#i really just feel so broken down and vulnerable and alone and just tired from that

[hatake]

something that really sucks about prolonged loneliness is feeling so desperate for emotional intimacy and then also so closed off to it because you're used to the isolation. it's an exhausting circular pattern and i hate it.

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: major spoilers, angst, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon ignorance and inaccuracies, if you read the drabble you’ll know you originally just hosted Venom but this time I’m writing you as Spider-Venom

—

[Unedited]

The sun kissed the Western horizon as it slowly sunk beneath the surface. The gorgeous colors of the settling dusk bathing your New York in the luminous sheen of the golden glow that settles upon the city like a blanket.

You were just finishing up for the day, swinging from a tall skyscraper to tether a web to the very top of a clock tower. Pulling yourself up all the way to the top to perch on one of the very many gargoyle statues jutting out of the tower’s roof lip.

“Hungry.”

“That’s what the sandwiches are for bud.”

Venom settled inside when you tore the wrapping off the sandwich and took a big bite out of the end. Plenty of meat packed into the sandwich but also enough vegetables to sustain you too. Nutrients were vital in your symbiotic relationship with the alien and regardless of where they came from you both needed hundreds of them to keep yourselves alive and healthy.

“I hate the vegetables.”

“Well I like them. They taste better than people do.”

“You’ve never had another person before! You don’t let me eat people!”

“I’m not a cannibal.”

“Hmph.”

You rolled your eyes at the symbiote’s childish behavior, you’ve grown used to it but that didn’t mean you’d grown to like their attitude.

But you had grown to like them, ever since they had attached themself to you on your fourteenth birthday. The same day you very nearly took your own life.

Your life was far from perfect, as a matter of fact you can’t remember a time in your twenty long years of being alive that you’d actually been happy. Really, well and truly happy.

Your mother died when you were five and your father had abandoned you not too long after. About a year and half to be precise, and in his care and his care alone you’d learned that he was the furthest thing from what a proper father should be.

The first five years in which he parented you alongside your beloved mother he seemed guarded. Closed off, angry at the world and everyone surrounding him. And his own personal turmoil seemed to transcend into raising you— as he didn��t put an ounce of love or affection into bringing you up.

At the time, you hadn’t understood. What did you do wrong? Did you make him angry? Why wouldn’t he love you unconditionally? Your mother did.. was it so hard for him to treat you as his own? As if he loved you?

Apparently it was too hard for him, because he didn’t want to do it alone. And when your mother had died of cancer he had attempted to raise you in her honor but failed miserably and gave up within two years.

You were seven when you experienced your first heartbreak, in the years prior under his ‘care’ you had plenty share of devastation and let-downs from him. But none compared to this, no other feeling you had ever experienced before compared to this.

A searing ache in your chest born of self doubt, lack of self worth and value. Because you had believed it was entirely your fault that he was incapable of loving you fully and to the extent of his heart. And it festered in your years spent under different families, the issues regarding how you viewed yourself only darkening as you were let down over and over again.

Given up on— over and over again. And the ache continued to linger, growing in secret places— dark and hateful in your tired heart.

And slowly but surely it had given up on you too, shatter to pieces and cast to the wind to leave you broken and hurt. Vulnerable and fragile to the cold and bitter winds of this cruel and brutal life.

Eventually your mind followed suit, wishing for anything to escape this pain. Anything to leave it behind.

Your luck had a turn for the worst when you were bitten by a spider at twelve and gifted cursed with abilities and skills inhuman and otherworldly.

Enhanced senses, heightened sensitivities and awareness and phenomenal intelligence and strength.

Superhuman.

And for two years you lived with it, not utilizing the powers for any kind of purpose. The heightened healing property of your curse made it hard to give up on this life as you had so desperately wished to.

You tried and tried again— and each time you failed.

When you were fourteen is when you met Venom, you had tested buildings before but never the Golden Gate Brigde. And as you clambered over the rail to stand at the very edge of the bridge’s structure— it happened.

You remember the feel of their texture sliding across your skin, then the pressure you felt as they sunk beneath your skin to meld with your body—

“It wasn’t that bad. You’re overexaggerating.”

“I thought we agreed you’d stay out of my head.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“Venom,” you scolded lightly. Not reprimanding in a way that spat disappointment over ownership. But in a way that spoke volumes of the relationship you shared with the alien. Equals.

“I hate it when you think about that bastard.”

“I know, I’m sorry.. my thoughts get away from me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He made his choice, you are what he made you. And you’re more than worth it. You deserve love just as everybody else.”

They went silent after that and you didn’t bother trying to get them to keep up the conversation. Just smiled softly at their nature— overprotective and fond.

Venom had saved your life when you were at your lowest, the abilities you gained from your spider bite coupled well with their own. And upon latching themself to you they had promised they would make you see the value in life. And you had.. in them.

They were what kept you alive, and you couldn’t be more grateful for them coming to your aid when you needed it the most.

“You’re sweet, you like to act like you’re big and bad but on the inside you’re just a big softie.”

“I regret everything I said.”

“Oh come on, I was thanking you for what you said.”

“Funny how you didn’t actually say the words ‘thank you’ at all.”

You just laughed as they grumbled in your head, but you were swift to straighten and turn serious when your senses tingled. Like a cold rippled shucking down your back to warn you of incoming danger or threats.

Venom growled lowly alongside the tingle and you jumped up, spinning around to face the danger that caused your senses to ripple. And a glowing orange portal suddenly erupted to life just a few feet in front of you. Sliding your mask back on you separated your feet and steadied yourself, prepared and strong in stance.

Your senses tingled again— sharper this time and you stood there on tense silence and a brief moment of absolute stillness. A moment later something was shooting from the portal, something turned out to be someone and you recognized the green suit and grinning goblin mask as Green Goblin tackled you off the building.

You freed yourself from his grasp and shot a web to the corner of the building to your left before pulling yourself free from his grip and onto the side of the skyscraper.

Your jaw ticked as a flicker of annoyance sparked to life in your chest. The very last thing you wanted to deal with after a long day was an anomaly. You were honestly tempted to just call up Peter B. Parker and have him come here and take care of this himself.

Or maybe he could convince the leader he follows to come do it, not that you know his name or anything f about him but from what Peter says apparently he’s pretty damn good at his job.

“Seriously another one? Our dimension can’t be that exciting can it?”

“Right there with ya buddy, why did he have to come here after we already finished up our day too?”

“Honestly, like— a little fucking class wouldn’t hurt.”

You chuckled at their remark before your senses tingling had you swinging away from the spot you occupied previously just as a gas bomb erupted against the brick.

An irritated sigh left your lips behind the fabric of your mask as you perched yourself on a lamp post, the Goblin’s eerie hysterical laughter echoing loud and prominent in the desolate streets surrounding you. Everyone having long since turned in for the night leaving the area free of any civilians which made your job —and in turn Venom’s— easier at least.

The fight that had begun two minutes after Goblin had tried to surprise you with his fucking chemical bombs wasn’t all you had thought it would be. This Goblin was a whole lot weaker than your Goblin, not only that but the guy kept glitching every few minutes.

And you and Venom capitalized on the very golden opportunities that event opened up to you every time it occurred.

And finally taking him down without any damage to the buildings or street was just the icing on the cake, the fact that the whole fight didn’t endanger any innocent people was a plus too.

Things only went to shit when you went back to that portal with Goblin slung over your shoulder and found two different spider variants walking out of it.

“Well what the fuck took them so damn long? Sure, sure no worries we’ll protect our own universe and keep others out too. No fucking problem on our end.”

Again, you found yourself chuckling humorously at Venom’s attitude. Their clear lack of patience and respect for those in charge of keeping the multiverse under control amusing you. Sure, you both liked Peter enough to admire what it was he and the guy he followed did.. along with the other spider variants he works with. But still.. if you’re going to make this your entire career and you’re going to dedicate yourself to the security of the multiverse— at least be good at it.

“Think this asshole got lost, poor wee lamb.” You quipped as you landed on the rooftop the other were standing on. You carelessly threw Goblin off your shoulder and he grunted as he hit the concrete on his back. The sound of pain coming from him almost humanizing him a bit, and you curled your lip derisively as he broke out into a mad grin seconds later.

Whilst you were distracted staring at Norman, Miguel withheld his sudden and intense urge to upheave all the contents in his stomach. His heard felt like lead as it plummeted to his toes, knots in his stomach winding themselves up tightly at the sound of your voice.

“[Y/Name]?”

You looked up when the man of the two variants spoke, and there was a flicker of recognition in your stomach at the voice. Recognition that swiftly turned to course and fiery hot rage that flowed through your blood like magma.

“How dare he?!”

The man pulled his mask off his face and there he was, your father, Miguel O’hara.

“How dare he return here?!”

You took an instinctive step back from him when he revealed his face. And you flinched internally when you saw it, he looked miserable.. eyes bloodshot and brows downturned to put a deep and painful scowl on his face.

He looked broken.. hurt.

And the twisted and vengeful feelings inside you felt good at the prospect of him hurting. You liked that look on his face.. because he more than deserved whatever put it there.

Miguel watched as you stepped back, you didn’t remove your mask as he did. Just stood there frozen as you stared at him. Then the eyes of your mask narrowed and he could abruptly feel the heat of your glare searing into his skin. Angry and painful.

“Parker— that fucking bastard, we’ll kill him.”

“We?” The woman spoke and you looked from your father to her. She had darker skin and a styled afro, her mask was more or less goggles on her face and Venom snickered inside your head at the mental insult you made.

You decided to ignore her question, the passive aggressive tone she took not inclining you to be cooperative with her at all.

“As far as we know Osborne was the only one who got into this universe,” you informed choosing to look back to Miguel to address him instead of the woman. “So gather him and go home.”

“[Y/Name] wait!—”

“Don’t. You’re just here for him right?” You queried gesturing to Norman when you referred to him. Then you were facing Miguel again. “Take him and get out. We’re finished here.” You weren’t granted the chance to see his reaction— immediately doing what you thought was best for you and getting out of the uncomfortable spot his return had put you in.

And you swung away as you ignored the calls of your name he roared into the night. You didn’t want anything to do with him, and there was nothing you owed to that bastard. Not a damn thing.

And as you swung away from that rooftop you felt angry at the fact that you could feel your guarded heart hurt in deep and stinging agony once again— because of him.

And you felt a twitch of disgust in yourself twist itself into a knot within your chest, born at the expense you felt you were dishonoring Venom by being hurt you saw your father again.

After all, it was them that had healed you six years ago when they had first bonded with you. And it was them and them alone that had healed that ache in your heart.

“Kid.”

“Please Venom, not now.”

They went silent after that, and you stayed quiet too as you swung through the city. You just wanted to be at home, safe and comfortable in the warmth of your own space. Just so you could calm the roaring of your blood and thunderous heart in the security and peace that your home brought you.

You knew that now that he knows you’re still alive he’ll come back, and you’re not sure how the next time will go.. this time you just wanted out. The way your heart had picked up and the way your blood quickened had made you just want to be isolated and safe.

You’re not so sure which feeling will take more presence next time— but you could promise this; the rage you had briefly felt, that died behind the feeling of ache and hurt but still lingered, was strong. If it took province over every other feeling next time you could promise it wouldn’t end well.

Not for Miguel.

Not for you.

And not for the multiverse.. the same multiverse he had been so keen on protecting—

The multiverse he had chosen over you.

—

a/n: I did this during a tattoo on my ribs— and the wipe down continues to be my least favorite part of adding tattoos to my body, cause how can I sit through a tattoo just fine then get weak on the wipe down? 🥲🤌🏽

[bananastarion]

Rambling headcanons about how Astarion's trauma could manifest in your relationship.

Disclaimer: I am not fetishizing trauma or PTSD here. I have C-PTSD myself, and have dated others with it as well. So some of this is (loosely) inspired by my own experiences. It's not pretty, it's not fun, but I'd say it's pretty realistic. So yeah, fair warning! Anyway, let's gooooo

Astarion isn't fazed by much, but he IS claustrophobic- having to claw your way out of your own coffin, being trapped in a mindflayer pod and being trapped in a tomb for a year straight would do that to anyone. If he is ever unfortunate enough to be stuck in a small space again, he'll go into a blind panic. He'll hyperventilate and try to force his way out any way he can, and if he can't get out in time he'll just completely mentally shut down for a bit. If you plan to pull him into a little broom closet for a sneaky fuck, just forget it ok? You will probably get your eyes accidentally clawed out.

