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ushittyoldman · 4 years

Text

sweetheart like you

request. hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song)

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?”

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably.

“Holy shit.”

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes.

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you.

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes.

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer.

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.”

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you.

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend.

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat.

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing.

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

#spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel #spike x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #this was so fun 2 write n i am sad its over #spike cowboy bebop

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astriefer · 4 years

Note

“Please hold me.” for thomastair (ofc bc that's what you said) 🥺

Thank you for this! @littlx-songbxrd you asked for this as well. I'm sorry it's so bad.

~~~~~

Trust me with thy heart

Pairing: Thomastair

Words: 4,537

Contains mild angst, some self harm and hurt/comfort.

Note I am awful at writing angst or hurt/comfort. This whole poor writing is based on miscommunication, much or less, or the fear to let others close.

~~~~~

Thomas wasn't fond of fights.

Demons were one thing. Their destiny as Shadowhunters was to protect mankind from those filthy monsters who invade their world. They brought disorder and death. The people he cared about were a different tale.

A light jest with his friends, why not? A banter with his father about taking the coat or not while going outside? Sure. But not a very tumultuous, tempestuous strife with them. He preferred them all to get along with each other.

Thomas liked even less when it was him involved in the disagreement.

He spent the last day jogging between massive training seasons, hanging out with his friends, and losing himself in his thoughts. Now, he avoided everyone in favor of reading Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He made a special effort to tell no one where he was going, so non could bother him and ask him questions.

So Thomas was stunned when Ariadne Bridgestock, of all people, rushed through the entry in an unmatched combination of grace and ivory skirts, then flopped herself onto the armchair in front of Thomas.

While she had had a pleasant expression on her face, there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. If Thomas hadn't known better, he would've sworn she came here to murder him.

"You and Alastair fought," she stated.

Thomas glanced between his book to her determined face twice, considering his options. Then, on behalf of good manners, he put a bookmark on the current page he pretended to be reading for half an hour. "Is it Alastair's way to tell me to speak to him? If so, please tell him not to embroil any other folks in our relationship."

"He hadn't sent me," Ariadne ignored the last part of his sentence. "But he did not arrive for our conclave."

A spark of concern lightened up in Thomas, yet he repressed it. He was angry with Alastair, Thomas reminded himself. "And what have you speculated I can do about it?"

She looked at him funny. "Talk to him, I presume."

"Ariadne," he tried, weariness falling heavy on him. "While I appreciate your concern, I doubt Alastair wants to see me. In fact, I doubt whether I want to see him right now. I know you confide in each other-" more than Alastair does with him, the bitter thought tore its way into his head. "And your intentions are well, but I will highly prefer to keep this between myself and Alastair."

He thought this would give her down and make her apologize. "Alastair wouldn't have sent someone else, and he didn't solicit help from myself," she said instead. "He would've given time to you both to collect your minds, and then come to you in clearer mind."

It was right. He knew it was. "So this parley is all you?"

"As I said, Yes. I worried for my friend, who happened to be your partner."

Thomas brushed his thumb on the spine of the book, musing over her words. "Why would you be worried?"

"He stood me up. I came by your flat later, just for him to say nothing has happened. When I asked where you were, he conceded you two had a big bump in the road."

"That's a nice way to put it," Thomas murmured. "I frankly wished to be left alone. It's nothing-"

"Thomas," Her amber eyes met hazel ones. "You are good at many things. Fighting demons, and keeping the rest of the Thieves out of trouble, for example."

He quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Lying is not one of them."

Thomas swallowed, endeavoring to hide the feeling of hurt off his face. Recalling what happened a few days before made his whole body ache in pain. "So Alastair and I had a row. It always happens with lads."

"It's not just a lad for you," she pressed. He was wide aware of the chastisement in her words. "It's Alastair. And never have I seen him the way he looked when I checked on him."

"What do you mean?" he asked after he perceived her words. "Alastair was absolutely fine when I left the flat."

"You have to see for yourself." Ariadne said, "Go to him."

Despite the knots formed in the abdomen, he dithered. "Things ended up stormy when we last spoke. Maybe he's still mad. Maybe I'm still mad."

It wasn't just Alastair who was mad. He wondered how Alastair had been this past day, and how was he feeling, among many other thoughts. Yet the cloud of exhaustion and hurt surrounding him perturbated the nervousness. He was allowed to be upset about what happened. It sure wasn't nothing. Not on his part, at most. Why couldn't Alastair just-

"Excuses are not appreciated," Ariadne announced, "So you better confront him already, or I swear I shall chase you to the end of the Earth with my electrum whip." Ariadne threatened, and that what had taken to wake Thomas out of his hesitation.

"Of course," he sighed, "Because I don't have enough troubles already."

She brushed it off again with a smile, and Thomas felt mildly annoyed. He hadn't shown it. "Sort it out. It will benefit the two of you to tackle the problem."

She left no place for arguments. Utterly abandoning the book, Thomas rose to his feet and went to leave the room.

He was glad to get out of the grip of this confusing confab, but he was even more unsure if to listen to her advice.

He was still angry with Alastair.

~~~~~

A veil of fog surrounded the city. It was a prevalent London day, cool and cloudy. The wind is blowing hard, welcoming passersby in a burst of freezing breeze. A thunderstorm on its way, they said.

But those were the last of things that perturbed Alastair's peace of mind. It matched his mood just fine. If someone was to describe him, curled up on his bed alone, he could imagine being portrayed as forlorn and tormented.

No, what bothered him was a particular someone that left and hasn't returned. Alastair hated he still hoped Thomas would return and make him less cold.

His breath was heavy, and his lungs burned like fire. He remembered words that haunted him for weeks in the past. I believed you were more than what others said about you. I conceived myself beneath all the harsh words, was someone with a kind soul waiting to be seen. Was it all a lie I told myself?

Darkness flooded his senses. Trying to get any portion of self-control on his body he could, Alastair rose to his feet, glancing out of the window on unsteady legs without seeing anything at all. Gather yourself together.

But the words burned deep then, and they burned deep now. That was a battle against himself he meant to lose. The cold spread not only from the world beyond the window but from within him. It pulled out his ugly head, writhing and furious, desperately trying to break free and rise to the surface. People walked in the streets, oblivious to his troubles just as he was to theirs.

Thomas wasn't there.

Thomas wasn't there, and Cordelia wasn't there, and anyone he loved wasn't there. He locked himself in their flat for the past day, overthinking and speculating and wondering why did he have to be the way he is. If Thomas had finally realized he deserved someone so much better than Alastair, would he be surprised? Alastair was aware of this fact too well. The way he looked at him when they fought, the shaky hands when he opened the door, and the hours of waiting in case Thomas will return, just for nothing to happen. What does it mean if not that Alastair finally made Thomas give up and leave?

This inner part of him was crying, demanded to be heard, to be set free. A shrill cry came to his ears, and it took him a moment to perceive it belonged to him.

His vision became vague, his head ached, and everything spun around. He tried to lay a hand on the wall - only to find he miscalculated the distance and fell ungracefully on his knees. His heart pounded in his chest while the darkness tried to pull him in; He tried to take a breath and dozens of small knives tore his lungs up. He shrank, gasping for air that didn't come.

Everything seemed blurry, all his mind could engross in was the words Thomas Lightwood told him, the cold truth dripping from them, freezing Alastair all over again.

Alastair was accountable for all the hideous things he'd done and said, unquestionably. How weak is he that he hides behind shallow faces and vicious words? What a dolt he is, hurting a person, mainly the only person outside of his family that seemed to genuinely care for him. His words rang in his head, Thomas's voice haunting every corner.

He sank lower, his breathing gurgling, reaching out in search of something stable, something that would serve as a pillar in the chaos that ensued around him. His hand extended out to the still air and then groped for something to hold on the floor. That came the way of a cold, sharp object that lay on the ground. He gripped it tightly, and he groaned in pain and relief at the physical ache that eased his mind.

"Alastair?" A voice called.

~~~~~

Thomas was about to lose his right mind. Alastair was trembling vigorously, barely able to stand on his feet that were shaking like a leaf swaying in the wind.

"Alastair," Thomas stuttered, with no response back. His indignation vanished to immediate panic. "Alastair?" he repeated more stubbornly.

His chest went up and down quickly; His eyes were wide like that of a deer caught in the automobile light. When Thomas tried to take a step toward him, the smaller man stiffened and stood bolt upright. Thomas stopped dead.

"I came at the behest of Ariadne," he said, just for the sake of talking. Alastair hadn't told him to quiet, so he kept going. "And because I was worried about you."

"Leave," Alastair hissed out frantically. Thomas couldn't stop the throbbing burn striking through his body.

Thomas took a few steps back, allowing Alastair his space. He had no temptation to leave as he requested - Thomas simply waited aside, for a chance Alastair would change his mind. He recalled the nights he woke up from a nightmare, dazed and overwhelmed with emotions, and how Alastair always reassured him in the dead of night.

This Alastair seemed lost in his own mind, unable to escape, and it terrified Thomas. Yet, he shoved the dread aside and put on the most relaxing facade he could. He was told to be quite good at it.

"I'm right here, Azizam."

"Everyone leaves. You can do as well."

Somewhere in his mind, the pieces joined together, like a colossal puzzle. Was he afraid Thomas would leave him? That he would give up on him? he told him he could leave in their run-in, because he thought everyone will leave him in the end?

"I don't know. I don't know how to do it." To cease making the wrong decision. To cease pushing people away. To cease hurting people. "man nemidânam."

"Alastair, can you hear me?"

As he found out, Alastair did not hear him. "I don't want to hurt you. I already hurt you so much." Alastair went on, choking on his own words. Thomas was in full panic mode, and he hurried further toward Alastair with barely contained alarm.

I find you worth any pain to come, Thomas thought.

"It's fine," Thomas said. "I am fine. I want you to be fine as well. It's much more important to me than whether you may or may not harm me."

Something split in his face, and he took a deep breath down his throat. His eyes snapped to Thomas. The terror on his face made Thomas's heart sink.

"Alastair?" he asked, but it didn't manage to elicit a response from the other man.

Thomas drew closer to Alastair, not missing the flinch passing the half-Persian's body. Thomas could hear his breath, shallow and trembling. He could painfully see the tremor of his hands. The wide eyes that so clearly tried to hold back tears. He took one step closer, and Alastair took one back.

Thomas imminently came to a halt. Alastair squeezed hard against the wall. He looked like a captive animal on the verge of losing hope, a man pushed to the edge, an injured soul.

Thomas took one step closer. With his enormous figure, it all needed to reach Alastair. He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, didn't let go even when Alastair squirmed, trying to shove him aside, fought to set free from Thomas's grip. His hold only tightened, and he used his strength to shove Alastair's head into his chest. He kept him close, kept even when Alastair protested, kept his hold when Alastair Surrendered abruptly, sinking into the soft material of Thomas's clothing, even when sobs began and his chest got wet from the tears of his love.

Thomas pressed his lips to the dark hair, held Alastair steadily while he cried. No words of reassurance passed between them. Truly, Thomas wasn't sure Alastair would have heard him if he tried. He knew the touch was what Alastair needed. Their embrace was clumsy and distorted, but it was enough. Enough to tell Alastair he wasn't alone; Thomas wouldn't have let him go through this alone.

With a soft sigh, Thomas finally let loose of his grip. He started to pull away and was surprised when he felt fists clasping on the fabric of the front of his sleeveshirt.

"Please," Alastair whispered desperately."Please hold me."

Thomas couldn't find it in himself to deny it to Alastair. They slipped to the floor. Alastair buried his face in Thomas's chest once again, shaking silently. Thomas felt his mouth forming words on his chest, although he could not tell which. All the while, his hands embraced the slim, shaking form of Alastair.

A few minutes had passed. Or an hour. Or a couple of days. Thomas didn't feel the time had passed while he tried to console his beloved one. He closed his eyes and concentrated on moving his hand on Alastair's small back, kept him close. The other hand came to caress the space between his ear and jawline, where he was creating circles on the tender skin.

Slowly, The dark-haired's breath became more even.

"Here you are," Thomas let a breath of both exhaustion and relief leave his body. "Can you hear me, Eshgham?"

"Y-Yes."

"Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

"No."

Thomas sighed inertly as he held the other gentleman in his warm hands, promising reassurance and no judgment. Alastair, for the matter, clang to him as if he was drowning and Thomas was his only lifeline.

He never liked to fight with Alastair. It rarely happened, but when it did it left a bitter taste in his mouth and a pang at his heart. But he was not going to give up - not on this. He remembered his mother once told him couples fight, sometimes, because they still care about what the other does. It was their first argument with their new agreement. It didn't make him feel any better at the time. All his life he had been surrounded with unconditioned love, never exposed to the arguments and the imperfect details. It made him view love as just sweet and honey, while he learned that there's more with Alastair.

There's the giving. And the receiving. The trust in the other's intentions and the willingness to make them your priority foremost of all. The disagreements make you understand when your boundaries are and open a place for learning and acceptance. The balance you build with time, something he hoped he could shape with the man in front of him.

The trust part, to his belief, was something they still were working on. Alastair had leaned on him, and Thomas wondered it he thought now he calmed down, Thomas would leave him again. He did the last time.

"I'm not leaving," They locked eyes, and for some reason, he felt hope. "Alastair, I'm not leaving."

There are very few things he wanted more than Alastair. Verily, He was what he longed for above everything else. He wanted Alastair and everything he was.

Alastair didn't answer, but he averted his eyes.

"Are you ready to go now?"

Alastair seemed slightly lost, but he nodded and weakly stood on his legs. He followed Thomas while Thomas flung himself up and let Alastair sat on their bed beside him. The comfortable place always made both feel better - The mix of English and Persian and Spanish books on the bookshelves. The notebooks full of poems Thomas kept beside his side of the bed. Alastair's spears collection. The artworks they bought when they visited art galleries.Even the soft yellow light was a source of relief.

"You are mad," proclaimed Alastair in a hoarse voice.

"So are you," Thomas returned. Alastair shook his head, and Thomas's eyebrows rose. "So what then, if not mad?"

"Mostly nauseous," Alastair murmured, managing to startle a breathy chuckle out of Thomas. "But also bloody exhausted."

Thomas fumble after the right words, before deciding he should be candid. "I didn't like being apart from you in those few days. But I stick to what I told you before, Alastair." He saw it happening - the wall of defense Alastair was building up again after the last one had crushed. "Let me bring some fresh air into here."

Thomas tried to ventilate the room well while Alastair sank into the mattress and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "If you call the London foggy, polluted air fresh, then sure."

A bit of relief passed because of Alastair's quip. He didn't lose it. "It seems you and my father share this opinion."

Thomas scanned Alastair, then noticed the cut on his right palm. Absentmindedly, he approached his side.

"Why did you do it?"

It took Alastair a moment to conceive what he was referring to. He hastily covered it with his other hand, but Thomas saw it. "I - didn't mean to."

Thomas watched the cut in awe as if it was imaginary. However, when he grazed the skin, Alastair winced.

Thomas wasn't sure how to counter this. Their fight. What just happened. Alastair didn't either. Or did he wish to pretend none of this happened? That he -both of them- weren't hurt?

This thought wasn't toleratable to Thomas.

And that's why, after he took his stele out of his dresser and was applying an iratze on Alastair's forearm, that he asked, "I want to talk about what happened the day before yesterday."

He could feel Alastair stiffening, his muscles tensing. "I was upset," Alastair said cautiously. "I shouldn't have snapped at you, Tom."

"You shouldn't have," Thomas agreed. He was done with the iratze and put the stele aside. "But that's not why I'm distraught."

Alastair shot him a tumultuous look. Thomas took a deep breath before looking Alastair dead in the eye. "You were upset, but you wouldn't tell me why. You grumble about things relentlessly, but when you're truly shaken you don't share at all. It's not - just this argument. It's not just one thing. Those small moments you hesitate whether to tell me the truth. The times you don't." He inhaled, letting the cold air fill his lungs. He resisted looking away from Alastair's face, didn't let his eyes flutter around the room like they were trying to do. "Love is also built on trust and communication. If we don't have those, what is left?" He didn't need to hear Alastair's reply. "We talk, and we share, yet I cannot understand why you're so grumpy at times. I need you to tell me."

"Can't one just be pissed off at the world?"

"Alastair."

"Many things can upset me," Alastair said. Thomas might have hallucinated it, but his voice was a bit shaky. "Do you want to hear them all?"

"Yes," Thomas answered immediately. His tone was sincere.

Alastair's hand reached to the other side of the bed, a nonverbal request. They still couldn't stop staring at each other. But not playfully, or lovingly, but earnestly.

Alastair, naked of his facade and any snide remarks. Alastair, whom he grew to know and rarely showed up to many else.

I do trust you. I care for you. were the meaning behind Alastair's gaze. All Thomas wanted is to lean on and forget everything. But still - it was not his pride making him relucent. That was much deeper than that.

He lingered there just for a moment too long, enough to make Alastair believe he declined the request, and his hand quirked in pain for a moment. His face became emotionless - and Thomas had feared he misleadingly deceived Alastair that he didn't want them after all. That he didn't want him.

In moments, he climbed on the bed. He coddled Alastair, silently and diligently. "Tell me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Alastair retorted eventually. He rubbed his eyes and laid back on the bed board. Then after a moment. "Everything."

"I hate it when I see you suffer and I don't know why," Thomas whispered. "I want to help. More than anything. But you push me away and I am left to think it might be because of me, because-"

"No," Alastair said firmly, extending his hands to cup Thoams's. "You have never been anything but good to me. It's just-," he broke off.

Thomas searched his foggy eyes. "I don't blame you," he told him, "If it's hard for you. But trust me enough to tell me what bothers you, thus we could face it together." He collected his hands in his own, lifting them so he could kiss his knuckles. "I know I want to stand by your side whatever the cost." he was certain about that; No whirlwind to come could change it. "Will you let me?"

Instead of an answer, Alastair kissed him.

Thomas knew he was kind, forgiving, trusting. He knew Alastair was slow to trust, slow to reveal his true feelings, hiding behind sharp words to secure himself from being harmed by people close to him. He knew the world broke his heart - so viciously, and that he took the pieces that were left. It was undoubtedly hard. Alastair had changed so much, yet Thomas wanted to understand, to reassure Alastair they were in this together.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair said when they pulled away. "I will try."

Thomas smiled at the endearment term. His heart was throbbing fast. "I was mad," he confessed, "because you refused to tell me what's wrong. You pretended. And I - I don't want facades, my love. I want the truth. I want you."

"I don't want to be weak around the people I love," Alastair whispered, and Thomas understood. To what extent did he fear that if he shows weakness, his friends and family would suffocate him again, shield him from the world as they did when he was younger? How much he feared at slightest of weakness shown, he would be smothered as Thomas had been when he was too small, too fragile?

But Alastair never did that. He supported him in his way, allowed him to be weak without acting as if Thomas was made of glass. "So not weak to everyone," He was astonished he found it in himself to laugh softly. "Each other will be enough. We can be vulnerable with one another."

Alastair stared at him for a long moment. Eventually, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Okay."

"This is just another way of trust."

So Alastair told him. He told him about the rumors he heard from the London enclave about his family, the looks he had gotten. Of the words of people who were white while Alastair was brown. He didn't mind, much, but it drew attention to his family. And to Thomas. Respectable family and a kind heart seemingly weren't enough to make the rumors - and who spread them - silence. The opposite is correct - the fire burned even brighter, and its flame was like cutting knives. The people who matter didn't care about their agreement, and Alastair long stopped paying attention to rumors. But when it was about Thomas, he said, he had been furious. The stories unfolded, the truth shone through, and the more Alastair talked - not just about rumors, but on the way some of the people treated him, of the Cornwall's townhouse and its residents, the things his soul troubled about were finally out.

Thomas listened, understood, stroked Alastair's cheek when he seemed to start shaking again, but now out of relief instead of concealed agony.

