#we talked about his suicide in my art class and it brought up these thoughts

[fennign]

Do you ever have a piece of fiction that sits with you forever no matter how many years it’s been?

Mine is the Van Gogh episode of Doctor Who. I don’t know why but no matter how many years it’s been since I’ve seen the episode or cared about Doctor Who I remember it fondly.

Idk maybe it was the fact that a man struggling with so many mental problems and sees/experiences the world in a completely different way than “normal” people is too relatable

Or many it’s the fact that despite the outcome never changing, Gogh knew that his work is loved and appreciated so many years after his death. Maybe it’s the fact that his death didn’t change.

[morganofthewildfire]

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Same Time Thursday - Aelin's Article

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masterlist

~1.5k words

CW: mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of pedophilia, mentions of suicide

this is random, but I really wanted to write her article, so here it is 😂, it's cobbled together late at night so hopefully it's legible

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“Growing up under the wing of Evalin and Rhoe Galathynius, I was taught to look at the world as if it were a business for me to run, with clients to woo and money to make. I hadn’t grown up with any interest in joining this ruthless world, but I couldn’t help but learn its rules. Especially when my parents took every opportunity they had to teach me.

They brought me to company parties, talked about what they’d done that day at the office, took me to their business conferences.

I met Arobynn Hamel for the first time at such a business conference, at the young age of fourteen. Already then, he was seeing me through the lens of a businessman: not seeing me for what he could offer me, but what I could offer him. While I was busy thinking normal fourteen year old thoughts, worrying about my social life and if the boy in my language arts class liked me back, he was thinking something far different.

I left that day without a scratch, and without any memory of the encounter at all. And to my detriment, I forgot about him entirely. 

I met him again for the first time at my parents’ funeral. I was in a very dark place, but he’d taken the steps to purposefully run into me, to have a conversation, to offer me a drink even though I was underage. Because you see, I was freshly eighteen. 

In my deep state of grief, I allowed him to woo me, I allowed him to charm me, entice me, until he became the only person I surrounded myself with. The only person I relied on. For a long time, I blamed myself for this weakness, but I’ve since learned that there were larger things at play.

I fell headfirst into something I didn’t understand, and that was on purpose. My confusion and my isolation was just another piece in a twisted game that I was an unwitting player of. 

Throughout those next five months, I fell further into his trap. So much so, I molded my life to orbit around his. I was adrift after my parents’ death, and instead of grabbing onto a liferaft, I became the prey of a shark. I spent all of my time with him, I took his advice, I became so enraptured by his charm that I forgot who I was entirely.

November 23rd, about three years ago, was the first time he raped me. He made me believe that it was something I wanted, that I had initiated it. In truth, I was drunk, I was coerced, I was unable to consent. There was no way I’d be able to say no, far up in the mountains, away from anyone I’d ever known.

I was still eighteen.

But I believed him, and that same week, we were married. Or so I thought. I later found out the entire marriage was a sham, another trick to keep me tied to him. And it worked, for the longest time I never tried to leave because I thought I had nowhere else to go.

Throughout the next year, I was faced with cruelty that I had never imagined possible. It wasn’t so clear at first; he still kept up the charm for a while. I was happy being with him, I looked past all of the reasons why it was wrong. I knew I was young, I knew he was not. But I truly believed that everything I had been through already made me older than I was, and he only fed that delusion. 

I adored him. He was the only one who treated me like an adult, how I thought I should be treated. Back then I didn’t see what was wrong with that, I didn’t see that that behavior was yet another way for him to isolate me. 

I was young, way too young for him. Way too vulnerable. But that’s what he wanted.

He hit me for the first time a few months into our marriage, and it only escalated from there. Soon enough I didn’t leave the house, I wandered around like a ghost, so downtrodden that it took too much effort to do anything but exist. Exist - and drink.

I was abused in every way possible, and it got to the point where I attempted to commit suicide in my own bathtub, so tired from everything I was living through that I thought it would be easier to just die. 

I was nineteen.

No one should live that way, no one should be pushed to that breaking point, no one should ever be treated like they’re less than human, like they’re nothing better than a toy for someone else’s amusement. 

That’s why, when I found out I was pregnant, I decided I needed to leave.

I managed to leave Rifthold, and I thought I found my safe haven in Doranelle, with my new daughter. But Arobynn Hamel was not a man who took slights lightly, and he hunted me down until eventually, two years later, he found me and forced me to come back. He twisted the law to make me lose custody of my one year old child, and said I’d never be able to see her again if I didn’t come back to Rifthold with him.

Rather than lose my daughter and let her grow up with a man as evil as him, I chose to go with him. That’s where I was last month, that’s why I was in the car with him when he died. He was taking me to his cabin in the mountains to express his anger at me in one of his favorite ways.

But we never made it there. And for that, I’ll forever be grateful.

Now you know the truth of what happened, the truth of what really went on behind the facade of Arobynn Hamel that everyone saw. He was a charming businessman at his best, and an evil, manipulative, pedophilic bastard at his worst. 

I found out he’d been stalking me since that first time we met, when I was fourteen. He had a file of information on me for those vital four years of my childhood. Childhood. Because that’s what I was: a child. 

A child who never asked for this man’s attention, a child who never should’ve received an ounce of it.

I have lived through many horrific things in my life due to Arobynn Hamel, things that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to recover from. And I can’t change that.

But the one thing that I can try to change is the way that everyone else views him. He thrived off of everyone’s compliments, everyone’s adoration. But I’m here to tell you the truth.

He is not a man to be revered, he is not a man to be followed, no matter how successful a businessman he was. If we value money over morals, where does that leave us? If we value success over acknowledging evil, how can we live with ourselves?

I’m not sure if any of you would believe me if he was still alive, if he had the chance to argue. I’m not sure if any of you will believe me now. Powerful men have a way of staying in power, no matter what comes up to bring them down. 

I just hope that you listen to me with an open mind, and consider this famous man in a different light. Would he be famous if he was not charming? Would he be powerful if he was not rich? Don’t both of those very things make him easily in position to assert his influence over a young girl who was grieving, so lost within herself that any kindness seemed like love.

I never want to see another girl led astray like I was, taken advantage of like I was. I never want anyone to feel that same hopelessness I felt, that same worthlessness I felt. 

My hope is that by sharing my story, we can spread awareness that situations like mine exist, that men like him exist. We need accountability for those who abuse the system, and we need safety for those who get abused.

Let’s not be swayed by flash, by shallow smiles and endless money. Let’s look at the heart of a person before we make them our hero.

If that’s the change I can bring by sharing this with the world, then it will well be worth it.”

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[apocalypticgargoyle]

meet clay, he knows how you'll die.

intro filler chapter sorry

☾ pairing: dream x reader

☾ cw: interact at your own risk; contains graphic depictions of various character death and violence, suicide, blood, gore, and other triggering material. angst, language, guns, adult content, mentions of sex, slow burn friends to lovers

☾ wc: ~4100

Clay pulled the strap of his backpack further on his shoulder as he wove through the mindless sea of college students, eyes scanning the crowd for you, his best friend and the only person he could stand at the early hour. His knuckles flashed white as he sighed, taking the blunt impact of someone walking into him. He removed one of his headphones, mumbling a quick apology and swatting off the enthusiastically apologetic sophomore girl. All he could focus on was how much she bit her lip as she stammered on about not seeing him. It wasn’t alluring to him when most girls tried to sway his affections by looking at him with a puppy dog expression; all his mind drifted to was the dead skin across the body of her lower lip.

He finally nodded and reinstated his headphone, turning on his heel and heading for the front of the building. He received a few greetings from his peers as they crossed his path, people who shared past lectures with him and who had cheated off of him during exams. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he stayed out of people’s business and didn’t express his opinions loudly, so people tended to like him. The autumn breeze picked up as he stood in the dwellings of political science majors on the front lawn, acting as if they hadn’t seen one another in years when it had been only a few days. Clay absent-mindedly looked down at his cellphone, flipping through music as he leaned against the cool brick of the hall’s facade, waiting for you to find him.

Clay’s usual brooding manner was often off-putting to outsiders, with the careless-hollow look in his eyes giving bystanders the impression that he was nothing but a machiavellian. But you always saw the brightness in him; the side that you always experienced was specifically for you, and he made sure to keep it that way. You had wedged herself into his life and he was ever grateful for the love you had given him.

Despite the understood truth between the two of you that nothing was to be left unsaid, Clay still found himself keeping one of the most important aspects of his character unknown to you. His bloodcurdling secret was his own curse, something that would only be poison for another soul to know.

“What’s up, stud?” Somehow a flush of relief rippled through Clay’s body as his eyes locked to yours, pulling him from his isolated shell. Your hair looked brighter today against the dark hoodie peeking out from beneath an all too familiar bomber jacket. The wind fluffed your locks slightly as you continued towards him.

His eyebrows perked up as if to signal he was attempting to downplay his excited demeanor. “Stud, huh?” You smirked at his response, taking one of his headphones and putting it in your own ear, her face angled up to Clay as you waited to recognize the song, swaying slightly.

He chuckled as you shrunk away from him after muttering the song’s artist disappointedly and rolling your eyes, pulling on his hoodie pocket to follow you. As chaotic as his life often felt, he could always rely on the consistency of you. You usually attached yourself to one of his backpack straps, handles, his belt loop, or ended up under his arm, wedged against his side. It had gotten to the point that he felt naked if you weren’t within arm’s length of him, which was rare for the two of you. “So, I have something for you.” He smugly looked down at you, green eyes masking a hidden sparkle as you handed him a can of root beer, making him chuckle.

“Aren’t you sweet?” He popped the tab, taking a sip as you waved at a group of girls passing the two of you before slipping your hand against the crook of his elbow where his hoodie sleeves were pushed back.

“Actually, I was hoping it could be payment for later. I need to head over to the cemetery for some rubbings. History 270 has me getting into some weird shit, huh?” He laughed again at you, offering you the drink.

“And you need wheels?” You nodded and smiled politely at him, beaming at his words. “Yeah, alright. I have to sketch something for art anyway.” He thought about the week’s assignment and then about your little project he had dealt with the prior year. You had acted like the two of you hadn’t been to the cemetery on a regular basis, but he was grateful that you wanted him to come along with you.

You quietly jumped once. “You are my hero in faded denim, Clay. You know that, right?”

The two of you parted ways to your select destinations, one of Clay’s least favorite parts of the day, which was only solidified as he sunk into his seat and attempted to look equipped for the lecture. He spotted an unfamiliar kid shaking his knee in a distant section of the classroom. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but the sie of the class had given him the pleasantries of getting his own personal curse out of the way on the first day.

He carefully watched the boy speak smugly to a few of the more athletic kids in the room. One of the athletes pointed to the general direction Clay was sitting in and they all moved towards him. He, yet again, took out his headphones, knowing full well that they would be talking to him for the rest of the class.

“Oi, Shaman,” one of the main guys greeted Clay like they always did: a strange pattern of slapping and shaking his hand. He was thankful he had gotten all of their first impressions months prior and didn’t have to worry about getting their scenarios again, but he geared up to meet the new kid.

“How are you, Punz?” Clay took a deep breath as the new kid was gestured to and brought into the light.

“This is Mark. He’s a transfer from one of the commuter campuses. Mark, this is the mastermind you pay for notes.”

Clay sarcastically smiled at Punz. “My, you flatter me more than any girl. Nice to meet you, man.” As soon as he touched Mark’s hand, Clay’s mind flashed to a dingy-looking barn out in the middle of nowhere before an older man in his mid-thirties came into view with a lever-action rifle in his hand. In another flash, Clay was in front of the man, now kneeling with the gun in his mouth, red, blurry eyes looking straight through Clay. A pang of guilt broke open in Clay’s stomach as he pushed against the handguard lever and pulled it back into place, squeezing the trigger and sending Ckay back to the class. He let out a sigh and fought to plaster one of his less absent smiles.

“Speaking of our lovely girls, Mark here has a question about her.” Clay’s head tilted towards Mark, not exactly squaring up to him, but sending him an amused look as if to warn him not to cross a line, knowing full-well this conversation would somehow involve you. “We all know that no guy would ever intrude on her without your blessing, but Mark sat near her on the bus before his first class and was thinking about asking her out.”

Clay bit back a laugh, feeling like the Vito Corleone. “Well, you know her, Punz, and you know she would be mortified if I told some guy to fuck off, so I would just ask her yourself?” Oh, how desperately Clay wanted to bash Mark for not even telling Clay himself and the fact that the boy before him was nowhere near your type, but Clay knew better than to burn bridges and he felt bad for the way Mark would meet his end.

Nobody, not even you, knew about Clay’s gift. In the going-on-five years of knowing you, he came breaths away from letting his secret slip but has always kept it hidden, hoping to bury it with him after being married to you for forty happy years.

The visions started around his fifth-grade year, beginning with vivid dreams of dying in the midst of the Civil War, feeling the warm gushing of blood leaving his system, and the stabbing pain of being shot multiple times beside a woman who oddly looked enough like you that he almost called out your name. He had lived what he presumed to be his death in the life before this one several times, each vision taking him a few clicks further.

Soon, he found himself catching glimpses of others’ deaths before they happened as soon as they touched him, but thankfully it was usually over with no time passing and he only endured the visions once for each person, fate having already sealed itself. The only person who seemed to mix him up was you.

It was love at first sight for him, but as soon as you touched his arm, bleak snapshots of a boating accident raced into his mind, only to have to re-experience the scenario a few months later with you stepping in front of a train. Even as a measly high school freshman, he promised himself that there was no way he was letting you die in the gruesome manners being predicted to you. He didn’t think changing fate was possible until he witnessed you in action. He hated seeing you so young in each of the glimpses, tearing him to shreds as he knew time and time again that there was no way he could change what was meant to be.

There were even times when he quietly promised you that he’d die by your side if he couldn’t stop it.

As his lecture let out, Clay found you tucked into a corner of the library, smiling to yourself silently as knew you had finally found what you were looking for in one of the massive books before you. There were many moments like this that Clay wished he could pause and remember for the rest of his life. He was proud that you were there for him even though you could have left instead of playing your own little game of library scavenger hunts.

Since knowing you, he had taken note of how you treated other boys, usually as first dates and never true pick-ups. You didn’t care if they called you the next day or not and he was sure you had never even been kissed before. Something about your guys’ relationship gave others the nod to leave it the fuck alone, and that your heart truly belonged to Clay; a responsibility he wished didn’t plague you with. Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to be with you, only worried that what you had would be destroyed because he knew that as soon as he told you about his gift, you might leave.

You always brought a bag of marbles and a bouquet of flowers to the cemetery. You loved to find the tombstones that looked neglected or ones with older dates, knowing that the possibility of having family members who remembered the person was lower. The trees in the graveyard were reds and yellows with the changing season, leaves scattered over the grass, naturally piling in large masses. This was your favorite for how neglected it seemed to always be. You had a knack for making inanimate objects and lost souls feel loved; Clay often feeling like he was one of these disembodied figures.

Clay leaned his back against one of the massive trees a few paces from the tombstone you had picked, smiling as he watched you carry out her routine. He flipped to a clean page in his sketchbook as you sat cross-legged in front of the great stone resting place, pulling the long-dead flowers from the concrete gauntlet and replenishing a few flowers in their place while setting an equal number of marbles along the grass line of the stone. A daisy was tucked behind your ear as you ran her fingers against the worn chiseling of the dates, smiling slightly. He began to sketch you out. Your eyes drifted to him before the corners of your mouth curled up into a smirk and you returned to her previous position, straightening your shoulders. “Who is it?” He asked, blending a rough edge with the pads of his finger as you tilted your head at the script carvings.

“George McAfee. Born 1926. Died 1963.” The wind picked up, blowing your hair away from your face as you pulled your jacket closer around you. “What was happening in 1963?” You turned your head to him momentarily before looking back at the lucky man. “I mean besides Beatlemania and JFK’s assassination?”

Clay outstretched one of his legs, swallowing as he thought, his eyes fluttering from the page in front of him to you. “Well, Alcatraz was shut down, Studebaker stopped production, the USSR sent the first woman into space…” he trailed off, watching you as the gears began to spin in your head.

“Do you think he died in the Coliseum explosion?” You wet your lips and he couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Maybe he died in the USS Thresher sinking?” He was thankful that he could capture your thoughtful gaze in this picture.

“You’re smart, Dream. Have I ever told you that?” He chuckled at the sigh in your voice. He detailed the bomber jacket you were wearing---which you’d stolen from his closet god knows when---a bit as you placed a piece of paper over the engraving and rubbed a crayon against the stone, his name coming to life on the paper as you came to life on Clay’s. It didn’t matter why you two would be in the cemetery, you always had a type of bond with the dead, surprising Clay due to how bright you were and your power of holding onto so much compassion. He threw his sketchbook into his backpack and slug in over his shoulder, moving to help you up. You decided to give the rest of the flowers to George as Clay stood next to you, gazing down at his grave.

A high-pitched moan startled the two of you, snapping your heads to look over the hedges separating your section of graves and the one beside it. Clay’s eyes widened as they fell to a girl in all black with porcelain skin propped on top of one of the tombstones. You clasped your hand over his mouth pulling him onto the ground next to you as you peered through a hole in the bushes. His mind noticed your arms first. One of them was secured over his chest and the other wrapped around his shoulder from beneath his arm, holding onto him as he steadied himself in the weird crouching position. “Are you enjoying this?” He jeered, looking over his shoulder slightly as he heard you snicker. The girl began to ride the stone harder.

“How many times in your life are you going to see a girl humping a gravestone? Honestly, Clay, how many?” He shook his head as you both looked at the girl, giggling to yourselves. You dug her face into his shoulder trying to stifle the next laugh trying to rip through your body as the gothic girl moaned, letting out more labored breaths. Clay’s face contorted into a twisted look of disgust as the girl tugged on her own hair. “Oh, do you think that hurts?” You took the words out of his mouth, tightening your arms around him as he shrugged.

“I doubt it’s any rockier than sex with a human.” He bit his lip, a hollow sound interrupting him quietly laughing at his own joke as you thumped him in the chest. The girl moaned louder. “Alright, she’s climaxing. I’m uncomfortable now.” Clay stood and Willow popped up next to him, lacing your fingers with his, bringing color back to his cheeks as you slipped the remaining marbles into his pocket.

“Oh, hi!” In the midst of holding hands with you again and trying to slink back to his car, he hadn’t even realized that the moaning had stopped. The girl now stood near the two of you in what seemed to be a black slip. Clay found it hard to make direct eye contact with her. “Are you guys looking for someone?”

“We were, but we couldn’t find him so-” you began, gesturing for Clay’s car and pulling him next to you.

“Well, I can help. Who are you looking for?” A thousand sarcastically vulgar comments ran through Clay’shead but his eyes flickered from her face to the tombstone she was on previously.

“Uh, my grandpa. His name was Rupert Daniels,” Clay managed to choke out. Your nails dug into his arm while your hand squeezed his. The girl looked around at the surrounding stones.

“I don’t see him right now, but I can look?” You both shook your heads quickly and muttered various responses before finally slipping away from her and getting into his car. Neither of you said anything as you pulled off the gravel driveway until crossing the railroad tracks when Clay burst out laughing.

“Do you think she even knew who it was she was gettin’ it on with or did she just pick somewhere random?” Clay laughed harder at your stunned response. “I’m serious. Clay, what the fuck. How can someone even get off in a cemetery?”

“I don’t know, man. Would you hook up with someone in a cemetery?” Clay quipped, wiggling his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh. You dug into his console, pulling out a bag of M&Ms you had stashed in there last week, popping one in your mouth.

“Only if it was you.”

He giggled. “Excuse me, what?”

“There are just some things you do with certain people, Dream. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered I’m the only one you would have sex with in a cemetery, or like, disgusted?” You laughed at his reaction.

Within ten minutes the sun had begun to set and Clay sang loudly with you to the song playing over the radio as Clay sped along one of the county roads near your apartment complex, not wanting the night to end. He loved these moments with you. You turned down the radio and threw your hair back into a ponytail. “So, what do you think of that new kid, Mark?” Something in Clay shifted, taking away the free feeling he had recently possessed next to you. He thought carefully.

He chewed his bottom lip. “Depends on what you think?”

“Well, he seems like a wannabe Punz. And he asked me out. Naturally, I said ‘yes’ because maybe he’s different?” Clay chuckled at your sarcasm, putting his car in park on the side of the street your flat was on and getting out with you. The radio still hummed in the air lowly. “He insisted on Friday, though.” Clay dramatically acted like you had stabbed him in the heart, even though it did hurt. Friday night was their night. It had been a running tradition for movie night every Friday since your freshman year and you had never canceled on Clay for a date. “I know, I know. But I figured that I’d tell him I had diarrhea when it hit eight o’clock and be over at your place with an extra pizza? Your roommate’s working right?” He chuckled with a nod, walking you up the first three steps to your place as you made it to the concrete landing. You turned to him. “And he said he was taking me somewhere fancy, so I’ll snag you some breadsticks.” He tilted his head at you as you winked at him.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Wanna be Punz might be fun. Maybe I’ll call up Minx and hang out with her?” He joked. Minx was a friend of yours that hung out with the two of you sometimes. He had never really liked her, but she was friends with you and thus he was always civil.

“You’re still my number one, babe.” You pushed him slightly as you climbed a few more steps, leaning on the railing as he waved to leave. “Hey, Dream?” He turned on his heel as you forced yourself to make eye contact. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “You could kiss me, you know? For science.” You smiled softly at him from where you were perched. He wet his lips as his heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to scale the steps and close the space between you, to knock you off your feet and show you just how much he was in love with you.

He hated himself. “A first kiss should have more magic in it than just for science. As a romantic, you should know first hand.” You smiled at the ground in front of you.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” The two of you seemed to shake off the serious moment as you stuck your tongue out at him and slipped inside your house as both giggled.

“I love you,” he murmured as you left, punching himself in the shoulder as he got back into his car.

Clay’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears, making him truly believe he was going to pass out. He had lost his gun at least a mile back. He was running mindlessly now, not knowing how long or where he was going. He trudged through the forest, hearing dogs barking and gunshots erupting around him, the ringing in his ears building with every step he forced himself to make. He wanted to rip open the front of his jacket to release the body heat drenching his collar, but he didn’t move other than propelling his body further and further away from the soldiers. You ran beside him, holding your skirt up while your hair danced around your shoulders like a great waterfall. As soon as his body felt like it might just give out, he would look at you and somehow find more of a drive to pull forward. His breaths were brittle and hoarse as he drew in borrowed oxygen. His lungs felt shallow like they were giving out on him.

You reached back, grasping his hand and pulling him into a sharp corner, hoping to lose the group. You both had managed to weave into the forest, but the dogs were somehow still picking up on your scent. The pair of you finally came upon a clearing and kneeled down out of sight, spotting a house in the middle of a glen. Bullets were streaming through the air. The forest was catching fire and cannons were echoing through the distant air. You squeezed his hand tightly, looking at him with terror in your eyes. He had gotten the two of you into this mess, but he was glad he was beside you.

He pulled you to your feet as the pair of you sprinted for a distant house. A sharp pain stabbed into Clay’s back, making him drop to the ground. How did he not hear the gun? You dropped to your feet, your eyes welling with tears, ripping at his jacket, but he pushed you off, telling you to leave quickly. He leaned forward, eyes locking on the soldiers in gray coming towards them, reloading their rifles. He groaned, pushing himself up, but only having the same stabbing sensation two more times in his chest. He heard you scream, but he couldn’t see you.

His hands were going numb as he touched where the bullets entered, feeling the warm and sticky crimson substance seep between his fingers. The soldiers reached you before you had made it to the house, pulling you to the ground next to him. You were crying heavily as you looked at him. Everything began to run quiet as you held onto him tightly. You were saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear you. He was only aware of his jacket soaking with blood. He coughed, wanting to tell you he loved you one last time, but you were tugged away from him, pressed to one of the men in gray. He raised a hand to you as you fought against the man. And then everything went dark.

Dream Tag List: (hopefully this works)

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @shroomieissmall @clubfairy @camerondiaz48104 @victory-is-here @rat-poisin @alm334 @acidluvs @pachowpachowbucket @bbigbbrainn @cdizzlevalntyne @idiotinnit @generallysleepdeprived @sacvf @phsychopathetic @froggerrrr @robinslie @essencee @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @jenlouvre @victoria-a567 @miilliiie @bunnylotl @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t @carlyferrell @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @nyxieahh @quivvyintheclouds @sarcasticmichelle @book-of-anarchy @millavalntyne @lightdreamy @baddiesforcorpse @sunnynapp @fantasy-innit @rat-poisin @wreny24 @deepestofwaters @exenestea @indecisivehusky @fallxnly @alm334 @skaratjung @punzcanrailme @sap-naps @denki-exe @angeltears18 @silvemistxe33 @andreamalik6 @kris-stuff @sun-fiower-seed @where-thesundoesntshine @dilfdream @esmegregory04 @itsparasocial @mlqcool @mcgoddess404 @rinatdawn @chaoscait @peppermintkisses @libbynotfound @speedrunningtherapy @lunxramour @aoonai @loraleiix @ghoulpixiie

[shigarakis-fifth-hand]

The "Better Half" ; A Poly KiriBaku x Reader Fanfic

Enjoy the series | one two three four five

You walked into the room, flustered from Kirishima, and excited to check out your name that was all over social media. You even had your own Facebook Fan Club Group. Quickly, your mom gave you juice and sat you down, wanting to talk about everything. 

She sat by your side on the 2-person-couch, scrolling through fan art, fan group stuff, video footage, and such. I was already on famous birthdays, and had fan accounts on twitter.

You had gained thousands of people who had found and leaked your social media accounts, and had gotten hundreds of dms from classmates, teammates, and family friends. Everyone wanted a piece of the action.

“My baby!! With popularity like this, UA is bound to hear about you!! Gosh, my baby is going to go off and become the World’s Greatest Superhero!! The next All Might!” Inko excitedly fangirled over you, something rare in fact.

Over the years, with all your academic and physical accomplishments, the three of you had gotten so used to Inko ignoring you to give praise to Izuku, since he got none from others while you were practically worshipped for everything you did.

Yet now, as Izuku stared at you two from the kitchen, he saw how happy Inko truly was about you. How her eyes lit up, and her smile was bright. She was practically glowing. As a mother, this was how you were supposed to act.

But with Izuku, this never happened, no matter the act his mom put on. The highest grade he got was A-‘s, and never got all-A-honor-roll like you. 

He never had won a science fair like you, entered a states-level championship like you, gotten 1st place at a swim meet, or been voted Class President every year in middle school.

Izuku realized now how much his mother truly wanted to celebrate everyone of your milestones. How she wanted to be that mom with the perfect child, and shout it to the world. The only reason she didn’t was because of Izuku’s feelings.

Because Izuku didn’t do anything remotely close to you. Izuku was the reason his mother couldn’t be happy with her perfect daughter. It was because Izuku was so useless that neither of you had ever become close to one another.

When Inko was finally done, she sent you up the stairs to bed, saying to get rest for your big day of training tomorrow. “Hey mom, is-“ Izuku poked his head out to talk, only to get interrupted by Inko.

“One second sweetie. Yuno’s mom Michi is calling me. She’s one of the cool moms!” Inko smiled, quickly bringing the phone to her ear and racing out of the room. Izuku sighed sadly before turning and going upstairs to you. He walked into your room and leaned against the doorway.

“Soooo… What did you do while you were out?” Izuku asked, grinning as you continued to text on your phone. You brought it away from your face, fake-thought, and shook your head. 

“Just rode around for awhile. Why?” You asked, looking up at your brother. Izuku was taken back, surprised by your secrecy. Since birth, you two had told each other almost everything, but now… “Come on, I know something happened.”

Izuku began to walk over and sit on your bed when you looked up at him angrily. “Izuku, nothing happened! Stop being such a creep!” You harshly yelled, very annoyed by him prying. You did not want to talk to Izuku about boys, especially now.

Izuku stopped, shocked and hurt by your angry words. “I… okay then. Hey, I was thinking that maybe after school we could-“ He was interrupted by you looking up from your phone again, very agitated.

