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#- all about how they were selfharming and forced me to stay up to keep them company so their mental health wouldn't get worse and -
shyerue · 1 year
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They Accidentally Hurt You ~ COD men MW2 & Ghosts
Characters included: Alejandro, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, Rudy, Keegan, Hesh, Logan
Note: Someone requested this under the first part so yeah. Here it is :)
Also, I tried including TWs where I saw fit, if you have anymore let me know. I'm trying to make this a safe space for everyone :D
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~~~
Alejandro:
(mi amooooor <33)
Your love is a man of passion. Everyone knows that. You were on vacation for a few days. Not very far away from Las Almas, but still a recharge to your spirits nonetheless.
On the first day back, he was of course asked about how his vacation was.
But instead of keeping it simple and answering shortly, he has to go full out as he tells everyone about the beautiful beach you were at, as well as the luxurious cabin he rented for the few days of your stay.
As always when Alejandro tells stories, it doesn't take long until a moderate amount of people gathers around him. Mind you, Rudy was the one to ask him in the first place.
"Yes, the cabin was so close to the beach. You could basically step out and land right in the ocean." He goes on, gesturing a big building with his hands.
The men and women around him laugh at his obvious exaggeration.
You on the other hand were a little more busy than Alejandro. You just got back in from checking the inventory over, head still burried in your clipboard.
You have also been here for maybe two hours longer than Alejandro as well.
Your tiredness was soon erased, when you noticed the turmoil surrounding Alejandro's table.
Smiling a wary smile, you step over to him, wanting to ask what the fuss is about.
Yet, as you neared the table, only Rodolfo spotted you while Alejandro was still busy telling his tale.
Rudy seeks eye contact with Alejandro to inform him of your arrival, but it's already to late.
"And the beach was so long !" He exclaims, ripping his arms straight away, to gesture how long the beach really was. But one of his hands was stopped by your face.
You whipped around as the back slapped you across the face, earning quite a few shocked gasps as well as some empathic hisses in felt pain.
Upon the violent contact and your muffled hurt gasp, Alejandro turns around in lightning speed, only to dive after you.
"Mierda ! Mi amor ! I'm so fucking sorry ! Are you okay ?" He asks, gently picking your hand away from your hurting cheek.
His red handprint is already forming in an angry red. Alejandro carefully places a soft kiss on your cheek, while Rodolfo ushers the remaining comrades away.
It's safe to say that Alejandro will make this up to you and repay you in cuddles, kisses and everything you want from him, even toning down his passionate gesturing once sure you are too close by.
~~~
Ghost:
(Could be triggering for selfharm ! But Reader doesn't harm themselves, it involves a knife and blood still !)
Ghost is a master of knives. Everyone knows it.
Therefore, you asked your love to show you how to throw them.
You saw him do it in Las Almas when Graves betrayed you all in front of the Mexican Special Forces Headquarters.
"Are you sure ?" He asks, always happy to help you be a better version of yourself, but having his doubts about this one.
"Yeah, why not ?" You ask, looking at him in confusion.
"You tend to be a little clumsy at times, love." He reasons, pretending to drop the knife in his hand.
"And you tend to be a little too addicted to me so... please ?" You plead, using your best weapon against him.
Looking into your eyes, you know he can't resist you. You don't even need something like puppy eyes, Simon just loves you too much to resist anything you ask him.
And so, he shows you the basics. First how to hold it correctly.
He has special throwing knives that are balanced so you can actually grab them on the handle instead of the blade like normal.
"Don't keep your wrist too tight, or you will fling the knife to the ground, and in the worst case into your foot." Simon explains, making a throwing motion but much slower so you can get the gist of it.
"Yeah. That would be embarassing." You mumble, knowing it wouldn't be above you to end up exactly like that.
He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment it further.
Getting into position, he wants to show you a throw now.
Standing behind him for safety reasons, you can't help but swoon at the way his back muscles ripple under the tight fit shirt you made him wear this morning, as he practises his swing over his shoulder.
Simon swing his arm up over his shoulder to swing it back forward, when you interrupt him with your intrusive thoughts said out loud.
"God, you look so hot when you do that."
And it must have had an effect on him, because the next thing you know is that a knife pokes your forearm.
"Ow !" You yell, brushing off the knife that wasn't in to deep, yet the blood trickles down your arm still.
"Shit ! Fuck, I'm sorry !" He exclaims as he stomps to you, gripping your arm tightly to stop the bleeding.
"It's okay, hun. It's not deep. Look." You gesture to the knife on the ground, the tip of it barely stained with blood.
"Still. Fuck. I'm getting you the doc." He says sternly and you let him, even if only to calm his mind.
Halfway there you ask him "Who is the clumsy one now ?" Earning a little huff from him.
Simon does show you how to throw knifes a few days later, but until then, you are under his watchful eye, being treated to food and cuddles.
~~~
Soap:
(Trigger Warning for burn wounds !)
Being the demolitions expert he claims to be, it's a natural that you freshen up your basic skills with him.
And by basic, we're talking basic-basic.
Like how bombs are essentially put together. Like the least parts needed to be counted as one.
After an hour of it, you have arrived at the gun powder that's required.
"This is what the baby needs to blow up. Be very careful with it though. Especially the smokers around here should take extra care." Soap concludes, with a slight side eye towards Price.
Soap fills it into his prototype and screws the cap shut.
You follow his instruction and copy his movements.
Carrying your tiny bombs to him, you all set them in a line at least thirty meters away.
"Good." Johnny smiles as he returns from wiring them all up.
"Hey, love, do you mind collecting the bits of gun powder that weren't used ?" He asks you, preparing the wires on your side to set off the bombs simultaniously.
"Sure thing." you answer, grabbing the bigger glass bowl he used and walk around everyone's table to collect the bits that weren't used.
While walking around, you start doubting the ability of everyone here to build a safe bomb by the amounts of left overs that were laying around, or lack thereof.
Swiping the last table down, you start to walk back to Johnny's table.
He seems to be done wiring, waiting for you to return with the lighter in hand.
Ghost seems fidgety and turns to ask Johnny a question.
"Is this really the safest option to light the wires, Johnny ? Shouldn't we use an electric lighter ?"
Johnny seems to ponder the question, before whipping around carelessly, totally misjudging the room he takes in.
Just as you go to put the bowl filled with gun powder down, Johnny lights the lighter and bumps into you.
The powder spills a little on your arm and, with the fire so close by, ignites immediately, burning your skin.
"Oh fuck !" You exclaim and are glad for Ghost's fast reflexes as he catches the bowl you let go out of reflex.
"Shit !" Johnny yells, throwing the lighter far away and grabs your arm immediately.
"I'm so sorry, bonnie ! Fuck let me get you to the medics, now." He adds, leaving no room for arguments and honestly, you would have anyways.
Because it hurts like a motherfucker right now, even when Gaz poured some water over it to get rid of the remaining powder crumbs.
At the med bay, you are whisked away for treatment while Soap is left with his thoughts. Maybe he should give up the name of demolitions expert. Maybe he should just retire alltogether. Maybe-
"I'm done." You step up to his seated form with a smile and your arm wrapped in bandages.
Looking up at you from his seated position, he reaches out and tugs you closer by your tactical belt.
Resting his head on your stomach, he mutters apology after apology, promising to be more careful.
"As long as you help me change the wraps every six hours, you are forgiven." You smile as you card your healthy hand through his hair.
"Anything, bonnie. Anything."
~~~
Gaz:
Usually, this would be Price's job, but he had a last minute call he had to take with Laswell.
So, he asked Kyle to take over, who asked you join him.
And who are you to deny yourself some time with him ?
That's how you landed where you are now.
Self defense training 1-0-1 for the new recruits.
It's a very light training compared to what you guys normally do, but a welcome change of tone.
And seeing Kyle in a teaching role also brings some fresh wind into the dynamic. You knew he was a good instructor, but the patience he possesses is incredible.
He never loses his cool, explaning things always one more time if someone doesn't get it.
Claiming that the basics are fundamental and important to build any skill after that.
"You need to hit right in the center of the chest. It will knock your opponent off their feet for quite a few seconds, giving you time to either bolt, or gearing up for a fight." Kyle explains the new and last move for today's lesson.
The recruits nod along as he talks, trying to find the center of their chests with the guidance of Kyle.
Once they got the gist of what to do, you stand opposite of him, ready to once again be thrown on the matress for demonstration. But you know that Kyle would never seriously harm you in any way, and he always carefully lets you go down no matter what he demonstrates.
That man truly loves you.
"We will demonstrate it for you, and after that you can practise. Be advised to not go overboard and actually hit your partner, because then they will be... unavailable for the rest of the day." Kyle concludes, before he moves you into position and stepping back a little.
He shows the recruits how to do it in slow motion, before going in with a fast one.
You don't know how, but he miscalculated.
The next thing you know is that you make contact with the matress harshly, feeling the wind knocked out of you in barely one second.
"Oh shit, love !" Kyle gasps, sinking to his knees next to you to scoop you up and lean your back against his bent up knee.
"Damn, Kyle, you really do know how to sweep me off my feet." You smirk up at him tiredly, still not really able to take a deep breath.
Kyle chuckles and dismisses the class, before asking to lift your shirt to take a closer look at your sternum.
The bruise is already forming.
"I'm sorry, babe." He whispers before placing a feather light kiss on the spot he hit, before slowly guiding you back to your room to let you rest.
~~~
Price:
(Trigger Warning for burn wounds caused by cigarette/cigar ash)
The night was rainy when you and Price stood in the middle of nowhere.
To pass the time, you were looking through the trees and watching the wildlife surrounding you passing by. Price stood next to you in silence, basking the little moment of peace before you had to inevitably go and start the mission. A dangerous one at that.
Price drops his rifle to hang over his shoulder, before reaching into one of his pockets and grabbing one last cigar before the mission.
He lights it up as he turns away from you slightly, the dim fire illuminates his face tenderly in an orange glow.
Price flicks the lighter shut once the cigar is lit, taking a drag and breathing it out before turning back to you.
"The night is so beautiful." You whisper, not wanting to disturb the eery atmosphere as you wait for your sign to go.
"Yeah, it really is." John whispers back, politely puffing out the smoke to his other side away from your face as to not blow directly at you.
Smiling, your eyes turn to his, only to find his already focused on you.
"Sap." You chuckle as you swat his elbow slightly.
He takes another drag, the cigar glowing brighter and mirroring in his eyes.
"Got me there, sweetheart." He admits shamelessly, knowing that he is a simp for you and only you.
The wind picks up a little and to conceal your shiver, you turn your whole body around to watch behind your back for unwanted movements between the trees.
You spot a wild deer prancing about, but no enemy movement, much to your relief.
As you turn back to John, he has almost finished his cigar.
The static in your earpiece crackles and the handler gives you the go.
John responds with your call signs "Copy. Going dark."
Nodding, you step up beside him, just as he flicks the butt of his cigar in your direction.
"Fuck !" You exclaim, swatting your hands around your neck to get the burning sensation off you.
It takes John a split second to realize what happened.
He just flicked the butt of his cigar into your neck.
"Babe, let me help." John proceeds to near you and you let him brush his hands over your now sensitive skin and fish the butt of his cigar out of your collar.
"Fuck, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." John rasps as he lightly traces the edges of the angry red spots on your neck now.
"I know. It'll heal." You mumble, still trying to get used to the stinging sensation.
You know it will scar since you don't have the medical supplies with you to treat it correctly, only a gauze and some plasters for now.
Once John finishes his primitive first aid, you turn and kiss his cheek in thanks.
"You don't need to thank me. It was my fault anyways. I'm still sorry for it, I didn't mean for that to happen." He apologizes again.
"I know. You know what ? Maybe I'll just get a badass tattoo over it once it's healed. I'll ask Simon where he got his done." You ponder, getting ready to start the mission again.
"And what badass tattoo would that be ?" John humors you, knowing full well that you will go through with it.
"I don't know. Maybe I'll get that silly little hat of yours done there." You muse, climbing down the hole you were guarding a few minutes ago.
"Please do, sweetheart." John laughs and follows you down.
About two months later, there was a little hat permanently inked on your neck.
~~~
Rudy:
It was a wild morning to say the least.
The cartel was assumed to have a weapons deal early in the morning.
The intel was clean, so you planned an arrest for the people there.
Yet, it ended in a desaster.
The cartel did go through with their weapons deal, but they caught wind that the army was on their heels, and they were prepared for it.
When you guys arrived, the deal was sealed and done for, and the cargo was close to be done loading as well.
You burst in, but most of the members were already in their cars to make a quick escape.
Rudy and you got in your cars seperately to try and follow them. Your only communication via radio.
"I got one right in front of me. Permission to fire ?" You ask him.
While Rudy and you are in a relationship, on the field he is still your superior officer and you need to sync up on these decisions.
"Granted. Go get them." He replies, still busy tailing another jeep somewhere you don't exactly know.
When the race began, you and Rudy were parting ways rather early to get more cartel members in custody.
Leaning out of your car window, you aim for the jeep's tires, in hopes to make it stop and catch the person inside alive.
"Taking aim." You inform, aiming your handgun carefully while still driving.
"Watch out !" Rudy yells, but that doesn't stop what's happening in the slightest.
Someone crashes into the passenger's side of your car from the crossing road, making you lose your aim and control over the vehicle.
Flipping over with your car, you land in the ditch back on your tires, but you not only lost the jeep you were tailing, but your conciousness too, as the last thing you feel is warm blood trickling down your forehead.
When you come to, the light is blinding even with your eyes closed.
As you take a deep breath, you subconsiously hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor next to you.
"Tesoro ! You're awake !" Rodolfo speaks up from nearby the beeping, as the scraping of a chair against wooden floor follows.
You try to lift your hand to shield your eyes from the light as you want to open them, but it hurts.
So, only a whine escapes you as you feel overwhelmed by everything.
"I'm here, it's okay. Take it slow." Rodolfo whispers a little closer now, as he grabs your hand into one of his.
Squeezing your eyes and whining, Rudy gets an idea of whats wrong and quickly leaves your side to turn off the ceiling lights and close the drapes to block out the intense orange glow of the evening sun a little.
Finally opening your eyes a little, you are happy to see your love, but frown at the stiched on his cheek and wrapped up arm.
"What happened ?" You rasp, obviously needing a sip of water.
As Rodolfo reaches for the glass filled with water, he starts explaining.
"We were tailing the cartel members, right ? Well, on one of the crossing roads, I was tailing one of them and while he got through before you, I crashed into you in pursuit. I'm sorry, cielito. So sorry."
Leaning his head against your hand, you hear him sniffle a little.
"It's okay, mi vida. We'll be okay." You promise.
Safe to say, you got the royalty treatment for the whole duration of your sick leave, despite your protests that Rudy himself was wounded and should be resting.
So you compromise and let Alejandro take care of you both while you enjoy your time together, healing.
~~~
Keegan:
(Trigger Warning for knives/blades)
(PS can you tell that I love him ?)
There never was much time in between missions nowadays, so you did the best you could with the time that was given to you.
So, you planned a nice day just roaming about the area with Keegan, like taking a walk, grabbing something to eat from the canteen, getting nice and cozy in your little room.
It took a while of talking to Elias, but you got him to permit the both of you in one room instead of being seperated. Because he knew, in the end, one of you would always sneak to the other during the night.
But it seems that Keegan had other plans in mind.
When you woke up, you expected to be laying next to him and talk about how your day will be. But ultimately, the other side of the bed was empty, safe for the little note that said ' I'm at the training area. <3 '
And yes, the heart is very crooked, but it makes you smile nonetheless.
Still, after you ponder about it, you are a little sad that he was already up and about without waiting for you.
Sighing, you grab some clothes and head to the bathrooms down the hall. One of the compromises you had to take as you moved in together, was giving up an ensuite for a slightly bigger room.
After getting clean, you start making your way to the training area.
Stepping inside, you are met with the Walker brothers working out while Riley sits next to the bench.
Petting the pup, you look at Hesh who is spotting Logan's bench press right now.
"Morning, have you guys seen Keegan around here ?" You ask, looking around, not being able to spot him anywhere from here.
"Yeah, he came in about thirty minutes ago and went straight to the back to practise knife throwing." Hesh informs you.
Logan places down his weights after the last rep and sits up, panting.
"Yup, can't miss him. Said something about 'being prepared for the next one'. Whatever that means."
Nodding to them ad wishing them a good training, you head to the area they hinted at.
And truth be told there he sits, polishing and sharpening his set of throwing knives.
You walk up to him, but you are sure he can't hear you with his headphones on. Only guessing, you think he's playing his favourite rock song again by the way he is swaying in bit slightly.
You go in to touch his back, but he is so startled by your presence, that he whips around and cuts your leg on accident.
Hissing, you place your hand on the cut in your pants to try and stop the bleeding.
"Shit, dove ! I didn't see you." Keegan exclaims after ripping his headphones off and letting his blades fall to the ground as well.
"It's okay, I startled you. Should have been more careful and come into your field of vision first." You try and reassure him.
Lifting your hand you see that the cut isn't even that deep.
"I'll get some bandaids and disinfectant." Keegan mumbles and but staggers over to the first aid kit.
As he wraps your leg, you ask him "Did you make any progress with your knife throwing ?"
"Honestly ? I didn't hit anything but you." He responds a little low-spirited. "I'm sorry for doing that."
"It's alright. How about you come with me ? I had better plans for us today anyways." You muse, pulling him up from the ground, to stand with you as you place your hands on his chest.
"Yeah ? What do these include ?" Keegan asks in a low whisper as he lets the rest of the first aid kit fall to wrap his arms around you.
"Sneaking some food in and cuddling on the bed ? That sound good to you ?" You propose, reaching up to caress the nape of his neck lovingly.
"Hell yeah, dove."
~~~
Hesh:
It was an uneventful recon mission you were sent on with Hesh. After days and days of stakeouts, you returned back to base with the smallest of intel on Rorke.
It took a toll on both of you, both physically and mentally.
"I'm so ready to get back into bed." You huff, leaning against the window as Hesh drives the vehicle through the streets.
"Yeah, me too. Can't wait to take shower." Hesh replies, clearly having a hard time focusing on driving, but still managing to do it.
"You should, stinky."
"Like you're one to talk, street rat."
Laughing, you both see the HQ building come closer and you start gathering both of your stuff up.
Once the Humvee stops, Hesh gets out first, obnoxiously streching out his legs and cracking his back, before heading to the trunk to get your heavier equipment.
You take another moment to mentally prepare yourself to make the way up to Elias' office, fill him in for another hour or so, probably earning a dissatisfied response to your lack of actual intel, before you can really go back to your room to catch up on some hygene and sleep.
Groaning, you shoulder one rucksack over your left shoulder and open the door with your other hand.
Just as you are about to push open the door and poking your head out, it's roughly shoved back closed, hitting your head harshly in the process.
You fall back into the car a little with a yelp, but are cushioned by the rucksack on your shoulder.
The passenger door is once again opened up rapidly, a panicked voice calling out for you.
