#like ive spiralled so bad in the last week alone like being at home is not good 4 me.... being alive is not good for me

[timehascomeagain]

The key to life is to get a gay little drink and listen to babyshambles at a evil coffee chain and then ur fine

[analviel]

TIM DRAKE IS NOT ROBIN

It just so happens when Tim was planning to find Dick, his parents suddenly call him to tell him that there's a party or an event or just something on the other side of the world he can attend with them.

Sometimes they do this and Tim always says yes. It's as rare as leap years. Meaning it has happened only three times in his life before. He agonized over it. But you know, Tim's just a kid and there's no guarantee he can actually do something about Batman and Nightwing. Besides, Batman's been managing -if you can call it that- this long, with Alfred by his side, who's words certainly weights more heavily than the neighbours kid. He can afford a couple of weeks away from Gotham. By that time, Batman probably would've gotten his head straight. He's a hero, he's like, really strong, if anyone can get through this... besides, Tim figures Superman or Wonder Woman will do something before he truly crosses the line, right? Why would a kid know better than real superheroes, right? They must just be waiting until they're really needed. Right? Even though Tim personally thinks they should've at the very least locked Batman up somewhere he can't harm anyone or himself if they can't convince Dick to go back to being Robin. They're heroes.

Tim really wants to spend time with his parents. But before he leaves, he sends letters to every place he thinks Dick may be. The Titans Towers, his apartment in Bludhaven, where he lives with Starfire, Haly's circus, even to houses of his friends heroes. (Tim is twelve/thirteen alright. And one that has maybe below average self-awareness and his letters were very polite even if the act itself might've been vaguely sort of threatening).

So Tim leaves Gotham to spend time with his parents. It's busy, his parents keep him busy, and he doesn't have much time to dedicate to the news from Gotham. And really, if this is how it always is, no wonder his parents don't always have attention to spare on their kid in Gotham. So many things to do, so many things to attend, so many people to meet, and even more sites to visit. And the fighting. Tim hadn't realize it was this bad and suddenly thinks that, you know, it might've been better if he did stay back home. He realizes his parents actually brought him with them because they think a kid will somehow... magically fix them...??? Tim doesn't know, adults can be stupid.

Eventually, they realize the wrong in their ways and sends Tim back when his presence proves ineffective. Tim comes back to the city burning.

Well, not literally, but sort of.

Parts of it are burning. But not the whole thing. That's something.

Batman has been missing. And looking into it, at his last appearance, Tim surmise he retained a heavy wound.

(Or he's dead, not like they'll reveal it to the city just to cause more chaos and panic.) Batman seems to be out of the field and that was what Tim wanted, before he would've crossed the line.

Only, thing is, he'd already revealed too much weakness. The Batsignal had been taken down after one too many close calls on the perps they pick up. And the violence only raised from there.

(The first month when Batman and Robin and Batgirl's absence started to become suspicious. The second month Batman is deep in his spiral of violence. The third month Tim follows him around and then makes plants to pick up Dick that doesn't come to fruition and then sends his letters and then leaves. Six weeks with his parents, a few days from and to Gotham, two weeks to get caught up with what happened in Gotham. Batman is out, recovering, resting, dying, who knows.

Five months was all it took for Gotham to go to hell. And all it took was one dead son.)

Spoiler rises.

Gotham has a new champion.

Tim regrets that he hadn't been able to help. Tim will help.

Tim has a new champion.

Spoiler has a fixation on Cluemaster. It's not that difficult to go from there.

As long as, one, you know who was giving the police the answers to Cluemaster's gimmick. And two, that you know there even is a new vigilante because Spoiler is not like Batman who beats perps and leave them on the sidewalk for the police to pick up.

For wearing an almost eyesearing purple costume, Spoiler prefers to keep in the shadows and if not for the time Tim had trailed after Batman's madness, he wouldn't have learned the streets enough to notice the hints.

Tim purchase a laptop, watch tutorials day in and day out, buys pieces from junkyards to fiddle with wires and boards, and leaves Stephanie Brown a gift on her windowsill with a purple ribbon. Tim greets Spoiler over the comms. He calls himself Asset.

(It is not well-thought out because Stephanie takes to calling the mystery person who snuck into her room and refuses to give anything about themselves out 'Ass'. Tim did not actually sneak into her room but sent a drone to drop off his gift. Steph doesn't budge.)

Tim is not yet good enough to hack into cameras around Gotham. He finds he's good with a computer but not that good, his real talent lies not in the software but in the wires and soldering iron and the tiny bug camera/audio he has Spoiler plant around Gotham. If he can't take other cameras, he'll make them. (Also in case someone more experienced at hacking than he is manages to get in the system, Tim has a self-destruct button just for that. Yes, Dr. Doofenshmirtz is a good role models for mad scientist wannabes.)

A week is all it takes for Spoiler and Asset to get all the necessary evidence against Cluemaster. They celebrate. They are thirteen year olds and they just prevented a bomb from going off and put a bad man behind bars. They are high. They find more cases, for the most part C-rank villains and bellow but they also help with the big names by Spoiler planting more cameras and Tim sending the data and feeds for her to drop off to Jim Gordon. He is the only one who knows of the characters that have risen after Batman's sleep and can guess enough from Spoiler's stiff shoulders to keep that to himself.

Then...

Then it is six months and two weeks.

Tim watch from his now multiple screen behind his walk-in closet as a grave is dug out from the inside. Because S&A have put cameras everywhere just in case. After all, it's places you think are of no interest that criminals will sought to make deals in.

Tim does not send his partner to what may be a zombie but instead tells her to clear the direction Jason is stumbling towards. It takes him minutes to realize that Jason is patrolling his Robin patrol. Jason is sent to the hospital and Tim contacts them to list him under the Drakes, paying for his room and every other necessities. Has him transferred to the hospital that Drake medical industries is personally funding. When asked the name, Tim says Alvin Draper. He gets a cab to the hospital, finds Jason knocked out, peers at Robin's face. It's when they're alone, the previously dead boy's hands wrapped in bandages that Tim confirms in disbelief that as far as he knows, the boy matches Jason Todd. As if him digging his way out of Jason Todd's grave wasn't enough. Granted, Tim doesn't even know the shade of his eyes, so he's not the best judge.... Tim snaps a picture from different angles of the room and takes another cab back to Bristol while thinking up a story.

Tim knocks on the neighbour, tells them he's got something of Jason and if he can see Mr. Wayne. Tim is surprised himself by how relieved he is to see Bruce standing alive and well. Or not standing, leg and arm in a cast, an IV beside him on the couch in the drawing room. Tim weaves his story. Little Tim Drake wandering around Gotham, stumbles on a bunch of medic picking up a boy that Tim recognises as the neighbour's dead kid, pays for his hospital bills, takes a couple of pictures after the first aid or whatever and gives Bruce the pictures. Bruce makes his way to the hospital.....

I've lost steam at this point.

You decide if they arrive to see Jason and Bruce and Alfred is all tearful while Tim awkwardly leaves the room to resume his brainstorming on the S&A latest case, or they find an empty bed and Bruce goes on a frenzy tracking his undead lost son.

Additional idea: So Tim not being there didn't kill Bruce, but Bruce has been crippled and Batman is dead now. So without Robin, Batman did die.

Maybe Dick comes back to become Batman with Jason as his Robin, since that's not a combination often seen (Or the Batman Jason and Robin Tim, that's more common, though I'm loath to give up Spoiler and Asset). Around this time Babs comes back to the scene as Oracle with the birds of prey.

Additional additional idea to how they'll work with everyone back on the scene: since the Bats have the fighters and more equipped to report to time sensitive stuff, maybe S&A focus more on cold cases. Where Spoiler goes sneaking around, poking at old cases with Asset in her ears, figuring out puzzles and old clues, making breakthrough after breakthrough and bringing long overdue justice together.

Either the Drakes dies without Batman there to slap the poison out of Jack's hands because he's too busy searching for his son, or maybe they live with Tim able to direct Batman there immediately. Either way, Drake industry sponsors S&A, so now Spoiler also has toys like the Spoil... er plane??? Spoiler bike??? Eh, the name's work in progress.

[ruby-whistler]

Srry but i noticed in one of ur dream posts u Referred to tommy's cat as hope. I must correct u, that cat was born pussbou and died pussboi. /lh Also tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile btw just wanna say Also for ur posts about dreams trauma or wilbur manipulating him can u provide links to vods or other proof? Srry if i seem rude i mean that in a "genuinely curious way"

Aaa sorry if my ask came off as rude im just genuinely curious :(((

hi! dw, you don't seem rude at all, and i'm extremely happy someone with a different perspective has found my blog! i really appreciate that sort of attitude and am happy to answer :]

/dsmp /rp

the cat was called pussboy by tommy, but dream only called it "the cat" and then said that "it was hope", which is why it sort of became a symbol (his hope is dead, basically) - that's why i kind of made its name capitalized, because it was more of a metaphor than anything.

most c!dream fans call the cat hope because it's just really nice and really symbolic, and also really sad when you think about it. that's why the name was used in the essay, just to clear up the confusion!

tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile

i don't really think so? mooshroom henry was entertainment more than anything, and even if it was bad, when watching the stream i don't remember seeing him mourn that much - on the other hand, dream was very quickly and very obviously attached to the cat, with it being his only companion in months of isolation, along with the hope that even when tommy left it would keep him company.

keep in mind c!dream has been deprived of stimuli and human contact for so long it's officially classified as psychological torture at that point.

i don't mean to compare trauma or even compare deaths - because honestly, what c!dream and c!tommy have gone through individually is incomparable and i think neither should be diminished in favor of the other since they're both terrible situations.

that's why i disagree that it "was nothing compared to" - it had an obvious effect on c!dream, and was still c!tommy killing an animal specifically to hurt him, no matter what reasons he had.

when i'm talking about effects people's actions have had on c!dream, i'm not talking about those people. i'm talking about him. :) /lh

as for the trauma, a lot of people agree that a lot of the things he says or does are trauma responses, and hence it's very possible that he's had trauma before he went into prison!

this includes being repeatedly called a tyrant via propaganda by about half of your friends who decided to betray you, trying to keep peace and being pushed deeper into villainy instead, repeatedly being put in between a rock and a hard place in order to make sure the people you care about don't start killing each other, then being betrayed by your closest friends after merely trying to keep peace (sapnap & george) and just in general having no control over your life or image and grasping at straws to gain it back.

i know a lot of people with trauma who heavily relate to certain trauma responses, which aren't always just shaky breaths and flashbacks, but trauma often also manifests itself in extremely ugly and destructive ways, both inwardly and outwardly.

trying to control the people around you is also very often a response to going through trauma, as well as emotional repression which is... rather evident on c!dream during season two. it only seems to get worse with repeated abandonment.

in the end, during the vault scene, the way he acts really just isn't at all the way a healthy person would act, and a lot of his really bad mindsets come from the way he was taught by the world around him.

the character is very reserved however, and since we don't have his pov we can't really say for certain - a lot of people claim it in good faith because they have a lot of evidence for it, and i think they're certainly valid in that.

that is just before the prison, however. from what happened during the prison arc? there is no denying he's traumatized at this point.

he's been emotionally and physically abused by c!sam since the very beginning of being imprisoned, and being in solitary confinement for over two weeks is generally considered psychological (and maybe also physical?) torture. that alone shows up in a lot of symptoms of his mental deterioration while in pandora's during people's visits, and quackity's "sessions" just absolutely drove the point home.

what he's gone through during this arc is absolutely incomparable to anything others charactes have faced before, and it's just plain suffering being endured by someone who is, despite everything, still a human being.

as for the wilbur manipulation thing!! it's talking about the whole vassal scene (though even beforehand a lot of their interactions are pretty iffy), and here's a post about that :]

I also have a small question about the analysis u last reblogged cus it says "why dream needed lmanburg gone rightfully" and like. The house analogy is poor because for one cus the land is infinite. And 2 cus punz's yard was literally larger then lmanburg. And also stuff about dream being a mediator? Can u provide examples?

i wouldn't say it was poor. dream's said a lot of times that he didn't care in the slightest about the land - a lot of his problems with l'manberg arose with the fact that wilbur basically built it on lies and tried to disallow half of the server to come there. c!dream was mad about the division and the fact that wilbur wanted "freedom" to have authority in his lands - over others, as can be seen in this post also.

the table analogy was fitting not because dream was some overlord, but because these were literally friends he invited to hang out and live in a place he wanted to call home. claiming a part of it for yourself and saying people of a certain nationality can't come in is directly opposing those goals.

in the early days of the smp, dream's always been a mediator between his friends - sapnap and george, who would often get into fights and go around killing each other! he would always do his best to stop the conflict, which continued after tommy joined when he took him to court and then later tried to mediate conflicts he was a part of, which resulted in tommy killing him unprovoked, stealing his gear, and starting the disc wars when dream was trying to get his stuff back. later, during pogtopia, he is also most concerned with peace over everything, and this seems to continue indefinitely after.

Today i was thinking about how messed up the final control room was. Like. Dream arranged the betrayal and punz and sapnap killed tommy and tubbo who like. Were literal children and their pals (because the author, wilbur soot, is dead/j but srsly if u take the streamers words tommy said he was 9 during the revolution sooo)

Sorry im gonna ramble about how dumb canon ages are for a second cus like. Streamers can say the characters are one way or another (wilbur saying he is mentally 30-something, etc.) But in the end the characters act like they(or at least their streaming personas) do.

i... honestly don't find it that bad? they were in a war, and the final control room was basically just supposed to end it quicker. the l'manbergians made it clear they were going to fight to the death, so they really left c!dream no other choice. and it's not like he didn't give them chances to give up.

also yeah the 9 year old thing was retconned, because in that case c!dream would've been 14 and i don't think that's true.

c!tommy and c!dream were both young and once again, in a war. the final control room was an attempt to assure victory, which both sides would've taken if possible, but only c!dream saw he had the option.

i do agree the whole child soldier thing was bad but... complain about that to c!wilbur, methinks. he talked naive kids into fighting for his personal power. however, the age argument isn't really valid either way. they had enough agency to sign up for it, and whether or not c!wilbur pushing the intense nationalism onto them had something to do with that is another debate entirely.

Bacl to final control room cus like??? Also fun fact punz took 2 of wilbur's canon lives. And like that probably is what started wilbur's paranoia which later lead to his spiral and i. Many thoughts full of lmanburg today.

i'm pretty sure cc!wilbur said what lead to c!wilbur's spiral was a "dark, twister view of possessions" and "disregard for his fellow citizen whom he claimed to love so much", but i really wouldn't say it was the control room; if anything the sudden loss of power after the elections seems to me like the trigger for his spiral.

I watched the exile arc live and. I feel dirty almost for feeling little to no sympathy for c!dream (srry ive been forgetting to add that aa) because of his actions toward c!tommy and like. The whole probation was so humiliating and unfair and c!dream was planning to frame him for the crimes he and puffy did under the the guise of "pranks" and c!quackity was planning to seize the vice president role.

i mean... to be fair, if you didn't watch the prison arc much yet or only watch tommy's perspective i understand not feeling that sympathetic - however, i encourage you to maybe watch a few prison visits, since they could help you see the whole picture better!

i also watched it live, and i also thought it was terrible, but i share very much the same sentiment for the prison arc because. absolutely no one should have to go through either of those things, you know?

i don't think probation was that humiliating? he was just. being asked to not start conflict with the other factions for two weeks. of course, what happened as a result is in no way justified, but i don't think probation itself would've been bad at all. either way yeah the framing and c!quackity's behaviour was. very yikes, i agree.

Also c!tommy antis are dumb because they say "he deserved exile angry emoji" i dont see u saying that about ranboo. Just say you hate cc!tommy and go. Also people say c!tommy was just as toxic to c!dream and i??? No. One is the victim and one is the abuser and like. :/// man. This part is rambly srry

i wouldn't say they hate cc!tommy? cc!tommy has a persona who people think is annoying at first ( but then they subscribe because he is super entertaining big man! ) but a lot of c!tommy's actions are straight up toxic to certain characters, such as c!funndy and c!jack. he has a very dismissive attitude towards others and their trauma and it does affect the people around them very negatively.

examples; his repeated bullying and behavior towards fundy:

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

......

Fundy: “I’m wearing glasses…are you making fun of my eyesight?!”

Tommy: “Yes.”

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Wh – disappointed for wearing glasses?!”

Tommy: “You got glasses, like what are you wearing…”

Fundy: “What do you mean?”

Tommy: “Sapnap, Sapnap, over here. Fundy, Fundy, Fundy, I’m really sorry to say this – I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “…What?”

( credit for transcript: @/findingjoynweirdstuff )

he's also responsible for a big chunk of c!jack's trauma, both with actions and words, and that's why i think certain people might dislike the character, and i don't think that's wrong of them. anyone can dislike any character they want if they don't attack people for liking them, in my opinion.

also c!tommy was most definitely toxic against c!dream in the cell. it's of course understandable but that doesn't change the fact he was constantly hitting and insulting him (without dream doing anything back for a long while until he snapped) which is toxic behaviour.

i wouldn't say he was "just as" though, so i agree with you on that. they're different and they behave differently.

i made a dream blob keychain today. Is it possible to send images if u wanna see? Idk cus i havent used tumblr before. I think that's all for now. Thx for letting me talk :D peepoShy -curious anon (but fr a connoreatspants c!dream redemption arc would be cool)

yooo that's cool! i don't really,,, know if it's possible to send images? try it out and if it isn't i'll try find a way to turn it on.

also, no problem! just please remember this is a c!dream sympathetic blog, and me as well as my followers are uhh,, oftentimes emotionally attached / personally relate to the character, so if you could avoid sending hate on the character (not that you have or that i expect you to, just a friendly reminder) in the asks that would be great! we already see a lot of it unwillingly so, i'd rather not see more, but as long as the discussion is civil i'm absolutely ok with you asking more and with me answering more questions if you'd want to! :)

if anyone else would like to reblog this and add some things i might've missed with my answers, feel free to, just go easy on her (she uses she/her pronouns!) and keep it factual.

i hope u had a good or at least ok time at school today :D

thanks! i gtg now because exam tomorrow but i'm going to try write the redemption essay tomorrow as well because ohhh boy i have a lot of ideas about what all i could write around the concept.

also sorry this was long, i can't keep my tongue on the leash :[

[whump-town]

Moments Too Late

In honor of spending too much time on my own Universities quad because of the nice weather (which is promptly going to shit because it’s going to be cold again Monday) and because of @olivinesea college AU I give you...

The false promises of March lure them from the comforts of their dorms. Each morning now a little warmer, the sun beaming down forgiving and loving as it’s not the quiet time for it to swelter down great beams of heat that melts clothes off the skin off muscles off bones. Today it heats the ground, enough to encourage them out of their shoes to feel the still slightly chilled nature of the not yet up to pace earth beneath their toes.

Derek laughs deeply, unabashedly as he chases Spencer along the grass. Seemingly all the more pleased the louder he can get the younger boy to screech in terror as Derek pins his thin arms in contorted positions as they wrestle. The only mediation, the only warnings they get, comes when JJ looks up from her textbook. More often to tuck strands of hair behind her ears than to break from her reading. “Don’t hurt him, Derek,” she warns. Not because she’s afraid he will but to continue these halves of theirs. Where she stands to allow Spencer this idea that she will step in if need be.

“The winter,” Emily says softly. “I think the winter depresses him.” She’s laid out on the jacket Dave spread out on the ground before them. He’d given a little “hmph” of disapproval but not altogether displeasure when she laid herself out on it. Her legs break out in rashes and the shorts she’d chosen to wear leave her too exposed to rest comfortably in it.