“I’m sorry, my schedule is packed tomorrow. I have training with my new coach and then I’m hanging out with a friend. Can it wait?” You asked as he felt his heart shatter, the wind being knocked out of him.

“Y-Yep.” Izuku whispered as he began to walk out. “Wait, Izuku!” You yelled, jumping up and running to him in the doorway. Izuku turned, happy to get your attention. Now would be when you would either apologize or want to reschedule plans for another time.

“Did you get my homework from Math and Science?” You asked, fidgeting with a pen while you stood there. “No, I’m sorry. I was just so shaken. up and I-“ You nudged Izuku angrily.

“Baka!! You were shook up? Gosh Izuku, I ruin my favorite relationship for you and you can’t even help me out?” You slammed the door in front of him and locked it. Izuku could hear you return to your bed, plop down, and eat another Pocky stick.

Snap! Crunch.

Izuku stood there, unable to believe what had just happened. Did you just… No. You were just having a mood swing again. It was no big deal… right?

Izuku stood there, listening to you talk to your friends on the phone. You giggled, laughed, and gossiped like normal. It was as if your twin brother hadn’t even gone to the hospital that day.

Izuku began to walk downstairs, only to hear his mother on the phone as well. Nobody cared, and nobody wanted to talk to him. Izuku began to waddle back to his bedroom and open his phone.

0 new messages. 0 new notifications. Just like usual, of course. Izuku began scrolling through the News, looking at all the articles about his sister, when a different article came up.

Teen suicide rate rises to all time high of 19%

Immediately, Izuku began sobbing as he brought a pillow to his face. Izuku had always had tendencies to not want to live, but had also always been scared of death. He had nothing to protect himself with after all.

He wanted to die, but the very thought of it scared him. About to fall asleep, Izuku heard a ping on his phone. How unusual… Izuku brought it to his face, happy to see it was a text from you. ‘Need 2 talk’.

Seconds later, you walked in silently and laid on the rug at his feet. “The first time… when I was attacked, ya know? I ran into the city and got lost. I was terrified. So, since I like high places, I climbed a rusty iron ladder up over 20 stories to the roof.” 

You explained, closing your eyes and reimagining the breathtaking view. 

“It was the red brick office building, the one with the faded Insurance logo on the front, and the rusty ladder on the right side. Gosh, you should have been there Izu. The wind was in my hair, and I was taller than the birds. I felt so connected to it…”

You trailed off, once again getting lost in your thoughts of the view.

 “An-An-Anyways, back to what I was saying!! After I got attacked, I ran all over. And then I met All Might! H-He talked to me about becoming a hero, and then tonight, he offered to train me!!” You smiled at Izuku as he gave you his best fake-grin.

“I’m going to start training with him everyday until the UA entrance exam, and then I’ll get in!!” You jumped up excitedly as Izuku finally let his smile break apart. “But… what about Mom and I?” He asked you as your grin softened.

“Well, I know I’ll miss you, but I need to learn about going on my own. We’re going to be adults very soon, and I need to separate now. Plus, it’ll only be four years, and I’ll be living at home. We won’t be strangers.” You explained, but he wasn’t convinced.

“So… you really want to go to UA?” He asked, staring you right in the eye, hoping you’d deny. Izuku hoped more than anything that you would say no, and that you wouldn’t leave him. You wouldn’t abandon him, all alone while you pursue your dreams.

“Yes Izuku, I really do. I really think it’ll be good for me. I know you don’t think it’s good but I do.” You began to protest as Izuku stood up. “It might be good for you but what about us? What about you and me?!” Izuku cried out as you turned to him.

“To hell with that! I have dreams Izuku! My dream is to go to UA and become a hero! I was always going to do that with my life!” You fought back, growing defensive. “That was my dream too!” Izuku yelled as you suddenly realized what this was about.

“It’s not my fault you’re quirkless Izu.” You murmured as Izuku began crying. “It’s not my fault either! I don’t want this Ichiko! You can’t leave! You’re all I have!” Izuku began sobbing as you became cold. “Then find something else Izuku. We’re not children anymore.”

You stormed out, slamming your bedroom door behind you. Izuku stood there, frozen with emotion. How had a simple talk gone so bad? He just needed you to know how he felt. You just wanted to talk to him about the future.

Most importantly, you twol had argued. You two never argued. It just wasn’t like you to fight, especially in such a screaming sensation like that. 

Izuku’s mind kept replaying the last sentence you had told him before storming out. ‘Then find something else Izuku.’ That had obviously been you telling him to stop being so attached to you.

You had said something about not being children anymore, and now that Izuku thought about it, it all made sense. The way you and Bakugo had become romantic, the way the childhood bullying had intensified, and the way you were slowly drifting away from him.

You were growing up, while Izuku was staying in his childhood. He was still pretending like he could become a hero with his stupid future notebook, and trying to exchange secrets like kids while you went on dates with boys and were training with All Might.

Deku just felt abandoned, sad, and lonely. The people he had put his love in had left him sad and heartbroken. He shut his door and covered himself in blankets, trying to fall asleep when he got visions.

“It was the red brick office building, the one with the faded Insurance logo on the front, and the rusty ladder on the right side.” Izuku got up, frazzled and horrified. Why… Why did he remember those words specifically?

Down the road from the town square, just look for it. Oh god, Izuku had to get out and get some air. He needed to get these horrible thoughts out of his head. He quickly got up, put on his sandals, and ran out. 

“I need to get some air Mom!” He yelled at her, but as he looked back to the living room, he saw her sitting at the table, talking away on the phone. Nobody will even notice… Nobody will ever care if I’m gone.

The night passed when you woke up to your alarm clock, like every other day. This day was different, in fact, today was exciting. Over 1000 notifications shown on your phone, you had your first training session with All Might, and tonight, you would get to see Kirishima. You were ecstatic to say the least.

You put on a new uniform that wasn’t coated in slime, brushed your curls, and did your light makeup of mascara, blush, and tinted chapstick. You quickly ran downstairs, bag in hand, to see your tired brother sitting on the couch. 

You grabbed him and yourself a protein bar and ran out, waving to your mom. On the walk there, Izuku seemed tired and sluggish, as if he hadn’t slept well. You choose not to ask, not wanting him to grow anymore agitated after your fight the night before. 

So you didn’t talk, simply walking the short 3 minute stroll to the gates of your junior high. As soon as you walked through the gates, you were bombarded with your friends, and other classmates crowding around you. In the mix of it, Izuku disappeared from your side.

The topics varied, from your best friends wanting to talk about Bakugou and your safety from the attack, to your admirers wanting to talk about how you defeated a villain, and then of course how it was to meet All Might. Behind a corner, you could see Bakugo glaring at you, watching.

You almost lost your voice throughout the day, talking up a storm with everyone who wanted to talk to you. You were a hero, popular in the media, and someone who radiated girl-power after yelling at Bakugou, the most feared student in the school.

Off in the corner of your eye, you saw Bakugo in the lunch line, ignoring his “friends” and staring off at you once again. Did he feel sorry? Did he miss you? Had he heard about everything? This had been the longest you had gone far without talking.

Lunch time was the first time you got some peace to yourself. You sat at the table with 10 of your good friends, finally able to talk about something good. Bakugo would have been there, but like usual, he was serving detention in the office. 

You began eating your bento when Izuku came around the corner from a hallway. “Hey Ichiko, I’m not feeling well. I think I'm going to go home for the day.” You gave him a confused look as he smiled, as if trying to hide something.

“I’m just so tired, and shook up.” You nodded, understanding as Izuku went to leave, but turned back to you. “Just know that whatever happens isn’t your fault. I love you Ichi.” He waved and left, not giving you time to speak. Weird...

Your friends quickly joined you, and you were finally able to go back to normal conversation about teachers, boys, and of course your friend’s drama with their boyfriends or girlfriends. Life was simple, but unfortunately, lunch ended as soon as it started.

You began walking in the hall with one of your friends, going to class, when she began talking about boys. “Kano and I tried but we just didn’t work out. And then Hikaru, the one I told you about with the longer hair, told me that he has a boyfriend which just makes no sense. Like, he’s gay??”

You laughed at your friend's story as you began walking to class. “What about you? Now that Bakugo is out of the picture, who do you have your eye on?” She asked as you giggled, instantly being reminded of Kiri.

“Well, there’s this-“ Before you could say his name, Bakugo slammed the door from the detention room in front of you. “I fucking knew it! Who is it?! Who the fuck has black hair and it still just soooo attractive?!” He screamed, earning everyone’s attention.

“You like him enough to kiss him on the cheek! Huh?! Who the fuck is it?! I swear I’ll rip them to pieces!” Bakugo screamed as you looked at him, unable to comprehend how he knew about Kiri.

“How do you- You’re such a stalker! Were you following me last night?” You asked as Bakugo’s eyes widened. “Tell me who it is!” He screamed as you shook your head. “No! Stay away from me you creep!” You felt your friend put her arm around you and walk you away from him.

Bakugo sighed angrily, watching you walk away without him. With all the eyes in the hallway on him, he stormed off to his next class. You couldn’t help but feel confused. Was he jealous? Was he hurt? Why did you care so much? You missed him…

You walked through the rest of your classes, all eyes on you after being called out for having a mysterious guy friend. It felt strange and weird, yet at the same time you couldn’t wait to see Kiri tonight.

When you walked into your final class, a sense of emotion walked over you. The last day of junior high before high school… it felt so surreal and fake at the same time. You were excited for the future, but scared.

You gave flowers to your favorite teachers, hugged all your friends and classmates, and took many photos. You were just so excited and sad, it was very bittersweet to leave a place you had gone every day for 3 years.

The worst part was the memories. Here, you have become your own person. You had found your own style, your own clique of friends, and your identity. Here, you had realized that you would become a hero.

Yet again, everyday here had been spent with Katsuki by your side. Six school dances, three school festivals, 4 class field trips, and many times when you would hang out behind the school together.

Finally, the day was over, and you were able to walk out into your first second of Summer. Of course, all the thoughts of relaxation were interrupted by a friendly blonde man by the entrance. 

You were walking out with your friends when one of them looked at something behind you. “Ichi… Do you know that man?” He asked as you turned to see All Might in his weak form, smiling and waving ecstatically. 

You smiled, relieved, and nodded. “Yep, that’s my… uncle. Anyways, I’ll call you guys later. We have training to do.” You explained as a girl to your left smiled. “Ahh yes, you are a hero in the making according to Channel 5 News after all.”

You waved to your group before running over to All Might who leaned against the school gate. “Young Ichiko, you’re looking well after last night.” He grinned warmly as you nodded. “Yea, I’ve had a pretty… eventful day.” You smiled back as you began walking.

He explained to you how he would train you to the max in hopes of making you as powerful as possible for the entrance exam, and would even train you past that until you succeeded him. He also told you about how he was going to be a UA teacher, and would keep a close eye on you always.

You two walked to the quiet beach, and began. He made you move rocks with him standing on it, threw things at you with speed and made you stop them, and of course made you go underwater and control the oxygen to keep you from getting wet.

It was hard, eventful, and left you dramatically breathing, almost gasping for air. And yet, after, you weren’t done. He made you throw rocks into the air and sent them as far as possible. He made you manipulate the ground, and use it to make you faster. 

You also began running miles on the road, All Might flying above you to shout empty commands and uplifting remarks. It was all hard, and you were so tired, but you would do anything to become a hero like him.

Finally, when it was over three hours after school, you fell to your knees, feeling your heartbeat in your eyes and like you were about to throw up. “Well, I guess we can stop here. That was a very good first day, I'm excited to see how you improve tomorrow.”

He grinned, sitting on a rock nearby. All Might stood and helped you back to your feet. “You look just pitiful. Come now, let me buy you some food.” All Might held onto your arm to keep you up as you both began to walk to a nearby café in town.

He bought you a sandwich and a smoothie, tipping the cashier a 20$ bill. Being the 1# hero in the world had its perks financially of course, and All Might was rolling in the dough.

You two walked to a park bench, and sat down happily. You had a lot of fun with All Might, and he enjoyed his time with you. He likes hearing about your life, and your crazy stories. He liked it when you talked about your friends, and your brother.

You were just talking about the one time your friend and you jumped off waterfalls in Hawaii and then had to run from a water snake when you got a text message from Izuku. Your face froze, and your heart rate accelerated.

“Young Ichiko, are you alright?” All Might asked, noticing your happy demeanor turn dark. You stared at your phone as you began shaking. “Oh god, Ichiko?! Are you hurt?” All Might asked as he turned to look at your phone screen. “Oh dear.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Tell mom I love her.”

“Goodbye.”

Instantly, you quickly went to your tracking app that you had with Izuku and your mom, and looked at Izuku’s location. “He’s… just down the street from the town square. In the Kyoko Insurance Firm?” All Might asked, confused and worried like you. “No… he’s on the building I told him about.”

You jumped up and turned to All Might. “Can you fly?” You asked him as she shook his head. “I used up all my time for the day.” He explained as you began running into town. 

“I just have to run.” You sighed and began running into town, ignoring the burning in your legs and keeping your eyes on your phone. Through the town square, deep into two alleyways, and then down the street. You could already see a small group forming at the base of the building, looking up.

You threw yourself onto the ladder and climbed as fast as possible to the top. It only took a minute before you were staring at your brother who stood on the edge. “You shouldn’t have come here Ichi. I already said goodbye.”

You began to step forward as he turned around to face you. “Izuku, don’t do this. I promise you, you don’t want to kill yourself.” You pleaded as he stared bullets. “My life is useless Ichiko. I’m not athletic. I’m not smart. I’m not powerful.”

You began crying, shaking your head as you heard All Might come up behind you. “Izuku, if you jump off this building I’ll jump too.” You threatened as he shook his head and laughed. “No you won’t. You’re not stupid. Your life is meaningful. You have a bright future Ichiko.” 

The tears kept coming as you shook your head, pleading with him. “Izuku, how can I live the life we dreamed of without you?” You asked as he smiled warmly. “Live life to the fullest, and have no regrets. Live it for the both of us.” Before you could speak, Izuku leaned back off the building.

Like time was slowing down, you ran as fast as you could towards the edge of the building and reached for his hand. The look in his face showed peace as he closed his eyes. You let your arm reach for his, but we’re unable to reach.

As All Might watched this, he felt a rush in his blood as he grew to his hero-form and ran to you. Flying off the building, he was able to use his last ounce of energy to reach his hand around your waist and keep both him and you in the air.

Unfortunately for them both, it gave you a front row seat as you watched her twin brother fall to his death. You cupped your hands around your mouth, your eyes glued to his limp body that laid on the sidewalk.

Screams of horror and worry could be heard below as everyone ran to Izuku. Slowly, All Might lowered you to the sidewalk in the middle of the group. Instantly, you all were recognized. You dropped to your knees, unable to speak or move.

You lightly poked his arm, begging for a response. “I-Izu?” You gasped as blood began to fill uniform shirt. “No! Someone call an ambulance! Somebody, please!” You screamed as loud as you could, fighting against All Might who began to hold you back.

“Young Ichiko, there’s no use.” He whispered as you shook your head, trying your best to fight your way out of his grip. “No! No! He’s not dead! I need to help him, let me go!”

All Might finally twisted you around to face him and spoke to you. “He’s dead Ichiko! He’s dead, and I’m so sorry.” You began crying as you hugged him tightly. “Come now, let’s get you home. You shouldn’t have to see this.” 

All Might began flying you home in his hero form, finally reaching your driveway. You could see that by then, your mother had run out, even leaving the door open on her way to the car.

With the sun setting in the background, All Might sat you on the front porch with him, and let you two sit in silence. Just as All Might was about to say something, dozens of cars pulled up to the street in front, allowing camera men and reporters to spill out.

Obviously, you should have known that the 1# hero and a media sensation in the same place would bring attention. 

“Miss Midoryia, is it true that you witnessed your brother’s suicide?” One asked, not passing the curb to the house but filming you two. “All Might, how do you feel about not being able to save her brother?” Another man asked, trying to get his microphone as close to them as possible.

“I’ll get them out, do not-“ All Might was interrupted by someone rushing through the crowd. “Ichiko?! Ichiko?! Oh my god!” Kirishima pushed through the crowd and ran to you in a hurry. “Are you okay? Why are all these people here? Oh… All Might?”

When he and All Might made eye contact, All Might smiled warmly at you. “I can tell you’re in good hands. I’m going to get these reporters away from here. See you later Young Ichiko.” 

He patted your head and smiled sadly before flying off. Sure enough, more than half the cars followed along. “Shh…Shh.” Kirishima wipes the tears from under your eyes lovingly.

He brought a blanket from your living room and held your hand. “I’m supposing you saw.” You whispered weakly, your voice shaking harshly as Kirishima nodded slowly. “Y-Yea. Oh Ichiko, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around you as you cuddled on the outdoor porch swing.

“You want to go inside?” Kirishima asked as you shook your head. “I can’t. It reminds me of him too much.” You explained as he sadly held you in his arms. You watched the sun set over the hills, and cuddled deeper into Kirishima.

It was until it grew dark, and you got a call from Mitsuki. Kirishima picked it up and held it to your ear. “Hey Baby. Your mom and I are going to be out for a while, but your mom ordered something pizza for the house for you to eat while we’re gone.”

Mitsuki explained as you nodded. “Okay. W-Wait, can you ask Mom if I can have a friend spend the night?” You asked as Kirishima’s eyes lit up. “She’s not here right now, but I’ll give you permission. It’s not safe for you to be alone right now sweetie.”

And with that, Mitsuki hung up. “D-Do you want to go inside?” Kirishima asked nervously with a blush, noticing you shivering. You nodded, and without even trying, Kirishima picked you up bridal style and brought you inside. 

He sat you on the bar stool, and got you a glass of water from the kitchen. You smiled in a comfortable silence as small tears kept streaming down your face. “D-Do you want a tour?” You tried to smile as Kirishima leaned against the counter. “Of course.”

You got up and grabbed onto his arm as you walked around. “This is the kitchen, and living room. That small room over there is the plant room where all the sunlight is.” You showed him the smaller room with a music speaker and lots of windows.

Upstairs, you began to walk down the hallway. “Here’s my mom’s room, here’s the bathroom, here’s…” You turned to look into the All Might filled, grey room with a welcome sign on the front of the door.

Just thinking of it, you remembered just that morning when you had gone to talk to him. You had told him about your plans for UA, and he had gotten upset. He had been fearful about you two leaving each other. Did that have anything to do with him killing himself?

Seeing you were about to cry, Kirishima put his arm around your waist and pulled you close. You snapped out of it and began walking again. “This is the bathroom. You can shower whenever.” You both blushed as you got to your bedroom.

“Here’s my room.” You began to walk in, causing him to follow you. Your room was a large light painted room with a queen bed next to your huge window with a desk, a full-body mirror, and led lights. You had a big closet, and you had a lot of plants all around.

“Super cute.” Kirishima looked around your room before peering out the window. “There’s… a big tree right there.” He commented as you turned and smiled at him. “Good t know.” He played it off like it was nothing but you knew what he was talking about.

You sat on the bed together, resting your head on his shoulder. “It hurts…” You whispered, feeling the tears building up again. Everything you looked at seemed to remind you of him again and again.

“I know. And it will for a while, but it’s going to be okay. Things have a way of having a good ending, even if it’s bittersweet.” Kirishima tried his best to make you feel better, and in some way, it worked.

You grabbed a blanket and threw it over you two before laying back onto the bed. Kirishima slowly followed, embarrassed yet wanting to lay down with you. You cuddled against him with his back to the window, facing him and cuddling against him. 

You two decided to turn on the tv in your room and give the airless tension with background noise. He wiped your tears, told you funny stories, and made you feel better. He was good at comforting you when you felt at your worst moment.

From the street, Katsuki stared up at the window as he sat on the street curb. He had tried to come by early when the driveway had been filled with reporters, but yet again, the black-haired douche was right there with you.

Now, he had tried to come check on you, cake in hand, when he saw you cuddling with Mr.-I-have-long-black-shiny-hair. Not only that, but in bed. At night. WITHOUT INKO THERE. Katsuki refused to be replaced for his girl by some extra.

Comment if you liked it!!

@drbumpkin @bleachbetch @toobsessedsstuff @turtle-deku @1madxson1 @badb1hh @lilacskyura @thesuitelifeofafangirl

[creepyalienghost]

literature club

Warning: suicide

——

“Henry. Please join. You would love the literature club.” Wally begged his friend Henry, as they walked to their lockers. This year they were next to each other and for the pass month Wally’s been wanting Henry to join their little book club after school.

It wasn’t like Henry didn’t want to hang out with Wally, he did. They have been best friends since they were kids. He just wasn’t sure that was what he wanted to do. He was an artist not a book worm, Art was his thing.

But he didn’t like to see his friends sad and eventually he gave it to Wally’s request. “Alright Wally.” He replied opening his locker and getting his books for the next class, history. “I’ll come check it out today.”

“Yay!” Wally jumped around with happiness and a big smile across his face that Henry loves to see. “Thank you Henry! Meet me outside room 278 after school!”

Henry nodded. “Will do Wally.” He shuts his locker just as the bell rang. “See you then!” He said with a wave as they go there separate classes.

The school day drags on for hours but eventually 3 o’clock finally came and everyone rushed outta there classes, some to get home others to hurry to their clubs or sports. Henry searched for the room Wally told him to go and found it within minutes. Outside Wally was there waiting and when he saw him that big smile came. “Henry toy came!”

He nodded. “Of course! I never back down on my promise.”

“That’s true.” Wally replied. “Come on in! Meet the others! Sammy even brought cake today!”

Henry followed Wally inside the class room and was amazed at how it looked. It was a regular classroom with desk and all but they made it more cozy. They had a soft chair in the back corner for anyone to read on and there was soft yellow fairy lights hung up on the ceiling. Calm low music played from the radio next to the chocolate cake and drinks. A long bookshelf ran under the windows and quotes from different book lined the walls.

“It’s so...relaxing In here.” Henry stated looking around the room.

“Thank you kind stranger” said a tall brown haired boy walking up. “You must be Wally’s friend, Henry. Welcome to the literature club. I’m Joey.”

Henry nodded in response. “I am. And thank you Joey! It actually looks fun! What all do y’all do here?”

Joey prompted himself on a desk before answering. “We read books of all kind. Horror, poetry, the classics. He decide on something and read that.” He paused for a minute before continuing. “We also right short stories and poems.”

Henry nodded while listening. “That sounds fun but I don’t think I can write poems.” He chuckled.

“Nonsense.” Joey chuckled with him, waving his head away. “It’s easy! If you join I’ll teach you how to write poetry.”

“Really?” Henry ask, feeling a bit excited to learn something new.

“Of course!” Joey nodded. “My mother taught me when I was young. Now I’m teaching these boys.” Joey gestures to the other boys.

Henry accepted his offer. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll join!”

Joey smiled in excitement. “That’s great! We should celebrate! Good thing Sammy brought cake!” He announced. “Come. Meet the other two!” He wrapped his arm around Henry leading him to the table where the others were heading.

Henry sat down next to Wally as Joey handed out pieces of cake and drinks. That hour he got to know the the three more better. Joey was the leader and starter of the club. He love to read the classic books like, to kill Mockingjay, and enjoyed writing about love. Jack was quite opposite from him. He loved reading manga and climes that it is literature. His favorite being the promised Neverland. The last boy, Sammy was the shortest out of all of them. His thing was dark and creepy literature. Anything Edgar Allan Poe he loved. Henry also found out Wally’s favorite books were funny books. Anything that would make you laugh in tears he would read and Henry found that suited his friend.

——

After school the next day Henry headed in the club a bit early. Sammy and Joey were already there and were talking before he came in. “Hello Henry!” Joey called out when he saw Henry, heading to him. Sammy smiled and waved before going to his book.

“Hello Joey! Hey Sammy!” He replied happily.

Joey sits upon the near by desk, facing Henry. “You ready for today’s activity? I thought it would be fun for the group!”

Henry nodded. “I am! I can’t wait to hear what it is!” He said just as the other two arrived.

Joey chuckled in response. “In do time Henry! Until then you can hang out with whoever for a bit. Hell these two just joined us! Welcome boys” he left Henry, going over to Wally and jack to greet.

Henry glances back at Sammy and noticed he had been watching them and he quickly turned back to his book once He looked at him. Henry thought he must be a bit shy for Conversation so he turned to Wally and jack. Wally was hanging out with Joey and jack was reading a comic book. He went over and sat next to jack. “Hey. What comic you ready?”

Jack shook his head. “It’s not a comic book, it’s manga!” He informed Henry. “Have you ever read one?”

“I haven’t.” Henry shook his head. “What is a manga?”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled. “Ah Henry you have lots to learn!” He added before tapping the chair next to him. “come. sit. I’ll teach you.”

Henry sat next to jack as he began talking about all he knew on manga. Henry didn’t interrupt he sat there listening to everything this excited boy to say. He was learning quite a lot about it as time went on. Like where it came from and what was the latest issues of the popular manga. Henry noted some titles he should pick up so they both could read them together.

Time quickly flew by and the hour was almost at a closed. Joey dedicated the last quarter for reading the poems so he left Wally to stand at front. “Alright boys. It’s time to share our poems.” He announced before turning to the newest member. “Henry you can sit this one out and listen to the others today.” Henry nodded in response giving the ok for Joey to continue. “Alrighty. Who wants to read theirs today?”

“I will!” Called out Sammy standing up and grabbing his poem then heading up to the front as Joey sat back down. He held up the poem and cleared his throat. “My poem is called hands”

The hands around, allow me to see

Show me things only they want me to see

The hands around, allow to speak

Using my voice as theres

The hands around, hold me in place

Guide me to one place to another

The hands around, pull the strings

And I can not escape

“Vary good Sammy!” Joey said while the others boys snapped their fingers. Sammy Smiled and headed back to his seat. “Is there anyone else that wants to read there’s?” Joey ask and waited. There was no takers today for anymore reading. “Alrighty boys. I hope to hear from y’all tomorrow. Club Dismiss.”

As Henry grabbed his bag Joey came over. “Hey Henry. Do you wanna go to the bookstore? I can recommend you some easy poetry books?”

“Sure!” Henry smiled with a nod. “That would be cool. Thanks!” He and Joey walked out of the room heading for the book store. Sammy and jack looked at wally before he signed and left on his on.

——-

During brakes in classes he read a few pages of his new poetry book. Joey had helped him pick out one for beginners which has a little of all kinds of topics to figure out what was your style. Love, light, happiness sadness, funny, horror and dark. Henry seemed to be most interested in the poems about happiness and love. He was excited to talk about poetry with Joey, Wally and the boys in the club as well as read his poem today.

When he arrived in the room after school Joey was the only one there at the point, getting the club sit up, Cleaning and fixing the desk back. “Hey Henry!” He greeted as Henry came in. “How’s the book?”

Henry waved at him as he walked up. “Hi Joey! And the book is lovely!” He smiled as he helped him with the table. “I quite enjoy happy rain and pink so fair. There really fun to read!”

Joey chuckled. “That’s great! I’m glad you found you style Henry!” He replied as he started sanitizing the food table.

“Thanks man. I wouldn’t have if it won’t for you Henry.” Henry praised Joey.

Joey smiled with pride. “Aww thank

You Henry.” He replied.

Henry nodded at Joey Just as the rest of the boys joined them. “Hey! There they are!” Joey announced happily . “Hia boys!”

After everyone greeted each other and got settled down with there books, Henry decided to read with Sammy today. He spotted him setting in the comfy chair next to the window. It was storming outside and judging by his book title, it was the right kind of weather for it. Henry pulled up a chair from the desk near by and sat next to him. “Hi Sammy. Hope you don’t mind if I read with you today.”

Sammy looked up from his book and shook his hand. “N-no. Not at all.” A small kind smile spread across his face. “I’m not sure if you’d like my kind of reading through. It’s dark poetry.”

“Oh really?” Henry replied. “That’s alright. I might enjoy it.” He said giving a smile back.

“Well. Alright.” The boy nodded and opened his book up to the first page to a poem called darkness. While Henry scooted his chair closer.

