#imagine feeling what it’s like to be unconditionally loved and supported after succumbing to the idea that you will always be alone

[mxtxfanatic]

I just know that the moment Mu Qing ripped the veils off the statues in the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods and the trio found the mural was a religious experience for Xie Lian. I know because it felt like a religious experience as I was reading it.

[swga]

freefall | oneshot

pairing: yoongi x reader

word count: 1.8k

themes and genres: angst, a smidge of fluff, idol!yoongi, slice of life

synopsis: in which you are only human

Loving Yoongi is easier said than done.

 It's waking up with a hollowness to your chest on the right side of a half-made bed, the softness of this lips on your temple long gone. It's the cold bite of the counter on your back while you wait for your coffee, ears deaf from the loud silence that envelops you. It's the sparce texts that come and go, the bare minimum of affection that fails to uplift your spirit as the day wears on. It's the way you hope for some semblance of normalcy, even if you know you'll never have it in this lifetime. At least, not with him.

 Yoongi is married to his job. You know that. You accept it, celebrate it. You fell in love with him because of it. You love how his eyes light up when inspiration strikes, how he gets lost in the music he can only hear in his mind, how he's most himself when he's seated in front of his soundboard and mixing console. He lives in a world of his own, one he shares with you when he can, and it works.

 It works until you realize that he's committed to finishing a song more than he is to coming home on time for dinner. It works until you realize that you haven't seen him in a week because his creativity is on overdrive, and he can't step on the breaks, lest he crashes and burns.

 It works until you realize that loving Yoongi is like walking on a tightrope so high that you can't see the ground.

 A tightrope—that's exactly what this is. Every day that passes is another foot forward, and it takes all of your energy to keep the pole in your hands balanced. The rope sways with every step, and your stomach drops at the mere thought of falling, but you continue on even if you're scared for your life.

 The crowd below is ruthless; their pointed stares anticipate your demise. You try to drown them out because the walk itself is perilous. You don't need the extra weight on your shoulders. You just need to get to the other side.

 Today is another step taken, and you're tired. It's been a week since you last saw him, and you crave his presence in every way possible. And so, you slip on his white FG shirt and let it drape over your shoulder until your bare thighs. You prepare enough dinner for two—everything he likes—and let yourself get lost in the motion of chewing and swallowing.

 It takes every ounce of energy to keep yourself distracted. You don't want to get lost in the ugly feeling brewing in your chest. It's an unwanted weight that will throw you off balance, and you're teetering as it is.You feel the wetness pool in the corners of your eyes, and you will yourself to hold on tighter.

 But you're tired. So utterly, painfully tired.

 One cry bubbles up your throat. And then another. And then another, until you find that you can't stop.

 "I'm so tired," you sniff. The chopsticks fall to the floor as you attempt to wipe the tears rolling down your cheeks.

 It's overwhelming. He's everywhere and nowhere all at once, and it's painful that he isn't here at all. You miss him, but you don't want to demand his time because the rest of the world already expects so much of him. You want him to come to you on his own, but your arms are tired of waiting. You support him with every fiber of your being, but your strength has withered away.

 It hits you all at once.

 You're exhausted, and you want to succumb to the freefall.

  Yoongi takes pride in many things.

 First and foremost, he takes pride that he has grit. The path he had chosen long ago was, and still is, a long and uphill one. Things were never handed on a silver platter. He had to endure endless hours of training while maintaning his studies and working part time to earn what little amount he could. Even when he finally debuted with BTS, things didn't get any easier. If anything, it made his life harder. He had to deal with sasaengs and scandals as he was thrust into a world where he had nowhere to hide. When things became too much, he had his members to fall on, but he knew that if he didn't have any semblance of grit, he wouldn't be where he is today.

 He also takes pride in their fans. They, who understand and resonate with his work. They, who support his love for music in ways he never thought was possible. They, who taught him how to love himself when he didn't know how to. He would thank every single one of their fans if he could. That's how much they meant to him.

 Most of all, he takes pride in being your partner. You, who doesn't need him to feel whole because you love yourself plenty enough. You, who pushes him to be better when he wants to give up halfway. You, who supports his career endlessly simply because you love all of him, even if it meant sacrificing time together.

