#i’m not trying to come off as unsupportive or anything but it’s just so early in adulthood that i’m like

[easypeasylindyvesey]

the fact that people around my age are getting engaged is INSANE

[yoonpobs]

back-burner | 04

just for tonight, you'll try to forget

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff

WARNINGS. an intervention, bad decision making and justifications, longing, sibling jealousy, implied smut, public sex-ish?, fwb-situation, introducing hobi!!!, jk trying to be a good friend :(

WORDS. 3.8k

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“You know what I need?”

“What?” Jungkook replies dryly, face sour when you dragged him out of his apartment at seven am in the morning on a weekend.

You were an early riser! And, Jungkook did say that he was your best friend even if that title was heavily self-proclaimed. You were simply making use out of the resources that were bestowed upon you, even if said best friend looks anything but friendly when he glares at you through his puffy eyes.

“An intervention,” you deadpan, leaning forward whilst you slide him a green juice that you ordered on his behalf.

He grimaces when he ogles the glass, glaring at you even harder if that was possible before he slides it back to you.

“Couldn’t this intervention wait till it was a socially acceptable hour?” he mutters under his breath.

“You know for someone who’s meant to be supporting me, you’re being really unsupportive right now,” you blink.

“You know my brain doesn’t operate before 12 PM on weekends so whose fault is that?” he sneers patronisingly, simultaneously releasing a sigh of relief when your food finally arrives.

A familiar face serves you, and you smile when Marco greets you and your companion with his signature grin.

“Nice to see you so early,” he chirps before his head is falling on Jungkook. “Boyfriend?”

Jungkook literally gags. “God, no. Please.”

You ignore him before shooting Marco a sweet smile, one that you usually reserve for people that weren’t the bane of your existence.

“He wishes,” you hum and Jungkook kicks you in the shin.

Marco leaves, telling the both of you that he hopes you’d enjoy the food. You will, obviously, this cafe was your favourite for a reason and you needed that douse of serotonin after the events you were put through the night before.

Even recalling what had happened, how you felt and the bitter tang that it leaves in your chest is enough to turn your face tetchy. Jungkook, despite his half-asleep state, picks up on your change of expression.

“Spill before I leave,” he sighs, and you know that even if he feigns disinterest, he was more curious about your life drama than anything else. Only Jeon Jungkook would live off your life crises.

“That’s what I need,” you say in all seriousness.

“To spill?” he asks with a raised brow, visibly confused.

“A boyfriend,” you say, eyes wide as if you’ve just hit a revelation.

Jungkook blinks.

“A man is literally the cause of all your problems and you want a boyfriend?!”

“A man, not men,” you sniff pathetically, “And okay. Maybe not like a boyfriend. But a boy-friend,” you attempt to explain as you gesture your arms.

Jungkook only stares at you like you’ve grown another head. And you don’t think it’s unwarranted. You’re aware you sound a little insane, but Marco triggered something in you that you didn’t realise could be an obvious solution.

A boyfriend wasn’t what you were looking for, it was a—

“Distraction. I need a distraction,” you declare.

“That is the worst fucking idea I’ve heard coming from you and you’re a bottomless bit of horrible ideas,” he scowls.

“Excuse me? How dare you!” you hiss, “This is not a bad idea.”

Jungkook gawks at you in disbelief, exceptionally more awake when he leans forward with a stern glint in his eyes.

“Do I need to remind you that you’re literally in love with someone?” he exasperates.

“Geez, I said I needed a distraction, not a reminder,” you mumble bitterly, folding your arms across your chest as you stare at your food.

“Listen, I know I condemn half the shit you do because it’s you but I’m really drawing the line at a boyfriend,” he blinks.

“What, are you like in love with me or something?” you snort.

Jungkook blinks at you. You stare.

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“I’m leaving.”

Before he can abandon you, you’re tugging on his sleeve with a whine. “Okay, okay. Too far, I know.”

Jungkook glares at you as if to say damn straight before he settles back onto his chair with his stance more confrontational than you’d appreciate it to be.

“Look. This is a bad idea,” he says seriously, “You tell me over the phone that you almost told Yoongi you were in love with him in the same hour you accused him of being friends with you only to sleep with your sister. How did you suddenly jump to the conclusion that a boyfriend would solve all of your problems?”

You knew Jungkook was serious. And deep down, you knew he was right. But it wasn’t a matter of who was right or wrong, but the quickest form of conciliation that you could obtain before your heart dug a deeper hole that it couldn’t crawl out of.

The longer you think, the more you know that you and Yoongi were never going to happen. You see Instagram story updates from your sister and it’s always with him. Always with him showing his rare smile at her like it was only reserved for her. He was a busy man, a doctor, and yet—he always made time for Haerin.

It sucked to know that you were there only when he remembered you were.

“I need to move on, Jungkook,” you blink. “I know it isn’t the best idea but I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Distance yourself from him,” he hisses like it’s obvious.

It is, isn’t it? Pulling away from Yoongi to give yourself time and space to allow your heart to breathe. To stop wishing that you were your sister, to stop wishing that you were his.

But you don’t know if you had the strength to do that on your own. You weren’t disciplined. You knew what was good for you but that didn’t mean you sought for it. You were human, a vastly average human that did average things. Sometimes things were below average, too. And that meant sometimes you fell into unhealthy mechanisms, enough to allow yourself to feel something else but dread.

“Won’t this help? Meeting a new guy?” you reason softly.

“And that’s fair for the other guy? To be your rebound?”

You flinch.

“If you’re doing this to get over Yoongi, then I’m against it. As your friend I can’t just let you do this to yourself and someone else,” he says sternly.

“I’m not going to jump into marriage with him, Jungkook,” you frown, “All I’m saying is that I … start putting myself out there, you know? I’ve stayed away from dating because I didn’t want to date anyone apart from … yeah. This isn’t about me finding a rebound. It’s about me allowing myself to move on.”

“And what’s going to happen then? You drop your entire friendship with Yoongi?” You know it’s a valid question, but you haven’t thought too far. You didn’t know if you were able to bear being friends with Yoongi even after everything. But your heart and mind were tired. You couldn’t rationalise anything anymore.

“No. Do I always need a plan?” you snap, rather irritated. “If something happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. That’s life, isn’t it? Why do I need to rationalise and conceptualise all my decisions?”

Jungkook frowns, unimpressed before he’s levelling you with a serious stare.

“I’m not telling you to plan ten or fifteen years down the road. I’m telling you to think. You’re … hurting. And you’re less likely going to be making decisions that you won’t regret in the future now,” he says.

“I appreciate it, I do. But I think I know what’s best for me,” you say stubbornly, poking into your food as you peer up at him. Jungkook looks annoyed, that enough is obvious when you recognise the tick in his jaw. But what else did you do bother than vex the people around you? It was your character. A character that was hard to understand, even harder to like.

You swallow.

“I don’t need your permission,” you say quietly, “I just needed a friend.”

Jungkook’s face softens, even if you know he still disagrees.

“And you have one,” he replies, right before he slides one of his side dishes towards you. He raises a brow when you eye it sceptically.

“I’m not going to poison you, relax,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “So, who did you have in mind?”

You blink, and a small smile makes its way onto your face.

“No one. I’ll just go with the flow.”

Jungkook snorts.

You’ve met Jung Hoseok a few times.

It was hard not to notice him, really. He was either the loudest person in every room in the best way possible, or he was mingling with everybody and anybody that would take him.

You remember when you first were introduced to Hoseok, a few years back when you made your necessary appearance at one of your sister’s charity events. You were relatively young, and equally as scorned so you were huddled in your own lone corner before you were greeted with a burst of light.

“___!”

He knew your name. Of course, he did. Besides being friendly, Jung Hoseok was strategic. He was good at his job, and you suppose that a businessman meant that he needed to network as much as possible, and essentially—kiss ass.

You remember being confused, but Hoseok was so nice that you couldn’t do your usual thing and awkwardly excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You were friends. And that was only your first meeting.

But now, you think Jung Hoseok could be a little better than a friend, especially when you don’t hind your intent behind your gaze when you lock eyes with him from across the room.

Another event, you don’t know what for. You just know that your mother told you to lay low, as usual. Let your sister do the talking. You’re just here for formality.

You didn’t need to be reminded.

You sip on your drink, virgin because you wanted to be sober if anything happened.

(The last time you drank at an event didn’t end so well for you.)

Hoseok shoots you a wide smile, already excusing himself from the group he was a part of before he makes his way through the crowd, filled with intent when he raises his class to greet you.

You grin, stifling a giggle when he nearly bumps into one of your parents’ colleagues. His smile is enough to alleviate the situation, the man patting him on the back good-naturedly rather than curse him out if it were anyone else.

“Jung Hoseok,” you greet sweetly, smiling up at him with a purposeful flutter of your lashes when he finally reaches right in front of you.

“And ____,” he smirks, “You look beautiful.”

Another thing about Hoseok was that he wasn’t shy with his compliments. He was extremely generous, and he was genuine.

“Well, I’d tell you you look great but I’m pretty sure you’ve heard that a hundred times already,” you say.

“True,” he agrees easily, earning a snort from you right before he levels you with a flirty wink. “But not from the person I wanted to hear it most from.”

“Did my mother deprive you of her coddles?”

He laughs, loud and contagious. He earns a few eyes, but when they realised it’s just Hoseok, the guests go back to their conversations. That was how easy it was with Hoseok. He was a ball of contagious energy, wherever he went.

“Her daughter did,” he throws back easily.

“So, Haerin?” you tease and saying her name doesn’t feel so bad when Hoseok sighs deeply, as if bothered.

“You, sweetheart,” he corrects, leaning closer.

You’re against the bar, usually where you reside at these events. And Hoseok has you pressed ever so slightly in a way that makes you feel the heat, but not insinuative enough for anyone to frown at.

“Should’ve said so earlier,” you grin, right before you place a hand on his chest to rub down the lapel of his collar. “You look good.”

“Just good?” he pouts, pulling away ever so slightly, allowing you some space as you roll your eyes.

“Don’t want to stroke your huge ego,” you tell him, lowering your voice into a husk as you see Hoseok swallow.

Hoseok has always been handsome. His sharp features drew the attention of anyone in the room, and his impeccable style. It was both because he was rich and stylish that made him look immensely better in clothes that you were sure would look ordinary on anyone else.

He was in a simple black and white ensemble, forgoing the traditional bowtie or tie by leaving his neck bare. The top few buttons were unbuttoned, leaving the delicious expanse of his chest exposed. His hair was slicked back, revealing his forehead which made him look infinitely hotter than he actually was.

Maybe that’s why you take your leap of faith. When if not now?

“Could stroke something else, though,” you hum.

Hoseok freezes, the hand that rests on the counter behind you stilling as you swallow your pride to shoot him a demure grin.

“So now you’re looking my way?” he whispers softly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Just for tonight,” you shrug, leaning closer as you feel your chest pressed against his.

He feels unfamiliar, and that’s exactly what you needed.

“I’m a busy man, sweetheart,” he says with a raised brow.

You smile.

Perfect.

“That’s exactly what I need.”

That’s enough for him to be dragging you out of the hall, uncaring if people were staring or hypothesised what the other daughter of your family was doing while Haerin did her thing. There was a thrill in being so … careless so purposefully.

You’ve just made it out, the lobby completely empty as Hoseok navigates his way through the venue with expert precision. You were sure he had this place memorised like the back of his hand, having his own events hosted here being a successful entrepreneur himself.

He’s leading you to a room you’ve never seen occupied but was vast enough to fit ten people. You feel a tingle down your spine at the implications, and before you can think twice—you pull his arm back with force as his eyes widen, and kiss him.

“Woah there,” he chuckles, low and deep when his hands sneak around your waist before they trail to the plump flesh of your ass, squeezing them.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly, pulling away with a cute grin. “Wanted to do that.”

His eyes darken, and he’s pulling you in, pressing you against the wall as you gasp.

His thighs dig in between your legs, firmly pressed against your mound as you whimper. He’s so quick. So agile that your head is spinning. You almost forget that you were still out in public, especially when his hand trails up to cup your tit.

“So fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs.

“Just pretty?” you throw back, head following your words as he presses hot kisses against your jaw.

“Greedy,” he grins, right before you feel his hand trail underneath your dress through the slit.

Your hands find their way towards his crotch, already palming his hardening member as he grunts.

“I think I’m pretty generous,” you say coyly, emphasising your point with a squeeze.

He narrows his eyes at you before crushing his lips against yours again with a dark, hooded gaze.

“I’m gonna have fun with you sweetheart,” he growls.

“I’m all yours—” you begin to say breathlessly, and the door to the room slams open—cutting you off.

Your reflexes aren’t fast enough, but Hoseok’s ones are. He immediately covers your body with his, preserving your modesty with the way your dress was hitches around your thighs, and the collar of your dress that threatens to expose your free nipples.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok exhales, and you feel him relax ever so slightly. But you’re tense.

“Hoseok,” the voice says blankly, and you feel the blood drain from your face when you immediately recognise it. You feel his stare next. “___.”

“Jesus Christ, would you knock?” he laughs tightly, pushing you behind him as you take it, digging your head into his back in mortification. “Sorry. I got—uh … a little …”

You get a peak from Yoongi, and you notice that his eyes are hardened. And he doesn’t bother hiding his gaze when he rests it directly on Hoseok.

“This is a public event …” Yoongi trails off, and you feel his eyes suddenly drop onto your figure behind Hoseok. You immediately duck your head, rubbing your lips to remove any sign of saliva. “Just—lock the door.”

You freeze.

“I—well …” Hoseok stammers, shaken by Yoongi’s clipped tone.

“We will,” you cut in, eyes firm even if you feel your body shaking.

Hoseok’s eyes widen, and when you finally reveal yourself from behind him, you see Yoongi’s gaze only fixed to your face, his jaw hardened. You don’t know what to make out of his response, but he doesn’t look the least bit moved. Eyes never straying away from beneath your face.

He stares at you, and you’re staring back at him with a sense of determinacy and a refusal to back down. Your heart still rattles against your chest, and you feel Hoseok’s soft touch against your lower back.

“Don’t take too long,” he says, tone suddenly returning to normal as his eyes drift to Hoseok’s. “Her parents will start wondering where she is.”

“I can take care of myself,” you snap.

Yoongi looks at you, and it’s just empty. Completely blank. You can’t read him yet again and here you were being riled up simply by his presence. You hate it.

But you can’t stop the way your heart wants him to show you something. So you know that he feels. That he’ll react or overreact.

Yoongi doesn’t. He never does when it comes to you.

He just nods his head slowly, before he reaches for the door again, back turned to the both of you.

“You can,” he says in response, right before the door shuts.

You just realise that you’re breathing heavily, and Hoseok’s hand shakes you out from your daze.

When you turn around, you see his face morph into a look of concern.

You don’t want pity.

You want to forget.

“Well—”

“Fuck me, Hobi,” you whisper, pulling him by his blazer as his chest slams against yours. Your voice is tinged with desperation.

“___ …” he says, suddenly hesitant. You wonder if he sees it too. The way you always reach out for a man that never quite accepts your grasp.

“Make me forget,” you whimper.

You don’t know if Hoseok thinks you’re referring to the embarrassment of almost being caught, or if he knows what you feel on a deeper level. But his gaze drifts to your lips.

As if sensing his hesitancy, you smash your lips against his own.

“Make me forget,” you repeat, already slipping off your dress.

His eyes darken, and it’s a blur from then.

You remember the squelches permeating the air, loud and lewd when he had you pressed against the door as he slams his deft fingers into your sodden cunt. You remember the way he had your legs wrapped around his head as he laps you dry. You remember the way you tugged his pants down and gagged on his cock as far as it goes, tears dribbling down your cheek. You remember the way he fucked into you, promising to make you forget with every grind of his hips.

You scream and moan his name, and the two of you don’t care that anyone could hear. You cry his name more times than you can remember in an attempt to replace the one that continues to plague your mind.

Even as Hoseok has you locking up in pleasure on his cock, cunt squeezing tightly around his shaft—you can only think of the fact that Yoongi had left.

Like he always had, to return to the person he really wanted. The person that didn’t make bad decisions. Who wasn’t selfish.

The person who wasn’t you.

You’re breathless and well-spent. Your body is satiated but your heart still hurts. And as if Hoseok senses this, he speaks up as the two of you recover from your high.

“We should do this again.”

You pause.

“Hoseok … I’m not—I don’t think …” you say softly, stammering as your eyes avoid his.

You couldn’t.

“Sweetheart, as amazing as you are, I’m not ready for that either,” he says with a tilted grin, buttoning his shirt and zipping up his pants before he helps you on your wobbly feet.

You flush. “I mean—I just … sorry,” you finish lamely.

He laughs, brushing a hair away from your face. Your heart clenches because the act is so familiar yet so distant. It wasn’t the touch you’ve always known.

“Whenever you need me,” he murmurs, “As a friend or as a relief, I’m a call away.”

Your eyes widen.

“Really?”

“Babe, as great as that was, I value you as a friend too,” he snorts as you roll your eyes at him. “Besides, you seem like you have a lot to say.”

It’s obvious that he knows, and you feel defeated, thinking that you were able to full him and yourself.

“Was I that obvious?” you mumble.

Hoseok tilts your chin up to offer you a small smile. “I got that from him, ___.”

You freeze, stunned. But before you can say anything, Hoseok is wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Say, let’s ditch and get some food,” he offers, “This event is boring anyway.”

You flounder for a moment, but Hoseok easily as you on your feet again, animatedly discussing drive-thru options as he swings his keys around. You stare at the back of his head when you walk, and you wonder if this was enough of a distraction.

A friend like Hoseok.

And you, forgetting someone like Yoongi.