There is a long period in your relationship where Astarion is gradually getting more comfortable with being vulnerable around you, but he's also very self-conscious about it. He doesn't want you to pity him or think he's weak. You will be tempted to give him lots of validation and praise to make up for all of the psychological abuse he endured, to reassure him that he's finally safe and free, and that you love him for more than just his body. That his problems won't ever drive you away, and that you don't judge him. He appreciates your words deeply, he wants and needs them more than he cares to admit. But at the same time, they completely overwhelm him. Finally being in a good place with a caring partner is such a stark contrast to what he's been through, that it forces him to see even deeper into the void inside him and recognize just how badly he was treated, how deprived he's been. They hit him hard in both good and bad ways, and sometimes he'll tell you to stop because he just can't handle feeling so much right now. It's best to stick to mostly surface level stuff and ease carefully into the deeper, more meaningful observations.

The sweeter your words, the more his mind races with fears that you are idealizing him and eventually you'll come to see him for what he really is- and then abandon him. Fears that he'll come to depend on your kindness only for it to be ripped away, whether by you or by circumstances beyond his control. Fears that you don't really mean it, that you're just manipulating him the way he did to others. Deep down he hopes and trusts you're sincere, but it's just so hard to accept when Cazador's voice is in his head, countering all of it. This is all so new to him, so unknown. And the unknown is terrifying. He gets frustrated that your kindness does this to him, he wants to be able to embrace your words, he's so impatient to heal and finally be over this shit already. He judges himself so harshly for still struggling with all this. Cazador's dead, he is free, he has someone who truly loves him- why isn't that enough?! Why can't he fully appreciate it, is he just going to feel broken forever? He worries he'll take too long to get over his past, and you'll get tired of it and leave. Expect to give him lots of reassurance about all of this.

He doesn't like to cry around you, but over time you will lower his guard enough that he'll stop fighting back the tears quite so much. Sometimes it's a bad dream, sometimes you say something that just hits him hard (even if it's in a good way), and sometimes he has no idea what triggered it. You tell him he can wake you up any time if he needs you, but often he chooses not to wake you and just suffers through it alone. When it happens while you're both awake, at first he would roll over and face away from you when the tears started flowing if he couldn't collect himself, and you'd just hug him from behind. But eventually he feels comfortable enough to bury his face in your chest and just let it all out. When it's really bad, he'll be trembling and hugging you so tightly as he sobs into your shirt that it's almost hard for you to breathe. The best thing you can do is just be there with him, stroke his hair, caress the tears off his cheeks. It can be dicey, but eventually you learn to read him well enough that sometimes stroking the scars on his back very gently can be healing for him. There are other times though, when this will be too much for him. Same goes for kissing. Also, don't even think about telling anyone you've seen him like this. But of course, why would you?

Don't go into therapist mode with him when he's that vulnerable, and if he decides to talk, just let him talk. Hold space for him and be there with him. Afterwards, help ground him in the present and reconnect him to his senses by pointing out things in the room, remind him that it's not all happening to him right now. Realize how special it is that he feels safe enough with you to be so vulnerable. There are times when he even breaks down during sex, and he'll say that he's fine and you can keep going, but it's for the best to stop what you're doing and check in instead. He often dissociates when he's triggered, and doesn't realize something is wrong until it's too late.

Trauma isn't always pretty, and there are times when it does strain your relationship. When he's really triggered, he might take it out on you. He'll try his best to push you away, and say terrible things he doesn't mean. Perhaps things Cazador said to him. His articulate manner of speech can be sharper than his blade when wielded against you in the heat of the moment. He doesn't believe you can love this side of him, that he is fundamentally broken and unlovable, so it's a test of sorts to prove his own fears. He doesn't necessarily realize what he's doing, he's just lashing out from a point of pure fear. Trauma is an explanation for this behavior, but not an excuse, so it's important you set very firm and consistent boundaries when he gets like this. He might not appreciate it in the moment, but he will once he calms down.

It takes some time for him to feel truly secure with you, but he's getting there. In the meantime, he's starting to get a little clingy and codependent. He's not used to having so much freedom, and doesn't always know what to do with himself when you're not around. Being in your presence is when he's closest to feeling safe and at ease, and being apart for too long can cause his mind to race, especially when he has nothing to distract himself with. It drives him crazy that it gets to him so much- he's never been dependent on anyone before, and this side of him surprises himself. He hates it, which only stresses him out more. He tries to play it off, but it's very obvious he is struggling with separation anxiety. You don't want to overindulge him, but to ease his fears you decide to get a pair of magical rings. You can make each other's rings glow whenever you want- so if Astarion is feeling lonely, he can make your ring glow and you can make his glow back. Sometimes, just that is enough to get him through a rough day without you. Once he has done some more healing, eventually he will come to enjoy his alone time in a way he's never gotten to before in his life, and as much as you enjoy spending time with him, you'll be so happy for him to finally have that.

[crxss01]

— Rosa Pastel (2)

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ after four months of having broken up with miles an event leads you right back into his arms.

warnings ✧˖ ° gaslighting, manipulation, toxic relationship, threatening, unwanted flirting, miles is a major red flag, violence, mentioned murder, stalking.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ princesa: princess, mi angelito: my little angel, bonito: handsome/pretty boy, los mataré, entiendes?: i'll kill them, understand?

a/n . . ◟੭ here’s part one! heyy, loves! i’m sorry for the long wait, i have been busy writing other fics and with real life things!

four months.

it has been four months since you left miles and you couldn't feel anymore miserable, your entire world had revolved around him and it was like it stopped the motion the moment you broke up with him.

he hadn't tried anything to approach you or even contact you, part of it made you mad but the other part was relieved because you didn't know what you would do if miles tried to explain himself again while you were still vulnerable.

you have tried to go on multiple dates since then, but they turned out really badly since either the person was the rudest one you have ever met or stood you up. you were tired of that, what was wrong with this people? asking someone on a date just to treat them like shit, then never trying to speak with you again or not show at all.

now you were getting ready for a party, almost done with your look. you had spent most of the time stressing out on what to wear because you wanted attention but not that much attention so you had to figure out something fast.

after deciding which dress to wear you did your makeup and hair, before putting on some short heeled stilettos to finish off the look. you sighed looking at the mirror, maybe today you could forget about him for a while and focus on having fun for once.

grabbing your purse and double checking that everything you needed was inside of it, you left your house. breathing in the fresh air, you started walking to the convenience store, wanting to buy something before calling an uber.

however your plans changed when you noticed a group of men standing there drinking, smoking and looking crazy. you turned, deciding to just make your way back home and call the uber. the streets were dangerous ever since captain morales died and you didn't want to fall victim to any of this men.

"hey, sweetheart! where you going?" one of them noticed you and called out.

you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes together and walking faster.

"now, why are you walking so fast? huh?" the same one that had talked before had ran towards you and caught your arm in his grasp.

"please, leave me alone." now you were scared.

"and why would i do that?" he eyed you from head to toe. "aren't you a doll, wanna go back to my place?"

it sounded like a question but you knew that it wasn't. "listen, i just wanna go home."

"i can go home with you too." he laughed and the others, who you didn't notice had gotten closer, started laughing too.

five grown men surrounding you. this night couldn't get any worse. the one holding you took out a pocket knife and ran it across your face.

"let go of me!" you said, trying to keep it together and not show any fear.

"i don't think so." the man shook his head with a sick grin on his face, lifting the knife from your face and shaking it as well. "now—"

there was a loud slashing sound and suddenly the man was on the floor, blood pooling around him, four deep slashes across his back.

you knew who it was from and you didn't hesitate to run, it was hard on heels but you made it home, locking the door behind you and putting a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs.

miles had just killed someone. right in front of you, he just killed him. you slid down the door, your hand still covering your mouth as tears fell down from your eyes.

"don't cry, mami." the voice scared you but you had no energy to jump at the sound or to start yelling at him for what he did. "that man ain't worth it."

"just leave me alone, please..." you managed to say.

"what if someone tries to break in?" miles asked, kneeling in front of you. "what if you get harassed again? won't you want me there for you? to protect you?"

you finally looked over at him, a claw was laying beside him, covered in blood and his suit had some fresh blood on it.

"you killed them all?" you asked.

"of course i did," he nodded with a sweet smile, making him appear so innocent. "one laid his hands on you while the others just watched. they all deserved what they got."

"you killed them."

"yes, and i would do it again to protect you."

"miles, you killed." you took a shaky breath. "because of me."

"no, princesa." he shook his head. "i killed for you. there is a difference."

"what difference?" you asked angrily. "it's all the same. for me, because of me. it's my fault they died."

"no, it's their fault for messing with what's mine." miles corrected. "i was just protecting you, princesa. if i had let them live they could have attacked you again or another person."

you thought about this, he was right. "they could've attacked another person." you repeated and nodded. "you're right."

"of course, i'm right." miles smirked, knowing that he was breaking through. "i always make sure you're okay, even checking in on the guys you set up your little dates with."

"what?" you asked confused.

"well, some of them weren't nice to my princesa so i had to take care of that. and others didn't deserve a date with you." he shrugged.

"but you only did that to protect me, right?"

"of course, mi angelito." he nodded.

"everything that you have done was for that too?"

"yes," miles nodded, encouraging your thoughts of you needing him. "so will you take me back?"

"yeah," you nodded, wiping your tear stained cheeks with a smile.

"good," miles nodded and grabbed your chin with the same hand he used to kill, pulling you in to leave a peck on your lips. "you are never going to leave me again, understand?"

you nodded.

"i asked if you understand?" he said more forcefully.

"yes, bonito." you answered verbally this time.

miles smirked. "good."

he pulled you back in for a real kiss this time, his mouth coming in contact with yours into a blissful kiss. his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth, fighting yours and winning, exploring every inch of the place he missed so much.

"don't ever think about going out with other men again." miles said between kisses. "los mataré, entiendes?"

"yes." you nodded and pulled him back in to kiss him.

you just missed him so much. why were you so stupid to leave him in the first place? all he wanted was to protect you.

taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho @laylasbunbunny @onginlove @all444miles @banqnaz @yourlocalstranger123 @weirdomcu @ilovemiguelohara28 @tlatziuh @edgyficuselastica @hoseokslefteyebrow (i added the people who were interested in a part two)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[thecameronchronicles]

Shark Tooth Necklace

TW: Severe angst (all the feels). Language. Cheating. Smut. 

SUMMARY: The effect of your gift to JJ remains even after you've broken up…

WORD COUNT: 3500

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Shark Tooth Necklace

It became a statement the same way his dimples, lighter, and rebellious reputation wore over him like a second skin. An accompaniment to which you use to be a part of up until six weeks ago when you found the attention of a Kook following an argument JJ had come to regret since it transpired. It haunted him for the words he spoke, and more importantly, the ones he hasn't. And yet, he kept the evidence of his care for you tucked beneath the curve of his shirts in the belief he could keep a piece of you close. Even if it hurt like hell…

TWO MONTHS AGO

As if the wood making up the floor of the screened in porch had been blistering, your feet danced over the surface as you came to your boyfriend lounging in one of the chairs set for such inactivity. The excitement of a child bouncing down the steps in a similar gait on Christmas morning pulled his attention from his lighter as he illuminated to the joy across your face. 

"I have something for you…" His brows lifted as his eyes descended. That lecherous glance he always gave you in the broadcast of his perpetual desire. 

"Then why are you still dressed?" He teased while pulling you into his lap. But upon doing so, the small drawstring bag hidden in your palm was brought to him. 

"Sure you've got the right pogue, princess?" He taunted to the color of the bag having been a light pink. 

"Just open it…" You whined, having tried to wait until his birthday, but found every day a struggle. 

"I made it…from the rocks we used to skip at the pond near Rixton's Cove…" He poured the contents of a necklace to his palm, his face plagued with disbelief. 

JJ was rather particular to the jewelry he wore. Gaudy rings set over sporadic fingers as you were often the recipient to the chills it allowed, and yet, this was something you'd chosen specifically for him. 

"The chord is from the guitar that broke the night…" You hesitated, remembering a dinner night caused by his father that was sweetened by your presence. It wasn't even that next week until you were officially titled as his possession. But the details of that night no longer mattered to the beautiful adornment he held to catch the sun. 

