#im still deep in my comfort zone but this post is about realization being the first step | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikareo · 10 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ WHEN SPRING COMES . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀呪術廻戦 ; megumi fushiguro x fem reader

⊹ ⠀⠀ your love for megumi can be compared to a snowflake; delicate and beautiful, stunning and unique. however, spring is coming— and eventually, all snowflakes have to melt. (1.2k)

contains; hanahaki au, rejection, angst, implied death author's note; this is 2 years old pls forgive me,, n hanahaki used to be my favorite trope IM SORRY I POST IT SM ajskl

it’s been over a decade, fifteen years really, of the never-ending winter that you’ve grown so accustomed to. the settled snow has been your comfort zone, a weighted blanket tying you down to his presence since primary school, freezing the ribbon that tied your heart to his for eternity— though only now, you realize that ribbon is a chain, shackling you to a hopeless series of unrequited feelings that could never be returned. you’ve imprisoned yourself to an idea of love that never was. love that you viewed as your personal one-of-a kind snowflake between the two of you; something special and passionate with no barriers or boundaries, which softly flurried around you for your entire lives...

...but snowflakes melt when they touch the ground.

the soft powder is nothing but water now; dirtied water on the blood-ridden pavement, speckled with pink petals of a flower that you used to love. the snowflake is dying. it’s dead. and spring has come.

“tilt your head up,” megumi murmurs with the softest, most lovely voice you’ve ever heard. “you’ve still got some on your chin.”

he’s being generous with his words. you know your skin is stained red, dripping with blood and broken leaves that refuse to be wiped away. luckily for you, he tells you that red is his favorite color— that the scarlet shade compliments your complexion and makes you look beautiful— but you know he’s lying.

the deep clots and black chunks would send anyone into a nauseous fit, he’s too kind to you.

you wish he would be horrible. that he’d hurdle insulting comments, awful remarks, and unforgivable curses— but he’d never.

— and you love him for that.

it’s too bad that he doesn’t feel the same.

he never has.

he never will.

“does that feel alright?” his washcloth is cold and damp. it’s a muddied mahogany after previously being a gorgeous forrest green. “it’s still warm, right?”

you nod, believing that one more lie won’t hurt your already dreadful situation. “i think you’ve got it all,” the reflection before you is one you recognize, a person of the past that you can’t seem to let go of no matter how many hours you spend wishing them away. “thank you, really.”

despite the normal appearance you now display, with rose-tinted cheeks and swollen eyes, there’s a garden growing in the sink. vines slithering their way down the drain as the water stream attempts to rid them from view. torn tulip petals are strewn across the bathroom floor, and in another life perhaps it would have been romantic to see a flower petal pathway leading towards the bedroom— that’s not your life though. you’ve been left with emptiness and a void of feelings with no return.

“i’m always here to hold your hair back, i hope you know that.” he smiles with kindness, a genuine goodness that can only be portrayed by him. he’s the best person you know. there’s no mystery as to why you fell for him all those years ago, and why that love has followed you through adulthood. “it’s almost pretty…y’know, in a morbid way.”

hm, funny. morbidly beautiful.

“yeah,” you reply in a snap. “maybe they can be my funeral flowers.”

you've made him angry.

“don’t even joke about that, what the hell?” megumi always gets upset when you say those type of things. his vision turns red and he’s blinded by his own sadness that he forgets that he’s the cause— he’s the calamity that uprooted your formally blissful life. he’s the one who fell in love with someone new.

winter could’ve lasted forever had he not gone to class that day.

it could raged onwards had he not met her.

you could’ve been hand-in-hand dancing beneath the moonlight on a snowy eve if she hadn’t asked for directions to the library. his kisses could’ve been peppering your face rather than hers if only you’d been more fun, more outgoing, more persuasive, more everything, then maybe he would’ve stayed.

but megumi didn’t stay...

...he left.

he left as the leaves grew on the barren trees and pollen drifted through the breeze. he said his brief goodbyes to your heart while his chased her’s in yearning. he didn’t so much as glance your way as the hanahaki roots planted themselves in your heart— only choosing to show concern after they’d already grown terminal. he disappeared from your point of view before you could even acknowledge his absence— which was and continues to be unfair.

megumi was yours and now he isn’t. it’s as simple as that. as awful and simple as that.

“we both know i’m dying.” you murmur, hands folded together as if they're the only things you have left to hang onto. you wish one of those hands could find their place in his warm palm, but the black marker ink etched onto his skin in the shapes of mini hearts and smiley faces are more than enough to drive you away. “there’s no point in denying it anymore. i can barely breathe.”

he shakes his head, backing away from you despite your obvious need for physical comfort.

you thought he knew you better than that. you thought he’d know exactly how to ease your pain, but he doesn’t. he’s very clearly not your soulmate, but for some reason your heart tells you otherwise.

“you’d be able to if you’d just get the surgery,” he says. “please.”

he's begging for something he could solve.

megumi's eyes look dark under the overhead light. “please don’t make me have to see you in a casket.”

the surgery in which the roots are removed from your heart is a tricky one. a procedure that many endure and survive, where they get to continue living their lives healthy and happy— though, are they truly living if they’re void of the love that once consumed them?

“i wouldn’t be able to live with myself, you know that.” your voice is firm, after having had this conversation many times before, “i’d know a part of me was missing. you’re too important for me to just…erase.”

if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’d rather remain in your eternal winter for the rest of your soul’s existence. yes, it’s cold and dreary, with little to no sunlight and hope of a new love or progression in your relationship with him— but it’s familiar. you find it comfortable and there’s no fear in the feelings that you’re already so accustomed to living with everyday. the thought of spring is terrifying. the season following your beloved winter that represents rebirth and new blossoming love is one that you’ll never come to know— which is completely by choice. there’s no point in limping yourself towards spring when there’s no one you’d rather love than megumi.

these hanahaki tulips won’t see the sunshine they yearn for when the grass regains its color. they’ll simply wither away with you and the lock that refuses to fall, holding your feelings for him in an eternal slumber that will never be woken.

“i love you.” you say, whilst knowing that that’s the last thing he wants to hear. “i love you so much.”

your confessions of love are a reminder of your little time left, and he hates it.

he wishes it would all stop; but it can’t and it won’t.

perhaps he should’ve given you a chance when the opportunity arose. then you may have been happy. however, he knows that there’s no forcing love.

you’ve been doomed since the moment you’d laid eyes on him.

love isn't your happiness.

“i’ve only ever loved you.”

it's your demise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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bobtheacorn · 2 months

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tagged by @plothooksinc and @sroloc--elbisivni ! Finally have a chance to sit down at my desk - only to procrastinate! lmao TY for the opportunity!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

75! I have probably ten or so more that i never crossposted from ffdotnet, but they're all Old! Given that FF took a huge L and was apparently down for several days, I might find incentive to move them. but! unlikely 🤣

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

815,373!

Nicole Shut the Fuck Up Challenge: FAILED lmao

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Actively: I'm trying to write various stuff for risetmnt, usagi yojimbo, and digimon adventure/02.

Not actively, published:

Voltron: Legendary Defender (24) One Piece (Anime & Manga) (13) Luca (2021) (5) 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) (3) Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02 (3) Digimon Adventure (2) Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater (2) 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime) (2) 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files (Anime & Manga) (2) The Hobbit - All Media Types (2) Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) (1) Saiyuki (Anime & Manga) (1) Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005) (1) The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien (1) The Adventure Zone (Podcast) (1) The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom (1) Animaniacs (1) Zootopia (2016) (1) Gravity Falls (1)

Basically if I watch or read something and the brainworms get me for even a moment i will write at least one (1) fic for it! Even though I may not finish or even post it! 😆 Occasionally it becomes a whole mental illness (STILL cannot believe i pumped out 24 goddamn fics for voltron. What a time to be alive LMAO)

4. Top five fics by kudos?

the hard beat of her heart - 1,982!

WOW i didn't realize its had almost 2k now thats crazy af. My Bakugo and his Mom fic is THE banger!

so low you can hear - 1,866!

another holy fuck moment, this one is pretty surprising bc its a much older lunami fic but i saw a huge influx after OPLA so 🤣

tired and emotional - 1,466

my drunk teenagers vld fic had big hits, such as Pidge 'scrambling like a racoon' and two idiots (klance) eating eachothers faces under a public table and then fist-fighting their feelings! Not shocked that its up there bc it was super fun to write

i go there with you - 1,351

this started as mindlessly filling Wumptober prompts and escalated almost immediately into Whatever The Hell It Is Now and i love it dearly! hope i can finished it sometime...! 💀

maybe if it left a mark -1,295

ppl ate this one UP when i posted it and i still get pretty regular feedback for it so i'm not especially surprised that it's still hanging onto top 5 after all this time! its one of my favs too!

5. Do you respond to comments?

Not often 😭 Listen it takes all of my energy just to get the darn thing Written. I have a lot going on IRL, and i'm also horrible anxious about being Annoying 🧍‍♀️ so I just yeet things into the void 😅 told to be quiet to many times as I child w adhd and now I'm a traumatized adult who simultaneously doesn't know how to shut up but also catastrophises basic interactions. Rip

Anyway i DO read and cherish every single review/comment and they never fail to perk up my days!! obviously i reread them pretty regularly, and I love and appreciate yall!! 💜 sorry im awkward!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm more of a hurt/COMFORT girlie, so idk if any of my endings are SAD persay? Maybe a lil melancholy. maybe soul deep???

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

THIS is my cup of tea so it's: most of them 🤣 But significantly its my ooey gooey wedding finale for ANAFW

8. Do you get hate on fics?

got hate for a digimon fic i wrote abt Tai and Kari where someone was like 'this has so many red flags' and I was like Bro you don't show your siblings physical affection? Skill issue.

9. Do you write smut?

writing (and reading) smut is pretty new for me bc i'm on the sex-repulsed side of aro/ace but SOMETIMES !!!fictional!!! romance ETC compels me enough that i'm like Hm Lemme try that. I like to expand out of my comfort zones every now and then, so it's usually a turbulent but interesting exercise 🤣

MOST of the "spicy" stuff I write, I would consider pretty tame tbh? (or not very good 💀) I'm sorta vague on purpose, so if you come in expecting some delicious smut or something I am so sorry that that is not the part that interests me 💀💀

Someone who worked on Steven Universe said that Peridot's fixation on romance/shipping was "archeological" because she's aspec af and d'you know what I'm feelin it!

I love a dig site!

Makes no goddamn sense! Compells me tho.

10. Craziest crossover?

don't think i have a single one in my repertoire YET AS I TYPE THAT OUT i realize usagi yojimbo/tmnt is technically a cross-over! Even if it is a sort of canon one? not sure it counts asfkjhlklf I was gonna say that they don't usually interest me. Clown face emoji

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

if i have, no one has pointed it out!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! I get requests pretty often to translate my fics and i'm fine with that as long as they link back to the original! i'm also fine if they don't i guess lmao what am i, the police?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I write The Most self-indulgent crap 24/7 3/65 and i will not hand any of the reigns to someone else rip. Love to brainstorm with others tho That's what makes the brain go brrrrrrrrr

14. All time favourite ship?

ugh its KLANCE, tormented me for like 5+ years and changed my brain chemistry for the better. I'm cringe but im free!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

*stares in 300+ WIPS* maybe that super long bagginshield fic

OH and that anafw timetravel sequel where Lance got pulled into the past/an adjacent timeline and nearly died about it. literally. THAT baby was angsty! rip

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! And characterization!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Chain of Events....! I don't know her 😭😭😭😭 Someone please introduce us. Also having too many ideas for the way a scene could play out and being paralyzed by Which is the Best One.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Sparingly and with Purpose!

19. First fandom you wrote in?

I know in my heart it was self-insert Dragon Ball Z when I was in like, middle school

20. Favourite fic you've written?

gonna list a top 5 bc I can't pick ONE salfjasdlkf

coyote - idk i fuckin LOVE how this one came together, i go back and read it sometimes and im like damn.

small impressions on his heart - this one makes me SO SOFT @ alberto Get Cherished, Idiot

steam: - THE underrated op fic of mine, its my FAV and no one else agrees! Tragedy!

as tenacious as dandelion weeds - i loved writing feral inosuke and his dumb backwards attitude. idk i love a soft one!

salvagable - truly my comedic prowess peeked with EGG SAUCE AND BREADED nothing else will ever compare

Imma tag: @big-meows @goodlucktai and anybody else no pressure who also needs ten minutes of procrastination to yell abt their stuff 💜

#tag game #asked #testing out my new desk and keyboard clickity clackety

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bluebuckstallion · 3 years

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the sun will rise again - mlp fic

part two this is part one! part two and so on will be updated/reblogged when they are out! contents: aj and big mac are like. 13 and 15. big mac realizes she is a trans woman, and is guided by applejack, but there is much more to it than just that lol. its also a little hard for her. sappy, feel-good, tough internal conflict but overall happy fic. paragraph one is previewed here, the rest is below the cut! (note: i am aware my blog makes posts a little hard to read bc of a glitch, i am trying to fix it at the moment, i apologize D: i rec reading it on tumblr mobile or highlighting the words as you read, im sorry!)

Big Mac shuffled his hooves awkwardly. Racing thoughts fought furiously, cluttering his hurting head, and he put a weary hoof against his temple in an attempt to clear the fog. No avail. It was as strong as ever, the rushing current of rip tide sweeping him in the more he struggled. He insisted he'd never felt this way before, trying violently to shake away the thought, it made him shudder. But deep down somewhere he knew, he couldn't hide this strong feeling he'd become so familiar with. It felt like home, but he was trapped inside with the windows boarded and the floorboards were so old they were making him fall through with every step, and there were thick dusty cobwebs everywhere he tried to rest his burdened hooves. He couldn't leave. Outside of his overflowing head, there was a faint knocking at his door, though he had tuned it out completely. His thoughts whirled, and everything was making *so* much noise, the ceiling fan, the electricity in the walls, the birds outside, even the trees being rustled by the evening wind. Everything was so loud, and so muffled and far away, so close and inside his ears, they twitched eagerly trying to bat the harsh noise away, all collected into one horrid ear-piercing amalgamation of staticy sound. His fur was disturbed by his blankets, and his teeth felt uncomfortable as they grit desperately in an attempt to relax, his eyes were dry despite how much and how hard he was blinking, it felt like even the smallest thing would throw him overboard in this thundering storm of unsettlement. -

