#so i imagined it as the painful gut-punch of realizing that somebody else

[fruggo]

Hello ! I saw the enemies fo lovers things and I wanna request if possible

“ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

With frank if you would and thank you

yessirrr i love frank sm it’s not ok. also umm i may have accidentally written friends to enemies to lovers or something idk. and though i wouldnt necessarily call you friends at the start, you werent really enemies yet???? idk🐸just ummm yeh i love frank

also help how do i not go overboard???? i feel like i made this way too long, please help and i am sorry

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, frank being a bastard but then you’re like awwww he’s a cute bastard aaaaw

~~

Things were weird with Frank, and they always had been from the moment you stepped foot in the Entity’s realm. He always tunneled you relentlessly, and that made you think of him as a big asshole, but there were some strange details tacked onto the sentiment that greatly confused you, should you think about it for more than three seconds.

Sometimes, it seemed like he went easy on you in chases, like he put in no effort. He would chase you for a while, let you waste his time, and then leave without even getting a hit on you when he definitely had the ability to.

And you hated saying this, but when he handled you, it almost felt…gentle. Granted, he was a killer, and his job was to murder you, but your experiences with him did not quite line up with those of the other survivors.

They always described trials against Frank as “stepping on legos in the middle of the night” or something akin to that. You never felt like that, though—when he chased you, it felt fair. Almost as if he played nice with you. And more often than not, the killer would let you go when he caught you. The reason remained a mystery to you until quite a bit later.

This trial, Frank was in 100% bastard mode. You had begun to think of his trials as quite easy due to his seemingly calm nature around you, so you were rather caught off guard when he downed you in the first 30 seconds of the match and tossed you onto a hook, no gentleness whatsoever.

You wanted to yell at him and ask what the fuck was wrong with him until you realized this was his fucking job, and this is how he should have been treating you all along. Maybe you had just been imagining it all, but you could have sworn he used to leave you alone more than this. Something just felt different.

After you were unhooked, he went for you again. And again. And then you were dead, completely wiped out of the trial. Frank had demolished you with no remorse.

You knew it was silly to feel betrayed, but you really couldn’t help it. In such an insane and hellish place, anything that could be even remotely perceived as kindness seemed like so much more of a big deal than it truly was. So Frank’s supposed “gentleness” with you had felt somewhat like a friend doing you a selfless favor. Of course, it was not a selfless favor, and it was certainly nowhere near kindness, because he was still a killer chasing you with a knife, but your standards had really lowered in this place.

After that trial, you were back to hating Frank for tunneling and bullying you (like you probably should). You began to understand the survivors’ saying about the legos—and you hoped that Frank would step on some legos too, because he fucking sucked sometimes.

And for a while, that’s just how it was. You nearly forgot how he used to go easier on you, and how you used to do okay in his matches. Now every time you were pit against each other it just felt like you were being stuck with a bunch of pins; you never had any time to breathe or rest or do literally anything. He just went after you until you were gone, and there was next to nothing you could do about it.

Everything changed very suddenly during a trial at Ormond.

You were expecting the same old routine with this asshole—chase, blah blah blah, die. You hardly had energy to fight back anymore.

So when he arrived out of breath at the killer shack, somehow knowing you would be here, Frank was surprised to find you relaxing under the window with your arms loosely crossed, a disapproving scowl upon your countenance. It was enough to make him hesitate in his tracks.

You let out a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with his mask; you kept up that menacing frown for as long as you could, trying to make him feel guilty (who knows if it was even possible for him to feel guilty? But it was worth a try).

“Just kill me,” you said, voice steady and seemingly unbothered. Underneath the surface, you were trembling, but you stood your ground. “That’s what you’re gonna do, isn’t it? You’re going to chase me until I’m miserable and kill me off as soon as you can?”

Frank went still, not even fidgeting with his knife like he usually did; he was intrigued by your sudden confidence.

You went on. “I’m really sick and tired of you, you know that? I’m sick of you and your bullshit. Why can’t you treat me like everybody else? At first, you went easy on me. Now you just torture me with your stupid mind games, and frankly, I’m sick of playing! I’m done with you—I don’t care anymore! Just kill me, and I’ll get out of your way, okay asshole? Mori me if you want. I don’t give a shit.”

You put your hands up exasperatedly, fully expecting him to take the offer and just send you back to the campfire right then and there. But the man sighed, pocketed his knife, and sat down right next to you as if this were a normal thing for him to do.

You scooted a few inches away out of instinct. Frank noticed, but he chose not to say a word about it.

It was a long time before he said anything, and when he finally did, you wanted to punch him so bad.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. And that was all.

Oh, yeah? It was complicated? You scoffed, hanging your head with a bitter smile. “Oh, okay. Sure.”

Silence again.

Awkward, suffocating silence.

And then Frank got up and left. You were unbothered for the remainder of the trial, not even a scratch or bruise on your body.

~~

Sometimes you simply did things, and you didn’t know why. This thing that you just did was irrational, stupid, unplanned, unwise, and everything in-between, and you knew it was, but frequently you just had no impulse control. Perhaps it was the Entity’s influence, or maybe you had always been this way—you couldn’t really remember.

How did you get here again? Why were you laying on the ground? And why did your leg hurt so fucking much?

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, you remember now.

Funnily enough, it seems as though the Entity, along with certain killers, did not like it when survivors tried to enter their side of the forest! But you did it anyways, and it appeared that you had suffered the consequences. It’s not like you had put much thought into it; where was the point in that when nothing mattered anymore and you were stuck in an endless cycle of death?

You remembered entering the killer’s woods, looking around, and doing…something. What was that something? You couldn’t be sure, but then you remembered somebody coming up to you and probably definitely hurting you. Yep, your leg definitely was in a lot of pain. You couldn’t even look at it. Did you pass out for a while? Maybe. How long were you out for?

You lay still there for a while, thinking. Man, it really hurt, and boy, were you miserable. Maybe more miserable than you’d ever felt here. The Entity normally healed wounds immediately, but perhaps you had just angered it so much you deserved to suffer.

Oh, dear! You seemed to be passing out at this time. Yes, that was almost certainly what was happening. Black spots danced across your eyes as your body began to feel distant and numb, but you didn’t feel very worried about it. In fact, you felt like making jokes right now, but you had nobody to make jokes to and you probably couldn’t even speak.

Just as you began to accept it, there was a strange thumping sensation vibrating through the ground growing closer…and closer…

Footsteps! That’s good!

Oh. Not if it’s a killer. That’s not good, probably.

But you had no way of protesting when you felt yourself being picked up, because those black spots in your eyes were dancing a lot faster now, perhaps something akin to an Irish jig, and you also couldn’t feel your limbs.

Then you were fast asleep again, dreaming of Irish dancers who were actually big fluffy cloud people wearing leprechaun clothes. Nobody but you would ever know this, and it was going to stay that way.

On the bright side, it made it a lot easier for your rescuer to carry you to safety like this.

~~

When you awoke once more, you were horrified to find yourself in the Ormond lodge of all places. You knew immediately what had happened and were determined to escape as soon as possible.

Your injured leg proved to be a huge problem, however, and you collapsed the second you attempted to find freedom. Trying again, you collapsed once more, and probably maimed yourself further in the process.

Hearing the commotion from the second floor, your least favorite member of The Legion descended down from the main stairs, refusing to look directly at you even as he scooped you up and plunked you (gently) back onto the couch, which was rather comfortable (not that you would ever tell him that).

So he was playing it cool, huh?

Okay. You could play it cool, too. You were cool. Smooth as butter.

No. You really couldn’t be cool in a situation like this, and plus, your mind was still a little woohoo since whatever accident had occurred. Suddenly you blurted out, “Frank, I hate your guts.”

And he had the audacity to laugh. He laughed at you! He did the man chuckle thing, as if what you were saying was funny. No! You were completely serious! You did hate his guts!

Perhaps your face showed how upset you were, because he started to apologize (still laughing).

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Frank said after calming down a bit.

No. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You did not want to experience dancing cloud people dressed as leprechauns ever again in your life, for the rest of eternity. Never again.

So you shook your head violently, refusing to give an explanation, which just provoked Frank to anger all of a sudden. If you went back to sleep, he could have some alone time while the rest of The Legion was gone. He kept pushing, and you kept resisting, and he pushed and you resisted, until finally he gave up and let you off with a warning. If you made him mad again, he was throwing you out in the snow.

Fine with me, you said. Okay, I’ll do it right now, he said. No balls, you said.

So then Frank casually went to scoop you up in his arms again, and you started to freak out and beat your hands against his chest until he put you back down. He was was awfully mindful of your hurt leg for someone who was about to throw you into the snow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—please don’t throw me out,” you fussed. You thought he wouldn’t actually do it. You didn’t know it, but you were right—he was just messing with you because it was funny seeing you scared.

After a bit more griping back and forth, Frank began to grow concerned about your leg. He didn’t know how to bring up the topic because things were so odd between the two of you; this was your first interaction since the brief encounter in the shack. But he swallowed his pride, because the wound seemed to be getting worse by the minute.

“Hey, do you want me to, uhh…get some supplies?” Frank asked awkwardly. When you didn’t understand, he continued, “Your leg? It looks like it hurts…I could fix it if you want.”

You barked out a laugh at his words, unbelieving of this shift in attitude. “Rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago,” you snickered, genuinely finding it amusing.

Frank took offense. He was trying to be nice for once, and you thought it was funny. And his situation really was complex, whether you chose to believe it or not. Maybe he should just tell you to get it off of his chest.

“Listen,” he said, voice laced with seriousness. “When I told you things were complicated, I meant it.”

Sensing the mood change from his tone and body language, you stopped smiling and decided to pay attention to him. Just this once. Never again. After this you could go back to hating him.

Frank continued. “The Entity was going to start…well, hurting me, if I didn’t start doing better in trials. I really didn’t want to sacrifice you, which is embarrassing to admit, but I’ll say it. And I don’t think it liked that.”

You were surprised. And also relieved that you had been right all along—he had been going easy on you at first.

“Why me, though?” you asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t you want to sacrifice me? What about the other survivors?”

If the slight tilt of his head at your question didn’t answer it for you, the way he started tapping his feet and cracking his knuckles so nervously did.

Boy, if looks could kill, you would have died instantly at the scowl Frank sent your way; you grinned pridefully at the realization that this man was down bad. You couldn’t see the expression behind his mask, though, which Frank was thankful for.

He hated every second of this, but you loved it. You reveled in his embarrassment.

Leaning forward on your hands, you begged, “Tell me more! I want to hear all about your feelings for me.”

“I could stab you right now, you know that?”

“But you won’t. You liiiiike me!”

“What are you, eight years old?”

“No, but I am severely injured and have lost a lot of blood so I am not necessarily in the right headspace at the moment.”

“You make a fair point.”

“So tell me! What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“Your ass.”

“No, really.”

“Okay, your ass and your hair.”

“You know what, Frank, I still hate your guts.”

“No, you don’t.”

You paused for a moment. It was probably the blood loss talking, you decided later, but you said, “No. Maybe I don’t.”

#:) i kinda rly like this ahaha it was fun #i hope it’s okay <3 #fruggo writes #requests #enemies to lovers prompt #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison #the legion x reader #the legion #dbd x reader #dbd oneshot #dbd writing #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd frank

[sepublic]

Y’all ever read an angst fic without a happy ending that just UTTERLY wrecks you. And even if you know what happened in the fic would never happen in canon, that the characters would never do that, that it isn’t canon by the end of the day and just someone else’s interpretation- You just can’t rest?

Because even if you look at other fan content that has the characters be happy or reconciling, deep in your heart you know that this version of the characters, from that fic you read, will never get that happiness? And even if they did, that doesn’t change nor retcon the tragedy of what happened, it still happened and will forever mar their memories, and it’s just so unfair-

And then because you’re an utter wuss, your heart hurts. You feel a genuine pressure there from the ache and emotional pain that makes the chest feel heavy, that’s how powerful this fic was, especially if you really resonate with the characters hurt! Sometimes you gotta take a deep breath, just to relieve the physical hurt, and all the while you curse yourself because why are you so goddamn sensitive, they’re just fictional!

Just move on but you can’t, the worry and lack of closure is getting to you even when you should be working on something else, and then suddenly it’s hard to focus! Then you can’t even enjoy other happy content, especially if it included those hurt faves, because you keep thinking back to THAT fic and how that happened and how it ended there, and how it will always be left off at that point forever.

Seeing your faves, even in a happy context, just reminds you of that unresolved angst and it leaves an empty hole in your heart. It’s this bitter feeling and taste in your mouth and a part of you wishes you never read that, especially if the angst came as a gut-punch and back-stab to genuine emotional vulnerability and happiness, because there’s just that feeling of frustrated betrayal! And you WANT just the happy bits but not the sad bits, and it reminds you sometimes of things in your life that went so right until this one thing at the very end ruined it all. And now that happiness is forever tainted by the bitter potential that was torn away- And you can never take that back, can’t take back what happened, not in the story nor in real life. And it’s just utter despair when you realize that because what’s even the point of trying then?

Just... man. People really write this stuff for free, stuff that makes me FEEL, huh? And then they tear out my heart and stomp on it and I’m impressed but also lowkey salty. And obviously this all speaks to the larger wonder of the human condition and experience, but just focusing on the moment wow this really sucks. The characters really deserved better and seeing them happy is like a reminder that this is a lie of what they won’t ever have in that fic, and JEEZ why are you such a drama queen over a piece of fiction?!

And by the end of the day, there’s that bitter resignation that it might just take time. Time for you to heal and move on. But you’ll be damned if you won’t be kicking and screaming the whole way because that stuff made you FEEL things, and if you’re going to tease me with happiness, follow through on it! You’re lowkey salty and in some ways wish you never read that. But who knows? Life is weird. There IS a catharsis to sadness for many, but for some you also really need relief afterwards, especially if you really care for and resonate with these characters, that angst for them actually hits close to home!

So then you’re just bitterly left considering what could’ve been. Oh, if the author had cut things off at that happy point! Just kept it fluffy! But of course you’re not entitled to their writing decisions and the fact that it makes you feel this way is a testament to how good it is. And sometimes you’re just left wishing it wasn’t that good. Alas, that’s just how it is sometimes- Opening yourself to joy means opening yourself up to despair. And writers are entitled to make what they want, you kind of accepted the warnings. Plus as someone who’s written angst without a happy ending yourself, you’re not one to talk- There’s this dim realization of “So that’s what it feels like.”

You have empathy for your readers now and does this mean you will be more merciful? Who can tell. Sometimes if something hurts you as a writer that YOU made, you kind of revel in sharing that with others so their reactions can validate your feelings, and so they can get that unusual catharsis too. There’s that satisfaction that you can inspire emotion. Maybe we can BOTH share the pain and move past it together, of what happened in this story- Especially if you don’t intend to expand on it. Like damn that’s cruel exposing others to that misery of your own making, but that’s also media and content and catharsis y’all.

And sometimes it’s worse when it’s not a fanfic but a fully official piece of media. Sometimes that can be WORSE because it IS fully canon, even if there’s usually a hopeful guarantee that there has to be a resolution. But not always, depending on the type of media at hand. And as I said, that’s just part of the risk, and really the thrill, of emotionally opening up and engaging with media, with putting yourself and your heart there, seeing yourself, and having empathy that feels like pain to yourself when those characters suffer. Empathy sure is a bitch, but it’s a begrudgingly worthwhile one that you’d never give up. And that’s just for FICTION, too- Stuff that isn’t even real, characters not even actual people with real emotions!

Jeez- You’re an utter mess. And lemme tell you it’s even worse when that fic leaves off right in the middle of that despair, not even giving either you nor the characters that coping period to come to terms with what happened. Just leaving them stunned in that eternal hurt, right smack dab in the middle of where it hurts most. Not even the luxury of getting to step back and look back, no you and the characters, they never left that moment, and that’s what I mean when it sucks about that lack of closure. This is their ending and that’s all there is, any speculation lends to the worst of your imagination.

So it’s like you’re both trapped in that moment. No time afterwards to recover. No time afterwards to reflect, even if it still ends in despair, because there’s not even that solace of it ending, of you getting away physically- You’re still IN that moment forever, and it’s lowkey suffocating and feels like it’s surrounding you 24/7. You can never escape, you won’t, it’s still there and always will be- You’ll always be there. You’re trapped and you need an escape, anything, but it’s not there. And even if you write your own escape and happy resolution or alternate ending in denial, that’s just your imagination and wishful thinking, not the reality of what happened in that story. So not even your or others’ fanfic can help, and dammit this really sucks huh?

You can’t move on because you never got to see the characters do the same, after all- And unfortunately, you’re seeing too much of yourself in them. It’s all fun and games torturing the reader until you, the writer, are one of them! And in some ways the writer IS the reader too, of their own work, they have the control so that just makes it all the more funny that the writer still subjects themselves to that anyway, stubbornly. With determined, sadomasochistic resolve. You’re gonna make your own bed and lie in it, yet you complain how the bed was made and that you’re lying in it in the first place, when no one is making you!

Why are you like this, why do you keep coming back to this? But again, such is catharsis and that release of emotion that puts it into words and something that feels real and validating, when otherwise you’re just dead inside and can’t explain nor justify it. Sometimes it’s easy to be cruel when you’re detached, other times you deliberately hurt yourself when writing or reading- Because somehow there’s a relief in THAT to your emotions, that you get to feel them fully now instead of just dully grasping at them numbly but not really...

...But damn if you don’t wish it could’ve gotten the happy ending. If you’re writing, there’s always that relief that you’re in control, that you chose this, that you can always reverse it if you wanted. But if you’re a reader or viewer you’re at the helpless whims of someone else, vulnerable and out there. As the writer you saw it coming, but as the audience you’re just as blindsided and betrayed as the characters. There is no hope of agency or change or control, no realization of what’s to come, and THAT. Sucks.

