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nahoyaglock · 3 years

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WHEN I STOP BREATHING..

pairings! ushijima x reader

summary! sitting on the beach, so close to each other they can hear each other’s heartbeats. They both smile and they watch the world end right in front of them, reminiscing on all they’ve been through together. Why does the end of the world look so beautiful?

genre! angst

word count! didnt bother actually counting so ill estimate maybe 2000+

warnings! end of the world, death, murder mention, slight ooc ushijima idk its the end of the world so pff

a/n! uh idk i wanna hurt people, sorry if this is bad i havent written in a while :p i feel like the beginning was really good, the middle was ass and the end was okay but hoh im happy enough w this. I also cried writing this ngl lmaoo also did not fix any errors so my bad

You knew it was coming, you both did. New reports, articles, it was trending on all social media platforms. It was unavoidable, what could you do but waste away your last few days, watching old shows you watched as a kid, harsh knocks and cries from your doors from friends and family. You couldnt face them, you just wanted to drown out the thought of what was coming the next few hours of the day.

You had woken up and sluggishly dragged yourself from the comfort of your bed to your dirty kitchen, littered with dirty dishes and some uneaten food that youd try to make, but didn't have the stomach to eat. Your phone rang atleast every hour or two, many unanswered calls and long voicemails you couldnt bother to listen to.

There was a knock on your door, and you sighed, not wanting to bother with facing the person at the door. You turned on your heels, about to head to your room when you heard the voice call out to you.

"y/n."

Out of all the people why did it have to be him. You bit your lip and let out shaky breaths. You took another step, freezing at another set of knocks. The last persom you wanted to see was your boyfriend.

"y/n let me in or ill tear this door down." His voice was stern, laced with seriousness and slight concern. You wanted to open it, let him in and crumble into his arms, but it hurt so bad.

"Go away." You spoke, loud enough to be heard through the door, but not loud enough to be a yell.

"y/n."

You hesitantly walked to the door, unlocking the bottom lock, the top lock remaining unlocked, too bothersome for you to have delt with anyways. At the sound of the click of the locks he opened the door with quick motions, while also being careful not to knock you over.

At the sight of his big frame you felt like the world had just stabbed you through the chest 28 times. You backed up with quick steps are your boyfriend reached out to hug you, scared that his touch would break down your facade. You tripped over your own feet, landing hard on your butt.

"Ush.. Ushijima," you started, not knowing exactly what you were trying to say, "Please dont touch me."

His heart sank when he saw you, lifeless and so frail. He guessed you havent been getting much sleep- or maybe too much sleep, and not eating as he took a quick glance towards the food littered kitchen counter.

It wasnt any better for you, seeing your normally cold and calm boyfriend with a worried expression and eye bags that made it obvious he hasnt got much sleep either.

You pull yourself up, your eyes boring through your boyfriends abdomen as you bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, and to also keep yourself from falling apart. "What do you want?"

"y/n. Dont be cold to me." It wasnt a question, but it wasnt a demand. "Sorry," you mumbled, leaving you two in silence for a while.

"Ushi, you should go home," you said, feeling your heart race, every second you spent in his presence, under his gaze, killed you. "You should call Tendou or something."

"Toshi." He said, making your head shoot up, looking him in his eyes, seeing a tear roll down his cheek, his face remaining mostly emotionless, fear slightly present in his eyes. "Please keep calling me Toshi."

You felt a pang in your heart, suddenly the reality of things hitting you. You were the only one going through this, you knew this but never gave it more than a mere thought. He was scared, he didnt know what he was doing, he just knew to find comfort in you, like youve told him to for many years into your relationship.

"Toshi," you breathed, reaching up to wipe the tear from his cheek, "Toshi lets go somewhere."

You never felt the need to go outside, wanting to be isolated, but being here with your boyfriend, you felt like running away, wanting to escape from the dark pit of your home. "Lets go to the beach"

"y/n–"

"Lets go. Lets go, right.. right now Toshi," you felt as if though youve felt shoked by lightning, like you suddenly got hit with some sugar rush.

"We dont have time–"

"We do Toshi, we do, we do," you saw the corner of his lips raise up into a small smile. He hated seeing you like this but he was glad you were more alive than you were minutes before. You knew this, what he was thinking, and you knew his smile had so much sadness behind it, "we have time, lets go, lets go!"

You grabbed his hand and dragged him out of your apartment, not bothering to change from your days out clothing or close the door behind you. It wouldnt matter in another hour anyways.

The ride there was mostly silent, songs playing quietly on the radio. You watched as you passed through the town, the streets were slightly empty, stores looked run down, some stores even tore up and empty.

"Has it been like this since.. since the announcement?" You mumbled, earning a hum for Ushijima.

"Yeah, yeah it has." He knew that you didnt go out, and he was slightly grateful for it. The world went to shit after the announcement, many lootings, murders and other various crimes being commited.

"Im glad your safe Toshi," you spoke into your palm.

"Im glad your safe too."

The ride went on in silence until you got to the beach. You both climbed out of the car, the beautiful blue sea sparkling under the sunny sky. It was funny how such a depressing day could look so so beautiful.

"Hmm, this is the beach we went to with the team our senior year, remember?" He asked and turned to face you. The fear in his eyes was much more evident in the light, along with signs of personal neglict. He hasnt been taking good care of himself either.

You walk around the front of the car to grab his hand, your small hands tracing light circles on his rough palms before linking your hands together, giving him a comforting squeeze. "I remember."

He let out a shaky breath he didnt know he was holding in, and you two found a nice spot on the beach to sit and watch the sky. "Toshi, do you remember the time goshiki got gummy bears stuck in his nose?"

He looked at you, and his face softened, "yeah. Yeah i do." He let out a small chuckle at the thought of his old teammates. "Do you remember when Tendou took my water bottle and filled it with really sour lemonade?" He asked, you could hear his voice unravel into a more comfortable tone, instead of one holding in so much hurt and fear.

"Ha, i actually helped him with that you know?" You spoke up, a small grin on your lips as your boyfriend grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. "We'll its okay, because it was 2 years ago."

It had been 2 years. 2 years since you had become shiratorizawas manager, 2 years since you made the number 1 ace fall head over heels for you, 2 years since you had went on your first date with him.

"2 years, its been so long." You laid your head on Ushijimas arm, feeling tired. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and placed a kiss atop your head.

"Thats when we first started dating," you spoke, shoulders shaking with a small laugh, "i would've never imagined to have the nations number 1 ace fall so madly in love with me." You laughed and turned to your boyfriend to continue your teasing, but stopped when you saw him looking back at you.

He couldn't respond with anything more than a mere chuckle, tears now streaming down his cheeks. You bit your lip, scooting closer to him so you were in his lap, wrapping your arms around his large stature.

"Toshi, I love you." It was no more than a whisper and he placed a warm, loving kiss to your temple, rubbing your back softly as he let out a shaky laugh.

"y/n god, you make it so hard not to cry." He whispered in an unstable tone, resting his head atop yours. "I love you too."

This was how it was, clinging to the other and sharing old tales of your days spent with Ushijima and the boys, tales of times tendou had snuck out of the dorms and got caught by washijou, or when goshiki cut his bangs too short, or how Ushijima brought your parents a half eaten watermelon as a gift.

Those last moments spent with laughs and tears, kisses and hugs, warmth and comfort, those were your best memories. Despite the fate to cross you, Ushijima and everyone else in the world, you felt like you could smile for the first time.

You would smile alot, but it felt different this time. You convinced yourself that it was just because you had been withering away for the past days, but you knew it was because you felt free.

You had no worries in the moment with your lover, you didnt need to think about getting up for work the next day, or how you would afford next months rent. You felt like the largest weight had been lifted off of you, and you could really smile for the first time.

There was a slightly rumble if the ground that had made you and Ushijima go silent. You pulled away from your spot in the crook of his neck to look at him, fear still in his eyes.

"I dont wanna die," he chuckled out, "but im not sad." He drew small shapes into your hips with his thumbs, looking onto your laps instead of your face, and you just stared at him.

His usually stoic face was calmed, relaxed, his jaw unclenched and his eyes soft. You hadnt seen so many emotions from your boyfriend so much, it was almost scary. But he looked so gorgeous, he was your world.

"Wakatoshi Ushijima, you know," your placed your hands on both sides of his face, "it doesnt matter what happens to this world, because," you placed a passionate kiss to his lips, the tears finally falling from your eyes, "you, you're my world Toshi."

He let out a noise that was similar to a choke, tears rolling down the apple of his cheeks as he placed his forehead to yours, letting his shoulders shake with hard sobs. Loud crashes, screams and car alarms had let you know it was coming, the end of the world.

The last thing you saw was Ushijima, smiling snd crying, mouthing out one last 'I love you'.

Why does the end of the world look so beautiful?

#writings 📃#ushijima.💭#ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushijima angst #ushijima imagine #ushijima fanfic #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi fanfic #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu imagine #hq x reader #hq x you #hq angst #hq fanfic #hq imagines

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castee-yel · 3 years

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Destiel AU

AU that occurs after Mary dies, Castiel distances himself by wiping the hunters' minds.

This is just one of the many random plot lines that formed in my head, this one just resides in my head im a warm setting, so enjoy.

preview:

Castiel hadn't spoken to dean or sam in months, ever since the incident, what had ruined it all, ever since Mary had died due to his actions, he had decided there was no going back for him.

If he was being honest it wasn't what he thought it would be, wiping his best friends minds of the memories he had alonside with them, from hunts to sharing his first beer(s), to watching over them as they slept in crappy motels. He thought throwing all that away would provoke some great unbearable emotion in him that would lead him frantically running back to the winchesters as soon as given the chance, but he was nothing more than just... empty.

Cas, after months of migrating country to country to distract himself, had given up on that idea and now worked at the nearest gas-n-sip 40 minutes from the bunker, where he spent hours restocking shelves and watching the clock tick every day, just hoping the boys would pop in on the way to one of their many hunts.

It was one of those days, where the temperature was just right and cool, the sun was bright enough to warm your skin but not overheat you, and the clouds complimented the the skys pretty blue. The store smelt fresh and the sunlight made it seem a much brighter and spacious place than it really was.

Castiel was refilling the beverage coolers with cans of soda, the rays of light coming from the blinds warming the back of his neck, just as he bent down to pick up another soda from the crate at his feet, the door chime started jingling.

He turned round to go towards the cashier, and said "How can I help you today?" as he looked up, to which he paused, eyes widened a little bit and gulped.

There it was, the rush of blood, his heart heavy, his head light, he felt, alive, it was impossible to keep himself standing up straight without feeling faint. Cas leant on the cold steel counter for support.

"He's here, he's really here" the angel thought to himself, he tried his best to not seem to overjoyed or terrified.

"Hi, my brother and I were wondering if you sell motor oil for that-" he flicked his index finger towards the sleek black impala outside the shop window, "pretty thing outside" he continued, raising his brows and smiling as if he told some form of joke, "I don't want to hurt her engine with any of that low quality crap" the man went on as he chuckled about how precious his "baby" was, practically oblivious of Castiel wincing at his voice and laughter.

Castiel was shut off, he'd been blankly staring into the mans eyes for the entirety of his car appreciation speech.

"So, the motor oil then?" he was brought back to reality.

"Agh, yes" Castiel walked out from behind the cashier leading the man towards an isle at the back of the store, "These are the finest we have, they're a bit expensive but worth the price, we also discount the changing charge if you purchase the oil here and get it changed here too."

He had said this speech so many times it had gotten flat and dull, but he did his best to put the energy back into the words. After all, it was him...

Cas waited as he watched the man pick up one of the containers while quickly skimming through the back, barely giving any attention despite his obvious excessive concern for the car.

"I'm assuming you'd like to purchase that one sir-?"

"Its Dean" He smiled, to which Castiel felt warmth he hadnt in ages, "and yeah, if its as friggin good as it says"

Castiel gave a laugh he had been practicing ever since he got the job, to seem human enough of course, but for the first time it didnt feel like a facade. It felt genuine, and he knew why.

Cas looked down as he he took the bottle from Deans hands and walked towards the cashier, Dean following not too far behind him. Castiel placed the bottle of motor oil on the countertop and started punching in numbers on the till, avoiding his every thought to take another glimpse at dean.

"Y'know, this might be crazy but-" Dean leant foward over the till and lifted a finger "I've seen that face before" now pointing directly at a shaky, half ecstatic half horrified Castiel.

"M-Me?", He chuckled nervously avoiding those eyes and looking towards the sanitary products aisle to his left. "No no I really doubt"

"Purgatory!" Dean exclaimed, mildly blushing, "Thats where right?" He was grinning at the thought.

Castiel froze, hand putting the motor oil bottle in a bag mid air, he was no longer smiling, "P-Purgatory?" he asked, squinting, trying his hardest to seem confused and not scared.

"Miami?" Dean straightened himself so that he was no longer bending towards the man, "Purgatory Miami right?" he asked again, the angel still completely oblivious to his reference.

"I-" Cas stuttered, "I don't think we've met" he finally shoved the motor oil into the plastic bag he was holding for what seemed like years.

"My bad," Dean shrugged, handing over the money for the motor oil with a subtle smirk towards Castiel. He thanked him and strutted towards the door and out into his car.

He was gone, that was it; Cas slumped back into the chair by the till, placing his elbows on the counter and letting his head rest upon his palms as he contemplated:

"He's not dead" he thought, "and he's happy?" now leaning back and looking up at the white plain ceiling. "Miami though, what was that about?" he scoffed to himself, "Guess i'll never find out".

He got up and walked back towards the beverage coolers and continued where he left off, restacking the sodas.

Castiel was relieved, Dean Winchester was somewhat happy, he was alive, and his plan had worked, leaving him to spend his days thinking about the man who had no memory of him.

Dean got into the car to which his brother whined "What took you so long?"

"I don't know man, weird guy," Dean replied, with less of the cheery tone he had from before.

"Weird how?" His brother asked, "our kind of weird?"

"No no Sammy," Dean mumbled as he looked to the back window of the car while backing out of the stores parking lot. "Pretty sure I'd seen him in a gay bar before, he denied it a bit too harshly"

"First off, what were you doing in a gay bar" Sam questioned looking confused but not concerned, "And second off why would you confront the guy?"