"It's layered so it won't wear…"

A sable black shark tooth necklace, the perfect length as it came short just before his clavicle.

"If you don't like it-" 

"I love it…" he moved closer to you as you bounced on his lap. 

"Really? I tried to wait and I just couldn't…I almost told you about a hundred times and it was burning a hole in my back pocket-" He shook his head to one of your infamous nervous ramblings as he kissed you. 

"Do you really like it, J?" 

"I'll never take it off…" he confessed as he tried to set the string over his head before you corrected him and tied it perfectly stilled. 

"Maybe I had an ulterior motive…" You divulged why tracing the new necklace over his naked chest. Your fingers tempting a southern descent as your eyes widened to the tones physique you were never able to be tired of. 

"Oh?" 

"It does work for leverage…" You hooked two fingers around the strong chord and used it to guide him to the bench beneath you, his weight pinning you softly as your lips touched in a silent promise of a small forever. 

"I love it." His eyes remained to yours as if speaking the words to you and not your gift. But they were words he hadn't spoken. Not only to you. To anyone. At least aside from a joke when discussing the other pogues. But never when it made him vulnerable. And never when he had so much to lose. 

Since that day, he wore it with pride as a woman would wear an engagement ring. It was his favorite accessory up until the night your relationship crumbled. 

"JJ-" You ridiculed his name alone as he took the contents over John B's dresser and forced them to the ground. 

"You can't tell me you didn't fucking notice-"

"I didn't!"

"You're too smart to be that dumb. EVERY guy wants you-"

"So what if they do? I don't care!"

"You get off on it don't you? All that attention? Everyone wanting to get in your shorts…Maybe I can tell them all it takes is a few compliments and a blunt-" Your hand came to his cheek, an immediate regret as you knew his father had done the same the night before. It was why you'd forgiven the way he bloodied the Kook's face who got a bit too handsy for his liking. And even if he knew you were devoted to him, the frailty of his already weathered emotions had made this his final straw. 

"I love you, JJ." The words came out as a surprise to you both. It was a confession neither had stated until now. But it did not warrant the reaction you'd hoped for. No kiss or embrace. Instead, it seemed to be disappointment. Fear even. But anger still residing as his lead emotion. 

"That's just too goddamn bad." He finally responded after an endless silence. 

"If I go, JJ…I won't come back…not after that…I've been here…I've been the one here…" You reminded with tears streaking down your cheeks. 

"I don't want you here…" He shrugged. 

"You're…this isn't you…" 

"Maybe I'm just tired of watching my girlfriend pawed on anytime we go to a party and you doing next to nothing to stop it…" 

"Well you don't have to worry about it anymore…I'm not your girlfriend to be pawed over." You slammed the bedroom door, pushing last Kiara and Sarah as they heard enough of the argument to cast glares to JJ who followed behind. But it would be his pride and stubbornness that kept him from chasing after you. 

And he had come to regret it ever since. 

"Should have told us you were going out, would have waxed my board last night…" John B greeted your new boyfriend as they had been acquaintances during JJ's downward spiral and had since become a friend. A decent Kook with more common sense than a means to fit in with the princes of the Outer Banks, he fit in with the pogues well. 

Everyone but JJ who stared at him as if his looks could truly kill. 

"Probably couldn't keep up…" JJ teased as your eyes narrowed. Despite the cruel words and messy breakup, he seemed almost indifferent since that night. Almost as if you'd never dated. Aside from these twinges of jealousy of course. Yet you write it off as it being a part of his sarcasm as he had done it to Pogue and John B as well, but there was something a bit colder if he had done it to your boyfriend. 

This specific afternoon was no exception as you were on the HMS Pogue. A small vessel in its own right, it was spacious enough to keep a distance. And yet with JJ making it worse on everyone, it seems ni larger than the door in which Jack was arguably denied in the Atlantic ocean in "Titanic"

"Never teach you how to fish on Figure Eight?" He would begin the insults lightly. Almost as a term of endearment as he turned right around and teased Pope for choosing literature over nature, as he often did. But then they became personal. 

"I remember when we were together and you liked to hold my pole just right-" And even as Kiara nudged him, he wore a smile of pride in knowing he made you and your new beau uncomfortable. 

But it wasn't until you reached land, the boat tied off by Sarah and your boyfriend as Pope, John B, and JJ made their way inside The Chateau. You hadn't meant to follow them, but absentmindedly took the steps behind their trail and came upon the argument you were never meant to hear. 

"I don't even know why she's still here?! She's Sarah's friend-NOT my girlfriend anymore. And I still have to see her almost every fucking day!"

"Pogues for life…" Pope attempted to remind him. 

"She isn't a goddamn pogue anymore than HE is…"

"JJ-" John B attempted to stop him as he saw you on the other side of the screen door leading to the docks you'd just come from. 

"You know what…fine…you all want to keep her around, that's fine…but don't come complaining to me…there's a reason I'm not with her anymore-" He turned to leave, tears in your eyes as he pushed past you. 

"He's just-" Pope began as he tried to console you. 

"JJ…" John B finished the sentence as you slowly nodded. Until now, you'd hoped for civility, if anything. Maybe even he'd find someone else…a thought that razored and scorched your heart to think of, but you believe it was only fair. Even if he wasn't JJ, he was dependable and stable. 

But he still wasn't JJ. Your reckless, passionate-

No. He was not yours anymore. You corrected yourself to think of him in only past tense. It was best that way for everyone. 

Later that night while around a new fire, JJ was sulking on the rival side of the flames. It was debated from whatever angle one sat that he was more enraged that the embers aglow as a core for the group as stories and tales did nothing to alter this. He was fixated on the fire. 

"Truth or dare?" Kiara groaned as Sarah called excitedly. 

"Finally some fun!" 

"We were having fun.." John B defended as Sarah rolled her eyes. 

"Me first! Kie-" She proceeds to dare Kiara to do a keg stand, to which she excelled. John B asked Pope to recite Shakespeare naked, to which he convinced his boxers would suffice, and your boyfriend asked Sarah a truth of her biggest regret, which she named as a single ex. 

"Truth or Dare…" JJ asked you as you tensed. The sudden mischief on his expression was worrisome in contrast to the point he wore the earlier duration of the day. 

"Truth…" he scoffed as you'd taken the safest bet. 

"Do you love him?" For the group that usually came to your defense, they were all silent with curiosity. In truth, they believed you and JJ would find your way back to each other. Even wishing the same as you introduced your new boyfriend, who was annoyingly charismatic and likable. And for that reason alone, nobody interfered for your answer. 

"I…" You looked at your boyfriend. 

"It's early…and there's A love-" Your boyfriend answered for you. 

"But do you love him? The way you did me?" 

"JJ-" Sarah now warned as tears filled your eyes. 

"No…I mean, if she doesn't want to answer it, she can always do a dare instead…" 

"Fine then…dare…" you countered. 

"Kiss him. Like you used to with me. Sitting across my lap…feeling how hard you made me-"

"Okay…" John B reached for JJ's beer and arm before he stood up. 

"The way you pulled on my necklace when you wanted me on top and clawed on my chest when you were…Oh just wait, man…wait until she's on her knees and you'll be wondering how she can be so sweet with a throat like a wh-" Kiara now forced JJ into the Chateau as you had your face in your hands. 

"I'm so sorry…" You told your boyfriend as he tried to console you. And yet his touch was suddenly suffocating. 

"Maybe you should try to talk to him…"

"What?!"

"If we all keep hanging out, you're gonna have to see him. I think the tension needs to be-" He became distracted by his phone. 

"Shit, I gotta get back to Figure Eight before the boys find out I was here." He kisses your temple, abandoning you when you needed him most. The usual reliability always faltering when it came to being Rafe or Topper's right hand man. 

But as he left, you stormed in behind JJ. 

"What is your problem?!" 

"Maybe we should all cool down-" Sarah began before she was pulled away.

"Let them hash this out…it's been a long time coming…" John B led the group out of The Chateau. 

"Just don't break any of the pictures. The glass is hell to clean up-'" JJ glared. 

"Nothing's getting broken, because I'm not staying-"

But as he tried to leave, you couldn't help yourself. 

"Do what you do best and run away." You spoke the first hurtful thing that came to mind. It was enough to stop him in his tracks. 

"Last time I recalled being here alone with you and you were the one who left, sweetheart. Probably just couldn't wait to get back to him…"

"I would never have cheated on you! Him and I were together after us! Not even after you talked to me like that. No matter how insecure you were-"

"Insecure. No, princess, you've got it wrong. I knew my place with you. It was just under everyone else."

"What?! I always put you above everyone else! When my friends told me you would only hurt me, I told them they were wrong. I denied invitations to parties and made excuses for why you ruined the ones we did attend! Because I love you!" The present tense stilled him. 

"Loved-" You corrected as he took a step closer. 

"No no no..you said-"

"Because you make me crazy, JJ! I've tried to make it easy-"

"Easy?! Bringing your new fuck you around so you can rub it in my face is making it easy?!"

"I'm not…we're not-" You suddenly became defensive once again "But even if we we're, it doesn't pertain to you!" 

He moved even closer until you were directly in front of him. The only person you feared and craved in equal measure. 

"Everything you do "pertains" to me, cupcake…" As you went to speak he walked you to the wall directly beside the door. His body never touching yours and yet every nerve set on fire by his proximity alone. 

"Because dating or not, you're still my girl. You'll always be my girl-" he surprised you with the weight pinning you to the wall and the soft kiss reminding you of how sweet he could be. The direct kiss similar to the one you allowed now as you fell into the familiarity of how he excited you. Even in anger. Especially in anger. 

His hands were quick to rise from the wall to your hips as he walked you back to the couch, your calves greeting the edge for only a second before you were pushed flat to the cushions. 

"JJ-"

"I'm not stopping. Not after tonight. Not after knowing you don't love him and you still love me…" 

You tried to cease. His touch. His words. 

Him. 

But everything was intoxicating. Even as guilt weighed within your stomach, you couldn't fight this. You couldn't and didn't want to. 

"JJ…" He only kissed you into silence, his tongue reminding you of its strength as it coerced your own into submission against him. After only a moment of this French kiss, your shirt was lifted and disposed of and that same skilled tongue came to your nipples. 

"JJ!" You gasped. 

"That's how you should always say my name…Screaming for me, not at me…" He pinned your hands over your head before returning his grip to your breast. 

"Fuck, I missed your body…I miss how it missed me…" His secondary hand came into your panties, an elastic band of your shorts making it easy. 

"Please-"

"If you insist…" He angled you on the couch before lowering to his knees, kicking the table away so he could pull your legs over his shoulders. 

"Too bad he isn't here to hear how to make you come…God knows he could learn…" He dove into you, your body reacting immediately to the torturous flicks and sucks made of his technique. As you would begin to tremble for him, he would withdraw, edging you in repetition as you pulled his hair into disarray. 

"I want you in every fucking position to make up for the nights I should have…" he began at the arm of the couch, lifting you to a bend, before undressing behind you. Undressing so quickly that your guilt didn't have time to register before he was inside of you. 

"Fuck!" You belted to that identifiable plunge and width that was incomparable to anyone else. To worsen the seduction, he played with your nipples and clit in alteration, before pulling your hair until you were again this chest. 

"Does he touch you?"

No. You answered silently. 

"You're dripping for me like you haven't been touched since me…Was always so easy to make you come…" 

"JJ please…we can't." The cruel thrust he made were ended as he pulled you over him in a straddle on the couch. Your hands caught the back supporting him before he kept you in place with his own large grip. 

"I'm not letting you go. Not this time…" 

"What you said-"

"I was jealous as hell because everyone looks at you. Because guys like him get to. They deserve to…I want to. I want to deserve it." 

You looked away, the sight of your clothes making your expression sour. 

"I can't-"

"I love you." He spoke the words in a pained delay, as if he had been punched upon trying to speak each word aloud. 

"I should have said it that night but I'm saying it now. I love you." He spoke it again, this time with conviction. 

"Tell me you don't and I'll let you pretend to be happy with him. No more comments or cheap shots…" You searched through his lustful eyes for deceit. But if ever, he was the most authentic he had ever been. 

"I don't…" He exhaled in defeat, rising as you pressed your hand into his chest. 