But hey- At least you’re writing about this. At least you’re putting this out there into tangible words, because that makes it feel real. Your feelings are real and valid. And it helps to cope and process and realize how this made you felt and sometimes that’s worse, but also that understand grants some lose agency and control, because you can now at least comprehend it. And maybe then, can you come to terms with it. Accept, and finally... move on. Hopefully to happier things. And if you see yourself in those characters, then it gives hope that they can move on too, in this hypothetical fic, in this universe of theirs where something inevitably had to have happened afterwards.

...Unless they died. But uh, at least YOU can move past that I guess. And that shows that even amidst that despair, others can feel joy afterwards, and damn it if it wasn’t all worth it anyway for those characters, too! You can look back and decide it was worthwhile, so can they in there hypothetical sense, so they don’t regret living even if their ‘death’ wasn’t exactly ideal. That somebody, out there, understands, that it wasn’t all for naught- That the audience can benefit at least from the joy and pain, that the character is at least understood before death, and that provides a relief and closure of its own, that the story is not unsung and unheard nor forgotten, far from it. They are in a sense immortalized by the media and thus protected and preserved, and that can help make up for it- Not just another nameless and senseless tragedy but one that can be learned from and felt for catharsis!

...I dunno, I’ve just been really waxing and poetic lately over angst without a happy ending. I guess talking about that helps to prove my earlier point about coping, but also reassuring myself that it’s not the end of the world. And sharing those feelings out there means others who feel the same can arrive. They can also feel solace and reassurance and validation from this perhaps, and provide it as well. And we realize that in the end, we’re not alone and it’s okay to feel- It gets better. Maybe not that moment, but life as a whole, and even if life doesn’t improve, at least you got that and the release in the first place.

And that’s that relief that because it’s all fiction, it gives you a place to be ultimately safe as you explore these ideas and feelings, VS real life. Your feelings are still real probably, but at least the suffering of the characters themselves isn’t, and that is in many ways a relief, because even if there IS something to be learned from this- There are better and infinitely less painful ways to do so! And dammit, the tragedy can be salvaged to a degree, but the pain was not at ALL worth what we got out of this! This is more minimizing damage by trying to control it than an actual trade really. Suffering CAN be learned from, but let’s be a real, it is it not at all worth it, nor justifies its cause by the end of the day.

Even if the characters’ suffering and by consequence joy isn’t real- Even if they themselves do not exist, what you see in them, what’s reflected from yourself in them, the feelings they inspire... THAT is real and if you can see and feel yourselves in that, in some ways they’re real too, because aren’t you as well? And again, it’s like you’re exploring yourself, but ultimately there’s that safe reprieve that comes from fiction.

...But dammit you really do wish that author had just stuck to the happy bits and not bothered with the angst, we could’ve had it all! And Y’know what, those feelings and gripes are valid, even if the author’s choices are as well. Reader and writer are both valid, just don’t put them in the same room together, because there is SALT there!

#fanfic #fanfiction #angst #angst without a happy ending #writing #ramblings #vent #long post

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 3--Hunted.

 Most of you lovelies already realize this, but my thoughts tend to zig and zag quite a bit, lol.  So.  To save some of you the headache and spare you from seeing spoilers you’d rather not see yet, I’m again placing them behind a cut.  

First things first.  I have totally turned into Yvette Nicole Brown with her TWD notebooks, lol, and I’m not even sorry.  I just felt like it would be fun to go back when the final episode is in the books and see how well my thoughts from these early episodes line up with what I’m feeling when we say our (not-so) final goodbyes.  

But that’s enough about that. Let’s get to this thing.  

It really is insane how very much I love Melissa McBride.  Just hearing her doing the previously on TWD recap voiceover makes me ridiculously happy.  

Cole!  Dude!  We hardly knew ya.  

Not gonna lie.  That first shot of Maggie in all the chaos reminded of a shirt I’ve seen.  It says--”Well, well, well.  If it isn’t the consequences of my actions.”  

I have to hand it to Angela and the rest of her team.  These opening scenes--on all 3 episodes--have been BOMB so far.  They really hook you in right away.  At least IMHO.  

I realize I’m behind the game on this little tidbit, but how much do I adore the fact that Dog is now in the opening credits?  

Okay.  Alexandria might look like it’s been on some kind of post-apocalyptic bender but all our girls are looking beautiful as ever.  Maybe it’s Maybelline, lol.  

I love to see Kelly and Carol still gravitating toward each other.  It really speaks to each woman’s heart.  Carol wants to make amends so badly and Kelly just has the most lovely, warm, forgiving heart.  

Carol’s point about Alexandria still needing the horses to help with the heavy lifting and pointing out the walls and rebuilding won’t matter quite as much if they’re limited by their  hunger and what they can physically lift on their own isn’t wrong.  But I’m sure the same viewers that were okay with Daryl and Co. going out on Maggie’s suicide mission (using the same reasoning) and saying it made sense for the bigger picture will pretend not to recognize that the same element is there in Carol’s desire to go out there and look for the horses.  You know.  Because it was Carol’s idea and not that of their fave(s).  

Aaron, Man.  Or maybe I should say Angela.   You just had to put a pit of dread in my belly mentioning Buttons like that.  RIP, Buttons.  You deserved better.  I’m still traumatized.  

Look at all the babies bonding.  Look at RJ getting to sit at the big kid table.  

“My mom always comes back.”  She damn well better.  Those babies need her.  Until she does, though, Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol (and Aunt Rosita and everybody else) are going to be there.  

Anyway.  Poor RJ.  He barely ever gets any lines, lol.  

Hershel and Judith are obviously the mini-adults in this group and baby Rhee is already more cynical and jaded than his sweet daddy was until they reached Alexandria and the wheels started to come off.  

So.  Does Maggie just think everybody’s already dead here or what?  Hmm.  

You know.  Any building can be creepy AF when the lights are off and it’s dark, lol.  Any building.  

So much darkness so far this season.  I’m going to have to invest in some blackout curtains.  I just know it.  

Where are all those stairs leading?  Why am I thinking of Hitchcock?  Am I mixing up my scary, suspenseful movies?  Probably.  

Of fucking course, Maggie dropped her flashlight.  Thank goodness she had that lighter at the ready just before Ghost Face Reaper took a swipe at her.  

Is that Father G with a screwdriver impaled in his thigh?  Listen.  These people deserve a Mega Bottle of pain killers and a week just vegging out in a soft, luxurious bed.  

All these horror movie tropes.  Some of them are cheesy, yes.  But I’m totally here for it.  

LMAO.  That’s it, Maggie.  A good old punch in the nuts works every time.  

Alden really is having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.  

Negan is still Negan.  Self-serving and looking out for number one.  But I believe the man really does feel the group is his group too.  He’s like that long lost, sketchy uncle nobody wants to acknowledge much less invite to the dinner table, but that bond?  However thin?  Is there.  

I am both hating that Maggie is being forced to work with the man that murdered her husband (my baby Glenn) and finding it fascinating the lengths she’s willing to go to survive.  This your plan, Angela?  

Rosita and Carol!  How sad is it that the last really significant scene I can remember the two of these women sharing was way back?  Before Rick and Co. attacked Negan’s outpost and Maggie and Carol were subsequently taken?  If only the show had done more of these kind of scenes.  

How much do I love all the girls working together?  Gimps would never.  They’d all be stuck back at Alexandria minding the kids and the community.  

Shallow aside--Rosita is so pretty in this scene.  

Rosita being worried about Carol honestly makes my heart hurt, because it’s about damn time more of them actually did.  Her saying Abraham is trying to tell her something in her dreams is interesting.  Angela sure loves her dreams, doesn’t she?  

Where are Daryl’s dreams, hmm?  No.  Seriously.  I guess they want to give some viewers plausible deniability until the bitter end.  

“Really?  We’re just gonna go toward the screaming?  Cool.”  Hahaha.  You know.  Even the smart people in horror movies sometimes bite it, Negan.  Just saying.  Maggie really does need to “stop running up the staircase” when she could just run out the front door though, lol.  

Poor Duncan.  I think you could have been another Tyreese, Jerry type for me.  

WTF does this show have against horses?  Those poor creatures.  

Kelly is totally me right now.  I’d be freaking inconsolable.  

Carol needed that hug.  Thank you, Magna.  From the bottom of this tired fangirl’s heart, thank you.  

Why give us that beautiful, golden shot with the horses when you’re planning to stab us through the heart later and twist the knife.  Oh.  Yeah.  That’s exactly why.  

Oh snap!  Father G’s delivery when he tells that Reaper “I’m not.  God isn’t here anymore.”  Cold as ice.  

Judas.  That the Reapers’ work.  Or.  Damn.  Either way, that’s harsh.  

Back to what Alden was saying.  All these oprhaned children.  Who’s going to take on Adam if he dies?  That poor kid has had a rough go of it.  Knowing that, makes you wonder what Alden was thinking volunteering for the suicide mission.  

Omigosh.  There went Agatha.  Terrible way to go.  Right, Beatrice?  

I’m sobbing.  Carol with the horse.  That hurt my baby so much but she hurt herself for her family the same way she has been doing since the Prison.  Melissa Mcbride?  When she cries, I cry.  Every effin’ time.  Aaron being there just made it hurt more.  But at least someone was there to see how and really take in how she continues to break pieces of herself off to keep her family as whole and safe and happy as she can.  

Rewinding a minute--that Magna and Carol conversation.  I get Magna’s reasoning too.  I do.  But Angela is just making everything so dire right now so that the sun when Connie is ultimate found shines a ltitle brighter.  

Those babies know they’re eating horse.  I could never.  

That’s got to be a different Coco.  She’s even smaller.  But she’s gorgeous.  

Fucking finally.  Angela having the other characters notice after an eternity of being blind to it, just how much Carol sacrifices of herself for them.  It’s so long overdue and I imagine Rosita’s even more worried for Carol now.  It’s a shame it’s taken 11 seasons.  My baby’s had blood on her hands trying to keep her family safe and whole and happy and fed for a long damn time.  So heartbreaking watching her try to scrub the blood away.  

Sweet, sweet hug that Kelly gave Magna.  She’s such a sweetheart kid sis to all of them, isn’t she?  

Interesting place of refuge.  A gutted church.  A visual symbol, Angela, of where Maggie and the rest of our people are now perhaps?  

“It’s easy for you, isn’t it?  Being reckless with sombody’s life...”  Maggie.  Maggie.  Those words would have hit so much harder if we hadn’t spent the majority of the last 2.5 episodes watching you ignore sound advice just because it came out of the mouth of somebody you (justifiably) hate.  

But will Alden be there when Maggie and Negan get back?  That is the question.  Or will he eventually Lucille himself?  

That little bit of lineup Negan music to remind the audience of Negan lovers and sympathizers that he once took great pleasure in murderously swinging a bag at people’s heads was a nice, subtle touch there.  Like agree with her or not, Maggie  is literally left to rely  on the hope, however small it is, that Negan has changed just enough that he won’t try to finish a job he taken on years before--killing what’s left of her.  

Oh lawd.  Next episode sees the return of a character literally nobody asked for.  How excited am I not?  

Dog better not be harmed or so help me.  

Now for Angela’s weekly explanations of WTF she/there were thinking because they been doing this plausible deniability thing so long some people out there watching with biased, muddy stan glasses can no longer separate head canon from canon.  

Is Maggie worried at all about Daryl or does she just assume his superhero powers are in full effect in this episode?  

“You can’t really say it wasn’t going to happen anyway.”  Not Angela pointing out that simply laying the blame for literally everything bad that ever happens at Carol’s feet isn’t the answer.  Say it louder for those in the back.  Alpha was going to do what Alpha wanted to do.  

“There is love there.  There is respect there.  However, there’s also frustration...”  You damn skippy.  Friendships and human relationships are complex AF.  Like Carol. She’s honestly one of the most complicated characters on this show and any show, IMHO.  That’s what makes her so memorable and such a lightning rod for discussion.  

I know I might be in a minority, but I really feel like they need more of those little scenes between the kids to keep things real.  

Kang saying she always feels like she’s going to get murdered in a staircase or parking lot is relatable, funny, and sad all at the same time.  It’s a girl thing.  

Why is Carol’s story giving me Dark Knight vibes?  Like I feel like she’ll gladly shoulder the burden of their distrust, their hate, or their judgment as long as the hard choices she makes keeps them safe.  And she’s still ultimately going to come back to save their asses even when they forsake her.  Just like Bruce Wayne/Batman.  Am I reaching too far, lol?  Because sometimes I do that.  

Anyway.  This is the third episode of the season and the third episode in a row that I mostly enjoyed.  I don’t know if I’m just so relieved and happy to have all the characters and my show back or what, but overall?  I’ve been pleased with the episodes and found something to love in all of them.  

There’s a much stronger horror vibe woven throughout Season 11 so far.  I feel like it’s a return to the roots of the show and I like that.  Literally none of the characters are making perfect choices and this viewer is here for it.  My only complaint so far is there hasn’t been enough Carol but what we’ve been given has felt like a gift and significant in a way that Gimps’ version was not.  Also?  I really hope the trend of the ladies working together and supporting each other continues because they rule the TWD world, lol.  

Hope you enjoyed at least some of my TWD word vomit.  

Until next episode.  

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons #my heart

[monofpoke4life]

Datr Week 2020 Day One: Missing You

(Totally forgot yo upload this last year. I think I was unhappy with it, but I can’t remember why. Anyway, please enjoy)!

"So how'd you know to do that thing to Chunk earlier?" His young voice squeaked, echoing into the dark, shapeless abyss.

"Any enemy can be felled with the right jab. It's just a matter of knowing where to hit. Most are susceptible to major and vulnerable organs like the kidneys or liver. I am particularly fond of throat punches. They're ideal for stunning an opponent while leaving them alive for questioning." Replied a feminine and distinctly accented voice.

A frown tugged at the corner of his lips, yet all it did was morph a frown briefly into a pout and back.

He felt his brow furrow, as the world suddenly came into view. It was like turning on your phone in the middle of the night. Blinding and full of color at its sudden appearance, but it didn't strain his eyes as they continued on their walk. A set path expanding in front of them far beyond their view, but materializing in front of them with each new step. One he walked what felt like a million times before. No different than all of the other times he walked it. Just the same old sidewalk with the same old cracks that were on his way from the school to his house.

Certainly nothing looked out of the ordinary, and yet, this walk was entirely different. It would be one thing if it were just the electrified thrum in his veins or the ecstatic beat of his heart from the idea of catching Zim in one of his alien schemes or running home to watch a new episode of Mysterious Mysteries. However, it was neither of those things, and had everything to do with the young lady walking beside him.

There was a tingle in his leg, but he paid it no mind as he chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind the next time those bullies try to stuff me in the trash again." He shook his head at the memory from earlier that day, before he pointed out, "But you still never answered my question." Her steely gaze of rare, purple eyes flicked over to meet his own bespectacled gaze as he elaborated, "I know you're British, but come on, "keep them alive for questioning?" You sound like you're from MI6 or something. I mean, where do you learn techniques like that?"

"Girly Rangers," came her little too clipped reply as she turned her head, giving him her full, narrow eyed attention.

At that, his heart suddenly jumped into throat. He could easily get lost in her eyes. His breath quickened just a tad as a wave of nerves crashed into him. Both the expected good kind, and unexpectedly bad kind, settling sourly in his stomach.

They stared a moment later before he called her bluff, and she quipped, "If I didn't find the idea ludicrous myself I'd have swatted at you." She shook her head as a genuine smile graced her lips, before she looked up to the bare branches of the trees that lined their walk, as she continued, "My mother was in the military. You pick up a thing or two with those you live with."

He felt the pin prickling feeling of a chill run down his spine, starting at his neck, yet his body lacked the telltale twitch as he excitedly murmured, "That's so cool!" At that remark, the corner of her lips twitched into a proud smirk at his unsubtle praise. Realizing she heard him, his face grew hot. He wanted to turn away, crawl into a hole, but the sight of her amused, gentle smile kept his eyes riveted to hers. 

"S-so what else did she teach you? Anything useful I could use on my paranormal investigations?"

The anxiety in his gut increased, and a familiar dread set in, waiting patiently for his world to shatter. The kind of dread that makes somebody want to hide under a blanket from the world. Yet he heeded it no mind as his lips parted into a shy yet ecstatic smile.

"Sure, one more tip couldn't hurt," she said, murmuring the last part more to herself. "Well, body language is always telling. When someone is lying their eyes will look up and to the right because they’re tapping into the imaginative part of the brain.”

“Wow, so you’re like a walking, talking lie detector?”

“You can if you train yourself enough,” she said nonchalantly.

“Could you teach me?” He inquired as a fluttery feeling in his gut returned. His arm nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he continued, a little too quickly, “Maybe you come over my house some time and-”

“I beg your pardon?” She inquired quizzically, yet something in her voice had an edge to it. Ice filled his veins at that, and he stammered and scrambled to recover, “I mean or your place is fine. Of course, only if you wanted to, but nobody ever usually wants to. Actually, no place is fine then. Look let’s just pretend this never happened and-”

His heart dropped from his chest only to roar within his ears as he felt a delicate finger lightly touch his lips. He froze. He didn’t dare to breathe let alone talk; meanwhile his eyes fixated upon the dainty appendage touching him. If he didn’t know better, a spark spread from her to him, electrifying him from the inside out. His whole body grew hot, and he felt like his brain would melt from the radiant blush that was surely upon his cheeks.

“Hm, so that’s where you’re off button is,” she mused aloud as she pulled her hand away. Her eyes shined with silent mirth. He gulped and could practically hear himself audibly swallow. Gawd she had to have known what that clever smile did to him! Forget his brain melting, he was going to melt into a puddle at her feet.

Dazed, he saw her lips move, yet didn’t hear a word she said.

“Sorry, I spaced out. What was that?”

“You shouldn’t apologize. It’s a sign of weakness,” she chided. He felt confused and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she continued, “I said that’s very kind of you, but unfortunately my parents and I are still adjusting from the move; however, once we’re settled, I’d love to come over.”

