spread the evidence.

“Is this… you?” he looked down, head in his hands, and slid a photograph across the chestnut table to you. There it was; the very same picture you had seen in your inbox a few days ago. “Shouta, I-” tears immediately began to well up in your eyes. If you said anything else, they would undoubtedly begin to cascade like waves.

“I wanted to tell you so bad, I-” you sniffled, not bothering to hide the fact that you were practically sobbing. “Yes… that’s me”

Remorse. The only thing you could tell he was feeling.

“But… why?”

You hid your face away from him, feeling judged and unwelcome in his home. “I just- I never wanted to be. That’s just how it happened. I didn’t- didn’t have a good upbringing, okay? That’s why I don’t want you to meet my family. They raised me so that I felt my only escape from them was to become a delinquent, to start breaking the law. I felt like I was trapped…” you trailed off, your thoughts finally pouring out like heavy rain after building up thunderstorms in your mind.

Aizawa, oddly, wasn’t mad at you. He felt sorry, which even shocked him; typically, if you were anyone else, he would have left them on the spot and have them atone for the crimes they never paid you. But you? You were one of the most selfless, caring people he knew, and he trusted you more than anyone. Besides, you admitted right off the bat that you were the one in the photograph; so then why would you possibly be making up the rest of your story?

“Im sorry…” he wasn’t sure what to say or do, other than to close the distance between the two of you and run his hand down your back, hoping to comfort you and reassure you that he still loved you. “Tell me more. I want to know everything about you, everything that has shaped you into who you are today, and most importantly the woes you have to live with. They’re mine, now, too, so don’t bother trying to let yourself suffer alone, because it hurts me too.

You sniffled, looking up at him with red, puffy, and agitated eyes, though bright and innocent, and felt your lip quiver as you suppressed another sob.

“Well… I lived that way for a couple of years, and I hated it. I fucking hated it Shouta, I was truly miserable… I just couldn’t do it anymore. So I finally broke off from the group I was in and tried to do something good with my life, and the only way I felt like I could truly redeem myself was to become a hero, because that’s the best way there is of helping people… I just want to be a good person-” this time, you didn’t try to stop it and let out a terrible cry that shook you down to your core. It hurt.

“Just please, I’m sorry but I need this, please don’t le-” before you could plea to him not to leave you over this, he cut you off.

“Darling, I love you, I love you for who you are. You past, your present, and the future I want to have with you. Just what you’ve shown me over these past few months with your kindness and dedication have convinced me that you’re possibly the greatest person I will ever have the honor of meeting, and if that’s what made your present, then I’m glad you’re letting me know, and I’m glad to know you are in fact even stronger than I thought before”.

Aizawa pulled you close to him, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you continued to weep your tried and tired little heart out, telling him under your breath repeatedly that you loved him. 

If he wasn’t sure before that you were the one, he was now. Somehow, in some strange way, all this only made him respect you even more.

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ok so i tried to make this more ‘action-y’ than my writing usually is, with more actually happening in the story and less filler information. i really hope that you guys like it !

-mod josie

[paulwalltran]

Dungeons and Dragons Loneliness

Another interview with lofi music. Today was a pretty shitty day, alot on my mind. Here to unload. 

Today’s mood: Fuck it all...

It’s a mad addiction, a horrendous one. It’s all I think about, it’s all I want to talk about. Or almost anything fantasy related. I’ve recently gotten a little closer with one of my co workers. Delerner Banks, everyone calls him Del. He’s always in the tunnel, and always brings warhammer books to read and do work (whatever it is he’s working on.) We talk about fantasy related things all the time, and sometimes we bounce ideas off each other, feeling out our thoughts of settings and lore. Talking to him about some fantasy before leaving work made me feel alot better. The loneliness inside has been eating at me.

I know it’s salt, I know its jealousy, that I’m mad at my friends. They been hanging out more without me, playing cards and shit. Its not a passion of mine, its fun sometimes, but its still not me. Its what they bond over, its what they do together, and that’s what theyre into. If I had to guess, they’re okay with Dungeons and Dragons, but even my best friend said that I take it too serious. Its fallen out of their favor, it eats up a lot of time, and they each have their version of what a fun campaign would be like. In me, I said to myself, “Fine, fuck it. I’ll have to assemble another crew to play with.” Tough situation then isn’t it? Wanting to play a social game that needs bodies, during an age where social gatherings are frowned upon, because they carry a potential to spread a virus... Still, this is what I want to do. I want a group of friends, who share the same passion I do. My current friends must think ill of me, they may just want to hang out. They think that if they come hang with me, I’ll want a game of DnD without a doubt. They just want to chill and kick it, they don’t want to roll dice. But ask me once and I’ll tell you yes twice, to playing DnD. 

I love it with all my heart, all of the contents and materials are here, ready to play. No extra investments, no money needed to be spent, we can get going off of nothing like we did back then. A table top roleplaying game, we started with cardboard and lego figures, and just two books to share. But there was fun to be had, and a few heated sessions. But fun it was, the more we played the deeper i grew fond of the game. I’m even willing to experiment with other systems if I have someone to guide me. With cards, you gotta constantly update your arsenal to keep up with the meta, and let’s be real, not playing anything remotely close to meta isn’t as fun. Different formats allow different decks, and to keep current you gotta keep up. I dont have the fundings for it, I dont have the luck. I would rather buy a module that’ll last for years, versus a pack of cards. I have two books that have skyrocketed in value, cards go up and down like stocks. But thats the appeal I suppose, I don’t care for it though.

Back to the thing at hand, I’m in their group chat as they make plans. I can’t be there for all that. But fuck it, that’s all Im going to say. Fuck it, on repeat, until its engraved into my head. Pride is getting the best of me, I refused to be denied again. If it’s not something they want to do, so be it, I need to look out for me in the end.  I must muster up the courage to start playing online again, the first one wasn’t bad, but it fell apart. I need to get the courage to be social, and get over the fear that everyone expects you to be a pro player. I’m scared going into this green still, roll20 isn’t my forte. But if I want to play DnD, this seems to be my only option. It may fulfill my wish, to find friends who are just as passionate as I. My other friends, they’re over on the other side. Its fine, it truly is, they have one another, and I need to be strong. I need to find the strength in this loneliness, even though its tearing me apart. My circle becomes smaller, thats just the way of the world. Adapt to survive, be formless like water...

Dungeons and Dragons, my greatest escape. I can be anybody, and do things I normally can’t. I can clobber up bad guys, indecent folk, and finesse my way out of punishment from the law. I can save a village, a town, a kingdom, when I can hardly save myself. I can fly, cast spells, break locks, imagination is my only limit. I can hoard and amass vast amounts of riches, I myself can even become a dragon. I don’t have to be me, although a bit of me resides in everyone I’ve made before. I can never truly separate myself, from those Ive breathed life into. For hours on end, I can go anywhere, do anything, I melt into the world thats placed before me.