The two of them sat beside one another and silently reading each page as the storm raged outside. There was a lot of emotional and death related poems as well as depression and anxiety. Henry had question himself if he needed help but didn’t wanna asked. Besides the boy seemed happy every time he seen him so maybe it was just interesting to Sammy.

However when Sammy turn the page after reading a while his sleeve slipped down revealing a deep burn, making Henry worried. “Are you alright Sammy?” He ask looking up at him. “What happened?!”

“Uh. Y-yea...” Sammy calmly rolled his sleeve back up while nodded. “It j-just a cooking accident last night. Don’t worry..” he replied with a slight chuckle.

Henry nodded believe him. After all cooking does lead to accident. “Alright. But you might need to bandage that later.” He smiled.

“Thanks. Will do.” Sammy nodded. They both went back to reading the poetry book, Sammy only glancing up once to find Joey staring at him form across the room for a moment before returning to his book. Sammy didn’t dare to look again for the night.

Soon the last quarter of the club arrives and the boys made there way to the front role desks. “Alright boys. Today I want Henry to come forward and share his poem.” Joey replied. “Don’t be shy Henry, we all had our first time.”

Henry came up to the front with his poem ready to share. He’s been waiting for hours for this and now it was his time to shine. He held up his poem and reads it.

I look out in the night

To see a bright shining star above.

I wish upon that star

Things I wish to become.

That star with guide me to

places that I wanna be.

And one day I’ll find that

The whole time the star has been me.

The boys have a round of applause for Henry’s first poem as tradition in the club. Henry smiled confidently as he walked over to Joey. “I’m impress Henry! Vary excellent, for the first time!” Joey commented. “Soon you’d became a natural!”

“Thanks Joey. You are a good teacher.” Henry beamed.

Joey blushed. “Aww thanks Henry.” He chuckled. “Alright guys. Club meeting over. See you tomorrow!” He announced to the others

Wally gathered his two books and bag from the desk in the back then headed to his friend. “Hey Henry. Do you want to head over to the arcade?”

Henry frowns as his friend. “Sorry Wally. I would but I already made plans with Joey for tonight. We can tomorrow though!” He replied.

Wally nodded with a wide smile on his face. “Of course! That sounds awesome!”

“Cool” Henry nodded. “See you tomorrow”

Wally frowns watching his friend leave with that monster he know trusts, as jack and Sammy came up to him. He looked over at them and sadly sighed. Jack gives Wally a hug. None off the boys said anything. They didn’t have to. They knew each other’s pain. They knew there plan wasn’t working. Henry wasn’t noticing the signs even when Sammy purposely showed a big one. Eventually the three left the classroom and went to there homes for the night alone.

——-

Last night had been fun! Joey had taken Henry to poetry slam. Together they watched as people came and read there poems in front of an audience. Some good, some bad. Some short, some long. Some about happy times, others about horror. Henry was enjoying his time with Joey and the boys. He was actually really happy that Wally begged him to join. It turned out great and he couldn’t wait to tell talk to him.

However when Henry walked though the door the vibe was a bit different. Sammy, jack and Wally were in the back of the room talking quietly to each other about something Henry didn’t know. When they all

Saw Henry standing there they all welcome home. “Hello Henry!” Wally was the first. He jumped off the desk with a big smile, walking over and given a hug.

Henry, feeling better then a second ago, hugged back. “Hey Wally! Sorry I couldn’t hang out last night. We will tonight though.”

Wally nodded eagerly. “Great! I can’t wait. We could go to the movies to see one of the new ones showing! Or we could go to the park! Or the arcade?” He listed off things to do, happily

Henry chuckled and nodded. “Ya! We can! You can choose where we go!”

Wally nodded as Joey came in. Everyone then gathered there books there on and choose a comfy spot to read at today. Henry decided to buddy read with Wally today. Another chance to be with his best friend. Wally was on the the couch and reading a book that looks like it was funny. “Can I read with you today?”

Wally looked up and nodded. “Of course you can!” He replied and scooted over for Henry to sit then patted the space. “Come sit.”

Henry did indeed sit down beside him, getting comfortable. After he was settled he looked at his friend and asked. “So what’s the book about?”

“It’s about this guys Journey in a wacky world. There’s all certs of funny things about the world and it’s people.” Wally answered him. “It’s one of my favorite books.”

Henry nodded. “That wonderful to hear. What page your own?

“Oh I’m on page 208 but we can start from the beginning.” Wally smiled and opened the book to the first page. Wally read quietly out loud as Henry followed along. He found himself enjoying the characters the best as they read together. His favorite became a purple man who helped the main character in his Journey.

As always Joey was on time with the last quarter of the club. He got to the front and ask for volunteers. This time jack wanted to read his. Jack got his notebook and flipped to the latest poem he had written. “Alright. This ones called The field.”

In my dreams I see a field.

One so beautiful. One so elegant.

It’s golden sunlight like rays spread across

No darkness can be found.

In my dreams I see a field

Surrounded by friends

Happy as ever

No sadness can be felt.

In my dreams I see a field

Laugher is the only thing to hear

Peace all around

No cries can be herd.

Jack finishes and bows as the others snapped their fingers. He went back to his sit as Joey took his place up front. “Nice job jack! Your getting better!” He replied before turning his attention to the rest. “Alright before we go I have an announcement.” He waited for a moment before continuing. “As you all know the festival is this weekend. I think we should give it a shoot and try to bring more people to our club for once, like the others.”

“Oh! That would be fun!” Wally agreed. “I second that!” Sammy jack and Henry agreed as well.

“Alright guys. I can make the pamphlet but I’m no good with designing them. Wally want to help me?”

“Sure!” Wally nodded happily. “We can start it tonight after hanging out with Henry.”

Joey nodded. “ perfect.” Joey looked at jack and Sammy. “I think we should have a banner as well as treats for the other students.”

“I’ll make the treats!” Sammy suggest.

Jack nodded. “I’ll take care of the banner.”

Joey smiled. “Thanks you guys.” He looked at Henry last. “You can choose who you want to help with.”

Henry turn his attention to jack and Henry. He has to decide who to help. Sammy with the treats or jack with the banner. After some thought he turn to jack. “ I’ll help with the banner.”

Jack nodded and Exchanged their Numbles for later. Once all roles were settled each one began to leave. Henry and Wally left with each other as planned. Joey left after getting belongings, giving a warning glare to jack on the way out, and jack left with Sammy after they cleared up the room.

—————

The next morning, Henry woke up like Normal and started getting ready for school. As he got ready he was reminded of his and Wally’s time together and how he got the sense Wally was off. He had looked and sounded happy but it was like there was sadness. He asked Wally about it the night before and Wally told him he was good. He didn’t bother him again on it that night but was still worried.

Henry grabbed his phone and decided to call him but he didn’t answer. He wasn’t to worried by this as Wally liked to sleep in a bit longer. He’ll meet him outside and everything will be all good. Henry continued getting ready for the day. He got dressed, ate some breakfast then brushed his teeth and headed out to there meeting spot.

There was no signs of Wally as he arrived which was also normal behavior of Wally. Henry decided to read some of his book as he waited and pulled it out, flipping to the page he was on.

He got lost in the book and read longer then he thought. Almost half an hour has gone by with no Wally showing up. This was strange. Wally would have call him if he was sick or not going to school. He would’ve been here if he was. Something was off.

Henry headed to Wally’s house and knocked on the door then waiting. No one came to the door so he tried again meeting with the same results. He turned the noob to see if it was unlocked and sure enough it was. “Wally?” He called out opening the door. There was no answer in the dark house making his stomach to knot up. He walked deeper in the house, calling out again. “Wally? Are you home?” And again no answer. He got to the bottom of of the stairs and looked up calling one more time with no answer.

He claimed up the stairs and approached Wally’s bedroom, knowing on the door. “Wally it’s me, Henry. Are you in here?” He ask pressing his ear to the door. After a long moment with no answer he opened the door only to find a Horrible seen.

His friend...his best friend was hanging from a noose. His desk chair kicked away from him. Wally’s skin was a pale blue grayish color and there was no light in his eyes.

Henry was frozen in place there, unable to look away from his friends corpse. He felt cold tears pour down his cheeks but he couldn’t acknowledge them. It felt like his would just got turn upside. “N-no...” he finally spoke after a long while of Silence. “Wally....” he said then fell on his knees and sobbed in his hands.

Once the shock was gone and he was numb he pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. It took 20 minutes for them to arrived there and was taking out of the house for them to take down the body. Henry watched them carry his friend out in a body back and loaded in the back of an ambulance, driving away soon after.

He went back to his own house after answering questions and sat on his bed. He didn’t feel like going to school today. He didn’t feel like doing anything today after that. But it wasn’t long before his phone rang. He looked at it and saw it was jack. He didn’t want to answer but he did. “ y-yea..?”

“He-hey Henry.” Jack spoke sounding nervous” I herd what happened...it’s so sad..” he said.

Henry was suspicious of this. How would Jack know if he was at school and why was he sounded so scared. “Jack how do you know..?” He ask.

Jack went silent for a long moment before speaking quickly into the phone. “Henry, Joeys not a good person!” Right then his phone hung up on Henry.

“Hello?” Henry asked. “Jack you there?” After no answer he tried to call him back a few times but couldn’t get a hold of him again. After the fourth try he gave up and wondered what he was taking about. He laid back in his bed in thought staring at the ceiling. He let his mind wonder in memories of him and Wally. The first time they meet, there times at the fair and the last movie they seen.

His thoughts got interrupted again with another phone call, But not jack. It was Sammy. “Hello?” He said once he answered. He immediately herd crying from the other end

“Henry..” Sammy said after taking a moment to calm himself down. “I-I need to tell you s-something...but first I n-need you to p-promise me you will believe me..” he ask sounding desperate.

Henry was so confused and didn’t want to deal with anything more today. But the boy started scared and Henry could swear he herd pounding on a door on Sammy’s end. “Yea I promise Sam. What’s going on.” He ask sitting up.

“It’s Joey...” He told, sniffling fight after. “Joey isn’t a kind person...”

[aibrepus]

Hello. This is probably my last post on this blog, I don't intend to post any more after that. My reach for some reason has been getting ridiculously small these days and I have over 300 followers who don't interact with me, in any way.

This is more of an outburst than anything else. I am constantly taking impulsive desperate attitudes that are supposed to make people look at me and this is just one more of them, although it almost never works. I doubt anyone will read this.

My name is C. I am 16 years old. I'm brazilian, so I apologize for gramatical mistakes. I wrote this text when I was 15 or 14, but I updated it. I've tried to publicize it before. I'm trying again.

First, I have a dysfunctional family. It was something that happened when my stepfather arrived many years ago, I was 6 or 7 at the time. My mom is divorced and I don't know my biological dad. She raised me and my older brother on her own and was always looking for steady partners because of - which I didn't understand before but now I see - financial issues. She was a teacher, now retired, so our condition of life was very simple. My stepfather is also retired and has always been paid very well, compared to her. So they started dating and I was too young to see any problems with that or even to understand what that meant. He brought more money to our family and the financial stability that my mother was looking for. We left a tiny and falling apart house to live in a much bigger and more beautiful one. He looked ok at first. But after a while it seemed that my stepfather didn't really like the way our family worked or the way my mother treated me and my brother and decided that he wanted things his way. I also remember very well the first times he raised his voice to me or my brother and one of the things I most regret in life is to have let him go around dictating rules over us from the beginning, because letting it all happen just ruined my family. My stepfather started to become unbearable for both of us. Nothing was ever good for him. He was always pointing out defects in everything we did. He was always screaming. He was always talking to my mother about how she had raised us wrong. Everything had to be his way, how he wanted it, when he wanted it. It became a problem for us in a very short time. My mother also ended up moving to something a little more like him, since the way she acted "was not good". I remember thinking to myself about these things since I was 8 years old. My brother and I hated him. Soon my mother and stepfather became my two greatest enemies and this is still the case today.

Basically, to save your time, I spent all these last years of my life hating my stepfather so hard that everything he does disgusts me. When I'm on his side, it feels like I'm on the side of a complete stranger. Everything I do inside this house is meticulously thought out and planned to please everyone and especially him. The simplest tasks become nervous anxiety at the thought that I may be doing something wrong. Anything is a reason to complain and raise his voice. And now, as I said, it is not just him, because my mother is not very different and recently it has been even worse. In the beginning of my adolescence, when my family became really unbearable, I started to isolate myself in my room all day and now I just go out to eat and use the bathroom. And I do it precisely to avoid meeting anyone. I don't even eat with them anymore.

My mother is a submissive woman who knows very well that our family is horrible but we still depend on his money. That's why they never fought and got along as far as possible because she never opposes him, always agrees on everything. My relationship with her is terrible. I remember that before my stepfather our life was simpler but we were happy in some way and now because of the decision that my mother made our family is totally over. Nobody here spends a day without complaining about the other. My brother is always getting more credit than I am for things he doesn't even do. I have always been a good daughter. I were always a quiet child, my grades were always great. My brother is a grown man with 20 years on his back who can't find a job, is still in high school because he repeated two years and does nothing at home but always receives the best things while I always stay with the rest and have to run after absolutely everything. I see people talking about their brothers with that "we fight, but we love each other" story and all I can feel is envy because I never had this relationship with him. We hate each other as much as we hate my stepfather.

Last year, when I had just returned from school, the two fought. My mom was still working, so she wasn't at home. I was inside my room with the door closed, as usual. Recently my mother had talked to my stepfather about us to try to ease the situation. I heard him entering the room where my brother was. He complained about collecting clothes on the clothesline. He muttered "and then you two complain about me" and then went to the kitchen. My brother followed and retaliated for the first time. My stepfather must have come over to hold him or something and they started fighting. Really fighting. Punching each other. I heard the sound of someone fiddling with the sink drainer and then my stepfather told my brother to lower something. I was terrified. I started to cry and to shake. I took out my cell phone and my headphones and put the music on at maximum so I wouldn't have to listen. I sent a message to my mom saying what was going on. Of course, one hour they stopped. I was crying all afternoon. I've never been so scared.

Most of my problems are related to my family.

2016 was the worst year of my life because of them. The fights were very constant since the beginning of the year. At that time I was entering 6th grade and my grades plummeted. I couldn't concentrate on classes, I didn't have the willpower to do the activities, or the school works that I never used to do, or anything, whether it was related to school or not. Before that the situation was already terrible but I believe that that year it started to really get worse. I had no friends. I had just changed schools and was completely alone. My self-esteem was horrible. There was only one girl who talked to me but she was always exchanging me for other people and leaving me aside. I was always an introvert, very quiet, and I couldn't make friends at all. This girl was doing me really bad - once, we were talking to our history teacher and she told me that I was despicable for being very pessimistic and for, according to her, "not living". When I heard that I didn't think too much about it but then I started to think and I have never felt so bad in my life. I spent weeks thinking about it. I started to accept as true the fact that I was unable to make friends because I was a despicable person and that is why no one liked me. It was the most painful thing I have ever heard.

Still in 2016, we made a travel to the south because my stepfather is from there. We went to visit his family and it was not the first time, actually. It happened in December. I was really excited but the travel only resulted in more fights. The only thing I asked my mother for was a book I saw in a store that was about depression and I ended up earning nothing, just like my brother. I was really upset. My stepfather kept on teasing me. We were all asleep in his parents' living room and one night, when everyone else was asleep, I laid on the mattress crying low all night.

I was constantly thinking about suicide. It scares me to think about the possibility that, if I had an easy and fast way at the time, this could have happened. I was thinking of talking to someone at the life appreciation center but I didn't. I did a lot of research on the technique they used and realized that perhaps their rhetorical questions would not help me prevent my own suicide if I got in touch. In the end, I never told any of this to anyone. There are only two people who know the whole situation but apart from them, no one else knows what I went through that year and what I go through now. Not even my own family knew that I was thinking of killing myself because of them.

I was alone. I couldn't count on my family. I couldn't count on friends because I didn't have any. I couldn't count on anyone because I just didn't trust anyone for that. Totally alone, thinking about suicide. I was 11 years old.

In 2019 I started to self harm. I was in 9th grade and at the beginning of the school year I found a small razor inside the used art book when I first opened it. It was the opportunity I was in need of. I started to cut my legs instead of my arms so my family wouldn't see. My mom saw it, anyway. I said I did that because of them. Yes, my mother was desperate, she cried, she told me that she had related to my stepfather for the money and that my father was abusive to her and so on. She said that if she had known that my brother and I would be so unhappy, she would not have done that. And I started attending a psychologist.

What good did it do?

Me, who at first was moved by the things that my mother told me, blaming myself for being a terrible daughter and for giving her such disgust, in the end I saw her returning to the same disparaging habits as before. I still go to a psychologist today, but a different one from the first.

First, the psychologist never helped me and does not help me at all. They are the two who know what happens, although I no longer have contact with the first one. I basically go into the clinic so she can tell me everything I want to hear and everything I already know. The treatment is having no effect on my point of view and I suggested to her that perhaps medications would improve my mood, my lack of desire for everything, my lack of hunger and my insomnia. My mom was really upset because she didn't want me to take medication, but my psychologist is insisting and the consultation with the psychiatrist will probably happen sometime. But secondly, right after I started going to psychologists, my mother did absolutely nothing to change my reality at home and started to fight and yell at me in the same way that she did before. I was really stupid to have fallen into that little theater of hers. The problem is in them, and it is useless to send me to a psychologist in the hope of making me better if when I return home the same problems are repeated and everyone goes back to fighting, complaining and throwing everything at me. My stepfather never even bothered to change his conduct because of that but I expected a lot more from my mom. Pathetic to believe that something was going to change. She is spending money aimlessly on consultations and I wonder if that is what she pays so dearly for. To upset me and then send me to a psychologist for not being able to take care of her own children hoping that this will change something.

Anyway, I don't tell her that consultations don't work because I don't want to waste my time with another exhausting discussion. I always heard from people that I should talk to my family if something was wrong. I've tried to talk to them a million times and I'm where I am. There is no conversation here. All of this about my consultations is very frustrating because I always hear people talking about therapy as if it were something miraculous that will definitely help, which just doesn't happen to me. Going to psychologists does not help me.

In conclusion, I still don't stop at the urge to self-harm. My leg is full of scars and there is no one to see them. My psychologist doesn't know. I suppose she doesn't even know that I'm there because of that. In fact, there are many things that my psychologist doesn't know because I don't tell her.

Again, in 2019, thanks to a girl in my classroom, I also started drinking. I asked her to go to one of these teenage meetings and she told me that they went to the market every Wednesday to drink and smoke. Another opportunity that I needed. I thought it was time to stop being the good daughter. I tried to be it for a long time for my family. They didn't deserve to have a trophy daughter to go around showing off to friends like they did to me. I went out with them that day and drank. Very simple, actually. I found out that I am very weak. I got drunk, of course. I threw up a lot when I got home. Nobody noticed anything. And I've been in this for a long time now. I also started drinking at the beginning of the school year. When I'm drunk, I don't have to be thinking about school, or my family, or friends, or anything else. My bad reality is much lighter.

I didn't want to have to resort to drinking and smoking to be able to forget what I live inside my house. I really didn't want to. I didn't want to be that teenager. I didn't want to have to do that. I didn't want this to be the only way to make me happy for at least a few hours. I didn't want any of that.

I'm not in it because I think it's cool or because I want to be a cool teenager who drinks and smokes. It started out as a form of revenge, but then I discovered that it could actually be a valve.

I know I'm throwing my life in the trash. I know I shouldn't be doing any of this. But I need my ways to get out of this house. I can't stay in a toxic place all the time that makes me sad all the time. I avoid going back here when I'm out. I just don't want to be here anymore. I linger on the street when I come back from school so I don't have to arrive so soon. I used to go out every week. And I hope I'll be out again when the pandemic is over.

The saddest thing about the self-destructive way of life is when no one notices it. In so long that I do this, my family has never noticed. I kept coming home drunk and the most my mother ever did was to suspect when I said I was going out on my birthday. I disguise it very well, so that must be the reason.

Since I started entering adolescence, I have never made friends again - although I remember that feeling of loneliness from a very young age. There were some people I talked to at school, but I never trusted anyone. A friend to me would be much more than someone you just talk to or hang out with on a daily basis, I think. I can't talk to people. I cannot introduce myself to them. I can't socialize with them. Nowhere. Not on the internet, not at school, not even on the street when i'm drinking.

I did a lot of research and I'm almost sure that I have a severe social phobia and I'm going to talk about it with my psychologist.

I tried to make up for it by posting the texts I write on reading platforms to see if I could get any fame from it. I always wrote. My texts are mostly oneshots that I write according to what I am feeling, so my thoughts and my personal life are very much exposed in them. My constant readings have improved my vocabulary and grammar. I really care about my texts. And I also draw. I have been drawing since I was little and also regularly, so I draw very well. Everyone knows that I draw well but nobody knows about my texts. Writing and drawing is all I know how to do. My texts and drawings are all I have. My family took a lot of things from me. My family is still taking everything from me, but I put my heart into every word and illustration because it is the only thing I have left. But it doesn't matter. I've posted more than 30 short stories out there that hardly receive views, just like the illustrations I post. I wanted to work with one of these things and pursue a career mainly with drawing but I am a failure in both. Nobody reads my stories and nobody sees my drawings.

Sometimes I take the texts from my own diary. Sometimes, they carry so much truth and so much need that I collapse on myself in the end. My own tales move me. I put all of myself in them and in the drawings. I produce them with all my soul. But whatever. I don't think it's enough for people.

That is the question.

I feel like a ghost. It's almost as if I don't exist anywhere.

I am totally alone. I don't feel loved by anyone. At home I have a dysfunctional family and the only person here who seems to care about me is my mother, disregarding that she is also responsible for having ruined my life. At school, I am completely alone in the classroom, or at lunch, or any other part of the day, and I simply don't speak to anyone. On the street, I still have to settle for the least amount of people who also ignore me and hardly talk to me or take my desires and opinions into consideration. In social networks, where I should get support from people like me or at least disclose the only things I know how to do, I end up receiving the same cold indifference and I end up being alone anyway.

It seems that nobody cares about me. It seems that if I died, it wouldn't make any difference. It feels like I'm in the wrong place.

Everyone always says things like "you are not alone" or "there are people who love you" and etc., but I literally have no one. I can't socialize anywhere. Everyone ignores me. Everyone makes me feel like I don't exist. I am a failure at everything.

I dont know what I'm doing here. Reaching adulthood and leaving this place is the only hope I have of being able to be happy.

I wanted to have a normal life. A normal family. Friends. People who care about me. People who love me. I would give literally anything to have the childhood that I didn't have because of people who were supposed to love and support me and actually made me hate my own life. Anything to be a normal teenager who doesn't need to resort to self-mutilation or drugs to escape problems. Anything to at least have some friends.

I don't know what to do.

I've tried everything to make people like me. I've tried for a long time to be someone I'm not for that. I am constantly taking desperate and impulsive actions just to see if I can get anything, such as this post, but it is always in vain. They say that if you don't give up, you get things. I've been here trying for so long. I put so much of myself in drawings and texts. What do I get from that? What do I get out of trying? I've been doing these things for so long. All these years trying. All these years of holding on. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of holding on.

All I want most in life is just for someone to look at me. Someone to look at me and see all these things. Someone to show that they care. Anything. I just wanted someone to care.

I’m practically screaming for help and it just seems like nobody cares.

On this quarantine, I have been without talking to practically anyone other than my family and my psychologist for months. Nobody came after me. Nobody sent me a message. Nobody even gave me a "happy birthday". I disappeared, deleted my few contacts, stopped using my inactive Whatsapp. Nobody asked me why. Nobody even noticed. Nobody cares enough. Nobody ever cares enough.

I wake up every day with the first thought that my life is terrible and that I will still have to deal with this family and this loneliness for a long time before I can get out of it. I have no motivation for anything else. Writing and drawing no longer seem like flashy activities. They are no longer helping. I can't stop crying all the time. My mother and stepfather made me an extremely sensitive person. I go around showing people that I have a strong personality, or that I am a cold and impassive person when in fact I am completely falling apart and nothing hurts more than knowing that no one cares. Just listening to someone screaming in an argument, even if it's not me, is enough to make me nervous.

I've been in this for a long time and I can't take it anymore. I wanted to have a happy childhood and adolescence and I just can't have it. I'm too young to be having these problems. I was too young in 2016 to be having suicidal thoughts. I was too young to start drinking because of these problems. I was too young to start self-harm, too, because of these problems. I'm too young to be suffering like that.

And I know that I no longer have the opportunity to be happy for now, while I'm here.

This must be another cry for help that I am exposing in vain. I've already sent emails to certain people, I've done posts like this before, I've posted explicit oneshots about my conditions, I've done threads on twitter. I've done everything I could, I've played all my cards. I am literally alone, not much else that can help me. All these things were calls for help, but there is no one to notice them.

I'm tired of being ignored.

I'm tired of not being seen by people.

I'm tired of being here like an idiot posting all these things and giving all these clues and being ignored by everyone. I'm tired of doing it all in vain. I'm tired of keep trying.

I bet this is just another waste of time.

[nightashes]

The Alliance Sucks, the Rebellion’s Not Much Better, but at Least We Have Each Other

A/N: Yes. I know it’s a crazy long title. Fight me. Shortened title: At Least We Have Each Other. Longer title: the alliance sucks, the rebellion’s not much better, but at least we have each other (and some guns). This is a discord gift for @sometimes-love-is-enough. I hope you enjoy! This is the longest one-shot I have written so far! woot woot!

Summary: Being a criminal in space is difficult. Being a criminal in space that just pulled a job on a government facility is worse. Being a criminal in space that just pulled a job on a government facility and somehow picked up a stowaway is a recipe for disaster. Luckily this crew specializes in disasters. 

Meet the Crew:

Janus: the Captain. He can demand respect and obedience with nothing more than a glare.

Virgil: the pilot and emergency medic.. He’s no doctor but he’s gotten the crew through a fair amount of scrapes.

Roman: the second-in-command. He helps Virgil out in navigation and generally makes sure the ship runs smoothly and is always fully stocked with everything they could possibly need.

Remus: he’s the muscle and he makes sure the ship never remains stocked.

And of course Patton: the engineer. Without him this ship would be nothing more than a crappy piece of modern art.

Warnings: an assortment of weapons, a kid with a gun, blood, violence, explosions, almost major character death

writing masterlist - ao3 version

***

The thrum of the engine was a constant backdrop. It was the hiss of a living breathing machine. More than a sound, the vibrations were a blanket laid over them, an understanding of protection. The engine was awake and they were finally on the move. As long as they were moving, they were safe. Janus walked along the corridor, his gloved hand passing over the metal walls, feeling the buzz of the engine beneath his fingertips. He quirked a smile. 

In the distance he could hear the shouts of his crew, arguing passionately. It seemed there was always something to argue about with them and Janus hardly did much to prevent it. If it went too far, he would step in and knock some sense into them. But in the end, this is just how they were. They resolved everything with a passionate debate.  Everything .

The door to his room slid open at the touch of his hand. He swept off his overcoat and settled heavily onto his bed. It had not been an easy job. They would have to lie low for a while. Stealing from the Alliance was like that. Nothing but trouble. But at least they would get paid. And any chance to stick it to those government lackeys was a welcome one as far as he was concerned. For now all he wanted to do was sleep. Kicking off his boots and sliding out of his suspenders, Janus collapsed back onto his pillow. 

“Dim the lights, Serenity.” He mumbled to the ship’s AI, already drifting off to sleep.

Bang!

“Janus! They won’t let me-”

“Janus! You can’t let Remus hurt-”

“Janus! We need your help. There’s-”

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Janus yanked open the door.

Glaring down at his crew, even with his ruffled hair and wrinkled shirt he cut an intimidating figure. His eyes bored into their souls, shutting down any ideas of speaking out of turn.

“One at a time you will explain to me what is wrong in as few words as possible. Virgil, you first.”

“Roman found a stowaway. He’s with him now.”

“A stowaway.  Fantastic.  Just what we needed.” The captain spat. “Remus?”

“Obviously, we should just toss the little squirt out into space. But no one here will let me.”