Dave rests back on his elbows, chest lifted to take in all the rays of the sun that he can. He cracks open his left eye, scowling over at her as he processes what she’s just said. The raised eyebrow of doubt -- of further need for contemplation and clarification on the generally just vague statement she’s just made -- goes unnoticed as she watches Aaron. Dave’s eyes follow suit and while he might not understand the full complexity of what it is that she means, he might be able to gather what she sees.

“Winter depression?” he whispers. There’s no way that Aaron could be anything but… well, Aaron. By definition, that means dark and spirally with a complexity not a single soul, at least Dave suspects, knows him in his entirety. They are all bound by bits and pieces, half-truths that they have put together like children and those little cheap boxes that are covered half-hazardously in Elmer’s glue and macaroni shells.

Aaron lays out on his back, eyes closed and more relaxed than they’ve ever seen him. Shoulders sinking into the ground and limbs open. His ankles set aligned with his hips and shoulders. Palms up, a sunflower turned to face the warmth. He can feel the heat crawling up his body, nearly too warm with the sweater on his arms and the jeans that don’t quite fit the length of his legs. Softly, he clears his throat doesn’t even bother cracking an eye open as he says, “the word the two of you are looking for is seasonal and I’m not, nor have I ever been, depressed.”

Though Dave shoots Emily a look that says it all -- leave resting snakes to lie, don’t poke a bear you’re not ready to kill -- she sits up and observes him further. Letting his head thud against the dirt, Dave lets her poke that hornet’s nest knowing he’ll be the one to soothe Aaron’s buzzing anxiety and pull the stingers from Emily’s skin.

“You locked yourself in your room for two weeks,” she reminds him. As if she wasn’t the dead girl in the freshmen dormitory wrapped around a toilet and sent to the emergency room where they know her by name. Where they take turns picking her up in the lobby, waving to the doctor’s as she signs out against their advice with her arm still bleeding where she pulled too harshly, too angrily at the IV snaked under her flesh. Who is she to point fingers at his oddity? At least he can go a weekend without visiting the bottle.

The two weeks in question were from hell. He’d been with them Tuesday, present in a way that they reflected on as oddly so. They also thought he’d killed himself, a theory started by JJ too good to pass up so their application might be flawed. For two weeks, there was nothing but radio silence from him. His dorm was empty and they couldn’t even find him in the library, a place they more often than not have to drag him from.  He didn’t show up until Thursday, so he was actually gone for sixteen-days, and looked like maybe he had died and dragged his corpse all the way back to them.

Not yet adults and very much the children raised by their parent’s hips, how could they not think in the extremes that they have known their entire lives? Too young to know the complexities of the life ahead of them but too damaged to ignore it. JJ knows what her sister did and Derek could feel his father’s blood hardening on his hands, could understand and see what JJ was telling them.

One. Talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself; Eyes closed and back sinking further and further into the blankets behind him. Nearly unaware of how close they all are, of the hand on his knee or the shoulder on his hip. “It would be nice… I think,” he whispers. “No stress. No obligations. Like sleeping.” He doesn’t sleep well.

Two. Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose; The warmth of his eyes has frozen over, the helpless desperation that he feels bubbling over. The carefully orchestrated faux look he’s spent years building burns at his feet. Leaving behind the broken child that he is at his core, searching for something that makes sense. For a father that loves him and a mother that protects him. “It doesn’t matter what I do,” he rasps. “Nothing matters because all I do is fuck everything up.”

Three. Sleeping too little or too much; He pulls from the hand that JJ gently reaches out with, flinching. “I -- I just don’t sleep well,” he defends, avoiding her eyes when she tries to look harder. To really see how pale he’s become. “It’s just -- just insomnia.” Nightmares are what he means but twenty-year-olds shouldn’t have that kind of horror built up into them so he lies. It’s easier that way.

Three strikes. You’re out but… they just couldn’t find a body. Dave had told them about how old dogs will drag themselves away from their homes to die and Spencer had cried for hours after that. Maybe that seemed a little too on the nose, Aaron being compared to an old beaten dog. They yelled at Dave out of fear but knew he was right.

Then Aaron just showed up to campus Thursday, a lump of human underneath his comforter as if he’d been there the entire time.

“We couldn’t find you for two weeks, Aaron. That’s -- That’s crazy, even for you.”

JJ looks up from her textbook, sees Dave, and looks back down. She’s certain that they’re about to have to deal with one of Emily and Aaron’s nuclear fallouts.  With hindsight, she can see how that’s been festering up. Every semester they have one of these martial spats, bad enough to leave Spencer (who loves nothing more than to be one of their shadows) afraid to be left alone with either for a few days. Rightfully so, Aaron gets a little dark and Emily never pulls her punches, it’s a scary thing to witness.

“My father died.” The group freezes for a moment. Spencer and Derek’s wrestling had died down, both watching Aaron and Emily. He’s sitting up now, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “My father died and it wasn’t any of your business.” Emily opens her mouth but he’s shaking, having opened something not so easily contained. He doesn’t know how to put it all back. “Sean called, what was I to do, Emily? Would you prefer I tell a scared nine-year-old to fuck off?”

He wanted to. Despite how scared Sean had been, how small he’d sounded sucking in little sobs. Aaron lost his father ten years ago but he couldn’t tell Sean that. He’d gone out of obligation and the strange weighted sense that this might be the last time he truly sees his little brother. And he couldn’t know it yet but it’d be the last time he saw his mother too.

“I wasn’t out mixing my name up with Jack Daniels.”

Well…  it was only a matter of time.

She stands first, fist clenched at her sides. “We’re your friends, we would have been there. You’re just too much of an insufferable bastard to notice!” She seethes good and properly angry. Misplaced but firm. “If you spent half as much time locking yourself away, pretending to be someone you’re not--” She pulls in a deep shuttering breathe. “Everyone knows, you know? All of us. We’ve seen the scars.” She’s not sure if it’s what she wanted but he flinches as though he’s been hit and that’s not enough to stop her. “Do you think we wouldn’t notice the flinching? That we can’t touch you? You’re not as good as you think you are, Aaron, and we’re not stupid.”

Silence.

Emily always knows what to say.

“Ex-Excuse me.”

Penelope comes up just as Aaron’s stumbling to his feet, pale as a ghost and trembling. He nearly runs into her. “What’s--” she’s brought them snacks. Little pieces of fruit she’s painstakingly cut for this little snack. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and mumbles another “excuse me” and tears past her.

Penelope looks hopelessly at them, confused and hurt. She turns, watching Aaron stagger and wipe furiously at his eyes. “What… What did you do?” She looks back and forth, settling on Emily. Penelope watches tears gather in Emily’s eyes, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh God,” she whispers, hands raising to her lips. Emily looks over at Dave and to JJ, Spencer, and Derek still watching in terror. Her own words coming back to her, funneling through moments too late. “Oh God, what did I do?”

[super-secret-sick-fics]

ouu yes ive been so obsessed with them (osasuna) recently and there’s barely any fics for them in this department lol i wanted to see something like suna coming to school sick with the stomach flu or something and osamu taking him home to take care of him (i feel like it’s ooc for suna to go to go school if he’s not feeling well so it’d probably be one of those where it gets progressively worse throughout the day) sorry if this is too long haha

Okay!! Thank you for this request. Sorry it took so long. Honestly, I had a lot of fun with this and it ended up being so long, that I’m gonna post it in 2 parts!!

You can totally read either as a stand alone though. Part 2 should be up soon :)

Suna and I have the same birthday, so I actually kinda put a lot of myself into him in this one since we share a star sign lmao. I hope it’s not too ooc for either of them. It’s my first time writing sunaosa!

Sick at School: a SunaOsa fic

Pair: Sick Suna, Caretaker Osamu

Word Count: 3,024

Warnings: vomit & swearing & soft cuddles

Part 2 Here

_________________________________

Suna was confused.

There was a strange gnawing in his gut that wasn’t there when he woke up this morning. In fact, when he woke up this morning, he felt perfectly fine. Maybe he was a little more tired than usual, but he didn’t sleep all that well, so he brushed it off and got ready for school.

But now, he was sitting in class, his eyes burning as he tried to stay awake. It was only Monday and only the second class of the day, but he felt like he’d been at school for days already. On top of the grumbly feeling in his stomach, his brain was muddled, so paying attention to whatever his teacher was saying was taking every bit of energy he could scrounge up.

It didn’t make sense. He slept his eight hours (even if it wasn’t the best sleep), he ate a good breakfast, he was hydrated, there weren’t any tests or games coming up to make him anxious at all. So the unsteady, uncomfortable, unusual feelings he currently felt simply did not make a single bit of logical, rational sense.

And because they didn’t make sense—because there was no rational reason for him to feel that way—he ignored it.

Ignoring it proved to be more difficult than he anticipated as the fog in his brain solidified into a consistent pounding and the gnawing in his stomach started to feel more like his stomach acid was boiling. The sun shining on him through the window didn’t help any, and he started to feel rather warm. By his fourth class, occasional cramps rolled through his body, forcing him to tense every muscle in his body to keep from wincing.

When the teacher finally released them for lunch, Suna folded his arms on his desk and hid his face in the crook of his elbow, ready to take a nap. Within three seconds, he heard the chair in front of him scrape the ground, grating on his ears, and felt his desk shake as someone sat down. He adjusted his head and peeked over his arm to find Osamu staring down at him, his usual bored look gracing his features.

“Yer sick, Sunarin,” he deadpanned and took a bite of his sandwich. Suna blinked at him several times.

Sick? Was that why he felt so weird? But he wasn’t sick this morning. There was no way he would have come to school if he felt bad.

Still, it would explain why he slept poorly. It must be a fast acting bug.

“I guess so,” he mumbled and buried his face in his elbow again.

“Hmmm,” Osamu mumbled. They were quiet for a minute or two before Osamu spoke again.

“Wanna go to the infirmary?” he asked, his mouth full.

Suna looked up at him again and sighed before sitting up. The world spun around for a brief second and he closed his eyes until the feeling went away. When it righted itself once more, his stomach was hurting worse than before.

“How’d you know anyway?” he asked and rested his chin in his hand.

“You’ve been lookin’ bad all mornin’. Wasn’t hard to tell.” Osamu shrugged. His sandwich was gone and he started making his way through the onigiri he most likely made himself. The fact that Osamu could tell he wasn’t feeling well from across the room made Suna blush. Or maybe he had a fever?

“Plus,” Osamu continued, “Tsumu’s home right now with a pretty nasty stomach bug. Threw up all over his bed last night.” He scrunched up his nose cutely, probably remembering the disastrous scene from the night before. Atsumu was never good at being a sick person. Or an injured person. Or a person at all, really.

“Wouldn’t be all that surprising if ya caught it from him since ya slept over at our place last weekend.”

Suna nodded in agreement.

“What about you?” he asked. Osamu shrugged again.

“I’ll probably be spewin’ my guts out by Thursday. Usually how it goes. One of us catches something then the other is sick within the week. We’ve only been sick at the same time a handful o’ times.”

“Mmmm,” Suna nodded and put his head down once more. It was suddenly very difficult to hold his head up.

“Infirmary?” Osamu asked again. Suna shook his head.

“Can’t move,” he whined before he could stop himself. Osamu looked at him with wide eyes.

“W-well, I’ll help ya out, dumbass,” he stuttered and Suna returned the wide eyed look.

“Uh, sure. But finish your lunch first. I can wait. You should eat. Wake me up when you’re done,” he said and closed his eyes.

“Alright. Lemme know if we need to go sooner though…” Osamu said hesitantly and Suna tried to ignore the implication behind the phrase.

Just because Atsumu had a stomach bug didn’t mean that Suna did too. He wouldn’t throw up at school. The increasing nausea absolutely had to be related to the growing migraine that slammed away at his head. He definitely would not throw up at school.

Before he started overthinking himself into a downward spiral, Osamu placed a hand in his hair. Suna was tense at first, but then Osamu started gently scratching his scalp and he immediately relaxed. He was a little embarrassed, honestly. Not because this was unusual though.

Osamu knew it helped Suna with his frequent headaches, so Suna was sure he somehow knew about the incoming migraine. It was just that this was usually something Osamu did for him in much more private settings. He’d do it on the bus on the way back from away games, or in one of their rooms after school or during a sleepover. To be so affectionate in the middle of their classroom was unheard of and if Suna wasn’t feeling so poorly, he’d probably smack Osamu’s hand away.

“Ya got a slight fever there, Sunarin,” Osamu whispered gently.

“Mmmm.”

“Okay. I’ll let ya know when I’m done eatin’.”

“Mmmm.”

Within a few seconds, Suna felt himself drift off.

When he woke up again, it wasn’t because of Osamu.

A violent cramp rolled through his gut and he shot up in his seat, ignoring the startled looks of his classmates. The cramp passed quickly, but left behind a foreboding feeling of nausea so intense it left him paralyzed and glued to his seat.

A second later, he noticed that Osamu was nowhere to be found and his anxiety increased. The situation was becoming increasingly urgent and there was no way in hell he could move or speak without throwing up all over his desk.

His chest tightened and he swallowed back a gag. He needed help. He needed Osamu.

“Suna-kun?” a girl from his class touched his shoulder and he flinched. She withdrew her hand.

“O-osamu—“ he forced out and she nodded urgently and ran away and out the door. Less than a minute later, she came back, Osamu hot on her heels. She pointed to Suna and Osamu nodded before rushing over and stood in front of him.

“Sunarin?” he tried and Suna shook his head.

“Are ya gonna—“ Suna nodded before Osamu could finish his question. The eyes of all of his classmates burned Suna’s already flushed cheeks and as if to let everyone know what was going on, a gag forced itself through his body painfully and he leaned over his desk. He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth and whimpered.

“Can someone bring me a trash can, maybe?” Osamu snapped at their peers. The girl from before nodded and dashed to the corner of the room and dragged the trash can over to Suna’s desk.

Everyone froze again and stared with scared eyes at the situation unfolding. Suna shook with effort, trying to stop the inevitable. He really really didn’t want everyone to watch him throw up.

Thankfully, Osamu had his back.

“Leave?!” He shouted and everyone ran out of the room.

“I’ll bring the nurse, Osamu-kun,” the same girl said and Osamu nodded, but his eyes were focused only on Suna. They’d have to remember to thank that girl later.

“I’m sorry, Rintaro. I finished my lunch and you were sleepin’ so peaceful I thought I had time to go to the bathroom before I took ya to the infirmary,” Osamu apologized and cupped Suna’s face in his hands. His voice was much softer than a second ago. It was the voice reserved for those quiet nights that they spent chatting before they fell asleep. Or on the team bus early in the morning when everyone else was still too groggy to pay attention to them. And it comforted Suna in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

“I feel sick, S-samu,” Suna forced through gritted teeth. The swirling in his stomach grew more insistent by the second and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was leaning over the trash can.

“I know, Rin. I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’ve got ya,” Osamu smiled softly at him and brushed his hair back. He frowned when Suna unconsciously leaned into his cold hands.

“Fever got higher,” he mumbled. Suna gagged again.

“Alright, c‘mon,” he said and circled around the desk behind Suna. Osamu gently grabbed his trembling shoulders and positioned him over the trash can. People’s leftovers from lunch filled about half the bin and the smell of all the different foods made Suna dizzy.

“Rin, ya gotta relax,” Osamu sighed and forcefully rubbed between Suna’s shoulder blades.

“N-no,” Suna said stubbornly.

“Yer an idiot.”

“Y-yeah.”

“It’s gonna feel worse if ya don’t just let it happen,” Osamu tried. Suna shook his head.

“Alright well, be mad at me later, then,” Osamu muttered. Suna was about to turn and look at him questioningly, but Osamu wrapped a hand around Suna’s front and placed it on his stomach. Even the minimal contact forced a wretch that left Suna reeling.

“D-don’t,” he tried, but the request was punctuated by a painful hiccup.

“I’m sorry. Can’t do that,” Osamu responded before starting to rub up and down on Suna’s stomach quickly. The motion shook the contents nauseatingly and Suna couldn’t stop the watery burp that followed. He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Osamu didn’t relent. He started patting Suna’s back with the other hand, forcing belch after belch. The conflicting motions wreaked havoc on Suna’s already chaotic stomach.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, before Suna grabbed Osamau’s wrist tightly.

“S-stop—hurrk. P-please, Samu. No m-mor—hic,” Suna begged. All of his limbs felt like they were about a thousand pounds and he shivered, cold despite the sun beating down on his back.

“It’s okay, Rin. I got ya,” Osamu muttered. He pried Suna’s sweaty hand off his wrist and replaced it with his hand. Suna squeezed hard when a wet belch jolted his body. His other hand grabbed the rim of the trash can in a white-knuckled grip. Osamu used his free hand to rub gently between Suna’s shoulder blades again.

Suna squeezed his eyes shut when he wretched. His throat felt tight and he tried to swallow the accumulating saliva in his mouth, only for it to come back up with a noisy gag. He opted to just drop his mouth open and let the spit fall into the trash can disgustingly.

“S-Samu—“ he tried but was interrupted by a guttural, wet, burp that left his head spinning. Two seconds later, he wretched and a weak stream vomit dribbled out of his mouth. It burned his throat and coated his mouth. The disgusting taste left him more nauseous than he thought possible and a belch gurgled in the back of his throat. He heaved, but nothing else came up.

“Ah, Rin, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry,” Osamu shushed him. Suna didn’t even realize he was crying.

He continued heaving for what must have been an eternity before another painful gag jolted him forward and brought with it a torrent of pale vomit into the trash can. At least he didn’t have to see everyone’s discarded lunch anymore. Not that his new view was much prettier.

“There ya, go Sunarin,” Osamu soothed. Suna sputtered and coughed, trying to catch his breath. His body was relentless though, and before he felt like he had sufficient oxygen, he was lurching forward with more forceful vomit pouring out of his mouth.

Suna’s body didn’t let up. It was stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of gasping breaths abruptly interrupted by a fountain of vomit forcing its way out. Eventually, he was just left heaving over the trash can, his stomach trying but failing to expel whatever might be left. Anxiety crawled up his spine and the room spun. He wanted to breathe, he really did. He just couldn’t.

“Fuck, Rin, breathe. Please,” Osamu demanded and his voice shattered through Suna’s panic. He nodded and closed his eyes to try and collect himself. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled heavily through his mouth. A minute or two of that, and he was able to take in his surroundings again.

At some point, Osamu wrapped an arm around Suna’s chest because apparently, his own arms gave out at some point and hung limply at his sides. He spit the residual nastiness out of his mouth and squinted up at Osamu.

“Can we leave?” he asked plainly. Osamu stared at him owlishly and then chuckled.

“It’s the middle of the day Rin, I can’t just—“

“Please?” he all but begged and grabbed Osamu’s arm. Osamu hesitated for the briefest of seconds before relenting with a heavy breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. Want me to call yer mom?” Osamu responded. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off Suna’s face. Suna shook his head.

“Is it too much to ask if I can stay with you? I don’t want to risk giving this to my little sister and grandma.” His voice was quieter than he wanted, but he was wiped out. He cleared his throat and spit in the trash can. He was fading fast. All he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep whatever bug this was off.

“Yeah okay. I’ll ask my Ma. Shouldn’t be too much of an issue since Tsumu’s sick too.” Osamu pulled out his phone and massaged Suna’s scalp. It felt so good that he leaned over and buried his face in Osamu’s stomach. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall asleep here. Hopefully Osamu’s mom would be okay with it and come quickly.