[dangerous-mess]

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+ 

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

[utilitycaster]

Wizard Breakdown Tracker #3, episode 133

Greetings and salutations to the exercise I have set upon myself, which is to say deciding the relative mental stability of Wizard NPCs who have been subjected to the Mighty Nein. My intent is to do this at least until Trent Ikithon has fucked off this mortal coil and/or been thoroughly deposed and humiliated.

As a reminder Caleb Widogast is a member of the Mighty Nein and a PC and therefore excluded from these calculations. Wizards who haven’t been seen or heard from lately and about whom I don’t have anything funny to say about will not get a full blurb, but as they re-enter the main narrative so will they re-enter the list. Currently, this is the Essek Thelyss Show ft. Trent and the Volstruckers with guest appearances by Yussa and Allura.

Currently sidelined: Oremid Hass, Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk (I am going to reuse this stupid joke name for him until it doesn’t make me laugh at my own joke anymore, which will probably be never), Pumat Sol (who I hope is having a great day), Ludinus Da’leth (who I hope is not but in true laissez-faire rat bastard form, probably is).

Vess D wasn’t there/morning time in Eiselcross or at her job or anywhere/they snuck in and took her life/and we noticed that her spellbook’s gone and that she’s covered in red eyes.

Trent Ikithon: Okay with the caveat that it’s been a very long time since I saw the entire movie and our only update is Artagan taking a moment from his busy schedule of traveling the globe in the direction of the sun such that he is always technically day-drinking to tell Jester that Trent’s biding his time, I’m getting real Disney Hunchback of Notre Dame Frollo vibes. Except instead of Catholicism and lust, it’s nationalism and an unquenchable thirst for power and control, and also he does not feel guilty in the slightest. He’s not at Hellfire levels yet but he will get there and I am slightly disappointed that due to the constraints of a D&D game we do not get an even more fucked up version of the song Hellfire.

Conclusion: 6/10. Slowly stepping it up. Also here’s the great thing: while we know Caleb is going to come after him next, he doesn’t, and the Nein didn’t tell any world governments about the threat of the city unless you count the Tal’Dorei Council via Allura, which means for all intents and purposes they just disappeared into Eiselcross...except Trent also knows Caleb disappeared for five or six years once before and reports of his death were greatly exaggerated. If Caleb weren’t dedicated to the noble goal of ending the Volstrucker program ASAP, he could just chill for a year or so and then pull a really stellar Surprise Bitch move and maybe just get Trent’s heart to explode.

Essek Thelyss: He got a good night’s trance and weird physical affection from a giant ape Caleb and he was healed by Caduceus and he had a serious conversation with the first true peer and one of the first friends he’s ever known about how high-level wizardry may not necessarily corrupt absolutely. And, of course, soup. I mean they are about to head into a terrible battle but he’s at full health and spells and he’s a valued member of the team and his friends love him SO MUCH.

Conclusion: 5/10. There is a distinction between a breakdown and being in a very high pressure situation, and he got some nice moments of respite this week. With that said do I think that post-battle, should he survive (HE BETTER) a whole lot of anxiety will come crashing back? Yeah.

Astrid Beck: With Trent in a holding pattern he’s got to be turning up the mind games on her; I have to imagine he suspects and then she suspects that he suspects and it’s a whole mess, but I’ve said that already. But also just like, in general, I think her speech to Caleb back when he first contacted her was genuine in many ways and specifically I think she was likely to have been Trent’s New Golden Child and then suddenly that got yanked out from under her for still more mind games; I think her difference in demeanor between that meeting and the dinner was partially Trent being present, but partially her having realized in the interim that she will likely never have anything to show for two decades of pain and doing terrible things and nonstop bullshit.

Conclusion: still keeping her at 8/10 until further notice but like. Astrid’s having a bad time.

Um actually Eadwulf is the monster? The hero’s name is Grendel: Okay meanwhile here’s my totally unsupported Eadwulf headcanon of this week which is that he meanwhile always knew he was not the favorite and probably never would be and while I doubt he ever had particularly noble goals I would not be surprised if he had an exit strategy. Personally I hope he tries card-counting in that casino in Ank’harel and gets kicked out posthaste and then tries being a wizard/some kind of divine caster multiclass in Vasselheim and also gets kicked out but finally becomes like an old-school hermit figure somewhere in the woods of Issylra and Campaign 3′s party runs into him.

Conclusion: also keeping him at 4/10 until further notice.

Allura Vyesoren: It’s time to acknowledge that this episode covered a span of like...8 hours? And presuming the Nein are sort of trying to keep a normal sleep schedule, maybe, and using a comparison of Eiselcross being at a comparable time zone to say, Nicodranas, and it’s 5 hours into the night for them, and we know that around mid-day for Nicodranas was early morning for Emon...honestly she’s probably relaxing with a glass of wine. Unless Wensforth contacted her.

Conclusion: I’m going to let Allura have a good day. She’s at 2/10 because the threat of Aeor will be in the back of her mind but also she’s seen a bunch of idiots kill dragons and Vecna and they didn’t even have a wizard.

Yussa Errenis: Experiencing a great disturbance in the Astral Sea, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and then just like, kept doing that.

Conclusion: I decided to really go all out last week on the infinity jokes and left myself nothing to go on, huh. Anyway this breakdown goes to 11 (out of 10).

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

hello my favorite writer it is me again i was wondering if i could have another will imagine (gn as usual) and could it be about a reader who feels insecure about being wills partner because they’re still working on being famous and feel like they’re mooching off of wills fame and end up pushing him away slightly and it’s angsty, but ends in fluff with will finally telling them he loves them and reassuring kisses <3

Favorite writer?? You flatter me, darlin', but thank you!

Also, so sorry this took so long! I've been really unmotivated/lazy lately and I wanted to write this as perfect as I possibly could. Also also, ya know how the Powerpuff Girls were made? Sugar, spice, and everything nice but Chemical X was added accidently? Yeah, this is that, but replace Chemical X with a lot of angst. My bad.😬

WARNING: Depressing themes throughout

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't often you felt insecure, but you figured it was just one of those days.

You hadn't been in many blockbuster films or tv shows, you were still working hard on your career. You loved the indie projects you worked on, you loved any job where you could act. It was your passion, after all.

You couldn't help feel a little bit insecure when your partner, Will, was where you aspired to be your whole life. He was brilliant, working with amazing people like Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio. So early in his career too. You looked up to Will so much, praying that you'd be just as talented as him one day. But you knew it wouldn't be easy, acting isn't exactly the easier job in the world, you knew it would take a lucky break.

You always joked that maybe you should work as a waiter in some restaurant, knowing that Edward Norton got his first movie role while working in such a place, only to move on to work beside the amazing Richard Gear.

It was just one day you felt bad about your career, but then it started to snowball into anxiety and depression. It got to the point where it was all you could think about, especially when you were out with Will. And you could tell that he knew something was up, the thousand yard stare that you often had was something that couldn't really go unnoticed.

But for the most part, you acted like everything was fine.

You hated that you let your insecurity pile on and on like this, it normally was something you could handle. You don't know what came over you, but you found yourself scrolling for hours looking at comments on any of your posts. Most people were supportive of you and Will's relationship, and you were thankful for that. But of course, there are always a few bad apples.

The wonderful and lovely, supportive comments were many, outweighing the hate by miles. But just one negative comment could throw you off, ruining your day.

You wished you could just focus on the positive, but unfortunately, that's not how brains are designed. It always has to point out a flaw, find that one odd man out, find the error in the system. Usually, most of those errors can be fixed. You spent your entire life trying to get people to like you, being somewhat of a pushover and a people pleaser, disregarding your own self in favor of praise. So seeing people online hating you for no other reason besides being with Will, seeing that they might never change their minds, it was devastating.

You knew that the hate would usually come from obsessed fans who must've been jealous of you, and you could understand that and it was fine. You remembered the younger years of being jealous of a person who dated your crush, it was something that most people grow out of thankfully. You could get over those comments, saying you weren't good looking enough or not fit enough, any comments about your appearance. The ones that really got to you was the comments about your "horrible" personality.

It was odd, people saying awful things about you when they didn't even know you at all. Most of the contradictory was were amusing. There was a point in time after your relationship with Will was made public, where you'd feel to nervous about going to red carpet events with him. The comments would say, "Y/n's not there with Will? What an unsupportive partner they must be!" or anything similar. But when you started to go with him sometimes, the comments would shift dramatically.

"Y/n's a gold digger."

"They're just using Will for his fame."

"He deserves better than that snake."

It hurt, more than you'd admit. You told Will it didn't bother you that much, just wrote it off that it's normal. Then, you never talked about it again.

You felt awful, every single day. Thoughts of self doubt clouding your brain constantly, thinking, "Am I really deserving of such a kind person like Will?" No matter how you looked at it, the answer was always no.

You started to feel like you shouldn't even be with Will anymore. There was most likely someone else out there, an actor with more talent and more self-sufficient than you were.

You and Will had been together for a couple years, you loved him so much, but when he asked you to move in with him, you said you weren't ready. The biggest lie you ever told, and you instantly regretted it when you saw the disappointed look on his face. But being the gentleman that he is, he said it was completely okay and that there was no pressure.

You absolutely didn't deserve him.

Every time Will asked you to go out with him, you always came up with an excuse to stay home. You felt too anxious about being out in public, the thought of a fan seeing you with Will brought you to the verge of a panic attack. You became distant, trying to distract yourself by throwing yourself into your work. You rarely saw Will anymore, and you knew if you kept up with how you were acting on your insecurity, you'd lose him. But you couldn't bring yourself to try and talk to him about it, you felt too embarrassed.

From Will's point of view, he thought you were becoming distant because of him. He wracked his mind trying to think what was it that he did to make you spend less time with him? At first, he thought, maybe you just needed some space. There were times where he needed to be alone, just like everyone does. But it felt like it was going on for too long. Every time he wanted to take you out somewhere nice, you'd politely decline and you'd opted for a night in.

There came a point where enough was enough, Will was determined to find out what was going on with you.

You stared at your cellphone, the screen lighting up with a picture of Will along with your set ringtone. You sighed, you really didn't feel like answering. You knew you should, but you couldn't bring yourself to. A feeling of dread washed over you, you didn't want him to think you hated him, yet you still couldn't. You rang your fingers through your hair, anxiously scratching your scalp harshly.

Your screen darkened, following with a notification, voicemail and text. "Y/n, what's going on? I've been trying...", you couldn't listen anymore.

"I'm sorry, Will..." You whispered to yourself, wrapping yourself up tightly in a blanket.

You almost screamed when you heard a rapid knock on your door, quickly tensing up when you heard Will call out from outside. "Y/n?"

You wanted to fucking scream.

"I know you're in there, just, please, talk to me."

The desperation in his voice forced you to get up from your couch, tossing away your cozy blanket with a huff. You shakily reached out and opened the door, Will's concerned face filling your view. "...hi."

Will chuckled bitterly. "Hi? That's it? You haven't talked to me in days. What's going on, love?"

"Nothing!" You explained, plastering on a fake smile with a chuckle.

Will smiled sadly. "You're lying." He said simply, pushing his way past you into your home.

"Will, please, I'm not up to talking right now."

"You know, I want to respect your wishes, I really do. But I feel that I've been patient. I've been trying to support you in any way that I can, but I can't help if I don't know what's going on." He sat down on your couch, pleading for you to sit next to him with his eyes. "We used to be open and honest with each other about everything. Tell me what's going on so I can help you."

You huffed, running your hands over your face. "It's not that simple..."

Will casted his gaze to your wooden floor, squeezing his hands together and taking a deep shaky breath. "Is it...is it because it's something I did?"

"What?"

"You're shutting me out. It's because of me, isn't it? I did something-"

"No." You quickly exclaimed, rushing over to his side when you heard his voice waver, taking ahold of one of his hands. "No, it's not you, I promise."

"Then...why? Why are you pushing me away?" Will sighed, biting his lip to keep himself from crying. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"I love you, Will, more than I can express." You chuckled bitterly. "It's hard to talk about."

Will brought a hand up to your face, gently brushing a freshly fallen tear off your face. "You can tell me anything, Y/n, anything."

You smiled weakly, bringing his hand you were holding up to your lips and kissed his knuckles softly. "Okay..." You took a deep breath.

"Take your time, love."

"Being with you, brings me so much happiness that it feels like I'm dreaming. You're so...amazing, and honestly the best and most kind person I've ever met. And I? I feel like I'm nobody."

"Y/n..."

"Compared to others, I'm no one. Just another person trying to live out their dreams that are so far fetched that it doesn't even seem possible to even come close to achieving them. You're so self assured that acting is what you were born to do and you're so talented. I envy you, and I feel so guilty feeling that way. Sometimes I feel like I wasn't meant to be an actor. I feel like...I'm trying to run towards my goal, but every time I make progress, the goal moves farther and farther away until I can't even see it anymore."

"Y/n," Will started softly, "I know how you feel. I've felt that way about my career too. I always wondered if there was going to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Yes, you can work as hard as you humanly can, but it also takes luck. You just have to be at the right place at the right time sometimes. That's why they call it a lucky break, ya know." He smiled, making you giggle tearfully.

"I know, but that's not all." You frowned. "I know you said, it's just better to ignore what the internet has to say, but...I was looking some of our comments a few months ago. And...I just went down a fuckin' rabbit hole. I know I always say that hate comments don't bother me, but...they do. They really do, and I let them get to me. I'm sorry."

"No, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't see what was really going on when I should've."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Will. I thought I was stronger than this."

Will quickly brought you close to his chest, wrapping around your torso with one arm, the other gently cupping your jaw. "Hey, you are the strongest person I know, okay? Don't think you're weak just because you're feeling something that every human on planet earth feels. Whatever those comments said, there's no one I'd rather be with than you." He leaned forward and kissed you gently, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I felt so embarrassed, Will. I wished I had talked to you sooner."

"It doesn't matter now. You opened up and I'm proud of you for that. I love you so much. And I promise to try my very hardest to never let you feel that way again."

~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed, @fcvcritecrime ! 🖤

[90sbokuto]

— “ how the mha guys deal with heartbreak (pt.2) ”

including: dabi, hawks, kaminari and sero

genre: angst, slight fluff if you squint

tags: angst, fluff and heartbreak

warnings: language, implied cheating, toxic behavior

a/n: i’m so sorry for not replying to any requests for a moment, i’m getting ready for the quarter to start but i have something cool planned for october! spooky content and filled requests coming soon!! 

— dabi: 

-     imma be real honest , i’m torn when it comes to him

-     he’s not the type to let someone into his life , let alone his heart just so easy , so you must’ve grown on him 

-      or you were the pushier one when it came down to forming the relationship

-       he actually started changing his ways , going as far as to stop being a villain and just living his life with you 

-       so when you break up , he claims he’s fine but little do you know and neither does he care, but he spirals. 

-        and spirals hard. 

-        but there’s also another little part of him that likes to persuade himself that you never cared about him and he never cared about you. that the whole thing was a fling no matter how long the two of you had been together. 

-         and god forbid you try and get back with him

-         “ get the fuck out of my face.” 

-         “ dabi i just wanted to let you know i-”

-         “ what the FUCK did i just say? get out.”

-         and he slammed the door in your face but as soon as he sees you without another person best believe he’ll pop back up in your messages, in your room, on your doorstep, anywhere honestly. 

— keigo tamaki (hawks) 

-     i KNOW everyone portrays hawks as such a flirt but based on his upbringing , i can’t see it. 

-     the breakup would most likely arrive because other people would flirt with him and although he has an s/o , he doesn’t check them AND doesn’t understand how it makes you feel

-     he wouldn’t handle overwhelming emotions well ,, at all 

-     just like dabi , he knows letting someone know him on such a deeper level would come with complications like wanting to meet his family, knowing personal information, etc. 

-     but you never pushed him to bring it up, so he started letting you in, slowly but surely 

-     not bout to cap though , when you cry or get angry , he doesn’t deal with it?? like just ignores it? he assumes whatever the problem is will be over when you don’t feel that way again but he’s not bout to try and fix it

-     and that DOESN’T mingle well when other people flirt with him while in public and he just doesn’t say anything about it 

-     people have done it while he’s with you and he really just wont say anything about it at all,, in fact you start thinking he’s amused by it, but he’ll never flirt back

-     “ you could just tell them you have a s/o ” 

-     “ or you could just get over it.”

-     “ that’s not fair though and you know it.”

-     “ see i’m not doing this with you.”

-      and he just ignored you and went into you guys room until you came in and laid down. 

— denki kaminari 

-      he’s not the type to just dump you ? he loves you and it’s obvious, but poor guy isn’t very attentive romantically

-      if anything he let you in a lot easier than even his friends , he was excited you were interested in him and the relationship ended up flourishing from there

-      and what i mean by that is forgetting dates a lot or not telling you that he can’t go multiple nights :(

-      the breakup wouldn’t be messy at all , in fact really sad. he stood you up for the umpteenth time and the only way you found out is from kirishima’s snapchat story

-       he was riding in the backseat while everyone in the car was screaming along to ‘The Box’ by Roddy Ricch

-       so you just wrote him a note, slid it under his door for when he came back and left with your friends for the night

-       he loves telling you about his family, friends and mundane daily tasks, even if he just went to the grocery store to just get eggs or something

-       but he always forgets date nights and even if he doesn’t, he doesn’t like feeling that he has to choose between you and his friends, but always chooses his friends anyway

-      you always gave him the advice to just equally split up the time he spends with the bakusquad and the time he gives to you but low and behold this always seemed to be the outcome

-      he promises he’ll always try and change though

-      “ babe , i promise we’ll go on a date next thursday! ”

-      “ are you sure or are you just gonna “forget” again? ”

-      “ i won’t!! y/n i said i’m sorry! ” 

— sero hanta

-      can’t see him willing to break up with you, in fact i can see him fighting for a relationship

-      thing is, i think he’d forsure set boundaries early in the relationship y’know, like obviously no cheating, being unsupportive of each other’s dreams and goals, etc. 