Janus turned to the last one there. “And I suppose that’s why you’re upset, Patton?”

“He’s just a kid.” The empathetic engineer practically pleaded.

“Where is he?”

“Storage. Roman found him while securing the prototype.” Virgil explained.

“So the kid’s seen what we have.  More wonderful news .” He drew his hand down his face with a sigh. “Alright, you three stay here. I’ll go figure this out.”

***

Roman was sitting on the floor, his katana had been drawn and set aside behind him. He was talking in a low voice to the kid. Across from him, the stowaway sat with his back ramrod straight as his fingers played with the laces of his shoe. The kid was nervous but trying his best to hide it. Whatever Roman was saying the kid wasn’t responding.

Janus rapped the wall with his knuckles. The kid whipped his head around to face him. There was an intelligence in those eyes. He stared with a calculating gaze that was unusual for one so young. He was dressed smartly, wearing pressed slacks and a vest, obviously a child of wealth. Now what would lead a kid of status to stowaway on a ship of thieves?

“Ah, Captain. Good thing you're here. He won’t speak to anyone but you.” Roman spoke, trying his best to keep his voice calm and even, an usual occurrence for the boisterous first mate.

“You’re the captain?” The child asked, unimpressed.

“No, I’m the cook. Everyone calls me Captain because if they don’t I’ll spit in their food.” Janus whispered conspiratorially. 

The kid squinted his eyes in suspicion and confusion. “You are being dishonest.”

A stowaway that didn’t understand sarcasm, this would certainly be interesting. “You’re right. I am being dishonest. You’ve figured it out, I am the captain. And now I need you to answer my questions. Can you tell me why you’ve decided to stowaway on my ship?”

The kid looked between the two of them, he tried to speak with confidence but there was a spark of fear hidden within his eyes. Janus wondered if Roman could see it too.

“I want to join you.” The kid spoke simply.

Roman raised his brow and Janus could not hold back a chuckle. The kid tightened his fists, preparing himself for a debate. “I’m smart. I can solve problems and help map out battle plans better than anyone in my class.”

“I’m sure you can, kid,” Janus shook his head incredulously. “But you see we don’t really have any need for a battle tactician. And as for plans and problems, no one can beat my second-in-command here.” Janus clapped his hand around Roman’s shoulder.

“It’s true. If he brought you on, I might grow jealous.” Roman smirked.

“Well, then I could join another ship. One that needs me.” The kid refused to be persuaded.

The captain sighed. Alright, the straight-forward approach. “Look, you aren’t joining a ship of smugglers and thieves. We won’t take you and there is no way I’m letting you join any other ship. You’d be killed in a month. Why don’t you tell me where your home is and we can drop you off?”

“Smugglers? I thought-” The kid’s fear was unmistakable now. “I may have made a miscalculation.” 

“Did you now?”

“You’re not with the rebellion?”

“Most definitely not.”

“You attacked the Northern Outpost on Galiero. Why would you do that if you are not with the rebellion?”

“Ah, see… we can’t really tell you about that. But-”

The kid was not listening, scanning the room he pointed to the prototype, cutting Janus off, “It’s because of that. Isn’t it?’

The prototype sat beside a smuggling hold. It was a large piece of machinery, all sharp edges and mysterious buttons, waiting patiently to be hidden snuggly away, the same hold that the kid must have found and stowed away in. They would need to reevaluate their hidden compartments if a kid could find them.

The kid continued, “If you’re smugglers, then you can take me to the rebels. I can pay you.”

“We’re not taking you to any rebels,” Roman asserted. “We’re taking you home. To your family.”

“My family is gone.” The kid spat out venomously. “It was just my dad and I. And then the Alliance took him away. They said his books were spreading ‘treasonist ideologies.’ They took him away and forced me into a new family. I’m not going back there. I’m joining the rebellion and I’m going to destroy the Alliance.”

There was a pause of silence. Janus and Roman gave each other a meaningful look. “Alright, we won’t take you home,” Janus finally proclaimed. “Roman, why don’t you take the kid here and find him something to eat?”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

“Will you take me to the rebellion?” The kid questioned, refusing to leave without a confirmation.

“Of course, kid.” At that moment, Janus was thankful that the kid couldn’t understand sarcasm.

“It’s Logan. Logan Sanders.” Their stowaway clarified as he allowed himself to be led away.

The captain sighed heavily. He needed to speak with his pilot.

***

“You want to what?” Virgil nearly yelled.

“I want to rescue the boy’s father from the Alliance prisons.”

“You’re insane! You’ve lost it! The Captain’s lost it and we are all going to die!”

“Virgil, calm down. We can do it, as long as we play it smart.”

“No!” Virgil shook his head. “No, there is no ‘playing this smart.’ We are running hot right now. We have a stolen prototype in our storage that the Alliance would happily kill us to regain and now we have a kid on board to worry about! Going anywhere near Alliance space right now is suicide. We need to be heading to the outer planets as fast as our jets can carry us.”

“I know. But we aren’t. Logan needs his father. Or would you rather we hand him over to the rebellion so they can use him as cannon fodder?”

Virgil hissed out a curse. “You can’t do that. You can’t just do that. Guilting me into this madness...” He muttered as he began angrily punching in codes into the panel.

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“If we die, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I know.” Janus answers.

The pilot sighed as the computer beeped back at him. “Remy thinks he can figure out where the kid’s father would have been taken. Last name Sanders, right? We can start heading to the center planets now while he does his thing. It’ll take a couple days, we’ll need to go through the Mirdian belt if we want to avoid detection. By the time we arrive, Remy should have all the info we need to get ourselves killed on a rescue mission.”

“ Perfect. I’ll let the others know.”

***

The kid was pacing. The kid was pacing  a lot  and it was driving Remus up the wall. Back and forth. Back and forth, the kid walked. Glancing this way and that and generally being a distracting nuisance. Remus was sitting at the table, attempting to clean one of his guns in peace. He loved to tinker with his weapons in the kitchen. Best way to work and devour snacks all at once. Patton hated it of course. But Patton was busy helping Virgil. Something about making sure their approach to the planet didn’t trip off any sensors. All Remus knew was that he was supposed to have the kitchen to himself to prepare for the mission. But now there was a kid here. A kid he was not allowed to eject into space. Which Remus considered a travesty. At least the kid being here meant they were going to break into a prison! Remus has always wanted to break into a prison, ever since he and Roman had run away from home looking for adventure. And now he had his chance. He was ready to go. His skin was buzzing in excitement and he was making sure all of his precious babies were loaded and ready for a fight. But his perfect happy bubble was being ruined by  pacing.

“Would you just sit down already!” Remus hollowered at the kid. Logan glanced his way unimpressed and continued to pace.

Remus grumbled in distaste. The kid was suspicious of them, Remus knew it. He may not be able to read body language like Janus, but the kid was definitely suspicious. Remus wasn’t sure how or when but sometime during their trip Logan had figured out they were heading the wrong way to meet up with the rebellion. And now he was pacing. Janus didn’t want them to tell Logan their plans. Something about getting his hopes up. Whatever the reason, it was complete bull. And Remus would know. He specialized in bullcrap.

The kid was pacing. Pacing and planning. An unpredictable plan from an unknown variable meant chaos. Remus liked chaos. But he also liked his friends. And a plan like that, on a mission like this, could get his friends killed.

“Hey kid, you want to know a secret?”

Logan stared back at Remus, silently… waiting.

“We aren’t heading towards the rebellion.” Remus grinned deviously.

There was a pause. Logan searched Remus’s face, looking for who knows what. “You’re taking me to the Alliance. You’re turning me in for clemency. Aren’t you?”

“Hah!” Remus barked out a laugh. “Turning you in for clemency? Hell no! We may not be with the rebellion but our hate for the Alliance runs just as deep.”

“Then why aren’t you with them? Why not help them fight?” Logan’s curiosity was struck.

“Because the rebellion is totally insane! And not in the fun way if you know what I mean?” Logan gave him a look that told Remus he, in fact, did not know what he meant. Remus continued, “They’re one of those defeat-the-evil-empire-by-any-means-necessary types. They believe in their own bullcrap. Trust me, kid, you  don’t  want to work for them.”

“What are you going to do with me then?” Logan pressed.

“We’re going to do something insane. And I do mean insane in the fun way.” Remus winked conspiratorially.

“That does nothing to reassure me.” Logan deadpanned, which caused Remus to let loose a big belly laugh. The sound bouncing around the kitchen.

“You’re alright, kid,” wiping away a tear of mirth, Remus chuckled. “Hey, come over here.” he gestured towards the table, where an assortment of his weapons had been laid out. “We’re going to be leaving in a minute to have our fun. It’ll just be you and Patton on the ship while we’re out. Nothing should happen, but just in case why don’t you take Linda here.” He shoved a small laser gun into the kid’s hands. “She’ll take care of you if any of the insanity comes this way, Alright?”

Logan stared down at the gun in his hands. His brow knitted together in confusion, but when he looked up there was gratitude in his eyes. He nodded his understanding.

A cough came from the doorway. Remus looked up to find the Captain standing in the entrance, looking with fondness at the scene in front of him. “Well, I hope I’m not interrupting. Just thought I’d let you know we’ll be touching down now.” Janus explained, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Remus, meet me in the hold once you’ve finished. Patton will be here in a minute to take care of the kid. Said something about making you guys a hot sugary drink. That should be fun, right kid?”

Logan stared back at the Captain. His fingers feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands. He positioned himself and raised the gun, aiming it directly at the Captain’s face. His eyes were cold and his hands barely shook. “If you betray me I’ll shoot you.”

Remus smiled mischievously as Janus shot him a look of disbelief,  “What did you teach him?”

“Nothing, Cap. This is all him! The kid’s a natural.”

Janus wisely decided to drop it at that. “Just pack up your things and meet me down there.”

“Righty-o, Boss Man!” Remus waved to Janus’s departing back before turning back to his new friend. “Alright, we won’t be seeing each other until nightfall. But don’t you worry, nothing’s gonna harm you. You're under my protection now, like a little chaos apprentice.” He gave a big toothy grin. “And when I have your back nothing bad will ever happen to you. Got it?”

The kid grips the weapon in his hands. “You won’t tell me what you are doing?”

“Nah, Cap wants to keep it a surprise. But trust me, you’ll love it!”

“Alright, I trust you.”

***

It was dusty, so very dusty. The wind blew it everywhere. Beneath the scarves wrapped around their faces. Crusting over the glass of their goggles. And filling their boots, as they dragged their feet further and further through the dunes. Virgil shouldered his pack higher, trying his best to adjust whatever was poking harshly into his back. The pack was heavy, filled to the brim with ammo for whatever Remus had brought along. The pack pulled his weight deeper into the sand with each and every step. They had landed several klicks away from the prison, better to go undetected until they were ready for a fight. But this meant a hike. A hike carrying bulging packs full of everything they will need for the mission ahead.

The sun was clouded. Obscured by the grit blowing around them. But the heat was real. Virgil could feel the sweat beading down his back. Drops pooled around his hairline, dripping into his scarf. Virgil desperately ached to wipe them away. But he knew it would only make the situation worse, covered as his hands were with dust.

As evening neared, they finally arrived within striking distance of the prison. They settled down to wait. Munching on protein packs and chugging water from their skins. Janus passed around an old communicator. A flashing mugshot hovered there from all to see.

Their Captain crouched down beside them, speaking as clearly and precisely as he could. “Thomas Sanders. Civilian. Divorced. Father of one and author of the banned book:  The Lost Art of Community . He was arrested half a lunar cycle ago for perpetuating treasonist ideologies. Remy has provided us with a map of the building and yard. The asset will be held within solitary confinement.”

Virgil swiped through the communicator. Seeing the images zoom pass, sure enough a map popped up. An area colored yellow, stood out from the rest: solitary confinement. Virgil mumbled to himself, repeating what he saw, forcing the images into his memory. 

“We’ll be doing a Surprise Secret,” Janus continued. “Remus and Roman, you’ll cover the Surprise. Virgil and I will take care of the Secret. Understood?”

Words of confirmation echoed out. 

“Alright, begin your preparations. At dusk, we strike.”

***

The sky was beginning to darken. The signal would come any minute now. Virgil thought to himself as he lay on his stomach, he shifted to ensure the katana did not dig into his stomach. Roman had been kind enough to lend it for their mission. Virgil scanned the prison through his binoculars. He couldn’t see the twins, there happened to be a building in the way, but he knew they were there. On the other side, readying their surprise. It had to be soon. Any minute now. Virgil shifted nervously. 

Janus laid a hand on his shoulder, “Virgil, it’ll be okay. We’ve done this before. Only difference is: now the asset is a person. We’ve got this.”

Virgil sighed heavily, “There’s a lot more different than that. It’s-”

BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Time to go. They shot to their feet, sprinting towards the prison. The firefight had begun.

***

Remus was having the time of his life. Guards were pouring out of the front of the building, firing frantically at their position. But Roman and Remus were smuggly secured in a foxhole they had prepared for this very reason. They let loose a torrent of fire upon the building. Doing their best to be as loud as possible. Truly, this was the best job of their life. And all they had to do now was draw as much attention as possible, while not getting killed. Easy peasy. 

Roman yelled, “Reload!” Beside him. Ducking down to grab ammunition from one of the packs that lay open in their hole. 

Remus screamed as he laid down cover fire. “Eat lasers, ya little piggies!!”

A shot whizzed past his ear. Remus ducked his head a little lower. Whoa! That was close. His eyes were wide and his smile couldn’t possibly grow wider. This was living the dream. Roman patted his shoulder signaling he was ready. And together they rose again. Firing an array of blazing lasers down at the swarming guards streaming from the compound beneath them.

***

Virgil and Janus had made it onto the roof. No one had noticed them yet. Roman and Remus were truly doing a fantastic job of drawing everyone’s attention. Still, Virgil couldn’t help but worry. His gut twisted at the thought that his two crewmates were fighting against an entire prison worth of guards with nothing but their position, their weapons, and their skill to protect them. 

He had long since abandoned the religion of his home planet. But as he skittered the edges of the cell block, seeing the lights of the lasers paint the horizon like a violent sunset. For the first time in years he felt the urge to wish. To wish that the great being of fate that pulled on the strings of the universe, fighting for the balance of destruction and creation, really was real. Somewhere outside of their dimension, pulling on the strings and maybe just maybe, ensuring that they would make it out okay. That the balance fell on their side today.

Virgil ran low across the roof, Janus followed closely behind in his footsteps. They glided across the blacktop, weaving between obstacles and doing their best to hide whenever possible. Against the darkened sky, they were but a pair of dancing shadows. While the front of the building was lit up in an array of lights and screams, a display of dazzling laser fire. On the roof, all was silent and dark.

He whispered to himself, repeating the layout of the map. East, a little further. They were close. So very close. Roman and Remus just had to hold on a little bit longer. Janus whipped out a thermal reader, readying himself. They had arrived at the section for solitary confinement.

The thermal reader lit up softly, Janus shifted his coat to hide the light as best as he could. Moving right and left, he worked his way across the roof. Virgil had brought out his own, starting at the other end of the section, he crouched low over the screen, he appeared as a hovering figure, coasting his way over the building, moving eerily similar to a predator. A beast-like crouch reminiscent of the predators of Loskor searching the ground for hidden Storles’s burrows.

A call broke his concentration. Janus gestured him over. Sure, enough his screen was filled with the image of red. A humanoid figure pacing in the cell below. Virgil pulled out Roman’s katana. At the push of a button, the blade pulsed red. He steadied his stance, holding the blade firmly in his fist, Virgil pushed it down into the blacktop of the roof. The blade hissed, sparks flew, spitting gravel into the air. Virgil pushed further, fighting against the force. On Janus’s screen, the figure was stock-still and squirreled away into a corner, the body stared up at the ceiling, watching their progress. Virgil pulled the blade across. Slowly, he moved around, forming the rough shape of a rounded box. He removed the katana and extinguished the fire. Now, came the tricky part. Thankfully, the figure appeared content to stay in the corner.

Virgil kicked down forcibly onto the weakened rooftop. The cut-out shape moved an inch inward, creating a large person-sized depression in the otherwise smooth surface. Sturdy sucker. Virgil kicked again.

The chunk of rooftop collapsed into the cell below, spraying chunks of rock across the frightened prison. He stared up at them through the hole. Through the dust and dirt, Virgil could make out the face of their target, Thomas Sanders. 

“Your son, Logan, is waiting for you,” Janus caught the attention of the prisoner. “Ready to go?”

“My son?” Thomas asked, dumbstruck.

Virgil lay down on the roof at the edge of the hole. Reaching down into the cell, his fingers stretching towards the prisoner. “We have to go now! Grab on.”

Thomas glanced between them, searching their faces in a similar fashion to the way Logan often would. Satisfied with what he saw, he jumped to catch Virgil’s outstretched palm. Virgil groaned under the force of a grown man hanging from his arm, but he managed to hang on. He pulled his arm up. Janus came round and offered his own hand out to the man. Once they had a hold on each of his arms, they worked together. Pulling the man up and out of the darkened prison cell. They collapsed against the rooftop, huffing.

“Time to break radio silence.” Janus spoke. Yanking a communicator from his belt, he brought it up to his lips. “The secret is done. Time for the final surprise.” 

The communicator crackled noisily. The sounds of static and explosion pouring through. A voice broke through the noise. “Final surprise incoming. Brace for impact.”

Virgil jumped to his feet, pulling the prison to standing position. “There’s going to be a big blast. When it happens we’ve got to run to the edge of the roof as fast as we can. You understand?”

The prisoner nodded his head, frantically. Clearly, this man was out of his depths. But he seemed focused and ready to listen. And right now, that’s all they needed.

The building shook violently. The front of the prison crumbled inward slightly as a bright ball of light stung their eyes.

“To the front! Now!” Janus yelled.

The trio ran.

***

The firefight was really starting to get exciting, Remus thought. Their foxhole was taking heavy damage and their ammunition was beginning to run low. They had to wrap this up soon if they wanted to get off this hellhole-of-a-planet unscathed. Although getting a little scathed was alright in Remus’s opinion. One can never have too many battle scars, afterall. In truth, Remus never really feared injury, not for himself at least. If the personification of death came strolling up to Remus one day, he’d probably greet him to a challenge of arm wrestling, just to see who was stronger, of course. Now, if death came for someone else, someone Remus cared about, that was another story. And so when the call from Janus came in, Remus was happy to say that thing’s seemed to be working out.

Remus set up the support stand as Roman answered, “Final Surprise incoming, brace for impact.”

From the last pack, the one that had laid unopened during the battle, Remus pulled out, what he affectionately called, The Final Surprise. A missile laser launcher that could fire a laser bolt big enough to put a hole through a military class transporter. This was going to be fun! He set it in place on the support stand and lined up his shot. Aiming for the front of the prison, his smile grew wider. The line of guard’s that had formed to fight off the “invasion” had no idea what was about to come their way.

Remus fired the Final Surprise. So named because in life there is only one final surprise.

The front of the building exploded in fire. The frame shook. The doors had been blasted off. Prisoners had been freed. And now the guards were fighting a battle on two fronts.

Remus began hurriedly packing up whatever supplies they would have the time to take. Roman took to laying down cover fire. As he packed, he took to watching the building attentively. Looking for the three figures that were currently sprinting across the rooftop. He spotted their silhouettes as they neared the building’s front. All three were there. They were safe.

Over the cacophony of battles cries and weapons firing, a new sound was heard. The thrum of an engine. Most importantly the thrum of the engine of their ship. It roared violently, the buzz of a thousand hornets that was felt deep in the bones. The ship tore through the air and came to hover directly behind them. The door had been lowered, open and ready for them to enter.

“Ready to board?” Roman shouted to his brother.

Remus was clutching the Final Surprise to his chest. The packs had been piled onto his shoulders, two to an arm. He felt positively giddy. They left their foxhole behind and jumped aboard. The guards that weren’t fighting prisoners had shifted to fire upon the ship. It was time to leave.

“We’re on! Move to the rooftop.” Roman radioed Patton. 

The ship rose higher, coming level to the rooftop. It soared over the heads of the guard. The ship rattled as it took laser fire to its hull. The trio watched them as they flew in closer. Virgil jumped aboard first. Running in to hug the twins. 

“God, we’re alive!” He cheered.

Janus and the prisoner jumped together. The captain steadying the civilian. He helped him through the door and safely inside the ship’s storage.

Everyone was here. They were safe. They had successfully completed a prison break!

The ship began to rise from the building. The door was beginning to close when Remus saw it. 

The prison had launched their own ship. A prison transport. It had limited weapon capabilities. But their ship was already taking fire. They couldn’t risk it.

Remus was still holding onto the Final Surprise. There wasn’t anytime to set up the support stand. He dropped the packs and slammed his fist against the button to hold open the door. The others looked his way in shock as he squared up on the half-closed ramp. He hefted the Final Surprise against his shoulder. The transport ship came into his crosshairs. Remus fired.

There is a reason that the Final Surprise requires a support stand to fire. The recoil. The laser bolt left the launcher. It blasted through the crack in the open door. And Remus, he was thrown back. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the prisoner transport explode into a mess of shrapnel.

What a way to end a prison break.

***

The dreadful thing about having a surprise stowaway on board, is that other things fall to the wayside. Janus knew he had meant to give the order to hide away the prototype. But with planning a prisoner break, dealing with a child that was too smart for his own good, and trying their best to fly to a prison planet without being detected: They had just never gotten around to it.

Janus watched in horror as Remus was thrown across the ship’s storage and directly into the path of the prototype. His body smacked against its side. And blood pooled across his shirt. The crew rushed to his side. Janus barking orders to give him space.

Janus didn’t even know what the prototype did. He had just been hired to steal it. The customer was paying well and it was a chance to stick it to the Alliance. He had jumped at the chance. Now, he stood beside his bleeding crewmate. Someone had passed him a wad of gauze, probably Virgil. He was pressing them the best he could to the wound, working around the projectile. For Remus had been impaled upon a metal protrusion on the device.

Virgil was frantic. He had brought out the first aid kit and was doing what he could. But none of them knew what to do with a wound like this. How could they? They were smugglers, not doctors.

“Virgil, Patton needs you.” Janus stared at their frantic pilot.

Virgil wordlessly shook his head no.

“You need to fly us out of here.”

“He needs help.” Virgil argued.

“And what are you going to do here? We’ve got him. But right now, we need you to get us out of here. Patton doesn’t know how to leave a planet’s atmosphere. If you don’t pilot this ship we all die. And it will be your fault.” Janus's voice was as cold as stone. It was times like these that he knew why he had become their Captain. To be a Captain, meant at times you had to be cruel.

And the look Virgil shot him as he left. He knew he would pay for what he had said. But at least, they would survive. Janus could feel the blood pool around his hands. Well, most of them.

Roman was at his side now. He gripped his brother’s hand in his own. “Remus. Remus, wake up. You’ve got to wake up.”

“I’m sorry, Roman.” The captain spoke. “Are there any death rites on your planet?”

“No.” A shout came from behind them. Janus turned his head to see the stowaway. His arms were raised, just as had they had been this morning. The gun Remus had given him was held firmly in his hands. “You have to save him.”

“I’m sorry, kid. There’s nothing we can do.”

“YOU HAVE TO!” He shouted. His father crouched beside him. Whispering and trying to coax the weapon from his hands.

Logan shoved his father’s arms away. “The rebellion! Take him to the rebellion! They’ll save him!”

Roman lifted his head to look at the kid, “I would never take him back there. You don’t know what they’re like. When we left… when we found this ship, we promised we’d never return to them.”

“But… but… he can’t just die! He said he’d protect me!”

“There’s another way,” Thomas spoke. “The Alliance, the Rebellion. They aren’t the only people out there. There are others that can help.”

“What do you mean?” Roman asked, hope tinting his words.

“I was jailed for a book about community. Because in community is where our strength lies. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. There are others like me. Spread out throughout the universe, on every planet. If you showed me a map, I could take us to someone nearby. People that can help. People that help not because they want to use you for their own ends, but because they want to help. Because they believe in community.”

Janus looks to Roman. The twin nodded his head. Janus spoke, “Logan, could you show your father to the cockpit.”

Janus hated the Alliance. They were cruel. The rebellion wasn’t much better. But perhaps, with each other, with this  community and the family that they had found on this ship, they could make it. They could survive. And maybe. Just maybe if this plan was just crazy enough to work. They could save Remus too.

Janus pressed a kiss to Remus’s forehead. “Don’t worry. We’re here for you.”

***

Remus awoke wrapped in warmth. The sounds of laughter and chattering voices drifted to his ears. He could hear his brother, his voice loud and boisterous. He was telling a story of their childhood. The time they had stolen a whole pie from the baker and eaten the entire thing in one afternoon. There was the giggle of a child. Logan? His captain spoke next, Janus making some sarcastic comment. Patton admonished the captain. He could hear the smirk in Virgil’s voice, as the pilot joined in.

Was everyone here? Had they all made it?

Remus opened his eyes. He was in bed. Not his bunk but an actual bed, in an actual bedroom. His crew sat in chairs around him. There was a beam of sunlight streaming in through a window. They weren’t on the ship. Where were they?

“Hey sleepy guy, welcome back!” Patton cooed.

His brother reached out his hand and squeezed his shoulder. “Looks like you got your wish, bro. A real-life prison break. But I’m telling you now, we are never doing that again.”

The chaotic twin grinned at his family. He looked down at his bandaged chest and then back to his loved ones, “it was totally worth it.”

Virgil looked about ready to punch him for that comment. But Logan beat him to it, slapping his arm only somewhat playfully, “You are never allowed to do something like that again. Ever again! Okay?” He commanded.

“Aw, alright... But only because there is still so much I want to teach you.”

Logan nodded his head in acknowledgement, “As long as you allow me to teach you about basic safety!”

“Oh, I like this kid.” Virgil chuckled.

And soon everyone had joined in. Sharing stories all about his lack of basic self-preservation instincts.

***

Janus watched as his crew delighted in Remus’s return to the land of the conscious. Turns out Thomas had been right, together they could survive.

taglist: @stop-it-anxiety @hexatrash @ollyollyoxinfree @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @leiasolo77 @arya-skywalker @alexxadontplaydespasito

[icharchivist]

Thank you for answering the previous asks and hope you're prepared!

How much, out of ten, are you of each winter troupe member?

Have a good day :3c

ahah thank you for doing that all the way!

and oh boy i thought i was prepared but turns out-

okay notewise.:

Tsumugi: 7/10, Tasuku: 3/10, Homare: 4/10 Hisoka: 9.5/10, Azuma: 10/10, Guy: 6/10

(if you're supprised Azuma is actually my ultimate kin and it's not Hisoka: congratz i fooled all of u. the only reason i don't have an Azuma icon is that i genuinely think he looks too sexy in some arts and it doesn't feel Me despite everything else. The more u know.)

And. i need to warn that i went much more into personal details for Hisoka and Azuma under the cut to the point where it may be overwhelming. And that Azuma's entry alone is 2.1k words long. What the fuck me.

Relating to team "we have so much trauma" is going to be so much fun.

coughs, anyway take care :3c

(Links: Spring, Summer, Autumn , Winter ranking)

Winter my beloved, this is going to be a normal, non emotional ranking at all.

Tsumugi: 7/10 I relate to his lack of confidence, and the way he gave up on everything he loved when his spirit was crushed (re what I was talking about with my Kumon rant). On my down time I did study a bit of psychology and though I wouldn’t put myself at the same level as a psy student I’m often told I read people mostly in an accurate way so I can relate to that. I can use my powers for Evil like nudging people in some direction or knowing where to attack, but I am super aware of that and I’ve been extra conscious about not having it happen again for over ten years now DLKFJDLF (Azuma is kinda like that too). But yeah the fact he is like that too makes it relatable.

I also think that the whole “feeling you fucked up and took all the responsibility when a friendship broke apart” is also something very relatable. So is “ghosting your friends after that”. I relate to the fact he’s a nerd too. I relate to him more than not but I guess I just removed points because of how while I relate to specificities the whole thing doesn’t connect as much as it could?