“Ma, can you come pick me and— no I’m not sick— well, if you’d just let me talk ya crazy—Ma I do have a good reason to be call— would ya stop talkin—yer damn right I’m being disrespectfu—Ma!” As Osamu argued with his mother over the phone (it was nothing new) Suna took inventory of his body.

There was no denying he was sick. That much was obvious. His head was pounding and his stomach still rolled and swirled uncomfortably. Shivers danced up and down his body, exacerbated by the sweat that coated his skin. He was sure that he had a fever. All of his limbs weighed him down and he didn’t think he had any sort of energy to move them. It was taking all he had to stay awake right now.

“Osamu-san!” The girl from before returned, the school nurse right behind her.

“Suna Rintaro, you poor boy. Caught that bug going around, I see,” he heard the nurse and pulled his face away from Osamu’s body. Blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision, he sniffed and stared at the old lady in front of him.

She stuck a thermometer in his mouth without saying a word and pulled a water bottle out from her coat pocket. While they were waiting for his temperature, Suna glanced at Osamu, who was now leaning against the desk behind Suna’s. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, his other still holding the phone to his ear as he continued listening to his mother rant.

Without thinking, Suna reached over and grabbed a hold of Samu’s shirt with one hand. Osamu looked down in surprise before his face softened and he put a hand on Suna’s shoulder.

The thermometer beeped and Suna winced.

“38.7,” the nurse read and pursed her lips. She pulled out some medicine from her lab coat and gave some to Suna. He grimaced. Even in his hazy state, he knew putting something in his stomach wouldn’t go over well.

“Suna-kun, you need to get that fever of your’s down. I know it’s not ideal, but please try.” Suna turned his head away. She sighed.

“Okay, but make sure you take something at home. Does someone need to call your mother?” Before Suna could answer, Osamu interrupted.

“I’ll take him ma’am,” he said, apparently off the phone with his mother.

“Osamu-kun, don’t you be thinking you can just skip out on school,” she warned.

“I would never,” Osamu charmed, “I think it’s the smartest move, ya see. Atsumu is at home with the same illness right now and so there’s no way I ain’t carrying the germs for it. Wouldn’t it be safest if I go home too? Before I infect anyone else. And I can take Sunarin with me.”

The nurse gave him a skeptical look, but then glanced over at Suna. She noticed his grip on Osamu’s shirt and the former’s hand firmly on Suna’s back. It must’ve made Suna look pretty pathetic because she relented almost immediately.

“Oh fine, fine. Does someone need to call your mom?”

“No, ma’am. Just got off the phone with her. She’ll be here soon. Said she’s got no problem taking Sunarin in ‘til he’s all better.” He squeezed Suna’s shoulder and Suna relaxed knowing he wasn’t at risk of infecting his little sister or aging grandmother. He sighed and smiled gratefully at Osamu.

It was comforting to know that Osamu was going to be looking after him. Because, if the swirling in his stomach told him anything, he was in for a really long night.

[mylovelies-docx]

Kid Krow - Comfort Crowd

Part 6!

A/N: We finally find out what promise Y/N made and couldn’t keep.

Chapter warnings: angst (as always), and like one paragraph of very vague smut.

As always, listen to the song here!

And read the story on AO3 here!

Taglist: @maraudersandco @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @hkmultifandom @spider-starry @ashleykaiba @mayangel19

Word count: 3.2k (a long boy!)

When you stormed out of the cockpit, Mille, Zalos, and Arle refused to look at you. You couldn’t blame them; you looked like hell. Zorii sat sharpening a blade and ticked her head towards the cockpit, asking silently if you wanted her to deal with Poe. You sniffed hard, scrubbed at your eyes, shook your head, and practically ran to your quarters.

You pleaded with the universe to just make Poe sit still and not follow you. You could not handle another moment with him, or else you would explode. Or more specifically, your heart would explode and you would die a slow, agonized death. All because of Poe kriffing Dameron and his stupid, stupid , friendship.

You made your way through the corridors, leaning heavily against the walls in order to not fall over in your pursuit of a private downward spiral.

Eventually you made it to your door and entered your code. The door slid open and you rushed inside, closing it behind you as fast as you could so you could be alone. But going where so many memories of Poe lived had been a mistake. Being alone with your thoughts and emotions was just too much.

It was all too much.

With a shattered scream, you broke down. Every last piece of your heart was wrecked and crushed and ripped apart until it was unrecognizable. And still, this burning, unending pain would not. Go. Away!

Outside, you heard a raised voice. Poe. Saying something about needing to talk, to explain, to apologize. But then muffled, indistinct words of warning from Zorii. You knew that Zorii would not let Poe anywhere near you after what had just happened and how upset she knew you were.

Zorii walked inside, her lithe frame seemed to be held together by rage alone. She hadn’t even bothered to knock or ask if you wanted someone around. But regardless, she was now your best friend, and you just needed company now.

“I will refrain from speaking too much on it, but I do need to emphasize how much I despise that man for everything he’s done to you,” she explained, and settled on your cot.

You wheezed out a humourless laugh. You were numb, through and through, after the havoc that had occurred over your last two encounters with Poe.

Zorii was still angry, but she opened her arms to you for comfort anyway. The look on her face and in her manners spoke of softness in spite of her fury, and it broke whatever respite your breakdown had afforded you. A cry exploded from between your lips, slamming into the walls of your quarters and deafening you. It was the sound of anguish and pain and betrayal that was ripped straight from your heart.

You hadn’t felt so miserable and pitiful in all your life: those stupid kids from back home could never have made you feel as bad as Poe has.

Zorii opened her arms wider and you ran to her. You clutched at her waist, burying your face in her stomach and just sobbed . Sobbed for the best and only friend that you had had for years before Zorii came along. Sobbed for the stupid, love-sick fool that couldn’t take a fucking hint and get over her best friend that never saw anything in her anyway.

Sobbed for yourself. Your pitiful, sad excuse of a self.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine,” you muttered over and over again in hopes of getting your pain under control. “I don’t really need him. I don’t. I don’t…”

She sighed, rubbing soothing circles into your back. “ You’ve said that lie already . We both know what a load of bantha crap it is.”

You repeat yourself over and over again, trying to drive it through your own skull instead of hers.

“Look,” Zorii sighed once again, “I know you loved him. As more than a best friend.” You cringed against her, ashamed that Zorii had to find out how you felt about the man she had been sleeping with. “And trust me, I understand the appeal all too well. I wouldn’t have started anything up with him if I had known how you felt. And to give credits where credits are due, you hid it really well; I had no idea until last week.”

You still couldn’t believe that Poe had said that to you in front of Zorii, remembering how terrible you had felt about it and how profusely you had apologized to Zorii once she had come to check on you that night.

“I overheard your holo-vid with Kes the other night as well,” Zorii admitted, wincing at her own invasion of your privacy. You were too overwhelmed to tell her you really didn’t mind.

“He mentioned some force tree or something? I don’t really know what you had said before that, but he mentioned that and you went quiet. I’ll admit that I was intrigued and maybe wandered closer to your door than I intended to.”

Her voice went soft after that.

“But then I heard you mention that he knew: what who knew, at that point, I wasn’t sure. But you went on to explain how you had felt so pretty dressed up in Shara Bey’s dress and how you had prepared a whole speech. At that point, I figured you were talking about Poe.”

You closed your eyes against her and tried hard to push the memory away.

***

It was a lovely day on Yavin IV, and the big, gnarly-rooted force tree near the Dameron’s household was a brilliant green in the midday glow. The wind was whispering through the jungle, and all the creatures that made it their home seemed to be singing along to some unspoken melody. Just for you.

And for Poe, whenever he decided to show up.

You were all nerves. Sweat under your arms, a racing heart, and clammy hands: always the best look for confessing your love to someone.

You and Poe had returned home to Yavin last month after being away for a few years. Your group had had a close call on the last run, and you begged Poe to come with you to see Kes and your gran.

Your gran couldn’t care less that you hadn’t been home, but Kes was ecstatic that you guys had come back to see him.

Poe had gone to the market to pick up some snacks for the picnic Kes told him you had planned. Poe just didn’t know that it was supposed to be a date for the two of you, and Kes wasn’t going to spoil the surprise.

You were busy getting ready when Kes presented you with the most beautiful dress you had ever seen from Shara Bey’s closet. He was adamant that you wore that particular dress, since it was the one he loved most on her. Your emotions were already bubbling over from anxiety, but the look on Kes’s face when he looked at the dress broke your heart. You could see that he was reliving a memory of him and Shara Bey, and you just couldn’t break the spell that it had over him, so you sat quietly.

He eventually resurfaced and left you alone to finish your routine, all the while insisting that you’d be his official daughter sooner or later. Your smile was so big that it hurt your cheeks.

You arrived at the tree and started to set up the blanket and pillows that you had brought from the Dameron household. The blanket was spread out in the flattest nook between roots, and the pillows were propped up against the trunk. You took your place among the pillows and waited.

And waited.

Admittedly, Poe was prone to getting carried away with conversations between himself and the vendors, but that particular outing seemed to last forever in your mind. You knew why later, but at that point in time, you were convinced that Poe felt something for you and would return for you soon.

You knew that he felt something for you; on all your spice runs, he begged you to stay inside the ship and be safe, he brought you back pretty trinkets that he said reminded him of you, and he was always flirting.

Always.

The nickname he gave you? Princess? Absolutely flirtatious. The hugs before and after he left the ship? Obviously an excuse to be close to you. The little winks he’d send over the fire at you and all the inside jokes you two had? Come on! It was all right there. And Kes agreed! So, you two devised this little set up so that you could finally confess to Poe.

Even with only the progression of Yavin Prime to get a rough estimate of time’s passage, it still took Poe entirely too long to find you. When he finally showed up, you had fallen into a light sleep.

“Where’s dad?” Poe asked, setting down a basket with absolutely nothing in it. He plopped down right beside it, startling you awake.

“Where are our picnic supplies?” You countered, rubbing your eyes and feeling nauseous and disoriented after your impromptu nap.

He lifted his hands in the air as if to say “what can you do” and grunted. “Everyone had packed up by the time I got there. Why isn’t dad out here with us? Did he go back to the house to grab something?” His nonchalance and lack of apology really ate away at your resolve to profess your love to him. You wanted to know what took him so long before you said anything about your feelings.

“No, no he never came out here,” you explained. “Why did it take you so long to get to the market? You left hours ago -- the sun’s going down.” You were wringing your hands in your lap, nervous about what his answer could be.

“I was just catching up with someone; nothing to worry your beautiful head about.” When he said that, he had smoothed over the top of your head like a cherished and beloved friend. “It’s a good thing for us, I promise,” he winked. You were eating it all up like you were starved for affection.

How tragic.

You quickly grasped his hand before you lost all nerve. You kept it between your palms, drawing patterns on the back of it that kept your eyes down and away from his questioning gaze and adorable, slightly confused smile.

The future opened up bright and wonderful before you: your mutual affections coming out in the open and that long-awaited first kiss. Stars , you had been fantasizing about Poe’s lips for more than half of your life at that point. And his hands. His hands! Maker, if they would just glide over your skin and caress you like you had pictured for years, you would die a happy woman. And you’d thread your hands through those beautiful curls at the nape of his neck and tug just a little bit, until he groaned like you had always heard in your dreams. You would move together, right on that blanket under the force tree you and Poe had always loved. You would come apart in the most delicious way, panting and crying, with his mother’s ring dangling from the chain around his neck and nestling itself into the hollow of your throat. And then he would grind into you one final time and just pour his affections into your neck and mouth for safe keeping.

How goddamn tragic it all turned out to be .

“I need to tell you something,” you whispered, looking up through your eyelashes at him. He grinned, seeming just as excited and nervous as you were.

“Me too. I’ve been dying to tell you something for days now!” He wiggled where he sat next to you, scooting as close as he could and touching your foreheads together, like you were about to share secrets that were only meant for the two of you.

“You first,” you said, breathless. You couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

“No, no. You had something to say first, so you go ahead.” Poe had still been grinning at you, the happiest you had seen him in a while.

“How about we say it together?” You countered, giving his hand a little squeeze in anticipation.

“Okay, on the count of three,” he began.

“One…” you said together.

“Two…” you continued.

“Three!” You shut your eyes.

“I love you,” -- “Zorii and I are together,”

Silence. Your eyes were still shut, but now you were holding them so tightly that shapes were floating behind your eyelids. Poe pulled his hand from yours.

“What?” He asked, sounding confused and slightly wounded. Like he couldn’t believe that you had the nerve to say that out loud and ruin everything .

“Don’t,” you began, turning your head down and willing your heart to stop its frantic pace in your chest. “I – I didn’t know… I thought…” you trailed off, unsure what to say to fix the mess that you had created.

“(Y/N), do—do you love me? As more than a friend?” He grabbed your chin and forced you to meet his baffled gaze. You couldn’t think straight at that point, so you said the first thing that had popped in your mind.

“Yes, of course I do.”

Stupid girl.

“Oh, princess.” He released your chin and sat back, resting against the pillows like he was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to deal with the situation any longer. “I’m sorry if I ever did anything to lead you on; I just thought we were friends. I mean, we both see other people, and I’ve never felt that way about you so I didn’t think you did either.”

He could not have said anything worse to you in that moment, could not have said anything that sucked all the warmth from your body any faster than that had.

Okay, (Y/N), just breathe. Think of a way out of this, you begged your frazzled mind. Anything would be better than the silence stretching between you at that point.

“I guess… I got some things confused. I’m sorry.” And now you were that little girl again, apologizing for things out of your control and no fault of your own.

You felt small again, insignificant and alone. A floating pile of junk in the vacuum of space, with no planet in sight and no answers to your distress calls.

Poe could see you spiraling, he had known you long enough to recognize the signs.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, princess, we’ll figure this out,” he murmured, coming closer to you once again. He arranged the pillows so that he could lay back with you on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and muttered soothing words, trying to calm you down and bring you back to him. Like he had done so many times before.

“No, there’s nothin’ to figure out; this is on me. Just give me some time and I’ll get over it.” You hadn’t gotten over it in all the years you had loved him-- truly loved him-- but you had vowed to figure it out, and quickly, so that you could stop feeling like that. “I promise I’ll get over it,” you said into the fist that was curled next to your face on his chest.

You closed your eyes and tried not to focus too hard on how good he felt underneath you like that. How intimate it was, how much it reminded you of the outcome of every daydream you had had.

How you knew that it was probably how he and Zorii spent their nights together now...

***

“Kes didn’t know how that day turned out because Poe and I fell asleep outside. I was too embarrassed to face him that next mornin’, so I sent Poe back to tell him we got an urgent message and had to leave. I don’t know exactly what they said to each other, but Poe looked sad when he came back and I didn’t wanna know.” The confession slipped through your lips, chapped from all the salty tears that you had cried into Zorii’s tunic.

“Oh, (Y/N). I’m so, so sorry. He was on a call with me that evening. I had no idea you were waiting on him; he just mentioned you all were going on a picnic and that his dad could keep you company for a while.” Her hands clenched against your back, as if trying to protect from a hurt that had already passed and done its damage.

“That boy wouldn’t know a Gungan from an Ewok if they were both standing in front of him. The only reason we ever got together was because I made the first move.” Her hands now continued their previous path of soothing circles, hoping to make up for the pain that she unintentionally caused not so long ago.

It amazed you how drastically things could change in such a short amount of time.

“It’s alright, Zorii, I’m not mad at you. I’m just angry at myself. Always at myself. For bein’ too slow, too emotional, too much and never enough at the same time.” You were defeated and exhausted, no longer able to keep even an ember of your earlier fire alive.

“I will not tolerate you speaking about my best friend that way; she is a wonderful person, and the best damn pilot we’ve ever had. She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way,” Zorii chided, having pushed you away from her and giving you a stern look.

You returned something resembling a smile.

You looked back to her lap where you had just spent an indeterminate amount of time; the white fabric covering her stomach was completely transparent.

“Oh Rii, I’m sorry about your clothes,” you mumbled, trying to dry it with the sleeves of your outfit. It did no good.

“I don’t really mind; I like my shirts soggy,” she said, deadpan.

This time, a real laugh bubbled up from your throat. You were immensely grateful you had a friend like her.

______

For months after Poe’s departure, you kept a smile on your shoulders until you were sweaty; begging on your knees for somebody to come and help you when it was too much to carry. Zorii did her best, but no one could replace the comfort and happiness you had once found in Poe. You eventually stopped asking for help and pretended to have moved on.

But time passes, and past hurts are less painful. Especially when you don’t think about them.

You had seen the missed messages from Poe in those early days. Every time your comm buzzed, the despair you felt over your situation returned tenfold, and the only option was to throw the device in a forgotten corner and let it die -- just like your feelings.

[madd-information]

I saw your advice of dipping one's toe to another anon...I unfortunately didn't do that & now I'm confused is it good or bad? A lot of the information is scary...for someone whose thinking spirals I started fearing I would develop every mental illness mentioned.

The thing is I've never considered my daydreaming weird or freaky till the internet.

My mdding hasn't stopped my life yet. I have one of my dream jobs & degree. I literally used to daydream & create story boards for this job as a little girl.

At this stage I still know how to shutdown & study. & I have to be an active listener & take notes & read material beforehand. I even put dense documents in word document & play "read aloud" while also reading, it keeps me focused.

It's hard but I can. I've always known I have to work harder for decent or great marks & my ambition & Faith has mostly driven me to put in that extra work. But I always thought that all the hard work I do is due to my lack of concentration I've never focused on the idea that my daydreams were to developed or taking over my life or at least attempting to. My cousins & my mom used to make fun of the fact that at night before sleeping I would just stare in the distance (daydreaming) until I fell asleep or that I would just be smiling randomly at times.

I am working on being more social so i can get friends etc. I honestly think that my lack of social skills has more to do with my personality than my mdding. I like being alone. I hate trying to fill awkward silences & I'm extremely shy. My sister is my current best friend cause she loves me no matter what.

Cause people tend to bully me in real life. The last time I had friends I loved was at age 10 (I miss them so much) & I'm in my 20s now. I feel like women become meaner the older we get. Ive tried making friends at work but people were abusive in different ways. But I'm actively going to work on getting friends this year. I've decided to push myself to join group things (I just need to find things that are safe during covid times). I watched a video of one of my fav youtubers & she said she zooms with her friends at least once a week. So that is my aim to find friends to zoom with once a week with.

Basically my question is, is mdding bad or good?

How do you know it's good or bad? It's just weird to me that when I was younger people encouraged things like imaginary friends so many TV shows had kids with imaginary friends etc. But now my imagination is bad & means I'm ill. I'm genuinely confused.

I never had an imaginary friend as a kid & thought I was weird for that but I had stories which I would write down or tell my sister. As I grew older I kept them to myself I thought of writing them down but grew to lazy. I should've cause I think I had at least one gem. My mdding now has become stale and is about my ideal husband, my future goals career wise, my dream home & dinner parties. On occasion & quite recently though I've been daydreaming about being the new Tarantino. So I've decided to join a writer's club in my area they are waiting for covid to slow down before restarting for 2021. I dont know if that would fulfill my mdding of writing a stellar film & debuting in Cannes. But hey it's worth a try. 😀

But I'm excited to join the writing group.

I've taken up painting during quarantine cause I daydreamed about being a painter. I have a year to get good.

