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ownedbythescribe · 1 year

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Kaveh | Over The Shattered Glass

ıllı Synopsis: Blood seeped through the ground, and Kaveh could only see red. Will he be able to mend the relationship he broke with his own hands?

ıllı Genre: Romance, Slight Angst

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader, Polyamorous Relationship

ıllı Warning: Blood, Depression

ıllı Parts: Behind The Stained Glass (Part 1), Under The Glistening Glass (Alternate Ending)

ıllı A/N: I finally finished the sequel! I enjoyed writing it, but explaining the perspective of each character was difficult! I hope I was able to give this justice. Enjoy!

Life had been hectic for you and Kaveh, barely seeing each other for days due to your busy schedules. The Akademiya had commissioned him to assist in constructing homes for desert people in Caravan Ribat and, hopefully, extending the project to Aaru Village and abled camps. On the other hand, you oversaw the talks between the Eremites and the Akademiya while taking on jobs from the Temple of Silence. Only recently were you able to get the vacation you deserved.

'And the best way to spend it is with Kaveh. I can't wait to see his surprised face once I visit him!' You giddily thought, excitement coursing through your veins as you held the small bouquet and briefcase in your arms.

It took half an hour to reach Alhaitham and Kaveh's shared home. Vendors greeted you as you walked past them, offering goods which you bantered to buy after your visit. Once you reached their house, you knocked on the door. Rustles and loud banging could be heard, and when the door opened, you saw Kaveh's disheveled look. Dread filled your being, and by the looks of the bites and kiss marks that littered his neck and chest, you were not far from the truth.

"I—“ The words you tried to form were stuck in your throat, and you could feel your eyes well up. Kaveh merely stood there, frozen. He was not expecting you to visit him. Just then, another figure appeared from behind. It was Alhaitham, and he was in a similar state as your lover. You put two and two together and forced a smile.

"I see. I-I just came to give you something. I'm sorry for intruding." You dropped your gifts on the ground and swiftly trudged away from the two. Kaveh strived to hold you for a moment and explain, but the moment he touched you, hydro energy surrounded you and whipped his hand away. Tears streamed down your cheeks, unable to hold them for long. The blond tried to stutter an explanation, but the betrayal you felt was immense.

"J-Just stop. Please just stop! I thought you were any different, but you—And with the roommate you hated too. Was this a fun game to you, Kaveh?" You joked, anger lacing your words. He was taken aback by your remarks, guilt catching up to him.

Kaveh was ashamed. He could not look you in the eyes. More like he did not want to. He was afraid to see you judge him any further, but it was also his fault for giving in to temptation. He could only do one thing to keep you both from hurting any further.

"It's my fault. I think this is where we should part ways, (Y/N). I... It means that we're not just for each other." He muttered. Your body shook in anger, but you took a deep breath and glared at Kaveh and Alhaitham.

"I hate you so much, Kaveh." You uttered, leaving him for good.

You failed to see Kaveh slump to the ground the moment you left. Tears poured down his eyes as he tried to reach for your disappearing figure. Alhaitham, finally out of his stupor, tried to pull his roommate back to their house. The Kshahrewar architect wanted to push him away, but the Scribe whispered that things would escalate if they did not leave the street soon.

Kaveh forced himself to stand, stumbling upon losing energy after what transpired. He noticed your gifts, a bouquet of birds of paradise and a familiar briefcase. He took them inside and opened the case, only to see new tools for his work. You were thinking of him, even from far away, when you were not together.

Kaveh lost it.

What happened days prior felt like a fever dream. Sharply, a distinct sound of glass shattering echoed inside the hut, and a broken flask laid before you. As you lifelessly picked up the fragments of the equipment, your mind failed to register the cuts it brought. The floor, the walls, and even the the person you were talking with were painted in dull colors. It made life unbearable, and it felt like fate was mocking you by the numbness you felt as blood dripped down the floor. It was hypnotizing.

Suddenly, your hand was pulled up, and a familiar shade of emerald green and earthy brown eyes stared at you. There was fear and worry etched in Tighnari’s eyes, but you were too exhausted to think about it. Fading away felt more compelling, heavenly even. It distracted your mind from the debilitating world.

“Don’t waste your life like this, (Y/N). It’s painful to see you like this, hiding away from everyone, from the world. Talk to us. Let us be your strength.” Tighnari whimpered, breaking at the sight of your lifeless eyes. It was easier said than done. Yet at the back of your mind, you wondered if you could truly bury all the memories and feelings you shared with him to move on.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Tighnari. I-It’s difficult to get up every day. Everything I do, see or feel reminds me of Kaveh. Even staying here pains me. I want to scream at him, punch him, and blame him, but he must have his reasons, right? Please tell me….” You cried, clutching his jacket.

The fennec fox gently pulled you toward him and carried you to his bed. He asked for your hand, which you obediently gave. The blood had already dried, but he made sure to clean the wound and bandage it properly. Once done, he cradled you in his arms and let his fingers run on your hair. His brotherly instincts were activated.

“Kaveh has been stressed ever since you left. There were times that he would drink his frustrations and sorrows away. He told me he did not wish to burden you, and— I’m not supposed to say this, but he’s been reflecting on his sexual interest.” Tighnari muttered, eyes glazing over to your figure for reaction. A hint of understanding was etched on your face as you leaned on his chest for comfort.

“He started liking Alhaitham but did not want to hurt me. Am I right?” You replied. The Forest Watcher nodded.

Kaveh was overly connected with his emotions, often running on them to make decisions. It was one of the traits you loved about him. Still, it did not erase the fact that what he did destroyed your trust in him. Every day felt like it was better to drown in misery. Cyno, Collei, and Tighnari did not let that happen. You were their precious friend (maybe family at this point).

“You have the right to be angry, hurt, and every negative emotion available. But, (Y/N), you must realize that there is more to life than him. If Sumeru City is suffocating you right now, how about going to the desert for a while with Cyno? He suggested this. Don’t worry, he will not let Kaveh near you while you’re there. You can get away for now, and when you’re ready to face it, we’re always here to support you.” He whispered. Shifting around, you gave Tighnari a hug, one that resembled the warmth they gave you. You might not heal completely, but you were now willing to take the step.

“Thank you.”

After completing his project for the Akademiya, Kaveh was left to his own devices. Every day, he would stare at the flowers in his vase and wallow in misery. When the moon rose, he would sit at Lambad’s Tavern, often at secluded tables. Drink after drink, he let himself drown in grief. His crimson eyes would be rimmed red, and passersby would hear him mutter apologies. It was pitiful, really.

“I’m sorry… P-Please come back, (Y/N)… I m-miss you… I’m sorry.” He muttered. It was one of the nights he did not go to Lambad’s Tavern to drink but instead spent his time under the solemn eyes of the forest. He grabbed another cup to down as he watched the sky where thousands of stars twinkled. It reminded him of the stargazing you two had done in the past.

Kaveh stared at the night sky, reminiscing about you. He did not bother to check the rustles from behind as he knew it was Alhaitham. The Scribe silently sat beside him, noting the unhealthy bottles beside the architect. He could see his swollen eyes and unkempt hair. Kaveh was once again spiraling, but he understood why. After all, it was partially his fault that the relationship between you three was in shambles. He wished to mend it, something unusual for him to do.

“(Y/N), what are they like? I only know a few about them from Tighnari and Cyno, not to mention the short visits they make at home.” He asked. It was unsure if it was the alcohol in his system that urged him to humor the scribe, but he did.

“They’re amazing. They loved with all their heart. I was charmed by their kindness, humility, and strange wit. If you don’t know, I met them after being scammed for mora again. They chased down the scammer and scolded them before guiding them to a place where they could get help. I got my money back, but they also reprimanded me for being blind to my compassion. Then, I met them again through Cyno. They fought with elegance and ferocity that they shined brightly.” Kaveh rambled, his eyes twinkling at every memory.

Alhaitham smiled at his stories. Kaveh was madly in love with you despite his confusion over his sexual interest. He admitted that he was partially jealous of how the blond glorified you, but the scribe realized that deep within him, he also found you lovely. The first time he met you was during your first visit to his—their house. You were unsure, fidgety under his stare because you thought you had the wrong place. Kaveh checked out the door and saw you. The blond scolded Alhaitham for scaring you, but you told him it was nothing to fuss over.

“It’s nice to finally meet his roommate. Thank you for tolerating Kaveh, Alhaitham. I… Did I pronounce your name right?” You asked. As strange as it was, the ashen-haired male was frozen in his spot, but he found his momentum and gave you a curt nod. You smiled again and raised your arms to gift them your special dish. It was a lovely day at that time.

“Do you regret what happened between us?” Alhaitham reluctantly asked. Kaveh took a deep breath before letting out a shaky sigh.

“No, never. I told you about everything that night, but I also love them. You both exist equally inside me.” Kaveh confessed. He poured wine into his cup and gave it to Alhaitham, who downed it. The sounds of night critters filled the silence between them. Slowly, Kaveh felt himself drift to dreamland. He welcomed it with open arms, especially since it was the only place he could see your smile and not the hateful words that haunted him at every turn of the day.

Once he was asleep, Alhaitham cleaned up after him and carried him home. He tucked him in his bed and was about to leave when he heard him mutter your name. It strengthened his resolve. That is why two days later, you found yourself in front of the scribe in Pardis Dhyai.

“What do you want from me, Alhaitham? I can’t believe you coaxed Cyno into meeting me.” You scoffed, crossing your arms at the audacity. His teal eyes stared at your form first, noting the exhaustion on your face. You must have also been mulling over this heartbreak for a long time.

“I’m grateful you accepted my invitation to discuss matters with me. I’m sure you’re already aware it’s about your relationship with Kaveh—“ He was prolonging the talk, unlike him. You sighed internally before taking a step to silence him with a finger to his lips.

“Relax, just get to the point.” It was ironic of him to suddenly feel nervous, but he did. He sat down and suggested that you do the same, as it might take a while. You obliged. A tense atmosphere enveloped you two, but you were ready to be civilized, even just for a little bit.

Alhaitham told you that Kaveh had been living his life in anguish, regretting the day he broke up with you. He recalled the amount of wine he consumed almost daily if not for him pulling it away from his hands. You listened intently to his words. Both of you were suffering, but Kaveh also needed time away from you. Time to truly understand what he wanted in his life.