-      the only reasonable explanation for a relationship with sero ending would be either growing apart, or a BIG fight where one of you said something super impulsive and called if off then and there

-      growing apart would be the softer of the two, leaving the friendship between the two of you still intact 

-       although if one of you said something during an argument, it’s game over. there’s so much a person can take and once he let the anger take over when he spoke it was over

-          “ see, you can’t be a real hero if you always wanna ‘argue’ with someone! ” 

-          “ sero you- wait what did you say? ”

-           disbelief struck you like lightning and even he seemed to be taken aback by the comment that just came from his mouth

-            there was a brief silence as he tried to retrace his steps and restate his comment but it was too late, and although you asked again, you HEARD what he said, very clearly in fact. 

-              “ no like you can’t be mean to someone- ” 

-              he tried to justify it and restate it, but by then you’re grabbing your shit and leaving

-              “ no sero, i heard you clearly. we’re over. ” 

[the-caffeine-hero]

More Than Enough

Kurapika x Reader - Angst with a (sorta?) happy ending? - Crossposted on AO3!

It was late, the night air piercingly quiet as it always seemed to be on the nights you spent alone. It was to be expected, of course, when you stopped to consider who you shared your living space with. You have known Kurapika for what seemed like a lifetime yet it had only been a short two years. Although, the young man you had met those two years ago was not the same man you now know. While you have heard the whispers between friends that he had grown to be more handsome and intriguing, and I suppose you wouldn’t disagree on the handsome thing but you missed the boy you originally knew. You never failed to notice the markings of overworking and stress that painted the blondes face. You would consider yourself an expert on the said face, you hesitate to admit it but you spend more time that anyone should staring at his face. Some would say that you harbored a small (immensely large) crush on the Kurta but you tried your best to not think about it too much. It wasn't as if you were shy or would rather that he make the first move, rather you had a very early realization of the slim chances of a relationship with him. The possible romantic relationship seemed to be a disaster waiting to happen so you held your tongue. That thought aside, you loved him despite his, unfortunately, self-destructive tendencies and dedicated revenge plans. You were just as happy to spend what little moments you could with him. That was more than enough.

If almost like waking up from a deep sleep, you were pulled away from your thoughts by the clicks and twists of the front door unlocking. Kurapika trudged up the stairs at an almost snail pace. He gave you a small smile as the two of you made eye contact, then retreating into his bedroom. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in once the blonde had passed you. Your heart ached for Kurapika. This wasn’t the first time he had come home this way. It wasn’t always this way, but recently it had only become worse. More late returns home, fewer hours of sleep, and one-word conversations. Your lips pursed as your head fell back against the couch. Were you wrong to be worried? Against your better judgment, you moved to follow him. While you knew there were no romantic ties, you still were one of his friends. You had a right to be at least a little concerned. His bedroom door was closed which was unsurprising. Even at the best of times, Kurapika was a very private man. Your fingers lingered centimeters from the door, your next steps uncertain. While your worries seemed valid to you, you still felt an invisible roadblock stopping you from knocking on the door. It was quite possible that Kurapika would welcome the company but he also could very well want some time alone. You took a breath, grounding yourself as you let your hand connect with his bedroom door, your knuckles making a soft rap on the door. You had no idea what you expected but it wasn’t to find yourself coming face to face with the blonde man.

“Should you not already be in bed?” Kurapika asked as he leaned his head against the doorframe. You smiled softly at him as your eyes met.

“I could say the same about you. I’m not keeping you am I?” You asked, your fingers twiddling with the hem of your shirt. He gives you another small smile, just like the one from before.

“No, you’re never a bother.” He stated almost matter-of-factly. This left a quick yet somehow agonizingly slow silence between the two of you.

“Can I come in?” You asked, breaking the stark silence. He nodded at your request, moving away from the door, allowing you to enter. Every time you saw his room you felt a tang of disappointment. It was barren save for a bed, a closet, and a bookshelf. You knew that Kurapika was not a materialistic man by any means as well as his stay not being 100% permanent, yet you still hoped to see him settle in just a little bit. Kurapika sat down on the bed, his eyes trailing your own as you looked around the room. As your eyes locked, he opened his mouth to speak. You were quick to cut him off before even a single sound could escape his lips.

“Kurapika, I am worried about you.” You stated abruptly. The blonde gazes at you with knowing eyes as he sinks deeper into the mattress.

“There is no reason for alarm. I am quite alright.” He responded with the words he knew youtube wanted to hear. You feel your lips press tightly together before you speak again.

“I don’t believe you, Kurapika. You’ve been overworking yourself and pushing everyone away recently. I know that not everything is okay.” You responded, your words flowing steadily like a waterfall. You take a seat next to Kurapika on the bed, your hands reaching to capture his. You feel a slight blush crawl it's way up your neck at the action.

“I’m not trying to say that you have to stop. In fact, I admire your dedication more than words could ever describe but don’t you think that you deserve a chance to feel good and for once not weighed down by such a heavy responsibility?” You ask, your mind running a million miles a minute, Anyone close to Kurapika knew that his mission was a sensitive topic and you couldn’t help but pray that he knew and understood that you didn’t mean for your words to come across as unsupportive. Granted, you would not call yourself supportive as you couldn’t help but notice the negative effects that that revenge had on the blonde. You could never fully understand the pain he felt but you understood why he had such an immense desire to fulfill his plans. Who wouldn’t want an answer for such terrible actions? You could feel the blondes fists clench at your words. The stark feel of the flexing of each finger against your own caused your heart to jump.

“Weighed down?” He said, the words almost hissing from his lips. “You have no idea what being weighed down is like. The atrocities that I have seen.” He continues, his voice rising slightly as he averts his eyes from yours. You felt the tips of your fingers being to resemble static while you try to gently hold the young man’s hand. The two of you had always had a mutual understanding of each other's emotional boundaries. You tended to wear your heart on your sleeve in most situations, and for what may seem surprising to some, Kurapika was an excellent listener. He on the other hand was the expert in bottling up each and every emotion. While you undoubtedly respected that but you also knew the immense damage that could cause in someone.

“You know that I would never try to stop you or stand in your way. I never want to downplay how hard every single day is for you or am I trying to pretend to be able to understand the pain or challenges you go through. I just…” You pause, your hands moving to caress his face, your thumbs shaking as they swipe across his cheeks. “I don’t want to see you throw your life away. The path you're on isn’t a safe one. What good is revenge if you die?” You stammer out, your hands falling from his face to a resting position in your lap. You hesitated to make eye contact with Kurapika as you could already see the faint rim of red in his irises from the corner of your vision. Before you could speak again, Kurapika let out a sigh and stood up, softly walking to the door, opening it without a word. You tensed up at this action, that static feeling traveling from your fingertips to all over your body. You stood up, your legs slightly shaking as you walked towards the door. You couldn’t work up the courage to look him in the face as you walked through the doorway. The moment you passed through, the door shut behind you softly. For a moment you were dazed. What did this mean? Was he angry with you? While Kurapika had been known to be a hot head sometimes, his friends generally were not the subjects of it. Your body shivered at the thought of being on the receiving end of that temper. You steeled yourself, shoving the thought from your mind as you disappeared into your own bedroom.

As you fell back into your bed, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that rattled through your mind. Was something wrong? Everything seemed bad, but could things be worse? Your thoughts traveled to what life was like without Kurapika’s presence in your home. It was a temporary arrangement when your roommate moved out. He needed a place to stay while he took care of business in the city and you happily offered the spare room. You would have been overjoyed to have him stay forever. You knew that was impossible but it never stopped you from thinking it. You shifted in your bed, the sheets wrinkling around you. Perhaps you were overthinking? Was it better to be safe than sorry? Against your better judgment, you slipped off of your bed to return to the blonde's side. You didn’t necessarily feel any guilt but you swallowed your pride and opted to apologize for the press on such a sensitive subject. Kurapika’s door was slightly ajar when you returned to it which was a cause for concern. You gently pushed the door open to see what little evidence of Kurapika in the room was gone. Not even the few books that normally say upon the bookshelf were there. They were gone as if the man was never there. You quickly slipped your way down the hall, nearly tripping down the small staircase that led to the front door. As if this moment was scripted in a film you saw Kurapika. He had one hand on the doorknob and another holding a suitcase. Your eyes widened as the two of you made eye contact. The blonde looked the same as he did when he first arrived home. There was not a single trace of anything other than those familiar overworked eyes.

“Where are you going?” You asked with hushed breath. The blonde only could look at you. The world was once again that familiar and lonely quiet. “Kurapika, please. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just worried.” You began to ramble out, the words as shaky and unsteady as an earthquake. “You know I love you. I just want to see you happy and I know you won't truly be until you complete your mission but I am scared you won't live to see the end of it.” You continued, rattling off every thought your mind could produce. Your brain felt the pull of a sort of fight or flight mode. The static had once again returned to your body, your teeth chattering as you felt thick tears roll down your cheeks. Your gaze fell to the floor as you felt your hands clasp tightening together. You feared the blonde had already walked out the door when you heard the thunk of the suitcase on the floor. Your head snapped to look at Kurapika. His face had not changed, not a single muscle had moved. “Are we not friends anymore? I promise I’ll never bring it up again.” You say, a slight hiccup in your voice. The blonde stiffened at the question.

“It is not as if we are no longer friends. I fear that I cause you distress. I am not suitable to be sharing this space with you.” Kurapika explained, his voice oh so calm. You blinked, the remaining tears escaping your eyes. Had he not been upset with you? Granted, you had thought that it wouldn’t be the case but his actions up until this point seemed to say otherwise. “I greatly appreciate your support to me but I believe that it would be best for you if I took my leave.” Kurapika continued, not hesitating to also add on that he would transfer you some Jenny to cover his portion of the rent until you were able to find a replacement. You gazed at him, your eyes still wet from the sudden wave of tears. The blonde went to pick up his suitcase but you quickly grabbed his hand with your own. Your eyes met and you wondered if yours reflected the same look of loss that his did.

“Please don’t go. I don’t want you to go.” You whispered, your voice hoarse. You felt his thumb gently move across the top of your hand. Normally, a soft action like this directed at you would cause an immeasurably large grin but now it seemed to just live to taunt you as his thumb left your skin feeling like pinpricks.

“I grew angry at you for worrying for me. You do not deserve such a cruel action, especially in your own home. I apologize but this is for your best interest.” He repeated again. You felt as if your head was caught in a whirlpool, your hand still tight around his. How could you possibly imagine a life without him in it? Your mind flipped through each happy memory that the two of you shared. What was your favorite? Perhaps it was the time you first dragged him out to a new and popular restaurant that had just opened downtown? You had told him that maybe some high profile guests would be there and how it couldn’t possibly hurt to check it out. The two of you never did find anyone of interest other than each other. A three-hour meal with Kurapika felt like a blur as you became enchanted by every word that escaped his lips. Maybe you favored the time you caught him reading a very old and weathered copy of Dino-Hunter? He had offered to let you borrow the book if you were interested but you opted to sit by his side and read along with him. There were small notes in the margins written in Kurta and he explained what each one said, you even learned a couple of words by the end of the night. There were plenty of wonderful moments just like those that meant more to you than anything. His presence in your home was what allowed you such treasured interactions. Only you could say you experienced such things with him. Maybe it was selfish but you weren’t ready to give up the chance at more. You took a deep breath before you directed your eyes to stare deeply into his own.

“Kurapika, I love you. I love you more than a friend. There is nothing that you could do that would make me not love you. You being in my life is the thing I am the most thankful for every single day. I just want to continue spending my days with you at my side. I understand if you do not reciprocate my romantic feelings towards you, I know that you have a lot on your plate but as a friend, could you please stay?” You asked, your voice sturdy. It was now or never. You never imagined that you would confess these feelings to him in a situation like this. For once, the lapse in conversation was not quiet, rather you could hear your heartbeat as it thumped strongly against your chest. You didn’t fail to notice the look of shock that took over the blonde's face. If you weren’t in such a heated moment, you may have wondered how he didn’t pick up on these feelings earlier.

“I was not aware that you had such feelings for me.” He stated, the shock laced in his voice. You could only stare back at him, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for his answer. “I apologize but I still do not believe my presence in your life is good for you. You said it yourself, the path I am following is not safe, meaning that I would not want to wrap you up in it.” He explained, the false calm clear in his voice. You took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Kurapika, I don’t care what path you’re on. I just want to walk that path with you. Would I prefer you not to die? Yes! That doesn’t mean that I would just give up on my feelings for you. I have fallen in love with you despite your flaws. Please...just tell me yes or no.” You responded, your exhaustion apparent in your voice. How much more did you need to do so that he would understand your love for him? You could see him shift in his spot and you wondered if it was nerves. Did Kurapika ever become nervous? “You don’t need to reciprocate but I only want to know if you will stay with me. Even as a friend I would be more than happy. I promise I will throw the romantic love I have out the door. It won’t be awkward for either of us.” You reassured, hoping to pull his answer out. Without a word, Kurapika picked up the suitcase once again. Your breath hitched in your throat. Was he going to leave? Much to your surprise, the blonde retreated up the stairs. You hesitantly followed him up as the two of you returned to the bedroom that you, not less than an hour ago, had exchanged your intense words. He sat down in the exact same spot he had before, and you followed suit. It was like a strange dance the way you responded to each of his movements. He turned his body to look at you and you couldn't help but wonder if this action was his version of an answer. Before you could speak up, the blonde quickly tugged you into an embrace, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. At this moment you inhaled sharply, your hands slowly moving to wrap around his body. If you weren’t paying attention you would have missed the words that slipped from his mouth, muffled by the contact of your skin.

“Thank you.” He muttered, his lips grazing your neck. You couldn’t help but feel confused but you didn’t dare to interrupt this moment. You pulled your body away from his, catching his eyes for a moment where you couldn’t help but notice the red that spilled into the whites of his eyes. For once, the red was not from being a Kurta, rather it was from the tears that now made a home on the shoulder of your shirt. You shuffled yourself under the covers as you gestured to him to do the same. He compiled without a word as he slipped under the covers and back into your arms. Perhaps you would talk more in the morning but for now, you held him close to you as you patiently allowed the tears to fall from his eyes. The two of you were as close as two separate people could be as your legs intertwined with each other and your arms tightly wrapped around the other's sides. You felt his head lay against your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair, noting that it had gotten longer than normal. You pressed your lips against his forehead, pressing a kiss to it gently. Your lips ghosted the skin before whispering to him a soft goodnight before closing your eyes, assuming that he would do the same. The two of you drifted off to sleep listening to the rhythmic beat of your hearts intertwining. You would ask him in the morning more, but for now, this was more than enough.

[inkdheart17]

One thing I hate most is being judged, accused, and/or scolded without being confronted. I know the things I've done weren't always great, but i also know that I've never done anything so bad I would later regret it.

Yet, it seems that more and more people seem to think that my silence means I'm guilty. It definitely doesn't. If I decide not to speak of an event, then it's probably because I was the victim, and I'm still hurting.

The most recent big event that's causing a lot of issues for me is a falling out with a person I used to think of as a best friend. I had trusted this person with... Well, everything. I always went out of my way to help them feel comfortable about who they were and tried my best to boost their confidence. I felt that it was necessary, as a friend. I thought all friends did that to each other. Little did I know that very few did that to me.

I didn't need it as much, thankfully. I have my sister, who's my own personal hype man. My mom also supports me. We may be closer than most families i know, but my mom and I aren't close enough for me to come out to her. About anything, actually. Still, i trust her with most things. So, I never needed my friends to truly be there for me. Except once.

I had just broken up with my first and to this day only boyfriend. I had been extremely cautious on who I accepted to date because I was acutely aware of how toxic people could be. My own father and his family being a prime example of that. I had already given up on trying to date someone when I noticed my feelings for my ex. We went out and after the honeymoon phase, I began to notice how similar he was to my father. I became anxious. I tried to reach out and instead was cut off.

Many of the people around me don't know the details. Not sure if I want to share them anymore either. But I'm writing this to vent and hopefully help someone else that went through a similar experience.

You see, the break up didn't hurt so much because he left. It hurt because I lost so much because of him. I lost his family. Whom I had gotten very close with as he refused to ever visit my family. So, we only ever went to his place. I lost my friends, because some of them refused to interact with me after he left. And I lost my peace. My anxiety was once again in control and I was fighting hard to keep everything together once again.

This was the one time I begged for support from those around me, and I quickly found out who to cut off from my life.

At the time, I had moved in with friend A and coworker B, who was dating another guys friend of mine at the time, C. They all faked being supportive at first. Telling me I should just ignore my ex and forget everything. He was never worth my time. Things like that. I had actually called C the night my ex broke up with me. I thought of C as my brother and all I wanted was for my bro to come over and comfort me. He didn't. He had things to do early the next morning and was in bed with B. So, neither of them were going to be there for me. It was only A who kinda distracted me with a drive, but she was so quick to add venom into me. Almost as if she wanted me to hate my ex. Which I did for a while. But it wasn't until I spoke with my still best friend, J, that I found the support I needed.

While all this was happening, i was struggling to finish my final semester before graduated with two bachelor's degrees. You can imagine the kind of stress I was going through as I was also fighting with the University to keep my scholarships for one last semester so that I could graduate. The funny part is that J knew exactly how I behaved. He knew the difference between the times I kept our talks short because I was busy, and when I kept our talks short because I was in distress. He asked me to hang out with him for a day. A day he could've easily filled up with catching up on school work, or being with family, or even spending time with his girlfriend. I still feel very touched remembering how he decided to try and help me instead. All because I didn't react like usual.

He didn't push me to say anything, but my ex came up in conversation and I had to tell J that we weren't dating anymore. That then spiraled into how pressured I felt with school and how unsupportive my roommates and C were being. I told him how A would react aggressively when were alone. Straight up calling me a bitch for ignoring her when I had homework to finish, but would then cry and say I was the abuser as I had blocked her on everything whenever B and C were around.