I tried surfing cause a movie I watched made me daydream about my dream guy being a surfer. I need a few more swimming lessons to take up that daydream 😂

Besides Tarantino, I've also daydreamed I was a musician so obviously I'm looking for affordable guitar lessons & vocal lessons. I live in a small town but I'll find something. 😀 whether or not that would fulfill my desire to record an album & daydreaming about a tour I dont know.

Also daydreaming makes exercise bearable. I could probably be more productive & study while exercising but I prefer daydreaming while exercising it helps me forget the pain.

I just hate when my mdding sneaks up on me at work. But I then have to use my meditation tools focusing on being present. Headspace has a great series on Netflix. I can daydream all day if I have no work, school, church or not around others. Otherwise if I am doing any of that I need to be present & that's my goal for 2021.

This is weird. Definitely pathetic. Probably a sign of an unfulfilled life? But is it bad?

Anonymous said:

Also another weird thing I do is I imagine my fav podcasts as dinner parties where I can give input cause I'm extremely opinionated. I like the different personalities on the podcast & wish they were my friends.

“Basically my question is, is mdding bad or good?”

MD is inherently negative in some way.  The daydreaming itself isn’t the bad thing, but our relationship with it.  I tend to explain it as akin to a food addiction.  Food is good and it is needed for us to live as functional human beings, like daydreaming it is a normal part of life which cannot just be ‘quit’.  But our relationship with food can become disordered and lead us to unhealthy behaviour and negative outcomes. Knowing if your relationship has tipped into the realm of unhealthy is the tricky part, and is negotiable to an extent, like how we can indulge in junk food regularly and still consider ourselves healthy and happy with our habits.

This line is different for everyone and there’s no real this-is-exactly-when-it-becomes-bad answer. The best we can do is make an honest evaluation of our lives, speak about it to a therapist if possible, and make our best determination.  

Here are some papers you can read to give you a better understanding of MD.  And here are some measures which might give you an idea about where you stand.  (note: these are measures meant for clinical use and were not intended for self diagnosis, they are provided to give you an understanding of what MD might look like)

[cirrius-akiyo]

KALEIDOSCOPE MIND

-Sequel to "Hold On (Let's Go Home)" & "Unpack the Baggage"-

____

Eddie has been told that the journey of recovery for his husband is a long one. Buck is still at various state of consciousness, drugged up to the point that he is befuddled in his wake or in and out of nightmare fueled doze.

They are still far from passing the crucial point in determining whether Buck will come out of this without deficit or not. Everyday is a waiting game for them.

Everytime Buck is awake, he will just simply look at Eddie as if he is trying to commit Eddie into his memory. Not a single word has come out from his mouth, just small smiles that have carved his lips and occasional hums. Eddie tries to convince himself that Buck needs the rest. That his brain has been injured and it will take some time to heal.

Eddie just want his husband back. They haven't really talk about the cursed night. Maybe it is his selfish desire to avoid anymore guilt and continue living on knowing that he might be the cause of his husband's death, but Eddie really despise the universe as much as himself for putting Buck in this state. He is so terrified to think that there's a possibility that Buck will die with the thought of Eddie's infidelity to be the last thing on his mind.

Their family and friends have come and go, providing neverending support and encouragement to both of them although he can feel like they are directed to him more than Buck. Carla has been bringing Chris from time to time, letting the boy to cuddle up with his Buck. Between the two of them, he feels like Chris is the pillar of strength that's supporting Eddie from crumbling down now that his foundation is currently fighting for his life in hospital bed.

Holding his husband limp hand in his grip, Eddie sometimes think that maybe...just maybe Buck doesn't want to wake up into this reality. That maybe Eddie had hurt him so bad that it pains him to wake up. Maybe Buck is happy to stay in the solace his mind had created.

"Lover of mine

Maybe we'll take some time

Kaleidoscope mind

Gets in the way

Hope and I pray

Darling, that you will stay

Butterfly lies

Chase them away

Hmm"

///

Eddie is at his side, thumbing the beautiful birthmark that he has comes to love while whispering soothing words into Buck's ears. Buck looks peaceful today and he's so beautiful like that despite the garish surrounding.

"I love you, Evan and I've missed you. I've missed you in our bed, in our home sweetheart." Eddie murmurs to the back of Buck's hand. The house seems like it has lose its colour. Chris had since been staying with Abuela or Carla and Eddie had went back only once to pack a bag for them.

The mind is a complicated thing, Eddie tries to ingrain the mantra into his belief. Buck is scheduled to be transferred out from ICU in day five post surgery. Today is day four of his stay.

Suddenly Buck's hand twitch in Eddie's hold, just like he had done sometimes before. Eddie is expecting to see another bout of Buck silently gazing at him while still swimming in the haze of sleep like he always do in his waking. What Eddie doesn't expect is for the hand to continue twitching and Buck's whole body suddenly jerking in an awful uncoordinated movement.

Seizure, his mind supplied. Buck is having a seizure. Eddie screams for help to the doctors outside while pleading for the twitching to stop. All the little progress Buck has made now might as well be useless.

Doctors and nurses come spilling into the room with one of them pushing Eddie out to the corridor. After a while, the heinous jerking stop and his husband is wheeled out of the room.

"Where are you taking him? Is he okay?" Eddie tries to follow through when a nurse stopped him from doing so.

"We'll do everything in our power to help him," the nurse said, not really a promise.

Just like that, Eddie is left alone again to wait. Unable to follow to where his husband is going.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

Buck had suffered another small ruptured aneurysm and now they are back to square one, maybe even backward. Now he is on ventilator again and just like that the timer restarts.

Eddie feels like they were hurdled back ten yards with every ten steps forward they took.

Their family and friends have come running when he told them the news, preparing for the worst.

Chris is a welcomed weight on his lap that is doing a great job at keeping Eddie grounded. While Eddie's one hand is keeping Chris steady on his thighs, the other is playing around Buck's wedding ring between his nimble fingers.

Both weight assuring his tired mind that Buck will come back from this. He must be...he should be because Eddie doesn't know what will happen to him and Chris if he doesn't. Shannon's death had been devastating but Buck... No, he will not let his mind spiraling down there.

Instead, Eddie let his memory drifts to the moment Buck had said yes. The twinkle of his eyes can easily light up the highest skyscraper there is. Eddie knew then that he had made among the best decision in his life at that exact instant. And the twinkles make their appearance again when Buck walked down the aisle with Bobby giving him away. But the twinkles were even brighter when the judge decreed Chris' adoption paper.

The twinkles never really stop. Buck keeps showing them in different ways. When he calls them for dinner. When Chris hums in delight with every bite. When Chris says his goodnight. When Eddie compliments Buck's new shirt or sweater. When Eddie says the 'I love you's.

What he would give in order to see those bright twinkles again.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

///

"S'hurt." Buck whines into Eddie's soothing caress. He stubbornly shuts his eyes close with a hand, sluggishly trying to block whatever light flashing at him.

"I know sweetheart, but Dr. Stevenson needs to test your cognitive functions so they will know you're okay." Eddie tries to comfort his distressed husband. Light sensitivity is to be expected but it still hurt Eddie to see Buck constantly flinching in pain.

"Alright Evan, can you tell us your full name again?" Dr. Stevenson then proceed to ask.

Buck huff in annoyance. Why can't they leave him alone to sleep? He already told them his name yesterday. He's so tired, why can't they see that?

"Evan..." Buck tries. Huh. Weird. He should know his name. "Diaz...uh," Buck's face contorted in panic as he tries to jog his memory. "...Buck." He cries in frustration. He should remember his name. Why can't he remember his name?

"Hey, hey Evan. It's okay if you can't remember now. You'll get it right soon." Eddie calms his upset husband while Buck kept whimpering in anguish.

Despite the initial scares, Buck's prognosis has been quite promising. He's off the ventilator and has been moved out from the ICU relatively quick. It took him some time to properly speak and even longer to open his eyes without flinching.

Most of the times he will be asleep, passed out from exhaustion from doing simple cognitive exercises. He is still experiencing memory gap and fogginess but that is all to be expected. His motor function is also improving despite the mild numbness.

"Eddie, m'scared." His voice barely a whisper. Confusion lacing his whole face. His head feels heavy and the fatigue just doesn't seem to go away.

"Come here." Eddie slides into the hospital bed, wary of the wires and IV snaking around Buck. Buck automatically latched himself to Eddie's side while Eddie wipes some stray tears that are staining Buck's cheek away.

"Tired. Hurt." Buck sniffles brokenly, face nuzzling deeper into Eddie's neck.

"I know. I know. But you are doing so much better, sweetheart." Eddie gingerly tracing patters on Buck's back, feeling the warm puff of breath cradling his own neck.

Comfortable silence slowly stretched between them with Buck is finally at the edge of sleep. Eddie pulls Buck tighter into his embrace, anchoring Buck to his chest.

"Don'wanna forget you n'Chris," Buck mumbles, already half asleep.

It never gets easier to see your supposedly strong and healthy husband broke down in tears for not remembering his own name. At how he was defeated by his own mind.

"Lover of mine

I know you're colorblind

I watched the world fall from your eyes

Ooh

All my regrets

And things you can't forget

Light them all up

Kiss them goodbye"

///

After three weeks of camping at the hospital, Buck is finally home. Little by little, the colours are coming back to their little house.

Buck amazingly had come out relatively unscathed after two brain surgeries aside from frequent dizziness, mild exhaustion and occasional numbness.

Abuela has moved in with them temporarily despite Buck's protest, arguing that Carla is still going to be there from time to time and that he'll not be left alone for more than one hour at most. That Chris is also capable to call for help if anything (God forbids) happen.

Meanwhile, Eddie has returned back to work albeit reluctantly. Shifts, long or short are never the same without Buck sitting next to him in the rig or at dinner table. He was mulling over some chores when suddenly his phone pings with new notification. With Buck stuck at home, Eddie never lets his phone out of sight in case if emergency.

The content of the notification put a wide grin on his face. It was a shaky image of Buck sleeping on the couch while holding what seems like Eddie's t-shirt from last night. Which Eddie knows has been put into the laundry basket. Eddie can't really make out the details of Buck's features with the image being so blurry. Not that he'll tell Abuela that if he wants to keep receiving them in the future.

As for now, he has another six hours to go before he can go back to cuddle his awaiting husband.

///

The house is silent when Eddie returns with darkness washing over every corner, save for the night light coming from Chris' room.

Naturally, Eddie skips over to Chris' room first to check on his son and found him safely tucked in bed, deep in sleep. A soft smile cracked on his lips.

He then proceeds to check on Abuela who is residing in the guest room. Abuela is making a habit of leaving the bed room door cracked open a little, in case Buck or Chris need her.

Satisfied, Eddie slowly enters into his and Buck's bedroom, tip toeing on his feet as to avoid disrupting his sleeping husband. Instead, Eddie is met with an empty room. Confused, he checks the bathroom but only to find it unoccupied.

Worry starting to creep into his gut when the couch in the living room is also vacant. He double check to confirm Buck's jeep is still parked beside his truck.

Eddie is ready to tear down the house and even the street to find Buck when from the corner of his eyes, he can see the light in the backyard patio is on.

Lo and behold; there lies Buck, sleeping on the patio swing, snuggled between a thick blanket and fluffy pillow. The book he was reading long forgotten on the wooden deck. Eddie can't help from smiling.

Another side effect that come out from this is Buck's ability to fall asleep almost anywhere at anytime seems to be amplified.

He's lucky the night is not as chilly as usual or he'll get a nasty scolding from Abuela (and Carla, even Athena and Maddie, Hen included, oh and not to forget Bobby's disapproval and Chim's teasing) if he's able to get a cold cause he 'foolishly' slept outside instead in their warm bed.

Eddie steps forward to his husband, expertly avoiding any creaking wooden planks before kneeling in front of the slumbering man. He can't help himself but to stroke the soft curls casing Buck's face. Days without any products bring about the glorious wave of hair. Buck needs a haircut sooner than later, or he'll fuss over his hair being unmanageable.

"Evan." Eddie calls softly, trying to pull Buck out of his sleep.

"Hmm." Buck ends up snuggling even deeper under the cocoon.

"Let's go to bed, darling." Eddie coaxes.

"Don'wanna."

"I promise you, you'll regret it tomorrow." Eddie threatens passively.

"But it's so comf'able, Eddie." Buck whines, all bleary-eyed.

Eddie sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. Buck can be stubborn if he wants to, no matter how adorable he might look doing it.

Gathering all of his might, Eddie scoops up Buck, still swaddled in his blanket. Surprisingly, no protest is coming out from his husband. Rather, Buck nestles his face into Eddie's chest while his hands embracing Eddie's neck like a koala. Eddie can't stop but to notice how much weight has Buck lost. They'll work on that later.

Eddie then cautiously deposit Buck onto their bed, fixing the blanket and fluffing his pillow. Just like that, Buck is off to his dream land again.

Buck is a constant ball of energy. Bright, bold and loud. Seeing him sleeping so much is disheartening even though Eddie knows he needs it.

Encassed in the deafening silence of the night, Eddie chest tightens whenever he thinks about how he almost lost this. Sense of dread envelopes him everytime he remembers how Buck almost slipped from his hold.

Pulling Buck tighter against his embrace, Eddie renews his wedding vows silently under his breath.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

They are in the kitchen, trying to decide on dinner now that Abuela has returned back to her house. Not before leaving lengthy strict instructions for both of them with quarter of them related to their 'rumpy-pumpy'. "That boy needs his rest, Edmundo." She had quipped before leaving.

Giving his husband a quick glance, Eddie feels like it's the time to address the elephant in the room.

"Evan, we haven't exactly talk about that night." Eddie starts, trying to fish out Buck's attention, whose face currently deep inside the freezer trying to formulate the course of dinner.

Buck closes the fridge and slowly turns to face Eddie, expressionless. Eddie can't help but to reminisce how Buck's face was frozen on that fateful night. Tingling sensation suddenly wash over his whole being.

"I know you were in pain, perhaps still are but...please tell me how can I make it up to you." Eddie continues when Buck remains silent. He then delicately pulls Buck waist towards him, embracing into the warmth.

After a beat, Buck lets out a deep breath, returning Eddie's hug and settling against his chest.

"I was angry at you Eddie, I'm not gonna lie." Buck starts. That got Eddie all wide eyed. He tries to loosen the hug, but Buck keeps him at his place.

"When I was under, I thought about how Ana could replace me in your and Chris' life." Buck whispers into the crook of Eddie's neck.

"How easy for her to fit it in. How easy for Chris to love her. How easy for you to love her. How she's able to give you a child or two if you want to. How perfect the picture will be. How easy I am to be forgotten." Buck forlornly confess. The ominous shadow of his mind is not some place inviting.

Eddie frowns with guilt and shame but as he tries to say something, he is quickly cut by Buck.

"But then, I woke up to your voice, your hands warm against mine. And when I am able to see, watching you sitting there beside me, all of my insecurities fly away. I know I must have look horrible but you still stay. Laying in the hospital bed is not exactly sexy, you know." Buck chuckles, tightening his hold against Eddie's strong back.

Eddie laughs lightly but it was hard to imagine how Buck must have felt at that time. Confused and in pain. Unable to control his body and mind.

Eddie then slowly moves his hand upwards to cup Buck's face, short stubble soft against his palms.  

Gazing into the baby blues, Eddie can see the uncertainty storming under the irises. Eddie tenderly brush the bottom of Buck's lips with his. "Evan, no matter what condition you'll be in the future, I promise you, I'll stay. I've made a mistake and I'm going to make it right by you if you let me." Another soft kiss lingers.

Eddie's fingers later find themselves cupping Buck's neck and Buck melts into the kiss. Before they know it, they keep kissing like their lives depend on it.

"I actually thought if I was killing you with my confession. Whether it was better if I just keep my mouth shut." Eddie admits a bit later, with their foreheads against each other fighting for a breather.

"Hey, don't do that to yourself. If anything, I'm partially to blame. I've been ignoring the signs, dismissing them as stress or lack of sleep." Buck tries to balm Eddie's guilt. "And it's better for the news to come out from your rather than hearing it from someone else." 

Nevertheless, Eddie still can't forget how limp his husband body was laying against him in the station's locker room. At how pale his husband has been. No matter how hard Eddie tried to rouse him, Buck's eyes had remained shut.

Easy silence washed over them, swaying together in a tight embrace to the mute music only they can hear. 

"Evan, I am sorry."

"I know."

Eddie paused. "No, seriously. I am so fucking sorry."

Buck smiles fondly. "And I seriously fucking know it."

"Just don't do it again." Buck parroted what Eddie had previously said to him with a sly grin. Oh God, the sexual tension back then had been overbearing. 

Just like that, Eddie feels like the axis of his world sets to right again, spinning gracefully. Not as halted or indented as before.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

(Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer)

[aplaceforthesoul]

this past year my mental health been going down the drain, im sad constantly,i starved myself for 3 months last year without anyone ever finding out (im ok now, or at least getting better) and no one knows about any of it. and i know if i told anyone they would tell me to get help, but im scared. i dont want people to know about my mental health spiraling out of control. today the smallest thing just kinda finally broke me today. i was home alone and i went to get a spoon and im not sure why but

for some reason it just broke me. i broke down. and had a zoom meet w/ a teacher 30 min from then so i had to pull it together and pretend like it was ok. ive been pretending so much that i get scared everytime someone asls me if im ok. i alsways think was i not smiling enough. on top of it even though ive stoped starving myself i still weigh myself daily and hate my body. im also just tired of dealing with shitty "friends" people who are oxic, people who have me up all night thinking of our arguments. i havnt had a good nights sleep in weeks. i just dont know how to trust anyone anymore. im a mess and im scared for people to find out about my mental health, oh and im a lesbian and my family doesn't know so thats a fucking nightmare. they would be fine with it but my mom would tell everyone so im scared to tell her. i have no one to talk to. only one person knows a little bit about my mental health. only the toxic people she knows about. im scared if i tell her to much she'll worry and try to get me help. and i know i need it but i dont want people to know. i always told myself once i get to college ill get a therapist and i won't have to tell anyone. i just need advice, please

it’s like being stuck between a rock and a hard place I suppose, both options in front of you suck and you don’t like either of them )-: on one hand we have the rocky hard option of getting help, but that option might make your skin crawl because you feel so anxious and on edge? but the other option is to keep quiet and not say anything, and you feel just as shitty and miserable. I get the dilemma, I really really do. 

however...as someone who cares about your health and your mental well-being, as someone who’s removed from the situation and has a different (and maybe slightly more objective) perspective on things? my best suggestion, is to start talking about things and to get help. why should you wait until college for a therapist? 0: that’s a serious genuine question, what is the benefit of waiting? why make a choice to spend more time than necessary being in such a dark, lonely and isolating place?