“Alhaitham, that dummy is dear to you, right? Could you tell him this? ‘Let go. Find yourself first. Once you do, come back and tell us what you want.’ Both you and I know he’s the type to mull over his emotions. We need to let him figure it out first.” You commented. The scribe was silenced for once. He was aware of the budding relationship between you three, but nothing will happen with the vagueness lingering in the boundaries you all held up.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry.” Alhaitham muttered. You gave him a pained smile. His affair with Kaveh was still fresh, and how he let it happen was like a jab in your side.

“I understand that rationality must have left your minds in that spur of the moment, but it was still stupid of you, Alhaitham. Borderline insane. You are attractive, but why Kaveh? Why the person I gave my whole heart to?” You asked.

“Strange, right? I love him at the same time as you did. For the better lack of term, he was the mirror I envied, and you were the enigma that brought out the beautiful emotions I craved from him. The way he talked about you made me fall for you as well. I’m so messed up.” He confessed. This was the first time you saw his vulnerability. It was so out of character for an objective person like him. But he once said that emotions get the best of people. It was this one time he let himself embrace that fact.

The atmosphere was dead once again. Only the chirp from the birds could be heard against the wind. With a sigh, you stood up and walked towards Alhaitham.

“I… will be leaving for the desert for a while. I asked the Lesser Lord for time to sort out my problems. It may seem unprofessional to take this route, but I also want time for myself. Thank you for talking to me, Alhaitham. I appreciate it.” You were about to leave when he grabbed your wrist. He had a conflicted face before he pulled you down to whisper something.

“What…?”

As if waking up from a dream, you found yourself standing mindlessly in front of a mirror. There was only darkness around, but you were not afraid. Turning your attention back to the mirror, you saw its reflection. It was the ‘you’ from months ago. The one who found life dull and dying.

“It’s good that I finally found you, (Y/N). You buried your consciousness so far from the surface.” A soft voice uttered. There was Lesser Lord Kusanali behind you.

“My Lord, what do you mean?” Your memories were a bit muddled. After the barrage of memories, the present ones were fragmented. The Dendro Archon helped recall what occurred by pointing at the mirror.

An intense fight erupted between you and the Fatui during your trip to the Fane of Parvaje. Just before subjugating the leader, you were caught off guard by a poisoned arrow coming for Kaveh. You brought him down, but it hit your sides. As much as you hid it from him, the poison was too much to bear.

“I see. So, am I dead now?” You joked. Kusanali shook her head, but she said you were on the border of it. Tipping just a little, you would have lost your life. The flashback of memories now made sense.

“What are you going to do now, (Y/N)? Will you run away again, or will you face what made you leave Sumeru City in the first place?” She bluntly asked. It made you internally laugh at her unfiltered question.

“I found my answer, My Lord. Thank you for letting me see those for the last time.” You smiled. Kusanali grabbed your hand and guided you to the light.

“They’ve been waiting for you.” She commented, happy about your decision.

“(Y/N)!”

“Kaveh! Stop spacing, or you’ll lose them for good this time.”

“I-I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Follow me.”

‘Please, (Y/N). I haven’t told you what I want yet!’

That cruel memory lingered in Kaveh’s mind. He could still feel the amount of blood trickling down your side and the sight of the purplish skin that tainted the wound. It was a miracle that they got you to Bimarstan immediately before the poison could kill you. However, it had been a week, and you showed no sign of waking up. Considering the high poison dosage, the doctor assured him it would take time for your body to recover.

Kaveh remained by your side, not bothering to change his clothes stained with your blood. It was only when Alhaitham came and scolded him did he go home to shower. He came back to watch over your bedside, barely taking care of himself. He cradled your hand and prayed to the dendro archon for your recovery.

Alhaitham would come over after his shift, bringing food for Kaveh. He stayed not just for the architect but for you as well. The last conversation with you strengthened his resolve, and he wished to tell you that. As for Cyno and Tighnari, they visited the first week thrice. When the Forest Watcher saw the architect and the scribe, he felt anger bubble in his stomach. He would slip insults every time they struck up a conversation with him. It was until Tighnari had enough and confronted them. Guilt and shame flooded their senses, but they assured the fennec fox that they were there to correct their mistakes and tell you what they wanted.

“You better not fuck this up. They’d been nothing but considerate to the two of you. If I ever see them cry again, know that the forest will not be kind to you.” He threatened. Knowing Tighnari’s protective nature, he was dead serious about his warning.

A week and a half later, you finally woke up. The rattan ceiling of Bimarstan was recognizable, and you concluded that Kaveh and Cyno succeeded in carrying you here to get help. You tried to get up despite the weakness in your bones, only to feel a weight beside you. Kaveh was slumped on his chair, snoozing away. Heavy bags decorated the rim of his eyes.

‘He must have had sleepless nights. You dummy. You could have gone home, and they could send you a letter.’ You reached for his cheeks and caressed them lightly. It made you smile at the way his nose wrinkled. It was too cute to pass up.

“Hmm? What? (Y/N), you’re finally awake! I…” He was at a loss for words. You reached for his cheeks and stretched them.

“You could have gone home, Kaveh. It would have been more comfortable sleeping on your bed than here.” You nagged. Your eyes met his crimson eyes, which widened at the sight of tears streaming down them. He clutched your hands and thanked the archons. It must have been rough for him as it had been with you.

After his outburst, he gave you a glass of water to drink. Your throat had been parched for some time now, so his actions were greatly appreciated. He wanted to say something, but he fathomed that having the doctor check on you first was better.

“The wound is healing well. Yesterday, the results came back negative. The poison has been flushed out of your system, but your body will still need a few days to heal. We will keep you here for three more days before discharging you, Miss (Y/N).” The doctor said. You sighed in relief. You did not want to remain in the hospital anymore. You appreciated their work, but Bimarstan was just not your cup of tea.

The doctor left, and Kaveh was left under your gaze once again. He was fidgeting, unsure where to start. You wished to comfort him, but a sneeze abruptly escaped your lips. He blinked at the cute sound, making him chuckle. You blushed and covered your face at the embarrassment.

“That was too cute~ Hahaha! (Y/N), first of all, thank you. You saved my life back there, and you even made sure that everybody was safe. That was heroic of you, too kind even. I also… want to thank you for leaving those words. It gave me hope, so I strived to understand my feelings. I came to a conclusion during our travel. It made me realize that I still love you, but I also love Alhaitham. You’re both precious to me. Call me greedy, but that’s what I am right now. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings back then. I was perplexed and did not understand that liking him was normal. You know how aggravating Alhaitham can be. He’s an idiot, hardheaded, self-centered—“ He rambled. It made you smile internally.

“You’re going off the topic, Kaveh.” You interjected with a deadpan look. He blushed and coughed out the awkwardness.

“Ahem. I mean, he’s all that, yes. But then, I also saw a different side of him that people never got to see past his cold demeanor. He expresses his kindness and affection in strange ways. I slowly fell in love with that. I hope… I hope I could answer what you wished me to do back then.” Kaveh anticipated your answer.

It was nice to hear Kaveh’s honesty after months of separation. Despite the pain of the past, it was time to let that go. Holding his right hand, you tightly held it.

“I understand. I’m still unsure about this decision, but I will let us go, Kaveh.” You uttered with a solemn smile. The architect was frozen in his spot. He thought you would give him another chance, but he was too greedy. Unknowingly, he teared up at the thought of you leaving again. You were surprised, taken aback at his misery.

“Anyone would confuse your words for something else, (Y/N). You should clear that up quickly.” Alhaitham mused. You blinked at his sudden appearance before realizing that Kaveh got it all wrong. It made you laugh.

Kaveh wiped his eyes and looked at you two in confusion. The scribe merely shook his head before sitting on the other side of your bed. You told the blond about Alhaitham's suggestion months ago to enter a polyamorous relationship. It took you time to accept it, but you did not want to let the Kshahrewar graduate slip from your fingers again. Kaveh blushed at your words.

“So… you mean, you’re all right entering into a polyamorous relationship? With Alhaitham and me?” Kaveh asked, yearning to confirm if he was not dreaming about it.

You and Alhaitham lightly laughed at his relieved face. Suddenly, the scribe held your hand and asked you a question.

“Will you let me court you as well, (Y/N)?” His gentle smile made you flushed, while Kaveh whined that he was the first one who should court you. The scribe merely scoffed and pulled out bouquets of bird of paradise for the two of you.

“It looks like we will be courting each other. Hahaha! This is a bit amusing.” You grinned, eyes glazing lovingly at the flowers Alhaitham gave. What a beautiful meaning this flower carried.

“Then, I’ll be in your care, Kaveh, Alhaitham.” You voiced. They stopped their bickering and smiled at your beaming face. They held your hands and kissed them, a silent promise to keep this new relationship solid and undying.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

#genshin impact #genshin #romance #angst #kaveh #alhaitham #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader x kaveh #alhaitham x reader #poly relationship

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yuhi-san · 4 months

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i was just hit by a thought during the second chapter of my fic.

part of the reason why vash canonically doesnt engages in sexual or romantic relationships is because he will outlive any partner

i made a post about it bevore but it might have taken teen/young adult vash a bit to figure that out. (after all he at first seemed to speedrun the human life circle and they didnt have another case of independants to compare him to)

and in stampede vash grew up on a ship with humans. all of them knew what he was. he traveled to settlements with brad to help plants and i think we can assume that people initially at least had an idea about it

so vash didn't always had to hide his nature and didn't know he had such an extended life span.

at least in stampede, vash probably genuinely made friends when he was younger. maybe he had a crush or two and actually egaged with it.

but time goes by. plants no longer need so much help from him. the human population grows. not everyone knows who or what vash is.

not everyone takes it well. sometimes they run away, sometimes they lash out. it hurts either way.

ship three is a save space but it is also a bit of a bubble.

once vash goes out in the world alone, he is bound to run into more random people than when he traveled with brad specifically to go help plants.

most people aren't evel. but there are going to be nasty people, bad ones, horrible ones. and 150 years is a long time to meet bad people

In stampede, vash was a little shy and weary of people after tesla and the rocky start on ship three. But him closing of the way he does must have been a process.

Over time it became harder for vash to let people know what he was, at some point it became dangerous. He met people that harmed him for little to no reason. People that met others on a whim. There was the first time, then there was one more, and one more and so on.

It never stopped vash from reaching out, even if he knew he could get bitten. But after time he just learned to brace himself for it and at least protect his more tender parts as well as he could.