 Because the reality is that I’m practically shit, and nobody. The world is fucked up and jacked up and spiraling down the drain. I’m mentally fucked and my physicality is pretty much the same. I’m stuck in place when the world is demanding me to change. I lost with no real direction. No map in hand, no guide, and I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t know whether to trust the process or commit suicide. Im not sure where I’ll end up, if it’s good or bad. Im struggling, I’m suffering, and there seems to be no end. I could say I’m trying, but I would be lying, if I had to look at the brighter side. The positive things in life are so hard to identify. But my emotions are raw and hit hard, slamming against the walls in my skull. Demanding me to give them attention...and attention I give them, as they tear me up. Like being pulled at by the limbs, drawn and quartered is the method it seems like today. I was thinking that I couldn’t drink forever, my body would eventually reject. But what if I drank energy drinks on end, a heart attack to get me out of this place. I can down those all day long, so whats stopping me from taking that way out of it? Less grotesque and violent, it’ll probably be painful as hell. An organ seizing up, as the body ceases the function. I get said thinking about it sometimes, but one day, enough will be enough. But damn that lady...damn her for speaking those words... Tomorrow. If nothing is better by tomorrow, then do as you may. But sleep it off, tomorrow is another day. 

It’s not verbatim, but its the gist. Just wait for tomorrow, and hopefully things will change. The choice is still mine to make, and something in me pushes me forward, keeps me going on. Sometimes I think about who I’m leaving behind, and maybe how much it’ll hurt. The evil darkness inside me says that they’ll get over it, they have to, and time doesn’t wait. I won’t be immortalized, I’ll simply end up a statistic. That maybe itll be a few years the sadness remains fresh, but wounds always heal. Discrediting my actual existence, and any form of relations. Like I wouldn’t have made any actual impressions, people don’t weep for me now. People kind of forget I exist already, what makes me think they won’t after I’m gone? 

I think about my folks, my grandma, my girlfriend, my second family, and other close dear friends. I think about how many last will letters I would have to put out there, before I call for the curtains. Sometimes, I say I will start writing them, but they give me pause. I end up not wanting to leave this world, after pouring out my heart. Because I don’t want to leave any questions behind for people who matter, I want them to know how I felt before I passed. I want to leave with them apart of me, so they would never forget. 

Still it doesn’t change, shit is rough as of lately, work has been eating me up. I feel like Im never hundred percent, and me back on gaming is making it worst. I’ve gotten back onto Elder Scrolls Skyrim, its been my virtual version of DnD. Waiting for the Outer World Expansion, so I can get addicted to that again. All I want to do is play Dungeons and Dragons, the question is how do I make that into a living? I think being a Matthew Mercer is one in a million, I don’t think I’m that great. I’m willing to learn, grow, evolve because it is my passion, but I’m always scared of making mistakes. To be one of the greater Dungeon Masters, to be THE Wizards of the Coast Dungeon Master, it may possibly be the dream. To eat, sleep, breathe, Dee en Dee. My obsession isn’t that crazy though, I’m still behind on the lore of creatures and settings, I haven’t studied at all. But with the right drive and motivation, I would, especially with something as real as a legit group.

Enthusiastic players, who show up every week, bi weekly, once every month even, to play this fantastic game. Group of chill folks who is willing to take the Dungeon Master Mantle with I get burned out and have the desire to be in the player seat. One of those is the driving force, they make me want to plan. They make me want to make the world, the style, everything in general better, with the constructive feedback. I mean it’s been so long as I was a player in a campaign until the end, I’m beginning to think paying for a Dungeon Master wouldn’t be so bad. Once a month? A couple of hours? I mean I’m thinking like seven USD per hour? Eight isn’t bad, but after that it becomes a questionable amount. It repeats in my head, “No DnD is better than Bad DnD”, this much is probably still true. I say still because I still might want at least one session with said game, so I can at least say it was the worst after having attempt it, rolling something. Ha ha, I kid myself, I’m lying because I know the rage would be all to real and caution is my game most of the time. But I mean, I just might have to start exploring the idea, I was definitely going to ask on FaceBook if any Roll20 games was recruiting a newbie. 

Alas, today won’t be the last time I speak on the matter, Dungeons and Dragons haunt me everyday. I stare at minis, I stare at the upcoming books and modules, and I watch youtube where they tell RPG Horror Stories, Its become a huge part of my life, such as dancing once was. It almost links right into my earliest talents...writing. I love to write, just like I’m doing now. Im fairly decent at the writing game if I must say. Hey, real life failed Bard here, I should make one who always ends up playing big bro, and end up being friendzoned by all his interests. Im short, so Halfling is very true. Am I charismatic? Who knows, I can’t say for sure. But yes, I feel like this is what I need, a solid weekly game, maybe once every two weeks, hell, once every month would still be great. Something to look forward to the very least, in this life of routine and mundane. Something to look forward to for me, something that’s my own. Something I don’t need my closer friends to be apart of, since they’re not interested anyhow. I’m really talking shit because I’m hella salty, but at least I’m being upfront. Get it all out now, before the typing is done. 

It’s been a productive session, I may have to attribute it to Lofi it seems. The Lofi Hip Hop Radio on YouTube, also found on Spotify. Some tracks still strike me deep in the chest, giving me horrible flash backs and feeling in my chest. Others keep me going, forward, almost propelling. I’m currently training myself to be accustomed to the sounds, because I at first was very scared. That it would just transport me to a dark place and keep me there. I’ve been trying to confront my feelings more with this music, I think I felt better after last session like this. The more I faced myself, the better I became. Yes, I most definitely referenced Persona 4, another amazing and loved title because of the message it portrays. I always wondered what my shadow self would look like, and what they would say. But eh another time, I’m about to start rambling again. I have to conclude here, before I get off topic.

Until next time Tumblr...

[aftgficlibrary]

best fics of 2018?

This is so subjective so some of our staff are gonna put our 2018 favs here below!!

Cassy

This is my favorite fic ever and the author just started updating it again so im in tears all the time 

i’m here right now (just be here right now with me) by Talls (M | 27,606 | 3/7)

Neil first meets Andrew with a racquet to the stomach in a locker room when he’s eighteen. Andrew first meets Neil with a hushed conversation on a beach in California when he’s five. They still manage to meet on rooftops, fall in love, find family, and heal together, just not quite at the same time and definitely not in the same order.

(In other words, Andrew is the Time Traveler’s wife.)

This fic is so soft and pretty

Translation Errors by SensationalSunburst (Not rated | 3,127 | 1/1)

“Andrew doesn’t love me,” Neil said simply, “So if he has a love language, I don’t know it.”“Oh, honey.” Allison drawled, “You don’t actually believe him when he says he hates you, do you?”

Lucky by sunrise_and_death (T | 4,328 | 1/1)

At thirteen, he’d lived in eleven different cities, gone by as many different names, and seen his reaper twenty-eight times. Some people would have called him lucky.