The knocking got louder. "Big Mac!" The sound was lost in the chaos of it all, but it prevailed. "Big Mac!" There it was again. It didn't quite reach him yet, though. But my, was it there. Incessant. Pounding. Oh, the headache of it all. Just adding to the pile. It hesitated. "Big Mac." The gentle coo reached him, piercing through the overwhelmingly loud silence in the air, he felt this odd choking sensation in his throat when he registered the voice, so familiar and so loving. But would it continue to be after this? The thought scared him. Fear struck his spine in striking bolts, waves of dread sulked, creeping in and making their nest in his aching body. He was so tired of coming back to this again and again, but it plagued his mind like a cold. He realized his internal monologue had been ongoing - even though it hadn't really spoke - but alas he had been lost in his own downward spiral of paranoia again, and had forgotten to respond. "Yu- uh- eeyup?" he stuttered out like he was drowning, he felt and sounded like a silly foal learning to walk for the first time again. He pushed his hoof lightly against his throat, shocked at his own lack of voice. Usually he was calm and confident, knowing what he wanted to say, despite how little it ever was. However he feared this would give way to his sister finding out, that she would know something was awry with him. "Can I, uh, come in?" the voice questioned. He nodded, then processed he had forgotten to use his words, and managed a sheepish "Yup." "Uh, okay." She responded equally as softly, her voice leaving a tinge of confusion to be interpreted. Applejack trotted in, her hooves making the wood beneath her creak as the old house settled. She nudged the door shut behind her nonchalantly with her back hoof, not taking her gaze off of what was ahead of her. She made a gesture towards Big Mac's bed and tilted her head, knowing he was a horse of few words, moreso when he got this way. And goodness, how he could manage to get into his own head. Applejack understood the feeling, more than he was letting on. Applejack got up and sat down awkwardly, glancing at her hooves as they, too, dragged over one another slowly, she never did like eye contact. Big Mac was more fidgety - he was straight-up restless, as he clapped his hooves together ceaselessly, clicking them atop one another with a hard "Clink." The silence was substantial, but it wasn't like it bothered them, usually. It drove Big Mac up the wall, he was sweating buckets thinking about what Applejack could possibly say. *Did she find out? Does she know? Does she hate me? She hates you. She knows and she hates you. She'll never forgive you. She'll never see you the same-* his thoughts were cut off abruptly. "So, big brother," she chuckled stiffly, "what's on your mind?" Blunt and to the point. She looked upward briefly, catching a glimpse of his face, caught in an uncomfortable twist as his mouth hung downward and his eyes sunk, staring blankly ahead. Neither of them looked at the other, but this again, was not unusual. When she said 'brother,' the word stung like a mosquito bite. It was barely there, but just enough to irritate him. And it grew bigger the more he picked away at it and gave it the time of day. Maybe if he just ignored it it'd heal itself, he thought. Her words in general hung high above his head, and he had forgotten to respond with the way he was over-analyzing it a million different ways inside. What was on his mind, besides this scary, burning question gnawing him alive? He gave a lackluster response to divert any inkling of anxiety, "Oh, nothing," and with that he kicked his back hooves loosely up, and they swung back down heavily in the empty air. What else could he say? The silence sat for a couple of seconds. Too long for Applejack's liking, she was growing a bit impatient with his lack of answers. She looked up and moved her head upward in tune with her eyes, rolling her head from one shoulder to the other as her lips pouted and she let out a quick exhale. She looked down at her teetering hooves again. "Nothing..." she repeated, tapping her hooves together about three times, give or take, she wasn't paying attention. "Oookay.." she said in a quiet tone, and the cadence in her voice had shifted after this minute or two of waiting. She scratched the back of her ear. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself." She looked up and beamed what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, which came out rather awkward. It fell just as awkwardly. She wasn't the best at conveying emotion, but neither was Big Mac. They had that in common. "Ok, I'll spit it out, rapid-fire," she said funnily, holding her hooves up and moving one in front of the other and back again in tune with the quirky enunciation of the last word. If nothing else, she was making an attempt to lift his low spirit. She inhaled, "Is it about me? About Ma or Pa? *Granny?* Baby Bloom?" and with that she exhaled overexaggeratedly. It took a second, but the half-smile she had faded from her face as he stood there saying nothing, simply folding one hoof over his other arm, rubbing it rigidly and looking away, and what she hoped was not true, had hit her. It was about himself. "Oh.. brother," she whispered to him, "You can tell me anything," she reached her hoof up toward him, pulling it back when it was halfway there as she winced at his lack of response, not even a lean-in to her gesture, but she continued anyway. She gingerly put her hoof on his shoulder. Becoming more confident with her comforting, she rubbed his back gently. "So it's about you?" He took a second, and nodded somberly. "Hey, that's alright. Tell me what's on your mind for real now, when you're ready. If, you're ready." AJ's voice, he found, was quite calming. Big Mac shot a glance at her timidly, then down at her hooves, and back up at her, but he couldn't look too long in order to stop the waterworks from coming. He gulped dryly and looked at the wall, and after the ceiling. He watched the fan dodder decrepitly, but so sure of itself, it's purpose, rotating on it's axis, again, and again, and again. He wished he could be so sure of himself, he wasn't sure if he ever could be, though. And here, he found himself envying the rotating of a ceiling fan. What an interesting moment, he thought sarcastically to himself. Was this really where he was at? He zoned out briefly, watching the blades go in circles, and then snapped himself back to reality with a hard blink, a downward motion of his head, and a squeezing of his hooves. "I..." he started softly and then trailed off. He sighed in dejection. "I- Well, I am me. But... I'm not. I look in the mirror, and it's not me looking back. I know that sounds... stupid, but it's not me. It's not like it isn't who I am, it's just not me. And I, don't know why. I mean I think I do, but I don't - sometimes-" He took a second to collect himself and inhaled, exhaling sharply after, he put his hoof firmly against his chest, as if almost trying to coax the words out. "I'm me, but I'm not. I'm not who I'm meant to be, I, I was born wrong. My body is wrong," he shook his head, like trying to shake the bad thoughts away. "It's not mine. I was born with something wrong about me, outside, inside I'm me, but outside I'm not. But - I'm not bad or anything, it's just that there was something different. And, you know that funny feeling of those butterflies in your tummy when someone you like says your name? I'll get that, but I won't recognize my name as mine, but I do get that feeling when...ponies accidentally call me what they call fillies, even though they don't mean to and fix 'emselves right after, and they act like it's so wrong, but I still get that funny feeling of, goodness. It catches me off guard in the best way... my heart skips a beat. And I know I'm s'posed to like girls, but there was something wrong about me lovin' 'em... it feels like. I feel real guilty-like when I start getting all lovey about one. It feels like I'm not allowed, like there's somethin'.." he teared up, "different. About me." He emphasized the last word quite significantly. He began to finish, not wordvomitting as much as he was before, instead saying it slowly, as if he was really trying hard to get his thoughts out. "I- I think, I think if I were born in the right body I'd be happier, but I don't want to change me, I just...want to change how people *see me."* Applejack raised her eyebrows and looked down, pushing her hooves together. She couldn't move, and she didn't. Big Mac's welling up had turned to a tear, gently rolling down his cheek. He held his breath, eyes darting back and forth from his sister's gaze - or lack thereof. Applejack held her breath as well. "Big mac, well - gosh." she let out staggeredly, anxiously chuckling, raising her hoof to her chest as she exhaled bluntly. Big Mac felt it coming, Roaring and Crashing. The water was surrounding him still, no matter how subtle it was before, it had been growing this whole time. Internal dread multiplying like a bilious bacteria, out to get him and cover him in it's killing spores. It must've been at least neck-high now. AJ chuckled, "Big Mac, I love you no matter what. You're my family." She looked him in the eyes, "It's gonna be ok." And there was the straw that broke the camel's back. It came through gently, like a soft breeze through his hair in summer, but it broke him so, so ruthlessly. He bit at his bottom lip and released, his mouth turning to a shaky U-shaped frown, and he bawled. Oh, how he bawled. He lunged for his sister's arms, which quickly opened for him to land in. Applejack huffed as the wind left her with his impact, but she regained control of herself and softly smiled, tenderly hugging him back. His head rested on hers, as hers on his. "It's alright big guy," she laughed. "In fact, I think I know exactly what's up." She pushed him off cautiously, and held her hoof against his shoulder. His tears subsided slightly, he wiped them with a trembling hoof. "Have you ever thought that maybe you feel like you're in the wrong body, because you're really a mare? I know nobody sees you that way right now, but I could start if that's who you really are." Big mac's pupils constricted, and he felt a leap in his chest. A mare? He tried so hard to push it out, but he couldn't. A mare. A mare! He let out a small smile, "A mare..." he then promptly shook his head. "But, I can't be. I wish it was that easy, that I could just be a mare, oh I wish so bad AJ," he put his hooves together and shook them, like he was pleading. He pushed her hoof off of him, sighing and speaking again, his voice cracking from the tears and raw emotion, "But I never could. I couldn't. I wish I could, but I'm not allowed to." he sighed defeatedly. Applejack chuckled, "Says who? All it takes is you saying you can. And I'll be honest, I feel like a lot of people don't give it much thought whether they want to be a mare or not - they just are." It all clicked. They, just are. He processed it for a second, and thought, and the thoughts slipped into words, "I'm a mare," he whispered. He smiled, the most genuine smile he'd ever shown. "I'm, a mare." He laughed, looking at Applejack. "A mare! I'm a mare!" His smile faded slightly, "But Applejack, am I still allowed to like other fillies? I figure now I'll have to like colts, that's what I've heard at least, and I really don't want to-" despite his concerns, he still looked quite euphoric. Applejack laughed again, "No, Big Mac, you can still like mares. It doesn't work that way I'm pretty sure." She rubbed the back of her head, "If it's any help, you can do whatever you want... What feels right." She closed her mouth and grinned, waving her hoof in the air dismissively of any negativity, her eyes in the other direction. Stopping, she looked at the ground and fiddled her hooves, "I, I actually know a lot about how you're feeling," she spoke nervously, cautiously, dancing around her words like she had something she didn't want to admit to herself as well. "I, know how you feel - about liking mares and, and the wrong body an' stuff. Feeling like your body isn't yours, it doesn't belong to you and never will, unless you make a big change, or somethin'. I get it. I feel wrong when people say I'm a girl, but I don't reckon I'd feel right with them callin' me a boy or something either - I don't think I really feel like either." She paused, cutting herself off, "I don't expect that to make sense to you, I know it's kind of weird and all." Big Mac thought for a bit, and then nodded, "No, I get it. I mean - I don't, but, I know you're you, no matter what, and I don't care who you are, you're still my sibling." Big Mac smiled nervously, trying to make sure he was doing the right thing. "And you're my sister, Big Mac," Applejack smiled back at him. "Now, how do you feel about me calling you by girl terms? Like, sayin' she, and stuff..." she struggled to think of an example. "Oh! Like, if I meet someone, I'll tell 'em "Oh Big Mac? She's my big sister!" Applejack let out a wide twinkling grin, feeling confident and proud with supporting her sister's feelings. "I, I like that." Big Mac said shyly, and she did. "Wait, how do I do the same for you?" she questioned. Applejack stalled, she really didn't think she'd get this far. "I think... I really like being called he, and brother and such. Although to be honest I'm not your sister and I'm not really your brother, and I still like other fillies - but I'm not one of them, or not in the same way, and - I don't know, it's a little confusing. I think the only way that I'm a filly is in the sense that I'm a mare who likes other mares. I don't really know what any of this is called," he voiced embarrassedly. "I wish I did." Big Mac smirked, "It's okay you don't, I don't know either. And we can learn together, little brother." She fluffed Applejack's hair playfully and her smirk became a toothy smile. Applejack laughed and joined her smiling. "Thanks," he said, quite gratefully. "To be honest, I've known this for a really long time, I just didn't know how to say it," he looked out the window longingly, "I wish I knew how to tell Ma and Pa, or Granny," he laughed a little, "and I don't even know how to tell a baby," he uttered, trying to lighten the mood a little after bringing it back down. Big mac grinned, "Why don't we go out to the orchard, little brother?"

#applejack mlp #big mac mlp #mlp fanfic #mlp fic #mlp writing #mlp au #mlp #applejack #big mac #trans applejack #trans big mac #my little pony #lesbian applejack #lesbian big mac #orchard blossom #trans au #the sun will rise again

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keichanz · 5 years

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Another Day in Hell || Part 2

.....uh....i can explain.

except i really, really can’t. fuck.

note: this is not based on The Walking Dead. i haven’t seen the show, but i’m thinking about maybe starting to get a few ideas because i have no idea what the fuck i’m doing.

another note: the need for code/nicknames will be explained in the next chapter or possibly the one after.

also: part 3 of Move Your Body will be posted tomorrow.

Read on AO3.

Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3

It was a struggle, but after Kagome fell asleep, Inuyasha finally managed to tear his gaze away from her after an embarrassing amount of time – long enough that had she been aware, he was fairly confident she would had called him a creeper for it – and went about tidying the space for lack of anything better to do. Well, better than standing there like an idiot for an undetermined amount of time gawking at the slumbering woman in his bed. Not only would she call him a creeper, but he’d feel like one so that was off the list of things to do, so distracting his mind with meaningless cleaning it is.

It wasn’t very large, perhaps the size of the standard studio apartment, the walls were brick, the floor was cement, and it suited Inuyasha’s needs perfectly. Sure it was chilly more often than not, it smelled funny, and sometimes he saw a rat or two, but none of that ever bothered him and besides, it was better than nothing. And he was proud of his little shelter. He’d transformed it from a wrecked and dirty building into a safe zone, using what he had at his disposal to make his life a little easier. It was only a bonus that it had working plumbing and untouched food and supplies in the back, suggesting that he had been the only one to survive long enough to venture further in and discover it all.

He had found the place a couple months ago and claimed it as his own, eliminated all the undead inside, dragging their bodies outside in front of the shop, and making a clear statement that this particular shop was off limits. It worked for the most part; occasionally he’d get the odd demon sniffing around for shelter or a curious human searching for supplies, but he always managed to chase them off or if he had to, maim or kill. Humans that had lost their sanity and regressed into nothing short of a slaughtering madman were nearly just as rampant as the undead fuckers that walked around with a hunger for human flesh and he’d eliminated his fair share of them.

Inuyasha hadn’t lied to Kagome earlier; he really hadn’t killed another human unless they tried to kill him first. He didn’t like killing needlessly, especially when there were so few demons and humans left after the world went down the shitter and became a living hell. It was a dog eat dog world – he fucking hated that analogy if he were being honest, but it was accurate – and Inuyasha did what he had to do to survive. It was never easy, it was by no means pretty, but it was necessary and he’d accepted that long ago.

Often Inuyasha wondered that if it hadn’t been for his friends, he would have gone down a very similar path as the human murderers and allow his demon blood to overwhelm him, turning him into a bloodthirsty creature with no remorse and no mercy. It was a terrifying thought so he never dwelled on it for long, merely shaking his head and offering his silent gratitude to whoever would listen.

Stooping to grab Tessaiga up off the floor and shove it back into his belt loop, Inuyasha sighed and started collecting the trash to take to the dumping site tomorrow, tossing the bloody rags, Kagome’s ruined shirt, and plastic bags he’d filled earlier in the week with miscellaneous rubbish into the bin. He’d learned the hard way that leaving bloodied clothing and rotting food outside behind the shop attracted all kinds of creatures with a keen enough nose to smell it. After dispatching a hoard of investigating deadies for the fourth time in a single week he’d decided enough was enough and started dumping his trash into a large pit about a mile’s walk away.

Pausing, Inuyasha turned to glance at his occupied bed once more and frowned. He never minded the walk, and most of the time even preferred it, but perhaps this time it would be a smart idea to use the ATV. He kept it hidden and hardly ever used it because gas was a precious commodity, but the thought of leaving Kagome alone for any stretch of time unsettled him. He didn’t like the idea of taking her with him either, especially with a useless arm, but at least if he left her here she’d be safe and he’d only be gone for a maximum of ten minutes anyway.

Kagome sighed and shifted in her sleep, a little frown puckering her brow briefly before it smoothed out and she settled down again. Realizing he was staring, Inuyasha once more tore his gaze away and decided he should go over inventory to see what he needed.

Growling at himself, he grabbed the notebook he used to keep tabs on inventory and started with his weapons stash first. Ammo was a given and he jotted that down, for his Glock and the rifle with the scope he kept on top of the bookshelf, used for long range shooting. He still had three boxes left for his Sig so he didn’t have to worry about that. He was running low on mineral oil for Tessaiga, though, so he added that.

Food wise, he was good on non-perishables, but made a note to get bags of ice, a case of water, and after a brief pause, more ramen. Medical supplies were stocked. Flicking a glance at the haphazard box of clothes, then to Kagome, he wrote down women’s clothes and other. He figured she’d tell him what she needed so he didn’t bother listing any feminine products, and he was counting on Sango or Ayame maybe having a few things they could donate. He had no idea how long she’d be staying with him or even if she would – he didn’t know her story, if she’d been separated from family or what – so for now he thought it safe to assume she’d be staying for a while, which meant eventually she’d be meeting everybody after she was healed and had regained her strength.

Inuyasha grunted and scanned his list, idly tapping the pen against the notebook. Matches, lighter fluid, gasoline, firewood, and blankets he was good on, but he marked off flashlights and batteries as a critical need. He checked how much was left of the ingredients for homemade bombs – the things were incredibly useful when going up against massive hoards of undead – and added those to the list. He’d gotten lucky yesterday and found a bag filled with toiletries and other random items that he knew the girls would appreciate so he crossed that off his list.

Looking it over one last time, Inuyasha conceded that all in all it wasn’t that bad. The items most difficult to retrieve would no doubt be the ammo and water, but Inuyasha wasn’t afraid to play dirty if he had to. It was a kill or be killed world, and he’d be damned if he was offed by one of those undead fuckers or a mere human with a possessive streak.

“Fuck my life,” Inuyasha muttered as he dropped the notepad onto the table and wandered over to the washer-turned-cooler to grab a beer.

Alcohol was also a rare commodity, but he was lucky enough to have an entire back room full of the stuff. He wasn’t a huge drinker to begin with – getting drunk during these times was dangerous and just downright foolish – but every once in a while he didn’t mind kicking back with a cold one, take a moment to breathe and thank god that he’d survived another day.

Kagome chose that moment to make another soft sound in her sleep and Inuyasha found himself once more staring at her as she grunted before abruptly rolling onto her stomach, squirming around and wrapping her good arm around the pillow then going still.

Inuyasha stared, cursed, and then abruptly gave up, stomping over to the puke-green armchair and plopping down with a heavy sigh. Stretching his legs out and getting comfortable, he uncapped his brew, knocked back a few mouthfuls, and settled back into the worn cushion as he propped his head in his hand and crossed his booted feet at the ankles.

