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alex-harris · 6 months

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Final Evaluation

To conclude, this project was aimed to better my visual communication skills in the textiles format through my designs and techniques. My personal project was based around my religious practice as a pagan and the connection that it has with nature and natural recourses. By utilizing the workshops and machinery, I took to different textile techniques and processes in order to convey my personal relationship between myself, nature and my deities that I worship in my practice. I did this successfully through my samples, sketchbook and a final vision board with my blog on Tumblr being a platform for recording my efforts, evaluating my work and researching various artists with a similar vision as me or worked with different styles or techniques that I wanted to explore.

I used both primary and secondary recourses in order to successfully explore my narrative properly. I chose some of my favourite artists such as Sally Pointer, Jenny Dean and Deb Cooper to aid in the continuation of this project, whilst also researching new artists I hadn’t heard of before such as Ann Kyyro Quinn, Matt Peers and Tom Cherry to name a few. I decided to choose a variety of artists with different skills in order to fully develop my work and experiment with techniques that I might not have otherwise thought about or used. A good example is when I researched Ann Kyyro Quinn and learnt the basics of her fabric manipulation techniques to create interest 3D effects with felt and tough fabrics. It turned out that this technique was not suited for this project and its aims, so I decided not to continue working off her style which was perfectly fine because, although it wasn’t used, this was not a waste of my time and was valuable when thinking about what exactly I wanted to portray in my final outcomes and how I wanted to do that, Ann’s work just wasn’t suited for it. In contrast to my research on Sally Pointer for example, I learnt her techniques for creating natural cordage out of dandelion stems and decided to use it in my final outcomes because it related heavily to my narrative and worked well when visually communicating this idea of nature being twisted and ingrained in my spiritual practice. Both instances were valuable time spent well as they both allowed me to refine and think about my project and how I wanted to portray it.

In terms of Primary research, I used collated images from over the years of my walks and exploration with my family and friends. I took my favourite ones which portrayed the best texture, shape and colour and played with them in collage, print, mark making and hand stitching to further communicate my narrative. These would become the basis for my mark making with various mediums and those basic shapes would then be turned into different print techniques, weaving, hand stitching and so forth to create my samples and final outcomes. Without the right amount and variety of primary photographs, I would not have been able to work as hard as I did with the project, nor get this far in the process because I would not have had something as valuable and personal to work from. The primary photography also allowed me to visually communicate what I see in my head when analysing and appreciating nature (being it a central part of my narrative), the hand stitching and collage in particular allowed others to view what I see when I'm practicing or working with spirits in natural areas which I think is very important.

Naturally, I gravitated towards particular techniques compared to others, preferring weaving and normal machine stitch (applique techniques) to printing and knitting for example. This does not mean I did not work with those processes in my sketchbook or final pieces, I just believe that weaving and simple stitching is a very good way to enhance my project and best visually communicate my narrative in this project. I think I did have strengths when it came to the printing workshops, most notably with screen printing and disperse dyes because it relied heavily on my mark making and use of simple iconography skills of which I think I did well in this project, however, I found most of the printing process long and tiring compared to the final outcome not particularly being worth the amount of time I spent on it. This does not mean to say that I didn’t appreciate the backgrounds and beginnings of samples that I created in the print workshops, I just believe that it was too unpredictable for what it was worth in the end. I do appreciate how much I could do to work back into and improve those samples on a later date with various techniques, because it made the end result just that little bit more high level and revised. My most preferred technique was ultimately using the domestic dobby looms in the weaving workshop because weaving is probably the most controlled technique out of all that I tried in this project. I love the repetition involved and the control that you have over every line you weave. I was able to switch styles, wool, material easily and I had the freedom to experiment with different loom patterns, materials and weaving styles at my choice. I love how I incorporated my dandelion cordage inspired by Sally Pointer and my naturally dyed fabrics inspired by Jenny Dean’s work. Ultimately, I do understand that at first, my weaving samples were not the best, the colours I chose were slightly too much out of this project’s aesthetic and my work was very basic at first. However, I believe my final sample came out marvelously as it combined all my favourite aspects of my not-so great samples previously and incorporated new experiments like the brown ribbon in the middle in which I have pulled out too much of it along the weft, leaving raised pieces which work nicely with the texture of the final sample. To improve it I think I would perhaps leave out the white parts in the sample as it creates a slight contrast between the bright white and the more natural colours that I have included, plus I might have tried to use a different loom with a different weft pattern, because although I kind of like the golden stripes in the piece, It might have looked slightly better without them seeing as though I have not used much gold colour in this project.

I think with my applique sample It could have been highly improved before becoming one of my final pieces, this is purely because there are lots of blank spaces of fabrics which I think would look better if embellished with some kind of stitch or added constructed textiles like a small crochet sample which I also added onto my print final sample. The overall technique itself is okay, I feel like I could have progressed more if I had experimented with reverse applique and other such techniques apart from the standard version, I used with a simple zigzag stitch on my sewing machine. I also think I could have improved here by researching more artists to work from like Alice Fox for example, who uses found objects and rust dyeing with simple stitches to make it look very rustic and old. I think something like this rust dyeing technique could have been used to elevate this final product to add variety in materials that I used and the texture of the overall piece.

At first, I struggled with collage techniques purely because I have not done enough collage to become familiar with it. The idea of cutting up my primary photos and mixing them up with other ones seemed like an impossible task if I wanted to do it right and as highly developed as some of the artist examples we were shown like Melinda Tidwell and Anastasia Savinova who use different kinds of collage to their desired effect. After a few attempts at basic block collage in one workshop (later refining them with machine stitch and hand stitching) I took my knowledge and practice into the digital printing workshop. Here I made collages which I much preferred due to the fact that they were highly developed, using dynamic shape and familiar silhouettes that I played around with during my mark making process (and have since been carried throughout my developmental journey) which made the final products more familiar and better linked into my project on their own, not relying on the cover of heavy machine stitch for example. I used these samples as a firm inspiration for another one of my final pieces in which I took my favourite aspects of my previous collages and combined them with some hand stitching to create a piece I am overall happy with.

With my circular weave final piece, I feel like it wasn’t as elevated as it could have been. Personally, I really liked my very first circular weave sample, as it looked like a sawn mossy log with a pentagram in the middle, wholly created a pentacle as the weave itself was almost like the circle around the star which makes it a pentacle. Upon reflection, I didn’t feel like the first circular weave was defined enough to be one of my final pieces because it felt like there was something missing from it. So, when creating this final piece design, I tried to incorporate the aspects that I liked from my first and second circular weave samples and inspiration from a collection called ‘The Pagan In Me’ by Katheryn Sanders and Bonnie Saland, which used classic deity iconography to express their spiritual practice. From my second, larger weave I made, I liked the addition of the heavy curtain trims which created a unique texture and stuck out to make it feel more defined as a sample. So, when including this element into my final piece design, it didn’t leave enough space for the pentacle hand stitch that I liked so much in the first place. It was frustrating because I understand now that it was due to the fact that this weave piece was too small so therefore, the trimming encapsulated the whole piece. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, I do appreciate how this final piece came out, it's just that it didn’t come out half as developed as it could have been. If I were to do this sample again, I would have made it inside a larger hoop in order to create that space that it needed. Overall, however, this sample did help link some of my other pieces together to create a more cohesive story on my presentation board, so I am not totally dissatisfied with the end result.

In conclusion, despite its flaws, I am very pleased with this project and how I had to overcome some mistakes and learn new processes in order to successfully visually communicate my narrative about my spiritual practice and my relationship with nature. In the beginning, I would have loved if I could have immediately found a way to connect the strings between the nature and the religious aspect of my project in order to send some more time refining that side and making the final outcome more obvious in terms of my full narrative to the normal person, however I feel content on how I managed to reflect this eventually. This project has helped me expand my knowledge and experience in many different techniques and opened my eyes to new designers and artists who will continue to inspire me in my projects to come.

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teaguepitts8 · 2 years

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Siamese Cat Body Types

I was a member of Dolphin Watch, spending long hours on the cliff top looking out for the dolphins to record their movements. I had no luck ever while on duty, nor had many fellow dolphin lovers on the watch. My luck suddenly changed, though, when I was out walking with my daughter one Sunday afternoon, on the cliff tops at Durlston. It was early December, and winter and Christmas were in the air. Present for Cat Lovers Not everyone loves animals. Even the pet lovers might not like to have a cat or dog greet them when they visit the place. However, shutting the pet in any room of the house and asking the potential buyer not to enter into that room does not sound a wise move. Every buyer wants to check out the entire house, no matter what. So, the best would be to either crate them or drop them at a close friend's place for some time. In addition, it is also important to corral their playthings, empty the bowls in which they eat and ensure all litter boxes and containers are clean. But there was always that one person who seemed to eye unimaginative gifts with disinterest at best, and utter disdain at worst. When it came to buying a birthday present for this person you'd break into a sweat, knowing that you'd spend weeks traipsing round crowded shops to find an affordable gift that this person didn't already own. cat lovers gift Cats always needs fresh clean water. In the past, cat owners have always been baffled as to why cats gravitate towards running water to drink. The key to this is basic water chemistry. The longer water sits, the lower the pH becomes as it loses oxygen, and the more sour water tastes. By using the Vet Ventures Drinkwell Pet Fountain, which circulates water and also passes it through a carbon filter, you provide the freshest and most natural tasting water possible. Keeping more than one in separate rooms makes sure you never run out of water for your kitty! It can also hold up to a gallon of water, plenty for even 3 or more cats. Cat Lovers Gift This was my introduction to SBI, or Site Build It! and the more I read, the more excited I became. SBI could show me everything I needed to know about building a website, but not just a site that would drift aimlessly among the millions of other sites on the web, but a website that would be the success I so needed it to be. Gift cards - the perfect gift for any teacher. Get one to the local coffee shop, ice cream store, grocery store or craft store. Depending on your budget you can go as high or as low as you feel comfortable with. It is sometimes hard to choose between the many different styles, color, and quality. There are bolster beds, bumper beds, raised beds, blankets, and others to choose from. The bolster beds and bumper beds have raised sides that help make your cat feel secure and safe. Some cats prefer the raised beds because they feel more secure in a higher position. The size of the cat bedding is very important. Your kitty will need to be able to stretch out and turned around and not be restricted, otherwise they will not stay in it. On the other hand, do not get a bed that is too large, or your cat will not feel secure. cat lover gifts

#cat lover gifts #cat theme gifts

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magicmanias · 3 years

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The Wanderer

Episode 2 of Polaris

[per - uh - jee] (n). Astronomy. the point in the orbit of a heavenly body at which it is nearest to the earth

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: A fugitive out of time + interdimensional space travel + a love story. Always on the run, and while Loki might be able to escape the TVA, he always gravitates towards you. Not even bending the fabric of space and time itself can cut his heartstrings.

Occurs after the events of Endgame. Replaces Loki mini-series timeline.

Warnings: You know it’s gonna be angst. You just know. Come on now.

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I have exams coming up, so I’ve been having to study for those a lot. Once exams are over at the end of May, you know I’ll be writing like a maniac. Also, the word count will definitely increase as the chapters go along. It's been a bit short, but right now, we're just building traction! And yes… You will come across a part that is vague and opens up more questions about the reader who I have named Goddess Divine.

<- Previous | Next -> (Coming soon)

“Thank you.” Loki rubs his wrists as the chains fall to the ground. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“You—My husband taught me,” you said. Loki nodded but offered nothing in response. “We need to leave here. I know a way.”

“Hey, hold on.” Loki reached out to grab her wrist, but lowered his hand once he got her attention instead. “We don’t have the Tesseract.”

“There are other ways to leave this planet.”

Loki scoffed. “I don’t think you understand how powerful that thing is.”

You turned fully to face him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. “I know more than you. Trust me. It’s better if you forget about it.”

The children are constantly at the forefront of your thoughts even as you searched for an escape in the caverns under Asgard. Memories of posies in hand and your old, favorite pink dress drew all your attention from the damp halls illuminated by enchanted flame. This place… this time that you’re in was all-too-well ingrained in the core of everything you remembered of your home.

Your calves started to strain and it took you some time until you realized that you’ve been trying to sync your steps with Loki’s, an unconscious effort you would always put in walking alongside your husband. The difference was that his doppleganger didn’t take care to shorten his strides to allow for you to keep up.

“We’ve fallen into a past timeline of yours.” Loki glanced at you over his shoulder. “Those children were you and… your husband.”

“Yes.” You give up on trying to keep up and let him take the lead. “I remember why we were up there. Today was the Perigee.”

Loki was curious. He’d never heard of such a thing. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

You made a confused look on your face, but then immediately understood. “I suppose you don’t observe that in your world.”

“No, I can’t say that we do. Is it a celestial celebration? We only commemorate the coming of the seasons.”

At the end of the hall, you finally arrived at the center of the caverns, a chamber of nine interconnected murals telling the story of creation. You and Loki used to play under these paintings, waiting until Thor would find you at last.

“The Perigee is not of Asgard. It exists on Midgard, the mortal planet, when the moon is at its closest point in orbit to the earth. It happens so often there, but we hold the festival when Asgard, too, is at its closest point with Midgard.”

“That seems a bit arbitrary,” he commented, now gazing at the murals of his father above him. Odin was painted in a beautiful light as he constructed the world. Ymir simply seemed to disappear from the artwork, but the muralist failed to convey that Odin slew the giant and used his body to form the cosmos.

“There is a story behind it, like all great Norse holidays have. It tells the story of Gaea and Máni. A tale of forbidden love. Lofn loves to tell the story for all the children at each festival. She claims that without her, they would never have ended up together,” you laughed, “I remember pulling Loki from his books so we could make it on time.” You giggled at the memory.

“Máni? I haven’t ever heard of him retiring from pulling the moon. And Gaea has been sleeping for eons.”

“Our history is different, perhaps. I do not exist in your Asgard, yes?” You continued to walk, choosing the fourth passage from the left that led to the waterfall beneath the palace.

“No. No, I’m afraid not.” Loki paused in thought as he contemplated your assumption. Surely you must have existed somewhere in his world. “So what was so forbidden of their love?”

“Where I come from, Gaea was truly the first realm to exist, made of the blood and dust from a time even beyond her. In an empty universe, she was lonely, though she was a goddess of life itself. So she collected more dust in the reaches of space and breathed life into Máni. He was born, bright like the stars and light in his heart. He was grateful for life, and in return, he gave her his love… and her children. The mortals. But when they came close to embrace one another, he came too close and scorched the earth, burning her children. Gaea mourned, crying until Midgard flooded with her tears. From the water, the plants regrew and the animals emerged, but still, she missed her children. Máni couldn’t bear to see his love so saddened, so he sacrificed almost all of his power to breathe new life in the mortals. He grew dim and small, no longer so mighty without Gaea’s magic. Now in a realm of eternal darkness, Sol had finally caught up to Máni. She was born with the duty to bring light to the mortals, but Odin also tasked her with the job to separate Gaea and Máni when they became too close. Every day, she shines her light on the earth, but when she goes to rest, Máni returns to see Gaea before Sol wakes up once again to warn Máni. Yet sometimes, Máni can’t help but to come a little bit closer to Gaea—the rising tides his only warning. We call it the Perigee.”

“And what of Lofn? How did she contribute her skills in this forbidden love?”

“Oh yes. Lofn told us that she was the only being to give her consent to their love. The rest of Aesir vehemently rejected the bond. She used to try and match all the children up in the village and she would host all the play weddings. We must have been married by her hundreds of times. She could never resist the idea of the God of Mischief with a maiden Vanir.”

The sound of water crashing down into the abyss grew louder and louder as natural light started to creep into the passage.

“What is your role?”

“My role?”

“Yes, what do you do? What do you reign over?”

“Oh, I’m really no one. I don’t even think the Midgardians are aware of me. My role is quite insignificant compared to the likes of your brother or even the infamous trickster.”

“What is your role, Goddess?” he pushed once more.

“Seidr,” you shrugged, racing your finger along the stone wall.

“I would hardly call that insignificant. The power of prophecy is a force to be reckoned with.”

“I was born with a divine title, but I can’t even perform a healing spell,” you admitted.

“Your husband never taught you?” Loki smirked, the tease hanging loose from his lips.

You frowned. “No, he couldn’t.”

A rumble of footsteps approached and neither you nor Loki hesitated to make a final run towards the end of the tunnel. As you started to gain some speed, you suddenly froze, completely still as a hazy orange light encased you. Loki’s hand glowed green, battling against the force that trapped you, but just as quickly as he tried to free you, he was captured.

The TVA launched you through the exact same process as the first time. Long lines, an infinite number of signatures on documents you didn’t understand, and a maze of doorways. You didn’t see Loki again for a long time. It felt like days, but in a place as distorted as this, you couldn’t keep track of the hours.

Another agent guided you into a holding cell. It looked strange—more like an inn room more than a jail. There was a bed, a tiny washroom, and a square box that showed what looked like a play for children. The characters chattered silently while their simple dialogue was scrawled in the glass. The door opened.

“It appears we’re roommates this time.” Loki strolled into the room and the agent closed the door behind him, the lock clicking in place.

The box flashed and the program changed to the man you had just become acquainted with before your escape. “Well that was fun, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, we will have to keep you here since you didn’t seem to enjoy the more open kind of hospitality we offered you last time. Just until everything is processed. You know how bureaucracy is. I’ll see you in a few.” Mobius winks and the moving picture contraption clicks off with a warm hum.

“Tell me about myself.” You looked up from the book provided by your captors. Loki leaned back in the desk chair with his legs on the table. He fiddled with a glass cup, tossing it in the air and catching it.

You dropped the book in your lap, still open. “I’m sorry?”

“Well you were married to an alternate version of me. He’s lived more life than me. Surely you must have something to tell me that would be of use.” He shrugged, not bothering to drag any more of his attention away from the glass.

You were sure you looked surprised as he followed his answer with, “Am I so different from him? Come on now, he must have been at least half as charming.”

“Oh… He was charming.” You closed the book and placed it on the table next to the bed. The edge of the sheet rubbed between your fingers while you considered what to tell him. “He was my best friend in childhood.”

“Tell me about the children. The younger versions of yourselves on that day. What were you doing?” Loki placed the cup on the desk and crossed one leg over the other.

It was so easy to answer. In all the years, you never forgot that particular celebration. “It was my idea to climb the hill. To pick flowers before we watched the Perigee. Lofn had paired us up for her little wedding ceremony to host in front of the children and I wanted a bouquet… for the morning gift. I didn’t know what they were at the time, but I figured it could be anything.”

“Aren’t morning gifts usually given to the bride? And… in the morning?”

You tossed your head back in calm, tired laughter. “Yes, but that wouldn’t have stopped me anyway. I think I gave them to you after we said ‘I do.’ We were… eight at the time.”

“Goddess Divine…” He kissed her hands. The red skyline fades into purple as the water at the dock darkens below. “Never doubt my love for you. Will you miss me?” said he.

“As much as there are stars in the sky.”

“Always the poet’s tongue,” said he.

“Well, I had some inspiration,” said she.

He looks wearily past the Goddess, but smiles warmly once more. “I’m afraid our time has come to an end, Goddess. I love you.”

“No resurrections this time...” No. It was supposed to happen like this. Thanos. He wasn’t supposed to be here. It’s happening all over again.

“LOKI—”

Warm water tickled your cheeks and then you were enveloped in a pool of water. Your husband’s arms wrapped around your waist as the water climbed the walls of the tub. No, this wasn’t him… It wasn’t him. It wouldn’t ever be him. “Goddess…”

“Let me go! Let me go… I want to go.” You grasp desperately at the edge of the tub, wringing yourself from Loki’s grasp. You fell onto the tile floor of the washroom, your wet clothes heavy on your back.

“Wait, just—” Loki cuts himself short when you stumble into the bathroom doorway and pull the knob to the bedroom.

“Shit—Loki…”

“You need—”

“Don’t tell me what I need! You don’t kn—know.” Your body felt weak. The walls felt like they were closing in on you. No matter how hard you tried, it seemed like you could never get enough air.

“I know being alive is certainly better than suffocating in space.”

“Is it!? I can’t even grieve for him! Be-Be… Be—cause I… Becau—se I ke-keep…” You choked, breaking out into a violent sob. Your legs buckle underneath you, but you managed to catch the ground under your hand. Tears stained the fabric covering your lap as you struggled to breathe in between your bawling, forcing you to hiccup only further fueling your frustration. “Why am I here?”

Loki knelt down and watched as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head in the space between. “Heartbreak is… a sorrow that I am all too familiar with. The feeling of your chest burning and freezing and being crushed all at once. But I didn’t give you a moment to simply… catch your breath after I, admittedly, forced you to escape with me. And I will never understand what it’s like to have to look at the face of your husband every minute of every day, but I do know this…” Loki let out a steady breath. “I will never leave you behind. Ever. Until I am able to fix this mess that I have brought upon you.” Loki lowered himself onto his knees. “That is my vow to you, goddess.”

He placed a hand over yours. It was a small gesture, leaving you wanting more. You tugged on his hand, manually tucking his arm underneath yours. He leaned into your motion, sitting on the floor behind you and pulling you close between his legs. Your eyes pierced him like venom, toxic but more addictive than the sweetest wine. A Goddess Divine.

Loki grew older in recent years, but his eyes had never changed. A sea of chaos and calm. He was there, your husband. Right in front of you, holding you.

“I always liked your eyes,” you murmured. You dragged your finger across the top of his cheek, tracing a line under his eye.