He blinked owlishly behind his round glasses. His flushed face cooling down within the time it took to sink in. However, when it did finally sink in, he grinned so hard his face felt like it could split in half.

“That’s great! I can’t wait until then! How long do you think that will take? Maybe a week? Oh I need time to prepare and clean my room-er-not that it’s not clean, I-” He abruptly cut off his ramble as he saw her finger raise once more. He skittered backwards with his trench coat flapping with his rapid movements. The usually heavy yet oddly light feeling backpack nearly threw him off balance, but he managed not to fall.

She snickered. His heart skipped a beat, and a warmth coalesced in his chest, emboldening him.

“How does this Saturday sound,” He asked with all of the courage and grace a socially outcast boy, like himself, could with his first real friend. The first person who made him feel secure and supported since...gawd, he couldn’t remember! He couldn’t think!

By that point they started walking again, and that dread came back tenfold. His untrained eyes followed her right hand as she tucked a dark blue strand of hair behind her ear. A gust of forceless wind slammed into them, and it appeared as though she turned her head to shield it from the winter wind. She was always honest with him up until that point, so he had no reason to doubt her. No reason to notice how the motion drew his attention away from her eyes.

But he knew to look for it now, and all of the other times his mind replayed it over and over again within his head. On this night, as it had so many times before, that dread feeling his gut finally crashed to the forefront as everything went dark, and squealing, victorious laughter surrounded him like a stereo system. 

He went to scream, to shout, warn her, anything! Yet nothing came out. In fact, she was gone. He whipped around in an attempt to find her. As he looked behind himself, he went to turn back around, and there she was in all of her green, alien, Irken glory as she rushed at him with pak leg raised. When she was so close he could see the darker, barely discernible, purple of her pupils did he finally gasp and rocket himself into an upright position. Eyes shooting open as he nearly fell out of bed.

His stomach roiled as a brief wave of vertigo hit him from moving too quickly, especially without his glasses. With the grace of a lean yet gangly teen, he leaned on his side towards the edge of the bed. His arm flopped onto the end table beside his bed, and he hung his head between the space that separated the two as he let the wave pass. He also took the time to catch his breath.

Once recovered, he raised his head to blearily look for his glasses in the dark. After a few near misses of lightly brushing against them, Dib finally managed to snag them. As he placed them upon his face, he frowned at the sight of the slight tremble of his hand.

At the reminder of his memory, that nightmare, Dib growled at himself as he flopped onto his back. He yelped and flinched as a sharp pain shot up his leg, having hit his ankle off of a bedpost. 

The pain quickly went away as swiftly as it came, and Dib huffed and sighed. His forearm falling back to rest upon his forehead. Barely awake and he was already exhausted. Of course, the fact that he had that blasted dream again didn't help at all.

At the thought of the dream again, Dib growled and rolled over onto his side, facing the wall and his open window. He knocked his glasses up towards his forehead as he rubbed his clenched shut eyes with the heel of his palms. If only he could forget and move on. That would make his life so much easier.

And yet...the thought of forgetting Tak or how she made him feel...he could never do it. Just the idea made his heart race into a panic and sent his mind into a whirlwind. His childhood crush aside, Tak was his first friend. A real friend, or so he thought.

Pfft, just his luck that his first friend turned out to be an alien who only talked to him for his information on Zim. The thought triggered a dull, painful ache to grow within Dib's chest. One more powerful than the pain of her trying to destroy the earth. With him on it.

Dib shifted his right arm under his pillow to further support his head while he opened his eyes to pensively glare at his drumming fingers.

"Four freaking years and I still can't get you out of my head," he grumbled to one person in particular. Not that she'd ever hear him, being flung into space in her ship's escape pod and all.

The pod. Possibly drifting aimlessly in the vacuum of space. Cold and lifeless as the metal shell encasing Ta- 

He shook his head to dispel the direction of his thoughts. However, he didn't do it fast enough as he felt the slight burning tingle of his eyes welling up with tears only for one to slide down his cheek.

He grumbled some more as he wiped it away and gazed up at the midnight blue sky. The busy tizzy of his mind slowed down to a crawl as he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. In and out. Find his happy place and think happy thoughts, or at least ones different from those that woke him up.

It almost worked too, as the angry tension in his muscles slowly evaporated from his body. His limbs became noodle-like and his facial muscles relaxed. The drumming stopped, and his mind drifted into a hazy fog of nothingness. He liked the nature of the nothingness. By definition, there was nothing there. Nothing that could potentially hurt him physically or mentally.

In and out. He pondered the nothingness, and how something so endless in area and possibilities could give him a sense of security, like being wrapped within a warm blanket.

Then, Dib's mind drifted to the thought of security, as it always did. The lack of it, how he could hold onto it, how he could find it within himself or others, and then finally when was the last time he felt it.

"Ya know they're wrong, right?" Tak's voice echoed from a memory that felt like decades ago. 

His younger self jumped at that, looking over at her from where she sat beside him in the library. She'd broken him out of a very important task...which was to stare morosely at his unopened book.

"Hm, what was that," He inquired, trying to sound tired to hide the sadness in his tone.

Her purple eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. As per usual her penetrating gaze felt like she could see right inside him, reading him like an open book. However, she chose to ignore it in favor of the topic at hand. 

"I said, ya know they're wrong, right? About you?"

His eyes widened in surprise at that.

"O-oh?" He paused a moment, before his brow furrowed and he inquired further, "About what exactly?" It wasn't like he didn't believe Tak. Dib had no reason to doubt her, but years had cautioned him to not get his hopes up. 

He watched her frown a moment as she paused. The question caught her off guard as she clearly thought it would be a one and done statement. However, ever the perfectionist, she persisted to speak her opinion of him.

Glaring at the pencil she twisted between her fingers, she elaborated, "Well, a lot of things. The most prominent, though, is that you're not crazy for being different, for believing in the paranormal."

He sat up straighter at that as he continued to stare in astonishment, watching her wearily for any sign of a lie. He found none, but still felt the need to ask, "Really, you mean that?"

"Of course! There's nothing wrong with being different. It-" She trailed off at that. He ignored the part of his brain that thought her brow furrowed pensively was cute. This was a serious, heartfelt situation, and it wasn't the time to make googly eyes at someone who probably didn't like him that way.

He opened his mouth to offer a word, in order to help her along, but she continued before he could.

"It doesn't make you wrong. You- you're not- you're not defective." At the word "defective," it came out of Tak's mouth with as much disdain as one would use when talking about the city's cesspool, and her gaze immediately snapped up to look him in the eye.

A part of Dib felt like she wasn't just talking to him at that moment, especially as shortly after she said it, she unconsciously snapped the pencil in half. It made him wonder who hurt her or called her that in the past, what was their address, and could he beat them up. Well, maybe die trying, but preferably not.

The other part of Dib felt like she meant every single word. Even after everything that would happen later, he still felt she meant it. The way her determined stare carved into his very soul, refusing to look away until he agreed with her. How those amethyst orbs tenaciously glared and willed him to take to heart her words of wisdom, but most importantly; the earnest, raw edge of emotion that slipped into her voice. 

No matter how brilliant of an actor she was, she couldn't fake that.

The full meaning of her words combined with her body language finally sank in and a blissful warmth settled in his chest. It quickly spread to every neuron and nerve until it felt like pure happiness, contentment, and safety was going to erupt from his mouth in the form of the widest grin he'd ever make.

However, he had enough sense to not grin at her like a fool or madman. His entire body thrummed with energy and oddly a sense of calm. 

For once in his life he felt relaxed, safe, peaceful even. Relaxed to just let things play out, and to have faith in her as his friend, as he did for her. He could say or do anything, and she'd have his back, always giving her 110 percent. It felt...blissful.

However, that bliss couldn't last, just like the nothingness as the memory faded in exchange with his conscious state. Before it fully faded, he remembered he got her to laugh

 Not a laugh at someone's misfortune, like Zim, or being victorious against those bullies, like Chunk, but a genuine, gentle laugh with a small smile to match.

The memory faded, and he opened his tear filled eyes once more. As they dripped onto his pillow, he curled in on himself. His heart was as erratic as his breathing. Trying not to sob aloud kind of does that to you.

Gawd how he missed that feeling of security, of being supported, of someone having his back, and boy did he miss the one who made him feel that way.

Ironic how an alien could act more and treat him like a human than the real humans. And there's a high chance that all of that was fake. If it wasn't, well, it was four years too late to think about that.

A choked sob escaped his lips as he angrily sighed out the window, "I hate that I miss you."

#Datr week 2020 #Datr #Dib #Dib Membrane #Tak #Invader Tak #Missing you #Invader Zim #How in the world did I forget to post this #datf

[wongxiexie]

Broken trust, a broken heart [II/III]

Pairing: Kim Jongdae (Chen) x Reader Genre:  Angst Word Count: 2.392 words Note: Thank you so much @exo-stentialism for letting me use your gif! 🌸🌸

Part I | Final

Your eyes feel heavy and your ears are ringing. The occasional heavy banging can be heard from within your apartment along with the constant ringing of the doorbell. Wiping your eyes, you belatedly realize you cried yourself to sleep and feel your heart cave in the moment you remember what caused your tears.

Glancing towards the clock by your bedside, you note you’ve only been asleep for a few hours after the commotion in the restaurant from earlier.

‘Who could be knocking on my door at 2 in the morning?” you wonder, wishing with all your heart for it to be Jongdae, but also wishing it’s somebody else because honestly, you don’t know what to say to him.

And you’re even more afraid of what he might say to you. What if he’s there to break up? What if she’s there with him? So many what-ifs flash through your mind that you have to pinch the bridge of your nose to at least try to stop what seems like an oncoming headache.

The floor is cold on your bare feet and the surroundings are dark from lack of light when you stand up to walk towards the door. A few steps in, a surprised yelp escapes you when you bang your toe on the loveseat in the living room. You mutter a quiet curse under your breath, a tinge of pain flicking beneath your chest again from the reminder that you’re staying in your apartment that night, an apartment you haven’t been in lately because you were always over at his. But that night, you were in your own for obvious reasons.

In your place, not his.

You sigh and approach the door. Holding the knob, you rest your forehead on the wooden surface and breathe slowly.

The knocking resumes, but a bit hushed and in less frequent intervals this time. You assume whoever is on the other side heard your cry of pain when you stubbed your toe.

Grasping the knob, you turn it and slowly pull open the door. When you see him standing there in front of you with his face downturned in a sad frown, all thoughts instantly vacate your mind and you immediately pull him into a tight embrace, almost jumping at him in your haste to envelop him in comfort.

Jongdae’s arms encase you in his warm embrace and you almost melt then and there. His apologetic soothing voice keeps whispering streams of sorry to your ears and you break from your embrace to hold his cheeks with your palms.

“It’s okay, Jongdae,” you smile as you gaze into his eyes. You can see how much he cares about you just by looking at his face, soft features made to look even more loving by the soft glow of the dim lights outside your apartment.

“No, no,” he whispers softly before he places a tender kiss on your lips. “I’m really sorry, [Y/N], angel.”

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours, your lids following suit as you relish in the feeling of being so near to him, his body heat radiating from him and warming your chilled form.

Jongdae notices when you shiver slightly from the cool night breeze that permeate the air, letting go of his hold on you and placing a light kiss on your forehead.

Taking hold of your left hand, he enters your house and leads the way towards your room. He turns to look at you and gives you a warm, but still apologetic smile.

When you reach your bedroom, he sits on his side of the bed and grasping both of your hands in his much larger ones, he looks up at you and hugs your middle.

“Let’s rest for tonight, hmm?” he says with a small smile. You let out a smile of your own and look at him tenderly.

“Alright,” you answer, pecking his forehead as you lie down on the bed.

Jongdae stands up for a while to take his clothes off, stripping down to his boxer briefs before joining you on the bed and pulling the covers over the both of you. He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you towards him, the warmth of his chest giving a pleasant feeling to your back.

He places one final kiss on the back of your head before you both succumb to the lull of slumber.

——

Sunlight filters through the small gaps in the curtain, bathing the room in a gentle hue. You stir in your half-conscious state and blink slowly to ease your eyes awake. Tightening your hold on Jongdae’s waist, you tenderly rub your palm on his back and look at his face.

“Good morning,” he greets you with a sleepy smile, tracing circles on your hip with his thumb. You peck his nose and giggle, feeling ticklish because of his hand on your skin.

“Come, let’s make breakfast,” you say as you stand up. Jongdae lifts his arms up and wiggles his fingers at you so you can pull him upright. He looks so adorable, you go straight to hugging him instead of pulling him by the arms. Looping your hands around his torso, you him to a sitting position and he closes the distance between your faces to bump your nose with his.

Giggling at his typical affectionate behavior, you move to stand up, knowing you two still have to talk about what happened despite already having reconciled.

Jongdae goes to shower first to wash up and when he finishes, he finds you cooking breakfast by the stove, humming to yourself.

He loops his arms around your waist from behind and hums along to the tune you’re singing.

“Breakfast’s almost done,” you peck his chin, loving the fresh scent from the body wash he used that he left at your place. “Set up the table, please?”

He whines at you and tightens his hold, “But I don’t wanna let go of you,” he says with a light tilt to his voice, making you laugh at his actions as you shoo him to the cupboards.

Jongdae moves around your kitchen, the familiarity he has with your place sending a nice feeling coursing through you. He looks so at ease with the mundane things he was doing with you, it makes your heart swell with affection.

You set up a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of Jongdae, fluffy just how he likes it, and he pushes a cup of tea to you. Inhaling the pleasant scent of earl grey, you close your eyes and savor the smell.

Jongdae clears his throat and encloses one of your hands into both of his, with you meeting his stare as you wait for him to speak.

“I’m really sorry I asked you to leave, [Y/N],” he starts. “I shouldn’t have asked you to leave on your own, especially since it was our anniversary date. I should’ve focused on you.”

He looks down as if in shame, and meets your eyes again. “I shouldn’t have agreed to let her stay with us, too, since last night was supposed to be just about the two of us.”

A small smile graces your lips because really, you can never be mad at Jongdae.

Caressing your knuckles, he prompts you to look at him. “I know you don’t like her that much, but I swear she’s not that bad.” The smile falls from your lips so fast and you struggle to think why he would bring her up again.

“Yoona’s a good person, she even wants to be friends with you” he smiles a bit.

You tilt your head sideways a little and you find that you can’t stop the frown from appearing on your face. “Jongdae, you do know that she likes you, right?” you say slowly and you see confusion appear on his face. “She wants you all to herself and she’s trying to take you away from me, you’re aware of that, right?”

Your boyfriend looks at his hands on his lap and heaves a sigh. “[Y/N]...”

“I know you don’t like her that much, but Yoona’s not a bad person,” he says and you almost have a whiplash from the confidence his words carry.

“...what?” you say quietly.

Jongdae’s features panic for a bit, but he hurries to explain to you. “I know she kind of stole our time together last night, but she’s a really great friend, [Y/N]. She doesn’t like me, it’s just that we became close during our trip.”

“She’s not trying to take me away from you. She can’t do something like that,” he smiles at you and proceeds to tell you things you know she only said and did to get Jongdae’s attention. “She even said last night that she was sorry if she offended you, but I told her it’s okay, right?”

He gives you a hopeful look, one that expresses his genuine belief that you can be good friends with that woman.

You force out a smile and nod once to him, not saying anything after. Your breathing is starting to get heavy because of your oncoming tears, but you blink lightly to keep them at bay. You want so bad to cry in frustration, but honestly, you don’t know what you should do.

“She can’t do something like that.”

When those words fell from his lips, you felt like you were punched in the gut.

You woke up that day feeling rejuvenated and happy from having made up with Jongdae. Silly of you to think that things would go your way, huh?

The pain from the night before erupt in your chest with the reminder that he chose to believe her rather than you, his partner.

And he still doesn’t believe you.

Jongdae seems so relieved when he thought you’re willing to talk things through with Yoona. Can you really do anything about that?

You don’t know… so you don’t do anything, but your anger towards her is starting to eat you from the inside.

Jongdae beams at you, seemingly happy with your response and not showing any signs of recognition of how forced your smile is.

When did he stop being able to read you?

He goes in for a kiss and when his lips land on yours, you can almost imagine Yoona counting down the last kisses you’ll share with Jongdae before he inevitably breaks up with you.

The trance you are in is broken when you hear his phone ring an unfamiliar tone. You snap your head towards the device and narrow your eyes at the name that flashes on the screen.

Rational thoughts flee your mind, the anger and frustration overflowing from within you, and you pick up Jongdae’s mobile before he had the chance to take the call.

You click ‘answer’ and feel your anger spike up even more upon hearing her voice.

“Dae, I miss you! Can you please buy me some soothing gel? My cheek’s still hurting from when [Y/N] hit me--”

You cut her words off with a scoff. “Your face is hurting because of me?”

“What are you doing answering calls for Jongdae? Give him his phone back, I wann--”

“Listen here, Yoona,” you grit out her name with so much disdain, it could have made anybody flinch. “Stop talking to my boyfriend. Jongdae is not your partner and never will be, so if you have any ounce of self-respect, stay away from him and don’t call him ever again.”

You’re breathing harshly when you end the call, staring at his phone like you want to kill it and you don’t even realize you’re grasping it tightly until Jongdae touches your hand to ease you into releasing the device.

His brows are furrowed and his face is washed with apparent disappointment and disapproval.

“I love you, [Y/N]... I really do,” he says lowly, choosing to look at the floor instead of you. He releases a deep sigh to try to relax himself, but the frown remains on his face.

“I treasure what we have. What’s happening now can never get in between us,” his voice holds an edge to it, one that you only rarely hear, but is never directed at you. “...but you can’t treat her like this. She’s my friend and she’s also special to me. She was there for me for a whole year when I had to stay in a place where I knew nobody.”

