#I wish I could tell easily when im being irrational | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

professionallydeadinside · 2 years

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OKAY SO ORIGINALLY I WANT TO WAIT AND POST IT WHEN I WAS DONE WITH THE FIRST HALF BUT IM NOT GONNA GET IT DONE BY THE END OF MAY AND ID RATHER GET A BIT OF IT OUT SO HERES THE FIRST BIT OF THE MERMAY FIC ITS 4000 WORDS OF QUEER <3 AND ALSO IM SUBMITTING IT SO TUMBLR CANT KILL IT AND HIDE IT FROM YOU AS EASILY

Read it below!

“My bet is for Alexander to win.”

“Betting against your own sister? You are cruel, Ava!” Ava’s dignified response was to stick her tongue out at Alexedar.

“Hush, Alexe! Ashe is good, but Alexander is from Erhan. That’s all they do over there, train to fight and spar.”

“That’s all Ashe does, too,” Alexedar pointed out smugly. Bubbles rushed from Ava’s mouth as she sighed heavily.

“Well, it doesn’t even really matter. Seems Papa’s going to need us. Look, here’s Angela, on a mission, heading right for us.”

Alexedar sighed, too, though much lighter than Ava had.

Of the three sisters, Angela was the one always sent out to retrieve others for her parents. Seeing Angela swimming towards someone with a determined look on her face almost always meant at least one of the rulers requested them.

That time, it seemed it was Ava and Alexedar the rulers required.

Angela’s golden spaded tail glittered in the streams of sunlight that flittered through the water.

“Ava, Alexe,” she exclaimed as she came closer to them, “Papa needs you both! He says it’s important.”

“Well, it better be important! I’ve been waiting to watch Ashe and Alexander go head to head for a long while!” despite her words, Ava set off towards her parents' throne room with little fight, Alexedar in tow behind her. Angela didn’t follow them; Alexedar guessed she had more missions to carry out.

Ava didn’t look concerned in the slightest as they went closer and closer to her parents' throne room, but Alexedar couldn’t help but feel nervous. The three rulers called on Ava frequently; she was their daughter, and the oldest of them. She was expected to learn everything she could about the kingdom so she could one day be a great queen among great queens. Alexedar, on the other hand, was rarely called on by the three. He was a friend, had even been raised by them, but he was never expected to hold any position akin to ruling. That was always Ava’s right, and so being called to the throne room was very rare for him. It always brought forth the fear that they were going to tell him he wasn’t welcome in their home anymore, and they were getting rid of him. Alexedar knew that was irrational, that they’d never cast him aside, but the fear still remained.

When they entered, the room was full of council members, all clustered around the three thrones that the rulers sat upon. Calib sat on the middle throne, wil Gabriel to his right and Beth to his left. Their thrones were all on equal standing, and all knew the order meant nothing in the grand scheme. Beth was just as likely to answer your call or request as either of her husbands, and they were the same. They were all equals, in every sense of it.

The moment the large doors swooshed open, all eyes turned on the pair, including the eyes of Ava’s parents. The fact all three of them were present further disturbed Alexedar. Most times, only one or two would be present, and it was almost always Calib and Beth. Gabriel always preferred hiding away in his lab and with his studies than being a king, and his presence made Alexedar’s nerves all the worse.

“Ava, Alexedar, come, come. Thank you for coming as quickly as you did. I heard Ashe and Alexander were just beginning to spar when I called upon you. I’m very sorry, I myself desperately wish to be watching that match, but this is important,” Calib rose from his seat and flashed them both an award winning smile, though the edges were strained.

It was odd to see the salmon shark mer visibly unsettled and nervous. Alexedar had the sudden desire to vomit.

“Soon, a delegation from Recol will be arriving to negotiate an alliance with us. Among those coming is King Aeneas’s son, Prince Alocer. I am telling you both about this as you are the only ones I see as capable of handling these discussions out of all the youths who could learn and help. Ava, as the next queen, you shall have to be present so you can learn how a negotiation is handled. Alexedar, you are calm and kind. Someone with a heart can prove a necessity in situations like these,” Alexedar couldn’t decide if he’d rather be told he was being kicked out.

Negotiations with Recol were famously rough affairs. King Aeneas was diplomatic enough, and quite kind, but his wife was the opposite. Fianna was cut throat, and refused to settle for anything less than the best deals. Trade deals were a headache, and the idea of a military alliance being discussed was already giving Alexedar a migraine.

“Forgive me, but I don’t think I understand why I was requested and not another of your daughters. Surely there are others with hearts?” Calib huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“Ashe is far too head-strong, and will likely end up causing a war, instead of preventing one. Angela is kind and bright, but her intelligence is best suited for things other than politics. You, Alexedar, are kind, and capable enough to handle politics. They say the prince is very much like his mother. Who knows, perhaps you will be able to soften him, and keep these negotiations from resulting in any bloodshed,” Alexedar was going to cry.

Fianna’s wrath and stubbornness was legendary, and the thought of getting to meet a replication of that was enough to spark the idea of fleeing Alternate. Alexedar had heard from Alexander that Erhan was lovely that time of year.

Unfortunately, it was too late for him to give further protest, as Ava had already accepted for the both of them.

Alexedar sighed in defeat to himself quietly.

The group was set to arrive in only a few days, days that Alexedar used to complain to Ava and try to prepare himself for assisting in negotiations with Recol. Vast preparations were made during the days, the people of Alternate determined to prove their worth to Recol. The people of Recol were usually dull and boring, but thought they were above everyone else. It was said that parents thought themselves superior to their children, and would care for themselves before their own kin.

Yet, still, they thought themselves above all others.

Alternate was determined to prove them wrong.

The last of these preparations was readying the royal family and council to be presentable, something Alexedar wasn’t accustomed to.

“No, Alexe, you can’t wear the jacket! It’s not dignified enough to meet royalty in!” Ava argued as she darted away from him, keeping his jacket out of reach.

It had originally been hers, and she had let him borrow it when his parents died, but he never got around to returning it. Alexedar practically lived in it, and none, not even Ava, knew how he kept it clean despite never being without it. It was his greatest comfort, and the thought of being without it to meet the Recol delegation made his skin prickle and itch.

Alexedar let out a cry of frustration as he chased after her, “to h—l with dignity! Give it back!”

Not dignified enough, she had said. How dare she? It wasn’t like it was an old, ratty, smelly rag! Old, yes, but you couldn’t tell from looking at it. It looked pristine, good as new, like he had just gotten it that day.

Finally, he was able to grab her pink frilly tail and yank her back. She yelped as she jerked backwards and the jacket slipped out of her grip, which Alexedar promptly snatched and held close to his chest. Ava sighed as she righted herself and eyed him warily.

“C’mon, Alexedar, please? Just for the first impressions? If it’s true and that prince is as mean as his mom, I don’t want him to find something to ridicule you for in the first five minutes of him being here. We can keep it close, too, in case everything gets too much and you need it. Please?” Alexedar stared at her for a long moment before he too sighed and relented. He reluctantly handed the jacket back to Ava and was rewarded with a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the best, I know. Now, get off me. I have to get ready,” thus, minutes later, Alexedar was standing in front of Alternate’s castle between Angela and a council member he was too anxious to remember the name of, his jacket resting safely in a locked and secure room. If he leaned forward, he could see Ava and make faces at her to make her laugh, which he did to pass the time while everyone else spoke amongst themselves while waiting for the delegation to arrive.

She looked very regal next to her parents and in a long grey dress, her hair done up with pearls. Ashe was next to her in armour, her hair simply floating in the water around her head. Angela was next to her in a golden dress, her hair in a simple braid behind her. Alexedar was next to her, in a black sweater with an open back, the neck tied in the back, leaving ribbons brushing his shoulder blades and spine as he simply floated there. His hair was loose, and too brushed his back, making him constantly want to shiver. There were no sleeves, either. It took all of his willpower and then some not to either run and get his jacket or start crying. The fact it was black made it even more scary. It was bold, and stood out against the rest of him, which was pale and white. Truthfully, if he had been wearing it in any other context but meeting royalty and mers he’d never even seen before, he probably would’ve found it pretty. As it was, he wasn’t wearing it while just messing around with Ava, and was ready to have a nice breakdown.

All conversation stopped and Alexedar was thrust from his thoughts on how uncomfortable he was when the fanfare for the Recol delegation began. Truthfully, there wasn’t much on the delegates to show they weren’t normal citizens, and it took Alexedar a moment to find the prince.

They all wore silver with gems added to the jewellery, with strings of additions ranging from pearls to sapphires to rubies were attached around the base of their tails similar to a sash. Alexedar wondered if the stones had any meaning, as almost everyone had some form of emerald on them. Their actual clothes were all in dark and dull colours. The only reason Alexedar knew their prince was among them was because he had been told, and one of them wore a silver circlet atop his head.

He was an orca, large and with a sort of detached pride. It was like he thought himself better than all others, and was burdened by their inferiority, and, yet, was willing to put up with the world’s incompetence. He had black hair that was slicked back, and his face looked so natural with a scowl that Alexedar wondered if he had ever smiled.

When the Recol delegation stopped before the Alternate council, Calib, Beth, and Gabriel all went forward. Alexedar tried to pay attention, but something about the prince kept him so captivated he could only half listen. When the prince spoke, however, he was all ears.

“On behalf of my father and my home, I thank you for hosting us, and these negotiations. I pray that these talks may be easy and end quickly,” Alocer bowed his head slightly, but did no more to show respect. It was expected, and yet still some used it as a reason Recol people thought themselves above Alternate. They would say that, but it would’ve been far stranger for the prince of any kingdom as large as Recol to well and truly bow to another ruler. No one else of royalty truly bowed to the three, and neither did the Recol prince.

His eyes were dark, a glittering black, and he looked at all of them like he knew everything about them, even the thoughts in their heads.

The three accepted the others gracefully, and led them inside. Alocer moved through the castle like it was his, with an ease and grace even Alexedar lacked, and he had lived there almost his entire life.

Those from Recol were silent as they followed those from Alternate, who were chattering amongst themselves. None from Recol gave any indication Alternate’s castle was impressive in any way at all, they looked at it like it simply was. Like it simply existed. Not good, not bad, just there.

The three were next to Alocer, Ava just a bit behind them. Alexedar was quite a fair distance away from them, yet the prince kept meeting his eye. The first time Alexedar noticed Alocer watching him, he tried to play it off cool, like he interacted with foreign royalty all the time, like he belonged there. It didn’t happen that way. Alexedar had gotten startled and ended up knocking his glasses off his face. They floated for a second before he snatched them back up and shoved them on his face. Once he was able to see again, his eyes darted to Alocer, who was looking away. Despite that, Alexedar could see a corner of his mouth ticked ever so slightly upwards. Alexedar distantly noticed that his face was burning, though it wasn’t until Ava caught his eye and waved at her face that he realised how badly.

Unconsciously, he started to rub his arms in a poor imitation of his jacket. His only saving grace was that no one had seemed to have seen his blunder. Other than Alocer, of course.

They were all led to a great dining hall, a place Alexedar was only familiar with from games he’d play with Ava and her sisters when they were all younger. There was a long, long table that stayed in place only because of chains that connected it to a cathedral ceiling. On all sides of the table was a stone bench, the last reminder that the room hadn’t always been hollowed, and had instead been a block of solid stone. When the room had been hollowed, there had been left tall walls that ended before reaching the ceiling. Those walls had been turned into benches for the table. Alexedar had never been inside the room when it had been prepared, and it was amazing. Food lined the table, scallops and oysters and clams and types of fish he had never seen before, goblets made of spun seaglass at each place setting, large openings made in the walls allowed for sunlight and water both to flow through. It was like something out of a dream, or a fairy tale.

The three sat on one end of the table, the end wide enough to accommodate all three of them, with Alocer on the left side of them, next to Beth. Ava, Ashe, and Angela all sat on the right, beside Gabriel. Alexedar was, yet again, next to Angela and a council member he couldn’t care about. Those across from him were from the prince’s party, though he knew nothing about any of them. From his spot, he could hear Alocer speak, his voice lower than it was outside.

There, he spoke for all to hear. At the table, he spoke only for those nearest to him. He knew it would’ve been rude, but Alexedar was debating asking Angela to switch places with him.

It didn’t take everyone at the table very long to grow comfortable and begin to speak. Once all present started to talk, it suddenly grew very loud, and Alexedar’s previous interest in the room and those in it began to dwindle. Again, he started to rub at his arms.

The council member on his left attempted to ask him his opinion on something, and Alexedar could only stammer out a stilted response. A lock of his hair brushed his hand when it reached his shoulder and he started to tug at it and pull it. The sensation blurred together with the noise, and helped his panic continue to grow. As nonchalantly as he could, Alexedar rose upwards and whispered out an excuse before quickly and quietly fleeing. None seemed to really notice him aside from Ava, who watched him go with worry and concern.

Once the door was firmly closed behind him, he took off down the winding and unending halls within Alternate’s castle. It didn’t take long before Alexedar reached a locked closet, though it had felt like an eternity.

When he finally got the door unlocked with the key he had pulled out of nowhere, he himself had no real knowledge of where he had gotten it, he darted inside.

The closet was a storage closet, with shelves filled with things that had no use or were extra. On one of the shelves was his jacket, draped over the side.

Alexedar’s ears were ringing and his chest was heaving as he grabbed it and slipped it on. The fur on it tickled the back of his neck in a familiar way. The jacket had a slight weight to it that was comforting, comforting enough his breathing slowed.

The room was still and quiet, and he didn’t feel as open or vulnerable as he had at the table. He curled up on the floor, tucking his tail underneath him. Despite all the light in the room coming from dinoflagellates on the ceiling, his tail still glittered and sparkled. Watching the blue glow from the algae reflect off his white tail and scales was mesmerising, and something he had long used to help keep himself calm. As Alexedar watched the light reflect and shimmer, he could feel his glasses slowly float away from his face.

He sighed and reached up to put them back on when the door to the closet opened. Startled, he involuntarily jerked his hand up which resulted in his glasses flying up and out of his reach from where he was curled up. Alexedar’s vision was so horrible, he could only see a blurry silhouette enter the room and slowly reach up to where his glasses were floating.

“You certainly seem to be having a grand time. A better time than I, I’d say,” God was pointing and laughing at Alexedar. That careful, calculated, low tone was Alocer. The prince of Recol had found him, hiding in a storage closet, coming back from the brink of a breakdown.

Alexedar really was going to cry.

He was trying to think of something to say, some quip that would make all of it better, but all he could manage was an attempt at eye contact, despite the fact he couldn’t see where Alocer’s eyes were. He could vaguely see Alocer come closer.

Alexedar watched him warily as he kneeled down in front of him. Alocer flipped Alexedar’s glasses around and leaned forward. Slowly, carefully, Alocer pushed the wide round glasses back where they were meant to be.

Alexedar blinked as the world became clear and sharp again, including the prince.

Up close, his eyes glittered, and, though they saw no less of Alexedar’s thoughts, they felt kinder. Like he wasn’t seeing every minute detail and aspect of him for judgement and blackmail, but simply because he was curious. As though he just wanted to know what all were thinking at every moment simply because. It was unsettling, yes, but not scary or intimidating.

The corners of his eyes were pinched, like he wanted to frown but wasn’t. His lips were pressed together and thin, and his hair was lighter than his eyes, but not by much. The prince did not seem the type to worry for a stranger, and Alexedar was nervous.