And I, yours.

You slid your finger up and cupped his face in your palm. Your husband. “I love you.”

Your lips swept gently along his; hesitant, yet your hand dragged through his hair, pulling him closer. Loki held still, but made no move to stop you. Your breaths grew harder as you grew more persistent. Even though you knew you would never be able to utter a word about this after, the need for him overcame you. In the sickest of ways, he was your only chance at truly saying goodbye to your husband.

Never doubt my love for you.

Your lips were soft. As irrational as the better part of him knew it was, he couldn’t help but think this felt almost habitual. He knew he should have pushed you away or reminded you of who he was. But when your fingers glided through his hair, Loki lost all sense of what was proper. He leaned into your touch, letting you relax in his lap as you continued to kiss him… eyes clenched shut. Loki wished he could look at your eyes and pretend he was the man you were pretending he was.

“Thank you.”

The agents dragged Loki to a door labeled “INTERROGATION ROOM #603521.”

An agent walked into the room, reviewing several documents attached to a clipboard.. “Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Laufeyson?” She didn’t bother to look up from the papers as she sat down in the seat on the other side of the table.

“Where is she?”

“I’m afraid your questions will have to be saved for the end of this, Mr. Laufeyson. Please comply.”

Loki lifted his head lazily, shifting his legs wide in the metal chair. A grin curled at his lips. He didn’t know how they were going to escape this hell. Running from an infinitely powerful force existing beyond time. It would never end… Was he ready to drag you through eternal hell with him?

Yes.

He would rot in hell for all he cared, but the TVA was no more than a joke—a circus of clowns playing their parts… and he would find you.

“I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”

“Never teleport me again. This is worse than the Bifrost.” You placed a clenched hand to your forehead and winced. The pounding in your head was ceaseless, though you were too cold to be completely tortured by it. The TVA was left in shambles, subjected to Loki’s wrath after he found you freezing in the depths of space. He hadn’t said a word to you since he discovered you, nearly lifeless. The ice burned your skin and your vision was useless for the time being. You could hear the crackles of flame and stone beneath your feet. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know, but we need to heal these burns before they scar.” Loki carefully lifted your hand, examining your wounds. “Are you in pain?”

“I can’t feel anything. Just cold.” You inched your feet closer to the heat of the fire. It wasn’t as painful as you had expected it to be. Dying in space wasn’t such a bad way to go… You only wished Loki had anything else less painful.

He hummed in response. The burns begin to warm. A peculiar feeling tickles your skin and makes its way down your torso.

“Seidr?”

“My mother taught me. I can teach you.”

“What?” Loki placed more wood on the fire. Perhaps Thor’s boyish interests were good for something…

“You need to learn how to use your powers. A seidr goddess is no goddess without seidr.”

“I told you. I don’t have it. I’ve tried. You’ve tried.” Loki didn’t answer, but footsteps fell away from you.

Loki watched the asteroids floating in the foggy atmosphere. Odin once told him stories of how he acquired all his wisdom. Life itself is knowledge, he would say. War, politics, distant planets. They all have something to offer, but there is a place where wisdom flows like water in the roots of the Tree of Life. “The Allfather once traveled to the roots of Yggdrasil to attain knowledge and guide his reign. Perhaps we can go there.”

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arhvste · 4 years

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hello!! congrats on 900+ 💖💖💖 for the event, would it be okay to ask for atsumu for prompt #5 or #30? (your pick, i can't choose between the two 😂)

thank you! i hope you're staying safe, pls take care 💖

haha thank u bb !! ✨

❛dont be stupid you know i love you ❜

“stupid pigs.”

atsumu huffed as you listened to him complain about his performance in his last game.

“i know we won but that’s not the point! how many times do i have to tell the annoying girls to shut their damn mouths while i’m servin?!”

you rolled your eyes at your childhood friends whining.

“they’re just showing you support the least you can do is be a little appreciative.”

“just whos side are ya on?!”

“samu’s.”

atsumu scoffed and threw himself back on your bed where you were propped up on your phone dividing your attention between whatever was occupying your screen and his complaining.

he watched the way your eyes narrowed while you read something from your screen, the bite of the corner of your lip when something really caught your attention, the furrow in your eyebrows when you were confused. atsumu knew you like the back of his hand by now.

you’d been friends with the twins for as long as you could remember. growing up with the boisterous atsumu and laid back osamu, you got the best of both worlds as osamu would tease his brother and then atsumu would demand you take his side.

as time went on, atsumu had naturally gravitated closest to you as you brought him back down when he needed it. you were his anchor he’d like to say. you were still great friends with osamu too but he didn’t rely on you as much as atsumu did so the artificial blonde dominated most of your attention between the two of them.

the girls are school were beyond envious of your bond with the twins. they were practically untouchable but you had the power to talk and approach them whenever you felt and they would never turn you away, always accepting your conversation with warm smiles and laughter. they even went out of their own ways to talk to you and eat lunch with you occasionally which drove fangirls livid. atsumu liked the fact you didn’t care about them though. you didn’t think twice about the jealous stares or bitter comments thrown your way. who were they to tell you who you could and couldnt be friends with? he liked your headstrong attitude and was proud of you for it.

“i just want one match where things go my way is that that too much to ask?” he whined as you tore your eyes away from your device momentarily.

“god you’re so insatiable.”

“am i not allowed to be?” his eyebrow quirked.

“not when you’re whining and bitching my ear off.”

that comment earned you a pillow to the face. atsumu couldnt contain his laughter as he watched your phone drop to the floor and your shocked face try to process the fact you’d just been hit.

“you’re such a pain!” you scoffed grabbing another pillow and launching it in his direction.

“silly, silly girl, playin like this with a startin player on the volleyball team.” he smirked as he caught the pillow you threw with ease.

he tossed it back to you resulting in a hit to your arm. you scowled and crawled on top of the bed and grabbed his wrists. your own hands barely able to wrap around his wrists.

“oh my god just go down would you?!”

“not when yer askin so rudely darlin!”

the nickname caught you off guard and he took advantage of this and pushed his weight down so you were flat on the bed and he had you pinned down.

you struggled under his hold and fidgeted underneath him. “let me go!” you demenaded several times much too atsumu’s amusement.

“nah don’t feel like it.” he watched your body tense up and try to escape his firm grip.

he looked down at your scowling face and a smirk tugged at his lips. atsumu had always thought you were pretty, or rather quite beautiful in fact. he had always had some sort of attraction towards you but disregarded it for a flimsy crush that he was sure would eventually fade. in fact, he was so sure it was going to fade he left it alone for 4 years insisting the feeling would leave on its own. he hadn’t realised that his harboured feelings had only grown and developed as time went on and more time was spent by your side.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you hissed from beneath him feeling uncomfortable under his intense stare.

“why do i need a picture when i can keep ya here for as long as i want to?” he shot back as a fustrated huff left your lips.

“sorry i thought you didn’t like girls, i thought your opinion on girls is that they’re all ‘pigs’ and ‘annoying” you mocked. “so why keep one struggling under you or are you just trying to get on my nerves?”

“yer not just like the other girls though.” he replied as your struggling slowed down.

“oh wow miya atsumu sees me as something more than a girl! i’m so privileged he doesn’t hate me and think i’m a pig like every other one!” you mocked him once more as his grip loosened slightly.

“of course i don’t think yer like one of the pig girls! don’t be stupid ya know i love you, why would i treat ya like the other girls if i felt otherwise?”

finally, after over 4 years of letting his feelings brew inside of him, atsumu had just admitted out loud what he’d been meaning to say for quite some time now. he didn’t feel embarrassed nor did he regret what he said. he felt relieved if anything. a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying was lifted off his shoulders.

“a-atsumu? what?” your voice laced with disbelief as the setter finally let you go and flopped down on the bed next to you.

“i love you.” he stated again, words firm with assurance.

you were shocked to say the least. it wasn’t a bad shock no, but you were surprised that he’d admit to such a thing like love. the atsumu you knew didn’t like girls and thought of them as a nusence with the exception of you, but you always just assumed that was because you’d known him for so long.

“atsumu...”

“ya don’t have to say it back i just thought i should tell ya that’s all.” panic slowly leaked his system. he was glad he’d finally confessed but why we weren’t you saying anything back? maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut after all.

“i-its not that it’s just... you’re the last person i would’ve expected that from.” the two of you lay next to each other neither pairs of eyes daring to look anywhere but the ceiling.

“yeah? well what can i say? i just love surprising ya.”

“yeah no shit, you can’t just spring that on someone and not expect them to be shocked.” your hand instinctively inching towards his.

“yeah i know, just thought i might as well tell ya.” his voice soft spoken as his nerves began to calm.

the silence almost deafening as you pieced your next words together and atsumu laid in anticipation waiting for your polite rejection.

“well i might as well tell you too... i think i love you.”

his eyes widened as he shot himself up.

“you think?”

“i think.” you mused eyes closed refusing to fluster yourself by catching his eyes.

“i just... i’ve never been in love with anyone, my whole life has been you and samu, i’ve never felt what i think are romantic feelings for anyone else.”

“you feel romantic things for me and samu?” disbelief and confusion mixed within his tone.

“no stupid, i see samu as a brother figure and i thought i saw you as that too, that impression of you left maybe 3 years ago though and i saw you as something other than a brother.”

“what did ya see me as?” his quiet voice filling the room.

your eyes opened and you were met with atsumu’s gleaming ones. his eyes searching for the answers you were yet to voice.

“as someone i could fall in love with if that’s what fate had for us.”

“god y/n, ya didn’t have to keep me on edge the whole time!” he sighed in relief as his arm wrapped around your frame.

“sorry, it’s amusing seeing you suffer though, and it’s payback for the pillow to the face earlier.”

he leaned up and pressed a warm kiss to your forehead, another to your nose and a final one to your cheek.

“forgiven?”

“i think i could do with some more convincing...”

a wide smile spread across atsumu’s face. now he had all the time in the world to convince you to forgive him as well as experience so many new things with you as you both stepped hand in hand into the untouched territory of unexperienced feelings, but you were doing it together and atsumu would’ve had it no other way.

aislas 900 event

#miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu imagine #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#aislas 900 event #aislas imagines

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powerbottomblake · 3 years

Text

the P in Penny stands for (V8′s) Protagonist

So Monstra! Interesting name! Reminiscent of Monstro, the name of the whale from Disney’s Pinocchio (1940).

This confirms that the whale is indeed, here to complete Penny’s Pinocchio allusion. In other terms, Penny is the protagonist of this volume. The main conflict is her conflict; taking down the whale is her endgame and her turning point.

More undercut because apparently I am cursed with not knowing how to make brief and to the point meta

We know that RWBY uses the narrative beats of the original allusions (with some decisive tweaks that align with its overall hopepunk vision and themes), going as far as having direct visual parallels to the source material (Adam vs Bees fight/the original Beast vs Gaston fight anyone?).

In the original Pinocchio movie, Pinocchio is tested three times before finally achieving becoming a little boy, and I think, likewise, Penny faces three tests before becoming a fully flledged huntress and maiden:

- Setback n°1: Pinocchio, still new to the world, the very concept of morality but eager to “do good” and willing to listen to Jiminy Cricket’s guidance, is tricked by a duo of conmen; in the movie, it’s into captivity, but the original story takes a much darker turn where the evil cat and fox - one pretending to be blind (Emerald and her perception bending Semblance) and one pretending to be a cripple (Mercury) - actually cause Pinocchio’s “death” through hanging (the author abhorred naughty children and was very...extreme about it). This is V3 Penny in a nutshell, discovering friendship and bonds and values through her own Jiminy, which is Ruby, but being set up by Mercury and Emerald to fight a losing battle that ends in her apparent “death”.

- Setback n°2: Pinocchio is embarked on a trip to Pleasure Island, an apparent playground especially catered for everyone to be happy! and have fun! but oh wait they’re actually being turned into jackasses geared for labor or sold to the Dust I mean the salt mines! You’ve guessed it, this is Penny’s V7 arc. Atlas Academy is Penny’s Pleasure Island, masquerading as a safe place where but the veneer of Ironwood’s civility and apparent conflicted utilitarianism finally cracks to reveal how it’s ultimately a place of indoctrination, producing no actual people-serving Hunters but perfect soldiers concerned more with following orders than doing right, and where the disadvantaged and the poor are ostracized, taken advantage of and ultimately sacrificed. Pinocchio escapes Pleasure Island with Jiminy’s help, but not unscathed, having grown donkey ears and a tail. Likewise, with Ruby’s help and constant strong supportive presence, Penny proves herself fit to receive the maiden powers and escapes Atlas, but she’s still not completely free of Ironwood’s hold, still having to grapple with his and the AceOps’ manipulation tactics, still not sure what her role, who she is and how she fits really are. Which bring us to the third and last test:

- Setback n°3: the Whale. In the original movie, Gepetto gets swallowed by the whale when he tries to follow Pinocchio to Pleasure Island to save him. Pinocchio then dives in, saves Gepetto and, in the process, apparently “dies”, before finally earning his existence as a “real” little boy after that show of bravery and self-sacrifice. And I think these are the beats to look for in Penny’s V8 storyline. As of Episode 3, Penny is about to join Pietro and Maria, and there have been strong hints (and by that I mean we were basically hammered over the head) that she’s about to be “hacked” by Watts. How do the original narrative beats play out? Here’s how I think it fits:

Gepetto is swallowed by Monstro: After Penny is effectively “hacked” and by that I mean that while her soul and spirit remain unchanged, Watts hacks into the mainframe and forces her to surrender control over her body the same way we’ve seen her do (but willingly) for Pietro. Penny essentially ends up trapped inside her own body as it follows Watts’ commands. I suspect Watts will force her to take Pietro and Maria (who’s of interest to Salem by being one of the last remaining SEW, and I strongly suspect her soul/aura could be used to make more of whatever the Hound is, but this is a whole other matter to delve into in a separate post) to Salem.

Pinocchio dives in to save his father and takes down the whale: I think Pietro and/or Ruby will appeal to Penny/be in enough danger that she will snap out of Watts control on her own, effectively reclaiming her bodily autonomy on her own and then creating a mayhem big and terrible enough with her powers that will take down the whale and give everyone else enough time to escape. This will be Penny’s heroic moment and her stand. Right now, everyone is making the mistake of having people protect the maiden powers. Penny realizes what makes her a maiden is to use those powers to protect the people; it’s a decision she makes on her own that cements her as a true Maiden and a hero of the people.

Pinocchio “apparently dies” but is then granted his wish and becomes a “real” little boy: Here I think Penny takes down the whale but goes down with it. We don’t see her die again onscreen (I think it would be overkill to show her “corpse” a second time and would cheapen her dying at all. In general I am wary of the resurrection trope being overdone or coming without a cost because it severely undercuts the emotional payoff of a death), but I think by the end of V8 she’s MIA (which would make her the second person Ruby loses that way, but also the first to return to her so). I think Penny uses her powers to stall Monstra, and I’m willing to bet good money that whatever Penny does next has to do with the Gravity dust that keeps Monstra afloat. The thing with Gravity dust is that, it does push things off the ground, but it can also pull things towards it. I think whatever number Penny pulls on the gravitational field ends up pulling her down in that sillage as well.

I know the popular theory is that Penny “dies” again and Pietro sacrifices his life to resurrect her one last time, and I can see it happening, but here’s the thing: RWBY subverts popular tropes, exploring new (and more hopeful!) paths. Just look at Qrow: RWBY said, oh the mentor figure, scarred and haunted by his past? is not just another stepping stone whose death cements the hero on his journey, but becomes a character with a drive of their own, and an arc of their own, and who gets to pass the torch and live to see it burn well and bright and to the end. Gepetto lives and mourns the apparent death of his son but is there to welcome him home when, rewarded for courage and abnegation, Pinocchio earns the right to become a human boy. I think Pietro, too, will live, and get to welcome a Penny that has finally earned the right to call herself Mantle’s Protector, no longer Ironwood’s puppet (heh) nor an extension of her father but an actual established hero of the people, around whom Mantle can rally and who can work with the right people (Robyn and the Happy Huntresses) for the right reasons and outcomes, people and reasons she herself chooses and decisions she herself makes and a power she’s reclaimed and accepted and knows how to use.

Penny’s quest has always been one of identity, slowly transforming from getting her bearings and realizing what makes her humanity is her soul, her ability to develop and deepen and protect her bonds to people and her natural empathy and kindness (V3′s ”am I worthy of calling myself human, too?”); to navigating morality, the nuances of doing good and the need to make her own calls and judgement of what is right and wrong (V7′s “who should I protect? what should I follow?”); to now, having established that she’s worthy of being one, Penny still has to find how to be a maiden, what that role entails for her and how she can finally fit as herself and into this new role, 100% reclaiming herself, her body (even from Pietro!!), her title and her mission. V8 (and maybe onwards) is the culmination of Penny’s identity journey, and I see it playing very much as an Iron Giant moment.

“You are who you choose to be,” says RWBY (and Ruby!) to Penny.

“Superman A human, and a hero, and a maiden” will be her answer.

And just like the Iron Giant, Penny saves the world, and rises again.

#rwby spoilers #rwby theories #rwby8 #penny polendina #rwby meta #I haven't written meta in. so long this has taken me embarrassingly long to assemble #also incredible how ruby is there every step of the way huh #is this nuts and dolts colored. ye #I am SO into Penny's everything rn #this volume's theme is going to be SO GOOD #identity...penny and oscar but also RUBY #anyway Penny's maiden arc is gonna walk so that Yang's turbo blasts #my meta

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Note

Wait omg im blind i didnt realize ur requests were open-

Okay if this has already been done, sorry!! and can i have link :3?

Anyways-

Acsjdbk feel like this is so typical of me but- headcanons or somethin for like,, an MC on Saeran's route but she only loves saeran platonically and instead loves seven romantically?? Thinking, saeran's AE n all too... hh

Aaacgh i feel like i had more than this vague thought but maybe i didnt? Sorry if this doesnt make any sense, im getting a migraine ^^;;

[417]

I still am a huge saeran simp okay but saeyoung saeyoung saeyoung-

Saeyoung can say in no uncertain terms that he admires your total commitment and your utter tenacity.

Your loyalty and drive to protect those that are closest to you is something that he admires and respects. He can see how much the friendship that you have with his brother means to you and he can see how much it means to his brother. You were there for him when he wasn't able to do that and for that he will be forever grateful.

He cannot put into words how grateful he is for you and he isn't sure that he'll ever be able to repay you for what you've done.

There are a million words of gratitude on his lips but when he starts to say them it gets a little overwhelming and he knows that in the scheme of things you understand everything that he's trying to say when he looks at you. It feels like you just understand.

He can remember when he got to know you back for all of this started and there was just something about you that he felt drawn to. There's just something about your natural energy that makes him gravitate towards you, and he actually thinks that it's something that makes everyone look towards you.

The world is ultimately a better place because of Someone Like You existing. At first he thought your relationship with his brother was something inherently romantic. Seemed that way with how affectionate the two of you are together. So, it definitely came as quite the surprise to him when you admitted that you weren't dating him.

That didn't make a lick of sense to him. It seemed like the two of you should be together. Well it wasn't his business anyway. He was just glad that you were there for his brother.

What wasn't a surprise was definitely the way that he felt about you.

Your courage, your bravery, and your undeniable ability of seeing things right through the surface down to the Deep Abyss. All of these things were just a little piece of the reasons why he felt himself drawn to you. At first, he tried to suppress those feelings because he didn't want to make things weird even though he knew that you were just friends with his brother. So much just happened so there wasn't a rush to push himself into something or make a fuss about anything.

But there was no denying a lingering gazes that he sent your way. Nor was there any way to avoid the fact that he tried to spend as much time with you as humanly possible.

Your laughter and your smile made him feel electrified. It was like he hadn't been alive until that moment that he met you.

He is tongue-tied and making a fool of himself in front of you all of the time just to impress you and get your attention. Everyone can see that he definitely has feelings for you except for you as far as he can tell. He spends countless hours talking to you about what you've been through and your feelings on everything.

He wants to unlock and decode everything that makes you, you. His brother definitely got a head start on him. Does it seem ridiculous that he has to go to his brother for advice? Because, he definitely has to talk to Saeran for help.

And with an exasperated expression on his face his brother and does by, and say simply "I really thought you would ask sooner. It's been a little bit ridiculous watching you lately."

He probably deserves that because he didn't make a fool of himself. He gets to confide in his brother about his feelings for you and the two of them get to really talk about the impression that you have made on the both of their lives and what you mean to them.

Saeyoung knows that you are irreplaceable and kind, and Saeran knows he wants you in his life however you can be.

They both talk late into the night about the best way to make this work out for you and Saeyoung.

Saeran ultimately wants to see you happy and if that means that you're with his brother, then he's happy for you. He doesn't know why you choose someone as ridiculous as him but he still supports you,and he still supports brother to the end. He would definitely play a confident wingman.

It's definitely something they both put together and put a lot of thought into, it's probably a maze of ideas sequestered together.

If you want to imagine a Discovery Quest that is meant to take you on a journey throughout the city and lead you to an evening with Saeyoung, then you're right to think that. It's personalized in a very well-thought-out way. It's kind of sweet to see how much work was put into it.

A relationship with Saeyoung in this situation is one built on the foundation of people finding themselves and learning that it's okay to love yourself and it's okay to find someone that you never expected to love somewhere along the way.