My point is, wolfwood, meryl and Roberto probably aren’t vash first close and genuine friends. But it has likely been a very, very long time since the last time he had friends like that.

Im not sure what is more depressing. Never having had friends like that or having long since given up hope on it.

#vash the stampede #trigun #tristamp #trigun stampede #ship three

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mc-park · 2 years

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xiao fanfic idea (based on the 2.7 chasm quest)

REQUESTING FOR ANY BORED GENSHIN WRITERS TO WRITE THIS!!!

hello i dont have any energy to rewrite all my fanfiction ideas for this quest bc i made this long ass post abt it in detail but it didnt save and now i feel so hollow and numb. im going through every stage of grief right now, currently at stage 4, depressed.

all i ask is for xiao chasm content. please. i beg. SOMEONE, LITERALLY ANYONE PLEASE MAKE XIAO FOUND FAMILY CONTENT

and then put him through an indescribable amount of pain and turmoil as he fails to accept his yaksha friends are dead and faces the slow realization he has no family, other than zhongli, left.

please help me relieve some of this pain by reblogging or tagging your favorite writers in the comments and writing down your xiao x reader chasm ideas (also in the comments) for their inspiration ...ill join too once im done crying over all of my work disappearing

for now i'll just share a few of my daydreams at its most basic level and hope to god somewhere in the world a genshin writer will take this idea and bring it to life

(2.7 spoilers utc)

yaksha found family + reader witnessing all of it, being an outsider as another weaker yaksha.

where you, unaware of the suffering and pain that comes with the responsibility of being one of the five yakshas, hope to get an ounce of understanding for them like they do with one another, hoping to be part of what seems like a "family."

yearning to gain even a bit of that familial warmth, you glance over to observe them on the sidelines and smile at the sounds of their contagious laughter directed at xiao's now fully-painted face.

as years pass by, you watch in horror as each yaksha slowly succumbs to the darkness of their karma one by one, never returning to that bright family dynamic they forgot about.

finally, when xiao, the youngest of all of them, the only one remaining, tries to recover from the loss of valiant warriors he considered his siblings, you console him, experiencing a pain similar to his. both of you support one another awaiting the day you can reunite with the rest of the yakshas again.

this can really extend as much as it wants to starting off w wholesome shenanigans and then angst to possible hurt comfort or just you and xiao wailing in pain together. i love a good slow burn so thats my personal request, like each paragraph written above can be extended to a whole post and split up into a whole series, but really its up to whoever wants to take up my challenge to make it however they want.

xiao and reader dynamic:

in this case i feel like xiao bonds with reader where they feel this mutual emptiness but in different kinds of ways.

you feel alone in the world, you feel excluded from the rest of the yakshas, you long for something you don't have and haven't had in a long time, for that bond that effortlessly ties the five yakshas together. despite being surrounded by so many people you constantly feel like not one of them understands.

you want to be with anyone as long as it's someone. but you have no one. there are so many thoughts, feelings and emotions but there's no one to share them with no one who cares enough to listen. you wish for what the yaksha's have, the family they built on their mutual suffering and joys, where they all understand each others pain because they all share the same experiences.

you feel like no matter how kind or nice or strong and heroic you are or can train to be nobody thinks to call or ask anything of you, its this numbing feeling that prods in your chest at the loneliest and quietest of days, it's not like they're outwardly avoiding you, quite the opposite. they tell you to join, but however close you are to them you still feel distant, and when you part for your more meagre duties compared to their wider scale dangerous tasks, the rift between you and the family increases.

you don't feel upset, nor do you feel hurt, if anything you feel acceptance. it's normal. at times you feel gratitude; a warm feeling bubbling inside whenever they come to talk to you. happiness; whenever you see their doting towards one another, their dumb pranks and stupid jokes.

as an outsider, a weaker yaksha, you watch the adepti you've looked up to for so long from a distance and internally relish in the joy of their shared happiness.

whereas xiao is longing for something he's had before but can't do anything to get back, its this feeling of hopelessness and this agonizing need to go back to how things were, how he was before. he's distraught with the frustration and regret of not being able to get back what was lost and never being able to experience anything similar to it again. its sporadic. sudden. when the yaksha's slowly disappear, after years of investing in them from afar you end up feeling this way too, this same hole in your chest, this unshakable itch at the back of your mind that won't go away. the bond that you hoped to join, the joy you've observed for so long and the happiness you secretly chewed off of no longer exists.

now that you and xiao are the last yaksha left, perhaps you can form a new bond over your losses together.

THIS IS JUST FOR INSPO ON HOW TO WRITE THEM BTW!! do it literally however u want i just thought this would be really cool and emotional to write cuz like theres readers loneliness built up over the years and then theres xiaos mourning and that sudden period of grief and then the awkward sort of mutual sadness they feel in the end

family dynamic inspo:

xiao being the temperamental, more self centered youngest and bosacius acting as the more protective self-sacrificing eldest brother. followed by indarius (pyro yaksha) the second oldest almost mom-like, bubbly and loud friend, the walmart zhongli as the mediator, calm middle child and bonanus (hydro yaksha) as the second youngest, possessing a more timid, polite and shy aura.

a sample of how he may feel:

and when xiao is left alone, he tries to remember all his happiest memories with each of his friends. he longs for them, he longs for the past so much that it hurts. he wants to be his old self, to get rid of this aching loneliness but as each happy memory flashes by, he spirals into a deeper pit of sadness and activates this haunting feeling in his heart that feels like something is missing. recounting the memories of his loved ones, he swears that this will never happen to anyone close to him again. even at the cost of his own life. in the midst of his vulnerability, he unknowingly engrains that very same savior complex his leader, no, his brother bosacius once had.

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im sorry if there are grammar mistakes and stuff i rushed this really short idea bc i was busy trying to remember what i wrote before tumblr decided to reload and DELETE all of my work just bc it was in a silly goofy mood

ANYWAY SOMEONE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAKE A FIC ABT THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I WANT SOME OF THAT JUICY JUICY JUICY DELICIOUS LORE

STARVED XIAO LOVERS UNITE! PLEASE TAG ALL OF THE GENSHIN WRITERS YOU LOVE AND BOUNCE OFF OTHER IDEAS, NOT JUST THIS ONE, IN THE COMMENTS!!

or reblog if you want to see someone make this themselves.

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danidoesntdie · 8 months

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One Year On Levothyroxine: Retrospective

Last year in October, I finally went to an endocrinologist and had my hypothyroidism officially diagnosed and was put on a small dose of levothyroxine. Two days later I cried because I could finally feel something other than empty and depressed. Now it's been almost one year since I started this life-changing medicine and I wanted to think back on all the ways it has impacted me in the long term.

During my Junior fall semester of college, I was barely able to move. I was not attending class, not doing my homework, and unable to concentrate. I was basically living with some of my friends in their dorm (which technically wasn't allowed) because I didn't think that I would be able to stay alive if I was on my own for so long (I did not tell them this). At this point, I had been diagnosed with MDD for 8 years. I was tired of good days meaning that I ate and bad days meaning that I'd stand on the side of the road.

Now I've been on medicine that works for a year and I feel like a completely different person. In fact, I feel like I never knew who I was before then. When I was younger, I assumed that I was going to die young and so had no ambitions. Now I can reasonably see myself living for another several years. This was so startling for me. I had all this time and I had no idea what I wanted to do with it. The past year has been a lot about self-discovery.

I started drawing comics last November as a way to cope with the several changes that were happening in my life: dropping out of college, moving into my first apartment alone, working two part-time jobs, and breaking up with my then-boyfriend. I know now that I love drawing comics, and that I don't want to stop anytime soon. I'm hoping that I can share my comics with more people to give them a sad chuckle when things are hard. I want to share what it is like to be depressed so that others can recognize it in themselves and in the ones close to them. This is the first aspiration that I have had for myself in a very long time.

I care more about my appearance. Granted, I'm still not the most hygienic. But I wear more than a T-shirt and khakis every day. I dress up for myself even when the only thing I'm doing that day is going to Walmart. I've learned that I love wearing bold and colorful eyeshadow.

I'm more likely to go out with friends. I'm more likely to make time for my friends. I'm more likely to care about my friends, what they like, their past, etc. That extends to my family as well. I have three different social circles which is way more than I've ever had in my entire life.

I don't shake as much at restaurants. Bright lights don't bother me as much. I eat when I'm hungry and have gained about fifteen pounds. I don't feel as lightheaded anymore. I poop every day (yeah, apparently you're supposed to? Didn't know that before). I have much more energy so I don't need to nap. I can count the number of days that I have spent in bed not moving on my fingers, whereas before I could go for weeks without leaving my room except for food.

I'm happier with myself and more forgiving. I'm moving forward with my life and am wondering still what I want out of it.

Thank you for being a part of it.

#motivation #major depression #hypothyroidism #endocrinology #mdd #retrospective #long post

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trickstarbrave · 1 year

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hey guys do u wanna see it so far. bc its breaking my heart and i am. suffering.

wip based on an au from @mulberrycafe, set in vivi’s story where a reincarnation of vivec is the dragonborn, but this one featuring nerevar and voryn’s reincarnations finding each other again

cw for depression and thoughts of suicide

Nerevar smiled as he finished another lecture at the temple, though the smile did not reach his eyes.

He had walked as Nerevar so long as the Nerevarine that he became Nerevar in body as well. His dunmer skin faded, the curse of Azura being washed away to reveal stunning chimer gold once more. It was a great honor, one he thought that maybe, as the years went on, his people could enjoy as well. He fought hard for them, for their safety, and to reform Morrowind as the Hortator once more. No longer did anyone dare call him ‘outlander’ after his accent took on the full dunmeri accent and the truth was known across every corner of Morrowind.

And then the Red Year came, ravaging across the land. Baar Dau came crashing down after Vivec suddenly vanished, and Red Mountain erupted. Most of mainland Morrowind was plagued with tidal waves and raging ash storms that destroyed villages, and barely anything remained of the former island of Vvardenfell. Refugees came to Mournhold, then pooled out into Solstheim after the empire gave it to Morrowind, and then further into Skyrim in desperation.

Still, the people had hope so long as Nerevar was there, sun glinting off his skin and proclaiming their people were going to survive. Worship of the Good Daedra was reinstated, and slowly they began their recovery. Nerevar was a beacon of hope once more.

And yet, Nerevar didn’t have it in him to be truly happy.