The air is knocked out of your lungs when he says those words. “I was able to get by because someone was there with me and stayed with me.”

Your throat clogs up with his words, remembering the time you had to turn down Jongdae’s request for you to accompany him to his trip. 

“It’s sad how you didn’t even consider Dae’s needs”

“You weren’t there for a whole year”

Her words flash through your mind and your knees almost buckle with the sheer weight of the pressure building inside you.

“You’re not good enough for him, you whore”

You know he doesn’t intend to make you feel bad. Jongdae would never do something that would deliberately hurt you, but you know he’s stating the truth.

No matter how twisted her intentions were when she accompanied him, the fact remains that she was there for him when you weren’t — when you chose not to.

And no matter how pure your intentions were when you rejected his offer, the fact remains that you weren’t there for him when she was.

You prioritized your career that time, thinking you couldn’t let Jongdae work on his own to prepare for the future of your partnership. You wanted to make a career for yourself, not just for your own satisfaction, but to help Jongdae as well.

However, your choices obviously had consequences that didn’t make things easy for the both of you.

“I’m going out for a while,” Jongdae says quietly. “We won’t get anywhere trying to settle things when we’re both upset.”

He walks past you towards the door, leaving you alone in your apartment to settle the emotions that are starting to choke you.

The moment you hear the door shut, quiet sobs escape you and echo in the hollow space where you remain on your own.

#exo #exosnet #chen #kim jongdae #exo angst #chen angst #kim jongdae angst #exo x reader #exo x reader angst #chen x reader #chen x reader angst #kim jongdae x reader #kim jongdae x reader angst

[lycanthrotea]

...

“Not very smart walking all alone this snowy evening”

Lahortans froze in their steps. somebody was threatening them, right On their way to a reunion they didn’t even want to go to. They didn’t even notice they were being followed as the cold wind blew past their muffed ears and their mind was distracted by The promising future of being accepted into Leencian’s most prestigious university of magic up north. How they waited for the day to continue their research in a more enriching environment , access to so many more tomes so much better funding and some of the more well-known individuals in the field, everything seem to shatter under the icy breath sudden blowing on the back of their neck. they jumped startled, dropping their bag turned back to meet The aggressor, Because of course It couldn’t just be a voice inside their head. It was a demon Whom by their lack of thick winter clothing and frozen breath Had an affinity towards ice, Which is exactly the last ones you want to see when standing in deep snow, during dusk..

“Ah! What do you need of me?”

“You know what I want, Just give the bag here already. Try anything and i’ll slice your neck clean off. “

They stepped away from it as the Stranger Dumped all of their possessions into the snow, clothes, books, alcohol, identification. Grinned as they as found their wallet and looked content at the amount of money. A fair amount, Lahortans brought a bit extra in case they were certainly not wanted at their aunt’s farm and needed a place to stay, and drinks to Go with it. Lahortans glanced at the them, They noticed and glared right back intently at them, trying to see any hint of resistance. They did have a small fire pendant on Their person they carried for self-defense and keeping warm ,mainly keeping warm, but it was in their pocket and there was hardly a chance they could snatch it around someone who was likely rather experienced in messing people up. Of course they could also use their own blood but Because they were more interested in studying it than using it They wouldn’t be able to funnel off enough blood from their body fast enough to attack.

“There. Not as much as your nice outfit would suggest but its something. Speaking of which hand that over too.”

“Sigh..Very well ..”

They were much more annoyed to part with their lovely coat. although where they were going the winters would a little less long, they still spent a pretty good amount for such a Beautiful thing, Embroidered with intricate details, threaded with magical thread That would keep one more warm than its appearance might suggest , they weren’t sure if they would Be willing to buy a replacement. At least they still had something to keep them self warm with but they would have to move quickly unless they wanted to risk hypothermia. As they hesitantly took it off The demon suddenly made an icicle in their hand and held it to their neck like a blade.

“Now what are you doing hiding such a lovely thing under that scarf of yours. Come on now you only got to cooperate with me a little more kid.”

“Ah.. I.. Er.. please I rather you take anything and everything else. “

“Must be pretty valuable Huh?”

It was. A beautiful double layered pearl choker that had been in their family for very many years. The beads were not completely uniform In color varying from pure white to rosier tones, But all uniform in shape. the necklace itself was crafted w the property to help store excess magic Which didn’t mean much to them but was a nice bonus. Their mother had to given It to them A few years ago much sooner than their grandmother had to her. Likely because Lahortans had marveling at its beauty since they were young, despite her rarely wearing it. They also were going to be rather far away from home to pursue their interests. She at a time thought they were emotionally much closer than Lahortans was, and wanted to give something to remind them of home. Regardless of their personal feelings towards her They truely treasured it, and wore quite often. the idea of losing it to some random bandit who on closer inspection had the pungent smell of alcohol in their breath was Not something they wished to imagine, But they were cornered and had a severe field disadvantage. However at the moment they failed to consider this, in a lapse of Judgment for the briefest of moments Lahortans thought they thought they could run. As they started To back away the demon striked at their abdomen. the force of The slash threw Lahortans onto the snow, They screamed As the Sharp horrible pain It brought seized their entire body. They reflexively clutched their stomach realizing in horror they’d been eviserated.

“Not very smart this fancy one, Hey stay quiet unless you really want me to end it off for you.”

The demon jumped on them and forcibly unclasped their necklace, Lahortans tried to stop them but they could only muster dirtying the precious heirloom with their blood. They were punched in the face before Being warned once more about Trying to resist and were left to bleed in the snow. It really was the absolute worse, They were freezing and in agonizing pain and Were facing the possibility of dying where they laid. They took a minute to start gathering themself, it was most important to rid of the lightheadedness.

In the moment it was a strain to focus withblood pouring out but as they Started to get a grip over their own blood, They began to feel much better. Whether it was half frozen in the snow or flowing out of their body or still coursing through their veins. As Long as they were in control, they wouldn’t necessarily need it in their body to survive and they could turn their attention to trying to figure out what to do now.

Firstly if they wanted to get out of here, their best bet was to Inconspicuously bleed themself out, that way they would have a manner to defend themself more easily. But if they wanted to not lose precious posessions they’d have to go offensive And catch the demon Off guard. Although such Maneuvers weren’t a thing they were exactly familiar And experienced with—maybe was the adrenaline maybe it was the prospect of getting an upper hand by trying to use an amount of magic they previously haven’t been able to use— they were quite ready to go. All They had to do was distract them by using the blood left on their necklace and-

Lahortans took one last deep breath— or Tried because Doing so really hurt— And with a grip of their fist the small amount of blood covering the pearls Suddenly turned into spikes towards the hand that gripped it. The assailent Released their grip on the pearls grabbing their wrist in pain. Lahortans quickly Got on their feet, Making sure their guts didn’t spill out as the other demon reflexively began to turn the snow into rows of large Shards that erupted from the ground below. They were able to leap out of the way in time, reached into their pockets for the fire pendant and wrapping blood around their arm was able to funnel magic to create A blast of flame that the demon would stumble to avoid. Lahortans Was then able to drench the demon in their own blood In the moment of vulnerability before they could possibly turn the snow around them into shards of ice that would probably Mangle anyone’s body.

Once soaked they could constrict the body so the assailent wouldn’t be able to use it to channel magic. It was easier feat than expected, Which is fine and dandy when They really needed to get stitched up as soon as possible.

“Ugh. You’re absolutely disgusting you know that?”

They ignored them shivering as the cold really started to hit. They made sure not to lose their grip while the assailant struggled As they proceeded to pick up their coat which had gotten quite a bit sullied with blood. It was really that simple they thought as they put it on to warm their body. Some random punk who was currently cursing at them as they gathered their things Really had the gall to try and mug them. Combined with the ongoing pain, their fear suddenly turned into annoyance As they found themself to be in complete control of the situation

“Hmph.. You must be oh so fortunate that blood stains mean absolutely nothing to a person like me or else I might be even more furious. regardless I prefer you be the one staying quiet now. “

Of course threating someone who is both angry and drunk meant much more verbal abuses. They weren’t as angry as they said they were but their patience was running thin as they were figuring out what they could possibly do to not get attacked at the moment they released their grip. Maybe strangle them until they fainted from asphyxiation? They motioned to test how much pressure they could put, It definitely could work As they watched the demon struggle to breathe but- Oh. That’s it. A devious grin appeared on their face A look of horror came about the other’s face.

“Now Despite my Condition appearing to be Rather dire I Can safely afford to Dally just a little while. I feel as though letting you go unharmed would not be safe for me . I may be frilly and dainty looking But I am I demon of science, And it seems as though it would be an excellent time to Do a bit of experimentation. “

They gave a small chuckle watching as their subject Began to squirm and struggle even harder The confidence they gave off was probably frightening. The snow around them Both tried to form itself into something but without the Ability to move, To use one’s body to more effectively conduct magic, they were powerless. Of Course it Is not impossible to do so and not extremely difficult but as they were mentally Impaired they lacked The focus needed to do so and Lahortans knew it. Before they decided to resort to screaming Lahortans Took One of their gloves off, scrunched up and stuffed it in their mouth, securing it be wrapping some blood around their head.

“AIthough i am one With much magical stamina, This power you see before you is still quite new to me. I have studied it to an extent yes but I have not had the time to see it at its greatest potential, sustaining all of my blood outside my body and manipulating it. To do so without a scratch on one’s body requires time and concentration. I have been meaning to set the time and energy to do so but until now I have not been able to. However this grisly wound you have gifted me has provided an opportunity. Oh but it isn’t just playing with your body as a ragdoll, I have also never used Blood other than mine.

Those with my magic are able to blend and separate different blood at will, They able to infuse it with magic and use it as if it were their own . Historically speaking there were many more violent uses of it but you shall not worry about that. Once I am done I will put it back in your body and you may be on your way. Of course any form of retaliation and you will be bled out in a moments notice. Do we have ourselves clear? Now, Let us see, “

Lahortans approached And knelt down beside where they laid. Every movement hurt but they bit their lip To brace themselves. They attempted to focus over the others body to sense Any injury on their body they could begin their extraction. They notice that their surprise attack didn’t actually cut their body enough to be a useful point, But it wasn’t like it was something they knew how to do very well so they werent shocked.

“at the moment you are unscathed, I don’t have any sharp objects on me and I doubt you will provide me with one. Hmm. You may find it crude but It seems Is the only way of puncturing your skin would be to use my fangs. I would apologize for your excess pain however I do not think it could be nearly as severe as the gash you have left me with. Oh do not worry I will leave you with your life but you will want to wish your Intoxication is a good enough anesthetic.”

Lahortans Went over the body of their captive, Who Mustering their strength froze themselves up In attempt to protect themself. They asked the captive which hand it was That dominant but they responded by shaking their head angrily. Assuming that it was the one that was used to slash them, The right hand, They firmly grasp the left arm holding it tight before biting Down their forearm without hesitation. they were purposely a little in accurate when it came to trying to hit blood vessels, but still focused more on making large puncture wounds over scraping flesh. Lahortans pulled away only When they begin to feel their face became numb with the cold.

It took but a moment of focus to grab a feeling of the strangers blood and be able to control it as they would their own. Lahortans gleefully And began to extract the blood which floated in the air where they held, Such fascination made them forget the morally questionable nature of the action they were committing and their aching open wound. They did pay close attention to their experimemtee So they would lose just enough blood to fall unconscious and nothing more. As soon as they did Lahortans Released the bloody constraints from the body and took back their glove. From there they could finally see how much they were capable of. They stood and using their arms similar to a conductor and played around with the deep red liquid in the air as the set sun let the Moon do all the lighting. Mixed together pulled apart, and mixed Together again with ease. They could make it rain unnaturally thick droplets and Douse the snow with red Before lifting it up in the air again leaving Imprints as if heavy rain had Fallen. Percision wasn’t easy But it felt amazing (but exhausting) to see a large blob mutate Into whatever simple forms they desired. They Tried to see if they could lift themself up in the air; lightly But the amount of strain almost gave them a headache. They could drench themself in one moment and in the other not a hint of blood Was on their light colored attire.

They continued on testing things for another 10 minutes before conceding to the fact that they might be wasting a little too much magic. With a refreshed sigh, They returned to the body of the other demon And slowly returned the blood back into their body. And then proceeded To check their status to make sure everything was OK. Gave them a little kick but No reflex. Fine. They checked the pulse none they could perceive and then to see if the blood they returned was running, It was stagnant. Of course along with it no heartbeat. They were dead. Lahortans felt their heart drop. it wasn’t as much as having just killed someone , they honestly didn’t care about the others life at this point, But they did had no idea what was going to happen now. In a couple months were Supposed to be on the train to Creonys but now what would happen? It was so very likely that the invitation would be rescinded no matter what happened. But Would it close even more paths? Had their career ended before even truly started. It was not self-defense , not at this point. there was an inkling of malice not enough to have wanted to murder them, but enough to get to the point of having done so. What would the judges rule? How long Will it take to reach it, how long are they going to be behind bars. Oh and of course they were still had a wound that what is currently partly exposing their intestines and a family reunion to get to. At least there was an ever ready surgeon to stitch them up..

They felt that their magic was soon going to be exhausted if they kept holding everything out of their body. With a wave an arm, Lahortans Began to absorb the blood back into their body. They still would need to Not let their wound bleed them out but it was much less stressful on their magical reserves.

“It will certainly be fun to explain this later.. I need a drink.”

Lahortans Placed everything but the bottle of vodka in their bag and slung up on their shoulder. Quivering as they began to walk, One hand on their abdomen the other holding the bottle, they made a small mental calculation about how Long it would take to get to the farm at a limping pace and how much alcohol they could drink before getting too drunk too soon. They used their mouth to uncap the bottle, and spit it into the snow. With little hesitation they took several large swigs Before putting the bottle down. It absolutely burned but it was much better than walking about an hour after dusk Without anything to dull the pain And take their mind off things.

“Goodbye you icy bastard, though ... Now that I have given it a second thought I should thank you as well. I will probably never be seeing My family again after this.”

#they got back and were like totally drunk #oh shit not only is lahortans late but also totally wasted why are we not surprised #oh shit wait a minute they are bleeding wait a fucking second

[myvoicenottheoneyougiveme]

The fuss, the fuss...

As said by many others concerning this show, “art-house”. The shift from TV14-PG-13+ to very hard R in the theatrical realization of the ending we didn’t get initially. The End of Evangelion ~ ->Armageddon: the end of all things in the same levels of bizarre and otherworldness. We move from the more action oriented Godzilla-esque battles in the very beginning on to art-house explorations of the mind and character driven drama to a time when it all comes crashing down when it’s time to find out what the characters are really made of. Asuka resolves her funk--her lifetime struggle with what’s been inside of her. Misato shows us what “tough-love” is. Rei discovers the breadth and depth of her origins--her true identity. Gendo is revealed for the murderous and manipulative bastard he is. Shinji goes on an acid trip....

Seele plays the UN/JSDF against Nerv because Gendo has his own plans for the Human Instrumentality Project (the evolution or rather devolution of humanity out of its present individuated form into one being--a return to the womb for all intents and purposes). This “salvation” of the human race is their ultimate goal even if the military forces they leveraged against Nerv believe they are trying to stop it from happening. The all out slaughter of Nerv and it’s personnel, everyone and everything that the audience has become familiar with and connected to, the slaughter that ensues... it’s a massacre.

Unit-01 is the vehicle to the realization of The Human Instrumentality project. The culmination of the world ending transformation happens within the mind of the pilot, Shinji. Heart and mind synchronization with the Eva means a strange blurring between what happens to the Eva and what happens to the pilot. After the 9 production model Evas are defeated by Asuka, they get up like zombies and eviscerate her. They descend on Shinji next. In a bizarre twist of events the Lance of Longinus is miraculously recalled from lunar orbit immobilizing Unit-01 and setting the stage for a literal crucifixion. Through the “dissolution of the pilot’s ego” something something incantation-like bullshit from visor man head of Seele and cue acid trip.

“Destrudo”, the opposite of “libido”, is another word used earlier in the series after Shinji is dissolved in a similar fashion to what’s about to happen here. Let’s just dissolve your brain and see what comes out. Let’s just stab stab stab stab stab and jab our way to the end of the world. If we break you down enough, eventually you’re going to snap.

Cue dream like sequence: the most regressive and childlike and desperate the character has ever been. The author’s would-be spouse standing, looming large over top of him,

Shinji: “Somebody! Anybody!”

Asuka: “No.”

Snap... Destrudo. A surrealist dreamlike sequence symbolizing “destrudo”. All in his head, then manifested out in the world as the culmination of an end to the suffering of humanity by returning all to nothingness. But the introspective journey is only beginning.

“Acid trip” (for much of the leading up to and thereafter), is probably the best analogy, and a quick search of the term “ego dissolution” in my search engine actually has a headline that juxtaposes psychedelics and ego dissolution. Whatever it is about acid as they’re discovering that kicks the doors down between the different parts of the brain, you can seem to either have deeply insightful revelations about yourself and life or you can have... a very bad trip--terrifying hallucinations, panic, etc. I guess it depends on the circumstances and your mental state.

I must admit that I don’t fully understand the term ego dissolution as it seems a rather large concept, but destrudo is manifested into the world as a result. He was used as a vehicle to its realization, this end of all things. ...But he had the power to choose a different outcome. He had a choice. He could choose a different destiny for himself and subsequently the world. The moral of the story is one of hope. The moral of the story is, the future is unwritten.

At the end then... after said introspective journey and the choice for a different fate, Shinji and Asuka are washed up on the shore of consciousness side by side. Cue symbolic reiteration of world ending trip so we can make a point--a summary in the most concise and powerful way possible. The future is unwritten. In an absolute reversal of roles, the future is unwritten. There’s so much packed in and around all of this, what her appearance echoes, what her gesture echoes, the apparition of Rei levitating above the water--one blink and she’s gone. The layers, so many god damned layers of meaning packed in. ...The road goes off in several different tangential directions, context all asking for exposes of their own. The message, if I can leave all of the rest packed in aside, it’s the exact opposite message to him of the one that precipitated the snap in the dream. And she’s not angry, and she’s not judgemental, critical, condescending, or belligerent per usual (or physically aggressive/abusive as the first time around). She’s not putting up a fight in the least... but she does one better than all that in an absolute reversal of roles. I feel like every phrase of words I could attach to this gesture would fail somehow to capture it.