Kagome... His eyebrows dipped into a thoughtful frown as he studied her, claws idly tapping against the chilled glass of his beer. Her face, relaxed in slumber, was directed toward him and his eyes tracked her features, to her small nose, delicate jaw, and full lips. Despite looking a right mess, her hair a tangled mop on her head, dirt smudged onto her skin along with dried blood, she still managed to look beautiful to him. She was trim, physically fit, and she’d weighed hardly anything when she’d been in his arms. He recalled the deep brown of her eyes, fathomless pools of rich chocolate that glittered with an odd mix of apprehension, confusion, and relief when she gazed at him.

Taking another swig, Inuyasha wondered what she had been through before they’d met. She’d told him about the psycho with the gun, but what about before that? Where was her family? Were they even alive? Did she have any friends? Why was she alone without any means of protecting herself? How the hell had she survived for so long?

He had so many questions and he’d wanted to bombard her with them tonight, but after seeing how exhausted she was, nearly falling asleep sitting up, he’d decided they could wait so she could get the rest she so desperately needed. He surmised she’d sleep for a good ten hours or so, and in the meantime he should probably catch some z’s himself, but with his mind a whirlwind of activity, he doubted he’d be getting any sleep tonight.

Inuyasha had no idea why he brought her back here. Well okay, that wasn’t entirely true; while his enemies and even at times his friends had called him many less than positive names, he wasn’t a heartless bastard. He hadn’t been about to leave a helpless woman alone, obviously frightened for her life, to a hoard of hungry zombies – and possibly her psycho trigger-happy friend that gave her that hole in her shoulder – when there was something he could do about it.

But still, it had been an impulse, a last second decision, and during the single hour he’d known her he’d been wondering if he was going to regret it. Aside from the obvious of whether or not he could trust her, he’d just loaded onto himself and the others another mouth to feed, a liability because he was pretty damned sure she knew jack shit about defending herself for wielding any sort of weapon.

That could change, though. He could teach her. Show her how to hold and aim a gun, how to brace herself, even teach her a few basic self-defense moves after she was back to full health. She would be a quick learner, Inuyasha surmised. Kagome had the drive to survive, a strong enough spirit to hold her own, and a fierce determination he’d caught a few glimpses of in her eyes. So he could turn that liability into an asset, train her, show her the ropes and he knew without a doubt that she would fit right in to their merry little band of misfit fighters.

And therein lay the crux of the problem because Inuyasha didn’t do that shit. He didn’t train people how to fight, how to accurately protect themselves, how to hold a goddamn gun or block an attack. He may own a goddamn dojo dedicated to teaching martial arts, but that didn’t mean he taught any of the students enrolled.

He knew what the others said about him and, hell, he agreed. He was temperamental, defensive, anti-social, and his patience was notoriously limited, so training somebody like Kagome, who looked like she hadn’t roughhoused a day in her life, would not be a good idea. No, he left that up to Miroku and Sango, his instructors that worked for him. Well, used to, before the world went to hell in a hand basket.

Yeah, sure, he could have someone else do it. Inuyasha was positive he could drop her off at S and S, explain the situation, and then go about his usual business of being a temperamental grump and avoiding everyone. She’d be in good hands; Sango and Ayame would immediately bond with her since they always complained about being the only two women among their group of twelve. They were talented fighters and he trusted them wholeheartedly to have his back in a fight.

The thing was, though, while he trusted everybody impeccably in their group to have his back – and yeah, even his bastard of a half-brother – for some stupid ass reason having somebody else train and teach Kagome didn’t sit well with him. It was completely asinine, but he only trusted himself to teach her how to properly protect herself, how to punch, kick, aim, block, know when to dive in, and when to retreat.

It made no goddamn sense. He didn’t have time in his day to devote to training somebody, and yet the thought of anybody else doing it, getting that close to her, even if it was Sango or Ayame, had his chest tightening and a growl to well in his throat. It wasn’t a secret that Miroku’s hands wandered, and fucking Kouga thought he was god’s gift to women. The girls would spend more time gossiping than training, the runt was too young, Sesshomaru was an asshole – when he actually bothered t show up, anyway, and wasn’t off doing his own thing – and Ginta and Hakkaku were idiots.

So no, it had to be him. And besides, he’d been fighting since he was a brat and had plenty experience. Kagome would be in good hands with a competent instructor like himself, and no, that wasn’t arrogance. Damn wolfshit had enough of that to cover everybody in their group ten times over. Besides, he was the one that found Kagome, so she was his responsibility. He would make sure she knew what to do during an ambush, what to look for, teach her every survival trick and tip he knew, and he’d make damn sure could protect herself.

Of course, the whole goddamn thing would be moot if she didn’t stay. There was a chance, after she was fully healed, she’d say thanks and go back to wherever she’d been staying before, maybe with family or friends, and why wouldn’t she? He was a stranger and sure, he’d saved her ass, but she didn’t know anything about him, just like knew virtually nothing about her other than her name, her age, and that she’d been an office worker. Inuyasha didn’t even know if she’d volunteer any information other than that when asked – it was clear she had some trust issues, with good reason – and it annoyed him that he knew so little about her, which was fucking ridiculous.

He’d just met the damn woman, of course he knew jack about her, and she was in no condition to share her life story anyway. And he told himself that it made sense, that he accepted the fact that she’d have to find out for herself whether or not he could be trusted beyond treating her wounds and providing safety while she slept, but he knew it was more than that.

For some fucking reason this tiny slip of a woman, within the simple hour he’d known her, Kagome Higurashi had managed to get under his skin, the urge to protect someone else other than himself roaring through him stronger than it ever had before. Maybe it was how she’d looked when he’d first found her; bloody, frail, and looking and smelling utterly terrified before her flight or fight response kicked in and she bolted from him, but whatever it was, Inuyasha found that he...didn’t entirely mind the thought of her hanging around. It had been instinctive, to go after her, a primal and purely male part of him screaming protect and he’d thoughtlessly obeyed.

And now Inuyasha was wondering if maybe it would be better if she didn’t stay and what was even worse, he really, really hoped that she did.

“Fuck my life,” he groused again, just barely above whisper, and finished the rest of his beer with several deep pulls.

The radio on the table crackled to life and Inuyasha was already standing it up to retrieve it when a familiar voice spilled from the speaker.

“Monk to Ash, come in.”

Ears flattening and darting a quick look to the slumbering woman on the bed, Inuyasha snatched up the radio and depressed the switch.

“Copy,” he murmured into the mic and with one last look toward Kagome, he started heading toward the ceiling doorway. “Standby.”

He didn’t receive a reply but hadn’t really expected to as he reached up and with a hard shove, pushed the door open. The ceiling was just low enough so he could grasp the edge and haul himself up into the square opening with minimal difficulty. Instead of standing, however, he settled on the edge and let his leg dangle inside while he braced the other on the floor, knee bent as he leaned back on his hand and brought the radio to his mouth once more.

“Ash to Monk, what’s your twenty?”

“S and S,” the voice responded a second later and Inuyasha relaxed. “Back at you.”

“The shop,” Inuyasha replied. “Status.”

“In one piece,” his friend said and added on, “you?”

“Stupid question.”

A low chuckle came over the speaker and Inuyasha had to grin.

“Glad to hear you’re still alive, asshole,” Miroku, aka Monk, told him and the half-demon snorted. “You know it wouldn’t hurt to check in every other day or something. We worry about you.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “Don’t waste your energy. I’ve been doing this a helluva lot longer than any of you, idiot. And besides, checking in every other day will just drain the batteries for a pointless conversation that wouldn’t even last thirty seconds.”

“Yes, but that’s what the chargers are for.”

“Which uses electricity, which is only possible because the dojo has a private generator, which uses fuel to keep going, and as you know, fuel is scarce. Use your head, moron.”

He could practically hear his friend roll his eyes on the other end as he drawled, “I sincerely doubt that giving power to the chargers makes that much of a difference, Ash.”

“I’m not checking in.”

“I—”Miroku’s voice was abruptly cut off and then an irritated female voice came through the speaker, “Make the idiot happy and check in, asshole, because you know if you don’t, he won’t stop until you respond, thus draining the battery even more.”

Inuyasha scowled. “Fuck off, Slayer.”

“You know I’m right,” Sango, aka Slayer, replied and then must have handed the radio back to Miroku.

“I mean,” his friend said and the laughter was evident in his voice. “She’s not wrong.”

Suddenly tired of this conversation, Inuyasha abruptly changed topics. “Anything new to report?”

“Possibly,” Miroku replied and Inuyasha knew the fucker was grinning. Idiot. “Cane is out patrolling with Iris, Smokey and Bandit are on clean up, the lovely Slayer is sparring with Kid. However, I like to believe Rogue showing up out of nowhere to drop off Fawn and Toad before disappearing again raises a few red flags.”

Inuyasha frowned. “When?”

“Two days ago,” Miroku supplied and then because he knew the half-demon would ask, continued,“He didn’t provide an explanation and when I asked Fawn, all she said was he was looking into something. Toad wasn’t any help either but that’s not a surprise. It was very strange.”

Inuyasha had to agree. While it wasn’t uncommon for the bastard to wander for days on end without any word from him, it was unusual for him to go anywhere without Rin. Fiercely protective of the child, Sesshomaru didn’t trust anybody but himself to ensure her safety and so for him to leave her behind suggested something was up. Inuyasha would have to ask whenever the bastard deemed to grace them with his presence again, and that could be anywhere between a few days to a fucking month.

“Fucking fantastic,” Inuyasha grumbled and thrust a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “How’s Fawn?”

He was actually quite fond of the little ball of sunshine and it came to as shock to everyone that he was in turn one of her favorite people. And although it still boggled his mind why she preferred the asshole’s company to staying where it was safe with plenty of food, water, and a warm bed to sleep in every night, he’d long ago stopped questioning it because she’d always give the same answer, accompanied by a bright, genuine smile.

“I belong with Sesshomaru.”

He didn’t understand it, and probably never would.

“Seems fine. Playing with Scout,” Miroku replied. “She was very tired when she arrived, however, and I suspect that might be part of the reason why Rogue dropped her off before leaving. I’d imagine it’d be difficult to get enough sleep when one travels as much as your brother.”

“Half-brother,” Inuyasha automatically corrected, frowning. “Yeah, maybe. It’s that, or he’s going someplace where he deems is too dangerous to bring her with him. Anywhere outside is dangerous, though, so where the hell could he be going?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, my friend,” Miroku returned and the shrug was obvious in his tone.

The two lapsed into contemplative silence for several moments and Inuyasha was staring down into the square opening, wondering what the hell his bastard of a half-brother was up do, when the radio in his hand crackled to life again.

“Anyway,” Miroku said, sounding like his usual upbeat self, “how about yourself, Ash? Anything noteworthy happen?”

Inuyasha blinked at the radio then turned his gaze to the floor again, approximately where a certain dark-haired woman was sleeping peacefully beneath the shop. He grimaced.

“Monk,” he said dryly, “you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had today.”

“Oh?” His friend sounded genuinely interested, and with a sigh, Inuyasha recounted the day’s events to him, staring with last night when he’d found that bag of toiletries (“Oh, Slayer and Iris will be thrilled,” he’d opined) to how he’d brought Kagome back to the shop and treated her wounds. Because Miroku was his best friend and one of the few people he could trust with anything, he also expressed is doubts and concerns about the entire situation and he was grateful when Miroku listened attentively and didn’t interrupt.

When he was finished, Miroku didn’t say anything for several minutes and Inuyasha let him gather his thoughts as he stared listlessly at a pallet socked with cases of water that he’d compiled himself. He’d be bringing some of them back with him to S and S in about four or five days when Smokey and Bandit showed up to take this place.

The two-way crackled to life, breaking the silence and interrupting his thoughts. “You haven’t told her about us.” He didn’t sound accusatory or anything, but merely curious.

Inuyasha sighed. “No. I barely got her to eat something before she passed out from pain and exhaustion.”

“Do you think she’s dangerous? Can she be trusted?”

The half-demon actually snorted at that, recalling the weak punches she’d thrown at him while trying to escape earlier.

“Trust me, Monk,” he drawled, “she’s about as dangerous as a kitten.”

“Then I don’t see the harm in bringing her here,” his friend said, completely serious. “It sounds to me like she could really use some help, Ash. Even if she was separated from her family or friends, I wouldn’t feel right sending her back out there alone to find them herself so at the very least, we could assist her in locating them and escort her. And who knows? Maybe by doing so we can expand our band of merry misfits and get them to come back with us if where they are staying isn’t secured. The more people we have, the better chances of survival.”

“And the more mouths we have to feed and clothe and protect and shelter,” Inuyasha fired back without missing a beat.

“You don’t really believe that, Ash, so don’t try and tell me otherwise. I know you.”

The half-demon grimaced and didn’t bother to comment. Sango liked to tease him that he was nothing but a big softie and dammit, sometimes he thought she might be right. Scout and now Kagome was a prime example of that.

“Smokey and Bandit will be there in five days,” Miroku told him, accurately taking his silence for what it was. “In the meantime, and I know I don’t have to tell you this, but try and get some more information on her family and her thoughts on joining us. I presume you are going to be seeing to her training if she stays, yes?”

Inuyasha snorted into the mic.

Miroku laughed on the other end, but hit the switch on the two-way afterward so the half-demon didn’t hear it. “I thought so. Let me know so I can tell the others. I’m sure the girls will be thrilled to have another woman to talk to.”

Sighing, Inuyasha tipped his head and stared at the ceiling, golden eyes unseeing.

“Ash?” The two-way crackled. “Do you read?”

He hit the switch and raised it to his lips. “Yeah,” Inuyasha murmured and dropped his gaze back to the floor, seeing through it to the oblivious woman sleeping on the bed. “Yeah, I read you.”

“See you in five days, my friend.” A pause. “Try not to die before that, alright?”

Inuyasha’s lips twitched and he chucked, depressing the switch and returning, “Same to you, idiot. And tell Scout not to eat all my fucking ramen.”

Ch. 3

buy me a coffee? :)

#another day in hell #part 2 #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #zombie au

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justauthoring · 6 years

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all it takes // david budd

prompt: It becomes a matter of choosing between your feelings and your safety -- and you don’t know if you've made the right one.

a/n: i know i normally dont post anything on NRT fridays, but i literally just finished bodyguard and i needed to write something for the sweetheart known as david budd -- who, might i just add, deserves the absolute world. that is all.

please don’t plagiarize my work!

word count: 1,379

There’s always that one mistake,

A moan leaves your lips as your eyes flutters open. The instant sensation of comfort floods your body as you stretch your limbs out beside you, reaching out for a particular person in mind. A frown mares your lips, though, the moment your hand falls on the cold, empty and barren bed sheets next to you instead of the feeling of another next to you.

Blinking briefly, you rub at your eyes, pushing yourself up at the elbow as you glance at the empty spot next to you -- where David was meant to be.

You had fallen asleep with him next to you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you both came down from your high of sex and pleasure. The moment you’d both been settled in your shared bed, your eyelids had grown heavy and you’d quickly dozed off. In the midst of it, towards the back of your mind, you’d figured, or rather had assumed, David would do the same.

But apparently that wasn’t the case given the space unoccupied next to you.

With the frown never falter from your expression, you push yourself until you’re sat up. You hug your arms to your chest the moments the sheets slip away and you’re reminded of your rather naked stated. Your eyes wander across the bedroom floor, looking for something suitable to cover yourself with until your eyes land on one of David’s shirts. Quickly slipped it over your head, it falling to around your mid-thigh, you stand up to your feet, biting your lip.

“David?” His name leaves your lips in a soft tone. Not so much a whisper, but still quiet given the time of night it is and your incapability of speaking any louder.

You tiptoe your way out of the bedroom and down the hall of the flat, leading into the conjoined living room and kitchen. The area is completely empty, but you do notice David’s laptop missing from the coffee table where you specifically remember him placing before you went to bed. He must’ve been unable to sleep, as you knew he often struggled with, and opted for attempting at some work.

At that thought, you frown even heavier. While you knew David’s job was both important to him and to safety of others, you always hated how much time he dedicated to it. It kind of came with the job, but even when he was off-duty, David was constantly thinking about whatever role or assignment he’d been given. It worried you, as many things did when it came to David.

Thinking he must be in the study upon that realization, you quickly turn, heading back down the way you came and then past your bedroom and bathroom, finding the study room door ajar as you’d expected. You peek your head through the small opening, your eyes landing on that of David’s at the desk adjacent to you. He isn’t awake as you thought, and instead his head his resting upon his folded arms, eyes softly shut in contentment.