Tasuku: 3/10 he’s probably the one I relate the least to. I honestly didn’t understand Tasuku much until Nocturnality on my first read, and it’s only then that things clicked. Legit I saw him the way Azuma saw him dLKFJDKFJDF. But I do feel it relatable that he feels responsible for failing his friend and that he took it upon himself to try to read more into how people are behaving to try to prevent it from happening again. But else he’s. genuinely not like me KDJFKLDFJDFL

Homare: 4/10 mhmm. I think I relate to the way he is passionate and how much he genuinely loves. I also relate to the fact he is pretty analytic, though the details of what makes his struggles are not something I relate to easily. I have felt broken before, I was told i was broken or unfit in some ways, so this particular pain is something I completely understand. I also did use to be an artist and a writer so I can relate to that passion of his, although as I mentioned in others ranking *shrugs*. That said he’s very much more exuberant and confident than I am and I would assume I know how to deal with people emotionally a bit more.

Hisoka: 9.5/10 oh boy where to start. This is going to be a tough one to get into without getting extremely personal. To start with, I’m a sleepy baby. I sleep a lot DLKJFDF though not much at night. I used to fall asleep in class all the time my friends had to always be on the watch out for me. I don’t have much energies. I love plushy and I love being comfortable in some places. I also really love sweets tho not as much as him. I also do care ways too much for my specific plushies and pillows (I do have huge penguins plushies too).

I, too, have memories issues, though of course to a lesser extend. I have a lot of trauma and for a lot of them I ended up getting fuzzy memories. I used to be in a pretty toxic environment where I constantly had to make use of my memory to survive, and so when my memory started failing me, I was terrified. My parents gaslight me all the time and pretends a lot of things that happened didn’t happen and that I’m crazy for believing it happened, so the moment my memory started to fail me I started to panic a lot. It terrified me to not being completely sure whenever I could trust myself or not. It made me feel extremely unreliable. It’s still something I struggle with a lot.

This would have been my answer pre-awakening moon at least. I always related to him to some degree so Awakening moon was a slap in the face in a way I wasn’t ready to deal with, and this is where I have to be uncomfortably personal.

I am the youngest sibling of 3. My eldest sister ran away from home when I was 6, never to be seen again. My other sister resented me because I used to be very close to the eldest and she was jealous about it, and while the reasons were linked to our parents, who were extremely toxic to us and kept us into this toxic environment for years on end, my sister took all her anger out on me. While we’ve discussed it as adults now, our relationships is too strained to fix it nowadays.

It took me a long while – it took me Azuma’s arc actually – to realize that the way I feel for my eldest sister is more akin to grief than to abandon. I don’t even remember her. I don’t remember her and still apparently the way I was close to her was the reason my sibling hold it against me. I couldn’t even remember *why* my sister was mad at me because I don’t even remember being close to my sister that much. All I know is that she left because the situation at home was too toxic. It was.. so messy.

I have. Much more trauma linked to that specifically but that’s the root of something that hit me in the face with Hisoka’s arc. Because I can’t remember a person that disappeared from my life, and yet it was enough for it to break and shape everything I’ve lived through since. I couldn’t even start to talk about how it still impacts me now 20 years later. I’m just now making peace with the fact this was grief. This is the gist of the reason Hisoka’s arc hit me as hard as it did (and the fact that Chikage is actively undoing all the bad things his own grief pushed him to do on Hisoka is the reason Chikage is so compelling to me. My sister could never lol.).

I felt also that I had to take all the responsibilities for what happened. I felt like I could make things easier for the family after this trauma, at the rip age of 7, and no one stopped to think maybe a child shouldn’t have to be dealing with a collective family trauma like this. But well. Here we are.

I relate to the fact Hisoka also struggles to accept everything that happened. And that now he’s trying to make things better for others people he can relate to. It’s so… complicated.

Also I can’t forget the fact Hisoka tried to kill himself and :/ as someone who has had a lot of suicidal idealization in my life this really hit a lot harder than it should have.

In general I would just say that socially I’m not really like him except with people I’m comfortable with teasing. Hisoka can be a little too rude and it’s where I can’t relate lol. But otherwise man I care him so much I feel so seen. I’m just removing 0.5 points for that and I don’t give him full mark because of what I’ll explain next.

Azuma: 10/10 This one is going to be a trip. It’s about twice the length of the Hisoka’s rant. Mister took me by the throat too. As I think it’s clear now I cannot relate to the fact he genuinely loved his family and how much his family cared for him. Yet I relate… to about everything else.

On the surface I do think I seem more approachable and easy to talk with. I try to be the kindest person I can be, to not be judgmental. I’m conflict avoidant, just like he can be, and if I’m annoyed with someone I’m muuuuch more likely to use passive aggressiveness like he does with Tasuku when he’s pissed at him. (sidenote: I do find it funny that Tasuku was the only character I really felt I didn’t get until Nocturnality, while Azuma was having the exact same problem, and then he became one of my fav the moment it clicked. Azuma is my braincell.)

More often than not, there’s a smile on my face and I try to be soft in the way I can be. I’m generally pretty calm, I’ve been told I was soothing, or give good hugs, this sort of stuff.

Now onto the heavy stuff.

I have a lot of nightmares and night terrors linked to a lot of my traumas. I’m honestly scared sometimes to go to sleep ^^”. But in general, if Hisoka reflects a lot of a personal trauma and how it would personally affect me, Azuma reflects a lot on how I would behave with others people in general and especially when I’m unwell. I’ve coped most of my life with, everything that happened to me, by just. Trying to keep people at armlength. I don’t want to let people close to me, especially irl. Discussing all of that online gives me a distance that allows me to discuss it but, I remember in high school I was going through very bad things, and a few years later I was hanging out with a friend and I happened to open up about those things. And she was going livid because, she had known me for what, 6 years at that point? And she never knew any of this. We talked a lot then, we were close, but she never knew all those things about me until years later. It kinda scared her because to her I was always a sweet and cheerful person and she never expected that I was doing this badly. I remember then she brought up something we discussed back in a party with many of our others friends from high school and similarly they were all. “how did we never know any of this.”. Seeing Azuma in Nocturnality kinda brought me back to that convo tbh LKDJFLKDFJFD.

But I’m good at pretending I’m closer to people than they think. I’m an excellent listener. A lot of my friends tended to rely on me as the person they could talk about their problems to. I used to do it much more back then but I also used to pour a lot of energy trying to make it easier for people, solving their problems. Full on Therapist Friend:tm:. It does help that, as I said with Tsumu, I have basis in psychology so sometimes some observations I can make help much more than expected. Just like Azu tbh lol.

Oh also I am cuddly with my friends in general. I’m super touch starved but also to the point I feel uncomfortable to seek hugs because I just don’t get any on a normal basis and my body isn’t used, but I’m super cuddly and when I’m with my closest friends I’m like a koala.

And it gives people the impression to people that I’m very close to them because I know them well, and I know the ins and outs of why they behave the way they do. But. I kinda feel like it’s one sided more than not. And it’s all because of me, because I keep my walls up very high and it means people don’t generally expect that I’m hiding things.

I’m good at distracting too. I don’t relate to how flirty Azuma is but I keep seeing it as him distracting others. It’s flattering, and just embarrassing enough that the person ends up dropping whatever they may be pressing on Azuma to talk about. And, while not with flirting, I do that a lot, especially using compliments like that. (That said my kindness or teasing has been misinterpreted as flirting before DLKFJDLKF I’m trying to be extra conscious about not having that misunderstanding happen nowadays but man it happened a lot).

Azuma knows a lot of people, and has been supporting a lot of people, but he doesn’t let people in as much.

And a lot of it is linked to his own sense of grief. Of the fact he has lost so much he can’t afford to go through the pain of losing something again, so he distances himself from it before it can hurt. And I do that a lot.

I mentioned in the previous rant but it’s seeing Azuma’s arc that made me understand how much it’s more grief than abandon that makes it so hard for me to move on. And a part of me kinda just. Grieves the family I could never have, the normal life I wish I could have lived and clang too all of my life. When Azuma told Guy “I was always so lonely. Everyone had families they could take for granted but I had no one.” Oh my god it destroyed me. And how he mentions just afterward that while he has new people to rely on, it couldn’t change the fact he was still feeling this pain of losing his family and it just. Man. Might be crying right now.

It’s like… I think the reason I especially related to that is that, in therapy I’ve often discussed my problems in the lenses of neglect and abandon but the problem with that lenses is that, at least with the therapists I had, they tend to focus on the fact that therefore I /must/ be still yearning for them to change and turn around, like I could change something. But I don’t. I was resigned at some point. And it’s really only when I read that that I felt this exact resignation I have been feeling all that time. I think I mentioned once how reading a3 felt like going one step toward recovery I didn’t know I could get and this was exactly the scene I meant. It legit took a weight off my heart that i've been carrying for decades. It was the strangest feeling in the world.

Anyway more in general too, on top of keeping people at distance, I am also a pro at “suddenly disappearing/ghosting when I get too close and/or have a relapse”. When Azuma starts to pull his relapses like we see in Nocturnality, I see myself. Legit had a friend who read a3 who called me out about that DLKJFDKLFJ. Acting weird like this, closing yourself in like this, coming back to some harmful coping mechanism as a way to connect back with your own self, those are all things I do. And it sucks. Like. The things I put my friends though sucks. But I really can’t help it sometimes.

I’m good at listening and observing, I’m generally good at picking up why people act a certain way, but I’m still very distant. I do everything I can to pretend I’m not distant and generally it fakes an idea of intimacy that I don’t specifically see as such.

And I see all of that in Azuma in ways that are terrifyingly relatable. Another thing Azuma says in this convo with Guy, about how “Everytime I would go to sleep, I would wish the morning would never come” me. Mood. Holy shit. Feel seen. I hate it. Just in general though the way he talks about morning as this terrifying thing is me. Between the night terrors and the fact morning genuinely makes me feel horrible, that’s kinda why I end up oversleeping until the afternoon DLKFJDF Azuma my lord I feel you.

Because of my nightly panic attacks I do try to come up with ways around it mainly by drinking some relaxing tisanes and stuff. Oh and I did have a huge period in life where I HATED being in the sun, and I fucked over all of my melanin because of that. as a kid I would tan very easily, but now the sun hates me as much as I used to hate it. So when Azuma is a drama queen about not wanting to stay in the UV too much I’m just like. How dare you pull out a mirror on me I didn’t ask for this. (also I have been called a vampire by people esp when I was a teen but that’s just how people called edgelords like me. Still. Reo my beloved.)

There is honestly so many little things with Azuma that reminds me of myself like this that it makes me go nuts. If Hisoka is who I relate to in term of specific trauma and how I cope personally, Azuma is more like, the direct physical impact of my trauma on me and the way it makes me relate to others people, as well as just every little behaviors here and there that are just so specific.

One of the only thing I really don’t relate to Azuma about is his love for Alcohol but I think if you replace it with like, my addiction to juice it works out the same.

Oh and, that’s a stupid but funny thing to me, I project hard on how much the reason he keeps his hair long is a form of mental stability for him, because I legit keep my hair long for my own mental stability. I have tied ways too much of my recovery process to my hair that when I see Azuma coping with grief with his hairstyle and how almost cutting it would be him spiraling down, I felt seen.

also i have 0 stamina just like him.

ANOTHER THING is also the fact Azuma is genuinely yearning for connections with people but he spent so much of his life keeping people away that as much as he’s yearning for it, it takes him so long to be able to lower those walls because he’s been so used to keep people away that he can’t reply to this yearning. And the way how, once he actually ends up feeling this bit of vulnerability toward people, he would suddenly shut in like it suddenly scares him? Mood.

One last thing (i promise) (i think) is that, if it wasn't obvious from all my ranting.... So much of myself and the way i view myself is defined by my trauma. I struggle to exactly come to term with my identity in any shape or form that isn't deeply related to my trauma. Even if you asked me what my sexuality is (please don't), my actual answer would be completely shaped by the fact i have so much trauma linked to sexuality, romance and gender, that i don't want to process it at all and can't actually manage to "fit the boxes" because i cannot see myself as something else than my trauma, or explain my feelings without linking it to my trauma. Honestly at times i find it kinda cringeworthy from me because i really, really can't tell about anything about my identity without thinking of my various traumas (i talked about a few of them in those rankings but it's not even the tip of the iceberg for a lot of stuff.) And when i see the way Azuma is in particular, maybe i'm projecting, but i feel like a lot of it is the same. Like not processing his age because if he does it reminds him of how he outlived those he loved (which is an headcanon but com'on.) or how even his hair is linked to his trauma. Or how he doesn't drive because it's linked to his trauma. I feel SO seen.

If it wasn’t for the fact he genuinely loved and was loved by his family, I would have felt exactly the same about everything regarding him.

But I still give him a full mark because the way Azuma’s arc has affected me is beyond any possible words I could use. And also because I legit wrote above 2100 words just on how much I related to Azuma ALONE. Even Hisoka took me 800 WORDS. HELLO. Guy: 6/10 Back to general coping here, Guy isn’t exactly relatable to me except in well. For exemple the ways the others relate to him, especially Hisoka and Azuma. So his memory loss to cope with intense family trauma is relatable to me, the way he can have nightmares and night terrors is also hella relatable to me.

But something that’s more Guy that I relate to is the whole “Step dad kept talking down on him and verbally abusing him until Guy basically completely closed himself in” because man. I won’t elaborate but I’ve really felt from reading that verbal abuse the same way I felt thinking back to how my ex-step dad used to talk to me. It made me so angry on his behalf. And the way he internalized it to cope was something deeply relatable.

Another thing with Guy is the fact that Guy did genuinely believes himself inhuman and tbh there was a time when I was very young where I would catch myself unable to feel a bit of humanity mostly from how I kept shutting myself in. (The reason I don’t relate to it with Homare is that this “inhumanity” was never actually there even if Homare did believe in it. But for Guy he went the extra mile convincing himself to the point where he denied this humanity as far as possible in a self destructive way and :/).

SO YEAH Winter is like. Therapy for me. The problem with “Trauma: The Troupe” is that saying “I relate to the Winter troupe” means “I may have problems and so what.” And it sucks.

if you read that wordvomit, congratulation, was it worth it?

Take care!

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty one: sets of twins

October thirteenth had come about and Sam knew for a fact that Joey was having a blast overseas in Germany. She pictured him with a big cake courtesy of one of the large luxurious bakeries over there that specialized in making cakes, and she knew he was to head off to bed that evening with his belly full of it as well as the dinner he so well chose.

Meanwhile, the arrival of the orange and red leaves on all of the trees made her think of the last days in which she and Cliff were together, right around that time in fact. A year ago. A year ago she had lost Cliff to the northern darkness and he became the hunter in the shadows left behind the aurora borealis. The walks to and from school only made the memory of him far more potent: but it was Joey's birthday when the reality of it all settled over her. Metallica had ascended into a whole other world of their own, but Joey and Anthrax remained right by her, right within arms' reach, just like the colors that changed on all of the trees around her.

The red and orange like the feathers decorated upon Joey's headdress.

She pictured him out front there on the stage with a little party hat upon his head much like Alex's birthday party, or perhaps he would wear one of those inside of his Indian headdress during their performance of “Indians”. The only drawback she saw with it however was that his birthday took place right smack in the middle of the week. Add to this, Sam, Marla, and Belinda didn't have a three day weekend like they so assumed would happen with Columbus Day.

“Go to school anyways,” Joey told her over the phone on the Thursday night before that weekend. “Make all the great art you possibly can for Monday. We need that great art of yours—all the red feathers and the Iroquois lore. The world needs that great art of yours.”

He then cleared his throat and sang to her in the softest, most gentlest voice she had ever heard him sing. She lay in bed all the while as well, and so when he sang to her, it almost felt as though he was singing her to sleep. Indeed, she nestled down in bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin as she held the cordless phone up to her ear. She pictured him laying in bed as well, complete with a cup of Mexican hot chocolate next to him. She smiled when he crooned the words, “Oh, Samantha” in a near whisper.

“That was so sweet,” she told him afterwards.

“That's the song I sang for my audition into Anthrax,” he explained, “it's called 'Oh, Sherrie', by Steve Perry from Journey. I just changed it to Samantha to kinda give it to ya and whatnot.”

“Aw.”

He then cleared his throat. “So any word on that big ass monolithic ginormous project you've got coming up?” “Nothing yet,” she explained, “although I'm supposed to meet up with Bill next Friday afternoon and talk it over more. At least I hope to get to see him. He told me he's going to pop into one of my classes just to watch me, but he never told me when it's supposed to happen.”

“Well, damn.”

They fell into silence for a seconds and then she spoke again.

“You know, I think you can actually come with me out to California,” she pointed out, “like—you know, we don't have to do the long distance. I might have to ask him about it because the whole thing about it being about school and whatnot. I say this because that was the mistake Cliff and I made. He didn't want to leave the Bay Area and I didn't want to leave New York, either. He actually got kind of defensive about it at one point. I remember that was one of the last things he and I talked about before Metallica left for their tour and we never fully finished it, either.”

“Wow, that sounds like there was a rift between you two,” Joey noted.

“I wouldn't necessarily say that,” Sam confessed as she slipped one hand underneath her pillow, right under her head. “But it was definitely something we couldn't address further than that, though. Cliff was so home grown with the Bay Area that it almost feels like a betrayal to him that he was killed in Scandinavia, somewhere that wasn't his home.”

“And if I'm honest, I kinda am, too, but with upstate.” He then cleared his throat again. “Although—make no mistake, though, Sam. If we were a lot bigger than we are right now, like if Anthrax truly was about to become something huge, I would probably reconsider that.”

“So for you, it's not just feeling at home and at peace in upstate New York but it's a matter of money.”

“Right! Exactly. We are kinda earnin', but it's not really a lot, though. No idea why this is, either. But we're barely getting paid, though, even while being on tour. Anyways, I gotta mosey on outta here—rehearsal starts in like three minutes. Also before I forget. I should tell ya this: be on the lookout for postcards.”

“Postcards from you?”

“From me, from Frankie, from Charlie, from Danny, from the girls, all of us. We're gonna be sending ya stuff while we're over here in Europe. Also, another thing I should ask you—how's Scott doin'? Have you talked to him at all?”

“I haven't seen him, no,” Sam confessed. “Like weeks—not since you auditioned for the guitarist position. Although I'm thinking of going over to his place and at least checking in on him and his fiancée.”

“You ought to. On the flight over here, Frankie and I were talking and at one point, he goes, 'I wonder how Scott's been doing lately. We sure haven't heard from him in a long time.'”

Someone behind him interrupted him right then and there.

“What's that?” Joey called back and he held the phone away from his ear. The person said something.

“Okay,” he told them, and he brought the phone back. “Anyways, I gotta go. You sleep tight, alright?”

“Of course,” Sam said. “And you guys don't stay up too late.”

He chuckled at that. “Alright—good night, Sam I am. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And they hung up at the same time. She lay there on the bed and gazed up at the ceiling above her, and she listened to the falling rain outside of her window.

But at some point, she drifted off to sleep without putting the cordless back. There was a dream in there at some point, but she had no idea as to what it exactly encapsulated, especially by the time she woke up and Marla was cooking something in the kitchen for the both of them.

Sam had hope that the Cherry Suicides would have their day on Halloween for their annual celebratory show. She had no idea as to where they were playing that night, either, but she hoped that they would have those sugar skulls with them again.

Indeed, on Columbus Day weekend, she sat down with her colored pencils and her journal. She thought of Joey and that big headdress of red and white feathers perched high on his head, as if it was a crown. The crown in lieu of a party hat, the crown for his ascension into his twenty seventh trip about the sun, and thus she drew his head and shoulders. Those thick luxurious curls down from his head in such flyaway fashion and that big cluster of feathers all the way down to the floor. That rich scarlet for the base and the orange and golden yellow for the power of the sun.

She thought about Belinda's wishes to take her into stained glass. Perhaps it could be something genuinely wonderful as she picked up the Prussian blue and burnt umber colored pencils for the shadows under Joey's eyes and all about his face.

She thought about the glass in question, in how it all seemed so much brighter and more colorful when in the sun. All the times of walking to and fro about that front hallway of the school, where the morning sun shone through the stained glass. If only there was a way to bring it all forth with mere colored pencils.

Indeed, she brought the burnt umber to an angle and she began shading in his skin, a tone ever so light about his face. By his nose and the point of his chin, she gave it another layer and spread it out. Followed by another and another, until there she had the darkest, fullest shade of that lush, earthy brown for his sun kissed skin. The blue, meanwhile, added a touch more depth, especially to the natural creases on his face, around his nose and the corners of his mouth and his dark lips.

If only there was a way in which she could show this drawing to Joey, and if only there was a way in which she could translate this very drawing over to the world of stained glass. She had faith in Belinda and her power of convincing, however the whole suggestion about bringing leather crafting to the school seemed to have fallen on deaf ears at that point: neither of them heard anything about it since Alex's birthday party.

It was right there that she had forgotten to ask Joey about the guitar strap she had given to him for his birthday, and how it was faring for him with the overseas crowds. She pictured him at the front of the stages, with the microphone before him and the guitar slung over his shoulder, high against his body as it should be with him. If there was anything he could have given Alex credit for, it had to be that. The whole thing between him and Alex almost no sense to her, even to that moment in time, it made no sense to her.

The day following Joey's birthday, a Wednesday afternoon and the only time Sam had any time to herself during that quarter given Marla's whole hectic schedule on her own as well as all that she had to do, she spotted a pair of cards in the mailbox downstairs, one light rosy pink and the other a butter yellow. The latter had with it a small lumpy envelope the size of a playing card.

She turned over the yellow card where she was met with a clear, crisp photograph of a castle in Germany. To be near a castle once again!

But then she turned it over again in order to read that messy scrawl in blue pen.

“Sam—

my wife and I are trusting you with this key to our apartment, seeing as we owe you the record player with Spreading.

I hope all is well back home right now! I wish you were here with us—if you loved England, you'll love Germany and Holland even more.

Love, Danny”

She turned her head back to the mailbox and she took out the envelope. Indeed, she felt something hard inside, and she knew that she had been given a chance to listen to the vinyl records she so wished to listen to, mainly Spreading the Disease and also Live at Eindhoven. She then turned to the pink postcard, which had a photograph of a cobblestone street somewhere in Amsterdam. But right in the midst of the cobblestones stood the Cherry Suicides, donned in black hats and red veils as if someone had taken the picture right before the show and one of them tacked it onto the card. She then turned it over to read.

“Sam—

do you remember that tape we asked you to make for us? Well, we got accepted into the new merger between Megaforce and the other label with it! A bootleg tape is now a live album thanks to your help. It's not our debut album, but it's something to start with with us. Because of it, we're happy to tell you that you're the first in line for this new record. The Cherry Suicides: from Rhode Island with love—live in Boston 1987, is the full title. Be on the lookout for it around Halloween, believe it or not.

Be on the lookout for a live album from Anthrax and Testament, too—although I'm sure you already know about the latter. I don't know if Eric told you this yet, but that album isn't even supposed to come out over there in States until next year, so consider yourself lucky, my lady! Anyways, there's all kinds of good stuff from all of us! Things are in fact beginning to look up, and the four of us in particular owe it all to you.

Morgan, Minerva, and Rosita all send their love, and as do I.

-Zelda”

She smiled at that and she held both cards to her chest, a pair of twin cards, from two people she held so close to her heart. She then made her way upstairs with those as well as that lumpy envelope that Dan had sent her, and she was eager to make her way over to his place all to listen to those vinyl records.

Again, a pair of twins, soon to be triplets with the Cherry Suicides' upcoming live album. How exciting! The girls finally found their way with a new record, and it happened to be that bootleg tape that Sam had made for them while they toured with Anthrax and Testament as well.

She almost stumbled her way into the apartment but she caught herself before Genie greeted her at the door. Once she set everything down on the couch, she reached down and pet her little black cat head. She squinted her eyes at the feeling and she treated Sam to a low purr, and she squatted down before her so she could better pet her.

If she was to leave for California with Bill, then she would have to leave Genie behind as well, and this cat always greeted her in particular whenever she came in through that door. She erected her tail but left a small hook at the top as she rubbed on her knees. She turned around and gazed up at her with those soft golden eyes and that purr from within her throat, and Sam continued to pet her head and her back before her knees began to ache from the squatting.

No sooner had she stood to her feet when the phone rang.

“Oh, goodness me,” she told Genie, and she bowed into the kitchen and fetched the phone on the wall. “Hello?”

“Hello, daughter of mine.” She recognized her mother's voice on the other end.

“Oh, hi, Mom! I got home from school just now. What's happening?”

“I have some good news and some bad news,” Esmé began.

“Good news first,” Sam told her.

“The good news is in this past summer, starting from May, I have taken up writing. I handed in a sample of a manuscript to a publishing house down in L.A and I'm waiting to hear back from them. Your mother just might become a published author soon.”

“Oh, my god, that's wonderful!” Sam waved her hand about before her face, and then she remembered. “Now what about the bad news?”

“The bad news is—your father and I might be splitting up,” she confessed in a low voice. Sam then brought that same hand to her mouth to keep herself from screaming, or puking. Esmé let out a low whistle but she never said anything after that. The silence was deafening all around them.

“Why?” Sam finally managed to choke out.

“He tells me that things are just not right anymore,” she explained, “and they haven't been, either. Even I will admit to that. and just so you know, I never mentioned the man whom I used to know to him once before. But the human intuition is incredible, though. He and I—we talked it over together just this morning—and ever since then I haven't been able to completely process it yet.” She sniffled and Sam held a hand to her chest.

“Oh my god,” she breathed out. To think that her parents had been together for so long at that point as well: it didn't even feel right to her.

“But just—let's keep it between you and me, though,” Esmé advised her. “Unless Marla is really genuinely curious about it. I just—I don't know how else to tell you about this, either, other than straight up over the phone. If you were closer to us, I may have told you sooner before and you may have witnessed it as well.”

“Well, Mom—if it's any comfort at all—I actually might be back out there next summer,” she sputtered.

“Really?” Esmé paused. “What for? What happened?”

“Yeah, my counselor told me that my senior project is taking place out there. Like he planned it ahead of time, out in California, and he told me it's supposed to start like next August. So my junior year will end and then he and I prepare on heading out that way. With this—with hearing this, the one and only pitfall I can think of and see out of that is I'll be away from my friends here.”

“And you've settled into New York City, too,” Esmé added, “you seem so at home there, more so than you do here on the West Coast. But at least your father and I will get to see you again. This is actually something I've disliked about you living so far away from home, if I'm honest. I miss having you around us—and I know Ruben does, too. We both miss you dearly.”

“The other thing about it is I dunno how long it'll be, either,” Sam continued.

“And you'll be far away from Joey, too,” said Esmé in a grim tone of voice.

“I'll be far from Joey, too,” she echoed her.

“But wait, how does he feel about going out West? Maybe he can join you and Bill while you're out here.”

“I dunno—he and I were actually talking about that the other night. It's kind of Cliff was so reluctant to move with me, but Joey's more concerned with money, though. And just like Cliff, he's born and raised here in New York—you know, the whole upstate area where he's from. It's such a homey area, like the direct opposite of New York City in my opinion. You know, New York City is where the world comes to play and figure things out. Upstate is where the world bypasses it because everyone else pitched a tent there. So—I don't really see it, to be completely honest with you, Mom.”

“And it's a grueling task, too,” Esmé added, “you know the struggle the three of us went through three years ago.”

“How could I forget,” Sam quipped. “I was so happy to finally just lay down in bed afterwards.”

“Your father and I were, too, when we were staying at the hotel. I mean, we love New York for sure, and I do especially—in fact—come to think of it, one of the things that's driving the two of us apart is my desire to be back East, closer to you.”

“Really?” Sam pressed her free hand to her hip. “Well, why didn't you say anything before?”

“Well, because your father undertook so much when we were moving you over there. When we got home, Ruben said, 'we're only going over to New York for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I mean no offense to Sam at all, but we seriously can't do this all the time.' He never said anything to you because he didn't know how you would react to it.”

And Sam also thought about the previous conversation they had had before, in which Ruben might not have been her father after all. Indeed, it would also explain as to why she hardly heard anything from him unless the holidays rolled about.