"It wasnt like that, I was on a case" Dean avoided his brother's assumption, "And I thought he'd find it funny, nothing serious"

They drove off into the road, and that was that, just silence all the way, the familiarity of the man was never really shaken off from Dean, it was almost like it was printed onto him.

#spn #supernatural #i havent written in ages but yeah enjoy??#spn fan fiction #spn fanfic #destiel #deancas #destiel au #destiel fanfic #destiel fan fiction #deancas au #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfic #castiel #dean winchester

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crystalis · 4 years

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i kmow that im not anywhere near ready for a relationship bc i cant talk to people and im bad at communicating but i think about love all the time, like being intimate with someone and telling thm i love them and it feels really sweet ..

even if like i had feelings for someone and they like wanted me to be their boyfriend or whatever i think i would decline bscauase i know im not ready for that because it would probably end up not working because i struggle too much with communicating .. and i wouldnt want to hurt them by being distant or seeming cold when i dont mean to .. but also like i dont know when i'll be ready for a relationship, if ever. i usually feel like its my fate or something to live my life alone like my brain is just wired like this and im meant to be by myself. but i still long for it and its one of the things that makes me happy to be alive, thinking one day there will be someone i love and they will love me too and we'll be happy together and i wont be alone. its weird to me whrn i see people suffering in loneliness becsuse im so used to it, ive been single since i was 19 which was like a 2 month long-distance relationship i had. and before that it was when i was 16 whrre my boyfriend was horrible to me and our relationship ended terribly and we never spoke to eachother again ..... ive spent so much time by myself that its like.. do i reslly need someone? its been so long i accepted solitude. i mean i still yearn for love, but not in a way thats as painful or makes me cry like i used to.. i cried so much as an 18/19 yo because i felt like i would never be loved again and i grieved for that, i hadnt yet accepted solitude despite the fact that i was the one pushing everhone away. i wanted to be loved, i pleaded and begged to be loved and i wanted my love to be accepted by others. all the while turning away and closing the door, closing my eyes and covering my ears .. i would not answer the phone, i wohld not even speak to the person i had feelings for. and its that second self that lives inside me tht wont let go of me, saying that i must be alone. for years i was smotherrd and i couldnt get away, and its like im trying to make up for it or something, like no one can have me. no one will ever get ahold of me ahain, because i was once suffocated. i refuse to ever be smothered again i will never be guilt tripped or manipulated again, i will mever be trapped in 14 hour daily skype calls again and i learned to love solitude because i believed that solitude was freedom, and it still feels that way, 6 years later even when it may become painful

so im trapped with my self now. i pushed eberyone away and locked myself inside my own skull so i can die in bliss alone. i dont know how to escape the cycle of self isolation and wanting to heal and grow, it flips constantly .. i know its judt the fear of stepping out of a comfort zone, like im safe alone, and i dont ever want to feel pain like i did. the pain of a dysfunctional relationship is far worse than the pain of loneliness but i can never heal by isolatimg myself forever.... like whst am i even supposed to do .. i mesn i know what im supposed to do its just hard and i feel like i cant

#sorry crinhe wall of text #i said all this twenty times before it just hurts sometimes more thsn others snf i want to feel listened to and understood

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friendlifyre · 3 years

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its been a year now since everything went to hell and a year ago i was so set on offing myself within the next days because every waking moment was so excruciating. every single day felt like a curse and i couldnt bare to be alive, i couldnt stand being in my own skin and spent several weeks just trying to keep myself numb enough to make it to the next nap without hurting myself or causing more problems. every minute was so painful i never, ever would have thought i could physically survive a year like this.

today i look back on that period and i cant believe it’s been only a year. everything has changed so much, i completely turned my life around. every other day i have to sit down and take a minute to remind myself that this person was me, it was still me just in past tense, because ive changed so much i feel like its someone else. and im so, so happy i pulled myself together and underwent this change.

life isnt perfect. my financial situation is fragile and my relationship with my family is in shambles. but im still happy. i have a cozy apartment thats all my own, two cats who make it a home and who are the lights of my life, an old but healthy pony always happy to see me, an amazing therapist whos already helped me evolve so much, a job that i love that i wouldnt mind working at for the rest of my days, with a wonderful team of coworkers including one whos become one of my best friends, a fun hyperfixation thats gonna keep growing for months to come with a good number of comfort characters, a few really close friends i wouldnt trade for the world both on and offline, and a significant other i love with all my heart.

i know i can never completely erase the trauma or the guilt of what happened, but i can use it as a stepping stone to continue marching on and i cant wait to keep moving on. im so unbelievably lucky for all the opportunities and people that came into my life this past year - most of which did specifically because of what happened, so im done feeling sorry for myself over it. im happy, im alive, im grateful, im at a place where i never could have been if it all hadnt happened, so im making peace with all of it now and moving right along.

#personal

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breanime · 5 years

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Heartworm (Part One)

Guess who got her internet baaccccck! This gal! So @songtoyou sent me this request and I IMMEDIATELY started getting ideas. This could be up to or past 5 parts, I don’t even know! It all depends if you guys like it and want more! This is kind of a soft re-imagining of season 2.

Request: How about instead of Billy going to his stupid psychiatrists place to seek refuge, he goes to the home of a girl who he was in a serious relationship with. Like, this girl is the only person Billy could ever see himself settling down with. However, once he got money, status, and power from Rawlins he pushed her to the side and eventually dropped her from his life. But once she sees the state Billy is in and how sad, scared and alone he is she wants to help him.

Part One is based on Halsey’s Without Me, particularly these lyrics:

Found you when your heart was broke I filled your cup until it overflowed Took it so far to keep you close (Keep you close) I was afraid to leave you on your own

I said I'd catch you if you fall And if they laugh, then fuck 'em all (All) And then I got you off your knees Put you right back on your feet Just so you can take advantage of me

*gif not mine* (I gotta stop using this gif lol)

You stood frozen in your living room, eyes glued on the TV. The news was saying that Billy, your Billy, was a murderous traitor and a danger to society. You watched as they showed footage of Billy’s apartment up in flames. They said he bombed it himself after killing a handful of Homeland Security agents, they also said that he hired mercenaries for his Anvil staff. The government seized his assets. He shot Curtis in the shoulder. He knew about Frank’s family. He set them up to be killed. Billy. Your Billy.

Except he wasn’t your Billy anymore; he hadn’t been your Billy for three years. You sat down on the couch, legs numb with shock, as you took in what the newscaster was saying about your ex-boyfriend, the only man you’ve ever loved. They flashed a picture of him on the screen. The caption read: “Armed and Dangerous, Do Not Approach”. The newscaster was saying something about Homeland and Frank going after Billy, but it was all starting to sound like white noise to you. Your mind said to get out of town and run until it was all over, but your heart wanted to reminisce, wanted to remind you why you even cared in the first place.

“…and I’m gonna have a Rolls Royce,” Billy said, one arm behind his head and the other wrapped around your waist, “I’m gonna drive it to meetings, rich assholes love a power play.”

You smiled up at Billy, you loved listening to his grand plans for the future. “Are you gonna be a pocket square kind of rich asshole or a ‘Maureen, hold my calls’ kind of rich asshole?”

“Mm,” Billy pulled you closer to his naked chest, “I’m gonna be a pocket square kind of asshole,” he answered, “that’s the best way to run a business.”

“Of course,” you agreed, snuggling up against him, “you’re gonna be a big shot. And I’m gonna have to make an appointment with Maureen just to see you.”

Billy tsked and put a finger on your chin, lifting your face so you were eye-to-eye. “That ain’t never gonna happen,” his dark eyes bore into yours, “I’ll always have time for you.”

You smiled and pressed your lips against his. You felt Billy’s arms tighten around you, lifting you up until you were laying on top of him. You kissed him again, slowly parting your lips, inviting his tongue into your waiting mouth. His eyes were heavy-lidded with lust when you pulled back. You rubbed your nose against his. “I love you.”

His smile made your chest heave with adoration. “I love you too, Y/N.” He kissed you again. “I promise I’m gonna make you proud one day, baby. I’m gonna get us outta this shit hole and out you somewhere nice, where you belong.”

You shrugged. Money and status meant a lot to Billy, meant success, but you were happy enough where you were. Yeah, your apartment was kind of small, and yeah, the heat stopped working every few months, but you’d lived in worst places. Besides, you had Billy. He made you so unbelievably happy; you could have lived in a cave—as long as Billy was with you, you’d be fine. “You know I’m already proud of you,” you told him, “You’ve accomplished so much already.”

“Mm,” Billy kissed the top of your head, “I can do more.” He kissed your nose. “I’m gonna get this security shit together.” He kissed your right eyelid. “I’m gonna get us a place uptown.” He kissed your left eyelid. “And I’m gonna make it so you don’t ever have to work again.” You sighed as he kissed your cheek next. “I ain’t gonna let anyone look down on us anymore.” He kissed your other cheek. “I’m gonna make you so happy, baby.” You felt yourself melt when he finally kissed you on the lips. “I’m gonna take care of us…

…I’m gonna take care of you.”

You turned the TV off, cradling the remote to your chest. You felt your breath getting shallower and casually recognized your erratic heartbeat. You didn’t know what to do. You believed the news—you weren’t sure about the details, but you knew Billy well enough to know that he would do anything for power. You had seen the change that money bought him firsthand, and you didn’t like it at all. You thought about calling Curtis, but you didn’t want to bother him. He was probably up to his neck in cops and paperwork and…Homeland Security, apparently. You wondered how it came to this. Frank was alive. Billy was a wanted man. Curtis was wounded. And you…were alone.

You spent the night on the couch, too numb and confused to get up. You dreamt of Billy and woke up shivering. You got up and made yourself a cup of coffee. Your phone was on the counter, and you frowned as you picked it up. You had missed calls from your mom, your best friend, your boss, and your sister. You had no desire to speak to any of them. You also had a call and voicemail message from an unknown number. Hitting the speaker button, you played the message.

“You’re gonna hear some things on the news.” Billy. “They’re true. I…I did all those things they say I have. By the time you get this message, I’m either gonna be on the run or dead.” It sounded like he took a breath before continuing. “I wanted to see you before I go, but…that’s not gonna happen. So just… Just know that I…” A sigh. “…I think about you all the time. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, a lot of bad choices, done a lot of shitty things, but… I only regret one thing: letting you go. I wish… I should have fought for you more. I should have…” There was some shuffling, and you thought Billy might have put the phone down for a moment. “Listen, they’re gonna say a lot of things about me, and people are gonna try to tell you that I’m heartless and evil, but I want you to remember…You loved me once. You’re the only one I could ever be honest with, the only person in this world who knows who I am. Just… Remember that. And… I’m sorry, Y/N. Goodbye.”

You stood in your kitchen and listened to Billy’s message for at least another 30 minutes. By the time you went back to the couch and turned the TV on, Billy was pronounced near-death and was being kept under constant surveillance at the hospital. Frank Castle was said to be ‘in the wind’ and Anvil was being torn down and all the profits split up. The news interviewed a medical professional about the chances of Billy making any kind of recovery. They predicted he would be dead in six months.

You turned the TV off and wept.

It had been nearly a year since everything went down with Billy. The coverage for Billy’s case had pretty much stopped after a month, and people were onto the next scandal now. Curtis had stopped by your place and told you that Frank left town. The visit had been brief, but he told you what Billy had done—confirming what you’d heard on the news—and said that his orders had come from someone named Rawlins. Rawlins, you understood, was dead. Curtis had word from Frank to tell you that he had been given a new identity by the government and was going to hit the road for a while. When you asked why he’d want you to know that, Curtis had just said: “you needed to know it was over”. You should have felt anger, or pity or sadness but… you felt nothing. You had been operating on auto-pilot, swimming in a thick fog of numbness, since Billy had been arrested. The last thing you could remember feeling, really feeling, was a deep and intense sorrow when you listened to Billy’s message. He had broken your heart, left you, and then revealed himself to be a monster and you…You were just tired.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Y/N,” Billy’s back was to you. You had barged into his office at Anvil, demanding to see him, but now that you were there… The way he was talking to you was cold and detached. His stance was rigid, his focus was on the recruits below him, not on you. This Billy—CEO Billy—was not what you had signed up for.

“I want you to say you’re sorry,” you said, “I want you to say you care.” Billy didn’t say anything. You clenched your fists. “Look at me, Billy.”

He turned. He was wearing an expensive three-piece suit and his hair was impeccably cut. His eyes, the eyes you loved, the eyes that looked at you with such care and affection, were hollow.

“What happened to you?” You asked, looking him up and down with disgust. “You never come home, you barely spend any time with me—”

“What do you want, Y/N?” He said, irritation clear in his voice. “I’m busy. I’m working. I’m trying to afford the penthouse we live in and the car you drive.”

“I bought my own car,” you reminded him, eyes narrowed as you glared at him, “And I work, too, but I make time for the people I love.”

Billy sighed, rolling his shoulders. “I told you, you don’t have to work.”

You sighed then. He was missing the point. “Billy,” you tried again, “I’m tired of this. I can’t keep being an afterthought for you. I need you.” You tried to look in his eyes, but he avoided your gaze. “I miss you.”

Billy walked over to you and put a hand on your waist. He pulled you towards him and kissed you. “I miss you, too,” his voice was husky as he moved his lips to your neck, “I know I’ve been working a lot lately, but we’re so close…”

You closed your eyes. You wanted to have a conversation, but it was hard to think of words—let alone form any—with his mouth on your skin. “Will you come home tonight?” You asked, breath short and voice heavy with lust.

“Mm hmm,” his hand slid to your ass as he kissed you again, “I’m gonna be all yours tonight.” He licked into your mouth and smiled when you moaned.

You felt his hardness pressing against your front and you deepened the kiss. “I don’t know if I can wait that long,” you whispered.

Billy chuckled and released you from his grip. You glared as you watched him walk over to his desk. He pressed a button on his phone and leaned over to speak. “Hold all my calls,” he ordered, smirking over at you, “I don’t want any calls or interruptions for the next hour.” He walked past you and you heard him lock the door behind you. His eyes were gleaming when he turned back to you and he looked like himself, like your Billy, again. His smile made your heart skip a beat. “Take your clothes off, baby. I want to spend some time with you.”