He should be. His people survived and were slowly overcoming the challenges in front of them--first the Red Year and then the argonian invasion. Yet there was still an emptiness in his chest that haunted him, a pain that only grew, like a piece of him was missing.

His memories of Nerevar no longer brought him comfort in the quiet of the night. Because in the end, he was alone. Almalexia and Sotha Sil were dead. Vivec was gone, likely dead himself given Baar Dau’s fall. And…

And Voryn was gone. He’d been gone for some time.

He didn’t want to call Dagoth Ur by Voryn’s name. Dagoth Ur was certainly part of Voryn, but a twisted part of him that was driven mad by the heart. In truth, Voryn Dagoth had died in the days of Resdayn, shortly before Nerevar was killed in turn. Voryn’s body laid there in the heart chamber as Nerevar laid beside him, bleeding out after being stabbed while the tribunal mutilated his body. As much as he reached for Voryn, trying to find comfort in at least holding his dead friend’s hand as they killed him, the Tribunal never gave him the privilege, not even as his last dying wish.

He never got a chance to tell Voryn how much he loved him. A fact that felt like it was slowly killing him every day.

His movement had become stiff and robot as the years went on. He got up. He dressed. He ate. He went to meetings. He went to speak in front of the temple. He helped his people and tended to their needs. And then he retired to his room to stare up at the ceiling utterly and completely alone.

Nerevar had even begun to resent Azura on some level, in the corner of his heart. It didn’t seem like an honor to be brought back to life and given an extended lifespan anymore. All he wanted was to at least join the man he loved in the afterlife, but he wasn’t allowed that either. There were days, particularly hard days where he could barely pull himself out of bed, where he debated just ending it all. But he knew he didn’t have it in him--how would the dunmer people react if they found out their hero and king had killed himself? They would fall into despair, lost in the world.

As much as it was torture, Nerevar had to keep living, even as the light from his eyes began to fade and the world began to lose it’s color, even as the flowers began to lose their scent and his food became tasteless on his tongue, he persisted. He would live on for them and them alone.

Voryn would want him to, after all. And he would do anything for Voryn--for his closest friend and the love of his life. He’d even live this hellish existence, if only for him.

Most of the people filed out after his talk, taking a few rations or giving donations according to need or what they could give. Nerevar smiled and greeted the few brave dunmer who bowed their heads and thanked him for his services, as the temple began to get quiet.

There was only one person remaining, a tall dunmer in the back with a masculine build, wearing a chitin helm and heavy, ragged cloak. He looked certainly worse for wear, but Nerevar had seen him come in regularly now, yet never take any rations.

“Come here, stranger.” Nerevar motioned him over. The dunmer jumped before slowly and hesitantly approaching. “Are you hungry? We still have plenty of rations.”

The dunmer paused, looking over at them before shaking his head no.

Nerevar smiled again. “It’s no trouble. I’ve done this for our people, so you are more than welcome to take some.” Nerevar handed him a bundle, shoving it into his arms before the man had a chance to refuse again. “Do you have a family who needs some as well?”

The dunmer slowly placed the rations into his bag before shaking his head again.

“... Are you unable to speak?” Nerevar asked, raising an eyebrow. With all the injuries after the Red Year, it was quiet possible. Some people choked on ash so much they lost their voices completely, or assassination attempts gone wrong could have severed their vocal cords. At his question, the dunmer nodded his head.

“Wait right here.” Nerevar turned to grab some parchment and a piece of charcoal, before handing it to the dunmer. “Here, you can write your responses. I see you come in here every day, so surely there must be something on your mind.”

The dunmer looked at the paper for a long time, before sitting on one of the benches and began to write. Nerevar took a seat next to him, waiting patiently.

“I only wanted to see you, Hortator.” The writing read, a bit messy but with a certain charm that tugged at Nerevar’s heart. The hortator chuckled softly.

“Well you’ve seen me. I’m always here to help my people, sera.” Nerevar smiled, trying to force it to follow up to his eyes. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll do anything in my power to help you. All you need to do is write it down and I shall.”

That was how the two of them met, the stranger in chitin armor and rags and hortator. At least it gave him something new to do, outside his usual routine. The dunmer asked him many questions about Azura and the good daedra, and Nerevar answered them the best he could. Sometimes Nerevar would sing hymns to Azura, sometimes they both would just sit and pray, and sometimes the stranger would ask him random questions about what meals he enjoyed eating.

It was nice. At least as nice as it would get for Nerevar. He knew very well to uphold his duties as king and keep the dunmer at arms length, but it was nice to have someone he could talk to one on one. Someone who wasn’t a politician trying to get something from him, at least. They talked like that for weeks, and then weeks turned to months, before Nerevar finally pushed him into telling the chimer his name.

“It’s Ryn.” The parchment read, writing slightly smudged from the charcoal thoroughly embedded in his gloves.

“Ryn, hm?” Nerevar smiled. “It’s a nice name. Very soft and yet strong.”

Of course, Nerevar particularly enjoyed it since it was so similar to Voryn’s name, but that would be rude to say. The people of Morrowind were still getting used to the idea that House Dagoth should be mourned and honored, people coming out of the woodwork to admit their heritage and take up the house’s colors once more. A dunmer man with ragged clothes would probably not enjoy being compared to the man many, especially former Tribunal worshippers, cursed as the sharmat. And it wouldn’t be good for Nerevar’s heart if he thought too long about his old friend.

“Thank you.” Came the reply. Nerevar smiled again, still not quite reaching his eyes which were growing to be a duller shade of blue every passing day.

“No thanks is needed, Ryn. You should be thankful to your parents for giving you such a nice name.” He chuckled.

“I don’t have any parents.”

Nerevar felt like smacking himself from how badly he put his foot in his mouth just then.

“I’m very sorry, Ryn.” Nerevar apologized. “I shouldn’t have made such a careless comment with the Red Year and all.” He rubbed the back of his head, trying to figure out a way to save the conversation.

“It wasn’t the Red Year.” Ryn wrote. “They disowned me shortly after I was born.” Nerevar looked even more horrified.

“They disowned an infant?”

“I was born a bit disfigured.” Ryn admitted. “They were looking out for themselves and wouldn’t have been able to provide for me. I hold no ill will towards them.”

“Well perhaps you should.” Nerevar felt anger in him. “How could they just carelessly abandon their own child for something he can’t help?” At least it explained why Ryn refused to remove his helm in front of anyone else. He probably grew up ashamed of how his face looked, even though he shouldn’t. “Look, don’t let that sort of thing harm you, Ryn. You deserved parents who loved you, no matter the circumstances. I’m so sorry you went through that.”

There was a long pause, Ryn staring at him, before he wrote his reply.

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart for those kind words, Hortator.”

Nerevar wasn’t sure if he should call them friends or not.

Could they be? It seemed unlikely given he was the hortator and Ryn was a very poor dunmer who came to the temple seeking advice and solace. Yet, it seemed too weird to call them strangers, not when they’d known each other so long now, as the years passed. Acquaintances maybe?

Yet, that too seemed like it was far too distant.

Nerevar sighed as he prepared to enter the temple room again.

There was still much pain and agony in his heart, an emptiness he couldn’t fill, but with Ryn around it was soothed somewhat. The edges were not longer rubbed raw, the wound no longer bleeding out like he was dying. Eating and sleeping were still chores, as was pulling himself out of bed in the morning, but it was slightly better.

Ryn brought him some comfort. More than the other would ever know or understand, and more than Nerevar wanted to burden him with the knowledge of. His heart still ached him loneliness, from missing the man he loved more than anything, but he could continue on with a bit more ease remembering Ryn would likely worry about him if he was gone. After all, when Nerevar was ever called away from the temple Ryn would tell him he worried about the hortator every time. It even brought a genuine smile to his lips for the first time in years, however small of a smile it was.

Maybe it was because, as much as he hated admitting it, Ryn’s little habits reminded him of Voryn. The little quirks, the way he held the charcoal in his gloved hand, the way he shrugged his shoulders… Little things that only Nerevar would ever remember. But it would be poison to indulge in them too much, after all. Ryn deserved to be cared for as his own person after all, not have Nerevar’s affections for Voryn shoved onto him against his will. Not to mention no one could ever replace Voryn and it would only be all the more painful if he deluded himself into thinking he could.

He talked about Azura once more and told stories from the days of Resdayn, before the usual routine. People came, and collected their rations or gave donations, a few people gossiped in the back, and then once they were alone Ryn came to sit beside him.

Nerevar was feeling tired and just wanted to retreat back to his room to lay in the comfort of his bed for the rest of the day, but he could push through it to speak to Ryn, at least.

“How have you been?” Nerevar smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Your clothes seem to be in better condition at least.”

“I used the coin you gave me to patch them up better. Thank you.”

“Of course. I can’t have one of my most loyal followers suffering now can I?” Nerevar chuckled, but it still had a hallow tone. He was acting as usual, acting like the strong, joyful king who had nothing but love in his heart. But for everyone else they didn’t ever notice--how would they?

Nerevar was more of a symbol than a person after all. If he acted well enough and did his duties well, they would believe his lie. And all of those little white lies would give them comfort and solace, which in turn meant Nerevar had the strength to wake up and do it all over again the next day.

There was silence that followed as Ryn looked at the shrine of Azura for some time. Nerevar looked as well, letting the fake smile continue to grace his lips as he did so.

“Did you want to pray?” Nerevar offered. “If you want to, I can also help you to write a petition. I’m sure Azura would reward you for your faithfulness.” It would be good if Ryn lived a better life after all. Even if it meant he no longer needed to come to the temple, Nerevar could find some joy in helping a poor dunmer find his place in the world.

Nerevar couldn’t help Voryn, but he could help Ryn. And maybe that could be the next best thing for now.

Ryn began writing on the parchment slowly, hesitating slightly.

“Have you been alright, Hortator?” The question asked. Nerevar chuckled lightly, having long since forgotten how to make his laugh sound truly genuine.

“Why yes I have.” Nerevar replied. “The Great House leaders have been squabbling less lately since we have gotten more trade coming into Morrowind. And I’ve heard some of our people have settled well in one of the holds of Skyrim, though I can’t say for certain how the conditions are…” Nerevar stroked his face, humming. “Perhaps one day I’ll have to go see for myself. Make sure everyone is doing well.”

Ryn stared at him for some time, until even Nerevar could feel his eyes boring into him.

“You just don’t seem happy.” The writing read. “There’s never been any light in your eyes whenever I visit.”