They sunk into a comfortable silence in the end. Up until Alastair inquired, "You were out for so long. Where were you?"

"At the institute," Thomas replied. The concept of coming back to his parents' townhouse, admitting the quarrel, rewinding it all in his head countless times while enduring Sophie and Gideon's worrying looks, was nothing he wished to do. "Or somewhere I could avoid anyone."

"And now?" he asked tentatively. "You come back?"

"I have no intentions to leave this bed even if Ariadne herself will come to pluck me off the sheets." He affirmed.

Alastair's smirk became genuine this time. "Ariadne was here today."

When Thomas said "I know" he got a quizzical look from Alastair so he supplied, "She found my whereabouts and made me go confront you. Not much subtly, may I add."

"Yes. This jinx made me open up the door and refused to leave until I told her what happened."

Thomas silently laughed.

"I..suppose it was rather cathartic," Alastair said. It was evening now, Thomas noted, and none of them found it in themselves to get up and eat supper. They just kept their bodies close, relishing their air of comfort.

"Indeed. This, this was good. Splendidly better than reading the same page over and over again in the Devil's tavern or pretending to care what waistcoat Matthew is taking to the impending party at Anna's flat."

"You thought the place you and your squad go to hide is the best place to hide from them?" Alastair asked.

"It seemed reasonable at the time," Thomas murmured. "Each of us has a kind of hideout, have we not?"

Where was Alastair's safe hideaway? At home, with a book in hand? At museums, drinking in art and beauty? Was it hiking in the streets of London by himself and enjoying the view and the whispers of nature?