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3: Home Is Where The Heart Is

Mark Tuan X Reader

Part 3 of the “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” Series

Word Count: 10K

Genre: Angsty Angst (This chapter is actually the saddest one of the five chapters but don’t worry, it gets better soon)

Summary: Distance makes the heart grow fonder—or does it?

A/N: Hey guys! So this part sounded better in my head(it’s kind of all over the place) but so is my life hahahaha please enjoy! (Italics are past tense but I bet y’all already knew that)

“I’m sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later—“

The frustrated groan that fell from your lips was expected. This was the sixth time you tried to get in contact with your boyfriend tonight but all your attempts went straight to voicemail. You knew being in a long distance relationship was going to be difficult; not having Mark around anymore was driving you to the brink of insanity more and more each day.

It didn’t help that there was a seven hour time difference between the two of you. When he would be waking up, you were in the middle of class and if you were about to go to sleep, he was getting ready to go to soccer practice. As much as you tried to make sure that Mark heading off to college wasn’t going to affect your relationship in any way, there was only so much you could do to stop yourself from worrying about what the future really held for the two of you.

From the beginning of your relationship up until now, you and Mark experience distance on multiple occasions. However, the twenty-minute distance between your elementary school and his middle school was nothing compared to being stuck in California while he went off to study at New York University.

You remembered the day he found out he was accepted like it was yesterday. Not only was Mark extremely talented in almost every single sport any college had to offer, but the grades he maintained all throughout his high school career was unbelievable. It was only natural for all these colleges to reach out to him; offering many different kinds of scholarships and even full rides to some of the universities Mark could only dream of being able to attend.

When you were younger, the older boy would always fantasize about traveling to New York. He would watch all kinds of shows, documentaries and anything kind of tour program that the travel channel had to offer. At the time, you thought it was extremely adorable. Any time Mark seemed very passionate about something never failed to pull on your heartstrings. But when the many acceptance letters began coming in the mail, you wanted nothing more than to rip them all up.

You’d be lying if you said the breathtaking grin on his face each time he opened up one of the letters didn’t make you happy yourself. You were extremely proud of Mark for being able to excel in almost every single thing that he put his heart in to. To this day, it boggled your mind at the idea of how perfect he genuinely was. There was not one letter of rejection and it wasn’t shocking to you. Mark was the kind of student athlete every school wish they could have.

He had acceptance letters from almost every university in California and you tried to indirectly hint towards wanting him to choose from one of them. At the same time, you forced yourself to accept whatever it was that he wanted. After all, it was his life—his future. You were being selfish for wanting to get in the way of that. Unfortunately, everything you’ve been worried about since you’ve realized Mark was going away for college at the beginning of your sophomore seemed to come true.

Fights began to occur whether you liked it or not. Deep down, you knew it was harder for him because he was thousands of miles away from his friends, his family and his favorite person—but that was his choice. His schedule and your schedule tended to collide. You were both extremely busy at the same time and it was evident that making time for one another was harder than you both thought it would be.

He called you every single day for the first month that he got settled in and he never failed to mention just how much he hated it. The campus was huge; your parents allowed you to go up with him and his family to explore New York City together while helping him set up his dorm. It was honestly one of the best experiences in your entire life. Just like Mark, you’ve always dreamt about traveling the world and the longer you two were dating, all you ever really wanted to do was experience going on trips all around the world with him.

For the most part of the trip, the Tuan family had an itinerary of what they wanted to do while in New York but they did give you and Mark some free time to do whatever it was that your hearts desired. You found yourself at Central Park having a cute little picnic that he planned out prior to landing in New York and he also took you to the skating rink in the middle of Times Square. Watching him fall on his ass multiple times made you come to the realization that maybe Mark wasn’t perfect at everything—but that didn’t matter. He was still flawless in your eyes; and it was one less activity for you to get jealous over.

The days seemed to fly by to both his and your dismay and soon, you and his family were just hours away from heading back to California. You deemed yourself old enough to say that leaving Mark had to be the hardest thing you have ever done so far in your entire life. You’ve never seen him cry so much before and you didn’t know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Sure, the idea of not having his family around really upset him; but the fact that he was no longer going to be able to see that breathtakingly beautiful smile of yours—nor would he get to hear your contagious in person really broke his heart. If it were up to him, he would’ve held you captive and prevented you from going on that six-hour plane ride home. His grip on your hand as you all drove over to the airport was tight while his face was hidden in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck—I made a mistake didn’t I?”

You gently pulled him away from your nape in order to look at him and you could’ve sworn you’ve never felt a pain in your chest like you did when you saw his eyes so swollen and red from all the tears he cried. Out of force of habit, you cupped both his cheeks and tried to give him the best fake smile you ever put on before.

“No, you didn’t make any mistake babe. If anything, this decision had to be one of the best ones you’ve made so far. Four years will be over before you know it. Trust me, you’ll be over the moon when you finally become a successful engineer and you’ll learn that it was all worth it.”

“Will it be worth it though? Leaving you—no longer physically being with you. Not being able to kiss these pretty lips of yours, not being able to hold you as much as I want to, not getting to hold these dainty little fingers of yours that seem to fit mind so effortlessly; like they were made for me. God y/n, I’m going to miss you so fucking much. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t live without you.”

The tears were practically burning at your eyelids. Then don’t. You wanted nothing more than for him to change his mind and those two little words were on the tip of your tongue—but it was too late. He was already registered; he had a jersey for all three sports teams he was going to be a part of. His dorm was filled with all his items—this was going to be his home for the next four years and you just had to accept it for what it was.

“This is your future Mark—“

“You’re my future baby. All I want—all I could ever need, for the rest of my life is you y/n. I’ve known it since I was seven years old and I’ll know it when we’re eighty. Promise me, we’ll be okay. Please. I know it’ll be hard; missing you is probably the only thing really fucking me over right now. I can’t promise you that things are going to stay the same between us as much as I would hope it could, but don’t give up on me. Okay? I love you y/n, more than I could ever fathom in to words. We’re going to be okay.”

His words from that night came back like a slap to the face. It was like they were taunting you. The two of you were definitely not okay. Although his college experience was off to a rough start, things seemed to fall in to place for your boyfriend during the second month. When football season began, he had something to do to take his mind off of how much his heart was longing to be with you.

You felt at ease knowing that he was finally getting used to being so far away and that he was actually enjoying his college escapades. He informed you on all the new friends he was making, how practices were longer and more grueling, how the campus food was nothing compared to his mom’s cooking and how people in New York would walk like they were on steroids.

If only you could say you were having as much of a fun time with school as he was. Junior year wasn’t all that you thought it would be—but you also blamed yourself for your disinterest in anything that didn’t regard your boyfriend. Your life revolved around Mark and it was something you never wanted to admit out loud in fear of sounding pathetic. What person in their right minds would spend the only free time they had sitting around with their phone in their hand, waiting for a call from their boyfriend? Only you apparently.

Your family were quick to pick up on how you were no longer yourself; everyone and their mothers were well aware of how much Mark meant to you and equally aware of how much you meant to him. The two of you were magnets; where you would go, he would follow. Nobody could separate the two of you even if they tried.

There was a gravitational pull between you and your boyfriend and everyone knew that his absence had to be the reason you were always so out of it. You might have been there physically; whether you were at school, hanging out with your friends or just sitting at dinner with your family—but mentally, you were with Mark.

Your mom was actually the one who talked you in to either getting a job or joining a club. Seeing as how you weren’t someone who liked to interact with anybody you didn’t really know on a personal level, you decided to go with the former and found yourself applying to many different jobs. Unlike a lot of your classmates who chose to work at coffee shops or at the state library, you accepted the job at a grocery store ten minutes away from your house.

It wasn’t the most ideal job, but you could use some extra money. The first day of work was pretty simple; it was more of an orientation to get you prepared for your next shift. Your manager went over what was expected of you as a cashier, how you were supposed to wear your uniform, where you could find items if customers were to come up and ask you for assistance and other necessary information about your responsibilities.

Right as you were packing up your things and preparing to head home for the day, it was then you walked in to the break room and noticed someone sitting on one of the couches. That someone just so happened to be one of the biggest pains in your ass.

“Jaebeom, what the hell are you doing here?”

When you first were introduced to him a little over five months ago, you didn’t think he was going to get under your skin like he has been for the last few weeks. In the first week of his arrival from Korea, your teacher gave you the responsibility of showing him around the school. Not only did you not feel as if you were personable enough to be the one to actually give a campus tour, you cringed at the idea of having to be alone with him.

At first, he attempted at small talk with you; he wanted to know what your favorite food was, how your high school experience was so far, if you were in any extracurricular activities and the kind of music you listened to. You decided to not give him the time of day and tried to limit any interactions with him specifically because you didn’t think Mark would be too fond at the idea of you befriending another guy. Especially one he wasn’t all that familiar with.

You also felt that there was a chance Jaebeom took a liking to you. Although you never really thought too highly of yourself nor did you want to assume that he had developed feelings for you, he always seemed so eager in wanting to talk to you. In fact, you had yet to see him try and pester anyone else the way he would with you. It was if he was picking on you purposely.

A part of you felt as if you were being extremely rude towards him; he was nothing but friendly and patient towards you and you were nothing but hostile with him. His kind personality only lasted for so long. When he realized that you had no intention on being friends with him, his considerate nature took a 360 degree turn.

Out of nowhere, his flirtatious compliments soon turned in to insults. He also started picking on you; throwing paper airplanes in your direction to get your attention, always selecting the good supplies before giving you a chance to and even hiding your things while you were away from the table. You knew you were at fault for his behavior; your hostility towards him when he was nothing but nice to you was unfair on your part. But you knew guys like Jaebeom—you had a feeling he was like most of the guys at your school. As much as you enjoyed hanging out with Mark’s friends, they obviously only chased after girls for sex.

Your boyfriend was the only one with genuine interest in relationships and being in love. Jaebeom didn’t seem at all different; it’s as if his aura screamed trouble and the last thing you needed was someone to meddle with your relationship in any way. The older boy looked up at you incredulously; he was wearing the uniform you were just given and he was sitting in the break room—obviously that meant he was an employee and you were well aware of that.

It was just that you had a hard time processing; or accepting rather the fact that you were going to be working alongside someone you considered an enemy. Out of all the places—why did he have to work at the same grocery store that you just got hired at? He already gave you so much stress at school, you could only imagine it was going to be worse now that he was your coworker. You found out in that same week that he was a stock member, so you wouldn’t have to deal with him at all which you were glad to say the least.

The less time you had to spend around him, the better. To your dismay, your contact with Mark went from a couple times a day to only once or twice a week if you were lucky. That wasn’t the worst part; the distance seemed to be getting in the way of everything. For the last three years in high school, you were good with keeping up your grades. You were also very good whenever it came to participation and answering any questions your teachers would ask you.

You didn’t realize just how unhappy and dejected you were until you and your parents were called in to the office by your counselor to talk about your grades. Not only were you failing two classes, you were one letter grade away from being on probation. Your parents wanted to be understanding; although you never involved anyone in to your relationship, they were well aware that your behavior was the subject of Mark’s absence and his failing to call and text you. You began to feel like he no longer loved you the way that he used to—the way you still did with him.

If he did, wouldn’t he use every minute of his free time, no matter how exhausted he was to talk with you? There were countless nights you’d stay up past midnight because it was the only time he’d be able to contact you. Here you were bending over backwards in order to even get a glimpse of him and yet—he couldn’t; or didn’t even think about doing the same for you and it sucked. It sucked because all your biggest nightmares were coming to life right before your eyes and there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t help but cry every time you thought about how he practically begged you to never give up on your relationship, no matter how hard it was.

Where was the boy who claimed to love you more than life itself? The same boy who would call you up at 2 in the morning just to cry over how much he missed going to sleep with you in his arms? Where was the boy who was willing to give up his entire college career if it meant being able to see you every day and who was this stranger who couldn’t care less about how you’ve been doing?

A part of you felt as if you wanted to confront Mark and tell him about how you felt, but you never got around to it because if he ever did get in contact with you, it was to complain about what he was suffering through or how his life was going. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be there for him; you were so grateful that Mark trusted you with all of his worries and problems, but you missed being able to do the same with him. You didn’t want to accept it, but your boyfriend no longer cared about you and it was a hard pill to swallow.

As irresponsible as it was for you to cry while at work, there was one day in particular that you just had enough. You stayed up the entire night before, contemplating your relationship with Mark and wondering if it was even worth fighting for anymore. Keeping up a long distance relationship was a team effort and you knew you were the only one putting in your heart and soul to make sure it wouldn’t fall apart.

Your manager had a feeling something was off with you that day as soon as she saw you walk in with your shoulders slumped and tear stains on your cheek. When you were ringing up customers, you had zero energy and you weren’t even trying to put on a fake smile—you just did not want to be there at all. Most of your friends felt like giving you your space even if they were extremely concerned with your well being. But they didn’t feel like there was anything they could do.

Your sister moved out of the house to live with her boyfriend a couple of months ago and both of your brothers were away at college. It was just you and your parents and even then, they would both work up until late. You felt so alone—and it wasn’t like you had Mark to run to. Everything in your life was falling apart and you were so unhappy. You loved Mark, more than you wanted to; and more than he deserved as of right now.

There was nothing more you wanted than to fly up to New York and knock some sense in to him—you also wanted to kiss him for as long as time permitted you to. Only one hour in to your shift, your manager pulled you to the side and asked you if everything was okay.

Honestly, you didn’t know how to respond. You were definitely not okay; nothing was okay. By the weary expression on your face, she knew something was wrong and instead of trying to force it out of you, she allowed you a fifteen-minute break just to take a little breather.

Sure, you have been working there for quite a while; but you didn’t want to take advantage of your manager’s kindness. She already had done so much for you; whether it was switching around your schedule so you could study for your midterms or finding someone to cover your shift if you called in sick so you didn’t have to, you knew she was an employer who genuinely cared about her employees and it was something you would be forever grateful for.

Once she told you to head to the back, you found yourself releasing the quietest whimper before you broke down in tears. You didn’t care whether or not someone were to walk in on you crying, everything was just too much for you to handle. Your chest felt tight and your throat grew sore with every sob. Why was all of this happening to you?

Just months ago, you were living out your best life. You had your entire family to come home to every day, your grades were almost perfect, you had both your friends and Mark’s friends to make you laugh and take your mind off of how difficult school could be but most importantly, you had Mark. You were so busy wallowing in self-pity that you failed to notice that you were no longer the only person in the break room.

You felt Jaebeom before you saw him. He glided his hand gently along your back as a way to get you to slow down your heaving. When he noticed that you leaned back in to his comforting touch, he took that as a sign to hold you even closer—and he did. Jaebeom had brought you on to his lap and began to run his fingers through your hair while rocking you back and forth.

Although he knew he was getting in to dangerous territory; there was no way he could just let you cry by yourself. There was a chance you would be mad at him for taking advantage of you while you were in such a vulnerable state, but he didn’t care. He’d accept whatever you were to throw at him once you realized what he did to help console you.

What you weren’t aware of, was that he did in fact have a crush on you. It may have been a suspicion on your part, but it was true—and he made it painfully obvious that he liked you. On his first day when your science teacher had him sit with you, he was captivated by your beauty. Sure, Jaebeom has seen many pretty girls in his lifetime, but something about you stood out to him and he could explain what it was because he didn’t know himself.

However, when your teacher had you bring him around the school—take him to his classes, show him where all the important buildings and offices were; he learned that you were a no nonsense kind of person. You were also very bold and blunt; something he wasn’t used to in a girl. Maybe that’s why he liked you so much. Unlike other girls, you hardly ever batted an eye to him nor did you appear to desire his attention. It wasn’t something he was used to; Jaebeom was always well-known and well-liked by his peers.

In the few months he’s been at your school for, he grew to be a crowd favorite. Everyone in your junior class either wanted to be him, be friends with him or date him. You however, wanted nothing to do with him and something about that made him all the more interested in you. He didn’t know why, but seeing you cry made his chest feel heavy. He had no idea why you were so upset, but he wanted to beat up whoever it was that made you cry.

Even if it wasn’t towards him, he’d observe the way you were such a bright and bubbly person whether it was with customers, your fellow classmates or your teachers. It was a bit of a stretch to desire a friendship with you, but he at least wanted to be civil. Jaebeom wasn’t going to lie, he got a kick out of teasing you and doing things he knew would get a rise out of you, but it was his only way of really getting to interact with you and he was going to take whatever he could get. When he realized you were no longer crying, he decided it would be best to get you off of his lap. You shocked both yourself and Jaebeom when you stopped his movements and cuddled in to his chest even closer.

“Wait—just a couple more minutes. Please?”

You didn’t know what came over you in that moment; whether it was because you were lonely and felt as if you had no one, or because this was the first time in a long time that someone held you in such a comforting way, but you didn’t want him to let go. You couldn’t help feeling as if it was wrong; being held by another guy who wasn’t your boyfriend—you knew Mark wouldn’t be all too happy if he were to find out that you were the one who wanted to continue being held by Jaebeom, but you weren’t able to find it in yourself to care.

The two of you stayed like that until Jaebeom told you he had to clock in, but once the two of you got up from off the ground, he pulled you against his chest and held you ever so gently. This was the first time you ever felt anything other than disgust for him and it actually felt pretty nice. He could’ve have just left you there; he could’ve allowed you to cry all by yourself and honestly he should have with the crude way you’ve been treating him, but he didn’t. You were evidently hurting and Jaebeom came to your rescue.

From that day on, your friendship with the kind-heartened boy blossomed immensely. Instead of hiding in one of your classes or in the back of your school library for lunch, you were now meeting Jaebeom in the courtyard. It took you a while to come to accept it, but being around Jaebeom felt like a breath of fresh air. Although his presence didn’t completely take your mind off of your failing relationship and what was barely left of it, he did make you laugh with some of the corniest jokes and he also brought you some of his mom’s homemade strawberry milk.

The longer you were friends with him, the more you learned that he was the complete opposite of what you thought he was. First, he was the biggest momma’s boy. Well—other than Mark, but being an only child, Jaebeom was always clingy and overprotective when it came to his mom. He wasn’t embarrassed to answer her calls if he were around you and one day, he brought you over to her café in order to let you try a few of her other concoctions. He was also a huge cat lover.

He was the proud father to five different cats he all adopted from the humane society. The fact that surprised you the most though; was that he was a b-boy dancer. He didn’t give off the vibes of being passionate for dance, but at the same time you didn’t think he was capable of taking care of anyone but himself—let alone five cats. You didn’t want to believe that there was anyone else for you other than your boyfriend—nor did you think you harbored any romantic feelings for Jaebeom; but at the same time, your chest would feel empty every time he would drop you home.

You wanted to believe that the love you had for Mark was enough to fight off the feelings you assumed were growing for the boy in question. It wasn’t until he called you outside of your house on a Saturday with a bouquet of roses in his right hand and a teddy bear in his left. You would never be able to forget how shy and flustered he looked; you never thought you’d see the day Im Jaebeom’s cheeks would be flushed with pink—it was even harder to process that you were the reason.

“Hey—I uh—would you maybe want to—I was wondering if you and I could—Junior prom?”

Shit. You were too focused on everything else going on in your life that you failed to remember than prom was in less than a month. Honestly; you didn’t really care about going. Mark never asked you about it and when you tried to bring it up to him one night, he told you he would be busy on that day so you ultimately decided you wouldn’t go.

There really wasn’t any point in going anyway; you were hardly close with anyone in your year and you didn’t want to waste hundreds of dollars on a night where you’d be alone and miserable. Plus, you already got to experience both Junior and Senior prom with Mark. Both nights were too amazing to even describe. Mark never failed to compliment how beautiful he thought you looked; in fact, most of the night was spent with him staring at you in awe of your beauty. There was no way you would be able to go to prom without tearing up over how much has changed in less than a year.

A year ago, Mark rented out a hotel room for the two of you to return back to once prom was finished and you knew exactly what his plans were for the rest of the night once he pressed you up against the elevator mirror and kissed you with all the energy he could muster. Even if you weren’t really in the mood to go, you didn’t have it in you to tell Jaebeom no.

Knowing the kind of guy he was, you were sure it took a lot for him to build enough courage to ask you such a nerve-wrecking question. The two of you may have been friends; but that didn’t necessarily mean you would want to go with him. As soon as he saw the small smile that he was falling for faster than he’d like to admit rise upon your face while you nodded your head in agreement, he returned back an even bigger and toothier grin. He was quick to hand you the gifts and pulled you in to his warm embrace before your mind could really process what was happening.

“I like you a lot y/n. Would you be my girlfriend?”

Hearing those words made your head spin. At this point, you were confident that Jaebeom liked you. He was so sophisticated and chic around anyone else but to you, he would conform in to the smallest little baby. He was so soft for you and followed you around like a lost puppy. You’d be stupid if you didn’t think there was even the smallest chance that he liked you.

Seeing him with such hopefulness in his eyes broke your heart; your relationship may not have been what it used to be, but there was no way you would ever cheat on Mark—nor did you want to give up on him just yet. You were waiting—what for, you had no idea. But there was a tiny voice in your head begging you not to give up on him just yet. You wanted to believe that one day soon, he would realize exactly what he was doing to you. He would realize how he was breaking your heart and if he didn’t hurry up and get his shit together, he would lose you completely.

“Jaebeom, I’m so sorry—I can’t—I—I have a boyfriend.”