I can’t even begin to imagine how mentally exhausted and drained you are at the moment, what you’re having to deal with (the disordered eating thoughts, the fear around being lgbtqia, the lack of sleep, being constantly sad and feeling like you have to fake it) isn’t something that anyone should have to try and navigate alone. 

if you don’t want to tell anyone that you’re lesbian? then you most certainly don’t have to at all, that information is yours and it’s not harming anyone if you keep quiet. when you choose to come out is 100% up to you, don’t feel bad if you have to “hide” that from certain people, your sexuality is your business and no-one else’s.

everything else though, the sadness and the self esteem and disordered eating thoughts and the lack of sleep as a result of toxic friends? that’s definitely something to talk to someone about, that’s worth seeking help about. it’s not going to be easy!! I won’t lie, it is going to feel intimidating and you probs are going to feel naked and vulnerable at times, but it’s fucking worth it. once you move past feeling vulnerable, you feel such a sense of relief at getting it off your chest! honesty + communication are your friends, not enemies. you could even write a rough draft and send it to us if you like, before you talk to someone? we’d be happy to give our thoughts if that’s something that could help you feel more confident about what you’ve written. 

if you like you can talk to your mum then go for it, or maybe this other friend who knows a bit about what you’re dealing with at the moment? but if not then there’s lots of other options, this post on the blog has more info on that. also? start to distance yourself from ‘friends’ who aren’t healthy and good for you anymore. you might not be able to choose your family, but you can choose your friends! and if these ‘friends’ make you feel negative and sad and upset, if they don’t listen to you or value you or show that they like being around you and appreciate you? then they’re not really worth having as friends anymore. they’re not exactly fundamentally terrible people, just not the right people to have in your life now. 

start making yourself a priority, put yourself and your wellbeing and your mental health first! if you’ve got shit friends then stop talking to them and involving them in your life, focus your energy on getting a good nights sleep (more on that here), make lots of time to take care of you. a problem shared is a problem halved, if people know then people can help you and that’s a good thing. keep me updated on things lovely, all the best <3

- tash

[clownbeep]

This is gonna be kinda brutal. But I want to put it into writing

Big vent/whats been going on

Hah... I guess this is like my life story or some shit...

Trigger warning ahead.. Depression and a bit of gore/suicide talk so if you are sensitive to that please, for your own sake and mental state you might not want to continue.

For those who dont want to hear a pretty dark vent, I understand.

And those who are just scrolling by feel free to scroll past. I just personally want to get this out.

If you have dealt with emotional neglect/abuse and need to know it isnt in your head this might be the post.

By writing this it feels like hopefully someone else will read this and realise certain things are NOT healthy.

If you are questioning if you are being emotionally neglected/abused (im speaking in a parental sense but even romantically or sexually) im not someone to give you answers, but the fact you are questioning it raises some red flags. In a healthy relationship you dont wonder those things.

Sorry for the long prelude but heres what I wanted to say

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ever since I was young, ive had bad ADHD, manic bipolar/depression, and sensory issues.

I was diagnosed around 13 I believe. My family (I didnt realise it then) always showed pity. Like I was some wild animal that couldnt be tamed and there was nothing they could do. Id do and say stupid attention seeking things just to try and get a shred of empathy.

My family didnt care.

When I was in the hospital for a suicide attempt regaurding pills and my liver had a chance of failing.. None of my family members cried over me. But a family friend. Someone not. Even. Related. Wept over me.

My family didnt care.

I cant say they never cared. They give me food water and luxuries like internet and a phone. For that I am grateful.

But in many other ways they have hurt me faar more than helped.

Once I got out of a short term stay in an inpatient mental facility I desperately needed contact with anyone who would care for me.

I have a younger sister, quite young probably around 7 at the time. She was a close friend of mine for that time. Id hang out with her so often to fill the gap in love it felt my family didnt give. One day I walked into the dining room and overheard my mother and father talking to my little sister. They told her to keep away because I wasnt "stable" because I was "dangerous" and could give her bad Ideas. And with one single action my only friend at the time and way to find happiness was taken away.

My family did not care.

When I stay in bed every day for months on end not knowing which day ill snap and end it all.... I get called lazy.

My family did not care

When I beg for medication to make me a functional human being they brush me off for years on end. Im losing my grip. I can barely remember things that have happened last week because I try so hard to forget everything its my automatic response to everything.

When I cant get to sleep because all of the memories come flooding back and im hit by wave after wave of horrific memories and the feeling if worthlessness... When I cant watch any videos or read posts about families because it brings on unwanted memories and emotions....

Is it me being dramatic then?

When you hear your family openly mocking and laughing about how stupid and dramatic and fake trans people are... How weird and unnatural and mentally insane these people are not knowing they are the very reason grsm and trans suicides are so high...

Am I a liar now? Am I insane?

When I tried to talk to them about my mental health issues. They took my only way of contact and made me feel like it was my own fault.

My family didnt care.

When I was nearly passed out shaking in a bathtub covered in wounds and blood all over... They showed pity, then lectured me for an hour for not telling them or for being impulsive and basically cleaned my wounds and sent me into my room.

My family didnt care.

Yes. I do agree, they cleaned my wounds, the physical side of showing care. However emotionally they were not there.

When my father drinks so heavilly every day he is home from work that he forgets half the things he tells you and can barely function.. They lecture my older sister for having a glass of wine (legal age)

They did not care.

My sister (23) tried for so many years to cling to what little attention she would get by getting good grades and going to college... She realised that it changed nothing about how my family felt toward her.... She snapped.

My family did not care.

She starves herself for a disease she does not have, she uses religion as an exuse to be one of the biggest christian extremists I personally know. Half the days she doesnt eat... Other days she burns book and gets rid of items for being demonic.

My lovely sister used to be kind and quite normal. However she couldnt find comfort in what little live her family gave. Starved for care she turned to religion to un unhealthy degree. Finding any way to keep her mind busy. Now I worry she will end up in the hospital for weighing so little.

My family did not care.

My oldest sister (27) Is married to a continuously cheating husband who she keeps letting back into her life. She was raised with a failing marrige and doesnt seem to see when she should call it quits.

Not to mention her husband has touched someone legally under the age of concent. Did she report him to the authorities? No.

All of these horrific things stemming from bad parenting. Unhealthy relationships and neglect.

Neglect emotionally can cause just as bad things as physical neglect. They are both horrifically dangerous in different ways.

These are the only big things I can remember... Basically age 15 and below are a complete blur to me and I cant remember much of it without thinking for a looong time. Even then I cant remember a lot of it... I feel like ive lost my whole damn childhood. And it hurts more than if they had just hit me or physically harmed me.

Im not underplaying physically harm. But in my personaly opinion I would rather my family have beaten me badly because at least then id have an easier way to prove to people how severe the abuse was. You can see bruises and confirm broken bones... But years of feeling completely useless and being shut off from most of the world other than the internet... It fucks you up in a way I dont think can be healed.

I dont know if I can ever love myself or... Remember things. Its terrifying to think Ill post this and a few weeks later probably not even rememner unless its brought up. Or meeting people and having conversations... And they are just... Gone.

Gone.

I suppose the biggest reason im writing this is well... In the future I dont want to forget in some ways.. I want like to be 100× as awesome knowing itll start as soon as im out of here..

If I dont have anything to compare it too then what is the point?

Ive layed out basically most of what I remember

A large amount of time I look around and nothing registers... Everything is familiar but I cant remember anything for a moment or two.. I feel like my memory is slipping so fast and im terrified.. I cant do anything to stop it and I cant make my mood be stable without the medication my family cant be bothered to get ...

I suppose this is a bit of a vent. I know its kind of everywhere and unorganized..

If im honest.. Tumblr is the only place where people have given me a home I wish I had..

I came out as trans here... Everyone was so damn supportive.. I didnt say anything but I cried hard and the kindness.. It was amazing.. It was such a jarring difference to how I feel when I say anything in real life.

Ive met friends here and ive had some much fun here. If youve stuck around this far thank you so much.. If you didnt I dont blame you.

I just wanted to share what has been flashing in my head these past few days.. It hurts a lot and ive even considered suicide recently..

Im trying hard. As hard as I can.. I have no escape though.

I cannot leave home. I cannot escape. Im not being dramatic.

I

CANT

LEAVE

And its terrifying because I know without medication or at least being somewhere AWAY from family.... I feel like im going to break soon.

I dont want to do anything stupid.. But some days I cant think straight and do things that harm myself and its not good. Its not okay. Im aware that I need help but I have no idea where to go/turn.. I have no ID or drivers liscence.. I have no transportation to and from a job to get money so I can leave... I live in the middle of nowhere.... I just..

I dont want to lose touch. I dont want to do anything bad.. I want to be functional.. I want to do more than eat and sleep my life away because I have nothing else to do..

Im so damn sick and tired of this all.. And at times I really do feel like there is only one way out.

Its always there and I just feel like one of these days im gonna be pushed over the edge and not be thinking clearly enough to stop it.

Im thinking semi clearly right now which is my im posting this.. Because im afraid and alone.

I have nowhere to go irl I have no friends Irl i just have tumblr and media and thats it. I dont expect anyone to be able to help I just wanted to write this so anyone knows what happens if I leave media..

If I tell my family my issues they will blow me off again for the 11th time or so (not exaggerated)

And if I do something to get sent to the hospital and get the help I need the cycle will continue with them being pissed and me getting sent home in a month or less anly for my family relationships to get worse..

Im spiraling fuether and further and I cant keep up the facade of being fine. I need help. And i have no way to get it. Ive just been suffering for years...

Sitting around and doing nothing but using your phone or drawing or whatever sound fun in theory... But if thats all youve been able to do for years with little to no real life social contact its gonna mess with your head... I dont want to be a shut in... I just

I dont know what to do.

Im sorry for rambling. I will most likely delete this later feeling embarrassed I posted this...

Im just tired..

[angrylizardjacket]

time’s arrow {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: Hi, I love your roger/ben imagines so much and was wondering if you could do some angst with Roger x female, maybe they are good friends and she sees him with another. Whatever you would like! Thank you x :)

A/N: 2727 words. A story told through Seasons. I took a little bit of liberties with the prompt, if that’s okay? This hit me like a lightning bolt and I had to write it. Angst with a happy ending. (I’m just trying to show I’ve got versatility in writing, okay?)

Warnings: Implied sex.

You meet him in Spring, before it all begins, he sits up the back of your Intro to Head and Neck Anatomy lectures, the only class with open spots available by the time you were looking for a science credit. You find out he’s in a band three weeks into the first class, finally going to the local bar, sick of cramming your brain full of information you’re not even sure is necessary for your degree. He grins at you and wow okay, you didn’t even think he’d recognise you.

“You’re in, um,” he’s leaning against the bar next to you in this dimly lit pub, grabbing a drink between sets. Faltering for a moment, his eyes travel down before you clear your throat, angry at yourself for blushing, but his smile widens, “my class.” He finishes, taking a sip of his beer. You agree, rolling your eyes at him, but even that seems to amuse him. He asks your name. The guitarist is calling him over, setting up for the next set, but you tell him before he leaves. Something tightens in your chest when, later that night, he catches your eyes mid-song, his look of intense focus shifting for a moment as he grins, giving you a wink.

He takes to sitting next to you in lectures, chewing the end of his pencil and taking occasional notes in a falling apart notebook that looks as though he uses it for every class. You catch lyrics in the margins and at the bottom of some pages, but he’s cagey about that in a strange way, just says you’ll have to come to a gig to find out what they’re about. So you do.

Gigs become a regular for you, and you start to become friends with the girls who frequent the shows, often hosting predrinks in your dorm room for Mary and her friends on a Friday night. You learn on one of those nights that at least two of the girls have hooked up with him, and there’s a strange, sinking sensation in your chest. You’re not sad, or at least, you tell yourself you shouldn’t be. You and Roger are just friends, it’s not like there’s anything going on there, sure, sometimes after a really good show he’ll give you a pash, but it’s- that’s just him. 

It’s not like you’ve never thought about it, but you also know his reputation, and that it’ll do more harm than good to get involved with that. He’s the one mistake you don’t think you want to make.

It’s Summer, a few years later, when they trade in the van to get money to hire the recording studio. Roger had really loved that van, and he lay on your sofa for a solid hour grumbling about it, about how Freddie had some kind of nerve. You roll your eyes at him, call him a drama queen, which he takes offence to, but moves obligingly when you sit down, letting him rest his head in your lap.

When you raise the point that it might be worth it, he looks frankly aghast, griping about how he has to catch lifts everywhere now. He calms down somewhat when you start carding your fingers through his hair, though he still pouts.

“If it comes to it, I’ll buy you a car, you baby.” You snort, despite the fact that you’re currently barely making a living wage on some retail job, it’s not where you’d thought you’d be after university, but sometimes that’s just how it is. He looks up at you, and when you look down at him, he’s looking very intense. Perhaps he might say something poignant about your offer, you think, but instead he reaches up and pokes your nose.

“I can see up your nostrils.” He tells you, and you smack his hand away, scowling. You stand abruptly, ignoring his complaints, smoothing your pants out against your thighs.

“Come on,” you offer your hand, which he regards with both confusion and a bit of disdain, “you can’t mope around my apartment and complain about the band again. We’re going out.” That gets his interest.

You’ve been to bars with him before, and usually you go home alone while he gets the pick of the prettiest girls of the night, or he decides to wingman you, which hurts your heart a little, but you won’t decline. You were attractive in your own right, you won’t deny that, you didn’t technically need his help, but a selfish part of you likes the way the attention to you, even if it’s to help you get with other people.

Tonight is different, tonight he doesn’t leave your side, he slings an arm around you as the two of you stand by the bar watching the truly mediocre band they had on that night. 

“You know why they aren’t recording an album?” You ask as the set ends.

“Because they didn’t sell their van?” Roger mused, vaguely bitter, but not melancholy as he swirled the last of his drink in his free hand.

“No, it’s because they’re terrible.” Turning, you smile at your own blunt remark, and when he looks back at you, he’s grinning with a little disbelief. There’s very little space between the two of you, but that doesn’t make your heart race anymore, he’s your best friend, close contact was part of the bargain. But he kissed you, quickly, without warning, and when he pulls back, he turns away to order another drink like nothing had happened.

Your mind is spiralling, this isn’t post-gig excitement, this wasn’t something you were expecting. The selfish creature in your chest that you tried to deny for so long was crowing with victory. Taking a quick look around the bar, you don’t recognise anyone, though there are a few girls who look like they’d be his type- but his hand is moving to wrap around your waist as he turns back.

“What was that?” Voice quiet, you take his drink and have a sip of it yourself, the movement done from muscle memory alone. He raises his eyebrows at you, not regarding the drink, that was a usual occurrence, but at the question. He doesn’t seem to know how to answer, baffled at the question. Dropping you gaze, you take a sip of your own drink. “Why me? Why tonight?” You asked. Looking incredulous, he stepped back, looking you over.

“Have you seen yourself tonight, love? Couldn’t help myself.” You’ve heard him talk like this before, to other girls, not as blunt, but with you he can get away with it. The creature in your chest is elated, and you find yourself smiling, actually blushing. He moves closer once more, his arm around you, voice low as he spoke into your ear. “Trust me, you look very fit tonight, any man would be lucky to have a crack at you.” Heart in your throat, you hope you’re reading the situation right, at the same time ignoring the part of you that knew this was a bad idea.

“Even you?” You turned to face him, watching the way his smile shifted to a smirk, and he pulled you a little closer.

“You know I’m always feeling lucky.” 

You kiss him, feeling your blood thumping in your veins, selfish and excited in equal measure, but with his hands on you, you can’t find the focus to care about the former. 

Once the bad starts up again, Roger pulls away, making a face at them, asking if you wanted to get out of there. You do, and the two of you are elated on the quick walk back to his apartment, stopping only when he pressed you up against the wall of an closed shop to suck a hickey into the skin of your neck. You catch sight of it in his bedroom mirror, but he’s pulling off your jacket and you have better things to worry about.

It’s not weird, like you thought it would be, when you wake the next morning and he’s curled up, fast asleep with his back to you, but your chest aches just a little. He avoids eye contact over breakfast, though you chat like normal. The gripes about his van have died down, though he makes an offhand comment about things are changing that you read enough into to realise what had happened.

“You’ll always have me, Rog.” You reach across the table to take his hand, and he finally looks you in the eye, he looks so relieved, not that he’d ever say it. Afraid of losing another thing he cared about, he had panicked last night and tried to keep you close in the only way he knew how. He certainly loved you, but not in the way you wanted him to. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s not his fault.

Bohemian Rhapsody airs in Autumn, you’re regional manager now, and you’re sitting in your office when you hear for the first time; you almost scream when the first harmony comes in after the radio host introduces the song.

“You’re a star, Rog!” You gush over the phone on your break, unable to wait until that night when the band was having a celebratory get-together to talk to him.

“Of course, I am, you think I sing that high to be paid in peanuts?” You can hear the smile in his words without even seeing him, and being able to hear his voice warms your heart.

“That was you?” You laugh, the ‘Galileo's playing back in your head, and you try to picture him singing it, which only made you laugh harder.

“Oi,” he bristled, indignant at your laughter, “I’m the only one with the range to execute Freddie’s vision.” You could see him in your mind now, proud and stubborn, standing tall to defend the decision.

“I’m proud of you.” Suddenly sincere, you find your smile turning to something more genuine as you think back on far he’s come.

“Thank you.” His own voice has become less animated, more sincere, though you can still hear him smiling.

“Love you, Rog.” You tell him, just as you always did when you parted ways.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

He’s grinning, draped with casual confidence in an armchair in Freddie’s living room when you arrive, and you feel like you’ve been taken back five years, the casual enthusiasm he’s exerting. Smile brightening, he stands when he sees you, striding across the room to enfold you in a hug.

“Good to see you!” He practically beams at you, holding your shoulders as he looks over you, as if assessing you, seeing if anything has changed.

“Of course, you’ve been holed up for weeks, I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Though he’s in front of you, you’re words address the room as a whole, and when he steps back, Brian moves in to hug you as well, asking how you’ve been.

The boys are your friends, all of them, you’ve been around for most of their big band moments, and it eases something in your chest to be here for this one too. But then the ease sharply tightens as a woman you’ve never seen before sits on the arm of Roger’s chair, and he rests a hand on her thigh, smiling up at her.

Mary follows your gaze, and her smile is sad as she pulls you down to sit beside her, asking you about your thoughts on the single. You answer, though your heart’s not in it, and the selfish creature in your chest rears it’s ugly head after such a long slumber. 

The monster has shifted, changed and grown, it hadn’t cared about him running around with any pretty girl he could find for the past few years, but this was different. Roger had made it clear that he was far from sacred, but this was the band, this was Freddie’s home, this was the place of some of your happiest memories; this was yours. 

You stay well into the early hours of the following morning, despite the interloper, but Roger still stopped you at the door.

“I’m really glad you could make it, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He’s smiling at you, but you don’t smile back. It’s been a long night of being kind and pretending that you’re heart didn’t hurt.

“Well, you’ve very busy.” You shrug, punctuating it with a yawn. His expression turns confused, and you open the door.

“Y/N.” He tried to get your attention, but you left, throwing a goodbye over your shoulder to him. “Love you.” He calls through the door, but you stay quiet, refuse to say it back, just keep walking. You’re too tired to be upset, but maybe you’ll get there tomorrow.

Things change, and you’ve grown to accept that, but sometimes old aches don’t heal like they should. Or at all.

“I’m getting married.” He calls you at the end of Winter.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” 

Your relationship’s been on the mend in the years since the Bohemian Rhapsody launch night. You two smile and laugh like you had when you were younger, and you’ve learned to listen to his exploits and his gripes about women, offering your own about your partners, though they’re few and far between. He’s still your best friend, and you learn to act like it. 

“Congratulations.” Your voice is flat. It had been a shock, you’d heard about his latest on-again off-again girlfriend, and had even offered advice in certain situations, actual advice, no malice at all.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t seem to know where to go from here, and silence stretches out between the two of you.

“I should go.” You finally murmur.

“What? Why?” He spluttered, and you sighed deeply.

“Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” You asked, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead against the wall.

“I- no, but I want you to be there.” He paused. “And I wanted to be the one to tell you.” Clenching your jaw, you make a snap decision.

“I can’t-”

“Why not?” He actually sounded angry, which was perhaps warranted, though your next words shut him up.