You sat up with a start. It had been months since you’d last dreamt of Billy. You looked around you and cursed under your breath. You had fallen asleep on the couch. No wonder you were off. You hadn’t been able to have a full night’s rest without sleep aids since…since Billy had left that message on your phone. If you didn’t take a pill before you went to bed, you would dream about Billy. You didn’t want to dream about him, you wanted to ignore the ache in your chest and the emptiness in your life and just… Get over it. Get over him. You felt a headache coming on, so you shuffled to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed.

Your mind kept going back to Billy as you got ready for bed; you remembered the strain in his voice in the message he left you, how he used to laugh when you stuck your cold feet on his back, the way he stared down at you as he shifted inside you, driving you wild. You could see his eyes, dark and expressive and so full of love when he looked at you, every time you closed your eyes. You gave up on sleep and went back to the couch, deciding to just spend the night watching horrible night time TV until you could get Billy out of your head.

You were finally getting into the Real Housewives marathon you had been watching when you heard a knock on your door. You glanced at your phone: it was 11 pm. Who the hell would be at your door at this time? You grabbed your phone in case you needed to call the police and stood on your tip-toes to look into the peephole. Your mouth fell open at the same time your phone hit the floor with a dull thump.

Billy Russo was standing in the hallway of your apartment. And he was covered in blood.

*************************************************************************************

I have the next two parts locked and loaded! Pleaaase comment and let me know if you want the rest. The more feedback I get, the more I update! Thanks for reading, and may Billian be with you.

BTW, I got the title from this “emotion that’s hard to describe word”: Heartworm: a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

TAGLIST: @delicatelilyflower @doneobrien @ladyblablabla @banditthewriter @something-tofightfor @starsfragments @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @hisgirlwednesdayaddams@fictionwillneverdie @maria-beretta @sadnessxvodka @ymariejp @sunnycolors @moonlightsay @its-all-o-kay @damagelove @keyeluh @itsmylife98 @funerals-with-cake @littlemermaidprobz @teacuplotus @king4thesirens @mrsjaxtellerfan @thebabblingbook @tartelette-aux-fraises @madamrogers @charlylama @iaintnofurry @k-buggz2001 @whitewolfslittlesilverfox @drinix @elanor-of-imladris @floralpeaceofmind

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #the punisher #heartworm

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drchrismurray · 5 years

Text

|| I’m A Mess ||

who: Chris Murray and Dr. Marietta Winslow with mentions of Brittany Pierce, Santana Lopez, Sam Evans, Mercedes Jones and Noah Puckerman

when: Friday Morning

why: Chris has therapy

“Chris… Chris are you with me?” Chris blinked a few times, his mind completely elsewhere other than in the small room he was seated in. He looked around at the blank walls, painted what he could only assume was supposed to be a calming grey. It looked much like his own office where he met his clients. Comfy seats, walls that made his patients feel safe. And pictures of him and his family that made him relatable so his patients felt that they could talk to him. He knew the tricks were just that. Tricks. Which was why he was having such a hard time in this particular session. “What?” he finally replied. “I asked if you were okay,” Dr. Winslow leaned foward. “We started talking about your family and you sorta blanked out.” Christ adjusted in his seat and shrugged. “What do you want me to say Doc?” The older woman sighed and leaned back. “Chris… this isnt new for you. Not only do you do this for a living but we’ve been meeting each other for nearly two months and you’ve made progress but today it’s like you dont actually want to be here. So why are you here?” “Because I’m paying you $100 an hour,” he quipped, not earning a response from her. He sighed deeply and rubbed his now sweating hands on his pants before clearing his throat. “I’ve just been having a hard time.” “Chris,” she said again. “You were diagnosed with depression, something that millions of people deal with. And on top of that, your life hasnt exactly been a walk in the park. Your mother died when you were a child, and your father shipped you off to live with relatives when you were 16. You became a father at 17, and eventually married a woman who tried to kill your cousin. You have had more than a hard time…I just want to help you. Or we can sit here for the rest of the hour and not talk at all.” He tried to ignore the ripping in his chest and stared out the window. “Today was hard,” he started. “I didnt wanna get out of bed this morning. I felt pretty empty and I know you said these new meds would kick in soon but I feel like I’m drowning…. Last night I couldnt sleep and I just stared at Brittany… I just kept wondering why the hell she was with me.: “Why do you think she’s with you?” Dr. Winslow asked. “Do you want the real answer or what I tell myself?” “Both.” Chris swallowed and looked down at the ground, knowing that honesty was actually the best policy. He wasnt dumb, he knew that if he was going to be able to manage the storm that was his brain, he needed to lay all his shit bare. Even if it made him feel gross. “Most days I tell myself it’s because she loves me. Because she realized that she wanted to be with me. Other days I think it’s just because we have Ari. Because I’m convenient. Because... Puck isnt here.” He hated thinking it. That he was second best and that he didnt deserve to be with Brittany. Most days he was okay. Most days he knew he deserved to be happy. But those days were overshadowed by the days when he felt completely and utterly useless and unwanted. Dr. Winslow nodded. “Have you always felt like that?” “I dont know,” he shrugged. “Maybe? I always wondered what if we hadnt gotten pregnant? What if she’d had an abortion or if we just hadnt dated at all… would we be together right now?” “And?” “And… the answer scares me.” “Why?” “Because I knew that had we not had Ari. Had we not dated at all, I’d still have been with Santana and I would’ve married her…And she’d still be with Puck. He mightve still cheated but it wouldnt’ve been with Steph and maybe just maybe he’d still be alive.” “That’s a lot to put on yourself Chris. How does that make you feel?” “I dont know. I know that I love Brittany. So much. And I dont regret a single bit of our life together. And I want to be with her forever. But had she and Puck not broken up, she wouldnt have given me the time of day.” She nodded. “Does that make you feel insecure? Or unworthy?” Chris shrugged with a small nod.. “Look I know I’m good looking. I know I’m charming. I can turn it on whenever I want but the people who I fall in love with rarely love me back. Shawn was too deep in the closet to admit ever feeling anything for me. And Santana well I cant blame her because she barely loved herself when we dated as kids. And Stephanie was insane and cheated on me repeatedly. What makes me so sure Brittany is different?” “Is this why you have such a hard time thinking of marrying her?” Chris licked his lips and frowned. “Maybe? I wanna give her the world but marriage just sounds like something I never wanna do again. I mean everyone’s marriage has fallen apart. Charice and Dylan are divorced, Sam and Cedes never even made it down the aisle even though they’ve tried a combined number of three times. Why would I be the exception?” Dr. Winslow sighed softly and leaned forward. “Chris… I think when it comes to dating you’ve faced a lot of rejection. With Shawn, he rejected not only his sexuality but you as well. With Santana, she hid a lot of things from you and while I dont believe you were perfect, I think that’s added to your current mindset. With Stephanie, she cheated on you and then hurt someone you care about. I think it’s totally valid that you feel like marriage isnt something you want because you are yet to feel stable in any romantic relationship you’ve been in. But I think right now is a chance for you to try creating your own stability.” “How so?” he questioned. “Chris, have you told Brittany you’ve been meeting with me yet?” He started to shake his head. “Doc, I told you I cant. Look we’ve all been through so much shit the last year, I cant add this on. She’s already having a hard time with Cedes being gone and these new damn friends of hers that frankly suck. If I add depressed boyfriend to that, I dont know what she’ll do.” “Perhaps you arent giving her the chance to react. You’re basically taking her option away because you’re afraid she’ll reject you… maybe this even plays into the fact that you feel like you need to be the shoulder for everyone else. It’s a coping mechanism. You deal with other’s problems because maybe if they see you have a use for them they wont reject you much like your romantic partners and even your own family did as a youth.” Chris winced and clutched his chest due to the honesty in her words. “Ouch… Jesus Doc.” She shrugged a shoulder. “You dont pay me to lie to you,” she said. “Next week, I want to hear that you’ve not only told Brittany but that you’ve given her a chance to prove that you are in a stable, healthy relationship. One that wont end in rejection. Allow her to prove you wrong Chris.” Chris nodded, not wanting to do what she said but knowing that it would be helpful. “What if she proves me right?” he whispered. “Then you two made a beautiful little girl. And being with her taught you a lot. But she isnt the one you’re gonna end up with and that’s okay too. Stability starts in you first. Not in someone else.” Chris sighed loudly and rubbed the back of his head before standing. “Wow Doc, I feel like they need to pay you the big bucks.” “Aw Chris,” she grinned. “They already do. See you next week?” “Next week it is.”

#para: I'm A Mess

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waywordwriter · 5 years

Text

writober day 4:learning how to fly

forgot to post this yesterday so here it is now. im really impressed with myself just because its over 1,000 words.

wc: 1367

______

When I was six i had my first best friend. I had other friends of course but none that I was inseparable with. Until Oliver showed up. He had black and orange wings, so most stayed away due to stereotypes. I hadn't, not knowing or caring about them at that age. I try not to listen to them now, but society tends to be really loud.

You see, wing color really matters to some people because they believe that your wing color depends on the traits you have at birth. Most with purple are caring, dark blue was oblivious, light blue was athletic, ect, ect. Most people had two, but some had one or three. Some peoples changed over time, and that's what parents who sent their kids to my school hoped for. That the school would give us enough classes in pro the thing they wanted and maybe some classes that were anti the thing they didnt want. Did it work? Sometimes. Sometimes it turned out the way the parents wanted, and they were taken out of that hellhole and put into public school. But they didnt want people to know that they had been here, that they had been broken and in need of fixing. I had never known what they said because I never came out.

I was in the other half of it sometimes working. My colors changed, but they never got 'better'. I had three colored wings, purple, dark blue, and green. Caring, oblivious, and unfocused. When I got older though, I was in the majority of kids who sprouted another color, which was bright red and stood for depression. It sat at the bottom of my wings just like most of the other kids. There was newspapers for and against these types of schools. Most of the ones for the schools say that "They choose to be that way, why else would it be there? If they just decided to be what their parents wanted then they wouldn't have to do that." Of course this was the most popular view on it, and some kids even got angry letters from their parents about how if they just choose to be better they could get out. Some of the daring ones sent letters home saying that it didnt work that way, while other said that they would keep trying.

How does Oliver tie into all of this? He was decreed that he was the one that needed the most change. The upper part of his wings were black, which ment calm and collected. But the rest of his wings were orange, which was normally associated with evil doing. No one actually thought of him that way, but still stayed away out of precaution and not fear. Except for me, who thought at the age of six that everyone needed a friend (something I still do think today) and went and introduced myself. It definitely took him by surprise, but he introduced himself, still weary of me. We got to know each other better, and I introduced him to my friends. Though after he was a part of our friend group we still hung out separately.

One day we were sitting on the porch with our homework in our laps, procrastinating while talking, our best super power. We were seven then, and Oliver had started flying classes while i had...opted out. We had just started the new school year so we had lots to talk about when it came to classes. He had started talking about the first time he flew, and i was content listening well, for the most part. I spaced out here and there, but thats just because i am true to my colors and its hard for me to focus. He started talking about how great it was to fly and suddenly he was on his feet, an idea resting in his eyes.

“Im going to teach you how to fly!” he exclaimed out of what seemed like nowhere, but in context it probably came from somewhere. I shifted, a bit uncomfortable at the thought of flying. I had a massive fear of hights, and i was afraid that i would forget that i was flying and fall to the ground. Oliver looked at me, expecting an answer even though i didnt have one. .i wanted to fly, and i wanted to make my friend happy. But my fears were more overbearing than my willingness to fly.

“Its too late now, if i fall the nurse will yell at me. Lets do it tomorrow!” i say, though i knew he saw right through my lie. And so that day turned into a couple, and days turned to weeks, then months, then years. When i was fourteen it was announced that this was to be olivers last year since his wings had gone almost completely black and yellow. There was no orange left so he was being… discharged. The official term was transferring but no one called it that, not even staff.

"So it has been five years and you still have managed to weasel your way out of learning to fly."Oliver says, nudging me with his elbow. I laughed, somewhat out of suprise that he remembered, and partially out of fear. I had been preparing myself for this conversation, and had decided just a couple days ago that i was ready to do it, but hadnt told anyone. I figured that if Oliver was being discharged, i might as well. Seeing that i had spent the majority of our childhood avoiding this, why not make it be the last thing we do together. I shrugged, and oliver looked over at me with a light that shone in his eyes that was very rare around here.

“Really?” he asked, but knew that if he didnt take the offer now, i probably wouldn't. And so he dragged me down to the flying range. Anyone could take off from anywhere once they were deemed able by staff, but the range was where most beginners were. And where i would begin. Technically we were going against the rules, but even the staff had started to nudge me in the direction of flying so i didnt think that they would object. Oliver stated, (and repeated a couple of times for my sake) the directions that he deemed important for me to know. A couple balance things, demonstrated how to take off, how to land, and how to stay in the air.

And suddenly it was my turn to try to fly with all the things that he had taught me. And so i took a couple steps back and prepared myself. A feeling of dread settled into my stomach as i started running toward the ledge. I prepared myself for the jump, and when i did, i soared for a few seconds. In those few seconds i was up in the air, i felt alive. There had been things that i was afraid to do and i turned out to be right about them, but this was not one of them. In those few seconds i was free, and regreted not learnig sooner.

But then i fell on my face.

And i remembered why i hadnt done it.

A big wohoo sounded behind me. Suddenly Oliver was beside me, grinning from ear to ear. He had flown beside me and i hadnt realized it. I smiled since i wast hurt. Since this was a training area the floor was practically covered in matresses. My facial features were pretty thankful for that.

Oliver congratulated me on my first try and helped me up. We continued to have me run off the ledge, always falling but after a while i stayed up in the air for a couple seconds longer than the last attempt. After four hours i finally learned how to properly take off and an hour after i learned to take off i learned how to land. Me and Oliver were having the time of our lives until curfew came to get us. We went our separate ways to our dorms, never feeling better. That was the best night of my life.

#writober #jamies writing

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d-noona · 5 years

Text

The Make Over

SUMMARY: When Y/N L/N transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Y/N to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Auth Note: It's good to be back.