The sight brings a small smile to your face, gently pushing the door open wider so you can step through. You hesitate on disrupting his sleep, but also know that if he continues sleeping in that position, he will wake up with a sore neck and a lack of good sleep.

You think you’re doing the right thing by setting your hand on his shoulder and gently shaking him awake. But you soon learn it is actually the exact opposite -- because within seconds, David’s eyes snap open and he’s suddenly on his feet before you.

The action elicits a gasp of surprise from your lips, your eyes widening as David’s zone in on you. Yet, something about the way he looks down at you makes you think that David doesn’t actually realize it’s you stood before him. Your thoughts are only proven correct the moment David’s hand reaches out for your neck, taking of hold of it and squeezing tightly. You inhale sharply, it somewhat wheezed in response as both your hands go up to grasp David’s own desperately, scratching and pulling at his grip.

You feel yourself slowly being lifted up, the tips of your toes struggling beneath you to remain rooted on the floor as your face grows warm and goes white, your eyes on David’s pleadingly.

“David,” you rasp, voice weak and cracked. “David! Please--!”

Then, even in your struggle, you’re able to notice the way David’s eyes seem to focus in on you. The almost fog that had covered them disappears and his irises zone in on the panic and terror in your own and the way your body is madly struggling within his grip. His face seems to fall, his lips parting as his hand instantly lets go of you.

You fall to your knees, unable to stop yourself from flipping onto your back and crawling away. David watches you do so with despair in his eyes, but knows better to argue -- he’d seen what he’d just done to you and he doesn’t blame you for the fear in your eyes as you stare up at him.

The whimpers that leave your lips practically break his heart, your hands shaky as you push yourself against the wall adjacent to him, what you now consider a safe distance. Choked sobs and gasps leave your lips as you try to regain your sanity and breath all at the same time, while David’s eyes crinkle in distress and they water.

“Y/N...”

Your name leaves his lips in a broken plea, lowering down to your level as he holds his hands out before you. They shake desperately, and as you press the back of your head against the wall, your chest rising and falling rapidly, you inhale deeply and exhale deeply, trying to calm your racing heart. You were scared. You are scared. And you think you have every right to be. But you also know that David hadn’t meant to hurt you like that, hadn’t meant to grab you like that.

“I-I... I’m sorry...”

“You need help.”

The words leave your lips before you can even stop yourself. But you don’t regret them. What you say is true.

“You... You can’t keep pretending you’re fine,” you continue, shaking your head as you let out a shaky breath. “I mean, Jesus David!”

“I know, I know,” David sobs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t mean to.”

Clenching your fists tightly, you feel your breathing calm somewhat as you regard the deep sincerity and regret in David’s eyes. Your entire body tenses as you raise your chin, preparing yourself for the words you’re about to speak. You don’t want to say them, don’t want them to be true -- but if something as simple as waking David up causes him to react like that, then...

“I think... I think we should take a break,” you breathe, meeting his eyes as they snap to your own. David stares at you in bafflement, his lips instantly parting to argue, but you continue before he can. “At least until you can get some help. I love you, David. You know I do. But... But I can’t have you around me if something as simple as waking you up triggers you.”

David’s lips remain parted, but he doesn’t argue. After a moment of tense silence, David straightens, standing up to his full height as your eyes watch him carefully. As he moves to make his way to the door, you shuffle to the side, still keeping a distance away from him. You hate the look in David’s eyes as you do so, but you can’t help yourself.

You’re afraid.

With his hand on the door knob, David pauses; “i’ll pack my things.”

You don’t say anything.

He’s out the door in the next second.

As you hear his footsteps fleeting, making their way into your bedroom and then out the front door in mere minutes, you can’t help but feel your eyes water. It is only when the front door shuts do you let yourself go, your head falling into the palm of your hands as a wretched sob leaves your lips.

That changes everything.

let me know what you thought?

i really liked the bodyguard and im totally up to writing for david more if people would like! so please let me know!

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lil-feenz · 6 years

Text

This Christmas (MyDay Secret Santa gift)

a/n: wow, okay first off i haven’t written a fic in years so this was a #struggle so props to all of you writers out there doin ur thing! ur amazing and you are appreciated!

i wrote this for my secret santa gift for one of the world’s nicest mydays aka @parkjaeins ! it’s been so fun messaging you, and i’m really glad i got to know you a little bit! i hope you have an amazing christmas, and i hope this is slightly enjoyable! (im sorry i still don’t quite like the beginning and end so forgive me!!)

genre: holiday fluff, angst if you squint and do a headstand

word count: 2.8k-ish oof

summary: Distance makes the heart grow fonder, they say. However, being apart for their first Christmas left Janelle particularly reminiscent. (a.k.a. holiday facetiming with Jae)

characters: Jae x OC, 3rd person (I did write this specifically for my secret santa!)

Brrrrrrng.

“Huh.”

The ringing sound slowly seeped its way into Janelle’s consciousness, insisting its way through her concentration as her brain reached for a response. What was that noise again?

Brrrrrrrng.

“Oh.”

Janelle haphazardly leaned over the bowls and ingredients crowding the counter in an effort to reach her laptop. Smudging some residual flour on the mouse pad of her laptop, she ran her fingers over the device and pressed down to hear that satisfying little click, accepting the video call request.

“Hi, babe!” she called out hurriedly, dancing around her own feet to maneuver in front of her laptop. Catching herself in and out of balance, her body finally slumped onto the countertop, a lopsided smile decorating her face.

A scratching sound echoed in the kitchen as Jae shuffled around on the other end of the call. Janelle caught the sight of the dormitory in the moving scene displayed in front of her. “He must’ve just finished at the Christmas Eve concert the boys were having,” she thought.

“Hey, baby,” Jae drawled with a tired smile on his face, raising his phone to eye level now. “How’s it going?” A soft thump pushed its way through her laptop speakers as Jae unceremoniously flopped onto his bed, followed by the murmur of ”Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Pffft,” Janelle laughed airily at his antics. “I’m doing fine, just trying to finish up some things for our Christmas get-together.” Glancing down at her hands, she noted the dusting of dry ingredients surrounding her laptop and absentmindedly brushed it away with her fingers. “How was the show tonight?”

Jae quietly beamed, his face turning up towards the ceiling. “Man, the fans’ energy was great. I think it was a nice way to finish 2018 as a group and fans, we had a pretty good year together, y’know?” He reached back, ruffling his fluffy crop of hair. “I just wish you could’ve been there.”

A small sadness panged through Janelle’s chest. “I know, I do, too…” She exhaled softly. With Jae’s world tour, music show performances, and awards shows on top of Janelle’s studies and exams that all seemed to come nonstop the past two months, the pair only had digital representations of each other to find comfort in.

A thought dwelled in the back of Janelle’s mind: she knew long distance spells like this would be a reality when she chose to let Jae into her life, but she didn’t expect that the deep craving to be there with him would ache so thoroughly. Walking into a coffee shop reminded her of their first few meetings with him. Seeing dogs on the street reminded her of the time they puppy-sat for Dowoon when Janelle concluded that Jae was absolutely a Yorkie.

“A Yorkie?!” Jae choked while Janelle cackled. “How on earth am I a Yorkie?”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t see it. Big personality, easily susceptible to getting clowned, sassy, territorial, suspicious of every noise, they’re, like, 18 cm tall, you’re 180 cm,” she listed off, checking off each thing with her fingers. “Yorkies absolutely fit the bill.”

“Okay, okay okay,” Jae hurriedly interjected, “but I protest. I’m more like a Great Dane, or something.” He was incredulous, and she could tell. This would be fun, and she knew it. “I am friendly, I am loving, I am large and in charg-” Unfortunately, he did not get to finish before Janelle’s laughter burst through the conversation.

“Please do not finish that phrase, oh my gosh,” she managed through her giggles, sitting up. She patted his knee gingerly. “The only thing you can claim from a Great Dane is you don’t realize how big you are.”

“I am offended,” Jae gasped, eyes wide and a hand mockingly hovering over his chest, “are you calling me fat?”

Suddenly, Janelle’s humorous expression dropped. She knew what was coming. “Jaehyung Park, don’t you dare,” she tried to warn, but Jae wasn’t one to back down from a joke.

“I am honestly HURT that you would call your warm and caring boyfriend fat,” he went on, progressively leaning further into her space on the couch, “I truly thought you appreciated my physique, you’ve never once complained about my cuddles, but I guess your true feelings are showing.” He continued blabbering dramatically as he used every bit of height he had over her to lay uncomfortably on top of her protesting figure. He turned onto his back as he tried to push her into the couch as she alternated between laughs and groans of discomfort.

“Jae, you’re really bony, you know that?”

“Yep.”

“So you know I’m very uncomfortable right now.”

“Yep.”

“So then what will it take to get you off of me, if you don’t mind?”

“Admit I’m a Great Dane.”

“But you know, you’re really acting like a stubborn Yorkie right now,” she commented, wiggling underneath him to free her shoulder of his spine pressing into her. He only pushed further. “Ow!”

“Or am I just an affectionate Great Dane trying to get some reciprocated affection?” he rebutted, turning his head to catch a glimpse of her struggling underneath the dead weight of his body.

“Hey, is something on your mind?”

Janelle snapped back to attention, staring at the image of Jae on her laptop. He was sitting up, looking at her curiously with a bit of worry coloring his gaze.

“Sorry, I just zoned out a bit,” she smiled meekly, widening the placement of her elbows, allowing her to fiddle with her fingers.

Jae gave her a knowing smile. He could read her like a book, no, like a score, watching all the thoughts swirling intertwining within her, conveying her thoughts and emotions in a symphony of signs: the light behind her eyes, the furrow and lift of her brows, the pull of her lips, the curve of her posture. “Damn,” he thought, “I’ve got it bad.”

“It��s okay,” he assured warmly, trying to lift the mood. He knew it was hard being apart for their first Christmas as a couple, but it was Christmas, for goodness sakes, and he wasn’t about to let Janelle be sad if he could help it. “So what are you doing for the fam?” he asked, hoping to bring about a lighter topic.

Janelle looked at the bowls, sugar, baking powder, and other items scattered about next to her. “Well, I’ve been trying to finish baking as much as I can for tomorrow’s dinner so tomorrow is as stress-free as possible,” she sighed, the hours of baking she’d done the past week catching up to her. “I realized a few days ago that I’d been so busy baking for everyone else that I forgot to plan what I’d bring to Christmas dinner, so I’m just making a batch of brownies.” Her eyes flitted over the half-done batch of batter she had been making when Jae called. The oven light let out a soft click to signal it was done preheating, briefly drawing her attention to the appliance. “I figured it’s a crowd-pleaser, so I couldn’t really go wrong.”

Jae threw back his head with a groan and a smile. “You’re making brownies? Without me to taste test? I’m jealous.” There was no doubt Janelle’s baking was popular amongst her family and friends, and Jae was undoubtedly a contender for her number one fan.

Jae watched Janelle turn back towards the camera and arch an eyebrow playfully. “You better watch that sweet tooth of yours, I wouldn’t want you going out to find a substitute sweet and finding a better baker than me,” she joked. “I can’t lose my number one customer.”

A fondness curled up inside Jae’s chest. He lolled his head to the side, squinting and shaking his head. “Never, babe.” A brief but familiar silence lapsed between the two as they alternated looking at each other and at their hands. Jae quickly cut in, “But for real, you’re going to save me some, right? I put it on my Christmas list, and I’ll be very sad if I miss out on that brownie goodness.”

Janelle chuckled. “Well, if I can figure out the rules for sending food at the post, then I might just make you a batch.” Collecting her measuring spoons and snatching the tub of cocoa powder, she scooped up the soft, brown powder and tapped it into her mixing bowl. She glanced at him through the camera mischievously, attempting an air on nonchalance. “But you might check under your bed in the meantime, Santa may have left something to make it up to you.”

Squinting suspiciously to hide his excitement, he lowered his arm and scooted off the bed. Sliding himself to the floor, he rested on his knees and elbows, still clutching onto the device that held Janelle, nervously awaiting his reaction. Sure enough, a small box sat proudly amongst the clutter underneath his bed. “Wow, a bow and everything!” he tucked his chin in in a big, goofy grin. Janelle’s view of Jae was obstructed as he ducked to grab the gift.

“Nice ceiling, are those new lights?” she quipped, heart picking up a little as she waited for him to see the gift. Jae just snorted in response. She was actually quite nervous: had the gift made it in one piece? Was it the right one? She hadn’t laid eyes on it herself, rather, she had it shipped straight to South Korea, entrusting Younghyun to receive and hide the box in Jae’s room. Abandoning the mix once more, she looked on as the camera moved around dizzyingly until Jae righted himself into view.

“Aw, thank you, babe,” Jae cooed, examining the box in his free hand.

Janelle smiled, trying to egg him on. “You can thank me after you open it! Go ahead!”

He obliged, commentating with his stream of consciousness while setting down his phone to pry open the box. “Alright, alright, I’m going. I can’t believe this, who did you have to bribe to bust into my room?” he paused and shoved his head directly in front of his phone. “Was it Brian?”

“Jae, for the love of all that is good and sacred, if you don’t open that gift, I’m going to send all of your brownies to Wonpil and make you suffer, please open it!” Janelle threatened quickly, eyebrows shooting up to try and show some authority.

“You’re not intimidating, babe.”

“...shut up and open the stinking box.”

Jae continued on, ripping open the tape keeping the box sealed. Janelle shifted on her feet, waiting for any sort of reaction.

“Well?” she asked, only catching the tip of his head from the angle of the camera.

“Well, you need to tell Brian that he’s a crappy gift wrapper. He only put a bow on it,” Jae panned, holding the red decoration over the camera for Janelle to see. Janelle heard the final rip as the last bit of tape gave up its hold on the box. Shuffling. She gazed intensely at the shot of Jae’s forehead, the nerves in her stomach tingling. She studied the way his eyebrows pushed up, creating fine wrinkles in his forehead.

Jae was silent. Janelle hopes it’s the good kind of silent. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she cautiously asked, “Do you like it?”

The view on her laptop shifted again as Jae picked up his phone. She couldn’t read the look on his face, but she didn’t push any further. Jae sat against the side of his bed, organizing his thoughts, his jaw slack and his eyes clear. “Janelle, this is…” he left his sentence unfinished, opting to shake his head and look directly into the camera. “Thank you for this,” he swiveled around, snatching his pillow off the bed to use as a stand for his phone. He carefully set down the device and leaned it against the pillow until his cross-legged figure was in full view. Next to him lay the now empty brown box, and in his lap sat a brown leather bound book. He turned his attention to it, opening the cover gently, eyes roaming the title page that read “Memories” in black script. In it were pictures the pair had taken while they had visited each other, Janelle when she went to Korea in the summer and Jae when he pit-stopped for a day after the concert stop in Jakarta. Some were selfies, showing silly faces and surprise kisses, some were sneakily taken shots of Jae sleeping on the couch or low-angle shots under his chin. He slowly flicked through the pages, seeing pictures of the coffee shop where they first met in Korea, selfies of Janelle pouting with a small plushie Jae had given her before she left to start uni.

Janelle watched on, her chin resting on the heel of her palm, her weight balancing on one foot as she crossed her ankles, resting her toes on the cool floor of her kitchen. She felt a soft bliss as Jae scanned the photo book she had made for him, a compilation of their times together so they could reminisce. She knew how sentimental Jae was inside, and she knew how hard being constantly busy was, and if he missed her the way she missed him, the distance couldn’t have been easy on him.

“I just figured it’d be nice to start keeping something to help us along when we’re apart,” Janelle divulged, eyeing the screen before letting her eyes fall to the countertop.

“There’s blank ones,” Jae remarked, looking at his screen once more. His voice was soft, devoid of the usual playfulness typical of his tone.

Janelle bit her lip, an excited smile forming on her face. “Yeah, I left those for our future memories.”

Jae rocked backwards, hands holding his ankles, hitting the side of his bed in the process. He looked down at the book again, a smile brimming on his own face. “I love it, babe. This was very thoughtful, I really like it.” Making eye contact with her through the screen, he tried to convey as meaningful a look as possible. “Come, here,” he suddenly said, holding his arms out towards the phone, wrapping it and the pillow in an awkward hug.

Janelle laughed on the other end of the line. “Well, that didn’t last long, did it?”

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging, or else this’ll get really awkward.”

“It already is awkward, Jae.”

“It’s what I do best.”

Releasing a sigh ahead of a warm smile, Janelle obliged, wrapping her laptop a hugging gesture. “You’re crazy.”

“Right back at ya,” Jae drew away, smoothly dropping a wink. Janelle gagged in response.

