#my memory is sincerely AWFUL (i live off of notes and alarms)

[aniseandspearmint]

got a call from the acute care hospital mom is at this morning. around 3AM her heart stopped again (second time in two months). They didn’t call me THEN, i guess bc it was 3 and they got her heart started quickly. but they’ve transferred her to the closest full hospital now, and the ER doctor called me. he was nice enough but he doesn’t seem to think i should get my hopes up.

no word yet on my disability filing, but it’s just the first one, and typically unless you’re dying they say no. if mom dies now, there goes everything. she dies, i die.

i was so happy just a couple days ago, they said she was getting better

[thestyleswritings]

Restoration of Faith

REQUEST: (this may be triggering, so i'd understand if you chose not to write it). first-time consensual sex. Y/N lost her virginity in a sexual assault but has been to therapy. It took her a while to be comfortable with sex, but now she decides she's finally ready to have sex with Harry for the first time. He know what happened wants to make it a positive experience for her so he's super gentle and attentive.

  "I'm... Nervous," she admits, biting her lower lip once again and truly testing his resolve. Her lips were always a key part in his fantasies. Contrary to her words, she rocks herself onto his growing length, making the pair of them shiver.

 "You don't need to be nervous, princess. This is all you. We can do whatever you want and nothing more. The ball is in your court." Harry tells her softly, though now his voice has a gruffness to it that she's only heard early in the morning.

Or

Harry meets a girl who’s been through something awful and falls deeply in love with her.

Warnings: Smut, TW // Mentions of abuse and self-harm

4k+ 

  Therapy had saved her life. She was ready and willing to admit that. After her attack, she stopped texting, calling, going out. She wouldn't make contact with anyone for anything, even her professors had thought she'd dropped off the face of the planet. She wasn't eating, she wasn't sleeping, and she wasn't showering. She also had a very nasty habit of hurting herself, even if only a little bit, just to feel something. The sting of a cut, the scorch of a lighter. It took her somewhere close to 3 months to even get out of her head and call a therapist.

 It had been another 6 months into therapy that she'd met Harry. Before he arrived in her life, she always kept the same routine to feel as if she had more control over her life, never failing to tick every box to the letter on her list of daily activities. It helped her feel like she was really in charge of her life, an exercise her therapist taught her, and consistently praised her for continuing on her own.

 The day she met Harry, everything she had structured in place for herself shifted. It started when she missed the bus she normally took to her weekly appointment, kicking herself for snoozing her alarm one too many times. She typically didn't even take advantage of the function on her phone, only she'd been feeling hazy for a few days prior and figured a moments peace couldn't hurt anyone. With a scowl on her face, she decided she'd just hoof it there and apologise profusely for her tardiness once she arrived.

 Only she never made it that day. One blasted thing after another got in her way, making it nearly impossible to get to her destination. Pavements were closed on one road, traffic being directed in a never-ending stream on another. It was maddening. She could almost feel herself unravelling towards a breakdown when a man spoke to her left, nearly causing her to jump from her skin.

 "Sorry love, was only asking if you knew another way 'round this intersection. I've got an appointment at a quarter til, and it's just about half-past now. I didn't mean to give you such a scare," the man sounded sincere, honest, apologetic. She felt the very corner of her lips raise at the notion. An honest man? Unfathomable.

 "S'alright, I'm just a bit caught up in my mind, innit?" She offered, tone teetering on cheekiness.

 "I must be too, s'why I'm on my way to therapy. Though it seems like every bloody traffic cop in London would rather I didn't make it there." The man scoffed lightheartedly, dramatically rolling his eyes for her amusement.

 "Oh, that's actually where I was headed." She offers, not exactly sure why. She didn't owe him any further explanation of her presence on the street, but here she was, still giving one. It felt nice. She hadn't so much as double taken a man since what had happened to her, but there was something so welcoming about him. So she dared to ask his name, creating an inevitable conversation. She made a note to let her therapist in on this major break in her recovery realisation.

 "'M Harry. You?" He said, glittering eyes gazing into hers.

--

 Another 6 months down the road, she felt her throat close up as her heart sank to her stomach. She and Harry had laid down a sturdy foundation together in the time leading up to then, strong as mountains. They'd quickly become the best of friends, laughing at all the same corny puns and jokes and learning every little quirk that made the other up. She knew things like how he took his coffee, and what kind of jam was his favourite. She knew where he'd grown up, who he was friends with in another life, strange dreams he had, what sort of dumb things he and his sister fought over when they were young. But she also had more intimate knowledge, things like his deepest fears regarding his family, his future, if he'll have a family of his own, his regrets. And he knew those same things about her. She trusted him by showing him what she'd done to herself when she needed to bring herself back to reality. She told him what she was ashamed of, both things she had done and what had been done to her. She spoke openly about how her purity had been snatched from her grasp, although kicking and screaming. She cried to him when she felt small. They had even told the other they were in love.

 That's what scared her half to death. She knew she loved him with the entirety of her soul, but she was afraid, almost petrified, to take her clothes off in front of him. She had a few unwelcomed touch-memories when he'd come up behind her and laid a hand on her hip innocently, or when he'd spontaneously kissed her neck and she nearly lost her mind.

 And he understood that. He couldn't imagine the kinds of trauma buried beneath her skin, the levels of paranoia that were bestowed upon her. From the nights she spent at his flat, he knew she sometimes would even jump in her sleep. It made him upset. Not because she was subconsciously jumping from his touch, but because someone made it that way. He would never forgive himself, even if the thought was beyond irrational, for not meeting her sooner. He wished more than anything to take that pain off her shoulders. To erase the searing memory she was still so harshly burdened with. Of course, he desired her physically, but he would never be able to live with himself if he made her feel pressured or uncomfortable. What kind of monster couldn't wait to be intimate with her? It kept him up some nights, but he'd never tell her that. She felt guilty enough as it was during their waking hours, he couldn't add to her burden by telling her he couldn't sleep sometimes while thinking of the horror she went through, cuddling her to his side deeper as she slept soundlessly.

 So when she went to Harry and sat on his lap, curled up like a kitten, he was a bit taken aback. He loved a cuddle and was one of the snuggliest creatures she had ever had the pleasure of meeting, but they usually only cuddled once they were in bed, where she felt the safest. He didn't dare protest, silently complying and raising a hand to get lost in her hair, petting his fingers against her scalp lightly.

 "What's on your mind, pet?" Harry rasped quietly, voice tired from the full day he'd had at work. She had been home all day, thinking of ways to break the conversation, fibbing and telling him she was skipping the day's class to stay at his flat and complete her essay, bringing her one step closer to her master's degree.

 "Just thinking. I love you, I've just been thinking about you all day." She admits softly, pressing a kiss to his neck just below his ear.  

 He feels a blush run over his cheeks, feels himself inflate with affection and giddiness, much like a puppy getting its belly scratched. He couldn't help the goofy smirk adorning his lips, he just felt too good not to.

 "Yeah, baby? I love you. I'm so crazy about you. You're always on my mind." He tells her, not caring how utterly lovesick he comes across at times.

 She flushes, though it comes with a tingle that travels from the top of her head to the tips of her fingertips and toes. It's almost like she can physically feel his soul in hers and she feels alive. She truly can't help but give his neck another kiss, wetter this time, and joined by several others. He shudders and she feels it, making her blood sing in her veins. She couldn't remember a time where she felt so in love, so safe and so free. She felt like she and Harry could soar the greatest heights together, the pair of them unstoppable when they were together. It was an incredible feeling.

 "What are you after, baby?" He questioned, not wanting her to stop but also wanting to see where her head was at. He didn't want her to make a rash decision if she would end up regretting it later down the line.