"You," Alastair said. Thomas hadn't realized he voiced his question aloud. A tired, small smile played on Alastair's lips, yet his words were soft, plain and simple. Their eyes locked, and he could feel how genuine Alastair was. "You are my hideout."

~~~~~

Dictionary:

man nemidânam - I don't know

Eshgham - my love

Hamsar-am - my equal head, my better half

#alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas lightwood #the last hours #my fics #thomastair fics #for the matter Thomas does NOT know how to help Alastair in the state he was in. He doesn't know the right way to approach this.#They just found solace in physical affection so he found it fitting there too #I'm sorry #littlx-songbxrd #carstairstessa #Besides I take centuries to write because not only I am extremely busy (and sunk way too deep into the fluff fic and Choi)#but have to wait for inspiration to strike. It works not another way.#so sorry

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stargazer-balladeer · 4 years

Text

Platonic! [Mystic Messenger]

Anon: hi !! can i ask for rfa x reader platonic! headcanons with v & ice cream boi saeran <3

Characters Included: RFA, V & Saeran

Note: This is one of my favorite works :P. I got carried away by this bc I rlly had so much fun writing it. Hope ya’ll enjoy this!

Additional Notes: You and MC are not the same people.

Reader’s Gender: Neutral (some bulletin might imply a feminine reader but take it how ever you want)

Warning: Dark themes in V’s scenario. Mentions of Suicide. If you’re sensitive to this topic, pls skip V’s. Thanks. Spoiler warning!

“UNREQUITED LOVE”

Seven

Honestly speaking, Seven is a friend that keeps joking around and fun to be with. He’s so easygoing yet he keeps building up walls around himself, distancing himself from everyone, even you.

He’s the kind that just keeps smiling, no matter what situation he was in.

It’s that reason why when you approach him for the first time, you could instantly tell he’s building up walls around him. But in reality, he just smiles.

Behind that smile though screams “go away” “why are you talking to me?” “who the hell are you?”

I think it’s very difficult to befriend him (The twins are, in general). BUT! Once you get past his build-up walls and warmed up to him, he’ll slowly also warmed up to you.

Now, going back to platonic hc.

You two will always have a competition. ALWAYS. Whether petty or stupid or crazy, it doesn’t matter. Seven is the exact definition of CRAZY, and I hope you are too.

You two will be spamming the chatrooms so much, much to the rest’s irritation. You two will be a dynamic duo that cannot be stopped.

Actually people might mistake you as couple (if ever you two go out, you usually stay indoors) since you two actually look like one. Of course, you two will deny it, stating your just friends, which is true enough.

Though sometimes you two took advantage of this. If there’s a couple discount in a store? You two will pretend to be a couple to get a discount.

Vanderwood would just get used to having two idiots in the house now, since you always crash in Seven’s house. You practically live there now. (poor Vanderwood--)

Seven would be so comfortable with you, that he can be himself. If he’s sure he can trust you, he will tell you about his past and about his twin brother. How he regret leaving Saeran, how he regrets everything about his life.

If MC joins the RFA, you instantly knew something was wrong with Seven.

If you realize that he loves her, you would definitely tease him about it. He would passionately deny it (with flushed cheeks), but you knew better.

You would be there for him when he realize what had happened to his brother, you comforted him as he cries. cries.

I would also like to imagine him telling you about the reset, and explaining to your confuse self. You’re the only one he can confide to about this information. Pls don’t break this trust.

You would definitely help Seven to search for Saeran, and be his best man in his and MC’s wedding (yes, even if you are a girl. Fight me.)

Overall, I think this friendship is a wholesome one. Full of trust and fun. Pls don’t abuse this friendship with Seven ;-; This poor bby boi has been through a lot..

Yoosung Kim

You two definitely meet during classes in College, whether sharing the same course or accidentally met in the library or cafeteria or anywhere. You two will instantly click.

Yoosung would, at first, be shy in talking with you. But slowly grew more confident as you two talk with each other.

He would DEFINITELY bring Rika up in one of your conversations. You would be like, “??? who?”

He then proceeds to explain that Rika was his cousin, and that she recently just died. Your motherly instinct activated when you see tears building in his eyes as you brought him to your chest and comforted him.

It isn’t hard for Yoosung to trust you, unlike Seven.

If you play LOLOL, this boi would be so ecstatic that he immediately suggested to play together. I hope you agree.

I imagine him being kinda talkative. So, maybe after playing LOLOL or finish doing a project or whatever, you two will sit together on the couch and just talk. Your conversation can be either heartfelt or weird or strange or funny. You two’ll talk endlessly until both of you realize that it’s super late at night.

Like Seven’s, you two will be mistaken as a couple by your classmates. You two’ll instantly deny it though, in Yoosung’s side, flushed face while denying.

But unlike Seven, you two don’t take advantage of this. You two probably didn’t know it existed until someone mention it to you or you found out.

You two are the innocent beans in the chatrooms. You usually save Yoosung from Seven’s antics, which the rest are grateful for.

I honestly see Yoosung as a Musical fan, like Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, etc. If you like those as well, expect jamming session of Musical Broadway songs.

I can also imagine if Yoosung is scared or nervous, he will instinctively grab your hand. It’s like he’s reassuring himself that your there for him, and won’t disappear from him. Unlike his cousin, his love.

He might come off as clingy but you better know that’s not the case. He’s scared. You can reassure him by squeezing his hand and smiling at him. “I’ll always be here for you.” he might shed a tear or two before smiling back at you.

When MC joins the RFA. The two of you were surprised at her sudden appearance but nevertheless welcomed her.

If you realize that MC likes Yoosung and how Yoosung keeps comparing her to Rika, you would definitely step in. You know that MC feels hurt that Yoosung keeps comparing her to his dead cousin, so you talk to him.

He wouldn’t take this lightly though. But eventually realized that you and Zen were right. MC wasn’t like Rika at all! Maybe even better!

You would be SO worried about Yoosung when you heard he lost one of his eyes. But you knew better to visit him so you spam him instead, letting him and MC have their moment.

You would be there when he became a veterinarian. You’ll also be his best man in his wedding (regardless if you’re a woman).

Overall... this friendship is one-of-a-kind. It’s rare to see a man like Yoosung nowadays. If ever you meet this kind of person, befriend them. I’m sure you wouldn’t regret it :)

Jumin Han

I can’t imagine anything else but during your childhood. You’re friends with him and V, and possibly Rika as well. But you’re close to V rather than to Jumin.

You’re actually scared of him really, since he has this aura around him that screams “superior!” “don’t talk to me peasant” “go away”. Yeah, not so friendly aura.

V would always reassure you that Jumin isn’t that kind of person. You, of course, believe him but it’s hard to approach someone like Jumin.

Once you’re older, you might have lost communication with the both of them. By the time you knew it, you heard V was getting married to Rika. And you knew who else has a crush on Rika. Jumin.

You, of course, congratulated them. But you were deeply concerned about the black-haired CEO. But when you approach him about it, he pushed you away.

When V suddenly died, you were gravely saddened to have lost a friend. You were deeply wounded at the fact that he left so sudden, why? why? why?

Jumin might’ve noticed you grieving so he’s the one approaching you now. He’s the one reaching out his hand, and you took it.

At the start of your newfound rekindled friendship, it was to say awkward and a bit rocky. But you were used to it so you persisted until you wiggle yourself into his life. And, surprise surprise, he accepted the fact that you are his friend.

You two will not always hang out however, since you two have work to go to. But you two will call each other frequently, asking each other trivial things, which is surprising coming from Jumin.

I also think someone will mistake you as Jumin’s girlfriend, but he will outright deny it.

He MIGHT MIGHT use this an advantage though. But not so much, since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or take advantage of you.

If you like cats, great! If you two are already like best friends, Jumin will let you meet Elizabeth the 3rd.

If you work with him in C&R, you’ll be expected to come to his office often to drag him away from his workaholic self.

By now, Jumin already considers you a close friend, that’s a first. The friend who never left him. So he confides in you about his insecurities in running the company, how he never had a family before since his father is a womanizer, hopping from one woman to another. He’s just a product of a one night-stand.

Just listen to him, that’s all he needed. You don’t need to talk, just listen. And pls don’t spread it either, Jumin’ll not like that.

He’s not usually talkative really. You’re the one who talks, if you’re a talkative person like Yoosung, the one who keeps the conversation going. But if you’re quiet, then the both of you can bask in silence in each other’s presence.

I would like to think Jumin thinks of you as a (sister/brother) he never had, a family.

And, very so often than not, he smiles to you. He’s so comfortable with you that he can be himself and not uphold his guard.

The rest of the RFA would take note of Jumin being soft towards you. Like he’ll be angry one second but once you’re in the chat, he’ll go soft. Like “???”. But I would like to think they’re happy that Jumin found a friend that he can trust. (Proud RFA)

(It’s also noticeable in the employees of C&R that Jumin has become soft towards you.)

You and Jaehee would DEFINITELY be friends as well. You may or may not have told Jumin to stop giving her so many tasks. But nevertheless, she’s grateful for you and happy that you’re also her friend.

Anyway. If MC joins the RFA, Jumin, being Jumin Han, was wary of her. You assure him that she meant no harm at all.

But once all was revealed, and founding out V was still alive. You had mixed feelings about him, like you’re happy that he’s alive but angry that he lied to you.

You’re also mad towards Jumin. He told you the reason why V died, but the reasoning was a lie. You don’t know who to trust anymore so you shunned everyone out.

Jumin was devastated, to say the least. He has grown into a trusting and loving friendship with you that was hard to build, and yet it broke. Like a snap of a finger, it immediately broke. He doesn’t know what to do. He lost a friend, the friend who never left his side, the one who cheers him on, the one who loves hanging out with him even though he’s boring, the friend who was a family to him.

He cried. Jumin Han cried. MC tried comforting him of course, but he never stopped. He wanted you back, he couldn’t bear to lose someone important again.

And, like a miracle, you came back. Oh how happy he was when he saw you standing in front of him. He immediately engulfed you into a hug, not caring if some people saw him. He got you back, that’s all that matters.

After the fiasco was dealt with, you would DEFINITELY attend their wedding. It’s either his Best Man or a Bridesmaid, he still respect the Church’s wishes afterall.

Overall, your friendship with this trust-fund kid was messy and started out rough. But once you two work hard on it, it blossomed. Until someone crush it and it became broken again. But once again, it stood strong and proudly, even though damaged. And I think it’s beautiful, no matter what anyone else’s say.

Zen

This guy is an actor, an egotistical, narcissistic guy. Who looks like a real-life Mafumafu and gotten his name “Zen” from a guy named Zen in Akagami no Shirayukihime (Snow White with the Red Hair).

Putting that aside, you two probably met accidentally in a set. Where you accidentally pour water on him during a break. You profusely apologized lots of time, and him reassuring you every time.

Yeah. Not an ideal meeting but a meeting no less.

Zen would probably took an interest for you. No, not romantic interest. He’s more interested in being your friend. He saw how you interact with other people, and especially your friends. He was, dare I say, jealous of people being with you. He wanted a friend like that, that’s all he wanted afterall.

He would take time to chat with you in-between takes (or breaks in Musical Broadway). He would eventually find out that you don’t care if he’s a famous actor that enjoys his looks. He found himself being comfortable around you.

If the set you two are in has ended, he would be disappointed. That means, there’s no more reason to interact with you. But you surprise him by telling him that if he wants to hang out again, just call me. He was ecstatic.

Whenever you hang out though, it needs to be in-secret. He would have to wear a disguise if he doesn’t want anyone to recognize him while he’s hanging out with you.

Where you hang out though is always a mystery. Sometimes in a park, sometimes in a amusement park, sometimes in a cafe, sometimes in a mall, and so on. It’s always random with him, but enjoyable nonetheless.

But if someone caught him hanging out with you and post it online.It would cause a frenzy really. But don’t worry! Zen would one way or another calm it down and state that you two are just friends.

Zen would DEFINITELY get you to ride his motorcycle, but wouldn’t force you to ride it if you’re scared. BUT! He’s persistent so you have no choice but to give in.

If you like Musical, great! Then the both of you can jam out with Musical songs, that he may or may not have sung (COUGH Hamilton COUGH).

But after the incident of the online, you hang out in Zen’s apartment or yours. You two binge-watch Netflix shows or watch a movie.

He would DEFINITELY force you to practice with him if he needs to practice for a role. But if the scene includes a kissing scene, he would kiss you on the cheek instead.

If he’s comfortable with around you, he would tell you about his past. How his family doesn’t want him to be an actor, how they immediately disowned him and how he got depressed.

You don’t need to talk really, comfort him. Pull him close and rub his back. “It’s alright.. I’m here.” Zen might burst into tears.

In the chatroom, you two act the same as usual. You actually mother the RFA. You reprimand him for being an addict to LOLOL. You reprimand Seven to eat other food other than Buddha Chips. You reprimand Jumin for being an workaholic, and for overworking poor Jaehee. The only one you don’t reprimand is Jaehee, she’s a precious angel.

You would DEFINITELY be there for him whenever Zen would perform on stage or on screen. You are his number one supporter after all.

When he feels nervous, he’ll instinctively looks at you. You, in return, flash a reassuring smile. Then his confidence would be boosted and his nervousness goes away.

This small action of yours, swells Zen’s heart. He’s glad to have a friend like you. A friend that actually supports him, a friend that loves him whole-heartedly, a friend that enjoys his company, a friend that will always be there for him. He finally found his longing friend.

If MC has joined the RFA, you noticed Zen’s personality shift a bit.

If you noticed how Zen and MC were falling in love, you would definitely be their Number One Supporter.

If you know the Echo Girl incident, you might not intervene. Letting them handle it since it’s their problem. (lol savage friend)

After everything has ended, you would be supporting Zen full-heartedly. He wants to marry MC? Alright. Let’s plan the wedding and engagement. He wants to find a romantic spot for a date? Alrighty, let’s check Siri.

You would be his Best Man (even if you’re a woman). He’s so nervous that he turns to you and you flash him a smile. The exact same smile you gave to him whenever he feels nervous.

He would forever be grateful to you.

Overall, your friendship with him may not seem like much on the outside, but on the inside, you and Zen would feel like you’ve known each other for so long that you understand each other so well. This friendship is also a beautiful kind, pls treat this boi right.

Jaehee Kang

I would definitely think you two met during her college days. You two were paired up in a project and that’s how you two click. It was you two were meant to be, like two puzzles fit together.

After that, you two would be found hanging out with each other. She admires your determination in finishing college and wanting to enter to your favorite job, while you admire her for her silent demeanor and how studious she was.

You two would DEFINITELY be hanging out in the library or in either of your rooms, just reading or studying. But sometimes you two were seen hanging out in the park, cafe or around the campus.

People might mistake you as a couple, but (of course) you two would deny it.

Even after graduating, you two still kept in touch. If you two were working in C&R, you would definitely talk with her during breaks. If you two were working in two separate works, you would call her still. But even if this happens, it’s not guaranteed that she’ll answer your call or meet you during breaks (since Jumin dumps her lots of stuff).

You will help her in some, which she protest at first but ultimately gave up when she realized how stubborn you could be.

If you two were hanging out in a rare day that she has a day off, she would make you binge-watch Zen’s performances, fangirling about it. You would support her of course, if you’re not a fan. But if you’re a fan, you both will be a squealing and fangirling mess.

In chatrooms, Jaehee would still be herself. You, on the other hand, would definitely play along with Seven’s pranks on Yoosung. Both you and Seven are partners-in-crime. Jaehee would definitely be the person who says “I don’t know that person. What’re you talking about?” while looking away from you.

If she’s overworking herself, you’ll immediately drag her away to relax herself.

If she wants to open a cafe, you would definitely support her and be an employee of it. But that’s much later.

Actually, if she’s stress, she would definitely rant to you about how bad of a boss is Jumin. You would need to give her coffee and open the tv to watch one of Zen’s performance to calm her down.

She would DEFINITELY open up her sexuality to you. You, of course, didn’t judge her and supported her.

If MC joins the RFA, you and Jaehee would be skeptical at first of course. A sudden girl suddenly entered the RFA without all of them knowing of her. It seems suspicious. But decided to shrug it off.

If you realize Jaehee is falling for MC, you would be suspicious of MC’s advances. So you decided to talk to MC about it. You know about the LGBTQ+ community, and fully aware of Jaehee’s sexuality. But you aren’t sure about MC.

You are only doing this because you don’t want Jaehee to be broken-hearted, to be lead on. So you had a talk with MC. And after that talk, you are now sure that MC loves Jaehee as much as Jaehee loves her.

After all the fiasco ended, Jaehee resigned being Jumin’s assistant and opened up a cafe with MC. You became an employee of it but only on the weekends or you have free time.

If ever they marry, you would be Jaehee’s maid-in-honor (even if you’re a boy. And no, you’re wearing a suit, don’t worry). You would be so proud of you for being who she was and you would be grateful to MC who made Jaehee who she was now.

I think this friendship is common but it’s also beautiful. It actually reminds me of my friends (now strangers.... unfortunately ;-;)

Ahh. My husband. Here we go.

You two met when both of you were teenagers, when he was in a photoshoot. He accidentally took a picture of you, and he apologized for it but you reassure him that it was okay.

After that meeting, you two became great friends. You also met Jumin and became friends with him.

You two would be hanging out everywhere. Since he’s a photographer, he wants to take picture of everything that seems interesting. But sometimes, you would be found in V’s room, looking through his taken pictures in his camera.

If you’re also a photographer, he would be so happy! He would take you everywhere that has a great scenery to hear the sounds of clicking of the camera. If you’re not, you can be his muse! (if you don’t mind, of course).

People wouldn’t mistake you two as a couple really, since they see how V sees you as a (sister/brother) and you to him. They can see it in the aura.

Few years past, and you met Rika.

When you first met her, you could immediately tell something was wrong with her. You didn’t take Psychology in college for nothing!

But you don’t have the heart to tell V about it, since he looks so happy with her. You can also tell that Jumin has a crush on her as well.

As days go by, you and V were falling apart. You two slowly didn’t talk anymore, which confuse you greatly. why was there a distance? did I do something wrong? did I say something? why? why? wHY? WHY?!

You felt empty without V. He was your half after all, a brother. Now he’s gone, you felt lonely without him.

You knew about the RFA. And Jumin suggested you to join, so you did. You felt better as you interact with the other members. Jumin could see it, Rika could see it, V could see it.

But what drove you to succumb to depression, the last struck, was V’s death. That was the last one to destroy what little sanity you have left. You even tried to suicide, but Jumin caught you before you could try.

You grew more depressed as the days go by. You wouldn’t come out of bed or eat the food given to you. This made the members of the RFA worry about you. So they tried their best to make you better.

Jaehee tried to make you get out of bed to eat, but wasn’t successful. Zen tried to make you laugh with funny videos, which you turn your back on him. Yoosung tried to make you turn to video games for comfort, but he didn’t succeeded (he left with teary-eyes). Heck, even Seven tried! Well, tried as in making you a device but you ignored it.

Until Jumin was the one who ultimately made you stand up and eat. He said that if V sees you like this, he would be very disappointed and worried.

“He doesn’t care, Jumin. Give it up.”

“He DOES care, [Y/N]. Now, don’t be a child and stand up and eat.”

And that led you to arguing with him. You screaming that he doesn’t know what you feel, how it feels to lose a friend, and how you want to die. Until Jumin screams back at you,

“I ALSO LOST A FRIEND!”

You stopped. You literally froze as tears began pouring out of your eyes, now feeling guilty. You weren’t the only one who lost V, Jumin has and even Seven, who sees V as a father figure.

After that time, you started getting better. Jumin insisted you work in C&R, so you decided to agree. Life was turning for better until MC joins the RFA.

Ever since MC joined, many things have happened. You discovered V was still alive, how Rika tortured him and Saeran, how she’s the mastermind behind Mint Eye, everything was too much for you.

Even though you had a grudge against V for lying about his death, your hearts yearns for his presence. But when you saw how MC was persistent to save V, you joined her.

In saving V, you also saved Saeran. V apologized profusely to you and you forgave him. You thought everything was working.

But when V disappeared once again, you were sick of it. Sick of V always disappearing, so you cut your ties with the RFA. You moved into another country and lived there for the rest of your life, living behind everything you knew about them.

After years of living in a completely new country, you received a message in Korean. You saw it was from Jumin, you want to ignore it but you decided to read it. It was a picture of MC’s and V’s child. Then Jumin send another text saying, “Come back, he misses you.”

You decided to return, only to be greeted by the RFA in the airport along with V and his child. You stared at them for a while before returning your gaze to V. Your lips turned into a smile, “hey.”

V smiled sadly at you, “hey.”

Overall, LOTS of obstacles you have to face in order to have this friendship. But there’s a saying that, “If you can say goodbye, then you can say hello once more.”. No matter how much you two have been separated by fate, you two will always be friends.

Saeran

You two would meet after he was saved by MC and Seven from Mint Eye. He would, of course, be hostile to everyone, even you. You two will meet when buying ice creams in a ice-cream stand.

He would push you away immediately if you want to get close to him, with his mindset in him still being dangerous and you untrustworthy.

But if you start meeting every time Saeran goes out, you would slowly warm up to him. He would, at first, think you’re a stalker since its strange for the two of you meet everytime he goes out. He, of course, would still be hostile with you.

If you manage to break his walls, he would slowly but surely open his heart for you. He’s still wary of you, that doesn’t change.

You two will hang out either at their home or outside, near an ice-cream stand.

People would not mistake you as a couple since they don’t look at you. Saeran glares at everyone who stares at you two, they’ll probably think overprotective brother instead.

He will NEVER bring up his past, ever. Even if he’s comfortable with you, he wouldn’t bring up his past. He’s still afterall afraid of what you’ll think of him.

You wouldn’t know about his past, unless Seven mentions it. But you better never pry on it.

You know when Saeran is comfortable with you since he lets you sit near him and shares his ice-cream with you, which lead to a pouting red-headed twin as he stares at the two of you from afar.

If he has nightmares, he would lash out to anyone who’s in the same room as him. If you’re in his room and he has a nightmare, expect Saeran jumping on you and chocking on you. It’s either Vanderwood and Seven who has to push him off you to let you breath.

He would, of course, feel guilty for almost killing you so he outright avoided you. It will go on a while since he’s stubborn. You have to be the one to reconcile your friendship.

He always holds your hand, squeezing sometimes. It’s a tell-tale sign to him that you’re still here and not somewhere else. He trusts you so you better not crush it.

He’s like Seven in so many ways. When he trusts someone, it’s usually whole-heartedly. But, like Seven, he’s scared to break down his walls. To let someone enter into his heart only to rip it out. It’s too much for poor Saeran, so he cage himself.

If he starts to like MC, you could immediately tell. You would endlessly tease him about him as he tells you to shut up with a flushed face.

In secret though, you would have a talk with MC about Saeran. She would understand that you’re just worried about your (tsundere) friend, and she promises to love him for eternity. (COUGH reset COUGH).

You would definitely be his Best Man (even if you’re a girl), he would fight anyone who oppose it. (LOL I can totally see this happening).

Overall, this friendship is similar to Seven’s. It’s beautiful and it’s built on strong trust to one another. Pls don’t betray this ice cream bby. ;-;

[x] Main Page || [x] Mystic Messenger Page

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honexjams · 3 years

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just was watching an ftm tiktok compilation that featured kalvin garrah and it got me heated, i have a LOT to say about him and his influence but i will condense it to this:

all trans people have an era of discovery and experimentation, for some that includes experimenting with pronouns online to see what theyre comfortable with. the rise in people IDing with they/them or they/she or they/he is infinitely more to do with more trans kids feeling comfortable to experiment than it is with unconcerned cis people wanting clout. (i know some cis people do ID as lgbt for attention, i grew up in a very depressed/depressing and drug-laden small town where its not unheard of for people, especially young people, to go to strange lengths for relief, comfort, and entertainment. this small amount does not tend to go through the worst of the treatment i had as a young, binary trans person in this parish, which alone will garuntee those folks didnt ID this way 'for funzies' very long)

writing off all of these young people as simply wanting attention is harmful to both nonbinary people directly and binary trans people who are young and trying to figure out what theyre comfortable with.

i can say for myself personally, that i am very sensitive so if the trans online sphere was as critical in 2012 as it is today, it probably wouldve thrown a wrench in my personal process of understanding my feelings and realizing the transphobic responses i got from coming out were just that and not the absolute truth. which wouldve in turn left me IDing as non-binary or nothing at all online for a longer time because i wouldve been more concerned with my fear of seeming like i wanted attention online than actually trying to nut up and come out at school or do anything i needed to do irl for my comfort.

i first listed my pronouns on a writing site thats mostly barren last i checked, and what i put was "he/him/they/them" because i was at a place where i was caught between what i felt was true about myself, and having just come out to my mother as an 11-year-old and her not believing me.

demonizing non binary pronouns and identities will 100% effect this generation of trans kids because for those with no support, they will turn to the internet. when both their real life and the online spaces they go to are highly critical and unaccepting of nonbinary identities, any kid less than 100% sure theyre a binary trans person will suffer at the very least an extended period of confusion and denial, and at worst never fully come to grips with who they are.

ive always felt really strongly about this but i feel as i hit the 10 year mark of knowing i was trans (and still being pretty young at 20yo) its a good time to express these feelings a little more formally than i tend to. especially because i fit into the like, Ideal Trans Experience of knowing i was a boy at a young age (i mentioned finding trans people at 11 but i have Very early memories of telling other kids on the playground that 'i was born a boy who looked like a girl so my parents raised me as a girl' which is dummy accurate to a trans experience often shown in media yk).

(this next paragraph is all personal anecdotes which are important to my point but if you dont care feel free to skip over it)

I do very much believe and accept nonbinary people as truth because i can understand how someone can feel like something that isnt understandable to the society they grew up in because that was my experience as an lgbt person in the deep south. I remember hearing my mom at a local parade (a Very Community-Focused thing where i grew up), see two teen girls holding hands walking down the street and saying "theyre a little young for that, huh?" to a friend, I remember asking her what 'gay' meant as a kid bc ofc i heard it at school and just wanted padding for if i ever said it out loud because as i knew it, wasnt a curse word but it was Bad Word (bc i knew from hearing it around school that it was a Bad Word)i wanted to know what it meant, she said "some boys date boys, its not really a Good lifestyle, but sometimes they do it". Ive heard many transmedicalists say 'how can you have dysphoria for nothing?' as in how can someone be agender. I am a binary trans man in a committed relationship with another man and I am frankly bewildered as to how a binary trans person can believe such a thing as 'the only genders that exist are ones i know about, even after discovering my own queerness' because I can perfectly understand the correlation between binary and nonbinary trans people. For me, growing up as a teenager in the south in the 2010s, gays were vaguely accepted but still ostrisized, and in school i had a classmate who i knew is a binary trans man because i still know him now, and I, my insecure, weak, self concious self emailed my teachers about my pronouns and name while he was still being called his birthname in class and my cousin, who sat in front of me next to him (thats how small a fown this is) was the only person who called him his chosen name, which was how i figured he was like me.

I personally dont want bottom surgery even tho i Fully identify as a binary male, I simply came to the understanding that a 'cis penis' is not something I will ever have so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ may aswell get used to the things i can tolerate, unlike my chest and 'feminine' features that T has changed.

Long story short if You are a binary trans person who doesn't get what the whole nonbinary thing is all about, simply try describing your own trans experience as if you were really not a boy or girl. As if you really, through your deepest soul-searching, came up with the fact that you simply dont identify with neither male nor female.

Back to the original point of binary trans people in a self descovery phase, if You are a binary trans person? try to remember the first time you felt really invalidated in a way that truly struck you as like, a direct attack on how you feel (like how those depressing 'relatable posts' do), did you ever feel like if that was something you experienced in a crucial part of your discovery period that it wouldve hurt a lot? maybe even to the point where it surpressed how you felt about yourself? All i want from the trans community is to not let anyone else feel that way. I truly do fear for young trans people and how this exclusive environment stunts them.

#talkin.555 #trans #ftm #if anybody has anything to say about anything i brought up lmk id be happy to address it fr #and also fyi i am a binary trans man #i Found trans people and was like woah wtf thats a thing 👀👀👀 when i was 11 in 2012 for context of what im tallembout when i say the trans #spaces online have gotten more critical since ive been involved #this prolly #isnt thst comprehensible because i started trxting my dad for the first time in a year partway thru #im #bout to jusy #b scrolling degular now because that was a lot but i just want the brst for #other trans kids #whomped tags

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lvmosity · 5 years

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saviour | harry potter

pairing: harry potter x muggleborn!hufflepuff!reader

requested: yes! by @scoofpoof thank u ♡

request: can i request for a harry potter x muggleborn! hufflepuff! reader? reader doesnt know harry potter (gasp) but he does bc they grew up in the same place and he lowkey has a crush on her. reader still doesnt know harry potter in school n is one of the top students. harry knows that she is physically strong bc she plays muggle sports n knows self defense. shes kind but not a coward so one time harry asks for help when he is being bullied n she agrees... reluctantly. u can choose the ending. thanks!

genre: fluff maybe?

word count: 3.4k (ok i didnt expect this to be long)

warnings: bullying, mentions of blood & scars, reader is a badass

tags: @sadhwstudent

credit to the owner of the gif

It had only been less than two months since the news of Lord Voldemort’s supposed return from the dead had spread throughout the Wizarding World and all Harry Potter could do was watch in frustration as people branded him as a liar and deranged. He had to thank the Ministry of Magic, primarily Minister Fudge who took full control of this and covered up what he thinks to be complete utter nonsense. It wasn’t a surprise to him really as the Ministry of Magic were, after all, corrupt and incompetent.

Whilst Harry lied in bed feeling extremely alone and lost during those months, he did not get a single letter from his two best friends; Ron and Hermione, despite their promises. He was starting to wonder if they too had turned blind and decided their friendship wasn’t worth it but after finally meeting up one day for an explanation, he realised it was done so under Dumbledore’s orders which made the situation worse.

Then the events that followed after made it harder to cope with. He had discovered an old alliance formed by Dumbledore during the First Wizarding World and that half of them had either died or were seriously harmed. His godfather Sirius Black had informed him that the Dark Lord was in search of a special object that he had no access to during his previous attack, along with the mysterious actions of his headteacher who has ignored him throughout the summer. The pressure was starting to be a heavy toll on him, and he was forced to deal with it.

Unfortunately, it also became a difficulty attending school. His classmates had started eyeing him weirdly, growing awfully distant with him to which they would immediately stop talking once Harry entered the room, and some of his other so-called-friends had removed him from their lives. It also couldn’t help that certain students, none other than Draco Malfoy and his goons, had begun to bully him more than ever, hitting him with nastier remarks as well as the constant push and shove tactics.

Harry felt isolated and disorientated, felt as if no one had truly believed the words that came out of his mouth, felt as if he was made a laughing stock to the Wizarding World, felt as if Voldemort had already won the battle and it had barely even started. Ron and Hermione tried their best to cheer him up and distract him from reality but it would end in failure each time.

He was starting to lose hope, starting to think he was better off buried twenty-feet deep under the dirt since he knew his parents were the only ones who wouldn’t judge him, starting to accept the many labels plastered on him; he was a liar.

He just had spent a strenuous hour-long detention session with Professor Umbridge in the afternoon due to his apparent cheek talking as well as spitting ‘false’ information about the Dark Lord’s return. Feeling emotionally drained, Harry found himself making a bee-line to the school’s library to have a moment to himself, he wasn’t prepared to face his friends and hear their worries.

Night had already fallen meaning everyone would be asleep by now, the hallways had also gotten dark. Luckily enough, the candles were the only light source as it made it slightly easier for Harry to find his way through the darkness. However, he wasn’t able to see anything further down the hall and he worried that a prefect or a professor on duty might catch him and drag him back to the dorms. Although, he’d rather bump into them than Filch.

And soon enough, once he had turned a corner and heard hurried footsteps approaching up ahead in the darkness, he started to panic. It was only a matter of time before he suddenly collided into something hard and he desperately hoped it wasn’t any of the two. Waiting to hear a grumpy voice scold him, he hears a high-pitched squeal instead.

The unknown figure in front quickly whispers a ‘lumos’ before being blinded by a bright light. Harry hisses at the sudden flash and squints his eyes to see past it expecting to see Filch or a professor. To his surprise, he realised it was just a girl but it wasn’t just any ordinary girl, it was you.

You look at Harry with a bewildered look to which he returns. Opening your mouth to question his presence, your head quickly whips back and a small gasp escapes from your lips. Both of you hear another set of footsteps approaching from behind and you instantly grab Harry’s hand and rush off to find a room or a spot to hide in.

After locating a random closet room, you hastily pull Harry inside with you and shut the door from behind. Harry leans against the wall and starts to pant but you hush at him indicating to keep quiet. You whisper a ‘Filch’ to him and he nods in realisation but mentally facepalms seconds later because you couldn’t see it anyways since the room was completely dark.

Several minutes pass by and no sign of footsteps or a grouchy voice could be heard meaning the coast was clear. Relieved, you flick your wand and a light illuminates from the tip of it, now the room was bright enough to see.

You turn to Harry and smile at him sheepishly, feeling embarrassed for grabbing a stranger’s hand. “Sorry about dragging you here, I had to make sure the both of us didn’t get caught, you know how Filch is.”

Harry shakes his head rapidly, “It’s fine, I appreciate you looking out for me though.”

“No worries...” Your words falter at the end waiting for him to introduce himself as you had no knowledge of the boy standing in front of you.

“Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Ah, well,” The sides of your eyes crinkled as you give him a friendly smile. “You’re welcome Harry, Harry Potter.”

You burst into fits of giggles, finding your small joke amusing. A faint blush creeps onto his face and Harry’s head shifts to the side in an attempt to hide it as he found you it adorable. Fortunately for him, you didn’t notice it but you noticed something instead and it wasn’t fortunate for him.

“Harry! Your hand’s bleeding!” You gasp as you reach out to his hand, lifting it up to your face to inspect it.

Harry winces at the sight of the blood, his scab had cut open supposedly from the harsh grip you had on him whilst you were running away before. It was only a minor cut and it didn’t really bother Harry whilst you reacted differently by shrieking as if he had lost a hand.

“What happened to your hand? Why do you have a scab?” You eye it closely, “It looks recent too.”

Harry scratches the back of his head with his other hand and stays silent, unsure on how to explain it to you that Professor Umbridge is a vile, old bat that enchanted a special quill to cut into his skin when he uses it. He also didn’t want you to worry too much and snitch on her to Dumbledore in case you would get in trouble.

Slightly frowning at his choice to ignore your question, you gently push him back to sit on a random obstacle as you rustle inside your school robes only to pull out a tiny first-aid box and kneel in front of Harry. You pick up a wound spray out of it and spritz it on his cut causing Harry to hiss at the slight pain.

Mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ to him, you continue to dab the blood away, taking extra care not to deepen it. Once you saw that the cut was cleaned up, you pick up a plaster and place it on his cut, softly smoothing it out so that it sticks on properly.

Harry watches you intently as you smile to yourself feeling proud at your work, even if it simply was just tending to your aid. Harry lifts his hands up and stares at the plaster, it was girly for his liking as it was coloured a pastel purple and had a daisy pattern. He found it cute.

"It’s my friends,” Harry looks back at you. “Mine recently ran out so my friend lent me a few since I’m always getting into fights.” You bite your lip and look at Harry, waiting for a shocked reaction from him, he probably doesn’t expect you to be a troublesome girl.

“B-but for a good reason! I only fight the bad guys, y’know the bullies and all.” You stutter, trying to defend yourself. You began to bring up past events of you arguing with a Slytherin called Pansy and how it ended badly, showing him old bruises on your arm that were close to fading away. You then bring up another fight including a boy from your house and rambled on about how he blamed you for messing up a potion to which you secretly made it blow up in his face out of annoyance.

As you continue to rant, you didn’t notice Harry’s gaze on you. He knew all about you and how you are as a person, he knew this because he’s observed you for years. Harry figured that you didn’t know him too well as you saw him as a stranger but to him, you weren’t.

The two of you grew up in the same neighbourhood, practically living across from each other but a few houses down. Both of you also attended the same school and shared most classes together, yet throughout the years you didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence until now.

This wasn’t a surprise to Harry as he was a quiet child and didn’t get on with the others in his year. He stayed reserved, spending most of his time in school sitting inside class with his teacher during break and lunchtime watching other children have fun. The teacher wouldn’t pay much attention to Harry but it didn’t bother him as he was much interested in watching you play on the field outside.

He was captivated by you. You were different from most girls in his year; you loved playing muggle sports as you would constantly single-handedly beat the boys at football. Gradually, he developed a crush on you. He would consistently hear stories from his classmates of how you would beat up bullies and stand up to anyone making fun of your friends, or rather anyone. You were strong for your age, in fact, you were always strong.

Growing up, the stories would get crazier and Harry got a chance to witness it come alive. During one chilly December night, he stumbled upon the scene of you being harassed by two men. Irritated by their actions, Harry was about to call them out but in a blink of an eye; you quickly grab one of their arms and twist it, launching him over your shoulder and slammed him down on the ground.

The other man shrieked in horror and ran away, bumping into Harry’s shoulder in the process. Satisfied, you calmly walk away from the groaning man and left a speechless Harry. From that moment onwards, his admiration for you tripled.

Not only were you strong, but you were also freakishly intelligent. Scoring ‘Outstanding’ grades in most of your classes to which you were one of the top students in Hogwarts, always positioning a place higher than Hermione (she hated that).

Harry was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as he sees you with your head tilted to the side, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, I asked if you were alright. Something wrong?”

“Oh, er, n-no. I was just thinking about something.”

“Ah,” You place your chin in both the palm of your hands, looking up at Harry. “Say, you haven’t told me how you got that scab. What happened?”

Harry sighed. “Umbridge.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You stand up and sit beside Harry who scooches a bit to the side to make space. Although, due to how small the obstacle you guys were sat on, your hands were lightly brushing up against each other and Harry tried his best to keep calm and fight the uncontrollable blush.

“I don’t know why I’ve only just realised this but you were the guy that was with Cedric the night he died, right?” Harry turns his head to you, startled at the sudden change of topic. “And you’re the one who keeps saying that the Dark Lord has returned.”

No answer. Harry stays silent, he had a feeling that you were also going to make fun of him, call him a liar and walk off; forever ignoring his existence. But instead, he hears a soft giggle.

“Don’t worry, I believe you.”

Harry shoots you a confused look, “What, really?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just... mostly everyone doesn’t, and they bully me for it.”

You frown at the new information before your face relaxes. “I’m so sorry that’s been happening to you Harry...” Harry shrugs and you couldn’t help but start to feel bad. “I wish it was different. If there was a way for me to help, I would--”

Harry’s head perks up; “Then help me.”

“What? Harry, I barely know you.”

“But I know you.”

“You don’t even know my name--”

“Y/N, your name is Y/N Y/LN.”

“Okay, now that’s weird.”

Harry shakes his head, “It’s a long story but we grew up in the same neighbourhood and attended the same primary school.”

“Oh,” That made sense. You were beginning to think you had a stalker. “How come I’ve only just met you today?”

“Must be a magic spell I put on myself to be invisible.”

You playfully nudge him. “Oh shut up, a kid that young wouldn’t have been able to learn the spell for it yet.”

You both laugh and for a moment, Harry’s troubles had disappeared and he was enjoying the company, your company. As the laughter fades away, Harry turns back to staring at you and you question him, “What?”

“So, will you help me? With the bullying?”

You bite your lip and ponder for a few minutes. An hour ago, he was just a stranger to you (and whoa, has it already been an hour?) yet it felt like you guys had already met before, like fate had brought him to you and perhaps offered you both to initiate a friendship or more. Wait, what were you thinking? You’ve only just met the guy!

Your eyes meet up with his once more and he gazes at you softly, waiting for an answer. You couldn’t help but feel even more bad for Harry. What were you going to say?

“Okay.”

●●●

The next morning had arrived and like always, Harry had to deal with the usual weird looks and whispers from the students that passed by him in the halls. Ron and Hermione would instantly glare at them to which they’d shut up and walk off but they knew they’d start whispering again once they turned their backs away.

Frustrated at her best friend’s ignorance, Hermione pulls Harry’s arm back causing the three of them to stop in their tracks. “Harry, aren’t you going to say or do something about this? You can’t just ignore them!”

Harry whips his arm out of her grasp causing Hermione to frown. “It’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be alright.”

“Alright?! How could you possibly feel alright when everyone is going around making a mockery of you--”

“Well, well, if it isn’t Potter.” The three of them turn to see Draco and his two other delinquent friends walk up to them, a smug look plastered across Draco’s face. “Finding it difficult these days, aren’t we?”

Ron scoffs, “Screw off Malfoy.” He nudges Harry and a mumbles a ‘let’s just go Harry.’ as him and Hermione start to walk away but Harry stays put.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t had enough and dropped dead just like poor Ceddy. You can both die as cowards.”

Harry steps closer, glowering at Draco. “Don’t you dare talk about Cedric like that.”

Draco also steps closer, their foreheads almost touching each other as anger boils up within them. “Or what?” He shoves Harry back by the shoulders causing him to lose a bit of his balance but luckily enough Ron and Hermione were a few meters away to catch him in time.

Standing back up, he was about to lunge at Draco with his fists clenched up ready to land a punch but before he could, he was interrupted by shouting.

“Hey Draco!”

Everyone turns around and sees you up behind Draco whose head wasn’t turned around in time. He didn’t get the chance to acknowledge who the person calling his name was as you punched him square in the face making him stumble back in pain and tripped on his feet, landing hard on his back.

The rest stood there in horror and utter shock, their mouths slightly opened as their minds were trying to register what had just happened. Harry couldn’t believe it, you stood up for him. Were you watching the situation unfold?

Draco groans and looks up at you, pinching the sides of his nose bridge in an attempt to control his now bleeding nose. “What the fuck--”

“For your information blondie, Harry and Cedric aren’t cowards.” You slowly lean over Draco, peering down at him with narrowed eyes as you smirk. “And neither am I.” You wink and reached into your robes before throwing tissues at him, Draco watches them fall to the ground and your figure walks away, a pleased look on your face.

You make your way to the trio whose eyes were focused on you. You stand in front of Harry and hand him a potion. Harry, still speechless, stares at the unknown potion in his hands.

“It’s Murtlap Essence,” You lightly tap the sides of his hands that had his scab from last night. “Soak your hand with that, it’ll heal it.”

A warm smile appears on his face, the sides of his eyes crinkled making it more genuine. He was so thankful, he couldn’t seem to think of words to express his gratitude. For years, he was yearning for you to acknowledge his presence and the time finally came, better than what he expected it to turn out to be.

But his smile was enough for your heart to flutter and you started to notice his presence was stronger than ever before, you didn’t know why you hadn’t known him before but at least from now on; the image of his smile would burrow itself in your mind. This would be enough to want to know him more.

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like forever and the other two clear their throats, feeling awkward and unsure what to do or say. You and Harry switch back to reality and the realisation of staring at each other for a while makes you both flustered.

“Thank you Y/N, for everything. You didn’t need to punch Draco though,” Harry laughs and so did the rest of you.

You shake your head, “Nah, that pompous brat deserved it. I made sure to punch him hard so his father would hear about it.” You joked, giggling afterwards.

You faintly smile and point past the trio, indicating that you were going to take your leave. “I’ll see you soon Harry, yeah?”

He nods and you stroll past him, but not even several meters away until Harry calls out for you: “Hogsmeade. This Saturday, would you come with--”

“Yes.”

You hastily answer back without stopping or glancing back but the both of you knew each one had supported an excited smile, both now looking forward to the date that was soon coming up.

As Harry watches your figure get smaller further down the hallways, he felt his admiration for you become extremely stronger. He saw you as his saviour, back then when he was young and vulnerable but managed to make his childhood happy despite the problems occurring in his household. He saw you as his saviour right now, where he is older and still vulnerable with the bullying and all, but once again, you made his life worthwhile; he didn’t have to worry as much anymore.

He has you by his side now, and he’ll do anything to protect you in return as an act of kindness. Just like what you did by defending him back then.

#that one drarry scene lol #was tempted to put 'and they kissed' jafijbahf #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter scenario #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #gryffindor #hufflepuff

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mothmansfriend · 5 years

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when i’m sad oh god i’m sad pt. 1

link to pt. 2

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning), suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

Remus doesn’t think he’s ever felt happy in his life.

But that can’t be true. He’s sure it wasn't even two months ago he swore he’d never felt sad before in his life and he knows that one wasn’t true either.

Though, right now the younger Prince twin couldn’t even be certain he feels sad right now. He can identify some feelings, like dizziness (he stumbles through the lobby doors, it’s too bright out its giving him a headache that better not be a hangover), guilt (“Do you even think about anyone but yourself?” No, Virgil, you know Remus better than that. “You know how hard getting sober was the first time, D suddenly taking you out to the bar during the week didn’t raise any flags?” It didn’t, Remus is too self absorbed), and most importantly something he can’t quite label that came in through his lungs smoother than the cheap cigarettes he hates (but uses as an excuse to turn himself into a human ashtray) and settled deep inside him just under a month ago (weeks before D suggested goiung to the club on w Tuesday evening for the first time in almost a year) and it's getting heavier and heavier every day. Possibly, relief was felt when he was greeted by a totally empty apartment instead of a holier-than-thou brother trying to enforce ‘responsibility’ and his first real friend whom he recently enabled in a relapse.