I told him how I had turned to B in hopes of getting advice, as she shared a room with A and would probably know what was going on with A. Instead, B had told A about all the negative things I said in a fit of rage and never once mentioned how I did want to fix our relation, but A had really destroyed my trust in her and had (has) yet to apologize. I told him how my ex would ignore me on dates and would only pay attention when we were physical with each other. Which made me want more physical interactions despite my general apprehension due to past trauma. And how my ex unceremoniously texted me that he was done because I got mad he wouldn't pause his game for like 5 minutes just to hear me out during an anxiety attack.

J calmly took all this in and advised that I move out. Not back in with my parents, but that it may be inevitable for me at the time. Then he warned me not to bottle up my hatred for my ex cause it would make me hate men in general. And I tried not to, but that hatred started with my dad. So, when C blocked me out of the blue, with no confrontation what so ever, I lost all the trust I had left. I mean, if the guy I thought of as a brother would rather listen to two women who know nothing about me just cause he's dating one of them, then how low were my standards? Why was it so easy for me to get betrayed? It happened with A, it happened with B, it happened with C.... And now he's happening with another friend, D. Who has yet to respond to any of the text messages I've sent her and has now started to hang out with A.

I once again turned to J. Asking if it was normal to feel hurt when a friend was still friends with someone who hurt you. J agreed it was painful but that ultimately I had to remember that they were their own person and that they were going to make their own decisions on what relationships to keep.

I felt discouraged but knew he was right.

As I type this up, I've had to pause a few times to wipe away tears. I think they sting when you feel a bit if anger when crying. Not sure.

Anyways, all this is to say that you'll never be free of selfish assholes. You'll live with them, you'll work with them, you'll move in with them, you'll befriend them, and nothing I say will help prepare you for the pain you'll feel when they reveal their true colors and destroy some part of you. Still, you should never change because of them.

I've given up on dating and friends because of these new experiences topping old traumas. I've been groomed, molested, raped probably, psychologically and emotionally manipulated and abused, all before entering seventh grade. I can't remember my childhood thanks to dissociative amnesia. So, instinctively, I no longer trust humans. It's a lovely existence and despite having won this battle before, I'm looking at suicide once again and am having to remind myself that I've already been through hardships. That all will be fine again. It's just a matter of time now.

But, fighting suicide is almost impossible without help. Without support. So, if you find yourself stuck with toxic people, with selfish assholes, with treacherous friends, cut them out.

We don't need them. They're a cancer that feeds off your good intentions and then blame you when they've dried your soul. It'll hurt a lot at first, but eventually, all will feel better. You'll find peace again. Maybe you'll connect with an old friend who'll always be there for you, like I did with J. Perhaps your siblings will be your own hype man like mine is. Maybe your relationship with your parents will get better like mine is with my mom. You'll finally start feeling better about yourself and try things that cancer wanted to steal from you. I've just gotten through a job interview and hopefully I'll be working at the office I've been trying hard to get into some time next week. Perhaps you'll also take the next step in your career?

So, to by fellow disappointed-in-humanity victims, sometimes it takes swimming in shit before being able to relax in a healthy mind. Take off those rose tinted glasses. Harden your heart and cut out people you know are hurting you. Don't listen to them, and if they take others with them, know that they also aren't worth your effort.

I would much rather be alone than be with a friend who believes I abused another person without ever talking to be about it. That's a person who'd rather believe your abuser than try and figure out why you would ever dare hurt someone. You don't need them.

I probably should like a bitch. Trust me, I get it. I often feel like I'm too harsh and that I should just unblock people to settle things down again. But you know what? I was very complacent and unmotivated when I had the people I blocked on my life. And now that I cut them out? I'm taking my first steps to establishing a career here in my town. Which is arguably a very hard town to settle in as a non-retiree.

Free yourself. Cut them off before they bleed you out

[superman86to99]

Superman #83 (November 1993)

Funeral for a Friend: uh, that one Green Lantern supporting character who died when Coast City got blown up (Joe? Gary?). In this issue DC’s superheroes pay tribute to the tragedy of Coast City while also deciding what the hell to do with the giant engine that’s now in its place. Weird early ‘90s Hawkman! Dr. Fate with boobs! Already-slightly-psychotic Hal Jordan! EVERYONE IS HERE.

(Nice one, Guy.)

Meanwhile, Lex Luthor Jr. is also sneaking around Engine City, supposedly to prevent it from falling into the ocean and killing some of Aquaman’s friends, but in reality he just wants to look into the Cyborg Superman’s computer to see if he can find a recipe for making kryptonite. As the heroes argue about what to do with Engine City (Hal says drop it into the water, screw the fish), some leftover Warworld aliens start attacking them, like the holdout Japanese soldiers who never found out WWII was over.

The attack precipitates the city’s fall into the water and the heroes have to think fast to prevent a fish holocaust. Their solution is for all the Green Lantern-related characters (Hal Jordan, Guy Gardner, Alan Scott, Alan’s daughter Jade) to “detoxify” the debris with their powers before it falls into the ocean. And it works! These guys should totally open a carpet cleaning business.

As for Lex Jr., he does find the recipe for kryptonite inside the crumbling city, but just as he’s about to write it down (he wasn’t carrying any floppy disks, apparently), Supergirl yanks him out of there to prevent him from burning alive. What an unsupportive girlfriend. Anyway, Superman then takes some of the debris and builds a giant memorial for Coast City’s 6,999,999 anonymous lost souls, and Gary. Sweet Gary. You will be missed.

Creator-Watch:

If the art looks different that’s because this is the first issue inked by Joe Rubinstein, ending Brett Breeding’s classic two and a half year run as Dan Jurgens’ main inker (so classic that it feels a lot longer than that). Breeding will be back for Superman/Doomsday: Hunter/Prey and other stuff, though. As for Rubinstein, Don says: “At  the time, I had trouble with the transition, being soused to Brett Breeding’s finishes over Jurgens’ pencils, but looking at it now, the art looks great. It doesn’t look as smooth or blocky as Breeding’s finishes, but Rubinstein’s hatchier style serves Jurgens pretty well, even if it takes some getting used to.”

Plotline-Watch:

At the start of the issue, Superman goes to pick up Batman to take him to Coast City, only to find him wearing a different costume, acting differently, and sounding like a different guy. That’s because that’s not really Bruce Wayne in the suit anymore, but the replacement he got after Bane broke his back. That’s right: freakin’ Psi-Phon and Dreadnaught.

Superman gives a speech about how superheroes must work together to prevent another tragedy like Coast City from happening, but when Guy asks him if that means he’s going back to the Justice League, he’s like “uh, not yet.” Wisely, he’s gonna wait for Grant Morrison to get there first.

Hal Jordan’s characterization in this issue is interesting. In Green Lantern #47 (which came out the same month), he’s bummed about Coast City but still hopeful and serene, while here he’s already going Parallax on us. Wonder if Dan Jurgens knew more about what DC was planning for Hal than the other comic’s writer.

There’s a cute scene where Superman is flying by Kansas on his way to Coast City and quickly drops some flowers for Ma Kent. (That, or Flash picked this moment to hit on a random older woman.) 

Former TV exec/crime boss Morgan Edge has released an autobiography where he trashes the Daily Planet’s Cat Grant for using her sexiness (and, you know, sex) to get dirt on him and send him to jail. He also accuses Cat of being a crappy mother to her son Adam. He kind of has a point there, because what kind of mom would let her kid play with an Atari in the early ‘90s?! The SNES and the Genesis were already out!

Believe it or not, Morgan Edge’s pervy dad in that screenshot above isn’t the creepiest thing in that scene. Don: “Very spooky how the guy dangling outside of Cat’s apartment goes without mention. An ominous foreshadow of one of the very few missteps of Jurgens’ run.”

But the most ominous part of the issue is at the end, when Clark Kent accepts Jimmy Olsen’s offer to become roomies, since Clark lost his apartment on account of being dead and all. Don wants you to know that “Jimmy is still in that towel by the way” in the scene below. I hope.

Patreon-Watch:

Shout out to our patrons Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, and a warm welcome to Samuel Doran! Last month our patrons got to read an article about Superman’s bizarre first Elseworlds appearance ever, the Kamandi: At Earth’s End miniseries, and got a veeeeeery early look at this post you’re reading right now (since Don finished his part way before I did mine). Right now I’m preparing this month’s Patreon-only article, which involves Superman wearing pointy ears and Luthor wearing make up. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

Oh, and in case you missed it, we’ve been posting Don’s new commentary for older issues on the Patreon as free posts (click above and scroll down to see them). EVEN MORE from Don after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

Another classic issue, and such a nice wrap-up to the "Death and Return" storyline (as well as being a much-needed check-In on the DC Universe at  large).  We start with the cover, and it’s a very good one, letting the  reader know right away that it’s a big team-up issue.  (It also is a real showcase for 90s costume design, and how weird the JLA lineup was at this point).

The opening splash is a neat image of a rarely seen pairing, Superman and Commissioner Gordon.   Jurgens draws James Gordon a little heavier and more Pa-Kent like than I’m used to seeing him, but it’s still neat to see him interacting with Superman. A page  later, we get another rare pairing—the returned Superman with the imposter Batman, Jean-Paul Valley.  The tension in the interaction between “AzBats” and Superman comes across well in their exchange, as does Superman’s doubts about who he was really speaking to.

It’s a dreamy looking Superman crossing the country from Metropolis to Coast City, and I daresay that they’re trying to channel Dean Cain a little as he approaches Kansas.

The best panel of the issue though is the two page spread  of all the heroes gathering at the wreckage of Coast City, and there’s so much to love here.  The body language, and facial  expressions speak volumes about each of the characters:  Superman looking swashbuckling and upbeat, Green Lantern brooding like a man barely holding on, Green Arrow all attitude and shadow.  Just a great spread.

Another cool image is Aquaman showing up late, and emerging very royally in protection of his ocean (undercut masterfully by a legitimately funny couple of lines from Guy Gardner).  Page 14’s Hal Jordan is a great drawing, and this whole storyline seems like a table setter for the "Emerald Twilight" story coming up.

The sequence of a firelit Luthor  at the computer is a good look at his madness, but it does beg the  question of just how little Supergirl seems to take in.  He was JUST talking aloud  about Kryptonite, and she emerges seeming not to hear.  The image of  Supergirl flying Lex away as he struggles against her psychic grab is a  good one, even if her uniform is depicted as a little clingier than I imagine it to really be.

Superman floating above his obelisk with his arm in front of  his face like Dracula is a cool look, even if it is a little dramatic.

Lastly, the image of Clark turning up the stereo is a good one, even if his hair length is wildly  shorter here than in Coast City (and I usually dislike it when they  mention real world bands, as it comes off trying too hard to be hip).

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I  have to love how meta it is to have Superman outright saying that Batman is dressing more “threatening” these days,  on page 2.  I guess he couldn’t come right out and say “you have an  extreme new look, and it’s totally badass! Batman the next generation!”

Last  we saw of Supergirl she was storming out of the party on Lex’s Zeppelin after Lex II was getting all horned up at  the sight of Lois Lane, but it appears here they’ve mostly patched  things up as they fly to Coast City.

More meta-stuff: Jimmy clunkily complimenting Lois on her new hair by saying she “oughta be on TV or something!”.   This whole exchange is very expository, really, “Clark must be pretty mad… though he’s busy worrying about where he’s going to bunk…”  Anything else to get in there, Jimmy?

The harshness some of the heroes have for Lex Junior seems a little out of place, especially since he’s still known to  most of the heroes as an ally from "Panic in the Sky", and the "Doomsday"  storyline.  Superman’s comment was borderline, but where is all this  anger Flash is showing coming from?

Being  as familiar as we are with these writers, there are certain phrases or ideas that a certain writer will go to way,  way too often.  Byrne had a number of stories where Superman would  “ionize” something with his heat vision, and it occurred to me that  maybe he just liked that word.  I would submit that Dan Jurgens likes the word “atomize”.  It was used by the Cyborg  Superman when talking about Doomsday, and is used a bunch just in this issue.

I find it hilarious that Hawkman appears so prominently in this issue, but doesn’t get any lines.  This issue is an  interesting time capsule—I had almost forgotten about the de-aged  Starheart powered Alan Scott era.

Speaking of lines, they don’t give Captain Marvel much to do in this issue, but I always like seeing him, even if his only contribution is the odd “Holy Moley!”

Colouring error on page 12, where Hal’s ring has a red centre (maybe the colourist had Alan Scott’s red and green look on the brain?)

A raging Hal standing by Green Arrow is a sad foreshadowing of their confrontation to come in Zero Hour.

[bittysvalentines]

Three Times Jack Zimmermann Saw Eric Bittle Without Meeting Him (Plus One Time Jack Didn't See Him but They Met Anyway)

From: @missweber

To: @n3rdyl4cy

Pairing: Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Tags: eventual meet cute, slow burn before ever meeting, implied homophobia, references to unsupportive parents, coming out, cameo appearance by Zdeno Chara, AU because real life NCAA rules apply, Jack didn't go to college, Bitty gets scouted by the Falconers

Summary: Jack saw Eric Bittle for the first time over a year before they actually met, but it was still as if someone had set a match to a fuse that would burn slowly but inevitably until it reached its end.

The first time Jack saw Eric Bittle was the February of his third year with the Falconers. It wasn't in person, but it was enough for Jack to have a flash of he's cute that was harder to shove back down than it should have been, especially since the photo Tater texted him was kind of hilarious.

Tater was at the Beanpot tournament with Thirdy and some pals from the Bruins and kept texting Jack updates and photos of the game.

Jack could have asked him to stop, but that would involve explaining why thinking about college hockey inevitably set him off balance and got him lost in a world of what ifs.

But then a photo came through that triggered three reactions in swift succession:

What the hell?

Ha ha, that's pretty funny.

Huh. He's cute.

The picture was of two people. One was a Samwell player, flushed and grinning even though his team had just lost the championship round to Boston College in overtime. The other was Zdeno Chara.

The Samwell player barely came up to Chara's shoulder even though he was on skates and Chara wasn't. According to Tater, the player (#15, Eric Bittle, Junior) was only five foot six to Chara's six foot nine and was 'quick like bunny!'

Jack tried to focus on what kind of speed a player like that would have to have play Division I hockey and not end as a smear against the boards, but he kept getting drawn to the sunny smile and the dark eyes that were unusually striking paired with honey blond hair.

Cute. And he kind of looked like Kenny.

But Kenny had never smiled like that.

An ex-girlfriend used to send him borderline explicit selfies when he was on the road. Those pictures had made him smile, but Jack had never found himself staring at them like this.

Jack put the phone down and forced himself to count breaths until he stopped shaking.

Once he could trust himself, he responded to Tater with a haha.

Then he deleted the photo and the entire text thread along with it.

* * *

The second time Jack saw Eric Bittle was a little over half a year later, right in the middle of training camp. Like before, it was a photograph. This time, though, it came via his news feed.

Samwell University Selects First Openly Gay NCAA Division I Team Captain

The photo was obviously a headshot from the team's site, but the brilliant smile and warm brown eyes were as lively as if it had been a candid shot.

Jack didn't get to the article itself for ten minutes.

When he did, it wasn't what he was expecting. It was as bland and banal and calculated as any item that came from a team's PR shop. Generic sounding quotes, no sign of anything resembling a controversial opinion (other than the fact that a gay player merely existing was controversial in and of itself), no personality, no depth.

There were only two startling revelations in the article, neither of which was more than a mention with no further explanation.

One was that Bittle came from Georgia. That was definitely unusual, and Jack wondered how someone who was not only short and gay but Southern ever managed to get into hockey in the first place.

The other was that Bittle's team knew he was gay before they had voted him captain and had voted him in unanimously - which was the only time that had ever happened in the history of the team.

Jack figured the article was only the opening salvo. There would be follow-up interviews, no doubt. You Can Play would be all over it, and so would Sports Illustrated and ESPN.

All that happened though, as training camp ended and pre-season began, was that several opinion pieces came out and Jack added more names to his list of which reporters could and could not be trusted.

(The one article that went viral did so for the wrong reasons: it was a passionate, pompous, and self-important screed about gay rights in international sports that might have had more impact and less unintentional hilarity if the author had not been operating under the assumption that Bittle was from Georgia-the-country and not Georgia-the-state.)

Also, Kent texted Jack.

did u see the news?

Jack didn't reply and didn't read the other texts that followed. But he did tell George he needed to talk with her. Alone.

"I'm still not planning on coming out," he informed her right out of the gate.

"This is about the Samwell thing, isn't it?"

He nodded. He wished she hadn't put it quite that way. If NCAA hockey had been an option for him, Samwell would have been his top choice.

In retrospect, going to the Q had been a mistake in more ways than one. Thank God the Falconers had been willing to take a chance on him after rehab.

"Jack, I'm glad you trusted me all those years ago, but it honestly doesn't matter to me one way or the other if you come out now, or later, or never."

"I just..." He kept his eyes focused on the corner of her desk. "There are" - he circled his hand - "rumors."

Rumors. Gossip. A few photos he wished he could wipe from existence. Fanfic.

"You know I don't care about that, Jack."

He nodded, eyes still cut down and away. By never denying the rumors about him and Kent, he'd confirmed them for her, and he didn't know what to do about that. At least she was willing to maintain the polite fiction that she had no idea who Jack had dated back in the Q.

"Just... If You Can Play comes around and wants me to do another clip..." He blinked away the stinging in his eyes and why was this rattling him so much? "I don't feel like I can say no."

But what would he say if he said 'yes?' He couldn't offer other queer athletes any kind of advice that wasn't about hockey. But just existing would say so much in and of itself...

"I'm not ready but I should be ready, shouldn't I? Especially now."

"Jack. There's no should about it."