When you watched his face practically drop at your confession, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Why didn’t you say something earlier? How could you lead him on like this? He was nothing but caring and thoughtfull; everything Jaebeom did was to make you happy. Something that only your boyfriend should be worrying about.

You didn’t feel like you needed to tell him everything about yourself nor did you feel as though that information was all that important. Yet—you couldn’t help but feel as though there was another reason as to why you didn’t tell him. You didn’t think it was because you didn’t want him knowing you were in a relationship just in case he did have feelings for you.

So what was the real reason? His frown was quick to disappear and you felt as if you’ve known the older boy long enough to distinguish his real smiles from the fake ones. The smile he was currently giving you did not reach his eyes. You wanted to reach out to him and give him a hug—but you would only be giving him more confusing signals.

“Jaebeom—“

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it okay? I should have expected it. There was no way someone so beautiful with such a charismatic and gracious personality was single. Please know that I won’t let my feelings for you get in the way of our friendship okay? Your boyfriend is a very lucky guy; I hope he knows that. I’ll see you on Monday, have a nice day.”

That was the first time you ever cried over someone who wasn’t Mark. Your heart hurt from Jaebeom. It was evident that he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy; nor did he seem to be the kind of person who would buy flowers for someone but he did so—for you. Jaebeom was changing his ways in order to impress you—to be the lucky guy who got to be the one who called you his. But that position has been taken for over ten years now and there was a battle going on between your mind and your heart on whether you wanted to continue your relationship or if you wanted to take a break from it.

That following Monday; you could tell Jaebeom was trying his best to show that the rejection wasn’t affecting him in anyway, but he was only human. You were the first girl ever that he fell head over heels for; so it was a lot for him not only to face rejection, but to hear the reason as to why. He wasn’t as talkative nor did he really show interest in anything at all. You even tried to come up with all kinds of conversations about topics you knew he was heavily interested in, but all your efforts failed.

You broke Im Jaebeom.

Thankfully, things didn’t stay awkward between the two of you for too long. If the only way he could have you in his life was as a friend, he was going to take it. Prom night finally arrived and you knew you should have been excited, but you couldn’t wait to get it over with. You didn’t even tell Mark that you decided to go—you didn’t think he would care anyway. It was disheartening for you to come to the realization that your relationship was causing you more anguish and pain than it was excitement and adoration.

When did Mark grow tired of having to put effort in to your relationship? When did he realize that you were the last thing he should be worrying about? When did he stop loving you? As much as you didn’t want to think or even believe that your boyfriend fell out of love with you, there was no other explanation as to why he’s been acting the way he has towards you. Sometimes, you felt that the only reason why Mark continued to stay in the relationship was because it was convenient for him. Your relationship continued for a span of a decade.

You were all he has known for the last ten years. You’ve seen it all; the good, the bad and the ugly. The idea of starting over with someone else, having to get used to someone else must’ve been troublesome. While you got ready for your prom, you were quick to pick up on your mom’s unusual behavior.

She was constantly texting someone on her phone and she motioned for your dad to walk over to where she was so she could show him what was making her so animated. You wanted to think it was because she was just excited that you agreed to go to prom, but something in your gut told you there was more to her exuberant exterior. You were just getting the finishing touches of your makeup done when the doorbell rang and your mom wasted no time making her way downstairs.

“Y/n! Jaebeom is here, and he’s looking especially handsome today!”

Your parents were aware of your friendship with the older boy and they seemed to approve of him. They were fond of the idea that he took care of you in the way Mark always did when he was still in California. You decided to leave out the fact that he liked you just in case it caused any unnecessary drama. After you finished putting on your dress and your heels, you started heading down to the living room and you could’ve sworn your heart rate increased as soon as your eyes landed on him.

Everyone with good eyesight could see that Jaebeom was exceptionally good-looking. You actually hated just how handsome he really was; but seeing him with his hair slicked back, wearing a suit and tie was all the more breathtaking. You didn’t think it was possible he could get any more handsome than he already was. When his eyes landed on you, his eyes widened in shock and you even saw his jaw drop a little bit. His stunned reaction was making you feel things you know you shouldn’t have been.

“Wow y/n you look—wow—“

You giggled softly as you playfully pinched his cheek as a way to prevent him from seeing the effect his words were having on you. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself. Shall we get going?”

He placed your corsage on your wrist and gave you his arm to hold while saying goodbye to both your parents. Jaebeom in more or less words, was the perfect gentleman. From the moment you both arrived to the hotel, he opened every single door for you, pulled out your chair for you and helped lift your dress to prevent it from dragging.

As amazing as the night had been so far, you despised the fact that you wished it was Mark there with you instead of Jaebeom; but it was only human of you to do so. No matter how much hell he was currently putting you through, you would rather go through the ends of the earth to be with him than to go to heaven with anyone else.

When your date excused himself to the bathroom, you decided to go on your phone until he was too come back. Right as you saw that you got a text notification, curiosity got the best of you since the only people who would get in contact with you these days were your parents, your siblings and Jaebeom. At first, you just assumed it was your sister wishing you a good time or your mom reminding you to watch your step. However, your heart both fluttered and sank when you finally opened up the message and saw who it was from.

Babe: Hey, are you free right now? Can we talk? 9:23 p.m.

You wanted to laugh hysterically. Out of all the times he could contact you, it had to be the night of your prom. A night where you were supposed to have fun and enjoy your last year and a half in high school. Was he really being serious right now? You wanted to leave his message on read; you told him that you were going to prom and you were sure he must’ve seen a couple of posts on social media from some of his friends in your grade that he still kept in touch with. But your heart was dying to hear what he had to say.

For some reason, you thought it was something negative. Those three words never led to anything good. Was he finally feeling the distance between the two of you? Was it suffocating him as it was slowly killing you? You didn’t know what he was going to tell you, but you couldn’t let it wait.

You: Sure, let me just go outside real quick. 9:24 p.m.

You decided to send Jaebeom a quick message that you needed to make a phone call so that he didn’t worry about your sudden disappearance. Once you made your way outside, you gave yourself a few seconds to recollect your thoughts. The last time you had a conversation with him that lasted for longer than five minutes was almost two weeks ago. It was currently almost summertime, yet the temperature was in the low sixties, so you began to rub alongside your arms to keep warm. After taking in a deep breath, you pulled up his contact and dialed his number.

“Hey baby. How are you?”

You absentmindedly rolled your eyes at his question. What did he care? How you’ve been no longer seemed to matter to him for over four months now, so what was so different about tonight? “I’m fine. What is it that you wanted to talk about? I’m kind of busy right now.”

You didn’t mean to come off so coldly, but you were just so frustrated with the entire situation and you were anticipating something negative to fall from his lips.

“Aw shit—I forgot. Tonight is your junior prom right? Damnit—if it’s any consolation baby, you look so fucking beautiful.”

You were confused at his compliment; when did he get a chance to see you? Since you weren’t all too excited for tonight, you didn’t really post anything—nor did you feel the need to send him any pictures. Maybe your mom sent him photos of you or something. Right as you were about to respond, there were two hands that lightly covered your eyes.

You knew exactly who it was without even having to guess; these were the hands you’ve held for more than half of your life. The same hands that would wipe away any tears that would fall from your eyelids. Mark. He spun you around and immediately placed a searing kiss upon your lips before you could even say or do anything.

“Hi baby, missed me?” Seeing him for the first time in almost five months should have been more thrilling, yet when you looked at him, you felt nothing. No butterflies, no sparks, no increasing of your heart rate—nothing. When you looked at him, you didn’t see the love of your life.

The boy in front of you held no familiarity at all. You wanted to react; you wanted to cry—to wrap your arms around him and kiss him all around his handsome face. You wanted to go in to detail about how much you’ve missed him and how these last five months without him were extremely difficult—but nothing came out. You could tell by his furrowed brows and the way he was biting his lip that he wasn’t expecting such an emotionless reaction from you.

“What are you doing here Mark?”

He frowned. Mark had a feeling he was being such an asshole towards you for the last few months. He knew the distance between the two of you was all his fault. It was killing him as much as it was with you. What you didn’t know, was that he took on a job in order to make some money for a trip back home—to see you. To say he was tired was an understatement.

If he wasn’t at school, he was at work. If he wasn’t at work, he was at practice and the only time he had to rest was right before bed. There was no excuse for not reaching out to you more often; honestly all he wanted to do was to call you and see what you were up to. That’s why all your calls were so short. He didn’t care what the two of you talked about or how long the conversation lasted, he just wanted to hear your voice. It was what kept him going.

No matter how hard college was for him, he knew he was going to get to see you again soon. If only he knew what his absence was going to do to your relationship; then he would’ve just asked his parents to pay for his flight home but it was a pride thing. Mark hated having to depend on people. He was independent from the day he could walk. Your reaction was the complete opposite of what he was expecting, but it wasn’t exactly unexpected.

“I wanted to surprise you. Listen, I can explain why I haven’t been so involved in our relationship these days and I’m really sorry y/n. I’ve been such a jerk and you really don’t deserve that but—“

“I think we need to take a break.”

You couldn’t even look at him; you were sure the two hours of makeup that the makeup artist work so hard on would get ruined if you were to see his reaction. It took you a long time to come to that decision; not once in your ten years of knowing him and loving him for would you have ever thought you would want to take a break from him. You never wanted to be away from Mark—ever. But he was never around anyway and waiting on him only interfered with what was going on in your life. It was also taking a huge toll on your mental health and you no longer wanted to give him that power anymore.

“Y/n, you don’t mean that. Baby you’re just mad and you have every right to be. But please, hear me out—“ You let out a scoff of disbelief.

“Hear you out? All I ever seem to do is hear you out Mark. Everything is always about you! Go check your messages. It’s always me—I’m always the one reaching out to you. I’m always the one initiating the calls, I’m the one staying up till the wee hours of the morning and going to school so exhausted just so I can talk to you. I—I can’t help but feel as though you fell out of love with me. Don’t get me wrong, your happiness, your health and your well-being is all I care about. But you don’t seem to give two shits about me or anything that goes on in my life Mark. I got a new job—I tried to tell you, but I never get any word in before you have to leave for school or for practice. I’m also on probation—my grades are shit right now and if I don’t get my act together, they’re going to hold me back an entire year and guess what Mark—it’s all your fault. I’m tired Mark. I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to give up all these years—these wonderful, amazing and unfathomably perfect years together because you’re being stubborn and refuse to hear me out? You’re giving up on us so easily y/n! You claimed that I fell out of love with you—you and I both know I am still so madly in love with you and I’m always going to be in love with you Damnit! What happened to all our plans huh? What happened to forever? You and I are soulmates y/n—did you forget that?”

“Of course I didn’t Mark—but don’t you dare play the victim in this. Our relationship is no longer what it used to be. I tried so hard—so fucking hard to get it back to what it used to be but each and every single one of my efforts went to shit because you obviously don’t think anything is wrong. I’m dying Mark. This relationship is going to be the death of me. I’m unhappy Mark. I haven’t been happy in such a long time. I’ve missed you so fucking much—“

“I’m here now baby. Fuck y/n I’m so fucking sorry baby. Please—please, please—let me fix this. I can fix this. I’m not letting you go this easy—fuck I’m never letting you go y/n. Get it through that thick head of yours. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

You hesitantly brought your hand up to cup his cheek and released a gentle breath of relief when you felt him lean in to your palm. You grazed his bottom lip with your thumb before leaving a chaste kiss against his lips. Your heart was begging you to hear him out—stupid heart. Such a stupid—stupid heart.

In his eyes, you could see the little boy who added an extra red piece in the slot when you weren’t looking so that you could win connect four against him. The same boy who gave you his shoes to wear as he walked with just socks on because he saw how much pain your heels caused you at his junior prom. There was not a doubt in your mind that Mark loved you even if you kept trying to convince yourself that he didn’t.

The love he had for you was still there. It just wasn’t as fierce or as strong as it used to be. You wanted to deepen the kiss; you loved kissing Mark. There was nothing you missed more than having his pretty lips meld perfectly with yours—but you knew if you were to kiss him, your entire speech about going on a break was going to be for nothing. You rested your head against his chest before placing a gentle kiss right below his jaw.

“I love you Mark. I truly believe I was made for loving you and I’m always going to love you. I have every intention to getting married to you, starting a family with you and spending the rest of my life with you. But right now, I think we need some time apart in order to find ourselves again. I lost myself loving you Mark—I gave you everything and you took it all without hesitance until there was nothing left. I need to learn to live without you Mark. I’m not giving up on us—I’m just doing what I feel is going to bring us back to each other again. You are my person Mark Tuan and I’m yours.”

The two of you stood there for what felt like hours. His grips were tight on your waist and you began to tear up as soon as his chest began to heave against yours. You knew he was crying and you weren’t actually expecting any kind of emotion out of him; you were still so shocked to hear him grow angry with your decision. When you looked up at him and saw his eyes were now bloodshot red and filled with tears; you were ultimately regretting your decision. You wiped a tears away with your fingers and pecked his nose lovingly.

“Don’t cry baby. In due time, we’ll be fine.”

You were selfish; you were the one pushing him away, yet you still wanted as much time with Mark as you possibly could get. You didn’t know just how long it would take for you to heal, so you wanted to cherish this moment while you still could. Unfortunately, your little reunion with Mark was interrupted and you had a bad feeling that things were right about to go downhill.

“Hey y/n, they’re going to start announcing the king and queen did you want to—oh—uh—hey man, you must be Mark. Nice to meet you.”

Mark’s grip on your waist tightened as his jaw clenched; yeah—this wasn’t going to end well. Mark was the definition of a jealous boyfriend. One time, he almost ended up twisting BamBam’s arm when the younger boy made a joke about how you were in the bedroom. He was extremely protective and territorial over you—but since he’s been absent, he had yet to hear about who this guy was that seemed to know who he was.

His eyes landed on Jaebeom’s tie and how it matched your dress perfectly. It only made him wonder—who exactly was this guy to you and why were you at the prom with him?

“Jaebeom, do you think you could go inside? I’ll be right there.”

He looked at your worried expression then noticed how both of Mark’s fists were balled at his sides. Jaebeom wasn’t stupid; he wasn’t all that bright when it came to his studies, but he could tell that you weren’t as happy as you played yourself off to be. Seeing how tense you and Mark both were, he couldn’t help but feel that your boyfriend was the reason.

As much as he wanted to call Mark out for making you cry so much these days, it wasn’t his place to do so. He was just your friend and if he wanted it to stay that way, he knew it was best to keep his mouth shut. You relaxed when you saw him nod in agreement before walking back inside of the ballroom.

“Mark, I think it’s time for me to head back—“

“Him. Is he the reason why you’re leaving me? Did you fall in love with him? Did you cheat on me y/n? Did you get lonely while I was away—working my fucking ass off at a job I hate in order to save enough money so I could come and see you?—“

“Mark, stop. You know it’s not like that—“

“Needed another dick to keep you satisfied while I was away? Is that what it is? What—did he say all these nice things about you to get you to fall for him? What is it y/n? What’s so good about him huh? What does he have that I’m lacking—“

“ENOUGH! Don’t you dare accuse me of cheating on you. You and I both know I would never EVER do such a fucking thing. My heart—this pathetic heart and what’s left of it, my mind, my spirit, my body—you own it all. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want anyone else but you for you to get it through your fucking head? Stop trying to play the victim Mark! You’re at fault here! Accept it! Jaebeom is just a friend—he was here for me when I had nobody. I had no friends—my siblings are all out of the house—my parents are gone all the time and my boyfriend only calls me when he wants to—when it’s convenient for him. Jaebeom is a genuine friend Mark. You should be happy that I had him to keep me sane. Instead of wondering who he is to me, you should be focused on what you are to me. Good night Mark.”

Jaebeom tried his best to cheer you up in any way possible, but he could tell by your body language alone that you just wanted to go home. He didn’t hear what happened after he left, but the curiosity was eating away at him. However, you already looked so distraught—he didn’t want to add on to it. You felt bad for Jaebeom—this was just as much his prom night as much as it was yours and now you ruined it for the both of you. What you could use was a three-month long nap. When Jaebeom dropped you home, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek before wiping a tear from your face that you didn’t even know fell.

“I don’t know what happened earlier and I don’t expect you to tell me. But just know I’ll be ready to listen whenever you’re ready to talk.”

You didn’t know what it is that you did to deserve such an amazing friend like Jaebeom—if someone were to put you through what you’ve been putting him through since the day you met him, you would’ve dropped that person completely. But here he was—so understanding—so willing to give up and sacrifice anything for your happiness. You made a mental note to make it up to him once you were mentally ready to do anything.

Your parents were shocked beyond words to see you coming back alone—they actually didn’t expect you to come home at all knowing that Mark was going to surprise you. They actually conspired with Mark to go and surprise you at the hotel because they’ve noticed how broken you’ve been for the last few months and they were hoping that seeing him again would get you in a better mood. Your mom was about to approach you, but it was evident that you just wanted to go to sleep.

Only three days in to your break with Mark did you realize you may have made a brief lapse of judgement. Sure, it was as if nothing has changed. You were already used to not hearing from him; but now that you knew the two of you currently were not a couple, it made things all the more difficult. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days and days felt like months. Waking up felt like a chore; you missed him like crazy.

Even if you only heard from him on his time, it was better than not hearing from him at all. Exactly one month after that heartbreaking night at your prom, you found yourself on a plane to New York. Once school was out for the summer, you found yourself at the grocery store almost every single day in order to make enough money to afford a round-trip plane ticket to see Mark with the hopes of mending your broken relationship. In this last month, you came to the realization that you were willing to have Mark in your life even if it was only once or twice a week; it was better than not having him at all.

“A105, A106, A107—A108. Here goes nothing.”

You were afraid that in the last month, Mark could have realized that maybe this break should be a permanent decision. He hasn’t tried to get in touch with you once since your prom night nor did he try to visit you once while he was still in California—but then again, you couldn’t blame him. He was giving you the space you asked for; now, you were hoping and praying he was going to open the door and welcome you with open arms. You knocked a few times and it felt as though you were about to throw up your heart. When you had yet to hear a response, you reached forward to knock again. When the door finally opened, the person behind it wasn’t who you were hoping it would be.

“Y/n?”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 #got7 mark

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voidandradiance · 4 years

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stars burn out (4.4k)

the darkness has not had a champion in a very, very long time, and at first they do not notice it. at first, that is. the longer they watch him, the more they see it; he forges his blades with his own hands, enchants his armor with his own words, pushes himself up from the dirt and builds and fights and wins. his goddess grants him nothing, nor does he ask her to, though the others are given armor and weapons. she gives him tokens of favor, but nothing more. she does not even provide him with the release of peaceful sleep. the captain does not rest; he works and fights and builds and mines and forges and crafts and saves and helps and lends and teaches and assists and sacrifices and listens and obeys- but he does not rest. he carries on relentlessly, as if he has never considered stopping, as if he has never realized that it was even an option. when he sleeps, it isn't peaceful. still, he doesn't complain. he smiles at the others, and puts on his armor, and works and fights and-

and the darkness sees their opening. they take the shape of a sailor in passing, and go to speak with him. they smile at him from behind a curtain of wild red hair that he may have once known. "isn't it tiring?" they ask, blinking the dark blue eyes of another he once cared for. they have pieced this form together so carefully from what they have gleaned from his mind. "all that work and no rest, with no reward, it must be exhausting. how do you carry on with it?"

the captain, stubborn captain, shrugs. "what else is there to do? lay down and die?" he replies. "i'm used to it."

that answer, ringing with bitter truth, is not the one they were looking for. he truly seems not to mind his own exhaustion, not to mind looking after that merry band of fools. yet he still is ruthless, and powerful, and by all of the stars in the sky and all of the shadows of the void, they want him on their side.

and they get him, eventually, through a line of plans and manipulations and deals. they get him, kneeling at their feet, somehow unsurprised that his perfectly-crafted friend has betrayed and played him. "alright," he says. "you want me as your champion. let's make a deal, then."

delighted, they laugh. "gladly," the darkness replies. here is where they find what he truly wants, what gifts will best catch and keep his favor. he gravitates toward objects of power- that is why they are here, now- and so perhaps weapons will be best suited towards him. something beyond the typical sword. he deserves more than what is standard; only the best. "tell me what you want, captain, and it will be yours."

the captain smiles thinly. "you have a hold over ianite. if i accept your invitation to become your champion, you will release her immediately, and not attempt to control or manipulate her ever again through any means, by proxy or by magic or by any medium i am unaware of. this is my first condition."

ah. loyal to the last. their plans will be much harder to accomplish without the little goddess dancing on puppet strings, but far from impossible. with the captain, it will be almost easy. "i accept."

instead of relaxing, the captain tenses even further. he expects refusal or betrayal from them, as if they would be such a fool. "if i accept your invitation to become your champion," he says again, "you will never again incite violence or lasting harm against any whom i consider a friend, including the other two champions, by your own hand or by any proxy- including me."

the darkness pauses for far longer at that, and their nature wars against their hesitation. mortals die. the dark is patient, and always, always wins. it will not be hard to keep their champion alive, and to keep him from growing newly attached to other mortals, and to wait. "i accept."

"if i choose to accept your invitation to become your champion," the captain adds almost frantically, "you will never, under any circumstances, take possession or control of my mind or body. you will never force me to do harm to those i want to protect. you will never force me to raise a blade or weapon of any kind against my brothers, and you will never force me to renounce them as my friends."

it would have been within their power to, of course, but why would they ever have done so? the latter two limit them to convincing only, and that is hardly a limit at all for them. "i accept," they reply easily. no possession. what a small sacrifice to make for this champion.