 Instead of answering outright, she removes her face from his throat with one last kiss. Her eyes are doe-like and Harry's heart stutters. She'd never looked more radiant or confident than in that moment. Taking her lip between her teeth, she looks down between them to catch his big hand in her smaller ones. The air thickened instantly, the pair of them seemingly holding their breath.

 "Just.. wanna be close to you. Wanna love on you, if you let me," she purrs, causing the hairs on Harry's neck to come to a stand and his tummy to flutter. She can't be implying what I think she is? He thinks to himself. It's not that she's never shown her attraction to him, he just can't believe today could be the day he's finally allowed to touch her. He's thought about it countless times, dreamt of it even, and it nearly brings a tear to his eye that she finally, finally feels comfortable and safe enough to physically show him love.

"Yeah? Show me how you wanna love on me, princess." Harry breathes, light filling his green eyes. He wants her to show him exactly what she wants, willing to go to the ends of the earth for his girl to be whatever she wanted.

 She's back to feeling shy, not really knowing how to initiate this. She knows he'd take the ropes if she were to hand them over, but they both know how important it is that she takes control at this moment. This is her choice.

She looks into his eyes and her breath stalls at the look of love he's sending her. She dives back in, kissing Harry with a fervour he's never felt from her. He can practically taste the lust dripping from her tongue onto his. Gingerly, she presses herself against his lap where he's already sporting a mainly solidly stiff prick. As silly as she feels for it, the presence of it shocks her, ripping a gasp from her puffy lips. The feeling sends her into a frenzy, pulling back with wide eyes and a rapidly rising and falling chest to meet his gaze once more.

 "Mhm, you feel it? 'S for you. Always is," Harry admits with a blush. He's no stranger to dirty talk, but he wants to take precautions with her. He doesn't know how filthy he can be without sending her back into her shell.

 "I'm... Nervous," she admits, biting her lower lip once again and truly testing his resolve. Her lips were always a key part in his fantasies. Contrary to her words, she rocks herself onto his growing length, making the pair of them shiver.

 "You don't need to be nervous, princess. This is all you. We can do whatever you want and nothing more. The ball is in your court." Harry tells her softly, though now his voice has a gruffness to it that she's only heard early in the morning.

 "I want you, in every way. Stayed home to pluck up the courage to do summat about it. And to take a very, very thorough shower that involved a lot of bending and twisting to get everything shaved." She tells him, a raspberry blush appearing beneath the skin of her cheeks. He's in awe again, of his darling girl.

 "Cheeky thing. Lied to me about why you stayed home just so you could strategise how to jump m' bones?" Harry chuckles, grabbing her waist delicately before making the motion to stand.

 "Gonna bring me to bed?" She asks breathlessly, nerves still getting the better of her. But she won't let her fears and self-doubt get in the way of another night she could've spent wrapped up in her love. Not anymore.

 The moment she feels the plush mattress beneath her, she can breathe a bit steadier. Even if they hadn't used the bed for its extra-curricular purpose, it was still a major staple in their relationship. She knew this place, and she felt safe here.

 "Take off your clothes." She instructs simply. If she were to get through to the rewarding bit of this, she had to hurry and get to it already. The build-up was the worst part. His lip curls at the command as he does what she asks. He leaves himself in nothing but his tight black boxer-briefs, kneeling on the bed before advancing. Watching and waiting to see if she would ask him to do something else.

 "Come here, please," she begs of him, reaching an arm out to grasp the back of his neck. He's awfully careful as he crawls up the bed, hovering over her much smaller body, not putting an ounce of pressure on her.

 "I love you. I love you so much. I-I wish you could've actually been my first," she begins, but he stops her.

 "I will be." He assures her, "If you didn't say yes, it wasn't your first, princess. I know I've told y'that. This is what you'll think about when you think about your first. I promise you I won't let any other thought come up." His voice breaks as he cradles her face, finally dropping his body to rest against hers. The kiss he lands to her lips shatters her and mends her at once, feeling the love and healing he put into it.

 "Please, I don't know what I'm doing yet," she mumbles against his lips, grazing her hand along his length. He draws back to look at her once before he's moving down the bed again, placing kisses to her neck and gripping the bottom of her shirt. She can faintly hear him asking to undress her through the blood rushing to her ears and she nods. She may be inexperienced, but she isn't naive. She knows exactly what he's headed down to do, and more than anything, she's excited.

 "Aw, princess, s'this all for me?" Harry coos his rhetorical question softly upon seeing how incredibly aroused she'd become, kissing the softest and squidgiest bit of her thigh; right up top.

 "You know it is," she whimpers, threading her fingers through his thick strands. Before she's even finished her sentence, her panties were pulled from her hips. She ignores the unpleasantly familiar sensation of someone that isn't her taking them off. Harry. It's Harry.

 "God princess, might be down here a while..." Harry breathes, voice drunk. She peers up at him quickly enough to catch the strong drag of his tongue against her slippery lips. The noise she makes would've made him laugh in other circumstances, a squeak, instead he grunts and grinds his hips into the mattress. He might not even make it inside her before he's tapped out.

 The movement of his tongue picks up each time she squeezes the handful of hair in her grasp, which is quite often, and he's loving it. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of her sweet peach now that he's had his tongue inside her. She can't describe the feeling, she just knows that she would be asking him to replicate his actions often. She tenses up as her clit makes its way into his mouth, hearing the filthy slurps and moans coming from his lips. She could finish just from the sound of him. She thrashes when she feels a finger tease the rim of her opening, subconsciously kicking at Harry's shoulder before he grabs her ankle and kisses it.

 "I's me, princess. S' just me. Let me make you feel good, sweet girl." His voice calms her immensely, shaking her head and focusing back on him. He's so good to her, it feels like karma's personal apology to her.

 "Sorry," she says sheepishly. She knew it would happen, she just hoped she hadn't ruined the mood. As if she ever could.

 No more words are spoken as she feels his finger back at her hole, lips leaving kisses to her lower tummy. He slides it in further than the rim this time, sucking her clit into his mouth to alleviate any discomfort she may have felt. He thrusts his finger in steadily, not too hard but definitely not as soft as he'd been at first. She appreciates him attempting to keep some normalcy.

 "Wait- Oh! Feels good, really good. Wanna feel you now, please-Please!" She nearly surrenders to her pleasure when he adds another finger, curling them right up against her spongy wall.

 "Gonna make you come first, princess." He tells her, not bothering to break away from her clit. The vibrations in combination with his unrelenting fingers send her spiralling over that edge she'd wanted to fall over with him. Her moans are strangled as she reaches her orgasm, the sound bringing Harry to a pile of mush below her, still working her through it.

 "Mmm," she tries to form words as he hovers back over her, but she can't seem to find any. She's overcome with a multitude of emotions that she suddenly can't convey. She feels loved, she feels proud, she feels safe and she feels clean.

 "Can pick this back up tomorrow, my love. You seem sedated." He jokes, kissing her lips and leaving behind a lingering taste of herself. She shakes her head, grabbing at his hips and pulling them down to her own.

 "Want it now," she breathes, kissing his neck where she knows he's the most sensitive. And who is he to argue with that? He's about to stand to get an emergency condom he keeps in his closet before she clears her throat. His attention is back on her immediately, looking for any signs of hesitation.

 "M' on the pill," she mutters shyly and Harry's jaw drops. He gets to have her and she'll be bare? This day could not get any better.

 "God, you're perfect. I love you," he reminds her, peppering kisses to every inch of her face possible before reaching down to take her hands and guide them to his pants. "You do this bit. You've waited long enough," Harry encourages her, slipping both their fingers into the band before letting go of hers.