“My publisher is also based out of L.A., too,” Esmé continued. “To make a huge decision such as that, a big grueling move across the family such as that, to move three thousand miles away now would be so frivolous and ultimately fruitless, in my personal opinion.”

“And it just wouldn't make any sense on top of that, anyway,” Sam pointed.

“Right, with you possibly coming out come the summer time as well. It wouldn't be right to me to have you out here for something for school only to have to pick everything up and swap places with you.”

But the news of her parents separating left Sam yearning for something else, something different. She barely paid any attention to anything more that her mother talked about after that; instead she thought of her next drawing. By the time she and Esmé bode each other goodbye for now, she returned to the couch to fetch her things. The lovely feeling she had had before had disappeared with the realization of what happened.

Even though her mother told her not to speak with anyone about it, Marla needed to know about it, and Joey needed to know about it. Aurora had built a home of her own and she hadn't heard anything from her since Alex's birthday party when she made it about herself. Her own best friend and fellow California girl wasn't even around to know about this thing that could alter everything and the world in which Sam knew about from that point onward. Her own best friend and whom she believed was her confidant.

Marla was more trustworthy with the arrival of all of this.

And it was right there that the tears began to fall from her eyes. She sniffled and brushed one away from her right, and she opened her book bag for her journal once again. To the page that followed her birthday drawing to Joey. She tried to keep the tears at bay as she put the first strokes of graphite down on the heavy graphite. But they still streaked down her face as she gave the drawing some dark hair.

Herself as a young child.

She thought about going into her room with the journal, but she had no reason to do so when she had the couch all to herself. She wept for herself and for the fact that she was never returning to childhood. She was never returning to Cliff. Even though she had no siblings to count on, she did feel as though she missed something. There had to be something right next to her all the while, someone else right next to her. She looked over at Genie, who had curled up in her usual spot on the couch.

Her golden eyes closed of the part of the way but she stayed awake.

Careful not to startle her, Sam reached over and petted her head again. She pinched those eyes closed all the way, which in turn made more tears bleed out from Sam's eyes.

She thought about Alex, in how she met him when he was still a young boy in school. He was still a boy to her, but even from a moment's glance, she could tell that he had grown so much in these past three years. The past four years, from when Testament first began life from the suburbs of San Francisco.

Four years since they came to the fold as Legacy, and she was right there when they changed their name. And now she had gotten their very first live album: it awaited her in her bedroom as if it taunted her from the darkness.

A legacy in its own rite.

And she knew that she would be near them once again come the summer time. But she returned to the journal to make that drawing of herself as a little girl. Through her tears, she made more markings that collected into the shape of something new. She had no idea as to how he looked as a child himself, but she knew the little pearl of gray hadn't made its grand entrance yet. That thick jet black hair and those big deep eyes that seemed to swallow her whole, even from the grains of paper, even from the softness of childhood.

She thought about the hug he had given her at his birthday party. Soft like a young boy still.

And yet she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Joey behind. To leave him there in upstate New York to his own devices. But then again, he had that guitar with him, and he had all manner of friends still within range of him, and he had his band as well.

His band.

Scott burst into her mind then, as did Dan Lilker. They had started Anthrax themselves, and yet they both had departed from their places. By some dark magic, Anthrax had become Joey's band almost overnight. He was the heart and soul for sure, but he had come into the fold well after they had started and lifted off of the ground. It wasn't like Alex, who had come into the fold with Testament right after their start and then watched them go forth.

To think Joey had been inherited a whole band from Scott all because of something that he did and something that Scott had dismissed time and time again. Something about it made her squirm in her seat a bit.

Granted, Joey was her boyfriend, and she knew that no matter what happened with Anthrax or with him, that she had to stand behind him on it, something that she had picked up from being with Cliff. But nothing about his position in the band spoke to her about it being his band, however. A stranger in a strange land there when it pertained to him. She couldn't help but compare the whole experience with Testament, either, the other quintet that was still a quintet themselves.

Chuck stood on the stage with his microphone stand and played it like he would a guitar, but at least that was part of the whole deal with them. She hadn't seen him pick up a guitar from someone who was obviously the opposite of him and then go forth with it out of sheer spite. She could hope all she wanted with Joey, but he had to come to his senses about his interaction with Alex at some point in the future. It was only fair to him, and it was only fair to Joey himself.

But on the other hand, she recalled as to how miserable Joey was without a guitar at his helm. She wanted him to be away from the alcohol, away from the drugs. She wanted him to excel as the true genuine artist she knew he was meant to be, that he had tucked away all by the constraint of time itself. He had to continue on with the guitar, and he had to continue on with Anthrax, with them as a four piece rather than a massive quintet like Testament or even Death Angel.

But he also had to come back down to earth. The kindness was within him: she could feel it, and she did in fact feel it with him. To brush away the contradictions like she brushed away tears, and she could perhaps crack the code with him. To dilute his venom like she would with watercolor and paint with it upon her canvas for all the world to see, and so she could say that she had danced with Joey Belladonna and gave him art.

She brushed away more tears as she completed the remainder of the two children on the page before her, the drawing of herself and the drawing of Alex. Two twin children, even though they weren't even a little bit related to one another.

If only there was a way in which she could contact him and not through the fan club only. He had showed to her those fleeting moments, those little nuggets, those glimpses to what resided behind those deep eyes. But much like with Joey, therein resided something more that he wasn't showing her. There was more to Alex than she had given him credit for, and more than Joey had given him credit for.

She then raised her head from the journal and she glanced back at Genie, who had curled up into a tight bun on the top of the couch and went to sleep.

Marla wouldn't be home for at least another half an hour.

She peered out the door to the porch, at the buildings across the street and the sliver of harbor beyond that. So much to New York she hadn't seen yet, and so much she hadn't done yet, but she wanted to do it all right then and there. She could feel the clock ticking, the end of the day coming. The end was upon her, just like how Cliff said it would be when he set out for the last time into Sweden. Beyond the drapes, beyond the veil, beyond the darkness.

To live in the great unknown and only find herself in a single small pinprick of it, but something else called her back. Even though she had pitched the tent herself there in Hell's Kitchen with Marla, the past called her back. The past to make peace with the present and ultimately the future.

Maybe it was in fact time to head on back home after all, but then again she had so much at her every whim and desire. There was no way she could leave now, but she also had to leave. To go with Bill to California and to be there for her mother and her father both as they sorted things out between them, and to find out more of the secrets they had kept from her all these years. Maybe it was time to head on back home, to be closer to her parents.

To be closer to the other side of the scene.

To be closer to Cliff again.

[enbyincrisis]

In honour of suicide prevention awareness month, I’m going to talk about Bertie.

I know that this particular occasion is a USA thing, but because a large majority of my mutuals and followers are from there, I think it’s important for me to recognise it.

I’ve known a lot of people who have died. (Because of shit I won’t go into right now. I might make a different post on that later if you actually want to know but I don’t want to go off topic now.) But I’ve only known two people who have committed suicide. The first was Zahra, a member of my theatre ensemble. And the second was my best friend.

His name was Julian Albert. He had a surname but he hated it. We called him Bertie. He was pronounced dead on the 5th of May, 2020. And he was the best person I have ever known.

Bertie was trans. He was panromantic, polyromantic and asexual. He was autistic, very visibly ticced and stimmed, and had many other forms of neurodivergency. He had issues at home, with transphobic and abusive parents. And he had massive issues with dissociation. We knew he was suicidal, but we also knew that he was getting help and pushing through. Until he didn’t.

I’m not going to focus on that for this next bit, though. I’m not going to focus on how he died, because that wasn’t who he was, and that’s not what he would have wanted. I’m going to talk about how he lived.

Bertie was the most Alive person I have ever met. He was constantly moving, jumping up on tables and benches, speaking what he wanted to. He was glorious. Bertie loved frogs and bats. He loved to draw. He was a brilliant performer. He loved soup.

Last year, when he found out that I had never celebrated Halloween before, he invited me to go Trick or Treating with him. He sat down and made, from scratch, a mothman costume with me, because that was my favourite cryptid. I never got to go with him because I got really sick. But it brought me so much joy to have that costume.

One time, my friend and I bought him a pumpkin from the grocery store down the road. Just a full sized butternut pumpkin. We brought it to school and gave it to him as a gift. He loved it. He carried it around as his child, talking about himself as a pumpkin dad. He fucking loved that pumpkin.

If you’re following me, you probably know about my obsession with fish. Most people found that very strange. Bertie just went with it, and encouraged it. He was the first person who did that. He sent me pictures of fish on instagram every day, and drew and painted and sculpted fish for me whenever he could in art class.

He was the kindest, least problematic, funniest, best, most Alive person I have ever known.

All of that is not to say that he didn’t struggle, because he did. Every week I would take his secret laundry home, his male uniform, his binder, and I would wash and dry and iron it for him. He struggled for a bit with substance abuse. His parents refused to get him the help he needed. He had been abused, raped and mistreated. He had such intense dissociation that he couldn’t really tell whether he was actually at school with us or whether he was lying in bed talking to a hallucination version of us again.

But he was pushing through it, and he was strong.

When I found out, I was shocked. Well, not really. I had already felt in my gut that something was wrong, and that it was to do with him. But, to be brutally honest, I thought it was more likely that one of our other friends had committed suicide, because they seemed wildly less stable.

At his funeral, which was livestreamed because of COVID-19, his parents misgendered him and dead named him the whole time. They showed pictures of him pre-transition. Not only was this the most disrespectful, transphobic bullshit ever, it was also really hard for his friends, who were also grieving, to be constantly reminded of one of the reasons we were having a funeral in the first place.

After he died, people who bullied him mercilessly wore little green ribbons, and posted green hearts on their instagram stories. They saw the people who knew him saying, goblin king, go home and reclaim your crown, and took it and twisted it and made it horrible to watch.

All of this is to say, that it’s never who you expect. I think that we should remember people like Bertie for their strength. I think that we should try a lot harder than we currently do as a society to provide help to those who need it, and even those who don’t. I think that we should value trans lives, and prevent this kind of transphobic bullshit, because it kills. I think we should be more accepting of neurodivergent people. And I guess what I’m trying to say is, Be Kind. You can reblog as many posts as you want, but unless you are kind, what are you really doing?

His name was Julian Albert. We called him Bertie. He was a He. He was strong. And he was kind.

[h2omyeon]

You Were Beautiful (KJM x Reader)

Summary: You had been in love with your classmate Kim Junmyeon for the last year and a half. You finally find the guts to tell him the truth about how you feel, but at the wrong time. (PS: Chanyeol makes a cameo in this story and Junmyeon is an Art History major!)

Pairing: Junmyeon x Female Reader

Tags: College Student Junmyeon, Art Hoe Junmyeon, bittersweet stuff

Warnings: Mentions of suicide towards the end of this chapter

Word Count (in total): 8.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my first ever story I wrote and published on here. Feel free to leave comments and I will try to publish each chapter weekly! This story is based off of a combination of dreams that I had which included people who weren’t Junmyeon and Junmyeon himself during the beginning of this whole COVID pandemic (AKA: when things began to fall apart). Like the world that I was living in at that time, this story/dream is just as (I hope to believe) chaotic. I also apologize if there are a ton of plot holes in the story because it was based on a dream and I could not think of any filler parts. Enjoy!- PS

PPS: Thank you so much for reading up to this point; I really appreciate all the likes, reblogs and comments by you all and the overall support. I am also honored to tell you all that I will be publishing a story called “Cocoon” (which will pair the reader with Jaehyun from NCT) within the next few weeks, so keep an eye out for that. 

PPPS: Before you read this chapter, I apologize for the way the story ends and feel free to ask, comment or message me about it. I felt like it was the best way to end it. I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far as much as I have enjoyed writing and sharing it. Thank you again!- h2omyeon <3

Read the previous parts here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Epilogue: Universe 

Three days after the accident, the press had confirmed that there were more than 20 survivors; there were 40 altogether, although the names were not stated. Most of the people who had passed on the flight were older people or young children. You had no idea if Junmyeon had survived the crash after the on-site investigation was completed as rescue workers and police officers were still going around to friends and family members of those who may have been on the flight. 

That same week, your family decided to go visit the Kims on Saturday afternoon to keep them company. While you all were enjoying some of Mrs Kim’s comforting homemade food on their patio that day, the doorbell began to ring. Mr Kim immediately got up from his seat and ran to the door; you saw through the net that there were two rescue workers and a tall male police officer talking to him about something; Mrs Kim walked to the door while the rest of you followed. 

You watched a conversation unfold in the front door and the Kims were handed a letter World War 2 style; Mrs Kim opened the letter and read it out loud; her voice had begun to break.

“Good day, we regret to inform you that your family member passed away in the crash that occurred to Flight 496 last Saturday.”

Your heart dropped; the love of your life really was gone. All the memories he had of you were gone, forever. You went into your mother’s arms and began to weep. She sobbed too, as your father consoled the crying women in front of him.

Mr Kim consoled his wife, who asked in Korean, “How will I tell his mother?” Natasha and Molly, not knowing how to react because they were both watching TV, both turned pale after hearing the news and turned off the TV. After a few moments, you and your father walked to the front door. You skimmed through the letter, realizing that there was a mistake; the address and the name were wrong. 

The rescue worker, who you recognized as a guy from your history class, spoke. “Wait, I think I got the letters mixed up,” he admitted, taking the letter from you. He looked at the front and the back to check the name; “Yeah, I got it mixed up.” He went to retape the letter, while the other worker handed you a letter with the right address. 

“How the hell do you get addresses mixed up?!?!?!” Mr Kim snapped at the young man; the young man had a look of confusion. “Y/N, please read the letter.” Mr and Mrs Kim held one another’s hands; your parents held one another tightly and silently prayed as they watched you read the fate of your first love in your hands. 

Your hands shook as you tried to open the letter: “Dear Mr and Mrs Kim, your family member Kim Junmyeon, survived the crash of Flight 496 and is doing well at the hospital; he will be coming home soon.” Along with the brief letter, there was the address of the hospital that he was staying at; it was located in Long Island. Everyone began to happily embrace one another; you couldn’t help but hug your sisters and parents. He was alive; it was a sigh of relief for all of you. You were unable to sleep in fear that he died without wanting to and now for the first time in a week, you could sleep in peace. Mr Kim and your father, two people who initially despised one another, hugged one another for the first time. 

“Thank you,” you thanked the rescue workers and the police officer. The workers watched the brief sadness turn into a sigh of relief and happiness . 

“I apologize for my colleague’s mistake. Have a good day,” the police officer stated and the three of them went off to the next family. You had a smile on your face; “We will visit him first thing tomorrow,” Mr Kim declared. That night, they went to buy ingredients to make some of their nephew’s favorite foods, both Korean and American. 

Later that night, you told Angela the good news; “He’s a brave and very resilient man. I knew he would come out of it alive,” she stated. You two proceeded to talk about how you all were going to meet to go to the hospital the next morning. 

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The next morning, you heard loud banging from the front door, while you were asleep. You could hear your father leave the bedroom he shared with your mother to open the door. You woke up immediately and the rest of your family followed suit and walked to the front door. 

Mr Kim hurriedly entered the house and rapidly spoke as he walked in. Your mother walked to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You were unable to understand what had happened. 

“What happened?” Natasha and Molly asked; you did not know what was going on either. You didn’t want to bother your parents, so you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth. The young girls walked down the stairs to the living room by the time you came out of the bathroom. You walked down the stairs and to the living room; you saw that everyone was crying. Junmyeon was alive, you thought. Why are they crying?

“That letter was a lie,” Mr Kim consoled you. He wiped his tears, took a sip of his water and began to explain that he had received a call from the hospital that Junmyeon had suffered a seizure in his sleep as a result of his head trauma and passed away earlier that morning. Your father looked at you; your heart dropped. You got up to feel if the world you were living in was stimulation; you felt the room spin, then go black and produced a loud thud as your body fell on the floor. 

Fifteen minutes later, you woke up on the sofa, having no recollection of being there. There was a wet towel on your forehead; Angela and Chanyeol had arrived by that time. Angela’s face was red and puffy from crying, while Chanyeol consoled her. He had tried not to cry, but the tears in his eyes were about to come out and he finally cried. Your mother and sisters were all crying, but at that moment, you were confused as to why they were so sad. By this time, Mr Kim and your father had gone to the hospital to collect Junmyeon’s remaining belongings. 

It had suddenly hit you that Junmyeon had passed away; that was the reason you fell on the ground. You hoped to reunite with the love of your life that same day at the hospital but all hopes of reunion died along with your hopes in life.  You didn’t know how to process what had been going on; he wasn’t dead, he was just away for a long period of time, you claimed in your head. You couldn’t eat and refused to move from the sofa for the rest of the day. Your mother sang songs as a way to console you and your sisters sat with you, holding your hand. 

“I know how much you loved him,” your mother consoled. “He’s in a better place now.”

Later that evening, your parents were watching the news when the reporters had confirmed he was the passenger who had died of his injuries. You stared blankly at the television screen; Junmyeon was now a memory embedded in a voicemail, a text message conversation and many pictures taken during your time together. Another thing passed away that day, which was your ability to feel love. It would take a while for you to grow that ability back.

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The funeral was a week after the news broke. It was small and quick, since Junmyeon’s body was flown to Korea that same night. Your sister Natasha and Chanyeol had sung his favorite song, “Universe” by EXO as a way to say goodbye with Molly playing the piano. Along with Angela and Chanyeol and a few of your other friends, your father spoke about how much he saw Junmyeon as the Glue that held two families together. Mr and Mrs Kim spoke, sharing their experiences with him as their beloved nephew, while your mother spoke about how he possessed a rare quality to love unconditionally and spread that love to everyone around him. 

It was your turn to speak. You didn’t prepare a speech and were naturally awkward when it came with words, despite being an English major. You took a breath and finally, after formulating somewhat of a hasty eulogy, began to speak:

“Junmyeon was like glue; he stuck by you no matter what you were going through. Whenever I felt upset, I knew I could always go to him to talk to him about it. He brought two families who initially did not know one another together and formed a trust that will last a lifetime,” you began.

“Most of all, he made me the happiest I had been in a long time. I remember the night before he left, he told me that I made him happy. I never thought I could be the source of someone’s happiness, let alone be happy myself. Happiness is something I don’t think I will ever find in a long time and for most of you, Junmyeon may be just a memory. I know that for you  all, he is memorialized in physical items such as pictures, voicemails and text messages, but for me he is memorialized both in my heart and in my life. I’m glad I got to know Junmyeon; he was the light in everyone’s life that has now extinguished. I will miss him deeply. The sad thing is, I never even got to say goodbye to him at the hospital and tell him how much I really loved him. Now I can finally tell him that I will always love him.”

The attendees clapped as you walked back and sat next to your mother. The rest of the funeral went by like a breeze; you began to wonder how you were going to live your life now that Junmyeon was gone. You could have been able to contact him had he flown to Korea safely, but now you were never going to hear him tell the stories of his life in the military, his admiration for paintings, his stupidly corny jokes and his singing voice; he was gone forever. 

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Stuck like glue no more, your father and Mr Kim got into spats over small things once again. They went back to Korea to live with Junmyeon’s parents after a month. Your family went on to live their lives, but you felt out of place in their happiness and normality. Since the funeral, dark thoughts appeared in your mind that had never appeared before. You had thoughts of joining him above in ways unimaginable; one way was covering your aired out body parts in plastic bags (such as your arms and head), then jumping from the top of the George Washington Bridge into the Hudson River, while another included knives, although thankfully you never acted on these thoughts. You occupied yourself with listening to music, writing, cooking, talking with family and friends, going to museums and walking around the park whenever the weather was nice to get rid of the thoughts; the thoughts were not frequent, but they lasted for days at a time. 

One year after his death, you went to visit Mr and Mrs Kim’s now empty house that was about to be filled with new neighbors and sat on the empty bench at their front porch. You reminisced about the confessions you made to him and he did to you; the liveliness and spark were no longer there. The laughs shared, the kisses shared, the stories told were memories you could no longer experience again. You sat for an hour and stared up at the sky deeply immersed in your thoughts about life as some bass music from your neighbor’s house played in the background. Suddenly, the lyrics to “Rough” by GFriend began to ring in your head: 

If I could run through time and become an adult

I will hold your hand in this cruel world

Grieving is different for everyone; for you, it took a year to accept Junmyeon’s untimely death. You knew that you could not spend your life being sad forever and had to look at the future ahead of you instead of dwelling in the past. No amount of songs, dreams, fantasies, voicemail replays, nostalgia talks with Angela and Chanyeol about him, and re-wearing the sweater he had left in your room after a theater rehearsal could ever bring him back. 

For three years, you held each other’s hands and guided each other through this world in unusual ways and that bond was abruptly broken by his sudden departure. However, you still held it out in hopes that you would reunite with him in the future and now that was no more. You remembered that you had to help your mother cook beef Stroganoff and got off the bench. For one last time, you took a glance at it before the new people were to move into the house and it would be gone forever. 

“Bye,” you whispered, then walked back out into the strange world you were living in, seeking for a new hand to hold and cherish forever.

The End

[tylerwritez]

Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay  which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪  like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone  talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

[dear-selena]

Sketchbook (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader): Chapter 3

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Female)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | ?

Summary: (Y/N) never understood science based subjects, despite putting all her efforts into studying them. Kids at school bullied her, her father, Tony Stark, was disappointed in her, and the Avengers looked the other way. Peter Parker, her best friend and secret crush for almost two years, was always there supporting her when she needed someone. However, since he became an Avenger and her dad’s ‘favorite kid’, (Y/N) doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be around.

You find yourself struggling to exist with everything working against you, and instead of asking others for help, you turn to your sketchbook.

Warnings: Depression, suicidal ideations, angst central.

A/N: Hello again! School is still crazy, but I’m so happy that I found the time to update this story! Thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient with me. I can assure you that I have not forgotten about this story. I’ve been making mood boards because, well, I got bored one night and thought they’d be better than using random gifs of Peter that don’t relate to the story. 

Like I said before, my updates will be a bit sporadic, but I’m doing my best to write and update. Please stay patient with me. I can’t wait to share more of this story! 

Chapter 3: Unseen Potential

Words: 1935

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Showers always feel nice, especially when you feel like you want to live. 

After stepping out of the shower and into your room, you put on your favorite (F/C) tank top and gym shorts. Taking out a long comfy cardigan, you wrap it around your body and smile at the warmth. 

After drying your wet hair, you step out of your room and make your way into the kitchen. Around this time, Vision always cooks something, and when he cooks, you eat well. Besides you were starving after all the energy you used training earlier, and you felt you deserved a good meal. 

However, your good mood didn’t last long. 

On your way to the kitchen, you spot your father and Natasha at the end of the hallway having an intense conversation. At first, you wanted to join the conversation, knowing that Natasha was talking about your successful training session. However, your father’s voice was rather harsh, making your stomach drop. 

Rounding the corner, you hide from their sight and listen in. “No! I will not allow her to do that.” You hear your father sternly say. 

“But Tony,” Natasha butts in. “(Y/N)’s been steadily improving, and today I think she made a breakthrough. I don’t want her breaking that momentum now. Pretty soon she’ll be mission ready-.” 

“(Y/N) is not going to be mission ready for a long time.” Your father practically shouts, making your heart drop to your feet. “I don’t want someone who can’t pass a simple science class out there risking their life. She’s not to train anymore.” 

“But Tony-.” 

“Natasha,” your father angrily sighs. “I don’t understand why my own daughter can’t pass her classes, but I know all these distractions are hindering her. So until she actually starts to study like she claims she does, she’s not going to train anymore.” 

Hearing your father and Natasha’s footsteps walking out of the hall, you quickly make your way back into your room. Slamming the door shut, you sob, sliding down the door until you’re sitting. You hoped your father would be proud of you. Hell, you hoped your father would have wanted to see you in action. But no matter what you did, it was never enough. No matter what good came in your life, it was always taken away. No matter how much you wanted your father’s love, he would never give it to you. 

What was the point in existing? 

—————-

Slamming your calculator on your desk, you push yourself away from your homework. 

After crying your eyes out, you decide to try and get some homework done. After all, that’s what your father wants. You were currently trying to tackle your algebra homework, but per usual, you kept getting the wrong answer, no matter what you did and how many math help sites you used on your laptop. 

The negative thoughts start to come to you head, wrapping your conscience in a blanket of fear. You couldn’t help but imagine what the compound would be like if you didn’t exist. Natasha wouldn’t have to waste her time training you with little results, Bucky could find someone his age to pick on, and your father could spend all his energy being proud of the son he wish was you. 

Thoughts of Peter suddenly came into your mind, but instead of being pleasant like they usually were, they were rather scary. You saw Peter staring at you in disgust, practically mocking you for your pathetic mind. Peter stopped hanging out with you and started befriending prettier, smarter girls at Midtown, leaving you friendless. You even saw him taking over your own bedroom, kicking you out of the compound and acting as if you never existed to begin with. 

Everything hurt. Your head, your heart, and your soul. 

Trying to snap out of it, you sit on the floor leaning against your bed, go into your backpack and find your sketchbook, the air returning to your lungs as you held the moleskin. Looking through your past notes, you find a poem you wrote when you felt a similar way weeks ago. 

Oh my lord, can you hear me? 

Chanting a stupid pathetic plea? 

Oh my lord, please I cry, 

Take me away from this worthless life. 

Reading these words fills you with an inspirational numbness, if that makes any sense. Turning to a blank page in your sketchbook, you find your pencils, pens, and colored charcoal, and begin to draw. 

After what felt like an hour, you hear a knock at your door. “Come in,” You say, not looking up from your work. 

When the door opens, you finally stop what you’re doing, and look up to see Peter, smile on his face and a bowl in his hands. “Hey (Y/N),” you couldn’t help but send him a small smile. “I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some of Vision’s food.” 

Peter sits down next to you and hands you a bowl full of pasta. There were meatballs and veggies cooked into the sauce, making your mouth water. You didn’t realize how starving you were. 

Glancing at your hands, you put the bowl on the floor. “Thanks Peter, I’m going to go wash my hands,” you say showing them off and revealing the massive color stains from the charcoal. Peter simply chuckles and nods his head. 

Getting up, you make your way to your bathroom and quickly scrub all the colors off your hands. When you return to your room, you see Peter looking through your sketchbook, a pleasant look on his face. You smile to yourself, liking the little attention he gave you. Normally, you were super protective of your book and its contents. Not even your father knew you owned it, as you bought it and all your art supplies on your own accord. But you felt comfortable sharing it with Peter, even though there were some questionable things in it (he never found the dark poems you wrote in it). 

Sitting back down next to him, you grab the bowl and immediately shovel the pasta in your mouth, practically moaning at the sensation. While you eat, you watch Peter look through your drawings. 

“Wow… (Y/N) these are incredible.” Peter says, his voice full of amazement. He was currently looking at some colored sketches you just did of clothes you designed for various climates, inspired by the weapon drafts you saw earlier in your father’s lab. “Your father and I were working on stuff like this today.” 

You nod, swallowing your food. “Yeah, I might have accidentally saw the drafts when I was in the lab today. I thought it would be cool to make matching outfits, I don’t know.” 

Peter smiles at you and looks back at your notes. “You have some really cool ideas written down to the clothes that we haven’t thought about yet,” he says, making you look back at your sloppy handwriting. “Gloves that adjust to the temperature of what you touch, clothing with a built in air conditioner.” 

You laugh at the silly ideas you had. “Those are stupid. I just wrote what I thought sounded neat.” 

“But (Y/N), they are neat!” Peter says, making you look at him confused. “And not only that, your drawings are absolutely amazing. I wish you would show your father these.” 

You start shaking your head vigorously. “That’s the last thing I want. If my dad finds out I’m doing things other than studying my butt off, he’ll make my life more of a living hell.” 

It’s Peter’s turn to be confused. “But they’re so good. I bet your father will love to take a look at these and maybe then you can spend time in the lab with us working on your designs-.” 

“I know that’s never going to happen,” You interject, stopping Peter in his little ramble. “He’s taking my training privileges away. Again. Even after I beat Captain America. 