The two simply watched each other for a long few moments before Alocer spoke, his face and head still very close to Alexedar. “Your rather sudden departure left the eldest princess in quite a tizzy. She would much rather be here with you than in that hall, I gather. If not for her parents, I’d wager she would’ve ran out with you. Unfortunately, your three rulers forbid it. Fortunately, I was able to escape,” despite the light tone, it was clear Alocer chose his words very carefully, something Alexedar noticed. Nothing he said was said on a whim or an impulse. Alexedar felt like he should say something specific, like there was a response Alocer was waiting for.

“You’re very close,” is what Alexedar ended up saying. Alocer looked surprised, it was clear that wasn’t the response he was waiting for, but he didn’t seem disappointed.

“Ah, forgive me,” he leaned away and Alexedar regretted speaking, “has. . .hiding in a closet helped you, at all?” Alexedar suddenly realised that the prince was very awkward, kneeling on the floor. Gods, his tail must hurt.

“Bit better, yes,” on a good day, Alexedar wasn’t loud. There, he spoke barely above a whisper. Alocer nodded a few times, then looked at Alexedar for a few long seconds.

“You were not wearing that earlier. Why dash to an old storage closet just to put it on?” He was clear talking about the jacket, though his words seemed to only be half for Alexedar, and mostly for himself. Still, Alexedar answered.

“It. . .helps me to calm down. You lot are quite intimidating.”

“I don’t doubt it. But, then, why didn’t you have it when greeting us, or at the table?”

“My friend, Ava, the princess, was worried you and the others would think less of me. Would say cruel things to me,” Alexedar had no real idea why he told Alocer all that. Something about the prince just made him talk and talk.

“They really believe me that heartless?”

“Do your kind not think us heartless, too? In our own way?”

“We think you frivolous fools,” the way he said it, however, made it seem like he didn’t count Alexedar among the frivolous fools. Or, perhaps, Alexedar was a love sick, foolish boy from fairy tales and reading into things that didn’t exist. “You know, you know my name, yet I do not know yours. I am not one to enjoy having a disadvantage.”

“My name is Alexedar.”

“Alexedar,” the prince stretched the word out like he was tasting it. Alexedar had never been the biggest fan of his name, figured his parents had been either drunk or sleep deprived when they chose it, but hearing it in Alocer’s low voice made it not so bad. It actually sounded kind of nice.

He liked it.

“You are Alocer, prince of Recol.”

“Yes. I can only guess you, too, are a prince? I admit, I do not know you nor your name at all.”

“Oh, no, I’m no prince. I’m just a friend of the royals. They let me live here, and I keep Ava from eloping with the gardener's son,” Alexedar huffed a nervous laugh. Him, a prince? No.

“Sounds like good gossip,” Alocer smirked with a bit too much teeth to be completely comfortable before it fell and he sighed, “alas, it will have to wait. I do not think we can continue to hide here much longer before your friend sends guards looking for us.” Alocer rose to his towering height and held a sickly pale hand out for Alexedar.

Alexedar looked at the offered hand and then back at the floor.

“Wear your jacket, too. Should anyone say a word of it, I’ll speak to them myself,” there was a strength and conviction in his voice that made Alexedar believe him.

He took the offered hand and was heaved upwards. His glasses began to slip off again, but before Alexedar could fix them, Alocer already had.

Alocer’s hand lingered near Alexedar’s white hair for a moment while he watched something on Alexedar’s face before he shook himself out of it and brought his hand down. He offered his elbow to the other, “so none think to say anything,” being his reason. Alexedar took that as his reason to touch Alocer.

With their arms linked together, they left the closet.

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(Slightly writing this live while I read it so-) OKAY FIRST THESE POLY RULERS??? GOOD FOR THEM WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!

Alexedar is really going through it my boy is having a full crisis XD

I ALREADY KNEW ALOCER WAS AN ORCA BUT I FORGOT SO PLEASANT SURPRISE JEJSSKSJ

ALSO CAPTIVATED AT FIRST SIGHT??? Go alexedar i believe in you jsjsjssj

Poor boy getting sensory overload?? Locking himself in the closet lmao go gay boy USING HIS JACKET AS A COMFORT OBJECT PLEASE I LOVE THAT

Oughhhh Alocer being tender with alexedar,,,,,please my heart can’t take this,,,,

SILAS THIS WAS SO SWEET WHAT THE FUCK JSSJJWJSN THIS IS A LOT OF FEELINGS FOR 1 IN THE AFTERNOON BUT I ADORED IT SO MUCH!!!!

#submission #answered #long post #MY EACTION IS UNDER THE READMORE SORRY THE FORMATTING IS WEIRD JSKSKS

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journalofanangel · 1 year

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what causes me to self destruct?

the fear of losing, the fear of missing out, the fear of disappointing someone (regardless of our relationship or how close we are), the fear of being hurt or abandoned... i also overthink and blame myself and can't separate myself from my thoughts and emotions.

I feel pressured, ashamed, and anxious. I get a rush of adrenaline that is mostly, if not entirely, shame and anxiety. I get nervous and, even if I feel like I'm thinking clearly, I'm still irrational and I can't put two and two together. this might have to do with my disorders unfortunately.

If you label yourself as a bad person, you’ll start to believe that something’s inherently wrong with you and that you’ll never improve. Instead, by thinking of yourself as a good, worthy person who makes mistakes, you give yourself permission to grow. (quote)

i struggle with understanding why my friends think im a good person, why they love me, or why they don't think I'm a horrible person. i feel a lot of shame around who I am, where I come from, and the lies I've told. i feel like I have so many reasons to feel horrible and I feel like others should think I'm horrible too.

i know there's something positive to take from this but I'll add that on later.

you could tell yourself that you are allowed to choose a healthy alternative to your self-destructive behavior. For instance, you could turn to alcohol when you’re in pain, but you’re also allowed to call your friend for support.

the important thing for my to remember is that I'm allowed to rely on people. i can't consistently rely on most of the people around me because I don't feel understood or safe around them. i feel like if i don't have someone to ground me, i spiral. i can ground myself at times but then i still get scared. i get scared so easily unfortunately.

my friends have told me it's okay to reach out and rely on them. it's okay to ask for help, it's okay to talk to them, it's okay. i never really feel safe around my family though. i feel so disgusting around them. they say they're happy to be part of these things but it feels so gross every time. i don't want to be around them.

i wanna feel safe... i wish this one friend could feel safe around me but with this kind of behaviour and this mindset, I get why she can't. i understand why.

i wanna find some healthier coping mechanisms that work in the moment, things that can help me slow down when I can't rely on others.. I'd like to not be so dependent.

If avoiding self-destruction is intensely difficult, try waiting 30 minutes to engage in the behavior instead of acting on the impulse right away.

I've tried this, I think I just need to dedicate myself to it. especially when I feel myself having doubts that end up being true...

Overcoming self-destructive behavior is not an overnight process. Practicing self-compassion and forgiveness is essential as you work toward healthier coping skills. When you’ve relied on self-destructive actions to numb your pain for so long, you likely feel some degree of mental, emotional, or physical addiction to the behaviors.

I always expect to heal overnight, I expect to fuck up once then never do it again.. I never expect kindness or forgiveness, i scare myself into acting how I think I "should" and then inevitably end up shaming myself into acting a certain way.

this is really hard. i feel horrible but I'm trying to improve, I just hate hurting people over and over like this. im tired of disappointing people. I've been tired of this. it's so hard being consistent. it's hard but I'm trying. I've stopped caring if people notice or if they care, this isn't about them at this point. it's for me and, inevitably, the people I love. i can't keep shaming myself and running away.

I should bring this up to my therapist. this can be something she helps me with. i want to stop focusing on the past and putting so much energy into feeling bad or being angry about what's already happened. I want to heal, I want to do better.

i want to love people without deeply wounding them. i know the hurt and the mistakes are inevitable, we're only human after all and love is a complicated thing, but I want to love them anyway.

I want to love and I want to be good. I want to feel whole and safe.

saturday march 4th 2023 2030

#my journal #journalofanangel #bipolar disorder #angel's thoughts

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sadsapphicslut · 3 years

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chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!!

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

Chapter One

A Dead Brother

I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

“Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn’t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

❈

“Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

“Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

Don’s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

It rang four times before he picked up.

“Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

“Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

“Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood – that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene. My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

❈

The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.

#my writing #writing #original writing #original content #original fiction #creative writing #dark academia #tw death #tw drugs #tw mentions of sex #tw swearing #tw mental illness #tw medication #alo writes

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megalony · 4 years

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Power play- Part 2

This is the second part of my King! Ben Hardy series which is like my other series Fatal Attraction, I hope everyone likes it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @storiesfrommirkwood @onceuponadetectivedemigod

Ben Hardy masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Ben falls for (Y/n), the Queen of England and is willing to give up the right to his own throne to marry her. But he knows that if he does, there will be a power play in the relationship because one will have more power and control than the other.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"When is the engagement ball to take place, ma'am?"

(Y/n) turned her head to look at Mr Hardin who was stood beside the far end of the desk she was sitting behind. Just the mere thought of the engagement ball sent butterflies tingling through her stomach and swarming their way up to her chest.

She knew she was lucky. Her mother had been very close to arranging suitors and getting marriage agreements set up on (Y/n)'s behalf and she knew those people her mother would have chosen wouldn't have the kindest of intentions. People wanted her to marry so she would be tamed, she she would be controlled and whoever she married was clearly going to want to take her position as Monarch and rule the country for her instead of with her.

Ben was saving (Y/n) from that fate, he was giving up his own title and his right as Monarch in his own country in order to marry (Y/n) not just because he loved her but because he knew the danger she was put in. People were hanging around like vultures just waiting to fly in and create a storm. People wanted to marry (Y/n) off, they wanted to control her and influence her opinions and her actions and her rights until she was just a puppet they could control. And with how (Y/n) lacked the information about her rights and politics, she could be easily swayed by someone feigning to try and help her.

Ben knew a storm was going to come by anytime soon because he was helping in the way that no one else would like. He was teaching and coaching (Y/n) on politics and how to use her rights and telling her what was out of her hands and her jurisdiction. But Ben wasn't trying to control her or sway her influence or her mind, he did his best to remain impartial when helping her but he knew people were going to think he was trying to control her. If Ben gave (Y/n) her own voice and allowed her to rule more or less on her own without having to rely on too many people, no one was going to influence her or control her and that was going to upset a lot of people.

"This Thursday." (Y/n) lifted her eyes to spare Mr Hardin a quick glance and a smile before she looked back down to the papers she was sorting into piles.

Ben's lessons in politics were becoming very useful but (Y/n) still wasn't quite up to date on everything so far and she didn't understand everything so she was sorting all of her papers into piles. One pile was the one she understood and would have no problem going through and signing, but the other pile was the one she needed Ben to talk her through because (Y/n) couldn't sign anything she didn't understand. That would be a grave mistake on her part.

"Some of the council are wondering, ma'am, if you're planning on making him Prince Regent? I do feel that this wouldn't be the best idea, ma'am." Hardin held his hands behind his back as he took a step closer to the desk. There was a concerning yet warm look in his eyes like he was trying to give her some advice.

Since (Y/n) had been appointed Queen and then coronated, Hardin had been her adviser and he had done his best to educate her on the subjects she was lacking. He was funny and he understood her views on the people in court who she particularly didn't like and who were always trying to put her under their spell and influence.

"Why on Earth would I do that, Mr Hardin? I'm not ill, and as far as I know I'm perfectly capable of being Queen, don't you think?" (Y/n) couldn't help the way her heart sank in her chest and she had to purse her lips to stop her smile from falling into a frown.

Who was going around saying it would be a good idea to make Ben Prince Regent? Doing that would mean (Y/n) was giving Ben all the rights of a King to do her job for her. That happened with a King who had gone mad, his son was made Prince Regent and did all of the jobs and went through all of the documents as if he were King because his father was incapable. Did people think she was that incapable of being Queen that she needed a husband to take over? (Y/n) wasn't mad and she wasn't stupid or irrational and she knew what she was doing.

"I quite agree, ma'am. But, I am concerned about this engagement, the Prince is getting rather involved in your political affairs. It might not be wise to have someone outside of the government coaching you about their views on politics, after all, his country is far different than England."

"Mr Hardin, the Prince isn't trying to sway my views, he's helping me because he knows more than I do the working of parliament and politics. Him not being from England is precisely why I need and value his input. When we are married I'm going to appoint him as one of my advisers."

When (Y/n) looked up at Hardin there was a certain expression on his face that she couldn't decipher, it was as if she had just insulted him or said something very worrying that he didn't know how to react to. (Y/n) knew she needed Ben's advise and his input because he wasn't biased and he wasn't telling her his own opinions and values, he was telling her what she needed to know from an outside point of view. If he was one of her advisers then she would be very capable of being Queen and speaking her mind and giving her consent or denial to proposals in parliament.

(Y/n) knew Ben couldn't be her only adviser because he was going to be her husband and he was the Prince. (Y/n) had to be seen to have advisers around her so the people knew she wasn't being biased or looking like she was being ruled by her husband.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea ma'am, he's going to be your husband, he shouldn't be your adviser too in case it brings conflict in ideas. You must remember, he is giving up his throne to live here and marry you, I think that by doing that he may feel he has a right to get involved or even to be Prince Regent."

A shudder ran through (Y/n)'s spine as she looked down to the papers she was just about finished sorting through. Why did he have to say something like that?

(Y/n) knew what Ben was giving up and she knew that despite wishing for him to give up his title to marry her, she still felt bad that he had to give up the one thing he had been working towards his entire life, just to marry her. It made (Y/n) feel guilty more than anything else in her life and she felt guilty for loving Ben and wanting to be with him. But the only way for them to be together was for one of them to give up their throne and (Y/n) had only just been coronated and it would be another two or even three years before Ben would get his throne.

Even though he was giving this up for her, (Y/n) knew Ben wasn't the type to wade in and try to take her crown from her. He wanted to help and he wanted to be involved but he didn't want to steal the power away or make himself Prince Regent. (Y/n) was sure of that.

"The Prince isn't like that Mr Hardin, I assure you."

"If you're sure. Now, would you like me to run through these papers with you ma'am?"

Hardin barely managed to finish his sentence before the door to the study opened and Ben walked in. The moment his eyes landed on Hardin they narrowed like a hawk focusing on its prey, he looked as if he was feeling suspicious of Hardin for something like Ben assumed he was doing something he shouldn't be. (Y/n) knew Ben had taken a rather big disliking towards Hardin, Ben seemed to think he was out to gain something by being so close to her or that he wanted to control or her boost his position in the court.

(Y/n) wasn't so sure because Hardin had been nothing but kind and considerate to her and he ran her through anything she was unsure about. He didn't give (Y/n) any reason to doubt him or suggest that he was trying to take control or advantage.

"I think the papers can wait, we have a meeting don't we?"

Ben held his hand out to (Y/n) when she clearly knew he was here to go to the meeting with her. She had said he could come along to any of the meetings so he could get a feel for the politics and to know for future since he was staying. He was going to be getting involved in the business and day to day life anyway, he may as well get a head start.

"Should I brief you before the meeting ma'am? This meeting is about the political parties getting votes-"

"I shouldn't think a briefing would be necessary, the Queen has more of an understanding than you give her credit for." Ben rose his brows in Hardin's direction before he turned to leave the room with (Y/n) following in tow, her hand tightly holding his own.