 When she yanks them down, she's floored. That's what I've been missing? She thinks. It's thick and tall, standing between them with a certain strength and glory. He doesn't miss the look in her eye, but he doesn't call her out on it. He has all the time in the world to tease her about her awe of his cock another day.

  "Sure you want to do this?" Harry checks for the hundredth time. She kisses his nose and nods before taking a deep breath.

 "I'd never regret this. I'd regret if we didn't." She assures him, gripping his torso in one hand as to brace herself. He nods, knowing her word is final.

 He's gentle as he strokes himself and even gentler as he lines his cock up with her delicate little hole. He cannot believe he's about to have sex with the love of his life. He can't believe how lucky he is to be her first. Her real first. The first lover to have her this way, the only man who gets to say she's his.

 The initial push causes a sting to shoot through her lower half, throwing her mind to the last time she'd felt it, but she powers through. It's Harry. It's her lover. The man she trusts with her entire life. She hears his breath hitch instantly, only having pushed the tip and a bit more in. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, indulging in the feel of his girl before opening them to check on her.

 "You okay, beloved?" He asks, voice beyond strained. When she gives him a nod, he pushes more of himself into her until she's hitting his side. His head snaps to the side, expecting a look of fear or pain, but to his utter surprise, he sees a look of pure bliss. He knows he's up against her spot, feeling the rough patch massage his tip. He uses this knowledge to his advantage, bottoming out at this angle, catching the spot the entire time he glides in and sending her into a frenzy of sorts. Her legs instantly locking onto his hips, giving him little leeway to do much else but fuck into her right onto her spot. She clenches around him as he pulls back, almost like she didn't want him to move his hips away from hers for even a moment.

 "Feels, god! Feel so good, angel. My sweet baby, yeah? Feel good for you?" Harry rambles, nipping the skin of her neck to distract himself from blowing his load right then.

 She's a mess, physically unable to stay put for more than one thrust. She never thought she'd be doing this, never thought she'd even make it through the year last year. The fact that it's her Harry just pushing her further and further into space.

 "Mhm, so good. What, what are you doing? S' really nice. Does it always-?" She's a moaning mess as she replies, feeling a particularly solid strike at her beloved spot that she didn't know existed until now. He chuckles at the unintended compliment to his performance.

 "Feel this good? Nah, s' because we're in love," Harry begins, but the feeling was too overwhelming, causing the word 'love' to come out as if he'd been hit in the stomach with a steel baseball bat. As if the spoken emotional intimacy turned him on to a point he couldn't stop himself from coming. He couldn't help it as the feeling travelled from deep in his belly, shooting out all the love he could produce, spilling into his princess.

 "Mm, fuck Harry, I'm about to-" She moans at the feeling of his warmth spreading inside her and he cuts her off with the rapid movement of his nimble fingers down to her clit, still pistoning his hips into her, prick softening but still effective as she came.

 Harry collapsed on top of her, wrapping an arm around her back to press their bodies even closer. He was still inside of her and she could feel the spurts still going as she came down.

 "I'm so sorry... I literally couldn't stop myself from-" Harry begins, but she laughs. Laughs like she hadn't laughed in a year. A genuine laugh that drew tears from her eyes and an ache to form in her belly. His cheeks and ears grew red as she continued to laugh, thinking she was laughing at his premature end.

 "Hey, it happens to a lot of guys! And I got you off again, don't make fun of me," he pouts, beginning to retract his arm from around her before she grabs a hold of it.

 "Not laughing at you, doughnut. I love you so much, and you did get me off again. I'm laughing because I feel, I don't know. Clean." She admits, kissing his temple.

 "After that? Should feel right sticky, I know I do," Harry gests, leaving her a kiss to her own temple before pulling out slowly. She gasps at the hollow feeling, but she has an inkling he may not mind filling her right back up whenever she wanted.

 "You know what I mean." She rolls her eyes, allowing his arms to encompass her.

 "I know, baby. I'm glad you found the strength in yourself to do this. And not just because you let me shag ya." Harry hums, kissing the crown of her head.

 "You're an idiot," she teases. She couldn't be more in love if she tried.

"'M your idiot."

 And yeah, maybe the idiot had a point.

-- 

Thank you for reading! This was a little difficult to write for personal reasons, but I hope this piece was alright! Please share your feedback/thoughts!

[syntheticpoetry]

The Ghosts That We Knew

See my original post on the origins of this story here!

Summary: Blaine Anderson is no stranger to hospitals and has been volunteering on the pediatric unit of Lima General Hospital for years when Kurt Hummel comes along.  After Blaine is attacked at his school's Sadie Hawkins Dance, he has his best friend Kurt to help him deal with the aftermath. And when Kurt becomes the target of the McKinley football team's bullying campaign, he can count on Blaine to have his back.

AU where Blaine transfers to McKinley instead of Dalton. Set during season 1.A story of two best friends finding courage to face their bullies and discovering love along the way.

Author’s Note: Blaine has a reason he has been in an out of the hospital since childhood that will be revealed, but if you are overly cautious of the level of angst surrounding it I can assure you it's nothing heartbreaking/super serious. It's actually quite common.  I cannot thank @esperantoauthor​ enough for beta reading this for me and really helping me whip it into shape!

AO3 Link || FFN Link

Chapter 1: Of Viral Videos and Disney Princes

The last time that Kurt Hummel remembers being in a hospital, he told his mother that he loved her for the last time.  

That was six years ago.  

As he walks through the lobby, towards the directory by the elevators, he keeps his gaze fixed forward, careful not to spare a glance at the waiting area to his right.  He spent so many months in that waiting room.  Entire seasons, multiple holidays spent watching people receive good news and bad news, with his father stoic and silent beside him as his mother underwent procedure after procedure.  Until it was their turn to be the family that received bad news.  The doctor sounded sincere as he said a lot of big words Kurt could not quite understand at the time, but he understood the look on his father’s face.  He took to studying the ugly designs on the carpet to distract from the tight clench in his father’s jaw, the way he kept himself so still and barely blinked through the entire explanation— Kurt knew, even at eight years old, what it was like to use up all of your willpower to hold yourself together for the sake of someone else.  To this day, he cannot look at paisley print without thinking back to that awful day.

Kurt scans the directory before punching the up button to call the elevator and folds his arms across his chest, tapping his foot as he awaits its arrival.  When he first heard about the volunteer program on the pediatric unit he was naturally hesitant to return to the place that held some of his worst memories.  He had been on the fence about it all summer, torn between the desire to give back to the hospital staff that had gone above and beyond in their attempts to cure his mother’s cancer and wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the place where they finally had to say goodbye to each other.

Until he saw that YouTube video.  

A curly-haired boy with big doe eyes and an unwavering grin, guitar in hand, leading a Disney themed sing-along with a group of elementary school age kids.  The warmth that spread through Kurt’s chest was almost overwhelming as he watched the boy march around the room performing Hakuna Matata with the parade of children trailing behind, mimicking him raucously and off-key.  It was the first time Kurt had really smiled in a long time.

So he had decided to look into the program.  Mostly because witnessing the boundless energy of pure joy from each child singing along in that video elicited memories of countless nights of living room performances with his own father, both of them puffy-eyed and exhausted but still managing to find the stamina to sing at the top of their lungs, using the furniture as stage props.  They were two lost souls attempting to cling to each other through tidal waves of insurmountable grief, and those nights together— well, those nights wereeverything to Kurt.  He had never felt closer to his father than when they were both breathless and laughing their way through the most eclectic collection of songs imaginable, hugging each other tightly at the end of each performance.  

And if Kurt happened to run into the boy from the video along the way, well, that would certainly just be an added bonus. Kurt did have eyes after all.  And there was no denying the boy’s natural charm or the air of confidence with which he carried himself.  