"JJ…"

"No, I told you if you said…" 

"I wasn't finished…" his expression illuminated with hope. 

"I don't want to hurt anybody…" 

"Please tell me there's a 'but' in there…"

"But…I…I love you…" He scanned your entire expression. Looking for a moment in which you would falter or second guess your own confession. When it wasn't found, he sunk you onto him. 

"I love you…I love you…" The declaration faded into grunts as you kissed him once he'd struggled to speak. 

"I'll tell you every minute on the goddamn dot if necessary…" 

"Just show me…" You ignored the guilt and focused solely on the pleasure he allowed before reaching for his shirt. It was then that you saw it. Your motions slowing as you hooked two fingers beneath the chord of the necklace. 

"You kept it on…"

"Every day." He answered. "Even the ones that hurt…"

"JJ…"

"And I still will…Even if I fuck up again.." You used the necklace to pull him closer. 

"Just don't fuck up again. Just fuck me…" His lips parted into a parting of disbelief. 

"This is making love now, not fucking." 

"Then make love to me…" He lifted you slowly but pulled you down harder, his body reacting in accordance to your own. As you arched, he fell into you and when you fell he met you at the center. When he began to tire, he reclined and pulled you to follow him. 

"Fuck, I missed making you come, sweetheart…" 

"Then make me, JJ…please…" 

"Anything for you, princess." He pulled sensation from your body in which only he could. Caverns visited and inhibitions unlocked that only he could access as he had you moaning and screaming in alteration. 

"That's it baby…come for me…all over-" You clasped your hand over his mouth. 

"I know how to come, JJ…You're the only one who's ever made me…" He clenched his jaw before rolling his eyes, that confession pulling his own release. Your hips are sorely bruised against his own due to his impressive stamina as perspiration and ecstasy joined together in those final moments. Your names intertwined  at that final buck of his hips as he claimed you as his own once again. 

"My girl…" But as the bliss faded, your eyes fell to the side. 

"Whatever happens, I'm not going anywhere…And neither are you for the rest of the night…" 

"JJ, I have to…" 

"Forty three."

"What?"

"That's how many nights I could have had you here in my arms. In my bed. So I have a lot of orgasms to make up for…" 

"Forty three?! He nodded, lifting you around him and carrying you to the bedroom. 

"We'll start slow…"

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

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[grlpartdoll]

Ok so this is Sort of. Part 2 to this but not really?? It's kind of more like a what-if marvel episode Lol. Soap falls in love with reader and he's the one to pick her back up !! Again 18+ only Pls!!! No filth in this one. Just pure fluff.

Anyway. Soap eventually gets tired of this dynamic. He's your best friend, has been since the very first day you two met. Simon doesn't typically keep you around his friend — but Soap wasn't exactly the type to be told no.

His barely concealed crush on you makes Simon irritated, but it doesn't make others raise eyebrows that much.

It's obvious why someone would fall for you — such a sweet girl, with the kindest, biggest heart around. It was only a matter of time before anyone around you did fall in love with you.

So, anyway, Soap has a pathetic, schoolboy crush on you, and when you're in the throes of sadness and self hatred because of Simon, he's the one to pull you out each time, just until Ghost gets his hands on you, and breaks you all over again.

The first time you sort of notice it is when you come back from a night away with Simon, where he fucked you proper and then left you to sleep alone in his room while he went to the gym.

You come to your own quarters bruised and sloppy and barely able to walk, and Soap practically explodes out of his seat at the realization that you'd been fucked and then dumped like some dirty rag.

So Soap runs you a bath. And it's a little weird, and a little awkward, at first, but he's your best friend, he'd never let anything bad happen to you as long as you're with him.

And sure. His pants make a tent while he washes you. But, "it's only natural, Bonnie. 'm with a pretty girl and she's sitting there, naked, lettin' me soap her. I ken only stupid men wouldn't get hard."

And unlike when you're with Ghost, you don't really feel like it's purely sexual. Simon might have genuine feelings for you — maybe, you don't know — but he'd never shown it to you except for when hes balls deep inside you, whispering about how much he loves you. You feel like Soap actually cares as he drains your bath, gets you all bundled up in a towel and rubs you down nice and slow.

He doesn't mean to, but he kisses a bruise on your shoulder. And you, because you can't really think and because Simon has you still so far into your head, don't even care to try to figure out what it might mean, that he's soothing over your bruises with his lips.

Soap helps you remove the little makeup you have left, cooing at you when you try to do it yourself that you're "jus' such a sleepy girl, let me get that for you, poppet,"

You don't ask how he knows every step of your routine without a single fault. Once you feel fresh and clean again, Soap gets you into bed, and because you're vulnerable and would do anything for warmth that resembles sleeping in Simon's arms, you ask him to stay.

He gives you one of those smiles you hate. You know he's concealing his emotions with a shit-eating grin only because he's given it to Simon when, in a heated argument, he's said something that hurt his feelings.

So Soap doesn't sleep with you. When he's gone, you think you'll cry for a moment, but you don't. Your body doesn't hurt as much, and your heart is just a bit less restless.

Soap, the next day, (or really, the next night, because you spend the day in bed and wake up at an ungodly hour,) makes you food, and doesn't force you to finish your plate. He's just happy to see you eat.

When you're done, he brushes your hair and braids it, and it's so domestic it makes your heart ache. You two go and run together. He pushes when he knows you can do better, but stops when tears threaten to spill over. He pushes you, but knows your limits intimately, and doesn't push them like Simon would. Simon would keep asking for more, keep demanding more of you.

Simon disappears. The days pass slowly, but surely, and Soap begins to catch your little broken pieces one by one. Carefully, he pieces you back up, and you start to feel more human. The morning training helps, and the days spent with Soap and Gaz and your own friends actually starts to make you feel slightly more human — less like a fucktoy that exists for Simon's pleasure.

You're in the resting hall with Soap one day, piecing together a puzzle while he scrolls on his phone, shopping for clothes for when he goes back to visit his mum during his break. You all have a break planned three weeks from now, where Price plans to halt activities for at least a month. And it's nice, to look forward to something, but you honestly can't help but think that you, unlike everyone else, don't have anyone to go back to. Just like Simon. And perhaps that is why you two belong together.

But then he makes an offhanded comment about how he's going to buy a blanket for you, because his car's heating is shit, and he's been meaning to get it fixed, but for now the blanket will have to do while you fulfill your passenger princess duties.

"What?" You make, a bit confused.

He gazes up from his phone, cocking a brow at you. "Thought you'd like it. To spend the holidays with me and my ma. Y'dont got ta. But I'd like to have ya' bonnie."

And you think that that's when you realise that maybe you could love Soap — Johny, and that maybe you could finally have something to go back to.

So you agree, and of course Johny is giddy. In his head, that's finally a step towards you two being together. That's finally a step towards making you his and treating you right. Once the three weeks are up, you pack up your shit and you don't look back.

Simon sends you a text when you're halfway to Soap's mother's house, music blasting, the multiple blankets wrapped around your top and bottom.

Simon : where are you?

Simon : you're not at the barracks.

Simon : your stuff is gone.

Simon : where are you?

You take a while to reply. Not because you don't know how to, but because Soap notices, and snatches your phone. And it makes you laugh for once, and you don't feel like having a breakdown.

Soap manages to snap a photo of him driving, and you grumpily pawing at him for your phone back, and sends it to Simon.

You don't hear from him after that.

Soap's mother is warm and kind and inviting when you're introduced, she holds your hands like her son in a freakishly similar fashion, and kisses the top of them after patting them multiple times.

You tell her your names four times, but she forgets, and instead calls you "love". It's not on her — Soap tells you. Shes forgetful. Tends to forget everything, including taking care of herself. Which is why he wants to come home — before she forgets him, too.

That night, after a warm homecooked dinner and a long movie with hot chocolate and marshmallows, you don't exactly mean to seek out Soap, but there's something about the cold, and you needing to be held, and thinking too much about if Simon is alright. You want to shut it all out.

So you slip quietly into his childhood bedroom, and then under his covers. Soap doesn't even question it, only wraps you all up and presses you up against his naked chest, his deep, Scottish drawl telling you to "Go to sleep, poppet. I've got you."

And he does. When you wake up, he's still there. And he's staring at you. And it's all so much, you feel like your heart might burst in your chest.

You want to kiss him. But you don't. You let him hold you, and pray that if nothing else happens, he might still remain with you after everything, even if you're not willing to give him your body, or your lips.

And he does. After you both shower, he takes you and his mum to a local breakfast restaurant and treats you both to the best food in town. Everyone there somehow knows him, (though only as Johny, and never as Soap) and he makes it his goal to make sure everyone he sees also gets introduced to you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, puffs his chest, and tells everyone you're his best girl, his golden girl, his four-leaf clover. Someone eventually asks about when they'll see a ring on your finger. And before you can retort anything, Soap tells them that he'd sooner or later do it.

You think he's joking. He's not.

He takes you home after a day of outings to small rural markets and an amusement park. That night, when you're in bed, laying next to him, you ask him if he meant that. If he'd really marry you, if it came down to it.

His response doesn't change.

You're not sure if that's why you kiss him. You just know you do. Because if there is one thing you do know, its that you love Soap — your Johny — and that he loves you.

TAG LIST :

@lilliumrorum

[queerprayers]

beloved, I want to take the time to thank you for your honesty and vulnerability, all the time on your blog really, but especially now. I am going through, what I am sure is going to be the most rock bottom situation I will ever have to go through, I have met despair and found hell, and am looking up towards the living and am tired just from looking at the climb. and your posts have given me strength. what Do you do when you just want to pray for death, and yet holy week tells us that death has been defeated? it helps me tremendously to know that we are not alone in feeling this way. sending you so much love <3

My heart is with you, beloved. Thank you so much for this message. You are not alone and never have been. I am so honored and grateful that you've found meaning in my words.

"Looking up towards the living" is such a beautiful way to describe this weekend, and you're right, it's exhausting. Today we remember that Jesus made that climb for us. He entered into our pain and did not escape it. He met despair and found hell, and sweat blood in a midnight garden just thinking about it.

I think of the difference between death as an ending of life on Earth vs. capital-D Death as a destruction of love. I think of St. Francis calling death Sister. I think of the promised future resurrection--whatever I believe that means at the moment I think of it. I think of the icons of Jesus pulling Adam and Eve bodily from the grave. I think of my grandfather's death, when his body fundamentally altered its state of being.

I genuinely believe in an Easter, in Jesus clawing his way out of hell, breaking the bonds of where suffering leads. I believe that changed the way our universe works, for God to die. I don't know what you believe, but the living that you look toward does exist, and the climb is not one you have to make without a God who has done it, does it again every year, and every moment that you have to.

I'm aware that knowing that doesn't change the pain and exhaustion--at least not for me. He defeated Death, but he did not take away our relationship with it, and this has always intrigued me. Death is still something we can know, and fall into, and be terrified of. Hell is still something we can find. I won't pretend to understand that truth, and I won't pretend that hope in a future resurrection fixes our rock bottoms. 

But your rock bottom is the solid foundation you will build a life out of. The act of looking up is exhausting right now, but you're doing it. That's often the hardest part, to see what you want to hope for. Don't force the hope right now, just know it is there. If this is the darkest it will ever get for you, you're in good company on this day of crucifixion.

I often refer to parts of my life as my Holy Saturday seasons—times where I've been stuck in that space between death and life, where I know deep down there's hope but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. I think of the disciples spending Passover without their beloved. I think of my namesake Joanna putting together spices with which to adorn the body of one she saw die. Of course they knew the prophecies, or perhaps just desperately hoped—but you hurt first. I don't think the prophecy can come true unless you really genuinely feel the brokenness before it does. 

Praying for death is something I know too well—but know that what you're praying for is rest, the end of what is defeating you. God brings us to death when it is our time (and I won't pretend to understand that) but Death, what defeats us, faces its destruction. You face despair, but Love has won. This is Holy Week. What you do when you want to pray for death is call her Sister, and seek out rest on earth while you're here. Know that the destruction in her was stamped out, and love is the only thing left. Pain remains, rock bottom remains, but separation from God does not.

What you do when you want to pray for death but know Death has been defeated is you trust God knows what you mean. And you look at Life for as long as you can stand it, and do it a little more the next day. It burns like the sun—don't mistake that for hellfire. (Or perhaps formulate a theology in which it is, in the purifying sense. I don't make the rules.)