"Ben, he's only trying to help." (Y/n) leaned her head on Ben's arm when they were alone in the corridor with Hardin presumably not too far behind. Displays of affection weren't all that agreed with before marriage and (Y/n) didn't want to give anyone any looks or information they could try and use against her and Ben or anything that could be turned into gossip.

"I don't know (Y/n), the advice he gives you centres around his political party and he knows you rely on him, that's a dangerous thing to know for someone in his position. Besides, you can think for yourself and he has to know and get used to that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's the matter?" (Y/n) moved her chair a little bit closer to Ben's before she leaned over and gently took his hand in hers, resting her free hand on his arm. She could feel how tense he was and the unreadable expression on his face didn't look like a rather good or happy one either.

He was sat slightly slouched in his chair with his free hand rubbing over his jaw like he was contemplating something confusing or serious. He didn't speak during the meeting and as much as that seemed a bit off-putting to everyone else in the meeting, (Y/n) knew it was just because he was getting a feel for how it worked. He was listening, he was learning rather than trying or wanting to take part in what was being said. But clearly what he was learning was something he didn't like or didn't agree with.

"I have a problem with your council and some of the electors of parliament." The way Ben spoke and the low tone he used showed he knew this was a predicament in itself. Ben shouldn't be too bothered but if he was going to try and help (Y/n) with any business when they were married this was going to become a problem if he couldn't get along with the council. He also knew that it was a problem because (Y/n) had no say in who was elected or brought into parliament, that was out of her jurisdiction.

"Why?"

"Five of the men in your council scoffed when you started to speak which shows they lack respect for you. Two men from Parliament dismissed what you said and one man tried to shush you which I have a very big problem with. Hardin tried to speak for you, again, when he knows you understand what is being said and that man Lewis looked like he had a problem with you."

(Y/n) looked down at their entwined hands for a moment as she processed what he said. She heard the scoffs and she knew Morris tried to shush her which he got a lot of dirty looks for but she didn't know what to do. (Y/n) couldn't dismiss anyone from Parliament, they were out of her range she had no control over them even if they were disrespectful. And members of her council thought she was a little girl who didn't know what she was doing and it was a lot harder than it seemed to try and change their minds.

If (Y/n) shouted or got angry they would say she was losing her mind and her temper, if she stayed quiet they would carry on and if she got Ben to speak for her it would be like he was already controlling her or like some kind of servant.

There wasn't much she could do.

"Parliament is out of my hands... and most of my council were already formed before I became Monarch and Hardin helped me select the last few people. Lewis is my mother's adviser, he does have a problem with me, I don't listen to him."

"The man who shushed you wasn't an elector from Parliament so I strongly suggest you get rid of him. Any man who tries to talk over you or is so rude like that isn't worth keeping around. As for Parliament, I think you're just going to have to keep speaking louder, love. They're here to listen and to work and if you know what you're talking about they can't ignore you forever."

Ben didn't want to seem controlling in his suggestions but if (Y/n) didn't get rid of the man who tried to make her be quiet then Ben would do it himself. (Y/n) shouldn't have to put up with such rude and insolent people and it grated Ben's every nerve to have someone treat her like that when she was the Queen and she was trying to talk. All the men in this meeting should listen and want to know what she has to say even if sometimes she made mistakes or said the wrong thing.

Blatantly shushing her, talking over her or trying to ignore her was not civil and it wasn't the way to go about things.

"I think some of them are expecting you to be appointed Prince Regent... maybe they think I'm incompetent or they might even respect you and listen if you speak."

Ben sat up straighter in his chair and turned his head to better look at (Y/n) when she spoke. Her voice showed that she was rather worried about people thinking that was what was going to happen or what Ben wanted to happen and it was as if she thought that was actually going to become a reality. He wasn't here for that, if he wanted the crown so badly Ben would have gone back home and declined the marriage. He wouldn't marry (Y/n) and then try to take her crown when he could have his own proper title rather than a belittled title such as regent.

"I don't want to be Prince Regent because I have no desire to take your control away from you. You're not ill or unstable so you don't need any regent and if I wanted a crown so badly I wouldn't marry you, would I? When we get married I admit I would like to work alongside you and help but I don't want to undermine you, love."

"I know, it's just what people are expecting."

(Y/n) kept her focus on their hands until Ben moved his free hand under her chin, gently tilting her head up so she would look at him. There was sincerity in his eyes and a smile adorning his lips that made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter.

"Well you can exceed their pity expectations. You're the Monarch here, not me."

When his lips pressed to her own it felt like they were sealing some sort of secret deal. Ben wasn't going to take her crown and he wasn't here to control or undermine her, only to help guide and encourage her but most importantly, he was staying here and marrying her because he loved her. If he didn't love her he wouldn't marry her even if it would have saved her from a problematic marriage that someone would have arranged for her.

(Y/n) didn't want the kiss to stop but even when she moved her hands to cup his face, Ben pulled back enough to see her properly with a smile that seemed to shine brighter than the sun itself.

"I think you're meeting the Prime Minister soon, so I'll let you disappear for that and I'll find you in a while."

Ben got to his feet but before he left the room that was vacant apart from the couple, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to (Y/n)'s head before he disappeared. He didn't get very far though before someone called out his name, Ben only managed to get out of the corridor and halfway through the drawing room before he was stopped. More so, he knew who was calling him and he didn't particularly want to speak to him either.

But Ben hadn't been here very long and he was going to be here for a lot longer, he knew it wouldn't be in his best interests to come across as rude or ignorant or make enemies right now.

He turned around and tried to put on a placid expression as he looked at Lewis who was approaching him. This was someone Ben was unsure about but wasn't too happy about either. Throughout the meeting he had glanced and stared at (Y/n) like she was doing something wrong or like he wanted to pull her aside and tell her off like she was a little child. He didn't look to be the happiest of people but he was rubbing Ben up the wrong way.

"Mr Lewis, isn't it?" Ben tapped his index finger against his thigh, not wanting to hold his hands in front of him or behind his back because it felt too formal and could come across as unsettling. But he didn't know what to do with his hands, he was very much hoping that this wouldn't be a long conversation.

"Yes, your Highness. I was hoping I could have a word with you about when you and the Queen are married."

"Really? Go ahead then." Ben's head ticked to the side and his eyes narrowed in dismay. He had a feeling he wouldn't like where this conversation was heading.

"I think you already know that when you're married you will need an adviser and I think it would be preferable if you had an English adviser-"

"Are you giving me advice or are you applying for the job?" Ben crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow as his lips curved, forming a sceptical key knowing look. Lewis was angling to be Ben's adviser, he seemed to be a man who wanted power and status and what better way to get that than to be an adviser to the Queen's husband? He could try and worm his way over to (Y/n) as well and take a hold over her if he became close to Ben.

"I think I might be of use if I were your adviser, I know the Queen well."

"Right, and what advice would you give me then?"

Ben knew what kind of man Lewis was, he was the sneaky, cold-blooded type that was out for his own gain. (Y/n) didn't seem to be very fond of him and he seemed like he couldn't tolerate her as if she were someone's child who was getting on his nerves. That automatically put Ben against him but Lewis was digging himself a bigger hole right now that no one could get him out of.

"I'd advise you to keep watch over the Queen. Many of the council noticed you seem to be helping her in her study of politics, when you're married you could become Prince Regent and take control of affairs. I can help you with that if I become your adviser."

The anger pooling inside of Ben became clear on his face that became stern and his green eyes darkened like they were being tinted. His nails dug into his upper arms that were tightening against his chest to try and keep himself calm. So it was Lewis that had been spreading the rumours that Ben will or should become Prince Regent. If that happened everyone would expect Ben to take control of the internal affairs and to take control of (Y/n), reign her in as it were because they all thought she was too young and inexperienced when all she needed was a helping hand.

No one could rule alone and no one knew everything, (Y/n) couldn't be expected to know all there was to be a Monarch but no one wanted to help her, they wanted to watch her fail.

"I'm sure you know what a regency means and if you know the Queen you must realise there is no just cause for that to happen. You're self-centred advice comes with very little logic or knowledge." Even if Ben wanted to become Prince Regent- which he did not- he would have to have a reason for that. (Y/n) would either have to be incapacitated, mentally or physically incapable of ruling alone or she would have to be declared unfit or in a state of madness. Something had to be wrong with her for her to have a Regent, simply being naive or lacking in certain education was no reason for (Y/n) to lose her power and control to someone else.

"The Queen is unstable, your Highness, she is prone to fits of terror or anger and if a doctor deems her so-"

"I strongly advise that you do not finish that sentence if you still want your place in this palace. I don't think you understand that for one, you've just accused your Queen- the Monarch, of being unfit for her crown and two, you've just said that to me. If I hear you saying anything like that again or anyone else spouting that nonsense then it will be you deemed as unfit for your position here."

"I only meant-"

"I know exactly what you meant and I do not agree with any of it. I'm engaged to the Queen but I'm not after her crown like so many people in this place. I think I'm going to have to start making some changes around here, starting with the staff."

Ben waved his hand in the air to dismiss Lewis in a manner that he knew would rile up the elder man who had much less authority here than he seemed to think.

If anyone said anything like that to Ben right to his face again he wouldn't be so easy on them like he just was. He could have had Lewis dismissed from his position for what he said but Ben didn't want to be seen as completely ruthless, although he did want to make sure people knew they couldn't walk all over him. It was a shock to Ben to know that people closest to (Y/n) were conspiring to bring her down or deem her as unfit and he himself was being made a pawn in their plan. They would allow a stranger to take over the ruling of this country instead of (Y/n) and that showed something to Ben.

It showed him that they feared how (Y/n) would rule this country but knowing (Y/n), Ben knew that her changes were going to be good ones and her reign was one that would be feared in the best possible way. She may not have the backing or the alliance of her own council, but Ben would take a guess that she had the confidence of the public and that was more desirable and reliant.

The council couldn't overthrow the Queen like the public could but they were trying to bring her down and Ben wasn't going to let that happen. He would be damned before he let anyone try and hurt or undermine (Y/n) in any way.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #king ben #royalty #power play

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imma-lil-teapot · 4 years

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TMNT 2003/2k3 Headcanon: Crying - (Leonardo)

Feel free to scroll past this first part if you’re not interested in my silly rambling and nonsense. I won’t mind. Promise. ;)

Okey-dokey then, with the global epidemic that is the Coronavirus well in action and most of the world stuck in lockdown (starting this Friday for us too), felt like getting the ‘ol creative juices flowing with a little headcanon-y thingy in preparation for -possibly- more fandom writings to keep myself busy during the house arrest (well... it kinda is!) and hopefully my mind off all the bad news. :(

Also, this is totally my first one on the blog! WOOT! Please bear in mind that I’m SUPER rusty! Haven’t written in ages so there are bound to be typos and all matter of general errors scattered throughout the post. Don’t pet them! They bite!

Anyhoo~ Despite attempting to create and share with the goal in mind to uplift spirits, I decided to start on a rather upsetting subject (PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! They end on happy notes ;) ) because, Imma just come and say it, I enjoy seeing my favourite characters shed tears (not for just any old reason -their personality plays a huge role in this- and CERTAINLY not for sadistic reasons, land sakes no! But... well, you’ll see~ ;) ) It makes me all gooey and fuzzy inside to see them display such raw emotion and I just wanna leap into the TV screen to hug and console them. I dunno why. Maybe I’m nuts like that. (Remembers Raph crying at the farm when Leo was badly injured and wishes she could just hug them all and take away the pain) Oh well, if you enjoy visualizing the same, then *High Fives*. :)

So yeah, if you read the title, you’ll know this is based on the 2003/2k3 series (my favs). Hope you all enjoy~ :D Grab tissues cause sad turts ahead! :’(

Jibber jabber stops here~

TURTLES~

LEONARDO - You are here

RAPHAEL

DONATELLO - Coming soon

MICHELANGELO - Coming soon

WARNING(S): Because of the subject, Angst and Hurt/Comfort will be present.

RATING: G (General)

WORD COUNT: Don’t have the foggiest.

ANYTHING ELSE TO ADD:

And apparently gifs too, so without further ado: (Completely unintentional but in actuality, totally intentional rhyming)...

TO THE HEADCANONS~~~~

~LEONARDO~

-- It’s no easy feat to make the leader in blue turn on the waterworks. Leo won’t cry for any old reason. It’s not because he has no emotions, far from it, but being the leader of a small ninja clan -who happen to be family as well- is no easy task in itself: he has a lot on his young shoulders and deals with many issues on a daily basis few his age ever have to.

-- It’s because of these reasons that Leo doesn’t cry often. One of the lesser likely to out of the four brothers. But when he does, it’s an emotionally distressing sight to behold.

-- Leo tends to cry whenever those closest to him -namely his brothers, his father/master and truest friends- are severely injured or are in a dire situation. Remember his angry/moody arc? The thought of losing any of them causes him great pain and distress, especially if he were the cause of any of it, and when that happens, he can’t stop the dampness that forms around his eyes and soaks into his mask.

-- He’s not fond of crying, especially in front of others, even though he fully comprehends its normalcy. He feels he needs to be everyone’s rock, their fortress of physical and emotional stability to turn to for strength when things get rough... So when the tears start to fall, he feels he can’t show them, can’t allow them to watch him crumble under the gripling weight of helplessness and anguish.

-- He frantically wipes at his eyes and desperately attempts not to sniffle, but it’s a hopeless battle, for his tears are already a steady stream.

-- He’ll try to hide when possible, usually retreating to his room to allow the worst of the emotions to spill over before returning to the others... Though he may be in there a while: when Leo lets his emotions go, it can be just as powerful as his red-banded brother’s rage.

-- He spares no time in making sure the coast is clear for the tears are already streaming by the time he reaches his futon, and there’s no stopping them now as he lets himself drop to his knees, only halfway onto the mattress. He purposefully leaves the room unlit, cloaking his form in the darkness.

-- He sniffs a few times as he shuffles up against the wall, sitting upright against it, bringing his legs up and hugging them loosely and droops his head against a single knee pad.

-- His voice desperately wishes to escape. To express its misery. But he won’t allow it to, often placing one hand over his face in a bid to quell the sadness and remain silent in the battle against his own inner turmoil. He refuses to let anyone see him in that state of utter sorrow and vulnerability.

-- He whimpers ever so slightly and coughs a few times as breathing becomes difficult. He knows this episode won’t be over any time soon. Fortunately, he keeps some tissues next to his bed for such rare occasions and tries not to blow too loudly. He thinks back to the last time he cried so hard... It’s been a while. It felt like a build up.

-- Time has been forgotten as he’s lost in deep thought. By the time he slips a hand across his eyes, only the material of his mask is still slightly damp. He clears his nostrils a couple of times before considering whether he was ready to return to his family. He’d of course straighten up his bedding beforehand, and would also require a trip to the bathroom to wash his face. A true ninja leaves no evidence.

-- Leo tries to put the horrifying images out of head before leaving his quarters. He doesn’t wish to be weighed down again and thus maybe cause his emotions to come out a second time. He knew someone would catch on that time. Instead, he holds his head up high, focusing on the there and now to carry him forward.

BONUS EXTRA~

-- Failure is also one of his greatest foes. Leo despises it, but not in the irrational sense; he fully comprehends that in order to grow, one has to lose in order to learn and thus, succeed in turn, and while it can frustrate him when he’s unsuccessful at mastering a martial arts technique for example, he understanders it’s part of the process and that no one’s perfect.