Live Once More (This Time Will Be Better) bypurpleeyesandbowties (T | 2,457 | 1/1)

Very carefully so as to not wake his roommates presumably sleeping off a night of regrettable choices, Andrew pulled a notebook towards him and opened to a fresh page to make a list. Two lists, actually. Changes to make and things to keep the same. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to sort out what was important.

To change:get off pillsno Kathy no Seth dying (Neil was upset)no Thanksgivingno winter at Evermoreno Baltimorekill Riko soonerkill Nathan myself

Keep the same:get Neil to the Foxes

Maz:

changing tides - titanic au by missbolton (M | Incomplete | 4/5)

When Nathaniel Hartford boards the RMS Titanic, it is a death sentence. He will be shipped to New York with his brutal father and his soon-to-be wife, Lola. There’s no escape.

Until he meets third-class artist Andrew Minyard.

if you’re lost you can look (and you will find me) by paleromantic (T | Incomplete | 5/?)

Neil Josten jerked awake, his cigarette falling from his fingers as he did. The frigid air bit at his arms, his neck, his face, but he didn’t notice, too busy looking around.

“What the fuck.”

or

Neil and Andrew wake up back in Millport, and get the chance to start over.

I’m Just Killing Time by thesaroscycle (T | 10,666 | 1/1)

He was sat in the most comfortable armchair in the back, the book in his lap closed but well-worn and dog-eared, one of the things that annoyed Bee to no end. His glasses sat on the table next to him, along with the hot chocolate Bee had made earlier in the morning that had gone cold. He stared out the window into a cloudless blue sky, squinting at the late morning sun and blurry trees. It was getting warm enough outside for the frost to melt on the grass, and late enough for people to start coming in. He couldn’t wish more for fall, when the sky would be gray and the chill would last all day rather than just early morning. Everything seemed to be holding its breath for the coming summer, for longer days and warmer mornings. Andrew couldn’t be less excited for summer; of all their town’s 70-degree-high summers, it was still hot enough for Andrew to melt in his stubbornly consistent black wardrobe.

Paper Skies by exybee (T | 4,662 | 1/1)

Andrew’s a quiet librarian who treats his library much like how he treats his person. He spends his time searching for the color blue in hopes of finding something real, but when he meets Neil Josten, he finds that maybe blue isn’t the only thing out there.

Or, Neil’s a kaleidoscope of colors, and Andrew gets a lesson in self-care.

Atlas:

Honey, we should run away by allyasavedtheday ( T | 8,836 | 1/1)

“We’re moving on soon,” his mom says casually as she’s plating up their food. As if it’s an inconsequential detail and not something that rocks Neil to his core.

“Why?” he asks, keeping his voice calm and measured like she taught him to do if he was ever taken.

“We’ve been here too long,” she says like it’s obvious, setting down a plate of pasta in front of him.

“It’s only been ten weeks,” he can’t help pointing out. Ten weeks with Andrew. Ten weeks that aren’t enough.

“That’s over two months,” she retorts, neatly spearing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Two more weeks and we’re leaving. Just as soon as I have everything organised.”

*

Andrew and Neil meet when Neil is on the run with his mother.

Show Me How You by smokesprite ( Not Rated | 6,825 | 1/1 )

“They thought they would stop the show; they thought they could cut the act, but Neil had been sulking around too long now to not know where all the necessary equipment was. He was a ghost, and he would do the ghost dance, goddammit.”

Neil is a ghost with a house to haunt, but the Moxie Foxy Burlesque Troupe refuses to be chased off. If you can’t beat em…join em.

Aaron:

stay as long as you need by lolainslackss (T | 2,955 | 1/1)

The soulmate timer counts down to your soulmate’s death. Apparently, Andrew’s soulmate doesn’t have long to live.

Oh, Catastrophe by TheKingIsDead (witch_lit) (T | 1,447 | 1/1)

Aaron and Katelyn are at a concert and Aaron can’t shake the feeling that the drummer is familiar.

it’s a long way down byionlyloveyouironically (T | 6,506 | 1/1)

The sound of rushing water, the moon overhead, bare feet on a muddy riverbank, and a weeping woman reaching a dead hand out. 

Scout

A Mewment Like This by fuzzballsheltiepants (T | Incomplete | 9 Works)

tenuous by undertow (cendal) (M | 7,431 | 1/1)

Neil Josten is trying to learn to be a normal person. He has an apartment and a cat. He goes to therapy every Wednesday. He has friends and attends their study group regularly. He eats lunch with his best friend’s brother.The hardest part is letting people in, but he thinks that one day he’ll get there.Series: Part 1 of all of me wants all of you

The Continuing Adventures of the Nine-Nine by gluupor (G | Complete | 10 Works)

A series of short, ridiculous, mostly plotless stories featuring the Foxes as the cops of the Ninety-Ninth Precinct.

Back to the Start by fuzzballsheltiepants (T | 29,277 | 11/11)

Andrew has been on his pro team for 6 months when he takes a ball to the head. Neil flies to Boston to see him - only to find that Andrew doesn’t remember him.

Rachel

Funky Happenings with the Fox Family by dobbypussypopper (Not Rated | Incomplete | 17/?)

naughtygayweedcrime: did I rlly just see neil say woke

naughtygayweedcrime: what a surreal timeline we live in

dumbfool: allison is trying to teach me how to meme so I can get hip

naughtygayweedcrime: bless your poor soul

davidwymack: sometimes I regret living

davidwymack has muted exyllent, damnwilds, + 7 others for 30 minutes

The Real Folk Blues by moonix, nefelibata (E | 42,365 | 4/4)

Captain David Wymack and the bounty hunter crew of the Bebop spaceship might be a little out of their depths chasing down the infamous hacker and notorious runaway Neil Wesninski, whose bounty exceeds even Kevin’s wildest dreams. Worst of all, Andrew might actually enjoy it.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

a world alone by ephemeralsky (T | 54,850 | 6/6)

“It will not be cheap,” Andrew finally says.

“I know,” Wymack says. “Two bottles of Johnnie Walker sound good to you?”

“Four,” Andrew says without missing a beat. He thinks about having to deal with Nicky later on, about the additional work he has to do, and decides that he will not do anything for less.

“Three,” Wymack argues.

“Four or we have no deal.”

Wymack mutters something about blood-sucking hooligans under his breath before he concedes with a, “Fine.”

(or: a High School AU where only some of them are high-schoolers)

[fizzysquish]

"What right do you have to cry?"

Its always the same thing that runs through my head. When my nose is stuffy and my eyes hurt from all the tears, as I'm burying my face into my pillow and sobbing.

"I don't know!" I weep, "I don't know!"

Everything hurts, from my head to my heart, it all hurts. I want to yell and fade away all at the same time.

I want to scream and screech at everyone whose ever wronged me, at everyone who still wrongs me. I want to ask them why, why why why, why did I deserve that treatment? What did I do that was so wrong? Was i really that bad of a kid?