Chapter 07 - Fairy God Mommy

After that nothing could have made Y/N happy, not even when Mrs. Jung returned with her still apologetic mother in tow. Amazingly, Y/M/N was thrilled by the idea of becoming Mrs Jung's cleaner, then estatic when Hoseok explained his refinancing offer.

"Isn't that wonderful news Y/N?" Her mother exclaimed. "Now we wont have to have a stranger in the house. And you'll have money for yourself for a change."

Y/N smiled and said yes, it was wonderful. She smiled all through lunch and laughed when the four of them moved Mrs Jung's living room furniture to new spots, then have to move everything back again to their original places when the end result did not please Mrs Jung's creative eye.

No one would have guessed how wretched Y/N felt. She was a past master at hiding her feelings, especially around Hoseok. But her heart grew heavier as the hours passed. By afternoon tea, she was exhausted with the emotional strain of pretending to be bright and breezy when inside she was shattered. Hoseok's getting back with Tinashe the following Sunday was the final straw.

His eagerness for their reconciliation had been palpable, his body language reeking of sexual frustration as he'd spoken of his time away from Tinashe. He could not wait to jump back into bed with her. Y/N could no longer fool herself. Any attention he'd been giving her had been the result of his boredom, not because of any suddenly selfless maturity.

"You won't forget about the refinancing," she reminded him stiffly when it came time for them to leave.

"Not at all. In fact, your mom is going to provide me the relevant papers this very afternoon. I'll collect them shortly, Y/M/N, and have Sejin get onto it first thing this week, then I'll bring up whatever needs to be signed next Saturday." As Hoseok elaborates what he plans to have his secretary do.

"You coming home next Saturday, are you?" Y/N asked with a weary resignation. Normally, the thought of Hobi being around thrilled her to pieces. Now there was no pleasure in the news, only the cynical thought that of course he was coming home. Had nothing better to do till Sunday, did he?

"Yes, I've been invited to speak at a local business awards dinner on Saturday night. I'm also presenting the prizes" he says.

"How nice." Y/N answers blandly.

"Why dont you take Y/N, Hoseok?" His mother suggested. "The invitation says "and partner"."

Hoseok's instant frown was enough to turn Y/N off the idea, despite her stupid heart giving one last feeble leap. His eyes turned her way then travelled slowly over her. She could actually see his brain ticking away. Dear old Y/N doesn't look half bad now. She wouldn't be an embarrassment to take, not like she would have been a week ago.

"Would you like to go?" He asked her. "It's a black tie, so you'll need a dinner dress."

Y/N steeled herself to do the one thing she'd thought she would never do. Reject the man she loved. "Thank you Hobi," she said with superb indifference, "but I have other plans for next Saturday night."

His brown eyes instantly clouded a small stab of triumph lifted her spirits momentarily, quickly followed by a much stab of despair. Tears threatened and she just had to get out of there. Panic had her glancing around for her mother. "Ready to go home Mum?" She asked, determined to keep up the false gaiety to the bitter end. "I have quite a bit to do before the working week starts tomorrow."

"My working week starts tomorrow too, doesn't it Mrs Jung?" Y/M/N returned happily.

"Indeed it does."

"Thank you so much," Y/M/N went on, clasping her neighbor's hands with her own with rather touching gratitude. "For lunch. And...and everything."

Mrs Jung smiled and patted Y/M/N's hands. "It's I who's grateful. I've found myself a wonderful cleaner and a new friend as well. See you in the morning Mrs Y/L/N."

"And I'll be seeing you later Mrs Y/L/N!" Hoseok called out as Y/N shepherded her mother out of the house. "To get those papers."

"What nice people they are," Y/M/N said on the short way home. "And wasn't it kind of Hoseok to help us out with that money business?"

"Yes, it was." Y/N admitted, but tight-lipped.

A silence descended between the two women as they made their way inside, but Y/N could feel her mother watching her.

"Why didn't you say yes when Hoseok asked you to go out with him?" Y/M/N asked once they were safely alone in the kitchen. "It...it wasn't because of what I said earlier, was it? About not being...well...pretty enough for him? Because that's not true, Y/N. You're plenty pretty enough. And he really likes you. I can see that now. He could hardly take his eyes off you all over lunch, and then later he..."

"Oh Mum, please," Y/N begged. "You don't have to lie. You were right the first time."

"No, darling. I wasn't. I was wrong. Very wrong. And I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I was afraid. Yes, afraid." She repeated when Y/N's eyes widened. "Afraid some man would snap you up, looking as you do now, and I'd be left all alone in this world."

"But today opened my eyes there's Mrs Jung, a widow like myself, but she doesn't sit around feeling sorry for herself. Besides her writing, she plays golf and bingo and bridge. And she doesn't tie that boy of hers to her apron-strings, either. I can see its up to me to make something of my life for myself. I know becoming a cleaner isnt much but at least I'm good at it, and it's a start. I might even go to that hair dresser of yours with some of my cleaning money and become a blonde!"

"Oh Mum!" Y/N exclaimed, a burst of very real joy dragging her heart back out of the doldrums. "You've no idea how happy you made me, hearing you say that."

"Do you forgive me for saying those awful things to you, my dear? I didnt mean them, you know."

Y/N couldnt help but relent. "Of course, I forgive you," she said gently. "I love you Mom."

"Oh Y/N," her mother crued, and threw her arms around her daughter.

Unfortunately , it was not the best of time for Y/N to be hugged. Her mother's display of affection tipped her over the edge on which she'd been balancing for several hours, splintering the brittle control which she'd been holding in her misery. Her shoulders began to shake as sobs racked her whole body. "Oh my daughter," her mother groaned, and hugged her even more tightly. "Dont cry, darling. Please dont cry. Oh, you make me feel terrible. If only I hadnt said those awful things, you would have probably gone out with Hoseok when he asked you. It's my fault!"

"No, it isn't," Y/N sniffled when she at last pulled out of her mother's arms. "Hoseok only asked me out because Tinashe's trying to prove some point or other and she's refused to have anything to do with him for a month. But come next Sunday they'll be back together again, as thick as thieves. Who knows? If she plays her cards right he might even ask her to marry him."

"What rubbish!" Her mother pronounced firmly, startling Hyeonji. "Hoseok is not in love with that flashy bit of goods. No man in love with one girl looks at another girl as he looked at you today."

Y/N was dumbfounded. "But I...I didn't notice him looking at me in a special way..."

"Then you're as blind as he is, my girl. You made a big mistake refusing to go out with him next Saturday night. Now listen here; when he comes over to pick up those papers, you tell him you've changed your mind and you'd like to go after all."

"But...but..." Y/N stammered.

"NO buts. You said he's not getting back with that Tinashe till Sunday. Make the most of what time you have!" Y/M/N pushed Y/N with both her arms on her waist.

"I was just going to say I dont have anything to wear," Y/N smiled weakly.

"Well, that's easily fixed."

"How? Hoseok's accountant can't get us anymore money immediately. And I'm not taking the cleaning money you earn, Mom. No way. One hundred dollars wouldnt be nearly enough anyway," she added with a sad sigh. "A dinner dress, complete with shoes and bag doesn't come cheap these days."

"Would five hundred dollars do?"

"Five hundred! But where?... I mean..." Y/N suprised at her mother.

Y/M/N smiled her pleasure at her daughter's surprise. "You're not the only one who has rainy-day money stashed away, my girl. Come this way."

Y/N followed, fascinated, while her mother led her upstairs and into the master bedroom where she proceeded to lift up the matress and draw out a battered brown paper envelope. She opened the flap and tipped the contents out onto the patchworl quilt. Notes of all sizes fluttered down, mostly fives, tens and twenties.

"I used to hide this is an empty washing powder box in the laundry when your father was alive. But now its safe enough out here. I know there's at least five hundred dollars, maybe more." She gathered the money up and pressed them into Y/N's hands. "I want you to buy yourself a dress which will knock Hoseok's eyes out!"

Y/N hated the wild rush of elation ehich flooded her heart, for she feared she was setting herself up for a disaster of monumental proportions. No matter what her mother said and no matter what dress she brought, how could she seriously compete with Tinashe? It was like comparing a nice little house wine with a top brand french champagne. Tinashe's extravagant self fizzed sparkled. She was special-occassion lady whereas she, was the common, everyday, value for money variety.

When Hoseok looked at her he only ever saw a familiar face. And everyone knew what familiarity bred. Contempt. Never chemistry.

Or was that how he'd seen her in the past? Dared she hoped that her new look had evoked a new appreciation? Y/N had told the truth when she'd said she hadn't notice Hoseok looking at her differently today. But after his news about Tinashe she'd been too upset to notice anything, and had avoided Hoseok's eyes as much as possible.

Could her mother's observations possibly be correct, or was she just trying to make her daughter feel better? She'd been guilty over her earlier less than generous remarks. Y/N didn't want to keep her hopes up. And yet, something was stirring within her soul. Something she'd never felt before. Sometjing rather wicked.

Tinashe had called her a sly piece. Maybe she was right, Hyeonji thought with a steeling of her spirit. Because I am not going to go quietly, Tinashe, darling. Neither am I going to let you have Hoseok back without a fight. Come Saturday night, I'm going to use every female trick in the book.

The trouble was...she hadn't read that particular book yet. She would have to depend on her feminine instinct. The front doorbell ringing startled both of them. "That'll be Hoseok," Y/M/N said urgently. "Now drop that money and go down and talk to him while I get those papers he wants. Tell him you've changed your mind about Saturday night, and ask him what time he wants you ready by. Be cool, though. Not overly eager."

Y/N shocked at her mother "Mum, you sneaky thing!"

"Well there is no point in being easy. Any girl who looks as good as you do can play a little hard to get. Besides, men never want what they think they can have, gratis. They like a bit of a challenge."

Y/N went down stairs shaking her head. Who would have believed that within her own shy reserved mother lurked the makings of a femme fatale? Heaven knew what would happen if the Y/L/N widow became a blonde!

Y/N summoned up a pleasant smile to answer the door, resolving to watch this time for any sign that Hoseok looked at her differently in any way.

"Hello there again," she said. "Mum wont be a minute with those papers. Look, about next Saturday night Hobi, that was rude of me to dismiss your very nice invitation out of hand. I know what its like to go to these things alone..."

She didnt actually, because she's never been to an awards dinner. But Y/N had never lacked imagination. Just think of all those times Hobi had made love to her in her mind. Unfortunately, she began thinking of one those times right at this moment. It was her favorite scenario where Hoseok was concerned. He would bring her home to this door after a serious date and there would be much kissing and panting on the front porch. When she finally unlocked the door, he would push her inside, then scoop her up into his arms and carry her upstairs to her room where a three-foot bed was no barrier to true love.

Her mouth dried as she thought of their naked bodies blended tightly, writhing together. Her brown eyes glittered as they began unconsiously to rove over the object of her desire. Before they reach his waist, Y/N swallowed then cleared her throat. "Er...could I possibly change my mind and say yes?"

He stiffened. He actually stiffened. Why?

"Is there a problem with that?" She asked airily, even while her heart was thudding. He stood there frowning at her. The atmosphere on that doorstep was suddenly charged with a quite alien tension. Y/N didnt know what to make of it except that she found herself holding her breath.

"Hobi?" She choked out.

He seemed to have to shake himself to answer her. "No." He muttered. "No problem. I'll look forward to it."

Y/N had to be careful not to let all her breath out of her lungs in a rush. "Fine," she said with a small smile. "Well, where is this dinner and what time should I be ready?"

"Its being held down at the League's Club, in the Admiral's Quarters. The dinner starts at eight. Pre-drinks at seven thirty. I'll pick you up at...say...seven?"

Y/N nodded "I'll be ready. And thanks again for helping us with the finance business."

"My pleasure." He answered.

But it didn't look as if it was his pleasure. Not at all. He hadn't smiled once since she'd opened the door. Y/N could not make head or tail of his mood, except that it was obvious he had mixed feelings about taking her to that dinner.

She prayed his reluctance was because he'd begun to feel things for her which he found confusing, and not because Tinashe might get jealous if she ever found out. Her mother's arrival at that point steered the conversation to a less stressful grounds. Hoseok left a couple of minutes later and as Y/M/N closed the front door she threw Hyeonji a questioning glance. "Well? What happened? You both seemed tense when I came down."

Y/N shrugged. "I don't really know. I told him I changed my mind abiut the dinner, and he agreed to take me, but not with great enthusiasm. To be honest, I think it worried the heck out of him."

"Well that's better than indifference, Y/N."

Nodding her head Y/N agreed "That's what I was thinking."

Y/M/N patted her daughter's back "Only time will tell."

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samwinchesterisourhero · 6 years

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Sam WInchester: The Reluctant Hero

When we wonder in frustration, as to why Sam seems to suffer more than Dean does, instead of being angry at a narative bias, or assuming the show runners hate Sam, take into consideration that Sam and Dean, though equally heroic, are different types of heros Dean is a willing hero. He has been proud of his job as a hunter since he was young, even if sometimes he was bored with it, or would have liked to persue a career as a machanic. From what we see in flash backs, Dean was boasting “Im a hero!” since high school, where Sam just wanted to be like every other kid. Sam’s first choice in life is not to be a hero. Not directly anyway. He was studying to become a lawyer. Azazel said he was becoming a Tax Attorney, but Dean saw him as a Criminal Justice Attorney in What is and What Should Never Be, which I think is more fitting for Sam. The indirect hero that would get justice for the victims. He would make a wonderful psycholigist also. Dean would be a very good cop, or soldier, or first responder. This is not to say Sam wouldnt run into a burning building to save a family, he most certainly would, but his interests seem to lie mostly in long term after care. So for Sam to be in the front line with Dean, is something he does because its the right thing, not because it’s his chosen life path (early life anyway. he has stated in his later life that he did chose this life for himself) and this makes him a reluctant hero. The problem with that though, is that in literature, the reluctant hero always suffers the most.