Truth be told, entering yet another school year with no friends was beginning to take its toll on Kurt and the possibility of finding camaraderie with a cute boy who seemingly shared similar interests was certainly enticing.

Ding!

The doors slide open before him revealing an empty elevator.  Kurt steps in and presses the button for the fourth floor.  He thinks about that video and jumping on armchairs and couches in his living room with his father for the entire ride up.

***

He has to be buzzed in to enter the unit, which he thinks is strange.  But the woman who greets him, a young nurse with bright green eyes and deep auburn hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, explains it is the protocol for all pediatric units in order to prevent children from wandering away or being kidnapped.  There are security bracelets around each patient’s ankle that trigger an alarm if they are taken past a bright yellow line painted on the floor.

“Who would kidnap sick kids from a hospital?” Kurt asks, looking absolutely horrified.

“You would be surprised at how common it is.  Parents fighting over custody, usually.”

He nods and guesses that makes sense, but the thought is still deeply unsettling.

The hallways are empty as she leads him to a room behind the nurse’s station.  The unit is certainly much different from the one his mother had been on.  The walls are covered in murals of different cartoon characters and scenes from popular storybooks.  While the nurse punches in a code, Kurt studies a painting of Rapunzel in a high stone tower, golden plaited hair strung over the edge of the window for a handsome prince at the bottom. The door buzzes and she holds it open for him.  “I’ll let my supervisor know you’re here.”

Kurt thanks her and takes a seat at one of the tables to wait.  On the far wall he spots a bulletin board covered in an overabundance of overlapping photos, hand-drawn pictures and a variety of cards both homemade and store-bought.  He casts a quick glance towards the door before crossing the room to investigate.  He cannot help but smile as he scans over the collection of memories, reminiscing back to his own pile of hand drawn cards for the staff on the oncology unit.  

Then something catches his eye.  

It’s the curly haired boy from the video.  He’s standing, guitar in hand with the strap over his shoulder, in the center of a group photo, surrounded by children of varying ages and the unit staff.  His outfit is different from the one in the video though.  He’s wearing baggy sweatpants and a printed T-shirt, only the edges of the otherwise obscured design visible from behind the guitar over his torso.  In the video he had certainly seemed more, well, put together, to say the least.  He had worn light grey slacks and a navy polo shirt accented with a white bow tie, which Kurt could not help but notice because he could count on one hand the amount of teenage boys he had ever seen wearing bow ties in the state of Ohio, himself included.  

Kurt wonders how often he comes by to visit and volunteer.  Maybe there is a chance they will be able to meet after all.

The faint beeping of the key code and jiggling of the door handle to his left draws his attention and he turns in time to see an older woman with ashy blonde hair and huge round glasses that take up half of her face walk in.  Her scrub top is printed with different Winnie the Pooh characters.  She smiles and approaches him, extending her hand.  “Hi, you must be Kurt.  I’m Jeannie; we spoke on the phone last week.”

“Oh! Yes,” Kurt shakes her hand.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Shall we?” She gestures to a table and Kurt takes a seat opposite her.  “So we just have to get some paperwork in order and then we can take a little tour around the unit so you can meet the kids.”

“Okay.”

“This is your first time volunteering, right?” She opens a Manila folder and begins rifling through a large stack of papers.

“Yes.”

“What drew you to it?”

Kurt steals a glance towards the bulletin board, lips curling up into a half-smile.  “I heard about it through my school a few months back, but honestly? I spent a lot of time visiting my mom in this hospital when I was a kid and when me and my dad would get home he would always try to cheer me up.  We put on a lot of concerts for my stuffed animals in our living room.  And I mean… like a lot .”  

Her eyes are soft as she listens, a piece of paper held loosely between both hands just inches off of the table, almost forgotten, and gives him an empathetic smile.

“I saw that video of the Disney sing-along online and I just really wanted to be a part of it, helping kids, especially with music, because it’s really helped me through some tough times.”

“Well,” She straightens up and slides the paper across the table towards him, “I think the kids will really love having you around.  Do you play any instruments?”

“Never missed a piano lesson,” Kurt says, grinning.  “But mostly, I love to sing.”

The paperwork consists of a lot of signatures.  Kurt is not to discuss any of the patients or their health conditions with others in order to maintain privacy regulations, not to post anything to social media without permission, and just a lot of general information about the hospital’s protocols such as what to do in the event of emergency scenarios (of which there are many ).  By the end of it, Kurt has a pretty sizable stack of papers to take home with him and a dull cramp in his wrist.  

“I know it seems like a lot of information, but nothing you have to memorise.  You’ll always be with other staff members who will guide you through every step of the way.”

Kurt releases a nervous laugh, “Okay, good.  I can save my highlighters for school work then.”

***

Jeannie leads the way to the playroom which, she explains, is a safe space for all the children on the unit that remains open every day until 7 p.m.  No medications or treatments are allowed to be administered to a child in the playroom, they must be brought out first.  There are about ten kids inside, ranging from toddlers to older teens, all of whom have seemingly gravitated towards splitting into their own little cliques based on ages.  As soon as they enter the room two of the younger kids, a boy and girl no older than three or four, look up from a mountain of blocks and start crying.  Kurt casts an alarmed glance at Jeannie.

“It’s okay, you can keep playing.” Jeannie kneels down and stacks a loose block onto their small tower.  “Everyone, this is Kurt, he’s going to be coming by to help out and spend some time with all of you.” She stands up and backs away from the two toddlers with the blocks to stand beside Kurt again.  

“It’s the uniform,” she says quietly to him.  “Some get scared when they see us come into a room cause it usually means it’s time for medicine or treatments.”

“Hi, Kurt!” A small girl with bronze skin, a round face, and long thick black hair comes over and takes his hand.  “I’m Melanie! You wanna come draw with me?”

She does not wait for an answer before she starts tugging on his hand and walking back towards a small rectangular table covered with construction paper and crayons.  She climbs into one of two plastic blue chairs which are far too tiny for Kurt to fit in, so he sits on the floor beside the table, crossing his legs.  Melanie slides a piece of yellow construction paper towards him and pushes a pile of crayons into the middle for them to share.

“Did you draw all of these?” Kurt picks up a red crayon and starts sketching.

“Yes! My daddy brought my big brother to visit and we draw together,” she says, shading in what looks like a sunflower with a purple crayon.

“They’re very beautiful; I like that one a lot.” Kurt taps the one she is currently working on.  “I’ve never seen a purple sunflower before.”

“I’m gonna invent them one day,” she says matter-of-factly.  Kurt smiles and returns to his sketch of a new outfit design that has been floating around his mind for the past week.  

“Woah!”

Kurt begins to lift his head up to locate where the voice has come from when he spots movement beside his left elbow.  To say the boy is small would be an understatement.  He is tiny .  A pale, skinny little thing dressed in Batman pajamas that look two sizes too big on him.  He has wide, bright blue eyes and is wearing a charcoal grey beanie.  Clutched between his toothpick arms is a stuffed rabbit with drooping ears the size of its entire body.  

“Hello,” Kurt says as the boy leans forward to peer at his drawing.

“You can draw,” the boy says, clutching his rabbit closer.  

“Would you like to draw with us?”

“Can’t draw,” he says.

“Oh, I bet that’s not true,” Kurt says and holds out the crayon to him.  “Everyone can draw.”

The boy looks at the crayon then up to Kurt and shakes his head shyly before raising the bunny up to his chin, hugging it tightly.

“What’s your name?” Kurt asks.

“Jason,” he says quietly.

“Well, would you like to watch me and Melanie draw?”

“I’m really good.” Melanie looks up at him.  “You can sit next to me, I’ll show you.”