"But somehow this kid can be brave enough to come out, while I - "

George held up a hand to cut him off. She shook her head sadly. "I don't think he had a choice. This," she said, pointing to a copy of the article on her monitor, "is a pre-emptive strike. From what Martin Hall tells me, Bittle was out to his classmates and before he was on anyone's radar as a top prospect. And apparently, his online presence wasn't at all discreet and he has a sizable following. Hall said Bittle decided it was better to get the story out on his own terms before someone put two and two together and made a call to Deadspin or worse."

Jack understood. It would only take one picture from 2009, one recollection from a team-mate, to get the story out of his hands or Kent's. He should think about getting ahead of things, but...

... he wasn't ready. He wasn't sure he ever would be.

* * *

The only reason Jack didn't see Bittle again until March was because he had his own hockey to focus on. Then finally, the annual nightmare of the trade deadline finally passed and speculation started churning about what might happen after the playoffs.

Free agent frenzy technically didn't start until July, but there was a lot of early buzz about the young men who would be coming out of the NCAA and where in the NHL they might go.

One of these young men was Eric Bittle. There was more talk about whether Bittle was too small for the NHL than whether he was too gay for the NHL, but Jack still avoided watching the video clips Tater kept trying to show him.

(He couldn't explain why he avoided watching them any more than he could explain why he only sometimes responded to Kent's texts, but he suspected it came from the same dark place in his mind.)

And then Samwell made it to the Frozen Four. Jack didn't watch, but he felt a thrill of vindication when he heard that the Wellies (and Bittle) won.

Maybe Bittle would sign with an NHL team or maybe he wouldn't, but the short, gay, Southern kid had scored the game-winning goal in the NCAA championships, and it felt like something in the world had shifted and wasn't going to shift back.

Jack was still mulling it over when he arrived at the practice facility that morning, and George had to shout at him twice to get his attention.

"Jack, can you come in here a moment?"

The request brought the usual spike of anxiety even though he knew nothing awful was likely to happen. He followed George into her office.

"I thought you would want to hear this from me before you heard it from anyone else."

Jack's breath froze halfway up his throat. He had no idea what his face must have looked like, but George patted the air in front of her as if the soothing motion would reach him. "It's okay, it's okay, it's nothing bad, but I didn't want you caught unprepared. Did you watch the NCAA finals yesterday?"

Jack shook his head. George didn't seem surprised, and he wondered what she'd put together about him when he started looking into online degrees.

"I want you to take a look at this." She turned her monitor so he could see it. A video clip played. In it, a small player with the number 15 on his back zipped between opposing players like a destroyer through a fleet of battleships.

The third time Jack saw Eric Bittle was the first time he actually saw him play hockey.

"Play it again," he rasped once the clip was done. This time, he watched while knowing what to watch for. The way Bittle read the ice. The way he sent the puck unerringly not to where his liney was but to where his liney would be. The way he was obviously reluctant to take a hit, but had turned that avoidance into a weapon, with one feint in particular sending one Denver player crashing into the boards and his teammate plowing into him a half-second later.

The soft hands. Eyes that were as full of determination as they were of fear.

"He might need a year in the AHL first - trust me, you'll plotz when you hear how much hockey he didn't play before college - but can you imagine having that on your line?"

He could. Very much so. "And you're telling me first because..."

She sighed. "Because you're my friend as much as you are one of my players, and I keep thinking about that first conversation we had about Bittle, and about what it would mean to come out. When or if you decide to be out is one hundred percent up to you. I know you're out to a few people on the team, but I wanted to make damned sure you know that if we sign Bittle, it does not mean I'm expecting anything from you except to play damned good hockey and live the best life you know how to live. Got it?"

Jack nodded, swallowing hard and blinking the brightness from his eyes.

"Good. And if we sign Bittle and that brings any attention back to you that you don't want, we'll deal with it, okay?"

"Okay." His attention went back to the monitor, which was frozen on the moment when Bittle was hoisted into the air by two D-men who were each half again as big as he was. His expression was caught somewhere between joy, indignation, surprise, and... sadness?

He looked more closely. There were lots of other people on the ice. Parents, siblings. The goalie was openly sobbing on an older woman's shoulder. One of the two D-men holding Bittle had a woman in a hijab smiling up at him. The other had a gaggle of redheads crowding in around him.

It took him a moment, but he finally registered what he wasn't seeing. He thought about the 'pre-emptive strike' article, and how there had been so little press and no interviews or profile pieces that he could recall.

Jack may have had any number of issues with his own parents over the years, but they had always, always, always been there for him.

And in many ways, they had been there for Kent as well, even during the dark times when he and Kent hadn't been talking at all.

"George?"

"Hm?"

"There's something I want to do, when you go meet with Bittle."

* * *

The first time Jack actually met Eric Bittle was at Samwell.

Maman and Papa would meet him at dinner, after Jack and George had finished talking business. Meanwhile, they were taking a nostalgia tour of campus.

"We're meeting Bittle at the hockey team's house," George explained. "I'm also hoping to talk to a couple of his teammates." She must have studied a map before they arrived because she set off like she knew exactly where she was going.

They crossed a quad that was bordered on one side by a pond. Jack wondered if it ever froze over hard enough to skate on. Knots of students were scattered on the grass, some studying, some napping. A lively pickup game of soccer ended abruptly when someone kicked the ball into the pond.

Jack could imagine himself in a place like this, but the imagining didn't hurt as much he expected.

Maybe it was because he had figured out somewhere along the line that not being able to play college hockey didn't mean he couldn't go to college one day.

Or maybe it was because something about this place, even though he had never been here before, felt like home.

George turned right just past the quad, but Jack missed it because he was watching the soccer players trying to retrieve their ball without getting in the pond.

And, of course, he plowed right into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

A slender (but still solid - Jack felt like he'd been checked) young man had landed on his ass. He had a phone in one hand, and a miraculously unspilled latte in the other.

The man tucked his phone into the back of some (very short) red shorts and reached out to take the hand Jack offered.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going - I've got this meeting I've got to get to and then I got a text so I thought..."

The honey-smooth drawl trailed off as the young man looked up to see who had knocked him over.

"Jack Zimmermann??"

Jack could feel the flush rise to his cheeks and was glad he couldn't see how red he must have been turning.

"Haha. Yeah. And you're Eric Bittle, eh?"

He was even cuter in person.

"Um..." Bittle seemed reluctant to let go of his hand. Jack could sympathize.

"Hello, Eric. I'm Georgia Martin - it's nice to finally meet you in person." George must have realized that Jack wasn't right behind her. "I hope you don't mind I brought company along. Did you still want to meet back at your house?"

"Oh! Yes!" Bittle reclaimed his hand, and headed off the same direction George had been going. "I made a pie for you - there should be enough for us all, even if Chowder - that's our goalie - comes home early."

George nodded in approval. If Chowder was Chris Chow, Jack knew she was hoping to speak with him, too.

"Pie, huh?" Jack asked.

Bittle nodded emphatically. "Yes, sir! I hope y'all like pecan pie," he said, pronouncing 'pecan' completely incorrectly.

Jack couldn't help teasing. "Bittle. You need to eat more protein if you're going to be in the NHL."

Bittle gasped in exaggerated shock. "You did not just say that to my face!"

"I said it to all of you," Jack deadpanned. "Not that there's a lot to say it to, eh?"

Bittle's eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Why do I get the idea that you're going to be a whole lot of trouble, Mr. Zimmermann?"

"If you want trouble, wait until you meet my parents. They're joining us for dinner tonight."

It wasn't often that he started this kind of back-and-forth with someone so quickly. But something about it didn't feel quick.

It felt like a long, slow burning fuse that was first lit back when Tater sent that ridiculous picture had finally reached its end.

Meanwhile, Bittle started rambling on about how he really should make a second pie if he was going to meet someone's parents.

Jack fought back a smile. Tater was going to be so pissed he wasn't invited along.

"Sorry I'm babbling on like this, but this is one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me!"

"I know what you mean, um, I mean, I remember what it was like when George came and talked to me."

George was a few feet ahead of them, but he could hear her roll her eyes.

"I don't know if you ever heard the story of how I joined the Falconers, but... well, I was in a rough spot. And I knew I would be safe with them. That I would feel safe with them."

"I'd love to hear that story sometime," Bittle said gently, reaching out to touch Jack's arm, then jerking his hand away quickly.

"I'd love to tell it to you." He didn't quite reach out to Bittle, but it was easy enough to let the back of his hand knock against Bittle's as they walked along.

It would have been nice to do more, to promise more, or just say more, but he wasn't ready for that.

"I wasn't expecting to meet you today, but I'm sure glad I did." Bittle smiled let his hand brush tentatively against Jack's in return.

Some other time, Jack might have said out loud what he was thinking, that it felt like he knew Bittle, like he knew this place, knew what it was like to walk side by side with him. Like part of him already knew what it was like not to walk hand in hand, but half embracing as they walked back to Bittle's house.

No, he wasn't ready for anything like that, not yet, but for the first time it was easy to imagine a time when he would be.

[paperbagpetrichor]

Birthday | Izuku Midoriya

I forgot to publish this on his actual birthday because sometimes I’m dumb like that, please forgive me --

Harsh hulls of heat hit the huge bay windows hibernating in their habitat of the right hemisphere of the small household, refracting and reflecting as the most persistent, persevering rays hastened forth on an endless reservoir of patience, rousing a revolution from outside in, starting with the most miniscule strips of light slipping through the cracks of the shutters and growing, exponentially, as the sun crested the haughty horizon and gradually hung itself atop the tip of the sky, beaming waves out to all, bursting through doors and windows regardless of inhabitants' requests or hopes, deluging the dark, dull skies of night and early morning and hastily forcing all to harken to the rise of day. Hunched in such a neighborhood of close ties and localities, where everyone knew everyone else and nobody knew the definition nor the concept of 'unfamiliar faces' sheerly because of spacing, most residents welcomed the daytime with open arms, heading out to work, or to meet family and friends, or else simply just into their green-grassed backyards to bask and bake in the warm summer sun that so rarely shone as brightly as that day.

Needless to say, most were never all, and there were, exceptionally, exceptions.

It's not as if you wouldn't have enjoyed doing the same as all the passers-by you witnessed from your watching station by the window. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact, for while the sun struck your skin through the thin shield of plastic and glass particles, you were overcome with how beautiful it truly was, and found yourself longing to wear the shoes of the hordes of summer-break schoolgirls and fresh-from-university graduates you spotted laughing and joking alongside their respective crews of friends, if only just to hear laughter, if only just to feel the presence of someone by your side.

Loneliness. Your greatest friend and simultaneously your worst enemy.

Besides the typical onset of angst that came with being a young adult, your parents had also chosen to allot some of the excessive craving for company to your quirk, a decision that, to you, seemed rather unsupported by logic and overall inaccurate. And yet, as every footstep fell from just outside, your heart twisted within your chest, pinched by the invisible fingers of fate and the one friend, isolation, who you supposed you were never foretold to lose. Perhaps their claims weren't as crazy as they had initially seemed.

It wasn't as though there was nobody else to be around. In a neighborhood of that size, you knew many people, fairly well acquainted with a rather high number of them. But that was precisely where it stopped - acquaintances. Few in this world were able to be viewed as your friend. In fact, as of late, you'd really only had one friend, for the matter.

That friend had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth.

He wasn't missing. That much you were sure of. The numerous minutes, hours, days, weeks, now building on months of times you'd found yourself standing on his doorstep, hoping he would finally open up and explain where he had been, or rather for you to see some strange hallucination to make you realize this all was a superficially-concocted nightmare, had only ever led to more disappointment. His mother was always the one to answer. And while you loved her dearly, even she didn't have a proper explanation as to where her son was running off to these days. All she was able to do was assure you he was coming home, and eating all of his meals, and guarantee you that she would tell him how much you wished to see him whenever she could. The words alone were comforting, and so you had continued to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And now, nearly two months had gone by without sight or sound of your best friend.

You still clearly remembered the last time you'd seen him. It had been the last day of middle school, and, as per usual, he had stopped at your house, just outside that very same window that your restless gaze found itself glued to, waving and smiling, ready to walk alongside you to the final day with your teachers. That same day, once the final, long-awaited bell had rung for the very last time, you had sat upon the solid stairs cemented at your school's front, humming to yourself and waiting, as you always did, for him to come walk you home, as he always did.

Only he never came.

By the time you were home, it was three hours after you normally arrived, all spent on trounced time and wasted wishes for a boy who never came, and never, not for the next two months, would. Your parents had been worried sick about you, almost as much so as you were worried sick for him. Some of the more unruly students in your classes had been rather infamous for bullying, and your friend usually received the butt end of it all - had something drastically dire occurred? You remembered the talk of quirks, and how harsh some had been on your friend, whose only dream had ever been to become a hero, despite his own lack of power. You'd nearly had to restrain Bakugou, and very easily would've, if it weren't for how desperately your friend had wanted to prove he could succeed without your help.

You hoped that was what he was doing now - succeeding. Even without you. Even if it hurt you, all you truly wished for was his happiness. And if that meant leaving you behind, then you supposed that there wasn't much you could do about it - no. Your own thought was cut short.

One of the first days after you'd found yourself friends with him, you'd promised that you would follow him to whichever high school he wound up at. Of course, back then, he had been so certain of U.A. But after lengthy battles with people who seemingly only desired to put him down and drag him out of his own dream, you had sensed that confidence begin to fade, thinning and deteriorating until it was as light as a feather, as fragile as glass. Through the words of others, the stairway to success, stoic and unshaking, sealed in place, had wilted away to something as delicate as flower petals, fighting to stay upright against the summer droughts and ready to whisk away in the winter. So no matter what, your promise still stood.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he was so busy simply due to training for U.A.'s acceptance test. You had often wondered long and hard if he really was still dreaming of attending U.A. For his sake, you wished that he would succeed. You still remembered the first time you'd seen his heart as wide as his eyes, exclaiming to you that one day he would become a Pro Hero, and protect you and your family from whatever vile villains lay ahead. A smile flitted across your lips, albeit bittersweet. You believed in him. You believed he could do it.

But then, that was one against the entire world - an entire world where the quirkless were never offered the same treatment as the quirked, an entire world with the odds stacked against him.

You would do anything to make that prejudiced pillar of society fall to its miserable death.

All that you could do then, however, was shoot him a text. It wasn't like you hadn't done that before. You'd sent him - how many now, forty? - all left unread, all left unanswered. This was besides calls, emails, and use of whatever social media you could find him on. You weren't expecting a response this time, not so much as you were just waiting for the day he would look at his phone, whenever it would come, and see that you had never, would never, will never give up on him. If anything, you hoped it would at least put a grin on his face and ease his forever-racing mind.

As soon as you saw the lock screen long enough to comprehend it, however, you almost dropped your phone right there and then. There was no way. It was already July fifteenth? How had time warped itself like that...? Or rather, how had you been so caught up in counting time that the dates themselves had become meaningless?

But July fifteenth was a special day. His birthday.

And even if he wouldn't be there to see you help set it up, or get to have you hand-deliver his gift, you were as sure as anything going to try.

Merely a few minutes later, you found yourself out of breath - not from the distance but rather the speed - from your run, and stole a knock at the door.

Almost immediately, as if trained on a schedule - which, you supposed, she rather was, what with your seemingly daily treks to the house - Ms. Inko had opened it, ushered you inside, and paused you after a moment of allowing you to take in the scenery.

Half the house was already perfectly decorated. Posters and ribbons and bundles of balloons dotted the walls and tables, while a stack of gifts sat, eagerly awaiting their own opening, upon the coffee table in the living room. Everything was, so far, astonishingly wondrous, which, of course, was nothing less than what you'd expected, but nevertheless couldn't help but gawk.

"I'm so sorry to ask for your help so abruptly, [y/n], but would you mind helping me finish the rest of the decorations?" Polite as always, your friend's mother gestured to the rather barren areas of the home, her fatigue evident in her voice.

You nodded enthusiastically, always cheered by the sheer passion of her love for her son. "Of course. That's why I came, after all."

And thus, within a few moments, the both of you were back at work. You chose between accent colors and main colors, clearly recalling what he liked and disliked, adding a hint of your own presence, although rather unintentionally, through the slight crookedness of everything, as if it all were solely a millimeter off. For once, the minutes seemed to fly by happily, you and Ms. Inko cheerfully chattering away about the weather, and school, and eventually her son, your friend. You tried your best to keep your own selfish remarks out of it, dearly wanting to press her for more information, but not wanting to stress such a kind soul, until, about two hours in, you couldn't hold it in any longer, and, without much conscience or a second thought, you blurted, "He hasn't been at home very often, has he?"

You immediately chastised yourself for concocting such a harebrained concept to even consider talking about, biting down hard on your tongue until the pain ran sharp through your nerves, until you heard Ms. Inko let out a soft sigh from her spot on the couch. After a long day of work, and your pressing for her to take a brief break, she had finally consigned to you the task of decorating by yourself for all of ten minutes. Her response, however, was not one you had been expecting.

"No, he hasn't. Worse now, he's rarely home on time...I worry a lot for him. But I doubt I worry as much as you."

From your position high upon a ladder, where you were stringing paper letters together in front of the kitchen doorway to read 'Happy 15th,' you cocked your head to the side. "Why do you say that?" you inquired.

Much to your surprise, Ms. Inko laughed. "Isn't it obvious? You both like each other very much, you know..."

You opened your mouth a bit too soon, and when you attempted to retort, it fell upon immobile vocal cords, strung taut against your neck. The sheer surprise of it all sent a redhot blush blooming across your face, and before you had any moment of peace to catch your breath or comprehend the situation, small decorations were suddenly flying off the wall, plastering themselves in hordes atop poor Ms. Inko, who couldn't help but chuckle again and begin to remove them. "My, you seem a bit excited by that," she giggled.

"W-wait, I never said anything like that! I just -"

"Mhm, I'm sure. All is forgiven, love. But I suppose this means my break is over." In a flash of motion she was once more her typical self, busying herself with re-administering the decorations to their initially facets of location. "Besides, U.A. will straighten out your quirk in no time."