It's Good Friday. You can exist there. Jesus did not force optimism on the cross. He did not say "Well, it'll all be okay soon." He said, "My God, why have you forsaken me?" And he probably wished for death all morning. You don't have to force optimism when Easter comes, either. Jesus wasn't partying—he was seeking out love. He was dealing with the complicated emotions of his friends. Just look at the joy, for now, try to see it. Holy Saturday is a season sometimes. It bleeds into our celebrations. But it does not take away God's presence. Your despair does not prevent Jesus from rising—it just means embodying resurrection may perhaps be still ahead of you.

May God bless you and keep you, in rock bottom and as you climb. May he make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, and may you feel his gaze even when you're not looking up. May he look upon you with favor and give you peace as you seek rest. 

<3 Johanna

[palepinkgoat]

(warning, kind of gross and about mental health. Such is my life.)

I've had intrusive thoughts my whole life. Like, for as long as I can remember. A young child. Not just random thoughts that pop into my head, or even ones that are negative self-talk for example.

No, I'm talking about the ones where I can't stop thinking about seeing my fingers broken, or seeing them with the tendons hanging out or skin stripped off, or just anything gross you can think of, really. I'll be lying in bed and the thoughts will come, and I'll squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to will the images away. But they persist. I imagine the worst things, the worst damage. I pull my hands out from under the blanket and stare at them. They're safe. I'm safe.

But then there it is again, not even a half hour later. And that's when I crawl out of bed and take an Ativan, and try to relax. But it's all so exhausting to think about. It runs me ragged. The worst times are when it seems just normal. I'll be doing something and an image will pop into my head, and I shake my head and keep doing the dishes.

Hey look, your skin is falling off.

No its not.

What if it DID though? What if it breaks and bones stick out? Like tiny little bones that -

Stop it. Leave me alone.

These are different than hallucinations. I have had those too. This is about my thoughts. I don't SEE my hands like this. I see them as normal fingers. But the THOUGHT of them being injured is so real. So real I can ALMOST see it.

This is about persistent wild jabs into the soft creature of my brain. One day the thoughts will leave me, and won't come back in this form probably. It will choose something else. So I just get to wait and see, I guess.

Being a mentally ill person is hard. Sometimes it's so boring, and sometimes when I feel things in episodes it's just so normal to me that it's hard to imagine other people don't live like this. Then sometimes it's me trying to heal myself from the inside out, staring at my hands, chanting "you're safe, you're safe, you're safe."

I told my doctor about them. Pychiatrists are cool because when you say something that other people would be like "Gross, that's crazy" they are just kind of like "oh, okay." At least that's how mine is. To be understood that way is deeply comforting.

I think this whole thing was triggered by a relative's upcoming hand surgery. It's like my brain heard that, woke up and pounced on it, a bright shiny thing it turned over and over, fascinated, unable to look away. Take that and run it through the wires and this all comes out instead. Lost in translation.

This won't last. I know that. My brain will set the shiny thing down and walk away toward the next shiny thing. But being mentally ill? The bipolar? That's forever. There is no cure. Meds aren't a cure, they are a tool. Underneath all of it is my sick and vulnerable and brilliant brain, looking for something to destroy for a little while. It never gets tired of that mission.

But I'm tired.

[lipglossanon]

heyo hiooo 💅 back again with the bullshit. I hope you're feelin better soon, friendo.

i had an idea and thought the leon hivemind might appreciate it:

serial killer (or slasher. whatever. crazy guy) and trophy husband leon. to everyone else, he's a homebody and your house husband, keeping the place clean and cooking some good fuckin dinner because he's good with knives n shit. dark sense of humor but is capable of getting along with *some* ppl in the neighborhood. jogs around and gets oogled. maybe he decorates the house for halloween and sum other shit bc he's bored.

you bring in the big bucks doing something morally grey, like scamming rich ppl out of their money idfk. doesn't matter, you're the breadwinner, gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

when you're alone, though, he's this lingering, hungry presence that begs for your attention. he's still obsessed with you, and his appetite is close to insatiable - only handled by an agreement where he wears a chastity cage for most of the year, only to be let out once or twice as a treat.

so, most of the time he's keeping you happy, acts of service and sweet words. looking for attention and good boy points. he's too brain broken in this state to kill anyone, so you feel like you're doing the world a service by keeping him busy.

he's gorgeous, the neighbors are jealous, he wears nice clothes you dress him up in, but he always seems to get them messy when he's pinning you to the wall and trying to get off just by rubbing against you. shaking and trying not to make you mad by being too rough, but let's be real - it's nice to feel him squeeze you so hard it leaves bruises while he sobs and begs.

the longer he goes without letting The Beast out (I'm sure there's a less still way to put it but. fuck it we ball) the more he acts up. blatantly trying to take what he wants from you in front of others, more willing to threaten guests, I'm sure he's a sadomasochist so he'll be happy to get tied up and punished.

as much fun as it is to toy with him, it's really nice when you decide to let him free for the night. it's dangerous because he *might* forget the reasons why he behaves most of the time, why he should go back into the cage after. but you're on the receiving end of some rough handling, some mean words. might be fun to, at least once a year, let him chase you though the forest and hold you down. let it allllllllll out, so when he's tired and vulnerable, you can cage him and start it all again.

❤️ yeeeeah....... yeah. that's nice. hope you liked it too.

Yello!!! 👋 👋

Color me.. intrigued 👀

This is 🥵

I love it 👏 👏

He’s so unhinged around you it’s not even funny but it’s exactly how you like him 🤭

He’s always so desperate to be around you, constantly begging you to stay home that he’ll take care of you. But you firmly put your foot down (in more ways that one 😜) and he’s just a whiny mess

But then when it’s that time where he gets free reign he’s so rough

He pins you down constantly and fucks you stupid; ignoring anything you say (unless safe wording but that goes without saying), he’s just insanely horny 🥴

[auromelt]

It's always Ryo breaking down Kohei’s walls and reestablishing their relationship - but what about the walls Ryo’s put up over the years????? It'd be impossible for Ryo to just let go of the emotionless mask he's had to protect himself and actually be vulnerable with anyone including Kohei :/

*acting normal* yes i’ve thought about this a normal amount of times.

i hate how the movie resolved szam’s conflict btw. like it legit provides almost no real acknowledgement of how damaged and hurt ryo has become over the years. i don’t like how kohei and ryo’s shit ass dad were instantly redeemed and thought it was lazy writing so i usually pretend it didn’t happen. i mean how old even was he when he essentially isolated himself from everyone around him and put on his emotionless façade? how old was he when his father (fuck that hoe btw) sold his services to his best friend (fuck him too but we love you kohei) who wouldn’t even look at him anymore? ryo was so alone for so long, he couldn’t rely on his only friend or his own parents because everyone in his life was unreliable and treated him so so poorly and he was just a teenager having the closest thing he had to friends talking behind his back and being diminished for his poverty. his walls are high and rightfully so.

it’s so, so hard for him to let anyone in and really be himself. the soda incident and the knife incident are the only real times he’s actually let this mask slip and it’s only because he was scared and heartbroken and confused. the only emotions he allowed himself to display in the movie pre shittily written reconciliation are negative. other than that, has ryo ever allowed himself to really just open up? he must be so sick and tired of hiding but when it’s the only thing he’s ever known how to do, when his front of stoicism is the only way he’s ever been received in years, how can he break it down without getting hurt and scarred all over again? he was just a child when everything went wrong and now, as a new adult, everything is still wrong even if he’s closer than ever to fixing it.

after the fight i see more people approaching ryo trying to acquaint themselves with him because his stunt in the gym impressed a lot of people and they Know he’s not a bad person but ryo has been conditioned for so long to shut people out and keep everything bottled inside that those acquaintances go nowhere and he still feels so alone. he believes nobody would be interested in him or keep him around if he doesn’t possess the skill set that makes him valuable and because of that he internally fights against people who try to get too close to his heart. his heart is, after all, the only thing he protects more than kohei.

and of course kohei with his people skills and his abilities to read others would notice and it would initially frustrate and annoy him because why? why are you shutting me out too? don’t you want to be my lover friends with me? completely missing the fact that he’s the biggest reason ryo is this way and that ryo is terrified he’ll be alone again and that nothing in his life will ever get better because good doesn’t happen to people like him. it would probably take someone else cough fujitsuka cough to smack that understanding completely into kohei’s head because as strong as his people skills are, ryo is different and has always been. ryo is important and special and kohei loves him even after doing everything to convince himself he doesn’t. kohei wants ryo to look at him eye to eye but ryo is so used to looking at him from below and honestly hasn’t gotten over kohei calling him a pawn lol.

tl;dr ryo is literally broken like his heart is behind so many walls and layers and even the person he loves most, the only person he loves, can’t get through them because ryo knows vulnerability to be nothing but a hindrance, especially when the only way people have ever cared about him was when he was useful and unfeeling

[buckyarchives]

we’re not really strangers | S. Stan [1.]

summary: a broken and washed up writer keeps showing up in Sebastian life as he struggles with his own loneliness. two people in two different world, but the tug is so intense it begins to eat Sebastian raw. he has to learn to love full heartedly and you need to learn to trust again after you got cheated out of your entire life.

word count : 4.9k

warnings: topics of depression, brief mentions of sewerslide, body dysmorphia

author note: i’ve never wrote an rpf and i used to dislike them but i just read a really good one and i watched doll eyes so that started this. i’m basing sebastian’s character based off of psychoanalysis him over that past 4 years (i can’t help it i’m sorry) and the couple of times i’ve met him. but i hope he’s not this depressed irl. take a place a before fresh and it’s mostly his pov. will probably be like 3-5 chapters. also wrote this in like 2 hours please be kind

masterlist | read on AO3

Sebastian stan likes blondes, he likes coffee after noon, working out, his mom, space and all its possibilities. He likes European countries yet he won't leave New York no matter how hard he thinks about it. He loves his family and friends. He likes when people tell him good job and are nice to him; even if it’s only because he's Sebastian Stan.

Sometimes he wonders if he really likes that last one or if he hates it, it depends on the day.

He will spend his days reading and talking with actors or directors, getting flowers for his girlfriend of the season. He doesn't read reviews about his movies. He’ll talk to his mom on the phone as often as he can, he works out almost every morning but he hates running. He stands in front of a mirror before going to bed, alone and vulnerable, picking apart everything he sees and wonders if everyone else sees it too. Probably.

But not tonight.

No, tonight he feels good - better. Recently casted for a new movie, a movie with a script and a director he feels confident about, which is always the best feeling. Last year was good for him, but this year needs to be better. Sebastian is tired and needs to get away from commercial movies and Marvel, but Bucky Barnes will always haunt over his shoulders like the way Carter Baizen did for so long.

And tonight is only the beginning. They haven't started filming yet, not close. Daisy is in the middle of filming and it's still early, too much workshopping and bonding as a team before that. Sebastian likes to know who he's working with, the director and their work ethic and past projects. The co-stars and their humor and if they can cry on command or not.

Mimi is a nice director. She's new and has fresh ideas - ha, that's a pun. She makes Sebastian laugh and not feel like a character even off-screen. Sebastian likes her curly hair.

She laughs and the air is cool, Sebastian can see her breath. “It was a nice day, I'm really looking forward to working with you.”

Sebastian is lonely and this feel like a nice way to segway to ‘i have to leave, goodnight.’

“Me too, and the script is just - wow.” Sebastian exaggerates his words to match his feelings, “it's deep.”

He wants to hold onto the conversation forever and drag it out until it's so awkward he has to grit his teeth. Sebastian doesn't want to go home now - but it's late, past midnight - and despite the rumors, New York does have to sleep sometimes. His stomach grumbles and he suddenly has the appetite of a teengers first hangover.

Mimi nods and thanks him and they continue to walk. Sebastian speaks up, “is it weird to say iI'mhungry and not tired.” he looks down at his watch again, it's almost 2 am.

And Mimi understands, she smiles. “Not weird, I agree. It might be the excitement for this project but – what are you hungry for?”

“Coffee, breakfast food,” Sebastian replies honestly.

The director smiles, Sebastian hopes there are no paparazzi - this looks like a date - no, it doesn’t but the press latch onto any woman he's seen with as a date.

“I know a perfect place, and it is empty,” she says. Sebastian is suspicious - it's late, he repeats in his head.