“What about me? Any hints for my gift?” Janelle redirected, hoping to escape more electronics-as-middleman skinship.

Looking out at his room, Jae exhaled shortly. “I checked the postage tracking, but I think it got held up in customs,” he explained, “I knew I should’ve sent it earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Janelle hastily deflected the negativity pulling down on her boyfriend’s shoulders. “Anything is fine, I’m just lucky to have you,” she pressed her lips together to try and dispel any regret he may have been having.

“Janelle,” Jae began, “I think we all know that I’m the lucky one in this combo. Like, the fact that I even managed to meet you is a miracle in itself, so please, will you let me keep the title of ever-grateful boyfriend here?”

A roll of the eyes. A sarcastic smirk.

“Well, I guess, but where does that leave me, huh?”

“You win title of the most tolerant girlfriend to the most ridiculous man on earth,” he quipped.

Another eye roll. “Well, you’ve got that right,” she muttered jokingly.

“I’ll let that slide since it’s Christmas.” Jae got up from the floor, clutching the book as he waddled over to his desk.

“You love me,” Janelle swayed her shoulders to the side, leaning her head down until they met before she started to pick back up on her baking.

“You know it.”

Time slipped by as they continued to chatter about plans before ringing in the New Year. Janelle joked about kissing a random person at midnight on New Years Eve: sulking, Jae left the phone on his desk as he paced around his room. “That’s mean,” he pouted. Both of them knew that neither would ever do such a thing, and both trusted each other to not betray that.

After catching up with each other, Jae was fighting back the onslaught of sleep and Janelle was waiting for her brownies to finish baking. It was quite late, but neither party seemed to want to end the call. Eventually, Janelle’s conscience nagged her into encouraging Jae to go to bed.

“You need the rest, you shouldn’t sleep Christmas away,” she reasoned, swinging her legs from her perch on the countertop.

Jae whined, but relented. “Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled sarcastically. “Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, talk to you later. Good night, Jae.” That little pang in her chest returned, wishing earnestly that she could be there with him.

“G’night, babe,” Jae grinned, crinkling his eyes and waving before her smiling face disappeared and a dark screen took her place.

Heaving a sigh, Jae propelled himself up from his bed, going to the bathroom to wash up before packing his toiletries.

Her Christmas gift was on his way.

a/n: WOW congrats if you made it through!! hope you enjoyed it, have a merry christmas!

#myday secret santa #day6 #day6 scenarios #mine #day6 imagines #jae #jae scenarios #park jaehyung #sorry im super rusty at writing #feenzie writes

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imsopaigeyo · 6 years

Text

Prey: Part 1

Shawn Mendes Fan Fiction

Three Years from the present day.

July 4th 2015. The first meeting.

“I’m really happy you’re coming out tonight Marcy” Bradly said to me as he was spinning in my desk chair and playing with the pencil I was previously using to do homework. We had been friends since the day my family moved in next door. Almost 10 years of friendship.

“Have I ever missed one of your famous 4th of July Parties? No matter how much they push me out of my comfort zone.” I joked, but there was an incredible amount of truth behind my words.

Bradly was friends with the most popular kids, not just in our school, but within our entire town. He was one of the most charismatic and likable people that I knew. That translated to him being friends with anyone and everyone. I however was the girl that knew all the answers but never raised her hand. I would often peal the wood around my pencil tip to avoid having to make the dreaded trip to the pencil sharpener in fear of drawing too much attention. These parties caused me an insane amount of anxiety, however this was for Bradley.

“Well considering this is the only time of year you actually socialize with anyone other than me or your family, I don’t feel bad about it. You need it.” Bradley flashed his glorious smile. I have almost grown immune to his charm over our many years of friendship.

“I talk to Addy” I pointed out, more pleased with myself than I probably should have been.

“She’s my girlfriend! You are practically forced to talk to her!” Bradley laughed as I finish tying my shoes.

“Well I enjoy talking to her” I argued. While the socialization between the us was a must, I did genuinely enjoy the friendship that was evolving between us two. Even if it was only due to Bradley.

“Marcy you do realize you've warn that same exact shirt to this party for the past three years.” Bradly said standing up causing me to roll my eyes. I suppose it was officially time to embark on this journey.

“It’s my party shirt” I said jokingly lifting the collar of my breathable yet very warn gray tee shirt. This was the shirt I felt the most comfortable in, and I always wore when I knew I would be in a high stress situation. “Let’s kick it” I took a deep breath as Bradly through his arm around me and we made our way across the street.

The party went on much like the other years for me. I stood as far away from the crowd as possible without trying to come across as anti social. I did my best to keep Bradly in my view in case I would need to find someone to talk too. I would look around and notice what faces were familiar to me. However, I would never approach anyone. With What few people approached me, I would make polite small talk with until I or them would awkwardly walk away, then I would curse myself for being so awkward.

There were a few differences at this party then the last. There were more people than last year, however that did not surprise me. The amount of people has gone up every year, for Bradly was incredible at making new friends without loosing any it seemed.

Also this was the first party where alcohol was very much prevalent. I again knew this was going to happen eventually . The past few years there were a few kids that would sneak some here and there, but this year it seemed that everyone had a red solo cup in there hand filled with some mysterious liquid. Except for me.

“Marcy I brought you a drink!” I turned to see my second favorite face that could be at this party. Bradly's girlfriend Addy, I knew that I could talk to her without feeling awkward or out of place. However the thought of consuming alcohol under this much stress scared me, just as I was about to politely decline i was cut off. “No worries, it’s Sunny D! Bradly told me it’s your favorite” she smiled handing me the glass.

“Thanks Addy” I was thankful, for all of the thoughts running through my head were making me thirsty. And Sunny D was indeed my favorite.

“Of course! Now come on, Bradly wants to introduce you to his new friends!” Addy said grabbing My arm gently and pulled me through the crowd.

I knew better than to protest. For this was apart of the yearly tradition. At some point during the party, Bradly always deemed it necessary to introduce me to his top new friends of the year, and they always managed to be different than the last.

This was my least, and favorite part of the party. While I hated the anxiety that came along with meeting so many new people at once,I knew after this portion it would then be acceptable for me to leave.

“I’m for-warning you now, Brad has had a bit too much to drink. So just play along with his antics if you can.” Addy yelled to me over the roar of the crowd and I stiffened unsure of how I felt.

“Oh joy” I said Sarcastically. I had nothing against drunk people, only that I had never really dealt with one before.

“MARCY!!!!!!!!” I had heard Bradley obnoxiously yell only to then be embraced with a large and very smothering hug. “ I just want everyone to know how cool this chick is” Bradly yelled to everyone although no one was really listening to him. There was far too much commotion from everyone around. “Let’s go girls” Bradly then demanded the two of us.

Addy, gave me a pleading glance and mouthed “just go with it” and I reluctantly followed Addy and she followed brad into his crowded kitchen up to the table where there was a group of boys sitting around playing a game of cards. One of which looked incredibly familiar. I figured that he was probably a football captain for a rival school or something like that. I most likely saw a few of his posts on Instagram.

“Boys, Boys, Boys” Bradly drunkly got the entire tables attention and my insides began to twist anticipating all of the attention Bradly was about to cast onto me. “I want everyone to meet my best gal pal, Marcy Mae Dawson!” He said then proceeded to clap by himself.

I smiled and waved as I usually do when Bradly introduces me to his friends. Only this time was much worse considering an entire table of incredibly attractive teenage boys were gathered around a table.

There was a very very awkward moment of silence until Addy gracefully entered the conversation. “Marcy this is my cousin Johnson, and his friend Jack, Cole, Drew, and Shawn.”

“You mean Shawn mother fucking Mendes” Bradley drunkly yelled. “A mother fucking rock star. You here that Marcy there is a rock star at my party” Bradly aggressively sat down into his kitchen chair throwing his hands up. Almost falling if it wasn't for Johnson catching him.

Things clicked at that point. I had seen Shawn Mendes on line quite a bit, I even followed him on vine and he was really taking off. I was a little star struck but not really surprised. If anyone would have a celebrity at there party it would be Bradly.

“Alright buddy why don’t you have some water” Shawn handed Bradly his own glass. “It’s nice to meet you Marcy” he then smiled at me and my insides twisted this time in an entirely different way. I smile at him wanting to say more but not wanting to risk saying something stupid so I stayed silent.

As Bradly tried to take a sip of water he dropped the entire glass all over him self. “Well damn” he moaned as Johnson handed him some paper towels and I got a bottle of water off of the bar and handed it to Addy knowing she would have best chance at getting him to successfully drink it.

I stood my arms crossed, looking down at my feet and stealing a few glances at Shawn. Still amazed that it was actually him. While this was incredibly entertaining, I indeed did want to get home. As the table started to have discussion and share a good amount of laughs I couldn't help but begin to think of when the best time to leave would arrive.

“Marcy, would you like to sit down, I can go find another seat?” Shawn had asked me and while the offer did make me swoon, I thought this might be my only shot to escape.

“Oh no that’s okay, I was actually just going to leave. Thank you though.” I said trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Whattttt?? Marcy no! Addy tell Marcy to stay” Bradly whined but Addy nodded at me before reassuring Bradly that it was late. I smiled at her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Bradly, thanks for having me. Nice meeting you all.” I said turning to leave in fear that if I stayed to socialize more I would make a fool of myself. As I turned to leave I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around expecting Addy but I was entirely shocked to see the eyes of Shawn Mendes a foot away from mine. This caused me to stumble back as I’m sure it would most however I was lucky enough to regain my footing prior to completely embarrassing myself. Shawn laughed causing my face to turn red im sure almost instantly.

“I just wanted to check and see if you were okay to get home, would you like a ride. I haven’t drank anything.” He asked and my eyes went wide.

Does he think I’m drunk now. How horrible would that be. I actually meet a celebrity and they think I’m trashed when really I’m just a giant pile of awkward.

“What! Oh, no I’m not, I didn't, I don’t drink. All I had was Sunny D!” I defend.

“Sunny D?” He laughed even more. Does he think I’m lying? Oh god.

“I swear, you can smell my breath” I defend. Smell my breath? what is wrong with me. “I’m just really clumsy.”

“I know your not drunk Marcy” he laughs. “Just making sure you have a way home.”

“Oh okay.” I say reassured. I then realize he is still waiting for an answer. “NO” I scream when I realize I’m not answering. “I’m so sorry I didn't realize you were asking me. I live right across the street. I just. God I’m so sorry.” I say rubbing my forehead looking down trying to avoid eye contact. This is mortifying. I expect him to walk away but instead his soft giggle escapes his lips again. I look up to see his smile. A smile even more charming then Bradly’s.

“It was very nice to meet you Marcy, have a good night.” He says and pats my shoulder before turning around to go back to his table of friends. ----------- Shawn and his friends have been at every party since. While every party I only socialized with Bradly or Addy, Shawn always made an effort to say hi to me and make small talk. Even as he grew more popular in the years. You could say I developed a crush on him, but really what teenage girl didn’t at this point in time. ----------- Present Day

“I can’t find it!” I yelled.

“Find what?” Addy asked looking up from her phone. She was FaceTiming Bradly about his party tonight.

“Her Party Shirt” Bradly answered for me causing me to aggressively shut my dresser drawer and rip the phone from Addy’s hand.

“Where the hell is it.” I don’t ask, I demand.

“To be returned on the morning of July 5th.” Bradly flashes me his smile.

“Then I won’t go to your stupid party” I threatened. I know it could seem a bit dramatic, but with social situations comes stress. With the incredible stress that will come from a social situation there is nothing wrong with wanting to wear what makes you feel comfortable.

“Then you won’t get it back.” Bradly threatened causing me to groan giving the phone back to Addy and flop onto my bed in the midst of a fit. “It’s been six years Marcy’s, it’s time to get a new wardrobe!” Bradly announced through the phone and I put a pillow over my face not wanting to hear it.

“Maybe Brads right, maybe you could take this opportunity to dress a little bit sexy. Maybe meet a cute boy” Addy began to insist making her way from my desk chair to the bed next to me.

“You were in on this” I take the pillow from my face and look at her in the eyes.

“Yes” she says regretfully.

“What is so wrong with my party shirt” I moan throwing my hands in the air.

“Nothing. There just nothing right about it either.” Addy says gently trying not to hurt my feelings. “ I’ll help you find something, something super cute and of course comfortable I promise.” She reassures me.

“Plus Shawn’s gonna be there, you want to look cute for your crush don’t ya Marcy” Bradly teased.

“I don’t have a crush on Shawn” I defend

“That is not what your Instagram, YouTube and Tumblr history says” Bradly continues and I put the pillow over my face again. I never planned to tell anyone about my crush, but when your best friend has no means for privacy it’s kinda hard.

I of course knew nothing would come of it. I was just like all of the other girls who had a crush on him. I was just lucky enough to be able to see him once a year. I wouldn't say I was I fan, but I was definitely into his music and watching him grow as an artist.

“I think that’s enough. Bye Brad, see you in a bit, love you.” Addy quickly hung up before ripping the pillow from my face. “He’s an ass, yes, but he’s an ass with a point”

“What point?” I look at her in disbelief.

“We are trying to get you out of your shell Marcy. I mean come on you just finished your first year of college and what exactly did you do all year?” She challenges.

“I got straight A’s.”I gloat.

“Aside from that, how many friends did you make, parties did you go to, Boys did you flirt with, what good memories have you made aside from getting honor roll and watching an obscene amount of netflixs.

“None.” I say regretfully.

“Exactly, you need to open up. Start living life.” She said and I saw her point, I just don’t see how my shirt had anything to do with it.

“Fine” I give in, I really didn't have a choice if I wanted to get my shirt back.

“Great I have the perfect outfit for you.” Said leans over and starts pulling cloths from her book bag. I should’ve questioned why she had brought a book bag to my house in the middle of summer. ----- Over all the outfit wasn't horrible. I was expect an entirely to tight a revealing mess however Addy was quite thoughtful when it came to my style. A pair of ripped jeans and a cozy white tee that was slightly cropped.

“This isn't to bad” I say and she glides the last of the mascara over my eye lashes.

“Don’t speak to soon” she smirks before going to her bag to pull out one last thing.

“No” I say the minute pulls out a pitiful excuse for shoes.

“Come on. They are just heels. Plus you live right next door worse comes to worse I’ll come over and grab your sneakers. Just try for me Marcy” she pleas and I shake my head no and go to grab my sneakers. “You want your tee shirt back don’t you?” She states causing me to stop into tracks and shoot her a death glare. ------- “I’m tired already” I say trying my best not to sink into the grass as I walk across my yard to get to Bradley's.

“Stop complaining, Addy does this every day” Bradly says. Addy seconds. I roll my eyes.

This year Addy and I are going over early, im too sure as to why. The only reason i agrees to so I may find a comfort place to sit and sulk for the night. As I walk over I see there are already two cars I don’t recognize in the drive way meaning people are already there thus I will need to socialize and I groan.

“It’s 6, how are people already here” I complain.

“My darling Marcy have you never heard of a pre game.” Bradley pats my back almost causing me to stumble.

“And that is how you always seem to get so trashed” Addy adds in and I laugh.

“I liked it better when you guys didn’t always team up against me” Bradley complained opening his front and the sound of men screaming and grunting. I reluctantly follow behind the two.

Inside are the same boys I met three years ago at Bradlys kitchen table. All stumbling around, yelling, drinking, and laughing. There is also a group of very pretty, incredibly dressed girls hanging on them. Shawn however is not there. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.

I take a seat on the couch in the living room that’s pushed against the wall away from the commotion. Addy and Bradly go over, while I go on my phone pretending to do something important, however I’m only playing angry birds.

All of a sudden the front door opens and in walks Shawn Mendes and my stomach immediately is flooded by a stream of butterfly’s, but they are quickly massacred as three women who look like super models follow close behind.

“Look who made it to the pre-game” Drew, one of the boys I met at the kitchen table exclaims and high fives all of his friends.

Shawn makes his way to the rest of them indulging in the high fives. I notice he seems different then the past years. He’s taller, more masculine, darker.

He glances over and sees my eyes glued to him he smiles. But it’s not the same smile I had swooned over the past 3 years, it was a smirk. A smirk I haven’t seen before. Not from him, not from anyone.

I’m sure my cheeks go red when he catches me staring and my eyes go back to my phone. I try and stay calm even though I am still incredibly star struck, though this is my fourth time being in a social situation with him. Although I am never social.

As he goes around the room greeting everyone I notice his voice has changed. Not deeper, just harsher. He’s more demanding, asking the girls to get him a drink, and them all rushing to get it for him. Me still sitting glued to my phone hoping no one brings me into the conversation.