It’s meaningful BECAUSE it’s in the face of it. It’s fucking powerful BECAUSE by all rights, by every definition, by every right measure, the action IS horrifying.

In contrast, her body language to match the gesture, isn’t of someone in fear. Her gesture isn’t of someone just trying to appease.

A single touch that could move mountains,

I know.... ....and I love you.

I think it’s amazing... but not because the action isn’t horrifying. If it weren’t horrifying, her response wouldn’t mean, wouldn’t carry all of the weight that it does. You don’t have to have ever felt or experienced or imagined to understand how powerful the image is. 

It’s a symbolic reiteration because it recaps the whole meaning. He’s already come to the place, to the hopeful place and made a different choice. It’s as if to say “rewind” and replay it from the top. The single touch echoes the single touch in the ghost of his mother that concluded in his return to the land of the living. The entire how many seconds there at the end that this exchange between Shinji and Asuka happens, is blown up and expounded upon in the whole last half of the movie right before this scene.

Introduction paragraph: “destrudo”.

Body paragraphs, the world of nothing you wished for and all the subsequent revelations and realizations about life and existence and why life is worth living.

Conclusion/Summary from the top: This journey in its most distilled and powerful form. Say you went there, say you decided to end everything, end her, end yourself, end life, end everything. ...She completely, completely defied all of it.

I would point you to the play Trifles for all your gripes about the concepts painted here. One of those required readings in school you know, in English, in the very English class(es) I took in the last couple of years no less. The abusive spouse, the husband that absolutely choked the life out of his wife emotionally. The whole plot is people trying to cover up for this poor woman that just lost it one day and ended him. My description won’t do justice, but we all empathize with that woman. We are made to, meant to. We feel for her, despite the literal act of murder. The whole thing is tragic. ...But you begrudge me an affinity for a series that ends artfully in a similar scenario explored but in the hypothetical ...and with the genders reversed. Explored, despair explored fully. Light found in the darkness. Meaning. Hope. The moral of the story, hope. The future is unwritten. This isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. Battered and broken, this isn’t the end. You wanna end it all? But this isn’t the end. Defying all expectations in a total and complete role reversal, the future is unwritten.

In the face of his pain now directed outward, a single touch that could move mountains,

I know....

....and I love you.

Edit: It was a mind-blowing finale of a film that no one saw coming. It defied all expectations by turning everything up to 11, EVERYTHING. Everyone’s first viewing, my own included, was, HOLY SHIT and WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST WATCH? Someone explain this shit.

First viewing of the series in a decade was 5 years ago, I’ve had a long time since to come to the insights I have, only now getting back to a re-viewing. It’s something of a never ending trip down the rabbit hole as I come to realizations about the meanings, things in places I never expected and my own discoveries about psychology and my own self and why these characters all resonated with me.

The thread, the threads throughout that are weaved into it, it’s made of real things. It’s a puzzle that has real answers, real parallels to real things in life, disguised and weaved allegorically in ways only a “high-context” culture could produce.

I took it for what it was, even if I didn’t understand it then. But the more I understand it now as an adult, the deeper it gets. There aren’t many stories out there with as much depth. And certainly not many in essentially YA fiction. There aren’t many stories out there that punch you in the gut the way this one does.

I’ve spoken for it, represented it on the whole, and now gone into detail about your shock and awe cuts that you use as ammunition.

I’ve spoken for it, and I’ve spoken for myself. There isn’t anything else to say.

Edit 2: Are we talking about "help" this morning?

I'll say it again if we are. I was in therapy/counseling when I arrived in Arizona. That ended when "you" got involved. He had better sense than any of you and wasn't about to be a part of "this" or caught in the middle or in violation of the ethics he was obligated to uphold.

Perhaps without knowing the full extent of your reach, he attempted to send me off on the right foot here in a new state, new life. Leaving all of "this" behind was the main idea. The message was that despite my attempts to get to the meat of anything and me wondering why he's not leading the conversation anywhere, that I was in a better place and just needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and focus on what was ahead of me and not behind me.

You have actively sabotaged every bit of that attempt to start over for the last 3 - 4 years. And now having seen the extent of your reach, I haven’t dared set one foot back into the therapy setting. Every step of the way, you’ve been there behind every person. Not everyone is so given or so eager to play a part. Some just avoid me entirely. Others, usually classmates, have gotten real keen on going to bat for you having been indoctrinated before ever meeting me.

You are the end of everything that ever can be or ever will be again.

Cease and desist, psycho stalker.

[yoinkmyheart]

need ur luv

pairing: peter parker x reader word count: 1.6k warnings: angst lol, i don’t think there’s any sm:h spoilers??, prolly swearing but who knows w me. summary: based on ‘need ur luv’ by charlie xcx. reader has been in love with peter parker for as long as she can remember but peter falls in love with a different girl.

a/n: I’m still working on hidden identities dw, i just feel angsty so this happened. not really any dialogue in the beginning but wait around fam. feel free to listen to the song while reading but you don’t have to!

I need your love I need it even when it hurts me

It started when you and Peter were no younger than 8-years old when you moved in next door to the young boy. The first time you saw him, his hair was disheveled and he hid behind his Aunt May.

Even then, you had liked him.

But now? You loved him

The brown eyed, dorky, and a little socially awkward boy had caught your heart and he had it in his grasp too tight for you to slip it out again. His selfless, kind heart and his pure excitement for everything in the world. 

You were the first person he told about his alter-ego, Spiderman. You’d quickly become his nurse, even late into the night. He’d crawl into your room, you’d patch him up and he’d sneak into his room, a window on the right from yours.

It hurt you so much when he’d stumble into your room, banged up, bruised and cut in several places. When you pointed out how much you hated seeing him like this, he’d make an off-handed remark about how, “you should see the other guy.”

Next, Ned found out. It was eventual. The three of you were inseparable. Although, Ned found out by accident. Which gave you hope that Peter could feel the same way towards you. 

After all, he had willingly trusted you with his secret. That had to count for something. Right?

Except. Maybe, it didn’t after all.

Soon after the Liz incident (which had first broke your heart, but watched painfully), Peter had become closer and closer with Michelle Jones. Suddenly, you weren’t Peter’s only best girl friend. 

Which scared you.

I won’t give up I won’t give up, so come and get me  

Soon, Peter’s late night visits to your room were becoming less and less frequent. At first, you thought it was because he finally realized how dangerous being Spiderman was and laid low.

But, you knew he hadn’t because videos of him on YouTube were still steadily being added. Instead, you’d found out through Ned that Peter was going out of his way to go to Michelle after every night of crime-fighting instead of you.

Which broke you in half.

Every lunch time, you realized how closer Michelle and Peter got and that broke you into fours. They would sit next to each other. They would share looks. Even Ned had noticed their increasing closeness.

Boy, you really messed around Put me six feet underground

The following days had been horrible for you. With how much more Peter was occupying your thoughts, you’d been distracted at school and getting less sleep. You couldn’t believe that you were letting a boy distract you.

Envy, jealousy and hurt was taking up every part of you.

Soon, days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into a month. A month of wallowing around, pretending to be fine which actually went fine. You felt pathetic that you’d spent a month, wallowing.

It made you feel even more pathetic when Ned and Peter actually caught on that something was going on. Peter had sat down in front of you, Ned beside you, popping their trays on their table.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” Ned asked, flashing you a worried smile. 

“Nothing. I’m fine,” You’d looked up at him, and mustered up a small smile.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been so quiet for the past month. The last time you were this quiet Y/N, you had to give away your puppy because our building didn’t allow pets,” Peter said, he had given you a similarly worried smile. 

You waved him off, giving him a bigger smile and a thumbs up before following it up with, “It’s fine! School’s just getting the best of me,”

Some part of you had hoped that they would push it, that they wouldn’t be convinced so you could, maybe, finally tell Peter. But, they had both been convinced and already moved on to the next subject.

“Okay, if you say so. Uh, so… Y/N, how do you feel about Michelle?” He looked towards the front doors, where Michelle was walking from slowly as she had her head in a book.

You felt your heart tighten instantly at this.

Always kick me when I’m down But I’m still driving through your town

“Yeah, she’s great! She’s really nice…” You mumbled, avoiding their gazes, as you poked and prodded the food on your plate. Your throat felt blocked so you chugged water from your water bottle.

“I’m thinking of, uh- asking her to be my girlfriend tonight.”  

You dropped your spoon. You could barely hear Ned’s words of encouragement to Peter from just beside you. Nodding vaguely to pretend your agreement. 

He was thinking of asking her to be his. So he they could be together. As more than friends.

You didn’t know when but when you looked up, Michelle was sitting next to Peter. Her now designated spot. Peter flashed her a smile and they were talking to each other.

“So. Will you come?” Peter asked you, finally shaking you of your stunned phase. You must’ve looked confused because Peter playfully rolled his eyes with you.

“To the movies with us? I can pick you up and we can go together if you like?” Peter finished. You nodded, putting on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. They didn’t realize though.

Try to fake it, I can’t take it

That night, you wore a casual black dress. You sat on your couch, waiting for Peter’s knock. It astounded you that although you had done this a million times, you’d never felt so upset about the prospect of him finally walking through the door.

Because it meant that next time you’d walk in then Peter might be somebody else’s. You realized then and there that you wouldn’t let him get away. You’d tell him. Tonight. This time you weren’t going to chicken out.

Peter’s knock finally came and the sound resonated with your soul. He walked in, dressed nicely, with a button up flannel and jeans. He looked positively excited. His eyes sparkled.

You stood up to meet him, looking down.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Peter you can’t do this,” You looked up at him. Dead serious. His smile was fading and the sparkle disappearing in his eyes. Now he looked confused.

“What? Why?” Peter asked, his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted. He turned and closed the door behind him. Obviously realizing that this was going to be a private conversation.

At the end of this conversation, Peter and you would never be the same way away again. For better or for worst.

“You can’t ask Michelle to be your girlfriend,” You looked up, your eyes already going glossier. He remained silent.

“It’ll break me, Peter. I can’t watch you fall in love with her. I can’t watch your eyes sparkle when you talk about her or talk to her. I can’t bear hearing that you stopped coming to me for help for her. I can’t watch you in detention, enjoying it, with her when you once would be terrified of a detention.” Tears were starting to flow down your cheeks steadily but you kept your eye contact with him, but you weren’t finished yet.

“I can’t hear the excitement in your voice when you talk about her. Or when you have plans with her. I can’t imagine you taking her out on cheesy dates. Or you kissing her upside down really cliche like in your spiderman costume. Or you running to her side to save her as Spiderman.” You continued. Peter clenched his jaw.

“W-what do you mean Y/N?”

Boy you trapped my heart

“God, Peter! I love you!” You practically shouted. Frustrated. 

“I-”  You looked at him hopefully, hoping that he would say it back.

“I can’t say I feel the same way Y/N,” 

I can’t shake it, ‘bout to break into a hundred million parts

Your heart shattered. You felt as if you had just been sucker-punched in the gut. You knew he didn’t feel the same way, but you clung onto the hope for so long that you tricked yourself into believing it before. More and more tears rolled down your cheeks, your vision now blurred.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really am,” You heard him say. He moved forward to hug you but just as he stepped forward, you stepped backwards. Balling your fists up by your sides, you looked down avoiding his eyes.

His eyes, you knew, that would be filled with pity. He might not have loved you the same way but he still loved you as a sister and it broke him that it was him that did this.

“Just go Pete,” You said so quietly, he might’ve missed it. He didn’t though.

“Y/N-” He stopped when you met his eyes. Your eyes filled with so much tears, and sadness. He had never seen you so upset that it stunned him to silent and he felt his own eyes gloss.

“Go Pete. Please, I beg you don’t make this any worst than it already is,” You turned away, walking towards your room. The front door shut, meaning Peter had left.

I need your love. I don’t want it.

You lay on your bed, hugging yourself into a ball and let the tears flow even free-er. You had lay your heart out in the open and it was shredded.

I need it even when it hurts me.  You really hurt me, baby.

The one person who had made you so happy in the 7 years you knew him, was suddenly the cause of the roaring pain in your heart. The unceasing and relentless pain.

I won’t give up Now, I’m giving up

But you didn’t care. He could cause you pain over and over again but as long as he was still your friend.

I won’t give up, so come and get me Don’t you come and get me, baby.

But then, it hit you. Your chest felt tight. You’d just lost your best friend and first love. You’d lost Peter.

i don’t know how to feel LMAO! this feels really sad to me buttttttt. anywho! thanks for reading! feedback is appreciated and encouraged. xo

tags: @lunastarwatcher ♡

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader angst #angst #angsty #peter parker #reader imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spider man #spider man x reader #spiderman x y/n #spider man x y/n #spider-man: homecoming #sm:h #tom!spiderman #tom holland #reader insert #imagine #spider-man #lara writes #sad lol #unrequited love af #song imagine

[hutchhitched]

The Vintage Joshifer Series: End of Love—Chapter 12

End of Love by hutchhitched

Author’s note: After much too long, this story is back. I appreciate those who’ve read in the past and those of you who will read it now. I am beyond humbled and grateful.

Historical events in this chapter center around the Summer of Love, a gathering of members of the nation’s counterculture in Haight-Ashbury. Although I rarely encourage wikipedia as a source, the page for the Summer of Love entry is actually quite well done.

The Long Hot Summer of 1967 was the name given to the 159 race riots that occurred in the United States during that year, which happened to combine with a heat wave across much of the nation.

Scott McKenzie’s "San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)" served as the anthem for the Summer of Love.

 Berkeley, California, June 1967

“I can’t believe we graduated,” Brenda squealed as she and Jennifer entered their apartment after the commencement ceremony. Bags of clothes, boxes, and other belongings filled their living room, and Jen’s stomach dropped at the realization that her time in California was drawing to a close.

 “It’s surreal.”

 Brenda laughed and headed to her bedroom. “I’ve got to change. Got a hot date tonight,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You’re meeting your parents for dinner? What about Chris?”

 “I’m meeting my parents, yes. Chris and I broke up,” she explained. “We weren’t that serious anyway—just somebody fun to pass the time this year.”

 “Someone to help you forget about Josh, you mean.”

 Her roommate’s comment hit her in the gut. She’d spent the better part of the year since she’d run out on her best friend trying to figure out how to function normally without him, and she’d failed pretty miserably. Even her ex-boyfriend’s name reminded her of Josh and his family.

 “It didn’t work,” she muttered and waved away Brenda’s concern. “It’s fine, Bren. We’ve covered this already. It was my own fault for sleeping with him and then sneaking out while he was asleep. I should have known better than to think I could handle sex with someone who had so much experience with other girls.”

 Concern colored Brenda’s features, and she moved back into the living room and pulled her roommate down next to her on the couch.

 “I don’t believe his sexual escapades had anything to do with why you came home that morning glowing with diamonds in your eyes. Nobody’s that good in bed.”

 Jen flushed as she remembered the feel of him inside her while she rode him. She forced herself to breathe normally at the memory of his eyes closed in orgasmic agony as ecstatic moans gurgled in his throat when he came. The feel of his hands on her breasts, the pressure of his finger on the nub between her legs, his masculine scent as he pulsed inside her. She didn’t have anyone else but Nick to compare him to, but Josh was that good.

 Taking a deep breath, she unclenched her fists and her thighs and admitted what she’d tried to deny for a year.

 “I let him go, and I was stupid to do it.”

 Puzzled, Brenda asked, “Then why did you?”

 “Because he was leaving. He was going to Chicago, and I couldn’t ask him to stay. I couldn’t do that to him.”

 “But why was it okay to do it to yourself?”

 Jen scrunched her eyes closed and held her breath. She felt like she’d been punched in the solar plexus, and she didn’t want to give into the pain her roommate’s words created as they sat in their half-packed apartment. Everything was ending, and she could hardly stand to accept it.

 “What he’s fighting for is important. He’s trying to change the world, and I’m…”

 “You’re what?”

 “Another girl in a string of many for him.”

 Brenda sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think you’ve ever been just another girl to him any more than he’s ever been just a guy for you. From the first moment you met him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

 “Yeah, but I hated him.” Jen’s mirthless laughter bounced off the walls and echoed through the half-empty apartment.

 “Is that what it’s called? You couldn’t stop wondering about him once you met him in the student union. You remembered everything about him; you asked me questions about him afterward; you might have said his name in your sleep a few times.” Brenda watched her roommate before adding, “You compared Nick to him the same way you did every guy you went out with this year.”

 “I did n—” At Brenda’s pointed look, she admitted sheepishly, “Okay, at least part of that is true.”

 “A lot of it’s true, and you know it. We have another few weeks before we leave. Maybe you should use this time to figure out why you said yes to a job in Chicago. I’m sure it had nothing to do with that being Josh’s last known location.”

 Jen’s mouth hung open as her roommate pranced down the hall and closed herself in her bedroom. Apparently, she hadn’t been as sly as she’d thought as she arranged her life post-college and post-Berkeley, but hopefully not post-Josh.

 ****

 “Jen, can you do me one more favor before you move to the Midwest and become a career girl?” Bradley, the editor of the The Daily Californian after Nick’s matriculation, grinned at her and waved a sheet of paper. She dropped into a chair across from him and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

 “Why must I be so vital to the life of this paper? Thank God for me.”

 “Vital and completely humble, aren’t you?”

 “Always,” she waved dismissively and nodded at the paper. “What’s the assignment? I might have one more story in me. Can you make it worth my while?”