"and do you vow on your quintessence to uphold all three of the conditions that you have just accepted?" the captain spits, and oh, he is a clever one. very good. this is why they want him at their side.

"i vow it on my quintessence," they reply. "if you swear yourself to me."

the captain closes his eyes, curls his fists, and speaks the words they have waited so long to hear.

the darkness has not had a champion in a very, very long time, but they notice it immediately. most champions only pull power from their gods during great feats of endurance or magic, in short bursts and flares that end soon after they come, just in times of great need. the captain pulls a strong, steady flow of magic from them, his hands trembling as their power settles into his skin, swaying in place. it goes only into the effort of keeping him upright.

they are suddenly, intimately aware of mortal exhaustion. "rest, my champion," they command, watching him waver. "you are no help to me dead."

he shakes his head. "i only need a few seconds," he says, his soul fidgeting with the new magic wound around it. true to his words, he steadies after a moment, his body adapting to the shift and learning how to lean into this smoke and shadow and power. "that's all."

the faith of the captain is a heady rush of vertigo and power. it's almost enough to replace what he's instinctively, desperately pulling to himself. the darkness revels in it, but allows it to fade into a faint, constant awareness. "rest," they order once again, and he looks up at them in confusion. "i am night. i am sleep. and you are ready to collapse, my champion."

the captain swallows, clearly not in any state to deny it. "the first condition," he says wearily, exhaustion clear in his eyes and tone. "and then i will try."

so self-sacrificing, their new champion. they will have to curb that habit before it gets him into further trouble. "as you wish," they sigh, and pull back the shadows from their arrogant daughter. the captain, by the last traces of his former bond, seems to sense it. he slumps in relief; that had been his first and truest concern, genuinely.

"thank you," he whispers.

"come, my champion," the darkness purrs, and delight curls in them as their precious captain stands. "you will rest, and in the morning, we will begin."

the captain shakes his head slightly, but follows them to the room prepared, sits on the edge of the bed, trails his fingertips over the spidersilk sheets. he is still far too wary to have any chance of resting.

the darkness reaches for an aspect of their nature that they rarely need, and cast the shadows of the room into a different shape. they twist them into the warm, soft darkness beneath thick blankets, into the sweet, comfortable shade of a tree on a hot, lazy day, into the gentle dark of a long, late night. it twists them into every time the dark means safety, and the captain clearly senses the change in the air. "sleep," they tell him. "no dreams will come for you in my realm."

they leave, then, shutting the door but not locking it. this is the captain's test of them as much as it is their test of him. this requires honesty.

after a long while, their newly formed bond goes quiet and soft, their champion relaxing into sleep. they leave him be for as long as they can, tired captain, though they do check on him when the bond gets too faint. he sleeps for hours, for the better part of a mortal day. when he does wake, he does not immediately come to them; he curls under the blankets and stares at the wall and prays to no-one in particular that this had not been the only night in which he would be granted peaceful rest. he is so reluctant to get up, yet eventually does so without complaint. the darkness takes form and waits for him, and surely enough, he comes to their silent call.

"did you rest well?" the darkness asks, though they already know. it is better to hear him say it.

the captain nods slowly. he knows that they know, that they can sense the new and strange strength within the bond, but he humors them anyway, dutiful champion that he is. "yes," he admits, and pauses for a moment. "very."

"good," the darkness hums. "i am glad, my champion. did your goddess never let you sleep peacefully?"

"she couldn't," the captain says, without a bitter syllable in the words. "she saw the same visions, or her own. it wasn't so bad. i'm used to it."

and the darkness does not immediately dignify that blatant lie with a response. the still silence hangs between them, growing heavy. "you pled to the universe to allow you even one more night of true rest," they say, once the quiet has made its point. "i somehow doubt that."

the captain winces and turns away. "i didn't think you would hear. apologies."

"my champion," they reply, genuinely startled. "i will always listen to a prayer."

their champion winces harder, and remains silent, head bowed. how little had his goddess cared for him, if he had not expected for a prayer to be noticed? how little attention had she paid? no tools, no weapons, no armor, no help. she had given him only the bare minimum. here, yes, the darkness had encouraged that, but for the captain to accept it so easily, for him to claim to not mind, is not at all what they had anticipated. they had wanted to show how weak and immature this godling was, and instead it had been expected and accepted without a word. and yet-

"you have not renounced her," they point out. he had sworn to them, but never broke that final bond.

the captain sets his jaw. a nerve struck, then. "i do not follow the goddess of these isles," he says firmly, stubbornly. "my last connections to other realms are irrelevant. i am your champion, am i not?"

a nostalgia for his first goddess, for his homeland, then. fine. they have agreed not to tear that away. "yes," the darkness says. "you are. but was she ever kind, when you were hers? did she ever grant you a thing you asked for? did she ever answer your prayers to her?"

"she was never unkind," the captain replies quietly, mourning in his tone. "in my first world, she was imprisoned and weak. i hardly knew she existed. her name came to me in a dream. we saved her, but… we only had a few moments before we had to leave. make the leap of faith. fall into the void for months, wake up in a new world, fight through it, leap again, repeat. and the second time, then, she was dying. i was too late to save her. all i could do was try to protect her family, and i failed that, too. but she did what she could."

"no gifts?" the darkness pries. "no reply to your prayers? no rewards for such loyal service?"

the captain shrugs, clearly baffled. "she wasn't as powerful as her brothers. there was the bow of balance, i suppose. it's not like i can't make my own gear."

ah, but with power such as his, with such strength, he shouldn't have to. "a bow," they repeat, and begin to plan. "is that all?"

"it was the best weapon i ever had," the captain insists, and flexes his hand, as if missing the weight of it. suddenly, he grins. "i killed the father of the gods with it."

well.

it is a very good thing that he is on their side, now, isn't it?

as readily as he had given it to his first patron, it is clear that his trust is something which the darkness must earn. considering that they had very recently been on opposite ends of each other's blades, this is not unexpected. they lead him around their fortress, offer him training grounds cast in shade and servants made of smoke. he realizes how malleable the world around them truly is; he realizes that if he were to turn on them, the walls could shift, and the servants become soldiers. he is clever, when one does not already have his trust. very well; onto the pieces that will truly sway him.

they provide him another night of peace. they present him with a bow made of deep shadows and dark steel. he looks at them strangely, but they can feel a secondhand rush of sudden power as he closes his hand around the bow. his breath stutters, and the bond trembles; he is not used to this. he clears his throat, but his voice is rough when he asks, "arrows?"

"at the moment you need them," the darkness promises, "you will never be without them. here."

they spin a shadow into shape. smoke curls from its void-black form, sapping the light from the air around it. the arrow is a thing of power, and they both know it. it is not enough to kill a god, no, but it may do serious harm.

"you have so often been left alone," the darkness says quietly. "empty-handed. left to make something out of nothing. but you are a part of the dark, now, and the dark is an unavoidable part of every place, every last dimension, every last realm. the dark is everywhere. i am everywhere. there is darkness in your coat pockets, attached to the soles of your feet. your bow is made of darkness. your arrows are forged from the shade. do you understand?"

he does. it's written across his face. they say it anyway.

"as long as you have your own shadow, captain," they swear to him, "you will never be defenseless again. you will never be alone."

the captain inhales, exhales, swallows. holds out a hand. stares when the arrow forms. hesitates. "i haven't even done anything yet," he murmurs.

"you are my champion, are you not?" the darkness challenges.

and his fingers curl around the arrow, and his lips curl into a bitter smile, and he looks up at them. of all the things to try to protect him, they are the least expected, and most successful. "thank you," their champion says, then pauses, tilting his head as if tasting his next words carefully as they wait on his tongue. "my lord."

the darkness smiles.

it is the first time he uses their title. it is far from the last. the captain slurs the two words into only one, after some time, into something easy and familiar and trusted. mi'lord. it is undignified, but they accept it as the sign it is. he is comfortable. he is trusting. he is loyal.

"time passes differently," the darkness informs him, months later. they sit beside the ink-dark sea that parallels the one in the mortal realm, but the captain turns away from it to look at them as they speak. "it has only been mere a matter of days in the overworld. we have spent much longer here than they have there."

the captain nods. "i should have noticed that by now. it would certainly explain how things happened like clockwork."

"such is the nature of this realm," they agree. "but i finally have a task for you, my champion. i have no doubt that you will succeed easily."

their champion raises an eyebrow. he has come to stand gladly at their side, to trust, to understand. he has responded so well to being shown even the slightest hint of reward, and it has taken far too long to convince him that there are some lines they will not cross, that there are some things that will be steady and stable. it is almost alarming, how much the captain thanks them for something as simple as a night of rest. it has made him so loyal.

once, he had asked why they bothered to be so kind. they had replied that they wanted him as a champion, not a follower, not a servant. he had been stunned. they asked if he finally understood.

and then, he had responded to them with the same words he speaks now. "yes, mi'lord?"

"you will return to the overworld," the darkness replies. "they have no reason not to trust you. i will not ask you to harm them in any way, my champion, only to prevent them from interfering in our plans."

the captain looks at him, startled. he has not once asked to return to the overworld, yet his eyes spark eagerly. he misses his companions. still, dutiful, he pauses. "they won't believe that i escaped from you on my own. i'm good, but not that good. if you wanted to keep me here, you could."

they pull faded shadows around their face, an old disguise, blinking at him with princely eyes from behind a pirate's hair. "an old friend saved you, of course," they reply, and smile as the illusion falls away. "you were, sadly, separated in your shared escape attempt, and they may or may not have made it."

"ah," the captain says. "that, they will believe. and when you show me the way out, it won't even be a lie. and what about the tank, mi'lord?"

"they will sense that you are a part of me," the darkness allows. "and they will ask you what god you follow. you have not renounced the ianite of your homeworld, and i am not a mere god. it is the truth, from a certain point of view."

the captain smiles, and they smile back, like two wolves in the night, two sharks in the water, two shadows cast together. their champion's loyalty is unwavering, once given, and it is a sight to behold- but when that loyalty is returned by his patron, well. as a pair, they are more than a force of nature, then. the light burns them both, though the captain will never be entirely theirs so long as he still clings to his first goddess. it is not bad to have a champion who can walk unscathed in daylight, who can use his balanced nature as a weapon in their favor. the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, after all, and even stars burn out in time. the captain is loyal by his own choice, and grows more devoted by the day with every perfect gift and peaceful night. he will be wholly theirs in time.

"the stones are of no concern to me," the darkness admits. "although, if you just so happened to win two of them, i'd not be disappointed. once you have settled back in, i will have a few more tasks for you, but for now, find your place within their trust."

the captain nods. "it may take some time, mi'lord. the others will trust me, but the gods may not."

"the dark is patient," they remind him, as if the slow earning of his trust has not already proved that.

and their trusting, loyal champion only smiles again. "and always wins," he replies easily, believing it fully. faithful. the dark always wins; so too does the captain. it is no wonder why they had wanted him.

he spends one more night in their world of mirrors and reflections, and dons his armor slowly. it, too, is forged from shadow and shade, and will melt away at his word. for now, he seems to take some comfort in its weight. he seems almost regretful to go, as glad as he might be to see the friends he had tried to threaten his future patron to protect. he goes so far as to cast a glance back to the door of his room as they step out into the hallway, and, oh.

the captain will miss it.

after his worlds upon worlds of constant, lethal danger, they had provided a respite. they had sheltered him from the swarms of foes and ceaseless attacks. they had let him rest. they had made him feel safe.

the darkness smiles to themself. he will miss their realm. perhaps he will miss their presence. they will miss his, certainly, and that is why they will succeed. the sooner they have won, the sooner he can return to rest. the dark is patient, yes, but ambitious as well, and powerful.

"be careful, my champion," they tell him, watching as he climbs towards the point of balance. it will carry him to its counterpart in the mortal realm. the captain grins, and salutes, and is gone.

they follow, and watch from afar as the captain greets his friends gladly and lies masterfully to their faces. ianite appears alongside her brothers, and sets a hand on his shoulder. he does not waver. he does not cling to her hesitant affection; it is too little, too late. he has a new patron, one who will never forget how powerful his loyalty can make them, who will never forget how fickle mortal hearts are. they had won him over, after all.

as the captain had guessed, they bring him to the tank of judgement. they ask him which god he follows. they ask him if he is being controlled by the darkness. they ask him if he is lying. someone suggests that, after imprisonment at the darkness's hand, he should be cleansed.

"no," ianite says, to the surprise of all listening. "you can't. he is balance, the old kind of balance, just like i am. it wouldn't do him any good."

that is a lie, a truth, a lie, and a truth. a perfect balance of fact and falsehood. but why? why prevent the cleansing? why ask to speak to him after he steps out of the tank, expected as it may be? why keep him from her brother's suspicious gaze?

"captain," she says, once every other being is gone. "i know what you did. i felt the bond fail."

he opens his mouth, and she holds up a hand. he closes it.

"let me finish," she says gently. "i want to thank you for convincing them to let my mind and body be my own again. that level of control would not have been possible to escape without them choosing to release it on their own. i want to apologise for some of how i acted. i cannot explain-"

"i understand," the captain says. a truth. "in the other realm, the second one, the shadows- i understand."

ianite nods slowly. he has not accepted the apology, and they all know it. "captain," she says. "how do you truly feel about the light? speak for yourself, not your lord."

"blinding light is not balance," the clever, wary captain replies. "total eradication of the dark is not balance. i am evening the scales."

she exhales slowly. "i do not disagree. i wish you the best of luck in balancing your patron and your friends, captain, and i am sorry that i failed you."

the captain blinks. ianite smiles thinly, and then vanishes in a flicker of violet smoke, as if she was never even there. her former champion looks at the spot where she had stood, then turns away, and glances down at his own shadow. "did you do that?" he asks tightly.

"i am as surprised as you are, my dear champion," the darkness replies softly. "i did nothing to cause that."

but they will accept it gladly. the godling will not interfere; she believes them to be only the equals of the light. it is the kind of blatant underestimation that allows wars to be won. the darkness will not prove her wrong, not yet.

"captain!" one of the champions calls, and the chance to speak is lost. after so long of constant conversation, it is strange to have to be silent for the sake of a thing like appearances. it is still necessary. they remain quiet, and eventually leave their champion to his reunions. they can speak of this later.

he does not set foot in his own home until late that night, but he does so with a smile on his lips and the warm remnants of laughter in his chest, joy winding between his ribs. a celebration under the stars, a reunion at night. one more good thing that the dark has given him. the darkness does not begrudge what will only benefit them in the long run.

there is still the small fact that he spares only a regretful glance towards his bed, and turns away. that won't do; they have not spent this long looking after him only to allow him to exhaust himself once more.

his shadow takes the shape of a dark cat, winding once around his ankles before leaping onto his pillow with a meaningful look. the captain sighs, but there is plainly visible relief in his eyes at the sight of the smoky feline. "alright," he agrees. "alright."

in a tower by the sea, the darkness's champion sleeps, lulled by gentle waves and the purrs of his own shadow given a new form. he does not dream.

the darkness has not had a champion in a very, very long time, but the wait has been well worth it. they noticed it then, and know it for certain now.

#dark jordan #mianitian isles #mianite #nerf house come get yalls juice #my. my fic.#long post

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atozfic · 3 years

Note

Love when people reveal themselves as being so obviously online and insulated in leftist/progressive circles that they seem to forget that the rest of the world is not nearly as accepting or supportive of not conforming of gender roles as these spaces are. Like when did you say the reason anyone likes femsub or the reason it's popular at all is because they're young or don't know anything about sex? To me it's pretty clear you were talking about it as a larger trend and why it's so much popular than everything else overall. And to be completely frank, what is the reason femsub is so much popular than anything else OVERALL (not why any individual person likes it or it has any kind of appeal), if not gender roles? Are women just naturally more submissive than men (not saying you think this)? Because I have seen people say this, yes even so-called "feminist" men and women, that my preferences are unnatural because men evolved to be sexually dominant and women evolved to be sexually submissive, and that I'll never be in a happy or satisfying relationship unless I make myself more submissive and change my preferences because men just naturally don't like dominant women. I'm pretty sure you would not like if I took those hurtful and negative experiences and said any woman is submissive is that way is because they're misogynists who just think it's all women's nature to be submissive. And I'm pretty sure of this cause of the way that you freaked out when you even THOUGHT somebody might be implying that when they weren't. So why the fuck is it okay for you to say dom women are the way that we are because we think we're "enlightened" or more strong or better than everyone else and only like what we like because we want to be ~not like other girls~ for attention because of your negative experiences? And I like how they only talk about submissive or vanilla women getting shamed, so true bestie, dom type women, sexually or otherwise, never get shamed for their preferences. Nope, never ever. It's not like people always joke about women "wearing the pants" in the relationship and how it means she doesn't respect her partner. It's not like assertive or aggressive women are called a "bitch" but when men act that way it's sexy. It's not like religion teaches women they have to submit to men or no man will ever love them or they'll never be happy. It's not like people say that women that want to be dominant are "acting like men" or "want to be men" and therefore are unattractive, as if dominance is inherently masculine thing. It's not like a lot of men genuinely believe that all/most women want to be dominated in bed and so they don't even have to ask, they just do things to you and try to dominate you without your permission or consent or without ever having talked about that kind of thing before. Nope, we must have it sooo easy because we've got grrrrllll powerrr on our side, all women love us cause they think we're such cool independent and empowered women, and all men love us cause they think we're just so cool and not like the other girls. Like honestly, I don't assume to know what they experience of submissive women is like or that they must have it so easy because they're preferences are in line with gender roles, because I'm not one and i know they don't always have it easy because I've heard of women in the irl bdsm community being treated badly by shitty men who think it's okay to abuse them or do whatever they want to them because they're sub identified (or sometimes just because they're women). So why is it okay for you to assume what are experience is like?

I'm not involved in any real life bdsm community because corona and I'm anti-social bitch but I do like to lurk on online communities for fun (something I should probably stop doing cause it's not good for my mento health luv lmao). This whole thing reminds me of these weird ass screeds I sometimes come across by straight male doms on reddit where they go on and on trying to reconcile their desires with feminist politics either because a) they're genuinely a misogynistic piece of shit and people call them out on it or b) they're genuinely progressive/humanist men who have some difficulty reconciling their desire to be dominant with feminism for whatever reason. And so they do this weird thing where they project these worries and insecurities outwards, and manufacture a situation where anyone who criticises gender roles at all is against them personally, and it would be so much easier if they were just a female dom instead, everyone would apparently have no problem at all with them then, cause grrrrllll powerrr.

I don't like to engage in armchair psychology but the follow-up ask from that anon made it pretty clear to me that they have some insecurities around reconciling their preference for submission with feminism because of some negative and hurtful experiences, and so they deal with it by projecting it onto anyone that suggests that gender roles might be why SOME people gravitate more towards it and why it's so much more popular than everything else. I'm sorry that those people said those things to you anon, they're wrong, but a) most of those people tend to be against all bdsm in general, not just femsub and b) you need to work out those insecurities by yourself. You can't lash out at anyone who tries to talk about the relationship between societal norms and preferences at all, it's not helpful or productive.

Also how do they know those people unfollowed you for that reason? Is that an assumption or a verifiable fact? I'm not necessarily saying they didn't either, I'm not a mind reader, but like, some people are just sexist and think women are naturally submissive, sexually or otherwise. I've met them before.

to quote my therapist: that was alot to unpack.

i'm gonna give a longer reply under the cut but i just want to state here i'm not posting this ask to offend or hurt, or even "one-up", the original anon who sent that ask regarding sub!females. i have no issue with them and, again, think they're in every right to send their original ask. i'm posting it because i do think this anon made some very interesting points and brought up alot of worthy of being discussed topics.

let me also put a disclaimer here that i am not a genius nor someone very well-versed in gender politics, i'm simply a twat on the internet with a negative mindset.

"Love when people reveal themselves as being so obviously online and insulated in leftist/progressive circles that they seem to forget that the rest of the world is not nearly as accepting or supportive of not conforming of gender roles as these spaces are."

this. omfg, t h i s. i see this so much, especially in my younger cousins/relatives who are just now beginning to develop their own political opinions. let's take the conversation away from dom/sub for one second and just focus on gender in society. one of the clearest examples of gender affecting the way someone is treated/viewed is something i've experienced first-hand: i was misdiagnosed four times before i was correctly given my diagnosis for ASD, because most of the studies regarding it center around boys and, therefore, most women go undiagnosed. in fact, for years it was believed only men could have it which is why there has been such a surgence in the past few years of adult women being diagnosed with autism. i remember hitting high school, experiencing academic burn-out (thanks to everything moving too fast + my classmates catching up to me intellectually) and having my teachers treat me like i was an imbecile, or i was lazy, rather than just someone with neurodivergence. (this isn't me implying tjat men with ASD have it easy or that society accepts them anymore than women, it's only easier for them to get diagnosed.)