Kurt spends the next hour drawing with Melanie while Jason continues to peek curiously between them.  The other kids begin to trickle out of the room, some led by nurses, some by visiting family members.  Pretty soon, only the three of them are left until Jason’s mother comes in to collect him.  Before he leaves, Kurt holds out a piece of paper to him.

“Something tells me you like Batman,” Kurt says as Jason’s eyes widen at the image of a child-sized Batman with bright blue eyes.  “How about next time you can draw me?”

“Okay.” Jason grins, slipping the picture between his stuffed bunny and his chest to hold it there safely.  “But you’re gonna look like a potato.  I really can’t draw.”

It is the most Kurt has heard him speak all afternoon.  Something about the way he talks contradicts the way he looks. Kurt wonders how old he actually is; the boy looks smaller than most five year olds he’s seen but definitely talks like an older child.  Kurt makes a mental note to find out next time.  “Deal.  I can’t wait to see it.”

Jason’s mom gives Kurt a parting smile before she shepherds her son away.  Soon after, Melanie’s nurse comes to collect her as well, leaving only Kurt and Jeannie in the empty playroom.

“That went well,” she says.  “You’re a natural with them.”

Kurt beams back at her, a sense of pride swelling in his chest.  

After his dad comes to pick him up, Kurt spends the entire car ride home filling him in on the events of the day, excluding Jason and Melanie’s names.  He goes to bed that night with his mind already buzzing with activities for the next visit.

***

Kurt starts volunteering two days a week after school and over the course of the next month, he becomes very familiar with some of the regular kids on the unit.  Jason, he discovers, is actually nine years old, has leukemia and is in his final round of chemotherapy by the first week in October.  Melanie has sickle cell anemia and had been hospitalized for something called ‘sickle cell crisis’— she had gone home two weeks after they first met, but Kurt learns that she usually returns frequently for the same problem.  There’s a teenage boy not much older than Kurt is, but taller and skinnier with jet black hair and sad eyes, named Julian who has cystic fibrosis— he usually keeps to himself, oftentimes choosing to sit in the back corner of the playroom and silently watch everyone else.  

The rest have been a whirlwind of faces and names with a variety of issues such as pneumonia, appendicitis, broken bones and asthma attacks.  There have also been quite a few cases of children who have come in with injuries as a result of abuse at home, more so than Kurt would have imagined actually occurred.  He finds trying to interact and engage with those kids to be the most heartbreaking.

Some of the kids are not as keen to warm up to him as others, keeping to themselves or staying with their families while Kurt leads sing-alongs, painting lessons, hosts movie nights, and reads aloud during story time.  He has developed a steady routine in the five weeks since he began volunteering.  So on the Tuesday during the second week of October he waves hello to the security personnel by the front entrance like he usually does.  He rides up the same elevator and is buzzed into the unit by Rosie, the first nurse he met with the auburn hair.  And with his usual wide smile in place, he strolls into the playroom with a new four-pack of Disney themed puzzles under his arm.  

But when he walks in, the kids are already sitting in a circle, staring up at a boy with loosely gelled curls coiffed into a fluffy side part, bright hazel eyes, and a sapphire acoustic guitar perched on his lap. Kurt is caught completely off guard as he realises, Oh god, it’s him! It’s the guy from the video!

He looks shorter in person than Kurt assumed.  In both the photo on the bulletin board and the video his hair was ungelled and wild.  Kurt vividly remembers his dark curls bouncing as he bopped his head along to the music while impersonating Timon and Pumba for the younger kids.  He’s dressed in another carefully selected outfit though— bright red pants, a black polo and a white bow tie with black polka dots on it.  

“Kurt!” A few of them yell excitedly.    

“Ah, so you’re the famous Kurt I’ve been hearing so much about,” The boy with the guitar says, that same unwavering grin already in place.  “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Blaine.”

[imagine-fight-write]

RANDOM - Banana Fish Review, Vol. 1, Part Four

(This was one of my fav gifs looking for gifs of Shorter.)

*There will be pictures/gifs included tomorrow, because this is already late & loading them is taking forever, for some reason.

Haha, no, I actually prettied it up 1/5/21. Yes, I’m glorious.

No I’m actually Dio DIO in this situation, who am I kidding.

(This transition from Caesar to Dio fascinates me, by the way.) (The GIF.)

The JOJO reference is because I’ve finally finished Diamond is Unbreakable! It was fun! I enjoyed it a lot! Ready for the next part!

But back to Banana Fish.

Hope you enjoy this!

So my plans failed again. Who is surprised? (Not me.)

I apologize profusely for the gaping void of Banana Fish-ness left since last I posted.

No really. I now have an alarm set for every Wednesday.

Let’s see how this goes. News Update: Maybe next time.

Also, my internet is still blitzy & rotten, otherwise I would’ve posted this yesterday (the 15th).

Now on to the in-depth, delighted gushing - er, review, of Banana Fish!

*Also, this is part 4, and 4 is a special number for me. Because of this guy:

And I can spell his name correctly!!! (It’s Ulquiorra, from Bleach, my 1st anime fan gushing love.)

Yes, I’m strange. Moving on.

So, brief recap, since I’m not sure anyone has read Part 3, given how terrifyingly long it is. If you missed it, here’s the link:

https://imagine-fight-write.tumblr.com/post/632014616404344832/random-banana-fish-review-vol-1-part-3-my

Please love & like it & repost to the rest of the Web. I worked tremendously hard on it.

Yes it’s long, but oh, it was delightful! There was snark! Delicious food! Wine! Fabulous mustaches! Mysteries! I gushed so much!

(And snarled at the wonton waste of good breakfast food, which I will not forget & always condemn.)

*I mean, I know people who will throw up if they have breakfast in the morning. But it’s important to eat so you have energy to do things & feel good.

And Dino took a perfectly beautiful breakfast & essentially wasted it for no good reason. I was so mad.

We meet Dino Golzine, a.k.a., Ash’s worst nemesis /enemy (note, I can’t spell nemesis) and major reason for why his life sucks.

(Although society doesn’t help either. Though the police try. They really do. Except what’s his face who’s complete scum & thoughtless, but we won’t meet him til Vol. 2. Plus I don’t think he has a name?)

But yes, Dino Golzine. All around awful person, and not safe around children (or anyone, really.) He’s low-key in this scene, mostly using verbal assaults (to great effect) but just you wait. There’s a reason he’s a mob boss.

Ash snarks, to great effect, but he’s no match. Dino has all the cards and all the dice (cards & dice being metaphors for power, & how he involves awful, painful memories of Ash’s past & tries to manipulate & order him around. Brrr.)

But Ash rallies, and ultimately refuses returning to be Dino’s heir / toy.

We meet Shorter! Huzzah!

(End of recap.)

It’s clear right away Shorter & Ash are old friends. They exchange quips about Marvin. We learn Marvin holds a mean grudge, so savvy readers can guess it’ll come to play later (it does.)

Shorter’s last line is strange.

“Just don’t put me in the position of having to kill you.”

Which is kinda out of the blue. I don’t know what to make of it. It doesn’t spoil or fore-shadow anything (unless in a very confused, round-about way) because that never happens later. So I’m confused.

Ash laughs it off and goes zooming off on his motor-bike / motorcycle (not sure which).

Note, from this short scene we already learn Shorter has his own sources of information - he knows Ash went to Dino’s, fast enough to be there before their conversation ended (unless he was just lucky to be there already  - why was he there?). He already knows about Ash’s talk with Marvin, with enough detail to warn Ash about Marvin’s temper & that Marvin likes him, which is a bad combination.

Shorter is smart & cares about his friends, warning Ash about Marvin. 

Aren’t friends great?

Especially after meeting such a dominating if soft spoken monster like Dino?

The answer is yes.

Next, we get this hilariously great shot of Ash running up the steps to his dingy apartment (pg. 47.)