-- It’s when his slipups could spell casualties or death to his family and/or friends is when it weighs down on him like a boulder strapped to his shell.

-- A really big one.

-- And it hurts. So much so that it causes him to become despondent and often teary-eyed when no one’s looking.

-- Boi Bloo might also cry from especially sad movie scenes. He gets seriously into the story, and when the scene is just right -perfect music, perfect timing etc.- you may just catch Fearless with watery eyes.

-- He can’t help it. After all, he’s a leader, and very caring and kind-hearted individual, so movies showing children or anyone/anything defenceless getting hurt has him not only visibly upset, but also angry at the cause. He’s a softie like that.

-- He won’t have a meltdown, of course, but the tears are definitely there. Just don’t tease him too much; he’s easily embarrassed by it. ;)

BONUS EXTRA EXTRA FEMALE READER OR S/O EDITION~ (Can also use an OC/FC insert if you wish, up to you)

You had figured something was up by the time you’d finished greeting everyone in the Splinterson household except for the Turtle you’d long to see most and he hadn’t made his presence yet known.

The idea that he must’ve been practicing or meditating swiftly vanished when Mikey told you he’d been in his room in the dark for the past few hours. “The guy hardly ever naps, and even so, never this long.” He’d told you. “I dunno, (Y/N), we were about to check on ‘im when you arrived, but maybe you should be the one to. Think he’d really appreciate it.” And there was absolutely no argument from your side as you were already making your way up to the room.

You didn’t know what to expect as you neared the doorway. Could he possibly still just be sleeping? Meditating in the dark instead of his usual spot by the training area? Or... was he sick? The latter now had you concerned and you picked up your pace... Only to pause mid step when an unmistakable sound reached your ears: a sniffle.

Had it come from within his room? It was the only logical explanation as everyone else was downstairs. You were truly perturbed now as you stood outside the doorway and called out the ‘eldest’ Turtle’s name.

There was some shuffling to be heard but you were unable to tell for sure what he was doing -probably trying to neaten up his bed- “(Y/N)? Just a second, okay?” he responded in a rather awkward verging on frantic tone, and you were certain you heard another sniffle escape him.

That, along with the way he’d replied really didn’t help to put your mind at ease. “Leo, are you alright?” Nor was the pitch blackness in which he remained concealed in.

“Yeah, just... l-looking for something.” There was some more shuffling as if to prove his point, but you were having none of it.

“Then maybe this,” you began, turning around to flick the light switch, “will help?”

“No! Wait!” But it was a split second too late for as soon the brightness illuminated the entire room, you had caught the telltale signs of an emotional meltdown in progress plastered on his face before he quickly turned away and briskly wiped an arm across his face, attempting to hide the shame... or perhaps embarrassment?

“Leo...?” your heart and voice softened, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You automatically walked to him, closing the gap he was now trying to form.

“Nothing,” he lied, and acknowledged it was a fruitless attempt but still couldn’t stop himself. Autopilot panic mode was enabled now. “It’s nothing.”

Unfortunately for him, autopilot mother hen mode was activated for you as you reached with both hands to his carapace and shoulder, gently turning him to face you. “I can see that it’s something.” Your words were gentle, and you wanted nothing more than to take away his pain. “Look at me, Honey.” His body was turned but his head remained to the side. It was clear he didn’t want his obvious distress on display, even to you. “Please, Leo?” You tried again, and slowly but surely, his eyes met yours, and you felt your heart sink further.

The fabric of his mask was wet and eyes were still red with fresh tears that threatened to fall. He appeared so broken and helpless as he stared at you, and even though he uttered no words, you could practically hear him despairingly ask “Is this what you wanted? To see me at my lowest?” from his expression alone.

Never had you witnessed the leader of this band of mutant brothers cry. At times you had wondered if he ever did, and yet here he was; the incredible pillar of strength and dignity you had come to know and adore, in tears and so dejected that you couldn’t stop your own eyes from becoming damp the more you gazed at him. “Oh, Sweety...” You whispered as you felt your soul shatter. It was too much to bear. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, one around the midsection and the other over his shoulder, and buried your face into his leathery neck, offering every ounce of comfort you could muster.

It didn’t take him long at all to sink into the embrace and return the action. Beyond the point of concerning himself with showing the pain he felt -or the wetness now soaking into your shoulder when he placed his forehead against it- he sniffed and finally allowed the tears to fall once again as fresh waves of emotion surged throughout his body.

And this time, he couldn’t keep the whimpering to himself.

“Shh~ It’s okay, it’s okay,” you soothed, lightly patting and rubbing along the scutes of his shell as he weakly sobbed, finally letting go of all the sadness that gripped him.

You weren’t even aware of what was wrong, and you most likely wouldn’t find out til later once he calmed down, but right now, he just needed you to hold him. Hold him until the hurt was gone... And so you would.

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE!

ALL THE FEELS!! I EMBARRASS!!

OMGosh, this turned into a monster! The mother of all HCs!! :O No seriously, this wasn’t meant to be this long! I was suppose to squish all four into one itty bitty little post, but then it just grew... and grew... and GREW! Personally, I blame the Reader Bonus but I’d be damned if I didn’t enjoy writing it! ;P You guys here on Tumblr got me slightly addicted to them and have wanted to attempt some myself so... Anyhoo~ I can’t really say if I’m entirely content with the whole thing, I dunno. I feel some parts are better than others (writing style-wise) but yeah, I really need to get back into the swing of things...

Speaking of which, I DO plan on adding my two cents on the other bois as well, but judging by how this one turned out, they’ll most likely all be this length, more or less, so each Turt will get his own post so I can really jot down those details with all the freedom in the world! That being said, I can’t say when they’ll be added but hopefully soon-ish. :) Raph's next on the list!

Thank you all so much for the read and hope you enjoyed~ :D

~Drag0n Mistr3ss’ Random Fandoms*

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love-elisa · 4 years

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leo,

“always write first things uppermost in your heart” - edgar allan poe

youre were always so serious, you know? it feels a strange mixture of uncomfortable and incredibly amazing to see you so happy so often, im glad she could bring you that.

do you remember the earlier days of our friendship? back when i could hardly look at you without getting antsy and you focused so much attention on me to try and help me get comfortable (i never did thank you, did i?). i still have that stupid picture i took of you on the bus, although you probably have no idea what im talking about.

i miss a lot of stupid things about you, things i remember distinctly not liking. i used to be so frustrated that you were taller than i was, which is honestly kind of funny now. i kept telling myself that it wouldnt last long. i had always been the tallest in my classes, and i guess you threatened some part of me that wanted to feel special. you never made me feel bad about myself (on purpose, that is) even though i constantly found myself trying to learn about the things you spoke so easily about. youve always been so smart it made me want to better myself, to impress you i guess.

do you remember helping me to buckle myself in when i couldnt reach on that one ride? (im still embarrassed about that, actually. i hope i thanked you, but just in case i didnt, consider this my thanks.) or do you remember offering to hold my hand on that roller coaster? you stayed right within reach the entire time, and it honestly brought me so much comfort. i still remember when we first got on and you kept looking over to me and asking if i was alright. i didnt have the heart to tell you it felt like my heart was going to explode or that my head felt so light i thought i might lift off of the ground. at the time, i couldnt figure out what made me so dizzy, but it didn’t feel necessarily bad. only looking back do i realize that it was you. you had never felt closer to or further from me, honestly.

i’m not sure i ever told you what Pyxis said to me, did i? i cant place where exactly in the day it was (who am i kidding i probably could), but we were waiting in a line and she turned to me, leaning in and whispered that she thought she might have a crush on you. i didn’t know, but that would be the first of many other girls telling me they liked you. i should have told you, honestly. it would have been a huge confidence boost to you.

sometimes i wonder what would have happened had i just said something to you or to Pyxis or anyone at all. but then again, everyone else would have still come along, and we probably would have still gotten to where we are now; near strangers.

i dont blame anyone, though.

i feel like i should confess more to you, knowing that you’ll never read this.

the next person to tell me they were into you was Vulpecula, i think. i cursed whatever it was about me that made people tell me things, but now im glad they do. Vulpecula is probably still into you, honestly. i don’t think she’d forgive me if she knew i had helped you and Virgo get together, so that’ll have to be our little secret, huh? she told me she liked you after school one day, i dont remember what we had been talking about. i encouraged her, of course. you two seemed to get along well, you had a lot in common. she was too shy to tell you though, so i guess we were equals in that.

i cant get your focused/confused face out of my mind. that weird little scrunch, the tightly pulled together eyebrows, the lip biting. honestly, thats the face you seem to make the most. it makes me smile to think that you would probably read this with that face, like you didn’t quite understand what was going on or how so many people could be so infatuated with you and you have no idea.

Virgo was the last one to tell me. i think we were at the drive in (just she and i) when she suggested it. i agreed with her on every last thing. i remember telling her she could always come hang out with us, but she said it would feel wrong.

you know, i hadnt thought about it before, but they both did the same thing when it was the three of us. part way through a scary part of the movie(s), they would move inward and push between the two of us, leaving me to the outside and get as close to you as possible. its odd to think i had done the same thing years earlier at the amusement park.

it sort of makes me wish i had taken full advantage of the time you gave me, that i had held your hand when you offered it or asked you to ride the ferris wheel one more time in hopes we could stop right at the top and look out to the sunset again. the way you slowed your steps when we walked together so i wouldnt have to work so hard to keep up or the way you would look over to me so often in public, as if making sure i was still there. it makes me think of every ride in your car, laughing at you just being you and wishing it didn’t have to end so soon.

ive always thought the whole “you always love your first love” thing was stupid and irrational, but thinking back on it i can’t help but feel just how true it is. somehow, you unknowingly left this space for yourself in my heart that i didn’t notice until you werent there. you managed to create this expectation i cant get away from just by being yourself, treating me like a human being. i guess i want to thank you for that more than anything else. you taught me what i deserved without ever fully giving me what i wanted, and ill never understand how you did it. you snuck your way into my mind and now, youre there.

so thank you, for teaching me what i deserve, for showing me what love felt like, and most of all, thank you for being my friend. always and forever.

Love always,

Elisa

(P.S. i hope you don’t take offense to your pseudonym, your name means “the protector of man”, which you probably knew, so i felt that a strong pseudonym was the only option. its in refrence to the constellation, in case you were wondering.)

#love letters #unsent letters #unsent love letters #unsent messages #romanticism #romance #long reads #unsent texts

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no6secretsanta · 4 years

Text

On the morrow he will leave me

Hey gecko (@lostemotion)! I was your secret santa this year! I took your prompt to heart and came up with this fic. I hope you like it! Happy holidays! <3 - Ace (@hi-im-secretly-satan) Word count: 2161 Warnings: none Summary: Nezumi has a tendency of leaving Shion behind without saying where he’s going, or when (if) he’ll come back, leaving Shion to simply having to trust he will return. Nezumi’s wandering spirit as seen through Shion’s eyes. Title from The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.

—

The first time Nezumi had left him, Shion was twelve years old.

The rat had crashed into his life, soaking wet, and filled a void Shion hadn’t even known existed. As soon as he woke up alone in his bed (suddenly way too big for just one person) and saw the two empty cups of hot cocoa on his desk and the open window (the only traces of Nezumi’s presence), the emptiness crashed over him like a wave and had left him incomplete, always yearning for that missing piece. It was almost like Nezumi had not only taken the checkered flannel and the first aid box, but also his innocence.

The months following their strange encounter had been hard. At night Rashi’s face flashed through his mind, with his cold smile that never reached his eyes. Asking questions like “why” and “where”. Why had he taken in VC103221? Where did VC103221 go? Buried deep under the covers, Shion asked himself the same questions. Why had he let that bleeding boy in? Stitched his wound, fed him his own food, clothed him in his own clothes? And where had Nezumi gone? Each time Shion relived his memories searching for answers, he only found more questions. If he could turn back the hands of time, return to his old room and watch the hurricane crashing down on the city, would he still open the window if he knew the price he would pay? Save Nezumi while knowing it would cost him his prestige and his comfort here in Kronos? No matter how many times Shion thought about it, turned it over, analysed every bit of data at hand, he always came to the same conclusion.

Yes, he would.

But after all the wondering and pondering, the question he found nagging at him the most was “Will I ever see him again?”

Oh, how Shion longed to unravel the mystery that had thrown his life upside down. He needed to see Nezumi again; gather more data than his memories contained. In those grey eyes raged a storm he wanted to lose himself in. He wondered what could have scarred Nezumi’s back at such a young age. Wondered where and how Nezumi had learned to effortlessly, coldly, render him motionless, ready to kill if needed. There was so much Nezumi hadn’t told him and Shion wanted nothing more than for Nezumi to take his hand and show him this new, mesmerizing world he had never known existed.

Meeting Nezumi again was everything and nothing like Shion had hoped. He had not expected Nezumi to come to his rescue, but then again he hadn’t expected to be labeled a criminal either. It surprised Shion how little he cared about having to flee No.6. As irrational as it was, he had a feeling that as long as Nezumi was by his side, he’d be able to survive anything. After four years of living with a memory, the real Nezumi was within his grasp and this time Shion would not let go so easily.

Nezumi was still the same contradictory enigma he had been when he was twelve. He told Shion not to be kind to strangers, yet he had given Shion’s flannel to one of the children living nearby. He told Shion to let go of his memories, yet clung to his own past. But the one thing Shion couldn’t wrap his head around was how Nezumi had kept an eye on him for four years, watching him from the shadows and keeping him out of trouble, yet now he seemed almost hostile. They got into fights and every night Nezumi left him. Nezumi left him just like he did all those years ago. Whenever Shion asked why, where to, or when he’d get back, he dodged the questions.

One night, a month or two after Shion had arrived in West Block, he was alone in the underground room again. Nezumi had run off somewhere without telling him where the day before, and hadn’t come back. The stew Shion had made earlier that evening was cooling down on the stove. He hadn’t wanted to have dinner alone, but it was getting late and his stomach growled. He had never known hunger back in No.6, had never known how hard it was to ignore, making it impossible to focus on other things. His clothes were baggier on him than he remembered them being. Another growl echoed through the vault and Hamlet chirped on his shoulder. Shion smiled and reached up to scratch its head.

“We can’t eat yet. Nezumi isn’t home,” he said with a sad smile. He put down his book, the enchantment of the “Lady of Shalott” broken by hunger and worries. He ran his fingers over the spine of the book and stared at a stain on the open page. Hesitantly, as if speaking the words out loud would make them come true, he asked, “Do you think he will come back?” The mouse chirped again, seemingly reprimanding him. Shion chuckled and shook his head, scolding himself for even daring to think Nezumi wouldn’t come back. This was his home, after all. “You’re right, of course he will.”

He loved his new life with Nezumi but he couldn’t deny it was lonely when Nezumi wasn’t here, even though he had the mice to keep him company. With a sigh, he closed his book and pushed himself off the floor. Right when he had turned the stove back on to heat up their dinner, the door opened and Nezumi stepped inside, a gust of wind accompanying him. It seemed to storm wherever he went.

Immediately all of Shion’s worries melted away, the tension flowed out of his body and he sent Nezumi a bright smile. “Welcome home.”

He had been foolish to doubt Nezumi. Of course he would always come back. No matter how many times Nezumi left him, he always came back. Even when Nezumi had collapsed on stage, when Shion feared his life had been taken by a parasite bee, Nezumi had opened his eyes and called out Shion’s name.