“This late?” his eyebrows quirked up.

“I know the owner,” she affirms. Sebastian nodded and they continued walking.

Mimi talks about the movie more, how she's close friends with the writer and coincidentally, she met her through the owner of the said cafe they'd soon find a safe haven in. Sebastian nods along to her words and listens, he hates the sound of his own voice sometimes. Listening is nice.

They reach a cafe-deli type. The sign says it is closed and no one is inside but the lights are on. Mimi had a grin on her face as she knocks on the door. Sebastian watched as you came from the back and unlocked the door, Mimi smiles and greets you excitedly but your face remains monotone - almost cold. Mimi takes no offense, this must be how you always are.

You don't take immediate notice of Sebastian, which is nice for once. Mimi talks about how starved she is and desperately needs an egg sandwich from you, Sebastian agrees in his head. You hold your head high and strong like you know better, but not in a snobby way. Sebastian can tell when someone is snobby pretty soon on, people like that end up surrounding him more often than not, unfortunately.

Sebastian's eyes are an icy blue that reminds you of the winter lakes back in the midwest. That’s the first thing you notice, Mimi acts like this is her home as she plops down at the bar. You still don't say anything. Sebastian wonders if you're a writer too, or maybe an actor. He doesn’t recognize you. Sebastian sits next to mimi, he feels weirdly comfortable despite how cold and empty the cafe is.

The sound of an espresso machine starts before Mimi can even order sometimes, she must go a lot and then a coffee is in front of her in no time. You finally turn to him, you're wearing lipgloss, and he notices way too quickly.

“Would you like a coffee, Sebastian?” you ask him plainly. He didn't tell you his name, neither did Mimi. You must know him then, it wouldn't be surprising but weirdly it did.

“Yeah, anything you have. And eggs - sunny side up if you can.” you don’t reply, nodding and your mouth is thin-lipped. Not a smile nor a frown. You leave in the back, Sebastian doesn’t realize his eyebrows were furrowed until Mimi says something.

“Don't worry, she's always like that. I promise she's not miserable or mean.” mimi says, gesturing to the cold demeanor that you carry. Sebastian wonders if Mimi has to explain this to everyone, or if you hate the Captain America movies and mimi just want to make it less awkward.

It's a comfortable silence for a while, aside from the city whispering from behind the glass windows and the sound of your cooking. Sebastian catches glimpses of your face and he can't help but think you're beautiful in a stone-cold, greek statue, model type way. He can imagine seeing your face in a famous painting from the renaissance time.

Maybe you caught him staring, or maybe it was just the cold demeanor again but he swore you glared at him.

“Cooks out - so it might not be as good as usual,” you say and place the food in front of them. Mimi grins and begins to eat. Sebastian pulls out his billfold to pay, he doesn't know you and feels a twang of guilt at the thought of keeping you up past closing time. He wants to pay extra.

You notice him before he can pull out any money, “it's on the house.”

Sebastian thinks of that as a sign that you don't hate him, and you're just monotone.

“Y/N helped Lauryn write the movie, specifically your character too.” Mimimumbled through cheese and bacon.

That’s the first time he's heard your name, Sebastian repeats it in his head so as to not forget.

You scoff and Sebastian thinks for a moment you're mad, you're not. “Helped? I practically gave her the entire idea. And I swear, Mimi if you don't use La jardin for the dance scene, I'll riot in front of your house.”

“You get so defensive every time, but whenever we ask to add you as co writers you say no.” Mimi snarks, shaking her head and smiling. “Mysterious, mysterious girl.”

“Can't say I imagined Sebastian Stan as Steve though, I was thinking more of Chris Pine.” you joke, Mimi knows you're joking but your flat tone makes Sebastian second guess if you are actually upset about it or not. “was he busy?”

Mimi laughs, good - a joke.

“Not even a second choice?” Sebastian smiles sheepishly, he hopes you were joking.

Sebastian thinks you're going to smile, and your lip twitches. You hum and it sounds as smooth as the coffee tastes, like honey. “Maybe third.”

Your eyes warm in his direction, the feeling in his chest is foreign.

“You’re a better critic than you are a casting director.” Mimi jokes again. Sebastian wonders how long you've been friends.

“a critic?” Sebastian perks up, critics are his worst enemy in life. No matter how much he can ignore them, one well-written article can make or break an entire year for him.

“Not actually, I just watch a lot of movies and have strong opinions.” your eyes land back on him.

“Harsh. Harsh opinions.” Mimi makes a point, and you roll your eyes and almost smile again. Almost. Sebastian wants to see you smile, what a weird thought for a stranger he’s only known for 20 minutes. You do make good eggs, but how do you fuck up eggs?

“Anything you recognize me from?'' Sebastian slaps on a cheeky smile, and maybe it's arrogant to think he knows the answer to that. But he is Sebastian Stan and you watch a lot of movies. You open your mouth to speak but Mimi interrupts again, not in an annoying way.

“Don't bruise his ego,” she warns.

How harsh could you be? Sebastian starts to regret asking about himself.

“Anyways, how could I not? I vividly remember seeing the covenant play in the hospital when my baby sister was born; a weird choice for hospital cinema.”

Sebastian's glad you don't mention Marvel or gossip girl, the covenant isn't any much better either though.

“That is very weird. Any critics?” Sebastian doesn't even know why he asked tt, he's going to regret it.

Mimi whispers an ‘oh boy’ under her breath and Sebastian feels like he needs to buckle down and brace himself. Even worse as your eyes scan him, judging him.

“I'm not here was your worst movie and you need to fire your agents or whoever told you that was a good idea.”

Oh?

“I thought it was a good script.”

You look at him as if he had three heads. Mimi looks scared.

“I can see the vision but the story tries too hard to be deep and pretentious - it settles on just being a cry fest and it doesn't even do that well. The main character is just a shitty person with a shitty life and the writing fails to make me feel bad for him, no matter how good you or J.K Simmons's acting was”

Sebastian hangs onto the small compliment hidden in there by his fingernails. You're not done yet.

“I, Tonya was really good. Marvel is… Marvel, same thing for gossip girl. The rest of your characters have been the same angry or toxic men trope over and over again, no offense, you need more range.”

That hurt a lot less than Sebastian expected. He feels speechless, mimi is still eating and is silent. Sebastian isn't hungry anymore and your cold eyes are stripping him down naked. He still thinks you're beautiful.

“Do you like anything I've been in?” why does he keep asking questions he knows he won't like?

You think for a moment, look him dead in the eye, and smile. And even if it's meant to be snarky or sarcastic, Sebastian thinks it's beautiful and warm. Warmer than the coffee in his hands. It reaches your eyes and crinkles at the end and he knows it's genuine, it utterly stuns him and he almost thinks he missed your response.

“Once upon a time.”

Sebastian can’t help but smile at that, “give me one complaint so you don't send me home with a broken heart.” he bargains, half joking with small doubt it won't be back handed.

“I have controversial opinions on superhero movies and the people that play them, but you portray Bucky Barnes really well.'' You say quietly like you're scared of being nice, Sebastian takes it and he doesn't notice he's grinning with a light in his eyes. You don't either, mimi does - she is already texting Lauryn about it.

“I don't like to comment on people's acting abilities because I'm not an actor, but I can tell when someone is good or bad.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you. “You sure do comment on people's writing and directing though, you're a writer?”

Your eyes are cold again and your back straightens, even Mimi tenses and Sebastian wonders if he said something wrong. He gets no reply from you, and Sebastian sees a mask fall from your face - one he didn't notice you were wearing until now.

“No, I'm not.” your voice is monotone again. When did it have feelings? Sebastian doesn't remember when you started to sound humane and passionate, he said something wrong.

Mimi rushes the rest of her food in her mouth and reads the room as you retreat behind to the kitchen again, so quickly and quietly Sebastian almost doesn't notice.

“It's now late-late, I'm heading home.” Mimi sighs, heavily implying he needs to leave too. Sebastian agrees.

He glances back at you once more when Mimi yells goodbye, you don't look at Sebastian.

\

Sebastian prepares for the movie, he doesn’t think about you or the cafe for two weeks. He goes on a date and he doesn’t call her back.

his house is suffocating, it’s too big for him and he knows it. women and friends stay over but it feels empty. He needs air - paparazzi - he groans. suck it up, Sebastian. put on a coat and find a place to eat, he chooses a blue sweatshirt and sunglasses.

Every time he goes out he thinks maybe no one will recognize him. He's always wrong. He should know better.

aimlessly he walks. Sebastian knows the streets of New York like the back of his hand. He feels lost despite the fact he’s walked down this street many times, so much changed anyways.

Jones' place.

he remembers the place from a few weeks ago, remembers you and your cold face. Sebastian remembers you smiling and him feeling giddy about it, but now he can’t imagine it in his head. Sebastian had said something wrong, he remembers that. He wishes he got your number.

you knew him and you didn’t dance around him like a celebrity - when did the person get erased and celebrity scribbled in its place? you were normal and not on vogue or GQ and you talked to him like he wasn’t either.

in a daze, he walks in and sits down. it’s open this time, and a group of teenagers sits at a booth in the corner. an elderly man sits alone at a table, Sebastian wonders if he’s married, and if she passed and that’s where they used to sit together. maybe you’d know.

but he doesn’t see you at first. tapping his finger on the bar - you appear and you don’t look at him, don’t notice him. walking straight past him and giving a chocolate croissant to the elderly man, maybe you did see him and are just insanely good at covering it up, you don’t smile at the man but your features lighten.

you turn back around and your eyes hit Sebastian dead center like you knew he was there because Sebastian was right.

“same as last time?” you ask, of course you’d remember his order. it was simple and that was your job.

Sebastian nods, “no egg, just coffee.”

“It's not on the house this time!” you yell as you disappear into the back.

Sebastian smiles for some reason.

\

Daisy Edgar-Jones' accent makes Sebastian feel weirdly at home despite the fact he’s not from England and has never found any sense of comfort there.

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek as he listens to Mimi speak about the movie, he dozed off, to be honest. the writers and producer speak over each other in the zoom call. Daisy is still in England and they start filming in two weeks. Sebastian is excited - the type of excitement that you mix with anxiety because it also makes you want to throw up.

Your name is mentioned briefly and Sebastian is paying attention now. Lauryn dances around the fact you practically wrote the whole script - why don’t you take credit? Lauryn is an extroverted woman who smiles a lot and tries to make everyone as comfortable as possible, the same with Mimi.

It makes no sense. Why are you so distant and monotone?

Sebastian opens Instagram for the first time in a week. He realized recently most social media was bullshit, he was turning 40 this year, and there are more important things to focus on.

search history.

(imsebastianstan) y/n l/n writer

(imsebastianstan) y/n l/n

(imsebastianstan) sundance film fest

(imsebastianstan) daisyedgarjones

(imsebastianstan) mjonf

/

Sebastian has been acting since a kid, he took a break between then and his first real job but he's been surrounded by film and cameras most of his life. Being in front of a camera should come naturally to him. Maybe it's just a mid-life crisis thing but he feels like he wants to throw up.

Coming back from some stupid junket, he doesn't remember when the feeling of needing to hurl settled in his stomach but even hours after, it hasn't left. Sebastian wonders how many people know that he paces in his room before filming, he'll anxiously bite on his nails and look in the mirror and wonder if he should have skipped that meal earlier.

Home feels foreign now. He misses his mom and he can't seem to find time to go see her. His stomach feels empty - it is empty. He's only had a salad today.

Sebastian wants to flee, where it's private and warm. His steps carried him through the city, maybe he should call that girl back? He doesn't want to be lonely tonight.

Suddenly, he feels the presence of cameras snapping pictures of his panic attacks across the street. It's like a sixth sense now, he hates it. Sometimes when his day will blur and depression hits, he'll see the photos of himself later not recognize the person on his phone. Or he'll just hate what he sees.

He doesn’t want to have to do that routine again tomorrow morning.

Then he remembers you, remembers the street he's on. and then before he can realize his breath is already suffocating him and your cafe is in front of him. It's closed but the lights are on - why is he here? Why is he knocking on the door?

Your face is concerned when you open it, Sebastian's chest feels heavy, can you tell? You must have, you must be familiar with the look of despair, panic, and the intense feelings of doom, because you let him in with no word.