But I also want to dissapear, to huddle in on myself and fade away. I want to be as silent as the wind and as invisible as air. I don't want anyone to look at me, I don't want anyone to see me. I don't want anyones pity, or worse, their sympathy.

Because I don't deserve it.

"What right do you have to cry?"

I haven't any.

By all means I have no right to cry. I have no right to break down, to sob and weep, to choke on my own tears and hyperventilate until my head feels like its going to explode. I have no right to seek the comfort of somebody else, to want even just a single hug and someone to tell me its okay.

Its okay, its okay..

But its not okay, I'm not okay. The same damn thought punches me in the face every fucking day, leaving me bruised and hurting.

I'm not okay.

But every time I look for help, every time i finally let myself beg for someone, anyone, to just look at me and listen, please god just listen, just this once, the same question takes over my mind and demands to be heard.

"What right do you have?"

The answer is always the same, "I dont."

People tell me all the time, "Its okay to feel bad, its okay to need help!" But all I can think about is how much I don't deserve the help. I don't deserve the encouraging words and kind smiles, or the love and care that comes with a tender hug, or even the patient gaze of a listening therapist.

"I'm bad!" I want to scream back at them, "I don't deserve your empathy!"

But then they turn it back on me, reminding me of all the times ive listened to their woes and troubles and ask me the same damn question, "Then why did I?"

"Because youre important!"

Because you are. Because I see you cry and all I can think about is the times you were smiling and happy, of all the things you can do, of all the things youre doing. I think of the beauty you bring and I want to weep for you, because you should be happy, you deserve to be happy-

"So do you."

And I break. I crumble. I fall apart because I dont, why cant you see that I dont? I'm not good, I'm bad, Im horrible and I have no right to be so sad, I have no right to cry!

But no one ever wants to hear that. They hug me, they tell me "Its okay, its alright," and I lose the ability to speak, cracking and falling apart again and again.

Its later, when the tears have finally stopped and I can finally breath once more, that I'll call myself silly. That i'll laugh it all off and say I'm alright, I'm okay.

But I still schedule a appointment, I still heave myself onto that stiff couch, I still stare glassy eyed as she asks whats been happening lately, and I still choke up and stutter as I lay out all my woes.

"What right do you have?"

I haven't any.

But maybe, if I'm lucky, I will one day.

[feel199x]

 gang!au, gang member!han jisung, florist!reader, underground band!au

chapters: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X masterlist

warnings: angst and themes of abuse and trauma

🌸 a/n: i actually finished this fic, and it’ll be up in my queue to post over the weekend! it’s kind of exciting to be finally finishing this fic! a hint  for the next chapter is at the end!! hehe

🌸 song rec: arsonist’s lullaby

Your eyelids were still heavy when you awoke. In front of you, though your eyes still blurry you made out a flower vase. You tried to move, suddenly desperate to feel the petals against your fingertips. Even though they were azaleas, petunias, globe amarths, carrot flowers, and asphodels- all dressed in a void black vase. You knew what it meant, you knew what it threatened. But you found your arms sore, propped up and irritated from the handcuffs that hung from the ceiling. As you looked down, your head getting too heavy for your neck to support, you found yourself surrounded eglantines, lemon and peach blossoms, lungworts, phlox, and red rose petals. You couldn’t help but let out a choked sob, your wrists burning, the metal digging into your skin. You arms stayed propped up, but the numb feeling began to spread through your body. You didn’t even look up as he came in, even as he made sure to slam the door shut.

“You know why you’re in here?” You didn’t answer, your voice all used up from crying. You could feel his fingers on your jaw, propping your face up so you could look straight up at him. You couldn’t make his face out completely, your vision blurred but not fading. There were already bruises there you knew, and he pressed down on them further. “Do you? I try so hard to control myself, and here you are, still acting up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you? I should just leave you here, let you learn your lesson.”

His thumb rested against your chin, looking at you intently- what could almost be mistaken as sympathy. It was deja vu, sitting there like a doll. “But I can’t resist you, can I?” No, you guess he couldn’t. That was the funny thing, right? He couldn’t expect to, how could he resist these primal urges? He talked and talked about nothing, and you were glad that you couldn’t pay attention to his words anyway, mind foggy and complacent. “I even brought you flowers. You didn’t have these in your shop, huh? So I got them. I’m a good husband.”

“Husband?”

“Good thing you’re pretty.” He got up, reaching over you and pulled something off your, well, ring finger. “See that? That cost more than your stupid shop.”

Stupid shop.

He slipped it back on, sitting back down next to you as he continued to talk.

“How long,” you paused, voice weak and raspy, quiet, “has it been?”

He seemed surprised by your question, eyebrows digging into his forehead in sudden anger. He got up and paced around the cramped room, not even bothering to watch him as you stared down at your own clothes- crinkled and dirty. “Why do you care?” he seethed, “I could treat you better than he ever could. A low-level drug dealer and a shitty, amateur rapper. Do you see lover boy here? No, you don’t. ‘Cause he’s dead.”

You let out a small gasp, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes and you looked at him. “What did you do?” you weeped, “Please- please, please tell me what you did.” His pacing came to a stop as he looked at you, face contorted with anger. “I got my co-workers to shoot him and friends dead, that’s what I did. Because you’re mine. Always and forever.”

You didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t- he couldn’t exactly be trusted. You grew impulsive, angry with him. Jisung would never, Jisung could never. He wasn’t that type of person- he could never take advantage of people, he could never keep something like that from of you. And here your captor was, smothering ash over Jisung’s name. But you knew he wasn’t lying about shooting Jisung and his friends, even if you didn’t want to believe it. He had tried the same thing with your family back then too. You felt guilty, at fault like you were the one behind the trigger. Anger bubbled like sparkling in your throat like bubbling water, steaming with impulsivity.

“You should kill me too then. I’d rather rot in the ground next to Jisung than spend another second looking at you.”

You knew your goal should’ve been to play the long game, especially after your failed attempt some time ago. How long has it been? You weren’t sure, there weren’t any windows in the room- and the white painted walls burned into your eyes. If you made him angry now, it would only take longer to gain his trust, but the damage was already done- you could feel the blood pouring out of the back of your head. You might’ve been dying, but you didn’t really care. You couldn’t even feel the pain from the hit from the adrenaline, so you continued to push your luck. Because it was true, Jisung had kept you going, your shop had kept you going. How would you ever be able to look another flower without seeing his face?

“He loved me better than you ever did and he didn’t even ask me to be his lover yet. Lover boy is better than you even dream about.”

It wasn’t like you to speak out of your turn, especially with the looming threat of death. You were too far gone, the warmth of blood streaming down your back. The bruises on your jaw from your grip deepening in color as his grip tightened, yelling some nonsense.

Still, even as he looked into your eyes, his breath hot on you- all you could think about was Jisung. How could you not? Your mind swam through melancholy memories.