So surely Nezumi must come back to him now as well. That was the thought that grounded him as Shion stared at his hands, painted red with Nezumi’s blood. A sight he’d never expected to see since he had stitched up his shoulder. It was a silly thought, but after Shion had watched Nezumi survive so many perils that were sure to kill him, he had come to think it was impossible for Nezumi to die. He had forgotten Nezumi bled just like humans do. He had forgotten that Nezumi was human. Nezumi, who laughed, danced, fought, bled, was human.

And now here he was, lying on the floor of the Correctional Facility, his pale skin crying crimson, sluggishly gushing bloody tears, his breathing shortening and pulse slowly, slowly, slowing down. Dying like humans do.

A vague voice in the back of Shion’s head yelled at him to get up, drag him to safety, tend to his wound like you did all those years ago. Shion slowly tore his gaze away from his bloodied hands, stared at Nezumi’s face which was growing paler by the second.

Get up! the voice screamed. After you have saved each other so many times, do you really want to let him die now?

“He killed Safu….” Shion murmured.

You know that is not true. You have both killed people. You are both drenched in sin. Now get up and save Nezumi, otherwise he will never come back to you.

A soft whimper, impossibly loud in the cacophony of death and destruction around them, snapped Shion’s attention back to the bleeding body in his arms.

Right. He had to save Nezumi. He had to save Nezumi and get out of the Correctional Facility. Inukashi and Rikiga were waiting for them. His mother was waiting for them. And together they’d return to that room underground - to their home.

Shion hooked his arms under Nezumi’s armpits and started dragging him to the nearest room, wincing as he watched another wave of blood flow from Nezumi’s chest. He was going to save Nezumi, even if it would cost him his own life.

Even before he was fully awake his mind had registered every cell in his sore and battered body screaming in pain. But as he opened his eyes and recognised the storage room that also used to function as his bedroom, the memories of the past few days slowly washed over him and the pain turned into a pleasant ache. The injuries were almost a trophy, proof that he and Nezumi had destroyed the Correctional Facility, destroyed No. 6 and received a second chance from Elyurias.

Nezumi.

Shion looked over at the other side of the bed and found it empty. Although they had shared a bed in the West Block as well, he was no stranger to waking up alone, for various reasons. But today, waking up without Nezumi was a punch to the gut. After everything they had been through, the horrors they had witnessed and survived, he couldn’t bear being alone. He had to know if Nezumi was still alive.

A breeze caressed his cheek and he glanced at the window. Karan had opened it last night for some fresh air and they hadn’t closed it. Shion sat up, blankets pooling around his waist, and stared outside. Was this a repeat of four years ago? Had Nezumi really left him already? Again? Or had it all been an eerily realistic fever dream? He did not know which would be worse.

The relief he had felt when he had found Nezumi standing in the door opening, a cup of coffee in his hands and a gentle smile on his face, his hair swaying in the breeze and fondly greeting him with his usual “your majesty” was nothing compared to the feeling of rejection that shook him to his very core when Nezumi had told him he wanted to travel. The sparkle in Nezumi’s eyes when he spoke of discovering distant lands made Shion envious, wishing Nezumi would look upon him with the same wonder as he gazed at the landscapes.

But as much as the truth hurt, Shion knew deep in his heart that this was for the best. The idea of making a home here was paradise to Shion, but to Nezumi it would be a prison. He was a free spirit that should not be caged. Still, that did not stop him from pleading Nezumi to stay anyway. As they stood in the fields and Nezumi checked his provisions one final time, ready to leave on a long trip to unknown destinations, it was suddenly hard to breathe.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed Nezumi’s hand and called out his name. “I’m begging you. Please don’t leave, Nezumi. A world without you means nothing to me. Nothing, Nezumi. There isn’t any meaning at all.“ The words tumbled over his lips in a desperate attempt to convince Nezumi to stay. He half expected Nezumi to scold him for saying weird things again, but then gentle fingers on his chin lifted his head and Nezumi’s face was suddenly a lot closer than it had been. He barely got to protest before Nezumi pressed his lips against his. A hand came up to cradle his jaw and Shion squeezed his eyes shut, not caring about the tears that spilled over his cheeks. As one who is shipwrecked clings to a piece of driftwood that once belonged to the ship that carried and guided him over the vast oceans in life, so Shion reached up and clung to Nezumi’s arm like it was the only thing capable of grounding him. Sorrow, yearning, anguish, love, and more feelings he could not even identify rushed through him and threatened to drown him.

When he finally came back up for air, Shion almost didn’t dare to ask for fear of his heart shattering. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He doubted he ever would be. But more than that, he could not bear the thought of never seeing Nezumi again. He did not know what he would do with himself if Nezumi truly never returned to him. He couldn’t-

“It was a promise,” Nezumi replied with a gentle smile. He carefully untangled himself from Shion and pocketed his hands. “Reunion will come, Shion.” Nezumi sent him a final, longing look and with that, he turned away.

As Shion watched him casually walking down the rocky path like he was simply going out for a stroll, he thought of the questions he had asked himself when he was thirteen, hiding under the covers, and the answers he had gotten during their winter together. He realised most questions still went unanswered, but that was all right. As long as one question would be answered, nothing else mattered.

Will I ever see you again?

#hi-im-secretly-satan #lostemotion #no6 #no.6 #no. 6 #no 6 #submission

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scige-alt · 4 years

Text

LIANA LIBERATO / CIS FEMALE — don’t look now, but is that saige beaumont i see? the 21 year old criminal psychology / linguistics student is in their sophomore year and she is a rochester alum. i hear they can be blithe, energetic, evasive and irrational, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet she will make a name for themselves living in murphy’s beach homes. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

snjdfg these took so long i’m so sorry but anyways please LIKE and i’ll slide into yr IMs for plots !!

TW DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, IMPLIED ABUSE, ADDICTION, HIT & RUN.

a e s t h e t i c s

stick n’ pokes at 2am – when your drunk and giggling too much in between purposeful stabs, avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk because they’re bad luck and they’ll break your mother’s back – even if your mother doesn’t love you, because you love her, the familiar riff in an old song – one that’s got you strumming along silently; there is no guitar, only empty air lit by the christmas lights you haven’t taken down. it’s may. swallowing down shots, and by default, swallowing down problems. laughing quick, easily, constantly. skinned knees from skateboarding, despite being rubbish at it. wishes on eyelashes stuck to your cheekbones, glitter sticking, running into the ocean at sunrise; feeling at home. excuses, and the many forms they come in. telling people you love them through hand squeezes and fresh muffins, sideways glances and soft, eager grins.

general info !!

full name: saige alouette beaumont

nickname(s): n/a so give her some uwu

b.o.d. - july 7th, 21 whole yrs old.

label(s): the hedonist, the icarcian, the reveler, etc. etc.

height: 5′7″ !!

hometown: thibodaux, louisiana

sexuality: bisexual w/ a very slight preference towards masc-presenting folks

stats

biography !!

the fallible daughter of two very infallible people: robert beaumont, US lieutenant general, and manon levesque, world renown fashion designer. both calculating, cold, and purposeful.

saige never believed she was created out of love. it was an action with a purpose, intentions to create the perfect child. the hybrid of both military genius and fashion extraordinaire, molded to their will.

it took them no more than six months after her birth for her parents to up and move, thus beginning the cycle of packing and unpacking, flying and driving, state-to-state and country-to-country. the longest saige had ever stayed in one place was two years.

kept on a short leash, homeschooled, and learning skills she had no interest in – she was more like a pet, a project, than a child. the world moved all around her, but she felt restrictively tethered to her parents.

she had always felt this way. a bird in a cage of thorns.

it was hard to keep and maintain friends – saige would be there one day, and gone the next. a ghost, a very visible ghost. even so, she tried her hardest.

running from bodyguards (nannies, in a sense. her father is a paranoid man) into festival crowds and climbing out of windows in the dark of night to swim in lakes with locals she’d meet only a few hours earlier – she absorbed as much of what she could get; this intense, undying love for a world she had always craved to see.

it was the start of something near dangerous – a phase that seemed to never end, rebellion coursing through her veins. a wild child in the making, unknowing of limits. the bad sort of crowd was the crowd she found herself landing, more often than not – introducing the sheltered girl to a world she hadn’t quite known existed

she ran away, briefly, at age fifteen with a man three years older than her – which nearly ended up in a tabloid magazine if it hadn’t been for her parents’ money. though the guilt of her parents’ disappointed weighed on her, the thrill fueled something much worse

from that point on, she became a problem child. from public intoxication to vandalism – it was clear their daughter was unraveling and nothing could contain her.

boarding school was a small attempt to stop it – she got expelled.

she hadn’t intended to go to university, either – but, by some chance – and after a mysterious year-long disappearance from public eye during her eighteenth year of life, next thing she knew, she was a student at lockwood university.

she was involved in a getaway chase from an armed robbery at a bank which then turned into a hit-and-run in washington when she was on the brink of turning eighteen. it was a situation she had no control over, not knowing her role in the scheme until it was too late to turn back. the victim survived but saige’s family has been paying the medical fees since then. her parents haven’t spoken to her since.

ever since the accident, saige has avoided causing too much trouble - generally staying out of headlines and tabloids, partially in fear of her parents finally cutting ties, and partially in fear of doing something that’ll cost another person their life.

personality !!

bubbly. so fucking bubbly. she’s got so much fucking energy on her – she goes running every morning and every night and swims like every afternoon and she’s n e v e r tired ?? the personality of a coke bottle shaken up but like if the bottle could laugh.

tries her hardest to be the Happy Fun friend, y’know, the one who can hook you up w/ some sicccc shit b/c she befriended/possibly slept with her drug dealer and now she gets discounts.

like, generally, comes off as very confident of herself and fearless and, like, yes–reckless, but like a fun reckless, y’know ??

talks a l o t, could ramble for days, hand gestures and all.

if she wants to do something, she will do it and there’s not much you can do to stop her tbh. she’s very easy-going, very go-go-go, very…mischievous, y’know? even if she’s trying to do something stupid you kinda just have to let her do it or otherwise she’ll mope for three hours and pout at you and you’ll feel ?? this weird sense of guilt ?? which isn’t the Best thing but she’s not the best person either so dfghjh

a vegetarian !! meat makes her sick, like, physically.

uuuhh her vocabulary consists of a lot of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’ and ‘y’knows’, y’know ??

i am like 99% sure she’s got adhd but she’s never been diagnosed with it b/c her parents suck with that stuff. her parents sort of suck in general.

like…she’s currently not on speaking terms with them. she’s not disowned…like, yet, but they haven’t said more than like five words to each other since saige was eighteen and it k i l l s her but they also send her a shit ton of money every month so.

owns like…four cars…..she has them all on campus…..she prolly isn’t suppose to…but she does…one of them’s a real sleek sports car, one is a jacked up pick-up truck that’s decked out in like LED lights n shit, one is the same exact fucking car from the princess diaries b/c saige is obsessed w/ the movie. the other is like. a mini cooper probably.

a photographer, her walls are covered in photographs and art and taped-down plants and in general her room is very ?? cluttered ?? like it’s very home-y but god. she’s a mess. clothes everywhere. she’s probably got a pile of instruments and other miscellaneous hobbies on a chair in the corner that she hasn’t touched in a while

speaking of !! she has a bunch of random, like, skills ?? like knitting and sewing and cooking and three different forms of ballroom dancing, and she can definitely work a gun and a car engine except she goes thru interests so rapidly and is disinterested in most of the other ones b/c her parents forced like half of them onto her.

she plays bass guitar. she loves her bass guitar. she knows other instruments but the only ones she’ll really fidget with are her bass guitar and like, her violin. everything else she’s like ~okay~ at

got really obsessed with languages at a young age and started learning them ?? her mother is like. super french, like genuinely from france, so she already grew up speaking both english and french but she’s learnt others for the hell of it and she’s still learning like three other at the same time which is a MESS but she’s a mess so like can u blame her sdfghj

but like i said, she’s v e r y reckless. very much a party girl. she uses like…quite a few drugs, both socially and alone and frankly – she’s rarely sober.

a budding alcoholic because she’s convinced that without it she’ll be Miserable and Horrible to everybody because she’s a Horrible, Awful person who is the absolute Worse and if drinking vodka mixed in with 23 crystal lite packets helps with not thinking like that then she’ll do it no questions asked

its a problem she’s been developing since she was younger, only amplified by … the situation, that happened when she was eighteen.

is essentially wearing this mask of confidence and giddiness and flirtatiousness b/c she doesnt want people to think she’s doing Not Okay.

she loves so much. she loves everything, everybody. falls in love like five times a day but nothing really sticks to her either. if ur a shitty person/come off as an asshole then she’ll be more likely to be attracted to her b/c shes Always been like this. finds them super interesting which is ?? questionable ?? sometimes i want to just. knock some sense into her but y’know what…it’s fine we’re Fine

she gets around p frequently but is also the type of person who’ll like, try n maintain a positive, good friendship with whoever she sleeps with b/c the idea of having regrettable encounters is smth that Bothers her and she just pretty much refuses.

it’s honestly a bit of a problem ?? she blurs the lines between friendship and Something, Anything More too often and with too many people b/c she just. wants to be loved. but there is never enough !

she does stick n pokes !! a whole bunch !! let her give you one !! she can’t draw for shit but i mean, who cares, right ??

uuuhh her mom sends her like…prototypes of things she designs n shit that isn’t out yet and saige 100% always gives it away or it sits in her closet and essentially that is her go-to gift for birthdays or christmas or whenever she feels like it

there’s literally sm i could say about her but i’ll stop Here b/c it’s getting too long sksksksk

wanted connections !!

give me. a best friend. just somebody who sticks by her side even though she’s a Mess

like, a ride or die ?? is that the same as a best friend ?? idc i want both :)

and just in general, like, people she’s p close to ?? she’s really friendly and is the kind of girl who’d be really popular in high school but doesn’t care abt popularity n talks to literally Everybody like she’s known them all her life.

ESP if ur muse is a lil grumpier !! she will fuck their shit up, but like, in a friendship way.

party pals, where they don’t talk that much outside of parties but inside them ?? super close. glued to the hip. hold-your-hair-back kinda tight.

frenemies ?? fake friends ?? toxic pals ?? ppl using her for her money or like, sex, or something ?? anything ??

bad influences ?? who just encourage all of saige’s shit ??

good influences ?? who are like YOINK stop being an idiot.

a tutor b/c she’s like…she’s smart, okay, but she’s also really stupid LMAO. she’s rly bad at math and science. somebody help her.

hook ups ?? fwbs ?? that one, rare one-night-stand that went weird ??

exes ?? she’s sorta noncommittal so idk how long they would’ve dated but like sjdfkbo yolo ?? ex hook-ups too ??

…somebody who just. hates her. but she doesn’t realize bc she’s a big ol’ idiot. she thinks theyre pals !!

let her b a thorn in someone’s side, just like, an absolute annoyance LMAO

gimme an enemy, or like an ex-best friend where something happened between them n it ruined their friendship

i will take literally anything i dont know

she steals ur character’s mail ?? ur cat keeps escaping and she keeps letting them inside even tho she’s allergic ??

one of those friendships where theyre always bickering like an old married couple ?? but it’s Purely Platonic (or is it ??)

an off-and-on again that just. it’s not good for either of them b/c they keep enabling each other and then getting pissed off and it’s a Mess but ?? it’s so hard to stop.

the drug dealer she keeps sleeping with even though she can just … pay for her shit. b/c it’s funner this way !

just … people where their like … relationship status is Blurred and it’s like, are they a thing? are they not? b/c she’s a mess and gets involved with too many people without intending to !

please. take her. give me connections.