Nerevar’s jaw went tight as he read those words, a bitter taste filling his mouth as the false smile faded from his lips.

Then, just as soon as it vanished, he replaced it once more.

“I’m a man with worries of my own from time to time.” He explained. “My heart is always heavy since the Red Year, worrying about all of my people. But I know in time we will overcome this and the pain will fade from my heart.”

It was another lie, Nerevar’s index finger on his right hand tapping twice as he talked, a little quirk not many people knew was an obvious tell from Nerevar when he was being dishonest. But it was a good enough lie that couldn’t be challenged by someone like Ryn. After all, why wouldn’t Nerevar be saddened that his people were suffering? What else could possibly burden his heart? He was the hortator. Azura’s champion. A symbol of hope for the dunmer people. A leader.

He was no longer Nerevar Mora, the childhood friend of Voryn Dagoth who eventually got adopted into House Indoril against his will. He was no longer Nerevar, the chimer hopelessly in love with Voryn. He was no longer a man who had any luxury of sharing his pain and grief. He was just the hortator, stripped down of every former identity he had.

Ryn clenched the charcoal tightly.

“You can share your troubles with me, always.” Ryn wrote back. Nerevar chuckled again like he wasn’t getting stabbed in the chest. Like he didn’t have to learn to fight back tears every day of this life.

“Thank you for your kindness, Ryn. I appreciate you being willing to share my burdens.” He patted him on the shoulder. Now the light in his eyes had completely faded as the pain of Voryn’s death hit him again and again, somehow more painful than Vivec’s spear ramming itself through his chest or his face and feet being carved off. Part of him wanted to scream and weep--of course he wasn’t okay! He was a man who was missing part of himself, a man who was so painfully alone that every single day felt like his own personal torture. That he missed Voryn, the love of his life, the man he never got to confess his feelings for, more than anything. That he longed to see his face just one last time and got to tell Voryn how much he meant to Nerevar, how Nerevar lived for him and accomplished so much just so he could be worthy of standing at Voryn’s side.

But he couldn’t. So Nerevar would lie, just as he always did.

“If it ever gets unbearable, I will tell you about it.” Nerevar patted his shoulder to reassure him. “For now though the greatest comfort will be you living a nice, fulfilling life for me.”

Ryn’s shoulders were tense under his hand, before he stood up and briskly walked out.

Nerevar watched him go, the pain in his heart only growing heavier.

#nerevoryn #indoril nerevar #voryn dagoth #dw it'll be happy i swear #my writting

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xplrvibes · 5 months

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A week till Christmas, I feel he's gotta be planning to go back to his parents now/this coming week or at least have no obligations that include a camera.

Although I don't necessarily agree with you (and by extension Golbrock who I see has also been pushing the 'run to your family Colby' narrative) that going to his parents will automatically help him deal with his grief, different people deal differently with grief to one another. Plus going to his families risks being forced to become the rock for the parents grief whereas staying away at least gives time to figure himself out before he goes to them

I don't think this event was a bad thing to have taken part in for him, it was a fun distraction and sometimes you need distractions from the sad things. Especially when it is grief. I know this as it's how I deal with my own grief. If I don't find distractions I tend to wallow and just sink into a dangerous dark place.

It's how I dealt with the grief of my own Grandfather dying earlier this year, I found distractions like hang outs with friends, we did some escape rooms, I went to a concert, we did paint balling, bowling, among other things. basically I found staying away from my family more helpful in dealing with it than descending into grief with my family,who as much as I love them, being around them during that time I was more having to support my parents than deal with my own grief. (Adding here my family is extremely tight knit, many people thought I should be with them dealing with my grief because we're very close but it was so much worse being around them because I could not escape the grief even for a second which lead to bad depression things.... So staying away was so much better for me).

I healed much better when with supportive friends who would distract me and also allow me to talk to them about it all when I felt ready too or needed too. I kinda feel both Sam and Colby are similar to me in this regard. They love their families, but take more comfort in being around each other (I know on multiple occasions Colby has mentioned being closer to Sam than his own brother) and seem to cope with painful situations with distractions that prevent them wallowing.

The issue I see with them is the lack of talking about how they're feeling with anyone, so I hope if Colby does not go to his parents now that he at least has someone he can open up to about his grief even if it's just his best friend Sam.

The only issue I had in regards to Colby's grief with this event was because there were cameras he probably felt he had to put on a show though but as the stream went on it was obvious that he was actually having fun as he was grinning and laughing with Sam just out of shot a fair amount. At times it looked like he was having more fun than Sam was tbh, (maybe Sam's competitive nature was making him enjoy it slightly less I don't know, LOL)

Well, his original Christmas plans for this year was to spend them in Missouri where his brother and extended family (including his grandpa) live, so my guess was he was only a few days away from heading out that way and getting to see him, anyway.

In a sense, that makes this almost more tragic and is why I am a big proponent of him going home - he missed saying goodbye by a few days. He was supposed to go home and be there anyway, but this happened before he got there. Whether he knew it was coming or not, that's a horrible, horrible feeling to hold onto.

I have lost 3 of my 4 grandparents already in my life, and while I was in the room when 1 passed, and was able to get there in time to say goodbyes to the 2nd, the 3rd was a situation similar to what he's going through now. I was supposed to go over and visit, didn't get there in time because of work, thought, "Oh, I'll go tomorrow," and tomorrow never came.

That's a guilt that stays with you, even though it's not a guilt you should be carrying.

If he feels better being with friends than going home a few days early, than that's totally fine, and valid and absolutely his prerogative. I just don't think it's good for him to be hanging out with people with cameras/livestreams right now. I don't think he should be going on streams, worrying about work obligations, worrying about being camera ready or sucking it up for an audience and whatever else. I just feel like that has to be draining on him, whether he realizes it or not, especially when he lost a loved one so close to the holidays and was only days away from seeing them.

Now granted, to your point, he and Sam are a bonded pair of doves at this point and seem to find the maximum amount of strength in one another, so in that respect it's good that he's with him...but I don't know, I just worry that he'll just stay in LA and keep doing influencer shit when his heart clearly isn't in it because he wants to "be strong," and that I have an issue with. Just call it wraps and bump the flight up by a few days, go home and get some home cooking from the extended family and take a load off.

Or at least hole up in the air bnb and chill with Sam for a while, if that is not feasible or wanted.

He did seem to warm up to the stream activities by the end, and that's great, but they got out of there as soon as it ended so I'm wondering if he was reaching his limit for the day. He's a man that likes to have his time to recharge even on a good day, and this has been nothing resembling a good day, I'm sure. But if he truly enjoyed himself, then that's great for him.

And Sam was taking this shit so seriously, you'd have thought this man was about to win a Superbowl ring lol. That is one competitive human being right there!

(Also, sorry for your loss, anon).

#asks #colby brock

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fictionkinfessions · 2 years

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Although my kin fixation for Tallest Red isn't strong since my previous Tallest Purple cosplayer friend replaced me... as much as it embarrasses me to say, but. Zim? He was my secret son, at least in the AU that I came from. To the recent Tallest Miyuki I forgive you. I've had anger issues and sarcasm, I had another Tallest Purple I like pretended to be "dumb" in an RP to cheer me up so I'd be the "smart one" since I was depressed. I was forced to be a teen parent experiment, so I neglected Zim.

Part 2 of Tallest Red kinfession, ran out of space on Tumblr because I don't have an account to extend my post. In continuation to get to the point, Tallest Miyuki? I'm not perfect either given from the embarrassing secret I revealed since that AU life hasn't had much relevance to me lately. But I'd like to wish you well and hope life's treating you nicely. And any Zim who is my son out there? I'm sorry I failed as a parent to you. I wasn't ready. Parenthood was forced experimenting on me.

Part 3 Tallest Red again, sorry. 😅 But yeah, asides from that forced experiment I went through and then having been accepted as an official Tallest, my job position was another reason Zim had to stay a secret. I knew he was trying his best but I couldn't intervene or else my secret would have been outed. I feel terrible for anyone who had to be hurt because of my son, I dunno if I should be upset or ashamed, other than I hate myself being the only option I have. I can't truly hate Zim entirely.

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #invaderzimkin #tallestredkin #aukin #apology #medical abuse cw #experimentation cw #mod party cat #chara love

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

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First up, I wanted to thank all of you for running this blog. It’s such an important resource for as I’m sure it is to many others.

TW: Possible child abuse (emotional neglect / slight physical / overall unhealthy dynamic). LGBT-phobia. Ableism, perhaps? Mentioned disordered eating and suicidal ideation.

I’m looking for something more in the advice or reassurance vein, please? So, I come from a more traditional family: I constantly have to walk on eggshells around my dad, he and my mom rant about how LGBT is “corrupting” the world (which is so stressful for me because I’m genderfluid), my mom called me stupid for sobbing in front of her and saying I felt depressed… that type of stuff. Only last year did I realise that these aren’t healthy family traits. However, as I speak more and more with my recently-acquired mental health counselor, I’m getting unsure on if my parents are actually abusive or not. We’re practicing stuff like reframing (this mental health help is for a limited time only, though, so it’s not full-on therapy) and part of me agrees with what my counselor says, but another is angrier and insists they might be watering down my problems because of my miscommunication.

For example, I explained how my mom once told me that “family is the only you can trust” and how she “bets my friends are talking about me behind my back right now,” yet they say my mom is communicating poorly and that she’s right; friends can and will drop you, unlike family. They highlight that I’ll always see the worst in my family because my parents will come home tired from a work day and might just be stressed. Or whenever I explain stuff like my frequent skipping meals or suicidal ideation, their response is a “it happens to the best of us” and then moving on to the next topic (apart from things like that, they handle most other problems well.)

But as I’m writing this, I feel like it’s all my fault, you know? Like I’m antagonising my first and only therapist for the sake of it. Like I’m grappling onto the tiniest, pettiest moments in my life to announce “I’m an abuse victim!” and demand others pity me.

I’m sorry if this is a too long/a confusing ask, but I’d like to know whether this seems like I’m blowing it all out of proportions or if it’s justified? (If you don’t want to answer or don’t have a clear opinion, that’s completely fine! /gen)

Thank you,

— Void

Hello Void,

My sincere apologies for taking so long to reply to this - thank you so much for your kind words, we appreciate them <3

I am so sorry for the things you are experiencing, it sounds like there is a whole slew of issues and concerns to unpack, and I’m glad that there is some therapy in place already - though I hope the short term develops into something more concrete as you slowly peel back the layers. Just from the examples you shared in your ask, I personally feel you are living in an unsupportive, abusive home environment, and have unequal relationships with your friends who are dismissive of your mental health and attempts to speak your truth in vulnerable moments.