 He doesn't like that last thought too much, because even if you supported him tiredlessly, he missed spending time with you in the paradise you had created together at home.

 It has been a tiring week for Yoongi. He worked track after track after track, barely taking care of himself in the process. Every meal he had came in small bites too far in between, and any ounce of sleep he got withered away the moment he woke up. He supposed that even if he did eat well and slept properly, he would still be tired because he terribly misses you. And so, he put all of his effort into finishing this last song so he could come back to you as quick as he could.

 The moment Yoongi opens the door to your apartment, his senses are bombarded. The delicious aroma of bulgogi wafts up his nose. It makes his stomach growl, and only then does he realize that it had been too long since his last proper meal. The sight of your shoes by the door brings a smile to his face because you're home, and he could finally hold you in his arms under warm sheets.

 Soft sniffs and strangled cries pull him from his reverie and into the kitchen. There, he finds your head in your hands, shoulders shaking from the sobs that wreck your curled frame.

 He doesn't need to ask why you're crying. His shirt on your body and the food long forgotten lets him know it all.

 The thought is a knife to his heart. How could he let it come this far? How did he manage to break the one thing he promised not to? Yoongi feels his heart break, twist, and crumble like never before; he almost wants to rip it out of his chest and give it to you instead, to make up for the hurt he hates he caused the best thing he has. Instead, he wraps his arms around you in a feeble attempt to calm you down.

 Like second nature, your body twists to face the man you love unconditionally, your head buried in the warmth of his chest. "Y-Yoongi," your muffled voice breaks his heart all over again, and he berates himself even more. "I'm so t-tired, I-I ca-can't–"

 He cuts you off before you could make him hate himself even more. "(Y/N), I'm so sorry. I-I fucked up, shit." Words escape Yoongi, because how could he earn your forgiveness? He doesn't deserve it. He knows he doesn't deserve the love you give him if this is what he gave you in return. You deserve someone who could give you their time, who would be there when you wake up and fall asleep. You deserve someone who could eat dinner with you every night, who could share mundane moments with you.

 No, Yoongi definitely doesn't deserve you, but he needs you to stay.

 "F-fuck, (Y/N), please don't leave," he whispers into your hair as tears well in the corner of his eyes. "I swear I'll do better, I'll do so much better, baby. Just, please don't leave." He is ready to grovel on his knees, but you cling tightly to his shirt as you shake your head.

 "I-I won't, Yoongi, I'm just so, so tired."

 Your weak voice makes him fall on his knees. He immediately wraps his arms around your waist and buries his head in your navel, his eyes searching for yours through his tears. He had never heard you so broken like this, never seen you so worn out like this, and it suffocates him to accept that he has done this to you. You, the stronger half of him. You, the better half of him. He would give up the world to hush your cries, even if it isn't for him to give. But now, under the gaze of your empty, dull eyes, he isn't sure anymore. How could he give you the world when he couldn't even give you himself? Yoongi's jaw clench. He can't let you go like this. He won't let you go like this, even if it kills him.

 Your hands comb through his hair like moth to a flame. It was black now, you realize. It looks good on him, just like every color he had worn before. It's also a reminder of how you live in different worlds, orbits never meeting despite existing in the same galaxy.

 "I don't want to be overbearing, because I support what you do, but I barely see you anymore, Yoongi. And I try to be understanding, but I'm just so tired." A fresh wave of tears gather in your eyes, so you bite your lip and try to keep them at bay. It's pointess though, because sobs continue to escape through gritted teeth and tight lips.

 He lets you grieve until you couldn't, because he knows this is what you need. He grieves on his own too, but he does so in hushed whispers and vice-like grips.

 When his tears run out and his heart is squeezed dry, he gingerly carries you to bed. "It's been a long night, baby. Let's talk about this tomorrow." His promise lingers in the air like his lips on your hair.

 "I don't want to wake up alone, Yoongi."

 His heart aches once more. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be to love someone like him, someone who brings mornings filled with half-made beds and lonely spaces. He hates it. He hates it in his skin, in his bones, and in his veins, because you deserve more than what he gives. But he knows even the darkest days will come to pass, so he anoints you with his kiss and promises the world to you even if it isn't for him to give. "I'll be here when you wake up."