#huntingtonintro #drugs tw #addiction tw #alcoholism tw #implied abuse #hit and run tw

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idksheepthoughts · 6 years

Text

Conversations Me: you actually soft blocked me.... any reason why?

Her: lol the fact that you noticed this late but it happened on accident actually and i went and unblocked but at that point i was like lmao like she'll notice so i never mentioned it

Me: If you hate me just say so. No need to lie.... I don't check shit like that every day but it's not that many days since I know it was maybe a week or less ... Whatever. I'm so splitting atm. So I'll shut up before I say something else

Her: hate? when the fck did i mention that? yes, better shut up before you stick your foot in your mouth as usual since i've done nothing hostile to you as if me feeling like i matter to no one and have the smallest amt of friends possible is somehow how an Attack on You.

Me: you blocked me... on "accident" how does that even happen.... i've told you tons of times that the amount of friends depends solely on yourself. and your willingness to talk to people and work past the anxiety and fear that talking to people causes. . . otherwise I wouldn't even have friends. because if i isolated and neveer talked to anyone ever first that nobody would talk to me in the first place. . . ugh whatever. i've said too much im just going to sober up and talk later i guess.... I can't always be here I try to be but like we said previously, i didn't know what to do between give you loads of attention and give you nothing at all...

Her: tumblr mobile? lol. if you can't believe me when i say that then i don't really want to talk to you since everytime i feel bad or have like, negative feelings regarding my own situations you always take it so personally (1) and then i have to dread these fcking conversations so when we've been talking normally on twitter it all goes to fcking shit because you can't accept that i get to feel bad and feel upset about stuff regardless of whether or not im taking actions to help myself in my own way at my own pace...doesn't mean you get to think that i hate you so i blocked you because what the fuck how does it work when we've been chatting like everyday on twitter? and it was (what i thought) fine? good? (2) if it really was the case i wouldve blocked you here or just flat out deleted since then i'd only have one fucking follower :) so just. let me have emotions. and don't assume things. this is so funny because i remember you getting mad at me months ago for the same exact thing and here we are, situations reversed

Me: BECAUSE i have a huge fear of abandonment.... it was fine but this stuff even if its an accident just idk .... i guess you never saw how much abandonment even if its an accident sends me into depressive spirals??? have i ever left you no. i've been distant yes but i've never full on unfollowed or left... idk you block me a lot and delete and it hurts every time.

Her: "even if" can you believe me????? first off???? (3) and no you havent god if it was such a problem just follow me and then ask me about it because why would i lie lol (4) i don't like friendships built on lies i'll never talk to someone like that genuinely i have insecurities too. i have enough

Me: ok it was an accident.

Her: i didn't even think it was a problem first off considering all those people you put on your thanksgiving post. and then you never noticed/messaged me about so i was like k, so that's that! and just talked w/ you normally here (5) so let's just accept the fact that we've got our problems and there's better ways to handle this than assuming motives

Me: so you did change url because of that post??? like my paranoid ass thought???? i was right on that???? cause i noticed that and was like... maybe its not related but was it????? cause I just want to know... im not mad at that at all just... i want to not assume things atm. and i notice stuff slowly because I try not to fall into obsessive traits. its not healthy to check who im following or who is greyed out or blocked every single day. . . I try to just let things be but when I do notice stuff i can't help but explode. I tried to be calm by just asking why.... but i clearly failed at that. its whatever. I followed back. if it happens again just like.. tell me please??? this stuff makes me so close to slitting my wrist

Her: no, i changed my url because i was sitting on that url for a while and i wanted to use it

Me: okay, it was just a paranoid thought.

Her: well, i really, really, really, don't like when you start assuming things even after i tell you or not believing me. we've been friends for how long? does it mean nothing? you'd think i'd lie at this point? x____x (6) .those thoughts make me want to die

Me: i'm sorry for thinking irrationally, but with how many people just up and leave, all the time even with being friends for long periods its hard not to jump to conclusions. I am in the wrong for falling into my own paranoid thoughts. You explained things and I don't believe that you are lying so its fine.

Her: oh, now you believe me after i have to hold your hand when i'm upset (7) whatever i'm probably not going to follow back because i hate that i have no friends and my mutuals ignore all my posts when i try to put myself out there it's gotten to a point where i can't post stuff on tumblr anymore because i know no one gives a shit like even as happy as i am about my commission i know if i post that on my tumblr i'll make the artist seem bad when no one likes my post idc. i'm bitter and alone and probably always will be because i don't have any friends aside from you o/ like, be grateful you even have that many people to be grateful for (8) i'd kill for it i feel like dying when i think about this and i think about it a lot but ofc i don't moan about it anywhere except on this stupid fucking twitter account where you seem ot think i live a dandy life (9) it fcking sucks bc im trying my best! anyways im done lol oh and then you post shit like *Edit* (Screenshot of some tags where I said I always listen to people but nobody likes listening to me so I talk to my cats a lot which is true because I’m a burden and i hate bothering people with my problems so much) that when you damn well no i have no one else to listen to except you online and we've been civil lately but ok! i guess i don't care! because im living it up! #sarcasm (10)

Me: you havent followed me in probably over 10 or so months, whenever i remade, cause i don't think you followed me when i delteed either, i didn't expect a follow back at all. i just expect us to be not mutuals but still friends? THEN TALK TO PEOPLE TALK TO PEOPLE AND TALK TO PEOOPLE thats all i did was work past my fears and talk to people and some stuck around some didn't. i dont know what else to say. some of those people haven't actually spoken to me in months either but im still grateful for them. I have nothing else to really advise on that other than you gotta put the talking in first. thats all i've done and its somehow managed to not fuck it up for this long??? i dont think i've had any friend longer than whenever we started being friends... so around 2 years...

Her: no offense but just talking to people doesn't do shit :) but seriously, thanks :) (Phone lagged) So I repeated my previous message by accident)

Her: yeah probably the only reason you havent fucked it up is because i dont want to be fucking alone and i dont give up easily so ive stayed with this even fi you make me feel like fucking shit when this happens & since you said nothing to everything else i just said i guess im right :) god im over this i dont want to fight and i dont want to talk to you becaus eim always explaining my problems and you just like. tell me the same shit each time as if it'll magically do stuff liek the fact that im trying doesnt mean anything i dont wanna talk to you if its always going to be like this ill take the goddamn loss and be lonely while youve got your fucking harem of friends idc if its an exaggeration the point is everyone i considered a friend has just stopped talking to me completely and the only thing i get here is you telling me what to do like i need cold hard instructions for making a friend

ME: Harem??? You know nothing about anything. Ya know what..... forget it. If it's better I don't say anything because nothing I says helps and I'm a broken record. You want to assume because I tagged a lot of people doesn't mean I wasn't just fishing for validation. Me trying to help is just being a dumb mistake. I can't help anyone and why I try is also confusing because I am pointless. I'm keeping you in my note regardless you have been here and listened and that hadn't changed. But if this is just going to explode it's going to explode. All I do is ruin everything and I don't even care anymore I'm going to buy a gun soon anyways. So what's the point in trying to make something work. I've always been a shit friend and it's just not worth it to you at this point. So okay.

Her: HERE let me qutoe for you something "idc if its an exaggeration" ^^^^^^^ unlike you im aware when im being irrational lmao (11) apparnetly you get to be and i dont thats how it always is did you ever think about it feels for me when my only friend does shit like this constantly like lmao ofc not bc why would you consider anything from my point of view this conversation is over until you want to stop fucking assuming i dont care LOL and acting as if me letting you go is the best thing that could happen to me like we couldnt j ust talk on twitter and let it fucking be but you have todrag it all in at least i get to get stuff off my chest thats the only fucking good that comes out of this like you dont get that you telling me the same thing hurts because it doesnt fucking work and i dont have any fucking friends i have college to deal with and studies and that pressure but you dont know the half of it? but you just want to assume, assume, assume (12) i cried already out of anger

Me: I didn't have friends in college either

Her: big offense but i dont want to continue this conversation

ME: Okay

Her: unles syoure willing to admit to your bullshit because ima lways doing that and im always getting the end of your shit

Me: I am made of nothing but bullshit I'm nothing but a huge fucking shit storm and I always will be. You should have left a long time ago because I don't know how to not be toxic It's not That I won't be upset by you leaving far from it but you deserved better people and maybe if you had left and kept trying as you have been things will turn around. Because literally everyone that has ever done that with me ended up fine and in a good spot. I hold people back. And that's all I can think of. I ruin other people's lives by being in it. And I've certainly made your life worse. And I'm just better off dead because I am a selfish fucking loser. I'll shut up now.

#personal #conversations #am I in the wrong???#my perception of reality is very bad #I wish I could tell easily when im being irrational #but i feel like im also just being belittled and treated poorly in her responses too #i am toxic #bad friends #idk ... man #there is a lot i want to say to certain points I might edit and respond with my thoughts now that I am no longer intoxicated #long post

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reinhartroleplays · 5 years

Text

i think the main feeling i feel lately is loneliness.

loneliness and exhaustion. it’s like a constant fatigue on my bones. even right now, they ache. i feel heavy. my head swims. it’s the hardest feeling to describe, but it’s like there’s a pressure on my head that makes me feel tired, and out of it, and disconnected from everything around me.

the worst part is all the unsaid things on the tip of my tongue, all the words i want to say that i keep swallowing back because i’m not confident in myself to think they’re worth voicing or love myself enough to know that even if they’re irrational, they still need to be said because they’re valid.

i wanted 2019 to be different. i wanted to get in shape, treat my body better, love myself harder, focus on a career, get back into schooling. i was doing so good too and then my mom came in to tell me that she was pretty sure she had cancer.

it’s like i can divide time between this moment. before i was told that, after i was told that. it’s like the minute i heard that, the minute i let go of my goals and everything started feeling like i was trapped in a horror film. i became envious of my friends, of strangers who got to chase their dreams and spend time with their family and have good things happen to them. i wasn’t the girl who had years of her life ahead of her anymore, i was the girl who possibly had to start counting down the years she had left because if something happened to my mom, i’d die. i might still be physically here but i’d never be the same and i think the part of me that’s kept me alive all these years would burn out.

it’s hard to talk to people. it’s hard to approach people. i’ve conditioned myself to feel guilty for seeking help because as much as my mom loves me and tries to understand, she doesn’t. she sees the world as a mind over matter situation. she lost her son, she got diagnosed with hepatitis c, her husband cheated on her, she got diagnosed with cancer and yet she keeps going on and she thinks that that’s the key to challenges. she doesn’t view it as anything except another challenge to get over and i have never had that strength.

i’m the girl who cried when she got made fun of by the mean girls. i’m the one who took every critical comment to heart, who was told i was too sensitive, who was told to lighten up, smile, don’t take it so seriously. i have always felt the sting of venomous comments and i have never been good at developing armor against them or controlling my face to show a blank mask. as my mom says, you can see every emotion on my face.

so i’m silent. i wait for people to come to me. i wait for texts - for calls - for IMs. i wait for someone to ask me how i am, and sometimes i’ll get a query once a week but it’s not personal for them like it is for me. it’s not something ever present in their lives. to them, it’s what all major tragedies were to me before - it’s something to feel sad about but ultimately, you’re just relieved it’s not happening to you. and i’m struggling. i’m struggling and i think i’m losing.

i know there’s people i can make appointments with. i don’t know why i haven’t. maybe because i’m scared to confront so many things i’ve pushed away? maybe because i’m still thinking i can control it myself? maybe i’m afraid of what i’ll hear, that i’ll have to swallow down some truths about myself i don’t want to.

maybe i’m afraid i’m broken and damaged and there’s a flaw in my code. i’ve always felt different, like i wasn’t like normal people. things that came easily to them - sports, being around the opposite sex, things that seem so simple like dating and kissing and flirting, drinking and drugs, they were all things i struggled with. i felt like an alien. i was on an entirely different planet and when everybody i loved left me, it helped me cement my belief that there was just something about me that wasn’t lovable. i wasn’t lovable. i was a mistake. something was wrong inside me and people could sense that.

i still struggle letting go of those beliefs. i still struggle not being paranoid when people don’t answer - when people sign on only after i’ve signed off - when weeks go by and promises aren’t kept. i keep waiting for that person i feel special and important to and i think in the end, i am not the person you stick around for.

i’m lonely. i’m scared. i’m sad. i wish people loved me as much as i loved them. i wish people stayed. i wish she’ll stay. i can take everybody else leaving me but please don’t take my mom. she’s the only one who ever loved all of me, even the broken and ugly parts.

i know i need help. i know it goes beyond talking. and i’m so tired of feeling crazy, of feeling like a burden, of feeling like i don’t deserve things. i just wish i had the strength to take that next step. sometimes i ask for help and i’m not sure anybody’s listening. i just want somebody to listen and somebody who stays even through the bad parts. i’m sorry there’s a lot of bad parts.

it feels like my heart takes over my whole chest sometimes. all i can do is feel, and i don’t know how much more i can feel but i’m trying. sometimes i wish i could be acknowledged for trying. every day, i’m trying and i’m fighting and i’m just ready for it to stop being so hard.

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wewillalwaysendhere · 6 years

Text

Your Smile Belongs To Me pt. 1

Jimin was sprawled on the couch phone in one hand as he looked through comments left by fans on the groups latest Inkigayo performance. By now it had come to his attention that many fans were going crazy over the interaction that he had with Jeongguk on the 21st Century girls stage.

Jikook, the one word that brought an unexplainable giddy smile to Jimin's face, kept popping up in almost every comment.

Although Jimin loved his dongsaeng alot it did not quite explain why he felt the need to watch the video several times just to see the adorable moment all over again.

He did admit to himself, however, that the way Jeongguk's face scrunched up cutely the moment they layed their heads against each other made a warm feeling grow in his chest.

Jimin couldn't help but chuckle at some of the fan's enthusiasm over this small skinship though. He felt that it was such a small action to fuss over, but if it made the fans so happy, he wouldn't mind doing more fanservice.

Most comments were innocently pointing out the Jikook moment but of course there were those that were so lewd and explicit they made him go wide eyed and red in the face.

Meanwhile, the other boy of said ship, stood near the hallway leading to the main room watching as Jimin would scroll through his phone giggling and blushing like a teenage girl.

'What the hell? Why is he being so disgustingly sappy right now?' he thought. 'He is only ever like that when I compliment him.'

"What are you laughing at Jiminie?" Jeongguk tried to mask the annoyance in his voice with the sweet nickname, but failed miserably.

Jimin froze at the sound of Jeongguk's aggravated voice. His presence further deepening the shade of scarlet blooming on Jimin's plump, cherub cheeks.

Jimin slowly lifted his head, Jeongguk stood there just a few feet away all ready for another session of late night practice. His right hand tightly fisting one of the backpack straps slung over his shoulder and left hand tightly clutching his phone.

"Oh, Jeongguk-ah I didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously," You were too busy giggling at whatever's on your phone,"what are you laughing at?"

Jimin looked down at the phone still in his hands fiddling around with it a few times before replying shakily,"U-uh n-nothing, let's get going so we can come back before it gets too late."

"Yeah ok sure, but first tell me what you were laughing at," Jeongguk demanded, suddenly determined to find out what had his hyung grinning and blushing like a fool.

"I'll tell you later, let's go."