 “I think it might be one you’d like to cover—a little farewell to California in general and Berkeley in particular. There’s something happening. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but it’s big. If I know you, and I do, you’ll be able to identify it and explain it in a way that makes sense. You’ve always been good at that—finding that one nugget of truth in mess of information and boiling it down. That’s why your work is so good.”

 She flushed and considered her hands for a few moments before agreeing. “Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?”

 “Right.”

 “So, give me some guidance. Where do I start?”

 “Haight-Ashbury. There’s been an influx of people from around the nation, mostly people our age, mostly frustrated with the government. They’re all coming here and…communing or something. Protests; concerts; marches; demonstrations. It’s like all the hippies in American decided Berkeley’s the place to be this summer. Lots of free love.”

 “The Summer of Love,” she mused.

 “What?”

 “Nothing.” She shook her head and held out her hand. She glanced at the information on the paper he handed her and nodded. “I’ll head over this afternoon and see what I can see. It’ll be a nice distraction over the next few weeks. I assume you want a feature, not a news story.”

 “Probably best, yeah. I trust your judgment. You’re good at what you do.”

 “I really appreciate your guidance this year. It was nice having someone new in the editor’s chair.” She flushed and babbled an apology.

 “No worries, Jen,” Bradley chuckled. “You’ve had a rough year, but you’ve got good things coming to you. I feel it, man.”

 “Well, I’ll feel my way down to Haight-Ashbury and get started. Later.”

 With a wave and a grin, she exited the office where she’d spent so much of the past few years. A wave of nostalgia closed her throat with the knowledge that this was her final story for the university’s newspaper.

 Her time in California would end in just a few weeks and her best connection to Josh would be broken. He hadn’t returned since she’d walked out on him. There had been no phone calls, no letters, no nothing. Something inside her couldn’t give up hope, but a year without contact had all but killed her optimism.

 “Where are you, Josh?” she murmured as she neared Haight-Ashbury.

 As she parked, she noticed the sheer volume of people close to her age who wandered the streets. Men with shoulder-length hair and women in flowing dresses and sandals sat on street corners, at outside cafes, and on stoops. The sound of acoustic guitars and friendly chatter greeted her as she observed the crowds. The acrid scent of weed and body odor assailed her, and she fought to keep an impassive expression on her face when a group of men wolf-whistled at her.

 Josh would have loved this scene, she mused. She tucked into a recessed space on a corner so she could watch and listen.

 ****

 “Andre. Man.”

 “Joshua,” Andre drawled and took a hit from the pipe.

 “Yeah, man. I agree.”

 “I didn’t say anything,” Andre noted and closed his eyes. Josh scrunched his nose and nodded seriously before shaking his head from side to side.

 “But your silence is profound.” Sucking in a lungful of smoke, Josh held his breath and closed his eyes as the hit washed over him. “Silence connects us all. The depth of it is infinite.”

 “You’re so smart,” a female voice murmured from behind him. “That’s so deep.”

 Josh turned and settled his gaze on a stunningly beautiful woman with dark brown hair and eyes that sparkled as she smiled at him. His limbs were heavy, and he swallowed hard. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and he released an inaudible grunt as his balls tingled.

 “Well, hello there, doll,” he said with a smirk. “Come over here.”

 “Victoria,” she murmured as she pressed against him. “I’m named after a queen.”

 “Appropriately so,” he observed. “Want a hit?”

 She puffed on the bowl and then turned to kiss him. Their tongues tangled as the smoke passed between them. They kissed for minutes or hours, he wasn’t sure, and he racked his muddled brain for a place they could be alone.

 “Do you live here?” she asked when they broke contact.

 “I’m between cities. What about you?”

 She nodded and stretched against him so that her breasts rubbed against his bicep. “I’m a junior at Berkeley. Perfect timing. Can you imagine missing this because you graduated a few years too early? Such a shame.”

 “Time is irrelevant,” he argued. “Only the present matters.”

 “That may be true for some, but what about for those that miss something? What about the soldier in Vietnam who waited one second too late to duck behind a tree and takes a bullet in the shoulder? What about the girl who misses her cycle by one day? What then?”

 He blinked. She had a point, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. “I think you’re the smart one.”

 “There’s room enough for both of us, you know.” What she said made a lot of sense, so he nodded and linked his fingers with hers.

 Josh had meant to find Jen when he returned to the West Coast, but he’d had no luck. He missed her—even after an entire year of absence. He knew it was partly his fault for not trying harder during the school year, but he was still smarting from her slipping from his bed as he slept last June.

 It had taken weeks of cajoling to convince Andre to return to Berkeley with him, but the flood of hippies to the Bay Area had finally convinced them both they needed to be there this summer. The national news showed a utopian scene in Haight-Ashbury. An estimated 100,000 people who believed the same way he did were living together, protesting the war, and showing the rest of the nation how to attain inner peace.

 The days stretched into weeks, and he forgot to look for Jen. She wasn’t there anyway. He’d figured out that she’d graduated, and no one seemed to know where she was. He didn’t have many contacts left who ran in her circles, but each of them had tried to find her for him.

 Instead, he filled his days with Victoria and what had come to be dubbed the Summer of Love. He was young and free, and his draft number still hadn’t been called. Things could have been a lot worse.

 He woke early one morning in late July. As he rose from the bed, he glanced at the girl who shared her place with him for the past few weeks. Her dark hair was tangled from the night before when they’d smoked and fucked until they passed out together. Victoria was smart, one of the smartest women he’d had the pleasure of bedding, and she was his type.

 At least she was the type he’d enjoyed before falling for his best friend. Since then, curly blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes danced in his dreams and taunted him with images of her beneath him as he lost himself in her heat. The sound of her contented sighs in his ear as she reached orgasm haunted his waking hours, and he cursed his morning wood that had grown more rigid in the few minutes since he’d woken.

 Josh muttered under his breath and sat down at the scarred Formica table in the alcove that served as Victoria’s kitchen and shoved his right hand into his white briefs. He tugged and jerked as the light from the sunrise crept across the floor and up his body. It didn’t take long before he groaned and came, careful to capture his ejaculate with his undershirt instead of letting it hit the floor.

 Victoria slept through his climax, and he stretched and padded to the bathroom. He cleaned himself, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and grabbed some crumpled clothes from beside her bed before poking his head into the living room.

 “Andre,” he stage whispered to his friend who’d crashed on the couch on the few nights he hadn’t hooked up with someone. “You awake?” Andre released an incoherent grumble, which Josh took as a sign he wasn’t ready to begin the day. He grabbed his wallet and slipped from the apartment and into humid summer air.

 He moved through the streets until he reached the Blue Unicorn, a small coffee shop popular with the hippies with whom he’d spent the past few weeks. Jefferson Airplane gave way to Janis Joplin on the radio, and Josh ordered a coffee and a muffin. As he sipped his drink, he picked up a crumpled newspaper and grinned when he saw it was The Daily Californian, the paper where Jen had worked during her time at Berkeley. He settled into his seat and perused the front page when he saw a byline that made him choke on the hot liquid.

 “The Summer of Love, by Jennifer Lawrence,” he whispered reverently when he stopped coughing. “She’s been here all along.” With hungry eyes, he devoured her writing and relaxed into the familiar rhythm of her phrasing. It only took a few sentences to realize this was one of Jen’s better stories.

 Across the nation, the Long, Hot Summer of 1967 has been marked with race riots and property destruction in Atlanta, Boston, Cincinnati, and most recently Detroit. Yet, this summer in Haight-Ashbury can best be described as a Summer of Love, not hate as the location would suggest. Thousands of the country’s thriving counterculture have descended on the city to seek a utopian communalism that promises love, acceptance, and rejection of the status quo.

Flower children from across the nation bring their hopes and dreams for a world free of poverty, nuclear war, and governmental corruption. The Council of the Summer of Love serves as the governing body of the movement, although many involved would balk at the comparison of the gathering to the national government. The Council doesn’t seek to limit the freedoms of the approximately 100,000 hippies who live in harmony together.

Lest anyone ridicule the movement as a drug-induced orgy of free love, one needs look no further than The Diggers to understand the importance of community improvement that undergirds the celebration. The self-proclaimed community anarchists are comprised of activists and Street Theater actors who seek freedom and consciousness. The Diggers opened Free Store, which provides supplies for all, regardless of their financial situation, and plan to launch a Free Clinic to provide medical care for those in need.

San Francisco community leaders, including Mayor Shelley and Police Commissioner Cahill, admit they are leery of the movement, which seems to seek peaceful actions and non-violent protests like sit-ins over the more radical actions of members in some movements. With the Blank Panther Party for Self-Defense in nearby Oakland, tension remains high for law enforcement.

Released on May 13, 1967, Scott McKenzie’s "San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)" serves as the anthem for San Francisco’s Summer of Love. Highlighting the desires of “gentle people” who are staging a “love-in,” the lyrics express the abiding desire this generation possesses for learning to love each other and eradicating the threats to the world their parents and grandparents have created on this globe.

Likely, the Summer of Love’s significance will only be understood years from now when the world recognizes the value of pursuing love and peace rather than seeking to bomb and destroy. For me, personally, this movement allows me one last chance to write about the vibrant community where I spent my formative college years. I can see the possibilities the flower children envision in the camaraderie in the streets of Haight-Ashbury. I am sad to leave the Bay and begin my career elsewhere, but I know some day I will return.

When I do, I’ll be sure to wear flowers in my hair.

 Josh swallowed hard and blinked quickly to relieve the sting burning his eyes. The date on the newspaper was three weeks prior. If the feature was her last before she left for parts unknown, it was likely she was already gone.

 Angry at himself for allowing Victoria to distract him from his true purpose for returning to the West Coast, he gripped his coffee cup so hard his knuckles ached. He should have tried to contact Jen before a year passed. His pride was the only reason he hadn’t, and now it was too late. There were no more leads to follow, no more people to ask. His felt the strings holding Jennifer to him break for good, and he choked back a sob.

 “Best wishes for a good life, sweetheart,” he murmured and folded the newspaper so he could tuck it into his jacket pocket.

 With a heavy heart, he left a dollar on the table and headed back to Victoria’s apartment. Not even her toned legs gripping his waist as he lost himself in her was enough to ease the ache in his heart.

 For him, the warm months in the middle of 1967 weren’t the Summer of Love. They were the end of it.

#joshiferrecs #joshifersource #fyeah-joshifer #the vintage joshifer series #end of love #1960s #jhutchdirectory #joshifer fanfiction #joshifer

[iit-s-kitty]

Mr. Brightside | Zack Taylor | Prologue

So here it is, folks: the Zack/OC story I’ve promised through and through. I’ve had this idea in mind for a long ass while, though not for the Power Rangers fandom, but then this movie just BEGGED me to do so. And besides, this fandom needs some OC love x3

Warnings!: The OC is a bit of a busybody (oh really?), might been some typos. Just my suckish writing in general.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own the Power Rangers nor its characters. Those belong to Haim Saban and Lionsgate.

For @esteicy-blog

Also on Archive of our Own.

Detention wasn't exactly how she had planned to spend her Saturday mornings, yet her mother made herself very clear it was out of the discussion a way out— she was going and she didn't have any other choice.

And god knew her headphones weren't enough to block out those idiots on the back of the classroom. She was indeed tempted to put on her hoodie like the most stereotypical problem kid just to block the noise— if not because then she might draw the attention of the actual problem kids. She had already enough problems by just being there and she didn't need to add up bullies getting on her nerves.

Not like she could concentrate on the music that much, not when a piece of eraser hit the back of her head with way too much force on it, and as she put on back the headphones the not really discrete snorts of the others came to her ears.

Then again, she already enough problems just being there, it seemed.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" It was actually kind of heartwarming they tried to act like they cared, when the next minute they would turn around and do the same thing all over and over again. High school in a nutshell, she thought with a bitter snort, her head resting between her arms on the desk and hoping, just hoping, the professor would arrive soon just to put an end to all of that crap.

At the very least, they really didn't seem to mind her that much— heck, if not for the eraser incident, she was almost invisible to it. She decided she like that long ago, being invisible saved you a lot of trouble in places like Angel Grove High.

Unfortunately, not all people were invisible.

The malicious cheers were loud enough for her to hear, even though the loud accords of the song. She knew why they were cheering, though, and she just had to rise a little her sight to watch Kimberly Hart (the Kimberly Hart) walk down the stairs— with her beautiful mane of hair chopped off.

It was almost kind of endearing how she took pride on the roughly chopped strands of hair, for even being there. Some students would say she had been glad when she punched Ty straight on the face, but she knew that in high school the wildest of rumors would come out and it wouldn’t mean a damn thing.

Only, she didn’t knew that perhaps the wildest of things could indeed happen.

Perhaps, if she had been a little more pessimistic, she would have thought that along with Jason Scott's defense of Billy Cranston, somebody like Kimberly Hart being in detention and cutting her hair like that would be the first signs for the end of the world.

"Miss Dean, no headphones on. C'mon, take those off." And she sighed, yanking out the strings off of her ears before looking at the clock.

Not even ten fucking minutes yet, and these would be her routine for the next three weeks. She groaned under her breath, answering the 'Eleonor Dean' call from her teacher before mentally preparing herself for the next five hours.

Looking on the bright side, at least she couldn’t say she didn’t saw some interesting things while in detention.

“How was your detention?” but Eleonor couldn’t care about the future scolding her father would try to give her (god knew the only ones she would be worried about would be her mother’s), as her eyes found Billy Cranston, unsurprisingly, following Jason Scott.

She found it kind of sad, actually. Billy was a good boy, but too naïve to see that someone like Jason did that for him because he, alongside most of the school, hated Colt Wallace and his gang.

“Not bad.” She answered, not seeing how Jason turned back again to Billy.

It was official— the world had gone crazy. Or at least those were her thoughts as she saw Billy Cranston (Billy Cranston, the same guy who would clap when he got excited and wouldn't harm not even a fly) surrounded by guys. And perhaps that wouldn't be that much of a surprise, if not for the fact that he head butted Colt, the same bully from detention and Angel Grove High’s pain in the ass, just twenty minutes ago.

Billy Cranston, the same guy that made his lunchbox explode, head butted a bully. She humorously thought that perhaps Jason did taught him a thing or two when they left detention that morning.

Well, that’s what she thought before seeing him being dragged by no other than Kimberly Hart. It was indeed surprising, but after thinking a while, it made sense— perhaps a way to get back her lost status? That and more other questions ran through her head, as she saw the two going to Scott.

In the scenario her mind made, it seemed logical that she would hang out with them— and yet there is a strange feeling on the inside of her gut when she stared at them, like something was bound to happen but she couldn’t place if it was whether a good thing or bad thing.

"Well, talk about strange." One of the guys she shared her table spoke, drawing her attention and yet, her gaze was glued to the trio. "I mean, I get that she hangs out with Scott, but Cranston?"

"Well, perhaps she likes guys that step up to bullies." She tried to reason, but actually, trying to ignore the feeling, as if her insides churched and something banged on the back of her mind.

"It would be a good headline for the next issue, don't ya think?" Her friend snorted, as she slurped on her soda before trying to talk about something else, anything else.

'There is nothing going on' or at least, that's what she told herself— when in reality, her eyes followed the three students during the whole period, even when they ran away from the cafeteria— and then she saw the giant mess behind, with- oh god, where those trays melting?

No, no— just… no.

There was nothing wrong with them.

There was nothing going on with Kimberly Hart, Billy Cranston and Jason Scott. Nothing.

Then why did she felt that something really bad was going to happen?

The next time she saw them, they were back again at detention— and more importantly, they were together again.

'They're just friends.' She told herself, trying to hear the song in her headphones— trying not to listen to the back of her head that tells her that something is going to happen and it involves them.

"Miss Dean, is there something wrong?" The voice of the teacher caught her attention, yet not as much as the trio now foursome. Wait, who was that girl again?

“Miss Dean, I’ve said: is there something going on?” and Eleonor licked her lips, for the eyes that darted towards her let her knew she had been caught, and the voice of the teacher in front of her told her she would have bigger problems if she didn’t answer.

She sighed, sulking yet again on her seat.

"No, sir." And yet, her mind told her otherwise.

"Eleonor, ELEONOR"

She could hear her mother's shouts from across the hall, over the cracks of the concrete and as the screams of the people outside their house filled her ears— yet everything seemed to be like it was going too fast, as if she might blink and when she opened her eyes she would be under the pile of rubble.

She had been right— something did happen, only that she didn't thought it would be 30 story monsters made of gold attacking the town. God lord, how was that even possible? How could something like that happen in real life?

Not like she could ponder anymore on the subject, the cracks on the ceiling alongside a tremor that almost made her fall on her feet told her otherwise.

"Tara?!" She screamed through the room, trying to find the toddler through the bundle of sheets. She didn't have to look that much, anyway, she had found the crying little girl wrapped around her teddy bear like dear life and before any of them had realized, Eleonor put her arms on her shoulders. "Didn't you hear?! We need to get out of here!"

She didn't let the little girl have a chance to say something, for she knew what Tara would have to say and it was not like they had anytime to say anything. Whatever they had to spoke, it could wait until they were safe.

The next thing she knew was that they were already running to find shelter, a savior, something that would tell them everything would be alright.

When you saw a movie, whatever the situation was, you were safe, you were calm because you knew the characters on screen weren't on any real danger— they didn't feel anything. And the trick was that being that way, you would never thought that could happen to you.

Perhaps that’s why, when they had seen the creature approaching the town, nobody had taught of what to do— at least, not something reasonable. In Eleonor’s case, she had been outside when she spotted the monster, before her phone started to ring and telling her that how could she had forget about her sister at home.

It had been kind of a miracle to get there on time, being that everybody was already running away to Reefside or anywhere else. It had been kind of a miracle that her sister had been— that she…

And there was Eleonor, holding little Tara while she pondered how her mother could left them like this, how could anything like this could happen and trying not to get the both of them lost in the crowd.

"Lenny, look! A knight!"

"Tara, what—?"