Despite it all, you couldn't help but once more feel casual, and shrugged without thinking. "I - actually don't know if I'm going to U.A..." and then you abruptly trailed off.

For, right at that moment, you realized the sound of a door shutting from just behind you. Face deepening yet another shade of red, you spun around atop the slight steps of the ladder, finding yourself, after all of two months filled with worried days, concerned nights, and heartbroken weeks, face-to-face with Izuku.

His face was struck with pallor. "[Y/n], you have to go to U.A.!" he exclaimed. "You're going to be a Pro Hero one day."

Immediately your feet were flying down the steps, and in a few short strides you had flung your arms around him, hugging him close, feeling the beat of his heart against that of your own, once broken but now whole at the sight of him, safe and healthy, once more. His presence filled the empty space in your mind that had been boiling over with worries, now filled with nothing but joy, because he was here, in your arms, and he felt like he always had, the same boy as - wait.

No.

Something here wasn't right. He was here, he was in your arms, yes. But he did not feel like he always had. He was not the same boy as you remembered him being.

Because once, where your quirk had only felt nothingness, there was now a massive weight. A massive power, emanating from his very heart and soul, strong and pulsating and full and alive, just as alive as he was, so incredulously humongous that there was only one other person who you could ever remember having such a full gauge of power, and then it spilled from you, softer than a whisper, like the tears you were trying so hard to suppress - "All Might?"

From the corner of the room, now up upon your place of the ladder you had so quickly abandoned, you heard Ms. Inko's voice cut through the tension like a rainbow after a hurricane. "Oh, Izuku, how about you head to your room with [y/n]? I'll fix everything up and call you down when the cake is ready." She couldn't have heard anything, but she did, of course, know how dear you held him to your heart.

And within seconds Izuku was practically dragging you off to his room, grip light but pulling with such an unparalleled force that you realized the sheer shock of it all must have gotten to your head, to your quirk, once more, and presuming that things were as they usually were, you were accidentally amplifying his own - his own quirk. Even that train of thought felt wrong. But it was undeniable. You were always able to sense quirks, and what they could do, and even enhance them. Nothing had ever come from Izuku before. But now there was something so mindblowingly powerful, profound in and of its own existence, so that even as you both entered his room and he carefully closed the door behind him you still didn't feel right about anything.

Izuku plopped himself on his bed, silently patting the empty cover next to him, signaling for you to take a seat; a request to which you eagerly obliged.

You were still in absolute disbelief. ""Izuku - what is going on? I-is my quirk acting up? Why do you..."

And now it was his turn to hug you, and suddenly you felt his chest rising and falling in a disorderly fashion, as though controlled by an invisible puppeteer who'd left his post for lunch, radically changing with every passing second, and you returned the embrace, melting into him as you realized, with a sweet-and-sour aftertaste, that he was almost crying. His voice was equally as shaky. "I missed you so much. I missed you so much. I missed you so much." He continued to repeat it, as though a mantra, the only thing keeping him grounded in the here and now, in reality.

Completely stunned, but beginning to regain some control over yourself, you pulled him tighter, murmuring, "I missed you too, Izuku."

And even though you couldn't bring yourself to repeat it, it was on an endless loop in your mind, a broken record replaying again and again, doomed to never have a clear beginning nor clear end.

"So much has happened," he breathed, gently pulling back, although you could feel his muscles constrict as if they were protesting, begging him to stay intertwined with you. His gaze, now completely ashamed, fluttered away from you. "But I - I can't tell anyone. And neither can you, okay?"

What did he mean? What was he even talking about? That he missed you? That he apparently had a quirk now, one strong enough to rival that of the biggest Pro Hero of them all? And why? Why wouldn't he want you to be able to say it, loudly and clearly, the next time Bakugou tried to pull something - why wouldn't he want you to simply stand your ground and finally take him down with the simple words, "Izuku is already as powerful as a Pro Hero." Nothing added up, and your mind bobbed in addled confusion.

"But - you have to promise me something. In return, I promise I'll tell you everything, as soon as I can." This came completely out of the left field, and although he was still no longer looking at you, you were now very transfixed upon him. Slowly, you nodded, and a soft 'yes' escaped your lips.

It was only now that he could face you, and it was only now that the pools of tears were growing clear in his eyes. "You have to go to U.A.," he began quietly, as if he couldn't take saying the words himself, "promise me. Even if - even if I don't make it, you have to."

Between his tears, and your own sadness welling up beneath your shaken exterior, and the words spilling from his mouth, cutting deeper and deeper into your skin with each breath, you almost felt the same puddles forming at the corners of your own eyes. "I - I can't promise that, Izuku." You vigorously shook your head, your voice straining to keep any note of calmness held within it. "Because I already promised you, I'd go wherever you went, all those years ago..."

"...Please, [y/n]." His desperation was now evident, in his afflicted posture, his gleaming, tear-streaked cheeks, his wobbling words and darting glances. "Please, just say it. I have to know that you will succeed, even if I can't."

Once more you were upon him, embracing him tightly, closely, knowing full and well that now he could feel yourself trembling beneath him, replying in a whisper, "I-Izuku...I promise. But you have to make a promise to me too, okay?" This time he didn't make any attempt to remove himself from your embrace. "Of course." He merely held you back.

"Try to come around if you can. Even if just for a few minutes. I really, really, really missed you, Izuku."

His voice was so pained it made the agony flood into you. "I'm so sorry. E-everything's just...crazy right now." Now he pulled you tighter than ever, gently, but ever so surely, closer. "I want to make it up to you. However I can. I promise."

And now you were crying, but not from sadness, or perhaps from some perfectly bittersweet mixture of melancholy and happiness, and you lifted your chin up, holding him closer, until there was no more space between the two of you and the two of you were no longer two, but rather one, and you pressed your lips delicately to his cheek, and then quickly pulling away, blushing, "Happy birthday, Izuku. I'm sorry, I completely forgot - to get you something."

Gently, cautiously, he returned the kiss, and you were sure that the butterflies were no longer in your stomach but rather flying, free, around the room, encircling the two of you like the young lovers you were, before his reply, soft and warm against your ear, found its way to you. "Seeing you again is all I could've wanted."

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober - Stab wound

Veg-notables:  I’m radioactive, radioactive!!!

Starting this at 1 in the AM so not sure how good it is going to be.  ‘Scuse the drool stains…Bit of a filler piece but I wanted to get Johnny PoV on things.  I may come back and tweak this a bit later..  

Not 100% satisfied with this one but meh.. wanted to get something up for you all.

@gumnut-logic  ..::covered in riot gear happily munching on hard candy ::

Thunderhead take over of tumblr!!!

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: loads of internal dialogue..  Johnny is in an introspective mood and wouldn't shut up 

Characters: Space bagel and others on the periphery 

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous post can be found HERE

8. Stab Wound

Enjoy…

oOo

Despite the fact that John spent the majority of his time floating about 20 000 kilometers above the Earth on Five,  he was actually well acquainted with the feeling of being stabbed.   

He’d been thirteen at the time, surprisingly enough.  Tall, lanky and awkward.  All things that made him a massive target to the douche-bag crowd at school. 

He was no stranger to being the odd man out.  He was quieter than his brothers, more reserved and introverted.  He preferred to spend his free time studying the things he loved while his siblings were in to all manners of extracurricular activities.  

Not to say he didn’t do his own activities outside of school,  his were just of different ilk to the boisterousness of other activities that would attract youth. 

This tended to make a target out of his gingered hide. 

One particular instance had been worse than the rest.  A group of fellow classmates had taken a dislike him early on in the school year.   He tried his best to ignore it as one of the boys was actually from a troubled home and was just looking for an outlet for his frustrations to make himself feel better. 

John had learned fairly quickly that with bullies it was best just to ignore them and not react.   Eventually they would grow bored and move on to other things. 

This troubled individual had other plans though.

He took John’s lack of response and non reactive attitude as an affront to his person and set out to completely destroy him.  

His tactic had been nothing short of guerrilla warfare..Lots of little things over the course of several weeks.. Everything for stealing his gym clothing to sabotaging a school project he had been working for an extra credit.  At one point he’d even anonymously accused him of having a weapon in his locker, which resulted in the school going on lock down,  the police being called in and a rather disturbing visited to the principal's office.  

Due to this there was threat of a mark on his permanent school record which he had protested vehemently about but the school insisted they had to put it down as per procedure.  It had taken his Dad threatening legal action on libel to get the school to drop the report and clear his file of any misdoings.  

Clear record or not the damage was done.  After that he couldn't go anywhere without other students either leaving the room or just down right avoiding him at all cost.  They all thought he was going to snap and do something stupid despite the fact that he had been proven innocent.  A rumours had been spread rather viciously and no one wanted anything to do with him  

The bully had succeeded in cutting him off from his peers..  Well not all off them, he still had his brothers but he didn't want them to worry about him.   Scott was tied up in studying for his finals and Virgil was prepping for an upcoming music recital. And the terrible two were too young to understand. 

So he continued to deal with it on his own.  Until one horrible afternoon when he got corned by his tormentor and accused of getting him suspended.   John hadn’t had anything to do with it but the bully wouldn’t accept his answers.  

The ensuing beat down had him fighting for his life as the other boy had a good fifty pounds on him and had a reputation of being a spectacular brawler.

The knife that had come out of nowhere was the last thing that John had expected and if it hadn’t been for Virgil coming out of the music wing from an after school session he would have been pushing up daisies.  

Virgil had pile-drived the kid halfway across the yard. Even then,  Virg was a tank and had a reputation for not taking shit from anyone when the chips were down.  

John had been lucky,  his wound though deep had been superficial. Some stitches and a week off at home and he was right as rain again though he’d had serious trepidation about returning to school.

His brothers on the other hand had rallied. Like a well intentioned wall, his brothers circle around him and John had returned to school. It didn’t take long before all their support and attention started to pay off.   And just like that, one day several weeks later,  he stopped looking over his shoulder every five minutes and he sank back into the routine of school and family life.  

Looking back at it all, he realized that one incident had actually been a small blip in comparison to all the others that followed but it had a lasting impact on him. He’d become less withdrawn from his siblings,  a trait he at a very young age had acquired when their mother had died,  and as a result the group of them had become stronger for it.  

There had been some major events since then of course,  the disappearance of their father being one,  a run in with the chaos crew that left Gordon in traction another but he’d learned that no matter what,  as long as he had his brothers,  they could get through anything. 

Until now.  

He hadn’t thought that it was possible for mental anguish to have an actually  physical manifestation but it did.  The stabbing, heart wrenching pain behind his breast bone at having to watch his nearest and dearest suffer was something he would never wish on his worst enemy. 

And life again was threatening to take one of their own. 

Somehow though, through the miracle of modern medicine his brother was still alive. The expert team of specialist  that had swarmed his brothers room like ants had managed to stabilize the cardiac arrhythmia and Virgil was still with them.  

Though for how long, no one could tell.  

The hospital was doing its best with what it had.  A massive donation from Tracy Industry and a call out to all bacterial specialist and bio-engineers the world over would hopefully do the rest.  But the outcome of it all was still uncertain and the doctors were hesitant to provide them with any unsupported hope for a positive outcome.  

So they were stuck in a holding pattern. 

Kayo was understandable distraught and after the initial shock of the near death she’d withdrawn into herself and refused to talk to anyone.  

Alan was glued to his Grandmother’s side, her hand clasped firmly in his own. Eyes hollow and unseeing.  

Grandma wasn’t fairing much better but she was trying to cover it up with fussing over the others now that the mild sedative Penny had given her had leveled out her nerves.  

Gordon was leaning heavily on Penny for support, never far from her side and seemed to be engrossed in some task that he refused to tell him about no matter how many times John approached the subject.  

Brains was around somewhere, head bent over petri-dishes with the medical staff.  One of his side interests that he hoped would provide some help no matter how small

That left the absent Scott who had taken off some hours earlier for areas unknown.  He’d been in contact with John of course for a data dump and he’d checked in on them about three hours ago from an undisclosed location but since then it was radio silence. 

Even with the power of Thunderbird 5 at his beck and call,  if a tracking beacon was turned off even John would be hard pressed to find One.  It was basically a cloaked rocket on acid when the beacon was disengaged.  A silly fail safe that had been installed in the slim chance someone might have the gall to try and follow them.  

With the speeds of their ‘birds though the chances of that were slim.

Folding his arms across his chest, John shifted his weight to his opposite foot and settled back into the corner he had claimed in the small, private waiting room. This part of the process really was tedious and all he could do was stew in his own thoughts as everyone else was doing. 

To put it mildly,  it sucked.  

Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get worse though, they did.  

oOo

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[bazwillendinflames]

Baby Steps (LIS2 FIC)

Daniel asks for a story he's never heard before and Sean tells him of the bittersweet moments he took his first steps.

Read on AO3 

“Can you tell me a story?” 

Sean glanced over at the bundle of blankets that Daniel had wrapped himself in. He was clearly taking advantage of the home comforts their grandparents provided. All he could make out was Daniel’s face, which was pouting at Sean.  

“It’s late.”

“My throat still hurts,” he said, adding a little cough for good measure. 

“Do you want me to get Claire or some medicine?” 

Daniel shook his head. “Just a story. Your stories always make me feel better. Please?”

Sean sighed and sat up, switching on the bedside light. Even in its dim glow, he could see Daniel looked better, face fuller, less flushed, and his eyes no longer puffy. His cough was less intense too, helping to ease Sean’s lingering worries. He even managed a smile, the same kind Sean would get every time Daniel asked for a choc-o-crisp. (Shopping with Daniel used to be such a chore, he wanted everything. Now, he would give anything to be able to spoil him, to do something normal without worrying about security tapes or racist assholes.) 

“Want to hear about the wolf brothers?” 

“Yeah!” Daniel pushed himself into a sitting position, wrapping one of the many blankets around his shoulders. “But, maybe when the wolf brothers were just pups?” 

“Is this about Mom? I don’t remember much about her looking after us.” 

That was a half-lie. Sean could remember a handful of happy memories with her - like the time she craved ice cream when she was pregnant with Daniel so bad they ate three tubs between them - but many of the details were blurry, out of reach, purposefully locked away. It hurt less that way. 

“It’s not about our Mom,” Daniel said, “but maybe if the Papa Wolf was in it, that would be nice.” 

“Okay.” Sean wrapped his arm around Daniel. “In a wild, wild world, the littlest pup was trying to find his feet- paws. And it was up to Papa Wolf and his brother to help him.” 

 “I swear he was standing up all by himself,” Sean insisted, still holding onto his Father’s sleeve from where he had been dragged in. 

In the corner, Daniel sat amongst building blocks, gurgling to himself. 

“I believe you.” 

“Come on Dan, get up!” 

At the sound of his name, he looked up and waved a chubby fist at them. 

“He’ll walk when he’s ready.” 

Sean crosses his arms. “He was standing.” 

“Why don’t you help him?” 

Sean nodded, holding out a hand for him. Daniel misinterpreted the gesture, slapping his palm against his. 

“No, hold it. I’ll help you stand up.” 

“You want Sean’s help Dan?” Esteban asked encouragingly. 

It seemed to help because he reached for his hand again, this time clinging to it. 

  “How do the wolves hold paws?” 

Sean rolled his eyes. “It’s a story.” 

“I know. But-“

“Don’t you want me to finish?” 

  With a little help, Daniel managed to balance on his feet, though he wobbled once Sean tried to move him along. 

“I know you can do it all by yourself, so please show Dad.” 

“Da!” He repeated, seeming to understand the words of encouragement. 

“You wanna show me how well you can balance?” 

Sean gently pulled his hand away, holding out his arms in case he fell. But there was no need, Daniel managed to stand unsupported, grinning at his achievement. 

“I told you!” He hurried over to Esteban excitedly. “Dan’s so smart and-“ 

“Sean,” Esteban said softly, looking past his oldest son. 

He turned around and softly gasped as he saw why his Father was so amused. Daniel was toddling over behind him, arms stuck out for support, but still managing to walk all by himself. 

He reached Sean’s side and hugged his leg, probably for balance, but it was enough to make him grin brightly. 

“Dad! Dad! Did you see that? He walked all the way from one side of the living room to another!” 

“You are one clever boy Daniel,” Esteban said, ruffling his dark hair. 

He babbled happily, still clinging to Sean, clearly enjoying all the attention as his brother and Father congratulated his achievement. 

  “Aw!” Daniel interrupted. “I like that story.” 

“I was so proud of you.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that story before.” 

Sean sighed, knowing what his curious nature meant. “I know. We don’t like to talk about it a lot. But all your training with,” he lowered his voice, “your power reminded me.” 

“Why don’t you talk about it?” 

“How did I know you’d ask that?” He played with the hem of a blanket. “Just… what happened next wasn’t nice.” 

  After Daniel had been put to bed, Esteban came downstairs to find Sean looking through a cupboard. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Can I have an envelope?” 

“It’s a little early for Christmas.” 

“The letter isn’t for Santa. It’s for Mom.” 

“Oh.” 

“Why do you look so sad?” 

Esteban knelt down. “Sean, you can’t send your Mom any letters.”

“But I saved my pocket money for a stamp and I used my good pens.” 

“I’m sure it’s a lovely letter. But I don’t have an address - I don’t know where to send it.” 

“You don’t know where Mom is?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sean bit his lip, his eyes watering. “But how will she know?”

“What did you want to tell her?” 

“That Dan took his first steps. I drew her a picture too. If she knows that she’ll be super impressed and want to come see it herself.” 

Esteban pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Dad?” 

“I’m okay Sean.” He held on still. “Hey, why don’t you give me that letter and picture and I’ll send it to your Grandparents. Then if they hear from your Mom, they can tell her.” 

Sean nodded, still nestled in his Father’s arms. 

Neither of them moved for a long time. 

  “It was the first time I understood that Mom had abandoned us.” 