Sebastian's staring again as you make him the same coffees he's ordered twice now. You're nice but guarded, Sebastian wonders if you'll ever let it down. Because he is now. Your hair is tied up and your full face is in view, no muscles move and you look just as monotone and bored as before. You look like statues, beautiful statues. Like your cheekbones and exposed collarbone were sculpted with stone or clay. Your lips are plump, you're not smiling - not frowning. You remind him of the Mona Lisa.

Embarrassment washed over him when he jolted like a paranoid creep as you set his coffee down. Sebastian mumbled a sorry under his breath and you don't say anything still, why haven't you said anything?

A laptop and cup of tea are set in front of the seat next to him, a google doc is open and he sees a script. He’ll feel guilty about it later but his neck cranes to see what is written. Sebastian barely reads a line before the laptop closes with a slam, you're looking at him with a glare, and he flinches again.

“You're nosy.” you say, making your way to sitting next to him now, sipping on the tea and staring off into space.

“Thought you said you weren't a writer?” Sebastian feels like he's going into tricky territory, scratch that - he knows he is.

Mumbled through your lips, “I'm not.”

You sound haunted, Sebastian wants to know why.

Maybe he is nosy.

Sebastian needs to keep talking or else his anxiety will eat him raw, he’ll choke on his thoughts and die in the middle of your cafe. Then he'd feel really bad. At least he doesn't feel lonely, a ghost of a person sits next to him yet he feels more comfortable than in a room full of people. How odd.

“You're not going to ask why I knocked on your door at 11 pm? Or do you just let any stranger in at night?” he tries to joke, but it comes out half-hearted like most things.

“You looked like you were going to die, I'm not going to be responsible for Sebastian stan's death,” you say, scrolling through your phone. Twitter. “I'm sure some 16 year old would dox me or something.”

Sebastian laughs, slowly picking up on your dry humor, but he knows you're unfortunately right.

“How'd you meet Lauryn?” Sebastian asks, clawing at your guarded walls as he also tries to calm himself down. He doesn't even remember why he was panicking earlier.

“A film festival in Greece, 2009 - I think,” you answer honestly, sipping your coffee again. Sebastian notices the rings on your fingers.

Sebastian wants to ask how you got into films - he feels like that's the wrong thing to say again. He doesn't want you to drive him out again, hoping to get your number before he leaves.

The iPhone in his pocket dings, it's Ellie, his date from a few days ago. She's asking if he wants to come over with a winky face, that her bed feels cold and Sebastian wants to throw up again.

“Girlfriend?” you ask, side-eyeing his phone.

“No, I don't have time for that right now.” part lie, not his girlfriend but somehow he always finds time to date. Sometimes he hates himself for it because he always loves half heartedly. He never liked commitment anyways. “You?”

“No,” you say plainly. Changing the subject at an uncharacteristic rate, “why have you so shaken up at such a time?”

Sebastian wonders if he should lie and make up some stereotypical actor excuse, or just say he doesn't know. Avoid the topic that he’s spent the past 3 weeks with new people every day but he still feels lonely. That he wants to crumble in front of any camera. That he's tired of picking himself apart.

But you sit there so mysteriously and Sebastian wants to know you too. Maybe if he gets vulnerable you'd feel okay doing the same, he tries to avoid the thought of expecting that from you, because he shouldn't. This will be an olive branch.

“I feel lonely.” he starts. “I don’t want to be home right now, so I went for a walk, and then the paps -“

he cuts himself off before he turns into word vomit. you're sitting next to him, not looking at his face. Sebastian wants you to look at him.

“you live in the city?”

“Rockland county.”

you hum, “far way to go for a walk.”

“I know.”

a moment of silence, Sebastian wants to cry for some reason. “Are you going to that girl's house?”

Sebastian's eyebrows furrow for a second, you're referring to the text. you were just as nosy as him it seems. and maybe he could go to her house, either it would destroy him or he’d feel a little better. she’d probably ask him about the new movie, flirt, and have sex, she’d talk to him like a character and he’d go home. He doesn't want to go home.

“no.” Sebastian almost whispers, “I'm not sure where I'm going.”

he was so lost, it’s pathetic.

you look at him for once you don’t look frozen. Sebastian wants to know what’s going on behind your eyes. you’re thinking, that’s obvious enough. eyes scanning him up and down he feels vulnerable. it’s unfair how much he doesn't know about you.

“I have a spare room if you're desperate.” you offer. an olive branch. Sebastian feels like choking.

He also feels guilty, because he doesn't know you and you’ve already made him coffee for free when you didn’t need to. “no, you don’t have-“

“You feel so small and tiny in a big house like that, it’s like living with a ghost when you are lonely, right? it feels taunting, even." You speak honestly, speaking from experience, you’ve been where Sebastian has. He still feels like crying but now he understands, the loneliness slowly drains from his body without realizing it.

“okay.” he whispers, almost scared to accept.

this is you being vulnerable, he soon realizes as you tell him you’ll finish closing up - living only across the alleyway in the back. you're being vulnerable by sharing a space, we’re he’ll see you raw and open.

and he saw it. old coffee mugs and everywhere the matching stains in the wood. a sweatshirt is thrown over your couch. a record playing with 80s goth music. bright orange bottles of pills. Banksy prints are nailed on the wall. books on screenwriting stacked on the coffee table. a cut-off and discarded hospital bracelet on the counter.

Sebastian asks about the vinyl, but he doesn’t bring up the empty Xanax bottles or the bracelet. you're glad.

The apartment is small and he feels warm. it’s foreign and strange - but it’s the most comfortable he’s felt in at least a week. you show him the extra bedroom, the beds made and it's mostly empty. a side table with a lamb and a wall full of shelves. books and movie scripts fill it, he sees an oscar award hidden and dusty behind a copy of pride and prejudice.

the front room is filled with warm lights, it’s settled the fog in his brain and he feels better You're sitting on a green couch that you found on the Facebook market place and he thinks you’re beautiful. Sebastian sits next to you and understanding is shared between you two, what it is? he’s not sure. but he feels safe and understood and he doesn’t want to leave.

Sebastian is not tired and neither are you, your leaning intoSebastian'sn touch and he doesn’t question why.

“thank you.” is all he can think to say.

“don’t, not yet.” you sound tortured and Sebastian can’t stop the word from leaving his mouth. he just has to know.

“what broke you?”

too much. everything. nothing at all. a man. my talent and my desire to be my loved, you think. a shaky exhale leaves your mouth and Sebastian thinks he carry your sorrows if you’d just smile at him again.

“I don’t know.” you settle on and Sebastian understands.

Sebastian's hand grazed above your arm, you don’t flinch out of his touch. your warm and soft and he melts. he wants to ask you why you have an Oscar, if it’s yours and why you were at the hospital 2 days ago and why you're chasing him with a stone-cold face

the extra bedroom goes unused and his limbs are warm and feel perfect against yours. the warm lights lull him to sleep, your breath is steady and Sebastian realized you smile in your sleep and he hopes it’s because he’s caressed your back as you dazed off. Sebastian wraps a blanket around the two of you.

now don’t get anything incorrect. Sebastian stan doesn’t believe in love at first sight, sometimes he wonders if he even believes in love at all because sometimes it feels impossible to love. his mother and father taught him commitments are lies and his partners convinced him of that. he loves his friends - he thinks - but they always come and go. they never knew him anyways.

but as the sun hits his face and he feels the blanket around him on your couch. Faye Webster is spinning on the record playing softly and you’re swaying your hips in the kitchen. you don’t realize he’s awake and your mask falls down. your cooking something and humming along, a thin-lipped smile on your face.

Sebastian doesn’t know you but at this moment he does. he feels normal and like he’s known you his entire life. it’s scary and he feels oncoming doom but he lets himself be and watches.

you seemed more alive this morning as you gave him toast. he didn’t ask for it but it was the best toast he has had in a while. Sebastian asks if you slept on the couch all night, you smiled and he almost dropped dead. no reply but that was enough. he danced with you in the kitchen, it was weird and domestic and Sebastian is looking at you like he’s in love.

but he’s not. and neither are you. The fog settles and you say goodbye and open the shop. Sebastian goes home and he never got your number.

and he has to leave tomorrow for Canada and go back to his life.

Sebastian doesn’t talk to you for another week.

[theautisticfroglord]

Please be alright

pairing - julius x reader

fic type - angst to comfort

warnings - deatth mention, julius is stressed,

notes - another fanfic over 1000 words!!! also I made an art for this one :3 yet another brick wall of text at the beginning💀

Julius, the Wizard King, is your partner. He loves you and wants to protect you. He always managed to keep you safe. Until one day. You got into a fight and ended up getting severely injured, and you could have died. You were escorted to the infirmary to be healed. Everyone is uncertain if you’ll survive, though. Julius was broken when he got the news about what happened to you. That night, he can’t get himself to sleep and he still has work to do. At about midnight, Julius is writing at his desk. Then, his emotions hit him harder. He can’t hold back his emotions anymore, and starts to cry. Julius hasn’t cried in a long time because he manages to keep them down. He notices his own body trembling and he puts his head down. Julius tries to keep himself quiet as he continues to cry against the desk. He soon can’t help but to sob quietly as he attempts to console himself. A long time later, Julius stops crying. He continues to rest his head on the desk until he hears a knock on the door.

“Come in…” Julius says, his voice a little shaky, still. Marx walks into Julius’s office.

“Julius, you don’t have to stay up doing work all night. We have time to write all these papers,” Marx chuckles, but then notices how Julius is acting off. He looks really tired, and his cheeks are reddened. He also notices how Julius is trembling a little. Marx then notices how the desk has a small puddle of tears on it. He then realizes that Julius had been crying. He walks closer to Julius’s desk.

“Julius… you’re really anxious about what happened to Y/N, aren’t you?” he asks, concerned. Julius tries not to look at Marx directly.

“They might live, you know that? Sleeping can make this easier for you,” Marx offers Julius, kneeling a little so Julius will look at him. He tries to stop himself from crying, but he can’t help it anymore. Tears start streaming down Julius’s cheeks.

“Marx…” Julius cries. Marx gasps, surprised at how Julius is crying in front of him. Julius walks around his desk and hugs him.

“I’m just… s-so worried about Y/N… I want them to be alright… I want to see them,” Julius sobs as Marx consoles him.

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go see them, they also need to rest,” Marx sighs. Julius starts to cry even harder, and Marx is surprised at how sad and hurt Julius sounds.

“I didn’t get to tell Y/N I loved them before they left… I was out and couldn’t see them! I’m so stupid, it’s all my fault…” Julius cries, hugging Marx tighter.

“It wasn’t your fault Julius. You didn’t hurt them, I’m sure they still love you,” he reassures Julius, trying to calm him down. He starts sobbing louder until he’s practically wailing. Marx can tell that Julius is really hurt over what happened to you. He feels heartbroken seeing the Wizard King so vulnerable and hurt. He even tears up a little. When Julius manages to calm down, he lets go of Marx.

“You’re right, I-I need to sleep,” Julius sighs. Marx puts a hand on Julius’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Marx,” he nervously walks out of his office and goes back to bed. The next morning, he wakes up later than usual. He doesn’t get out of bed, though. Julius takes a picture out of his drawer. The picture is of you and him together. He stares at how cute you looked in the picture, and he starts to cry again. He sobs into his pillow so people don’t hear him. After he calms down again, he hears a knock on the door to his bedroom.

“W-Who is it?” Julius asks weakly. The door creaks open, and Marx peeks into his room. Marx notices Julius’s face, and he gives him a concerned look.

“Y-You can visit Y/N today…” Marx chuckles, and he sees Julius’s face light up.

“I’ll get ready,” he climbs out of bed. Marx leaves him alone to let him get into his outfit. Julius comes out of his room a few minutes later. They make their way to the infirmary to visit you. Julius’s stomach is in knots, and he’s really nervous about you. Him and Marx wait outside the room you’re in, hoping you’ll be okay. Then, the door to the room you’re in creaks open.

“Oh, you’re both here,” Owen chuckles. He notices how uneasy Marx and Julius look.

“You can come in here, they’re ready to see you,” he invites them into the room. Marx walks in first, then Julius. They both come into the room and see something they didn’t expect. You were sitting in the chair next to the bed you were in, and you looked perfectly alright, other than being tired. Both Julius and Marx were at a loss for words as you stood up from the chair. Julius waked up to you.