 It’s reminiscent for me of a scene in JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Part 1, when Jonathan & Dino have their epic fight in the Joestar mansion.

There’s a part where Jonathan does this epic flip up to a second floor via sword (it’s epic) & it ends with this a few-seconds-longer-than it-needs-to-be shot of his butt. You can’t miss it. I’m usually oblivious to such things & I noticed it. I laugh every single time.

Anyway, back to Banana Fish.

(The atmosphere of grunginess (it’s not a word, I meant dirty, ugly, rough) & spartan furniture is great. Just look at those walls. I adore it. 

(But would never want to live there.) Ash is clearly not rich & after Dino’s rich mansion, this is a stark contrast.

Also, there are no pictures or posters on the walls (which are festooned with dirt and cracks instead.) In fact, there’s almost nothing in terms of personal effects at all.

This baffles me. I mean yes, I assume they’re all dirt poor, living in a gang & working for the mafia on the side isn’t something you do for the luxuries. But surely they’d have something.

Or maybe it has something to do with Japanese decorating aesthetics? Meaning, Japanese appear to be more spartan than Americans in terms of decor (see the book, In Praise of Shadows, for example.) 

* I can’t spell aesthetics. Why do I even use that word?

The apartment just looks extremely bare compared to others I’ve seen in movies depicting this era. Is what I’m saying.

Look at those bare walls. (It hurts me.)

Thoughts? Comments on how Japanese, Americans, and Europeans differ in basic decorating styles? Comment below!

Also remember as always, Banana Fish is both set & was written in the 1980’s, well before the “modern” style we have now.

Unless - wait. There is something very important to Ash which he’s clearly hiding in the apartment he goes to, which I assume only Skip & select members know about.

So maybe this isn’t actually Ash’s main base, where he sleeps & hangs out?

Yes, that must be it.

If you’re confused, I’ll explain once we get done with this section.

Moving on.

We meet Skip!!!! (Pg.47)

Black characters (and Latino) are still, alas, extremely rare in manga, anime, & other media, so all the cheers for including Skip so early & as such an important character.

Because Skip is very important. For multiple reasons. More on that later. Also note, 1 of the gang members Ash busts earlier is also black.

Again, the dialogue is great here between Ash & Skip, establishing Ash’s trust in him. Which is no small thing.

Skip is like Shorter, (agh, both their names start with S) sweet, but also has a nose for news.

Arthur’s going to get it, hah!

There’s yet another reference to it being early.

Though there’s no specific time mentioned . . . Nope, not since Ash found the poor, dying banana fish dude.

Does Ash usually sleep in? Is he a night owl? He was wandering around at 1 in the morning last night, after all.

*Yes, technically it was early morning, but it was still dark, so bite me.

But then, he was also suspicious & keeping tabs on his 2 gang members. So, who knows.

But I’m going to guess he’s a night owl.

Ash sits on the bed, and after Skip mentions everything is good, “him, too”.

 Ash gives his 1st real, genuine smile. Gentle, relieved, no hard edges. Just pure happiness & relief. It’s sweet.

(Also, I just realized the “him, too” is supposed to be a surprise / shock for the reader & I spoiled it earlier. I do apologize.)

Skip offers to get coffee but Ash declines, deciding to nap, which reminds me:

Actually, drinking coffee before you take a nap can, for some people, actually make you sleep better.

Also, short cat naps (15-30mins) can boost your energy and mood.

Naps are good for you!

I almost wondered if the comics Skip had on the table might’ve been manga, but remembered it was the 1980’s and, far as I know, manga wasn’t big the U.S. yet. Alas!

Which is funny if you think about this being in a manga.

Skip goes to leave. Ash puts his hand in his pocket and gets this intense, almost fierce expression on his face (middle panel, pg. 48).

I was absolutely baffled by this reaction for a long time, but finally figured it out. Ash’s reaction is supposed to be baffling, because what he realizes right here will be revealed in the next few pages.

Skip, concerned, asks what’s up, but Ash brushes him off and sends him off to buy coffee. (After which I sincerely hope he takes a nap, because he needs one, he’s been up all night.) Sleep is good for you!

Skip is able to buy coffee with a single coin. A single coin.

(Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

All my tears, and curses on inflation and overpriced coffee! And Starbucks!

Anyway, we learn Arthur’s going to get it (and Skip is the best spy ever) and the scene cuts to:

Our favorite person (not) Dino Golzine, tending his orchids.

I like this. It’s a rather unique hobby for a villian. I assume to give him a refined, elegant, and exact air.

He’s interrupted by Angie & his fabulous mustache (snickers) and this delightfully comic scientist person (who might be important later? The face sameness makes it difficult to judge, & I’m too lazy to consult my other volumes, which are not close by.)

But his entrance is priceless (pg. 50). I mean seriously, please go find it if you haven’t already. It’s dramatic, with a big WHAM! & he looks so cartoonish. 

I love it.

Dino tells him, essentially, “don’t disturb my orchids” and me being an non-gardner person, I wonder: is it actually true loud noises can disturb flowers?

Comment below!

Anyway, Dino quickly establishes yes, he did send Ash’s gang members to kill the poor banana fish guy who started this whole mystery, and yes, it was important.

There’s a great panel (pg. 51) of scientist dude, drawn much less comedic, the whole panel black except for a white aura around him sweating and clearly in distress.

He whispers, “It - it’s gone.”

Dino snaps to attention with a leonine look, exactly like a cat who has just spotted another cat. It’s easily my favorite picture of Dino so far, very striking.

The dialogue is brilliant and snappy, short and direct.

“What is gone? . . . You’re positive? . . . Just a small amount.”

And we get the grand reveal:

Ash, taking out a bullet shaped capsule (was the shape intentional by Yoshida?). A capsule he’d clearly taken from the dying banana fish guy. There’s a great panel on the bottom of pg. 52 of Ash’s questioning expression and a ?

He unscrews the capsule and pulls out a tiny vial.

Thinks of the address the dying banana fish guy gave him.

Ash goes into the next room, where we see the silhouette of someone sitting with a plaid blanket draped across their knees.

He expresses his first real look of vulnerability, and gives a wonderful line:

“Go see . . . Banana fish . . . He said it and died. And you say it and you might as well be dead. Who did this to you? Griff . . . Please tell me, big brother.”

Everything clicks together (almost.)

Griff /Griffin is the soldier shown way back in the very beginning. The one who left for a few minutes and came back insane and shot up his squad.

Who’s now a human vegetable.

Banana fish is clearly responsible. Somehow.

And Dino is mixed in with it (of course). Pieces are coming together, but questions still remain.

Until next time!

[toragi]

My analysis on Joji's 'Gimme Love,' 'Run,' and 'Sanctuary'

This is going to be a long one folks so prepare yourselves.

Here's my two cents on the supposed lore we've been given.

Theory 1:

In 'Gimme Love,' we're shown scientist Joji--who presents his findings while sharing bits and pieces of his life with us. We're shown his coworkers, his workplace, the frustrations, the technology being built and the potential relationship he builds with someone (as seen through the wedding cake, ring, and picture on his desk). However, the longer the song goes on, we're starting to be shown images of blood. First, a few droplets on the hands, then a few on the face. Eventually, the images of the blood are proceeded by hospitalizations all the while, Joji is climbing the ranks at his job. The last images we get before the transition are bloody hands, which could imply that someone was caught, "red-handed" or that Joji has other people's "blood on their [his] hands," implying something more sinister was at play with the research he was doing.

During the second half of the song, we can see Joji has locked out his crew and boards the rocket by himself. The repetition of the chorus in the song overall, "gimme, gimme love when I'm gone," becomes even more important in this scene. He's planning on leaving, by himself, and he's not having anyone tag along. While he may have flipped off those on the ground, it can be seen as self-sacrificial. He climbed the work ranks but at what cost? At seeing all of his coworkers injured or perish from whatever they were researching? Potentially even seeing the SO injured or dead?