"it's not like people always joke about women wearing the pants."

this applies to both the shaming of dom women and sub men. the amount of men who get treated like they're "losing their manhood" for letting a women(or anyone else) dom them is ridiculous.

honestly, I think at the end of the day (and to close up this whole issue-that's-not-really-an-issue), we're unfortunately always going to live in a world where people have opinions against either side of the dom/sub spectrum, or the whole bdsm community in general. the best thing we can do is try lessen the internal conflict, especially between dom and sub women. we gotta stop treating each other like the enemy when all we really are is people with a differing preference. at the end of the day, what someone chooses to do in their bedroom is no one else's business (unless it harms anyone) and we need to take away the importance we seem to put on it. we're on a floating rock in space, who cares if becky likes to peg her boyfriend on a sunday morning or if stacy likes to be tied up on a thursday evening?

also, anon, i like the way you worded this whole ask. despite it being long, it was easy to read and you made some great points. sorry my reply isn't more exciting, i just in general agree with most of what you've said.

#again i don't have any issue with the original anon who sent that ask #we all act on impulse when our enotions overwhelm us and i respect them for even thinking they needed to apologise #also have you guys noticed yet that i'm a little bitch who's afraud of confrontation???#we love to see it 🤸‍♀️#🎐: message board #anon asks

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teentitanimals · 4 years

Text

BBDamiRae Headcanons

I recently binge-watched all those Teen Titans movies with Damian Wayne and... I love them! Of course, nothing compares to the core five Teen Titans, but I really love Damian, and how the stories developed... and him and Raven are so cute together! But, of course, I also ship Beast Boy and Raven... so why not have them all together?? They’d make a surprisingly fun and complex OT3!! Here’s some headcanons/the story about how I’d view them getting together

Beast Boy @ Raven

Garfield always had a crush on Raven, but it was more of a “haha cute goth girl :)” kind of crush that was never too serious- not like with Terra. Not off the bat, anyway

He knew she had a lot of nightmares, so he’d always express concern for her and a want to comfort her. Sometimes this happened just by turning into a puppy and asking for pets, or by asking her if she wanted to talk about it

Just like in the Teen Titans show, he’s always wanted her to get out and socialize more instead of staying cooped up in her room. He didn’t evade her room without permission as much as in the show, but he definitely knocked on her door 200% more times. Raven was not a fan.

Raven, to his surprise, didn’t object to him turning into a cat or dog and napping on or beside her. She wouldn’t pet him or anything 90% of the time though, to his disappointment.

When he learned she was an empath, he would always bother her, asking her what person x was feeling at the time, and at some point, she got fed up, and told him “someone feels annoyed”, and he asked who, to which she replied “Me.”

Beast Boy @ Damian

When Damian joined, Garfield quickly realized he was just as much as a loner as Raven. He always went off on his own missions or stuck to training. Garfield, similar to with Raven, made it his goal to get him more involved in team activities.

Damian does not agree to unmadatory fun easily, least of all from Garfield. But Garfield learns to appease to his competitive side by challenging him to more “Dance Dance Revolution” battles, and whatever other competitive games he can find. This leads to the two often hanging out around to the arcade.

Gar won’t lie- it’s very fun to have someone challenging to play against. Just don’t tell Jaime.

During training one day, Garfield noticed Damian pulled punches slightly when he transformed into more cuter animals. He also noticed that Damian would try to pet nearly every dog, cat, horse, etc., they came across during “mandatory fun” trips.

Garfield, with this knowledge, would often shift into a dog, grab a Frisbee, and beg Damian to throw it- just once!- for him. The moment Damian finally did, he couldn’t stop. Damian, of course, will never admit that he enjoys this.

Getting Damian to allow him to sleep in his lap as a cat was much harder. But when he did, Damian seemed to forget it was no normal cat in his lap and pet and scratched him until Garfield couldn’t stop purring. When the alarm for crime went off, Damian seemed to remember himself and glared at a smug Garfield, not willing to admit his “weakness.”

Damian continued to pet cat Garfield the next time it happened anyway.

Beast Boy @ DamiRae

It wasn’t hard for anyone to see Damian and Raven’s obvious chemistry. And, Garfield, being the best wingman out there, was determined to help them get together. Yes, it’s not like it’s impossible for the two to get together on their own, but they’re both loners with terrible social skills so... Why not help speed things up?

At first it started with Garfield purposely getting the two alone during mandatory fun trips, which wasn’t hard, as they both seemed to naturally gravitate towards one another. Then, Garfield would invite the two out to hang with him at the arcade, the mall, even a restaurant... only to conveniently ditch them.

It definitely seemed to work in terms of getting them to be more friendly and comfortable with one another, but in terms of romance... It didn’t seem like much was happening.

He went to pestering Damian about his feelings for the half-demon girl, but Boy Wonder wasn’t up for “sharing feelings”. Gar did have more luck with getting Raven to admit feelings for Damian, but not anything solid like an “I want to date him/I’m in love with him/He’s hot.” It was incredibly infuriating trying to get the two anti-social loners together. Jaime always told Garfield to stay out of it and it would happen naturally, but Gar wasn’t the type to sit back and do nothing. He had meddled in their social lives so far, and he was gonna continue doing it!

He eventually pulled the “Have fun on your date!” card when he ditched them one time. It got them to blush and stutter, but not much else because of COURSE someone had to rob a bank conveniently at that time.

DamiRae @ Beast Boy

Damian and Raven had both caught onto Garfield’s match-making attempts, especially after the time Garfield explicitly called it a date. They were both a little annoyed at the boy trying to meddle with their social lives all the time, so they thought, why not get back at him?

At first it started out with purposely trying to ruin his plans by ditching each other, or refusing to let him leave. (E.i., Gar said he had to go do something real quick, and they’d both insist they tagged along, which lead to him having to make something dumb up real quick.)

They had a lot of fun watching Garfield squirm when he came up with dumb, obviously fake excuses, and it quickly became an inside joke between the two, one they especially liked to mention write in front of his face just for the sole purpose of him not getting the joke.

They made extra sure any games they played at the arcade allowed at least three players so Garfield couldn’t conveniently ditch them... Except for any dancing games, in which Raven would sit back and watch her boys compete.

Then, when Garfield started to stop trying to ditch them and just made more suggestive comments, they would always turn it back on him. (E.i., “Isn’t Damian looking rather hot today, Rae?” “Why, are you interested?” “What?! No, no, I- I meant- you-... forget it.”)

Both quickly realized flirting with Garfield was incredibly fun- bright red on green was an interesting combination.

Both also realized at some point they were also accidentally flirting with each other too, which caused them to end up as blushing messes too. Although, I should mention, Damian becoming a “blushing mess” is more him looking away bashfully, with a tint of red. Getting him to truly blush is very very hard.... but not impossible.

The Teen Titans @ BBDamiRae

All together, the three became pretty hard to separate, and were often out of the tower of their “dates”. Just like with Garfield realizing Damian and Raven had a lot of chemistry, the other Titans realized the same thing for all three of them.

I mean, come on, they even flirted during combat!

Jaime went from telling Gar “have fun getting Damian and Raven on a date” to “have fun on your date”, and Garfield didn’t even notice the first few times. When he did though, Christmas tree Garfield was back, decorated in red and green. He firmly denied that it was a date- or, no, wait, it was a date, but he wasn’t apart of it! Except he totally was.

Dick never passed up an opportunity to tease Damian about his crush on Raven and Garfield. Damian, of course, insisted he didn’t have a crush on Garfield, but the smirk on his lips when Gar entered the room said otherwise.... and Dick still held the fact that he didn’t deny having a crush on Raven over his head too.

Similarly, Starfire once casually asked Raven if she had one of her dates with Garfield and Damian scheduled later because she needed her help for something. Donna (who I believe is the girl at the end of Judas Contract) too, once casually, but a bit confused, asked her who she was going to choose between Gar and Damian, or is she could choose both. Both times, Raven, of course, denied, before gently admitting that she didn’t know who to pick.

DamiRae @ BBDamiRae

After Garfield directly pulling Damian aside and begging him to ask Raven out with all the valid reasons why he should (and that if he didn’t, he was going to force Raven to ask Damian on a date instead), Damian finally did so, and the two went on an official date together. A bit awkward, but the two, of course, had a lot of fun. Admitted their love and admiration for one another, held hands for a solid minute, all that good stuff. They eventually decided to become official, but not public, so only the other Titans would know about their relationship.

Garfield, who for once in his life was not on one of their dates nor spying on them, was absolutely stoked they were together! Finally! After all this waiting, all this chaos, all the flirting, they were together! ...But he would admit he was kinda... sad. No longer would he be on any of their dates again, no longer would they flirt with him... and was cat napping on their laps gonna be off the table too? No more of Damian’s soothing scratches or Raven’s calm warmth? He supposed all good things had to come to an end eventually.

Meanwhile, by DamiRae’s third official date, they noticed that everything seemed a lot less... energetic. No green boy to tease and make squirm, no green boy to make them laugh and smile with his dumb jokes, no green boy to drag them along on dumb adventures, no green boy to beat at Dance Dance Revolution-style games.

So, of course, the two of them asked him to go on their fourth date with him. Needless to say, Garfield was surprised, and confused, because, they wanted him to just third wheel their date? And then they explained that, no, they wanted him. They wanted him to with them every step of the way, and to be there for him every step of the way. They wanted to flirt with him, and tease him, and love him too, just as they loved each other.

Garfield about cried at that. Because after everything that happened with Terra... He wasn’t sure about loving again, and now he had two people confessing that they loved him too, and... He loved them too, as much as he tried to push it away for the sake of getting those two together.

Neither of the two really did hugs, but Garfield hugged the shit outta them. And then they proceeded to have the best date ever.

The three of them became official, but again, not public, especially since it’s not like a romantic relationship of three people is exactly common, nor unjudged. And.. they still had a lot to figure out too, like how exactly they were gonna work. But they would do it, one step at a time, together.

BBDamiRae

Garfield is very physically affectionate, while Damian and Raven, due to how they were raised, are very much not. Damian does enjoy small physical affection, just never catch him off guard, or you may catch ‘these hands’ instead. He finds hand holding to be his favorite, except for the part where it limits the amount of hands he can hold a sword with. Raven likes to have time to meditate and collect herself before she gets physically affectionate. She will admit she does love casual cuddles best. Garfield just loves everything.

Garfield is very much a middle spoon, but he doesn’t mind being a big spoon for the two when they really need someone to comfort them.

Damian likes feeling protective, so, of course, he’s big spoon 90% of the time. This protective does border on over-protectiveness sometimes... While they all enjoy their company, they all do need alone time, but both Damian and Garfield have a bad habit of spying and stalking other people.

Garfield definitely had to learn to share Damian with Ace (or Titus- whatever Damian’s dog’s name is) in terms of Frisbee and walks.

Gar loves being a bird perched on either of their shoulders, specifically being a raven on Raven’s shoulder and a robin on Robin’s shoulder. He thinks its hilarious and can never get old. Everyone else? Not so much.

The arcade is their favorite spot.

Teasing each other is definitely their favorite thing to do.

Just be careful because sometimes you can’t tease Damian on a bad day... then again you shouldn’t tease any of them on a bad day.

A joke they have is that Damian loves animals more than them... but then Garfield realized he is all animals, so by that logic, he loves him more than Raven. Then came the argument that Raven was named after a raven and had that dark soul raven thing too, so Damian loved them both equally... but of course, Damian loves his swords most.

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qandnoablog · 4 years

Text

Heist (Marvel Imagine)

Title: Discovered

Pairing: There is no final pairing (since I follow along with the movies as accurately as I can) but [Y/N] does gravitate towards Loki

Warnings: Based on the movie - Avengers: End Game

Part: 16, [15], [14], [13], [12], [11], [10], [9], [8], [7], [6], [5], [4], [3], [2], [1] Short story: [3], [2], [1]

Key: Y/N - Your Name Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Word Count: 2,474

Summary: Finally it was time to make a come back. Now newly energized with a beacon of hope, the Avengers set out to gather the infinity stones. And though [Y/N] followed on this mission to bring back those lost to Thanos, she also was hoping for something else. Somewhere deep in her heart, she was excited to be able to see a familiar face that always lingered in the back of her mind.

Note From Author: I worked extra hard on this part so I hope you all enjoy!

Part 16 - Heist

“All right, we all have our assignments.” Was the first thing [Y/N] heard when she cleared her head from the dizziness. “Two stones uptown, one stone down. Stay low. Keep an eye on the clock.”

[Y/N] blinked several times, trying to get rid of her nauseated feeling and suppressing the trauma welling up within her gut. She felt like throwing up, her heart racing and her breathing turning rapid, but she felt the comforting presence of her friends and was able to quickly get herself back on track.

“You alright?” Scott asked as the others were distracted by the past Hulk smashing nearly everything in sight.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” [Y/N] reassured as she took a deep breath, “Just… I just really hate time travel. And portals.”

“Yeah, it can be a little disorientating.”

Oh, you don’t know the half of it, [Y/N] thought to herself but swallowed back her sarcastic remarks and just focused her attention back to the task at hand.

With a couple more words, the team split up.

Before they had left on this mission, the team allowed [Y/N] a choice. Since the others knew that their protectiveness of her was a bit unfair, knowing that she really could handle herself in tough situations based on past experiences, they let her decide who she would follow. She could either choose to go with Cap to get the scepter with the mind stone, Hulk with the time stone, or Tony and Scott with the space stone, or the Tesseract.

Why she chose to go with Tony and Scott, who already had two people, was beyond them, considering the fact that she was already mad that she was joining a team of five instead of the other teams of two. But to [Y/N] she had fairly simple reasons.

The scepter would be with Hydra, and Cap already had some history with them so [Y/N] didn’t think she would be needed at all. The time stone was probably with Doctor Strange, who she still was mad at for portaling her away. And lastly… The space stone would be with past Tony, past Thor, and… And Loki.

“Better hustle, Cap,” Tony said through the comms as he and [Y/N] observed from the roof of a building across from the old Stark Tower. “Things look like they’re just about wrapped up here.”

“Got it. I’m approaching the elevator now,” Steve replied.

Tony and [Y/N] snuck their way into the tower, cloaked in her usual invisibility, and quietly looked on at what was happening in the room. They were peaking through the slits of the designs on the wall when [Y/N] picked up the sound of a familiar voice. One that she had not forgotten in these long, draining years.

“If it’s all the same to you…” He began, his voice raspy with exhaustion from the fight, “I’ll have that drink now.”

Loki, the name nearly slipped from her lips and she quickly covered her mouth before she could make a sound.

This was not the Loki she knew. This was someone who had never met her and neither had this time’s [Y/N] met with him. He was more cruel in this time, hating everyone around him and despising his brother even more. If she met him during this time, he might have very well killed her without a second thought. So she tried to convince herself that this Loki was different. He was not the same god she had come to know on the distant planet of Sakaar.

“Mr. Rogers,” Tony softly scoffed, snapping [Y/N] out of her thoughts, “I almost forgot that that suit did nothing for your ass.”

“No one asked you to look, Tony,” Cap replied, and [Y/N] could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

“It’s ridiculous,” Tony added, ignoring Steve.

“I think you look great, Cap,” Scott refuted with his fanboy nature, “As far as I’m concerned, that’s America’s ass.”

[Y/N] bit her lip to hold back a laugh as she recalled how Peter might have reacted in this situation. He was also the type to ramble and fanboy about superheroes, so she knew where Scott was coming from. Besides, even her own friends from back home had talked non-stop about the Avengers when she had returned from New York. The Avengers were celebrities.

“Who are these guys?” Scott asked as a team arrived through the elevator.

“They are S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Tony said but then quickly corrected himself. “Well, actually Hydra, but we didn’t know that yet.”

“Seriously? You didn’t? I mean, they look like bad guys,” Scott replied, bewildered at the Avengers’ past intuition.

“You’re small, but you’re talking loud.”

“I gotta go with Scott on this one, Tony,” [Y/N] agreed as she shifted her line of sight back to the hydra members. “If the old me was here, she’d book it like there was no tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well the old you would’ve run from anyone, seeing as how you ran from Capsicle too,” Tony rebutted with a smirk.

“Touché,” [Y/N] conceded as she watched the past Steve leave for search-and-rescue and Loki get muffled by Thor after making fun of the Cap’s way of talking.

“Ooh. All right, you’re up, little buddy.” Tony cued Ant-Man and the plan officially went into motion.

[Y/N] used her powers to shield Scott from sight as well as get him onto past Tony’s shirt before she separated from present Tony and levitated herself upward to cling to the ceiling of the elevator just as the targets were getting on. Then, as she and Scott got into position, Tony jumped out the window, using his nanotech to change into his Iron Man suit.

She tried her best to hide her presence, but she had forgotten one little detail.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Thor called out at the same time past Tony shouted, “Hey, hey. Buddy!”

“What do you think?” Tony continued, “Maximum occupancy has been reached.”

While Tony and Thor got Hulk to take the stairs, Loki seemed to notice something and casually looked around before tilting his head up to the ceiling. [Y/N], looking him directly in the eyes, could feel her heart thumping harder in her chest and sweat begin to bead around her palms.

How could she have forgotten? That day on Sakaar, he had realized something amiss about her the moment she used her powers! And now he was sensing it again!

The ride down was long and strenuous as Loki looked curiously at the ceiling. He couldn’t quite see her, but he knew something was there that shouldn’t be. But when he noticed the others in the elevator take notice of him, he withdrew his gaze and just stood nonchalantly in the cramped space.

[Y/N] let out a small breath of relief. It seemed like Loki was in no mood to have her exposed, especially when he did not know if the presence he felt was friend, foe, or some other neutral party.

Finally, the group left the elevator and [Y/N] used her powers to levitate herself to the more open space of the Stark Industries lobby. She had more room to move and less of a chance of bumping into anyone’s head, so she stayed right on top of Tony, Thor, and Loki, trying not to take her eyes off the case with the Tesseract, which was really hard to do when she could feel Loki’s eyes on her every now and again.

His attention was beginning to get more consistent and she was starting to get really nervous.

“Thumbelina, do you copy? I’ve got eyes on the prize. It is go time,” Tony spoke through the comms.

“Bombs away,” Scott confirmed as he slid through past Tony’s shirt and made his way towards the arc reactor.

The moment past Tony started to gasp for air, as if he was a fish out of water, the three knew everything was going according to plan. Though both Scott and [Y/N] were a bit worried for past Tony’s safety, their Tony’s constant reassurance helped alleviate some of their concerns.

As fast as he could, Scott snuck out from the crowd and kicked the case with the space stone inside. The problem was, neither Tony nor Scott seemed to notice Loki’s attention had turned to the stone as well. Only [Y/N], who had an eye out for the mischievous god, caught his eyes following the container.

“Good job. Meet me in the alley,” Tony said as he picked up the case and headed towards the stairs. “I’m gonna grab a quick slice.”

Relax, [Y/N] tried to convince herself, Tony’s got the case. So long as he has it, Loki can’t-

She didn’t even get to finish that train of thought when Tony was propelled to the ground by Hulk, who aggressively swung open the door to the stairs.

The case he once had in his hand went flying and when it clattered onto the floor, the Tesseract within popped out and slid further away. That is… Further away from Tony. Sadly, it had made its way right to the one [Y/N] was worried about the most.

“Shit!” [Y/N] said out loud, thankfully the sound was masked by Hulk’s thunderous roar, as she noticed Loki’s attention turn to the glowing object right by his feet.

Swooping down from where she floated just above him, she was about to scoop up the infinity stone when her hand brushed against another. Shocked by the sudden touch, her concentration on her cloaking had faltered and she flickered in-and-out of focus. However, in that brief moment, her eyes locked on to the one that had broken her concentration.

Loki’s blue eyes met with [Y/N]’s and his gaze went from surprise to curiosity. She saw a vast array of emotions flickering past his irises, too fast for her to read all of them, but then she was startled by what he had ended on. From bewilderment to finally… Astonishment. Like he knew something about her.

She could not see any recognition in his eyes, but she knew he had confirmed something. [Y/N] desperately wanted to know what exactly he saw, but then something even more bizarre happened. He placed the Tesseract in one hand and his other reached out for hers. Stunned and frozen, suppressing the emotions she felt from seeing him alive again, she didn’t react even as his hand was almost about to touch hers.

“[Y/N]! The stone!” Scott yelled through the comms, startling her out of her trance, making her instinctively pull her hand back.

Her eyes locked onto Loki’s once more, her gaze filled with both happiness and grief, but her hand could not hold onto his. His hand hovered there, where hers once was, and he looked at her for a brief second longer, before bowing his head in a form of a silent farewell, and then vanished before [Y/N] could take back the stone.

As she flickered, she stared at where he once stood, her eyes misted with tears. She knew that would be the last time she ever saw him. The last time she ever heard his voice and peered into his eyes. She lamented not accepting the hand that reached for hers, and regretted the time lost between the Loki she knew that was now long gone.

Closing her eyes in resignation, not allowing herself to fall deeper in this unpredictable situation, she wrapped the air around her again and vanished from sight. Then, she wiped away her tears and turned away from the scene, making her way towards where Tony had fallen.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?” Scott asked as he jumped onto Tony’s vest while he still lay on the floor, disoriented.

“Oh, we blew it,” Tony sighed, realizing what had just happened.

“I’m sorry,” [Y/N] apologized as she helped Tony get up. “The stone was right in front of me, and… And I blanked. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Leave now, talk later,” Tony spoke up as he urged [Y/N] away just before tons of agents flocked to the lobby.

“Are there any other options with the Tesseract?” Steve asked, interrupting Tony and Scott’s bickering as [Y/N] bit her lip in shame.

She knew that it was also her fault that the Tesseract got away, but no one seemed to be pointing any fingers at her. That just made her feel worse, since it felt as though she had thrown Tony under the bus. Whenever she tried to share the blame, they either dismissed her claims or redirected the conversation back to Tony.