Daniel was unusually quiet. 

“It was one of many firsts that she missed. So you see, we don’t need her.” 

“Do you think Grandma kept the picture?” 

“We can ask her at breakfast.” 

Daniel shuffled a little closer, wiping Sean’s cheek. 

“Thank you for telling me the story.” 

“It’s a nice memory. I guess.” 

“And the little wolf went to his big brother wolf first. I guess that means they’re best friends.” 

Sean laughed, surprising himself. 

“I guess so. Even if the little wolf was a rascal.” 

“And the big wolf snores.” 

“I do not!” 

“Duh, why else would I wake you up for a story?” 

“You really are a little rascal.” Sean tickled him, laughing along with him until Claire yelled at then to keep it down. 

At least, Sean thought after the laughter had died down and Daniel drifted off, they were together. No way would he ever run away from him.

[wordsandshawn]

The Long Haul

AU where Shawn is in Uni before he decides to pursue music, and the rise to fame is less like a catapult and more like a really long walk uphill. There’s a lot of no’s, a lot of empty shows, but he’s got his girl and his guitar for the long haul. 

(possible miniseries) Its definitely set up like the first part of a series, but I’m still trying to figure out if I want to continue it, so please let me know what you think of it/ if you’d want to read more! 

You’ve known Shawn almost your entire life, but only from a distance. You grew up in Pickering and attended the same schools, but you just didn’t run in the same circle, never really sharing the same friends. You always thought he was cute and respectful, something that can’t be said for all the boys in school. It wasn’t until after high school, when you both started attending the University of Toronto, that you actually started talking to him. That was over a year ago, and now he’s your boyfriend, thanks to a crazy turn of events you never would have predicted. The two of you had kind of stumbled together and never really separated since, something you wouldn’t change or trade for the world. 

You had no idea that Shawn sang until after you started dating. You didn’t even know he played the guitar or piano until later too. You knew Shawn played hockey throughout high school and decided to major in business economics, a predictable path for a boy like him. He chose a University less than an hour from his hometown, majoring in something that would put him on a career path similar to his dad, which was exactly what seemed to always be expected of him. There’s nothing wrong with that, and he never gave any intention that he was unhappy with his life.

It wasn’t until a month ago when you were lying on Shawn’s bed, and he was sitting in his desk chair, stressed about an upcoming exam, that he first voiced a desire to do anything with his music beside keeping a secret book of songs that he wouldn’t even let you see.

You knew he was stressed with midterms coming up, so you just ignored his offhand comment of Maybe I’ll just become a singer. You were both stressed, and you know as well as anybody that when the stress becomes too much everyone always begins looking for ways out, joking about taking leave of absences or switching majors to something easier or dropping out to work in a restaurant, anything that takes the pressure off the next assignment or the next exam. You thought that was exactly what Shawn was doing.

You have always secretly loved that he’s a musician, even if he wouldn’t call himself one or admit it. He won’t even really sing in front of other people, at least not at organized events, which is why you didn’t take his comment seriously. He’ll sing in his dorm room to you and whoever happens to be passing in the hall outside his open door. He’ll trek his guitar with him to bonfires with your friends and he’ll play and sing, his cheeks rosy from the cold. He’ll sit around the Christmas tree with his family, pull out his guitar and force them to sing along with him. But he’s never put himself out there as a musician.

When it comes to singing in front of people, he doesn’t exactly see the point for him. At least that’s what he told you the first and last time it came up when you questioned if he has stage fright.

“No, I’m not scared, It’s just not my thing. I just don’t know why I’d want to do that.”

“What do you mean? You’re great, and you’re not sharing it with the world.”

“I don’t think anyone wants to listen. I just do it when I’m stressed or for fun. I’m going into a career in business, not music.”

And that was the end of that conversation over a year ago, just a few weeks into your first semester at Uni and a week into dating. Shawn was a realist only because he wasn’t ready to let the dreamer inside him out. You never brought it up again, but you did notice that Shawn started to spend more and more time locked in his room just working on music his actual textbooks forgotten on his desk. Even though no one knew him as a musician, in his own way, in his own time, he was turning into one.

-

“I’m thinking of doing an open mic night.” Shawn says to you as you sit beside him on the couch eating dinner and watching the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

You’re caught off guard, so you reach over and pause the episode in order to give this conversation your full attention. “An open mic night?” You question, “Singing?” He just nods, shoveling more food into his mouth, unfazed by how shocked you are right now. “When?”

“Next Friday. Derek’s organizing one at that new coffee shop. He said I could sign up if I want.” He says it all so nonchalantly, like its no big deal, when it is. 

“And you want to?” You don’t mean to sound unsupportive, you’re just shocked.

He shrugs, “Yeah, why not.”

You don’t want to mention the reasons why not that he’s mentioned to you before because you think he’s great and you think other people should be able to appreciate him too, so you say, “I think that’s awesome, babe. I think you should do it if you want to.”

He nods, looking like he’s thinking more about it and about what you just said. He doesn’t reply, though. Instead, he just continues to eat. After a few more seconds, he leans over and un-pauses the episode, and the two of you finish your meal without exchanging any more words on that topic. 

-

Shawn’s true to his word, and he signs up for the open mic night after getting more information about it. It’s the night before the performance. You’re sprawled out across Shawn’s bed as he paces the room, absentmindedly playing his guitar like he has been nonstop for the last three hours. “I like that John Mayer song,” You suggest, just wanting to see him calm his nerves and finally choose a song. 

“I only get one.” He says, as though you weren’t completely aware of that.

“I know, it’s going to be great. It’ll be a great way to start performing, see if it’s fun, you know?”

He nods, starting to play the song you suggested. He’s nervous, but in true Shawn fashion, he’s also oddly calm.

He stops mid-song to turn to you and say, “Okay, and if it’s a shitshow, we’ll go get greasy burgers and milkshakes at that diner you like and pretend it never happened?”

“Yeah, if,” You say, making sure to emphasize the “if,” before adding, “But when it goes great, we can still go to the diner, and talk about how amazing it was until 1am.”

He nods, and you smile, knowing he feels reassured by your statement, which is all you were trying to do. You have confidence in him. He’s going to do great. Even though he hasn’t performed for an audiencet before, Shawn somehow calms down whenever he has his guitar in his hands. You’ve seen him stressed before, seen the way he grabs his guitar and plays until his fingers hurt, sings until his voice is hoarse. Singing and playing guitar is one of the things he enjoys most in this world. Its about time he lets other people appreciate all of his hard work and the talent he has. 

-

The next evening, you show up to the coffee shop early with Shawn, getting coffee and chatting with some other people you know there as Shawn talks to Derek, making sure that his guitar will be good to go when it’s time.

You find seats for you and Shawn near the front. Even though the event won’t be very big, and the back of the room is clearly visible from the stage, you want to make sure Shawn has a good view of you when he’s performing. Just in case he gets nervous, at least he’ll know you’re there and be able to see you. Shawn finishes checking everything with Derek and he slides into the seat beside you just as Derek gets onstage to open the night and introduce the first performer. Shawn nervously rests his hand on your thigh, squeezing gently, and you place your arm around his back, hoping to help calm his nerves.

You sit through the first few performances: a couple spoken word poets, someone playing the violin, and another singer. Then, it’s Shawn’s turn. He shakes off the nerves and you give his hand one last squeeze before he stands and approaches the stage. He flashes a nervous smile to the small but attentive crowd as he strums his guitar once. He takes a deep breath, raking his fingers through his hair before leaning closer to the mic. “I’m just going to play a cover for you all tonight. I hope you like John Mayer.” As soon as he strums the first few chords, a confidence comes out of him that you didn’t expect. You sing along the whole time, making eye-contact with Shawn when he looks to you in the audience.

As he strums the last chord, the audience claps loudly, some even shouting and cheering. The smile on Shawn’s face is huge and he just takes everything in for a few seconds before saying, “Thank you.” And stepping off the stage to put his guitar back in the case before finding his way back to the seat beside you to watch the rest of the artists. Even though you know you’re biased, you’re still pretty sure that Shawn got one of the loudest responses from the crowd so far. He’s on an adrenaline high when he steps off the stage, and it remains even as the remainder of the artists perform one by one. After the show, Shawn makes sure to thank Derek for letting him perform, and Derek lets Shawn know how good he was, promising to keep in touch because he’s putting on another event soon, not an open mic night, but one with actual featured artists, and he’s interested in having Shawn perform there.

Derek asks if you both would like to stick around because a few of them are going out for drinks after finishing up there. You wouldn’t have minded going out with them for some celebratory drinks over how well the evening went. But Shawn just looks to you briefly before saying, “Sorry man, we have plans already, but thanks for the invite. And I’ll talk to you soon about the event?”

“Of course, I think you’ve already got yourself some fans here, so it’ll be great to have you out again!” Derek enthusiastically replies before you say your goodbyes to him and others you know. 

Once you’re outside in the chilly night air, you pull your sweater closer to yourself, asking, “Why did you say no? We could have gone out with them.”

He just smiles over at you, taking your hand in his as he leads you to his car. “Because we have plans for burgers and milkshakes, and I’ve been looking forward to it all night.” 

You just smile and nod your approval because you felt the same way. Although you wouldn’t want to keep Shawn from going to hang out with new people or socializing and celebrating the success of the night, you were really looking forward to your corner booth in the diner, and some quality time to end the night. 

So that’s exactly what you do. You take your usual booth, ordering the same thing you always get. Shawn shares with you some of the thoughts that were running through his head onstage, and you’re starting to see he might be really serious about this music thing. 

An hour turns into two, and the leftover fries get cold, but you still pick at one every so often as the conversation shifts to other topics and Shawn has you laughing so hard your stomach hurts. 

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

OT3FIC: Pitbull

22 - hate locket hammock

The first time she only heard about it at the other’s querying - and she’d sat outside on the steps whining to the massive wolf for over an hour the next time he visited.

The second time, she hadn’t been at home at all and had received the text advising her that ‘he’s here again’ and then neither man had answered her calls for far too long in her book that Jo had been tempted to abandon her hunt and turn her car around immediately.

The third time, she actually spotted his godforsaken coat disappearing around the corner of the house as she came out the side door with the washing basket on her hip. He actually deigned to say the first words to her in long enough that she stumbled on the final step in surprise. That they were a slight at how domesticated she’d become felt like a slap in the face more than she ever thought that word should be.

It was after that point, when the weather was turning warmer and the fireflies were starting to float through the woods and over the field as the snow gave way to rain and then to sunshine, that she finally decided enough was e-fucking-nough.

Sitting in the swinging hammock chair, knees crossed and feet danging just off of the ground in a state of complete relaxation, she knew that it would give the desired outcome the moment he was compelled to arrive as she lent down to light the single candle and set herself swinging calmly with a push of her bare toes in the warm dirt as the nighttime creatures began to scurry back to their holes and nests as the sun began its journey across the sky for the day. Jo felt the clumps of dew coated grass and the dry dirt brushing against the bottom of her foot as she swung her feet, waiting his arrival.

“A bit early for a house call, wouldn’t you think Joanna?” The clipped tone was from behind her shoulder, as if the man had thought it made a smarter choice to sneak up on her rather than appear in front, as if it would make any difference between them that he thought he could surprise her.

As if it wouldn’t result in a deep, dark growl from the dark shadows at the back of the tree trunk as the other demon stared with yellow eyes fixed on the new arrival. Jo felt herself smirking as she turned her head slightly to see the once King appear to almost jerk to the side in the surprise of his own at the other’s attendance. As if he thought Jo would have come up with a plan that had her unsupported and alone in such a space. Not that she thought she needed any back up when dealing with this demon - the sigils carved into the tree trunk behind her ones that she’d seen as a child and copied direct from her father’s battered old journal ones that acted like those of the angelic type she had once used right before meeting this very same demon, and if that weren’t enough, she still had her knife tucked into her boot, ready to show him as good a time as those who’d been under it had if he tried a single thing - but when she’d growled out the suggestion that very first time, the solemn paw on her knee and the whispered query if he wanted to help that got an equally solemn nod had made the choice simple.

“I just thought I’d catch you on one of the gaps in my busy schedule. I’d had it mentioned how much you’d love to catch up with me sometime,” She replied, smirk wider still as the suited demon shifted away from the tree where the wolf padded forward and then stood at the ready, eyes focused entirely upon him, and moved to kick at the small alter Jo’d assembled to summon him with a look of disdain. “So since I am the busy one of us, after that whole...dethronement-”

“I was not dethroned, you tempestuous brat.” “Weren’t you? I thought you got bumped down to just the Crossroads.” “Oh what you think and what is reality is often so very clouded, Joanna.” “I doubt that very much.”

“Is this what you requested me here for? To discuss the hierarchy of your future home?” Crowley hissed the questions out, the accent making the words seem all the more sinister as he kicked at the bowl and candle again until they fell and the candle rolled to a stop near her toes and the flame suddenly flared up a little more than such a candle should ever achieve. Jo pulled her foot up for a moment before it flared back down and then out, her expression turning from surprise to bemusement. “You desperate to know where you’ll eventually fit in, are you?”

Usually such barbs from anyone else - from the asshole monster, from another demon with the most evil of intents once upon a time, from the dark haired woman and her angelic puppet, from the dark haired girl with the same face but evil intent, from the face she saw in the mirror every morning - would make her shrink, but from this one made her let out a peal of laughter into the crisp morning air as she lowered her feet to the ground fully. From the demon she all but vanquished, it was more of a joke than any comedian’s set could dream of.  “Oh, that’s funny! That’s very very funny. I didn’t know Hell had stand up comedy nights, you must have been practisin’ that set for quite a while.”

She could tell immediately that wasn’t the reaction the demon was after, as Crowley’s smirk slowly morphed into a look that would have made her shudder in fear once upon a time. That would possibly still make the hair on the back of her neck stand up if she didn’t know there was little to be frightened of while the darkness stood next to her.

“You and I both know you do not find that so entertaining an idea-” “No, but from you it’s hysterical.” “I look forward to seeing just how... hysterical you find it down the line in the depths of Hell one day, Joanna.”

“If you’re still kickin’ by then!” She rebuked cheerfully, pushing herself out of the hammock and letting the multicolored fabric swing behind her as Jo got to her feet and stepped forward, over the upturned bowl and moved to stand defiantly before the King of the Crossroads. Hands firmly on her hips, and the gentle wind of the morning not bothering her at all despite the coolness on her bare legs. “But that’s beside the point ain’t it? You want to know why I summoned you here.”

“You do know some of us are more important than others, darling, so I’d appreciate the abbreviated version. If you know what that word means.” “So witty. So funny. No wonder you’re the king’a laughs.” “I’d watch your tongue if I were you, Joanna, before you find it missing one day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jo snarled back at his own nasty growl, and if she’d held a mirror up beside his face then she might even recognize the same curl of their lips as the pair glared at one another in hate and disdain for a long moment. Pulling back a second, not giving ground but resettling her position to herself as in control of this conversation, the blonde rolled her shoulders a few times adjusting as the demon’s own snarl turned into a dark sneer at the thought she’d backed down to him. “Anywho - you’re here so I can tell ya it’s the last time ya goin’ to be on this property.”

“What makes you think that, darling? You think that you can command-” “Oh, that’s exactly what I think, darlin’.”

There was a beat, as Jo watched the sneer trip for a second to disbelief before coming back full force with even more venom than she remembered seeing in him since she stared him down across the edge of a trap with two fingers tracing out and finalizing the symbols that would suck his borrowed power from him and back where it belonged; and taking another step back, Jo found herself smirking as she sat back down into her hammock seat as she awaited what was sure to be an explosive response.

“You dare to think that you - a pathetic, stupid, insolent and worthless little human - can command me to do anything? You believe you’re something greater than me?!” Crowley’s voice was slowly rising as he spoke, the relaxed hands in his pockets drawing out as the words spilled out of him, fists formed tightly before he stalked towards where she swung gently with a finger out and pointed straight at her as he practically bit down around the words. “You do not frighten me, Joanna, you do not dictate to me and you do not command me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Crowley,” She replied, swinging her foot as she heard a growl coming from beside her as if trying to hurry her along or confirm that it wasn’t her commands that the demon should be worrying about but she couldn’t quite tell which. “I’m not even commandin’ you by the way - I’m givin’ you a friendly warnin’. Do not come back here again, there is nothing here for you; and if you do come back, you’ll never be able to again.”

Crowley growled in response, his hands retreating back to his pockets whereby she could no longer tell his frustrations by them alongside the twists of his face, and even glared towards the dark, furred demon that Jo felt the tickle of his fur next to her foot as she swung back a little too far. “And you, Marquis, are following the little girl’s commands too?”

Jo let out a small yelp as she felt the side of the hammock press in closer to her and then the giant wolf’s head appeared, white teeth snapping out at the other harshly, as he pushed past her towards the other at the comment. Pulling her feet up into the nest of the swinging fabric, pressed unfortunately against the hot, heavy haunches of the demon-wolf beside her, Jo looked on in surprise at the almost silent battle of wills happening as the wolf moved further - her seat swinging a little as the support left - and forced the other demon stumbling back at his approach. They looked so clearly were at odds and the match more favoring the one cloaked in fur and darkness this time around if they’d square up from what she could feel of the electricity in the air, a hand reaching up to smooth down the fly-aways caught up in the static energy radiating from the pair.

There was a moment of silence, and Jo found herself relaxing back into the warm cocoon of the woven colorful fabric that held her so comfortably and safe compared to the friction outside of her locket, before the Marquis sat down with an almost smug look upon his face as the King of the Crossroads took a minute footstep backwards.

“Well then,” Crowley’s voice was tight for a moment, his accent clipping the words off for a moment as he tugged and righted his sleeves as if they had moved even an inch from where they were supposed to be, before his eyes drew back to the blonde’s with a harsh glint to them. “What is it you believe you have to your name that gives you the right to order me about, little girl?”