[saharamae21]

Three Cheers For Five Years (Rafe Imagine - Part Two)

Author: @sguymon21

Summary: Based on Three Cheers For Five Years by Mayday Parade

Warnings: Lots of Angst

The lyrics are in italics! Rafe’s POV is bolded!

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I thought with a month of apart

After trying day after day, I decided to approach the situation in a different way. I gave her space to give her time to think I waited a month and it was killing me. I wasn’t sleeping. I was barely eating. Alcohol and drugs were the only thing that could potentially take my mind off of her. I sat there with another empty bottle in my hand as Topper tried to tell me I had enough. I hadn’t had enough though, not until I was so drunk that I couldn’t remember she was gone.

Together would find us an opening

I waited for the right moment, but there never was one. I sat at a party and watched as she walked into the room. For the first time since we had broken up, she came to a social event. I felt my chest ache in agony as she talked to this boy. He was someone in her grade that I’d never gotten to know. I downed another drink and walked up to the roof. I needed air away from this.

Moonlight would provide a spark

I basked under the dim light of the moon alone. The drinks were finally starting to take their toll on me. I replayed the images of her with that boy in my mind. How could she just talk to him like that? Didn’t she know how much it would kill me if I saw her doing that? Or did it just not matter to her? I heard the window slide open and someone slip out. I sat up and a familiar scream filled the air. She stared at me. At this point I couldn’t tell if I was imagining it or if she was actually here.

And that I would stumble across your key

I stood up shakily, wobbling towards her. I was so drunk I could barely keep myself up. I felt her rush to support me and help me sit down. She yelled at me for being so intoxicated. She yelled at me about my safety. She lectured me, but what did it matter if she wasn’t in my life. I felt her reach into my pockets and take my keys. She was crying now, saying I was selfish.

Or break down the door to your heart

I tried to pull her into my arms as she cried. I wanted her to smile. I wanted her to laugh. She pushed me away though. She told me how I always thought of myself. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong. I wanted to tell her that I did everything for her, but I couldn’t. As she spoke, I realized she was right. I had been desperately trying to get back into her life, that I was making her miserable in the process. I needed her though. “Rafe,” she said. She was sobbing. “You’re so selfish. You had expected me to be fine and take you back as if nothing happened and when I didn’t you did this! Can’t you at least take care of yourself instead of still making me take care of you? It’s not fair.”

Forever can see us, not you and me

I stared at her, the alcohol completely consuming me at this point. I let my body collapse on itself. Every part of my being just wanted to stay on that roof forever. She placed her hand on my back in concern and knelt next to me. I couldn’t help myself from thinking that it would be me and her forever, not Rafe Cameron and y/n y/l/n. We were against the world, but it will never be the same again.

And you’d help me out of the dark

She helped me to my knees. My head was fuzzy and my emotions poured out as I saw her. I cried and told her I missed her. I told her I messed up and that everything was a mistake. I told her I loved her. A tear slipped down her face.

“C’mon Rafe,” she said, helping me to my feet. I swayed, but she held me tightly and helped me back inside. “You’re so drunk…”

I gave my heart as an offering

She led me into an empty bedroom and took care of me. I laid down on the bed and she brought me water. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked as if she was waiting for something. She wanted to leave, I could see it on her face. I grabbed her hand and gave her a look of desperation.

“Don’t leave,” I begged. “I’ll do anything. I’ll never talk to another girl again. I’ll cancel plans with the boys for you. I’ll give you my heart. You and only you.”

‘Cause I will always remember you as you are right now to me

I stared at her as she shook her head as I talked. She looked pained by everything I was saying and it killed me. I’ll always remember the girl I fell in love with, but when this is over, will the tortured and sad y/n be the one that I remember? Will I remember the girl who loved me unconditionally or will I remember the girl who I broke and shattered?

So, sleep alone tonight

The boy from earlier opened the door and asked if she needed a ride home. She said to give her a minute and pushed the hair out of her face. I went silent and felt my heart break into pieces. Is this how she felt when she saw me? I silently plead for her not to go with him. I needed her to go home alone. I needed her to need me.

With no one here, just by your side

In a moment of weakness I sat up and pulled her into my arms. I apologized over and over. I cupped her face and kissed her. I felt as she pushed me away and got up. She backed away from me with tears in her eyes. I watched as Topper opened the door and y/n immediately pushed past him and left me there. She was gone again.