“Because it hurts, Roger.” After a beat, your voice is quiet. “Because I love you.” Taking a breath, you let yourself relax. “I want you to be happy, but I can’t watch you marry someone else.” There’s silence for a very long moment, but you hang up before he can respond. You take the phone off the hook. You need to be alone, just for now.

“After everything, you still-?” It’s the first day of Spring, and he’s on your doorstep, seemingly unable to say the word love. You’re wearing your pyjamas and he looks like he’s just walked out of a Rolling Stone cover shoot, though he just sort of looks like that now, you supposed.

“Don’t worry about it.” You try not to betray how much his visit shocked you, or the way his very presence after your recent conversation hurt you.

“You’re my best friend! Of course I’m gonna worry about it!” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. Sighing deeply, he stepped forward. “I thought I fucked everything up when we hooked up, I’m sorry, I panicked.” He was looking at his fidgeting hands, rather than your surprised expression. “And then... I thought I fucked it up again when I chose the band over you.”

“You never-” You tried to protest, but he smiled self-deprecatingly.

“No, I did. I loved you, and I thought that would get in the way of the band.” Clenching his jaw, he looked up and you could see the regret in his eyes. “It was easier to fuck around that tell you I love you.” Your breath stopped in your throat as he finally walked closer. “And I thought after everything, that you deserved better; you know what I’m like, why would you-?” But you cut him off with a kiss.

“You’ll always have me.” You murmured, finally letting yourself smile. Nothing about it felt selfish, in fact, it felt as though the sun was finally shining on you, warming you from the inside out.

“I know,” he agreed quietly, wrapping you up in a hug.

[squirrelly831]

Grieving [Hakyeon and Jaehwan]

SUPER Angst and super long. I’m apologizing now… It’s super long…

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED! MENTION OF WIFE DEATH, GRIEVING, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS! DO. NOT. READ. IF. YOU. WILL. GET. TRIGGERED!!!!

Enjoy~

He couldn’t have imagined how something so joyous could become so awful. Just a week ago, his wife delivered their beautiful child.

She held them in her arms. She had made complaints about feeling feverish and fatigue while she was in the hospital. However, her complaints were brushed off as the fact she had just given birth to their child. No one took the sign seriously, except him. He knew she wouldn’t complain if it wasn’t out of the odds for him.

She was discharged as she was deemed healthy in the eyes of the doctors. However, he noticed how tired she looked, but was only told it was normal after having a child.

His wife shook him awake two days after returning home from the hospital, “I don’t feel good.”

He sat up in bed and held her close feeling goosebumps on her arm, “You want to go to the doctors?” His hand touched her head and felt heat radiating off her. He didn’t wait for her to answer as he picked up his phone to ask his mom to come and pick up their child. He picked up his wife, too scared to let her get up on her own, and rushed her to the hospital.

His wife held his hand in the car as she was reclined in her seat. Her grip was weak, “I love you. You know that, right?” She whispered teary-eyed.

He let out a shaky breath as he tightened his grip on her hand, “I love you more… We’ll get you help. You’ll be fine and we’ll be back home with our babies, okay?”

“If I’m not okay–If anything happens-”

“NOTHING–” he took in a breath, “Nothing will happen.”

Her eyes slowly fell, “If anything happens, raise our baby with the love of two parents.” Her voice quivered before she fell unconscious. He hit the gas pedal as he called out her name to get her to wake up.

The nurses took her back when he ran in with her in his arms. She was limp and they had feared the worse when they got her on the bed to run an IV. However, their fears were confirmed when they felt no heartbeat. She was gone. It was a doctor who confirmed she had died of an untreated infection.

He punched the wall beside him, his fist pulsed in pain, “SHE TOLD YOU SHE DIDN’T FEEL WELL! YOU TOLD US SHE WAS IN PERFECT HEALTHY!” He screamed at the doctor. “YOU LIED TO US!” He rushed the doctor and held him by the collar, “BRING HER BACK TO ME! I WANT HER BACK!”

“That’s enough!” He was pulled back by his father who arrived to the hospital to check on the couple.

He pulled away from his father and rushed to his lifeless wife’s side. His eyes burned as the tears fell. He took her hand and collapsed on the ground beside her, “Please… I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without you… Come back. I love you… What about our baby? You have to be here to watch them grow. I need–We need you here.”

Hakyeon

To say that Hakyeon had it hard was an understatement. He didn’t know how to parent for one child. Let alone the two. Though, his children were the last things on his mind. His mother kept the children as he spent the day of Sojin’s passing by her side. He was numb after he snapped at the doctor. Snapping didn’t bring her back.

Hakyeon was sent home the next day after his parents and in-laws showed up to attend to the guest who came to pay their respects. They knew he needed sleep after all that had happened in the last 24 hours.

He had a hard time falling asleep at first and when he did finally shut his eyes, he had nightmares. Hakyeon tossed and turned until the next morning. Out of instinct, when he woke, he turned over and reached over to the other side of the bed to hold Sojin. But his hand hit the cold made up side of the bed.

Hakyeon slowly sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. This had to be a nightmare, so why hadn’t he woke from it? He looked at the pictures on the dresser before him as yesterday events played in his head. How her once warm and comforting hand turned cold and lifeless. Her last I love you played in his head like a broken record player. Her smile, the one he would never see again, was etched in his head. His hand pressed against the side of his head and his eyes blurred. He looked back at the unused side of the bed once more. Tears fell as he turned back and buried his eyes in his hands as he broke down in tears.

This was like a terrible joke to him. Hakyeon couldn’t be alone. Sojin was the love of his life, she is the love of his life. How could he go on without her? How would he manage being without her?

Jaehwan

The idea of living without his wife, Jasmine, was something Jaehwan never thought he’d ever have to deal with that. Jasmine and him had been through everything together. She was there when he debut with VIXX. When he went into the military, she waited patiently for him to get out.

This pregnancy was her third. It was supposed to be easier and better, so how did it turn so wrong? How did it come to this? His wife died on the way to the hospital and Jaehwan was left alone with their three children. When she passed away, Jaehwan’s heart felt like it was going through the shredder each waking moment. He couldn’t eat, drink, or breath without thinking of Jasmine. It only spiraled down from there.

It had been a few months since Jasmine’s passing, their children were in between Jaehwan’s parents or his friends of VIXX took them for a day or two. Jaehwan had a hard time looking at his children. They reminded him so much of his wife that it hurt. Each time he saw them, he’d break down into tears and end up calling his friends and family to pick up the kids. When they were out of the way, he’d flip. Jaehwan would break anything in reach or ended up in a fetal position as he cried over the memories of his dead love.

He hadn’t seen his children in about two weeks. Jaehwan hid away in his apartment drinking and crying as he thought about Jasmine. He refused to sleep on his bed, her scent was plastered all over the bed and made it impossible for him not to think of her last moments.

“I can’t take care of them…” He sucked down another beer silently praying he’d drink enough to die. He wanted to be with Jasmine, Jasmine was all he wanted. He stared down at the beer bottle, his head fell to the side, and his head pulsed. “I just want you… I’d do anything to have you back. I need a sign… What do I do?” His tears had all but dried up. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t scream. Jaehwan felt numb with pain.

Hongbin entered the apartment to gather things for the kids when he saw Jaehwan. His cheeks were pressed in, his eyes were sunken, and his head bobbed. “Hyung…” Jaehwan drunkenly looked over to Hongbin, but no words came out. His eyes were dark and his lips were dry. Hongbin approached him, “Jaehwan hyung… When was the last time you’ve eaten?” There was a ringing Jaehwan’s ear as the beer bottle in his hand fell to the carpet. Hongbin’s eyes widened as Jaehwan’s eyes rolled and his chest rose and fell erratically. “HYUNG!” Hongbin shook him as he reached for his phone to call for help.

Alcohol poisoning. Severe dehydration. Malnourished. The list went one when Jaehwan woke up. He had woke up days ago and was yet to be released due to the doctor’s concern with his safety.

As he sat up in the bed after he ate lunch, the door to his hospital room opened. “DADDY!”

His head shot up and he looked to see his oldest, five year old Addilyn, ran to his side with tears and snot falling down her face. “Addy…” His throat felt raw as he spoke. He swallowed harshly as Addilyn clawed the bed to climb up.

Taekwoon reached down and helped her onto the bed. Addilyn hugged her dad as she sobbed, “I don’t want you to go too…”

Jaehwan’s body shook as he held his daughter in his arms. “Addy…”

“When she found out that you were in the hospital, she thought you wouldn’t return” Taekwoon spoke. There was a dark look on his face. His jaw clenched as his hands shook, “Which we almost did lose you. Are you really fine leaving your three kids orphaned?” He snarled. Taekwoon looked like he had been crying. He looked exhausted. Which made what he said hit Jaehwan hard.

Jaehwan’s eyes pricked as he shakily held his daughter closer, “No… I never–”

“Don’t leave me. I’m sorry I’ve been a bad girl. I’m sorry daddy!”

A tear slipped down Jaehwan’s cheek as he took his daughters head in his shaking hands, “You weren’t bad” his voice cracked as he looked into her eyes. “You are such an angel… Daddy–Daddy just–” He put his head on his daughter’s shoulder and cried. “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry… Forgive me” his body heaved as he held her close.

Taekwoon picked up Addilyn’s sleeping body, “I’m going to take her back to my place for the night…”

“Taekwoon hyung–”Jaehwan couldn’t meet his eyes. “I know I don’t have the right to ask this–”  He felt his tears return, “I just–I need–”

“I’ll bring Addilyn and Jason tomorrow, but Noah will stay with the others. He’s too young to be coming here.”

Jaehwan gripped the sheets as he nodded, “I understand… Thank you…”

Taekwoon shifted Addilyn in a better position, “You need to get help… They’re your kids. Jasmine wouldn’t want your kids to be raised by others except you. You already know that, don’t you?”

“I know…” Taekwoon nodded before he left. Jaehwan just wanted to grab Addilyn from his arms and put her back in his own. The guilt of the idea that he had of leaving his children behind was sickening. What kind of father was he? Jasmine was probably shaking her head in disappointment, but Jaehwan was going to try to change. He had to change.

Taekwoon and Hongbin || Wonshik and Sanghyuk

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ VIXX MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[dustofinsanity]

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒

ㅤ

Christian / Reader ㅤㅤㅤ Ex-lovers to lovers AU ㅤㅤㅤ Words count: 4.8k

Summary: After seeing you laughing with another man, Ian decides to leave without talking with you or giving explanations. But he didn’t expect you could react like that. That was when the downward spiral started for you.

Content/Warning: Angst, misunderstanding, downward spiral, romance.

Sky was already dark when you left the coffee shop you owned, humming one of your favorite songs. Your day was pretty hard, you had a lot of clients but it made you more happy than something else. You loved it when people came into your shop and asked for their coffee or tea, smiling and knowing they would obviously love their drink. Moreover, your best friend came to help you and made you laugh through this exhausting day. You loved this guy so much and you knew you could be yourself with him because he always understood you better than anyone and never judged you.

With a happy smile on your lips, you walked across the street, wondering what you would eat for dinner and reached the apartment you shared with your boyfriend. Well, you didn't really share it but he was more at yours than his so it was like you both lived together.

You opened the front door and were immediately welcomed by his dog.

"Hi baby!" You smiled with a cute voice, picking the pinscher in your arms, chuckling when she started to lick all over your face. "Yes, yes, mommy's home. Where's daddy?"

You put Lori on the floor and watched her run to your bedroom, waving her tiny tail. You followed the adorable dog and went in the room, smiling widely.

"Ian, what do you wanna-" You froze as you saw two bags on the bed, Christian putting his clothes in them. "Ia... Ian... What... What are you doing?" You asked, eyes wide open, shaking in fear.

"Don't talk to me." He growled without looking at you. "We're done."

You felt your heart drop in your chest as tears started to blur your vision before running along your cheeks. It couldn't be over. You took a step towards Ian, not able to understand what was going on and looked at the bags.

"Ian... I... I don't understand..."

"Which part don't you understand when I say we're done? You, me, us, finished! Better?!" He almost yelled at you.

"Did... did I do some... something wrong?" You asked with a trembling voice but he still didn't look at you and took his bags. "Ian, talk to me. Tell me what I did."

You grabbed his forearm and forced him to face you but the only thing you could see was the anger in his mesmerizing dark brown eyes. He hated you at this moment, he hated you so much. He pulled his arm away and walked over to the living room, adding some of his stuff in the bags. Accidentally, he pushed a photo of you both that crashed on the floor. He gave a quick look and continued his way.

You picked up the little wooden frame and noticed the glass was broken, like you, your mind, your heart. You throw it away and ran over Christian, hitting his back, crying.

"You can't do this! You can't leave me!"

"Get off of me!" He growled again before facing you and grab your wrists.

"Tell me what I did, Ian! Tell me and I promise I won't do it again! Please, tell me!"

It broke his heart to see you like that but he had no choice. He saw you with that guy, smiling and laughing like you never did with him. He saw the sweet and knowing glances you shared with that guy. He even saw the hugs and the kiss this stranger put on your forehead as you were smiling, eyes closed. He saw everything and he needed to get away from you before being totally broken.

He let go of your wrists and was about to move when you wrapped your arms around his middle, your face buried against his chest, tears flooding your cheeks. He tried to pull you away but you tightened your grip like the desperate woman that you were. You wanted him to talk to you, to explain what you did wrong.

"I said get off of me!" Christian shouted, pushing you brutally against the couch. "How can you ask me what you did wrong?! I saw you, Y/n! I saw you with that bastard, at your shop!"

"Min... Minhyuk?! He's a friend! He's just a friend, Ian!"

"Are you serious, Y/n?! A friend?! What kind of friend acts like that?! I saw you! He's not just a friend!"

"Ian, please, listen to me! You have to believe me!" You begged him, grabbing his black shirt, hearing Lori barking in the back. "I swear to God, Minhyuk is nothing more than a friend! You can ask him, there's nothing between us! We’ve know each other for years, he's like a brother to me!"

"A brother doesn't kiss his sister like that." Ian sighed, removing your hands from him. "I never imagined this could be happen, that you could be like that."

"You know I'm not like that, Ian! Please! You know me!"

"That's what I thought but... I'm not sure anymore. We're done, Y/n. Don't call me, forget me because that's what I'll do. I don't want to see you again."

You looked at him, mouth half open, eyes crying and heart broken. You wanted to grab his shirt again, to wrap your arms around his chest and tell him he was wrong but you couldn't move or say anything. You watched him pick up Lori and walk to the door without looking at you. You jumped a little when you heard the door slam and fell on your knees, staring at nothing. It was over, he left you, the only man you loved this much thought you were cheating on him and left you. You were done.

Done. Done. Done. This word was turning on loop in your head for almost a month. You tried to see and call Christian for two weeks but gave up when you finally accepted that he didn't want to have anything to do with you. You also tried to reach his friends but they didn't answer you either. All the crew left you.

You still worked at your shop, closing it earlier than usually. You tried to smile at your clients but some of them noticed you were faking it and asked what was wrong. Every time, you replied you were sick or you had a little fight with a "friend". You started to drink, didn't eat healthy and your apartment looked like a mess. Pizza boxes, ramyuns cups, empty bottles, etc... Yeah, it was a fucking big mess like your life was.

Every night, you watched all the videos you took with Christian during your vacations or free days. You knew it didn't help you to do that but seeing Ian's smile was the only thing that could ease your pain. You didn't sleep a lot either, dreaming, if we can say "dreaming", of this night all the time. And, every morning, you woke up with red eyes and tried to cover the exhaustion on your face with pretty make up. But you knew this wasn't going to work much longer. You couldn't hide what you felt anymore.

When you woke up this morning, you thought your legs were broken and, when you looked at them, you noticed a lot of small red spots on them. It wasn't painful, but it was like your legs couldn't support you anymore. You grabbed your phone and called the hospital, explaining what happened to you.

"I tried to stand up but I can't. My stomach and my throat hurt too. Hm... No, I'm... I'm alone. Yes, okay. Thank you."

You hung up your phone and tried to reach some clothes beside your bed. An ambulance was going to pick you up and bring you to the hospital but you didn't want to be seen almost naked. You hardly put on a pair of sweat pants and a white shirt Ian forgot at yours and waited in your bed. Few minutes later, you heard the concierge opening the front door of your apartment and saw two men in white uniform, a worried look on their face. Was it that bad?

You didn't know when you reached the hospital since you fell asleep in the ambulance but, when you woke up in the white room, you saw an IV in both of your forearms. You raised your head and looked at the two suspended glass bottles above your bed. You frowned and heard someone open the door.

"Oh, you're awake?" The nurse said with surprise. "I'll call the doctor."

You nodded silently and waited few minutes again before seeing a handsome tall man came in, a file in his right hand. You watched him walking over your bed and bowed your head politely.

"Hello, Miss Y/n. I'm the Dr Park, I'm in charge of you."

"What happened to me, Dr?" You asked, feeling pain in your throat.

"Can I ask you some questions?" He saw you nodded. "Did something happen in your life, lately? Did you quit or lose your job? Did you lose someone or had some issues with your family?"

"I... I... My boyfriend broke up with me." You answered, trying not to cry. "A... a month ago."

"And when was your last meal?"

You wanted to reply it was the day before but the doctor added "real meal", letting you know that he didn't mean pizza or cup of ramyuns. You lowered your head and started to intertwine your fingers, trying to avoid the doctor's gaze.

"I... I... I don't... remember..." You admitted in a whisper. "I'm... not hungry."

"We also noticed a high dose of alcohol in your blood. Listen, Miss Y/n, I don't know what you feel but if you don't eat and keep drinking like you do, this will end badly. We will keep you here until the end of the week and, if the results are good, you can leave next Tuesday."

You nodded and thanked him before asking if you could get out a bit. The doctor told you, you can't walk but he would request a wheelchair for you. You thanked him again and, almost 30 minutes later, you could leave your room and take some fresh air.

The doctor's words were turning on loop in your head as you were rolling through the little, but amazing, park behind the hospital. For the first time in a month, you watched at the sky and realize the weather was pretty good. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when you suddenly heard a familiar voice.

"No more shopping cart race with him."

You opened wide your eyes and looked right in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Dabin and Scott who had a casted foot. You wanted to "drive away" but you were frozen, mouth half-open and hands shaking. Tears reached your eyes and you looked away when Dabin raised his head and looked at you.

By chance, he didn't recognize you for a moment and just walked by. It was true you had changed a lot since you almost lost 33lbs. You sighed in relief but froze again when you heard him saying something to Scott.

"Wait... Is that..." You heard him come back to you and you prayed all the gods you knew so he couldn't recognize you. Fail. He stopped in front of you with eyes wide open, didn't know what to say.

"Hi Dabin." You whispered, trying to smile. "How... How are you?"

"Y/n, what happ-" He started before seeing you stare at him with amused but sad eyes. "How long have you been here? Can... can I help you?"

You chuckled lightly and looked away. "I've been hospitalized today. A bad flu."

"You've always been a bad liar." Scott teasing you a bit as he sat on a bench next to you. "Look at you, Y/n. You can't do this to yourself."

"I didn't ask for your advice, Scott. Take care of yourself, guys."

You turned your wheelchair and drove away, tears rolling along your cheeks. Things couldn't be worse, now.

You had to stay two more days before you could leave the hospital but the doctor said your state was getting better. He prescribed a special treatment you had to take at home and told you to come every two weeks for three months. You thanked him for his help and took a taxi to your apartment, knowing you had a lot of things to do like really big cleaning. You were about to unlock the door when you noticed it was already open. Someone was in your apartment...