“More than you could know-” “So nothing then?” “If you do not leave us be, I will show you.”

“What have you got then, Joanna?” The demon snarled back, stepping closer again and Jo could feel the way the Marquis’ head merely tilted but made no move to interject as the British man approached and held either side of her hammock in his hand, dragging her closer as if tugging open the sides of her locket to reveal her secrets. “What can you do to stop my visiting my dear friend? Or acquainting myself with your other little friend? What can you do to - what was it? - make me never do so again?”

“I’ve got-” “You have nothing, little girl. You are not a Winchester - you have no demon killing blade. You’re not an angel - you cannot sanctify me. You are nothing.”

“I have an angel blade.” Jo hissed the words out, leaning forward towards the demon’s leer as he’d ran an eye over her considering until she pushed up towards him into his own space in return. The look that flashed across his face felt powerful for her - the way there was a hint of surprise and hesitance as she shifted her weight forward, tilted towards him and pushing him back out of her domain - and pushing forward further, her hands wrapping and gripping over the demon’s own live vices as she shifted her weight, almost standing a top the hammock chair as she pressed into his realm with a sneer. “I also have a knife, still imbued with the power of Purgatory that someone so thoughtfully gifted to me.”

“You’re bluffing-” “I also have an archangelblade-” “Liar!”

“And worst of all for you? In case that driving through your heart wouldn’t be enough to burn you from the inside out all the way out of existence?” She snarled harshly, standing upright and nails digging into the other’s hands who looked up at her in a mixture of disbelief and disdain, his lips curled harshly and the flex of power and electricity in the air again as they stared one another down, the flash of shadows through the others eyes reflecting back her own fire to her. Jo could feel it - powerful and dark and making her skin crawl - but releasing her grip over his hands to hold the wooden bar above her that held her attached like the loop of a locket attached to the chain that was the tree, the woods, the field, every piece of ground that surrounded the little house far behind them, her lips twisted into a dark grin as she hissed the next words out, “I can just lock you away-”

“How.. would you achieve such a task, little girl?” Crowley returned the question with the same amount of loathing as her own words as he flexed his powers over her again trying to crush her down back from her stance; but Jo could feel something holding her upright through it as if there was something else supporting her defiance in return that she thought may have a very furred origin. “You wouldn’t be killing virgins to throw me into the less entertaining afterlife, you’re too frightened of your grubby little soul going downstairs to do so.”

“No. But I can lock you away in a little box I own.” “Oh really? A box?” “Yes, a box. You’d have great company in it. I have some... friends of yours already locked away in there.” “Do tell, little Joanna, what little box and which little friends are you trying to frighten me with? I know for a fact I’m not at all interested in seeing your box.”

Jo rolled her eyes at that, before hissing quietly. “Maybe you’ll see it the next time you’re here. And as to who’s inside?” She slowly stepped down from the fabric beneath her to solid ground, the same support helping her push through the electric-air that buzzed as she glared back with a tiny quirk to her lips in a smirk. “At the moment it’s a handful of mooks and the last of your kind I sucked into it was someone called... Sitri?”

There was a beat and then the forces from both sides that had been waging around her evaporated as the black eyed demon stumbled a foot backwards at the name while the demonic wolf jerked himself to his feet as well, pads kicking up at the dirt almost furiously for a moment as the Crossroads King jerked back even further. She’d been surprised the demon had thought himself all that when she had trapped him inside the strongest trap she had known of before a twenty-hour straight exorcism to drag the demon free of his form and into the  inky depths of her father’s heirloom. She’d looked up the name afterwards - the twelfth and a Prince at that - but all she could think at the time was just how much she needed a glass of water and a hamburger.

“You dare-” “Now, I’m not playin’ ‘round.” “I don’t believe a word of that, darling.”

“Well, how ‘bout this, Crowley,” She replied, running a hand up to pull her hair back from her face with a smile. “You head on back to your important work and then you go see if you can find who I say I have-”

“Like I believe a word you say.” “See if you can locate him, and if you can - then you know my threats are nothin’, and if you can’t...”

“If I can’t, what?” The demon returned with a smug look, as he tugged his jacket back into line and looked down at her. “I don’t come back here? Leave you and the other one to your happy little abode-”

“And leave Grey alone.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, as if Jo’s words could be seen drawn out in front of one another and waiting for the other to accept them. There was no sign to it, that Crowley was even considering their existence, until a growl started up again - as the wolf glared at the pair of them, the support for the statement but not the rest of what have been revealed - and the Crossroads King took another, almost imperceptible step backwards.

The sharpest shards of the sun’s first light streaked across the field behind him, his face thrown into the same darkness that was inside, and Jo was forced to blink first. Her hand came up to shield her eyes from the glint that went straight into her face, and when she managed to blink her eyes clear of the echo of the bright light from her gaze - there was nothing to look at and the smell of sulfur and ozone in the air.

Blinking her eyes rapidly, Jo wasn’t surprised to open her eyes to see the bright white teeth in her face, and what might be perceived in a real wolf as a rabid snarl directed right back at her as she took a step back, sinking into her woven cocoon. The wolf approached again, and stepping backwards as the fabric draped about her and she ended up against the trunk of the tree she had hung from; and giving a sigh, Jo muttered quietly, “He was causin’ trouble, and I didn’t know who it was.”

There was a louder sound, as if suspicious, for a long moment, before Jo added gently. “I don’t know how to reverse it, and I didn’t think he was even a friend of yours, anyways.” That got another noise one she thought, as the shape stepped away and then turned to prowl off towards the house without another look at her, that was more of a laugh than she’d ever heard before from the demon.

Tucking her feet up under herself again as the sun started to warm up the air as well as the sky, Jo bit down on her bottom lip as she started to swing gently, wondering to herself if she’d once again succeeded in something to do with the foul demon.

[zenithzephyrs]

storytime

I hope writing this will be therapeutic. Rambling may help against this occassional stifling feeling. It may be a satisfying outlet. Sometimes I wish people connected knew or cared to know my side, but over the years I have been too afraid of the embarassment from attracting attention to the matter. It is a taboo topic after all. Well, for years I have tried not to acknowledge that I am a victim of abuse. Not the physical kind but certainly mental and emotional. Everyone goes through bad relationships and breakups, that's how I rationalized what I went through. The fact it still has an impact even three plus years after it ended signifies that it is important. I shouldn’t undermine myself. This is the first time I’m writing about this relationship. I am aware as the teller that bias is inevitable. However I believe in the importance of presenting the situation as honestly as I can. Perceived bias would only serve to invalidate. I implore you evaluate any biases you may carry as well entering this story.

It all began in sophomore year of undergraduate. At the time almost everyone in my friend group was taking dreadful organic chemistry. As was necessary, we all spent a lot of time with each other in class, study groups, and office hours, so expectedly we grew closer. I didn’t know her well initially but I became attracted to a girl in the friend group. Certainly her looks played a part but I also liked the polished manner she conducted herself with. She always kept herself somewhat distanced in the group which made her mysterious and made me want to know her better. During the months of this crush, I worked to get closer and we did. I decided to tell her I liked her after having dinner with her. To which she rejected. With dissapointment I accepted her decision. Later that night we were all in the student center, studying. I was at a separate table and she asked to speak with me outside. I went and we talked more about “us” and I used this opportunity to make another case for myself. Finally she said “okay I’ll give it a try”. The visceral reaction I had still haunts me to this day. It was intense. It was my gut firing to me “this is wrong”. I wonder where it came from but I really wished I followed my gut that night. 

This relationship was over two years long so I’ll have to generalize. The relationship started off extremely rocky as she didn’t take me seriously in the beginning, need I remind you she was giving me a try. For another reason she was also a year older and expressed that because of her culture, having a man who is older was preferable. I felt more like a plaything and I was shamefully insecure. I didn’t believe she actually cared about me. Hearing about guys she actually had crushes on made me envious of what they received so easily. In particular I leaned there was a guy she liked who bore the same name as me and was also one year younger despite her insistence age was a factor with me. Moreover there were guys who liked her despite knowing she was in a relationship with me and one guy that was actually infatuated with her. Soon I learned he was even telling her “I love you” but she still texted, called, and met up with him while dating me those early months. I had entered the relationship wanting to respect her space. That was the first time I felt compelled to put my foot down and made her cut out that guy. Once the precedence was set, my insecurity lead to cut ties with any other guy who was perceivably a threat. There were others who were legitimately flirting with her. And others that in retrospect were not necessary to cut out. I am at fault for making her do that. Its unhealthy and it’s not something I would do now. It continued because it was mutual. From the beginning she made me cut out female friends unless she trusted them personally. Early on, neither of us believed in each other. About two months in I learned the only reason she agreed to date me that night was to get closer to the friends who were closest to me. She didn’t really care about me at first as I suspected, however now she was “about the relationship”. Learning I was being used obviously led my trust to suffer but I kept with it.

After years of reflecting, I know without a doubt what she wanted the most was control. I had to play servant or exactly whatever she wanted me to be regardless of how that made me feel. If I ever made changes to myself of my own volition, she would get angry. Her anger was expressed by treating me coldly and indifferently. This was highly effective as I really wanted the relationship to work and it hurt me. The changes I am talking about include things like if I get a new cologne without confiding with her. If I tried to lose weight. Once we were with a group of friends at a dance so I started dancing but she expressed disgust and shot me down; I never did that again. Whenever I deviated too much from her expectations, she’d take issue. Thus she was highly unsupportive and made sure my confidence was low enough so she could have her way. Low confidence has always been a problem of mine.

Medical school began in the first year of the relationship and rapidly I matured. I realized if I wanted to make this work in the long-term, I had to trust her. I was successful in actually no longer caring if her friends were male. I believed she had the sense that if she was leading a guy on she would do the right thing. Jealousy was always a problem in previous relationships so this was a huge accomplishment for me and I was proud of it. I thought, I’ll give her trust and the time for her to come around. Of course it was never applied to me. Despite acknowledging she had a jealousy issue that she “wanted to fix”, the difference is I actually worked and did it. It got to the point where I was scared to make any female friends that first year of medical school and guilt was trained into me. There was even a close long-time mutual friend who lost her mother that year, and did not have many friends besides me. I wanted to support her but my ex took issue with that. I even had to do a few meetings secretly because I believed I should be there. Ultimately my ex proposed it was either her or cut ties with that friend. This was the essence of why I wanted to become a doctor, to help people. I am ashamed I chose the latter. 

Here comes my stubborn hopefulness. If anything bias would work against me because throughout the relationship I always blamed myself. I believed her and valued her thoughts more than anyone elses. I believed she was too good for me as she made sure I was aware. Therefore every criticism I took to heart. For instance, early on she criticized my wardrobe so I began binge shopping, spending maybe even a thousand dollars to feel like I was good enough for her. Those early days of cutting out the guys that wanted to be with her, made me feel like cutting out my long-time female friends was justified. Of course it was certainly not. But I foolishly believed it would help her like me. I wanted her to focus on me. I did not want to feel insignificant next to her any longer. I wonder why she had to treat me with such disregard.

I’ve said alot but it was the fights that brought hell on earth. She admitted later, to the benefit of my closure, that she purposely picked frequent fights with me. It went like this. I would do something hardly worth anything more than a quick reprimand. For example, crack a slightly insensitive joke. Respond to a text not “loving” enough. Anything she could find as ammunition she would instantly target and drag it out. She’d get angry and criticize me until I began reacting negatively. I would be incredulous because for me the reasons were never nearly as important as not damaging the relationship with the fights. The moment I responded negatively, she would clam up and give me the cold treatment for hours or even days. Again I was so vulnerable to that old feeling of indifference. This move would infuriate me to no end. Repeated cycles of this would push me to my wits end, leading to explosive, never physical, but verbal fights to get a reaction out of her. Once she pushes me to that point, she’s set. She can use it against me to get off easy while I blame myself afterwards for exploding. Her truth is that she was never ever at fault, exemplifed by the single digit times she has ever apologized to me in a 2+ year relationship. Whether she actually believed she was faultless, I do not know. I’m not sure which one would be worse. Many of the comments made by me in those high anger states were derogatory and really mean. I am responsible for that and I hate what I was at that point in life. 

Despite this I worked in vain to keep the peace. These fights were happening multiple times every week, for over a year. Almost always provoked by her, with no exaggeration. The toll this takes on a person mentally is really hard to describe, and made me a colder person I had to recover from. I begged her every fight, “please stop getting angry over the little things”, “It is messing me up, let’s work to keep the peace in the relationship”. She’d verbally acknowledge my side, quickly follow always with the incessant word “but”, and state her case and demands. I need to emphasize that the very next week she’d again target some other small issue, expertly apply cold treatment until I exploded, apologize to her for both things, and begged her to stop picking fights. Repeat. For this reason I never started fights with her because my priority was keeping as much peace as there could be. Clearly it can be seen how this behavior enacts control. She knew exactly what would make me tick and she exercised this ability loosely and irrespective of how I was feeling as a medical student. Never would she adjust to me or care if I was happy. I was like a servant. I worked hard in medical school just to make time for her.

If she ever needed something more potent for control than picking fights with me, it would be breaking up with me. They’d always come unannounced if her stress peaked. Immediately she’d give up. I guess the relationship never meant anything to her in those moments. I, the dumb sucker, would fight to get her back. If she agreed it came with new terms and conditions. This happened 8 or 9 times in the relationship, always in this fashion. In retrospect I was far weaker than I am now and in addition to no control in this relationship, I barely had any over myself. My life was dominated worshipping this girl. My only request was to “please stop attacking me”. No one knew what was going on because a requirement of hers was to never talk about our problems with others, especially not those we mutually knew. I was alone in this. Of course I know why the abuse remaining hidden was so important to her. 

 I went on a medical trip end of first year of medical school with study abroad. I had lost a lot of friends by that point. There I found people who were so incredibly supportive and made me feel valued. It built my confidence back up. Listening to the opinions of these new friends gave me the realization that this situation would never get better. I reflected on how there were many times that she would get mad if I was cheerful and in a better mood than her. This is a glaring red flag as it means my happiness had no place in the relationship. On that trip, I was enjoying myself while she wasn’t so she threatened to break up with me. I asked her to forgive me. Two days later during a call, she picked another fight. I had it this time. With the support of my trip buddies, a rediscovery of who I was as a person, and a flight away from her, I, for the first time, truly stood up for myself and ended it. After that we didn’t talk for about 4-5 months. 

One of my biggest regrets is reconnecting with her. This moment is actually silly and depressingly absurd. I have a headphone that can make calls with a button. One day I accidentally pressed the wrong edge of a button and it activated FB messenger voice call, and for some unknown damn reason it was calling her. I hung up in quite literally a second hoping she didn’t get any notification. Soon after she texted me asking “you called’? That really unsettled me.  I thought she had moved on, why was she still so attentive to me? Isn’t a break-up what she wanted for so long? I waited a few weeks but gave in and reached out to her. I could have not done that. It was a mix of returning back to medical school, losing that social support, and being stressed and lonely. She was very much for meeting up again. During that meeting hopeful me was in full force. Hoping she learned her lesson we could give it another try. It was because in retrospect I did love her. The good times were nice, but the bad times were just so frequent it overshadowed anything positive. During that meeting she said she would do things differently. A quick damper came after we expressed a desire to restart that I found out she was hooking up with one of the male friends I trusted her to hang out with during first year of medical school. I never dug for any information. We had been broken up so it was fine. But it brought up negative thoughts about how she may have been taking advantage of my trust during the relationship since I never asked for details. Who knows. It’s fine to expect sexual activity when single, but it doesn’t have to mean trust can’t be damaged. She also didn’t want to cut ties with him if we started dating again. So at this point I sobered up and I said this wouldn’t work and decided we should not try to salvage this. Then for the first time, she chased me. 

She kept apologizing and trying to get me back. It may have been my well trained low ego, but that really touched me. I kept persistent but eventually her promises were so great, that finally I agreed, hopeful for a new start to a better relationship. Once that happened it was all over. The day it happened, she switched to “well I’m going to do all this for you, what are you going to do for me?” She went back to criticizing, and cold treatment in only a few days. She then broke up with me out of the blue and completely cut ties with me in under a week.

It was all over so fast, I was so angry and so confused. I soon realized this was revenge for breaking up with her, an act she had utilized on me so many times without a thought. Once she had control back, she made the move of ending things on her terms. I had learned during those months after I broke up with her, she felt depressed and couldn’t sleep. I do not believe it's because she cared about me but that I got the better of her. In the end, I don’t think she ever loved me as compared to the control and what she invested in the relationship. She had the completely random opportunity to end things with her the victor and she was successful. I hope you can sleep well with yourself now.

That is one aspect. What affects me more frequently nowadays is my sadness towards the lost friend group, the trust of other friends I’ve sacrificed, and the thought of friends I was prevented to ever make. After the breakup the friend group sided with her. One of the members is my ex's best friend so of course would support her no matter what the truth was. Even a year after the breakup, I knew this friend was still saying malicious comments about me to people I knew. My ex is lucky. I was a goner. The guy side deferred to the ladies running the group and essentially all let me go. This is despite the great irony that I knew she hated many of the current group members, at least while we were dating. Yet she is celebrated and I am excluded. It feels incredibly unfair to go through all this and have no one from the group even nod in the direction of my side. If they knew, would anything change? Or am I just a nuisance? They’re probably all fine without me so I should stay away. The point has been made as to why I would want to maintain friends like that anyways. Fair point. I do really care about connections with people, sometimes too much. Anyways, these thoughts are probably why for years I barely told my story. Well for my own sake, this is my story. 

PS. I am now in an amazing, healthy relationship with a girl who treats me the right way. She is so good to me that at first I was like, isn't this relationship going too smoothly? Being in a healthy relationship has really helped me reflect on the wrong delusions with the aforementioned. I now know I am capable and deserve to be in a loving relationship. She makes me happy and I am in a much better place. Hope would not exist without her.