Peter did a double take. “You best Captain America?!” 

You nod, softly smiling at the victory. “Yup, but that’s not enough to please my father.” Shaking your head, you look at Peter teary eyed. Nothing I do pleases him. Why waste more of his time?” 

Peters face goes from confusion to concern, a transition it always made when you start opening up your negative thoughts. “You’re not a waste of time (Y/N).” Peter reassures, putting an arm around your shoulders. You turn your face away from him, trying so hard to hide the blush. “Your father loves you, you know that right?” 

Bringing your knees close to you, you hold yourself closely, sighing in frustration. “No, he doesn’t. He never has.” 

Once again, negative thoughts start to form in your head, reminding you of how unfair everything feels in your life. Your father’s control over what you do absolutely destroys you, and you cannot do the one thing he asks of you to gain any of that control. 

Peter was definitely lying, trying to give you some sense of hope that you know is not there. You love him, but with all the time he spent with your father and the respect he continues to gain from the other Avengers, you can conclude that he doesn’t love you back, at least in the way that you wish he did. After all, you weren’t smart, and you couldn’t even train and fight beside him. Peter deserves someone special, someone who is worth something more than you ever thought you’ll be. 

Standing up and removing yourself from his grasp, much to your dismay, you clear your throat. “Hey, it’s getting late, I think I should just go to bed right now.” You say looking everywhere but his face. 

Peter stands up in front of you, cupping your chin and making your eyes meet his. His eyes were glistening, full of sadness and worry. What does he have to be worried about? “You do know you can talk to me (Y/N), right? I’m here for you.” 

It took all your strength to stay level-headed, as you were practically getting lost in his eyes. In moments like these, you wished you could confess your dark thoughts to him, tell him about the poems you wrote in your sketchbook, and how you wish everyday that you were no longer around. But you knew better than to admit these things to him. 

They’d definitely scare him away. 

“I know, thank you Peter,” You simply say, looking back down again. 

Peter was not satisfied with your answer, but knew that if he tried to force anything out of you, he’d get nowhere. Sighing sadly, Peter presses his lips to your forehead, causing you to look at him in confusion. He’s never done something like that before, but if you were being honest, it felt nice. 

After a quick goodbye, Peter left your bedroom, leaving you alone once again. In order to stop yourself from hopelessly day dreaming, you left your room to put the discarded pasta bowl back into the kitchen. Coming back into your room you quickly change into pajamas and crawl into bed, sketchbook in hand. Opening up to a clean page, you start drawing a light sketch of the one and only Spiderman doing one of his iconic heroic poses. No matter how much you knew he would never love you or how much you cared for him, you still saw him as a muse, someone to bring positivity in your dull, negative life. 

You wanted to embrace as much of him before he was gone.

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[saundraswriting]

Deprived Chapter 3: Fateful Decision

SUMMARY: Yeon-Woo makes a heavy decision that changes not only his life but Yoo-Han's as well. Yoo-Han refuses to take the consequences of Yeon-Woo's decision laying down. He knows that Yeon-Woo made his choice but he didn't have all the facts before he made it, soo Yoo-Han makes the decision to not let him go. NOTES: This is getting into au territory, pulling away from the canon story line here. WARNINGS: non graphic suicide attempt by hanging proceed with caution, normal warnings for the canon universe, intrusive thoughts, self-depreciation, ect.

Read it on Ao3

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist // My Masterlist // My Ao3

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, if a bit cold. Yeon-Woo snuggled deeper into his bed before hitting the alarm on his phone. He stared at the date and time like it offended him. He wasn't ready to get out of bed, he wanted to ruminate over yesterday's event for a little longer. The images of the art show and the warmth from Yoo-Han's dinner and the affection from the bath swirled in his head, making him smile into his pillow. 'I should get up, it is a school day. Yoo-Han might want breakfast too.'Yeon-Woo thought. He blinked and sat up throwing the blankets off of himself and looking at the futon on the floor. That was empty.

"Good Morning, love. I wanted to know if you wanted breakfast? If you don't that is okay, I made you some just in case." Yoo-Han said from the doorway before Yeon-Woo's thoughts could spiral.

"I don't know. I usually don't have much of an appetite in the mornings. I usually wait until dinner to eat most days." Yeon-Woo could tell by the slight muffling of his voice, Yoo-Han had his mask on and Yeon-Woo wasn't sure if that was or wasn't what he wanted. Yoo-Han nodded, remembering their discussion from yesterday.

"Okay, I won't push breakfast. But I will make you lunch today, and we'll eat together. I can show you my face, maybe that will help. I am afraid you'll wither into nothing if I don't intervene." Yoo-Han said laughing as he turned back to go to the kitchen.

Yeon-Woo began getting ready, his silent promise ringing in his ears. 'How am I to push you away when you are so good to me?'The two boys got ready for school, Yoo-Han unapologetically using Yeon-Woo's toothbrush when he wasn't looking.

"We might want to get there a bit early today, Joo-Haeng has both our bags, and I certainly didn't do any homework yesterday. I need to make sure my grades don't fall. I would rather my aunt not be disappointed in me any more than she already is." Yeon-Woo spoke quietly obviously not wanting to be heard. Yoo-Han grew more apprehensive and angry towards this nameless aunt who dare traumatize his sweet boy. Yoo-Han agreed with getting to school early, not wanting to upset Yeon-Woo by dismissing his aunt's neglect or abuse. They hurried to school and met up with Joo-Haeng and Min-Jae getting their things and working quickly on the homework, copying what they couldn't figure out between classes. It was a busy morning for them both but when Min-Jae commented on their evening they couldn't do more than stutter out responses and blush.

"It was uh great. I uh I" Yoo-Han was able to get a full sentence out. Yeon-Woo could only blush from his neck to his ear and make noises that sounded like he had a good time.

"That well huh? I am glad. You needed to have some fun. You've been mopey for a few days now." Joo-Haeng said, poking him in the cheek. Yeon-Woo's blush came back with a vengeance. "Dude, I could cook and egg on your face right now. Just hurry up. Some of changes classes before lunch."

The next couple weeks pass in similar fashion. Yeon-Woo goes to school, spends time with his friends. 'I have friends, I shouldn't be greedy and ask for anything else. Yoo-Han has been taking such great care of me, I shouldn't push mine or his luck.' Yeon-Woo thought. Yoo-Han hadn't much time lately for color lessons or even time with him, his kpop group was getting ready to debut apparently. Yoo-Han had warned him well in advance that the upcoming week would be spent training and testing to make sure he was fit to continue. Yeon-Woo told Yoo-Han every time he brought it up that he was proud of him and that he didn't mind, he should focus on his future, dismissing his own worth to Yoo-Han. Yoo-Han's face would get tense and eye grew dark when he said things like that.

The distance was just what Yeon-Woo needed. He hadn't forgotten his silent promise to Yoo-Han, that he would protect him from everything including himself. Yeon-Woo was aware of how much he loved Yoo-Han. He felt it with ever breath in his lungs and every beat of his heart. He loved his probe, the boy who taught him colors, how to love, who taught him to see that he deserved the most simplest of things, even when he didn't believe it. The distance helped him begin his plan, He knew that Yoo-Han would debut, they had talked about it. Yoo-Han was the top of his training class and was expected to debut, Yeon-Woo was determined not to pull him away from that. Yoo-Han's future was staring him in the face, he was going to light up so many people's lives and Yeon-Woo refused to be selfish about it anymore. He had gathered the tools he needed long ago, just wasn't sure what his plan was yet.

"Yoo-Han's gone? For the week? Already?" Min-Jae asked during lunch. The three of them were sitting inside together, the rain dampening their moods. Yoo-Han had asked their friends to keep and eye on Yeon-Woo and let him know if anything was amiss with him. Yoo-Han tried to skirt around the monochromatic vision leading to appetite issues and even mood changes and lack of sleep.

"Yeah. He's been gone for a couple days already. He'll be back before we miss him." Joo-Haeng wanted to ease the slouch in his friend's shoulder but wasn't sure how.

"I am proud of him. I am glad he gets to do what he dreams about." Yeon-Woo said. He stared at his food not eating, sadness weighing his words down, dropping them into a low pitch. "He'll bring light to so many people." Yeon-Woo continued almost too quietly to be heard. "Better people than me. I'll hold him back." Min-Jae and Joo-Haeng heard him, there were too close to miss it. They wanted to ask Yeon-Woo what he meant but that second, the bell rang, ending lunch.

Yeon-Woo packed his uneaten lunch, and began to get ready for class. Joo-Haeng shot a quick text off to Yoo-Han He thinks you will find someone better for you then him.. Min-Jae packed away his and Joo-Haeng's bento (Grandfather told him he would need a spare that day).

Lunch the next day was an even worse affair. Yeon-Woo was completely silent, and didn't even pull out his lunch, there was a glassiness to his eyes and his skin looked tight and pale. Joo-Haeng knew he hadn't been sleeping or eating but didn't know how to help his friend. Thee text they just got didn't help either.

The results aren't clear for the lower level trainees. They want us here another week, to be supportive of our classmates. Fantastic. I will see you in a week. Yoo-Han had texted them. H sent another one to Yeon-Woo. My precious Yeon-Woo, I will try to sneak away to come see you soon. I promise.

Min-Jae tried to cheer him up "He'll be back soon. A couple more days, okay?"

"If I kidnap him, he can't leave me. He'll stay with me and only me forever." Yeon-Woo was staring out the window, his mind obviously miles away. Joo-Haeng sent a text back, He just said he wants to kidnap you so you never leave.

Yeon-Woo blinked and realized what he said, his face blanching and horror crossing his face. "I didn't mean-I would never-I-I." He slammed his jaw shut, hands clapping over his mouth. A small whimper broke loose. "I am a monster. I don't deserve to live." With that Yeon-Woo gathered his things and bolted out the door, not heeding the protests of his friends. Joo-Haeng sent another text. I think you might need to come see him. He just ran off.

Yeon-Woo raced off school property, his head swimming. 'I can't be around him anymore. I am a monster. I don't deserve Yoo-Han. He needs to be set free of his burden of me. I will protect him, no matter what.' Yeon-Woo walked home, barely paying attention to his surroundings, trying to think. He could transfer but Yoo-Han wasn't the type to take his disappearance laying down, so he would need to move too. 'Aunt Yi-Rang will be so furious with me. Maybe I should just vanish. She won't care I go missing or even turn up dead.'Yeon-Woo froze mid step. 'Dead. If I am dead then there is no way I would be a danger to Yoo-Han.' Yeon-Woo began trekking back to his home, thinking of the proper suicide methodology, he didn't have a gun, or a large enough knife to cut his wrists, he could buy some medication and overdose, but that wasn't full proof. He walked by his local hardware store and decided on hanging. It would be his best option. He stepped in and bought the necessary supplies. When he got home he started setting up everything, Yeon-Woo decided that the best way to do this was to practice first to make sure he knew how to hang himself. He also planned to do it in three days. That would give him time to make sure it went well and go to school, lowering the guard of his friends, and record his messages. He didn't want to go without saying good bye. He wasn't that cruel. He opened his phone's browser and began practicing how to tie a noose.

The next day at school Yeon-Woo apologized to his friends for worrying them. He cited lack of sleep and missing Yoo-Han for his outburst. He made it through several of his classes but after their first break he decided to sit in the unused stairwell he and Yoo-Han lingered. He was listening to music, staring at the opposite wall when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked over and saw Yoo-Han, pretty as ever. Yeon-Woo was almost breathless from how much his missed his probe. He reached out to pull him close but hesitated, his thoughts going back to what he said yesterday. He pulled his hand back, a broken look on his face.

"Yeon-Woo. darling. Joo-Haeng told me you haven't been doing well. I snuck out to visit you!" Yoo-Han sat down pressing his leg into Yeon-Woo's.

Yeon-Woo if anything looked worse at his admission. "No! You shouldn't sneak out. Your future depends on you doing well right now. You should risk it on something silly like seeing me, just cause I missed you. I am not worth throwing your future away over." Yoo-Han blinked at the self-depreciation. He thought that together Yeon-Woo was getting over his self esteem issues.

"Yeon-Woo, you are very important to me. If you miss me and need to see me, or are having a bad time over something, then I don't care what I am doing. I want to see you. I want to help you. You are the most important thing to me, hands down. So you want to talk about what is going on?" Yoo-Han turned to face Yeon-Woo on the bench they shared. Yoo-Han wanted to reach out and touch but wasn't sure it would be welcomed.

"No. I don't. I really don't." Yeon-Woo looked at him for the first time since he arrived. "Is caramel a shade of brown?" He was staring directly into Yoo-Han's eyes. Yoo-Han could see the color rush in his eyes but Yeon-Woo had no visible reaction, he was adapting well. Yoo-Han regretted not wearing his mask to hid his blush.

"Yes. Would you like to hear more about brown? While I am here?" Yoo-Han asked. He noticed the flinch at his choice of words but didn't want to harp on what Yeon-Woo wouldn't talk about. Yeon-Woo nodded, shifting to get comfortable on the bench, staring intently at Yoo-Han as he began rattling off shades sometimes offering explanations when he could remember them.

They sat there for near an hour when Yoo-Han finally ran out of things to talk about revolving the color brown. "Sorry, dearest, that is all I have on the color brown. Wasn't much for brown isn't a fun color to most people." Yoo-Han stood up holding out a hand for Yeon-Woo to grab. "Come on. Let me treat you to lunch or something. I have three more days before I am free for a while, I want to spend as much time together as we can." Yoo-Han continued.

"Me too. Let's get something to eat. Then can we stop by an arcade? I have always wanted to see the games all lit up." Yeon-Woo knew it was a bad idea to make such a selfish request but he couldn't help it. He wanted one more day, on more memory to cherish with Yoo-Han.

"Of course, sweetie. We can go right now. I'll let Joo-Haeng what is going on." Yoo-Han wiggled his fingers and Yeon-Woo was helpless to resist. He reached his hand out, his shirt sleeve slipping down to show the rope burn on his wrist. Yoo-Han pulled his wrist closer, fury making his face cold and sharp.

"Yeon-Woo, what happened? Did someone do this to you? Is you aunt abusing you?" Yoo-Han fired off questions almost too fast.

"No! It is fine. Nothing happened. I'm fine. My aunt isn't even home. Don't worry." Yeon-Woo said. He grabbed Yoo-Han's hand, laced their fingers together. Then they snuck out of school onto a bus, heading for downtown. Yoo-Han lost his angry look but couldn't shake the concern in his eyes or the worry in his veins the rest of the day. He was sure Yeon-Woo was up to something and he was scared to find out what.

Four days later Yeon-Woo sat in front of his table full of tools for his future suicide, staring at the photo strip in his hand. The day at the arcade had been more than Yeon-Woo could have dreamed. The colors were bight and whimsical and lovely. There were a few people that had seen the recent news of his possible debut asking for a minute of his time, it had only solidified his decision more. He was currently thinking of scripts for his messages while perfecting his noose. He was sure he got it all worked out, what he was going to say to each person. To his friends, the only real friends he had, Yeon-Woo wrote heartfelt thank you's for supporting him with both his monochromatic vision and his relationship with Yoo-Han. To his Aunt, he wrote a long winded apology, not sure how to apologize for taking the last of her family but their distance made it hard to record his thoughts. Yoo-Han was the hardest and longest message. Yeon-Woo wasn't sure what he should and should not say, but he didn't want Yoo-Han to misunderstand anything so he rambled.

"Yoo-Han, My lovely precious Yoo-Han. I am so glad I met you. I would suffer everything all over again if it meant that we would meet. I was no one before you. I had no reason to live but no reason to die either. I spend my days in a grayscale world. A grayscale world that seeped into my bones, into my mind, into my soul. I was a phantom. I was okay with that, I never desired more. Or rather I never knew I desired more, until you came along. You with your caramel eyes and pink lips and black hair. You came along with your gentle hands and warm heart and loving soul. You came along and showed me what it is like to be loved, something I will never be able to thank you enough for. But we are too different. You who shines like the sun, bringing light and color into everyone's lives not only mine. You are destined for things much bigger than me. I refuse to be the thing that ruins that. You need to move on, accept that you will one day have the world at your fingertips, once you find it. I am nothing but darkness and shadows and sadness. I already take up too much of your life and space, and I am still greedy for more. There is a monster in your life. I want to protect you from all the monsters in your life. I will protect you from the monster, even if that monster is me." Yeon-Woo's voice broke, a sob slipped past his clenched teeth. He continued, voice thick. "Do you understand now? Yoo-Han, I love you. I love you and I refuse to be what ruins you. I am leaving and I am taking the monster with me. I want to say I am sorry, and I am that it had to be this way, but I will never be sorry for saving you." Yeon-Woo turned off the recording. There was nothing more to say.

Yeon-Woo stood on the tallest stool he could find, tying the noose with shaking hands, breaths coming in sharp pants. He gave a quick tug to assure he did it right. He looked around, making sure he had everything right and how he wanted it. He stepped onto the stool, the pictures from the arcade in his hand, to be the last thing he would look at before he died. He slipped the noose over his head, tears dripping off his chin. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his nerve trying to ignore his sore, battered heart crying out 'Yoo-Han. Yoo-Han. Please. Yoo-Han will make everything better.'. Yeon-Woo ignored his heart, this was the only way. He had to protect Yoo-Han. He closed his eyes, too focused on what he was doing to hear the door open behind him. He took one more breath and stepped off the stool. The echo of "NO!" rattling around his brain and the apartment. Then nothing.

Yoo-Han knew something was up with Yeon-Woo. Yoo-Han hadn't been around much the last few weeks, his debut test taking up a lot of his time but he was trying. He called and texted Yeon-Woo as much as he could, but the stiff almost unwelcoming replies. Yoo-Han was glad he had asked Min-Jae Joo-Haeng to keep an eye on his mono. He was worried without him around Yeon-Woo would spiral into a depressive state or worse. His concern was founded when he began receiving the texts from Joo-Haeng, Yeon-Woo was spiraling and badly it seemed. Yoo-Han knew that with his mono's inner demons were getting to him when they told him he planned to kidnap him. Yoo-Han slipped away, deeming his mono more important than his debut. He met him in their stairwell, the lack of enthusiasm was unsettling but affirming. Something was wrong and Yoo-Han swore he would fix it.

Yoo-Han blinked at the random color question, it had been a while since Yeon-Woo asked to listen to him ramble about colors. The facts he only learned to appease Yeon-Woo's curiosity. He watched as Yeon-Woo attention drifted more and more inward, Yoo-Han felt a anger in him. 'How dare his attention waver from me. I am all he should be thinking about right now.' Yoo-Han's lecture tampered off He needed to get that attention back on him. Needed to see his eyes focused only on him, so he lied. He wasn't free but Yeon-Woo didn't need to know that right now. He didn't like Yeon-Woo's lack of attention or his listlessness, maybe a quick date wouldn't be amiss.

At least that is what he thought until he saw the rope burn on Yeon-Woo's arm. He knew what that was, all the signs clicked almost instantly. Yeon-Woo was planning something, something bad. 'Call it a soulmate's intuition but I don't think he should be left alone right now. Whatever he is, isn't fine. Yoo-Han gave easily into Yeon-Woo's arcade request, needing the time to figure out a plan. Yoo-Han spent the date, happy but secretly scheming, He had spent enough time with Yeon-Woo to know that his "I'm fine" was a platitude, designed to turn people's focus away.

The date ended. Both in possession of a photo strip and pleasant memories. Yeon-Woo's smile was a little bit more genuine and eyes a little brighter. Yoo-Han felt that maybe the day was enough to push away the bad thoughts for the next few days.

Yoo-Han woke up late on his first day away from debut testing in two weeks, late for school and unable to care. He looked at his texts to see Joo-Haeng's latest report on an absent Yeon-Woo. He felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped down his spine. Yoo-Han didn't waste another second before getting dressed and racing through his house, ignoring several calls from the servants and his family. He ran straight to the train and then the bus, praying he wasn't too late.

He got to Yeon-Woo's front door, spare key from the nearby potted plant in hand and fingers shakily putting in the alarm code. Yoo-Han scanned the first floor, walking deeper into the home. He heard Yeon-Woo talking but couldn't hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. Yeon-Woo was standing on a stool, slipping his neck into a noose, tears dripping down his face. Yoo-Han could see his eyes were shut tightly and he was trying to calm his breathing. Yeon-Woo was still on the stool, Yoo-Han was speechless on the ground. Until Yeon-Woo seemed to find the strength he was looking for, stepped off the stool.

"NO!" Yoo-Han screamed darting forward. There was something wrong with the noose, it didn't break his neck, but was slowly strangling Yeon-Woo. Yoo-Han grabbed his flailing legs lifting him to remove the tension. He carefully felt with his toes for the stool, standing on it while holding Yeon-Woo. Yeon-Woo began coughing and crying, breaths coming in gasps. He was shaking violently in Yoo-Han's arms. Yoo-Han could feel noises were coming out of his throat but had no idea what they were. Silently Yoo-Han thanked every deity in every religion for being able to get here and actually be able to help prevent something that would have shattered him completely. Yoo-Han raised on hand sliding the noose off of Yeon-Woo. Yeon-Woo had grown quiet, whimpering in the back of his throat, fingers clenching onto Yoo-Han.

"Yoo-Han. I'm so sorry. Yoo-Han." Yeon-Woo kept repeating, his voice thick with tears, shaking like a leaf.

"My Yeon-Woo. My love. you're okay. I'm right here. Everything is fine. Hush, love. You're okay." Yoo-Han stayed on the stool, holding Yeon-Woo as tightly as he was him. 'I almost lost you. Another second and you would have been gone.'The thought itself was enough to make him shake. "I'm gonna get down. I have you. We'll go to you room. We can talk later. Let me take care of you, sweetheart." Yoo-Han kept murmuring sweet nothings as he carried Yeon-Woo to his bedroom. Yoo-Han pulled the covers down, gently placing Yeon-Woo on the mattress, before climbing in with him.

Yeon-Woo woke up a long while later. He blinked at his ceiling, trying to think as to why that was so strange to see. Then it all came back. 'Oh, that's right, Yoo-Han saved me from trying to kill myself.' Yeon-Woo felt shame and despair surge through him, Yoo-Han had seen him at his lowest point. He had seen his failed suicide attempt, it wouldn't be long before Yoo-Han left him, seeing how much of a mess he was.

"Yoo-Han. Where are you? I mi-miss you." Yeon-Woo cried. He curled up around his pillow, sobs breaking out of his chest, all the fear and sorrow and shame coming forth. Yeon-Woo kept crying violently. He trembling becoming full tremors, breaths coming too quick and shallow. "Yoo-Han. I'm Sorry. Don't leave me. Please. Please come back." Yeon-Woo was too deep into his panic to notice Yoo-Han coming into the room. He had laid in bed with Yeon-Woo until he fell asleep proper then he got up and began to clean up. He disposed of everything that was related to Yeon-Woo's failed attempt. Yoo-Han had listened to the message that Yeon-Woo had left for him, and by the end, he was in tears, heartbreak splitting his chest in two. He knew that Yeon-Woo had a lot of issues stemming from society and his aunt but he didn't realize it would lead to this, considering himself a monster. Yoo-Han demolished the small recording device with relish. He got rid of everything, not wanting a single reminder of what happened. Once he was done he returned to Yeon-Woo who was in the middle of another panic attack.

Yoo-Han climbed into bed, soothing his distraught mono with words and touches. Yeon-Woo sunk into Yoo-Han's familiar embrace which only made him cry harder. "I am sorry. Yoo-Han. Yoo-Han. I'm sorry. Don't leave me. Please. Never leave me."

"Never. I'll never leave you, sweetheart. I will never leave you. I'm right here. It's okay. Let it out." Yoo-Han rubbed his back, trying to calm Yeon-Woo down. He didn't need him to hyperventilate and pass out. Yoo-Han continued soothing the broken boy in his arms until he cried himself out.

"Yeon-Woo, I am so glad I got to you in time. I would never have forgiven myself. I am not mad, or disappointed, but I am worried. Please, just tell me what were you thinking? What would make you take yourself away from me? Don't you get it? You are mine for ever and for always. I will follow wherever you lead. Nothing can take you from me. I love you. I. Love. You. Yeon-Woo. My Mono. My soulmate."

Yeon-Woo flushed red from his words. The tears were gone but the shakes lingered in his fingers as he gripped Yoo-Han's shirt. "I love you too. So much. Maybe even too much. I was possessive over you, I don't like not seeing you. Then everyone was getting excited about your debut and I couldn't stomach that thought that they believed they were entitled to you. Then I realized that you will always shine too brightly for just me. I didn't want my possessiveness to be what takes you from people who had worlds that you brightened. You are like the sun, I didn't want to be the clouds. I decided that my existence was a threat to you and everyone else. Who was I to think I owned you? You aren't a possession I should be fighting over." Yeon-Woo stopped, hiding in Yoo-Han's chest.

"Yeon-Woo is so good to me. Good boy, wanting to share his things even when he doesn't have to. I am and will always be yours. You will never need to worry." Yoo-Han pressed a soft kiss to Yeon-Woo's temple. "You didn't need to go to such extremes, love. I am sorry that you felt you had to."

"I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe. I am a monster." Yeon-Woo trembling was getting worse.

"If wanting to keep your soulmate close means you are a monster, if not wanting to share the person who means the most to you is a monster, then I am a monster too. Nothing you are feeling is bad. We are meant to be, love." Yoo-Han's words seemed to strike a chord in Yeon-Woo. "Come on, I got us lunch and then I planned a trip for us. I think some time away wouldn't be a bad idea. You and I both deserve a vacation." Yoo-Han pulled Yeon-Woo up out of bed and into the dining room.

"You cleaned up?" Yeon-Woo looked at him in awe.

"Of course, darling. I will never let that happen again. You are mine to take care of and to love. If you feel like that again, then I am doing something wrong." Yoo-Han said while dishing out their take out he bought. He had called his home and training program to let them know he would be taking a few days off, not wanting to worry anyone. He even used Yeon-Woo's phone to text his Aunt that a 'friend' was taking a beach trip and invited him along. Yoo-Han knew that his Aunt knew he had friends but didn't know if she knew about him and being Yeon-Woo's probe.

After lunch, they both took a bath. Yoo-Han used his large allowance to book a hotel for two nights and the bus tickets they would need. He borrowed some of Yeon-Woo's clothes to pack and then when the time came, he all but shoved Yeon-Woo out the door.

The hotel was modest but nice, Yoo-Han booked them a single queen bed to share. They had arrived a bit to late to go to the beach but Yeon-Woo was tired and argued and early night meant early day which meant longer time at the beach. Yoo-Han laughed and submitted to the logic. The two curled up on the bed in a tangle of limbs. The closeness doing a lot to ease the fears resting in Yeon-Woo's head. Yoo-Han wasn't going to leave him, not now not ever. The stayed up for a while talking about anything they could think of.

"Yoo-Han, I am sorry. I really am." Yeon-Woo whispered. "I can't help that I sometimes think little of myself. I think that some professional help wouldn't be amiss. I want to be better, I don't want to go through this again. I don't want to put you through this again. I was hasty and scared and blind. I just wanted you safe, I have been told for so long that I am dangerous and I deserve to be alone, and I guess if you are told something enough, eventually you believe it." Yeon-Woo was talking to Yoo-Han's chest, unable to face him. Yoo-Han could crush him into a million pieces with his answer and Yeon-Woo wouldn't be able to look at his face if he did.

"I am so proud of you. I know that this morning was rough, and I know I spirited you out of the house spur of the moment, but this is why. I wanted you have space to think. If you want to look for a therapist, I would love to support you. You are so good and soft and loving not only to me but your friends too. You aren't the monster you were taught you are. One day you'll believe that too. Now, let's go to bed, WE have a big day tomorrow." Yoo-Han pulled Yeon-Woo closer and together they fell asleep.

In the pre-dawn light of the next morning, the two boys were cuddled with a blanket on the beach, watching the sunrise. Yeon-Woo had been in a color rush since they woke up. The familiar swirls of color and look on Yoo-Han's face were grounding to him as never before. They sat while Yoo-Han explained the morning colors and how the sun's angle to the horizon caused the different colors. Once the sun rose, they went to breakfast.