The lyrics could easily mean shower him in love and praise when he's gone or giving love to all who died or suffered throughout the video. It also makes the ending lyric much more impactful--"everyone's looking for someone to hold but I can't let you go," To all those he lost, and even potentially the SO, it's going to be hard for him to let them go. He has no one to anchor him, all those who he cared about were just looking for someone to hold (for arguments sake, presumably, Joji) and now he's haunted by the memory of their suffering, ('I can't let you go,').

As the video ends, we can see a panel that says, "Eject," or "Engage," which can be interpreted as, 'Eject'' --> Run route and 'Engage' --> Sanctuary route.

(I'd like to note that at this point, I've created two separate theories from the proceeding argument laid out above. The first theory speaks of each song as a 'route' whereas the second theory talks about all three songs in connection with one another, one following another).

--

Sub Theory 1:

'Eject' --> Run

Throughout the video, we see Joji running through what seems like an endless limousine with many people throwing a party. He's constantly trying to get away from them all and wants no part with them. These can be seen as those who congratulated him when he was climbing the ranks in the 'Gimme Love' video. As everything is spiraling, Joji is exhausted and growing tired of it all, wanting to just run away. (The shots where he's seemingly blending into the ground give this insight). Towards the end, he finally breaks free and runs. However, we see him in a spaceship with a robotic voice saying, "Wake up,"

Perhaps it was all a nightmare that he was reliving, which is why the limousine seemed to be endless. The alarm was the only thing that woke him up. The picture of the car he had is reminiscent of simpler times.

Although the lyrics seem to be directed at someone, what if it's a self reflection to the agency or coworkers that he worked with? Of the work that he did and the lives he put at risk? The first verse,

"I fell for your magic/I tasted your skin/And though this is tragic/at least I found the end/I  witnessed your madness/you shed light on my sins/And if we share in this sadness, then where have you been?"

Could be a reference to the 'thing' that made everyone suffer/bleed in the Gimme Love video. The success of finding and discovering it but at what cost?

Which then segue ways into the chorus,

"You bathe in your victory/you blew out on my fuse/and if I took on the planet/Will I pay my dues?/your love was a mystery/yeah, my love is a fool/and I travel the country just to get to you"

The lyric, "and if I took on the planet, will I pay my dues?" could mean that he feels awful about what happened. Perhaps if he took it upon himself to venture out into space rather than having his entire crew, he could stop having more people suffer. He was tricked by the discovery, "your love was a mystery," and in chasing it--"yeah, my love is a fool"--he caused others to be hurt.

The chorus could be interpreted to mean that he's stuck with the misery of knowing all that he knows. He knows he fucked up but he doesn't know how to handle any of it so he just decides to 'run.'

--

'Engage' --> Sanctuary

In Sanctuary, we see a lonely Joji. We do see a villain but as the video goes on, the villain originally turned out to be his friend. It's possible that at one point, Joji gained a new crew. However, still at loss from what happened on Earth, he chooses not to interact with them. This crew member aches for Joji to return to interacting with them but to no avail. He eventually goes on the rampage and turns evil and Joji soon realizes what has happened.

In the chorus, he talks about falling in love and heaven. He says, "If you’ve been waitin' for fallin' in love/Babe, you don’t have to wait on me/'Cause I've been aimin' for Heaven above/But an angel ain't what I need" which could imply to not wait on him for love or a relationship--he's tried and done with that. He's just aiming to get to Heaven and be forgiven hopefully ('but an angel ain't what I need').

Verse 2 and the bridge of the song compliment each other;

"Not anyone, you're the one/More than fun, you're the sanctuary/'Cause what you want is what I want/Sincerity" and "Pull me oh so close/'Cause you never know/Just how long our lives will be," just further reinforce how much he wants to be done with it all. All he seeks is sincerity, clarity, and forgiveness since he doesn't know how long a life can last.

--

Sub theory 2:

Gimme Love is Joji's life on Earth but after discovering something vile in the workplace as he climbed the ranks, he took it upon himself to venture out into space alone to not have anyone else suffer.

Run is a nightmare that Joji was suffering. We can see him still be alone and without a crew but still longing for the days in where he had the people he cared about around. He wants to run away from all the problems and misery that follow him due to working on his discovery and all of the pain that it caused him. The robotic voice saying, "Wake up," could be a literal wake up call from his nightmare or serve as a reminder to 'wake up,' and to never let himself stray that far out again.

In Sanctuary, he has finally acquired a crew but he's still lonely. He finally managed to get close to someone again but loses yet another person as they become the 'villain.' He fights them off but at what cost? He loses yet again someone that he cared about. However, he know has a whole new cast of crew members that he can rely on and he finally realizes this after dealing with so much misery and grief over losing so many people. He finally accepts his circumstances and decides to move forward, realizing that there's nothing he can do about the past.

--

Maybe I just read too damn deep into these videos. I could be completely wrong. But it was fun to theorize about.

It could all just be a fever dream. Who knows when it comes to Joji and his music.

[certifiedskywalker]

Stay With Me - Tyrion Lannister

dannydevitodevoted said:

Would you be willing to write something with Tyrion or Sandor where the reader is betrothed to some awful Southern man and they carry out a secret relationship?

Being the daughter of a proud house in the Westerlands, you had a duty to expand your family’s reach across Westeros. However, the idea of moving South to marry a man you despised was a duty you wanted to ignore. Luckily for you, Tyrion Lannister has a way of making you forget about your problems.

Warnings : Drinking (duh it’s Tyrion) and implied sex

As you gazed across the crowd, you found yourself needing a good long drink. The pressures of a visit to King’s Landing was enough, but knowing that you were to be wed here made your stomach twist into knots. You felt like a prized mare being doomed to abuse at an auction, and that was no way to live. Still fairly young, the idea of being anchored to one spot, by one person exhausted you. Especially now that you knew your betrothed.

“Lady Y/N Westerling, the last heiress of House Westerling, how strange it is to see a girl like you frowning during her engagement celebration.” You turned to find Tyrion Lannister, a long time friend, grinning up at you.

“I find there is hardly a thing to celebrate,” you sighed honestly, which caught Tyrion off guard. Ever since you were children he knew your sense of humor matched his; sardonic and sarcastic. It alarmed him you weren’t making light jokes out of this situation.

“Has Lord Dalt hurt you….touched you in anyway that-”

“Gods no, Tyrion,” you interrupted, “and he is my betrothed anyway. Soon he can do whatever he wants to me, like a mindless cow.” Tyrion frowned at your tone and reached up to brush his hand against yours.

“You’re better than a cow, Y/N,” he said sincerely, “at most you’re a sow.” You gasped in mock offense, but giggled nonetheless. It was always Tyrion that cheered you up when you needed it.

“Thank you, my Lord, that means ever so much,” you said mockingly. Tyrion grinned and bowed dramatically.

“At least in the South you’ll be in the sunshine, my dear, where you truly belong.” After Tyrion spoke, you noticed how he took a long drink of an Arbor Red you didn’t see him holding.

“Ah yes, House Dalt’s keep is perfectly constructed to where I can see the lemon groves each day break and again at night fall. Not to mention the company, I mean look at him!” You gestured across the crowd at your future husband. He was finely dressed, being a notable Lord, but he gawked at other women as they passed by. Drunkenly, he swayed from foot to foot, so much so that his surrounding guard stood close to keep him steady.

“That is what you’re marrying?” Tyrion asked, only half-joking this time. You nodded solemnly and glanced down at your feet.