Its no argument that Dean suffers too. Both brothers have broken my heart on many occasions, but Sam’s suffering over any event, stretches far past the season he suffers it in. This is so we, the viewers, have an idea as to how much of a hardship Sam is willing to endure to save Dean and to save the world. Sam and Dean both willingly went to Hell, but their experiences were greatly different, and unfolded on the show wildly unbalanced. Dean sold his soul for Sam, so Sam would live. He didnt want to go to Hell, but he did it willingly. in Dream a Little Dream, Dean said to his dream self, that he didnt deserve to go to Hell, and even though he made the choice on his own, I think we all feel like it’s a horrible punishment for a guy who just wanted his little brother to live. I know I hoped they could find a way to get him out of the deal, but unfortunately, he didnt. He stayed in Hell for 4 months, or 40 hell years. He was tortured by Alistair for 30 years until he became a torturer himself. Cas raised him out of Hell, completely whole, even old scars were gone, but we didnt know for a while that the memories were haunting him. How did we find out? Because he told Sam. He tearfully confessed to Sam on more than one occasion, what happened, what he did, what it felt like at the time and how it was hurting him then. What came of it is that he got to confront his torturer, and even though he couldnt kill him himelf, Sam killed him for him. Dean got justice. Sam on the other hand, also willingly went to Hell to save the world, but he felt like he was mainly at fault for breaking the world in the first place, when it was expressed that it wasn’t only him, and he was completely unknowingly breaking it when he did. He obviously didnt want to go to Hell, but he felt it was the right thing to do. What he got for that though, was his soul in Hell, canonically, for 1.5 years, 180 Hell years. He was torured by Lucifer himself in the most brutal ways imaginable. Cas raised his body, soon after he went to the pit, but we arent given an exact amount of time, whether it be an hour or so, or a few weeks, we just know he was physically out for the majority of the year, but I can’t imagine 10 minutes in the cage with Lucifer is a picnic. However, he came back incomplete, without his soul, which endured unimaginable torture. If that’s not enough, while soulless, Sam did things he wasn’t proud of when he got his soul back, and suffered with this, Once he got his memories of Hell back, a whole new level of suffering began. How was this handled? To our knowledge, he never told anyone the details of his Hell tour. All we know about it, was shown in flash backs and hallucinations, that ended up driving Sam insane. Sam was “fixed” by Cas, by simply shifting the pain to himself, not by Sam talking about it, or confronting his torturer, or anyone killing Lucifer. Sam didnt get justice in any sense, and he still carries all of this with him. He has even had to work along side Lucifer to try to stop Amara. No one even brought this up, even though Sam had very recently been back to the cage and had to face Lucifer and the trauma all over again. Season 13 and still Sam hasn’t been given justice or seen closure when Dean’s was answered in only a few episodes. How can we not see the imballance? Well, when we look at it as Sam is the long suffering Reluctant Hero, suck as it may, it makes more sense. It plays into the narrative that the pain piles on Sam, and Sam stuffs it down. We ourselves may forget this happens, if the show itself didn’t bring it up. The case of Tracy Bell for example. A girl that pops up out of nowhere in 9x2 for no reason than to remind Sam that he let Lucifer out and people got killed. I know a bunch of you blame the writers of the episode for that, as though they hate Sam or Jared, but that was part of the Gardreel story. Something that the producers must have told the writers they wanted. “Bring something painful up from Sam’s past, so that when he feels good at the end of the episode, we can be reminded that theres an Angel healing him from the inside” is probably close to what was said in the meeting. We the viewers need to be reminded that Sam never lets things go, at the same time as he never really speaks of them either. It took 13 seasons, but Dean confirms for us in 13x4 that Sam doesnt admit things or it makes them real, and then he has to deal with it. Sam even confirms it himself in 12X3 when he says he knows Mom is burying herself in hunting instead of dealing, through years of personal experience. Now that we understand this is part of Sam’s character, we can better understand why we dont get to see his emotional POV very often, and his traumas rarely get worked out. The differences between Sam being the reluctant hero, and Dean being the willing hero, manifest in many ways. Dean gets very antsy if its been a few days that they havent had a hunt to go on. Sam however, is content to stay home researching. Their short time of trying to live a domestic life with their girlfriends shows reluctant vs willing also. While Sam was with Amelia, he had nothing to do with hunting except reading the news paper and believing other hunters were taking care of things. He refused to tell Amelia about that part of his life. Dean didnt hunt, but he kept it at arms reach. He kept devils traps in the door ways, a rosary in water under the bed and a gun nearby, and he let Lisa know all about that part of his life, and even tried to live it and maintain a life with her. Dean is the kind of guy who will show you every scar and tell you the details of how he got it, while Sam will hide his scars. Dean suffers when innocent life is lost, but he holds on to the fact that he’s saved more people than he’s hurt and it can help him make it day to day. Sam feels like he failed if he didnt save someone. This is precicely why Sam suffers the burdens of his wrongs for years, and Dean doesnt. Dean did a lot of crap while he had the MoC but he hasnt had to visibly suffer from it after the fact. Sam however, is reminded of his poor choices for seasons after the fact. Now since its not a matter of Sam goes to jail for things and Dean doesn’t, we only need to realize its part of maintaining a character trait for us, so we dont forget that Sam never forgives himself and suffers for years over what he considers failures. Now, this willingness vs reluctance shows in their relationship also. Im not going to try to prove one loves the other more, because I am convinced that Dean is #1 in Sam’s world and Sam is #1 in Dean’s world and they love each other as much as any two people can love each other (to steal from the mouth of JP) they both take care of each other, and neither had to be told to do so. Even when Sam was too little to actually take care of Dean, he still did the best he could by wanting to be with him, and giving him gifts. Dean didnt have to learn 100 ways to make mac and cheese, he did it because he wanted to make Sam happy. That being said, lets move on… Sam’s reluctance in their relationship, isnt that he loves Dean less, or doesn’t want to protect him, but his biggest fear is letting Dean down. He can save Dean’s life a million times but considers himself a failure if he let Dean down. Dean’s biggest fear however is Sam dying. He can let Sam down, he can piss him off, but if Sam isnt alive and well, Dean considers himself a failure. When Sam assumed Dean was dead in S8 and didnt look for him, he was going on a promise that he wouldnt look for him. Since we didnt get enough insight to Sam’s state of mind at the time, Im going to assume that Sam was crushed that Dean was dead, but for himself, it was more important, that he didnt let him down by breaking that promise. He saw how angry Dean was when Dean thought he made a deal that raised him from Hell, so he “knew” Dean would be disappointed if Sam looked for him now. Dean however, needs Sam to be alive, so he will risk Sam being disappointed and possibly hating him, as long as he’s alive. So now in S11 its brought up again, that Sam didnt look for Dean in Purgatory, and Sam hadnt forgiven himself for it, its not the writers hating Sam/Jared, its showing us that Sam still hasnt gotten over letting Dean down. He’s a long suffering character, and doesnt see that he was justified in his actions, but instead blames himself for inaction. This fits right into Sam not finding a Win in a case where he couldnt save everyone. He knows he helps more people than he hurts, but the fact that he hurts people at all outweighs the good in his eyes. There will be a time Im sure, and hopefully soon, given the events of the last 2 seasons, that Sam may collapse under all this weight. Maybe he will have some time to voice how badly things hurt him. But if he doesnt. try not to write it off as no one caring about his character, but understand his character feels like a burden if he unloads to people, even, and especially to Dean, who Im sure he believes has enough burden on his shoulders, without Sam sharing his. So try to be patient my friends. This would come out differently if it was a written story. The writer would be able to show us inside Sam’s head easier than they can this way. The only way into Sam’s head is through someone vocalizing it. If Sam does, then we dont see him burying things, if someone else does, it sometimes looks like hes being picked on for no reason…. but there is a good reason. It’s to keep his character consistant as the longsuffering reluctant hero. By @missjackil

#Sam Winchester #Letters #supernatural #Sam Winchester is our hero #missjackil #submission

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alicezan-ncgred · 5 years

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Bleeding Red

Preface: I’ve been bitching around the bush of this long enough. So, I’ve been really silent on a bunch of stuff that’s been eating me alive which has made me both inactive and unproductive. I’m going to get straight to the point, starting off with the TL:DR from my post on my main blog. Context: An anon asked me if I was alright because I hadn’t updated in a while.

TL:DR You probably didn’t ask this to hear about all the bad shit of my life so here’s the short of it. No, I’m not doing fine. I will try get next weeks post out on time and I’ll work on making up on the lost posts. Updates will return regularly, ‘ite.

Time for the thick and thin of it.

Insecurity and being shafted: I’m stoic, even at my worst I won’t say anything. I’ll push through regardless of my current condition and since I’ve gone years like this, it’s not hard for me to do. In my real life situation, I’m currently in a place of social isolation. This has lead to a somewhat near reliance on Tumblr to be my social outlet. This present many issues.

The main one is that I’m quite the isolationist. This has only been reinforced by many interactions throughout the entirely of my life. Because of this, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything really more than two friends at a time. While in a way this has helped me express myself so well through writing, it’s come at the cost of social skill. I don’t talk to anyone.

With this kind of issue you could easily imagine that the THREE PEOPLE (four now, but very limited) to ever directly talk ended up in a way shafting me. The first blocked and disconnected with me without warning or reason. At this point we’ve been talking to each for about a month and we hit it off very well and then one day, silence. Never heard from them again. That fucked me up hard when I finally realized what happened.

The second person left during the Tumblr P**n Purge. We were talking about how to contact each other on other platforms and then they stopped responding. I had already given contact to other platforms of which they pinged me in any way. Another person that I trusted massively on here just abandoned me and I’m still hurting from that. Wasn’t fair at all.

Then the third person was someone that I been following for a while. This person is actually the reason that I’ve been putting this off for so long. I don’t want them to see this post but they will. I got an ask from them that ultimately turned out to be misinformation. I said I wasn’t mad but I was. I was so fucking angry about it and I’m still kinda mad, but I didn’t want problems. I still don’t. I just didn’t want them to worry about it. This will come back later.

I try my best to be as inoffensive as possible. The problem with that is that much of the things I believe or enjoy are highly divisive. Hell, even my own identity can be seen as offence. I’m bisexual, non-binary (I’m currently still questioning this. I might actually be gender fluid but in the overall scheme, that’s worse than being non-binary), and nonreligious. I’m in a very religious area so you I’m still “in the closet” about much of this IRL. I though it would better online but with how much people are saying bisexuality doesn’t exist, or that non-binary isn’t a valid gender (or that being gender fluid make you insane and you should be locked up) and all the hate people who say they are this are getting, the very community that’s supposed to accept me, HATES me. I had a bi pride flag icon last year during Pride Month. I never doing that ever again. It was terrible.

I’m trying my best to come out of my shell like I said I would when I made this blog but it seems I’m just crawling further into it. People I think I can trust keep setting me up to fall, people I know in real life won’t ever accept my existence if they knew who I really was, and my own mental health problem and self loathing are eating me alive. But that isn’t the total of it.

Crumbling Pillar: I’ve always ended up in the position where things were thrown onto me. In which no one wanted to do, I was stuck with. Because of this not only do I have a severe distaste being around my family (beyond everything mentioned before hand) but I grew to have a negative out look on everything. This effect is still quite obvious in my writings, especially my poems. Out of the 14 poems on my poem blog @washed-soul, only one has a happy meaning.

The one happy poem was called dreams. Under a metaphor it talks about how a demon kept me trapped in a dark space. I start to get better and nearly break free before I have a negative relapse back to my old ways. The poems ends with the demon putting a end to itself leaving the nightmare in which it was keeping me in to slowly fade away, letting one crack of light peeking through to become a window to a door until one day I walk free. When writing this poem, I never thought I would find myself rebuilding the nightmare but that’s where I am.

I’m done with holding things together that other people have placed onto me. Because of this, issues have began showing in my private life. Issues that should’ve been solved decades ago are only now being addressed. This change in the status quo of my life has caused many issues in my productive and mood. Between everything else I’m too tired to do anything.

Is that a reason, is that an excuse. No it isn’t but it’s the best thing I got as a reason. I’m doing my damnedest to do the best I can but of course, when it comes to the thing that matter I just fall short. Big fucking whopha my intelligence and capability does me if I can’t use it for anything that means a damn.

Meaningless Triviality: I’m a very emotional person. I’m very strongly bound to my emotions and if everything above hasn’t given it away, my emotions are very negative prone. But it just doesn’t stop there, it goes back into my memories. I can only honestly place 3 happy memories for certain that aren’t either A) a dream or B) me escaping reality through my mind. Besides that, almost all my memories are negative.

People like to throw around the word Nihilist to describe themselves because today's culture is very, god while I hate to use this word, edgy. For those who don’t know a Nihilist is someone who views the world as being completely meaningless and reject all religious and moral principles. I very truly struggle with this outlook of life. It’s a daily for me to berate myself saying “just kill yourself” or “I want to die” or just shutting down and crumpling up while say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. Hell, I did that while writing this.

I take things very hard, even the slightest transgression. I’m so used to trying to make things perfect and because people have the image that I’m the smart one, the mature one, the capable one, I’m left with the over hanging expectation of excellence. Almost no room for margin of error or being human. Since I’m the silent type, I put up no challenge and work to meet it. Only time I get any praise for anything too.

I guess as a little self promotion to my main blog, for those that have read the very first few updates of my main blog @the-truth-behind-redacted, or read Defiance’s character sheet, while The Machine and Defiance are separate character, they both share the name Machine. That in part is a reflect of said above expectation. How ravenous and inhuman it can be all under the guise of something human. Those characters are the two sides to the same coin.

Remember how I said I try to be un-problematical and how I try to avoid any potential conflict. In the first segment I told on how I lied about my feelings just so another person didn’t have to worry over something that honestly, in hindsight, wasn’t even really a big deal. But I also said how it consumed me in anger. I just don’t want to bother anyone over anything. It’s part of the reason why I am writing this post, as some way of a self enforced rehab program to get better.

This absolute consumption of negative emotion has pushed me into a non human state before. I hit a point of absolute mental exhaustion and in such a self enforced bubble of actual hatred I became completely apathetic. I felt numb to everything. I watched and heard of terrible things happening to people, and felt nothing. I watched people lives crumble before them leaving them nowhere to go and LAUGHED. “Just another worthless pathetic worm on this rotting carcass of a planet being hit with the hard reality that life doesn’t care for them. What whimsical pathetic bullshit they deluded themselves with to think otherwise.” This isn’t an exaggeration on how I thought, this is what I actually thought. Which brings me too.