"Babe, what happened ?" Hesh asks, grabbing your hand and sitting you back up slowly.
"I don't know, you tell me." You respond, still rubbing your forehead, already feeling the skin starting to form a bruise.
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I hit that door." He fusses and he helps you stand up on the outside of the Humvee, leaning you against it.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry. How can I make this up to you ?" Hesh asks in between placing kisses on your forehead.
Pondering about it for a moment, you look at him with your best pleading eyes.
"Can you go and report to Elias on your own ? I think now I really should get into bed, or should I go see a medic before ?"
"If you feel nauseous you should definitely see one, if not, you can go and wait for me there." David sighs as he caresses your jaw lightly.
"You're the best. Thank you." You smile and him kiss him before making your way inside, leaving the stunned Walker by the car.
You may have a concussion, but at least you won't have to face Elias, which would have resulted in a much heavier headache.
~~~
Logan:
As one of the youngest members of the Ghosts, Logan always faces doubts about his abilities. And while sometimes, he had to be saved on mission, Logan saved his teammates just as many times.
In between missions, he tries to get better with the other Ghosts, and it works. But most of the time, Logan can be found cleaning and repairing guns and rifles.
It's what his dad taught him and it calmed him down.
And calming down is what he needed right now.
The mission was a success, but barely so. It was a close call for Logan and his team, but together, they made it out. Logan was silent on the way back to base the whole time.
When they came back, he immediately got inside and took a shower, changing his clothes.
Keegan was the one to search you out, explaining what happened to you and asking you to check in on him later today.
You nod and thank him for keeping an eye on Logan, before you set out to search for him.
You find him where you always do, in the far end of the shooting range.
There, he is reassembling another handgun, placing it down next to the other two on the ground he seems to have finished.
Logan bends down on his other side you can't see, and brings up another, dirty handgun and starts to work.
"Hey, Logan." You greet him silently, squatting next to his finished guns.
"Hey." He whispers back, and you start to really worry for him.
Even on his worst days, he is always happy to see you; pure golden retriever energy here.
But this is new. You don't know how to approach the situation correctly as to not make it worse.
"You cleaning all of the Ghost's weaponry now ?" You ask, hoping the humor in your voice reaches him.
"Yeah, they know it calms me and it takes something off their to do list." Logan replies, taking out the magazine and starting the desemble the firearm.
"You are too good to them, you know ?" You smile at him and reach a hand out to caress his knee as his lips quirk up a little.
"Thanks, honey." He responds, seemingly a little more elevated than before.
"No problem. Do you want me to test fire them ?" You ask, wanting to help him out.
"Sure, be careful."
You nod and grab one of the handguns, making your way to the closest target.
Placing the safety glasses on, as well as the ear muffs, you take your aim and shoot the first round.
But Logan must have done a mistake reassembling this one, because the recoil is too hard and it cuts into your hand.
Dropping the gun to the ground, you look at the space between your thumb and finger, seeing the scratch lightly bleeding.
Hearing clatter from behind you, Logan is by your side instantly, taking your elbow and hand in his hands to examine the wound.
"Shit, honey, I'll clean up quickly and we head to the medics, yeah ?" Logan panics and you see that he starts doubting himself again over his abilities.
You have no room to argue about it, as he rushes you back through the hall of the HQ, right to the med bay.
Once you were done, you see Merrick standing next to Logan, the latter seems relieved.
Spotting you behind his superior, he comes forward and takes you in his arms, guiding you back to your room.
Turns out, it wasn't Logan's fault, but Merrick's. He had a modification on his gun, that Logan didn't know about and would have needed extra attention.
Still, you thought it best to lay down with him, his head on your chest and to ease away his worries with the dull beat of your heart against his head.
Taglist (open): @localbadhabit
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yaut-jaknowit · 4 months
Note
Hey! Hi
I love your work too much I love Mai'tuiudh too much 🥹
If you don't mind, could you do an mlm with a reader who has problems with selfharm and his Yautja tries to console him even though he doesn't understand why his boyfriend hurts himself?
I have been feeling bad these days and if you do it would be a huge consolation 😞 Sorry if I don't know how to express myself well, English is not my native language 😔
A Battle Mai'tuiudh Can't Fight For You
Pairing: Mai'tuiudh (Male Yautja) x Reader
Warnings: self-harm, blood, thoughts of suicide, relapse of self-harm, comfort, happy ending.
Summary: Away from prying eyes, you wallow in your sorrow. By yourself. Mai gone. Fresh cuts on your arm. A relaspe.
Word Count:2108
Author Note: I just want to say that if you or anyone needs an ear to vent to, you're more than welcome to. I'm not just a writer but a friend to anyone. I'm here for you. Anyone.
P.s. Don't fret, your English is amazing. Works perfectly for me. If you are wanting more, just let me know. I'm one message away.
P.s.s. Happy Thanksgiving! Here's the second one I'm posting today
Masterlist
Ao3
In the lonesome apartment, tucked away in the tiny bathroom, you sat on the cold, unforgiving floor. Dried, salty trails of tears have evaporated long ago. Time has been a blur. You’ve been stuck inside of your mind since the start of this day. Thoughts running rampant. Thoughts you had to get rid of.
Everything wasn’t fine. No matter what you told yourself. No matter how many times you thought of it, repeating it in your mind. Just hoping that saying it so many times would make it true. But, your wish never became a reality.
It started as a steady decline. Friends seeing you pull away from them. Family hearing from you less. Coworkers seeing you slack in your work. Did anyone help? Did anyone grab your hand and lift you up? To guide you softly back to a safe mindset? No. None of them. Your work grew worse and worse. People screaming at you for messing stuff up. Your friends complaining about never seeing you. Family not taking the initiative. They all left you to be barricaded in your meek bathroom, blood dropping to the floor.
This was the only way of relief you could find without ending it all. You didn’t have the balls to do that. You’ve been so good too! You’ve had dealt with troubling times before. Past scars marring your skin. You’ve been clean! Until today. Your relapse. The day you sought a blade from the kitchen and sliced through your healing skin.
And fuck, it felt good. It released everything that has been building up. All the anguish, the heartache, the pain. Every slice cutting through the past marks to create new ones in their wake.
Your head thunked against the drywall. The sobs that once shook your fragile body had left, left you feeling meek and even more miserable. Both nostrils were plugged up, snot running down. Your throat ached and was dry. Here you were, the mate of a power species. Pathetic and useless to him. Despite the feeling building inside of you to cry all over again, you have long lost the energy to do so. Instead, you just stay on the bathroom floor.
Dried blood stuck to your fresh wounds, staining the linoleum floors dark red. You didn’t even have the energy to get up and wash yourself from the mess you created. No, you just stayed there, limp and wanting to be lifeless.
The bathroom door slammed opened, nearly splintering from the force. A new hole smashed into the wall. You couldn’t even lift your head to see who just about demolished your door. A second didn’t past when you felt hands, hot palms, grabbing at you. Clicks and chitters sounding from an alien tongue you didn’t register in your mind.
Then, you were lifted up, over the tubs edge, and place inside the off-white tub. Cold water touched at your toes, finally forcing you to rouse. You whined and tried to weakly climb from the empty bath. But, a firm grip on your shoulder was all it took to keep you there. Finally, you lift your head to find the alien mask of your mate. His biomask covering his face as he fretted over you.
For a moment, you just stared and realized he was calling your name. All you gave in return was a low hum and going lax. The only thing you wanted to do was lie there. A hand cupped at your face, forcing your head back up to look up at your mate. His free hand pulled at the tubs connecting to the cover and yanked the thing off. It was discarded to the side.
Mai’tuiudh leaned in close. His bright eyes dirtied with fret as they darted across your face then down at the marks on your arms. Chitters and even light whining produced from his throat. Once he had your attention, he released your face to grab a washcloth close by. With it, Mai’tuiudh wet it and began to wash away the blood.
New, unfortunate pain rose inside of you. You squirmed and tried to break free from the unrelenting washing. Mai’tuiudh didn’t have any of it. His voice hardened, though he was speaking in rushed Yautja. At this point, he hadn’t realized what language he was in, just flipping to default at the sight of you bloodied and out of it.
You go lax once more, lazing in the tub, warm water running over your toes. It pointless to fight. You weren’t anywhere close strong enough to fight against him. Useless. Can’t do anything right. Not at work. Not with your friends or family. Not even with your own lover. How can he even look at you without disgust? Just a weak little thing who has to hurt themselves to feel better.
A fresh, hot, single tear rolled down your sticky cheek. Your name is called again. You’re staring at the off-white tub when you hummed in answer. A clawed finger gently picks up your chin, drawing your attention back up to your mate. But you couldn’t look him in the eye. You weren’t good enough for him. You’re a fucking male like him but couldn’t even compare to a quarter of his strength.
Two fingers pinched at your cheeks and slightly shook your head. Mai’tuiudh called your name once more. He didn’t understand what was wrong. For the moment though, he wanted to know who hurt you, who hurt his mate. He’ll hunt them down, tear their skull and spine from their body, and present it to you. A sharp snarl sounded from his chest. Yet, you gave no notion that you even heard him.
His years have taught him virtue and patience. So, he returned to cleansing the slices to your arms. The wounds… Mai’tuiudh found strange. They were purposeful but didn’t look to be aiming to kill. The amount of them as well. Mai’tuiudh couldn’t come up with one conclusion: torture. Someone wanted to torture you. But he couldn’t scent anyone else. Just him and you.
Dislodging the pack on his back, Mai’tuiudh brought out his medical supplies. In your dazed mind, you weren’t paying much attention to him. Not until a blinding, stinging pain raced up your arm. You about shot out of the tub and out the door if Mai’tuiudh hadn’t grabbed you. He forced you to stay but you didn’t stop. So, he had to take drastic actions.
Carefully, Mai’tuiudh climbed into the tub to trap you with his size and legs. This freed up his hands to continue working on the wounds on your arms. Despite the hoarse cries and squirming you did, nothing worked to throw the hulking Yautja off of you. Soon, the pain just dulled to the back of your mind as he slathered the blue paste on your skin.
White, sterile bandages were wrapped around your arms. Mai’tuiudh climbed off of you and stayed knelt by the tub. A hand came to rub his thumb on your cheek bone, soft purrs pouring from his throat. Unlike usual, you barely even reacted to the sound you loved so much.
Mai’tuiudh couldn’t help the whine when he realize he hadn’t won you over. Determined as ever, he scooped your laxed body from the rub and carried you over to your bed. He wanted to make you as comfortable as possible; despite wanting to take you to his ship, though shared with his hunt brothers. He knew you wouldn’t be able to rest easily there.
Thick, comforting covers were draped over you. Warm, muscular arms were wrapped around you, securing you to a chest you were familiar with. The purrs vibrating throughout your body.
After a long, silence-filled time, Mai’tuiudh spoke up. “Who hurt you?” his voice gruff with tension. The fact someone had hurt you while he was gone made him feel uneasy. His mate, wounded, on the verge of Dhi’ki-de – walking death. It had his heart clenching at the thought of loosing you. He didn’t understand how this could happen.
But you didn’t respond, again. With a grunt, he sat up and brought you with him. You were maneuvered to sit in front of him, facing the Yautja. Your head was bowed to blankly stare at the blankets on your bed. You name was called. “I asked who hurt you?”
The words entered your brain, rolled around for a bit before you shrugged. How weak would he think of you if he knew the truth? He’s seen worse, dealt with worse. And you couldn’t handle something that he could brush off. Pathetic. Weak. Meek. A little bug in his way.
He grunted with frustration again. Both of his hands were placed on your shoulders and he shook you to gain your attention. You raised your head to look him in the eye this time. “Who hurt you?” He was adamant. You had to admit that. And he wouldn’t stop until you answered him.
“Me.” Mai’tuiudh blinked. You? You hurt yourself? He shook his head, confused. His tresses swaying with the motion. Both of his hands cupped your face and wiped away tears you didn’t know had fallen. “It was me, okay?”
“Why?” It was the only word he could come up with. It didn’t make sense. If you hurt yourself, that makes you a target, makes you more susceptible to being hunted. You would be seen a prey, weaker so predators could kill you. So why in Paya’s name would you hurt yourself on purpose?! He whined, brows furrowed.
You released a deep breath and let him hold your head up. “Because.” He didn’t want to hear about your problems. You were useless to him, nothing more than an annoying fly. You didn’t know why he stuck around? Is this how he plays with his prey, his food before a hunt?
His brows fell into a deadpanned look. He grunted and shook you again. “Why?” he bit out harsher, hoping it would get you to open up. He knew oomans were more emotional then his own species. This wasn’t something he was used to but surely read up about after he realized he had fallen for you.
You tried to ducked your head in reaction but he held steady. He wasn’t doing to give up easily. This is a hunter, born and bred to wear down their prey. “I’m useless,” you spoke in a voice that he barely could catch. His head jerked, puzzled on why in the universe you, his mate, would think of such a thing! “I can’t do anything right. Everyone hates me.”
His spine tensed at your words. The feeling to dig his claws into something grew inside of him. Someone had planted those vile thoughts into your susceptible mind. He snarled, hands growing firm on your face, then yanked him towards his face. He pressed his forehead against yours and made sure you were looking at him.
“Who hurt you?” he asked again. His English wasn’t strong. He didn’t know how to ask why you thought that way or who told you that. So, he just repeated his words from before.
Mai’tuiudh say the frustration grow in your tired eyes. “Me! Mai’tuiudh. I hurt myself. I cut myself because it feels good! It dulls the ache in my chest. Makes me feel something besides all of this sorrow!” you screamed at him with hot, fresh down your face.
Then, it hit him. Wei mo’wei-te. Great sadness, his best translate he could come up with. This sorrow you feel is internal. Yautja have emotions, despite being able to hide them so well. They feel happy, angry, sadness. All of it. Maybe in less physical displays, but they still do. This sadness. He’s heard of it before, from Elders or Hunters who could no longer hunt.
To take a Hunter from the hunt was worse than thei-de. Like… like cutting the wings off of a bird. Leaves feeling this sadness that was hard to heal.
But it was possible. His brows drew together, determination filling his veins. His mate would not suffer this sadness alone.
“What you need?” Mai’tuiudh asked, ready to scour this plant or others to cure this sadness.
You couldn’t believe his words. Instead of turning away in disgust at how weak you’ve become, he stays like a sturdy statue at your side. For the first time, your sobs are from the sorrow that filled your hollow body. You launched yourself forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, face buried into his neck.
Mai’tuiudh understood what you needed.
Him.
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vanillaxoshi · 6 days
Note
Hiyaaa I'm that anon that asked if I could write something based on the art piece of Solar you did. Here it is! Trigger warning tho for implied selfharm and pretty decidely implied psychological trauma. Sorry for any typos too I typed this at 2 am after a very hard day :') --
There's a cold chilling breeze on a now barren rock in space. Or well logistics in the matter he's on a planet of course. With some patches of life of course other than the crater he'd made. But well..
..He still can't see. Can he?
There's only the blurred mess of grayed browns, of smoke filling his nose and every other sense.
Solar really should get away from it but alas he was told to stay put. And the last time he disobeyed... Yeah he shouldn't move.
Doesn't solve how his legs itch to move. Doesn't stop the nearly numbing pain in head as his eyes slowly knit and reshape itself. Doesn't stop his hands bleeding what's broken on the inside out.
Solar is tired. Solar is broken or he should be. Should be more broken then just his hands. Part of him deeply wished to be.
He'd be lucky if it happened after the stun he pulled. His master says he should be thankful to whatever Higher being decided to still bless him with eyesight after trying to claw them out.
For risking something so precious was the exact wording he used.
And Solar finds himself reliving the memory.
.
.
.
When he had done it, Retak'ka had asked why. Surprisingly not in anger as Solar expected. Already having preparations of excuses or reasons to why he'd not only done something so reckless but also that would completely make them lose everything they've worked for.
Everything Solar was made for.
Yet it didn't come. Just a simple quiet, "Why did you do it".
And much to Solars own stupid dismay that he even now kicks himself for time and time again. There were no words on his tongue, it threw him off and out of the loop.
.. Why did he do it.. he couldn't just admit why he did it. But he couldn't leave it unanswered.
"I'm testing if conscious harm done by me will do worse damage," he says this with blood dripping from his shut eyes. Acting as if his nails aren't caked with his own blood. Like he wasn't going to force them open for another go if his Master didn't walk in.
The lie.. was an obvious one. Even if his voice didn't waver. Every point of his said the opposite, his already blackened hands pulsed with an old pain and his eyes only exploded with it from the beginning.
Retak'ka knew it was a lie. There's no way he didn't.
But he silently hoped. He just wished silently to just let him have this. Just let him lie this easily without any repercussions.
And he did. He let him lie. 
He let him lie knowing full well what he did, knowing Solar still wouldn't be relieved. Not even as he cleans his hands from the blood and sits on the floor with his eyes not actively bleeding anymore after he’d cleaned up. 
"You shouldn't have done that", Retak'ka says to Solar, handing the Light Elemental a wet rag. Solar takes it and presses it on his eyes.
"A test like that is much too risky, even with the.. curious idea behind it"
"Tests always have risks to take."
"Not if they risk something precious and personal"  he hears
Solar wanted to rebuke that about all the risks he's taken. By using Solar's power so.. so openly. After being kept hidden for stars, know how long. For all the risk Retak'ka is doing by basically kidnapping the other Spirits. It was ludicrous!
It was disgusting to even think about but.. but Solar kept his mouth shut. He didn't say anything but a quiet "hmmm"
It was easier that way. Easier to just... take it? No and yes. But it was also easier to just.. keep quiet. Be silent and follow orders. It'd only quite literally harm him more in the long run in more ways than one if he disobeyed.
He feels a hand on his head, and Solar has half the mind to recoil from the touch but doesn't.
"You are precious to me Cahaya"
That catches Solar more off guard. He.. hasn't used his real name in a long while. Nor has he openly ever shown affection like this. Not like Sir Tok Kasa or Gempa..
Solar tenses. And he doesn't know why, realistically he should be calmer. He isn't getting punished, he's not needing to explain himself on why he did other than what was said before.. So why is so.. fearful?
"So please don't do this again."  There were words left out of that sentence. But Solar only nodded. His vocal cords refused to do as they were intended and speak.
So he forces himself to at least stop being so fretful and calm down. It doesn't work but he tries.
..."yeah alright I won't do it again." His voice was quiet but any louder he felt would ruin something. What it is he has no clue, but it's something.
"Good" There was a ruffle of his hair before he heard footsteps leave the room.
.
.
.
Solar snaps out of the memory blinking. There's a familiar pounding behind his eyes as he instinctively reaches up to itch them but stops.
There are tears welling in his eyes. And he's realizing how crying. Yet the Light Spirit can only feel a numbing somber he's felt way too many times to count anymore.
His world used to be light itself both metaphoric and literal.
Solar used to be happier.
Cahaya used to be happier.