"Aish! Come on hyung what were you laughing at?"

"Oh my god, it's nothing! It's not even funny!"

"Then it shouldn't hurt to tell me."

Jimin squinted his eyes at the maknae and childishly whispered an indignant,

"No."

"Well, im not moving from this spot until you tell me what you were laughing at."

"My name is muscle pig Jeongguk and I'm being a little brat right now disrespecting my hyung even though he was born is Busan first." He mimicked him in a high pitched voice

"Omg! Is this really that important?"

"Very."

After a few seconds of silent staring, Jungkook lifted an eyebrow expectantly and began to tap his foot agaist the wooden floor.

One thing was for sure, Jimin was never not even in a million years, ever going to confess to fangirling over their own ship.

"Gguk-ah let's just go," Jimin was pleading at this point.

Jimin was trying to formulate a reasonable excuse when he was suddenly struck with the idea of teasing his way out of this situation.

"Ugh~ fiiine, I was laughing at you." Jimin said exasperated, all the while rolling his eyes in a mocking manner.

"Yeah right, whatever, since you won't tell me I guess I'll just go practice by myself then."

He stomped his foot like a three year old, turned around and trampled out of the dorm not even bothering to close the door properly.

Jimin gaped at the spot in which the younger boy had stood, beyond shocked by Jeongguk's absurd attitude.

Jimin blinked a few more times before finally collecting himself and groaned standing up to close the door opting to give Jeongguk some time to cool off. He threw himself back onto the couch and tried to stop any thoughts that would cause him to run after the upset maknae.

_________________________

Meanwhile, Jeongguk was beating himself up over his seemingly unreasonable actions.

'Stupid Jeongguk! Why am I so mad anyways? Jimin doesn't have to smile at me only. I don't own him. How the hell am I suppose to talk to him now, he probably thinks I'm on my man period or something.'

He kept on mumbling all the way to the studio. So distracted he collided with a light post and even went as far as apologizing to it.

A red bump now decorated his forehead and any incentive he had to dance had been lost. So, he sat against a mirrored wall sulking and pouting, the irrational anger he had felt back at the dorms had dissipated and left in its wake a feeling of disappointment and hurt.

Jeongguk asked himself why he felt so much hurt and anger at the thought of Jimin being with someone that wasn't him. He desperately wanted to blame his jealousy on their strong friendship but Jungkook knew for a while now that the feelings he had towards his hyung were anything but friendly.

He had caught himself staring one too many times, sometimes it was at the the way Jimin's bottom lip would tremble whenever he sighed, often times it was the manner in which Jimin danced.

If Jeongguk had to use a word to describe it he would use the word filthy. Filthy because, the style was so sensual and exotic, slow yet sharp, so meticulous and effortless, it never failed to leave Jeongguk breathless and with a pounding heart.

The singer had stared at Jimin's face so much he began to notice small things. Small insignificant things like one of Jimin's eyes being slightly smaller than the other and how it would droop when the dancer was exceptionally tired.

He recalled the story behind that eye, the story in which a small boy accidentally hit his eye against the edge of a toilet and had to get stitches in order to stop the bleeding. It somehow brought a small smile to face.

'That is such a Jimin way to get hurt,' he thought chuckling to himself.

But Jungkook especially thought about the way Jimin's lips would stretch into a smile so big it caused those deep alluring eyes of his to be replaced by half moons. Jimin's smile had easily become Jeongguk's favorite feature of the other. He felt a strong sense of possessiveness towards it.

Jungkook not only wanted to be the only one able to see that smile but also the only cause of it. He adored it so much he wished he could some how put it in a bottle just so he could hear the tinkling sound of Jimin's childlike laugh whenever he wished to.

Jeongguk was aware of what these thoughts entailed but acknowledging them meant going down a dangerous path he was not yet ready to face.

Deep down he also knew that his feelings meant nothing. They would probably not matter to Jimin anyway.

Jimin loved him that was for sure, it just wasn't in a way that went past loving a little brother. So until today Jungkook had unconsciously pushed his feelings to the side, ignoring any desire he might have for the older.

#jikook #oneshot #kookmin #au #jungkook #jimin #bts jimin #bts jungkook

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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 6 years

Note

okay so i'm veeery energetic and outgoing and positive and i'm generally really quick-witted and i can find the right thing to say pretty much all the time. however, as soon as i get criticized in any way or someone says something mean to me, i immediately shut DOWN. like i cannot think of anything to say back to them??? ALSO whenever im talking to ppl/doing things, im always lost in the moment and focusing on the present and all that, but when i get insulted, i will literally not say~

~anything for the next hour, and i go into overthinking mode, which is something i never generally do?? like i keep replaying the situation in my head and i get rlly hurt and i wish i knew what to say in response and idK i just handle criticism and stuff like that VERY poorly, and i get hurt rly easily. ik youre probably gonna say that this is common human behaviour, but ive noticed that not everyone reacts to criticism the way i do. what type(s) is/are all of the things i said indicative of?

----

Hi anon,

So actually this isn’t a normal human behavior thing. Few people love criticism, but this particular response isn’t universal.

The fact that you react strongly to external criticism/insults and consider yourself very outgoing makes me think high feeling. I was thinking this could be dominant Fe but there are also strong hints of high Se - focused on the present/lost in the moment (though see the above ask; these are pretty classic ‘Se’ descriptors so an example of this behavior would be enlightening). The quick-wittedness and being good at what to say could go with either depending on how you figure out what to say.

With that in mind, I’d say either ESFP or one of the Fe-doms, probably on the young side (mid-teens or so - if you’re older than this that would change my answer). To tell the difference:

Review the Fe/Fi post in the FAQ. I think, though I’m not sure, that if you were an ESFP your thought process would be more “why are they criticizing/attack me as an individual” whereas for Fe it would be more “why don’t they like me and why are they showing this behavior that is generally considered to be rude?”

The overthinking usually comes from introverted functions because they’re the inherently irrational ones that only take internal feedback; that could be an ESFP’s Fi again getting hung up on ‘why have they done this to me’ or it could be an ExFJ’s weak Ti or stronger aux function.

If you have more detailed information on either your behavior outside of this sort of incident, or the nature of that overthinking if you’re comfortable sharing it, I may be able to sort out your type more.

#mbti #typing #extroverted feeling #extroverted sensing #Anon ask #answered asks

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joohoneyhoe · 7 years

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Push and Pull| Six

[song inspiration: Got7 - Like Oh]

pairing: Jimin x oc x Jaebum genre: angst, fluff, smut, fingering, oral, dirty talk word count: 3.9k a/n: Isolde spent three years with Jimin after meeting him by chance in a dance studio. He was perfect and he loved her, she thought he was the one she’d spend the rest of her life with. That all crumbles when he decides he wants to please his parents and leave her so he can be with someone like him. Isolde is plummeted into turmoil and leaves her job as a choreographer to move back home to the states. A mutual friend named Im Jaebum reaches out to console her, lift her back up from her fragile state. It’s a push and pull tug between what she thought she had and what she could have.

{five months later}

I held my phone to my ear, tears pouring from my eyes, the dial ringing over and over. I hadn’t talked to Jaebum in over forty-eight hours and he never even gave me an explanation why. So finally today, I had decided to check and see if they had a show I didn’t know about. I went on to some big Korean news page, just seeing what was going on in the country I missed so much and what Got7 was up to this last few days. I didn’t even make it past the home page and the first thing that popped up, was Jimin and his now fiancé.

Fiancé.

They were engaged. We’d been separated for less than nine months and they were already engaged. I had thought I was doing better now, I rarely even thought about Jimin. I was going out with old friends again, having fun, doing things I had missed out on when I was gone.

Jaebum stayed consistent in my life, our communication only increasing over time. I felt like, maybe, there could be something there, but I wasn’t sure what. Then, two days ago, he just went completely silent and I heard nothing. I was trying not to panic about it, hoping he was just out of town or something. But, out of anxiousness and curiosity about what was going on in the world I was no longer apart of, I found out about Jimin.

The phone finally went to Jaebum’s voicemail and I threw it down onto my new couch in frustration. It was ten at night here, so it was two there and I couldn’t get a hold of anyone. After I called Jaebum two or three times, I had tried Jackson, Suran and even Jinyoung. I couldn’t reach any of them. I felt a panic attack beginning to well up in my chest, my breathing becoming erratic. I couldn’t tell if it was because of Jimin or because I couldn’t reach Jaebum for the second day in a row, and all I wanted was to hear his voice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shouted as I paced the apartment I now called home. Bane, the black Maine Coon I had adopted from a local shelter, followed behind me as I moved. “Fuck, I don’t know how to stop this.” I cried, my chest getting tighter every second.

My phone went off on the couch and I quickly grabbed it, not caring who it was that was calling, just hoping it was someone who could calm me down. “H-hello?” my voice trembled, sobs shaking through me.

“Isolde? What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you alright?” It was Jaebum, rattling off question after question, his voice filled with worry. Hearing him made that tight feeling in my chest instantly lift, making it easier to breathe.

“I went onto a Korean news site today and Jimin…he’s-he’s-” “I know, Is. I know.” a broken cry left my lips, my body collapsing onto the hardwood floor, Bane immediately coming into my lap.

“Five months months, Jae. Five months and she’s already getting what I waited three years for. I just-I just want you here with me. I wish I’d never left, so I could see you. You’re the only one who’s been able to make me feel like everything was alright. I need you right now, here, with me.“

“Isolde, listen to me. Hang up and wait for me to facetime you, okay?” I was perplexed by his request, but agreed to it anyway.

“Okay.“

“I’ll be two seconds, I swear. Just hang on, baby.“

Baby.

That word echoed through my mind as I hung up, my hand at my side, clutching my phone as I pet Bane’s long fur. I’d only had him for a month and he already seemed to know when I needed him the most.

My phone went off again, this time a facetime call. I wiped my tears and answered, his sharp features coming into my view. It had seemed like forever since I’d looked into those dark chocolate eyes, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

“Isolde, it’s alright.” he cooed, his brow furrowed in concern.

He was wearing a simple black beanie, had all black on and what looked like a backpack on his back.

Where was he?

“Is that why you ghosted me for two days, because you didn’t want to tell me?” I questioned, eyes scanning his face for answers. “No! No, Isolde. That’s not why at all.” he reassured me, he was walking quickly now, more like jogging really.

“Then why?“

“Open your front door and I’ll show you.“

I froze, heart leaping into my throat anxiously. “W-what?” I stuttered, standing up and knocking Bane off my lap by accident. He stopped moving now, trying to catch his breath.

“Open the door and I’ll show you.“

I spun, sprinting to my apartment door and flinging it open. There stood Im Jaebum, still trying to catch his breath from running, his broad chest heaving. We stood there silently, just starring at each other, phones still on facetime.

“Hey, Is.” he finally said, a smile pulling at his lips. I dropped my phone completely, not caring if it broke and jumped at him, my arms around his neck. He easily caught me, his grip strong as he hoisted me up and put my legs around his waist.

“You’re here, Jae.” I whispered, my face in the crook of his neck, crying once again.

“I’d never ghost you, Is. Not unless I had a good reason and I thought this was reason enough. I booked a flight as soon as Suran told me about Jimin. I wanted you to hear it from me in person, not over the phone for once.” he replied, his chilly hands sliding under my black sweatshirt to feel my skin.

“You scared me.“

I confessed, my right hand pulling his beanie off so I could run my fingers through his hair with my left. "I’m sorry, I just wanted you to know in person, so I could actually hold you and tell you it was alright. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” his cold hands against my searing skin sent chills up my spine, my hold on him tightening.

I pulled back, looking down at the man I’d only seen over a screen every day for that last eight and a half months. He was even better in person, his eyes looked like they could hold galaxies and his lips could make stars. His hands moved to my thighs, helping me keep my legs wound around his waist.

“I know you didn’t, Jaebum.” I took his face into my palms, thumbs grazing his cheeks.

“I’ve never been more happy to see someone in person, as I am you right now. It feels really selfish to be saying that when I know how upset you are.” his voice was low, gravely as he spoke, eyes landing on my lips before shooting back to up to my gaze.

“I’ve never been more okay, than I am right now. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to say that again, especially in someone else’s arms.” you could cut the tension with a knife if you wanted to, the silence alone was suffocating.

“I want to kiss you so badly, Is. But after what you found out today, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than you already are.” my breath hitched in my throat, bottom lip being pulled between my teeth.

“The only way you could hurt me now, is by not kissing me.“

“Is-“

“Please, it’s all I’ve wanted for the past five months, maybe even more.” I told him, pressing my forehead against his, eyes closing.

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.” even though he had told me what he wanted, he was still putting me before him, making sure I didn’t do anything irrational.

“I can’t find one reason why I would.“

I heard him take a deep breath, his lips moving forward to brush against mine. “Are you sure? I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once I do.” his hot breath fanned across my mouth, my core tightening at his words, something I hadn’t experienced in months.

“I don’t want you to stop.“

“Okay.” his lips finally pressed to mine, the kiss hesitant and gentle. My hands moved from his face to his hair, pulling him closer. He was clearly surprised by my actions, his hands leaving my thighs to set me down before he pulled away. He took my face in his hands and pushed me backwards through my doorway, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“I don’t want you to do this because you’re upset, Isolde. I want this to happen because you want it to.” he pointed out, still holding my face in his hands as his lips kissed my forehead.

“Why do you think I call you when I’m upset or when I’m happy, Jaebum? You stopped being just a “friend” in my eyes eight and a half months ago when you told me I deserved the stars, not just a painting of them. Having you here, right in front of me only solidifies that for me.“ he chuckled, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“You remember that?” my arms wound around his waist as I stepped closer to him, feeling him against me.

“I don’t know how I could forget. That day, I saw you in an entirely different light, Im Jaebum and I haven’t been able to see you differently since.“

“You are by far, the greatest thing to happen to me in these last few months. He’s a fucking moron for letting you go, Isolde.” It was my turn to laugh and he seemed a little surprised by it.

“Maybe. But, if he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be here with you right now.“

“I’ll have to send him a ‘thank you’ card.“

His lips connected with mine, this time much rougher. His tongue ran along my lower lip and I let him in without a second thought. He grunted into the kiss, his tongue dominating as he picked me back up. A gasp escaped my mouth when he gripped my ass, fingers digging into the flesh that was covered only by thin black leggings. I pushed his backpack down his shoulders and he let it drop to the ground with a thud. Moving us to the nearest wall, he pushed my back against it as he explored the most sensitive parts of my neck.

“You need to tell me to stop before I can’t, Isolde.” he growled, his left hand crawling up my sweatshirt to feel my skin against his.

“No, please don’t stop.” I begged, my hands grabbing his back as he pulled the skin of my neck between his lips.

“I swear I didn’t come all this way just for this, Isolde. I just wanted to be here for you when you found out.” he pointed out, his lips trailing up my jaw to my lips, pecking them over and over. I palmed his face, pulling him to look at me as a smile spread across my lips.

“I know you didn’t, Jaebum. That’s what I like about you. You’ve had my feelings in mind since day one and I can’t say I’ve ever experienced that before now. Not talking to you for the last two days has felt like torture for me. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to see you or even just hear your voice every day, until I couldn’t.” he let out a groan, bracing one of his hands on the wall beside my head while the other held one of my thighs.