"Yeon-Woo, do you want to know why I was so demanding when it came to giving you color lessons in the beginning?" Yoo-Han was sipping tea, watching Yeon-Woo eat with gusto.

"I wondered. I never really felt the urge to ask though." Yeon-Woo held up a forkful of food, trying to feed Yoo-Han.

"I have facial blindness. I can't distinguish faces at all. I can only se yours with every detail, every expression, every mark. I could see some of your mom's face cause some of her is in you. I have to use other means to tell people apart. their scent, or hairstyle or which buttons they leave undone." Yoo-Han continued to drink his tea, eating slowly. "So when I say we are meant for each other, I mean it. I could never be without you. I refuse to be. Do you understand, what I am saying? I am never going to leave. You will never be without me. I am yours for ever and for always." Yoo-Han looked up when the other side of the table went quiet.

"That is why you think I am pretty? Cause you haven't seen anyone else?" Yeon-Woo looked crumpled, like his strings had been cut. Yoo-Han felt the panic well up inside of him.

"No. That is not what I mean. I think you are pretty because you are. Your smile is the brightest thing I have ever seen, you outshine the sun the moon and the stars, love. I want you to understand, that you show me what it is to be human. I have never seen someone's face when they smile, let alone the awe of seeing a rainbow or the stunned look when they see something they have never seen before. I taught you colors originally because I had never seen someone's face at all, then your face when in a color rush, or seeing colors sated my greed. Then I began to fall in love with you, always trying to help Min-Jae or Joo-Haeng, reading quietly, or listening to music, I was able to see the love you hold for everything for everyone. I learned what it meant to love someone and I refuse to lose that. You are mine, I will never let you go." Yoo-Han looked up to see Yeon-Woo silently crying, hands covering his mouth.

"I love you, Yoo-Han. I never knew that you could see that when you looked at someone. You showed me what affection and love are supposed to look like. You gave me friends, and helped me learn that I am fine the way I am, I am not a thing meant to be shunned from society and I can be who ever I want." Yeon-Woo grabbed Yoo-Han's hand across the table. "I love you. Thank you for loving me." Yoo-Han was speechless, he opened and closed his mouth a few times until he found his voice.

"Loving you is both easy and a honor. Now, how about we go sit on the beach some more, The ocean is really pretty once the sun comes up." Yoo-Han got up to pay. Together they found a nice spot, and Yeon-Woo settled in, Yoo-Han leaving for a few minutes to go get "another surprise". As he put it.

When he came back it was mid-afternoon and Yeon-Woo curiosity outweighed his concern. "Yoo-Han? You were gone a long time. What were you looking for?"

"In a minute. I want you to think about what we said this morning. I told you for ever and for always. I want you to know I mean it, so I got us..." Yoo-Han fidgeted with something in his pocket trailing off. Yeon-Woo blinked, Yoo-Han was never unsure about anything. He went in with all the swagger and bravado he could muster, even if it was fake. "I got us promise rings. I wanted something tangible from today. For us. I even got them engraved. That is what too so long." Yoo-Han held up a silver band with a very small blue gem and with shaking fingers, Yeon-Woo took it looking at the engraving For ever, for always, for you.Yeon-Woo blinked back tears handing it back.

"Well then, best you do it right the first time." Yeon-Woo held up his left hand, a bright grin on his face. Yoo-Han slipped it on his fourth finger and kissed his fingers.

"I love you." They chorused. Laughing and smiling they snuggled close on the blanket.

"Yoo-Han, tell me about the ocean." Yeon-Woo asked. Yoo-Han looked down and unable to resist pressed a kiss to Yeon-Woo's lips. The red blush on his cheeks made a thrill go down his spine.

Anything for you, my love, anything for you." Yoo-Han began pointing to the different shades of blue they could see, knowing that Yeon-Woo was listening intently even if he was too busy hiding his face in Yoo-Han's shoulder until the blush went down.

[bangcrizpychan]

Tainted Daisies | ii.It Stalks

Chapters: | prologue | i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii | ix | x | xi | epilogue |

Genre:  psychological thriller, angst, mystery, crime, rich kid!stray kids au, college!au, slow burn

Word count: 2.9k

Ratings: 16+

⚠WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol

Tainted Daisies Masterlist

Tag list: @nightshade-minho @mikoto-ica-fics  @momochiiiiiiii @nowimyourdaisies @ravenlilshots @channiesmixtape @skzmnho​ @yutacchin​ @minnieflowers​ @xxbluestrifexx​ @mxxndreams​ @hshhj0620​ @kpopwritist​ (If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, please let me know.)

The Friday sun rose and filled the sky with shades of pink and orange, its bright light illuminating your small yet somewhat spacious bedroom. The singing of birds filled your ears as you awake from your slumber. Stretching your arms high and releasing a huge yawn, you scrambled out of your messy bed and headed towards the bathroom. 

You could see bags under your eyes and a line of dried drool on the corners of your mouth. you turned on the tap and splashed the water your face, the cold liquid waking up your nerves, making you alert to your surroundings.

After finishing up and wearing a pair of new clothes, you headed out of your room . You see the old man was still knocked out on the couch and released a sigh, he shouldn't have drank those many bottles if he couldn't handle it. You made a mental note to clean those up later, it had been four days since school started and you would've cleaned those by now if it wasn't too much of a hassle. Something bubbled inside you, it wasn't because you hated him, but he was a grown man and is fully capable of taking care of himself.

Your favorite music blasted through your headphones as you walked towards your school since your apartment was not too far from it. The streets were busier than usual, it was probably because everyone was getting ready for a Friday night or welcoming the weekend. You felt a chill run down your spine and you quickly whipped your head back, you see pedestrians shuffling around but none of them seemed suspicious until you saw a hooded figure across the street from you, your feet subconsciously hurried towards the university with the figure lingering in your mind.

"Y/n!" A voice startled you and made you snap back to reality.

You looked at the source and released a sigh of relief when you saw Seungmin.

"You startled me, you idiot!" You said, hitting his arm and letting out a chuckle.

"Well I've been calling out your name but you seemed a little occupied," he said, while scratching the back of his head.

You let out a small "oh," and muttered an apology as a rosy tint painted your cheeks. You looked around your surroundings and noticed that you were already at the university.

"I was probably so absorbed that my mind went autopilot," you thought. Seungmin slung his arm around your shoulders and the both of you went inside the school.

He was separated from you when you headed towards your respected classrooms. You entered the room and saw that there were only a few students, you went to your seat and pulled out your notebook. You were engaged on your doodling that you didn't notice Felix sitting next to you.

"Hey Y/n," he said, causing you to look up from your notebook and gave him a small smile.

You became acquainted with him after he bought you a drink from a soda machine on a Tuesday morning. The money that you brought with you was not enough at the time and him helping you changed your views toward him.

"Nice," Felix suddenly murmured and you gave him a puzzled look.

"It's the second time I've seen you smile at me, it looks nice on your face," he continued.

"Thank you, Felix," you said and went back to doodling.

"Stop what you are doing and let me be your center of attention because I do not like repeating myself," A woman's voice boomed which caused you and the other students to shift your attention towards a tall woman with a stoic expression at the door.

The sound of her heels echoed throughout the room as she walked towards the desk. The woman was wearing a red pencil skirt that reached below her knee paired with a white ruffle blouse. She had a pair of spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose and a thin lips completed her look. Silence engulfed the room as her aura sparked fear and confusion among you.

"Silence. Good." She said, as she rested  a hand on her hip.

"Professor Park is on leave so I will be her substitute for today, I am Professor Choi," she said, while scanning the room as if she was waiting for someone to make a mistake.

"take out your textbooks and open it to page 382," she added.

You and the rest of the class immediately took out your books and opened it to the said page.

"Caught Red-Handed: The Art of Analysis" it read, confusion was evident on your face as this lesson was not tackled yet.

"Yes Mr. Lee?" You looked at Felix and saw him slowly lowering his hand.

"Professor, we had not discussed this yet, we're still at the-"

"-Introduction," she interrupted and pushed her spectacles a little higher.

"I see Professor Park still likes to take her time, well I'm not her, therefore we will start at where I want to begin." she continued, you noticed Felix and the rest of your classmates fidgeting in their seats, completely uncomfortable.

"Some of your professors are more concerned about the theories and all that, but me, I prefer you learn through hands on." Professor Choi said while turning on the television and flashed a picture of two letters.

"Now tell me, what do you see?" she asked and looked around the room.

You noticed most of your classmates avoided her gaze, which earned a sigh of disappointment coming out her mouth.

"Mr. Lee, what do you see?" Felix tensed up as he slowly rose from his seat. You notice his eyes darting between Professor Choi and the television.

"I-I see letters," he stuttered, earning a laugh from the class.

"Thank you for that wonderful insight, I wouldn't have known," Professor Choi retorted, rolling her eyes in the process.

You gave his hand a squeeze after he turned red from embarrassment. Professor Choi grabbed a pile of paper from her desk and distributed them by rows. When you received yours, it showed the pictures the same as the one in the television.

You noticed that the longer you stared at it, the more you see its features; the name of the sender, a stamp, smudged ink, and a horrible handwriting.

"Now, what do you see?" Professor Choi asked, you slowly raised your hand and she nodded at your direction. You stood up and looked at the paper.

"Um.. Based on the smudged ink, the letter could have been spilled by something liquid, there's some sort of stain at the top, and..." you stopped talking and stared at the two letters.

"and?" Professor Choi asked, while you continued to look at the picture.

"These are two different letters," you finally said after a minute of silence.

You looked at Professor Choi and saw the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile.

"the first one is different from the other letter, the handwriting looks the same but now that I look at it, the letter "q" is not written identically at all. It's putting an impression that the same person wrote this but it's two different people." You said, feeling quite amazed how you could spot it.

"Very good, you may sit down," Professor said and you obliged, she held up a transparent seal bag with the two letters inside it.

"This is where the fun begins, if you just glance at it, the letters look like any normal letters, but that's the art of analysis. Every little thing matters," she said, and instructed the first row to pass the bag around.

"As someone who studies forensics, a glimpse is not enough to make a deduction, you need to go deeper into the details and look where some people won't even glance at. Here," she continued, getting a laser pointer and pointed at the stain on the top right corner of the letter.

"Did anyone see this? This is saliva that was used to seal the envelope," she said as the bag finally reached you. You took a better look at it and you saw details that you didn't see on its printed form.

"This letter once belonged to a man named Charles Smith, he was a foreigner who committed suicide at his hotel, but it turned out to be a murder case. You see, the murderer did an amazing job, the note was identical to Mr. Smith's handwriting, it was almost perfect." Professor Choi said as you passed the bag to Felix.

"I never noticed these things, you did a great job earlier," Felix said, passing the note to the next row and you gave him a small smile.

"Oh shush, I'm sure you'll do better than me," you said, hitting his arm playfully.

"-but the murderer made a huge mistake, he used his own saliva to close the envelope, which gave the forensics team the upper hand, his DNA was recovered through it and he was captured in no time." Professor Choi finished and flashed the picture of the killer.

His deranged look caused your breath hitch in your throat, you remembered the hooded figure from earlier. Everything around went still and you couldn't hear anything but the sound of your ragged breath, million thoughts ran through your head about the identity of that hooded figure.

"-so yeah, I was wondering if you'd come," you shook your head and looked at Felix. He was smiling at you, you scanned the room and noticed that the two of you were the only ones left.

Felix noticed your look of confusion and chuckled at you.

"Class ended a while ago, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine. What did you say?" you said, stuffing your things inside your bag.

"I'm having a party later at my place, I want you to come." he said, standing up with you and headed towards the door.

"Sure, I'd love to come, it would be fun," you said, turning your back from him but he held your arm.

"You can bring your friends too, they know where I live," he said and you nodded. He let go of your arm and you headed towards the cafeteria where you mostly meet with Seungmin and Jeongin.

The cafeteria was crowded but you managed to spot your friends and happily joined them on the table. You took out a sandwich and ate while they shared a bowl of kimchi.

"Hey look at this," Jeongin suddenly said and you looked at his phone.

"-a student whose identity we hid claimed to have seen the perpetrator the night Ms. Kim Yunhae went missing. This opened a possibility that there is a kidnapper roaming around our lovely city." The reporter said.

"Ishmanakaway," Seungmin said with mouth full of kimchi.

"What?" you said, Seungmin gulped and drank from his bottle water, his pale hand wiping the red sauce off the corners of his mouth.

"It's Tanaka Rei, my classmate from Japan," Seungmin said, stuffing his mouth again with a spoonful of kimchi.

"How do you know?" You asked.

"I came with her when she reported it to the police," Seungmin said, grabbing my half eaten sandwich and taking a bite off it.

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" you pressed, curious about this person.

"Why don't we ask her? She always goes to the extension building in her free time," Seungmin suggested but you shook your head.

"It's okay," you said, finishing your sandwich.

The three of you headed out the cafeteria and walked silently side by side.

"Hey, do you guys want to go to Felix's party tonight?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"We're not invited," Jeongin muttered.

"Oh, Felix said I can come with my friends, and you guys are my friends. Would you like to come with me?" you said, standing in front of them to stop them.

"That's very nice of you, Y/n but-"

"Oh come on Jeongin, you guys are my only close friends and it'll be awkward if I came alone." You said and gave them your best puppy dog eyes.

They looked at each other and sighed.

"Fine, we'll go. For you." Seungmin said and you wrapped your arms around them, laughing and saying 'thank you' over and over.

Time flew by and the next thing you knew, the three of you were already at Felix's house, but 'house' would be an understatement. Your jaw dropped at the sight of his mansion though the gate, it was only a two-storey house but it was wide, expensive cars were parked outside as you walked towards the front door.

Light strobes and loud music emitted the place and you rang the door bell but it took time for the door to open. It swung open and it revealed Hyunjin with a hand holding a bottle of wine and cheeks pink from his drunkenness.

"Oh hey new girl! Come in!" he slurred, even at his state, you couldn't deny that he still looked handsome.

The three of you entered and the place was packed. People snogging left and right, the dancing, the crowd almost made you feel dizzy. You noticed that Seungmin and Jeongin were a little uncomfortable but also a little intrigued to join the others.

"You guys should dance and hang out with them, I'm gonna look for Felix," you said and the three of you split up.

The reek of alcohol made you sick and you avoided touching people's sweaty bodies. You absentmindedly entered a room but felt relief wash over you because you managed to escape the hoard.

"You shouldn't be in here," a voice spoke behind you and you slowly turned your head. There stood Bang Chan, the man you felt drawn to.

Your face glowed red when you saw his unblinking gaze, his orbs that was filled with void and mystery, yet it was almost inviting. You turned to your left and noticed that you were inside the office of Felix's father. Their family portrait hung on top of the shelves with smiling faces.

"Neither should you," you said, finally gathering the courage to look at him.

"I don't like crowds that much, I went in here to breathe a little," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and walking around the room.

"My name is-"

"Y/n, I know,"

"Oh, Felix must've told you,"

"Once."

And there it was, total silence. You puffed your cheeks, feeling quite jittery.

"I should probably go-"

"Do you like champagne-"

You both spoke at the same time making you laugh, Chan released a chuckle and it made your heart skip a beat. It was beautiful.

"It's okay if you want to go," he said, you giggled and shook your head.

"I'd like to try a glass of champagne," you said and you noticed a quick flicker of spark in his eyes.

He slipped outside for a bit and was back in a second with two glasses and a bottle of French sparkling wine. He poured you a glass before pouring himself one.

"Cheers?" he raised his glass and you obliged, the sound of glass clinking echoed the room.

The conversation that exchanged between the both of you made you learn things about him, not a lot, but enough to know he was a good person even though his cold and dark eyes still makes your stomach do a flip. You felt a buzz in your pocket and you fished out your phone from it.

"Wer r u?" it read, the text was from Seungmin. You looked at the time and you cursed when you found out you were in that room for almost two hours.

"It was fun talking with you Chan, but I really need to go," you fixed your clothes and put the glass down on the nearest table.

"You too, see you at school," he said and gave you a small smile. You waved goodbye to him went out, his figure disappearing as you finally closed the door.

"Where have you been?" you jumped at the sound and look at the source, Jeongin had messy hair and a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Are you drunk?" you asked.

"No, just a little tipsy. Come on, Seungmin is waiting for us outside." he practically dragged you through the crowd until he came into a halt.

You could hear the crickets outside of the house, the music was not as loud and it felt a little peaceful. You see Seungmin and Felix talking as Jeongin dragged you behind him.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Seungmin said and rushed to hug you.

"Hi Felix," you said as soon as Seungmin had let you go.

"Did you have fun? I didn't see you inside," Felix asked.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun. Thank you for inviting us Felix." you said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A red tint replaced your kiss as he began to stutter.

"M-my c-chauffeur will t-take you g-guys home,"

"Thank you." The three of you said in unison just as a black car stopped on your side.

You were the last one to reach home because you had to help carry the boys since they fell asleep in the car. You thanked the driver and tiptoed towards the stairs of your apartment. The landlady will be pissed off if she found out you stayed past curfew.

Before you could reach the first step, a hand covered your mouth and dragged you, you thrashed around, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. A sharp pain was jabbed on the side of your neck and you felt being thrown at the backseat of a car. You tried to stand up but your body felt putty, a cold and icy feeling rushed through your veins and to your brain, causing your visions to fade into black.

[foodcourtdetective]

thinking too hard

summary: barry berkman has been trying to forget about his soulmate for both of their sakes, but Y/N is making it very hard and using their soulmate connection to draw all over him.

tags: angsty, soulmate au, love at first sight, very brief Barry x Sally, definitely a happy ending!

A/N: I’m just really into soulmate!au’s and Barry Berkman okay?!?! (and // means time passes)

word count 2.4k

AO3 x

He hated Los Angeles. Barry’s long sleeve shirt stuck to him in the desert heat, sweat pooling in his armpits and on his back. NoHank asked him about his outfit choice, offering him a short-sleeved shirt or a tank top.

“You want to take one of their shirts? They won’t mind, they’re confident in their bodies!” NoHank said, gesturing over to the Chechen recruits. Barry shook his head, clearing his throat in discomfort. After a moment, NoHank made a movement to push up Barry’s sleeves for him, but Barry was too quick and grabbed NoHank’s pinky, bending it all the way back.

“Shit shit, okay okay! Someone has body issues! We will talk about accepting your body some other time then.” Barry ignored him, staring coldly ahead as the young Chechen recruit finally hit a beer can with his bullet.

//

When he finally got back to his apartment, Barry made a beeline for the bathroom, nodding briefly at Jermaine and Nick on his way. After peeling off his shirt and grabbing the sink, Barry took a look at his body or rather what was on it. Today, his soulmate had kept it simple: a heart on his wrist, a note to pick up two lattes at 9, and a flower chain that started at his trigger finger and trailed all the way up his forearm. He sighed, holding back a soft smile as her traced up the stem of flowers with his other pointer fingers. As he ended the journey at his inner forearm, Barry stopped to see a less traditional note: written on his upper chest right over his heart, in simple cursive, it read please talk to me, Barry. A deep sigh filled the tiny bathroom and he gently caressed their handwriting.  The familiar movement triggered a whirl of memories.

Writing excitedly on his leg the moment he turned sixteen to introduce himself to his soulmate only to get no response. Giving up on love and joining the Marines shortly after. Noticing the shy hello scribbled on his hand seven years later when he was already too far gone. Writing to them any chance he got once he find out the silence was because they had not been old enough yet. Learning her name was Y/N and that she lived in California. Having to break off communication once Fuches put him to work. The sharp lines she had drawn as she had asked if he could feel the sharp indent of her pen, told him that ignoring them for their own good was ridiculous. The obscene images Y/N had drawn all over him the first couple of years, trying to get an angry message from him, any message.

His heart sank, but Barry knew as much as it hurt both of them, it was better for them to move on, to pretend to not have a soulmate. God knows Barry would rather hide her away, hide his shot at happiness, than have her be tortured or worse by any of his enemies or allies. He groaned, his knuckles turning whiter than the sink.

//

His acting class didn’t know what to make of him at first; his long, dark clothing sharply contrasted their tight shorts and tank tops, skin flaunting their connections. But despite himself, Barry grew close to Sally, a girl who had never seen any marks on her body. After hearing that Barry also had a blank canvas, she pounced on him with a marker she had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, drawing a star on his knuckles. However, despite her persistence, no matching star appeared on her own. Sally declared them star-crossed soulmates and asked him on a date.

After a late night of drinks, Barry found himself making out with Sally on her couch. She went to pull off his shirt and for the first time in his life, he mindlessly complied, distracted by the intimacy. Sally suddenly shot up from the couch, crying out as she pointed to the drawings adorning his chest. Y/N had seen the star Sally had drawn and, hopeful that it was a message to her, drew out an intricate night sky. Hidden among the stars, scrawled out in cursive, she wrote I’m here when you’re ready, Barry. -Y/N.

“How dare you! You lied just to get into my pants?!” Sally tripped over herself to pick up his discarded shirt, balling it up to chuck at him. Barry pulled it on, dazed all the way home until he saw the message glint in the mirror as he was getting undressed. Barry slammed his fist into the wall, shouting out in frustration. Ass his phone rang, the caller ID revealing it was Fuches, Barry scrambled to put his shirt back on, scribbling a message to Y/N on the fleshy part of his bicep. I’m a hitman. Don’t message me unless you want to die.

//

After the assignment, Barry found himself staring at his chest and reading her pleas to talk further. That’s not funny. Barry. Barry! Oh my god, you’re serious. That explains a few things. You gotta talk to me, your soulmate? I need to know why. Barry sighed, wandering over to his bedroom to get a pen from his desk. He sat on the bed, anxiously fiddling with the pen in between his fingers before writing on his trigger finger: you still want to talk to me? He waits, watching the loopy letters sweep down his arm like a signature under the floral art she continued to draw every day.

Yes, I have a death wish. He laughed at the absurdity of their conversation before responding.

Why are all artists suicidal?

See, I’d rather have this with you than live without it. Her words made him freeze in his tracks, his fingers gently stroking over the confession as they faded away, scrubbed off by the writer. She filled the now empty space with a series of numbers; Barry furrowed his brow, trying to decode the secret message. After a moment Y/N wrote again underneath them.

Running out of space! Text me! He hesitated, his heart in his throat as he debated if the convenience was worth sacrificing her safety. Finally, with shaking hands, he dialed the number and hit call. A soft hello followed the ringing, the voice so angelic that he knew he would do whatever she asked him to do.

“I said text, not call! You do know how to read, right?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to hear your voice!”

“What? No, I mean I’m sorry for…” Barry trailed off, his mind swarmed by memories of pushing her away and feeling her anguish through the pointy pen tip.

“You wanted to protect me. I get it. Now we’re even from when I couldn’t write to you.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“It would have been! I was a pretty rebellious eleven year old.” He laughed, the silence after he finishes awkward until he breaks it.

“I’m in LA.”

“For work?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Barry doodles a flower on his thumb. It’s not as pretty as any of hers, but she draws a faint heart around it. He brushes the heart, his own beating so loudly it was in his ears.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“Because of who I am? What I do?” His throat was thick from holding back the dam of emotion, but his voice managed to crack in desperation.

“I’m scared you’re going to leave me again.” Barry paused at that, his own heart breaking a little at the thought of all of the pain he must have caused Y/N by abandoning her. He’s now drawing a bouquet on his forearm, a sloppier version of her own.

“You don’t have to be afraid of that. Once I see you for the first time, I’m probably never going to leave you alone ever again… Not in a creepy way…”

“I would love that.”

“I’m giving you an out right now. You can hang up, stay in the safety of your life as a… what do you do again?”

“Graphic design!”

“I knew you were an artist!”

“And I knew you were a comedian!”

“Weird way of pronouncing what I actually do…” She giggled at that, falling quiet after a hearty laugh.

“Look at your leg. I’ll see you there at 9. Don’t be late!” As she hung up, Barry pressed his phone to his lips in shock. Remembering her words, he pulled his pants down to read the directions she had jotted onto his thigh, the dots in the I’s drawn as hearts instead of dots; he almost died of pure joy right then and there.

//

In hindsight, it was good that Y/N had suggested a coffee shop to meet because Barry had not gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. He had stared at the ceiling, flat on his back and still fondly stroking her writing on his leg. As his pointer finger traced the hearts, he felt his own thud loudly in his chest. It was easier to protect her when she was just lines on his person, just another part of him that he hated, another vulnerability. But hearing Y/N’s voice, imagining what she might look like, had ignited a wanting within him, a need to be with her, his other half. She was no longer just a part of him; she was a separate entity that he wanted to get to know and love.

He had gotten to the shop as soon as it opened at 4, wanting to figure out where the best table inside would be and staking it out for them. The barista had made him order a drink at 5:30; panicked and feeling about a thousand years old, Barry ordered “something to bring me back to life.” At 6 he was shuttering, borderline convulsing from the quad espresso that he consumed quickly. His anxiety was through the room, but all he could do was dig his fingernails into his palm which was resting on his jeans over her handwriting. What if she wasn’t as okay with the age difference as she thought she was? What if it hits her that her soulmate is a hitman? What if the drawings stop appearing. What if—

Barry jolted awake in his seat, now realizing that he had crashed from the overdose of caffeine. The barista (Stacie, he later learned) made a joke about having to restart his heart. He checked his phone: 8:30am. Suddenly, a thought dawned on him and he ordered another drink. By the time Stacie brought it over and started walking back to the counter, the bell above the door tingled. Barry immediately stood up like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, turning to look at the customer. She sensed his stare immediately, turning to look him over as a dreamy blush painted her cheeks.

“Barry?” She whispered, his name less of a question and more of a disbelief. He swallowed, his throat dry as he looked over Y/N, his soulmate. She was absolutely picturesque, an almost pure aura of light around her as the door slowly shut behind her. As she drew near, Barry was almost too aware of how he towered over, a menacing presence.

“I gotcha a latt-“ Barry didn’t even get to finish his stuttering as Y/N grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a kiss. His mouth was already half open and he stumbled forward from the force of her tug. It wasn’t the most coordinated kiss in the world, her mouth mostly on his bottom lip and her teeth lightly bumped his by accident; but it was theirs. Barry felt his body fill with a warmth, like his whole being was sighing with relief at being united with his soulmate as he kissed her back. He had thought that the doodles and the sound of her voice would do him in, but this… this would knock his entire life’s path off track. After a moment, Barry gently placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled away, just looking down at her in awe.

“How did you know my coffee order?” Y/N asked, her grin stretched out wider than Barry previously thought possible. He babbled for a few seconds, removing his hands to gesticulate as he just expressed a bunch of word fillers before finally managing to get something out.

“Y-you, you wrote it on your hand as a-a part of your to-to-to do list,” he explained, trying to stick his erratic hands in his pockets but Y/N swung her hand forward to snatch his hand. She squealed, making a joke about how sweaty his hand was and Barry thought he would die of a heart attack right then and there. She pulled him down again, this time so they could sit at the table together and she could take a sip of her latte. Barry simply stared at her, his brain slightly short circuiting with delight. Eventually, rational thought caught up with him and Barry tried to remove his hand from hers, but she had a firm grip and a look in her eye that told him she already knew what he was going to say.

“You’re not worried about…”

“I thought we already went over this, Barry. I’m in! I’m all in,” she declared sweetly, leaning over to capture his lips once again. He was consumed by it, by her, his head swirling with a dizziness of emotion and his lungs burning with a heartache of regrets. They could have had this so much sooner, if he had left the army, if he hadn’t made that deal with Fuches, if he hadn’t been an idiot about wanting to protect her. The deep and mind numbing kiss ended as Y/N broke it to breathe heavy. Barry looked at her through lidded eyes, revering her with every fiber of his being.

“You are good at that! It’s a good thing too because it looks like I’m gonna have to kiss you every five minutes to get you out of that type of thinking,” she giggled, moving to lean back in her chair but Barry slung an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him with a soft smile.

“Better make it every two minutes because I’m thinking again,” he joked, his heart glowing as the love of his life obliged his request and kissed him senseless.