You were in his arms tonight. His arms drooped over your shoulder, his head pressed against yours- lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered commentary about the movie you were watching. You were leaning against his chest, feeling his heart beat against your back. Knees propped up as his legs circled around you.

“I love you,” he murmured, “probably more than like, shrek.”

“I would hope so, shrek doesn’t feed you,” you paused, “But I love you too.”

And it was true, but you were unsure of the extent of your infatuation and devotion he was refering to. You wanted to say you were in love with him, but it was too much of a risk. If you scared him off now, who would come by your flower shop to spend time with you? Who would carry you off your bed during the weekends just to go to the convience store. Who would wrap arms and limbs around you and sing you to sleep at night after nightmares, after remembering? Did it even matter? You’ve never felt like this before, the only thing that came close was your devotion was your flowers. Maybe it should’ve scared you, that suddenly there was someone with so much importace to you, on the same level as the only thing that got through the Incident. You turned your head, the side pressed against Jisung’s chest. His arms moved to wrap around you waist, tightening around you. Your nose was touching his, lips only a breath away- but he was crying.

“Jisung,” you said softly, “Why are you crying? You chose this movie.”

“Do you think people in love will always end up together?”

You laced your hands in his, intertwining the both of them. “Of course,” you whispered, “Love finds a way.”

You thought it would happen then, his lips practically on top of yours- but it didn’t. He turned from you, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down- something caught in his throat. “Even if the person lied?”

“I guess it depends on the ‘sung. As long as it wouldn’t change your perception of the person in a way that hurt the relationship too much, I think they could make it.”

“What if it did? What if the person wasn’t as good as you thought they were?”

“Sung, is something going on? You can talk to me, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

“You can’t. I can’t. We can’t.”

“Sung,” You cupped his face, making him look at you. You turned around, and his embrace loosened but remained around your waist. “I love you. You’re my best friend. I love you more than my shop. I promise that I always will, no matter the circumstances. You’re a good person, I know that. I promise, I pinky-promise.” You held up your pinky, and he brushed away his tears wrapping his finger around yours.

You don’t remember exactly what he had said before he left, something about a band dropping out of the club he played at. He had gotten a call and gathered his things almost immediately. You offered to go with him, you always wanted to see him live with his fans but he always refused. He said that it wasn’t your scene, and all grimy- it wasn’t somewhere you should be, not a play for someone pure as you. But you didn’t feel pure and insisted that he was the purer of you two. But it didn’t matter, when Jisung’s mind was set, it was set. He kissed your forehead, and before the door close he wrapped his pinky around yours without another word.

And then Jisung disappeared again.

It wasn’t the first time, but it was one of the longest. The days dragged on, the day having to pull and drag the night up into the sky. Even the sky’s star shined dimly, there only because of obligation. Ever since you started making arrangements back home at your mother’s flower store, you never liked roses much. But now you were starting to understand people’s obsession with them. It was an iconic symbol of love, everyone’s go-to, and you supposed there was a good reason for that. Its smell was sickeningly sweet, and the petals like velvet. You started getting letters in the mail. It happened every day. And even though you were flattered, you began to get worried. Worry arising.

After four months, you finally saw Jisung again. He kept somewhat in contact, but he had been busy. There were two months with complete radio silence, and one night you saw news coverage of shots fired in a car chase. You hadn’t put two and two together then, not even as you saw Jisung slightly limp as he moved around your store. You remember being conflicted about asking him, but as he kept telling you about his stories featuring his group members, you got lost.

That’s the night it all happened.

But before that, way before that. Maybe it really was love at first sight.

After the hose incident, you found Jisung lingering around your store until closing time. He had brought sweets every day for two weeks until you invited him back up to your apartment.

“Thank god,” he groaned, “My grandmother said if it didn’t work this time, she was going to interfere. Jokes on her, though, I’ve been stealing sweets forever.”

You laughed, getting bold after closing the shop and tugging at his wrist as you pulled him up the metal spiral stairs. “I would be more worried about Minho,” you teased, “you’d better not be slacking off during practice or he’ll chew you out.”

“Ew, ugh! Don’t remind me.”

“So, um,” you looked down, “What do you want to do?”

“Can I pick a movie?”

He had chosen a romance movie, you could’ve gone to the theater instead, but he insisted that he would pay you back for the fee- and that going to the theater would never be better than streaming at home. You didn’t mind romance movies, they were fun to watch. But during the less tense parts of the movies, you could feel yourself falling asleep and before you knew it your head was on his shoulder. If you were less sleepy, you would’ve freaked out as he pulled you closer is fingers lightly drawing shapes on your hips. You awoke when you felt Jisung’s chest heave and you looked up to see him crying. It was the first time you saw Jisung cry, and it broke your heart.

“Jisung, are you okay? We can change the movie if it’s too much…”

“No! Sorry, it’s just…”

“It’s just?”

“I don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than love. I’m going to have a love like this one day. And I can’t wait. Thinking about makes me cry.”

 You were awake now. Eyes glazed over, still heavy with exhaustion and sleep. The blood down your back had dried now, you could feel your hair all bunched together and sticky with the flaky dried and blood. It was throbbing, pulsing almost- the headache was unbearable. How long has it been? How long would it be? You tried moving your legs, a numb static began to make you grow in discomfort. It was for the better though, because otherwise you would’ve felt the rope digging in and around your ankles. It was hard, you had to press your wrists further against the cuffs in order to help yourself. It was awkward, like a baby learning how to walk. It must’ve been hours when you stood there, the feeling finally returning to your legs. Your arms were relieved with the ability to relax, even if they were in an awkward position. They were still strung up, but at least your upper arm could relax.

The flowers in the room had been replaced, but the petals around you were starting to become crisp and brown. Alstroemerias, altheas, arbutus, red and yellow balsams, Japanese rose, jumpers, and kalmias. It made you shiver with disgust and fear. Where was he getting these flowers? Was he going back to your shop? 

You collapsed suddenly, your legs caving in on yourself. Your wrists pulled at harshly as your knees hit the floor. Have you eaten? You couldn’t have, how long has it been? Your stomach began to turn, you were hungry, but that was the least of your worries. Was Jisung really dead? What about his friends, Minho, Chan and everyone else? Were they dead too? How were you to expected to live with yourself, knowing you had brought his misfortune on all of them? If they were alive, how could you expect them to forgive you for the mess you had made? You couldn’t, and you would have to live with the guilt of hurting Jisung for the rest of your life. Because you knew it was dangerous, falling in love with someone knowing that it could be turned against you at any moment- but you did anyway. And now you had dug your own grave. Thoughts were growing difficult to form, the space growing through your coherent thoughts. All you could was feel.

How much time has passed? Months? Weeks? Days? Hours? Minutes? All you knew was white. You could see the walls fill in the spots in your vision. It was irrational, but you began to hate the white painted walls. The lack of color was draining you, except for the vase in front of you. You wanted to kick it, destroy it completely- you wanted to move and release everything- every emotion and irrational thought boiling with impulsivity in your head. The only thought going through your head, getting louder and louder, blocking the diminishing number of coherent thoughts.