You pushed the door silently and saw your apartment was totally clean. You took off your shoes as much discreetly as you could and walked on tiptoes when you saw Lori running to you, her tiny tail waving frantically. You dropped your bag and picked the dog up, hugging her close to you.

"I missed you too, baby." You sobbed as you let her lick your nose and mouth. "I missed you so much."

You raised your head as you heard him leaving the kitchen and walking over to you. Ian put his shoulder against the wall and lowered his head, a sad smile on his lips. He knew what happened, what you've gone through, he almost felt the same. Almost.

"How did you get in?" You asked as cold as you could, not knowing how you were supposed to be with him.

"I forgot them in my vest." Ian answered, showing you the set of keys, you gave him a year ago. "Dabin told me about your-"

"You can leave, now." You cut him off as you put Lori back on the floor. "Thank you for cleaning up my apartment but I'm back now. So... you can leave. You know where the door is."

You walked past him and went to your kitchen before open one of the cupboard and seeing something was missing.

"Where is it?" You sighed and faced Ian. "Where's the bottle?"

"I don't think drinking whiskey is good for you, Y/n. Especially now."

"You don't know what's good for me, Ian."

He watched you walking over to him and pushed him from your way before opening the drawer under the coffee table in your living room. No bottle. Under the couch? No bottle. Behind the big potted plant that Ian named Jim? No bottle. In your bedroom? No bottle. In the all apartment? No bottle, not at all.

And God knew how much you needed a glass of whiskey!

"I threw them all away." Christian sighed when you came back from the bathroom. "Seriously, Y/n. Even in the bathroom."

You felt an incredible anger taking all over your body and, without wanting it, you slapped Ian's face. Lori started to growl at you but you didn't care that much. You could only see Ian massaging his jaw, his eyes full on sadness.

"I guess I deserve it." He sighed again, raising his head and looking straight into your angry eyes. "Y/n, I-"

"How could you do this to me?" You grunted, clenching your fists and trying to hold back your tears. "How could you, Ian? You thought you could just come back like that and clean my house to be forgiven? I almost died because of you! Because you left me! Can you understand that?!"

You didn't notice that you started to cry as you yelled at him. You wanted to hit him, you wanted it so much but your heart almost dropped in your chest when you slapped him and you didn't want to feel that pain again. You wanted him to suffer as much as you did. And at the same time, you wanted to be in his arms, you wanted him to say he was sorry, he was an idiot, because that what he was.

"Get out of my apartment, Ian!" You yelled as you pointed your finger at the door. "How could you think-"

"I came to see you." He cut you off, head down, his shaking voice catching you off guard. "I knew your treatment was strong and you fell asleep during your IVs. I came to see you every day."

"You... The old friend..." You breathed, remembering the bouquet of flowers you saw every time after your IVs. "I... I thought it was Dabin." You shook your head. "And you think I'll forgive you with that?! With a fucking bouquet?! You almost killed me, Ian!"

"And I can't forgive myself for that. I know what I did is unforgivable, but I wanted you to know that I... that I still lo-"

"Don't you dare say that to me! You can't say that now! I hate you so much!"

Your voice cracked and you ran to him, starting to hit his chest as hard as you could. You couldn't hurt him physically, you were to weak and Ian had always been stronger than you but seeing you like that, crying all the tears that you held, screaming you hated him was more hurtful than anything else for him. He watched you pulling away and turning your back on him.

Christian felt his tears roll down on his cheeks as he saw your shoulders moving feverishly, your face buried in your hands. He took his jacket, picked up Lori that was looking and whimpering at you and reached the front door, whispering he was sorry before leaving your apartment.

Lifting up your head, you looked right in front you and wiped the tears on your cheeks. A long and sad sigh left your lips as you turned and faced the front door.

"Me too, Ian." You whispered. "Me Too."

You got back to work few days after leaving the hospital and were so happy to see that your clients missed you. A lot of them even took few minutes on their schedules to talk with you and cheer you up, saying you were an incredible strong woman who will find a man who would really deserve you. Everytime, you thanked them with a shy smile and said Ian couldn't know you would react like that to your breakup. Even if he hurt you, you couldn't let him take all the blame.

Like you said to Minhyuk, you could understand why Ian reacted like he did. It was true that you and your best friend were close, very close, and Ian met Minhyuk a couple of times, not more. You could understand why Ian thought you and your best friend were more than what you said because, yes, you were acting like if there was more than just a friendship between you both. Moreover, you knew that Minhyuk loved you, you were a dream girl for him but he would never touch you or try something with you. Seeing his best friend more than happy in her love life was enough for him. Yes, he loved you and wanted you to be happy even if it was with Ian.

When Minhyuk entered your coffee shop with a huge bouquet of pink roses, a large smile stretched your lips as your clients stared at you.

"Are you serious, Minhyuk?" You laughed as he reached the counter. "And can you tell me why?"

"Because you deserve it, you idiot." He replied raising his eyebrows.

You took the bouquet from his hands and put them in a jug, thanking your best friend for this wonderful gift. But, when you turned to face and hug him, you saw a bruise on his cheek bone. You immediately asked what happened to him but you knew he was lying when he told you he had a fight at his work.

"Minhyuk, what happened?" You repeated, frowning. "Are you in trouble? Did you start playing again?"

Your best friend laughed and reassured you, saying he just had a little fight with a man he met the day before. You gave him a concerned look and listened to him apologize for not being able to come earlier. He had a lot of work and you could see in his face he was exhausted.

"Give me a hug, help me with the clients and I'll forgive you." You smirked, opening your arms.

Minhyuk wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head, whispering you were the best woman on Earth. You whispered back that you knew it when you heard the small bell under the door jingle and saw Dabin and Cline entered your shop. You smiled at them and asked what they wanted.

"We missed your coffee." Cline smiled, looking discreetly at Minhyuk.

"It's true that you didn't come often lately. I didn't expect the whole crew break up with me. I thought I was dating Ian, not all of you. We were closer than I thought." You teasing him with a cheeky smile. "Anyway. An americano for Dabin and a latte for you, right? I'll bring them to you."

The men nodded and thanked you before sitting at a table, still looking at your best friend. They noticed the bouquet and started to talk about it when you bring them their order.

"How are the guys? Does Scott still have his cast?" You asked, sitting with them.

"They're fine. And Scott... We told him it wasn't a good idea to race against Ian in shopping carts." Dabin answered, taking a sip of his americano. "Still the best coffee of Seoul."

"Tell him to drink aloe verra juice and eat a lot of vegetables. It will help him to recover faster."

"And you? How are you?" Cline asked with a concerned look. "Are you... fine?"

"I'll be honest, it's hard but... I didn't drink a lot since I left the hospital and I try to eat healthy but, yes, it's hard." You looked at them with a smile. "I don't want people pity me, I don't need that, but living without Ian is harder than I could imagine. But I hope he's fine, he deserves to be happy."

"Did you talk with him since the last time?" Dabin asked. "He told us about your fight."

You chuckled, amused by the fact they were interested and worried about your relationship with Christian. They weren't the type of guys who could be interested by their friend’s relationships but you knew they liked you and saw you as a real and close friend.

You shook your head and left their table, wishing them a good day. You didn't want to talk about your ex boyfriend, even less with his best friends. In fact, you didn't want to talk about Ian at all. It still was too painful for you.

You closed your shop at 9pm, like you used to do and ran to yours, caught in the rain. With wet hair and clothes, you reached your apartment when you saw Christian, as soaked as you, sitting in front of your door, head down, Lori sleeping in his arms. Tilting your head, you sighed and reached your door, telling him to come in.

Without looking at him or adding anything, you took off your jacket, threw it on your kitchen bar and opened a cupboard, taking your whiskey bottle. Even if you didn't drink a lot, you still need a glass or two, sometimes. The doctor told you the cure could be hard but you did well.

You turned to face Ian and saw he was looking all around, trying to avoid your eyes, Lori still in his arms. You knew he could be cute sometimes but it was the first time you saw him acted like a little boy who was afraid to be scolded. A small smile stretched your lips as you took a sip of the alcohol and you told him he could relax, you wouldn't slap his face this time. He smiled sadly, thinking about this and put his dog on the floor.

"Do you... Do you drink-"

"I don't drink a lot." You cut him off, chuckling. "Just a glass a day, not a bottle like I did. Why did you come? Did you forget something?"

He slipped his hand in his jeans' pocket and showed you the keys he forgot to give you back last time.

"You could put them in my mailbox."

"I wanted to see you." He admitted, lowering his head. "I wanted to apologize properly. Minhyuk came to-"

"Minhyuk?!" You repeated, opening wide your eyes. "Did you hit him?! Tell me you didn't."

"I'm sorry." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He... he told me he'll take you on a date if I couldn't take you back."

"He what?!" You choked with your whiskey. "I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him."

"I hit him because I knew-"

"You knew what, Ian?" You cut him off again. "That you couldn't take me back? You idiot."

You put your glass on the kitchen counter and got closer to him, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. You could see how sorry he was and how hard he tried to hold back his tears.

"Can I ask you something?" You whispered before seeing him nodding silently. "How could you think I was cheating on you? How could think that, Ian?"

"I don't know, Y/n." He replied in the same tone. "When I saw you with him, I... I thought that you didn't love me anymore, that you found someone better than me."

"There's no one better than you." You murmured as he lifted up his face quickly. "Ian, I loved you and I would give you my life if you asked me. You were the reason why I woke up every morning. The reason why I smiled. I loved you, Ian, I was yours, totally yours." You looked straight into his eyes and, with a lovely smile, you added: "And I always will be."

Christian opened wide his eyes and grabbed your face, pulling you into a passionate and long-awaited kiss. You froze for a second but ended up wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him back. Your heart was racing and feeling Ian's lips against yours again gave you so many feelings and sensations. It was like you missed him for years.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." Ian whispered against your lips, leaning his forehead against yours. "I... I was so afraid when I saw you at the hospital and I don't know what I would've done if you'd left me."

"Shhh." You muttered, caressing his bottom lips with your thumb. "It's okay, love, everything's fine now. I'm here with you and I won't go anywhere. I'll stay with you, okay?"

You felt him nodding against your head and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Chuckling a little, you asked him to talk to you next time he would have a doubt about something and let him know you needed to take a shower. He stared at you with a smirk that made you laugh.

"With you, of course!"

After a long, very long, shower in wich you didn't really wash yourself, you spent the rest of the night in Christian's arms, cuddling on the couch, eating junk food and watching some stupid movies. To be honest, you weren't really looking at the tv, more focused on Ian's tattoos that you retraced with your fingers.

Feeling sleep getting stronger, you whispered in Ian's ear that you were going to sleep and grabbed his hand, letting him know you wouldn't be in your bed without him anymore. You laid down against him, burying your face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as he could against him.

"I love you." Ian whispered in your ear, burying his face in your neck.

"I love you too." You smiled, rubbing the back of his head with your fingers. "Idiot."

He growled slightly and kissed your shoulder, a small smile stretching his lips. You chuckled a little and felt Lori jump on the bed, sneaking behind your knees. Your family was complete again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ⁓•⁓ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ Thank you for reading! 💜 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ⁓•⁓

[niskrp]

:// SEARCHING OPERATIVE …

… searching for AGENT 023 / THE LOVERS. classified files indicate that they go by LEE TAEWON, and are also known as EON. born in SEOUL, SK, in 1988/07/26, further investigation makes it clear that they joined the agency SIX YEARS ago. they are an INTELLIGENCE AGENT who specialize in WEAPONS. higher clearance is needed to access further information…

… ENTER PASSWORD TO ACCESS THE COMPLETE FILE.

:// ACCESSING BACKGROUND FILES …

prelude.

he doesn’t know his past and he doesn’t know his future.

peace is a foreign word on his tongue that leaves a bitter aftertaste. peace is a memory that makes him want to hit anything on his way until his knuckles are bloodied and raw. peace is an unbelievable prospect that makes him want to scream until his throat is sore and there are no more words to be told.

it doesn’t start violent, but somewhere along the way, his entire life is constructed around explosions, and he finds something close to home amidst the ashes.

i.

he grows up in an orphanage, a place where the unanswered questions on his tongue fall into deaf ears. lee taewon is a curious child, and he learns early that speaking out for the wrong reasons get you in trouble. he’s not an angry child at first, wide-eyed and wondering, he asks questions that are too heavy for grown-ups to answer. why did they leave? is there any way i can get them back? why does no one come for me?

they tell him not to think about those things but be grateful instead. grateful, grateful, grateful. that’s all he has a right to be, and as fate would have it, that’s also the last thing taewon wants to be.

he lashes out, gets into fights with kids way too often. he is that kid with scraped knees and bruises all over their arms, and at a point, he is sure they wonder if he is too much trouble to keep around. he is lucky enough that they don’t have a choice, but he frequents the director’s office more than any other place. the disappointed face of the man in front of him, his teacher’s red face is clear in his mind to this day.

he is just a child, one that has no desire to abide by the rules he doesn’t believe in. too much energy, too many questions with absolutely no output, they barely manage to keep taewon in his place.

ii.

no one really wants to be friends with a troublemaker. it’s a fact he has known for a while, but luckily for him, there seems to be an exception. only one, but it’s more than enough.

he sits down next to the new kid who silently stares at his plate, and pokes him in the side. it is not a violent one, but gentler — something he doesn’t do very often. the boy with too many questions, has more questions, and for the first time, he gets genuine replies, those without a huff of annoyance. it starts with a hey, who are you? and ends with them grinning at each other by the end of the day.

they couldn’t be more different from one another, but somehow it works, and maybe for the first time ever, taewon is grateful to have a friend like doyoon. he shares everything with him, and even though he still gets into fights, he has someone to come back to.

he continues to cause trouble, but he says to himself (and his friend) that they are always with a reason, ones that he believes in. he can’t stand injustice in the way that he can’t stand someone messing with doyoon. as much as a single word and he is prone to lashing out. then again, the director says that he’s improving, and he supposes that’s what all the adults are caring about.

iii.

and when he least expects it, the director calls taewon into his room and tells him he’s going to have a family again. it makes no sense to the thirteen-year-old, family is a foreign concept, and with his reputation as the resident troublemaker, it’s unbelievable someone wants him to be their child. he isn’t sure if he wants to go, and the worst of all, he doesn’t want to leave his friend behind, doesn’t want to venture into the unknown with people he doesn’t know.

it’s not a situation he can stand his ground, and in a few days, they make him pack his bags and say goodbye to the life he is leaving behind. they have smiles on their faces that irk taewon to no end, but soon enough, he is in a new house, in a new room all alone.

the first thing he realizes is that he hates the silence. it’s too much. there are no screams, no sounds of feet running across the corridors. there’s just the voice of the tv coming through the walls, his foster parents talking to each other about him that he hears much too clearly. he doesn’t know what to do, how to act. it’s disorienting.

they don’t talk much; with the dad never being around, and the mom always at a neighbor’s —  taewon often finds himself lost. the new school makes him want to rip his uniforms to shreds, and all he knows is that he wants to return back.

iv. ( child abuse tw )

it’s not surprising that he ends up in the principal’s office again after a couple of months. it’s a different office, cleaner, shinier, but the situation is completely the same. the woman looks at him with disappointment in her eyes, and the teacher who broke the fight stares at him with a red face.

it’s so familiar that taewon enjoys it, so much that he doesn’t see it as a punishment at all. it happens too many times that his parents need to pick him up personally, and that’s when it starts. it begins with yelling, it’s loud, too loud against the stark silence he has been living in for days. then, when he needs to be picked up from school again, they go forward with a different form of punishment, and it leaves him crying on the floor of his room, clutching his knees close to his chest as blood runs down his face.

and just like that, he knows he needs to get out. it takes yet another accident before he actually manages to run out of the door, determined to never see them again. he runs, runs as fast as he can, as fast as his feet can take him. and somehow, someone finds him and after hours spent with the police, he returns back to the orphanage.

v.

six months later, he’s back. it’s as if nothing has changed but him, and even though he should be rational about it, it makes him heated yet again. he doesn’t know what he wants to do, it’s as if he’s stuck between different places, and now he can’t fall back into rhythm back again. he sees the looks they throw his way, less disappointment, more pity now, and it makes him even more furious because they only make him more uncomfortable.

it takes a few more weeks until he can be himself again, realize that nothing has changed, not really. they assign him to a psychologist that he absolutely despises, but he answers the questions and does the bare minimum so that he doesn’t need to deal with anyone else.

he is lucky that his friend is there, and perhaps doyoon is one of the things that remind him that he can return back to where he left just as easily. it happens, slowly yet surely, and even though it’s a painful process, he manages to bury it deep down.

vi.

then taewon has to grow up. when his best friend gets a scholarship and an acceptance letter to a college far away, there is a sting in his chest that makes him feel guilty. he is happy for him, but the idea of being left behind hurts — he promises himself to study hard, so that he can join him too — and once he sees the key hanging at the end of a string, he promises them both that he will study hard.

once he puts his mind into something, he achieves it, and that’s how he gets into a good college. selecting a major isn’t difficult at all, his time spent tinkering electronics he shouldn’t, he decides to major in mechanical engineering. it’s at the end of his first year that a professor tells him he can also do a double major, only if he continues studying hard. and that’s exactly what he does, majoring in robotics as well, taking more workload but reveling in the fact that he has an output now, and it’s something he genuinely likes.

four years spent in a small apartment with his best friend is the best times of his life, going to laboratories and spending their free time together eating ramen and watching bad movies, taewon knows he is going to treasure those four years for life.

v.

and then, when they both get their degrees, doyoon gets an offer he can’t refuse. he needs to leave yet again, for longer this time, further away than taewon could ever fathom. of course it upsets him that his best is going to be so far away, but he is so proud of him that he ignores it, hugs him close and tells him to be safe.

unlike doyoon, taewon has no idea about his future prospects; he knows what he likes doing, but it seems impossible to make a living out of it. he asks if he could talk alone to one of his favourite professors over a cup of coffee, and through brainstorming back and forth, he decides to apply for a military research program. it’s kept under lock and key, that much is certain, the website has too few information, and if not for his professor, taewon doesn’t think he could ever stumble across such a division.

when he gets a positive reply back, he is excited to join the research team. it begins with designing vehicles, then changes into actual weapons and gadgets that are used across the government. it’s challenging to work in a team with so many noises, all smart and wanting to be heard — but they make do, and taewon is proud of the work they do.

then again, he is hit with the reality. there’s politics involved in ways he didn’t think it would, but the worst part is that designing weapons also mean that they are going to be used. used in ways he doesn’t want to think about — not until he turns on the television and sees the destruction they have caused. it makes him spiral down for a few months until he tries to find a way out. the only thing is, there is no way out after years of working with them closely, but they offer him something else.

if you do not want to work with the military directly, we have more suitable places for your skills. taewon is surprised, but he listens intently to the job offer. it’s perhaps the better of two evils, but he doesn’t have any doubts when he applies to be a trainee for the nis.

vi.

it takes a year, much longer than he would like, much strenuous that he could have prepared for, but he manages to graduate and become an intelligence agent. with his speciality as a weapon specialist, he knows there is a lot more he can do than weapons, and he enjoys spending time at the workshop than the research programs he was in with the military.

he still makes weapons, yet with the creativity that he could add more, make more — taewon strives. there are times when he is unsure about what the future will bring, but now that it has been five years working the same job, he can happily say there is rarely a dull day, and that’s what he likes.