The Mandatory Sob Story: Roll your eyes everyone and get the tiny violin. I guess in order for everyone to exactly understand the place I’m coming from when it comes to mental health I’ll have to detail my experiences. I have a long standing history with mental illness. I have professionally diagnosed OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, and visual and auditory hallucinations. I take 600 mg of Seroquel a day as well as Amitriptyline when needed. I’m also still currently in therapy to deal with said OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, the visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as Suicidal thoughts, and my Nihilism. There’s a reason to why I’m so god damn familiar with mental illness and treatment plans.

OCD and Bipolarism run in my family on my fathers side. My Father’s Father had them, my Sister has them, my brother most likely has them (however he refuses to see a doctor because he uses said possible mental illnesses as a get out of jail free card. He doesn’t want to be treated and he has FUCKING ADMITTED IT), my father has them, and I have them. I, however, have the misfortune of having it real bad. I said yes to well over half of all the total symptoms when I was being tested (I don’t remember exact numbers but I remember there being three pages worth of common symptoms) which was very worrying to the doctor. I was currently in an inpatient hospitalization program at the time for both suicidal thoughts and actions, and severe depression.

On that, my graze in with suicide. Before I went into my first inpatient program I was contemplating suicide. I was sat in front of a mirror with a bottle of over the counter medication. It was an unopened bottle of ibuprofen, 1000 200mg tables. What I planed to do was down the whole bottle with benadryl and die in my sleep. I had the small box of benadryl got from the Kroger pharmacy and a hand full of ibuprofen poured out looking directly into the mirror. My suicide note was sitting on the desk on my room with an online copy on my laptop open.

I sat there for an hour in the dead of midnight complicating my life. I had lost all hope in the world, filled with hatred, anger, pain, and despair. I had no god or after life to look forward too, part way hoping that a Hell existed for me to burn in. I hated myself that much. I was close to taking the first handful before before I caught a glimpse of my own eyes in the mirror. In what was in a weird sudden epiphany I realized that I truly did become what I hated but not for any reason I told myself. I became the very bastion of negativity I sought to fight and rid of in what little friends I did have. That was what set off my path to recovery in spite of the medical system. I guess if people care I’ll make a separate post on that.

Before I move on, I feel I should explain my history with the visual and auditory hallucinations. It should be no surprise that with everything else above, I also had extreme paranoia that led to me having very bad insomnia. Insomnia is, just like most other medical disorders like Depression, Self-harm, Anxiety, OCD, Bipolarism, is romanticized to hell. Insomnia isn’t having one nights bad sleep where you got 5 hours of sleep instead of 8.

You know what Insomnia is? insomnia is being physical incapable of sleeping despite not sleeping in 2 to 3 day while your body suffers massive agony brought on by this. Muscle spasms and seizing, difficulty breathing, your eyes feeling like fire ants are eating them, and of course visual and auditory hallucinations. Now I already had issues with visual and auditory hallucinations even when I could get sleep regularly but the combined effects of my OCD and Bipolarism made this perfect condition of Insomnia, Anxiety, Paranoia, with the already added in disposition to hallucinations and I felt like I was actually losing my mind.

My hallucinations presented themselves in three forms. Disassociation of reality, night terrors, or alterations of reality. Disassociation of reality often were complete black out moments. I would lose any perceived connect to reality and enter an episode of my mind. I can’t remember what they actually were but I do remember what it felt like. Cold sweats, anxiety to point where if I didn’t lock up I would vomit, actual physical pain, mind numbing fear, and intense fatigue.

The second were night terrors often in the form of horrific “things.” I do remember these and most of them were as best as I could describe, forms of things that were vaguely human and formations of industrial machinery. The most vivid one I remember was of a long lengthy apparition that was for the most part human but many locations of it’s impossible physiology were rebar beams and mechanical sockets. It began when I was about to fall asleep and it was next to my window. The thing was making week groaning and gasping sounds before it violently slammed against my window breaking it then letting out a horrific howl that I can’t describe as it tossed itself out followed shorty after with the sound of bones breaking against the dirt.

Now that might not seem so bad, exspecally with everything that is in horror movies or games now, but keep in mind that was fucking real to me. It was as real as the clicking of the keys of my keyboard as I’m writing this. As real as the chair I’m sitting in and as real as the wall in front of me. As far as my mind was concerned that thing, what ever it was, actually existed. It took me physical touching my window to make sure it wasn’t actually broken and checking outside to see if there wasn’t a body there. This isn’t the type of thing I talk about lightly.

Finally there is the alteration of reality. This is very simply but it’s something that fucked with me hard. For very little meaning or warning, I would have trouble interpreting the world around me. My hearing and sight would be warped and there wasn’t any real way to tell what I was hearing or seeing was real or not until the episode was over. The way I got through these was the ultimate fake it till you make it. Obviously, very often I failed and this created issue in my schooling.

Ending Message: I’ve been in a very bad state for a while now and as it is now, no signs of getting better. I also strongly believe my medications are being to fail me which I’ve been telling my doctor and therapist for over a year now but nothing’s been done. Mainly it’s my Depression but insomnia episodes are beginning and my own paranoia been on the rise. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even look at a creepy image or thumbnail without having a very bad episode.

I’ve managed to eat something today which was nice but my body is cramping hard. And to possible stave of a possible comment, I’m biologically male. Like I said I’m not in the best head space, or living for that matter. If this gets better, only time will tell.

#Long post #tw: suicide #TW: Depression #Trigger Warning #TW #OCD #Anxiety #Chronic Depression #Bipolar Disorder #Bipolar #Mental Health #My mental health

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thefatlannister · 6 years

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do you think they’ll come back to the whole “how’d you do it” convo with bellamy and clarke and he’ll find out about how she radioed him everyday? or do you think that was that cus it felt like a good place for her to tell him but she was also like yeet when an emotional aspect to the conversation came up

Well this is the question isn’t it?? I think everyone in the Bellarke fandom is probably asking themselves this right now.

So, I’ve been team “I don’t think they’re going to address the 2199 calls” since the beginning of the season. That’s for a couple of reasons: 1) I’m trying to lower my own expectations lol but mostly 2) Clarke does NOT say Bellamy’s name in 5x01, Eden. She says his name in the call at the end of 4x13, but the writers do not have Clarke SAY BELLAMY’s NAME in 5x01. Now, it’s extremely clear from context that he’s who she’s talking to (”I’m proud of you” + “this would be so much easier if I knew you were alive” + calling her other friends by name).

So it’s not that I don’t think we’re meant to think Clarke was talking to Bellamy the whole time; it’s that after an 11 month hiatus, if “Clarke radioing Bellamy” was about to become a Big Romantic Catalyst for bellarke, I would expect the writers to really flag it in 5x01 by having Clarke say his name, thus kind of putting a pin in that for the general audience. So, going in to 505, I was very pessimistic about the chances of Clarke’s The Notebook calls to Bellamy ever being relevant again.

BUT THEN

When I was watching this scene, when Bellamy asked, “how did you do it?” I literally froze because - are they really going to go there??? are they really going to have her TELL him that she spoke to him every day?? that the memory of him, his love, his partnership, was what got her through?? Because honestly, between the pause and Eliza’s acting, and the awkward way the scene ended - with the conversation LITERALLY UNFINISHED - that’s how it FEELS. It feels like she was about to tell him that he helped keep her alive, but then she chickened out at the last minute.

Like, idk what the stage directions were, but Eliza’s acting here makes Clarke’s hesitation in response to this question very clear. And if the answer is only and always just “Madi,” what awkwardness is there to be had??? In any sort of just world, this “omission” on Clarke’s part is a set up for her to reveal, down the road, probably when her and Bellamy are embroiled in some sort of angsty conflict, that it was in fact HIM that helped her survive 6 years without a peer on the ground.

Now, I’m also not going to pretend that this show always does what is just lol. They drop threads all the time, and as Bellarke has been building for seasons now, there are several scenes that were seemingly set-ups for later reveals that were pretty much forgotten (2x09 “Love is weakness”/”I was being weak” and 4x06 “Clarke, if we don’t see each other again-” come to mind). However, there are a couple of reasons that I feel like s5 might be the season where these kinds of ~romantic bellarke~ threads actually come home to roost.

One of the reasons I think that is something that a lot of fandom, included myself, has picked up on, which is the relatively muted nature of Bellamy’s reaction to finding out Clarke is alive. Like, the cast and writers have told us until they’re blue in the face that Bellamy is less “heart” than he used to be, less fiery, but there’s a difference between finding balance and like, not having a visible/visceral/conflicted emotional reaction to finding out that, contrary to what you believed, you weren’t responsible for killing your best friend/partner/woman you’re lowkey in love with by proxy.

Like Bellamy is clearly happy to have Clarke back, but he hasn’t verbalized really ANYTHING about how it feels to have this huge bomb dropped on him after he lived his life for six years in honor of her. After he mourned her and missed her and memorialized her and moved on from her. This omission of a nuanced reaction on Bellamy’s part makes me think either 1) the writers really fucked up and don’t care bout Bellamy/bellarke or 2) They’re saving big relationship-defining angst feelings about the Separation and Reunion for midseason Bellarke angst. Needless to say I’m hoping it’s door #2.

What does that have to do with the truncated fireside chat scene? Well, in my deepest darkest Bellarke wet dream fantasies, they have some blow up fights or angsty as shit moments later this season where all of these omissions and half truths and old wounds get put on the table, subsequently setting fire to the tentative automatic partnership bellarke have fallen back into. Something else that makes me hope we’re in for some knock-down, drag-out emotionally raw air-clearing angst is, of course, the last shot of 505.

So I don’t know if the show is really going to go full love triangle, and honestly I don’t much care, because THIS SHOT is intentional. Arguably, the shot of Clarke’s reaction to becho kissing is the first objectively nonplatonic framing of bellarke in the show. This shot tells me the show is ready to acknowledge in some way that Bellamy and Clarke’s feelings for each other go beyond platonic partnership. And to me, THAT means the door is open for all their baggage to come home to roost later this season. Because we as a fandom know that if the writers ever had Clarke and Bellamy really fully put all their feelings on the table, there would be no backpedaling into platonic territory. But if they’re willing to frame shots like the one above, I think they might finally be ready to stop just dropping hints and actually follow their own trail of bread crumbs to some MAJOR developments on the bellarke front.

Which brings me back around (finally) to your questions: will Clarke ever tell Bellamy that she called him every day for six years? The short answer is i don’t know!! If we do indeed get some relationship-changing moments between Bellarke, I would say it is highly possible, even likely, because this fact would be such an emotional bombshell for them - for Clarke, because she would essentially be admitting out loud that she loves Bellamy, and for Bellamy because he wouldn’t be able to escape the implications of Clarke staying so intimately connected to him for 6 years while he thought she was DEAD.

And THAT’S why I think Clarke hesitated. Because Clarke had six years to come to terms with the fact that she loves Bellamy, a fact that she was able to work out for herself by “confiding” in him every day. But when Bellamy comes back down, she realizes that she was in love with the Bellamy that LEFT, the Bellamy that has remained static, a ghost at the other end of her radio for six years. But this Bellamy is solid and real and DIFFERENT and, as she finds out at the end of 505, this new Bellamy is someone else’s. This Bellamy has moved on from her in a way that she never did from him.

So while I’m betting Clarke at the end of 505 was glad she hadn’t spilled the beans about Bellamy being her personal diary for 6 years earlier in the ep, I think it is a Definite Possibility that this fact comes back up at the MOST inconvenient (read: most CONVENIENT, for me) time so that Bellarke can really lean into that fucking angst like I know they want to. *Clarke voice* I still have hope. Here’s to the possibility of emotionally fraught Fights and Reconciliations and Realizations, anon.

#ask mj #accidental meta again i guess #have some s5 bellarke thoughts #bellarke #bellarke meta #my meta #s5 spec #i guess #i just REALLY wanna believe the awkwardness/truncated nature of that scene Meant Something #im probably 100 percent wrong but whatevs

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qethnehzul · 5 years

Text

The Softest Snow

[4233 Words. Version w/Dovahzul can be found on Ao3

Krosis makes a last stand for the remains of his followers, and reminisces on the things past.

Characters: Krosis, Gruthrathlir

Warnings: Character Death, Violence]

The crying of babies was quieter today. While normally Krosis would be relieved, it was a bad sign. There were fewer now, and the realization made his chest grow tighter with each passing day. They couldn’t keep this up.

Krosis trudged through the snow, staff clenched tightly in one hand and the strap of a bag in the other. Around him shuffled the remains of his loyal - men, woman, and children who had followed him in hopes of sanctuary. Somewhere. Anywhere. The Dragon War had taken their homes from them, and the lives of many of their family and friends. The cold, the exposure, starvation… and the hunters took many, many more in the following years.

Who was even left anymore?

Krosis’s eyes wearily scanned their surroundings. They had managed to wander back around to familiar territory, somewhere within the Pale. Mountains stretched up on either side, which thankfully blocked the worst of the winds… for now. A thick forest of pine trees lined the northern front, but for now they avoided it. The forest was dark, dangerous, and hard to navigate. And on top of that, it was a place that Gruthrathlir couldn’t follow.

Their patron dragon darted in and out of the clouds above, his shadow often the only sign that he had yet to abandon them. Every now and then, people dared to glance up, praying to catch just a glimpse of their guardian above. If it hadn’t been for him… many weren’t sure if they would still be there.

Krosis adjusted the bag, feeling an ache in his bones. They’d been walking for weeks now, from dawn to dusk, from one point to another. They had already been chased out of their own home and had fled west in hopes of finding safety - but it hadn’t lasted long. Soon, they were being chased back east, and more and more of their numbers thinned. Each dawn brought a new death toll, and people wept as the bodies of loved ones were left in the snow, unable to be given a proper burial. It made Krosis’s heart ache. He could do nothing for his people - nothing but continuing to herd them to an unknown fate.

He hadn’t heard from any of the other priests in months. The last person he’d reached contact with was Volsung, when they’d been in her old territory - but where she was, how she was doing, and if she was still alive was beyond him. Those who remained clung to every last available threads.

So many were gone. The temple. The dragons. His people. His friends.