And just as you couldn't imagine yourself in those kinds of situations, you couldn't imagine yourself getting out of them.

She saw in awe the robot in front of them, in front of the whole town, dancing in a victory pose as the gold that was the monster melted down the streets.

They were saved by a robot, a giant robot. They were alive, and safe, and as far as they would keep on like that, Eleonor could live with what just happen.

“Well, look who has decided to join us.”

When Eleonor returned to school, her headphones had been lost on the attack of the monster— the sole reason why she could hear the teacher call out for the new face on detention. And just as many whispers had run in detention class the moment Jason Scott and Kimberly Hart walked in, cheers and whispers full of malice filled the room when Zack Taylor walked in.

It was almost a running joke that, when a student would not attend to class, they've warned them not to turn into the next Zack Taylor. The boy wouldn't attend most of the year, and would only show up during evaluations so that he wouldn't lose the school year. Some people would spread some morbid rumors about what he would do to pass the year— heck, some even wondered how could they even let him in, but everyone with common sense would tell it was because of personal matters— or because he was indeed that much of a slacker.

What in other occasions would have her mildly impressed, now had all of her attention, for Eleonor's eyes were glued to the small group in the back of the class, even when the new student was supposed to show up.

Call it paranoia, but something in her mind ringed when she saw them together. That something, while not wrong, was indeed going on with those five. Not every day five teenagers would befriend one another out of nowhere— something must have happened.

“Well, how was your last day of detention?” but this time, Eleonor didn’t even thought of an answer for her father— her eyes were on the small, new group of Angel Grove.

She sighed, before taking her bag and stepping out of the car.

“I’m gonna go for a pizza, I’ll call later” and before he got any chance to ask her about it, Eleonor was running away from the car— and towards the trail they’ve left behind.

#zack taylor #zack taylor imagine #zack taylor imagines #zack imagine #zack imagines #zack taylor x reader #zack x reader #zack taylor x oc #zack x oc #oc #original female character #eleonor dean #zack taylor x eleonor dean #zack x eleonor #jessica sula #ludi lin #mmpr reboot #power rangers 2017 #power rangers imagines #power rangers imagine #zack taylor fanfiction #zack fanfiction #power rangers fanfiction #fanfiction #petta writes #trini kwan #billy cranston #kimberly heart #jason scott

[delerithmoriwen]

The girl in the painting

So this is the drabble I wrote for the KlarolineInfinity event! (Day 4: During Canon) We are endgame because the world is just not THAT cruel! This is dedicated to the AMAZING @ashleigh-jewitt-xx who aside from being me editor has been my friend, guide and rock throughout the whole Tumblr and Klaroline eperience. Thank you for everything you have done for me! You are an amazing person  and you deserve all the good in the world <3. Thank you for the prompt! So lastly I got the prompt: Camille notices a painting of Caroline in Klaus’ art room and says: “Oh my god you’re in love with her!”. This is what I made of it! Thank you to @3tinkgemini for beta-ing and editing! (You are the very best lots of love for you ^^) HEADS UP!: Warning! Mentions ABUSE! Watch out for triggers! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was one of their weekly therapy sessions. Camille had found herself looking forward to them. It had been so interesting to pick the mind of the hybrid. The way he opened up to her like he had done to nobody else before made her feel like she was doing something right. Not only as a therapist but as his friend. And if anything, Klaus Mikaelson needed a friend. Somebody who he could confide in and not worry about being betrayed. It had taken her the better part of the last year to get him to thrust her like this. But now that he had, she found herself taken aback by the glimpses of humanity hiding behind the facade of a monster he kept up.

“Tell me about your father” Camille asked staring at his back as he looked outside the window.

“I don’t see why that is necessary, I’m sure my many problems aren’t classified under daddy issues” Klaus said not looking at her, avoiding the subject.“It’s necessary because I’m asking, there is no point in our talks if you are not going to be honest to my questions.” Camille explained tapping the pencil she was holding into her lap.

“Fine, which one do you want to know about, my biological one who I murdered, or the man who for a lack of better word raised me, but beat the living sense out of me every chance he got.” Klaus snapped back at her as he turned around grabbing another drink. If he was going to talk about either one of them he was going to need liquor.

“Why did your father beat you?” Camille asked dropping her pencil at this new revelation. 

“My father or at least the man I called my father was the stereotype of a viking man. He lived and breathed for the war. Wanted his children to be the same. Expected us to be as tough as he was. Strong, unbeatable. But we were not allowed to be a threat to him. “ Klaus sat down on the crimson sofa looking at Camille intently.

“I can’t imagine he viewed you as weak” Camille went on “you are one of the strongest people on this earth in the last thousand years.”

“I was not always like this, as a child I preferred art over swordfighting. My mother encouraged this, my father did not” Klaus said falling into a memory.

Somewhere over a thousand years ago

Klaus was sitting by the fire watching it crackly, bathing in the warmth and glow of it’s bright orange flames. A piece of old parchment on his lap and a lump of coal in his hands. He was re-creating the lines that formed in his mind. Every time he was drawing it had always been something different, a different scenery he had come across that day. A different beauty that had touched him. He was young still. Barely 16 years old. A boy. So the world would still ignite his imagination. His mother passed him, checking to see if the stew that was simmering away on the fire for dinner needed stirring.

“That’s beautiful Niklaus”His mother smiled putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you mother” The young boy smiled still full of innocence.

“Now put it away before your father gets home, you know he disapproves” She continued as she took the lid of the iron pot.

The words had only barely rolled off of her tongue before Mikael stormed through the door holding a very dead wild boar over his shoulder.

“BOY!” He shouted obviously meaning Klaus, he only used that demeaning name for him. Never his siblings.

“Yes father” Klaus said staring at his feet hiding his hands and drawing behind his back.

“Take the skin off of that  and gut it’s belly...and make sure you do a better job than last time” Mikael sneered throwing the boar Klaus’ way.

Klaus caught it just barely nearly falling over by the weight of the thing.His drawing falling behind him on the ground. He was ready to make himself scarce and running outside out of his father’s way when he was stopped.

“What have we here?” Mikael asked picking up Klaus’ drawing from the floor and waving it in front of his face.

“N-nothing father” Klaus stammered his heart pounding in his chest. He was caught.

“You waste your time on silly drawings again, when you can’t even hunt or handle a sword decently...you are an embarrassment I have warned you numerous times boy , but you will never learn” Mikael scolded making his way to the part of their hut where Klaus’ bed was.

He grabbed the parchment and coals from under his furs along with his whittling knife and the crushed berries he used for painting before stomping back the the fireplace.

“Father no please!” Klaus tried to stop his father but it was no use.

Mikael threw all his tools into the fire before grabbing Klaus by his shirt. “Do not defy me boy” he said “If you do not listen to my words, you will listen to  my actions”

And with that the first punch came.

“Husband no!” Esther tried to stop Mikael but was pushed aside easily falling back to the ground.

The first punch hit him right in stomach making Klaus double over. The next one hit him in the face just above his left eye socket. He felt dizzy and fell to the ground his head dangerously close to the fire. He tried to cover his face to spare it from the beating as his father kicked him as he was down. The pain taking a hold of his body as a rib was surely broken. He closed his eyes trying to lie as still as possible hoping that it would end soon. In his mind he started counting the punches. One...two….three….four, he could feel blood dripping from his nose and lip and his left eye socket swelling. When it seemed that the anger in Mikael had finally faded he hoped that now he would stop. Instead he heard the crisp sound of his hunting blade being pulled from its cover. Klaus’ heart raced, this would be it. His father would murder him this time. He had gone to far. With a rough pull of his hair Mikael pulled Klaus’ face towards him bringing the blade to his throat.

“If I ever catch you playing around like this again boy, I will end you “ Mikael threatened before throwing klaus back to the floor.

Klaus couldn’t bare getting up from the floor his entire body wincing in pain. He coughed as he tried to catch his breath blood escaping from between his lips in between coughs. He laid there all by himself. His father out to cut up his hunt. His mother left him to go find vegetables in the garden. In the end it was Rebekah who found him, and very silently and carefully nurtured him. In that day Klaus swore that as long as his father was alive. He would never draw again.

Present

Camille listened silently at his tale. Her heart sinking in horror as she pictured a young Klaus being horribly abused by his brute of a father. Just because the boy was artistic. She felt the maternal need to protect him. To hold him close and tell him it was going to be okay, that he couldn’t hurt him anymore. But she knew he wouldn’t care for that. When he was in this state of openly sharing the darkest parts of his past she knew she had to be very careful in the way she approached him now. One wrong move and he would never be this open again. So instead of comforting him like she wanted to she just kept on asking questions.

“But you did start drawing again?” Camille whispered with a weak smile.

“It soothes me, helps me think” Klaus said tapping his forehead.

“You know, we’ve talked about your art, but I’ve never actually seen any of it. Why is that?”Camille asked trying to take away from the heaviness of their last topic. It would be no good to push him on it now.

“Because you never asked Camille” Klaus smiled back.

“I believe you can tell a lot about a person's soul from their art” Camille went on in her professional voice.

“Well most of it is pretty dark so that makes sense” Klaus jokes, and with that their emotional moment was over and he has closed off that part of himself again.

“Can I see it?” Camille asked.

“I don’t see why not, right this way” Klaus guided Camille upstairs to the art room that was located right next to his bedroom.

Camille was in awe when she entered the room. It was slightly smaller than the other rooms in the compound but by far one of the most beautiful. The high ceilings were embellished with all different kinds of shapes and curls giving it an almost royal feel. The large windows that went from the floor all the way up let in so much daylight the room felt like being outside. The deep blue curtains draped just by the sides tied together with golden ribbons. Unlike the rest of the house though, this room was messy and unorganized. Across the dark wooden floors were sheets spread to protect the wood from paint. Different canvas’ spread around and resting against walls with half painted pictures or barely finished ones. A few easels and on the desk was the only thing in the room that was organized. A set of beautiful brushes sorted by size next to at least 50 different colors of paint all in the same tubes. A fancy brand no doubt.  And a box full of different pencils. Camille browsed through the different pictures and paintings hypnotized by their beauty.

“You’re talented” She whispered as she let her fingers dwell on the side of one of his paintings.

“Thank you, actually one of my landscapes is hanging in the hermitage” Klaus grinned to himself before realizing what he just said.

“I only ever told one other person that” he said remembering her.

“Impressive, who was she?” Camille smiled taking another step towards him.

“Who said it was a she?” Klaus smiled running a hand through his hair.

“The way you smiled when you mentioned her. She must be special, who is she?” Camille asked again pushing the matter as she went on to look at the drawings scattered on the desk.

“You wouldn’t know her , it doesn’t matter” Klaus said again trying to avoid the topic. He could tell Camille was going to push the matter but luckily he was saved by his phone ringing. Klaus pulled it from his pocked reading Elijah’s name on the screen. “Will you excuse me Camille I have to answer this” Klaus said before turning around and leaving Camille alone in his art room.

Camille used this time to really snoop around. If their talks gave her an idea of his soul, these paintings were like having pictures of what it looked like in there. She stared at one painting that was slightly different from the others. Many of the landscapes had a streak of sadness in them. In the colors used or of the way he had portrait something. But this one had no sadness in it at all. No anger, no pain. It was pure light. It was a portrait of a girl, in her late teens she figured.She had beautiful long blonde curls and a dazzling smile the lit up the entire canvas. Her eyes were the blue of daylight, full of softness , kindness and good. Even though she was only a painted picture, looking at her you felt like you were in the presence of an angel.  She must have been a princess of some country because  she was wearing an extraordinary beautiful blue gown that matched her eyes perfectly. She oozed royal stature in every way you looked at the painting. Camille found herself captivated by the girl even as she moved on.

She opened the drawers of the desk only to find even more sketches of different places in the city. Each one more beautiful than the one before. In the bottom drawer underneath a bunch of old papers she found a ledger, when she opened it it was full of pictures of the girl from the painting. There was one where she was laughing with a smile that even on paper made her eyes sparkle. There was one where she had sprouted angel wings which would be very weird but somehow it worked on the girl. The wings suited her like they had always been there. At the very end of the book, there was one of the girl completely naked lying between leaves on an autumn day. Quickly Cami closed the ledger feeling like she was snooping in something that was to private for her to see. She pulled the drawer back open trying to push the ledger back in when Klaus entered the room again.

“That is private” he said darkly his eyes hinting a glance of black.

“I-I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to pry, I was putting it back” Camille stuttered hoping she had not crossed a line.

“I think we’re done for today” Klaus said holding the door open.

“No...don’t shut me out right now...tell me about her, who is she Klaus?” Camille asked with fire behind her words.

“She is just somebody from the past Camille no need to get jealous” Klaus tried to turn the issue around to her.

“Oh please don’t flatter yourself Klaus, you wanted me to be your therapist because you know I’ll push when needed so I’m pushing this. Tell me about the girl!” Camille said firmly putting her foot down.

“Her name is Caroline, she’s a girl from Mystic Falls nothing more to it…” Klaus snapped hoping they would be done with the matter now.

Suddenly the pieces fell together for Camille. She had heard Rebekah speak of a girl from Mystic Falls, Rebekah didn’t care for her but she knew Klaus had cared for her deeply. He had lost her to another man , that Tyler boy that had tried to kill him a few months back. But the drawings had been recent. He had not yet forgotten about the girl at all. Cami saw the pain lurking behind his eyes. The pain of reminiscing about love lost and it hit her all at once. She felt very stupid for not seeing it before it had been so obvious.

“Oh my god, you’re in love with her” Cami whispered her mouth falling open at the realization.

“I have no idea what you are talking about Camille” Klaus muttered slightly annoyed.

“Yes you do you’re practically blushing about it! You are totally in love with her” Cami nearly giggled.

“I am not, and even if I was it would not matter, because last time we spoke she asked me to leave and never return, to let her be free from me and live her life” Klaus said pouring himself another glass of bourbon from the pitcher while handing Camille a beer.

“Was she human?” Cami asked opening the beer and taking a sip. If they were going to talk about Klaus’ love life she would also be needing liquor.

“No, she was a young vampire, a baby even, barely a year since she turned when I met her. But she was glorious. A natural , so much in control of her bloodlust. Unprecedented, I’m telling you there are vampires out there who are a hundred times her age and more who could learn a thing or two from her when it comes to the bloodlust, so full of light so much goodness in her” Klaus laughed thinking about HIS Caroline.

“So she was the complete opposite of you? Is that what attracted you to her?” Cami asked realizing they had stumbled upon that very rare path again where he would talk so freely it seemed almost uncharacteristic.

“No, she was not. Not completely anyway because when it came to protecting her friends and the ones she loved she was so fierce. Killed twelve witches in the blink of an eye to save her best friend…. And she defied me , put me in my place. She was the only one who was always completely honest with me. Even if i didn’t like it. Even if it would be dangerous for her to tell me the truth she was honest.” Klaus drank from his glass again smiling at the memory. “Genuinely beautiful, graceful, an amazing dancer she was very proud of that. And all of those idiots took her for granted. Never appreciated her and all the things she did or was”

“Why is she not here then? You obviously appreciate her?” Cami asked.

“Oh I invited her multiple times. But above all Caroline Forbes is loyal. She couldn’t take my offer because she couldn’t bare to leave her mother or her friends. So I told her I’d wait for her…but she made it very clear not to bother” Klaus said putting his glass down making clear that this was the end of the conversation about Caroline.

In the weeks that followed Cami found herself becoming more and more obsessed about the girl named Caroline. Wanting to know who she was and what she was like. How a baby vampire could captivate the heart of the oldest baddest villain in the world. At first she tried to get more information by having Klaus talk about her. But after their first conversation he pretty much had closed off the subject. So eventually she couldn't resist the temptation and googled the girls name. First was her Facebook-account. Cami searched through the pictures. Mostly of her and her friends having fun with big smiles on their faces. She looked young and careless in them.

The next page she found was of something called the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. She looked much more mature in her emerald green dress. A picture perfect smile gracing her face with beneath the picture her name, the title of mystic falls and the the year she had won the title, together with a list of far too much many accomplishments and activities she was president off. The girl had to be a vampire to keep this all up.

The final page she clicked on was an obituary from the local paper. Apparently the Sheriff of Mystic Falls had passed away due to a brain tumor. The woman had obviously been very loved in her community as the article was a loving memory to her. It wasn’t till the very end that Cami realized why this article was relevant.

“After her ex-husband passed away due to an animal attack only a few years earlier Sheriff Forbes leaves behind her only daughter Caroline. Young miss Forbes has not yet spoken out about the passing of her mother a great hero to this community.”

Cami checked the date. The funeral had been only two days ago. She felt sorry for the young girl. She knew like no other what it was like to have to be able to stand alone at such a young age. A fate she wished upon no friend or foe. She wondered if Klaus knew about this development in the girl’s life and made a mental note to ask him during their next session.

The next day they had decided to meet up at Rousseau's. Not particularly for a new session. Because Klaus liked to keep those in the privacy of his own home. It was more of a going out for drinks discussing every day matters thing. At first Kol had joined them but he was now long gone chasing after Davina.

“So don’t get mad” Camille started.

“You know whenever people start a phrase with that I end up getting mad so get on with it” Klaus said having another drink.

“I googled the girl” Camille confessed

“Why?” Klaus roared in anger.

“Because I’ve developed a very healthy obsession with her and I think part of why you are feeling so restless is because you haven’t had closure” Camille explained trying so whisper silently so nobody would hear.

“I advise you to let this go Camille before I make you “ Klaus threatened giving her his most evil hybrid look.

“Did you know her mother died” Camille asked ignoring his attempts to scare her. Klaus’ face changed immediately from dark and evil to instant worry.

“What happened?” He asked thinking that is somebody was to blame for this he would make them suffer indefinitely for putting HIS Caroline through this.

“Oh so you DO care?” Camille grinned playing with her coaster.

“I care about you telling me what the hell happened” Klaus said getting annoyed by his therapist/bartender.