He's the light, supposedly having the power to create warmth for others. Something to be a beacon of hope for, dangerous but loving ultimately. He used to be those.. and still he can't help but mourn it. What he used to be.
Cahaya.
Solar was Cahaya but.. not anymore. He couldn't return to those times even if he wanted to.
Which he does. But he doesn't have a choice in the matter.
But still..
Cahaya cries tears of sorrowful golden rays. He's crying liquid glow of what he used to be. And he can't see anymore, the once blurred mess of browns, just filled with his tears.
This land he ruined.. helped ruined. It used to be green, part of him thinks Daun would've loved it... but now much like him. It's barren. Empty.
He hears footsteps and doesn't bother trying to wipe his face.
"Your crying," is the only thing he hears as his master stops by his side.
"Duri.. would've liked this place I think. I just miss a little"
Not a lie. It's not a lie he kept some things to himself. Was it?
"We'll be okay Cahaya"
No they wouldn't. No he wouldn't. Not after this, not after everything the Light Spirit had done and would keep doing. Not even after death.
"You are my precious tool, there's nothing to worry about. Just do as your told and I promise you'll get what you need"
Need.. what did Solar even need or want anymore.
Manipulation freaking manipulation
RETAKKKAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAA
Sheesh, Retakka is so- menacing?? So- malicious?? So- just- i want to push him
Cahaya and trauma!!! He will never eescape it in this blog
This is such a wonderful beautiful fic
Would it be bad if i made this canon to this au??
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timextoxhajima · 4 years
Audio
Playlist Feels
*SHORT SERIES
Part 1: Unmask
Part 2: Fly Away With Me
Part 3: ~ (Final)
Member: chwei mountain sAN
Genre: *TW* suicide/selfharm, smut cause i feel so fucking empty from finishing that juyeon fic help i have withdrawal symptoms from my own work hng
A/N: *IMPORTANT*  I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH PLEASE READ
this piece is EXTREMELY explicit and detailed, and there is an idea of intimacy being used as a way to escape personal pain in a very dark/difficult sense so PLEASE do not read if you suffer from anxiety/panic attacks that are easily triggered or if you’re not in a very good place in life right now. :( i suffer from those myself and i had to make sure i was in the right condition to write this. if i was in a bad time myself and i read this, it might set off an attack.
PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT MENTALLY STABLE
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“where in the world is choi san?”
you hear someone call the name and your eyes shoot wide open, the sunlight washing into the room momentarily blinding you. you groan and turn your head away from the source of light, feeling your hair get stuck in your hoodie from the static. you look over your bed and let the sight of the boy who saved you sleep on the other side, facing away from you. 
sighing and starting to pick at the tangles in your hair, you get out of bed and walk into the bathroom, completely forgetting that whatever you just heard was real. 
“choi san!”
the toothbrush was just stuck into your mouth when you hear someone yell right outside your door -- or san’s --, and you hear a loud thump outside, assuming san had rolled off the bed upon the wake up call.
“coming!” he yells and bolts for your door. you rub your eyes and walk out of the bathroom, brushing your teeth while san sticks his head into the hallway. 
there was a man who looked like he was in his 30s standing not at your door, but san’s. the look of confusion on his face becomes the most striking thing about him and his mouth was already opened to say something, but one younger male appears from a corner that was out of your view and screams at san.
“choi san!” the boy had black hair that was split in the middle of his head, and he throws his arms around san, the impact shoving him backwards into the room. 
“you’re back so fast?” san asks with wide eyes, his lips being pulled up into a curl as his arm looks for a second boy who has blonde hair and eyes that a human shouldn’t have.
“of course, we missed you,” the blonde boy says with such a lack of emotion, you couldn’t help but laugh at his nonchalance. the older male folds his arms across his chest and looks past san, his attention now focussed on you.
both boys were also now one step into the room, and they simultaneously watch you halt your movements, the toothpaste foam sliding down the sides of your mouth. 
“uh--” the older male blinks at you. “san, can i speak wit--”
“oh!” the black haired boy literally shoves san off him and walks towards you with one hand stretched out. he was wearing a comfortable button down shirt and pants, though he looked kind of jet-lagged, the smile on his face was pretty welcoming. “i’m wooyoung! you must be san’s friend! or girlfr--”
“don’t listen to him--” the blonde boy grabs wooyoung’s shoulder and pulls him back. “what is san doing in your room and did he do anything to you?”
san blinks in disturbed surprise, yanking on yeosang’s shirt and pulling him into a headlock. “yah, yeosang--”
“can i speak with all three of you?”
the older male raised his voice, arms still crossed on his chest and his brow was now raised in agitation. 
wooyoung nearly pouts as he turns away from you, and san gestures to you to wait while the three of them disappear into the hallway. the heavy door swings shut and you return to brushing your teeth, utilising everything the hotel bathroom had to offer you. 
you were already prepared to be kicked out of the room or the hotel altogether after they found out why you were here. no job, suicidal, tired. there was no reason for them to keep you here.
so what if san’s adoptive father was sheltering youths who needed it? they must all have their plus points for him to take them in in the first place, not to mention all of them were boys.
you strip without thinking twice, the thought of soaking yourself into the bathtub was too tempting to resist. 
your back hits the cool, but warming surface of the tub inside, the warm water engulfing you like the sun if you were on the beach. your heart starts to pound at the memory of the last time you were in a bathtub. 
you rest both arms on the edges and lean back, even the scent of the bathroom was forcing you down a trip to relive one of the many painful memories you somehow managed to make it out alive.
you closed your eyes and let the marks on your wrists breathe the expensive air of the space, some of the lines still stinging upon contact with the water. 
but it doesn’t really bother you anymore, you were used to it. 
your cool fingertips could still feel the sharp, metallic edges of the razor that you pulled out from shaver. you remember the sensation of dragging it across your skin, the pain eating you inside out but you only did it because it didn’t hurt as much as the words your mother shoved down your throat.
it never did hurt as much. 
a dark, heavy energy flows through you at the flashes of images that were popping up in your head like advertisements on a website. the way the red fluid you needed to stay alive swirled in the water around you was so intriguing to watch, the pain disappeared. 
you could hear your heart start to beat in your head, and your throat starts to feel like it was being strangled, yet you were sure that your face hadn’t twitched one bit. 
you remember being angry when you failed. the hotel staff had come for room servicing, and you were nowhere near the end of your line with the water only looking like you were on your period. 
it was pathetic to recall why you were still alive.
because you didn’t have the guts to finish it off in the bathroom.
because the hotel staff were here and you panicked. 
the stinging on your forearms don’t stop, but they start to numb. all the knots in your body remains, as they have for as long as you can remember. the heat from the water starts to fog up every glass surface in the bathroom, and you hear the door of your room click open.
“are you in the bathroom?” san asks through the door.
“uh-huh,” you respond. a short pause. “just come in.”
you hear the door of the bathroom click open and close behind him, and judging by the muffled sound of his voice, you could guess he wasn’t facing the tub while he was talking.
“that was mr kim yonghwan, and the other two were wooyoung and yeosang. both of them are my adoptive brothers.”
silence. 
he must’ve been waiting for you to reply with some kind of acknowledgement but you couldn’t care less. the weight of your memories were still swimming around inside you, so whatever san was saying, it could wait. 
“i told them how you ended up here... and mr kim said you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but he’d like to speak with you about future options once you’re ready to.”
huh, that’s new. he’s not kicking me out?
“i’ll thank him later and i’ll leave.”
you hear him shift around in whatever corner he was hiding in. you could feel him looking at you, not because you were naked in the bathtub, but because he knew what was running through your head. if he’s looking at you now, then he must be staring at the marks that have relieved you of some pain sometime in the past. 
you finally open your eyes and turn your head to look at him. san’s eyes were hooded, and he had a look on his face that you’ve never seen on anybody before. it was a mixture of pain, sympathy, anger. 
“haven’t seen them before?” your lips part and the words come out strained. you lift both arms and look at the lines yourself, as if you hadn’t already memorised the maps on your skin. 
san walks over to you, not bothering that you were naked, he leans toward you and grab your hands, while scanning the area.
he was looking for anything sharp you might’ve been thinking of using. 
“don’t worry, i don’t like doing it in front of other people.”
he pulls away once he was done checking, and your words push him into giving you a mild frown. 
“i know,” his voice was low and quiet, the only other sound you were hearing was the sound of the water in the tub. “that’s why i have to make sure you have nothing with you.”
you turn to look at him again, slightly surprised that he hasn’t reacted to you being naked in the tub. you begin to have some respect for him, that he doesn’t care about anything else besides making sure you weren’t trying to take your own life. most guys would be panicking or going off on a rant about you being inappropriate.
if he was able to see nothing but your safety, then he must know how desensitised you were. how immune you were to showing your skin off to someone you barely know. 
san leaves the bathroom, taking the razors from the sink area and bringing it out with him. you suck in a deep breath, the cool air of the bathroom causing your nose to turn slightly sour.
you walk out with a robe over your lingerie, throwing your pants and hoodie into a corner of the room you don’t think much about. san was sat on the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the television and the razors nowhere in sight. you turn to search for the bin in the room, only to find it empty. 
maybe it was the comfort that those razors brought you, that they could end your pain in a flash that made you feel the disappointment. but before disappointment could take over you by whispering into your ear with sweet nothings, san appears right in front of you and blocks your view of the bin.
“you’re not going to find it anywhere, i promise you.”
your stone-cold eyes meet his, something in them begging you to stop and think about life on its own. that there was no reason for you to end it like that. that there was no reason for you to leave, now that you’ve already run away from the source of your pain.
“i don’t even know what i’m looking for anymore.”
san hears the ache and hurt in your voice, and your words come out in strained, tight sounds that felt like little cuts that paper leaves on your hands when you weren’t careful. 
“i should feel relieved that i’m away from her... but i’m not.”
your breathing was heavier now, but your eyes refuse to well up with tears. not after you’ve exhausted them. 
“i just want it to stop for awhile. the pain. even if it’s not real. even if it’s pretend.” 
your brows furrow on your forehead, and your eyes travel to your feet. one year ago, you’d be bawling by now. 
hell, you wouldn’t even have been able to say it to someone, much less a stranger. 
it hit you how much a year could do to a person.
how much it did to you. 
“even if it’s pretend?” san’s hands find yours and he pushes the robe sleeves up, exposing your still-healing marks. you watch as he grazes his fingers over them and nod. 
“i already know what you might be thinking...” san cups your cheeks and pulls your face up to his. “but can i do anything to help you hurt a little less?”  
you didn’t expect him to react like this, but you weren’t surprised. thoughts that someone should never have to think filled your head. you worry not for yourself, but for san, that he was presenting himself as an outlet for you to vent and release your feelings on. 
he was giving you the option of using him. 
“i’m only asking because i know you don’t feel much anymore... so if there’s anything you need me to do for you, please let me try.”
you know he wasn’t directly asking because he didn’t want you to think that all he wanted to do was get in your pants, but all it did was intensify your respect and admiration for him.
“san, i...” you shake your head, already leaning back and trying to take a step away from him. “i can’t... use you.”
he reaches out and holds your hand, eyes begging you to let him help make you a little happier. 
“i know how it feels,” he tugs you towards him, his grip gentle and kind. “i know.”
you gulp as he tilts his head and leans into your nose, his palm cupping your jaw and holding your face in place.
“please let me help you hurt a little less.”
he doesn’t give you time to respond, before you find yourself in the midst of the most careful kiss. san peels himself away and brushes the hair out of your face, looking for any hint of discomfort in your face.
but the physical contact was warm, and even if it was fake and that he was just someone to you, you were grateful that he was willing to be your walking stick. 
he lets you circle your arms around his waist as his lips find yours again, and the kisses gradually get harsher and needier. not for love, not from lust, but from the need to feel physically relevant.
your existence has just been floating about mindlessly, struggling to anchor itself to something or someone that offers even the smallest unit of encouragement, and it failed. 
now that san was letting you touch him and feed off his warmth, you could feel parts of yourself start to seep back into existence. it felt nothing less than blissful to feel real again. 
san starts taking small steps toward you and it cues you to shift backwards, and it wasn’t long before you feel the back of your knees hit the bed. you fall backwards, wet hair spreading all around your head and san climbs on top of you. 
the rough, but eerily gentle kisses continue without any sign of stopping and you feel his fingers on the marks on your arms. it felt strange to have someone touching the evidence of your pain and heartache like this; most people would’ve seen them and condemned you for hating life. 
your arms wrap around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss, and his arms continue to caress your scars. he takes the time to feel every inch of scab and scar, and the sensation drives a chill throughout your body.
the kisses become light as he leans back, and agony washes through you when he presses his face into your arms where you left all your sorrows. he leaves light kisses on your marked skin, his free hand finding the knot of your robe and tugs on it. 
“san--” you call out, throat a little dry from the intimacy and the cool air of the room. he stops and looks up at your through his fringe, lips nearly touching the skin of your stomach. 
“don’t do it if you don’t want to... please.”
the weight in your voice was heavy, and you couldn’t swallow the fact that he was willing to let you use him like this. 
“i’ll do it because i want you to hurt a little less. it won’t do much, which kind of sucks, but if it helps just a little,” he whispers as he reaches under you and undoes your bra. “then at least i tried.”
a mixture of anguish and comfort starts devouring you from inside. he pulls off the robe and your bra and attaches his lips to the tender flesh of your chest, and the intimacy starts yanking your soul back down to earth where it should be happy and carefree. 
his hands find your underwear and start to pull them down. you were battling with the alien thrill of being pulled back into your own physical body, and your mind slowly starts to block out the pain that you’ve called life. 
he gets rid of his shirt and you see marks on his chest that looked like scars from knife cuts. the sight of it destroys your human spirit, but your exhausted ghost looks at it with kind wonder, and it reminds you that everybody has their own pain. 
he kneels at the bottom of the bed, lips tracing your inner thighs to your core. he lifts one of your legs and lays it over his shoulder, his tongue finding your nub and the contact starts to awaken the bits of humane essence that was slowly returning to your body.
your chin tilts towards the ceiling and your fingers dig into the material under you as you feel him start to suck and bite on the sensitive skin. he pushes a finger into you, his tongue never leaving your hot spot. 
the thrill exposes itself in the form of soft whines and groans from your lungs, reminding you that you were every bit real as he was.
he empties you by removing his finger and steps out of his pants. he doesn’t really give you a chance to see him, because it wasn’t the point. 
all you wanted to do was to feel human again. to feel like you existed.
he lays over you, hands returning to where you prayed misery could leave your body and you feel him at your entrance. 
your lips part and an airy gasp gets sucked into your chest when you feel him push himself into you, and you were both familiar and not with the pain that spread in between your legs. 
“tell me if it hurts.”
you nod and he stands up, pulling your calves over his shoulders. the thrusts pick up and you start to feel things you never thought you’d feel again. 
“san--” you choke, your palms pressed flat against the bed next to your hips. “do me a favour--”
he pauses and re-angles himself, looking up at you through his now sweaty fringe. 
“fuck all the pain away.”
he takes a second to process your words, and he pulls himself out completely before ramming back into you. the new angle forces you to feel him in a spot inside you that was deeper from before. 
the sounds that were coming out of your mouth were so new, it was difficult to believe that they were coming from you.
his pace picks up and with every harsh thrust, you feel him in a new spot that wasn’t there before; with every slam into you, it was like he was tearing away all your heartbreak from your physical body.
the whole bed was shifting from the amount of energy he was investing into helping feel a little less shitty, and it was working. 
a knot starts to wrap around your gut in your core, and your legs could feel the sweat on his chest that was slowly becoming difficult to ignore. 
“i’m gonna-- oh, fuck--” san quickly wraps your legs around his waist and drops himself on top of you, his arms holding his weight up and he shoves his lips between yours. 
your entire being goes into spasm and chills run up and down your spine like a highway. nothing but white flashes entire your vision, your body still shifting with the softer thrusts now that he was helping you ride out your high. 
his breathing hitches in his throat and he pulls out just after you finish your climax, and his load drizzles your thighs and stomach.
you let your pants and heavy breathing fill the room, and the smell of sex intoxicates your nose. your eyes were hooded now, watching him finish the last of his high. his chest was raising, skin covered in little beads of sweat, hair stuck to his forehead. 
he looks at you briefly, walking away into the bathroom while you huff and catch your breath. 
you hear the tap of the tub turn on and a metal ‘clinks’ somewhere. 
san returns with with a towel and wipes himself off you, making sure that you were alright just by scanning you. 
neither of you say a word the next few minutes, as you find yourself sitting between his legs in the bathtub, back against him as he scoops water and rains it all over your skin. 
“san?” the call was so soft, the water returning to the rest of it around your chest could’ve easily blocked it out. 
“mm?” 
“thank you.”
he doesn’t stop rinsing your skin, neither does he reply. 
he taps you lightly on the shoulder to tell you he was done, and he steps out of the tub first, water rushing off his legs while he reached for the robe hanging nearby. you wait in awkward silence in the tub as he grabs the second robe and holds it out to you. 
you reach out for it, noticing a soft, almost unnoticeable glimmer in his eyes under his wet strands of hair. his voice sounded like pillows and warmth, and for once in a really, really, long time, you hear something that actually made you want smile. 
“i’m not giving up on you. i hope you know that.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: if you managed to read through it and finish it, thank you. it took me quite awhile to write this because i had to make sure i wasn’t going to relapse myself. i
f you read this with a healthy state of mind, then i hope you never have to go through this. nobody deserves this amount of ache and pain in their lives. 
but if you don’t, and yet you still chose to read this, i hope you’re still breathing. while it may have been triggering, but i hope knowing that someone else knows how you feel comforts you. there is never a moment where you are alone, so even if you do feel like it, i hope you will always find that bit of strength to reach out to someone. 
i’m always here for you to talk to. i might not be great at making you feel better, but always ALWAYS know that you’re not alone. i’m not religious, but i believe that a little bit of faith and strength goes a long way. 
it’s okay to stop and cry, but there’s never a correct time to stay down. i know it’s easier said than done, and i know first-hand how much convincing this will take, but there is someone who loves you. they will miss you if you choose that one option. 
yes, the world will still continue revolving around the sun, and people will gradually return to living their lives, but not without remembering the hole you left inside their hearts. you matter, and i hope you never forget that. 
- love, dana.