“It nearly killed me to ignore you like that, Is. So many times, I almost picked up and told you I was on my way. But, then I remembered how much better it’d be if I just wound up here when you least expected it. I’d get to see your smile for real, hug you and hear your voice in my ear from your own lips, not a phone speaker. As much as it pained me to not talk to you and know what I had to tell you, I didn’t want to do it anywhere but right here.” I kissed him softly, letting my legs fall back off his waist as he continued to pin me to the wall.

After I pulled away, he nuzzled his nose against mine, making me smile widely. Jimin was nowhere in my thoughts when Jaebum touched me or kissed me. It was only him and in that moment I knew, I was done with Jimin completely. Even after reading about his fiancé and feeling like my world was crashing down all over again, the first person I went to was him. Not to cry about Jimin and her, but to hear his voice and let him calm me like he always did. Comfort me and tell me everything would be alright, like he had for over eight months now. He was who I wanted to be with, him and only him.

“Come with me.” I took his hand in mine and pulled him towards my room, dragging him inside before shutting the door. I swiftly reattached our lips, his hands moving to my hips as I pushed us towards the bed.

Before I could shove him down onto it, he switched our positions and we tumbled on to the bed together. I let out a loud laugh when we accidentally bumped foreheads, his nose scrunching as he snickered.

“Well, this is sexy, isn’t it?” he said sarcastically as he rested on his elbow above me, his other hand on my face as his thumb ran along my bottom lip. I covered his hand with mine, leaning into his touch as my eyes closed.

I couldn’t even remember how Jimin’s hands had felt against my skin anymore, and I didn’t want to. All I could think about was how good Jaebum’s felt, and how much I wanted to feel them everywhere else.

“I don’t care how sexy it is or isn’t, I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.” I breathed out, my eyes opening to find his, dilated and full of emotion.

“Me either, Is. But, I want you to be sure about this though. I don’t want you to have any regrets after it’s all said and done. I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to prey on your vulnerability or that I’m just in this for sex. I’d rather have you as my friend and keep my feelings to myself, than lose you altogether.” tugging on the collar of his shirt, I pulled him in for a deep kiss, lips moving perfectly in sync with one another.

“You’re not going to lose me. I want this too, I promise.” I reiterated into his kiss, not wanting to separate from him.

“I just…I just want to be sure.” he continued, dragging himself away so he could see me.

“I’m sure. Now, stop talking and get your damn clothes off already.” I demanded with a smirk, shoving him so I could sit up and yank the sweatshirt from my body.

A snarl ripped through his chest as I bared my naked torso to him and began removing my leggings. He pulled his shirt off, carelessly tossing it aside before kicking his shoes and socks away, then removing his tight jeans. His erection strained against the fabric of his boxers, making me bite my lip as I felt a rush of heat between my legs. I moved up the bed, laying down with my arms above my head as I waited for him to join me.

His lips were on my thighs, slowly working their way up to my stomach, fingers trailing behind. He kissed between the valley of my breast before dragging his lips over to a already hardened nipple and brushing against it. Only his eyes looked up, silently asking for permission. I bit my lip again as I smiled, urging him to keep going. He didn’t break eye contact as he took the peak between his lips, flicking his tongue over it. A moan bubbled in my throat as his hand moved to the other, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. Swiping his tongue over it one last time, he left to do the same to the other.

This time his hand trailed down between us, finger pressing on my clit through my dampening underwear. I jolted at the contact, hips jerking towards his hand. He released my nipple, his teeth dragging over it before moving back up to my mouth. I reached down and palmed him through his boxers, feeling his long thick length in my hand. His lips instantly pulled away, a loud hiss escaping as he now circled my swollen bud. I gripped his neck with my free hand, lifting myself up to suck a mark onto his collarbone, just bellow his neck.

“I don’t even know what you like, Is. You’re going to have to tell me.” he whispered into my ear after he removed himself from my grasp.

“Do whatever you want to me, Jae. Please, I just want to feel you, all of you.” I whined, raking my nails up his chest until they found his hair.

“Whatever I want?” he questioned, the look on his features darkening instantly. I nodded.

“Whatever you want.” he sat up, taking hold of my wrist and yanking me up with him.

“Stand up.” he demanded as he did the same, pushing the last bit of clothing from his hips. He sprang free, his cock standing tall, the tip red and weeping.

“Take those off and then come sit on my face so I can finally taste you.“

I should have blushed at his words, but the only thing I found myself doing was hastily removing my underwear and pushing him back down on the bed. I took my time crawling up to him, kissing his muscular thighs and purposefully moving right past his hard member. I sucked purple marks into his hipbones as he squirmed beneath me, his fingers pulling on the sheets. I continued my journey upwards, leaving little marks as I went until I reached his lips, giving them a peck.

“Get up here.” he took hold of my waist and forcefully dragged me up as far as he could and I decided to move the rest of the way. Once I was positioned above him, he pulled my thighs where he wanted them and dived right in. My head flung back, lips parting but no sound coming out. He acted like a man starving, his tongue doing the unspeakable as he drove me to the edge. I don’t think I’d ever felt my climax approach this fast from oral in my entire life, and Jimin had excelled in that field. His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking on it harshly, making me cry out.

“Fuck, Jae-” I choked out, fingers digging into my own thighs. He let go with a pop, smirking up at me as I fell apart.

“Do you want to cum on my tongue, fingers or my cock?” he inquired, his hands running over my ass before grabbing the ample flesh and squeezing.

“All of it, I want all of it.” I replied, taking my hands through his hair as I looked down at the beautiful sight beneath me.

“Greedy, aren’t we?“

“I haven’t been fucked right in almost nine months, I think I can be greedy.” I pointed out, tugging on his hair slightly.

“Welcome to the club, baby.” he went back to work, tongue delving into my core, twisting and turning rapidly. He then moved back to my clit, his tongue working back and forth with such vigor, I don’t know how his jaw kept going.

“Right there–oh, God!” I released onto his tongue as he lapped at my arousal, not missing a single drop. As I came down from my high, my head feeling fuzzy, he swiftly moved me so I was now under him.

“Ready for the next one?“

“I’m still struggling from the first one.“

“Good.” he slipped two fingers in me without warning, my core still sensitive from my last orgasm. He curled his digits, searching for the right spot until he found it. I let out a loud moan, not even trying to hold it back this time. His pace was slow, but had me building back up in no time as he repeatedly hit my g-spot. He prodded at it, over and over, cries of pleasure leaving my parted lips as I panted.

“Come on, baby, cum for me. I want you to cum all over my fingers, just like you did my tongue.“

“Jesus, Jae! You’re driving me insane!” I shouted, hands moving to grip his shoulders, leaving marks in them from my nails.

“That’s the intention. Now come on, let go. I can feel how close you are.” as if on command, my second orgasm rolled through me, his name leaving my lips in a scream. He didn’t even wait for me to come down from it this time, just positioned himself and slammed into me.

“Fuck–you’re so tight.” he gasped, his lips finding the spot below my ear. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, getting him as close as I could to my body. He brought his face back to me, eyes searching mine as his hips snapped into me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Isolde. I don’t know how anyone could manage to let you out of their grasp. I’d literally kill to keep you.“

“No need to. I’m all yours.“

His lips crushed to mine, tongues colliding desperately as we both chased our highs. “I’m close, Jae–really close.” I warned him, fingers tugging on his hair as he rested his forehead against mine.

“Me too–where do you want me to cum?“

"I’m on birth control, so wherever you want."

"Good, I’m going to fill you to the brim.” my head flew back at his words, crying out as he gave me another hard thrust, sending me overboard for a third time.

“Shit-shit-shit!” he cursed loudly, moaning as he released into me, so much I could feel it leaking out of me already. He gave a few final thrust before he completely stopped and met my gaze.

I smiled, taking in his sweaty face and chest, realizing how beautiful he truly was to me. I never thought I’d be able to think that about another man again and here I was, cursing myself for thinking that when one had been right in front of me all along. Tears pricked at my eyes as I stared at him, my right hand running through his damp hair.

“No, no, no! Don’t cry, Is! Fuck! I’m sorry! This is exact-” my index finger touched his lips, shushing him the exact same way he did to me on our way to the airport all those months ago.

“Jae, they’re good tears. Calm down, babe.” he let out a loud sigh of relief, pulled out of me and laid down.

He brought me to his chest, his arms winding around my shoulders as he kissed my tangled locks. My hand splayed out across his abdomen, feeling the rippling muscles under my fingers as he caught his breath.

“This feels different.” I confessed, eyes becoming more tired than I remembered being. "Good different or bad different?“

"Good. Definitely good, Jaebum.”

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acrispyapple · 7 years

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50 more interesting questions

Rules: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!

Tagged by @incorrectmidc i had this open for days and i answered a few questions per night lol @o0w0o and @deathbymidnightcinderella <3

1. What kind of food can’t you stand? spicy stuff and umm food loaded with exotic spices / herbs

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick? my mouse ending up double clicking after a year or so

3. Have you got any useless talents? i have way too much trivia and animal facts. plus random skills with no practical use. oh and playing the piano is also a useless talent for me since i don’t really “use” it

4. If you were really really good at one thing, what would it be? my answer isn’t an “if” thing lol. i have a really good memory. it really helps with mostly anything i do + it makes studying easier. but sometimes people think it’s creepy that i remember little things about them, they think i keep notes about them or something lol-- but i really do just remember.

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking - umm neil caffrey (matt bomer) from white collar, nick burkhardt (david giuntoli) from grimm, daniel shaw (brandon routh) from chuck -- i seem to have a type haha. omg i forgot jo in-sung. i’ve always thought he was handsome!

6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid? i was a pretty boring kid. i just read books, watched cartoons, and organized things. as a kid i’d look at my toys but never really play with them because i liked seeing them all set up nicely. i just kept collecting stuff i liked. the most i’d do that’s remotely active was play with my dogs

7. What is something you’re proud of? i do well academically and i learn fast. and somehow i’m proud of how i’ve remained the same over the years.

8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate? i don’t know if this is considered a character flaw but i really dislike poor manners haha. it drives me crazy when people open their mouth while chewing or if it’s too noisy. i die a bit inside. besides table manners and manners in general, i dislike people who are rowdy during inappropriate times.

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower? both but to avoid stress sometimes i just want to follow. i’m a bit of a perfectionist / rule follower so i get frustrated a lot. i know not everyone is like a machine but it’s hard with my ocd lol. and no this isn’t just me saying ocd like most people when referring to certain things, i actually do have it and i have medication for it

10. What kind of student are/were you? normal i guess. i got along well with people, i didn’t fail anything, and i never rebelled or did anything wild. it was uneventful lol. i’m still technically a student now, but i see it more as an adult thing.

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life? i’m sure everyone has one

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion well it’s not a fear per se, but i have an aversion to most asian food, sorta? the smell sets me off especially if it has a bunch of spices or herbs in it. my nose is just sensitive and i get affected easily by strong scents. but i’m fine with japanese food, maybe some korean and chinese stuff. for fears, iono, i don’t think it’s irrational to be afraid of spiders and big cockroaches ><

13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable? a bunch haha but it’s mostly people associating them with me first. i’m not tsundere..... how dare they

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties? i don’t think i’ve ever gotten drunk the way people imagine people getting drunk to be like. i remain the same except i get a headache. i don’t really change at all. and in parties i guess i just stay close to my friends. stranger danger lmao

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone? umm no i do not. i mean i can trust them fine but i don’t think i can believe their feelings until they can prove it isn’t just a short time attraction. i’m in for long term stuff so i don’t really wanna waste time if it’s not headed there. but yeah currently in a long term relationship

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends? having fewer friends makes it easier for me to update all of them without getting tired of repeating the same story over and over haha

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak? always organized and no one’s allowed to touch my things haha

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy i’ve always wanted a seating area near a huge window with a good view, bunch of pillows, earphones + music

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday? nah i don’t think i can handle it. i’d probably go insane trying to control them and making them become my idea of what a person should be like

20. What was your favorite book as a child? the chronicles of narnia, still love it to this day because it’s really written well

21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about WHAT IN THE WORLD DOES A FIDGET SPINNER DO -- yeah i’m sorry, i think it’s stupid

22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated i should have an answer for this but i totally forgot lol

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose? since im in the midcin fandom i’ll just say byron

24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday? visit all the haunted places i’ve ever read about, and prolly explore old ruins. i was way into archaeological finds etc way back

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat? i try to say it in the most courteous way possible. i can’t keep it to myself because it would bother me and my mind would just dwell on it forever but i also don’t like offending people haha

26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in? sTiCkY cApS in chat (but i stopped after a month okay, and i was 12)

27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for? typing in sTiCkY CaPs. kill 12 year old me pls

28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable? being kind and yet still firm when needed even when it comes to friends. i really admire people who don’t just blindly agree with their peers

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.) people give me stuff with owls, bears, hedgehogs, or stars because i love them. i also love stationery and pens. i like getting different colors and i never use them. i just keep them forever haha

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones? i know a bit of stuff from other languages but not enough to be proud of it. i don’t want to be a poser and claim yeaaaahh i speak this and that lol

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside? city please. i hate the quiet countryside. it’s like if someone comes to kill you and there’s no one around and you’d be all “this is why i should’ve been in the city with people everywhere”

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving? byron wagner from midcin. when i first started and i saw him i was all, ehh eyepatch dude. so edgy. lmao. i even purposely skipped him during certain events and i regret that now.

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else? i don’t want to be the center of attention, i’d feel awkward

34. Favorite holiday? the usual, christmas and new years eve... but i miss having an actual christmas where it isn’t summer...

35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously? i always have a plan lol

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.) hmm, i can watch something over and over with no problem. all good

37. What hobbies do you have? reading (but it’s mostly fantasy and sci-fi), watching crap, annoying my dogs, playing video games, making stories in my head. I WISH I COULD WRITE AND DO IMAGERY WELL. oh well

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have? the ability to moisturize instantly, one click. that’ll save me time daily

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you that i like video games and anime lol. and that i’m happy to talk to them T_T

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out i still don’t know how to knife. how to knife~ i mean how to slice things or chop things or do anything in the kitchen

41. Worst injury you’ve had? is it considered an injury when you’ve had to get 4 major surgeries in a year? i mean i guess tending to / waiting for the surgery scars to get better can be considered an injury since it took a while and it was sorta a pain

42. Any morbid fascinations? umm, i can’t think of one

43. Describe your sense of humor i don’t really know lol. i make a lot of jokes and sometimes it breaks the mood for people lol

44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose? i really like princess stuff but the real medieval stuff would be dirty people who don’t take baths and really horrible stuff so maybe just the fantasy version of that + high speed internet

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at not rambling when i really like something. to the people who’ve ever had to listen to me whenever i got excited about something-- i’m sorry

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through going to a nature retreat thing 3 months ago or something. i had no internet and it made me cry inside but i guess it was fine

47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.) i don’t really want tattoos in general so i guess the ugly one.

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist? optimist

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you? something that isn’t physical or shallow. i’d be really happy if people noticed my achievements or if they liked something about my personality-- or if they found me funny lol

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you that i’m not nice lol because i keep to myself unless spoken to irl + that unimpressed scowl i always have. it’s like my default facial expression!

not forcing anyone to do it since it’s very long, just tagging for the sake of tagging! and i think most of the people i know have already been tagged? i’ve seen this tagged post done by most of them lol

@ashnable @nimmywik @captiveotomeprincess @otometrashcan @princessdiarymdc @arimii @madamemalfoy21 @kinkymint @oh-my-otome

#tag game #personal #50 more interesting questions

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