The normally obnoxious and loud man silently rides the elevator to their floor, tripping over his own feet as he exits not even offering a head bop to the cheesy elevator music. He enters the apartment and slams the door harder than necessary but can’t bring himself to feel bad. There's no elegance or emotion to closing his door, landing on his bed full clothed after barely kicking off his shoes and grabbing the controller to turn on Netflix and select the first Saw movie.

It’s halfway through the second movie when he hears someone return home and make what is probably lunch before leaving again. He takes a moment to wonder if his professors or classmates notice his absence or if they’re just thankful for it. He’s sober and he feels the burns on his ankles and arms throb in time with his black eye. God he wishes he wasn’t, but pissed off his last more-than-a-little-sketchy friend and he doesn’t have the energy to find the stash he knows D hid in the apartment somewhere.

Just as Saw II ends and the third begins, he opens his window and lights up a cigarette with a lighter he knows he stole from someone. The smoke coats his throat and the terrible burning taste of nicotine sticks to the roof of his mouth, the headrush barely makes it worth it. Remus considers maybe he needs something stronger, Virgil seems like the type to secretly smoke weed. Wandering minds think about the movie he just watched and the classic needle pit, he certainly isn’t afraid of needles. He slams his head into the glass of his window and takes another drag. The reality of that thought would be a bigger issue than many things he’s done, it’s not often that he rejects things his brain throws at him. He stares out the window and a group of students pass and he sees the exact moment they smell his shitty cigarettes as they look around and glare when they see him. He realizes how often people look at him like that and it feels like the first time that it bothers him. He puts the cigarette out in his lower calf and holds it there until the darkened skin and burning pain is all he can think about

The fifth movie ends marking around 10 hours of blankly staring at the screen. He’s only wearing boxers and the ratty t-shirt he’s been wearing for days. Both roommates are home. The group chat is going off Remus briefly saw a few messages, a reminder about practice Thursday morning, Patton looking for baking suggestions, Virgil asked if anyone heard from Remus because they didn’t finish their discussion.

Remus mutes the chat for the first time and when his phone falls off the bed, doesn't bother reaching for it.

The eighth movie ends. It’s been darkout for awhile, though he isn’t sure quite how long. Remus really feels as if his body has melted and merged with the bed. He hopes he’s dying. He eats stale chips he had hidden in his nightstand and can’t even get out of bed to smoke half a cigarette and put it out on his exposed thigh.

He falls asleep after silencing his brain as best as he can right now.

The next time he wakes up the sun is either setting or rising. He doesn’t really care. The hockey player doesn’t really know if he's stayed still this long, almost ever. If he thinks about it though he is pretty sure he did this last spring. He’s also pretty sure no one noticed last time either. Sleeping seemed to have helped a little and he figured he could probably make a trip to the bathroom and maybe the kitchen if he’s lucky, he noticed that pizza box under his bed is smelling pretty terrible. It’s been four days since he was home spoke to anyone, and no one has checked in on him. He hasn’t left his room since his return, the gatorade bottle of piss is evidence of such. And miraculously, he actually manages to throw out the pizza, steal a ziplock bag full of Roman’s cereal, and use the bathroom. While washing his hands he stares at the shower and decides it’s waited four days, it can wait one more. Just before heading back to his room, Remus swipes the mickey of vodka he saw behind the flour.

He watched the sun rise through his half open blinds and doesn’t remember the last time he saw the sun rise. Remus had yet to touch the vodka, mostly because it hit the floor hours ago and he’s pretty sure he can deal for a few more hours. Today marks day five in a world without Remus Prince opening his fucking mouth to say some dumb shit that probably hurt someone and he didnt even notice. Remus can’t bring himself to care. He can’t stop thinking about how no one has asked about him since. He read the groupchat, Remus knows he’s a nosey bitch, no one has asked about him since a halfhearted response from Roman implying he hadn’t been gone long enough to worry. This sparks a kind of exhausted anger and Remus feels no amount of guilt for stealing his brothers vodka. The smoke weighing him down from inside lulls him back into the bone deep fatigue with no release.

It’s night again, likely early in the morning. Remus’s head is a deep echoing cave of different ways he could die if he just got out of bed. He’s been thinking about the hunting knife he swiped at someone’s house party months ago, for a few hours maybe. He’s had many thoughts like this before, about how fragile human skin is, about how fun it could be to slice open, how warm his own blood would be as it flowed out and he could reach in and feel his final breath.

God, does he want that. His hand reaches out and grabs his chest pulling on any skin he can grip onto as tight as he could. He’s never been good at anything, he knows he has never been a good person, he can’t stop circling around what Roman could possibly mean that Remus hasn’t been gone for long enough to worry when he’s so sure he’s never been gone more than three days. His phone though, if he goes back far enough in his phone, he thinks Roman is right. Google Maps places him in places he doesn’t recognize in cities he’s never been to. His chest seizing up in a way he’s only seen on others.

He’s always been able to hold onto even if his parents didn’t love him, even if no one ever liked him or missed him, that Remus Prince was never fake, he never played nice, he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t he never hid his feelings about anything. If anyone asked him, he’d tell them and it’s their fault if it hurt their feelings. But, how can that be true now? Who is he on these days he doesn’t remember.

Forgetting where he was or getting distracted midway through a task or conversation were always normal for him, the ADHD if he had to guess; but the realization it wasn’t minutes or even hours that he forgot upsets him in a way he didn’t think he could recognize. Remus thinks that this might be the closest he would ever get to understanding how so many people fear him. and he does not like it at all.

The knife is so close. He lights a cigarette. No one else is awake yet. No one has realized he’s even at home. How long would it take to find him? Days? Weeks? How long is he usually gone? Would the smell be what finally pulled someone into to check on him? He puts the cigarette out on his leg. He knows the knife is in the bottom drawer of his desk under old notebooks and packs of pens dumped loosely inside. It’s less than five feet away. He wants it.

He sits up, swings his legs numbly off the side of the bed and stands up. It feels like the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. In a mere three steps forward he sits down on the ground behind his desk chair to wretch open the drawer and sees just how messy it is. His phone goes off and he pulls it by the wire to check, a reminder for practice at 6am. He shoots Coach an apology text for missing practice for the first time in his hockey career and throws his phone back towards the bed. His body feels so heavy as he shoves a hand roughly into the drawer to search for the knife, frustration when he can’t immediately find it leads to him slamming his head into the wooden desk leg before letting it fall onto the chair cushion as his hand wiggles around for a few moments, each second filling him with aimless anger. The drawer slams shut and he flops onto the floor.

He can’t even find the energy to kill himself. Pathetic. He glares at the desk from his place on the cool floor until the fatigue brings him back to sleep.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #bipolar disorder #self harm #suicidal thoughts #angst #hockey au #university au #link to the other fic is fixed #notes on timeline added

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tonystarkisafruit · 5 years

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There’s a question that has been lingering in my head for awhile now but I’m scared it comes off wrong. Its not my intention to offend you or any alcoholic/recovering alcoholics. So, I was browsing through Iron Man wiki &Tumblr blogs. It looks like everyone hates Howard but in the wiki and few comics panels it seems like he was moody/abusive due to his alcoholism& since alcoholism is a disease. Why is the fandom/Tony holding it against him? Isn’t Howard a victim too as much as Tony? Thank you ❣️

So before i begin i just want everyone to know i am by no means an expert on addiction. I am pulling from my own experience and what I've heard from other addicts and that's it.

tbh with you i didn't know what to do with this ask. I was kind of flabbergasted by it. And, tbh i still am even tho it's been in my inbox for close to a week, but you seem sincere so i'm going to give it my best shot.

So 1st and foremost, Howard's alcoholism does not excuse his abusive behavior towards tony or anyone.

Alcoholism, just generally being drunk, or impaired will never excuse someone's behavior good or bad.

If you're an angry or violent drunk then you have a moral obligation to stop drinking. Not because drinking is bad for you or bc of addiction concerns, but bc you're actively harming people when you drink.

But, drugs or alcohol making someone violent isn't really what's going on. An angry or violent person who drinks will continue to be angry or violent. Someone who is kind and loving will continue to be kind and loving when drunk.

I was, once upon a time, a deeply angry person. I had little regard for others and for myself. Alcohol made these behaviors come out more. As i grew up and actively worked on my anger and i made the choice to be kinder, and to practice kindness as much as possible, my drunken behavior reflected that. Instead of effectively trying to cheat on my s.o., i spent almost all my drunken time talking about how wonderful my s.o. was. If I was stress out and sad then drinking made me ugly cry into a toilet. I was responsible for all of those actions bc i am responsible for the character traits that i practice.

Howard was an adult. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was a violent and angry person and he drank anyway. He had a responsibility to sober up and to work on being a better person and he didn't.

When Tony's self destructive impulses where brought out by his drinking he got sober. He had the obligation to do so and he did.

Addiction is a disease but people can make the decision to get better, and some people absolutely must make that decision bc they have dependents.

I mean look. These are actual steps from the 12 step program of AA:

Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

Step 5: Admitted to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

Step 8: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

Step 9: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

5 out of 12 steps are about taking responsibility and making amends. That's almost half.

Alcoholism doesn't make you a bad person. My g. grandma was an alcoholic. She drank a ridiculous amount, but she was one of the best people I'll ever know. She's been dead for 15 years and i still miss her and i'm not the only one. That's just how good of a person she was. She was also usually drunk.

So i guess to sum it up, howard was a bad person who happened to drink. Tony was a self-destructive person who happened to drink. They both seriously fucked up but only tony made any move to better himself. And that's why people hate howard.

The most fucked up and frustrating thing is howard is directly responsible for Tony's alcoholism. Howard forced tony to drink as a child. Tony's downfall ultimately goes all the way back to that moment. But, tony is still the one who had to bear the burden. Tony still had to take responsibility for something howard forced onto him.

So anyway howard stark is burning in actual marvel hell and that's where he belongs.

#howard stark #tony stark #child abuse tw #alcoholism #addiction tw #marvel 616 #ask #anon #ben replies #long post #ask me to tag anything else if you need me to

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nonbinaryresource · 5 years

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Have any of you ever felt more dysphoric after encountering transmed rhetoric? A lot of transmed stuff shows up in nonbinary tags, and I recently read a post where a trans man claimed that seeing nondysphoric afab nb/transmasc people "flaunting" their chests in photos, videos, etc was "hurtful" to him. After that I started feeling much more depressed and self-conscious about my body in ways and places that I never have before. (part 1)

Up to this point, I really only felt dysphoria in regards to my internal reproductive organs. I hope to have some kind of hysterectomy in the future, but for now, my doctor is having me take low dose birth control and skip the placebo pills so that I can stop having a cycle. It definitely helps with that, but as a side effect, I’ve gotten a little bustier and hippier. I didn’t feel TOO bad about that until I saw that post, and now it’s hard for me to even look in the mirror. (part 2)

I’m hoping that these feelings will eventually pass. I know it would be wrong to bind or have top surgery just bc some guy thinks my personal experiences with my gender, body, and dysphoria are ~incorrectly trans~ or something. This has been on my mind for weeks though, and I think it would help me to know whether other nonbinary people have any similar experiences. Thank you. (part 3, end)

This is what transmed (and terf and any other transphobic) rhetoric is meant to do. It’s meant to stir up feelings and scare people and invalidate them and make them hate themselves and make them doubt themselves. This is exactly what they want. They want to either force you to conform to their self-hating, righteous gatekeeping propaganda or to force you back into the closet/to stay in the closet.

I know this isn’t your question, but I want to cover self-care in navigating these sort of situations so you can avoid this as best as possible in the future.

Block liberally, especially if you’re going to spend any time in the tags. I regularly search asexual, aromantic, and nonbinary on tumblr. My block list is huge. This is healthy. Not everyone is meant to face this rhetoric so they can deconstruct it for others to understand why it’s harmful. We’ve all got our strengths and weaknesses, and that’s what makes life work. It is a totally reasonable reaction to be upset and dysphoric and anxious and depressed regarding coming across transmed identity policing and shaming. It is not a good or healthy way to live being brought to such a negative when you come across this stuff.

Start teaching yourself to scan usernames before you read posts. A lot of transmeds identify themselves right in their usernames by straight up calling themselves truscum in their name. Transmed and terf/radfem communities have really allied in the recent past, so you may even catch usernames with rad or radical in their name. When you see these, block on site. If a name seems suspicious but you aren’t sure, you can also quickly check the profile of the person, as many of them have “transmed” listed in their description. Block before you’ve really even processed the post and skip right over it.

Also, blocking can seem like a useless task at first with so many bigoted blogs in the tags, but once you’ve blocked many of the popular ones, you really only have to watch out for the random new one that pops up, and the tags become much more manageable.

Make sure you have plenty of positive and affirming blogs on your dash. If you’re regularly coming across gatekeeping and cissexism but you’re not taking in regular positivity and validation, these comments can be harder to shake off. You tend to feel more isolated and so can spiral quicker and more easily. Having more positive and supportive and trans-friendly blogs regularly on your dash will help you take in these messages, remember you’re not alone, and work on self-love and self-acceptance. Transmeds may still hurt and impact you, but with a bigger community at you’re back, you may find it easier to brush this off and bounce back.

Avoid any temptation to seek out these blogs, whether to interact or just read to “just see” what they’re seeing and thinking. This can be a form of self-harm, and it will definitely make you spiral faster and more intensely. Block, block, block. Take a break from tumblr if you need. At least take a break from the tags if you need. If you’re subscribed to a tag, unsubscribe. Only go searching for the tag to read the posts when you’re feeling mentally up to it. It can be harder to deal with when you’re subscribed to these tags, as posts like this can randomly pop up on your dash without warning, making them more triggering and upsetting.

Practice healthy coping mechanisms. We’ve got some good stuff under our coping tag. I’ve heard so many trans folk say that learning and practicing CBT techniques has helped them immensely in dealing with dysphoria. Mindfulness, meditation (I prefer guided meditation to avoid dissociation), and breathing/grounding exercises can all help as well.

But anyway. You were looking to know you weren’t alone, and the answer is a resounding no, you are not alone. That rhetoric is designed to harm you. It is specifically targeting you. It makes complete sense that it shook you and impacted you.

Keep reminding yourself of what you know: being trans is not defined on an axis of suffering, some jerkoff loser doesn’t get to define transness for all trans people just because they want everyone to hate themselves as much as they do, and you are valid. Stop and specifically validate yourself out loud when you’re alone and can do so. Write it down (in vague terms if you need to for safety) when you’re around people and can’t say it out loud. Aggressively love and support yourself. Do it out of spite for this jerk if that helps motivate you.

This can pass, but you may have to do a little work so it will.

[gif of daily sky fox, a cute little fox with tiny wings, sitting like a human on the floor, swaying side to side, holding a sign that says “You are strong! I believe in you!” There’s boxing gloves and a round heavy bag in the background]

~Pluto

#mod tera #dysphoria #gatekeeping #negativity #transphobia #cissexism #coping #slightlyoffcolour

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molusca · 4 years

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50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

tagged by @yuiaka ty!! <3

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?: black and red

2. Name a food you never eat?: onions. i fucking hate onions, dont put onions in my mouth unless u want me to throw up

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?: too warm i guess

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?: finishing my coffee and getting ready to clean the cup the demons broke in my room in the middle of the night

5. What is your favorite candy bar?: shot (that one with peanuts or something)

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event?: nope

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?: "after i finish the milk i will put the broken glass in the box, dont worry im not stupid” to my mom bc she though i was putting glass in the normal trash

8. What is your favorite ice cream?: that blue one that honestly idk what the fuck is that flavor but im a kingdom hearts fangirl sooo. blue icecream

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?: coffee with a bit of milk bc im a baby and cant drink pure coffee

10. Do you like your wallet?: yeah, its pink and hello kitty. cute

11. What was the last thing you ate?: french fries last night

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?: nah

13. The last sporting event you watched?: does haikyuu count?

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?: dont like popcorn

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to?: my bf

16. Ever go camping?: nope

17. Do you take vitamins?: ive been taking vitamin d for a while

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?: i stopped going to church years ago

19. Do you have a tan?: when we arent in quarentine i usually have a bit of tan in my arms

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?: pizza!!!!!!

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?: nope

22. What color socks do you usually wear?: i never use the same socks since the day in my last year of high school where i couldnt find the pair, so i went with a different sock in each foot and some friends noticed so i decided Well That’s My Thing Now. so when i wear socks (only when i have to get out of the house bc i hate using shoes), i wear a different one in each foot. i have some plain white ones (very very dirty) and a bunch of colored ones, so its always a mix of everything. i have some very fluffy and cute ones for winter, but winter lasts like a month here so i dont use it much lol

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?: i cant drive im bi

24. What terrifies you?: spiders, the things i hear in the middle of the night, someone breaking in the house (im very paranoid of this idk why)

25. Look to your left, what do you see?: my bed (a fucking mess), my calendar in the wall thats still on march, plastic weapons i like to play with, my small aquarium at the side of my bed

26. What chore do you hate?: all of them

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?: i dont think ive ever heard it? idk much about accents

28. What’s your favorite soda?: fanta orange

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?: go in the fast food, i dont have a car for drive thrus

30. Who’s the last person you talked to?: mom

31. Favorite cut of beef?: idk i just like beef

32. Last song you listened to?: love me or leave me - little mix

33. Last book you read?: i finished noite na taverna (no im not looking for the english title even if theres one) and now im reading one of conan doyle sherlock holmes stuff (too lazy to search the title too, in portuguese its vale do terror). if fanfic counts im reading tons of valdangelo lately

34. Favorite day of the week?: uhh saturday i guess

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?: i cant even say it in normal order. no joke

36. How do you like your coffee?: with a bit of milk (something like 1/4 of milk i guess?) and three spoons of suger

37. Favorite pair of shoes?: none. i hate shoes

38. The time you normally go to sleep?: i get in bed at 9pm, when i sleep totally depends of the mood

39. The time you normally get up?: normally its 6am, but now that im not having classes i just woke up and turn off the alarm and get up when my parents leave the house to work (around 6:45am)

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?: sunsets

41. How many blankets on your bed?: three but im only using two

42. Describe your kitchen plates: its brown

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?: nope i hate alcohol

44. Do you play cards?: its very very rare and i dont remember the rules for anything

45. What color is your car?: i dont have a car

46. Can you change a tire?: is there a youtube tutorial for it? lol maybe if i tried

47. Your favorite province?: the fuck is a province

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had?: the only “job” i had is working in the fish lab i work and its nice and fun

49. How did you get your biggest scar?: self harm during the entire high school im not gonna elaborate on that

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy?: i woke up like an hour ago so nothing lol. usually nothing i do make other people happy anyway

im too lazy to tag but @ anyone who sees this, do it its fun

#tagged #ty <3

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honeyfreckled · 5 years

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we have talked a few times and im sorry for this but you are the most accepting and easiest person to talk to honestly i dont have many people in my life i can tell anything real to. but the thing is ive been thinging about relapsing a lot more since i broke up with my boyfriend and i work with him so it makes work depressing and impossible to get through a day without crying sorry this is anon but i am scared ily dont hate me i am not trying to stress you out

ok wow first lemme just say: I DO NOT HATE U. EVER.

and don’t be srry i don’t have a lotta ppl irl i can tell my shit to so i get it. pls know u can always ALWAYS ALWAYS come to me, and u dont gotta be scared to come off anon. i get it and it’s ok if u prefer it that way- but pls know i dont keep it on alot bc i get hate and then i turn it off bc i gotta look out for myself and dont post all the hate bc i dont wanna bring yall down or give them the satisfaction of knowing i have given it a read and response. so u can message me or make a sideblog or idk im just saying this so if it’s off later u dont blame yrself or feel scared to come off anon. ok sorelapse is a real thing and it’s fucked and hard and addiction is fucked up and a real life struggle and we dont treat addicts w the real tenderness, respect, kindness, and acceptance they deserve. but u DO deserve it. and there are hotlines, apps, churches, groups, chatrooms/boards, and sites that are more versed in what are the appropriate things to say to u- i say this bc while i’ve been thru it w loved ones i have not myself struggled w addiction w substances. my addictions were to self harm and victimhood so those are the things i searched for help on. but if it’s alright i’d like to give u some tips or things i used and have heard work for addicts of substances

places like i said like churches, groups, chatrooms, sites, apps, hotlines the apps and hotlines are good if u cant travel or want to talk to ppl who wont share their story bc maybe u cant hear it like its not the kinda help ur looking for. hotlines are sometimes tricky bc some of those folks are not educated they are volunteers so judgment leaks thru and in that case u ask to be redirected and report that volunteer so hopefully they dont repeat that kinda mess to other vulnerable folks looking for help

make a list of things, anything. list of foods u like to order, list of things that make u clench yr teeth, what were yr fave gifts you’ve ever got, style icons of urs, hobbies u tried that annoyed u, movies u can always watch, places on yr skin u hate being touched, any list of anything it doesnt have to be the usual thing of “what to live for” bc when yr depressed those kinds of things arent easy to think of. but if u get a list going of like “best things ive ever touched” “sounds that make me laugh” “trends that were stupid af” “popular things that i didnt like n couldnt figure out why they were popular” “weirdest ppl ive met” well those things might get u on a roll of good memories or laughing or seeing that theres more to yr life than what has been occupying yr thoughts

dancing. dance in yr room in the dark. clear some space. put on some headphones. lock yr door. do it in the shower. just dance. i had to start w closing my eyes and picking songs that i was taken by emotionally. songs that made me jump and slamdance tbh and then it’s just gotten more and more something im not as ashamed w. i spent a date night w james just dancing and then we ya know ya know bc the dancing got so wild. now i make playlists of songs that set moods for diff kinds of dancing

watch shows w ppl who arent doing better than u. they dont live in fancy places, they dont do much w their lives, they dont dress better than u, they struggle, they arent eating good food u dont have access to. iasip. freaks and geeks. letterkenny. undeclared. jake and amir. tpb. the state. youtube. tiktok/vine comps. lots of these kinds of vibes on youtube