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okay, this time an actual TW
i'm serious, it's my past and not recent, but contains mentions of sh and s*icide attempts, although nothing specific
i'm kind of terrified, kind of unstable, but it's not even about food. it's like, hey, i'm working on getting better, trying hard and i have for so many years now. what the fuck is going on?
my whole past seems so surreal. are my parents ... really my parents? they seem just like strangers, on the other hand it still makes me feel strongly to interact with them - just different feelings every time. sometimes i get panic attacks, sometimes i turn into a full on zombie and won't show any expressions or talk, sometimes i get so angry and it is far from any normal kind of rage that i have ever felt, sometimes i feel fragile and very sad, and sometimes, rarely, i even feel hopeful and i am okay with seeing my mother
the group homes, psych wards, moving out when i was 14, it really did something to me. sure, i was one of the lucky ones, getting out in time and ending up in a therapy group home, being offered many opportunities and getting chances. unfortunately though, these places always come with tons of triggers and unstable people, and a group home can never really be family-like, it does not even come close. these different groups, new caregivers, people moving in and out constantly, people freaking out frequently
also, the 3 emergency/short-term group homes i went through before, all while i was still 14, some things have happened there that i still fail to understand. back then, i somehow survived it, clinging to my writing, food restriction and some sort of numb acceptance. but ... it probably cannot end well to keep up to 20 young girls, ages 13-18, in a house like that. no phones, no money, not allowed to go outside - to protect those who were there anonymously. nobody there who wasn't taken from home for a reason, nobody who wasn't in some way traumatized or had mental issues, and if you didn't look out for yourself, nobody did. this place ... it turned many of the older ones into monsters. selfish and aggressive and angry, leaving out their frustration and fear on each other, but also on those who just went numb and quiet. i suffered, writing being my saviour, but most of the time these memories are repressed. when i read my writing from back then now, it makes me shiver. nothing was safe, people even stole used underwear, and you never had space for yourself, we did not even have a garden, and it was not uncommon to have new roommates every day. it was like being imprisoned, but to protect us, i guess. people coming and leaving every day, nothing unusual. yet i would always have chosen to stay, if my other option had been to go back to my parents, yes, if i had been given a choice
afterwards, the therapy based group home i was referred to, mainly because of the suicide attempts (all while i was still 14) and selfharm ... oh, in comparison, a dream. i had sworn to myself i would do anything within my power to never be forced into a psych ward again, i worked on my issues and actually managed to avoid that step - there were relapses with selfharm, especially hitting myself was something that flared up over and over again, i had started it in the emergency group home, being out of opportunities, and i also still had these suicidal thoughts, terrible mood swings, increasingly often panic attacks, depressive episodes, boundary issues and of course my food problems, but despite some very bad moments, i always was able to avoid being taken to the psych ward. breakdowns still come frequently to this day, including everything, but i am able to handle it a lot better, reaching out before it is too late, riding out the waves, keeping everything in a safe way without longterm harm to my body or mind. something else i have learned is to ... not deal with everything at once. sometimes i'm tired and i don't want to take a shower, you know? i still do, although on my bad days i sit in the shower, but that's fine - i still do take the shower. which i know is not possible for everyone, sure, nobody feel offended or bad please, it's just not one of my biggest struggles. i do things bit by bit if possible, to avoid being too overwhelmed. usually, it's pretty good
no idea what my point is in writing this? well, everything that happened in my life, it feels very far away and surreal at this point. i suppose i will never be able to fully let it go - for example how very jumpy i am, it is something everyone around me is aware of, because it cannot be hidden, my reaction comes instantly and is out of my control. will it ever go away? or is the way my father treated me forever going to haunt me like this? who knows ...
i'm better than i used to be, for sure. i can cope with things better, i'm legally an adult and i do not depend on my parents, i live by myself, i managed to still finish school with a 1,1 gpa and have all the opportunities, am right now doing my dream job. hell, it could be a lot worse, right? also, how i was diagnosed and labelled - it's not what i base my worth on and i do not see it as a constant, but to this day it makes me feel strange to think that ... yes, during the general diagnosis they also tested my IQ, which was done in primary school as well due to me being overly bored and hating school, both times resulting in me being declared "gifted". well, i guess i have a good memory, i can read pretty fast and understand things easily, but do we need this label? those who know about it, like every caregiver in the group homes for example because they read all the papers, have always treated me a bit differently. it's like people have higher expectations, which sometimes may sure be justified, but in general it is so offputting. the human brain and "intelligence" are way too complex to be described by a simple number, and me, it is true that i get bored easily and often have to wait for others to understand things, but that's about it. i'm human, please just treat me as that
but there is this problem, how easy it is to let go of people, how hard to let them in. how i turn on people, suddenly feeling no emotions toward them anymore. i do have friends and i am social, but it always feels like i am just pretending? pleasing people, craving closeness, but not actually feeling it and being scared of commitment? i have learned how to behave, how others behave, i know how to act in certain situations, but it does not come from my heart?
i am weird today, sorry to everyone who actually read this far. despite a lot of guilt and a need to procrastinate, i'm going to prepare and eat dinner now. my weight cannot slip further
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elmidol · 4 years
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Corrosive Sentiment :: Unsealed Fate
Three Blind Tooke Part One Resistance is Futile
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Warnings: mind control, selfharm, noncon, dubcon, very end has nsfw
Three Blind Tooke Part One: Resistance is Futile Chapter Nineteen: Corrosive Sentiment :: Unsealed Fate
You made me harm the ones I love, Then asked me why I hated you. Isn’t it obvious that what you did, Was the worst thing ever to do?
You could not help but stare at both of your hands, namely at the two tattoos of your captor’s names. The moment the shuttle had landed on the planet, Kylo Ren had taken control over your every action. You could not remember anything that had occurred. And though both General Hux and Kylo Ren assured you that you were made only to quietly enter the hotel at which you were currently staying, you doubted this. Your mind was wandering over all worst-case scenarios. Whether someone had recognized you and you had been made to be rude to them. Or if you were already forced to badmouth your mother. You frowned deeply, despising the position you were in.
General Hux set a plate of food on a foldout tray that had previously been placed beside your bed. You eyed everything there. It did look tasty, and yet you found that you had no appetite. The redhead continued past you, his own plate of food still in his hand, and took a seat on the edge of his bed. He set his plate down on the mattress, picked up his datapad, and started to scroll through his messages. Your eyes wandered about his messy hair. He looked the part of a civilian in terms of attire, however his posture bespoke of his true upbringing.
Your attention then shifted to Kylo Ren. He was no longer wearing his helmet, and the man was busily nudging at his food with his fork. Inspecting it with a furrowed brow. Perhaps trying to discern whether or not he would like it before taking a bite. He at last stabbed the prongs of his fork into a piece, slipping the bite into his mouth a moment later.
While watching both Hux and Ren slowly eating their food, you reluctantly lifted up the first bite to your mouth and began to nibble. General Hux soon set aside his datapad and focused completely on consuming his food. Your mind was having a difficult time wrapping around the fact that these men were still your enemies. They were acting too…human. Tame. You popped a bite of bread into your mouth, chewing and narrowing your eyes whilst observing Ren. He finished his meal then rose from his seat. You dropped your gaze to your lap.
The Force user lifted up a bag of clothing prior to heading for the refresher. You had previously wondered how he would be disguised. His normal attire drew too much attention. Yet why he had to pick out clothing from Naboo, you were uncertain. You shook your head, inwardly cursing his choice. You did understand that the Naboo attire would match your own outfits quite well; it was the best way to prevent anyone from making a connection between Kylo Ren and the First Order. On that note, you wondered if he was going to assume another name for the time being. Or perhaps he would simply go by a title.
“Bored, tooka?” The man’s voice caused your attention to shift to him. You blinked at General Hux, shrugging your shoulders the next moment. “It was stated at the front desk that a holochess set is available should we wish to play at all.”
“I… I would like that,” you replied. Anything to help keep your mind off of what was really occurring on the planet. The fact that you were helpless to stop it, had no true freewill.
The ginger general nodded prior to pressing a button on the commlink in the room. He spoke briefly with the individual on the other line, informing them of the wish to have the holochess set delivered to the room, and then ended the connection. You sat quietly on the bed, your hands folded in your lap, and waited for the set to be delivered. In the meanwhile, Kylo Ren emerged from the refresher. Your breath caught. Eyes widening, you stared at him in surprise. He could have passed for a native of Naboo. Quickly averting your gaze to avoid memories of home, you looked instead at the redhead.
“Will you also be dressing in this manner?” you asked, gesturing down the length of your body with a hand. General Hux chuckled and informed you that no, he would not. You wound your arms around your midsection and pursed your lips. “I suppose the intention is for them to see you. As far as Ren is considered…that would give too intimidating a presence, his robes and mask.”
As it is, he’s dressed so… Your eyes darted to him then back to the redhead’s face. He is descended from Naboo royalty…and here he is, making a mockery of our politics.
“You will not be made to contradict your mother’s views so early in our visit, tooke.” You released a noise that nearly caught in your throat. A groan of sorts; his words hardly lessened the frustration you were feeling. Kylo Ren walked over to the end of your bed. You stared at him, allowing yourself time to take in his appearance. The men your age wore such clothes. A number of the boys you had grown up with had started to dress in such a manner shortly before you had left Naboo to join the Resistance.
There was a knock on the door, which you suspected was the holochess being delivered. General Hux rose from the other bed, moving over to the door so that he could answer it. Before opening the room, he checked to see who was on the other side. While the redhead did these things, Kylo Ren climbed onto the bed with you. You lifted a hand, placing it on his chest when the man started to press his face towards yours. A frown tugged at his features.
“I don’t understand it…after seeing your Master. I don’t understand how you could possibly have been lured to the Dark side. How can you believe any of this—what you’re to do to me—is justice?”
“Tooke, there are many stages when it comes to paving the way for justice.”
“So, what? The ends justify the means?”
“How many have died fighting for the Resistance? How many have you killed—have your allies killed?” You lowered your hand back to your lap, and Kylo Ren rested his forehead against yours. “The choices may have been limited, but they were there.”
“I am being forced to hurt those I care for. What sort of choices are those?”
There was no answer to your question. General Hux set up the holochess set where you and he could play against one another. Ren, meanwhile, remained seated near you. You felt his gaze on you the majority of the time you played. This you were able to ignore. Playing against the General of the First Order reminded you much of the time you had spent in his personal quarters. The many conversations you had had with him. You wondered briefly how Millicent was doing, yet did not bring yourself to ask the question aloud.
“For a fast learner, you still have yet to master the fine art of holochess,” General Hux quipped when he defeated you. You huffed out a sigh, rolling your eyes the next moment. “Or perhaps you’re distracted?”
“I was…thinking of my father.”
“Your father,” he murmured, and there was something in his tone that drew your attention. You stared at him, however the man said nothing further. His lips were pinched together, yet from that you could discern nothing other than the fact that fathers held something of significance for the man. Judging by the way Kylo Ren had frowned, you assumed it was the same for him.
You trailed a finger along the edge of the table upon which the chess set had been placed. “My father will be disappointed…when you force me to do…those things.”
“Those things,” General Hux repeated, his lips quirking, nearly twitching into a sardonic smile. “Normally you are more eloquent, and yet now you are…hesitant for reasons I cannot fathom. As though we are ignorant to what those things are.”
“Disrespecting my mother as you will have me do,” you hissed out. “Do you plan on having me attack her with more personal—“
“It is all political, tooka,” General Hux stated passively. He reset the board then gestured to it. “Another round?” You answered in the negative, moving away from the table. “Ren?” The Force user took the place you had previously occupied. “Your father did not allow you to be blinded by the veil of peace the New Republic claimed to uphold, did he?”
“No,” you whispered. “Never. I did not understand it completely as a child. I sometimes believed it was only due to my mother’s political affiliations.”
“Mm… Was your father a fighter of the Rebellion then?”
“Not exactly.”
“A contact?”
“That would be…more accurate. Things changed once the revelation of General Organa’s parentage hit us. Even if some have forgiven her for keeping it a secret, they are not any less disenchanted. Not to mention the other incidents. The assassination… There have been many things.”
“You must be relieved that your mother herself is not a senator,” the redhead said, his eyes trained on Kylo Ren, as they had been ever since you had brought up the man’s mother.
“In certain respects she is in just as much danger.” You cocked your head to the side. “You’re targeting her after all.” That sardonic grin at last saw the light of day. “I don’t understand how anyone can be so spiteful.”
“Spite has nothing to do with it,” the ginger general said whilst taking out one of Ren’s pieces. “This is a part of politics. Perhaps you should have taken some lessons from your mother before wandering off to join the Resistance.”
“Disgusting.” He chortled at your words, and you balled your hands into fists. “The two of you get off on being insulted, don’t you?” Kylo Ren turned his head, smirking at you; no doubt he remembered well that time in the woods, the first time he had gotten hard, when he had forced your mouth on him and had nearly raped you. General Hux ran his tongue along his lips, his eyes darting to your lap. His words from earlier filtered into your brain: You submit perfectly fine if it means your cunt is filled. “You claim to not be ruled by sexual desires, and yet look at the both of you.”
“Don’t worry, tooka,” Hux said with a sneer, likely insulted by the implication of your words. “I prefer partners who don’t cry.”
“That’s a low blow,” you growled out.
“I don’t believe in holding back my punches,” he said, tilting his head back and staring down his nose at you. “Are you saying you cannot handle it?”
“Oh, I can handle it just fine,” you hissed, pushing off the bed and marching away from him and towards the refresher. “And, by the way, I am not running away! I have to pee!”
“Very well. It is always pleasant being kept up to date with your bodily functions.”
“And here I thought Ren was the snarky little shit,” you shot back, slamming the door and marching over to the toilet. You ran a hand through your hair as you urinated, swearing under your breath. In certain respects, you quite enjoyed bickering with the general. It felt almost normal, arguing with someone. With them being out of uniform, it furthered the illusion that you were not with the enemy. Not that you ever forgot, not completely.
After you finished using the toilet, you started to wash your hands. You raised your eyes to the mirror, taking in your reflection. How regal you looked, you thought with a sneer. Compared to the clothing you had been given ever since your capture, you appeared equivalent to a queen. Perhaps even an empress.
Your mind returned to the manner in which Kylo Ren was dressed. There was a clenching in your stomach that you could identify solely as homesickness. You placed your hand atop your belly. All the while your eyes were glued to your reflection. You were imagining those of your homeworld, the boys you had grown with, standing at your side. Wearing clothing identical to Ren’s. How sickening it would be, if he were to stand there with them. Acting as though he were a docile creature rather than a monster of the battlefield. Likewise, you were no different. Perhaps not quite as terrible, and yet—you could not help but acknowledge your own cruel actions, no matter how necessary you found them.
Your lips in a thin line of distaste, you exited the refresher. Kylo Ren and General Hux were engaged in their holochess match. Both were more calculating with one another than they were with others. It bespoke of their close working relationship, of their deviousness and skill. And how harmless they nearly appeared, their outward appearances giving them the exact façade they worked so hard at putting on.
“How long will I be kept here?”
“As long as necessary—you needn’t waste your time with foolish questions,” the redhead drawled. He straightened from his former hunched posture and rested his left forearm on his thigh. “What is the real question your mind is currently preoccupied with?”
“How long before you put me in the position where I remember nothing of the remainder of this…visit.” This time it was Kylo Ren who adjusted his posture. The taller of the two men did not turn his gaze to you; those brown orbs were glued to the pieces on the board. “It’s soon, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” You stared at the back of his head. One thing was for certain; Kylo Ren had never held his punches with you either. “Tomorrow morning…after breakfast.”
You shook your head. “It would be better if you did it now.”
“Obstinate tooke.” You ground your teeth together. In truth, this situation, to you, was worse than being chained and muzzled. At least with the other, you had a chance at defying them in some manner. Here? Like this? Your only option was to attempt them harm before your freewill was fully stolen. Kylo Ren waved his hand in an arc. “Climb on the bed with me.”
You crawled onto the bed, sliding your legs forward until you were behind him, at which point you wrapped your arms around him from behind and rested your forehead along his spine. You flinched when your mind was once more your own. A pressure grew in your throat, the urge to scream in frustration and outrage. You unwound your arms from him, straightening yourself to find that General Hux was watching you. His expression was completely unreadable. You pulled at the edges of your sleeves, setting the silk-like material against your face. A sob wracked your body. You despised that tears were welling up in your eyes.
You knew why he had done it; your eye had caught on a number of items within the room that you could use in an attempt to harm them. To kill them.
Should I die, they cannot use me, you thought. Should I die, I will never escape.
You crawled up the length of the bed, set your hands upon the pillows, and splayed open your fingers. Those damned tattoos. You scrunched up your face and glared at the two marked digits. A dead man was no threat to you, and so you ignored the finger that held the name Ben Solo. The one marked Kylo Ren, on the other hand, you lifted and slipped into your mouth. Just as your teeth were descending upon the finger, Kylo Ren whipped around and lunged for you.
His body hit into yours, knocking you forward, and yet you refused to relinquish the digit. You sunk your teeth into it. Flinching, you forced yourself to press on, drawing blood. Kylo Ren seized your wrist, holding so tightly that you screamed, and wrenched your hand out of your mouth. He pinned you down on the bed, your hand up high and out of reach of your teeth. You curled your tongue within your mouth, spitting in his face. The man hardly reacted, his pupils full blown as he stared down at you. You clawed at his wrist with your free hand. Thrashing underneath him, you bucked up your hips in an attempt to throw him off of you. The man continued to straddle you without issue.
In your peripheral, you noticed that General Hux had stood from the other bed. His hand met your ankle, which caused you to tense up further underneath Ren. “Do it, Ren. It’s necessary.” The dark-haired man scowled, an expression that matched your own.
You stared up into the man’s face. That mask of Kylo Ren. How deeply was it that Ben Solo had been buried? Six feet under, perhaps, or more. Nearly unreachable. “It’s a terrible lie, what you marked on me. I’m not yours, other than being your prisoner.”
“You fight such pointless battles, tooke.” He lowered his face closer to yours; Kylo Ren had yet to wipe away the spit, and your eyes were glued to that spot. “You made your choice. So many choices, tooke, and they led you here. Do you truly believe you could survive away from me?”
“What?” you croaked weakly. “What the fuck…what are you even asking? I’m meant to kill you. That’s my mission. It will always be my mission. Prevent the First Order from achieving their goals…you’re standing in my way. And maybe I do pity you, Ren. And perhaps at this moment in time, you are in a position above me. But I am not yours, and I will find the strength to fulfill my mission no matter what. At the expense of my own life—you’re right; that was my choice. That still is my choice.
“The things you will force me to do: I despise you for it all. What anger had ebbed away, it’s coming back. I hate you so deeply. I pity you so thoroughly. A part of me will miss you once you are brought down. But I can accept that. I can accept that far more than I could ever fathom watching the First Order seize control. You did break me, Ren. You broke me…but I am mending. And when this is all done, I’ll make you sorry that you did not allow me to die—when your saber pierced me, and when my system could not handle the overdose. If I die a third time, that will be your only reprieve.”
“Such bold words, tooke.” With the hand that was not holding tight on your wrist, Kylo Ren cupped your jaw, holding you in place, though you thrashed against him, as he covered your mouth with his. His lips still against yours, he spoke: “You live for me. In this way, I will always own you.”
“Enough games, Ren,” the redhead spat. Kylo Ren exhaled deeply, shifted his hand, and spoke softly to you.
Your mother spoke your name with a hint of ire. You paused midstep, refusing to look over your shoulder at her. Refusing to turn around to face her. “You could do so much more good if only you listened. Become an intern… War is not the answer. The Resistance…perhaps they claim to have good intentions, however… This is a time of peace. The recent events have already shaken the foundation of the Galactic Senate. Don’t worsen things.”