“It’s Macey right?” Shawn turns to me and leans back on the pool table about ten foot away. Everyone turns there head to me and my stomach drops. How could he get my name wrong? What do you mean Marcy. Of course he got your name wrong he hardly knows you. You should be happy he was even close. How do you even go about correcting him. Just smile and nod. Smile and nod.

“Her names Marcy.” Addy corrects him for me and again I’m conflicted. Am I thankful, am I mortified, I should of just corrected him myself.

“Yeah sorry” I say. Fuck why did I just apologize for my own name. I want to go home. The girl to the left of him let’s out a giggle. Not a nice one, a condescending one. My eyes go back to my phone and everyone thankfully goes back to there conversations.

That could’ve been worse is all I keep telling myself. They are all standing and laughing around the pool table. I don’t think they are playing the game really, more of less just using it as a prop.

“How about a little drinking game to get this party started” one of the suspected models that followed Shawn into the room raising her glass.

They all agree and circle around the pool table as if this had been rehearsed. Addy points to a spot next to her urging me to join then and I shake my head no.

“Marcy come on.” She demands and once again all eyes turn my way and I reluctantly walk to the spot not wanting to draw anymore attention to myself. The same girl that laughed before laughs again, this time joined by the others.

“You’re gonna need a drink dear.” Johnson laughs handing me a beer.

“I don’t drink. Thank you though.” I say hesitantly not wanting to come off rude. Luckily Johnson puts it back and hands a water with a smile.

"No no no!" Bradly, already seemingly less sober then he was 20 minutes ago, snatches the water from my hand and replacing it with the solo cup from which he was drinking from. I try to stop him but he cuts me off saying "I dont want to hear it, tonight, you drink. Don't worry, its not strong." I says as he starts to make himself another drink.

"Clearly." I saw not thinking,luckily my comment gained a few laughs from around the table and i feel grateful nobody saw the comment as bitchy. I look up to see Shawn looking at me with the same smirk he had when he first walk in. Im sure my cheeks turn red and i look down hoping he didnt see. I take i sniff from the red solo cup and the pungent smells throws me off and i pray I can get away with faking my drinks throughout the game.

"So what game are we playing" Addy asks. The room fills with a few suggestions and one of the girls mutter out the words "Truth or Dare" which seems to grab everyones attention and they all agree.

I think the idea is a little juvenile but im not complaining. No one ever calls my name anyway so i feel slightly safe in this..."Marcy!"

I look to see the Model who laughed at my social skills making eye contact with me looking incredibly devious. "Truth or Dare" She practically challenge and I feel my knees begin to shake and chest tighten. Stay calm I remind myself. Its just a game that everyone plays.

"Truth" I reply trying not to sound as frightened as I am. Obviously I go for the safest option.

"How many people have you slept with?" She asks trying to seem innocent. Im sure she already knows my humiliating answer is zero however i dont want to go through the mortifying defeat of saying that.

"I mean dare" I say somehow fooling myself into thinking this option would be better.

"Thats not fair, you can't..." She starts to ridicule me and I feel my body start to freak out even more before she is cut off by a deep voice that makes my heart stop.

"Finish your drink." I look to her left and see the smirk thats been haunting since hes gotten here. Shawn's.

His request may have seemed simple to some, but as someone who has never tasted alcohol it was a lot. I think he knew that too. However, the thought of having to answer the question put far worse fear into my body so I slowly and regretfully bring the red solo cup to my lips, and force my body to allow all of the awful contents to be consumed.

================

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#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fan fiction

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bluethepaladin · 7 years

Note

Yo blue im on a super duper important quest to find really good lance centric fics, you know, that high quality top shelf kinda stuff. ive already read ur fic but im lookin for more. Got any recs????????

hey there, friend, you came to the right place! sorry this took so long, I made this whole post and then my computer was being difficult and I lost the whole thing, so this is the second time I’m making it! thank you so much for reading when I dream it happens in blue. I’ve got some great new content on the way, but in the meantime, here are some great reads to hold you over!

7 Times They Noticed by @em-the-cliche

Lance was alright. He was happy. He was fine. Except when he wasn’t.

“Listen. Are you alright?”“Uh…are you alright?”“Are you okay buddy?”“Are…are you in good health, paladin?“Are…are you okay, paladin?”“Hey. You okay?”

His team mates, his second family - they noticed.

A Commutual Contract by @skaylanphear

After a terrifying experience during which Lance, seemingly, dies, Keith is haunted by horrible nightmares of holding his comrade in his arms while he took his final breath. To the point where he can’t sleep unless he knows for absolute certain that Lance is alive.

And while the attention is surprising, Lance doesn’t really have a problem with Keith checking up on him. Or the fact that Keith only seems totally comforted when he can cuddle Lance close and hear his heart beat. After all, there’s nothing wrong with two bros cuddling. It doesn’t MEAN anything. Or, at least, that’s what Lance keeps telling himself.

At Rest (Five Miles Behind the Front) by @thisgirlhastales

Shiro is no longer the Black Paladin. He is no longer the commander of Team Voltron. He is a soldier without a purpose and a leader without a legion at his back.

Lance is a seventh wheel. He is not fit to be a leader, and perhaps not even fit to be a Paladin.

Or, in which two Paladins of Voltron learn their true worth, and finally, there is well-earned rest.

Beautiful Minds by PotatoBender

Lance used to be proud of his mental abilities. A pilot. A Paladin. Someone experienced with delving and controlling his mind. But after being captured, and enduring just a single encounter with Haggar, his castle was reduced to rubble.

Rescuing Lance was the easy part - healing him is much, much harder.

Blast Zone by bubblebucky

In the middle of a mission, a bomb going off leaves Lance unable to hear. Still, while he’s deaf, the rest of his team are the ones that won’t listen.

Boom Crash the Sound of My Ship by @maychorian

After a Galra attack splits Voltron, the blue lion is damaged and falls toward the jungle planet below. Shiro follows, and now he and Lance are stranded in hostile territory, fighting to survive. Lance is injured, Shiro is having flashbacks, and help is far away. And the Galra just…keep coming.

Brain storm by @trickstersgambit

Lance managed for years without too many obvious issues. Those who needed to know, knew. Until it became a problem he thought he buried in his awkward early teen years.

calling me to come back by @apvrrish

Keith is a witch who owns a shop where he breaks curses on both magical items and people under spells. Love spells, family curses passed down generations, cursed heirlooms lurking the attic – he can handle them all. But one day a boy named Lance walks into his shop, and his curse is darker and more difficult to break than anything Keith has ever seen before: the curse is draining his magic, and without his magic, Lance will die.

This is a new favorite of mine!

Dark Blue by @thunder-dor

Lance has a bad habit of comparing himself to his teammates. Lotor needs a Paladin with a weakness.

Lance gets kidnapped and Keith will do anything to get him back.

This is a great fic and Jessie is a writing goddess!!!

Fighting the Surface by @tomminowrites

“Humans have shown quite the impressive drive for survival,” the Galra commander grins. “I want to see you fight against that. The druids claim drowning is quite the painful way to go.“ He tips Lance backward over the water, as Keith and Shiro struggle against their bonds. “If you surface, they die.”

Lance’s eyes widen and he’s pushed backward with a splash.

______

Keith, Shiro, and Lance are taken captive during a mission planet-side. The commander decides he only needs two paladins for interrogation, and decides to have a little fun while they wait for extraction. Lance is thrown into the deep with the threat that if he swims up for air, one of the other two will be shot. Obviously Lance would rather die than allow that.

Later chapters will, of course, deal with Keith and Shiro losing their damn minds thinking Lance just drowned himself for them.

I helped beta this one! It’s good!

Ghost of the Future & Shadow of the Past by @zizzani & @wittyy-name

When Lance is thrown through time, his future self from one year ahead is transported to the past in his place.

This Lance is faster, stronger, and markedly more mature. Not only that, but he’s distinctly more intuitive about his teammates and A LOT more touchy with Keith.

The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance’s places and restore them to their original timelines. Things only get more complicated when the Future Lance can’t seem to remember where he was when the switch happened, and he refuses to reveal anything about his own time for fear of influencing the team’s decisions.

Mirror fic to “Shadow of the Past” by wittyy_name

When Lance is thrown through time, he finds himself one year in the future, in place of the Lance that should be here.

He finds his team to be remarkably familiar, yet distinctly different. They have more scars, a better grip on the whole saving the universe thing, and over a year’s worth of teamwork to bind them together. But the weirdest part? Keith seems to be a lot more touchy with him. Not that he’s complaining… much.

The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance’s places and restore them to their original timelines. But despite the fact that they’re still his friends, Lance can’t help but feel a little out of place among a team that’s been through so much with a Lance that just isn’t him. And it doesn’t help that the team is on edge around him, refusing to tell him anything for fear of influencing and changing the past. Things get even more complicated when they have to rely on the team in the past to complete the switch, leaving Lance to little more than sit, wait, and attempt to fill in his future self’s shoes.___________

Mirror fic to “Ghost of the Future” by Zizzani

give out to give in by @mlp-michaeljones

So typical. So fucking typical, that Lance is the youngest and worst of his siblings, and then the kids come along and he isn’t even the cutest anymore, and he only made fighter pilot because perfect fucking Keith dropped out and even when he piloted a lion he didn’t have a thing like the others, and now he can’t even have Blue. Maybe he was the one to suggest it, but he was barrelling towards this point all along; rock fucking bottom.

When it becomes clear that Allura is a better pilot than him, Lance steps down as the Blue Paladin. It is, after all, the obvious decision. Lance is, and has always been, the afterthought.

But who needs an afterthought?

He Don’t Fuckin Care by ya_ya_rose

Lance knows how to hold his own. But he isn’t indestructible.

Huddling for Warmth: The Movie by @maychorian

The paladins are heading back to the Castle of Lions after another successful mission when Shiro suddenly realizes that something is wrong. Lance isn’t responding on the comms.

Love and Other Questions by @squirenonny

One week after news of the Kerberos disaster broke, Pidge receives a new Mark–proof that Matt is still alive. She breaks into the Garrison to find him, only to find herself caught up in the fight for the fate of the universe.

Keith keeps his arms covered so he doesn’t have to watch Shiro’s scars compounding on his skin–but doing so means cutting off contact with his romantic soulmate, who greets him each morning with a new (and terrible) pickup line.

Shiro and Matt thought they were the luckiest people alive when they found out they were going to Kerberos together. But Shiro hasn’t seen Matt’s untidy scrawl on his arm in almost a year, and he has no idea if his soulmate is even still alive.

[Canonverse Soulmate AU with romantic and platonic soulmates (and some gray areas in between)]

Perihelion by @eclecticinkling

After growing up in the shadow of war, Prince Lance of Altea would give almost anything to bring peace back to his people. So when a Galran ambassador arrives with an offer to make that a reality, Lance knows he can’t refuse. Even if it means binding himself to his enemy’s prince for as long as they both shall live.

say you’re gonna break my fall by @apvrrish

Keith tries to deal with being the leader, and also tries to deal with his feelings about Lance. It’s a process.

Keith looks up and sees Lance staring at him, head tilted at an angle. His eyes are just barely visible through the visor, but his mouth is twisted into a puzzled curve.

“Sorry,” Keith says, flushing. “Lost in thought.”

“You okay?” Lance asks, falling into step alongside him as they follow the others out of the ship.

so much more than space dust by @ad-asterism

When a cryopod malfunctions, Lance is left with amnesia. As he struggles to figure out where he fits in the new formation of the team, the rest of Voltron is racing against the clock to figure out where Lotor will strike next- and their only clue is hidden somewhere in Lance’s lost memories. Lance will have to find a way to remember what he’s missing- or come to terms with what he’s forgotten.

Taking One For The Team by YukiSetsu

A mission gone wrong lands Lance and Pidge in a dangerous situation. When communication with the rest of the team is compromised, they have to take drastic measures to escape. Pidge can only hope that they get out before things get worse and one of them breaks. Especially Lance.

The Reluctant Soldier by @banditywrites

Lance is badly injured on a mission and struggles with his role as sharpshooter.

Thirty-One Days by SidneyJean

Lance experiences loss, in all its ugly faces, for the first time after beginning his journey as a Paladin and discovers just how that changes a person over time. It…doesn’t happen the way he expected. The people around him begin to change, and so does he.

Trembling Lips by @newtsckamander

Lance is an emotional person who cries easily (and does the trembly-lip thing a lot) but tries to stay strong in front of the team.

Five times Lance stopped himself from crying in front of his teammates, and the one time he couldn’t hold it back.

Universal Fates by @celty-me

Alfor, Zarkon, Trigel, Gyrgan, and Blaytz set off on missions across the galaxy to gather pieces of an artifact so Alfor can complete Voltron.

Zarkon encounters a human boy with a missing arm fighting as a gladiator.Trigel encounters an enslaved young human girl whose genius is being exploited.Gyrgan encounters a human boy who disabled a pirate ship he and his people had been chasing.King Alfor encounters a young half-galra boy who aids the king and Coran when they are cornered by bandits.Blaytz encounters an Altean boy enslaved on a slave trading planet.

Each ally feels compelled to rescue and adopt the orphans they encounter, setting the wheels of fate into motion.

While each child carries the scars of their past, they form bonds too strong to ever be broken. They will find friendship and family with each other, and maybe love, even as events threaten everything they know and care for.

wanna be known by you by @bluewriters

Sometimes Lance feels like he’s been stained blue, the colour of his lion seeping through his skin as he chokes on cold stardust, and he is drowning in waves of blue, blue ocean. Lance has never been afraid of the ocean before.

He rolls over and turns off the lights. He doesn’t sleep.

Watching You Fall by @emerald-ashes

Shiro couldn’t find Lance. He knew he was in danger after his communications ended abruptly. But he certainly wasn’t prepared to find Lance dying on the floor of a Galra base during one their missions.

Words Fail by EagleInFlight

A mind-melding exercise goes wrong, and the five Paladins are now trapped in Lance’s mind. To escape, they must delve through Lance’s memories. Lance learns that in order to save his friends, he has to stop running. But to stop running means to face the worst of himself.

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magioftheseas · 7 years

Note

wait, wait. so i just saw your ask about komanami and their friendship, and as a fellow shipper who really loves your work, im a little confused. if you thought she was pretty hostile towards him in the game, and that she treated him like garbage in the OVA (which, to be fair, she did, albeit mostly because of poor writing and not because she suddenly became a grade-A asshole), why do you ship them exactly?... for the potential?

>:T

*puts down a soap box*

I don’t like the idea of giving a pass for bad behavior just because of bad writing. I’ll be honest, I fucking hate that idea, actually. It just doesn’t seem right. Because I don’t think the issue in the writing for something like this wasn’t a concern of competency but an concern of empathy. The way Komaeda gets treated comes across an awful lot like bigotry.

Because he’s weird. Because he’s strange. But most importantly because someone like him isn’t really a part of the group. And why is that? Is it just eccentric behavior? That doesn’t seem to be right. Like, all the sdr2 kids are fucking eccentric, so what makes Komaeda so weird in comparison?

Well, we know for a fact that he’s mentally ill. Mentally ill in a way that severely impairs his social skills. And because he can’t socialize right, that’s justification for not treating him right. And that’s…not just bad writing, that’s hateful writing. There’s a world of difference between a lack of continuity and a lack of humanity. We need to come down way more harshly on the latter because I can forgive structure flubs but that kind of thinking just isn’t acceptable!

Alright, now I’ll remove the soap box and replace it with the shipping box. Since there is a reason for it. I really had to get that other stuff off my chest though because what you said really rubbed me off the wrong way. I apologize.

Anyway. So. Why do I ship KomaNami?

I’ve actually gone into why before while acknowledging their not-so-great relationship in canon, but maybe that’s the post that’s confusing.

Potential is foundational in shipping, so that’s a given. But there’s always more to it than that.

I do think that Nanami’s stoic eccentricity would play well off Komaeda’s more energetic eccentricity yet with how calm and calming Komaeda is, I feel like he gives off the kind of air where Nanami can relax and be a little more open. And I think that Nanami could also provide that kind of presence for Komaeda, too, yes, but probably not as easily as the other way around which I find interesting.

One thing as mentioned that I like is that Komaeda provides a potential for growth for both AI and human Nanami.

For AI Nanami, that she struggles to get along with Komaeda when it’s part of her main function as an AI could lead to interesting themes of not just the lacking in artificiality but also how understanding can be different even if not especially between people. It can evoke some questions of where Nanami can struggle internally with this kind of failure and if she feels pressured to change this way, what may occur? I honestly had that kind of thinking in mind when playing through sdr2 and I thought this was why Nanami got more serious and involved than she had been previously. Now, I really don’t think this was the, er, intentional thought-process behind her writing at this point, but…

It’s still interesting enough that I really like the idea if anything.