And how does he feel?

I listened to Top tell me to let her go. Maybe it would be best if I forgot about her, but it wasn’t that easy. I was in love. I laid there and began to spiral with all the thoughts of her and that guy. I imagined her laying on his chest with his arms around her. I wondered if she would think of me or if she would focus on how it felt to be in another man's arms?

And how does he kiss?

I wondered if she would melt into his kisses like she used to with me? Would it hurt the first few times? Would she wish it was me? Does he kiss better? Does he fit better between her lips? Would they be quick and playful peaks or would they be deep and loving? How would they compare to mine?

And how does he taste while he’s on your lips?

My mind continued to roam as I laid there. I felt myself succumbing to nothing without her. The only thing I could think about was what y/n’s life would look like without me? I grabbed handfuls of hair and cried as the alcohol slowly wore off. Each minute made me more and more miserable and the thing that hurt the most was that everything was my fault.

And I can’t forget you,

I sat in Jase’s car as he gave me a ride home. I whipped tears and looked out the window, embarrassed that he was seeing me break down like this. I thought I was ready. I thought I could handle this, but I clearly couldn’t.

“You should just forget about him,” Jase said, not taking his eyes off the road. “He’s an asshole, you can do better. How about I take you out next week?” “Stop the car,” I said. I probably sounded like a child, but I couldn’t believe him. How insensitive could he be? I could never just forget Rafe.

I know you want me to want you, I want too

I watched as Jase pulled the care over and I got out, ready to walk the rest of the way home. As I walked towards my house, I replayed the last few hours in my head. I felt tears slip down my cheek as I remember him begging me to take him back. I wanted to, but my pride held me back.

But I can’t forgive you

I wanted to take him back. I wanted to kiss him when he kissed me, but the night of our anniversary still lingered in the back of my mind. It would always be there, waiting in the shadows and attacking my insecurities in my moments of weakness. I couldn’t take him back when it would tear me apart like this.

So when this is over, don’t blow your composure baby

I thought back to his recklessness and the alcoholism that was budding within him. My last wish for him was that he didn’t ruin his life over this. After all the sadness is gone, I wanted him to be the same happy and goofy Rafe that I knew and loved. He had an image and status to uphold and he had a future ahead of him. I didn’t want him to blow it. As much as it killed me I still needed him to be happy in the end. I felt the tears leave me silently. That was my last wish for him.

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Tag List : @justcallmesams @jellyfishbeansontoast @prejudic3

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[all-4-wincest]

Hello! I hope you have a wonderful day! Sending you a virtual hug

Thank you so much, @twobrothersfuckingeachother I’ve held onto this for several days because I really needed this hug. Have needed someone to give me a hug daily for a while. I know that you don’t know what’s going on with me, so excuse me while I tell you and everyone else why I haven’t been here much, and why I’ll take all the virtual hugs I can get.

I’m currently taking care of my mother, I have been for the last five years after she had a major stroke in 2015. She’s struggled to recover, and has never made it back to the strong woman that raised me and my four sisters.

She’s dying now, every day that she’s still with us is agony for her. She’s in constant excruciating pain and can’t do anything for herself. So it’s my father and I taking care of her, and unfortunately causing her more pain every day when we have to move or touch her at all.

I’m a registered nurse and have seen many people suffer and finally succumb to their death more times than I care to remember. I know that death is a natural part of life, and unfortunately, everyone isn’t able to go peacefully. I’ve witnessed all manners of death. Natural, peaceful death, those caused by insidious diseases, self inflicted deaths, traumatic deaths, and deaths caused by another, less than human, individual. I’ve pretty much seen it all and I’ve dealt with it in many ways. (Often through fan fiction. It’s a great way to get out of your own head!)

But it’s different when it’s someone that you’ve known and loved your entire life. Someone that’s taken care of you, loved you unconditionally, and supported you during good times and bad. My mother is the reason I became a nurse. She was a labor and delivery nurse manager for more than half of her 40 plus year professional career.

It’s unbelievably difficult to watch her suffer day in and day out. Especially knowing that there’s nothing I or anyone else can do anymore to ease her suffering. Yes, we can give her pain medication, we can provide comfort care, sit at her bedside for hours waiting for her to wake up just in case she needs anything, but it never feels like enough.