Krosis let out a heavy exhale, the condensation seeping through the mouth of his mask. And still, they were hunted. Hounded. Chased. His people had gone from thousands to less than 200 - a feeble stretch of worn and tired faithful trying to walk through the knee-deep snow to the mountain pass ahead. And then what? To where? To what life? A life of hiding? A life of running? He, Krosis, a high-ranking priest of the temple, was walking beside them carrying his own bag. Years ago, when things had been okay, nobody would have believed that. Krosis may not have been as full of himself as his peers, but this… was unheard of. He had been a king. Gruthrathlir had been a god.

And now they were vermin to be exterminated.

Things would never be the same again. The other priests… he would never see them again either. He knew for certain that most of them were dead already. Who was left? Who were the ones he’d at least heard from in the past year or so? Volsung, Rahgot, Vokun, Klo and Zaan. They were still alive, at least a year ago. 6 of them total. And at one point, there had been 25 of them.

Krosis’s face turned bitter behind his mask. Before that day. Before he betrayed them.

The thought still made what little bile his body could manage boil up in the back of his throat. Miraak… his Miraak…

No, not his Miraak. He had not been his Miraak in decades. He’d left that all behind - Or at least, he wanted to think he had. But ultimately, wasn’t this all his fault? All his cause? The rebellion? The dragon’s downfall? Miraak had sparked all of it, when he’d gone and gotten himself tangled up with the Woodland Man and sought to enslave their gods.

What would he have thought, if he could see what he’d done?

Krosis scoffed quietly.

Nothing, no doubt. He stopped caring, as far as Krosis could tell. After all, what was the last thing he’d said to him?

Krosis could remember.

Two… no… maybe even three decades of being together. Of visiting in secret, of planning meetings to see one another, of dodging danger just for a moment to embrace-

And then suddenly, it began to stop. Miraak had changed. The man he knew so deeply, loved so deeply, was not the same anymore. He was paranoid, distant, detached. Faithless. Those meetings, their letters, the long nights - they slowly petered out. The letters felt empty. Embracing him felt like holding a corpse. Miraak stopped visiting him, holding himself up in Solstheim. His letters grew shorter, less interested.

Dukaan, Ahzidal, and Zahkriisos. They were Miraak’s close companions. He remembered that, he saw that. They were the only ones he talked to now. Even at meetings, Miraak pretended like he wasn’t there. After decades of just dancing around interactions until they were in private, Miraak wouldn’t even acknowledge him - in public or in private. And Zahkriisos…

The thought always made his stomach churn. The way she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, talked to him, postured around him…

And did Miraak stop it? No. Never once.

‘Miraak? Do you wish to be with Zahkriisos instead? I have… seen how she acts around you. If I am no longer of interest to you, please tell me.’

That letter had pained him to write. Every stroke of the brush made him feel like it was being carved into his very skin.

‘Zahkriisos? No. I am not. I do not care for her.’

That was it. He hadn’t even answered the second part of the question. He was avoiding it. There was never any answer about what was becoming of them. They, they, just stopped being a thing. Stopped, without any word on the matter. Not why. Not when.

One day, something had happened. And Miraak was not Miraak anymore.

Almost three decades had suddenly stopped meaning anything. Plans, ideas, habits, all of that meant nothing one day.

Krosis had pushed it off, waiting, hoping, praying for any answer, any change. Of course, it never came. He just watched Miraak grow more and more distance. The letters just became shorter and more inconsistent. Empty. Hollow. Pointless. They stopped being about things that mattered, things they cared for, things about their plans. Pointless drabble. Filler just to keep the letters flowing, if only just.

No matter how many times he’d tried to write it, each time brought tears to his face. He could not stop them from warping the paper and splattering the ink. He’d rewritten it over and over again, but each time the result was the same. Why wouldn’t it be? Two and a half decades. And this was how it was going to end.

‘To my dearest Miraak,

This is the last letter I will be sending you. I understand that, for whatever reasons, you have grown tired of me. I do not know what it is that I have done wrong, but I see you show no interest in continuing this. In us. And I cannot bear this any longer.

I wish this could have ended differently. But I wish you luck. In whatever it is you are focused on now.

Farewell, Miraak. Perhaps your future will bring you more happiness then I had.

-Nonvul’

When his hawk returned, there was a scroll of paper attached. It was small, and it took Krosis all his courage to take it and unroll it. And for what?

Just a stamp. Miraak’s stamp. Nothing more. A acknowledgement that he’d received the message.

Two and a half decades.

Krosis remembered holding the paper in his hands. He remembered how badly his hands had shaken, just looking down at the simple symbol stamped onto the page in patchy black ink.

Two and a half decades, and all Miraak had said in ending it was a single stamp.

Krosis had thrown it into the fire. The tiny paper couldn’t even finish shriveling away to ash before Krosis broke down again.

Krosis. Your name is Krosis. You are Krosis.

Nonvul was stripped away from him. Noble. Honorable.

What a sick joke.

‘We have decided, in reflection of the past few years, that it would be proper to reevaluate that in which you are named.’

Krosis.

Not Nonvul.

In the ashes and wake of everything Miraak had done, it was one more insult. One more bitter, painful reminder.

Maybe before everything, others would have disagreed. But they had agreed. Oh, Krosis remembered. They had bitterly agreed. Miraak, Ahzidal, Dukaan, Zahkriisos. They had betrayed them, no matter how close. No mistakes like that would be made again.

There would be no more friendships. No more risks.

Krosis.

Sorrow. Unfortunate. Apologies.

The words stuck to the back of his throat.

He was Krosis.

Sorrow. Krosis’s tired eyes lifted from his thoughts. His people were ragged and thin. They were dying. He herded them forward to a long, slow, hopeless death. He knew that. He and Gruthrathlir had talked about it in length, as they looked down on the ever-shrinking camps of followers. There were few places to go. Many had already fled. Many had already accepted their fates. Krosis had fought to believe that there would be some hope, somewhere, for his people. Now he knew that there would be no such thing.

And in the depths of winter, he could see the end. Each day they marched closer to it. Would it be kinder, to ask the people to lay down and accept death? Was it cruel to promise them hope of salvation and sanctuary, when he knew it did not exist any longer?

Volsung was holding out. She had not disclosed where she and her followers had wound up, and Krosis would not ask her about it. It was too risky. If any message was intercepted, he could put Volsung and her people in danger.

They were a vermin that needed to be exterminated.

Miraak had started a rebellion against the dragons and their worshippers.

Miraak was going to kill him, one way or another.

“Sonaak Krosis!”

Krosis lifted his gaze again, squinting through the snow that drifted downward. A ragged man, panting, exhausted, managed to stumble through the snow towards the dragon priest. People watched him fearfully, women pulling children closer and people exchanging soft chitter of worry.

“Yes? Is something wrong?” Krosis spoke, his voice cracking after so much silence and so little water.

The man stopped just before Krosis, shaking badly as he panted. “They’re just behind us. They’re catching up. A-at least fifty, if not… if not more. Armed. All armed,” the man said, his voice almost sounding hysteric.

Krosis looked back over his shoulder. Their pursuers hadn’t broken the ridge behind them yet, but he did not doubt this man’s words. He knew they were being followed. They all knew. It was just a matter of time before they caught up again. Krosis looked back to the man.

The man stared, brown eyes wide, tired, looking for an answer. Even the strongest, healthiest of them had gaunt cheeks, scabs, frostbite. Nobody here was in any condition to fight. The others who had slowed to listen looked to Krosis for some sort of miracle.

“Gather everyone. Head for the pass as quickly as you can. Once everyone is through, you must collapse it so they will have to reroute,” Krosis ordered, his voice low. He slid his bag off his shoulder, letting it fall into the snow with a heavy, muffled thud. He held out the strap of it to the man, who stared at him with confusion. “...I will stay here. I will hold them off as long as I can. Do not wait for me. If I am to rejoin you, I will find my own way.”

The man took a step back. “Sonaak Krosis, we can’t-”

“You can, and you will,” Krosis ordered, urging the man to take his belongings. “Go. Hurry. You don’t have time to waste.”

Soft murmuring shifted between the few around before one by one they picked up their pace. The scout frowned, eyes full of pain before he nodded and reached out to take Krosis’s bag. “Where shall we go?” He asked quietly.

Krosis straightened himself out. “Keep heading east. Head for the pass at the north end of mountains. There… they may leave you alone then,” Krosis said softly. He knew that he could not guarantee that. He knew they wouldn’t even make it to the mouth of the White River.

The man gave a bow, closing his eyes tightly. “Thank you. Please return to us, Sonaak Krosis,” he said, giving Krosis one more worried look before turning to gather up the others.

Krosis watched the man run through the snow, leaving him alone. People ahead started to pick up their pace, gathering together. Babies began to cry. He could hear the panic. Krosis tilted his head back as a shadow passed overhead.

Gruthrathlir slowly descended down, coming to land in the snow bank a few feet from him. His black spines bristled, looking down the valley in the direction they’d come from. “...You will not run?”

Krosis followed Gruthrathlir’s gaze, seeing the very tops of banners start to speckle the horizon. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. They will not reach the pass if I do.”

The wind picked up, making snow drift sideways for a few moments. Gruthrathlir slowly lumbered over to Krosis, scales bristling. “You do this, even if you know they will die anyways?”

Krosis closed his eyes. No. They would not make it. Even if they made it through the pass, they would slowly die of exposure.

Years ago, he knew his body would have been buried in a tomb as a king, tended to for the rest of time by loyal servants. He snorted to himself. Now he would be lucky if the ravens picked at his corpse before it froze over to be lost in the snow.

“We have to face this fate someday. I am ready.”

The dragon’s white scales rattled as he let out a low rumble. The two stood in silence, watching their pursuers slowly approach on the horizon. Krosis could seem them readying for battle, no doubt only worried because of the dragon. He was one dragon priest. Before, he was feared. But now, alone… he was pitiful.

Krosis turned to look at his patron. “Go. They will fight you if you stay.”

“I know,” Gruthrathlir rumbled, his tail swaying through the snow.

Krosis looked up to the dragon, the shouts of the soldiers ahead echoing now through the air.

Gruthrathlir tilted his head to look down at Krosis. “I will fight beside you until they make the pass. Then… I will bring you to them. Alive, or dead. You will not be left to fight this battle alone.”

“You don’t need to do this, my lord,” Krosis whispered, trying to steel himself. He tightened his fingers around his staff, trying to take a deep breath.

Gruthrathlir chuckled, frost curling from between his sharp teeth. “No, I don’t. Yet, I am. To the end.”

Krosis wanted nothing more then to reach out and brush the scales of his companion one last time, but he didn’t dare. Not before the men only a few dragon’s lengths from them. “May your reign last forever, my lord. It was my honor to serve you,” he said softly, pulling on his magic. He pulled on the fabric of the world around him, calling forth a frost atronach from beyond to aid him. The golem-like creature rumbled, immediately aware of its targets.

Gruthrathlir spread his wings wide, preparing to take to the sky. “I will see you again, Krosis. This I know. I promise you, as my loyal,” he said, slowly taking to the sky. The snow bloomed around him in a great cloud, making it almost impossible for Krosis to see him as he soared upwards.

Krosis exhaled slowly, casting another spell in preparation. Energy flowed through his skin, before making a dense armor of magic over his skin. Krosis’s focus returned to the armed men. Their leader stepped forward in the group, a man in heavy nordic armor. Krosis could tell he wanted to say something, something snide, but the priest didn’t give him the chance.

Krosis hurled a spear of ice out of his hand. The man jerked to the side, saved by a swipe from one of his allie’s blades. The leader gave Krosis a scowl, before commanding his men forward.

Krosis’s atronach charged forward in return, meeting the wall of men in a clash of metal and ice. Krosis took a step back, swinging his staff around. A giant fireball was let loose from the mouth at the end, exploding on the other side of the front line.

Men shrieked between his attack and the atronach’s assault, but more men pressed forward. A arrow shot forward from the crowd, missing Krosis narrowly.

He couldn’t let them get closer. He took another step back, unleashing a ice storm to try to slow the men down so he could back up a bit more. Another arrow shot through the ice, making contact with his shoulder. It bounced off his ebonyflesh, but the impact still made Krosis wince under his armor.

“Give up, dragon worshiper! You aren’t going to win!” Their leader snarled, using his shield to push through the ice storm.

Krosis narrowed his eyes, but made no response. No, he was not going to win. But he had to buy time. He resisted the urge to look back and check at how far his people had gotten. He summoned up more of his magicka, releasing another ice storm. He just needed to bide them time.

Gruthrathlir suddenly descended from the clouds with a roar, sending some of the less seasoned men scattering in a scream of terror. A stream of ice and a downburst of frigid wind followed him, pelting the men below. The arrows, to Krosis’s relief, turned to try to take down the dragon instead. Most bounced harmlessly off of the dragon’s white scales, but a few found the soft skin between plating.

Krosis grimaced, but he could not help his patron. If Gruthrathlir needed, he could just leave. He owned Krosis nothing.

But Gruthrathlir didn’t. The battle would not last long enough anyways, but it would last as long as Krosis needed it to.

The hunter’s numbers had thinned - much more than they’d anticipated. Krosis assumed that he and Gruthrathlir had at least halved how many their were, but too many still remained. Krosis could feel himself pulling at the bottom of his magicka. He didn’t have enough to summon a third atronach, or cast more ebonyflesh. His last atronach had crumbled, and he had a sinking feeling his ebonyflesh wasn’t going to be too far behind.

Gruthrathlir’s strafes had slowed down, and the last time Krosis had seen the dragon the rivers of blood were apparent on his pale scales. A few times he’d been forced to land, and Krosis feared the dragon himself wouldn’t last much longer. And yet, he fought on too.

Krosis looked back over his shoulder. The last of his people were heading up the pass, soon to make it through the break in the rocks where Krosis prayed they could seal it.

His breath hitched. Pain streaked out through his side, digging deep into his gut. His head snapped forward again, eyes wide as his hand instinctively came down to his side. His fingers brushed against the cold shaft of an arrow, and came back with warm, red blood. He looked at his wound, his hand, before looking back to the people before him.