“Mother, I…” Many thoughts flashed through your head in that moment. You had already changed your name, had the paperwork to prove it. She did not know this. Was unaware that you had been in contact with the Resistance, that you had been accepted. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt you. That isn’t what this is about. There is so little… Nearly nothing I can do to help…becoming an intern…what help can I provide? That is not a position wherein I can uphold the peace. I won’t do anything to hurt you, mother.”
“Then your mind is already set.”
“I’m…not sorry. I do feel bad if you’re upset, but… I’m not sorry that I’m doing this.”
“Come here.” This time you did turn around, and found yourself being pulled into a tight embrace. You lifted your arms, encircling her as well and squeezing your eyes closed. “This isn’t the life I want for you. The war was fought, the Empire taken down…so that you, your generation, wouldn’t have to do this. There are other ways.”
“Sometimes there aren’t.”
You were breathing heavily, a weight upon you. A shifting weight, you noted. Something moving against you, inside of you. As the fog slowly lifted from your mind, you stared up into the face of the man who was watching you. Kylo Ren did not stop thrusting in and out of you, nor did he alter his pace, yet he did whisper your name as though he was acknowledging that you were present in all senses. You balled your hands up into fists against the sheets. Turning your head, you allowed him to fuck you without protest. How many times had he done this, you wondered; had his way with you while you had no control over yourself. Perhaps he transformed you into an active participant. He readjusted his angle at last, brushing against your clit with every minor shift of his body. In little time, you were panting again. Arching your back as the tears gathered in your eyes, as they spilled down the sides of your face and onto the pillow below.
“I’m some body to you.” You lifted your head, looking down between your bodies. “No longer somebody.” He grunted above you, the noise escaping him due to his actions rather than your words. “Where is the general?”
“We’re on the ship, tooke.” You sniffled, shook your head, and managed a hoarse No. “You served your purpose well.” A more strained NO! and your hands were on his chest, your nails raking dow—there were rubber tips on them, which connected to a binding on your wrists. You ran your tongue along your teeth. Caps. How you had missed these facts, you were uncertain. Above you, Kylo Ren sighed again. “You will be taught how to behave in my absence.” He then swore, his cum filling you.
“You made me tear her down… How she must have looked on me with such hate. I will never behave, creature.”
“Back to that again.” Kylo Ren pulled out of you and dropped his hand between your legs. He used both your juices and his semen, smearing them against your clit and rubbing you. Your body responded to his touch, the treacherous thing it was. “You should give up hope. The map to Skywalker…we’ve located it. And once it is obtained, your Resistance will have nothing left to hope for.” You despised him all the more for making you cum to such words.
“You can’t destroy hope no matter how much you try!” you screamed, jerking your legs closed and rolling onto your side away from him. There was a collar on your neck, a chain attaching you to the bed. “You treat me like an animal. A beast. You sick fuck. How many times are you going to ruin me?” His hand met the small of your back, his lips on the back of your shoulder. “I don’t want to miss you this time.” His hand slid up the length of your body, down your arm, and rested atop your hand. “Just a fix for you… I want you to break, Kylo Ren. I don’t want to fix you.”
“I care nothing for your wishes.”
“A disgusting lie. I wish it were true. Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me?” You met his eye. “It’s corrosive, this thing that’s between us.”
“You’ll break first, tooke.”
“I’ll do my damnedest to not.” His mouth twitched at the sides, his lips curling upwards in a smile that caused you to tremble. “You won’t get to Skywalker. I believe Fate won’t allow that. The galaxy has had enough of tyrannical ways. You will lose, Ren.”
“We’ll see, tooke.”
Bound against the bed, you watched as Kylo Ren slipped into a shroud of darkness. His clothing swallowing him up. When he put on his mask, you turned your eyes up to the ceiling. You wondered how thoroughly he had destroyed your mother through you. And now the map to Skywalker… The galaxy won’t allow it. Force, please. You hesitated at that thought then pressed forward with it. Force, don’t let him. There has to be something greater planned. Let someone—anyone—stop him.
[Though you did not see her often—perhaps because you did not see her often—you cherished the moments you would lie on the ground with your mother and stare at the sky. Such a vast thing, the sky. “It was all worth it,” your mother said. “Because you’re free to choose your own fate now.”]
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specialagentlokitty · 5 years
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Gibbs x daughter!reader - Not a reminder
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Could I request a Ncis x reader: the reader is gibbs daughter and Kellys twin and since kelly and Shannon died shes depressed. She started cutting herself and sees herself as nothing but a reminder of her dead sister (If you're not comfortable writing about selfharm feel free to leave that out💕) She tries to hide it but Gibbs finds out and is heartbroken because he couldn't bear to lose another daughter. Please make it fluffy and comforting? Im sorry i request so much Gibbs daughter stuff😅💞💞 -anon 💕
The bandage around your arm stung a bit as it rubbed against the crest wounds but it was the safest way to keep them clean and hidden. Tonight you could take it off though.
Sitting on the autopsy table, you swung your legs as you leaned back on your hands. Ducky didnt have thing to do so you came to listen to his stories, they always made you feel a bit happier.
“(Y/N)? Are you sure your alright? You seem a bit sad.”
“Hm? Yeah Duck man I’m good.” You beamed.
He smiled and nodded, continuing his story about why England had kings and queens. It wasn’t easy to fake a smile, not at all but it was getting tiring, you couldn’t keep t up for much longer . Soon enough Gibbs came down, standing and listening for a bit as well until ducky spotted him.
“Ah Jethro, going home?”
“Yeah, it’s late and (Y/N) still needs to eat.”
Walking over you hugged Ducky, kissing his cheek before walking out. Waiting for Gibbs you absentmindedly swinging a bit the music coming through the earphone you had in. A few moments later he came out and you both stepped into the elevator.
“Hey dad, can we just go home I’m not really hungry.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“A few hours ago.” You lied.
He peered down at you but nodded, of course he knew you were lying but he couldn’t force you to eat if you didn’t want to. The ride home was silent, your music flowed quietly through the car, not you were really listening to it. Gibbs opened the door for you, letting you step in first.
“Thanks.”
You begun to walk to your room, you grabbed some stuff and headed for the shower. Turning it on letting the steam fill the room, music playing just over the water, you stepped in giving the bloody bandage a look. Taking it off, the red cuts glared at you. Sighing, you took the blade and started to add more.
“This is what I deserve... it should have been me not her... I was supposed to be with mom that day... I hurt dad because I’m just a reminder of them both...” you mumbled.
Satisfied with the bleeding cuts, you placed the blade down. Rinsing the wounds, hissing in pain when the water it them. You got washed, stepping out, wrapping your arm back up and drying. Getting into a large hoodie and some shorts you walked out. Forgetting to take something with you.
“Hey dad.” You greeted as he walked into the bathroom.
You heard the door close, heading into your room you closed your door, flicking the lamp in you got comfy in bed. Turning it off, you closed your eyes, wounded arm tucked safly under your head the other resting on your elbow.
“(N/N)?” Your dad knocked.
“Yeah dad?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
The door opened and the big light was turned on but you didn’t bother to move from your spot, eyes still closed. You felt your dad sit near your head.
“What’s this?”
“What’s what?”
“Open your eyes.”
Groaning you did so, focusing on his hand where he held something small and metal. Your heart started pumping, of course you’d forget the blade.
“I don’t know.”
“(Y/N).” He warned.
Ignoring him, you turned over so he was facing your back, pulling the duvet further up.
“Are you hurting yourself?” He asked softly.
You shrugged, there was no point hiding it now but that didn’t mean you had to admit it either.
“(N/N) please..” he whispered.
“Yes...” your voice cracked.
“Sweetheart..”
He gently grabbed your arms, pulling you around into his chest where he held onto you tightly. His forehead pressed into the top of your head you felt a few tears drop there. It made you want to cry even more but you couldn’t.
“Why?” He asked.
“It’s just.. I.. I look at myself and I don’t.. I don’t see me dad.. I see kelly and I see mom and I see how far I’ve come... if shoudlnt be me or should be kelly here I was supposed to be with mom that day... I see them and if I see it you must see it as well and you try so hard to get past them and I’m nothing but a reminder and I know it hurts you every day to have a constant reminder of what happened...”
“No. No you aren’t a reminder, yes when I see you I see kelly and your mom, but it doesn’t hurt me. When I see you I see a strong, beautiful, kind, smart woman who came so far. I see my whole world, I don’t want to loose you as well. I couldn’t bare to to loose you, you are your own person and I love you for you.
Arms wrapping around his torso you held him tightly, face buried in his chest. His hand held the back of your head as he pressed repeated kisses to it.
“Will you stay with me?”
“Of course I will.”
Letting you get comfy, he got under the covers and held you to his chest. His head pressed into yours.
“We are going to see Ducky tomorrow okay? He can clean and make sure your cuts are okay, then us three will be talking about how to help you.”
“Okay.. dad?”
“Yeah (N/N)?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too sweetheart now go to sleep I’m here.”
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mrslittletall · 4 years
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Prompt: Trapped in a burning Building Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Vicar Amelia, Ludwig the Holy Blade Word Count: 2.712 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718291/chapters/52315414
Summary: It was a completely normal day for Amelia until she heard the scream and saw the flames... something was clearly wrong in the Healing Church.
(Author's note: This is pretty much my headcanon about Laurence' turning and death from the POV of Amelia. Enjoy!
I am not going to sugarcoat this, inspiration for this prompts has been rather low, so I will only write works for it when inspiration strikes. However, the prompts “Ambush” or “Selfharm” would earn me a bingo, so if you have ideas for them, feel free to shoot at them me.) Written for @badthingshappenbingo​
Lately Laurence didn't had much time for her and because she was still too young to act as a full time blood saint, Amelia spend quite a large portion of her free time at the orphanage, playing with the younger children.
This day, she had brought an easy to understand board game and once she had explained the rules, the children had caught on it quickly and greatly enjoyed the game. After the first few rounds they were ready to play on their own, so that Amelia could make room for another child and decided to watch them play, only chiming in when they asked her questions or she saw someone breaking the rules, though, it mostly were just honest mistakes.
It felt like the most average and normal day a fourteen year old girl could have and she leaned against the wall, getting drowsy as she watched the children play.
In the back of her mind, she worried about Laurence. He had been off the last few weeks. He barely had let anyone near him, not even Ludwig, and whenever she saw him he looked sick. Ludwig told her that he coughed a lot and though he tried to hide it, he apparently was barely able to keep any food down and vomited almost everything out he ate.
That Laurence, the Vicar of the Healing Church, the discoverer of the Holy Blood, was sick, was concerning her. She knew perfectly how well the Healing Blood worked, she had seen it at work countless times, the first time at herself, when Laurence had helped her getting rid of a condition named anemia. Apparently Laurence had suffered from the same condition as a child and he had often told her how glad he was that she didn't have to grow up with this condition, like he did.
When Amelia thought back to her teachings, there was only one sickness that the Holy Blood couldn't cure and that was the Beastly Scourge. She gasped at the thought. Could it be...? No, he was the Vicar of the Healing Church. He surely wouldn't be able to get such a lowly sickness mostly observed at the lower classes.
She snapped out of her thoughts as she heard the children around the board games get into a little fight. As she wanted to ask what was going on, she heard a scream that made her blood curdle.
The children heard it too.
“What was that?”
“Are we having the hunt..?”
“Sister Amelia, I am scared..”
“We shouldn't have a hunt... it's too early...”, Amelia murmured, pressing the girl that had expressed her fear, Evangeline, against her.
She didn't want to panic the little ones, but... this scream had been so close. Too close. It sounded like it had come from within, not from outside. Did that mean... had someone in the church turned? Her thoughts raced to Laurence.
She stood up and said: “Children, stay here. Don't go out. I will find a member of the choir to watch over you.”
“Sister Amelia, are you going to leave us?”, Evangeline asked, looking at her with big eyes.
“I will promise you that I come back.”, she smiled and straightened her long hair, snatched up her skirt and rushed out of the room.
Her first stop was the break room of the choir. Luckily, she found a few members gathered there. They were locked in a heated discussion and stopped once they saw Amelia enter.
“What are you doing here, St. Amelia?”, one of them asked, from the voice it was Yuria, their leader. “I thought you wanted to spend your time in the orphanage?”
“Something happened in the church.”, Amelia said. “And I need to check up on Vicar Laurence. He... he has looked terrible lately. I need to see if he is alright. I wanted to ask one of you to watch over the little ones.”
The three choir members looked to each other and then at her. “...It could be better if you stayed here.”, a male voice said, June, she thought.
“What, why?”, Amelia demanded to know. “I don't know if you are aware, but Vicar Laurence adopted me and therefore is my legitimate father. I need to know if he is alright.”
“Amelia, we only mean well...”, Yuria took up the word. “This morning Vicar Laurence was acting really strange. At the morning prayer he suddenly threw up and everyone who was close enough to witness it said that he had vomited up blood. After this, he had barricaded himself in his office and was sending everyone away, even Florence and Ludwig.” She sighed deeply before finishing: “He is suspected to have the beastly scourge and hidden it from everyone, which is against the rules he himself had laid down. And... judging from the sound we heard not too long ago....” She shook her head.
Amelia's hands were in front of her mouth, gasping. She couldn't believe what she heard. She didn't want to believe what she had heard.
They did imply that Laurence had turned and had been put down. The last fact however was made untrue by the fact that she heard the blood curdling scream again.
She turned around and ran, feeling how one of the choir members grabbed for her but she shook their hand off and ran, into the main building.
“Not Laurence, please don't let it be Laurence.”, she thought. As she scurried through the door that led to the main cathedral, she was hit by a wave of thick smoke and had to stop, a cough rose from her throat and she fell onto her knees, being sure that must have been the feeling when you coughed out your lungs.
That was also when she realized how hot it was. Far too hot. She grabbed for her headscarf and used it to cover her mouth and nose.
This room was on fire.
Amelia pulled herself together and stood up, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt the blazing heat of the flames. After she forced her eyes back open, what she saw was much worse than she could imagine.
The room was absolutely trashed and flames fed on the remaining furniture and ornaments. She could see several church hunters down there, some of them didn't move anymore... and one half of the rest seemed to be busy to try and heal up the injured ones with blood vials and the other half was running around like headless chicken trying to get rid of the flames.
Amelia didn't think twice and jumped over the gallery, sliding down a still intact beam and once she was near the Hunters, she shouted: “Take my blood, I am a blood saint.”
“St. Amelia, thank the blood that you are here to help out, but... it is dangerous here!”, one of the Hunters said as Amelia prepared a needle to let her special blood get drawn.
“You can tell me what happened while you draw my blood.”, she said. “I am your next Vicar after all. I should know what happened here and I also should help out my subjects!”
It annoyed Amelia when she was treated like a child. Sure, she was still young, but she did had to live most of her life on her own, growing up in an orphanage, and even when Laurence had adopted her and she greatly enjoyed spending time with him and later, Ludwig too, it couldn't be called happy family life. She knew she had been chosen to be a successor to his work.
Amelia winced as she put the needle into her hand and let her blood collect by a large blood vial.
“I am sorry to tell you this, but...”, the Hunter said, “It's Vicar Laurence. He... has been infected. And when we went to confront him about it, he... turned. In the largest beast I have ever seen. That was also on flames... Ludwig is... taking care of him right now.”
Amelia put her hand in front of her mouth in shock. “No, not Laurence...”, she said. “You... you are sure it is him? It can't be someone else?”
“I haven't seen him turn but several others have and there is no reason why they should lie. They are lucky they are still alive.”, the Hunter grew quiet as he pulled the needle from Amelia and went on to use her blood to tend to the wounded.
Amelia's wound closed on her own, the benefit of being a Blood Saint, little wounds healed practically on their own. But the words of the Hunter were still deep in her mind. Laurence turned... and Ludwig was the the one facing him. She... she had to get to them.
She wouldn't believe that it was Laurence until she saw it with her own eyes.
And so Amelia got up and ran. Out of the main hall and into the deeper parts of the church. It was so hot and there was so much smoke. She had to cover her mouth and nose again as she ran away from the chaotic screaming in the main cathedral and into the part of the church that burned even heavier.
If Laurence... the beast... was on flames, she probably would find it by following the flames.
Amelia barely knew how much time had passed since she had started to hurry through the corridors, but she started to hear the sounds of a fight. Screeching, something shattered, the swing of a sword. She probably was close.
As she arrived, she froze as she saw the largest beast she had ever witnessed, big antlers, long snout, a row of razor sharp teeth and a gigantic left hand with claws that looked as large as her own forearm. And she gasped, again, when she saw something glistening in the flames that the beast engulfed.
The gold pendant that only the Vicar was allowed to wear.
Before Amelia could process what she saw in front of her, she saw Ludwig facing the beast, his sword of the holy moon light in both hands, murmuring: “Forgive me, Laurence.” and the next thing she saw was blood (lava?) splattering, another ear piercing scream that made both of her hands flew up to her ears and then an earth shattering thud as the beast, Laurence, fell.
At the same time, behind her crashed a beam and she stumbled into the room, having to realize that the escape route was blocked.
“Ludwig!”, she cried, running over to the Holy Blade. “Ludwig, we have to get out of here.” She was pulling on his arm but the Hunter didn't make a move or seemed to even notice her.
He was hugging the lifeless head of the beast and thick tears streamed down his face.
The whole room was burning, the carpet got engulfed into flames, the curtains were burning to ashes and there was smoke, everywhere. Amelia started to cough as it reached her lungs and she noticed the same was true for Ludwig, who occasionally coughed too between his hiccups of crying.
Amelia looked around. There must have been another way. Surely there was another way out of there. She.. she knew that Laurence wouldn't have wanted for Ludwig to die here. He hadn't been himself. He had turned into something different. She knew that Lauence had been lost the moment he had transformed into a hideous beast.
It may have been the lack of oxygen but Amelia suddenly broke out in hysteric laughter when she realized that Laurence had become the very thing that he had loathed and fight for too long and she couldn't miss the irony of this.
No, she had to pull herself together. She and Ludwig were trapped in a room that was starting to burn down the ground. Amelia tried to find a way, another way out of the room , but...
...every other route she could have taken was littered with flames. She tried to find a path between them but had to step back once hot sparks hit her. The Holy Blood in herself made the minor burns heal after a short while, but it still hurt.
From her observations the only way they had a chance to get back was the one where she had come from, but there was a beam blocking the way and she surely wasn't strong enough to move it.
Ludwig would be. His Holy Moonlight Sword could cut anything. But...
She glanced at him. He was still hugging the beast's... Laurence'... head and she saw how his arms and face had turned red with burns.
But... she had to at least try. She ran over to him and cried, as good as she could because of the smoke: “Ludwig, snap out of it! This place is burning down. We have to get out of here! It's... it's over. He's GONE!”
The impact of her own words hit her hard. He was gone. Laurence was gone. He was dead and would never embrace her or talk to her or teach her anything again.