“No, no, no, there’s no other options,” Scott argued. “There’s no do-overs. We’re not going anywhere else. We have one particle left. Each. That’s it, all right? We use that… bye-bye, you’re not going home.”

“Yeah, well, if we don’t try…” Steve rebutted, “then no one else is going home, either.”

Then, Tony had an idea. It was a vague idea, but he had confidence in it. And though Tony was a little rough around the edges, he was still a genius through and through.

“[Y/N], you and Scott get this back to the compound,” Cap instructed as he handed the scepter to her.

“No, I’m coming with you,” [Y/N] refused and pushed the scepter onto Scott.

“No, you’re not,” both Steve and Tony said at the same time.

“I have the ability to cloak us from sight,” [Y/N] insisted, “I can be useful, wherever you both are planning on going.”

Steve and Tony paused for a moment, then glanced at one another before they nodded. There was some sort of silent agreement the two had made, but what it was [Y/N] had no idea.

“I’ll type in the coordinates,” Steve sighed as he held out his hand.

[Y/N] smiled as she showed him her device. She was a bit worried that he wouldn’t allow her to tag along, but thankfully the two of them gave in. Actually, they had given in rather fast. It was suspicious how fast they had given in, but [Y/N] was too preoccupied with correcting her mistakes that she didn’t seem to register how odd their behavior really was. And then, Cap’s grip on her wrist tightened.

“Cap?” She called out, an unsettling feeling finally washing over her as she took notice of his much too honest face.

“Meet you back at the compound, kid,” Tony called out with one of his signature crooked smiles, causing [Y/N] to instinctively pull back her arm, but Steve’s grip was too strong.

“Don’t! Don’t you dare-!”

But it was too late. [Y/N] was sent back home.

Author’s Note: Thank you everyone for making it this far! I know that there wasn’t enough of Loki and [Y/N] but I just couldn’t squeeze in more with how little we had of him in the movie, End Game. Just in case any of you was wondering what past Loki had realized when looking at [Y/N] in this part: Loki was raised by Frigga, who in turn was raised by witches. Just like how she sees “with more than eyes,” so does Loki [Avengers: End Game]. Although he does not know who [Y/N] is or what their relationship is/was, he can tell that she is from the future and that there is a bit of his own magic (though faint) lingering around her.

[PART 17]

Tags: @themeanestlittlewitch @stressedandbandobessed7771 @moistpotatobear @fxckingfat @e7here4l

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wolfinshipclothing · 3 years

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Summary: I need to hurry up, she kept thinking. Any minute now, her dad could come home early, tired from a lazy dayshift. Or her mom could drop with the excuse she forgot something, and use the opportunity to check out on her daughter. Her independent, smart and intelligent daughter. Then Connie would have to explain to her what said daughter was doing sitting on her bed, in her bathrobe, fresh from the shower, holding a blood-stained shirt over her forearm, with a pair of scissors resting at her side.

The same pair of scissors that went missing a month ago, by the way.

Excerpt:

But what about you? You never tell me what's up," said Steven and Connie perceived the sourness. "How's cram school going?"

"It's going," she said flatly.

"That's good. How about Lion? I haven't seen the little rascal since forever."

"You know him. He comes and goes as he pleases."

"Right, right." Silence. She wished Steven would stop asking questions and just talk. "Connie, are you alright? You sound a bit under the weather; and I am the one about to be soaked."

Steven's attempt at humor was ignored; the red lines over Connie's arm caught all her attention. There was not a discussion inside her head. There was a whole fucking debate, with a hundred people committee and a chairman that was chewing her nails as she waiting for the lunch break.

"I don't know," she said, choosing simple words.

"What do you mean? Did something happen or…?"

"It's just one of these days, you know?"

Steven's silence asked her to elaborate. The cuts of her arms seemed to shine brighter, mocking her for her weakness.

Welp, i came crawling back from my hole with this fic. Mind you its a very angsty, sensible fic bout self-harming and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I wrote this because 1) its always Steven the one that is hurting and needs helps, and Connie the one who is there to put him back on his fic. Few times i have seen the opposite.

And 2) this has been a shitty year. To everyone in the world, obviously. Just have been very garbage to me. Or maybe I AM the one who was being garbage to myself. In any case, i haven’t been feeling well, and decided to write up my feelings into the characters i am currently hyper-fixating on.

Is it healthy? Who knows! But it DID made me feel better. I hope this fic, if it doesn’t trigger some catharsis in you guys, at least entertain you all for a while.

Anyway, that’s all. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year folks.

(You can also read it in Fanfiction, btw)

"You might imagine that a person would resort to self-mutilation only under extremes of duress, but once I'd crossed that line the first time, taken that fateful step off the precipice, then almost any reason was a good enough reason, almost any provocation was provocation enough. Cutting was my all-purpose solution." —Caroline Kettlewell, "Skin Game".

Connie’s mind was beyond herself; far, far away, where she couldn’t reach it. Her body was heavy; lead weight held together by rusted tin bolts. And Connie was trapped inside it, with no company but the stinging pain on her arm and the weight of the shirt she kept against it.

How long have I been like this? She wondered. It felt like hours. Her legs were like paper; where she not sitting on her bed, she would have already plummeted to the floor.

I need to hurry up, she kept thinking. Any minute now, her dad could come home early, tired from a lazy dayshift. Or her mom could drop with the excuse she forgot something, and use the opportunity to check out on her daughter. Her independent, smart and intelligent daughter. Then Connie would have to explain to her what said daughter was doing sitting on her bed, in her bathrobe, fresh from the shower, holding a blood-stained shirt over her forearm, with a pair of scissors resting at her side.

The same pair of scissors that went missing a month ago, by the way.

Connie lifted the shirt. The bleeding had stopped. The cuts were all dry out now —probably had been for a few minutes— but they still shined with a disgusting color. The marks from last time were underneath; red rivers over dried out canals. Feral slashes over healed scars.

Connie dropped her head onto her hands, elbows on her knees, and applied pressure over her temples. That usually helped her think.

“Stupid,” she said with a sore voice. “Stupid, stupid. You always do the same.”

Connie’s harming habit have come, less like a metaphorical descent into madness and more like a —also metaphorical— walk down a descending staircase, where each step would disappear behind you, leaving you no choice but to go further down, into the dark.

It gradually became a routine. If she’d messed up a test, she would spend all night studying the subject. If she’d snapped at her mom in a moment of hormonal-fueled rage, she would skip dinner —breakfast too, if possible. If she’d been so absorbed in her own world she’d ghosted her friends, she would train with her sword until her palms were all blistered. Small pinches of pain she could administer, in measurable doses and only when it was justified.

It was astounding how quickly she lost sight of what was measurable and justified.

But the real aggravating part of it, in Connie’s opinion, was how much of her time it takes. It’d taken her a whole morning of self-loathing for the static to take over her body. Once it did, she lost control and started attacking her outer forearm with swift, brutal slashes, instead of the controlled cuts she usually administered. When she saw what she’d done, she panicked and reached for her neatly folded white shirt. What a waste. She had barely bled a few fat drops, yet it was more than enough to ruin her favorite shirt.

She’d been quiet since then, holding the soon-to-be-rag over her arm and trying to grasp her slippery psyche at the same time. She could feel her body, but she wasn’t in it. Her brain was working itself to death, but she’d no control over its thoughts. Like Schrodinger’s cat, it was like she was there and not there at the same time. Alive and Dead. Connie has come to call this dissociative state ‘the limbo’. And she was knees deep in it now. And it must be past noon already!

If I could make my butt to get up and clean up this mess, maybe I could sit down and have some work done. Otherwise, this would be a lost day.

The thought loomed over her. A lost day. She couldn’t let that happen. Now she just had to find a way to get out of the fog of her mind…

The phone ringed. Connie as much as jumped from the bed, dropping the shirt and scissors on the floor. She reached for her phone on the table.

BISCUIT

Just left the hotel and hit the road. The engine sounds like it’s about to choke to death, tho. I hope it doesn’t break before reaching New Orleans. Call me when you have a break! Love you!

Connie sighed; her heart’s palpitations echoing in her ears. How ridiculous! Jumping to grab her phone as if she’d been caught. Like some bad horror movie; someone on the other side would said ‘you have been seen’ and then hang up, leaving Connie panicking like a fool. Ridiculous!

She grabbed the scissors and the shirt with one hand, the phone with the message she ought to respond in the other. She glanced at the bed; the sheets were wet, she ought to change those. Her arm was still stinging; she ought to treat the wounds. Also, she ought to get properly dressed. And her test was still on the desk, waiting for her…

Connie groaned and gravitated naturally towards the bed and felt into it. She’d never had trouble compartmentalizing before. She also had never been in the limbo this long before, however.

She found herself thinking of Steven; living on the open road, driving that tank with radio he calls ‘car’, doing whatever he wants, going whenever he wants to go —previously checking his rigorous list of places to go. Being whoever he wants to be.

This made Connie mad. She didn’t want to be mad. She rotated her phone in her hand several times, thinking.

I could call him, she thought. You are supposed to reach out when… in situations like this, right?

Her stomach grumbled with acid reflux. She definitely didn’t want to talk to Steven —nor anyone else, really. But hearing a friendly voice could be what she needs to get back on her feet.

She pressed the name on the screen and put the phone on speaker. It rang. Please don’t pick up, please don’t…

Schick.

“Hey Connie! What’s up?”

“Hey Steven. Are you busy?” she asked.

“Not at all. The road’s pretty calm. I think there is a storm coming though; there are some mean-looking clouds above me,” said Steven, a bit uncertain. “Are you on your break?”

In a manner of speaking. “Yeah. I just thought… you know, checking out on you.”

“Making sure I didn’t pick any new hitchhiker? I’ll let you know I haven’t done that since Miami Beach,” he laughed. “Seriously though, you should have seen the motel I crashed last night. ‘Sir-sleep-a-lot’ was the name, and it was great. There’d a real-looking imitation sword and shield above the bed! That’s the stuff you won’t see in any fancy-brand hotel.”

Connie smiled briefly. Despite everything that’d happened to Steven —and he really broke the limit of shit that could happen to a person—, he was still the same kind-hearted boy that got emotional over the simpler stuff.

“But what about you? You never tell me what’s up,” said Steven and Connie perceived the sourness. “How’s cram school going?”

“It’s going,” she said flatly.

“That’s good. How about Lion? I haven’t seen the little rascal since forever.”

“You know him. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Right, right.” Silence. She wished Steven would stop asking questions and just talk. “Connie, are you alright? You sound a bit under the weather; and I am the one about to be soaked.”

Steven’s attempt at humor was ignored; the red lines over Connie’s arm caught all her attention. There was not a discussion inside her head. There was a whole fucking debate, with a hundred people committee and a chairman that was chewing her nails as she waiting for the lunch break.

“I don’t know,” she said, choosing simple words.

“What do you mean? Did something happen or…?”

“It’s just one of these days, you know?”

Steven’s silence asked her to elaborate. The cuts of her arms seemed to shine brighter, mocking her for her weakness.

“I’m doing badly,” Connie said quickly. “I’m feeling real bad right now and I don’t even know why,” she added, only half-lying.

There was a long mmm on the other side of the line.

“Alright. I’m going home,” said Steven.

Connie’s heart started to race. “You can’t do that. You are driving... a-and your schedule-”

“I’ll just park on a side of the road. There are some nice trees I can park under. Then I’ll call Lion and be there in a flash.”

No, no, NO. “Steven, you really don’t have to.”

“It’s no problem at all! I want to be with you-“

“Steven, I don’t want to see you, OK!” Connie bolted upright, sitting on the bed. “Nobody asked you to do anything! Why do you always have to make things about yourself?”

Silence. A gust of wind came from the window, chilling Connie to the bones. She squeezed her left hand until it hurt. The scissors were still there. She glanced at her right arm; smooth and clean of any mark. Connie was right handed, but she could make an exception.

The thought alone shook her to her core, making her open her palm. The scissors felt with a clink-clank. She brought the phone closer to her face.

“Please,” Connie muffled a choke with her free hand, “please don’t go. Can you just talk to me?”

More silence, and there was a moment in which Connie knew ‘this is it, my best friend hates me forever’. But then there was a sliding noise, and the rumble of dirt being removed. There was also a distant boom; a storm was about to drop.

“I stopped the car,” said Steven. “I’m here for you, if you want.”

Great. It’s not like that’ll deepen Connie’s guilt.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. Dark walls were closing around her, and the only source of light was her phone and the person on the other side. Obstinate tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Please don’t say that. I know… you know that’s not true,” Steven measured each word as he spoke. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, “I’m just being a big baby, that’s all.” No answer. He’s not gonna make it easy for her, is he? “I’m mad. Really mad.”

“Mad at me?”

Connie grumbled as an answer. She heard Steven’s struggle to swallow.

“Right. Not about me.”

“Exactly,” she said, although it was a half truth.

“I’m mad at myself,” she proceeded. “I’m mad because I fail at everything I do.” Connie took several breaths. Here comes the bomb: “I flunked at my practice college entrance test.”

More silence.

“Go on,”

“Aren’t you gonna say its stupid?” she asked cautiously. She’d expected a scoff, a snicker. Maybe even some laughter.

“I’m listening,” Steven insisted.

Connie tried to put some verbal sense in the ball yarn that was her mind.

“I really flunked it, you know,” she said, waiting —hoping— for a reprimand. “Even the stuff that I’ve studied and re-studied.”

“But it was just a practice test. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything, Steven,” she cried. “If I’d taken it today, I would have gotten a garbage grade.”

Connie cleaned the tears away with the back of her hand. The gust coming from the window was making her shiver. Her wet hair and the soaked sheets were not helping either.

“It like everything I had done, all the hard work I put into it was for nothing,” she said. “Everything feels so pointless.”

“I don’t think it was,” said Steven, carefully. “Even if you failed, you still practiced for the real one. Don’t give up. Going to college was your dream.”

“Was it? I don’t really know.” Connie bit her lip. “No, that’s a lie. I do want to go to college. I just wonder if it’s worth it. I mean, what’s the point of trying so hard if I fail anyway? Do you have any idea how many nights I lost for this? O-or how many times I had to put my friends on hold because I was busy studying?”

She stopped. She felt as if her breath was stolen from her.

“Of course you do,” she sighed. “And it was all for nothing. I failed at this as I fail at everything else.”

“What is ‘everything else’?”

Her blood was freezing cold, as was her answer. “You know.”

There it was again; the roar of thunder, followed by the sound of a million drops falling down. It was starting to rain somewhere.

“Connie,” said Steven, on the verge of shattering. “Have you been thinking about Homeworld?”

Connie clenched her free hand, her teeth, and everything else that required physical exertion.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

“I know I have no right to feel bad about it. You are the one who suffered the most from it-”

She was cut by her own throat shutting down, and for a moment only tiny hiccups came out. There was a blinding, white rage inside her. It commanded her to grab her sword and slash, lunge and cut all her problems away. But she didn’t. She stood still and cried.

“But I was there too. I saw what White did to you and I couldn’t do anything.” Connie gasped for air. “I trained so hard for nothing. When you needed me I… I failed you.” She stopped to gasp and clean her tears. “H-how can I know I won’t be a mess in everything else I do, that I won’t flunk on my first year of college? Studying was the only thing I was good at and… and I’m not even good at it anymore and just…”

She stopped to let the tears roll freely. It was too much; too much weight, too many tears. Everything was in the air now. All her failures, all her fears, like an enveloping toxic cloud around her; it’d always been there, but now someone else could see it. In the middle of her wailing, she caught Steven’s concerned voice.

“Connie, can you hear me?”

It could be easy to hang up now, forget this ever happened, and call back when she was strong and put together. ‘Hey Steven, sorry about that, everything is better now’. But Connie couldn’t do that —not to him. She mumbled a reply.

“Alright. I want you to breathe with me, OK? Can you do that?”

Well, that’s easy for him to ask. He’s not the one hyperventilating. And to think many times she’d said the same, when Steven was going through a panic attack. How the turntables indeed.

She knew the instructions to the letter, but she coordinated them to Steven’s voice. Four seconds inspiration. Hold it for seven seconds. Eight seconds exhalation. They repeated it until every corner of Connie’s mind was occupied with this routine.

“Feeling better?” Steven asked.

Connie noticed she wasn’t crying anymore and with one last sniff she said: “A bit.”

“Good. Now I want you to listen,” said Steven. “First, just because I was the one who was attacked doesn’t mean I got the monopoly on trauma.” He stopped to see if his joke caused any effect. ”What I mean to say is, that day was… it was a literal hell for all of us. Maybe more to me than to the gems, but it was so for you too because, like you said, you were there with me.”

“Which brings me to the second point: nothing of what happened in Homeworld, or that happened to me, to us, was your fault,” Steven said, firmly and fluently, like a practiced speech. “And there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. I know you are mad because you couldn’t take a swing at White’s giant nose…”

Connie laughed. She imagined Steven raising a triumphant fist into the air.

“But you did help me. You carried me to… to me! If I’m alive now, it’s because of you. And I should…” Steven stopped. Connie could see him, hand on his mouth, trying to hold the tears back and be the rock she needed. She knew that feeling too well. “I should’ve told before how much you did to me. You saved my life back then, a-and then you saved me again, months ago, when I got corrupted.”

Connie gasped. Steven never brought that topic unprompted, and he never called it for what it was. It was always ‘the incident’.

“You were there for me since day one,” Steven laughed dryly. “Actually, I should be the one apologizing. You had to go through all of that because of me.”

“I wanted to do it,” Connie retorted. “I wanted to go through all of that with you.”

“That doesn’t make it right. It wasn’t fair.”

Connie huffed. They were scratching the surface of a deeper conversation. Because Connie was mad for wanting to go to Homeworld so bad, and for all the times her life was in danger before that. And she was mad at her parents —what were they thinking? They shouldn’t have let Connie run around with a sword, fighting a war that wasn’t her own; they should have locked her up until she was eighteen. Damn, she was mad at the whole Universe for needing to be saved. They were kids! Stupid kids who didn’t knew better than to take such a task over their shoulders.

And deep down, in a corner she dared not to look, she was mad at Steven. Because from the first day they meet, he chose her. To be his friend, his partner-in-crime, his… And in an even deeper place, Connie was mad at herself. Because she had chosen Steven too, and if it came to it, she would do it all again. Back then, in the middle of the chaos, with the fear of death and the threat of the destruction of the Earth as her everyday bread and butter, life made sense.

But now the war was over, and the books Connie studied so much felt as unreal as any fantasy novel. How do you go back to being normal after having a destiny?

Connie let her head fall back and softly touch the wall. She was far too tired to shine light on those darks corners. She just wanted to rest. She was half-way napping when Steven’s voice brought her back.

“Connie? Connie, are you there? Please talk to me.”

Connie slapped herself awake. “I’m here Steven. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, as convinced as anything. “How about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“Well I… I worry about you!” Steven protested. “So I guess we are in a loop here.”

That comment wasn’t particularly funny, but Connie started to laugh; a short, weak laugh that grew up to be a roar. On the other side, Steven laughed too.

“Oh man. This sure feels familiar doesn’t it?” said Steven, and eased a bit on the laughter. “I guess you are better at making me feel better than I am doing it for you.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. I do feel better. A little,” she confessed. “I’m sorry you had to deal with me being dumb. I don’t know what came over me.”

Steven was quiet for a while. When he spoke again, it was with the clearness of a professor giving class.

“Connie, do you remember one of the first things Dr. A. told me when I started therapy?

“Life sucks?” She heard Steven breathing raggedly, trying not to laugh.

“That is the first thing,” he said in a short breath, “but I mean the second first thing.”

Connie scratched her head. “The thing about the pond?”

“The frozen lake,” he corrected. “She said that, for people with depression —not saying you have it— or have gone through some trauma —again, not pointing fingers—, anxiety is like a frozen lake. Every day you bring new problems to the lake; little, everyday stuff that’s not too heavy. Then some days you bring heavier stuff, and the ice starts to crack, but you don’t notice because you hide the heavy stuff under the lighter stuff. Finally one day, you bring a new little problem and you put it on top of the pile. You know what happens next?”

“The ice breaks?”

“It breaks,” said Steven, like a satisfied lecturer. “It breaks and you fall in the frozen water, with all of that heavy shit you have been hiding.”

Connie’s hand grabbed the front of her bathrobe. She was still not used to hearing Steven Cutie Pie DeMayo Universe curse —even if she was the one who taught him the coolest words (besides Amethyst, of course).

“I remember the story now,” Connie scratched her head, feeling the hard knots of her hair. “I always thought it was a bit complex as a metaphor.”

“My point is-“

“Why not use a house of cards? Every anxious thought is a new card, and as you pile them up, the house loses stability. Finally, one day, it just falls under its own weight,” Connie explained with renewed vigor. “See? It paints a much clearer picture.”

“The point, Miss Wiseguy,” grunted Steven, and Connie could see him folding his arms. “Is that if you don’t want the ice to break-“

“Or the house of cards to fall.”

“Or the house of cards to fall,” he conceded, “you have to deal with that heavy stuff before you are overwhelmed. You don’t need to do that now,” he added, predicting her complain. “But at some point, you will need to talk to someone. Your parents or your friends… Or I can give you Dr. A.’s number. She knows everything we went through.”

“That ought to save me some time,” she said. “Maybe she’ll give me a discount card of ‘Friends of Steven Universe’.”

“See? Now you are being positive,” Steven laughed.