“Indeed it is,” you said, not daring to look at your friend. Tyrion couldn’t help but look at you. You were dressed in a warm toned dress with purple detailing to represent House Dalt’s banner of lemons against a dark purple field. He longed to see you in red, or any other color that did not signify another man’s claim to you. Tyrion admired you for your free spirit and seeing you so gloomy and tied down hurt his heart deeply.

“House Westerling has been a loyal vassal to House Lannister for centuries,” Tyrion started, “I’m sure my father would be willing to organize a different match. One more suitable to your beauty, Y/N.”

“Tyrion,” you said softly, blushing at his words, “I-I…” You met his gaze and lost all words. His hazel eyes were full of a hope you had never seen before.

“I can help you, Y/N, let me help you,” he clasped your hand now and you wished you could tell him ‘yes’; but your family needed this. The mines in the Westerlands were running dry and your house, the Westerlings, needed something to reinvigorate it. Your marriage to a wealthier Lord fit the bill perfectly.

“It would have to be a far more rich Lord than Dalt to get my father to agree, Tyrion. There are not many who have deep pockets that are not bad, or worse, than Lord Dalt is now.”

“I’m far more wealthy than Lord Dalt,” Tyrion pointed out, “and I’d like to think I’m better than Lord Dalt even when I’m drunk. I can at least walk without aid.”

You let out a soft, almost bittersweet laugh, “you want me to marry you? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“Would it be so awful?” Tyrion asked honestly. You smiled down at him and shook your head. His hazel eyes brightened when he saw you lips turn upwards.

“No,” you said truthfully, “I would imagine it being rather fun.” Tyrion chuckled and nodded.

“I would be happy to go through with this plan if it meant you can stay here, in King’s Landing,” Tyrion said cheerfully, “with me of course.”

“And I would be happy if I could get something to drink,” you said, trying to change the subject. It wasn’t that the idea of being with Tyrion made you uncomfortable, it was entirely the opposite. You couldn’t remember a time where you didn’t have some semblance of feeling for your Lannister friend. Even as children you were quite taken by his intelligence and his true compassion. It pained you to watch as Tywin’s abuse towards him took its toll. Sleeping with whore left and right, drinking his days away alone.

Despite all the rumors about him, your loyalty and affections remained for Tyrion Lannister. He was the one person that could make you laugh whenever you needed to. The idea of moving South pained you, not because you would be leaving your blood family; it hurt you because the idea of leaving Tyrion alone to the snakes terrified you.

Sensing that you had grown lost in your own thoughts, Tyrion gave your hand a quick squeeze. You glanced at him once more and saw true concern in his eyes.

“I’ll get you that drink, come with me,” Tyrion said. You nodded and followed, hoping that a copious amount of liquor would let you forget your entanglement of feelings.

“Can you imagine it?! My wedding cake will taste like one big, sour lemon cake!” You held your forehead in one hand as you shouted and a glass of fine wine in the other. After the party had died out, Tyrion thought the best idea was to sneak you drinks from his own private collection. After three drinks of Westeros’ strongest wines, you were intoxicated.

“Lemon cakes aren’t bad,” Tyrion said, “it rests upon who makes them!” You shook your head and set down your glass for a moment.

“It’s not the taste I’m angry about, it’s the lack of choice. On my own wedding day I will have no control over the cake, even my dress is of Dalt style. Thank the Gods they didn’t put lemons on that!” Tyrion let out a chuckle and leaned closer to you, the space on his couch closing between you ever so slightly.

“What flavor would you like to have, my dear?” His drawl soothed your fried nerves and you allowed yourself to give into a fantasy of cake choosing.

“Maybe a honey cake, with candied plums and raspberries,” you said dreamily.

“I’ll note that for our wedding,” Tyrion said, but you couldn’t fully tell if he was joking. Granted, he was just as drunk as you were, so it was hard to tell if this wasn’t all some fevered dream.

“Do you know what else I would like? I would like to wear my mother’s wedding dress, not this Dornish style overcoat my lovely betrothed hand picked.” Tyrion nodded, listening to every word as if he were never going to hear your voice again.

“What else do you want, my dear? Say it and I can make it happen,” Tyrion said, encouraging more fake wedding planning; but as you thought, your mind grew dark.

“I want a husband that isn’t so bloody awful! Someone who cares about me, will let me walk alone if I wish, someone who isn’t Lord Dalt!” You felt tears stinging at your eyes now, but you couldn’t stop the words from pouring out your mouth. “I want a man who will let me speak, someone who, someone who loves me!”

You weren’t sobbing in that moment, but your heart ached so much you felt like you could have burst into a river of tears. If it wasn’t for the soft hand that reached your cheek, those tears would have rolled over. Through your eyelashes you saw Tyrion, his hand on the side of your face, looking at you with all the worry and care in the world.

“You can have that, my dear, you can have that with me,” his voice was so soothing and his hand was so warm. You closed your eyes and took a long breath.

“You’re a Lannister…” you whispered softly.

“That is only a name, just as yours is Westerling.” “You would be marrying down, Tyrion, that would never work with your father being the way that he is.”

“We wouldn’t need my father, I’ve gotten along quite well without him for many, many years.” He moved his hand to brush some hair out of your face. “Please Y/N, stay here with me and we can work this through together.”

“Then tell me what I need to hear,” you whispered, staring Tyrion in the eyes with an intensity you had never felt before. Tyrion smiled softly, knowing exactly what you needed.

“I have never been more in love with anyone as I am with you. Even in this drunk, crying state you’re in now, I’ve never loved someone more. I love you, Y/N.”

On the last syllable, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to Tyrion’s with such raw emotion it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. In your hazy state you could remember his lips everywhere; on your lips, cheeks, neck, and collarbones. Energy buzzed through your whole body as his hands left trails of fire down your skin.

“I love you too, Tyrion,” you groaned out, “I always have.” Your words sparked a force within him as he moved impossibly closer to you. The last thing you remember was his lips and body-trembling pleasure.

When you opened your eyes, your head was pounding just as loudly as your heart. Images of what occurred last night drifted in from your memory as you woke up beside Tyrion Lannister. All of the words, all of the tears and kisses became clear for you the instant Tyrion’s drowsy gaze met your own.

“Good morning,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. The mere sound sent chills down your spine. “So what wedding plans should we make today?” You hit his chest lightly at the joke and he let out a soft hearted chuckle.

“You’re not funny,” you teased as you sat up to look for your dress.

“I think I’m quite funny,” Tyrion said as he watched you get dressed in your loose fitting under gown, “hilarious even.”

“Mmhmm,” you said, laying back down on his bed for a moment longer. You propped your head up and look down into his eyes softly. You reached towards him, brushing some messy hair away from his face.

“You’re not going to wed him, right?” Tyrion asked seriously, his eyes searching yours for the truth he wanted and not the one he felt was true.

“It’s two days until the wedding,” you murmured, “it’s...complicated.” Tyrion nodded and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“I’m not going to be selfish and tell you to stay with me, even though I’ve made it clear I want you with me. All I ask is do what your heart tells you, not what your father decides.”

“It’s not that simple, Tyrion, you know that.” He let out a long sigh.

“Whenever you want,” he said softly, “we can run away. We can have that wedding you want so badly with honey cakes and your mother’s dress. I will always be that someone who will love you. Always, Y/N.” You felt tears stinging at your eyes again as he finished speaking. Rolling forward on your arms, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I will always love you, Tyrion,” you whispered, pulling away only slightly.

“And, I’ll have you know, Lady Westerling, I would not mind being your little secret.” You laughed, pressing one more kiss to his lips.

“I might have to take you up on that, Lord Lannister.” Tyrion smiled brightly and, for the first time since your betrothal, you felt truly happy.