She fell on her knees as tears started to glistening in her eyes and then quickly streamed down her face. Laurence was dead, Ludwig was broken and she had run right into the danger she had been warned about and nobody of them would make it out alive. And even if, the church would be done for. When the masses would know about the tale that the Vicar had turned...
It felt hopeless, all felt so hopeless. Amelia crept closer to Ludwig and leaned against him, not minding the hotness anymore. If it had to end like this, at least she didn't want to be alone.
Just as she closed her eyes and accepted her fate, she heard frantic voices and the splashing of water as long as the sound of something large and heavy getting lifted out of the way.
“There they are!”, the voice cried out and Amelia could feel how someone scooped her up. As she opened her eyes, she recognized the same church hunter that had taken her blood earlier to heal the injured. “St. Amelia, are you alright? We will get you out of here and to the infirmary right away.”
“What about Ludwig?”, she said, suppressing a coughing fit.
As she turned around to look at him she saw that several hunters tried to get the large man to move.
“We are trying our best...”, the Hunter said and gently turned her around, making clear that he didn't want her to see this scene.
A few hours later Amelia had been treated with a blood ministration. Because of her nature as a blood saint it worked especially well with her and besides a few singed streaks of hair that would grow quick enough again, she was fine. What the blood couldn't heal however was the emotional turmoil she felt.
She sat at Ludwig's bed side. The big Hunter managed to get himself numerous bad burns, but not from fighting the flaming beast that Laurence had become but because he had refused to let go of him and it had taken five hunters to drag him from hugging the corpse and to the infirmary.
He was at his third blood ministration and still hadn't healed up. Or woken up. And Amelia waited.
She waited for a long time. She didn't knew for how long, but eventually Ludwig opened his eyes. As he noticed her he stared at her blankly.
“It wasn't a dream?”, he asked.
Amelia nodded as new tears glistened in her eyes.
“So I really killed him...”, Ludwig stated.
Amelia nodded again as she choked out: “You had no other choice...”
Ludwig pulled himself up and she could see the tears in his own eyes. “I know...”, he said. “My mind knows that I did the right thing but my heart...”
He pulled her in an embrace. “It just hurts so much.”
Amelia led her tears flow freely as she felt Ludwig's own drip on her head.
They made it out alive, but both of them had lost something truly valuable. (Author's note: I have a few headcanon about Blood Saints and these are mainly, that they took so well to the old blood that they pretty much adopted its healing features. I like to think that Amelia was also a Blood Saint and for someone who has blood that is similar to the Old Blood, it would be able to heal minor injuries without trouble. We even see her heal herself in her boss fight, so that headcanon isn't too farfetched.)
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Text
Owen Shaw - How To Save A Life
Pair: Owen Shaw (Luke Evans X Reader)
Requested: @negans-womam
Summary: Reader deals with depression, though she tries her hardest Owen sees right through her.
Owen Shaw - How To Save A Life
Warning: Slight Cussing. Depression. Attempt at selfharm/suicide.
Another day, another heist, another job well done. Though we were successful today, not everyone seems to happy about it. I notice for a while now, we come back from a job (y/n) takes off on her own.
Normally she would be the one that cracks open a bottle and starts pouring shots. But lately, she just takes off on her own soon as we get back. At first I thought she went to rest since it was for a couple hours. But now, I'm not seeing her for a few hours or till the next day.
Hell, even when I'm texting her she's not replying back. I know she says she's not getting my messages but I can clearing see she's reading them. Something else has to be going on with her...
Couple Of Weeks Later
As the days go by, I'm seeing more of change from (y/n). The others say nothing is going on and I'm just seeing things. But I know something is wrong with her. She isn't coming in early like she use to or staying like to make sure everything is done.
I even notice her personality seems off. Yeah, she smiles, but her smile fades soon as she turns away. Her laughter, it's low and doesn't last long. She's forcing it too much. She's forcing herself to...happy.
Late At Night
"Goodnight everyone"
Before anyone can respond (y/n) was already out there door. The others shrugged their shoulders and started passing the beer around. That's it, it's time my own reckon.
I went out the door and down the hall to the elevator. I looked up the numbers and that's when I notice it. "Why is she going to the roof? She scared of heights. Unless..." The ring she always worn, the one she never took off. The one she gave to me before she left. "Oh fuck."
I took off running down the hallway to the other end where the staircase was. I threw the door open and quickly ran up the stairs. Soon as I got to the last step, I ram the door down and started yelling for (y/n) as I looked around the roof.
"Y/N!" There she was, standing on the ledge with her arms out. "Y/N!" I ran towards her as she started leading forward. "Y/N!" I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her back causing us to fall on over. "Y/N. Look at me" I rolled us over, so I laid on top of her as I took a hold of her face. "Look at me. What the bloody hell were you thinking?"
"I can't do this anymore."
She close her eyes and begin to cry as she held my hands tight. I never seen her like this before. Out of all of us, she was the strongest. She could take a hit, she could take a bullet and still keep going. But now, now, she was...broken
"Come here." I took her with me as I sat up. I moved her around and cradle her in my arms as she laid her head against my chest. "Why do you think you can't do this anymore love? Tell me, what's making you feel this way?"
"Because everyone wants me to do everything and be everywhere. I'm consulting doing things and on the go. I'm getting pulled left to right. Up and day. I feel like a fucking rope being tug around. I'm getting stretch out. All I want to do is cry. I'm so overwhelmed with everyone's bullshit."
"Y/N)"...
What can I say, she was right. I knew she was having problems at home with her family. She had plans with them and stuff she needed to get done. But yet, I would ask her to always come in and stay late to help me out.
Rather it was us or her family, we always had her running around like a chicken with her head cut off. We expected her to do whatever we wanted her to do. Not once asking her what she wanted.
"I'm sorry" I looked down at her as she looked up at me. "We did this to you. I, did this to you." I started wiping the tears from her face. "I relay on you for so much because I know I could count on you to get the job done and do it right. But that wasn't right of me to do."
"What..what do you mean?"
"There's several other people in our group. But yet I soloing relay on you for everything instead of making the others do it or at least help you out. I was taking advantage of your good nature. For that, I'm sorry (y/n). I'm sorry I put all the responsibility on you. I'm sorry for not saying thank you for what you do for me. Most importantly I'm sorry I push you to this point."
"Thank you Owen." She wrapped her arms around my neck, squeezing me tightly. "Thank you."
"Your welcome" I gave her small squeeze as I laid my head on hers. "Won't we take off for for a few days." We both pulled back and looked at each other. "Just me and you. We'll go wherever you want and do whatever you want. I'll wait on you hand and foot. What do you think love?"
"I would like that" She finally smiled, that her smile of hers.
"Now." I picked her up as stood up and heading to the stairs. "For now on, when you feel overwhelmed, pulled me aside and slap me across the face and let me know." I smile down at her. "Deal?"
"Deal." She nodded her head as we head down the stairs. "Can I have my ring back?"
"Hell no, I've been eyeing that ring for years."
The End
Note: Hope this came out good for you hun. Surprisingly it helped me out a lot to. Help me get a few things out. So, thank you for lighting that fire under my ass to get me to write again.
@idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @collette04 @mwesterfeld1985 @yippeekiyayyeahfavabeans @bunnylouisegrimes @msilwrites @msmelkate @dyingformyships @witch20 @warriorqueen1991 @star017 @angelfuzzy2 @a-goddessofmischief @badinfluencegoodvibes @itsletalestrange @jackythemoossconcept @kew24 @mwesterfeld1985 @theangelsfightwithdevils @twebb07 @mychemicalimagines
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lovenotesuggestions · 5 years
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**time sensitive** i genuinely thought things were gonna be fine after i sent my last ask, but im in so, so much emotional and mental pain. it's triggered a severe depressive episode, my urges to selfharm and drink, and the build up to a really bad panic attack, which are now stopping me form doing the last of my homework and exam prep. the situation is im dating a love and have for a couple of months but also have a really strong crush on a mutual friend of ours 1/4 -🦊
they're both monogamous, but the friend reciprocates my feelings and would like to make a poly relationship work whereas my boyfriend doesn't think he'd be okay with me being in a polyamorous relationship. now, ive been here before and know from experience forcing myself to stay monogamous hurts, so i took a lot of time to think about what to do. the friend ended up basically accepting we won't be able to have anything and "stepped down", if that makes sense 2/4 -🦊
it still hurts, and i can already feel my feelings for both of them are changing because of this whole thing. my anger and hurt is seeping into my love and changing it, basically, and i hate it and it terrifies and pains me. but i don't know how to talk about this with them when everything has already settled. especially when the only thing to stop the hurt is for all three of us to agree on a compromise/agreement of some sort 3/4 -🦊
i know what i want and what i need to stop my pain, but i dont know if i can get it rightfully without causing even more pain to me or either or both of them. help? 4/4 -🦊   
update: ive talked with my boyfriend. it went... okay. not well, but not bad either. ive told him in how much pain i am and why, and he told me he's afraid & doesn't think he's ready for a poly relationship. told him to think abt his priorities & that i wont force him into anything but that i WILL have to break up with him if he cant be in a poly relationship (which ive also told him is 100% okay and that i dont blame him). dunno what to do with myself while he thinks tho -🦊
I’m so sorry you’re going through this. 
First thing’s first is to take care of yourself. If you need to apply for extenuating circumstances for your schoolwork because of your mental health, then do that. Reach out to the support systems you need to keep yourself stable if you find you’re having urges to self-harm - your therapist, school nurse, college counsellor, GP,  or even going to the emergency room if you’re in a really bad way. 
Just because the initial circumstances that brought up these feelings have been resolved doesn’t mean the issue is settled. If this is something that’s been an issue before, then this almost certainly won’t be the last time. It’s okay to have different needs to your partner, and sometimes, there just isn’t a compromise that can be reached. If you’re poly and need to fulfil that part of your attractions, and he’s not comfortable not being in a monogamous relationship, then that’s okay. It sucks, but it doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong by him, and it doesn’t make you a bad partner to him. It’s okay to be hurt and angry and upset by this situation, because it’s always frustrating and awful to be stuck in a situation where there isn’t a good solution, but it’s not your fault and it’s certainly not you that’s causing pain to the people involved - it’s the unfortunate circumstances. 
I think talking to your boyfriend was the right decision, because it wouldn’t be fair to either of you to stay in a relationship that wasn’t able to fulfil your needs - you would be unhappy because you were forcing yourself to be monogamous when you’re not, and he would be unhappy because he’d be aware that you’re unhappy. It’s not forcing or blackmailing him or giving him an ultimatum or anything to realise that you have these particular needs, and to be aware that if they conflict with his needs, then the relationship isn’t going to work out long term. I know it sucks and it’s awful, but in the long run it’s the mature thing to do, and the best choice for both of you. 
Please try not to beat yourself up or blame yourself whilst you’re waiting on him to make a decision - remember it’s not you hurting anyone here, any more than it would be your fault if you for instance realised you were gay whilst dating a different gender partner. Try to keep yourself busy and occupied with something positive for the time being so you don’t spend too much of your time dwelling on it - there’s no use in worrying too much over something that’s outside of your control. Take extra care of yourself, and I hope however things turn out, your pain eases soon and that everything works out for the best in the long run 💖
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undertaleowl · 5 years
Note
How about some headcanons for the Us and Sf brothers,with a depressed/selfharming s/o.If you're uncomfortable writing things like this,you don't need to,your blog is awesome^^
Aww, thank you so much honey, I’m glad you like my blog! Seriously, that means a lot, thank you!!! It’s not a problem at all :)
Warning: Sensitive subjects ahead! This will be tagged as #trigger warning depression and #trigger warning self-harm. Please do not read if you think this will affect your overall mental state. Also, if you happen to be suffering from depression or self-harming, please confide in someone or something you trust, whether that be a friend, sibling, or even a personal journal if you are uncomfortable going to a person. Remember, you aren’t alone!
Also, for anyone who needs someone to talk to when they feel like they have no one else, my inbox is always open. You don’t even have to greet me. Just get it all out. I’ll get off my soapbox now. Enjoy! 
US Sans
~How can he say anything without breaking when he first finds out? He can’t, so he doesn’t. Don’t take his silence for anger; he’s just worried that he’ll break down in front of his s/o and he needs to be strong for them at the moment.
~Wraps up wounds with precision and care. He also puts a layer of blue magic around the outside of the bandage, so that way his s/o can’t hurt themselves more by agitating the bandage or the wound under the bandage.  
~He wants an explanation. Not about why they self-harm, he can figure that out quickly enough, but more of an explanation as to why it is happening. Is it because of an anxiety disorder, and there is nowhere else for the panic to go to? Depression? Okay, he can work with depression.
~Boy does his research. He looks up best doctors, best counselors, best self-care and therapy methods, everything.
~He will try to push the methods on his s/o, but it’s because he’s so worried. Insanely so. He’s already had to go through this twice, once with himself, and once with his brother. He refuses to do nothing this time.
~Leaves packs of Skittles around for his s/o to find. Skittles’ bright colors and delicious flavors are a good distraction.
US Papyrus
~Millions of light kisses to whatever scars and cuts he can see. He stays with them, saying nothing but words of sweet encouragement and tranquility. He is doing everything he can to just create a safe space for his s/o.
~After his s/o is healed all the way and calm, he doesn’t interrogate them verbally. He writes down his questions or asks his s/o to draw pictures of how they were feeling when they picked up the blade. Not only does this help him understand, but it also helps his s/o draw or write away their stress.
~Unlike his brother, he won’t force his s/o to do anything they don’t want to do. It can be terrifying to go to a stranger about your problems, and there’s never any guarantee that an anti-depressant will work on the first try, and some self-help methods work for them while others don’t. It’s a long process no matter what you do.  
~However, his s/o should count on all of the blades in the house being thrown out. All of them. No scissors, no knives, nothing. Looks like they’re tearing everything from now on with their hands. US Papyrus knows it won’t solve everything, but  it’s a step.
~In almost every room, there’s a number for the local suicide hotline. Not necessarily to make them call, though that’s an upside. It’s more just a reminder that there are people who care.
SF Sans
~His first instinct is to yell at his s/o. In his world, yelling out of fear to keep enemies away by scaring them is the first response.
~But this...this is a different type of fear. One that makes people sick to their stomachs rather than run or fight for their lives.
~He does the only thing he thinks may work-- he sings a lullaby that SF Papyrus used to sing him when he was scared. It keeps him from freaking out, and it may actually work to calm his s/o while he examines and heals their wounds.
~He has Undyne put in cameras in their house to make sure that he can monitor his s/o when he’s not home. If it looks like they’re struggling, he calls and tells them that he misses them. Privacy invasion? Maybe, but it’s effective.
~Every time that his s/o feels like hurting themselves, he goes up to them and lays on top of them for a cuddling session. He will not move until he is satisfied that they are not going to hurt themselves.
SF Papyrus
~He just sighs sadly when he finds out. Not because he’s disappointed in his s/o or anything, just because he knows exactly what they’re going through. He’d give anything for them to not feel like this.
~He cares for them methodically. It’s obvious that he’s skilled in treating self-harm wounds. Like US Sans, he puts blue magic around his s/o’s bandages so that they’re less tempted to mess with them.
~He forms a group message called the “S/O Protection Squad”. It consists of himself, his bro, Undyne, and Alphys. They might be a little crazy themselves, but they wouldn’t let anything happen to the s/o.
~His favorite self-care method is painting. The tickle of the paintbrush and the beautiful colors replace the familiar sting of the blade, while still giving him a sense of control in his life. He teaches his s/o, and sometimes they even paint on each other.
~Like his bro, he also puts up cameras in the house to monitor his s/o. If they look like they’re getting bad, he’ll teleport home and try to guide them back into a stable state of mind.
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bangtanficrecs · 6 years
Text
Lost & Found Batch #16
Here’s the newest batch! As always, if you happen to know the fic the ask is looking for, reply to this post or send us an ask with the request number and title/author. If you happen to know any fics from Past Batches, those are more than welcome as well. Thank you!! ~ Admin P
1) Hi! I read a fic awhile back and I lost it :( . I know for sure it wasn't completeled, and it was taekook, with an ABO thing basically what happened was taehyung was forced to live with jeongguks pack bc other packs are after him bc he apparently can have kids as an Omega and namjoon and Jim and jeongguks parents and the head of the pack and taehyung and jeongguks start to fall in love but taehyung gets injured at some point so they stay in a safe house away from everyone???
2) There was this fic where every member was a shifter werewolf but jimin was human and he was paired with yoongi. And i remember him being friends with tae, also there was namjin as a side pairing, jimin moving to a village or something, they were going camping... this is all i can remember i hope you can help me find it 🙏🏻
light side of the moon by themelonlord
3) hello! i’m looking for a ff on ao3. i’m pretty sure namjoon is a producer, in once scene hes recording a song for an indie artist and he and another member have a convo, they had just gotten in a fight im prT sure. the artist that’s recording then says “you two should date” as theyre walking out or something like that, and namjoon says be quiet. the artist that was recording has an american name for SURE. i’m prT sure its namjoon and yoongi? ik its vague, sorry :( i appreciate your hard work!
4) there was a taekook fic where one of them was an anroid/ cyborg kind of thing and they kept him in a huge room. he was a really smart boy until he died and then he got turned into a cyborg? he had a traumatic past and died after remembering it(?) then they re- made him outside the room. that was vague but i read it a reeaally long time ago (◞ ‸ ◟ㆀ) pls find it for me! thanks in advance!
5) I can’t remember the name of this one doc I read a year ago. I think it was jikook? Anyway, it was a soulmate au where any physical pain you felt your soulmate would feel too. Jungkook selfharms with a lighter, and Jimin feels his pain.
6) Hello, I’ve been searching for this fic for a while, it’s namjin, and I think it’s a one shot. Namjoon is really clumsy and having like a bad day and meets barista Jin and clumsily flirts and Jin gives him his number on a coffee cup in the end? I’ve tried a lot of googling I just can’t find it!!!!
7) Hey sorry to bother you but I've been searching on my own forever now and can't seem to find it. It's a taegi fic where yoongi is a wolf and tae a photographer. Yoongi warns tae to leave or there will be consequences but he doesn't. Yoongi ends up having to save tae and they run away but the alpha bit tae so he also becomes a wolf and yoongi has to teach him how to control it and in the midst of it goes into heat. If you know what fic this is it make me very happy!
8) Hi!! I love all your recs, and I was wondering if you'd be able to find this fic for me? It was a yoonkook fic where yoongi buys lingerie for kook I think and also yoongi really likes canned coffee?? Also at one point they go to stay at a cabin. As far as I can remember it's not an automated so they're still in bts?? Sorry its not much to go off but thankyou !!
good as gold by cyphertonic
9) hello!!! i was wondering if you know the name of a yoonseok fic? yoongi is being like a brat when they’re about to have sex and hoseok gets tired of it so he moves away and he makes yoongi edge himself until he falls asleep. hoseok also starts dirty talking to him and degrading him and yoongi starts crying bc hoseok says something along the lines like he’d “rather fuck someone else”. i’m not sure if this was enough detail, but thanks in advance! (-:
On The Edge With You by superrunnaturall
10) Hi, do you know the namjin fic where Jin has an eating disorder. Namjoon comes back from being away, notices Jin has gotten skinnier and finds out about Jin’s ED when he discovers a bag of wrappers in his closet? I think it was a one-shot. Thank you!