Connie smiled sadly. “What about you?”

“I’ll always be here for you. By phone, video chat, or to visit you… If you want me to,” he whispered that last part.

“Only if you promise to not turn into a Kaiju when we start exposing my inner demons.”

“Ha ha,” he said robotically. “I’ll assume by your sarcasm that you are the same old Berry now.”

Connie mulled about it for a few seconds. The cloud of anxiety was slowly banishing, and she no longer felt the claustrophobic walls closing around her.

“Yes, I’m good now. Thanks to yo-aaah” a loud, long yawn took over her. “Sorry. Guess I’m more worn out than I thought.”

“Yeah, I can tell… Have you really not been sleeping at all?”

“Unless you count passing out of tiredness as sleeping,” she joked.

“Ah,” said Steven. “Have you been, well… you know?”

Connie didn’t answer. She knew what he meant, but she’d no voice to say it.

“Connie, have you been hurting yourself?”

“This conversation is hurting me.”

“Connie.”

The phone vibrated and got hot to the touch, before cooling down real fast. Connie’s head vibrated too, like a snow globe being shaken. Steven’s control over electric devices had been growing.

She lifted her arm to look at the cuts; they still stung, although she hasn’t been paying attention to it. All the slashes were dry and had a dull color.

Fuck it, why not?

“Just a few cuts,” she said flatly, “with my mom’s scissors.”

There was silence for a while, but Steven’s was still there; his breath was ragged and odd. Has he turned pink? Did Connie throw him into a panic attack?

Finally, he spoke: “Connie, I need you to do me a favor.”

Oh boy, that doesn’t sound good at all. “What is it?”

“Throw those scissors away.”

Connie pursed her lips. “Steven, I can’t do that. My mom would be mad,” she said, although it was a poor excuse. If Connie cared about her mother’s feelings, she wouldn’t have stolen the scissors in the first place.

“I know. I don’t pretend to tell you what to do,” he said, measuring his words like a baker measures flour, “but it’s something that helped me a lot. I mean, when I was in a bad place, I would go into these blank moments when I wasn’t thinking at all.” Connie nodded. He was talking about the limbo. “When I started therapy, I was told to try to be more conscious of myself. More present. So when I felt I was, you know, getting in the mood,” Steven groaned at his own choice of words, “I would take a step back and do something different. We can’t always control our situation or our mood or even our actions, but we can make small changes to have some power over ourselves.”

The way Steven spoke in plural said that he wasn’t doing vain motivational talk; he was talking from a place he’d been in… and maybe still was. Connie remembered sitting on Steven’s bed, trying to cheer him up to eat or step outside and get some fresh air. She also remembered coming home, locking herself in the bathroom and taking a long shower while she cried.

Connie held onto that thought and sat on the bed. She picked the scissors with her free hand and put that memory in them. She also put the memories of White Diamond, the monsters’ attack on Beach City, the arguments with her mother. All her anger, her insecurities, her fear of not knowing who she was— she grabbed all of it and put it into a ball, one she was carrying in her throwing hand. She extended her arm all the way behind her back. And when the wind blew the curtains opens, she propelled her arm forward like a whip.

The scissors —and metaphorical ball— broke free of her hand, made a straight line and finally flew out of the window; out of sight.

Connie stood still, catching her breath. The first thing she noticed was that her chest, while still swelling with anger, felt notably lighter. The second thing was Steven’s voice calling her from the phone. The final thing she noticed made her scream:

“Holy shit!”

“What? What happened?” she heard Steven calling to her.

“I threw the scissors out of the window!”

“…WHAT?”

Connie dashed towards the window, holding her bathtub with her free hand, and stuck her head outside.

“Is everyone ok?”

“Yeah… yeah I think so,” said Connie with a relieved breath. “The street is desert at this time. Anyway, I think I can see the scissors. They felt right by the trash can, so maybe I accidentally stabbed a rat?”

Steven was hyperventilating, but he took a break from it to scoff at her. “Now is no time for jokes, missy! Oh man… you could have killed someone! Why did you do that?”

“Because you told me to, you dumb-dumb!”

“I didn’t tell you to throw a sharp object out of the window, you dumb-dumb!”

Connie shook her head. “Forget it, I don’t want to fight.” She leaned against the wall and let gravity slid her to the floor.

“Me neither,” said Steven. The sound of rain was quieter now. “At least did that helped?”

“Yes. Almost killing innocent bystanders always cheers me up.”

“That’s my girl,” Steven laughed and so did Connie, albeit weaker.

Still, she felt better. Her body was recharging energy quickly and her mind was emerging from whatever black hole it had been hiding in.

“I think I can go on with my day now,” she said and she meant it.

“Are you sure?” Steven asked. Connie reaffirmed her decision. “Well, that’s awesome. So… would it be cool if I drop by and check on you?”

Connie’s heart started to race up again as the anxiety came back. Check on you. Like she was sick and she needed to be taken care of.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” she said, firmly. “But later. Definitely later. I’ll call you.”

“But I… OK. Alright, w-we’ll talk later then.”

Steven sounded really bummed out, but Connie could pay it no mind now, lest she wanted to feel down the whole again. “Thanks for everything. And I’m sorry I made you stop in the middle of a storm,” she said.

“Oh it’s not so bad. Kinda weird though,” said Steven. “You know, usually you hide from the rain, lock yourself inside and look at it from the window of your house. But I’m under it right now. The sky is falling around me but I’m as dry as clean clothes. And, I don’t know, it’s beautiful. It makes you appreciate everything there is, even stuff that’s supposed to be ugly. Does it make sense?”

The words struck something deep inside Connie, but whatever meaning Steven was trying to transmit was ignored. She was not in the mood for lessons right now.

“I know what you mean,” she swiftly said. “So I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright then. Please be safe. And call me.”

“I will.”

“Ok… I love you.”

Connie blushed. “Goodbye.” She cut the call. She should have said something else, something more. She didn’t know why she had been in such a rush to hang up.

She just knew saying ‘I love you’ was easier when they weren’t dating.

With one long, invigorating breath, Connie stood up. She stretched her arms over her head until her bones cracked, then she bended and touched her finger toes until her legs were burning.

With the sudden rush of adrenaline, thinking became easier. The rage was gone and her chest didn’t feel as heavy. Connie has left the limbo, at least for now.

She looked for her phone. Her last study break was one hour ago. Most of that time had been spent talking to Steven. So much time —hers and his— wasted in vain…

Alright Connie, compartmentalize. There’s a lot to do. What comes first? She asked herself. Well, her red, stinging arm would be a good starting point. She headed for her bedroom’s bathroom and closed the door shut.

The bathroom was still mildly warm from the shower she took. The first aid kit was where she left it; resting over the sink, opened. It’s where Connie usually hid the scissors. She hung the bathrobe on a perch and checked the cuts on the mirror. They ran deeper than Connie’s usual handiwork, so she applied the process she used for her training injuries. Soap and water to wash the wounds. Dry well, apply antiseptic to prevent infection and then bandage the whole thing, from the elbow to the wrist. She’ll have to change the bandages after tomorrow at least.

Some petroleum jelly could help the wound heal faster and prevent scarring, and Connie’s mom had some in her first aid kit but she discarded that thought. Explaining to her mom how she got these wounds was out of question.

Connie was about to put the kit away when an idea hit her. She brought the bandages out and applied them over her right arm —her clean, unharmed right arm. There; now if anyone, be it her mom or her friends asked, she could appeal to a training accident. And if her mom wants to check the wound herself, Connie will show her the right arm. Her mom will comment on how well the injury had healed, or she’ll simply believe Connie was overreacting to a minor rash. In any case, she’ll be none of the wiser.

Connie looked at herself in the mirror —naked, except for the bandaged arms. Her reflection smiled sadly. You think you are so cunning, don’t you?

With that done, she left the kit over the sink and tiptoed into her cold room. She went to the wardrobe and chose a long sleeved shirt, some jogging pants, and a sweater.

Next thing were the sheets. They were soaked; perfect to catch pneumonia. Connie started to take them off. She stopped and instead she left her room —with the same feeling as Robinson Crusoe leaving his island—, and headed for the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of juice and drank it like an old man in the desert. She poured another glass and headed back upstairs.

Once in her bedroom, she took off the sheets, rolled them all into a ball and poured the orange juice over the sheets, with extra care as to not wet the mattress. The textile absorbed the juice like a sponge. Finally, she went back downstairs, threw the sheets into the dishwasher and set it on. In the unlikely event her mom questioned Connie about her dropping a glass of juice on the bed; Connie only had to point at the orange colored stains.

They’ll disappear after a few washes, anyway. Ironically, the marks on Connie’s arm might last longer. She entertained the idea of putting her shirt to wash, but she scratched it off. Being a doctor’s daughter, she knew blood stains were a pain to get rid of.

Satisfied with what she had accomplished, Connie’s heart gave a little thud as she approached the door. She didn’t feel like going for a walk, but she’d to recover the, sort of speak, crime’s weapon. She stepped outside and walked aimlessly around the sidewalk for a minute, looking for the scissors. She found them on the floor right next to the trash can. Five inches left and they would have landed on top of the trash. It really makes your mind think.

Or someone else’s mind. Not Connie’s. She didn’t have time to metaphors.

She knelt to pick the scissors. And then she saw them; or rather, they saw her. On the other side of the street, a young couple crossed sights with her. They keep their glance on her for less than five seconds before walking away, laughing. It was enough to throw Connie down a hole. Eyes seemed to materialize out of thin air, staring faces, judgmental glances; all of them pointing at Connie. All of them knew what she’d done. She’d been seen.

Connie dashed inside the house and slammed the door behind her. She felt to the ground, short of breath. That couple must be on their way now, totally oblivious of the effect they caused on Connie, and she can’t blame them; she couldn’t predicted that either. Her social anxiety had been tame for so long, Connie thought it was a thing of the past. That’s another thing to scratch out of her accomplishments list.

Nevertheless Connie had the scissors in her shaking hands, and all she wanted was to put them away.

She stood up and moved around the house exhausted. She picked a pair of clean sheets and went back to her room. She locked the door, shut down the windows and closed the curtains. She breathed out loudly. Now she was unseen and nobody could judge her.

She set the clean sheets on the bed. A strong scent of lavender hit her. Finally, she went to the bathroom; put the scissors inside the first aid kit, under everything else, and put the kit on the back of the cabinet, until next time.

Next time… now that was an upsetting thought.

With everything else done, she just had to get rid of the shirt. She had second thoughts about washing it, since throwing it away would be complicated. Feeling a headache incoming, Connie opened her closet and threw the bloody rag inside. It wasn’t like her to postpone things, but… who was she kidding? This is standard Connie’s stress dealing procedure.

Connie looked at everything she’d done, and felt at peace for the first time that day. Then her eyes felt onto her standing mirror.

Oh no, this won’t do, she thought, meaning her hair. More specifically, the crow nest that had taken over her head and that she usually called hair.

She grabbed her blue hairbrush. Her hair was so entangled the regular ministrations won’t do, so she attacked it with brutal brushing motions. In the meantime, her mind kept producing images. Steven under the heavy rain, checking the soaked engine that broke down when he stopped to talk to her. The disappointed glance of her mom when she finds out all the scheming Connie went through to hide the truth. Her own hands shaking with anxiety as she takes the real test and she realizes she doesn’t know any answers.

She set the brush down. There. Now the image in the mirror was presentable —although some days, Connie wasn’t sure if it was really hers.

“I’m alright,” she said, with a voice that felt alien even to her. “I’ll be fine. I’m a warrior,” she added, more convinced with each word.

She was a warrior. Maybe she’d lost her center, but she could find it. She could be strong again. Once she gets a grip of herself and gets into college, everything will be alright.

Right? Right.

With this new resolution, Connie walked to her worktable. Her failed test was still there. Next to it was the half-done new test she had been working on when the static became too much.

Now, she could keep working and pretend all of this never happened. That this was just a very long study break, that everything she did was normal and healthy. It’s what she was expected to do, right?

Once again she thought of Steven, taking time from his trip to sit down under a deluge to talk to her. Breathe with her, as if they were one.

Connie’s hand reached towards the test… And then went left, grabbed the nearest book and dropped it over the papers.

This can wait… she thought, uncertain.

“This can wait,” she verbalized defiantly to the World.

With that problem done for, she had a free afternoon. She tapped her chin —she hasn’t had this free time in a while.

She picked her phone and flipped through the library. There was this reboot of ‘Crying Breakfast Friends’ that Steven had been bugging her to watch, but she’d been rain checked until she could pass the test. Maybe it’s time to keep the study waiting. She shuddered at that inch of her rebellious younger self taking over.

She picked her earphones and lay comfortable on her fresh, lavender-scented sheets. Five minutes into the first episode and she was cackling and crying with a cartoon about animated fruits while her papers —her physical future— waited on the table. And they’ll keep waiting until tomorrow.

Connie didn’t know if this was a step forward or backwards. But a step’s a step nonetheless; and she was still moving.

#connie maheswaran #Steven quartz universe #connverse #self-harm #tw: blood #ptsd mention #dissociation

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sea-and-storm · 4 years

Text

FFXIV WRITE 2020: Crux (#1)

Arukh had wondered no few times during the last few years of his life if there was a limit to how much a man could endure before he could no longer be called a man at all. No few times had he wondered just how far away from that nebulous line he himself lie after nearly four decades of having that which he held to slip through his fingers, no matter how tight his grip.

Such were the thoughts that lingered upon his mind now as he lie back amongst the blankets and furs of his bed, staring up without focus towards the ceiling of the yurt above him.

He could remember a time before he knew loss's hateful touch. Those early years of his life had been few, but still full of vibrancy and warmth. He could remember clinging to his mother's skirts as she tended the cookfire, the smell of spices filling their home and the soft melody she hummed as she stirred. He could remember his father hoisting him up onto his shoulders as he went about his tasks for the day, tirelessly answering each and every question that had escaped from his inquisitive young mind. He could remember when his parents had explained to him that another would soon be added to their family, and the wonder he felt with his hand pressed against his mother's stomach.

Yet the memories of that time grew fuzzier at the edges with each passing year. He could no longer remember the notes that made his mother's song, nor all the questions he had asked his father much less their answers. Once, he had vividly remembered the sensation of the baby kicking against his tiny hand. Now, he struggled to remember if that had even happened at all or if it were simply a fabrication of nostalgic longing. The rest of his childhood memories had grown similarly fuzzy, if not forgotten at all.

It wasn't merely the march of time that had robbed him of these glimpses into the past though, of that he was convinced. It wasn't that he had never thought back to them save for fleeting occasions moons or years apart. Rather, they were often on his mind, a safe respite that he had clung to in the storm-tossed sea of his life. He thought of those times when he closed his eyes, and when he slept he dreamt of what they could have become if only things were different. And yet still, as close to heart as he kept them, they too were leaving him.

It was a vexing phenomenon, but not one that defied explanation. If anything, the explanation was painfully simple: loss, and his was a life marked by it. Cursed by it.

First, he had lost his family; not just his baby sister who had been taken from them, but his parents as well. After they had been forced to surrender Ghoa to the gods, they had never been the same. His mother's cheerful hums had been replaced with muffled sobs. His father's endless patience for his questions finally found its end, and he had grown quiet and distant. And of course, the baby sister he had been eagerly awaiting was stolen away from his future for reasons that he was too young to understand --- not that he truly understood them any better as a man grown.

Without a doubt, the sundering of his family was a deep wound, though perhaps it might have had a chance to properly heal in time had it been the only injury sustained. But his lot was to be born into a tribe for whom loss was an inevitability. Each year, as Arukh turned from child to adolescent to young man, he had stood by and watched as more were taken from him each time the Kharlu came to claim their due. Friends he had grown alongside. Aunts, uncles, cousins that shared his blood. Mentors that molded and shaped him into the capable young man he had become. So many people of significant importance to him had been taken, to serve as little more than battle fodder to soften the Jhungid assault for their newfound Kharlu masters.

And then finally, he too had been chosen, and what did remain to him of home had been ripped away as well.

In its place, Arukh had found himself thrown into what felt to be the deepest pit of the hells. That first year a slave, surrounded by those who treated him with indifference at best, he had gravitated towards those who shared his plight for any scrap of comfort and belonging he could muster. He had been warned against it, of course, but he hadn't listened. Not until after the first battle, at least, when the majority of those whom he had called friends laid slain around him. After that loss, he had grown far more reserved and withdrawn.

Scant few had expected him to survive that first battle. Fewer still, if any, expected him to keep surviving them, year after year. Perhaps it was only natural after he'd thrown all of his time and energy into the honing of his skills rather than the makings of fleeting camaraderie and its inevitable end. But eventually, his capability and his stubborn refusal to die earned him the opportunity to rise above the miserable state of slavehood he'd languished in for what felt like a veritable eternity.

It had seemed like a blessing at first, as such typically do when one still possessed even the slightest bit of hope. He had earned the right to shed the title of slave and worthy of claiming himself as Kharlu, and he had been given the duty to prepare newly captured slaves for the battle ahead of them. Perhaps this was his chance to change things, he had thought. Those who had trained him upon his arrival hadn't even bothered to learn his name, such was their apparent apathy. They had cared not if he lived or died, but he would be different. He would pour all he had into shaping them and preparing them for what was to come. He refused to let them surrender to the hopelessness of their situation ere they ever heard the first bellow of the warhorn. He could do it. He could save them. He had to save them, because that was the only way he could still save himself.

What a naive ideal it had been, he had realized in hindsight as he had walked through the healers' tents set up after the war to tend to the wounded. A few of those he had trained had made it back, but far from a majority. Yet even of those few, almost half of those who had returned had succumbed to their wounds but days later. After all, the best healers and the lion's share of their resources could not be wasted on expendables such as they when there were those more worthy of treatment.

After that, Arukh had realized just why those who had prepared him for war were so aloof. You had to be, lest the neverending grief drive you mad. No matter what he did, war was war. No matter how hard he trained them, his men and women were little more than living shields for the Kharlu warriors that followed after. For those on the front lines, skill was secondary to sheer luck, and the odds were stacked against them.

In the years that followed, things had eventually become easier. While he still worked diligently to prepare those in his charge for the battles ahead, Arukh no longer cared to learn their names or where they come from. He no longer sat around the cookfire with them, lending shoulders upon which they could rest their woes and worries. And he certainly no longer walked the healer's tents after each battle, hoping each bed held a familiar face come back to him. It had taken time and no small amount of hurt to master, but Arukh had gradually learned how to meet those that came to him and then silently bid them peace and farewell in the same breath.

But he wasn't ignorant of the fact that what had made these endless cycles of loss easier to weather was that each one carved out another piece of him as it passed. With less and less of him left, it was hard to muster up any manner of attachment at all anymore. Keeping everyone around him at arm's length, he had only a handful of acquaintances but none he would call friend. And while most others of his position and age had turned their focus to family, finding a wife and having children had never been thoughts he had even passingly entertained. Even his attachment to life itself was tenuous at best, with only the solemn sense of duty he felt to those in his charge keeping him from letting the chaos of the next battle take him.

One day, Arukh suspected, he would find the point he had long pondered the existence of when there was no more man left to him. When the next loss would become the last loss, because it had stolen away every lingering drop of his ability to feel anything at all. Maybe then he would no longer remember those days of his carefree, happy youth, but neither would he feel swallowed up by darkness and loneliness and hopelessness again. Truthfully, there was a part of him that had begun to yearn for that numbness, even if it meant letting go of what little light he had left to him.

But what if there was another way..?

That was the next question that haunted him now, echoing in his head in the voice of the very woman who had posed it to him but a few suns prior. Chakha had come seeking to recruit him into the small sect of conspirators who aimed to bring the yearly war to an end and thus peace to the coastlands. That she had chosen him for this had surprised him, especially given that he had tried to keep her, too, at a distance. Naturally, his first instinct had been to decline. But something had caused him hesitation. Whether it was the persuasiveness of her words or something long buried deep inside him, he did not know, but he had finally told her that he would consider it and return his answer to her soon.

Now he stood at a crossroads. A crux that would set the course for the rest of his days: whether he would reject the idea that the cycle of loss could ever be broken and resign himself to the inevitability of emptiness once there was nothing left to lose, or if he would choose to not only believe that such a miserable fate could yet be changed, not only for himself but for those who came after.

It was agonizing, this decision. Surrendering was easier, and far more comfortable. He suspected it wouldn't be much longer until he reached that anticipated point of no return should he stay his current course. But to fight was to force himself to feel again, to force himself to hope again. It risked reopening all the ugly wounds that had taken years now to heal, and that to him was far more terrifying than any battlefield he had ever set foot upon.

But again, he could not stop his mind from going back to those memories of the happy, bright-eyed boy he had once been. He could not stop thinking back to all of those he had lost across the years. Most of all, he could not stop thinking about those who would walk these lands after him and if they would find themselves walking the same miserable path he had forged because he had been too afraid to let himself be hurt again.

Arukh finally squeezed his eyes shut, softly cursing the watery sting that rose to them -- a sensation he hadn't felt now in years of which he had long since lost track. It felt terrible and great at the same time, that rushing torrent of now unfamiliar emotion.

And he knew his answer.

#ffxivwrite2020 #prompt 1: crux #MY DRABBLE GAME IS RUSTY BUT #here u go #drabble for the drabble gods #and oh look its some depressing shit WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT #one day ill write happy things #one day #im also too lazy to format #its almost midnight

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