For human Nanami, I really like the idea of Nanami initially being drawn to Komaeda due to his easygoing and calming nature but then finding herself challenged by him in a similar way that Hinata is. I like the idea of human Nanami being very directionless, reserved, and being very hesitant on leaving her comfort zone, so someone like Komaeda would definitely be attractive at first (in, um, a manner of speaking) but then he would start pushing her later but not like…in a way that’s super impeding. He just sort of rattles about these things and he might scold Nanami a little on her apathy and listlessness, but I feel like he wouldn’t really push her due to his own poor self-esteem.

I like the idea of Komaeda being someone that can challenge Nanami to think differently not just about herself but how she perceives things and the things that she’s actually capable of. And I especially like it if when afterwards when he likely grates on her and she starts to lean away from him once she makes friends with the other kids, that she doesn’t realize until it’s too late and she lost an important friend (in a vague manner of speaking that really could mean anything) and this leads her to some serious self-reflecting on just the kind of person she is and if it’s really better this way (staying stagnant, not changing, just drifting through one day after another) or even if she’s really “happy” this way. Stories like this I find really appealing especially in the the potential for depth and nuance.

On Komaeda’s side, I don’t really see someone like Nanami being as significant, honestly except on the basic level of having someone who supports him. But because she lacks the motivation and patience, she might not leave a deep impact on him. Obviously if she does have those things, it’s a different story that completely shifts the balance, but I don’t mind that too much. I honestly do just like the idea of these two getting along because… Well, again, they have a great potential for banter and they look great together to boot.

…sooooo that’s why I ship them, heh. Some of my major reasoning, at least. I do prefer it more on the platonic side, but romantic is like, whatever. I headcanon Komaeda as pretty gay.

#I should add #He could also be octracized due to being the lucky student which is also Not Cool #Either way it's not just a matter of bad writing #But onto the matter of shipping #Yes I like the potential #Magi answers #anonymous #dr3 negativity #A lot of this is what I have in mind when I write dr3 Nanami and dr3 KomaNami actually #I might think about things...a little differently #KomaNami #magi ponders fic ideas

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fulokis · 6 years

Text

Running From Time| A Post Star Wars Rebels Fan Fic| Chapter 1

Thrawn sat on a rock staring deep into the camp fire lost in thought when a noise startled him. Looking up he realized that Ezra Bridger had fallen asleep. Was he really zoned out that long? He decided that Ezra fell asleep quickly. It startled how comfortable Ezra was now. It had taken him years to even sleep soundly with Thrawn around, the kid was constantly paranoid that Thrawn would stab him in the back (or shoot him in the back again). Thrawn knew better than to do that to his only source of company. And as much as Thrawn disliked to admit, he himself was getting older and less capable. He knew that he had at least 70 more years to live, but in these conditions it was hard to tell when death would come.

Thrawn was still disoriented from his thoughts. Usually he was focused, listening for any animals in the bushes, plotting the days journey, or sketching something. But tonight was it was hard for him to stay focused on what was around him. He took the pieces of the com out and placed them on a flat rock. He stared at them trying to figure out how to fix it, hoping this time would reveal something new that he didn’t see the past 20 years he had been staring at it.

It was almost dawn when Ezra woke up. He turned to see leaning on one hand asleep with the shattered pieces of the com scattered around the area. It was always odd to see the chiss sleeping, but the occurrence was becoming increasingly common and it concerned Ezra. True he didn’t know how much chiss typically sleep. But he knew something was wrong. As much as Ezra hated Thrawn for what he did to Lothal, Thrawn had kept him alive for 20 years, that was worth something at least.

Ezra stood up and stretched taking the hair band out of his hair and combing it out with his fingers. He grabbed the pot that they had salvaged from the Chimera and headed to look for the water, kindling, and maybe some berries if he was lucky. The planet was mostly forest terrain and he recognized where they were which meant after another decade they were returning to the Chimera likely to stay for a little longer than a few days. If they would try to go around the massive rock again and look for other life was impossible to tell. 20 years and they hadn’t seen a single sign of other sentient life on the planet.

Ezra returned to camp successfully finding water and kindling, Thrawn was still asleep even though the sun had come up what Ezra guessed at least an hour and a half ago. Strange, Thrawn never slept this long. Ezra had his hesitations about waking up the sleeping chiss. One he didn’t know the last time he had slept. Two he didn’t want to see Thrawn angry, and he hoped he wouldn’t ever have to. After Ezra started the fire and was boiling the water he took another look at the com unit spread around the chiss’s feet. He sat down and closed his eyes. Using the force he took the unit and put it back together piece by piece, when it was together it made a beep like it was receiving something. A garbled voice came through the mangled speaker, “Thr....” Before the being on the other end was able to finish their sentence the com unit made a loud screeching sound, startling both Ezra and Thrawn, before exploding leaving the com unit useless from any use in the future.

Thrawn was still dazed from being awoken, but was still quickly able to figure out what had happened.

“What did you do?!” The noise coming from Thrawn’s mouth was gutteral and animal like. Startled Ezra drew his blaster. Thrawn’s face was filled with pure rage, which was unsettling for Ezra who had never seen him other than the calm demeanor and monotone. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Thrawn launched at Ezra with speed, predicting every self defense mechanism Ezra threw out. Before Ezra realized what was actually happening he was pinned on the ground an arm over his throat and knee on his chest pushing all of the air out of his lungs. Thrawn’s eyes became brighter with his rage. The chiss was stronger than he appeared and was making a low hissing noise. Ezra was trying frantically to say something in his own defense, Thrawn was too strong for him and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I....I...I...” Ezra stammered, Thrawn lifted his grip a bit. “I ... was....trying..to help.”

“I didn’t want help.” Thrawn released Ezra, who started coughing and sputtering for air. Thrawn moved over to where the com pieces fell. Holding them in his hands looking at them solemnly, he sighed. He threw the pieces into the fire watching them burn. He had finally let go... of him. Perhaps it was for the best that Ezra destroyed the com unit, no more obsessing no reason to have his mind off of survival, it had been keeping him from greatness for far too long.

Ezra watched as Thrawn straightened, a new sense of determination on his face. Thrawn started to pack up the camp, with a gleam in his eyes that Ezra hadn’t ever seen. Some how it was more evil and twisted than when they were enemies.

On the walk back to the Chimera Ezra was walking a considerable distance away from Thrawn. Their earlier encounter had made him more on edge than when he was face to face with Vader all those decades ago. Ezra was also still in pain so that slowed his pace. He was starting to feel ill so he sat on a rock next thing he knew the glowing red orbs of his companion were boring directly into his eyes.

Thrawn was so lost in calculations and his plan that he barley noticed Ezra wasn’t with him until he made it to the Chimera. He turned to duck in one of the damaged air locks only to look behind him to see the raven haired jedi was no where in sight. He sighed put down the makeshift satchel of camping materials inside the ship and went off to find Ezra. It took him four hours to find Ezra again. How long had Ezra still been back here right next to the campsite passed out? Thrawn thought about leaving Ezra, let him fend for himself not have to worry about another being to take care of. Leave this enemy, leave this planet, and leave this infernal love behind. To look to the stars and end the rebellion, end conflict, finish what he started and then travel outside of the Galaxy, past his home past the empire and rebellion and past him.

Thrawn checked Ezras pulse with relief he was still alive. Thrawn poured some of the water in Ezras bag on his face. Ezra came to slowly and when he saw Thrawn over him he automatically reached out with the force and sent the chiss into a near by tree. His saphire eyes opened wide and he approached Thrawn carefully.

Extending his hand down Ezra said “We will call it even now.”

“Yes, we shall. As for tonight you should rest, we will finish our journey tomorrow. And perhaps we may get off this planet once and for all.”

“I assume you have a plan?”

“Indeed.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” No response came from Thrawn. Ezra shrugged, “ Well good night, get some sleep please.” Ezra half expecting a witty remark looked over his shoulder to see Thrawn already asleep, snoring softly.

On the Chimera’s hull two figures stood looking up at the sky.

“You know they definitely crashed at least 10 lightyears away, and that comunicator isn’t going to ever work to contact them right?” The young chiss woman spoke softly in Sy Bysti.

The human male chuckled “You know you remind me of him so much sometimes.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Why do we do this every night? Hmmm?”

“And there are other times where your worse than everyone else.” He grumbled.

“I heard that! And Im still waiting for an answer.”

“Because I am hopeful our freinds are still alive and are trying to get those suplies to us. And I’m tired of eating the ferrets you keep catching.”

“Like ration packs are better.”

“Better than driving a species to extinction.”

“I see more than a hundred every single night, and they are hard to catch. Im sure they will be fine.”

“Alright fine we will go. And please stay with me this time, I worry when you wander too far.”

“Maybe you should keep up.” A look from the human made her drop the subject. She jumped off the hull of the ship and then used the force to propel her companion to the ground, before heading off into the jungle.

Next -->

On Ao3

On Wattpad

#thrawn #ezra bridger #post-purgil adventures #20 years later

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amoristt · 7 years

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Red | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

Day 1. Anthropomorphic People. ‘The Fox’

Kicking off promptober with a nathan x reader!

obviously since it’s prompt induced this is an AU in which humans have animalistic traits! hope you guys enjoy and make sure to check out my promptober post >here< !

Warnings: animal death (minor), language, mentions of character death.

Hunting was never one of your favorite hobbies. You hated to sit and wait, not having the patience to still yourself enough so that animals could wander by. Despite knowing you needed to hunt for food you still had an issue harming the innocent animals that just happened to cross paths with you.

‘It’s the circle of life,’ Your father drilled it into your head every time he dragged you out with him. ‘Without hunters like us they’d overpopulate.’

Though you knew ultimately he was right it still felt wrong pulling the trigger, watching the animal writhe before falling a few feet away after a frantic attempt at escaping it’s fate. It was harder when you were young and could reply on your father, but now that you were all alone you learned to harden yourself just enough to get the job done.

Hidden by leaves and shifting under the summers heat you kept your eyes peeled for any signs of animal life. The sun had begun to fall over the trees, casting shadows as long as your eyes could see. Sometimes they would creep you out, make you see things that weren’t there, but mostly they just offered a nice spot out of the sun. You remembered a time when you could use sunscreen and bitterly kicked yourself for abusing it now that you had no access to the ‘inside world’. Your father, passing for a mortal, could make it in and out of town with no one noticing but you couldn’t, not with your ‘traits’. Though they were small, upon entering the city you’d be checked for anything non ‘human’.

Your father had scales on either side of his hips and on his ankles, just the right spots to be overlooked. He passed as a hunter and they let him into the city and out of it without question. You, however, were not as lucky. Scales formed beneath yours eyes, on your shoulders, along your wrists and sides. They were obvious as day, a bright blue-green that the sun would catch off of. Sometimes you thought they were pretty, watching them sparkle like gems, but other times you wished you could cut them off. At one point you almost tried, sick with grief over losing your father to an illness and not having access to a hospital. If you were mortal you could have taken him to get help, sent him to a hospital, but you couldn’t. And so, he died. After that you tore at your scales, ripped them off despite the agonizing burn they left behind. After your meltdown of sorts you gave up. You weren’t human, you were in pain, and you were still alone. You were also bleeding with little to no medical tools.

Eventually you came to terms with it, and it was a sobering thought to realize you had no one. Sometimes ‘advocates for non-human rights’ would pay visits, leaving you boxes full of clothes, books, or other ‘non craftable’ items, but they never stopped to talk. You could hear them whispering outside your door, hushing one another as they set down the items and then scurried away. Though grateful, you wished they’d talk to you. If you had paper you’d leave them a thank you note for the clothes, especially, but mostly you just wanted someone to keep you company. Talking to the moon wasn’t doing you nearly as much justice as you wished it could.

You remembered your days hunting with your dad, him teaching you everything you needed to know incase something happened to him. You brushed him off, treated his ministrations like a pest because you never thought he’d leave you, but he did. And so, you relearned everything you tuned out.

Hunting was one of these things. It was tiresome and boring at the same time, and it left you with sunburns surrounding your cheeks and arms, but you knew it had to be done. You needed to hunt for food, and no amount of complaining would change that. You weren’t like a feline or a canine, the types who typically traveled in packs. You weren’t like the birds with thunderous wings or talons that could grab fish straight out of water. No, all you had was your useless scales and enough knowledge to scrape by without starving to death.

As evening came forth most of the heat started to die down and you could rest more comfortably, leaning back against a tree surrounded by brush with your gun at your side. Your weapon was another thing you thanked your father for: he’d taught you how to craft your own guns and the ammunition for it. They weren’t nearly as classy or high-tech as the ones in the city, but they got the job done and that was enough for you.

Soft noises caught your attention and your body went on alert, and as you slowly rose to crouch on your feet the sound only got closer. Small twigs shifting and breaking, grass and plants moving around whatever being was growing near. It was small as far as you could tell, but your heart rate still grew at the thought of running into a predator. You may have thumbs, and you may be able to run on two legs, but there were things out there that could eat you in one bite. But, they were outside of the city zones, so they weren’t ever taken care of. Kings of the jungles, you called them. Giant feline looking creatures with long bare tails and glowing red eyes. They stalked like lions but sounded like wolves. You could hear them outside your makeshift house some nights and it filled you with terror, make you clutch your gun throughout your slumber. You didn’t have claws to defend yourself with, nor did you have a poisonous bite or really any means of defense. You’d be dead in a second.

Worried you’d come face to face with something undesirable, you swallowed thickly and listened closely, peeking through the bushes guarding you. Right in front of you a stick broke and it made you freeze, eyes widening as it moved just beyond the leaves you were looking out of. Hands clammy, finger itching on the trigger, you carefully pulled it to your chest and then slowly rose. When you saw it, you let out a silent but deep breath of relief.

A small, brown, and unassuming rabbit had found it’s way to the pile of berries you’d planted a few feet away from your hiding spot. You felt bad, raising your gun as it nibbled away carelessly, but the emptiness in your stomach overrode it.

‘Sorry.’ You thought as you fingered the trigger.

Just before you shot a quick movement made you leap back, a figure much larger than the rabbit darted out from between two trees. Before you could even react it pounced onto the rabbit, the small creature making desperate wails before they were cut off suddenly. Even though the world around you was basked in shadows you were still taken aback, watching in awe at the sight in front of you.

It was human.

Humanoid, at least. Broad shoulders but a lean frame, two legs and two arms, two hands wrapped around the still squirming body of it’s prey. That wasn’t what had you breathless, however. It was the non human traits that held you.

A long, thick and bushy tail sprouted just beneath his red shirt and above his black pants. He was like you.

Dead silent and unmoving, you guessed he hadn’t seen you yet. His back was towards you, head dipped down and arms in front of him as he finally ended his preys suffering. When he rose to sit on his knees, brushing away the dirt that had collected on his clothes, you just watched. He had pointed ears atop his brown head of hair, and you were filled with glee. He was one of your kind. For a moment he stayed there just staring ahead, and you wondered if he was alone like you of he had a family of his own.

You breathed just a bit too loudly, and the boy turned, and he was beautiful. He was all sharp angles and obvious aggression but you didn’t fear him, too captivated. His eyes, golden, scanned over your face and you knew he could see your scales. It seemed when he noted you weren’t necessarily human either, the defensive anger subsided. He brought himself to his feet, narrowed his eyes at you, grabbed his rabbit and took a few steps back. For some reason you almost reached out for him.

“Wait,” You called. “Don’t go.”

You’d barely spoken a word since your father died. Hearing your own voice felt alien, and apparently it was a mutual feeling. He eyed you, cautiously watching every single movement like suddenly he was the rabbit and you were the predator. Most of his attired was red, and you smiled.

“You’re a fox.” You stated, voice soft and spacey.

“And you’re a lizard.” He spat. You frowned, shocked by the crudeness of his tone.

“Reptilian.” You corrected him as you took a step closer. He retreated just a bit more and you realized you probably shouldn’t be as casual as you were, but something about him being there, being stuck outside the city, made you feel some sort of weird kinship. He obviously wasn’t feeling it, however.

“Doesn’t matter.” He hissed, dismissing your words and looking like he was about to dart.

You realized how much you didn’t want to be alone, even if it meant talking to strangers. “What’s your name?”

“That doesn’t matter either.”

“I’m ___, you?”

He gawked at you incredulously, and you could see two sharp teeth jutting father than the rest. “We’re not fucking buddies,” he said. “And this rabbit,” He held up the animal dead in his hands. “Is mine.”