“Brain tumor…funeral was last week” Camille grabbed his hand squeezing it softly trying to meet his gaze. “Look I don’t know her, but I do know what’s it’s like when you lose your last living family member and it sucks! She needs to be around the people who love her right now”

“She already is, no need to go on and complicate things further” Klaus said getting up from the booth they were sitting in. “Now I’m going to ask you again to let the matter go or I will be forced to find a new bartender” And with that he left the bar walking back home.

On his way back home he had decided against taking his car. The fresh air and buzz of the city cleared his head from every thought except Caroline and maybe he could find a snack along the way midst the drunk party people. He could easily send one of his newly made hybrids to fetch the car later and so he walked the streets of New Orleans his mind full of the baby vampire. His eye eventually fell on a girl standing outside of one of the bars a college girl on a night out with her girlfriends perhaps. But here she was standing all by herself. Resembling her ever so slightly. The girl didn’t even come close to matching her beauty. Her hair was not the right color of gold twirling down her back. Nor were her eyes the right kind of almost diamond blue. The way she moved was not as gracefully elegant. But none the less the she would have to make do.

“Excuse me Sweetheart could I have a moment of your time” Klaus smiled using his best gentleman voice as he looked the girl straight into her eyes his pupils dilating making her mind completely his. The girl followed him around to corner to a back way alley that was just the right amount of dark and deserted. She smelled good, Klaus could almost taste her blood already his fangs itching through his gums. Yes he was definitely in need of a late night snack.

“Please refer from screaming, it annoys me” He told the girl again compelling her before pulling the hair from her neck and sinking his teeth into her skin. He could feel the blood against his lips now. Drinking the sweet fluid from her all the while thinking about the only blond that ever fully satisfied him.

Two Years earlier

The taste of her blood was intoxicating. Like nothing he had ever tasted before. A pure feeling of euphoria taking over his body. Like the sweetest nectar of the gods her blood was even more precious dripping like little rubies over his lips. But he had to let go, if he took more he would kill her. And that wasn’t the plan…yet. Klaus had instantly regretted his actions as soon as Caroline fell to the floor. Guilt and worry burning in his chest. But the Lockwood boy was watching and so he couldn’t show a glimpse of his remorse. Instead he put on his most villain smile and whispered.

“Well that was definitely worth the calories”

At first Caroline had used the last of her strength to ask Tyler to take her away. He was taken aback by the coldness in her voice. He really had gone too far and now he had lost her forever.

He was trapped between his feelings of guilt and worry towards her and his stubbornness towards that idiotic boy she called her boyfriend. He had spend almost an hour fearing for her when Tyler Lockwood returned with Caroline on the verge of death in his arms. He had placed her back on the ground in front of him telling him he did this to her so he got to watch her die. A cheap trick where Tyler played into his emotions for Caroline hoping that he would heal her because of them. Well the boy underestimated him after all he was the original hybrid and he would not be defied or ruled by emotions he may or may not have towards this baby vampire. Even after Tyler had left the Gilbert house where he had been locked up in again he tried to restrain from feeding her his blood. The boy had to learn and this was the only way. He was so sure he was capable of letting her die.

Until she told him that she knew he loved her. And that therefore he was still worthy of salvation in her eyes.

She had stopped breathing and as soon as she did panic filled him. He had called out her name a few times trying to fight back the tear forming in his eyes.

And with that he caved.

In a second he was with her on the couch cradling her body against his chest hoping that he wasn’t too late. She wasn’t strong enough to make the bite herself so he bit his wrist bringing it to her mouth. Gently he ran his hand through her hair closing his eyes as he felt the relief when she very weakly drank from him.Without realizing it he lowered the walls he built up letting himself fall into the moment.

He could still taste her blood on his lips from earlier like it had just happened seconds ago the memory of her sweet taste taking a hold of him once again. It was then when he noticed her. A connection build between them that was beyond anything physical. When she had drank from him months before it hadn’t been there. But at that time he didn’t love her like he did now. And just like him her guards were now down because she didn’t have the strength anymore to keep them up.

He saw all of her.

It was like he touched her mind and soul and could feel it intertwine with his. A vision of her forming , looking at him with a loving gaze that was so powerful it nearly destroyed him. They were having a conversation without words, telling each other that they were safe as long as they were here. Holding each other.

Klaus had heard of the effects of blood sharing between vampires before. When there was a strong connection between both vampires and they shared blood with each other it was like becoming one person. A high that was matched by no other feeling. Touching and exploring each other’s essence. Klaus knew that from this moment on. Nobody would know her like he would and nobody would know him like she did. There were no more secrets, nothing to hide. Only honesty and connectivity between them. Her beauty he now only fully comprehended. If he wasn’t in love with her before , now there was no denying it. Wherever she was, whoever she was with it did not matter. From now on he was hers and she was his. HIS Caroline.

Present

Klaus released his fangs from the girl’s neck just before he had drained her. He tried to not to kill any locals as it would raise to much questions. Satiated by blood his eyes turned a vibrant yellow before returning back to his original blue colour. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve before compelling the girl to forget their encounter and he was on his way again. Though the feed had made him feel slightly less on edge the memory of Caroline and that one time they had shared their blood with each other . Try as he may he could not stop thinking about her.

When he finally did get home he found himself going straight to his art room. The house had been empty so it was very peaceful. He sat in front of the fireplace with a sketchpad and coal just like when he was a little boy letting the drawing come naturally. Lines falling onto the paper with ease. Only when he was done he fully realized what he had drawn. His muse, his angel, HIS Caroline.

He placed the drawing on his desk and grabbed a new piece of paper along with a pen scribbling away on it with an inspiration that competed with his artistic one. When he was finally tired and drunk he put both things to the side and decided it was time for him to go to bed. His dreams filled with a blond baby vampire.

The next morning Camille came up to the compound to check up on Klaus. When he had left yesterday at the bar he was obviously distraught. So as his friend/Therapist/Bartender, she felt it was her duty to pass by the house making sure it was not full of bodies because he went on a rampage. Basically by checking up on him she did a favor to the city. Or she deluded herself with that thought anyway. When the house seemed empty but unlocked- Because who needs burglary security when you're an original wolf-vampire hybrid- Camille decided to take the stairs up to the art room where she hoped to find him. Also empty, maybe Klaus was still asleep. She could head to his room to check but felt that their friendship wasn’t evolved enough for her to be in his bedroom. On top of that she didn’t know what kind of sleeper the ruler of New Orleans was. What is he slept naked? That would be awkward. She was about to leave again when she figured she should leave a note for Klaus. Telling him she stopped by and to call her when he woke up. And so Camille walked over to the desk and pulled open the first drawer in search of a piece of paper and a pen. But what she found was something completely different. In the top drawer was a new picture of the girl but this time it wasn’t just her. She was lying on a couch cradles against Klaus’ chest as she seemed to be drinking from his wrist. And he just held her, looking more peaceful than Camille ever saw him. She picked up the drawing and noticed another piece of paper beneath it folded neatly four ways. On the side in very elegant letters it said: Caroline . Carefully she opened the note.

I know what I promised, I just need to know if you are ok.

That was all the note had read but even though it was just one line Camille could feel the urgency behind it. When she wanted to put the note back she noticed the cardboard box. It was filled with at least 10 more letters all addressed to her, all with different dates of the last months since they had met each other. Each one more elaborate and beautifully written then the last. Though in the letters he barely spoke of love, you could tell it was like an old time love letter directed to her.You could tell he was still unmistakably in love with her. There was stirring in the hallway. In a moment without hesitation Camille grabbed the letters and put them in the back of her jeans letting her top fall over it. Closed the drawer back quickly and made her way for the door. As soon as she opened it Klaus was standing on the other side giving her a suspicious look. Upon knowing about his feelings for the young girl Klaus suddenly looked younger, more human to Camille like something had changed within him.

“What are you doing here?” Klaus asked looking over her into his art room like he was scared she was going to steal his paintings.

“I wanted to check up on you, when you weren’t downstairs i figured you’d be here…” Camille tried to so as casual as possible, it wasn’t really a lie.

“I was not,I was out” Klaus said still not fully comprehending why she was here.

“Exactly I was just on my way back out when i found you lurking creepy at the other side of the door” Camille tried to be sassy, that usually worked on him.

She could feel the letters almost burning against the skin of her back.

“I was not lurking, I have supernatural hearing I heard you stumble and thought you might be an intruder , Nearly ripped your head off. Next time …. Call first” Klaus said very coldly.

“Got it...well you seem to be doing fine so I got to go!” Camille said making herself scarce. The sooner she got out of here the better.

A few days later she got a furious phone call from Klaus demanding to get his letters back.

“I send them to her” Camille whispered timidly glad she was inside the comfort of her own home and not near him while he was in this vile mood.

“You what….” Klaus asked darkly his tone turning nearly murderous.

“She needs to know!” Camille replied trying to persuade him.

“That is not your call to make Camille” He did not shout, but it would be a lot less scary if he would. His tone now was making her shiver to her bones.

“As your therapist consider it active therapy” Camille tried.

“You trespassed in my home, went through my drawers, stole from me and then send it off to somebody else…you are no longer my therapist Camille” He said sounding disappointed.Camille hated it when he was disappointed.

“I”m sorry, meet me at the bar we can talk ok?” Camille whispered realizing she had vastly overstepped her boundaries.

“I have killed people for a lot less, for your own safety it is best to never be around me again...goodbye Camille” Klaus whispered.

Cami wanted to protest but he had hung up on her. In the days that followed she had tried calling him back. Even went to the house a couple of times but he never replied or opened the door. Their friendship, if that was what you could call it. Had vanished as quickly as it came.

It had been two weeks since the debacle and Klaus found himself being more on edge. Not only did he lose the person to talk to about his aggravations in the world. He had expected to hear at least SOMETHING from Caroline. An angry phone call a dismissive letter, a text telling him to leave her the fuck alone...at least something. But nothing had come. She had ignored him completely and that had been the worst outcome of all. He was in his art room painting yet another picture of her and ready to push decline on yet another one of Camille’s calls when he noticed Caroline appearing on his screen. He nearly chokes in surprise. For a moment he debated ignoring the call but quickly realized that would be ridiculous.

“Caroline” Her name came out like a whisper, a feather carried on a soft wind. Soft and light. But loaded with subtext and emotions.

“Hi” Her voice was hoarse and raspy.There was a silence between them.

“How are you?” Klaus finally asked obviously meaning her mental state since the death of her mother.

“I got your letters” Was her reply dismissing his first question.

“Caroline I’m sorry I can explain I…” Klaus started trying to find a way to get her to listen.

“Just…..Let me talk for a second ok…” Caroline interrupted him.

He fell silent again.

“I...I didn’t know what to do, how to cope with the crushing pain. I felt like I was going insane” Caroline started to explain in a voice that was still so uncharacteristically breakable.

“Sweetheart I’m so-” Klaus wanted nothing more than to comfort her, take her in his arms and whisper it was all going to be ok.

“Just let me finish” Caroline broke him off again. “I was going to just turn it all of, take the easy road. Give up.” She continued explaining.”Then i got your letters…..And I loved them…. It felt like a piece of the pain was being chipped away..Because you understood...you know me…and so I started thinking to myself why? Why do I keep fighting this? You? Us? Something that could maybe potentially make me not feel so horribly sad anymore? Why am I fighting the fact that I shouldn’t have let you go that day? Why am I fighting the fact that I’m clearly falling in love with you…”

There was another silence. Her honesty had cut right to his chest.

“So I got in my car and started driving.”Caroline finally said trying to get her point across.

The point had most definitely come across.

Klaus’ eyes widened and he took a deep breath scared to fully process what she meant.“Caroline….where are you?” he asked making sure that he had gotten the hint properly.

He could hear a smile forming on her lips through the phone “I’m standing in front of your doorstep” she repeated his words.

Klaus had dropped his phone instantly not caring if the screen shattered into a million pieces. In vampire speed he rushed towards the entrance of the compound and even that didn’t feel like it went fast enough. He pulled the door open so harshly he nearly broke it off it’s hinges. Klaus had difficulty believing his eyes. There she was. Even more beautiful than in his memory. She still looked sad and tired , she looked in need of comfort.

“Hi” Caroline mouthed a single tear falling down her cheek.

Klaus never did respond. Before either of them could say a word he walked towards her in a strong and firm pace. Taking her face between his hands only gazing in her eyes for half a second before crashing his lips onto hers. Still holding her so tightly, he was holding on to her for life. He could feel her kissing him back and eagerly he intensified their kiss trying to take all her sadness and pain away. Klaus didn’t know how long they had remained there, kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. Not caring who was around or who saw. The only thing he remembered was at thinking one point he should probably forgive Camille…..in a few days.  

#klarolineinfinity #klaroline #klarolinedrabble #klaus x caroline #tvd #WeAreEndgame #@DelerithMoriwen #Day4DuringCanon

[verdant-gardens]

Curtain Call | Komugi | Voting Results | RE: Heiwa, Trik, Everyone

TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM

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She grins at Heiwa.

"You've realized it, huh? Yep. That's what everyone wants. Everyone wants to join hands and play house until actions mean more than words... then they revert to what they always were. But hey, even I kinda want it so maybe I'm just as fucked in the head as everyone says!"

And now what's this? Is he trying to reach some part of her? Some complicated and remorseful emotion deep down? She's not entirely plastic - she does try to consider this, a small frown appearing on her face for just a second.

"... Something like fear... something like anxiety. I can't even begin to comprehend that. Whatcha want me to do? Learn from TV? For what reason? See, I'm kind of a scientist at heart. If you can't break it down and understand how it works, what's the use?"

A grin returns to her face and for a second maybe there's a wry quality to it.

"See, I can't do it like everyone else, ya know? Live with the love of my life, hang with friends, live peacefully... asking me to co-exist with everyone, that's like torture. So I had to kill. If I kill someone, everyone gets mad and we all have fun for a few seconds. And no matter who dies next, it ends in fireworks. Can you imagine me being sniped by somebody else...? Being used to make some killer feel bad... augh! I'm getting hives just thinkin' about it! I'm going out on my terms. Life's never been better... ironically! Heeheehee! You know, considering."

Her eyes flick to Trik and... honestly? That might be the biggest disappointment of the day. Some grandiose peppered with some mockery and but under the 'cool guy lens'. Eh, she supposes that must work for him. A way to be liked by the masses whilst keeping 'cool'.

"My dear Trik, you really just DON'T get it."

She shrugged with a mock sigh, shaking her head from side to side.

"'All the details' you say? That's a tad ambitious, doncha think? Maybe just settle for 2% - or maybe applying yourself to something is too much effort, huh? You say I'm not interesting enough to figure out how I did it, but then you say the world isn't black and white? Au contraire, Trik! Context, detail, nuance - is everything. Without knowing you can't say for sure one way or the other! That's the third part of a prank, you know - the presentation! It's OK though, I understand effort is hard and mantaining that bad boy chuuni persona of yours must be plenty taxing~ I wouldn't wanna take time out of your busy day playing your own personal games after all. And for the record..."

Komugi gleefully returns Trik's wink with an equally obnoxious one before pulling up a trouser leg to show off the smooth metal of her leg, chunks of synthetic skin sliced away and torn from the frame.

"You oughta be more diligent checkin' in the future. 'Cause not everyone's gonna wanna play by my rules. Sooner or later, that overconfidence'll do you in... if one of your friends don't do it first, anyway! Kyahahaha! It's a shame I wasn't worth your effort... like any game, I had a good prize to give out."

She smiles and digs something out of her jacket pocket. Raising it up, she produces what seems to be... some kind of key.

"Da-da-da-daaa~n! You recognize that item jingle, GameFAQS? Ain't it magnifique! A key that can open a-n-y door! It would've been very easy to murder with this. All I actually had to do was murder Persephone in someone's room and then place the murder weapon in someone else's room. A smooth, quiet, murder... easy. You woulda never guessed it was me. But I just can't do that... I mean, there's no evidence. What's the fun in a game that doesn't have rules? I HAD to make my case like this. It wouldn't have been a Kururugi production otherwise. Did I wreck my own chances? Maybe, but a murder without clues just isn't me. But! I'm gettin' off topic. I got this key from someone special and I really was gonna hand it over. But oh well... furthermore... I really don't know everything that happened. I might be dyin', but that doesn't mean I'm the only one guilty. I'd think long and hard about that! Could be you have another murderer among you... or an attempted one, anyway. But that's your problem now."

Komugi chuckles and a sense of relief pours over her. There's a certain twisted joy to the pain she's getting. To the disapproval. Was she broken from the start, getting some kind of happiness from it? But who's to say what real happiness even is? An empty person like her... how would she know?

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"Ahh, this is it, alright. This is the ideal ending... hahaha, I really... I really, really, REALLY won... because... if it's this... I think... one day, when he sees it... Pops will definitely laugh at this one! That old bastard... after everything I put him through, takin' away the prodigal son... he'll have to crack a smile at this!"

Punch. Punch. Punch.

Her words get oddly more excited, the longer she speaks and she unexpectedly begins banging her real arm with her prosethetic one. Those Kururugi prosethetics really are great; they're almost real. Just like she is. The punches will probably cause some bruising later... but she doesn't have to worry about later anymore. She grins vaguely at Ayame, as ready as she'll ever be to get this show on the road.

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"You know, kidnapping a bunch of kids, forcin' em to live in this crappy ocean city and makin' them kill each other, I can forgive that. But... Ayame... white n' black hair? You look like you dipped a quill in ink."

Komugi's hands clap together one last time as she addresses the whole room, not a trace of fear to be seen on her mirthful face.

"Well that's a wrap, everyone! This is my 'love' to you, a deadly prank that took two! I'm ready for blood, guts and fireworks so let's look forward to it! Let's give it eeeverything we've got!"

She bows deeply and then waves to them all with a wide grin, the other hand clamped around the key she'll die with.

#vg ch2 #vg trial 2 #komugi #submission