I know that this is me rambling, but I guess I needed to get this all out of my head and somehow, maybe, let my friends carry some of this load for me. If that makes any sense.

So, thank you so very much for sending me your hug, even when you had no idea how desperately I needed it! I should also thank some other friends that know what’s going on, and have been a great source of comfort and understanding for me.

So thanks, @cyi-can-you-imagine , @j2sunflowerbaby , @dwimpala-67 Thanks for listening to me and for gifting me with your friendship.

Thanks also to my friends that are always showing up in my dash, even though I haven’t been around or responding much. @ledzeppelinsbonzo @adsp-wincestj2 @deanwanddamons @outcastedangel And shoot, everyone else that is slipping my mind right now!

Y’all are all the literal BEST FRIENDS I COULD HAVE EVER ASKED FOR!!

XOXO, Liz

[alzindiana]

Indy resident honors mom’s love of quilting through The Longest Day

Indianapolis resident Dr. Tony Jean Dickerson is raising funds and awareness through The Longest Day in honor of her mother. Below, in her own words, is her touching story.

If you would like to participate in The Longest Day, register at alz.org/TheLongestDay or contact Jennifer Lovell Buddenbaum at jlbuddenbaum@alz.org or 317.587.2208, ext. 1530. 

My mother, Linda Edwards Lee, succumbed to Alzheimer’s on March 1, 2019. She was diagnosed with dementia and simultaneously began dialysis in November of 2010. For most of that time I was her primary caregiver and we lived in Kansas City, MO. There were people who stayed in the home with her during the day, sat at dialysis with her, and just came by the house to provide support. As the disease progressed, I decided to move her back to Indianapolis, IN and closer to my nuclear family in 2017.

When I helped establish a sewing guild the following year, our members honored her through activities that involved her love of quilting. As a cornerstone of our guild, we choose an organization to give back to as part of our social justice and service focus. For 2020, we created a “Forget Me Not” quilt that was designed by Jenny Doan of the Missouri Star Quilt Company in honor of her late mother-in-law who succumbed to Alzheimer’s. The purple flower template was inspired by the Promise Garden flowers featured in the annual Walk to End Alzheimer’s®, which my mother’s grandchildren have participated in several times.

The quilt was created at our Annual Retreat in June 2020, and once completed we partnered with Crimson Tate Quilt Shop to advertise an online raffle benefiting the Alzheimer’s Association. Through a posting on Instagram, I was approached by Jennifer Lovell Buddenbaum, manager of The Longest Day for the Alzheimer’s Association Greater Indiana Chapter, about fundraising through that program. This partnership will garner more exposure for the raffle, thus bringing in more funds for the organization that has taken up the mantle to help eradicate this debilitating disease. I recommend those that can to partner with the Greater Indiana Chapter to participate in “The Longest Day.” The creative parameters in which you can participate are only as limited as your group’s imagination. The personalized activities serve to further honor the life’s work and impact of the people that we love. If you need guidance, Buddenbaum will offer suggestions to help you get started and maximize your fundraising.

Over the years, I shared my journey with my Momma and the impact that dementia and Alzheimer’s had on our lives. Below are several Facebook postings that I shared with family and friends about our journey. One of the last posts was a little less than a year before she died. I cried writing them. I cried again today re-reading them. I miss my Momma. All of her. The part of her that celebrated me in that irrational way that mommas do about their children. I miss her creativity and her sassiness and her decisiveness. I miss her hugs and her kisses and her dancing. But in all that is lost, what is left is my opportunity to honor her; to lift up her example of struggle and triumph so that others can find the same in their situations. In that way she’s still right here. Until we meet again.

Facebook Posts:

May 12, 2018

Love Letter to my Momma: Each day I try to give my Momma a thousand kisses. Each day I try to sing, "I'll Always Love My Momma" to her. I have worked through years of anger, frustration, pain and hurt about her dementia. I am now at acceptance. My Momma is NOT her dementia. Each day I look for her smile and her "NOWness." I enjoy who she is NOW. I enjoy fighting with Vickie Powell over her affection for us. I enjoy telling her to stop giving all of my kisses to Alnita Lee. I enjoy seeing Kingston knock her over because he wants to be near her. Or Butter and Biskit at her feet waiting for her to drop them some food. I enjoy laughing at how Vanita Powell can't get her to do anything! LOL I enjoy her "Everydayness." I don't take for granted that so many in my circle of family and friends don't have their Momma. I will not live one day of regret later because I didn't spend the time with her now. She is my heartbeat. I love everything about her. Unconditionally. And I know she loves me back. She tells me a thousand times a day. Happy Mother's Day, Momma!