11) Hello! I've been looking for months for this one fic. It's where jungkook has these vivid dreams about a car crash. Same nightmare but it recurs. And then they basically act out the accident, but jungkook freaks out and saves them. I think it was jin/jungkook but it could also be ot7. Please help me find it!
I don't know the name, but I know more info about the fic in Lost and found Batch #16 (the 11th ask). Jungkook keeps having nightmares about the car getting hit by a truck and going over the side, into the water. He always wakes up right before "dying" because his seatbelt was stuck and Yoongi couldn't get it to open. One day they're in the car and Jungkook starts having a panic attack because of the premonition so they pull over. Then the group finds out that the accident happened further up
12) Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find a tic I read on ao3 a while ago! It’s was a yoongi/hoseok fic. I remember it was really long and a slow burn fic with lots of kissing. I remember they shared an apartment that they had just bought and the author had a this whole thing where they said “the point is their apartment is shit” and old it kept saying things like that. I also remember yoongi’s Dog was in it. Sorry I’m not very good at describing things
kiss me hard before you go by 777335
13) Hello, I can't find that fanfic where jimin sent a video to jungkook where jimin and taehyung was doing the do, and in the end of the fic jimin was saying "I won". Please help
I Can't Even by handintheshot
14) I’m looking for this fic where Yoongi is a radio host or smth and if I remember correctly so is Namjoon. There’s so relationship drama between the main ship (I forgot which one it was ;;-;;) and I’m pretty sure Jimin plays a significant role?? Sorry this is super vague T-T
The Dokkaebi Podcast by amanofpenrose
15) Hi, I really need help to find a fanfic of mainly about jikook couple that I’ve read a long time ago. I think it is completed either in the year of 2016 or 2017, I can’t remember exactly. So, basically, the setting in the space, in which Jimin helped Jungkook. Fast forward, Jungkook is allowed to stay and then become the youngest squad to explore the space etc. The story is told in present and past as jungkook and Namjoon are captured by rebels for five years. Side ship includes yoonjin
16) I've been trying to find a jin/yoongi fix that I read a while ago. I believe it was two chapters but not very long. Yoongi walks by jins shop each day but realizes he never noticed it before. I believe he smelled the baked goods and went in. Jins cat loved him. In the end basically jin tells yoongi that he is a witch and that he cast a spell to find love and yoongi is who walked through the door. Thanks in advance for the help! 😊😊😊
17) hi ! I was just wondering if you could help me find a fic? it's jin x jeongguk where jin is jeongguk's new neighbour and i'm pretty sure it follows jeongguk growing up and forming a crush on jin, or it might stay where theyr'e at the same ages; and all else i rmember that is noteable is that the first time they kiss or even get a little handsy it's in one of their cars and jeongguk c*ms in his pants bc he's just a teenager / inexperienced. thank you !
18) Hi! Could you help me find that fic where jimin is the top student in their Uni but he's more envied by the people bcs he's unmated yet he's always scented by Taehyung. But then JK comes in and chim falls for him? I remember a part of the fic where chim was about to be assaulted by a rogue wolf (alpha?) but then JK comes to sort of rescue chim. Thanks :)
19) I'm really desperate. I'm looking for a Taekook au where Taehyung is an art major and is assigned the theme of love. His childhood wasn't very warm as his parents are rich but didn't really take care of him. He meets Jungkook at a café, love at first sight, and gets an idea to fall in love with him to pass his class. Jungkook approaches him later bc he needs money and Taehyung uses him as a model. Jungkook is a reluctant business major that wanted to go into photography.
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janiehellion · 6 years
Text
Opposites Attracts
Part 6
Summary: A young woman. Victim of the new infected world. Her history. Her past. Her encounters. And the fate that is reserved for her in the epidemic.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Warnings: Language, Memories, Angst, Selfharm, Violence
A/N: possible grammatical errors | let me know if you want to be tagged
You went side by side. She wasn't a woman of many words. A quality that you still appreciated. You couldn't bear to talk to her. You tried to tell yourself not to kill her, though your mind gave you a thousand ways to do it. Her own Katana swung to the rhythm of her footsteps. Dark dreadlocks on her shoulders, a bandana in her hair. Athletic. Pretty. But a personality hiding a dark side. She seemed offended, as if she wasn't satisfied with the task assigned to her. She felt compelled to keep an eye on you, but you could understand it. She had no idea who you were, what you could do... The mission was pretty easy to get medical supplies, but in this world there was nothing easy and obvious anymore. When you were close enough to the pharmacy of a ruined small town, she pulled out the katana. After you killed a Walker you entered a house and heard noises above you. Yoy also took out your katana. As you went up the stairs, two Walkers were pointed at you. You stuck to the idea Michonne had suggested to you. You cut off their jaws with the blade and Michonne robbed them of their upper limbs. You were a little hesitant. You didn't know if with these two simple Walkers the little herd wouldn't recognize you, but she was sure it would work. That wasn't the first time... So you went back to the street. Slowly, carefully, to avoid any suspicious movement, you both passed through the crowd of living dead. It was a tricky situation, but at the same time you were almost amused. You never thought of using a Walker as a pet. You kept him on a leash, like a dog. Being with them means being like them. That's why the Walkers didn't notice your presence. You continued at a slow pace until you saw the building on the street corner. From the outside, it seemed to be in good condition. In front of the entrance was a large chain, enriched by the respective padlock. Someone had already gone that way... However, you had hoped to find something that was helpful, but there was the possibility that another group had already taken everything.
"Did you find something?", Michonne asked a short time later.
"No, just a few pills, but we could still look around in the storage room."
"Yes, maybe something is still there."
Her annoyed tone made you think that she had a feeling for it, but you were not sure if that was just it. Maybe she was careful because she didn't know you long enough. But the door to the storage room was locked from the inside. When you tried to crack the lock, the door snapped back and suddenly opened.
"Go back!", a man shouted. But the first thing you saw was the barrel of a .44 Magnum aimed at your forehead. You got up and went back to see another man coming forward, pointing his sawed-off shotgun at your companion. She remained silent, one hand behind her head, holding the hilt of the sword.
"We don't want problems, this is our refuge, so get out and nobody gets hurt...", the stranger ordered. The first person was characterized by a slim figure and a work suit. The other man, imposing, wore a large red plaid shirt. Behind them you noticed ammunition, bottles and canned food. They had supplies and feared that someone might steal their food. Their threatening attitude was tense. Neither you nor Michonne took them seriously. Their attitude betrayed incompetence in close combat, you could have killed them immediately, because none of them would fight and you could steal their supplies. But you could have negotiated. The problem was that you had little available and there was also the possibility that they would refuse. First of all, the situation had to be clarified. It hurt to admit it, but the complicity of Michonne would have been useful. You looked each other in the eye. To disarm the man, you would have had to be very quick. The movements to be performed are very simple, but to get a result, you have to be precise. You would have to hit the enemy's wrist with stiff palms. The left hand must slide against his wrist, so that the weapon is aimed at the bastard's body. At that moment, the opponent's grip would be weaker for a fraction of a second and you can rob him of his own weapon. Michonne would have to act as soon as you had his wrist and aimed her sharp blade at the other's neck. A wrong action and everything would take a new turn. The asshole could have shot you. A quick, clean punch, and the revolver was in your hands. Too easy... You were relieved to see the immovable man being threatened by the katana.
"We do not want problems, but we need a few things... Medicine...", you said firmly. They remained silent. Maybe they felt humiliated. In short, beaten by two women. Then you continued the conversation: "I suggest I make an offer, and if you give us some antibiotics and painkillers, we'll escort you out of this town in return, and we'll teach you how to go unnoticed among the Walkers."
You could feel Michonne's eyes peeking, but you didn't lose eye contact with the two men. One of them shrugged slightly, as if to explain that he had surrendered, while the other seemed to have doubts. "And if we don't accept it?"
"Quite simply, we go without the meds and you stay here waiting for the Walkers out there, of course you can not go out and kill them because there are too many... You don't have enough ammo and the shots would only attract more."
"Okay, Deal, our life for some meds seems more than reasonable, just painkillers and antibiotics right?"
You lowered the gun, took the ammunition, and returned it. Michonne did the same, lowered her katana, and took the other man's rifle.
"Now that I think about it, there's something else...", you replied with a grimace. A big question mark appeared on Michonne's face. Who knows what she would have told Rick? The man looked at you seriously and feared that you had betrayed them.
"Your plaid shirt, I like it."
The gates opened and you trotted inside. The different members of the group were busy. Everyone has something to do. They seemed to be preparing for an attack.
"Hey, have you been shopping?", Glenn laughed, pointing to the shirt you were now wearing over your top.
"Is a gift, just like the medication."
Glenn looked surprised: "A present?"
"Let's call it the spontaneous granting of two strangers.", you replied with a smile. He shook his head laughing and threw a knife to you. "Come, let's get rid of a few Walkers and reinforce the fence."
The undead crashed one after the other. Once the accumulation of these creatures was reduced, you proceeded to improvements to the fence. You lifted one of these heavy tree trunks and put it between the ground and the fence, because it had to serve as a support. Hershel watched you from a distance and took care of the vegetables. When you mechanically continued this task, you did not speak and you noticed that he often turned around to look for Maggie to meet her eyes. Glenn was a good guy with a big heart. He would do anything to protect his people. Nevertheless, everyone looked worried. No one wanted to fight, no one wanted to go to war against the Governor. They only organized the defense, hoping it was just a waste of time. The fact is that they are ready. They would lose their lives, but they would fight. By number and armament, the victory was surely in the hands of Woodbury, but this group wouldn't be easy to fight. They were different...
"Glenn, who are we defending ourselves from?"
He looked at you and ran a hand through his hair. "I thought Rick had talked to you about it?"
You remained silent and shook your head before he spoke again: "Maybe I'm not the best person to explain the problem, but there's a city not far from here, it's name is Woodbury. The boss is called the Governor. He's in charge of everything. And one day, when I wanted to go back with Maggie, Daryl's brother forced us to go where they captured us."
You knew exactly who he was talking about...
"His name is Merle and he's been part of us in the past. He beated me, tied me together and locked me up with a Walker, asking where we took refuge, and the Governor raped Maggie-... "
Shit. This can't be true...
"...-Or maybe not, I have no idea, she assured me that he did not touch her, but you know, if you see your big love like this, without a top, in front of you, next to that asshole... Fortunately, Michonne had witnessed our capture and heard our speeches, so she heard about the prison and ran here and warned the others, they organized a rescue mission, they released us, but they captured Daryl. However, we came back to fetch them, we killed some of them but were forced to do so. The Governor attacked us last week, he came here by calling surprised us and destroyed one side of the fence, there were Walkers everywhere."
You should have pretended to be shocked and disbelieving, but there was no reason to pretend this. Because you really were. Philip had not told you about it. Did he lie to you? Your heart screamed and told you to believe the Governor's words, but your rationality knew it was not the way to go. You were in a fucked up situation... Both sides had their reasons and their mistakes, but the trust in the man who had taken you in then wavered. Would you have contributed to the extermination of this group? Your thoughts clashed, you were struck by a thousand questions and paranoia. You were angry. He could not have lied to you so shamelessly...
"I don't know what to say... It's a very complicated matter, I'm sorry, what happened..."
He put his hand on your shoulder as if you were the one he needed to comfort.
"The world has become like this... This war is all about folly, revenge and the desire for superiority. Nobody wants to give up, but show themselves invincible."
He was right, the Governor was an asshole. But he hadn't always been. Reality had changed him, and the death of his family was the end for him... You still thought you could do something. He usually listened to you, but it would have been difficult to remove him from the uncontrollable desire to eradicate Rick and his friends. Because he knew him, he wanted to make them suffer for a long time before giving them the right to take their own lives. You weren't even sure if Rick would give up the idea of ​​leaving the hate speech unsolved. He too had been attacked.
"Have you lost many people?", you asked, hoping for a negative answer.
"Yes and no, some of the men we met in prison died, they were prisoners, but some of them were good people."
"Okay...", you replied, squatted down and wanted to continue the work. Glenn followed you without batting an eyelid. It was a sensitive topic for both of you. For a moment it seemed to you that he had opened his mouth, wanted to ask you or to say something, but he lowered his head again. After three more established tree trunks, he seemed to have changed his mind.
"Sorry if I ask you, but now that you know our story... I'd like to know yours."
You nodded that it was fair and started talking: "Before all this, I lived with my family in a quiet town, typically with terraced houses, fences and immaculate gardens. I lived there with my parents and my younger sister, my father was a sergeant and I wanted to follow in his footsteps as a young girl. He taught me a lot of fighting techniques, then the epidemic came and my mother was bitten, just as more news about violence and panic was on TV, my mother turned around and bit our dad..."
Glenn stared at you and regretted having made such a request.
"I managed to lock her in a room and ran away with my sister. We've been able to protect us pretty well for about a month... Now I'm here."
You wanted to skip the passing events. It was not necessary to go into detail. After all, it would make no sense to talk to him about the death of your little sister. It was completely intuitive... You looked at each other with the same melancholy feeling. The empathy of those times had shot up. You were all in the same boat, on the same damn boat, exposed to the storm and tidal waves. A voice interrupted your reflection on the past and involuntarily led us to turn around to understand where it came from. You saw Daryl and Carol shouting and getting angry. She tried to call him back, but the archer didn't look at her and continued his way. Glenn and you were finished by then and you were released from your job with a smile. You entered the cell block and wanted to spend a few minutes in your bed to rest, so you sat down on this uncomfortable mattress with your head in your hands. You stared at the floor, still thinking about Glenn's words. Then you noticed that a shadow came near you. Beth stood in the doorway with little Judith in her arms. The baby slept blissfully, regardless of the reality in which she was born.
"May I come in?", she asked and you gestured for her to sit down. She looked so fragile, so innocent. It was almost a disturbing element in this group. A naive angel. Her eyes full of hope, the desire to live. Although she was bored, she was happy. "Hard day?", she asked kindly.
"A little bit, and you?"
Beth shrugged: "I'm just with Judith, I'm probably not very helpful out there..."
"You're helpful, Rick trusts you blindly.", you answered with a smile, but she didn't seem to agree.
"Do you think so? They just gave me the role of the babysitter because they think I'm useless..."
"No Beth, that's not true, I see an leader who has decided to put the care of his newborn daughter in the hands of the most suitable person, and that's you. You are very important to these people."
She smiled at you and looked down: "I hope it's true."
When you saw her clear skin and those skinny arms protecting the baby, you noticed a wound on her wrist. A straight, long and bright scar. Your face had a lost expression when she noticed it. She quickly covered herself with the sleeve of her denim jacket and blushed with embarrassment. Beth wanted to leave, but you stopped her. You loosened your wrist from the long-sleeved plaid shirt the stranger had given you and showed it to her. A deep and long scar. A painful memory.
"Don't feel alone Beth... I once gave up too..."
ALL OTHER PARTS
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shanceshklance · 6 years
Text
Valentines.
(A little late i know, but i just wanted to experience the day yesterday and have my feelings i felt that day inspire this little ficlet. Little warning that it is super sad and depressing so if that triggers you please do not read. It has implications of Selfharm as well so please be careful reading and if that triggers you please skip to my notes at the end) _-_-_-_-_-_-_ Nothing ever felt right when Valentines day came around for Lance. His body ached and he was tired, wanting to do nothing but sleep. This time around he felt up to the task of asking out his newfound crush, Keith. He felt happy, excited even, not his usual depressed mood.  He was excited to see Keith in the morning, getting giddy and feeling butterflies, smiling nonstop. After breakfast he went up to Keith, asking him to talk. He pulled him off to the side and felt his feelings scratch at the back of his throat like the bile that normally was there on this holiday.  “Keith, I’ve liked you for a while now and seeing as it’s Valentines day I really was wondering if maybe you liked me back and we could go out, maybe, possibly?” Lance rambled out, blush on his cheek and heart on fire with his emotions.  Keith looked taken back for a moment, surprised by his words. He was obviously conflicted about something and it showed within his eyes as he tried to forge words to reply. He opened his mouth then closed it tight again, rethinking his words yet again.  “I don’t know what you want me to say Lance, i was not expecting this..” he mumbled out, finally blurting out something.  Those words did hurt Lance a little bit but he brushed it off, knowing that it was probably because he seemed like he hated Keith.  “Well maybe you want to think on it? I can wait for an answer,” Lance spoke, trying to not get himself down with the doubts that began to flood his mind, the dam of confidence cracking under his worry.  “Okay, please give me a little bit to think,” Keith spoke, nodding and starting away, obviously confused and conflicted about something.  Lance couldn’t say that he wasn’t already heartbroken, he was so excited and thought that maybe Keith liked him back. There were so much flirting back and forth on a daily basis, but had Lance read them wrong? Self doubt and worries filled his mind as he waited for Keith to come back to him with an answer. As time passed Lane’s mood visually got worse, he hunched over when sitting, a frown ghosting his lips that could barely make a fake smile, and just his mood was not as good as it was in the morning.  Finally Keith met up with him yet again, eyes looking a bit sad. That made Lance bite the inside of his cheek, pain stabbing his heart as he knew what was going to happen yet again. Rejection was a close friend of Lance’s, whenever he would ask anyone out, it was always rejection.  “Lance I really want to like you back but i just don’t, maybe i haven’t given it enough time or haven’t really thought about you that way and i apologize, i hope this doesn’t change anything between us,” Keith blurted out in a hurry.  Lance could feel his heart break as Keith spoke, but he knew he couldn’t show it. He laughed and smiled sheepishly. hoping Keith wouldn’t notice that it was fake.  “It’s no problem! Sorry for worrying you so much, nothing will change, i just wanted to tell you how I feel!” Lance blurted out, lying through his teeth, hoping that it wasn’t obvious.  Keith nodded and began to walk off and Lance could just feel the familiar feeling of heartbreak creep up his spine and spread through out his body. He forced himself to walk to his room before closing and locking the door. Right after he collapsed, hugging his knees close as tears began to pour from his eyes.  It was always this way on Valentines, a heartbreak and depression keeping him company throughout the day and weeks until he patched his heart up with lies and fake smiles. No one saw through his lies or the forced smiles. Everything went back to “normal”. They didn’t see how Lance was breaking each time they looked away and how to once fading scars began to be new again.  They didn’t see him falling deeper into his self deprecating thoughts and old habits. No one wanted to see it more like, only wanting to acknowledge the happy go lucky blue boy.  He knew he couldn’t leave them despite the urge to just do it and end it all, knowing that they would fall apart without a lighthearted jab or his jokes even if they were all forced recently. He just wanted to feel normal again, trying to get better on his own. Try to kiss and patch up the wounded parts of himself and heal his broken heart with broken love and unreal smiles.Trying to become himself again after losing a part of his heart to the heartbreak that swallowed him whole and left him in pieces. _-_-_-_-_-_-_ I know many of you were alone yesterday, thinking you are unloved and alone in your lives. But you’re not. Imagine your family, the friends, and even me. Despite us probably never having talked i love each and every one of you, if you are ever struggling with your problems and need someone to talk to, feel free to hit up my inbox or pm me. I will do my best to help you out as i know the feelings you are going through.  I am still trying to push myself through my own depression but i want to help you guys as well. Because i love all of you and if you ever need a friend i am here for you. If you need a shoulder to lean on and cry, I′ll be there for you, if you need a joke and sweet words, I’m here for you. Don’t be afraid to message me and doubt i’ll reply, i will, i know what its like being ignored and i would never do that to any of you. So if you are feeling depressed especially after Valentines Day yesterday please hit me up and i’ll be glad to make you smile and help you through it all.  Trust me when i say ending it all is not the answer, neither is hurting yourself. It may “help” you but it is not the right answer. We’re all made for something so much more than a relationship. You do not need romantic love to feel loved. Please stay strong, if you ever need someone i’ll be here for you guys. Do not hesitate to message me in a time of need. I want to make every one of you notice how loved you are, even if it takes time to heal, knowing you’re loved and learning to love yourself is a start to something so much more. I love you all, stay strong. <3 
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sapphicscholar · 6 years
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your fics are helping me get through the shittiest breakup right now, so thank you. I know you probably have a million prompts but would you be interested in writing a story where maggie is having a really dark day and feeling really depressed/worthless within herself (either because of internalised homophobia, past trauma etc) and alex takes care of her? maybe even some soft tearful smut later?