It is quite reasonable to me that you would feel anger, and several other emotions as well, surrounding all this, because you have been attempting to label, and advocate, for your needs, and (I assume) ask for the bare minimum: mutually respectful relationships. Because as much as several people keep trying to downplay what is being said/done to you, I wonder how they would feel if they were experiencing the same? Would they feel just as dismissed if they came to you sharing suicidal ideation and you replied with a “happens to the best of us?” I would feel sad if they felt this was the best standard to be found in friendships. And how would your mom feel if she were the one crying, sharing she’s depressed, and you replied by calling her “stupid”?

You have been working hard trying to see their perspective, but to me, by what you shared, they aren’t extending you the same courtesy, and you deserve mutually respectful relationships. We all do.

As for advice, I don’t think it’s as simple as “ghost everyone”, but perhaps tweaking how much you share with people whose track record is subpar at best when it comes to handling your truths of vulnerability?

Maybe an option to consider could be building your support system one step at a time - therapy is a fantastic start, because they can help work on a treatment plan with coping skills, as well as provide safe spaces to explore your feelings - but maybe also consider branching out where/how you meet people? Perhaps online groups of niche interests, or community volunteering programs, both can be a wonderful space where you might meet others on the LGBT+ spectrum who will honor your identity, and/or have connections to further mental health resources. There’s also support groups (both in person, and online) that might be an option as well?

I wouldn’t want anyone to spread themselves too thin between relationships, and potential commitments, and yet on the other hand, exploring your available options might be of service - in that the very least you can start building your own tribe, where you can let people in who are willing to extend you the same empathy and compassion you’ve been trying to do for yourself.

Regardless of what the next steps might be for you, I am so sorry for the things that have happened so far, and I hope that things improve <3

- Mod Kat

#trauma talks #mod kat #void #tw child abuse #tw lgbtphobia #tw ableism #tw disordered eating #tw suicidal ideation

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journeydb · 2 months

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April 24 2023 Boulder (continued)

Continuing Hobie's birthday retrospective with this photo of him with Bill, Katie, and Jack at Easter a few years ago. Some people may not realize that the reason we have Katie in our lives is that her older brother, Sam, attended Oakley for high school with Hobie. They were good friends and after they both graduated became even better friends because the Gambrells lived in Niwot at that time.

Sam introduced Hobie to his sister, Katie, and we will be eternally grateful to Sam for that. Sadly, we lost Sam in October 2013 when he took his life after losing hope that he could be delivered from the depression which was so deep and so pervasive. Sam was helped by many people attempting to counsel him and give him the support he needed and we'll never truly understand how much he suffered, but we are relieved that he has found peace. Sam was truly ADORED by many and will forever be missed by those whose lives he touched in such a profound way. He was one of the kindest, gentlest Souls I have ever known and I'm grateful to have had him in my life if even for such a short time.

A very big moment in Hobie's life was when he met his birth family for the first time. After we adopted Hobie when he was born we met his grandparents and his mother and we had hoped to have an open adoption and include them in our family, but his birth mother, Kori, wasn't comfortable with that so it never happened. She died when he was a teenager and we were all devastated that the opportunity to know her was lost to us.

This photo is of Kori on her wedding day two years before she died of cancer at age 31. She was such a beautiful person and Hobie looks a lot like her. I maintained a limited relationship with her and her mother, Laura, through writing, pictures, and phone calls since his birth so when Hobie returned to Boulder after graduating from high school in 2011 we began the process of Hobie getting to know his grandparents and his aunt. Since then they have created a very deep love and regard for one another and Laura, Jerry, and Taryn have become an integral part of our family.

Sadly, Laura's sister, Kori's aunt, died a few years after we first met her and we don't have contact with anyone else in the extended family but we are grateful to have Laura, Jerry, and Taryn in our lives now.

Hobie has been fortunate to be a surrogate uncle to many of his cousin's children and he REALLY likes Marshall, our niece Heather's son, see next to Hobie, wearing a tie, at Hobie's wedding.

The child who really seemed to be the catalyst for his paternal instincts being nudged was when his cousin, Aimey's son, Indigo, was born.

Because Aimey and her husband, Philip, live in Colorado we have a lot more contact with them than with our family in other parts of the country. Watching Indigo grow up has been a joy for all of us and we hope that he and Maple will have a close relationship as cousins the way Hobie had with his cousins.

The "babies" closest to Hobie's heart, after Maple, of course, are his and Katie's pups, Gilly, seen in the photo above, and Archer.

Archer, the black dog, in the photo above, was their first dog. He is ten years old now and has some health problems so we hope he'll keep going for awhile. He is sweet and loving. The other dog in the photo isn't Gilly, it's their dog, Lana, who looks a lot like Gilly. She died six years ago and it was traumatic for them to lose her. Adopting Gilly helped them and Archer to heal from Lana's loss.

Hobie has had two careers in his life. The first one started when he began working as an electronics tech and assembler at Electrom Instruments in Longmont. He worked there for six years and learned a LOT about computers and other electronic instruments, which was extremely helpful to him when he decided he really wanted to be an auto mechanic and began a year and a half program at Lincoln College of Automotive Engineering.

The class began with thirty students and only five graduated. It was a very tough curriculum. Hobie graduated and actually had a job with a Ford dealership before he graduated.

These are some of the tools of Hobie's trade. He is SO organized, at least at work! He has worked for a few dealerships now, getting experience with different kinds of companies and working with lots of different kinds of vehicles. His focus now is on becoming a master mechanic and he is apprenticing at the Ford dealership in Dacono where he currently works with a really nice young guy who is a master mechanic and works mostly on diesels, which is Hobie's area of interest.

Hobie has owned MANY vehicles, including cars, trucks, Jeeps, motorcycles, and a BIG diesel truck, which have given him lots of experience on his own. At one time his driveway looked like a used vehicle lot until the city of Longmont told him he had to get rid of some of them, so he sold a few. We are SO proud of our son that he found his passion for a career that pays well and will pay even better in the future when he becomes a master mechanic. He is doing something important because he's helping people stay on the road to go to school, work, shopping, you name it, all the things we use our transportation to do, in safe, well-maintained vehicles.

And then, the most wonderful thing to happen in Hobie's life, after meeting Katie, was the birth of little Maple. She has been from the very moment he first saw her the "apple of her Daddy's eye". He adores his daughter and he is a REALLY good dad.

Today we celebrated Hobie's 30th birthday with a takeout dinner at our house. It was the first time we had seen them since we got back a few days ago and it was WONDERFUL to be with them! We had gifts not only for him, but also for Maple from our travels and from friends in Barcelona. Maple particularly liked the wooden train with blocks on it. We also bought Maple a little cart like the one at their house so she could practice walking behind it. She did quite well. It was a lovely afternoon and evening and we were SO happy to be home with our family.

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longlivebatart · 4 months

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Kalf’s Still Life with Ginger Pot and Porcelain Bowl

Welcome to Long Live Bat Art, the podcast for art lovers who don’t see art as much as they want to. My name is Sydney and thank you for taking this slow tour through an art gallery with a casual art lover. Today, I’ll be talking about Still Life with Ginger Pot and Porcelain Bowl by Willem Kalf. I hope you enjoy.

Willem Kalf was born in 1619 in Rotterdam. His father died when he was six and he left Rotterdam in 1638 shortly after his mother died, leaving him an orphan at around 18. No one knows who he apprenticed under because any documents that might have alluded to or outright told people who he was trained by haven’t survived to today. He moved to Paris in around 1641 until late fall five years later. As you might expect, the paintings Kalf produced during his time there were said to be part of his French or Parisian period.

Kalf lived in a house with several other Dutch painters in a house called La Chasse. His early paintings were mainly of exteriors, especially of farms. That was apparently very popular as a subject and his paintings were copied quite a few times. But he didn’t just paint exteriors- he was one of the pioneers of the still life genre later on.

Kalf returned to Rotterdam in October 1646 and he didn’t crop up in the records for another five years, when he resurfaces in Hoorn in a marriage record to Cornelia Pluvier. He and his wife moved to Amsterdam, which is where Kalf stayed. In 1654, he is a member of the Saint Luke’s Guild in that city.

Kalf wasn’t solely a painter doing his own work, however- he was an art authenticator and dealer as well. He authenticated in Amsterdam in 1653, and the documents he provided to authenticate an artwork by Paulus Bril are part of the reason historians know he was in the city at that time. And it’s through his art dealing that he most likely gathered all the interesting, exotic, and exorbitantly expensive items he later used in his still lifes. Oddly enough, he painted very few paintings during his mature period where he created most of his still lifes for which he is now known. Art historians in the Netherlands call his still lifes a term that means “ostentatious still life” in English.

Kalf died on July 31, 1693. 23 of his works survive.

On to the painting.

The still life’s background is dark brown, so deep it’s actually hard to make out some details. The table the items are on is polished granite with a beveled edge. The granite is brown with gray and black veins running through it, mostly seen on the front left corner of the table, the only corner visible to the viewer. There’s an open faceted brass pocket watch on the corner of the table. Or maybe it’s a handheld compass or even a locket. It has a black ribbon threaded through the loop. The ribbon is draped over the corner of the table, and it’s dangling down. There’s a small brass key or something similar on the ribbon. It’s bent- the hole is threaded through the ribbon, and the body of the key is almost at a ninety degree angle. There’s a small piece of brass extending from the item, which is why I think it's a key.

Next to the pocket watch, there’s a silver tray. The edge of it is detailed and ornate, though you only see it in profile so you can’t tell what the details actually are. There’s a depression in the middle of the tray where items can sit. On the tray is a glass tube with a small orange and yellow swirl on one side. It looks like it’s connected to a small metal cup on the other side. It could be a snuffer for candles. Cocked on the tray is a white porcelain bowl with delicate blue designs on it. One design you see in full is the solid profile of a bird on a branch. The rest of the design in the concave side of the bowl is obscured by an eaten slice of melon. The green rind and a few pieces of the orange melon remain in the bowl. Also in the bowl is a hammered metal disc with holes in it, but I’m not quite sure what function that item serves. It looks almost like a loose-leaf tea steeper, but without a chain to pull it out of the water.