podcasts. improv comedy podcasts tbh saved my life. comedy bang! bang! has best of’s those are good ones to start w. improv4humans bc matt besser has great guests of some of the best improvisers out there and he has musical guests and they’ll play a song and the improvisers will use it as inspo for a scene

make things. moodboards. pinterest. playlists. fill a shopping cart and tell yrself “i’ll get it when i win the lotto and move away from anyone who knows me so i can be the me i wanna be w/out judgement” make tea. make a meal if u can. make yr bed. clean one thing. clean the sink. hang some clothes or go thru yr drawers and clean them out. throwing things out feels hard at first but then it’s nice bc u feel less bogged down

find something to throw yr obsession at for a bit. something that wont hurt u as bad, being obsessed in general isnt good. everything in moderation irl. too much of something is bad just as much as too less of it can be bad. but yr looking for something lower risk here and if u gotta be obsessed w a celeb or a song or a food that’s ok. yr focusing the energy on something that isnt a substance so be proud of it

give yrself a break. give yrself some credit. everyday isnt gonna be on the “best of your name here’s days” but sometimes u just live to live bc that’s what u do. u wait it out and get thru it and wait for the sun to come back out. and if u cant get outta bed. or if you hate yr job and wanna scream- that’s normal it’s more normal than always being happy ppl just dont like talking abt bc society kinda trains us to hide our fucked upness idk why but thats how it is. they dont wanna tell us to do preventative care until we’re in the pits

all in all- it comes down to (at least for me) not planning w an endgoal in mind. it’s not over til it’s over and rlly we dont know. it’s all fluctuating and not meant to be a finish line we cross and then suddenly we’re done and we dont suffer anymore and the feeling of shit is gone or the risk of relapse is gone and the depression is cleared away never to be seen again. it’s not realistic. bc it isnt real. on the real- risk is always there and the downs and ups mix and run together and depression is not curable (this isnt something to be miserable over tho) depression isnt curable, yeah ok, but it is manageable. it can be quieted down from time to time and if u keep up w yr healthy routines and coping mechanisms- depression will still find its way to u bc the real world is not something u can manage. death in the family, loss of money or job, car breaking down, sickness outta nowhere, depression grows wild when these very real life stressors come into our lives. but all that too eventually gets easier and easier at least from a “ok i have some distance now” standpoint. and then as those days get more and more btwn it u can then be like “oh wow, ive made it thru X amount of days! ive put up w it this long! whats one more day, whats one more week, hell might as well see how much prouder i can feel once ive got a year under my belt!” plus u will be more capable of handling the bullshit if u know u can still find some safe places in yr coping skills or friends or resources.

ok so this is prob a mess but bottomline know this:

I love you and i will be here the best i can should u ever wanna come spill or if u need me to just send u pics of my dog or boring pics of knickknacks or selfies or memes or links or anything just tell me what u need and i will try my best to show u my love. i hope u can see that u reaching out is just already a HUGE major step in the right direction, give yrself credit! thats amazing! yr already doing it pumpkin look at u! it’s hard ik. but i also know if u are capable of saying u have this problem going on, u are capable of getting thru this. u are a light in the world. u offer goodness and u offer yrself and that’s enough. even if yr fucked up right now- u are contributing to the world by simply being u. there is literally NO ONE ELSE WHO IS YOU. so u are unique by definition. i hope u get something from this post and if not i hope it strikes an idea or thing u can do that will help. i hope u know im here and i hope u see this.

i am sending u all my light and love and good vibes and i can’t wait to see or hear from u again. u are never bothering me, a burden, or stressing me out. tbh it stresses me more that u might be struggling and not telling me or anyone. i dont ever want u to suffer in silence bc u feel guilt or scared or anything. u deserve to have a place to voice yr shit. im here to listen if u do wanna tell me anymore.

everyone else-if this helped or if u can think of anything that might help anon or anyone else- feel free to reblog and get some good NONJUDGMENTAL advice or tips and tricks going, but please please please remember to not come off as judgey or flood it with your drama. keep ur drama out of this post so anon or anyone else doesn’t get triggered by it.

and dont ignore my rule and do it anyway and then say some shit like “ik u said not to but i think this will help lol sorry” like we need this post to stay on this vibe that i set in motion and not a struggle contest or dick measuring or all sad personal reminiscing. go make yr own post for that this is NOT the space.

#Anonymous #sorry if this is a mess but i got a lot of feelings abt the shitty advice that's out there for addicts and i dont know shit except my ideas #and all i can do is pass it along but pls still remember there are plenty more things that could work so if these dont strike a chord lmk #and i can try to think of more and reach out to my friends who are addicts and see what works for them #i love you i love you and i love you and i like you

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 6 years

Note

I am in. love. with the way you write Valter. You somehow capture his eerie calmness in a way I’ve never seen before! ❤️ I’d die if you published any more content for the trash man (If you need specifics, maybe a dignified summoner giving him a serious compliment?) Anyways, I love your work!!

This comment means so much to me because (and I say this in the middle of writing this request) Valter is just… hard for me to capture bc as much as I like him its hard for me to write like… mean people? So I hope you like this, anon, its gonna get kinda long! Oppsie how did this piece end up being 3000 words? What’s up with that? I hope you like it anon, I feel like I may have gotten a little too ooc but like… oh well!

Winter festivities may have been over, but the weather was still here to stay for some time. It was snowing in full swing, but still, the enemy came to you; the blizzard had caught everyone by surprise, and when you had been ordering your forces to retreat, you got cut off from most of them. You were alone and fearful. What if the enemy found you first? What if you simply died from exposure in this cold? What a way for the legendary Summoner to die. All the enemies you had managed to outwit prior would be laughing, hell the lot of them are likely laughing at your despair right this moment.

You hadn’t quite given up, but you were ready to scream out of frustration when in the surge of white and nothingness pushed up quickly around you. You cursed this new blanket of snow and covered your eyes as best you could, squinting against the blinding color to see what had happened. Would this be your demise or your savior? It finally cleared so you could see what was before you, a familiar, albeit, gruff, wyvern and it’s ruthless master. Upon seeing Valter, you couldn’t quite say if this would be the death of you or not. You couldn’t quite tell with him, but the contract bound him. Perhaps you would be safe with him. He was the closest thing to an ally around you right now, and your only hope.

“Where is everyone else?” You had to raise your voice in the shrill of the storm, moving closer to Valter so he could hear you. His wyvern was also big enough to provide a bit of cover from the storm. Its scales must have been thicker than you could tell because it didn’t seem to mind the cold at all. In fact, Valter didn’t seem to mind either. He had that same smirk on his face as usual, probably due to the circumstances you currently found yourself in. Probably took some sick pleasure in knowing he was your only hope, but no need to dwell on that.

“You’re the only one I’ve been able to find, Summoner. It seems we’ve been cut off from the main force.” He wasn’t meeting your gaze, not due to shyness or awkwardness, but to make sure you weren’t followed. His survey of the arena turned out short and he continued speaking. “You’re lucky, that cloak of yours lets you blend into the snow well.” He stepped closer to you and blocked even more cold from you. You didn’t want to admit how much you appreciated that, you were freezing, because you knew the gesture was meant to intimidate you. “But you are my prey, and no matter what, I shall find you.” You frowned and crossed your arms, looking up at him.

“That’s great, but can you take us back to our main force? I can’t stay out there like this much longer or I get hypothermia. I’m already starting to lose feeling in my hands.” Valter studied you a moment, from your slight shivering, how you were trying to stop your teeth from chattering, and how you still managed to look angry at him through you frozen bangs.

“The storm is getting too thick for me to search properly. However,” His lips curled into a bigger grin, one that would have made you frown more had you energy to do so. “I passed by a shelter not far from here, we should be able to make it there and wait out the brunt of this storm.” You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Okay then, lead the way.” He jumped atop his wyvern, and without much of asking, pulled you atop in front of him as well.

“Be careful not to fall Summoner.” Valter’s chuckle rang through your ears as his arms circled either side of your waist to pick up the reins. With a quick snap, his wyvern was once more in the air, and you squealed in surprise. You wouldn’t fall off due to his arms on either side of you yet you still felt unsafe. Your fear kept you from speaking, and the blistering wind hitting your face kept your eyes closed. Your pressed close to Valter, just wishing this experience to be over.

It wasn’t long before you heard Valter laugh again. “There was no need to be so frighted, no harm would have befallen you.” You slowly open your eyes and saw Valter was already standing just outside a small cabin. The place even had a sizable barn nearby, with large enough doors for Valter’s wyvern to stay in.

“With you, I’m never certain,” You grumbled, trying to look for a way down without hurting yourself. You never understood how he seemed to just jump on and off this beast. Wordlessly, Valter offered you his hand. Slowly, you took it, and he helped you down. “Thank you…” Your words were quiet as if not meant for his ears. Valter heard them well enough, though. Seemed he had no intention to say your welcome, though. You turned away from him, and knocked on the door a few times, only for the door to push in by its self. You pushed in more and took a hesitant step inside the cold place. Valter wasn’t far behind and was quick to place a warning hand on your shoulder. You didn’t very well expect this to be a trap, but it was better to be wary in these situations you supposed. So, you let him take the lead to see what was inside this one room cabin.

It was dark but still spacious. If anything, it looked hastily abandoned. You could make out the vague shape of an overturned table, a bed moved away from the wall, and other clutter. “I think its clear…” Your voice was soft, sad. “The battle was so close to here… whoever lived here must have fled in fear.” Valter didn’t respond but replaced his weapon on his back, doing a once over of the place. “You should lead your wyvern to that barn, so it at least has cover from the elements. I’ll see if I can get a fire started in here.” You looked to him, and though he was frowning, left to do as you asked. You weren’t sure if he had much care in his heart for that wyvern, but at least he seemed to take care of it. More like a weapon than a companion, though.

It was hard for your eyes to adjust from the blinding white of snow to the darkness of the cabin you found yourself in. You stuck close to the wall, moving to the far end where a single, small window illuminated a fireplace. The place was a little messy, as you had said someone left in a hurry and left many things behind. When you could finally see better, you searched around for anything that might help you start this fire. Coals were in there, and it fact it was already made with tinder and smaller logs as if someone were planning on using it soon. Was there flint around here, or two rocks you could strike together? Hell, if you could find a fire tome you could make that work. You had very little practice with a tome (all in an effort to grow more useful to the Order of Heroes, though your practice mostly was “reading the same tome five times over to understand it”). With luck, you found some flint and a small steel dagger to strike it against. Crouching down, you neared the tinder pile, and struck the dagger, once, twice, it was only by the third time did you get a spark large enough to catch one of the dried leaves. You quickly backed your hands off and stood, dusting yourself off as you did so. Lucky for you, the flame took to the tinder and slowly the pieces of wood were catching flame as well. Soon, the cold and the dark would leave this cabin and you could think more clearly.

Valter chose that time to come back in then, closing and locking the door behind him. You were quiet, choosing instead to tidy up the place as the light slowly began to grow from behind you. The air was tense, but perhaps only for you. You knew Valter would be fine with just the two of you for an indefinite amount of time, but would you? How long would the storm outside rage, and your allies wonder what happened to you? You didn’t want to know how long. Surely after they retreated, there would be search parties.

“You’ve been staring for a few minutes now, Summoner. Are you sure you’re all there?” You blinked, clearing your foggy vision and focusing once more on Valter. You studied him a moment more, seeing as he sat on a small couch near to the fire, and shook your head.

“Just lost in my thoughts is all.” now that it was getting warmer, you realized just how soaked you and your cloak were. Your cloak and boots at least could dry next to the fire thank, but you had nothing else to change into here. You sighed now, unsure what to do or really how to conduct yourself. Near the fire, on the side opposing where the couch sat were what looked to be cupboards. They were thrown open and some of the contents spilling to the counter below. By the light of the fire, you could tell it was… some sort of food. Some of it had been taken when the occupants fled, but you could see mason jars with preserves in there, both fruit and vegetables, dried meats left behind, and a barrel in the furthest corner half filled with water. Though, you supposed, if you really needed water you only need collect some snow and let it melt before the fire.

“It looks like whoever was here before us left enough preserves for us to stay here the next few days, though I don’t think its enough to last us a week. Hopefully, this storm will pass soon and we can meet up with our main force.” You really didn’t feel like eating, or drinking, or anything really. A sigh left you. Valter turned and peaked through the curtains behind him.

“The storm won’t be letting up any time soon, Summoner. Rest if you need to.” You frowned but moved to the bed near to the food storage. You pushed it back against the wall, only for extra blankets to appear folded where it once covered. You wanted them for yourself but… You very well didn’t want Valter to have an excuse to share this bed with you. So, you moved over to the opposite side of the couch, and placed it there. “… Make sure you get some rest as well, okay? It’s unlikely our enemy will find us here if they dare to brave that storm at all.” He nodded, acknowledging your words but still looking out at the storm. You were feeling fatigued anyway, so perhaps sleeping earlier would be best for you.

So you moved back to the bed, shaking out the blanket and wiping off the sheets just in case. You took one glace at Valter, then back to the bed. You would get under the covers, and then take off your wet clothing. It could dry overnight on the bed frame, and if you were lucky you would awaken before Valter and be able to put them, and your cloak, back on. When you were finished awkwardly wiggling out of your clothing (you were sure he noticed though he hadn’t turned your way once while you did so), you realized you could hardly keep your eyes open. Though still wary of Valter, you cuddled up into the blanket and allowed yourself to drift off. Hoping that soon, the storm would be over or clear enough that you could attempt to move through it.

Valter waited and watched. When your breathing slowed, and your eyes finally closed, he still waited and watched. It could have been an hour or more, it was hard to tell the time now, but he was sure it had been about half an hour since you laid down, surely you were sleeping. So he rose, and took your damp clothing closer to the fire to dry first of all, and added more wood to the fire next. Then he moved to where you claimed the food was and put it away properly. There was a turned over table near the bed, one he was sure you weren’t strong enough to have righted yourself, so he went ahead and fixed that as well. Through it all, he was telling himself that he may as well fix things if he were forced to be here for the next few days, but a small part of him he refused to let have voice knew you would appreciate the sentiment. He straightened a few more things before looking out the window again. Your position was likely safe but it never hurt to be cautious. When he had seemingly done all he could, Valter decided he may as well get some semblance of rest for the next. It would be a light rest though, and he would be sure to awaken at a sign of trouble.

~*~

You woke surprisingly well rested and warm, you could almost forget where you were. But these blankets were a little scratchy against your bare skin–

Your eyes shot open and you surveyed your surroundings. The first thing you noticed, your clothing was not hanging off the footboard of the bed where you left it, but instead neatly folded by your feet. And something smelt… really good, actually. Like warm food. Glancing over at the fire, you could see Valter awake before it, crouching down to stir whatever it was he had in a small cooking cauldron. You wondered, a moment if he actually knew how to cook…

But that could be pondered later, for now, you needed to dress again. And go reclaim your surely warm cloak that still hung by the fire. But how to dress without alerting Valter. You were sure if he knew you were awake he would take the utmost delight and watching you squirm under his gaze, struggling to put your clothing on as quick as possible… You shook your head and sighed. That sill didn’t explain how your clothing ended up folded at the end of the bed. You didn’t remember doing that, and the only other person who could have….

Your gaze shifted to Valter, who has just turned your direction was a passive look, only to crack a little smirk at seeing your eyes open. “Finally up?” You were wary at the tone of his voice, the slight teasing tone it took. “You can thank me later for drying your clothing.” He turned away from you and back to the food. “If you plan to leave that bed at all, put your clothing on quickly. The storm isn’t getting any better.” You sat up in the bed, making sure the blanket still covered your torso as you reached for your shirt. If Valter had any intention of watching he didn’t show it now, apparently too focused on the food before him. Shirt safely on, you reached for your pants now in hopes of shrugging those on as well. You didn’t want to start at him while you changed but you wanted to be sure he didn’t try and sneak a lot.

“With the way your gaze is fixed on me, you would think I was the one changing.” He turned your way just as you got your pants up to your hips and in place, and you sent him a frown but ultimately sighed.

“Thanks for drying my clothing, I suppose…” You looked away from him now, grabbing your socks so padding across the floor to your boots wouldn’t be total hell. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, and even if you see it as a personal gain for some twisted reason, you’re still helping me.” he was frowning at you now, gaze fixed into a look that was a mixture amusement and anger.

“You’re no good to me dead.” he huffed turning his back to you. You had only just noticed he wasn’t in his usual armor, just the casual clothing that sat under it. You kinda liked getting under his skin like this, though, maybe you should continue.

“Sure, sure.” you couldn’t help but laugh a little, standing on the cold floor to move to your boots and cloak. “It’s just interesting to see…” You hesitated to use the word in reference to Valter, but… “well, nice.” You stifled a laugh, seeing him freeze a moment in his tracts.

“Something funny Summoner?” he turned to you, arching a brow. By now you had everything on safely and were feeling toasty and warm.

“Oh nothing it’s just… interesting to see how you act now that we’re alone.” You hummed. He strode over and stood over you.

“Don’t forget our relationship– you are my prey, and I will break you.” This time when it came from his lips, it didn’t sound very convincing.

“And I suppose you hope to do that by being helpful?” You gave him a big smile, one he never thought you would ever direct at him. Damn the way it made his heart pound.

“What fun is there in breaking an already wounded animal?” He leaned down to your level, dangerously close to your face.

“We’ll see just what kind of ‘breaking’ you can do during our time here, Valter.” You were the first to step away, and he let you, watching as you moved back to the other side of the cabin. You weren’t sure what spurred that interaction them. You were certain Valter was a cruel and unusual man, though you wondered, why was it you that caused him to deviate from his norm? There was no placing it, you supposed, but perhaps if your entire stay went this smoothly things would be okay.

#valter x reader #feh #fe valter #valter #fire emblem heroes

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virmillion · 7 years

Text

Bleeding Out

look who’s back with another songfic bc they decided writing a cohesive short story was easier than adding a chapter in a story they’ve already started whoops // back at it again with that good a n g s t // my apologies in advance this is not a happy one

Words: 5k

Song: Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons

Pairings: Prinxiety if you squint

Warnings: blood, swearing, character death, let me know if there’s more specific ones you need // I am not kidding about the bleeding, if that is in any way triggering to you I am begging you to turn away now, it seems ok in the beginning but it will be bad for you later and I want everyone to be safe PLEASE

I'm bleeding out So if the last thing that I do Is bring you down I'll bleed out for you

Things were never supposed to get this out of hand. Roman always swore on his life that his room couldn’t do any real harm if he didn’t let it. Accordingly, it seemed as if it would be perfectly safe to bring in one of the other sides on an adventure that required a bit more work than one person could provide, even a powerhouse such as Roman. His offer to take a buddy on this quest was an unexpected one, but accepted nonetheless. The fact that Virgil was the one to take it on, however, was quite the surprise to all sides involved. As the pair cracked open the prince’s door to the faraway place beyond, everything seemed full of hope and wonder, from the shining sun to the quaint village. For now.

“Oh it’s terrible, just terrible!” a townsperson wails, clawing at Roman’s sleeve. “Those awful gangs have ravaged our lands again! Our crops have been razed, our stores ransacked, our livelihoods ruined! You have to help us, please!” “Never fear, my good friend,” Roman replies, taking up a self-important stance. Virgil rolls his eyes at the theatrics. “We shall return peace to your village, and bring those dirty heathens to justice, or my name isn’t Roman Sanders!” Virgil refrains from mention that his surname wasn’t technically given, so much as borrowed from Thomas. Ignorant to Virgil’s smirk at the overzealousness, Roman marches through the town, making sure to speak to every citizen and comfort them in their time of pain. For all that the others make fun of him, Roman really knows how to be sympathetic to those he’s trying to help. From the crankiest old man at the far end of town to the little toddlers hiding behind their mother’s skirts, everyone brightens up at the sight of their benevolent prince, come to save the day. With each new villager, the details vary a bit, but the general issue tends to remain the same—a gang of people destroying the town and knocking out anyone in their way. Standard procedure in one of Roman’s adventures, as far as Virgil knows, but the smaller inconsistencies are what worry him. In some minds, the gang is actually one person with a vengeance, while others think that it’s a pack of criminals looking for a fight. Sometimes the gang is traveling on foot, other times it uses otherworldly monsters to move and destroy. As Roman is the one in control, it should probably be fine regardless. His room is just part of the amalgamation of Thomas, right? So everything should be perfectly harmless. “All that’s needed now is a formal invitation from the mayor of this fine land,” Roman says, taking Virgil by the sleeve-covered wrist and leading him to a building nearly identical to every other one they’d passed thus far. “She doesn’t like to think of herself as higher than everyone else, so she insists on having the same amenities as her villagers.” Inside of said identical house waits a heavyset woman in a beautiful flowing dress, with only bracelets for jewelry. She welcomes Roman with an embrace, followed by a nod to Virgil—Roman had spoken with her in the past about how to approach him as a stranger. “Nice to meet you, Virgil, I take it?” At his nod, she continues, “My name’s Lena, and I’m sure you’ve heard the rundown from everyone outside already. Roman, standard procedure, just see if you can find these guys and stop them. We’d appreciate it greatly, as always.” Roman nods with a grin before backing out the door, waving to Lena. Virgil gives her a small smile as well, following his friend. “So, there’s a great lake blocking the village in to the south and to the east, as well as endless plains to the north, which means these people probably headed west, where the mountains begin.” Roman points in each direction as they head out of the town, already equipped with a sword. “The mountains are gonna be a little tough, what with the coldness and all the caves they could hide in, but I’m sure we can handle it. That’s why I brought you along, after all. Can’t expect me to do all this searching alone, can you?” Virgil shrugs, still unsure why he volunteered to go on this adventure. Either way, he’s grateful when Roman conjures an extra set of warm clothes to carry. “I don’t expect it to be too chilly,” the prince continues, “but better safe than sorry. I could probably figure out a way to neutralize the sensation of cold, except I haven’t really tried before, and it’s not like we’ve got the time for it now.” Honestly, Virgil probably already knows this, and doesn’t really need elaboration, but Roman doesn’t care. He’s never gotten to take someone else with him on a quest, so his natural instinct is to fill the air with conversation. At the very least, Virgil isn’t protesting it, either. He even offers a few clever retorts, spurring Roman’s enthusiasm on the way to the distant grey mountains.

So I bare my skin And I count my sins And I close my eyes And I take it in I'm bleeding out I'm bleeding out for you, for you.