The next arrow hit his pauldron, bouncing off, but it came with enough force to make his shoulder jerk backwards. Krosis hissed in pain, raising his staff weakly to fire another fireball. Nothing. Even his staff was out of juice.

A weak groan of pain was wrought from his lips at the next arrow, feeling it land in his shoulder. The end of the line was finally here. He pulled on the very last strands of his magicka, using everything he had to cast one more ice storm. Just a bit longer…

Krosis looked back over his shoulder. Only a few lingered, paused as he could only assume they looked down at him. They made it. But for what? To die on the other side…?

What difference did it make? Maybe they would make it anyways.

Another arrow dug into his ribcage, making him stagger back. He tried to take a deep breath, but all he got was pain. He coughed, legs shaking before he turned to face the remaining soldiers. Blood rushed in his ears, and the sound of his own breathing in his mask sounded suddenly so much louder. His mouth tasted like iron, and when he coughed he could feel warm liquid spray from his lips and out of the slit of his mask.

Were they saying something? He could see the leader’s mouth moving, but it all sounded muffled.

Krosis tried to keep his staff pointed at them, exhausted. He had to keep going. Keep them back. Keep his people safe. He was a dragon priest. He would lead them to safety, like he always did, like he promised he would. His vision tunneled and blurred a bit as he struggled to stay standing, not moving back even as his enemies grew closer.

So damn tired. So much walking. So much wandering for nothing.

“Do you think they would allow me to move?”

Miraak glanced over at him, brow arched. “Hm?”

Krosis shrugged, looking back out at the ocean. He leaned forward on the balcony. “Our temples are… so far apart. It is such a great distance to travel to see you. I thought, perhaps, that I might be allowed to relocate.”

Miraak chuckled. “To where?”

Krosis shrugged again. “Somewhere closer.”

Miraak hummed, stroking his beard in thought, though Krosis could tell it was more mocking than serious. “You would have to change spots with Nahkriin, or Haldriin. I must assume that Nahkriin would be… less than interested.”

Krosis snorted. “There are mountains in my territory.”

“Yes, but not nearly as many,” Miraak leaned forward as well, watching a gull drift in the breeze. “What about Gruthrathlir?”

Krosis blinked, before looking out at the ocean as well. “...You mean more to me, Miraak.” Krosis slid his hand across the stone, finding Miraak’s. He tangled his fingers slowly with his lover’s, holding his hand tightly.

Miraak looked down, before moving to place a gentle kiss on Krosis’s temple.

“Do you think there will be a day when we can ever be a family, Miraak?” Krosis asked quietly, leaning into Miraak’s shoulder.

Miraak exhaled slowly, leaning back before resting his cheek on Krosis’s head. “I… I will ensure there will be,” Miraak mumbled, his gaze soft.

For nothing.

Krosis spat up another mouthful of blood, crimson dripping out of the mask’s mouth before slowly dripping down into the white snow below. Splatters of blood already left a trail from where he’d been standing to where he’d ended, his legs just holding.

For nothing. Everything. The mask. His loyalty. His love. His life.

Krosis.

It had been for nothing.

The last arrow embedded itself in his chest, to the left of his armor. His legs finally gave out, and he fell backwards into the snow. Powder drifted up around him as he sunk into the snow, seeing some of it creep up in the blurry edges of his vision. His staff remained in a deathly tight grip, refusing to let it go. His other blood-stained hand lay stretched out to his side.

Gruthrathlir’s shadow circled overhead.

His skin was so warm. Soft. Tangled together in the dim candle light.

Krosis’s eyes grew heavy.

Volsung shook her head, turning away as he pulled his mask back down quickly, cheeks scalding red.

“I saw nothing,” she said flatly, though they both heard the teasing tinge to it.

He’d given Krosis’s side a almost playful squeeze in return.

Why?

The necklace felt heavy around his neck, but warm. He’d been keeping it hidden around his own neck until they were alone. How happy he’d felt.

Suffocating. A weak choke, more iron. Pain, cold, numbing. Dark shadows of people looking down at him.

It had felt heavier when he’d hurled it into the ocean. Watching the splash of the waves. The quiet presence of Vokun at his side.

The people backed away quickly as dark blotches speckled his vision.

Quiet. Peaceful.

Gruthrathlir’s shadow grew closer.

Would he be there?

Closer. Darker.

Did it matter?

Darker.

Nothing.

Black.

There was nothing.

Krosis

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #tongues verse - drabble #drabble #writing #warnings:#character death #violence #characters:#krosis #gruthrathlir

10 notes · View notes

legolasgoldy · 5 years

Note

VI. The Lovers || VIII. Strength || XVIII. The Moon || ★ Seven of Pentacles || ☆* Two of Wands || ◥█̆̈◤ Four of Cups || ━━╋⊂ Three of Swords

Tarot-inspired Prompts

// Phew, sorry this took a few days these questions are so gooddd. It took a lot of typing, I hope its not too much to read!haha XD Thank you so much!!❤ @blind-mutant //

VI. The Lovers - have your character’s heart and mind ever been at odds with one another?

X-men verse: Yes, a few times. When he first started getting his mutation and really struggling to come to terms with it, he was really confused as to what he should do. It took him a month or two to decide, and ultimately his head chose to leave to spare his family from any problems his mutations would cause even though his heart told him to stay and have their support.

Also with Rhys, there was a lot of his heart telling him something his mind hadnt quite realized yet. It was a very subconscious thing because he knew he loved him, but never thought about in what way. It was obvious to everyone else, he absolutely adored him, loved his smile, his voice, everything about him and spent time always thinking of him. The problem was, it didnt click in his mind right away that all of those feelings were much more than friendship. All he knew, was that being with Rhys made his soul happy. When he did finally realize, everything just seemed to make sense but due to the whole drunken night incident a whole new struggle arose. He didnt think Rhys would feel the same way so that made his head clash with his heart a lot. All of it was a misunderstanding of course

In Mainverse: Phew, Im only going to list one time and make it brief or else we’ll be on this one question forever. When crossing the Helcaraxe, it was nothing but a mind and heart battle. He was constantly aching for comfort but hating everyone for hurting him so badly, but somewhere in his mind he knew he didnt hate them, he loved them and thats why it hurt so bad. It took the whole elven 30 years in the Helcaraxe to finally cope and his mind and heart match as much as it could.

VIII. Strength - is there a moment your character has ever had to fight for something or someone?

X-Men Au: In his usual X-men verse he hasnt had to do anything extremely drastic, but he does defend the people he cares about from judgemental people on several occasions. It sounds awfully tame but I think eventually when on his own and living with Rhys, both of them having jobs, having a happy life. He feels like they did a lot of work to get there too. Finrod helped Rhys through a lot of hard times, and they overcame past demons to live happy and together. Sometimes those demons do resurface but they fight back against that.

He does have a verse where he and a friend were captured, and he protected them from Hydra, and for the sake of not writing a lot of gore, in short theres a lot of biting and fighting. He gets muzzled, his hair cut, tested on, but eventually he gets his friend and they get out but the friend doesnt make it far, the friend supposedly drowns in the river. Key word being supposedly. XD

MainVerse: Yes. There is a lot of war throughout his lifetime that he fights in and a lot of emotional turmoil. He had to fight to be with Maglor the moment they first fell in love. Feanor forbid them to be see each other, Maglor had to marry someone else, etc. That was the least of his problems though, when they all were fleeing Valinor he had to fight to try and keep his cousins/friends from killing each other ( which they did) at the first kinslaying. He also had to fight and struggle to keep his family alive in the Helcaraxe. Then there was just so much fighting in Middle Earth. The only time there wasnt, was in the time of great peace when Morgoth was quiet, and Finrod was free to run his kingdom happily and be with his family and lover, still in secret, but he’d take it. After all that crap, keeping their romance secret wasnt as big of a deal anymore. Thats not to say it didnt bother him sometimes, but there were worse problems.

XVIII. The Moon - what is the most significant secret your character has discovered?

X-men AU: Aside from finding out what happened to Rhys, there isnt much else significant. His life in this au is relatively calm compared to all other aus. Unless you count teenage talk, and secrets swapped between friends. Theres tons of those but none of those are massive secrets.

MainVerse: Probably when Ulmo came to him and gave him a hint of what was to come and what he needed to do to prepare. Any secret from a Vala is hella significant. Similarly, the most significant secret he ever kept himself, is that he was shagging his half-cousin for centuries and they in fact were kinda secretly married twice XD Also, any events of his foresight telling him something can also count.

★ Seven of Pentacles - what tests your character’s patience more than anything?

Prejudice.The only smidge of patience he has for it, is giving them a chance to educate themselves on the matter and be a better person. He’ll even offer to educate them. If they keep squandering that chance then he has no patience for them. You can lead a horse to water but cant make them drink, if hes gatta just forget them and protect innocent people from them then oh well. He tried. Hes not gonna tolerate someone whos ignorant biased hateful views hurt people.

ー☆* Two of Wands - has your character ever had to make a tough decision between two choices?

X-men AU: This goes along with the first question. Most of his tough decisions were due to his mind and heart saying two different things. When his mutation started surfacing, not only did he feel like he had to choose between leaving and staying, he felt the need to either keep in touch or break up with his boyfriend. Those were two very very hard decisions. Of course he had only just turned 16, he was such a young boy and in his mind at the time those were his only choices. He got so afraid that his family would suffer if someone judged him, he wanted them happy. The same with his boyfriend, they had both planned to go to go through highschool together then attend a college of the arts to study music. They had such big dreams that he suddenly didnt think he could do anymore. The thought of trying and failing, then hindering his boyfriend from achieving his dreams was too much, he couldnt find it in himself to risk everyones happiness, and/or safety. Heaven forbid him being a mutant were to effect his parents jobs! Or people pick on his little siblings at their schools. He thought of everything bad that could happen, and in that already stressed/very frightened state he decided to leave. Of course Charles Xavier found him and told him about the institute, and this whole thing was mended but it was devastating at the time.

MainVerse: Whether or not to leave Valinor was a choice that changed his entire life, and set his entire future in motion down the path of doom. It sounds really dramatic and it was. ;-;. When all the Noldor decided to leave when the trees were killed his mother wouldn’t go with them, and he couldnt bear to leave her but he felt the need to go and protect his father and siblings too. So he told her he would take care of them for her. At that time there was no doom of Mandos, and there could have been a way back to see her at some point and time. It wasnt too unreasonable to think seeing as the Valar said they could go, and they hadnt committed any crimes yet.

After the kinslaying he had a choice to turn back with his father and his people, to be forgiven and have the curse of doom lifted off him but he couldnt leave his siblings, cousins, and lover. He had to choose to stay with them, and thus making the decision to never see his parents again until he died. In a way he had no choice, he couldnt let his siblings, cousins, and lover go to middle earth, where the dark lords were, alone. Theres no way he could so in that aspect it was an easy choice, but hard and heartwrenching all the same. Another tough choice was to travel through the Helcaraxe but that wasnt his sole decision, its more complicated so I wont mention that one.

◥█̆̈◤ Four of Cups - how indecisive is your character?

Finrod is pretty decisive, the only decisions that are difficult for him are the ones where his heart and mind clash like the other questions asked about. He has such a big heart, he always tries to consider everyone and do whats best but sometimes the situation calls for a lot of thinking rather than acting on emotion. Something that important takes a lot of thought.

━━╋⊂ Three of Swords - what was the worst betrayal of trust your character has ever experienced?

X-men au: I think going back to the tough decision question about his mutation beginning to surface. At the time when that happened, he felt very betrayed by his own body. Everything just started tumbling to pieces in front of him. His body kept changing and his teeth were growing so his mouth was incredibly sore around his canines not to mention accidentally biting himself a lot. His ears, and sense of smell, and taste were malfunctioning from the change so noises that didnt normally bother him hurt sometimes to the point of bleeding ears, things that normally tasted good suddenly tasted bad, he kept smelling things he didnt want to smell. Not to mention his voice started doing really weird things and he suddenly got abnormally strong. Not only was all this suddenly happening to him, his fear of what would happen to everyone else just made him feel betrayed by the world for not accepting him and forcing him between a rock and a hard place. Of course later, things did work out and he realized there were a lot of people who supported mutants too, and that he just had to see it. The longer he had his mutation he felt like it was who he was meant to be, now he wouldnt know what to do without it. Just being so young and everything happening so suddenly did make him feel betrayed for several months.

Mainverse: Hm, well theres several betrayals that he went through although things like the kinslaying wasnt directly to solely him so I wont elaborate on those. I would say its a pretty good tie between his uncle Feanor refusing to let Makalaure/Maglor be with him and basically forcing Mags to marry someone else specifically to keep them from ever being married was a pretty bad betrayal at the time. Feanor had always been rough around the edges, but Finrod had never expected that extent of a betrayal.

The biggest betrayal of his entire lifetime I would say is what Curufin and Celegorm did in Nargothrond. Finrod had been one of the best kings in history, he was sweet, compassionate, loyal, trust worthy, he cared about everyone not just his own subjects. His kingdom thrived and was so happy, he kept it hidden from evil all that time. There was such an immense level of respect between him and his subjects, and Curufin and Celegorm specifically visited Nargothrond to try and undermine that respect and trust. They widdled away at it and planted all kinds of seeds of doubt to the point when Finrod decided to go with Beren to retrieve a silmaril, it was absolute mutiny. Everyone in the entire kingdom turned on him because of what Curufin and Celegorm had done and said to them, only a single handful of people remained loyal to him. A single handful, thats it, out of that entire massive kingdom. Finrod simply took off his crown and tossed it on the floor bc thats all he could do, it was such a betrayal there was nothing else he could have done. Finrod went into Angband with only part of that handful of people because no one else would follow him. They all died except for Beren who Finrod died protecting. Luckily his nephew Orodreth got the crown and not Curufin and Celegorm, but much good that did..Not long after Nargothrond fell and Orodreth and his daughter was killed, and most of Nargothronds people were either killed or enslaved. So.. yea. Massive Betrayal. Hugee. Lead to the entire kingdom and its people being dead.

#this-is-gizmo #Hopefully theres no bad typos i dont think i can read through all that again X'D i wrote too much #blind-mutant #Thank you <333 #My Finrod Headcanons #AU: Xmen #but also main #answered

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