:// ACCESSING PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION …

even though he has grown up, sometimes it’s clear to see that he is still the same child stomping his feet, ready to fight for whatever he believes in. taewon is very reactive, blunt, and not very good with compromises. years spent working with the government have honed him well, he knows what to do, and when not to snap back — but it still isn’t too hard to get him angry. rather than the quick anger that flashes and disappears, as a thirty-year-old, he lets it seethe, throws glares across the corridor at whoever crossed him. it’s not a healthy habit, and there have been a few warnings, so he is doing his best to behave.

when it comes to working, he is very goal-oriented and creative. he finds it very easy to look at things outside of the box. even when he is working on a task given by the agency, he has an extra project he’s working on, and even on his time off, it’s very likely that he is going over the details in his mind. he genuinely loves what he does, so he doesn’t mind going an extra mile and making weapons he is genuinely proud of. the question of morality is the hardest one for him, one that he pointedly ignores. he likes nis more than his previous job, and it shows in the way that he genuinely tries to be a good employee. there are times he can’t tone his personality down, but if anything, he does a good job.

… END OF FILE. CONTACT THE AGENT DIRECTLY FOR MORE.

[stretchjournalemerson]

Contrails

By Anthony Manupelli

Part One: Peace

Had a talk with my old man,

Said help me understand.

He said, turn 68, you’ll renegotiate

Don’t stop this train

- John Mayer

A month before the crash, it all came back to me. I spent hours, upon hours in fear. I hadn’t given it any thought since I was a little kid. Aside from the good memories, such as watching the Curious George movie with my siblings on a warm summer morning in 2007, I remember panicking about it when I was all alone.

The night it changed; I was nine. It was long past my bedtime and I had school the next day. My stomach turned as my brain spiraled out of control. My make-shift room in the basement of my childhood home had been repurposed from a small office to an oversized bedroom that I so thrillingly shared with spiders, the dark, and my overwhelming thoughts. Despite the unnecessary amount of space I had, I felt so trapped. Coming off a hot streak of realizations, including my discovery of the fact that Santa wasn’t real, and that the WWE was staged, I took a deep dive into an abyss of analysis into what was real and what was fake. And then, the mother of all struggles occurred.

I was raised Catholic and didn’t think much of it for most of my early years. We honestly weren’t very committed churchgoers. My siblings and I would fight with our parents pretty often about attending church early on Sunday morning. We kind of all just accepted the fact that our mother wanted us to be Catholic. So, I never really delved deeper into a spiritual awakening, I just did as I was told. But time and time again, I discovered I shouldn’t simply accept the world that is placed in front of me and the fact that I will only find truth in life by constantly questioning my reality, I began to question my mother’s teachings. I froze. As if I was hit on the top of the head, my brain began buzzing, and I fell down a rabbit hole, a psychotic conundrum of thought. The topic of my panic: what happens when we die?

“What happens after this, what happens, what happens, what is happening to me”? I couldn’t stop. For the first time in my life, I was spiraling. My blood curled, I felt it in my face. I rolled into a ball and clenched my stomach to avoid spilling out its contents. I felt my fingers numb and my brain freeze. All of this, as if no other human being had gone through a spiritual crisis or could understand my confusion and panic.

I continuously asked, “what if…”, and it never ended. At nine, I was bargaining with myself to come to terms with something that no human had ever completely understood. My panic stirred so deep into the night, that I was met with my father’s questioning, the next morning, as he prepared for his day.

“What’s wrong Anthony, you’re freaking out. What happened?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, Dad. I’m fine.” I figured if I didn’t say it out loud then it wouldn’t be true.

“No Anthony seriously, this stops right now. What’s wrong?”

I didn’t want to invite my poor father into this personal hell of my over analysis of the spacetime continuum. So, I simplified it to the catalyst of my fear and promptly begged,

“Dad, what really happens when we die?”

He paused. I never knew if he did so to make me feel understood and calm me down or to actually process the question. Regardless, he resolved.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

And instantly, I was relieved. I never understood why. But from that moment forward, I never feared death or thought about it again. At least not in the science-fiction, fantastical, terrifying way my brain had me pondering in those moments. Not once, did I waste an ounce of my time fearing death, not until much later.

Part Two: Body Separation

Upside down

Who's to say what's impossible and can't be found

I don't want this feeling to go away

Please don't go away

-Jack Johnson

I remember my dad’s face when I got the car. As I drove out of my driveway, alone, for the first time, he waved goodbye. And it was at that moment, I realized I was grown up. I wasn’t the kid he had calmed down years before. I had a new cast of characters in my life. Friends he didn’t know but they were the people I brought my concerns, dreams, and questions to. I became my own person without even realizing it. And he wasn’t waving goodbye to me. He was waving goodbye to the little kid he had known all the years prior. He was waving goodbye to my childhood.

But time marched on and I became incredibly fond of my car. I drove all the time. I mean all of the time. Every month of the year, everywhere my friends or I went. I was always the one driving and I loved it.

Massachusetts winters are pretty brutal and it's usually hard to find something to do. So my car became not only a vehicle of physical transportation but an escape from the freezing cold and lack of activity. That car brought me together with so many people. The sheer amount of people who had taken a ride in my car had become a running joke. It encapsulated my entire teenage experience; it brought me so far away from home yet together with so many people.

The summer returned and it was time for one of my childhood best friends to go to school. I was the last person to send them off as I dropped them off to their house after spending the entire night out in commemoration of our years together.

I remember returning home, alone, after the sunrise, devastated. It was one of the most painful goodbyes I’ve ever had to do. It was a goodbye, not a see you soon.

So, when my dad found me in my car, he comforted me and asked why I was so upset.

“My childhood’s over dad. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t know how and don’t want to be an adult”.

He paused again and gave me time to relax. We both knew I just needed to get some sleep.

“I never grew up. I’ve aged but we’re all still kids at heart” he offered.

Time marched on. And despite my initial doubt of my dad’s input, he was right. I had aged but I was still a little kid at heart. This became clear as I sat in my bed on a windy December night and began to panic again.

“What happens when we die”?

I hadn’t thought about that in nearly a decade. It hadn’t kept me awake, late at night, since I was nine. But here I was all grown up panicking in my top bunk in a new house, in a new room. The location, people, and time changed, but my fear remained the same.

Only this time, the fear sweltered unlike ever before. I found myself at a crossroads once again. However, my dad’s words and my logic would not comfort me. I needed something more.

But, after dwelling for over a month, I received my answer in the most unexpected scenario.

Part Three: Entering Darkness

Once in a while, when it’s good

It’ll feel like it should

And they’re all still around

And you’re still safe and sound

And you don’t miss a thing

‘Til you cry

When you’re driving away in the dark

-Also, John Mayer

The moments leading up to the crash were so normal, completely tranquil. I regret not paying attention to what song was playing; I was so focused on where I was going that I forgot to take-in where I was.

The road we were travelling down was a two-lane highway. Visibility was terrible, there were no streetlights the entire way as we drove through a road carved through the wilderness. The pine trees towered over the car, looming left to right; the moon casting their shadows onto the pavement. A light fog spilled onto the road perpetuating the gloominess of the scene.

I remember looking out the window and noticing a valley of dead trees. I wondered what had happened to them, all the way out there, alone. I had traveled that road before, many times. When I was younger, I never noticed the dead trees. I must have been enamored by the color of the other ones. But my attention no longer resided with what is. What once was seemed to be the solution to all my problems.

If I could just figure out why, then I’d feel safe again.

Why had all of this happened?

Why are we here?

Why me?

I became a full-time philosopher as a compulsion for my obsessive thoughts. To no avail, of course. None of it mattered anyway.

As I continued traveling down the road, I realized how comfortable I had become with it. The low visibility, the spooky trees, the moonlight, the life and death no longer stroking fear as I moved along.

I had traveled this road so many times before that I was as familiar with its features as I was myself.

So, it was in complete shock when I slowed down and took a left turn off the road only to be met with a blinding flash of white, followed by immediate darkness.

Part Four: Seeing the Light

The sun is going down

There's shadows all around

And I feel more than wine

We must do this again sometime

But I can't tell you when

But what a joy it's been

All that we have is now

- Jesse Winchester

…

My dad and I have a term for the situations life throws your way when you are doing one thing and then find yourself completely lost in an unexpected situation. We refer to this special place of confusion/limbo as “Claire’s Living Room”.

To provide an example of this phenomena without going into detail of its origins, I realized I was in Claire’s Living Room as I sat alone in a hospital bed, with an IV in my left arm, listening to the staff count down to the new year in the break room.

2020 was a tumultuous year, but I truly did not expect to be welcomed into 2021 by a man in a cloak in a blindingly bright room. That man, of course, being one of the nicest doctors I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I just wish it had occurred under different circumstances.

They checked my vitals, all was well. Some slight bruising on my right ribs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a matter of days to weeks.

“Do you have any other concerns or questions for me?” He asked at just about two in the morning.

I couldn’t believe I was alive and okay. No one was seriously injured. No one had died. Yet, it felt like a part of me had been permanently altered. The crash was bad; really bad. Fortunately, both cars had done their job and protected every passenger. Everyone was wearing their seat belts and no other cars were there at the time of the accident. The street shut down for a short period of time to assist in the tow and clean up of both cars.

My memory of the aftermath begins with me already out of the car. I must have subconsciously exited the vehicle after getting hit with the airbags. The car was totaled. Immediately. Way gone. I remember watching the first officers and passersby see my car and look in disgust at how twisted it was. I was still out of it, so noticing other people looking shocked to see me standing on my feet brought tears to my eyes.

I wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. I went back into the wreck to find my phone. As more people began arriving at the scene, more strangers, cops, firemen, I began to panic. The situation was easily the most overwhelming experience of my life. And loud. I mean earth shatteringly loud. From the moment of impact, to the ringing in my ears, to the first responders, the sirens, the people.

But I couldn’t find my phone. I needed to call my parents and tell them to come to the scene. I needed them to know I was okay, to hear my voice before a police officer called them to inform them, I had been involved in an accident.

I was petrified that my parents would think I was dead.

After a few minutes of searching, I asked one of my friends to call my dad. My dad would explain to me later that my friend’s phone call sent him into panic. Apparently, he was sitting with my mom when he received the call. My friend was so shaken up that he could barely get the words out.

“Anthony, you need to get here.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Is everyone okay?” My dad immediately grabbed his things and waved my mom toward the garage.

“Down North Street, outside the state police barracks. We got into an accident, it’s really bad you just need to get here now”.

For about ten minutes, I had no way of communicating to my parents to let them know I was okay. For ten minutes, my parents feared the chance that I might have died. Something no parent should have to think about or go through. Certainly, something I would never have wished to have forced my parents to think about.

It was easily the most painful and anxiety inducing ten minutes of my life. Ten minutes of pure fear. And the people, more people, constantly more people. I had never seen so many people in one place in my entire life. The lights, the noise, the people.

My heart beat wildly, my brain froze once again, my stomach turned in my panic.

But when my parents arrived at the scene and I hugged them and told them I was okay, all my fear absolved.

I never understood how fast something as simple as seeing your family face to face could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

In a flash.

…

As I sat in that hospital bed, I realized I had the answer to my fears, crisis, and confusion all along.

In the face of death, all that matters is love. The only truth in life is found within. Love is the answer: all there ever was, is, and will be. And through love, life is eternal.

I’m not going to sit here and validate the specific hypothesis on near-death-experiences because I truly don’t know. What I will say is that the stages of life, growth, and change all coincide with the supposed course of a near-death-experience. And I don’t know that I would have found solace in my quest for answers if I hadn’t come that close to losing it all.

When I got a taste for nothing, I returned to find everything.

Part Five: Entering the Light

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

-Joni Mitchell

Since I was a little kid, I’ve always loved contrails. People usually miss them and/or have no idea what I’m talking about when I use the term. Contrails are the clouds released by planes in the sky. The next time you’re outside, look up and I’m sure you’ll see one. I remember, during early quarantine, not seeing a single plane in the sky as if time had come to a halt. No contrails. Our inability to be with each other prevented their spirited existence within the sky.

When I was younger, I was amazed by them. I always felt like I was watching an artist paint massive strokes up in the sky. They’re beautiful, truly amazing things.

The next time I saw a plane leaving its mark in the sky, contrails had taken on a new meaning. Instead of the stroke of an artist, they are the mark of a lifetime; mysteriously appearing out of thin air, releasing a beautiful stride for all to see, and gradually fading to the stars.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and anyone else that’s ever loved me into being. I love you.

[vsplusonline]

Demonetisation, GST & liquidity crisis drove small businesses to the brink. Then came coronavirus

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/demonetisation-gst-liquidity-crisis-drove-small-businesses-to-the-brink-then-came-coronavirus/

Demonetisation, GST & liquidity crisis drove small businesses to the brink. Then came coronavirus

The shock demonitisation of 2016, the haphazard implementation of GST and the liquidity crisis that followed the collapse of IL&FS meant MSMEs across the country were struggling. What more could have gone wrong? It seems the worst was yet to come.

Coronavirus disease 2019 or Covid-19, is an infectious disease that leads to severe and acute respiratory problems in humans, but has now left MSMEs across the country gasping for breath. As cities across the country go under lockdown, people stay at home and ‘social distancing’ becomes the norm, the sheer timing of the worldwide pandemic could not have been worse for millions of small businesses.

Perhaps, the segment that gets impacted the most during any turmoil is the F&B industry. There is no full scale lockdown in India, but the F&B Industry is already in distress.

“The food service industry has been going through a very tough time for the last few months due to a change in consumption trends and some because of certain regulatory issues. For example, denial of input tax credit on the GST as well as no concrete policies in the online business in food. While we were dealing with all this, coronavirus has come and created an almost existential crisis for us. In our business, the proportion of fixed operating assets is frightfully high and with the kind of revenue reduction that we have seen, the mall outlets in the major cities have shut down and standalone are probably working at a 60-70% lesser numbers than what they would normally do,” says Anurag Katriar, NRAI President and CEO & Executive Director, deGustibus Hospitality.

iStock

Katriar adds that there is a real scare of jobs being lost and companies just shutting shop because everyone may not have the economic ability to deal with these kinds of losses.

“This could not have come at a worse time and every segment of the business, whether it is restaurant, dining, deliveries or banqueting, every segment is impacted and right now we are in a very, very bad shape,” says Katriar.

Skidding off Another sector that is in dire straits is the automotive sector. Auto sector plays on sentiments and the current situation has made things even tougher for the sector. According to Vinnie Mehta, Director General, Automotive Component Manufacturers Association of India (ACMA), the auto industry has been facing many upheavals lately, and the coronavirus scare has only added to the segment’s woes.

“While the challenges faced by the industry is not just alone due to coronavirus, but this one is coming at a juncture when the industry has been grappling with multiple issues. Month-on-month sales have been dropping, and the industry has been simultaneously transitioning from BS-IV to BS-VI. So, all these factors make this crisis a challenge,” he opined.

The auto industry is going through its worst slowdown for a year now and hopes for a turnaround this year has quickly fizzled. The slowdown in demand had led to total wholesale automobile sales in the country declining by a little over 19% during the month of February 2020. However, things are expected to get worse for the month of March, which is expected to see the full impact of Covid-19 play out.

Mahendra Sanghi, Ex-President, Assocham and Group Chairman, Sanghi Group of Industries says the impact will ruin MSMEs in the coming days. “While we are trying to cope with demonetisation and teething and compliance issues of GST, this virus has come. It is definitely, the worst time that the virus has hit us,” Sanghi says.

Auto is not the only sector facing turbulent times. The electronics industry is also battling production and supply woes. The Electronic Industries Association of India (Elcina) believes that while the demonetization shock and adjusting to the GST processes and compliance requirements have largely played out, many electronics segments have been facing a depressed market. “To that extent, the Covid- 19 epidemic is an added challenge, making things even more difficult,” says Rajoo Goel, Secretary General, Elcina.

iStock

A crisis These are uncharted waters for every business and the most can only hazard a guess on how things will play out. The entire concept of quarantine and large sections of the working populace working remotely shows a paradigm shift in how businesses need to operate. If this would lead to permanent behavioral changes, which in turn has an impact on the shape of the economy, is difficult to tell.

According to Anil Bhardwaj, Secretary General, Federation of Indian Micro and Small Medium Enterprises (FISME), “It is certainly not a good news for the economy in general, and MSMEs in particular. They are more vulnerable to shocks an our worry is that the current crisis could lead to an exodus of workers to their rural roots, bringing the economic engine to grinding halt.” With no endgame in sight, if the crisis is prolonged Bhardwaj says several sectors, from pharma to electronics to raw material for a range of sectors, would be hit hard.

What is worrying is the fact that what we are witnessing now could be just the tip of the iceberg and the contagion could get worse. Consumer demand has not fallen rapidly yet in India, but will eventually go that route, says Mahavir Pratap Sharma, Past Chairman, Carpet Export Promotion Council (CEPC). “Exports are reducing and will reduce further. If people stop doing the basics, such as not go to the movies, to the mall, avoid travel etc, the sentiment will naturally go down. Sentiments are also lower due to the uncertainty that currently looms large in the market,” he says.

Sharma says small shops and traders will suffer far more, but it will soon trickle down to exports and reduced industrial output. “Export targets for this year will see a downward trend. The impact will be seen across businesses. I anticipate a 1% spiral of GDP growth rate if this doesn’t subside soon enough,” he adds.

iStock

Blank sailing There is definitely a loss of confidence among Indian MSMEs and the manufacturing industry India at large would bear the brunt. There is a realization that acute dependence on one source for key inputs is a highly risky and that the world is staring at an economic slowdown.

Goel says the crisis is now across the value chain and not only due to shortages of material supplies, but also due to restrictions put in place across the globe.

As lockdown of entire cities takes place, consumer confidence has fallen sharply. No industry has been spared and major shows and events across the world have either been cancelled or postponed. Stefanie Bauer, Director, Circular Apparel Innovation Factory (CAIF), Intellecap says that while it is too early to say how much of the exports will get affected; the coronavirus has taken a toll on major fashion events around the globe that are critical events for the Indian industry.

“While events in Asia like Intertextile Shanghai, Tokyo Fashion Week and Beijing and Shanghai Fashion Week have already been cancelled, a number of annual European or US-based events are either postponed or cancelled, such as the Copenhagen Fashion Summit. Many brands and designers have cancelled their 2020 fall fashion shows that are supposed to happen in March or April and showcase their fall season online on their websites, social media or newly created platforms. While it is too early to say the size of the impact, estimates state that the impact could be as big as $ 64 million.

Shipping and transportation has the largest exposure to a global slowdown induced by coronavirus and U Shekhar, Chairman, Galaxy Surfacent Ltd says the real impact of the virus would be felt across logistics and cargo movements. “Transportation certainly is impacted as a result of the outbreak, where clearances of containers have not taken place smoothly at various ports. Such instances put huge pressure on the availability of containers for movements, and we do see a lot of ‘blank sailing’, which means while there are movements of ships, but not much cargo is contained therein. This is one aspect we see the virus impacting the international flow of trade,” says Shekhar.

Bhardwaj says it is difficult to predict the impact of Coronavirus in Indian economy as of now, but there is a need to be very alert. “Looking at what happened in China it could be imagined that it can completely paralyze the economic activity within no time if allowed to spread,” he says.

(With contributions from Neha Dewan and Shariq Khan)

if(geolocation && geolocation != 5 && (typeof skip == 'undefined' || typeof skip.fbevents == 'undefined')) !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '338698809636220'); fbq('track', 'PageView');

Source link