“Gloves?” Roman offers, letting one boot-clad foot sink into snow. Virgil takes the offered garment, slipping the purple knit material over his shaking fingers. With hats and scarves already donned, there’s not much more left to increase warmth, but Roman insists that this is how to get the full experience of the adventure, by letting the senses get the most realistic effect. Virgil thinks Roman had one too many second cookies from Patton this morning. “I still don’t see why you needed a partner on this quest. You’ve never needed one before.” Virgil burrows his nose deeper into a striped scarf, his words coming out muffled. “Because I knew that the villains in question this time were in mountains, and it’s always best to take a buddy on mountain trips, just in case something happens where one of us needs assistance due to complications from the adventure. If someone were to be trapped alone in the cold, I can’t imagine it would end well.” “Yeah, I got that, but why haven’t you brought someone before? Is this really the first time you’ve gone into mountains?” Roman exhales slowly, watching his breath curl and drift into the sky like a distress signal. “More that it’s a rare location, and we were never that close before. You guys never really saw my quests as legitimate things until that time with the dragon witch.” He rubs his shoulder, where a scar still resides. Virgil gives a hum to acknowledge Roman’s explanation, while also not knowing how to respond to it. He looks like an angry marshmallow with all the layers he’s covered in, but Roman isn’t about to tell him so, not after he’s finally making progress in the pair growing closer. Plus, when someone agrees to go on a potentially dangerous quest with you, calling them a gelatin treat isn’t usually the best way to assure that they remain on the potentially dangerous quest. They continue in silence for a while, sometimes veering off track to peer inside of caves set in the mountain, all of which are dead ends. Only a few feet deep, useful for the sheer purpose of a brief respite from the relentless cold. That’s not to say they don’t utilize them—in fact, they stop several times to watch the snow fall and catch their breaths, seeing the wind dust over their snowy footprints. Like it doesn’t want them to be found. As soon as Virgil voices as much each time, Roman smiles bigger before taking off, determined to not let a sour thought interrupt the adventure. “So anyway, once we find these jerks, I’m not sure what the exact plan is.” Virgil glares daggers at Roman for this, but the prince continues unperturbed. “I can’t prepare a scheme in advance given the inconsistent stories from the townspeople, but the general idea will be that you remain out of sight, while I go in with my sword. If they don’t attack me, I’ll try to work it out peacefully, but if they appear trigger happy, fists are going to fly.” Roman pats the scabbard of his sword reassuringly, half-checking to make sure it’s still there. Of course, he can always conjure more if need be, but what’s the fun in that? None of the greatest adventurers in those books Thomas loves had that sort of ability on their side, so Roman tries to avoid it as well. “It’s so freaking cold,” Virgil mutters a short while later. “Maybe if you’d wear more layers on your legs, that wouldn’t be a problem,” Roman replies, looking pointedly at his companion’s black skinny jeans. “If you could just let me conjure some sweats or snow pants or something, even flannels—” “Absolutely not, my legs look great in these,” Virgil hisses. Roman raises his hands in surrender, not denying the statement. “How much longer?” “You know as well as I do that the whole point of this expedition is finding them, and that we don’t know the exact location.” Virgil scowls, pulling his hat lower over his ears and straightening his hood over it. “It’s practically been days, what if they aren’t up here?” “It’s been hours at best, and because of the landscape. No self-respecting gang member would risk being caught by hanging out in an open plain, and regardless of the size, there’s no way they could mobilize themselves across a lake as big as the one behind us.” Roman feels a twinge of pride at being able to explain something so close to him as his quests, wondering if this is how Logan gets to feel when he uses longer words that don’t make sense. Maybe the feeling of cleverness is what makes him do it so much. Virgil isn’t calling any of this stupid, which is immensely helpful as well—Roman doesn’t know what he’d do if someone were to be critical of this crucial part of his life. Luckily, Virgil seems to be cognizant of this, and makes no snide remarks at it. Needless to say, Roman is relieved.

When the day has come That I've lost my way around And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground

“Our footprints are vanishing,” Virgil comments, looking back at the undisturbed white snow. Indeed, the wind has covered all of their tracks. For all they know, they haven’t gotten twenty feet into the mountains, and the only proof that this is not the case resides in the village in the distance, far too small to be that close. Roman glances back as well, more to admire the land from afar than to check for footprints. The sprawling yellow fields, the glistening blue water, the replica houses dotting the roads. In front of them is only white powder everywhere, eating up anything else in sight. Roman begins to worry as they go deeper into the mountains, the scenery vanishing behind them. They really should have found the gang by now, or at least a sign that they’d been through here. His ears grow numb as he grows desperate, trying not to let it show for Virgil’s sake. Roman is the prince, he’s supposed to be better than this. Even now, they’ve been walking long enough that he can’t say for certain which way the village is. The sun is beaming, forcing his eyes to squint, but that’s hardly an indication of anything. For all he knows, they’ve gotten turned around and are heading in the complete wrong direction. Princes aren’t supposed to get lost. Princes are supposed to protect their companions. Princes are supposed to help. Princes aren’t supposed to march their friends into frozen oblivion. Okay, Roman tells himself, if we don’t see a sign of them in one hundred paces, we turn around. Ten. More grey mountains. Twenty. A sniffle and shiver from Virgil. Thirty. Roman’s foot catches dangerously on a patch of ice. Forty. Virgil nearly goes down. Fifty. Roman can’t feel his extremities. Sixty. Now is not the time to lose hope. Seventy. But he may not have a choice. Eighty. Roman begins to panic. At eighty seven paces, Virgil raises a trembling hand to point off in the distance. “Look, smoke!” Indeed, smoke is billowing in the air maybe thirty feet ahead of them, a definite indication of someone’s presence. Be it friend or foe, the most important thing now is to track down the source of the smoke. With a renewed sense of purpose, Roman picks up the pace, as does Virgil, the pair tromping through the snow and ignoring the feeling of the cold seeping through their shoes. Too soon, while also not soon enough, they arrive at a small hill, the last obstacle blocking the site. Roman bites his lip to stop himself from pointing out to Virgil that this, this was why he needed a companion, to push him through the harder moments that he couldn’t surpass himself. If they didn’t need to be quiet right now, Roman would explain it all, how he never truly liked being alone on these quests, how arduous they were alone, how grateful he was that Virgil didn’t reject the invitation. He’ll tell him later, when it’s safe. Roman points at the ground, an indication for Virgil to remain under cover while Roman moves forward to investigate, but Virgil shakes his head. No way in hell is he letting Princey get hurt if he can prevent it. To be fair, that’s the reaction Roman had the first time someone told him to hang back. Begrudgingly, Roman lifts his eyes to the sky for a moment before nodding, holding out a hand to help Virgil forward. He takes it. Around the small hill is a gently roaring fire, watched by one person with only the minimum layers on that could prevent freezing to death. They don’t even shift their gaze at the boys’ approach, staring deep into the flames. At their feet rests a small bag zipped shut, a match to several other bags surrounding the fire. This person obviously isn’t alone, or else they went to a lot of trouble to make it seem that way. “Hey, are you—” Roman begins, a hand on his sword, but the person doesn’t give him a chance to finish, already on their feet with a larger blade in hand. Roman whips out his own, brandishing it in front of himself and shifting to cover Virgil. “I hope this is fun for you, because I’ve been itching to fight for a while now.” The person grins, widening into a defensive stance. When they speak, their voice is rough from disuse. “You’re the wimp they sent after us? Pathetic.” They shift forward, pulling back the arm holding the sword as a wind up before launching themselves at Roman, the blade flying. He blocks it swiftly, stopping their blade with his own as sparks fly out to the side. Virgil raises his fists, knowing full well that they won’t hold up against a sword, but not caring either. Roman forces his sword up and out, throwing the attacker off. “Oh, a feisty one? How exciting.” The person taunts him, circling around the backside of the fire and letting the tip of their blade drag over the snow. Roman and Virgil duck as a chunk of coal is kicked from the fire at their heads, and all hell breaks loose. Swords and sparks are flying everywhere, melting the snow and burning holes in the bags around the fire. Virgil hangs back, ready to jump in at any moment, while also realizing that interfering could easily do more harm than good for Roman. As Roman gets that trademark self-important smile on his face, success assured, he messes up. A misstep. A trip. A failure to block. He sees the assailant weave away, out of his range of attack. Closer to Virgil. Roman whips his head back to check on his companion, terrified for his safety. An accident. An error. A condemnation. The attacker sees. And smiles. And runs for Virgil, sword drawn. Roman throws himself across the fire into the line of attack, in between Virgil and this monster. His sword is swinging forward, desperate to block, trying to protect, and it’s almost enough. Almost. The attacker is quicker. Their sword slices through the air, almost reaching Virgil. Almost. Roman arrives in the nick of time, his sword held out and his face furious, sweat dripping and freezing under his layers, torn and shredded from the fight. Another sword slices forward. Not his. Aimed at Virgil’s heart. Interrupted by Roman’s body. A blade protruding from his stomach. Roman falls. The attacker laughs. Roman drops his sword. Virgil picks it back up, rightly pissed. The foe laughs harder. Virgil stabs the sword clean through their skull. They go down. Roman does not get back up.

When the sky turns gray And everything is screaming I will reach inside Just to find my heart is beating

Roman watches the clouds soaring overhead, dotting over the pale blue sky as the sun sinks. Something is yelling, a vague shout that barely reaches his ears. His mind isn’t racing—rather, it’s puttering along like a snail, turning over each individual thought carefully before gently moving on to the next. Something about a village, a lake, snow, a fight, and Virgil. Roman blinks, watching the sky turn more grey with the dying sun. Whatever that yelling is, it’s incredibly loud, while also almost dull to his ears. Just another sound. Briefly, Roman registers something painful in his core, but he’s more focused on the cold down there, almost like someone poured water over him to let it freeze on his bare stomach. Another voice yells, his own, but inwardly, begging him to focus, to listen, to pay attention. He blinks a few more times, preferring to remain in this dreamlike state, where he doesn’t have to think about why, exactly, he’s in pain, or why the sky is fading away. The voice grows more insistent, pleading and angry and desperate. With no small amount of resignation, Roman gives in. “—it you jerk, you said we couldn’t get hurt in here!” Virgil’s voice finally breaks through the fog. “You swore we’d be fine and you fucking lied and I don’t know what to do so could you just answer me?” Roman groans a little, lifting a hand in the air. Something warm engulfs it, squeezing tightly. “Roman, thank God, can you get up? I need to get you back to the village, someone there can help, I’m sure of it.” The words go in one ear and out the other as Roman settles his other hand on his stomach, something cold protruding out of it. “I know I’m not supposed to take it out since that just makes the bleeding worse but I don’t know if I can get you back to the village in time for them to help you—” Virgil is babbling, panicking more by the second. Roman grabs feebly at his red sash, wrapped around his outermost coat. Virgil seizes it like a lifeline, desperately wrapping Roman’s wound with it to staunch the flow. With some kind of strength that neither knew he had, Virgil gets Roman onto his back, stumbling back the way they came, to the village in the distance. He continues muttering to himself about how this was supposed to be safe, he wasn’t supposed to be able to get hurt, but it’s too quiet for Roman to register as his mind floats away, unconcerned with the folly of two boys on a cold mountain path. The only thing anchoring him is the soft beating of a drum, rare and small, but still present, still there. He vaguely registers it as his pulsing heart, but not enough to worry about it. Not enough to fear how rapidly it slows. Roman considers the sky above them, its greying color twin to that of the snow below them. He never realized how quickly Virgil could move when he needed to. He wondered if it would be quick enough. He hoped that Virgil wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of Roman not making it. He imagined that would be far worse than what Roman was going through himself. Virgil runs faster.

Oh, you tell me to hold on Oh, you tell me to hold on But innocence is gone And what was right is wrong

“Please stay with me Roman, we’re almost there, I promise,” Virgil says, his legs trembling beneath him. Even with the adrenaline of the moment, he knows he can’t hold out forever, carrying Roman like this, but at least the village is in sight. That mayor, Lena or whoever, surely she’s seen this before, surely she’ll know what to do. Roman has grown limp on Virgil’s back. Virgil runs faster. He begins bargaining with the prince, offering anything he can think of if Roman would just stay awake. His headphones, a positive outlook, more help in the future, less snarky comments, his sick nasty Tim Burton poster, anything if Roman can just hold on. Roman’s breathing slows. Virgil runs faster. Nowhere near soon enough for Virgil’s liking, he begins the final descent down the mountain, his tracks remaining visible in the thinning snow as the village looms ahead. Virgil runs faster. His feet pound into snow, then dirt, then pavement, not as fast as his heart. The prim houses grow as he gets closer, Roman too limp for his liking. “Someone help!” Virgil calls desperately into the streets. He wobbles on unstable legs, searching for anyone. The whole town appears abandoned. Roman is silent. Virgil stumbles his way to the mayor’s house, or the one he assumes to be it, given the similarity of every goddamn building in this town. Nailed to the front door is a piece of paper in curly script, fluttering gently in the wind. Virgil grows more hopeless as he reads it. Welcome back, Roman and Virgil! We’re so glad you could help with our situation, but it would appear some of the gang members returned to do more damage. Accordingly, we have fled over the plains to avoid them, but there is a handsome sum waiting in the town hall for you. Thanks again! Sincerely, Lena and the townspeople. Virgil tears the letter from the door and crushes it under his feet, watching the ink bleed to the edges from the snow under his boot. With two well-placed kicks, he breaks the lock and forces the door open, depositing Roman on a table by the entrance. The sun disappears under the horizon outside, taking with it the warmth of day. Virgil slams the door shut and collapses into a chair by Roman. What he wouldn’t give for telepathy among the sides. He pulls a phone from the pocket of his jeans, ready to send a text, but no dice—the freezing mountains drained his battery completely. Virgil slips a careful hand into Roman’s layers, feeling around for the prince’s phone. Nothing, nothing, nothing, something in his shirt pocket—the phone. Virgil yanks it out, his thumbprint bypassing the lock easily—the sides were all from the same person, why even bother having a passcode? He shoots off a message to Logan and Patton, pleading for them to get to Roman’s room immediately. Virgil doesn’t even know if this will work, as no one has ever been to Roman’s room for an adventure besides him, and for all he knew Roman had to be present to get the sides to the quest. For all Virgil knew, Logan and Patton would open a door to an empty room and assume a joke had been played, laughing off Virgil’s fear. He sends another message, just in case. Roman doesn’t move.

When the hour is nigh And hopelessness is sinking in And the wolves all cry To fill the night with hollering

Virgil watches the moon lift into the sky, bathing the houses outside in a white glow. No response from the other two sides, but the message says delivered. He can only hope at this point. Virgil props his elbow up on the table beside Roman to rest his chin on his fist, fighting to stay awake, to not let Roman slip away from him. He clasps the prince’s hand tightly, feeling the warmth leaking out of it by the second. Outside, noises clatter, echoing through the empty streets and amplifying Virgil’s fear. That stupid note, telling him that the gang returned, was really not what he needed to see. Their possible presence, maybe even in this house, is the only thing keeping Virgil from flicking the lights on, from starting a fire or a candle or something, lest it give the pair away. Raucous laughter burns his ears, swelling and diminishing as dark figures pass the house, never pausing to investigate the shadows camped out inside. Virgil’s heart sinks as tears leak from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks and making their intertwined hands ever colder. Something looms outside the window, its presence foreboding and worrying Virgil that much more. He crouches under the table, praying that his shadow will look like nothing more than an abandoned bag, that Roman’s prone form will just look like decorations, something that can be ignored instead of attacked. The shape outside gets closer, closer, too close, near enough to tap the window. Just as Virgil is about to pick Roman up and sneak further into the house, the form backs up from the window, moving calmly down the street. Virgil thanks his lucky stars in the sky outside. Roman stirs.

When your eyes are red And emptiness is all you know With the darkness fed I will be your scarecrow

“Roman, oh my God, you’re awake, talk to me, please,” Virgil begs, crushing the prince’s hand in his grip. Roman gives a slight cough, wincing as he rests a hand where the blade protrudes. “Virgil,” he gasps, his voice torn and ragged. “I’m right here, come on, Roman.” Water drips down Virgil’s face, splashing onto Roman. Why couldn’t this be like that dumb scene in Tangled, where his emotions fixed his stupid friend? “You need to get through this, tell me how to get back to your room so we can get help.” “Can’t,” Roman gets out, breathing heavily. His eyes crack open, sliding over to Virgil’s tearstained face and shining eyes, pink from crying. “You can’t leave me alone here, how can I help you, please?” Virgil begs, taking Roman’s hand in both of his. “Protect you,” Roman hisses. His voice grows softer. “That’s not good enough!” “Fight for you.” “Roman, I swear I will beat you up when we get out of this stupid quest thing your room forced us into! How do I help you?” “Can’t,” Roman repeats, “can’t can’t can’t can’t.” “If it takes me wringing your neck, you are going to tell me how to get us out of here,” Virgil pleads. “Door.” Door? What door? Three thoughts slam into Virgil at once—they came in through a door in a hill, the door is too far, and he might be too late. Virgil rattles off another text to the sides, worried at their continued absence, while preparing to heave Roman onto his back for the long journey. They’ll never make it. He has to try. Out the door and down the streets, Virgil races between shadows, cowering in fear when the slightest noise creeps up two roads away. Roman has fallen silent. Almost there.

So I bare my skin And I count my sins And I close my eyes And I take it in And I'm bleeding out I'm bleeding out for you, for you.

Roman shudders as Virgil kicks the door in the grassy hill open. “Sorry, sorry!” Virgil squeaks, trying to stabilize himself so as not to disturb the prince. He sidesteps through the door, not bothering to close it behind him before depositing Roman on his neatly made bed. Logan and Patton launch themselves up from their chairs by the door, widening their eyes at the sight of Virgil appearing out of nowhere. “We got your messages, but it was just his room—” “We couldn’t find you and our texts weren’t going through— “What can we do to help—” Logan and Patton trip over themselves in worry before fully understanding the severity of Roman’s situation. The sword disappeared with all the warm layers as Virgil passed through the door, leaving a critically injured Roman without anything to staunch the wound. “Can we conjure something to help him?” Virgil pleads, still holding tightly to the prince’s hand. Patton looks at Logan, unsure of what to do. Logan lifts Roman’s limp wrist, checking the fluttery pulse. Nearly still. “He’s a side, so he won’t actually die,” Logan begins, “but his physical form will be gone. Roman as we know him will be gone, but Thomas won’t just lose his creativity, it will just vanish into an aspect with the others.” “That’s not good enough!” Virgil shouts. “Roman can’t just go, we need him!” “I’m afraid we can’t help him, though,” Logan says apologetically. “We aren’t human, so we can’t exactly get him to a hospital or a doctor or something.” Patton remains silent, his eyes welling up. Roman groans softly, squeezing Virgil’s hand lightly. “Roman, please,” Virgil begs, as Logan and Patton come up behind him. “Stay here, just hold on. Please.” Roman’s grip softens, then completely goes, leaving a cold hand motionless under Virgil’s grasp. Roman shuts his eyes, and slowly vanishes from the bed, his hand a phantom in Virgil’s. Patton sobs. Logan looks at the floor. Virgil screams.

Tag List:

@sakurahayasaki @erlenmeyertrash @lemonpepperpizza @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @milomeepit @leesacrakon

#sanders sides #labhwrites #mine #virgil #roman #logan #patton #bleeding out #blood mention #blood tw #bleeding tw #fighting tw #swearing tw #character death tw #anyway heres some angst whoops #sorry this one is pretty heckin dark my bad #but the song is good highly recommend it #sorry if i overstated the warnings but i really want everyone reading this to be careful and you can never be too careful with that #so hopefully this one was ok #i think i like it better than waves tbh but w/e #gonna be hard for me to beat what/was/missing and taxi/cab im pretty proud of those #also if i talk in the tags about other stories ill probably use slashes and x's now #just so if people are looking for those they dont find the wrong story #idk squad im pretty content with this one i guess but if it sucked hit me up so i dont make this kind of travesty again #a note from labhras after saving as a draft overnight: i liked this better at four am oops

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hahanoiwont · 7 years

Note

For the hard mode ask game: 10, 21, 31, and 33? I love hearing about Pizza Bard :)

Hell yeah,, thank you!!!! I had so much fucking fun with these, man, I love playing with this character, I am so glad you enjoy it too :)

10) Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?He doesn’t really care. He hates being cold, so like, maybe more clothing? But that makes it marginally harder to seduce people, which is too bad. There is no force in this world that can stop pizza bard from seducing people and cloth will not stand in his way, but it’s easier with more skin.

Most of his clothing is an indicator of his household and that he’s a messenger/delivery boy for them so if you kill him you’ll be in trouble, so he does prefer to wear that and not die when he’s going somewhere new. Left to his own devices on a day off, he’d probably wear the same thing he wears every day, bc fae tunics are soft and comfy. He does like the fancy dress clothes he’s worn a couple times to more formal events, but his family isn’t much involved in politics, so he doesn’t get an excuse to wear them much. Mostly, he likes to look good, and he’ll prefer clothes to match his look for the day.

21) If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?Depends on what it is. He deffo blames himself when he tries to prevent a mortal from getting involved with the fae and fails and they die a horrible death, but like, anything else, not really. He’s not really very powerful in the grand scheme of things, so he doesn’t really consider that his actions have impact on the world, and that extends to when he directly causes himself grief. He can be resentful, too, so if he’s decided one thing is someone’s fault, he’s probably decided everything is their fault forever. Also, he is convinced that the universe is out to make him suffer and every inconvenience in his life is a personal act of malice against him on the part of fate (revenge bc he’s too pretty probably), so it’s not really anyone’s fault so much as the way it is. He’s too apathetic to care about most tragedies, involving him or no.

31) Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.This one is so so good. I love it. Allow me to tell you about a couple of particular times he was comfortable.

Before the start of the campaign, he was with a group of adventurers, as he often is in his free time. They were camped out near midsummer by the fire. The party was gonna check out this huge midsummer party they’d heard about, and he was excited to see it. People who’d been before were telling stories, and he’d tell some mildly edited stories of his own. It was a great evening of companionship and camaraderie. This particular group had given him a nickname he liked, the people were interesting and heroic, it was great. Mortal food tastes like ash to him ever since he first ate fae food, but other than that, the perfect evening. He realized he wanted to be a part of this group forever. He also realized, hey, he’s pretty much immortal. He could make these people immortal, too. And then he remembered the horrible, sanity-shredding, awful process of becoming what he is now, and realized, hey, he just seriously thought about doing that to his own dear friends.

He volunteered for first watch and left without a word as soon as everyone else was asleep. He didn’t bother taking anything with him and made every effort never to think about them again. As far as they know, he just vanished one day, and if they ever searched for him they didn’t find him. As a player I say that the party went on to do great things and become heroes, but he has no idea. He didn’t go adventuring again for years.

Another scenario: He calls any day with music lessons Tuesdays, and since time is weird and words have power in the Feywild, he isn’t necessarily wrong. His managerdadboss (who he definitely calls something that is not that but I haven’t come up with it yet,, help) teaches him instruments, charm, fae magic, pizza making, etiquette, pretty much everything he needs to exist as a changeling. He’ll never have the status of a born faerie, but he has the knowledge and social graces to prevent anyone from questioning his continued existence in the Feywild. These lessons also mean some time spent enjoying a mutual interest with the only consistent other person in his life. When he’s in his family estate (pretty small since as far as he can tell it’s just the two of them and servants), he relaxes, because no harm can come to him there unless he’s a dumbass and pisses off MDB. In any number of these lessons, he’s comfortable with an old friend for a while, and then he’ll see something that reminds him of the companion that MDB, however accidentally, drove insane and killed, or that he used to have a life and it’s completely lost to him now just because MDB thought he was interesting, or that he doesn’t have his own name because of MDB, and that comfort goes away. Even if he tries to ignore it, lessons always end pretty quickly after that.