“You can have it,” You answered quickly, trying to think of a way to make him stay. “Just- Let me make it for you. I used to cook for my dad all the time.”

“Used to?” his eyes narrowed again. “He’s dead?”

You swallowed at the painful memories but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. Yours?” He scoffed.

“I wish.”

“You shouldn’t wish things like that.”

“You don’t know shit about my dad, got it?”

A shaky breath left your lips. He was getting mad, you could hear it in his tone, and you were starting to get anxious. You wanted him to leave since he seemed like he was much more trouble than he was worth, but something in you wouldn’t let him. The thought of going back to your shack and never saying another word again felt so lonely. You were suddenly aware of the fact that since you now knew there were others in your area, you’d never be comfortably alone talking to the moon.

“Don’t go.”

He stared at you. “We don’t know each other.”

“We could.”

“Maybe I don’t know wanna’ know you. Obviously you’ve got some fucked up stuff going for you and I don’t want any part of it.”

“And you don’t?” You asked, shoulders tensing. “Doesn’t sound like everythings sweet on your side either.”

“Hey,” He barked suddenly. “Don’t talk about me like you know me. You don’t.”

“Then let me get to know you. Our kind should stick together, shouldn’t they?”

The boy actually laughed at your words, shaking his head. “Don’t pull that shit. Our kind are loners and you know it.”

You looked down at your feet, frowning. “Maybe I don’t want to be a loner anymore.”

A breeze rustled the leaves overhead as he didn’t answer, and when you peeked a look at him it was a different expression than it had been moments ago. It was somber, maybe even empathetic, so you took your chances in speaking again.

“Let me cook that for you. You can have all of it just-... Talk to me.”

“Fox and a lizard. You’re that lonely, huh?” He scoffed, and you sighed in defeat. Retillian.

The rabbit was tossed forward, landing with a ragdoll thud by the bushes in front of you. You looked up at him curiously, and he stared back with unreadable eyes. However, his tail moved in interest. Drawn back to his face, you were once again caught off guard by how pretty he was. He had such a pointed expression but you found yourself unable to look away. He grew anxious on his feet.

“Maybe next time.” He said plainly before turning on his heel.

“Wait,” You made a move to chase after him but he rose a hand to stop you.

“I said next time. Don’t fucking follow me or you’ll regret it.” He began to disappear into the trees and you watched him while feeling a pit form in your gut. “By the way,” He kept moving but spoke louder. “My name’s Nathan.”

Though you wanted to chase after him you stayed put, watching him almost dissolve into the thick brush until there was nothing left but you, nature, and the dead rabbit lying near your feet. An emptiness crept into your chest and your shoulders slumped at you grabbed the rabbit, happy you had a meal for the night but still feeling like you’d lost what was important.

But, as his name and image bounced around in your head, you couldn’t help but smile. Though he was gone and you still knew little to nothing about him, somehow some part of you knew you’d see him again.

The world around you suddenly felt just a bit bigger.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #promptober #life is strange #imagine #scenario #imaginefictionals

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unproduciblesmackdown · 7 years

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margathecreatughhh · 4 years

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thoughts

uhhh hi i haven’t written on here since last year but i’m back.

the dude i referred to in my previous posts broke my heart. i’m okay now though, no more anger, sadness, or nostalgia.

that’s not what i’m about to talk about now though. i was watching 2019 BTS Festa video, the Bangtan Attic one. I remember watching it when it came out and the advice they said in the video actually helped me deal with the issues that ensued after the break up.

i was actually pretty miserable from july last year and that kind of dragged on until early april of this year.

i’m currently self-isolating right now, i haven’t done my schoolwork or whatever. i’ve been reading a lot to keep my mind of things. when i didn’t read, i’d watch youtube videos or fangirl over BTS on social media.

honestly, i’d love to talk about what happened the past few months, but i can say truthfully that i’ve lowkey let go of the things that made me miserable? i have moments when i just want to cry though. that’s actually really better than having to accumulate all my emotions and just going off in one setting (feb 29, payag payag. i c u). quarantine has actually given me a lot of time to just reflect on the things that happened the past few months. thinking about them now, it still makes me emotional, but not as much as it used to when i’d get into a panic attack or i start drowning in self-loathing. as i’m typing this though, i feel a little bit choked up but that’s what happens when i drink caffeine at 2 am so i can’t fully blame my emotions.

i have no one to talk to here in my dorm. i live alone for the first time in my life because of issues with roommates in the past. since moving here, it did feel a little bit lonely. i don’t have anyone to talk to since joy is also pretty busy but i don’t hold that against her because we live in different time zones now and i respect her priorities. not that i think she would never prioritize me, she’s actually one call away, i just respect her decision to become more independent in a new environment. anyway, with the things that happened in the past few months, i’ve decided to keep things to myself (not anymore though, i’ve chosen to talk about the things that bothered me to other people. shoutout to nina c). i always used twitter as an outlet because the idea of having to condense your thoughts into a tweet has always been enough. people didn’t think the same though, so i’m off of my personal twitter account and migrated back to my stan account. i think it’s better because i’m less involved in the drama that goes on with irl people. i’d say that it was a breather to just put all my energy into something else, which is fangirling.

sometimes i slip into sadness but its rare. i know i’m probably speaking too soon but i guess i feel like i have to bring it up so i can acknowledge how its actually happening. i’m trying to get back into my hobbies and leisurely activities but that, of course, is going to be hard.

i came back onto tumblr because my dumbass started thinking about how i know when i can finally break out from my social anxiety. before i get into that though, i think i have to talk about how i finally acknowledged how i have social anxiety.

i’ve always known i was indifferent towards people. indifferent in a way that i felt like i was always an outcast or that people didn’t want me to be part of something. then, idk i just arrived to the point that it doesn’t really matter who doesn’t want me in a certain situation because i know there are people who do want me to be part of something. thoughts like that give me hope, you know? i’ve started thinking about not looking into situations too much and constantly asking myself “does she not like me?”, “did i say something to offend her?” etc.

the self reflection i experienced a few weeks ago did help me sort my thoughts out. i started thinking about who i was before i became miserable last year. i knew i always had a positive outlook in life, and i was quite an optimist. those were what kept me sane and it really helped with anxiety. when i came to these thoughts during self-reflection, i realized i’ve been asking myself the wrong questions. “why would it matter if the person likes me or not?”, “should i adjust my tone and my way of speaking to avoid offending others?”, etc. i think shifting into this mindset is better. as i type this out, i think to myself, “am i doing this for the sake of others?”, “am i being a people-pleaser by considering these thoughts?”. the answer is no. before i was subjected into the unbearable pain and misery a few months ago, i did have this mindset. i was always so thoughtful of others, and that itself made me happy. i knew that if i was kind to others, if i was positive around people, that would make me happy too. of course there are some setbacks into this mindset such as when people really be testing you and your patience, but that’s the thing to it- you’re supposed to be patient. thinking about these things again, it reminds me how much i changed after what happened the past few months. back then, i wouldn’t have had to remind myself these things or submit to self-reflection because it came naturally to me. i was the one who never thought about reciprocation. i didn’t count on other people’s well-doings towards me. i never thought “i’d do this for them, why wouldn’t they do it for me too?”. i thought about this a lot and have cried over it. again, i did some self-reflection. i messaged the people i wanted to message, the people who have made me feel important and helped push me into self-reflection. i honestly feel like i lost myself these past few months and i don’t think it’s something i want. i message my friends who have listened to me ramble about the things that bothered me, my friends who checked up on me during ecq, my friend who actually bothered to reply and exhibited the same energy when i messaged her. i also apologized to one of my blockmates for my behavior the past few months, i didn’t get a reply. a tugging feeling claws inside me but for the most part, i really don’t care.

when i realized that i have finally gained a solid grasp to who i was, who i want to be, and who i want to continue to be, i sought comfort through words. that’s when i decided to rewatch 2019 bts festa out of nowhere.

the members actually said a lot of things that are great for the mind. i’m gonna list a few:

- i am my own hope

- it happens

- i’m happy seeing the members happy

i’m sure there were a lot of things i skipped over. they also talked about having to keep up with a persona and that honestly dug in deep too because i know i feel like i always have to act a certain way when im with different people. of course it wouldn’t be easy to shift into a more natural version of myself when im around all these kinds of people but i’ll be sure to work on it more.

anyways, these words helped remind me of who i was and who i want to be. i want to be my own hope, because what and who else will you have to hold onto besides yourself? before talking about this, j-hope mentioned that he started embodying the BTS version of him. j-hope always said “i’m your hope” and he said that he believes there is no distinction between j-hope and jung ho seok because when he kept being hopeful as j-hope, it kind of just rubbed off on jung hoseok too. it’s like, the more hopeful you are, the firmer your grasp onto hope is. this is why i’ve decided to hold onto my own sense of hope: hoping that i do get a better future, hoping that i do grow into a better version of me. suga also discussed the phrase “it happens” and honestly i’ve been trying to live through that phrase. i remember always asking myself the past few months “why did it have to happen to me?”, “do i deserve everything im going through right now?”. when i got into self-reflection, the first statement i remembered was “it happens”, and that’s true. we have no telling of why or how things happened, but what we do know is that it did. there’s no other way we can deal with it other than having to move on and let go from what’s holding us back (e.g. me holding myself back from growing out of my developed pessimism), because again, it happens. taehyung was the one who said “i’m happy seeing the members happy” and i feel like that also contributed a lot to help me find myself again. it reminded me of who i was and how i used to be so hopeful, being an advocate for others and of course being an optimist. i’ve felt cheated by life the past few months that i grew selfish. i have every right for selfishness but there were moments when i exuded that in the wrong situations. of course, i have every right to be selfish after what my ex had done to me before, during and after our relationship. however, i shouldn’t be selfish all the time. there are times when this world requires selflessness and i really want to embody that again, because selfishness honestly isn’t cute.

despite adopting an optimistic mindset, i think there should be an emphasis on being realistic too. i’d like to call this as optimistic realism but i honestly don’t know what im talking about hahaha. i can describe this as holding onto a more positive attitude towards things, situations, and people, but also keeping things realistic. you could treat people without having to consider the thought of them having underlying anger or hatred towards you (this is being optimistic in my opinion), but also approach them without expectations (realistic). expectations might be the biggest heartbreak of them all in my opinion, however, we really cannot blame ourselves for holding onto them. we have every right to expect from people who we really should be expecting from. (like how i expected my ex to straighten the fuck up but im a clown). the expectations im referring to though are the ones that are too much from people who can possibly be just temporary in our lives. like i’ve mentioned earlier, when you expect people to reciprocate the same energy you give them. this is an unfair expectation because not all people are like you. you know how people say we all have different love languages? i think it goes that way. i was bummed a few friends didn’t message me a happy birthday, but whenever i mentioned them in things or whenever i said something alarming on social media, they always replied or they always checked up on me. with the person i’m trying to be, i want to be able to acknowledge these things too because the small things matter.

i think im rambling at this point, but i hope i got my thoughts across.

i’ve actually put off from writing because i became too critical of how i wrote. right now, even though im just typing out my thoughts, i initially wanted to sort them out and organize the ideas and things i had to say. then i reminded myself that if i continue restricting myself into such trivial matters, i wouldn’t be able to grow and find out who i really am, what makes me comfortable. i find out writing without organization is freeing honestly, just like what i’m doing right now.

i’m gonna write a new post on social anxiety in a few minutes because i have a lot to say lol. sorry if the ideas i presented in this text post are too unorganized. figure it out with reading comprehension mwa

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sarahburness · 6 years

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Moving Through Grief: I’m Strong Because I Feel It All

“Grief is the last act of love we have to give to those we loved. Where there is deep grief, there was great love.” ~Unknown

It’s been almost six months now. Half of a year without my brother and the grief still visits. I’m pretty sure grief doesn’t actually go away, it just gets further and further apart.

People continue to ask me how I am so “strong” through all of this, mistaking my happy moments as the full picture.

I continue to tell them strength comes because I feel it all.

The story in itself is my therapy, my chance to relive the amazing memories, my chance to show you the waves of grief I ride.

The last thing I told my conscious brother was, “But I believe in miracles, I really do.”

To be fair, the last thing I really told him was a travel story about me using a squatty-potty in Thailand, in hopes that humor would bring him back to responsiveness.

The thing is, I really did believe a miracle was possible, or at least I wanted to believe. Surely it wasn’t his time to go. The all divine higher power wouldn’t take away my big brother, my role model, my mom’s baby boy. It simply wasn’t time.

The tumor on his spine seemed to disagree with me though.

My brother is gone now and there is a human sized hole in the universe that I am living in, and yet I survive; in fact, I am thriving in this life that I have now.

But let’s back up a little, because I can’t just tell you about how I move through this season of grief without totally and completely honoring the human my brother was. He called me his little buddy, and though my oldest brother was the babysitter, Kirk always whispered into my ear that he was for real the one in charge.

He liked Dungeon and Dragons, donuts, finishing a great book, writing and doodling in a brown journal probably made of suede or something cool like that. He loved to flip me upside-down or hold me down and tickle me until I was completely sure I would pee my pants. He would say things that didn’t make any sense to me until later when I would sit and contemplate in stillness.

Something about Kirk’s soul was so playful but inspired me to be still and live in the presence that I have. He did things like build houses out of mud for sustainability and turn medians into produce farms. He took killer photos and made clay statues that I used to think would move in the night and haunt me.

Kirk told me “to try everything once, unless that one thing will kill you, then skip that one.” Which is why you can catch me building a business that makes zero sense to who I am, traveling to foreign countries when I should probably be building a 401K or something else adults do. But when there’s a human size hole in your universe, you do things for joy. Maybe it’s to honor them, maybe it’s because you live life to the fullest possible amount there can ever be. Either way, I’ll keep moving only for things that light my soul on fire.

And then there was the cancer.

You know how if you endure something just the right amount, it kind of becomes your normal? Repetitive chaos in your life has a way of doing that. And after watching my grandma battle cancer and win, my mom battle cancer and win, and Kirk beating it over and over again, it felt like the norm. Like it was just a thing that plagued my family, but we always move out of it.

Everyone handles something like this differently; personally, I’m that “ray of sunshine, glass half full and hey, I’ll help you with your glass too” kind of girl. Sunshine and cancer don’t blend well together. I got really good at smiling, cheering people up, and ignoring the invader in our lives.

When I opened my phone and received the text reading, “He took a turn for the worse,” my soul didn’t believe it. I hopped on a plane, believing my sunshine would be enough to stop this spiral.

My sunshine was not enough to bring him back to life.

My sunshine was dimmed to its darkest.

My glass was tipped over.

Grief overwhelmed my soul. Gut wrenching, unexplainable, dynamic grief.

It has been almost six months now since this hole was created in my universe, and every day someone asks me how I am so “strong” or “positive.” I will tell you exactly how.

When I’m mad, I get mad. I allow myself to hear why I am mad because I know answers are on the other side of that. I don’t place my anger on anyone or anything. I just let it out as it is, even if it doesn’t make any sense.

When I’m sad, I get sad. Even if that means I cry in my car because I walked passed a flavor of ice cream that he enjoyed. Even if that means crying on my birthday because I realized it was the first year I wouldn’t hear from him. Even if that means I cry for no other reason besides missing my brother. I let it flow because I am alive and I can feel.

And when I’m happy, you best believe I’m happier than a three year old in between meltdowns. Because of all of the human emotions that I get to endure, the one he would want me to amplify the most is wild, epic, unleashed happiness.

They say grief is like waves, and I honestly couldn’t explain it any more eloquently than that. As a professional beach-goer, the thing I can tell you about waves is that they have two extremes; if you work with the waves they are flowing and forgiving, if you fight against them they will pull you under to the depths.

This is how you move with grace through grief. The fight creates a deep abyss of suffering, the flow creates a space for forgiveness. I’m not saying there won’t be pain; there will be deafening pain to endure on this ride. And on the other side of that pain is forgiving and wild happiness that I like to think our lost pieces are sending to us. This is how I am strong through my grief.

I am mad, sad, and happy sometimes all in one day. I feel pain and yet I live so passionately, exactly the way my brother would want me to. I am not strong because I am positive; I am strong because I feel it all. Strength hides in the depth of every emotion. Tap into each flow.

About Megan Seamans

Megan Seamans is a life coach for women who want to get out of their head and on with the life they're obsessed with. She helps them get back to their core being by supporting them in moving out of blocks such as fear, doubt, overwhelm, and their comfort zone. Grab her free journal guide 6 Steps to Clarity here!

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The post Moving Through Grief: I’m Strong Because I Feel It All appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/moving-through-grief-im-strong-because-i-feel-it-all/

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