Jisung is dead.

Jisung is dead.

Jisung is dead.

Jisung is dead.

Jisung is dead.

Jisung is dead.

You cried, even as dehydrated as you were. Your voice was raspy, and you couldn’t even speak words of comfort to yourself. You couldn’t remember, you couldn’t make them out.”It’s…going….to...be...okay.” Maybe it was pathetic but you were the only one you could lean on. You couldn’t hang on to the hope that someone was going to rescue you, especially if the only people you were dead- or angry because of the mess you had caused.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

You looked up, vision spotty and glazed with tears, and nodded desperately. You were mad at yourself for giving in so easily. “You’re pretty like this, “ he cooed, “All broken down and desperate.” He stroked your hair, fingers getting caught in your bloodied hair. “I bet you’re hungry, hm? I’m not going to let you go, so you’re going to have to let me feed you. I’d hate to have to...well, you know.”

You wish you didn’t.

 It felt like you were giving in as you ate, the food dry and difficult to swallow. He sat there for a while. The water he made you drink missed your mouth and streamed down your neck. You sat there, helpless, unable to clean yourself. “What a pretty mess,” he murmured, “What a pretty mouth. Just for me.” You hated him, you did. You hated him like forest fire, like the damage of a natural disaster. He disgusted you, he was disgusting- time and time again, he had taken everything that mattered to you. And he won. You felt pathetic, useless. Jisung was dead, dead and gone and you felt like it was all your fault. It made you shake, your heart thumping against your ribcage, begging to get out.

His phone rang, the ringtone burning in your ear. “Yes… I told you...Just get it...Dead.” He must’ve heard you lean against the metal cuffs, because he got up. He smiled, using his thumb to wipe the water off your lips. You were beginning to panic again, maybe it was a small chance that he was talking about Jisung and stray kids, but any chance was big enough to get worried. Before he closed the door, before you could give a second thought: “Help me take..a bath. Please.” Even with your soft, raspy and broken voice, it was enough to get his attention. Words were getting harder to form, it was getting to harder to even think- but you had to warn them, even if you don’t know what the danger was. Because if the call was about them, some of them were alive- and that meant you could clean up some of your mess, or at least make up for it. He ended the call quickly, uncuffing you. You arms immediately dropped, hands slamming against the floor.

“I knew you would come around. But you’d better behave. I don’t care if I have to hurt you to keep you complacent.” You watched as he pulled at your legs, untying the rope that kept your legs together. You struggled to get up, so he opted to carry you, throwing you over his back. It hurt your eyes to be flooded with color as he carried you to the bathroom. The bath ran and you sat in the warm water, he was watching you as he sat on the toilet cover. The feeling was returning to your body as the water in the filling bathtub lapped against you. “Help...me.” You didn’t want him to touch you, you never wanted to feel his fingers brush against your bare skin. You didn’t trust him, and you never would. Especially not after he did, or tried to do with Jisung. But more than anger, you felt guilt. It was overwhelming, contradictory feelings making your head spin even more. You shuddered as you felt the soap against your back.

“I missed you,” he murmured, “I’ve been searching for you for so long, waited for you so long.”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip as he continued. “I watched you for months. I wanted to take you and carry you away in the night, but I wanted to make him watch. He needed to know you were mine.” You felt hot water pour over your head, the bathtub becoming decorated in a red tint. “I almost gave up, I thought I had lost you completely. But then I saw you with lover boy. I wanted to kill him right there, I wanted to kill everyone but you. He gave a good fight though, beat the shit out of me. But guess who’s dead and who’s got the love?” He laughed at that, massaging something into your hair and picking at the flecks. You felt your wound burn and you moved to cover it, but he slapped your hand away. “Me. I won. You’re all mine, and if I ever see him again. I’ll kill everyone. I’m the only one who loves, okay? Not Jisung, not anyone else. You’re mine.” You heard him murmur that again and again. “I love you, you’re mine, mine.” You brought your knees to your chest, glad that the water hid the fact that you were crying. He didn’t push you to get up though, at least he was that decent. You watched as the red water swirled down the drain. He left and brought a towel, and your dress was clean and pressed. He sat on the toilet cover again, watching in case you wanted to pull something again.

This time you walked, content with being able to feel your weight shift as you walked. You knew this feeling, what it felt like to be completely devoid of basic powers. He led you back to the room, watching the phone in his back pocket. As you entered the room, you took an interest in the flowers. They were beautiful, despite what they meant. It was the only color in the white void of a room, and it mocked you. Your fingers caressed the petals, and the smell was haunting. Your heart was beating again, and you did your best to keep your face blank.

“Aren’t they nice? I got them just for you. You don’t even know what they mean, do you?

“No...tell me.”

“Nah. It’s a secret just for me.”

He moved to set up your ties again, and you got up, legs wobbling with a slight shake as your grip around the black vase tightened. It was now or never. It didn’t happen in slow motion- you knew that wasn’t possible. But you watched as the vase shattered against the back of his head, falling, bursting into tiny pieces as the flowers fell to his feet and he toppled. You knew there was no way he would be down for long, so you fished the phone out of his pockets. You panicked as you ran around the large house, searching for a room to hide in the meanwhile. His phone was locked, but you saw the screen unlock as you typed in your anniversary. You didn’t know where you were, a random room with various boxes. You slide the closet door open, met with the smell of mothballs but you entered anyway. There was a lot of stuff, and you piled things on top of you as you typed Jisung’s number.

It fell to voicemail, and you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Jisung….it’s me….don’t have time, please...he’s send..ing...someone. Be safe..please...I’m in love.... with you. I’m sorry.”

You ended the call, typing in the emergency number.

“What’s your emergency?”

“I’m trapped...abducted.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Okay, stay calm okay? Please stay on the line as long as you can.”

“Can’t..he’s coming. Oh god, I’m as good...as dead.”

“Can you tell me his name please?”

“_____”

“____, as in the gang leader?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to stay on the line okay. Do you remember where you last were?”

“Boseong, my shop...flower shop..mirror.”

You heard the door slam open and the closet door slide open with a large creak.

“Sweetheart? Are you still there? Sweetheart, stay on the line. Is he in the room-?”