He does have a baseline apathy that means he’s pretty comfortable in all situations, but that’s mostly because whatever he’s seeing, he’s seen weirder. He’s not gonna get all worked up about it.

33) In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?Again, depends on the source.

Other fae:Damn near desperate to improve. You don’t want to fall under the criticism of any faerie ever. He doesn’t even care if the criticism is valid, he will do whatever he has to to get back in their relative good graces or at least lose their negative interest. He is or has become a very quick learner.

Managerdadboss:He secretly wants them to not regret adopting him. He resents the hell out of them but they do keep him relatively safe and alive and they seem to try their best with him, even though they’re terrible at mortal anything in ways that are traumatizing and horrible. Because of this, he would take criticism from them to heart. He’d be just as desperate to lose negative attention as he is with other fae, perhaps more so because MDB has direct power over him, but he’d also reflect on it later once he’s fixed the immediate problem and really think about what was said. MDB has taught him a lot, and he’s a lot more fae because of them.

Literally anyone else:Pass. He might think it’s funny, but he won’t even consider it criticism, it’s just mortals chattering like they do when they come across something they don’t understand. He’s got shit to do, he doesn’t have to explain himself to them.

Ask me about pizza bard!

#pizza bard #thank you! these ones were really good questions #i really enjoyed them!#but yeah pizza bard is uh #deeply flawed as an individual #like he tries to do good but he's also kind of a dick yknow?#and it is hard to tell how much of that is trauma #and how much of that is that he's genuinely an asshole #and how much of that is fae culture and he's just being a good changeling #elara-moon

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anxietalyn · 7 years

Text

ACL reconstruction

so. last week on Tuesday I got ACL surgery, and I've looked on a few tags on Tumblr for tips and what to expect. but, I didn't find a lot, and when I did they weren't really descriptive. so ima do one to maybe help some folks out. this is tips and my experience so far.

Edit: this turned out waaaay longer than I thought it would

THIS IS ALL BASED ON MY SURGERY AND RECOVERY. I'M NOT SAYING THIS IS EXACTLY HOW IT WILL GO. I WENT TO A TOP ORTHOPEDIC SURGEON BC MY FAMILY HAD HEARD A LOT ABOUT MY DUDE AND THEY TOOK MY INSURANCE(he turns out to be one of the top orthopedic surgeons in Texas. If you live in the Houston, Texas area, the dude is Dr. Barrett Brown at Fondren Orthopedic Group in the medical center. whoop.) :

if you have the time, money, and availability, go to therapy a few weeks before the surgery. it'll strengthen the muscles in the injured leg, and the leg that isn't going under the knife. it'll help you after the surgery when you're having to use crutches or a walker. trust me on that. I was going to therapy 7 1/2 before my surgery. my orthopedic said that I should've gone at least six weeks.

when I went to therapy for the first time after tearing my ACL and MCL back in October, he was concerned. *I was also in a wheelchair for ten days*.

don't do that

I wish I would've looked up how or asked a family who is a doctor how to use crutches. because I was miserable in that wheelchair. my muscles in my left leg(injured leg) shrinked because they weren't used in a week and a half. and my leg muscles are pretty strong for my height and weight. that was the most difficult part of therapy leading up to last Tuesday. the fact that my strength and body changed.

if you're learning how to use them, or they are unavailable for a day or so, go ahead and use a wheelchair. bc, I'll be honest, it is a lot easier.

You might be at the hospital for a while before they take you in. I was told to be at my surgeon's office at 9:30, and I wasn't taken back for prep until 13:00(1:00pm)

You might also be in the prep area for a bit.. but there is where you get the hospital dress, no-slide socks, a "fall risk" bracelet(which I should've gotten when I started to walk when I was little bc I'm hella clumsy), your IV, I was offered a numbing shot for the area of the IV but I dunno if that's universal

if you have a family member or friend back there with you, ask for them to distract you. I had my goofy brother to make faces at me

if you are offered that numbing shot, they will tell you this, but for about ten seconds it burns like hell

at my hospital, everyone who would be in the OR had to come introduce themselves before surgery, so if you have any questions, ask! they are there to answer your questions. no matter if you think they're stupid.

my Anesthesiologist(the dude who gives the knock out juice) came over, asked if this is my first surgery, and when I told him yes, he explained EVERYTHING. He said that all the folks in the room(for me it was 6) would come by, ask my name, birthday, what was happening during the surgery, and which leg. he then said that the anaesthesia I would get was a non-narcotic which is to help you not throw up after surgery(which I didn't).

five more people then introduced themselves

when they were wheeling me to the OR, they said it would be cold so they gave me a second blanket

they wheeled me up to the table, had me crawl onto it, had a foam pillow for my head, and extended arm holders for my arms to lay outta the way

Steve(anesthesiologist) then asked if I was ready, I said I was scared. one of the nurses then held my hand as he put in the knock out juice. he then said I did good, and to help the anaesthesia work faster, put an oxygen over my nose and mouth until I was out.(last thing I remember)

when I woke up, I was still in the OR, but I was incredibly dis-oriented. I know ASL, so I started signing "want brother" over and over. none of the OR folks knew what I was signing, so they found someone who knows a little ASL and they interpreted what i was signing

they told my that I had to wait for a little bit so they could check to make sure my vitals and wrap up my leg(it's a 30 minute waiting period)

when my parents came in, I was offered sprite(You can't eat anything after ten o'clock the night before, or drink anything(even water) after midnight.) because my sugar level was low

!!!start drinking water a week before the surgery!!!it's so much more difficult to find a good vein for the IV!!! my grandma was poked seven times in different places to find a good juicy vein!!!

the anaesthesia will most likely make you feel weird.

I called everyone cute. everyone. nurse, doctor, patient, people who I don't know. everyone. I asked my nurse out on a date. I told my mom who Is married she's jealous of my "mad flirting skills"

You need to eat something on your way home. I stopped and got soup to-go. I recommend soup, just because it is easy on the tummy

You will not have an appetite for at least a week. regardless, you need to eat protein during recovery bc it'll help your Incision.

I keep repeating this but. YOU NEED TO EAT. YOU WILL NOT FEEL LIKE IT. BUT EAT. I AM AN 18-YEAR OLD AND I GO TO A COMMUNITY COLLEGE SO I STAYED HOME. I HAD THREE PEOPLE TELLING ME TO EAT. AND ONE WHO FORCED ME TO EAT. GET YOU SOMEONE THAT WILL MAKE YOU EAT WHEN YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE IT.

your leg will hurt. there's no way to sugar coat. it will hurt a lot.

find something to distract yourself. my Alma Mater was in the state championship for football, and I love football and star wars. I watched The Force Awakens an ungodly amount, that I could quote every. single. character.

just find things to do that you don't need to exert yourself too much. I like colouring books, reading, and watching movies. just have something to do while you recover. please.

you'll get prescribed four things: pain medicine, meds for muscle spasms, meds to help with nausea, and a shot that helps prevent blood clots in my leg while I can't move it regularly

I'm about six days into recovery, and the shots are the worst part currently.

The first three to four days are the worst of it. your nerves are waking up, you're getting used to not bending your knee, your learning how to walk again. they are just bad.

take the pain med when your pain level is a 3 or 4 on a 1-10 scale. it'll kick in right before it gets too bad

on that note. DON'T LET SOMEONE TELL YOU HOW BAD YOU HURT. YOUR BODY. YOUR PAIN. EVERYONE'S PAIN TOLERENCE IS DIFFERENT.

when you stand, it will hurt.

when you put pressure on it, it will hurt.

when you move it, it will hurt.

when you hit it(on anything), it will hurt.

when you have to adjust the brace strap that is riiiiight on top of the incision, it will hurt like no other.

that pain, will pass.

I PROMISE you that the pain will reduce. in the moment it may seem like your leg is on fire, but fight on, Strong Warrior. fight on.

elevate your leg from behind your ankle

elevate when ever you can. you're told to, and 10/10 recommend it because it will reduce swelling

you're gonna swell anyways. a little bit of swelling is normal. it's your body trying to heal it's self.

don't take Ibuprofen: it flushed out the good things that the swelling is bringing to heal your body

ice your knee. ice. ice. ice. it will help with over swelling

you don't HAVE to elevate your foot while you sleep though.

You will not sleep for a couple nights. it will suck. it will be frustrating. and it will awful. last night was the first night since Tuesday(it's a Monday) that I got more than four hours of sleep. You will eventually get sleep though. and personally, I was able to take small naps during the day.

I personally, have self-harm scars on my left thigh. so I was slightly uncomfortable with people being around them. You'll have to have someone wrap an ace bandage around your leg(mine is wrapped from my ankle to mid thigh.). Have someone you are comfortable with touching them wrap your leg.

You may not always be fully comfortable during recovery, but try to get as comfy as you can

Go to physical therapy.

it will help(and it's prescribed)

and for goodness sake. Do your at home exercises they give you. they seem like a waste of time, but they honestly do help.

find a PT group you like. **look on your insurance to find a place that is "in network". it'll cost a whole bunch less.**

for PT it's completely okay to go to different people until you feel comfortable. You will do so much better when you're with someone you trust and can tell they know their shit.

I'm curious by nature, and my therapist has the alphabet behind his name. so if you get a card, Google the letters!

for example, the alphabet behind his name is: PT, DPT, FAAOMPT. When I searched them, I found that PT is the good ol' fashioned Physical Therapist. DPT is Doctorate of Physical Therapy. and FAAOMPT is American Academy of Orthopedic Manual Physical Therapists("The “Fellow” is a physical therapist who has demonstrated advanced clinical, analytical, and hands-on skills in the treatment of musculoskeletal orthopedic disorders and is internationally recognized for their competence and expertise in the practice of manual physical therapy." Basically, my dude knows his shit).

Warning though, if you're curious about what a certain exercise does, and you ask,they might touch your body and physically show you what muscle the exercise works. and while you're doing an exersice, if you're doing it wrong, they will fix your position themself. this is why I say find someone your comfortable with. They are very hands on. I was lucky because the first one I went to, we hit it off. we both have mutual interests, and he isn't annoyed when I sass him. he sasses me back.

In pictures of me within a couple weeks of the operation, you can see how swollen my foot is. the brace I have is a pretty general brace, and it I locked straight. I cannot bend my leg while I have it on. under it is two ace bandages, and then on my incision there is a steri-strip. My nurse said not to touch it/try to remove it because it's keeping it clean and helping it heal. I got four holes in my knee for a camera and tools. the graph that is now my ACL is from my Patellar tendon, so the incision is between 6-8 inches.

I'll continue to update this as my recovery continues. and if you have any questions, feel free to message or send me an ask!

#acl surgery #acl reconstruction surgery #surgery recovery tips #i believe in you #you'll do great

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weirdxfunny-colors-blog · 7 years

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Your fight isn't over || John Murphy

A/N: Okay, this is the Murphy thing. This and Bellamy's 'Powercouple of stipidity' were based on some tumblr post I think. 'Living me was the stupidest idea you could think of.' That's how it went. Warnings: a lot of feelings, suicidial thoughts, self-harm, attempting suicide Pairing: Murphy x reader (but not like 'love can cure everything, bc this is not true) ____________________________________________________________ You didn't know when exactly you started to look more at Murphy. Maybe when he was still 'the bad guy' here or when he started to show his real self? You honestly didn't know, but you did know that now you'd do anything for him. You always followed him wherever he went and helped him, even if he didn't ask you. You'd say you two were close friends now. You often sat next to the bonfire and talked for hours about anything you could think about. But he never managed to find out why you were in the skybox and the dropship. You were too scared he'd say you were some kind of freak or something like that. So you've been silent. And you went with him to the city of light. You took care of him, when Jaha disappeared, but when you split up to search for something to eat, Murphy didn't come back. You started to panic. You weren't prepared to be on your own, not now, not without him. So you were looking for him for days, calling him until you lost your voice. After what seemed to be months, you found some metal doors. You were tired, hungry and scared. That door were your last chance. You tried to push them. Nothing. Pull. Nothing. You started to bang and kick them and after few minutes, your hand pressed something. It klicked. The door were open. You sighed with relief and tried not to think about Murphy. Suddenly you heard movement from the inside. Someone was running to the door. You hid behind some tree and waited with knife in your hand. That person almost jumped out from there and fell on their knees. You walked out from your spot with shock paralizing your emotions. - Murphy? - you whispered. The boy looked at you and you could barely tell it was him. He looked so broken, so scared. - [Y/N] - he whispered, quickly got up and ran to you. He hugged you tightly. You felt him shaking. He was sobbing, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and holding you like his life depended on it. You ran your fingers through his hair slowly, trying to calm him down. You wanted to cry too, but you found him like that, like he was an endless mess and now bringing back his normal self was your priority. So you two just stood there, hugging each other until he stopped shaking so much. His sobs died and now he was just breathing irregularily. - What happened? - you whispered after few minutes. - This door closed itself and I throught I was going crazy, I though I'd die there and... I had enough, I tried to kill myself, but then someone opened the door. It was you, right? - he asked, pulling away. You nodded and watched him wiping away his tears and trying to breath slowly. You were still shocked. He was talking about killing himself. Why? - Because I was there alone. I had too much time to think and I thought that I was going to die there anyway. Oh, you asked it out loud. You nodded and looked at the ground. You bit your lip. - Are you okay? - he asked suddenly, looking at you with concern. - Why are you still here anyway? I was locked there for days... - I was looking for you - you mumbled. - Why? - he asked and you looked at him shocked. - Why didn't you go to look for Jaha or... - You're too important to be left behind. Can we go now? - you cut him off. Murphy was surprised by your words, but he just nodded. And you two walked away from cursed bunker. After he met Emori again and you saw the way he was looking at her, you stepped back. You let her take care of him. And you left. Now you didn't know where to go, so now you became Bellamy's shadow. And you didn't see Murphy for months. Until the final battle with ALIE. As soon as you saw Murphy, you felt like you were yourself again. He didn't see you. And you wanted it to stay like this. That's why you ran inside the tower before anyone could even stop you. You managed to get to the top and break through the door. In Thatcher exact moment Abby jumped from the barrel. You shot Jaha's arm and immediately after you threw the knife, cutting the rope. Abby fell on the floor. - She's alive - you whispered to Clarke. You heard someone's steps. Someone was running. You grabbed your gun and aimed at the door. Bellamy ran inside and looked around. - Clear - he said to his radio. You sighed with relief and hid your gun. - What the fuck were you thinking, [Y/N]? - She's here? - you heard Murphy's shocked voice. - We don't have time for that! - Clarke yelled. From that moment everything was happening just faster and faster. Clarke did herself the Mount Weather blood therapy and took both chips. Now everything you could do was waiting and protecting Clarke. - [Y/N], where were you this whole time? - Murphy asked, standing right next to you with his gun. - With Bellamy. And the others - you said slowly, watching Murphy's face changing. - Oh, great. When I was fighting for my life, you were pretending to be The Princess ver. 2 - he snorted. And you felt like shit again. All happiness from seeing him again was gone. He was right, you left him. - But you had Emori, so I thought I'd be useless... - She's not you. Besides, she left me. She took the chip. - What? - you asked with eyes wide open. - Murphy! I need your help! - Abby yelled. - Take her heart and keep pressing here. - What? No! - Do what I say! That's right, you're doing great - you turned around to see the boy pressing at Natblida's heart to pump more blood. Bellamy and the rest ran into the room. They started to barricade the door, when first ALIE's mannequins hit the door. - Murphy! - you yelled, when everyone backed up from the door. You looked at him with fear in your eyes. - If I die here... - No, nobody dies today! - Bellamy yelled and you looked at him with your eyes full of tears. - Murphy, if I... - Bellamy was right... - Just let me say it - you sobbed. Jaha broke down the door and your people, who took the chip, ran inside. - Remember, Murph, I love you! - you yelled, jumping into fight. You were cutting with knife, hitting with your fists and kicking with your feet. You even managed to bite someone. Everything just to keep Clarke safe. Just to keep Murphy safe. You looked up, pressing knife to Emori's throat. Maybe it'd be better if you kill her? And suddenly it was all over. The girl blinked few times and jumped from you. - Oh no. John, I'm so sorry - she whispered looking behind you. You let your arm fall to your side, realisation hit you. Clarle did it. It was over. And now Murphy could be with Emori. And everyone was okay. But you were tired. Tired of your feelings, tired of being the shadow, tired of constant fighting. And you stepped toward the door, finally knowing what to do. Octavia already left. Now was your turn. You just looked back to see Emori hugging Murphy. You smiled sadly and walked toward the one of the rooms. Your fight was over. Now no one could stop you. You were no longer kid on the Arc, where they locked you up, so you wouldn't do anything more to yourself. You closed the door and walked toward the window. You looked around and took a deep breath. You wanted to look at the Earth for the last time. It was beautiful. You pressed your knife to your skin and cut your arm open. Then you did the same on the other forearm. Knife fell to the ground, hitting it with annoying sound and you sighed with relief. Suddenly the door flew open, hitting the wall. You turned around, tears already streaming down your cheeks. Murphy stopped, looking at you in horror. - No, no, no! [Y/N], what did you do?! - he yelled and ran to you. He pushed you gently to the wall and ordered to sit down. He squeezed your wounds as hard as he could. - ABBY! FUCK, BELLAMY, ABBY! ANYONE! - he yelled his voice cracking slightly. - Let me go, Murph... - you whispered, feeling the darkness pulling you in. - I'm tired... - Don't leave me here alone! ABBY, HURRY THE FUCK UP! PLEASE! - My fight is over... You heard something. Something like a... Voice. Someone was talking or more like almost whispering. - ...Lot of blood... Rest... Just two days... - No! We're not fucking killing her! - that one was so loud and annoyingly familiar. - But we don't have any medicine. She'll be extremely weak, Murphy. - I don't care! It was just two days! You felt tears under your eyelids. No, it couldn't be truth. How the hell they manged to rescue you? Why? One tear flew down your cheek, your lips were slightly quivering. You squeezed your eyes harder. No, it wasn't happening. - [Y/N]? - you heard Abby's voice. - Bellamy, get him out of here. [Y/N], do you hear me? - Let me go! I have to be there! - Calm down, Murphy. The last thing [Y/N] needs now is more stress. Bellamy's words seemed to work on Murphy, because you didn't hear him again, just the sound of opening and closing door. - Do you hear me? - Abby asked again, grabbing your hand. You opened your eyes slightly. Just for a second. Then you closed them again. You opened your mouth and tried to say something, but your throat was dry like a desert. - Bellamy, is he calm now? - I think so. I told him that his yelling would make [Y/N] feel worse, so he will be quiet now. - Good, let him in. I need his help. You heard door opening, some whispers and then quick steps. Door closed. - Help me with sitting her up - Abby said calmly. You shook your head slightly and tried to say something again. - Don't, [Y/N]. You'll just make it worse - you just nodded, still not opening your eyes. You were too scared to look at anything, to see their disappointment once again. - Okay, Murphy. Do what I'm doing. And with that you were sitting in few seconds. Abby went to grab some fresh water for you to drink, so you felt as if you were alone with Murphy. He held you up, even if Abby said you could sit by yourself. Just like he needed to make sure you were still alive. - Drink - you felt cup against your lips, so you opened them and fresh water flew down your throat. After drinking two cups of water, you alredy felt slightly better. But just phisically. - Abby, can you leave us? - You can't make her upset... - I know. I'll be as calm as a fucking forest or some shit. Now, please, leave. I have to talk with her. You heard heavy sigh and slow steps. Then door opened and closed. And now you were alone with Murphy. He helped you lay down again. And just then you opened your eyes. - Can you talk? - he asked, so you opened your mouth. - I think I can - you croacked. The silence filled the room, when Murphy throught about what he wanted to say. - Why did you do this? Twice? - he asked, his voice soft, steady and calm. No sign of anger or disgust. - On Arc I tried to kill myself, so my little sister could live. Here, because I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of being the shadow and I'm tired of myself - you said, your voice still hoarse. - Why am I still alive? - Abby said it's because of my strong hands, good grip and too much feelings - he said in the same tone as before. - I couldn't just let you die. I don't know if I can help you, [Y/N]. I'm horrible person and I don't know shit about mental illnesses, but if you want, I can try. I know it's not like in that shitty books where everything is cured because, oh, ah love and stuff, but I can try be the person you need - he stopped for a second. - I'm still thinking about what you yelled there, in the room full of people, when I was touching someone's heart... Literally. - Leave it - you whispered, still looking at the ceiling. - No - he snapped right back. - You said you love me. Loving me was the stupidest idea you've ever had and I know your ideas can be really stupid, because I saved your life two days ago because of your stupid idea - he sighed. - You really thought I wouldn't go after you? Did you really think I wouldn't run to you when everything was over? - you heard slight smile in his voice. - Okay, but you said you love me. This is why you left me with Emori and ran to Bellamy? - You love her and I needed someone to lead me - you whispered again. - Beep, wrong. I don't love her. Sure, she's a good looking girl with sass, which I like, but nothing else. I was with her just because you left - he explained. Silence filled the room, he let you think about what he just said. - Since when did you feel like that? Tired and stuff? - I don't know. I realised this when opened my eyes one day and almost heard screams people of Mount Weather, grounders we killed... And your screams. I realised I'm tired of being here. - Why didn't you say anything? I thought we were friends. I was saying the most private things about myself... You don't trust me? - I know and I'm sorry, I... I just didn't want you to think I'm weak or weird - your voice cracked, when tears started to flow down again. - Everyone is trying to fight, they're not giving up no matter what. And I'm in this crowd without even single piece of hope - you whispered, now fully crying. - Hey, I'm sorry, don't cry, please - you heard him stepping closer, kneeling next to the bed and you felt his hand squeezeing yours. - Please, I just wanted to know few things. Don't cry, I'm sorry - he whispered. You turned your head and looked at the boy, who rested his forehead on top of his hand, which was squeezing yours. - I just wanted to know why I almost lost you... I just... I love you and... I couldn't let you go. - Murph... Look at me - you whispered. He looked at you and your heart broke. Dark circles under his eyes made them look more red than they actually were. His naturally pale skin was even paler now. His hair were a mess. You felt your eyes watering again. - I can be the person you need. Just... Talk to me, say what you like and what not. I know it's hard to even want to survive after all of what we've been through, but... Let's try, please. Just try with me - he said, his eyes watering just like yours, his voice desperate. - You are everything I need and... I just need you to remind me every day that I have people to live for, that I have to do something. I'm often forgetting this, because of the chaos - you tried to smile, but your lips just started trembling. Tears escaped your eyes once again. - I need a reason to live for - you whispered, still looking at Murphy. He nodded, his eyes full of tears. He got up and leaned in, kissing your forehead. - And you said I was the one with stupid idea of loving you. What about you? You're worse than me in this - you laughed through the tears. He pulled away and snorted as one tear ran down his cheek.y - You're wrong. You are perfect and I'm still curious how the hell anyone could stop themselves from falling in love with you.

#john murphy #john murphy x reader #john murphy x you #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #thelonious jaha #the100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fandom #bellamy blake x reader #abby griffin #marcus kane #octavia blake

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