Behind the bowl and to the left is a large wine glass. The stem of the glass is very thick and it looks like it has those glass decorative pebbles on it, the ones with a flat back and a domed front. The glass is dark green, but the color is probably influenced by the dark background. The glass itself is half full with a colorless liquid, with a half-peeled lemon in it. The lemon’s rind has been peeled in a spiral, and most of the rind is dangling over the rim of the glass and hanging over the left side.

Underneath the dangling lemon rind is an apple-like fruit with a stem with leaves coming out of the top and a much smaller fruit off to the left, still on the stem. The main fruit has a crack on the left side of it, in the middle of the lighter area. The right side and most of the bottom has a gentle shadow thrown on it by the objects next to it.

To the right of the porcelain bowl is the green melon that the slice in the bowl was cut out of. It has a crackled rind and the inside is a yellow-orange. Close to the center of the melon you can see the slightly-green seeds running along the length of the exposed slice. Behind the melon is a large blue vase, which is the ginger pot the title references. The pot has white designs on it, but you can only clearly see one. That one is a floral-like design. The top of the pot has a horizontal single diamond design on it, like an elongated simple compass rose on a map. Behind the pot and to the left is another drinking glass. This one is a narrow triangle shape, with the point of the triangle at the bottom. It’s filled with a red liquid. To the right of the ginger pot, hardly able to be seen against the background, is a third drinking glass. You can only see the top part of the glass, where liquid would sit, and not its stem. The glass is wide and almost-floral in shape. The edges are wide flutes and the rim is also fluted. It looks like the cup of a flower seen in profile.

Bunched around the right of the ginger pot and melon is a thick cloth. It’s mostly orange, with dark brown and white designs on it. The design closest to the viewer and the most distinct is shaped like a maple leaf. A fold in the fabric from how it’s laying splits the design in half. The cloth is also resting under the silver tray and has a fringed edge.

Now for my thoughts.

I like the lived-in feel of the painting. It looks like the melon was freshly eaten and the person these items belong to just walked away and will be back to clear up later. I know Kalf likely staged the table himself to practice drawing and painting from real life, but it still has that human touch to it. It isn’t just a fruit bowl- Kalf chose these items for a reason. Maybe that reason is that he had it nearby, but I like to think that he chose them because they were challenging. And the design of the cloth and the ginger pot, even the marble table, are incredibly detailed and life-like. The liquids in the glasses are clear and the viewer can easily tell what they are. What I think is a loose leaf tea steeper is metal and reflects the design of the bowl it’s resting in, albeit in a distorted way. The light coming through the vase with the glass pebble design on it reflecting off the ginger pot and the fact you can hardly see the glass on the right are such small details in reality but huge in theory.

Kalf might also have chosen the items in his still lifes as not-so-humble brags- his art dealing brought him a lot of spending money that he used to acquire items that the vast majority of his fellow Dutch couldn’t afford. It would be somewhat like an artist of today painting stacks of gold bars and cash, along with highly expensive items like Ming vases and designer clothing and accessories. Kalf’s paintings were incredibly popular with the elite in the Netherlands of that time, mostly because of a status symbol. But the pieces are still gorgeous.

The hours this painting must have taken- hours sitting in one spot and painstakingly rendering every detail so that it was as good as Kalf was capable of making it must have been intense. It’s amazing that this is one of the works Kalf made that survived- I mentioned that there were 23. It’s a still life. And this is just one of the several by him that exist to this day, but still lifes don’t tend to survive because they’re seen as boring by most people who don’t have a background or at least a passing interest in art. They think- as I used to and still often do- why someone would paint a bunch of random things on a table. But they were more than just practice pieces for techniques and colors. They trained the artist’s eye. To see more than a first glance, to look deeper into the world and truly experience it. And yes, still lifes often trained the artist’s patience as well- the ability to sit still and stare at one scene for hours is a skill that must be practiced as much or even more so than any brushwork technique.

Here’s my challenge for you, and don’t get scared that it’s to create your own still life. No, it’s to look around you, wherever you’re listening to this podcast. Whether you’re on your commute, in your room, or doing chores, there’s probably something you’ve seen a million times and passed by without looking at it.

So I challenge you to take a close look at that thing safely. In my experience, you can usually find something brand-new to see. Whether it’s a new kind of tree, an interesting shadow on the wall, or the pattern on a dish, everything can stand to be appreciated just a little more. And if you’re moved to do so, maybe take a picture of that thing. Your life deserves to be documented. It’s incredible what you see as ordinary now will turn out to be extraordinary later. You never know when the last time will be, so soak in your experiences. You never know when your experience will turn into a treasured memory. And memories are what make life so much better.

If you liked this episode of Long Live Bat Art, please consider telling a friend and reviewing to help the podcast grow. A link to the transcript of this episode is available in the show notes below. And you can follow me on Twitter at Long Live Bat Art and tumblr at tumblr dot com forward slash Long Live Bat Art. That’s Long Live B-A-T Art. Thank you for listening to this episode, and I will see you in two weeks.

#episode transcripts

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crimenight-a · 5 years

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#hi.. <3 #i start off every post of this manner with some sort of apology but i dont know why i dont have the energy to do anything here #i haven't felt a connection to bruce's voice in a long time and i don't why?#a lot of irl things have been going on and a lot of my energy is rightfully going towards those events so maybe that's why..#although whenever i find a minute to relax.. nothing comes and it's SO annoying #people have been waiting on drafts for how long now?#i feel like this blog is clean.. i have a good aesthetic.. so it's just this lack of inspiration #as a creative.. i don't want to half-ass anything #i really hate using the word creative something abt that sounds so pretentious lmao but my point is.. i WILL be back at some point #i just need to sort out this rut #it's extending into other parts of my life and i hope it's not another depressive low but you all don't need to know that #i love you all i'll get back into things as soon as i can!#ooc.#i've also gotten an influx of followers and therefore mutuals so im excited to start talking to you all! and contact some of the older ones #as well! hopefully i can do this soon <3

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murumokirby360 · 2 years

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My Adata HD330 2TB External Hard Disk Drive Review (with my Paper Dolls) - Part 2 [May 11, 2022]

Hello! This is Part 2 of my new item review, the Adata HD330 External Hard Disk Drive (with my paper dolls).😁

In this part, I'm going to show ya my comparison between my recent external hard drive (on the left) & my old broken one (on the right) is my Western Digital My Passport Essential 500GB.

But before that: I would like to apologize for the long delay. My parents are busying extending our house to make more space 🏠🔨, plus the voting election in my country 🇵🇭🗳️, and of course... Umm... I felt emotional & depressed. The latter was the concern of my 160GB (3.5 inch) hard disk drive's life that was on the line 😟 because I made a dumb decision when I disassemble it & see what's the problem via following instructions without my knowledge about the hard disk drive. That 160GB HDD contains my artworks 🎨🖌️, photos 🖼️ & other files 📁 that are my precious memories from 2016 & beyond, and I can't retrieve them anymore. So, I REALLY NEED to find a good professional disk recovery store to save my files, but it'll be very expensive to pay & I don't have enough money. I guess, I DO REALLY NEED a job to earn my profits. *sigh* Without my precious files, there will be no... ME. And my life will be a downward spiral of depression.😔

Anyway, back to my topic... If you haven't seen my previous part, then please [CLICK ME!].

So, without further ado, let's get started:

1st & 2nd Image(s) ↑:

• [1st Image] As I said in my intro, you're looking at my two external hard disk drives. Despite the design & look, my Adata HD330 is taller than my old WD (short for Western Digital).

• [2nd Image] Another thing was the HD330 had shock & drop proof with built-in silicon case around the plastic shell case & also the interior 2.5 inch HDD, though I still need to buy a rugged hard case for extra protection. Whereas my old WD My Password Essential has nothing but four rubber pads on the back.

Little story 📖: My former BF actually purchased this Western Digital external HDD at the local tech store for me as a token of our friendship, and I was very surprised back then when I was in my high school days. *Sigh* 😌 Memories, I would never forget that moment.

3rd to 6th Image(s) ↑:

• Here are their side to side comparison, sandwich style.

• [5th Image (left)] On my old WD external hard drive, you may notice that there's a tiny hole on the left side. That's the light indicator when plugging the Micro-B USB port through the computer via cable.

• [6th Image (right)] And speaking of ports, both Adata HD330 & (old) WD My Passport Essential are sporting USB Micro-B 3.0 port. Well, actually 3.2 gen 1 port for the Adata HD330, meaning it's far superior port than the old 3.0 variant. (Well, I think) It'll be awesome if the HD330 will be sporting the USB type C cable for a modern look & less hassle plugging than the irreversible USB Micro-B. (Just suggesting)

7th & 8th Image(s) ↑:

• [7th Image] Finally, their USB Micro-B 3.0 cables. On the left is from Adata HD330 & on the right is from WD My Passport Essential, which shows up aging from rust on the USB type-A male, but the male Micro-B was surprisingly quite intact & shine.

• [8th Image] On top of that, the old USB Micro-B cable 3.0 is longer than Adata's short-length cable. Also, that cable strap remains wrapped around, to this day.

9th & 10th Image(s) ↑ [without flash for no. 10th]:

• My paper dolls said that these two external HDs are both blue! 💙Well yeah, of course not because I love blue, duh.😊 One is brand new & the other was very old, due to the signing age of fading WD logo on the front, scratch surface, etc. Not to mention not very functional, and hoping it will revive my old one (hoping my old files remain intact without a single corrupt), anytime soon. As soon as I want the 160GB hard drive will be an attempt to save it first (if possible).🤞😟

Overall:

• Well, nothing new. But, I would say it was a pretty good short comparison between my two existing portable/external HD (not High Definition) or HDD. 🙂👍

• Right now, I have nothing to transfer my files for my next & final part. 😟 So, I'm not sure if I could finish this topic this month (May) or not. But, here's hoping that I will find the way while my 160GB HD is putting in rest mode.