“Hey, Juliu-” You start, but then he collapses in your arms. You feel his tears against your neck and you you’re confused. He starts to sob loudly.

“Y/N… you’re alive…!” he cries as you sit back down so you can support him in your arms.

“I’ll leave you guys alone for now. You’re free to leave when you’re ready,” Owen walks out of the door. Marx tries to comfort Julius by putting his hand on his shoulder. Julius starts crying louder.

“We were so worried about you… we’re glad you’re alright, Y/N,” Marx sighs. Julius is still wailing against your shoulder.

“Aw, honey… the whole palace is going to hear you if you keep crying,” you chuckle, and he gets flustered realizing that. He calms down a little as you rub his back.

“We can do this later, when we’re alone,” you whisper to him. He finally lets go of you and stands up.

“S-Sorry… I’m just so glad you’re okay,” Julius sniffles, wiping away his tears. You stand up from the chair again.

“It’s alright, baby, I love you,” you purr, pecking him on the lips.

“Let’s go back home,” Julius sighs, feeling more calm now that he knows you’re okay.

[aajjks]

TPOL!JK

you’re at a loss for words because you thought you did the ring thing for him, for the both of you. “n-no! d-don’t leave me!” you yell while walking after jungkook who goes for his keys and doesn’t even look at you. “i-i do trust you, jungkook. i just…i was scared you would leave or-or you’d want the baby gone so i fixed it. please, don’t blame yourself. i, i chose this. i chose to do it, none of this is your fault” you say but jungkook can’t even look at you and once he finds his keys, he leaves you alone.

you fall to your knees and cry in the palm of your hands. you’re sure that you and jungkook are probably finished and now everything you did was for nothing because he left you anyways.

bam walks over to you and puts his head in your lap while listening to you cry. he probably thinks he’s comforting you and in a way he is because you remove your hands from your face and stroke bam on his head.

“i think this is it, bamie” you say while getting yourself up to call your best friend yerin to help you pack your things so you could move out of the penthouse but you hear your mother’s words in the back of your head reminding you: your father and i used to go at it all of the time but we gave each other space and when the time was right, we worked things out.

and so you don’t move out. instead, you take heed of your mother’s word and give jungkook his space like he did you. you didn’t call or text him and waited for him to come back to you because you want to try and save the last bits and pieces of the relationship the two of you have, if there are any pieces left.

you both have broken, rebuilt, destroyed, rebuilt, disintegrated, and rebuilt this relationship so many times that maybe it’s time to let it go and move on.

you both fucked up in more ways than one and if this doesn’t prove that you both just aren’t meant for each other than you don’t know what is.

however, to keep jungkook from losing his shit, you’ll allow him to decide which path he wants to go with the relationship. when he returns, you’re expecting him to call things off, demand you to pack your shit, and never speak to him again because of the damage you dealt to the relationship.

when you hear the door unlock and bam bark like crazy, you know it’s jungkook who finally decided to show his face after not talking to you for so long. of course you carried on as per usual and worried about him but you figured it was best for the two of you.

while he places his belongings down, you’re in the kitchen cleaning dishes since bam just got finished eating his dinner, all you had was pineapples. at first, jungkook doesn’t really pay you any mind and you’re a little irked about it because if he was just going to ignore you then you could’ve stayed the night with your mom instead of being here but eventually jungkook does address you.

every time he does, however, his eyes peer at your stomach. “can you please stop looking at my stomach. i’m sure we can try again next time? r-right?”

“No.” He says, looking at you and finally peering his eyes off your belly. “Yn no.” He goes to bam and pets his dog, he’s smiling with him.

“Someone made me realise that I’m not meant to be a father. You did the right thing.” He reminds you, his words are ice cold, Jungkook feels so tired. “I’m sorry I left you here all alone. But I needed some alone time.” He gets up after playing with bam.

And here you are, you’re still scared, he can tell you feel guilty about what you did, maybe you even deserve to, but he’s missed you so much.

Since you’re the only one who understands him, you’re the only one who actually treats him like a human with actual feelings.

Jungkook pulls you in for a hug, and you gasp. “I’m sorry yn..” he chokes, he’s crying in your arms. You make him so vulnerable. “T-Thank you for allowing me to be vulnerable around you..”

He’s pretty sure he’s sick, he can tell with the heat emitting from him. “I-I hate my parents so much yn..”

[rediscovering-submission]

Screaming into the void once again. Probably pointless. @itrainproperty is the new blog, still the same clueless wanna be dom running it.

I question my experiences and feelings there sometimes. I found the journal I kept from the day I moved there until I moved out. It was heartbreaking to read the slow decay of my sanity that came with the environment he created. Here's some quotes.

"It feels like trying to walk in two different directions at once. It's fucking draining"

"just keep your head down, mouth shut, and try not to fuck anything up"

"I feel myself starting to harden up again, I knew vulnerability wasn't safe"

"am I going crazy? why does it feel like I'm drowning and everyone is watching, doing nothing"

"I'm so tired"

"I've turned into an empty shell"

"the broken feeling is back"

"no part of me feels calm in any way."

"She's bubbly and excited, I'm quiet and reserved, is that the wrong way to be?"

"You hurt me. It's hard to write that. Even now I am defending your actions"

"Being in your personal space? It feels like a sin"

"I miss feeling at home"

"The comfort of not feeling alone is gone, and everything feels harder"

"It hurts so much"

"Get whatever you need to do done, try not to fuck anything else up, and hope bedtime comes soon. Rinse and repeat"

"Functioning just enough to get chores done, that's all that matters anyways"

"I crave stability"

"Why does everything I do seem to make him upset?"

"I didn't mean to fall asleep and make you wait. I'm just so tired"

"How can I know the right way to be vulnerable, the right times, when I was never allowed to be?"

"There are moments when it feels like you could push me away and move on without a second thought. I pray you don't get bored of me"

"I hate how fragile I've become. It's getting worse"

"I wish I could stop existing"

"I can't remember the last time I felt hungry, nothing is getting better"

"your attention was the last thing I wanted but your eyes turned to me anyways. A cold hard stare, for the first time I didn't see the warm glow of the sun, I saw icy cold anger. Flashes of red flood my brain. Panic."

"I want to be next to you, but I have to convince myself it's safe first. I hate that I have to convince myself you're safe."

"as long as I function nothing is really wrong"

"why is it so hard to feel happy?"

"life feels more and more like a prison"

"Do I still exist when I'm not doing something for you? Do you care?"

"Empty but overwhelmed"

"Apathy is the only safe feeling left"

"That spooked animal feeling is back, same deer in the headlights. I thought you understood, I didn't realize you were going to run over me too"

"I honestly don't know what to do for you anymore, please tell me what to do"

"Why are you upset that I didn't follow a rule I didn't know about? Why is this my fault? I just got here, I still barely know you"

[clovercoin]

Girl there's a storm inside of you, I can see the clouds every time you sigh. Starcrossed feeling a bit heavy. :C

---

Starcrossed is feeling mega depressed lately. Just hard to keep pushing forward, but luckily she has lots of pillowings who are here to remind her of the good stuff! Zippity is helping out today~

---

Lil more vent art borrowing my ponysona Starcrossed. Just in a pony mood lately I guess?

I'm just feeling really vulnerable right now, so you'll have to excuse my babbling here.

I've been really shaken to my core about the abuse I face online and it's... All relatively calmed down finally. It's quite for the most part except for random hate-mail or comment to insult me or loved ones around me. I'm just... So tired.

Pillowings were such a huge source of community and joy, I was so excited to share it with the closed species and adoptable creative communities. But since 2019 it's all completely been ripped apart and it's so painful to interact online constantly seeing people openly being anti-fan/terf/homophobic I just... It's like living in my red state home town all over again and being forced into church to "straighten out". How can so many artists I love be accepting of that... So many of my exfriends proudly claiming the anti label. I'm just... heart broken I guess.

I've just been trying to be... Quiet? I guess. Keep to myself. I've thought about quitting and deleting my work online many times. I've thought about hurting myself or just abandoning my life often. I have successfully isolated myself completely where I don't talk to anyone (except for the Cloverse Discord server). And even then it's only in the public formats. I only feel sick and stress when I get messages, even the positive ones. I just panic every time.

And because of everything that has happened in the closed species/adoptable communities, I am just scared. All the time. It never ends. I don't feel supported. I only feel people are watching, waiting for me to fail. I want to believe that's not true, but it's sadly been proven time and time again it is.

I'm not making any big decisions right now. Just venting out my raw feelings because... So many people I know have quit making art, writing, all creative sharing online because of the anti/proship arguing online that has slowly devolved back into removing the queer community as a whole from the public spaces.

I'm still trying. Still trying to create. I've been taking a lot more time offline to just focus on my pets, the housework, and pairing with Prov about the pillowing/cloverse website. He is still actively working on it and says he wants me to move forward with Clo as a story/art/community... I just feel scared talking about it because it's been so long I feel like I a liar at this point. So I don't bring it up too much since I don't understand how to share his programming milestones.

I'm just.. Really really sad. I feel so alone. I'm still trying, but it does feel rather hopeless. Hopeless? I guess maybe I mean pointless...

Right now I just... like drawing. So I'll just draw.

[bakugouaaa]

Please for my beloved Winter,, 9, 10, 15, 18, 20, and 22

ask meme!

9. If your OC were to imagine their idyllic life (realistically or otherwise) what would it be like?

honestly, winter wants a life of ease and to be able to rest. she wants to be able to settle down and not worry about all of the ways that the world is broken. it’s why she partially retires post 6.0 — she wants to live a life for herself rather than other people. she also desperately wants to be a mother; it’s not a necessity for her by any means, but in her perfect world. she’s settled, she’s married with kids, and she’s happy. it’s a big wish for her.

10. What piece of moody poetry or novel quote best encompasses your character?

i admittedly don’t read as much as i used to so i’m very behind on like, what poetry is what and all that. but there’s an excerpt from three women by sylvia plath i think of a lot for her: 

The silver track of time empties into the distance, The white sky empties of its promise, like a cup. These are my feet, these mechanical echoes. Tap, tap, tap, steel pegs. I am found wanting.

15. What is a common misconception about your OC? (Alternatively, what do people assume about them which is either incorrect or misconstrued?)

that she’s a cold and cruel person. while she does have a very icy demeanor upon first glance, winter loves a lot and has a very big heart. she does fall into common mean girl tropes at first, given her upbringing and privilege that comes with wealthy parents - but that iciness is a guard that comes from fake friends using her only for money and status. i won’t ever call her like, overly warm or anything, but she’s definitely not an ice queen like people view her. she loves deeply and she loves fiercely. 

18. What is one thing that they only let those closest to them see?

vulnerability. winter tries very hard to put on tough acts, or rather like. she doesn’t want people to see her for how she sees herself. she thinks she has to be a perfect example of heroism. she thinks she has to be strong and steady. so when one gets to know her on a level deeper than what she puts on for the public, they do see into like.. the more vulnerable side of her that’s just. so very tired.

20. What was the moment at which they knew they were in love, or was it a slow buildup?

rubbing my little hands together. with aleksei, it was a slow buildup after the initial shock she felt when their eyes met for the first time. at the time, she was with orrick, and as you know that relationship was just for show at best and extremely toxic at worst. so, fast forward to the end of a realm reborn, when the world feels like it’s broken for her for the first time. while she has river with her, and alphinaud and tataru, she still feels incredibly alone, because it’s her first time losing everything. she doesn’t think much on romance. she doesn’t think much on anything beyond survival and the next step that comes in the path she and river were guided upon. but then there’s aleksei. a like mind and someone who seems to see beyond the facade. it’s the first spark of something, it’s the first time she thinks of him beyond a mere acquaintance. the more time they spend together, the more spark she feels - soon enough, it’s a full blown fire. while it was a slow build, it definitely came rushing forward all at once. every smile, every passing glance and every written word - she treasures them all. and, she keeps every note he’s written.

22. What is some advice or guidance they received that had a big impact on their lives or outlook? Was it a positive or negative impact?

genuinely. i don’t think winter has ever received guidance or advice of any sort that has bettered her, or really made her worse? there is that bit about like, the legacy of parents etc, but like.. she had already decided for Herself so long ago that she was never going to be her parents. even if she was given advice it’s like... a 25/75 chance she’d take it lmao. we love to see it <3