“Caught.”

azaleas: fragility

petunias: your prescense soothes me

globe amaranths: immortality, unfading love

carrot flowers: do not refuse me

asphodel in a black vase: death threat

eglatines: i wound to heal

lemon blossom: fidelity in love

peach blossom: i am your captive

lungworts: thou art my life

phlox: our souls are united, unanimity

alstroemerias: devotion

altheas: consumed by love

arbutus: love only for you

red balsams: touch me not, impatient resolve

yellow balsams: impatience

japanese rose: beauty is your only attraction

jumpers: asylum, aid, protection

kalmias: treachery

[tempestshakes01]

happy and anxious. 

happy because i love my apartment and i love Lil Cup of Joe. he is a terror and the sweetest boy ever, and i feel so much love for him. this is why i can’t be around an animal for an extended period of time. i will die for any creature i get attached to and lil joe is now my baby. 

but i am anxious because i put of working when my brother brought home a puppy. he didn’t ask me to, but he’s an idiot who’s never home and bought a puppy to make him come home. i gave him 3 days and when his habits didn’t change, joe was being left alone and untrained, and i needed a running buddy--well, i took over. joe’s now potty-trained and knows a few (one) command. i take him everywhere to socialize him. he’s mine. but i’ll never say that to nick. who still needs to go therapy. i don’t know him. i don’t know what goes on in that head of his. it’s like we switched personalities in our 20s. i went from the quiet, serious type to basically a manic 13 yr old boy. he went from a wildly charismatic clown to a brooding hipster. what makes him laugh? what is he thinking? what is he passionate about? how does he talk to other ppl for hours but he can barely speak to his family for more than half of one? what did we do?

i got really angry the other night thinking about the fights i’ve had with my parents this past year. 

1) washington d.c. - mom and i got into to it in front of the fuckin white house at dusk. i was so emotional and upset at being there, right there where trump fucks over our country, and my mom was being...well, the woman fox news molded. i was furious and trying to keep it nice, so i asked if we could just stop. stop talking. i was gonna blow up. and my mom was like, “why do we stop when you say stop, but when i ask to stop, you continue?” which...is it true? i didn’t think so, and because i can’t keep my mouth shut, i argued until i walked away. i walked into the crowds and then i kept walking. i kept walking. i kept walking.  

it was terrible. i texted her “i’m gone” and i left. 

i forgot the details but i wandered that area of d.c. got a coffee. tried not to cry. and then...remembered how much trouble my mom’s phone was giving her, that her gps apps weren’t being accurate, that she wasn’t confident at the metro, and that it was now dark. that she was alone in an unfamiliar city with a camera bag strapped to her screaming “i’m a tourist!” 

i felt like utter and complete shit. it was one of the most despicable things i’ve ever done. later, i told some people and they were like “she’s a grown woman! you were both upset!” but no. i can’t make excuses like that. i knew that my mom was scared. i burst into tears. a crazy sobbing girl in the middle of d.c. i immediately texted her and told her to get back to me when she got to the hotel. 

an hour later, back at the hotel, my mom couldn’t even look at me. couldn’t speak to me. i knew i had to apologize and i did, wording it carefully because i walking on a minefield. i again blocked out most of the conversation, but it quickly dissolved into a mess of confessions. i was wrecked. at first because of what happened, but as our conversation turned into an argument, i became furious again. over how she interpreted some of our interactions. over how i “blamed” her for my anxiety and anger. i told her i got my anger from her. that i was slow to it like my father, but when something lit inside me it burned bright and hot and deadly like her. that her grudges and cold shoulders hurt me so, so badly when i was a kid (which she then explained wasn’t a grudge, just her processing her anger...but that was way, way into the night). oh god, it was so bad. so bad. she confessed how she felt about all us kids. told me about her problems with andi and nick. told me she wanted to move away from us. told me she didn’t want a relationship with me or them if it was going to be like this. 

i didn’t sleep. just cried and cried. like i did when i was a kid. sobbed in the bathroom and then under my covers. we barely talked the next day, but it slowly became okay. i didn’t know how to explain how much i loved her, so i tried to show her.      

in the end, we were ok enough. 

2) driving 30 hrs across the country - my dad and i were talking and he told me how he didn’t get us, and that we were hurting mom by rejecting her or something. he was upset and my dad doesn’t get upset, so i got upset and moody. and he was like “why are you like this? just with me? just with us. you’re so cruel.” and i knew it was true but it still took me an hour to snap out of it. and i apologized. 

--

but i feel sometimes angry bc i got the emo dump from both my parents. about both my siblings! and they don’t even talk to them about it! my parents don’t even touch nick anymore! they leave him alone because it’s easier that way and he wouldn’t listen even if they tried to talk to him! and my sister would get super huffy and feel judged and act out in some way and take the kids! so. i get it but i hate it!!! because i got the feelings dump! i got the tears and the hours of psychoanalyzing why we are the way we are! and i hate that i feel burdened by it sometimes?

 i want to be there for my parents but sometimes i’m that petulant child that still wants a mommy and daddy, not two parents who are human and exist with their own emotional life. and that’s so unfair to them and wrong of me, but i feel that way because i’m the child that gets this brunt of this side of them.  

but it’s because in my own way im the most difficult and this shit spills out when i push them. 

--

my parents (mostly mom) are only getting more set in their ways and defensive of their opinions. my mom...my mom who taught me so much about art and the world and appreciating different cultures and music and lived life with such vigor and wonder...i can see that fading and hardening. she’s stubborn about what she like and doesn’t have much interest in anything new. she’s offended and hurt when i gently bring up her how she used to be. 

my dad’s always been this way. very traditional, but kind. spoiled, but hardworking. likes what he likes. but he’s eating more greens. he’ll try what i make because i made it. we listened to latino usa and old radio lab podcasts that whole drive from wa to tx, and he loved it, and we discussed the episodes. and i loved him so much because he gave them a shot and we connected. 

but my mom. my mom. i miss her and she’s right there, but she’s not. and i know i’m part of the reason she’s retreated into herself and her more ‘sturdy’ beliefs and the friends who share them. she’s so quick to judge and harsh about it these days. is it age? is it us? is it this horrible world?

--

i came home to this. i came home and how quickly people change bc i didn’t expect my mom to be so old. in spirit. she’s tired. she doesn’t trust me. we’re working on being gentle. i’m working on not being so quick to anger.

my dad and i...i’m thrilled we’re getting along so well after i treated him like shit during the ~separation years~ between my parents. i was awful to him and he knew why, but he never called me out on it. 

my sis and i are fine. i’m so relieved she got out of that last relationship with that TERRIBLE PERSON and came to her senses, and somewhat grew up. we kick it. she cooks for me. we don’t completely jive cause she’s hood, but can code-switch between worlds, and i’m suburban through and through, so i’m not as cool or smooth as she is. i’m her dorky weird little sister and i appreciate her love for me. 

my brother? a mystery. a complete mystery. 

and i’m reminded of how he called me on my birthday and started weeping and asking about therapy and saying he’s sorry he never believed in my anxiety because it’s true--you don’t ask for, you don’t know why it appears, and it wrecks you. and he deals with it now for no discernible reason and he sounded so, so broken over the phone that i was shaking and crying when we hung up.

but now he’s as chill as ever and takes minimal care of his puppy because the 1st dog he got was pretty hands-off from the jump, but she was grown and pooed and peeded everywhere for months (he says no, but that’s selective memory), so now lil joe is mine and i need to get a job because the lack of structure is killlllllllllllllingggggg me. but i don’t want to leave lil joe :( 

--

it’s funny how i never set out to write all this shit, but it comes spilling out. 

huh. wait.

i left and i worked on myself but then i missed my family.

did i come back to work on the family? to work on my relationship with them? is that my purpose here and why i felt compelled to return?