December 3, 2016

This is going to be long. But it's for me anyway....

So my mother has dementia. This means that she is not the same person she was before. She is different. Quite a bit different. We are both different because of it. I think her dementia scares a lot of people. I think it scares a lot of people who love her. She doesn't remember everything and everybody. Hell she doesn't remember my name on a daily basis. She calls me "Momma." Sometimes she calls me "brother." Yesterday she kept calling me "Lee." But most days she says in the most "matter of fact way" I have ever heard, "I love you, Tony." She says it so matter of fact that it quickens my spirit. It's so true. It's so real. When she says it, all of the fear--most of the fear-- that she won't remember me one day goes away. I rest in that truth.

Her grandson William Duncan talks to her 2-3 times a week. She says about the same thing. "When will I see you again?" She doesn't always remember exactly what his name is. Sometimes she calls him "Jim-bo!" I don't know who that is. And Man just laughs. Other times she tells him, "I know who you are." And she knows exactly who he is. And they laugh together, and she asks, "When are you coming to see me again?"

Dementia doesn't follow a "way it is" kinda plan. As soon as she's written off as "Oh! poor thing she has dementia" she astounds us all. The other week my sista-friend Donna and I were reminiscing about family and life. Momma says something like, "Yeah, but we've had really good lives." Donna and I look at each other and celebrate the moment.

When my brother James and my sister-in-law were getting on the road we asked Momma to pray. She was known for her really loooong drawn-out prayers! She didn't pray immediately. We held our breath. Maybe she didn't exactly understand how to do it anymore. As soon as I decided that I would lead the prayer, she began, "Dear Heavenly Father I thank you for my family...." We shouted! Momma was still "there."  

Many don't call her. I have come to believe that it is out of fear. Vickie Powell calls literally everyday. They talk an average of 1.5 minutes. I'm sure that she's afraid, too. But she calls.

Hell, I'm afraid. I see her slipping away. As a matter of fact, "she" has already left the building. If anyone is looking for "that" Linda Lee that used to reside at 3602 Emerson in Indianapolis, IN, she has left the building. But...

The Linda Lee that is kind and loving and funny and witty...yes, even witty (in a really racy sort of way) is still here. She's here. And you're missing out on HER. I am happy that the dementia is kinda acting as a cushion for her. She doesn't lament over who isn't calling her and checking in with her. She doesn't know. I know. And I feel bad that you're missing out.

This thing called dementia has changed my life. In a weird, twisted, odd way I am a better person for it. I once described having to care for her as a "good hard." It is what it is and so much more. Momma has dementia, but she's so much more than just an old woman with dementia. So very much more.

September 24, 2016

So now my Momma is calling me "Momma" almost 100% of the time. Of course my rational mind knows that her dementia is the genesis of this. But my emotional mind is fighting and I keep demanding that she call me Tony. I am fearful that the day she can no longer do that will be the day that I "lose my momma." #grieving

April 13, 2014

Most of you who know and love me know that my Momma has dementia. I have learned so much from this experience. I was at first angry and lost because she is not the mother who raised me. However, I am not exactly the daughter she raised either. I have learned to accept the Tony that has grown to be me based on all of my education, travels, encounters, and experiences. So I have learned to love my "new" Momma. She has taught me patience and "nowness." When she asks me where she's going to sleep tonight, I no longer flinch; I answer her question. When she says "good morning" to me 100 times a day, I say "good morning" back. We go to the movies. She doesn't remember what she has seen five minutes after we leave the theater. Hell, half the time neither do I! She is an expert cook who hasn't boiled an egg in two years. I thank her for cooking me a complete meal: meat, veggies, bread, AND dessert--every day of my life I lived with her before going off to college and years beyond that. I've changed my perspective of things. Just a paradigm shift that continues to give me "peace beyond my understanding." So today's word is "perspective." Some say the cup is half full....my cup runneth over.