Well, that’s all for now. If you want to see my previous topic from March, as well as my current topic from April, then I’ll provide some links down below.↓😉

My Oria 120 in 1 Screwdriver Set Review:

• Part 1 [Mar 15, 2022]

• Part 2 (Final) [Mar 19, 2022]

My Adata HD330 (2TB) External HDD Review:

• Part 1 [Apr 12, 2022]

Tagged: @bryan360, @lordromulus90, @carmenramcat, @gibsonfreak49, @leapant, @alexander1301

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Adrenaline Junkie

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Ages (oldest to youngest):

Philza- 32

Technoblade- 17

Wilbur- 17

(Y/N)- 16

Tommy- 14

Pairing: platonic!sbi x winged!sibling!reader

Warnings: near death experiences, mentions of depression, OOC sbi (this is my first time writing about them)

Summary: Philza finds out about your little “habit”

Word count: 1,962

You grinned as you flew through the air with your feathers glinting in the low sunlight. You absolutely loved the feeling of freedom you got whenever you flew. It always gave you a sense of calm when you needed a break from your family. You loved them of course, but you needed a break once and a while; you often felt drained if you didn’t take some time to yourself. The cold air rushed past you as you continued to flap your wings to keep you in the air.

You could not see the ground below you as you soared higher into the clouds, weaving in and out of them. Flying higher, you steadied yourself to look at the sunset. The mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together perfectly. You always loved the sunset, it was one of the only consistent things in your life. You wished that you could stay hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but mobs were going to be spawning soon. The last time you stayed out past sunset you had almost gotten killed by a skeleton. Your dad had given you quite the lecture after he made sure that you were alright. You still had the scars on your arms from when it tried to shoot you out of the air.

You angled yourself so you were upside down, put your arms tight to your sides, and extended your wings fully behind you. You dove closer and closer to the earth, quickly picking up speed. The wind whipped around you as you gained velocity, getting closer and closer to the ground by the millisecond. At the last second, you fully extended your wings and drastically slowed your descent to the ground. The extra velocity you had made you soar up once again before you regained control and landed safely on the ground. The adrenaline that the skydive gave you was the most exhilarating feeling you’ve ever felt, and you were always craving it. Your dad didn’t find it as fun or exhilarating as you did.

“(Y/N) (M/N) MINECRAFT.”

Your father’s voice boomed from behind you. You could tell that he was in a lecturing mood without even having to look at him. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. Grabbing your other arm, he looked you up and down with worried blue eyes. After seeing that you were alright, his gaze hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

He rattled on and on about how you could’ve killed yourself, but quite frankly you didn’t care if you died or got hurt. In your opinion, the adrenaline you got was worth it. You had three lives you could spend, and if you did die, you wanted to go out with a bang all three times. What could you say? You were an adrenaline junkie through and through.

He started to drag you inside the house mid lecture. Swinging open the door, he pulled you towards the kitchen, where the scent of fresh mushroom stew wafted from the pot on the stove. Your brothers looked at you each with their own different reactions. Techno looked as stoic as ever, Wilbur eyed you with slight disapproval, and Tommy looked at you with awe and excitement. They must’ve seen your little trick through the window.

“(Y/N) THAT WAS POGGERS! YOU WERE SUCH A BADA-”

Tommy’s excited rant was cut short as he saw the stern look on Philza’s face. After a few moments of hesitation, your brothers were making small talk with each other with Philza occasionally chiming in. Poking idly at your food, you contemplated how you should go about apologizing to your dad.

You supposed that the best route you could go was telling him that you wouldn’t do that again, but you knew you would do it again. That was the biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever gotten and you were already craving it again. You couldn’t lie to your dad, your wings always gave you away by twitching uncomfortably whenever you lied. On the other hand, telling him that you felt empty when you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins was not an option. He already has enough to worry about with working to provide for four teenagers. Deciding that your best bet was to lie to him and hope for the best, you zoned back into the conversation around you. Tommy was ranting about how he had broken his favorite sword dueling Techno.

“-do you have any idea how long it took me to find that enchantment, Techno?”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement. “Actually I do because I helped you find that enchantment. We found it in the village together, remember?”

“Tommy,” Philza said tiredly, “we can get you another enchanted sword. Techno, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. You have to remember he’s three years younger than you, so he has less experience in dueling.”

Tommy grumbled to himself, busying himself with shoveling food in his mouth. Wilbur glanced at him with disgust.

“Do you have to eat like that, Tommy? It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Wilbur, it’s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You’re eating like we don’t feed you.”

You usually enjoyed it whenever your siblings argue back and forth like this, but lately it didn’t make you feel anything. You didn’t feel much anymore if you weren’t pulling off impulsive stunts. Of course, you hid it from your family and acted like you did before. It was relatively easy since you were naturally a quiet person. You thought you were doing a great job at it, you pride yourself on your acting skills.

Dinner went by fast without anything notable happening. Since it was your night to clean up, you got to work after everyone parted ways for the night. You stacked the dishes left on the dinner table and got to work washing them. Luckily, since you lived with three teenage boys, you never had to deal with leftovers. You subconsciously stretched and twitched your wings, feeling restless without feeling the wind moving through your feathers. After you got done with putting the dishes away, you took a deep breath and set out on your search for Philza.

Walking into the living room, you saw Techno sitting near the fireplace reading one of his mythology books. “Hey, Tech. Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”

Without looking up from his book, he responded in his usual monotone voice. “Yeah, he’s up in his room. I think he’s going to bed early.” He paused for a second before looking up at you with sincerity. “You know, he was terrified when he saw you earlier. He thought that you weren’t gonna stop yourself in time. Hell, we all thought you were gonna die.”

That made you feel guilty. He already had to deal with providing and raising you four and he didn’t need anything else to worry about. You felt your wings droop slightly as you sighed.

“...Thanks, T. G’night, love you.”

You started to speed walk to Philza’s room without giving him time to respond. You needed to apologize to him and fast. Out of all your siblings, you were always the one to hate conflict and would always apologize first whenever you got into a disagreement with anyone. You were always the pacifist.

Walking past Tommy in the hallway, he tried to stop you to talk to you, but you ignored him with a dismissive wave of your wing. You heard him mumbling to himself as he started to walk down the stairs, probably to challenge Techno to a rematch. You nervously fluttered your wings, feathers occasionally brushing against the walls and causing you to shiver slightly at the small touch. Your hands were shaking slightly as you took a steadying deep breath and knocked on Philza’s door. Hearing his tired “come in”, you slowly opened his door. He situated himself so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Hey, Dad. I-I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you earlier. If I knew that it would stress you out, I wouldn’t have done it.” You sat next to him.

He sighed as he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I don’t care if it stressed me out. You could’ve gotten killed from a fall at that height. You could have lost a life. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t open your wings in time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it if you knew that you could’ve gotten yourself killed? I just want to understand why you would pull a stunt like that, I’d never expect you out of all of your siblings to do something so dangerous.”

You took a deep breath as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted to tell him about how you felt empty without putting yourself in danger. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. Unconsciously, your wings started to twitch and pull themselves closer to your body.

You jumped when you felt something else wrap around you. You looked back and saw black feathers. Looking back up at your father, he looked at you with a concerned expression.

“Take a deep breath, you’re shaking hun.”

You looked down at your hands and to your surprise, they were shaking. You took a few deep breaths and clasped your hands together tightly while Philza rubbed comforting circles on your back.

“...It’s just that, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, if that makes any sense. It’s like I can’t feel anything anymore without doing stupid things that could get me killed. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dived like that. One time I lost control and almost flew into lava-filled ravine.”

“...How long have you felt like this?”

“A few months now.”

Philza felt his heart break, how did he not notice that you were different for months? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or permanently maimed yourself and it would’ve been his fault because he didn’t notice your mood shift.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. I didn’t tell you anything was wrong. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“We can help you find something that’ll help you. Something less dangerous.”

“We?”

“Your brothers and I. They’ve been listening this entire time, weren’t you, boys?”

You heard shuffling and muffled voices arguing with each other before the door opened to reveal your sheepish brothers. Wordlessly, they all filed into the room. Tommy grabbed your shoulders and yanked you into a tight hug. You felt Wilbur hug your other side before he pulled Techno into the group hug also. You felt feathers tickle your cheek as Philza joined, wrapping his giant wings around you all. The family hasn’t had a group hug since you all started to hit your teenage years. For the first time in a while, you felt happy without risking your life.

After that night, you were right in your assumption that you’d be grounded (literally and metaphorically) from flying for a while while your family worked hard to find something safe that gave you a distraction. Soon, Wilbur found a book about the intricacies of redstone working and you were hooked. Sure, your family was rambunctious and a strange group, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#sbi x reader #winged reader #sibling reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tw: near death #tw: depression #tw: swearing

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1025cherrystreet · 3 years

Text

funeral

y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.

a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3

**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories

warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)

word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)

Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.

As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.

The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.

Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.

The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.

Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.

In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.

She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-

"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.

She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.

"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.

"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.

She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.

"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.

"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.

He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."

Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.

"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.

"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."

"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.

Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask. He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.

Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."

This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"

Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.

"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.

"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.

"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.

"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.

"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.

He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.

"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.

"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.

He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.

"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.

"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.

She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."

He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.

"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.

"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.

She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.

"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.

She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.

"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.

"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.

"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."

She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.

"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.

"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.

"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.

As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.

Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.

Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.

"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."

The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.

Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.

***

The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.

"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."

Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)

"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.

Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.

"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."

"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.

"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.

Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.

As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.

The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.

"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.

"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.

She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.

Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.

"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.

She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."

"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.

"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.

"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.

"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.

***

Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.

As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.

Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.

So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.

What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!

She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.

"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.

"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.

She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.

She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.

"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.

"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.

He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."

A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.

She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.

When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.

She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).

She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.

"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.

"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.

"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.

"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.

"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."

She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.

Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."

He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.

She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.

"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.

Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.

"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.

"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.

Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.

"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.

"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.

"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.

"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."

He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.

***

Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?

She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.

Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?

Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?

Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.

"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.

She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.

"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.

Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.

"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.

A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.

He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.

"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.

"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.

"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"

She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.

They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.

She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.

"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"

He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.

"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"

"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"

He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.

"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.

"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.

"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."

Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.

"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.

"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.

"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.

"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.

"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."

She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.

"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"

"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.

"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.

He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.

"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.

Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.

"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.

"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.

"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"

"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.

"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down.

"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.

“F’what?”

“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs.

They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.

***

Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.

She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.

Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).

Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.

That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.

Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.

He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.

"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.

The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.

Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.

Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.

"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.

"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.

The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.

Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.

He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."

"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.

"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.

She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.

"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.

She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"

Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."

"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.

"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.

Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-

Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.

Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.

"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.

She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.

He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.

She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.

Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.

A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.

"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.

"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.

"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.

He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."

She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.

"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me." He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.

"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.

"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.

Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.

******************

ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ??

anyways, stay safe and much love <3

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