--

went climbing with GA. i was totally afraid of falling and bouldering isn’t as fun to me as top rope, but i wanna keep at it. 

trying to set something up with B and A. my buds. i love em. 

gotta set something up with L because I have a feeling we’ll be good friends here. and weirdly, BG contacted me even though I haven’t talked to him since college? and even then we weren’t that close. he was just inching toward asking me out and never managed it.

--

fav emmy looks: zendaya (obviously. omg, whatta babe), maisie williams (whatta look, suits her perfectly, killed it), gwen christie (whatta jesus babe), that girl in the billowing mint green dress, anddddd clea duvall (a babe in a tux). 

vm continue to make me sad and hopefully things go well with tour for them. it’s nice to see them getting along with charlie and tanith. with bby charlie and tati and max’s kid coming along...oh boy for scott’s emotions. he’s gonna ignore the HELL out of those sad feeling for what couldvebeen with tess and he’s gonna plan hard for his and j’s future offspring instead. (can i also predict that i think one thing scott’s gonna have trouble with in his marriage--oddly enough--is keeping the marriage a partnership and not bulldozing over his spouse with his wants and needs ...wait, that’s not odd lol) 

--

anyway, gotta take joe out to pee. gotta get to bed soon because i wanna be on the trails by 7am and then maybe to the climbing gym. this face maybe a potato but my body can improve! (i’m thicc at the moment thanks to texas food 🤧) 

[chimericalpoeticlout]

A letter from a lost creature

My dearest aunt, uncle and cousins,

There are so many things to thank for and they shan't be uttered nor whispered but more be written.

I asked a grumpy old man once, "how do you define sucess?". Not a single blink he replied, "my legacy... ". For more than a thousand days i thought of what he mentioned and all the while i simply think of it as gibberish. Forgive my language but life has been shitty these past years that even the thought of where to belong is hard, how much more of finding that true meaning of success that old man told me.

Days, weeks, months and years passed, still the two season of the country i was born to live in and oughtly thought to die seem not to give me a single hint. I have tried to live by a day at a time with alcohol and friends and found not the answers but episodes of hangover. I tried making my own family, got married but i guess family doesnt suit my fallen ass. Ripped my jeans, tagged along with guns and bullets, cuddled with different women but the definition still blurrs. I FEEL EMPTY.

It came twice the age when i asked him and i find it considerably horrifying not to figure out what it is. What is success? And why the hell am i talking about it in this piece of writing that i am supposed to be thanking a family for instead of having these thoughts in an airport?

It took 3 seasons for me to fill that gap of emptiness. To see what legacy is and what sucess is.

Seeing how summer seem to enlighten me with the warmth of a family love fills a little happiness to that emptiness. All along, the friends i thought were family never came through when things got rough. Although some died but their death meant nothing to others. For me it does. Always! I see now why people like the summer. Not because it is warm and that they can do a lot of things outside their homes but for me, summer brings family together with their burdens dropped at their houses carrying those smiles and happiness outside.

Autumn brings a preparation of sadness. It's as if you start to wrap yojrself to protect it from a coming storm. Sort of a warning, telling you to be ready. For a time to weep and grief. Along comes fall. They are simply disappointments, failures and mistakes. Had tons of those actually. But never the regrets, a couple actually.

Winter. Not everyone loves it but sure looks nice! Imagine a shiny glittery jacket wrapped on you but extremely heavy. Heavy of sorrows, worries and depression. The weather brings you to your darkest thoughts but im truly impressed hke thry get to find the silver lining out of such.

Enough of the nonsense. This is just too much to read i know but there is so much to be thankful for. I simply wanna emphasize how the weather has groomed me to figure out simple yet amazing things in life. And i would like the kids to know how lucky they are and i hope they remind themselves of that always.

Family. It is something i am trying to build now, working on it. I know the kids are truly thankful about your family but i hope they somehow get a bit of jest about how i see your family in my eyes. Growing up not having the right pillars was never easy. It is not that i blame them, of course every decision i have id mine to bear but it is truly different when you have someone to talk to. When you can just tell someone hoe your day has been. I mean yes the girls were there, but someone older and wiser means a lot different. Be thankful. You would never find the coolest parents in the world. You have what it is that ate lovely and i dreamt of all these years. A family built with love. And for a bit of time, i felt that. Thank you.

Attention. Since things came out differently with my ma and pa, i only get this mostly from my friends. And of course, mommy. But never was there a time that i got them from my folks. Each time i got to church and see an entire family praise and thank God. Oh such a wishful thinking! Thank you for the, "you can do it!" words from you tita and tito. If you only know how much it squeezes my heart and drops bed of tears. And how much it feels for u to say, "good job" makes everything feel so right. Perhaps its been years that i havent heard those words. Thank you.

Love. At times i know i lack of it. The feeling that i bear witness how my family fell apart and the family i tried to build never really worked makes it so difficult to find one and even feel or ask if someone truly feel the same way for me. I know it has been hard for you to welcome me, to get in that circle, a hundred times and more have i disappointed your expectations on me that coming here makes me think much about the simplest love and intentions you have for me all the while you expect me to do something... It was never for you, but for me. Your wisdom was always right. It may be too late and you may nkt have heard me say this, but i am truly sorry for my mistakes, but thank you for understanding.

Kindness. All this time i have been wondering how trulg blessed i am to have you guys. I know i am totally a stranger to the kids, also to you and tito having years of less hi's and hello's. I know. It's hard. I know it is never easy to let some stranger get in, let alone someone who disappointments you in the moments of need and hope. But still your kindness not just to me but to every person you meet, they fall in love with the joy, fun, love and kindness with the family. So if yku ever ask why you are so blessed, God always stayed in your hearts. He nurtured it to spread his love and kindness to everyone. And that is a blessing that no one can easily understand but i know i do. Thank you.

Tita, tito and kids. My warmest thanks again for everything. For a quickest months of my life, has made life worth living. As to many times i likely to kill myself in the basement, ykur famkly gave me a very strong will and motivation for myself, "Someday i'll have one like that". You filled this emptiness with love and hope renewing how i see life. When im back home, i shall always think of ways tk spread the love, support and kindness to the rest of the family. Somehow giving them hope, that our side of the family still has hope not just to greet the hi's and hello's but i hope to know that someday, i hear "how are you" and "see you soon" or even a "tske care" and "i got you".  I shall bring that filled part of emptiness with hopes that someday i make it whole again. That someday i have my own definition of success. My own definition of legacy. And that i can say, success is a perception on how you want your legacy would become.

Thank you my Kanata family. I shall keep you in my heart always with hopes, dreams and motivations.

Yours indefinitely,

Chimerical poetic lout