Hey, I hope you’re doing alright! I’m sorry it’s taken me a little while to get to this prompt (I didn’t want to do a shitty job when my focus was so divided with work and applications). Sending all the best thoughts your way! It’s now posted to AO3.
Author notes:
CW on homophobia, abusive families, anxiety/depression, etc.
A/N: Now that we’re in the thick of the holiday season, I’ve gotten a few asks for chosen family and hurt/comfort. I know it can be really hard dealing with family (or making the perfectly legitimate choice not to but seeing posts on social media that make it seem like everyone else has a loving, supportive biological family). No matter what choice you make (and I know sometimes there really isn’t a choice, depending on the situation), I’m sending you all the best thoughts. I hope you’re able to make time for yourself, even if it just means finding a quiet room to be alone for a little bit, maybe some wifi to catch up on gay af fanfic or cute puppy gifs, which I’ll try to post in spades over the break when I have time to be on my phone or computer. There are links to resources here as well.
A/N 2: Regarding a few lines in this fic: Obviously not all religion is inherently homophobic, nor do I think anyone smart and scientific (e.g. Alex) must necessarily be an atheist. But I think for so many of us who were raised Catholic (fun foreshadowing here for the nerd notes at the end today), religion was something that shaped our upbringing in an often profound way and was then thrown back in our faces when we came out. Are there Catholics who don’t follow the Church on its teachings about LGBTQ issues? Of course. But, for instance, the fact that my family happened to be supportive of LGBTQ rights in a general way didn’t mean that I wasn’t terrified of coming out to them; it didn’t exempt me from years of internalized shame after hearing priests and religion teachers teaching that homosexuality was an intrinsic disorder of the soul; and it certainly didn’t save me from the humiliation of having to write that gay sexuality was a sin on a test to get an A, of knowing that I put the jobs of my family members who worked for the Church at risk just by being out, of being forced back into the closet to serve as a teacher at a Catholic high school. And even with all of that, I had it easy (and I certainly had it much easier than my fiancée), which I say not to guilt anyone who is still religious, but to explain the perspective from which I’m writing in advance.
Resources:National Domestic Abuse Hotline (online and phone options): http://www.thehotline.org/
US and International Hotlines for a variety of causes: https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/167199297270/dont-ever-hesitate-reblog-this-tumblr-rule
Self-Harm Resources:http://myresourcemasterlist.tumblr.com/selfharmhttp://self-care-club.tumblr.com/post/139740925552/giant-self-help-masterposthttp://chooserecovery.tumblr.com/post/64162912692/ultimate-self-injury-recovery-masterpost
Suicide-specific resources:https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/https://themighty.com/suicide-prevention-resources/(For ones that link outside of the US):https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/164643935260/selfharm-surviver-holybadbitch98https://sapphicscholarwrites.tumblr.com/post/164329606770/uie-fuwaprince-us-helplines-depression
Chapter Text:
“Are you and Maggie doing anything for Christmas?” Kara asked, popping another handful of popcorn into her mouth as she nudged Alex, who had started to nod off during the last episode of The Walking Dead.
“Hmm?”
“Christmas—what are you doing?”
“Oh,” Alex sighed, pulling herself up and rubbing at her eyes. “I don’t know. I mean…I know Maggie used to celebrate it with her family, but obviously that hasn’t been the case in years.”
“Right, right.”
“And it’s not like she goes to church at all these days.”
“I mean…you’re not exactly religious, but we still do Hanukkah with Eliza.”
Alex shook her head. “It’s different, I think. I was never religious; it was always more about…I don’t know, being with family and having something in common. I thought mom might be disappointed in me for being gay, but I never thought her reasoning would be that God said it was bad or anything like that.”
“Right,” Kara conceded. “But it might still be nice to celebrate together—you know, build new traditions.”
“I kinda fucked up with that whole thing on Valentine’s Day,” Alex sighed. Sure, they’d talked eventually and found a way to celebrate, to reclaim memories that had hurt Maggie for so many years. But Alex didn’t want to try to surprise Maggie this time and risk dredging up buried trauma once more. “I don’t know. I’ll talk to her.”
Closing her eyes, Maggie blinked back hot tears that threatened to fall. She focused on her breathing: Breathe in—1, 2, 3, 4, 5—hold—1, 2, 3—exhale—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. She fumbled to take off her watch, finding her pulse and focusing on its too fast beat, waiting for it to slow in time with her deep breathing. She ignored the clock, ignored the reminders of how soon Alex would be home, how weak she would look sitting at the kitchen counter and crying over a piece of paper—a stupid Hallmark greeting card with some trite bullshit scrawled across it in fake cursive.
Of course, the card itself hadn’t set her off. It was the hand-written note inside. The sight of the same handwriting that had adorned the rare note in her lunchbox in kindergarten was what had left her eyes stinging, not the vague platitudes about having a very merry Christmas and an even happier New Year. As she read, she was overcome with surges of anger and sorrow and a guilt that she had never quite been able to shake, no matter how much “pride” she claimed.
She tried to seize on the anger—the rage and frustration that she’d used as motivation to succeed: to do well enough in school to get herself out of that small Nebraska town; to do well enough in college to keep her scholarship; to do well enough in the academy to guarantee her a job, even as a non-straight, non-white woman. And there was plenty of it. Anger at her father’s suggestion that her family had always been there for her, as though they hadn’t left her alone at her aunt’s house with barely enough clothing for the week. Rage at this idea that she had been the one to wrong the family simply by living her life honestly and authentically, that she had ruined something otherwise perfect by being herself. Frustration at the phrase, “your friend,” as though her father hadn’t stormed out of their bridal shower precisely because Alex was so much more than just a friend, as though he hadn’t forced her out of her home and family as a mere child because her feelings for Eliza exceeded the bounds of friendship.
But then there was the photo of all of the cousins and nieces and nephews she’d never met. There were sentences about just how much older everyone had gotten, the sickness and bad times they’d been through without her there, the deaths she’d never known about, let alone mourned. Because she’d already done that—mourning the loss of a family that still existed—but not for her. Not with her.
It still got to her, still struck her with a guilt that felt like it could wrench her open, could undo everything she’d worked for, could tear down every inch of progress and confidence and sense of self she’d fought to build for herself.
Maybe he was right. Maybe they were all right. Maybe she was selfish—selfish for putting herself and her desires above her family, the people who had raised her, who had sacrificed their lives to try to make hers better.
And there was another voice—much quieter, harder to hear, harder to believe—that seemed to call back, to tell her that she was worth it, that her life wasn’t worth sacrificing on the altar of bigoted beliefs, no matter who else worshiped there. She thought the voice sounded an awful lot like Alex’s, and its echoes, the voices of her new family: M’gann and J’onn and James and Kara and Eliza and Winn and everyone else who had come together to prove to her that she had people in her corner even when she felt most alone and least worthy of love.
But they were just that: voices. And in the face of the letter, its words right there, her fingers able to trace over them, feel the indents where her father had pressed down just a little harder, those marks and proof of a family that existed in reality—a family she could barely even think of as family anymore—those voices advocating for her faded to the background, drowned out in a chorus of self-loathing so overpowering she could barely manage to stagger toward the bed, her deep breathing long forgotten.
Alex found her there nearly an hour later. Her body was rigid, trembling every so often but otherwise catatonic. She looked as pale as Alex had ever seen her, and there were tear tracks streaked across her cheeks, her eyes puffy and rubbed raw from the harsh swipe of her shirt sleeves. Her fingers were clenched into fists, and her short nails were leaving deep moon-shaped imprints in her palms.
“Maggie!” Alex called out, rushing forward. She’d seen her like this once before—just once—and it had terrified her as much then as it did now. Remembering her DEO training, she forced herself to stay calm, to detach herself from the situation and let her medical instincts take over.
“Hey, Maggie, it’s me, Alex,” she said, her voice low and even as she knelt down on the ground next to her, pulling out the bottle of water she carried with her in her bag and putting it beside Maggie on the bedside table. “You okay if I sit here?”
Maggie managed to get herself to nod.
“Great. And if that changes, I can move, okay? I’m going to stay with you, but I can be a little farther away, or I can get closer if you want.” She paused to let Maggie process. “Do you think you can breathe with me?”
“It’s not helping,” Maggie forced out, her teeth chattering shut.
“Maybe if we do it together, it’ll help a little, okay?” Alex murmured. “Can I put a blanket on you?” Seeing the nod of assent, Alex pulled out the fluffiest blanket they had—the one with no tags, no rough patches or odd seams, the one that Maggie had wrapped around her after everything with her dad and Cadmus—and carefully draped it over Maggie, taking care not to tuck it under her, lest she feel trapped. Feeling how cold Maggie was to the touch, she slipped over to the edge of the room and turned up the thermostat before making her way back over to the bed.
She knelt next to Maggie, helping her to slow her breathing, holding her hand once she told her it was okay to touch, checking her pulse and smiling broadly as it came down to close to normal levels, telling Maggie just how proud she was when she was able to unclench her muscles and relax slightly into the mattress. Once the worst of it seemed to be over, she got Maggie to drink water and stretch out her stiff muscles.
“What do you say to a hot bath together? It’ll warm you up, and we can light the nice candles.”
“Even the cookie one?”
“Definitely the cookie one,” Alex agreed, smiling at the signs of Maggie returning. A few moments later, she came back into the bedroom, having lit the candles and begun filling the bath. “You good to walk?”
“Yeah,” Maggie nodded, standing up and rolling her neck to work out the cricks that had developed in it. She still let Alex take her by the hand and walk her to the bathroom, cracked a joke or two when Alex asked to help take off her clothes, grinned when Alex pulled out the extra fluffy towels they had picked up a few weekends ago and set them on the radiator to warm while they were in the bath.
For a while they relaxed in silence, Maggie sitting between Alex’s legs, her head resting on Alex’s shoulders while Alex ran her fingers through Maggie’s hair.
“My dad wrote,” Maggie said, her voice quiet.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you think I’m a bad person?”
“What? No, Maggie, never. You’re—god, you’re one of the best people I know.”
“That’s not true. You know Supergirl.”
“Yeah, well Supergirl never gives me the last slice of pizza, and you always offer to share.”
Maggie snorted, shaking her head against Alex’s shoulder. “That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean? Because honestly, Maggie, you are one of the most caring people I know. I—you’ve made me better. And not just by helping me to come out,” she clarified, anticipating Maggie’s objection that anyone could’ve done that with enough perseverance or bluntness. “You’ve made me rethink some of those things I assumed I knew. You helped me to see aliens who weren’t just like my sister as people who needed protection, not just prosecution or imprisonment. You showed me possibilities for a life I never thought I’d have.”
“But you didn’t say anything about my family. People have died, Alex—people I loved, people who loved me. They died, and I didn’t know.”
“There’s a difference between choosing not to know and never having been told.”
“Is there? Phones exist. Hell, mail exists. I never tried reaching out.”
“You did nothing wrong!” Alex tried to bite back her anger, knowing that wasn’t what Maggie needed. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. But self-preservation, knowing to take care of yourself—that matters too. You had no way of knowing how they would react if you tried to reach out. They had already hurt you, Maggie.”
“Still. They’re family.”
“And so am I, but if I hurt you—god, Maggie, if I hurt you that way, I wouldn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. You don’t owe anyone your forgiveness.” Trying to find words, Alex let out a sigh of frustration. “You did try, Maggie. Think about it that way. You tried—you invited your dad to our bridal shower, in part because I wasn’t thinking quite clearly. I thought…I could only think in terms of my own relationship with my mother. And we went through some rough, rough periods, but it was different. I didn’t see that clearly then. But you gave him a chance he didn’t deserve—a chance you were good and pure and kind enough to give him—and he threw it away.”
“He came.”
“Yes, and he left.”
“I know,” Maggie huffed. “And I thought that would be it! And if it was…well, maybe this would all be easier, you know? God, I just—he said no! He doesn’t want me the way I am. So why won’t he stop acting like it’s my fault?”
“I don’t know,” Alex admitted, her voice barely a whisper as she wrapped her arms around Maggie. “I really don’t. And I don’t—I don’t have the perfect advice to offer. I’m happy to call him and yell at him, or get a restraining order, or burn the letter, or ignore it entirely and hold you, or kiss you until you can’t think about anything else. I mean, whatever you want, you know? I’m here for you, and I’ll support you no matter what you choose.”
“Even if I choose vegan ice cream and a whole night of Rizzoli and Isles?” Maggie teased, opting to ignore the tears prickling the corners of her eyes.
“Even both of those terrible choices.”
“You love Rizzles just as much as I do.”
“You’re a cop! How do you deal with all the procedural violations?”
“I watch for the hot ladies with delightful romantic chemistry on my screen and put up with the rest.”
“Yeah, yeah. They don’t even get to make out, though.”
“Neither do half of the actual gay couples on television!”
“Fine,” Alex whined, though she kissed Maggie’s cheek anyway, which led Maggie to turn around, finding Alex’s lips with her own and letting herself be held, letting herself be cared for.
Eventually they got out of the tub, the water having grown lukewarm. Wrapped up in a fuzzy towel, Maggie nudged Alex with her shoulder. “You think it’s okay that I don’t try to reach out to him for Christmas?”
“I think that’s your decision, and you are allowed to celebrate however you want.”
“I mean…I want to celebrate by going sledding and destroying you in a snowball fight.”
“Whatever you want within reason,” Alex clarified, laughing at Maggie’s pout. “And maybe, just maybe, we can think about traveling somewhere cold for a vacation. Don’t see why we’d want to, though,” she added, winking at her fiancée.
“So cheesy movies and as much junk food as Kara can bring over? And maybe when she leaves you and I can find our own way to celebrate…”
“I think that sounds perfect.”
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cuthroatcutie666 · 6 years
Text
2018 relapse continued...
《《 ● TRIGGER WARNING!!!! ● 》》 #eatingdisorders #anorexia #anorexianerviosa #bulimia #bulimic #selfharming #BPD #depression #suicidalthoughts #selfharmingtendancies ♥💔♥💔♥💔♥💔♥💔♥💔♥💔♥💔 So... since I came home to Argentina in December (32 days ago) my main focus consisted on 3 things: 1. Gain back some MUCH needed healthy weight 10-15 lbs (When I left Wisconsin on December 10th I was 97 lbs...) not even my size zero skinny jeans fit me. I had to buy XS shirts and leggings in the Juniors section, wear underarmour leggings under my ONE pair of skinny jeans from when I was 16 and at the prime of my anorexia days (6 pack abs, played on 3 soccer teams, tennis practice, my personal soccer drills I did daily ((I was scouted for soccer and got a scholarship to the vet tech school of my choice in the area.)) My body fat level was at 6% and my any muscle mass I had left from 5 years of being chronically ill, we're eaten away from the starvation mode my body was in. I had a thigh gap for the first time in my life, my ribs showed, my collar bone stuck out, even my nurse made a comment on how small my arms had gotten. I WAS SCARED, I'd been fainting or getting extremely dizzy from simple things like standing up slowly, bending down to pick something up when cooking, I'd faint from small chores such as vacumming my room. I was wearing underarmour leggings, fleece lined leggings over them, sweat pants, two layers of socks, an underarmour top or 2 tank tops, a long sleeve shirt, a t shirt over it, a zip up hoodie, and then a fleece lined pull over hoodie on top of that, normally with a beanie JUST TO STAY WARM WHEN I WAS INSIDE THE HOUSE. With the decrease in my physical health and increase in my suicidal tendencies or stupidly telling my mother about them, she decided to ship me off here for the winter. Since I'm not sick at all back home, my grandpa is 90, get away from the depressing weather in WI, and she hoped it would help in general.... which it did UNTIL 2 weeks ago.... I've been eating a lot since I got herr, my body is in starvation mode as in "eat everything in sight, wait 40 minutes then eat more." And after 5 years of getting painfully ill anytime I tried to eat it was a welcome change. So I gained 8lbs which was fine until I saw the light stretch marks on my upper inner things, and it was like a switch inside of me was turned and all I could see was how disgusting I look. How it sickens me that I have this stomach now... I somehow managed to get it under control in 4 days and since then have been forcing myself to eat. But I'm at the end of my period and the weight gain plus the water retention, add on triggers by my father, my friend Cody, and knowing I have one month before I go back to being super sick, depressed beyond words, and suicidal... I snapped tonight. I made two different salads and will make another tomorrow afternoon, a spin off of my mom's bean salad. I plan on only eating veggies, low calorie liquids, juice when I have sugar cravings, cold water and 3-4 crackers when I have salt cravings, and lemon water to help detox... for the next 3-5 days. I don't have the one thing or person that was holding me up or keeping me going any longer. And frankly... I don't care. I want to self harm so badly, and I know if I don't have cramps tomorrow I'll start drinking again... despite knowing that's high calorie (gin with lemon juice and salt chaser). But I just I can't anymore, I have no reason to try, my father has been a complete ass so I can't confide in him, and he backed out of all 3 days we were supposed to go to the gym this week. No one here would understand even if I could explain it to them in spanish... I either have to get relatively thin again (while my stomach shrinks) or I'm going to start self harming.... I'm honestly not sure why I just wrote out this giant post because I know no one is going to read it much less give a shit.... I just have never felt more alone and terrified of what I'm capable of...
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