#i met incredible people. i felt such intense emotions. i cried for half of the set. and i just. never even thought i would see them live

[mcrbrainrot]

My Chemical Romance for ever and ever and ever

#I'm never recovering from this #like #i haven't been able to think of anything else since monday night #i met incredible people. i felt such intense emotions. i cried for half of the set. and i just. never even thought i would see them live #mcrla5 #mcr #my chemical romance #mikey way #frank iero #gerard way #ray toro

[spencers-renaissance]

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

[atlabeth]

fever - sokka x reader

this has been sitting in my drafts half finished for 3 weeks so i thot it was prime time i actually finished it

this is kinda based off the song w dua lipa and angele so you can listen to that if you want

summary: sokka's convinced there's a mystery illness keeping you from focusing, but somehow he's completely oblivious that the only 'sick' you are is lovesick, and he's the reason you can't focus.

a/n: i have never written a sickfic. but this is like. a fake sick fic. its an idiots in love fic. i mean this is coming from mr "is he taller than me? is he better looking?" himself so. it makes sense. as usual, this is not proofread bc im a lazy mf

also im sorry for being vague with the calc but i was NOT about to do math during summer who do you think i am? ??

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): mentions of being sick and 🤢calculus 🤮 but otherwise tooth rotting fluff

-

How could the smartest man you knew be so, so incredibly stupid?

You thought that you were being obvious, so obviously that you were sure he knew. It was embarrassing how obvious you were.

You had met Sokka in your calculus class at the start of the new semester after you ended up sitting next to each other, and it wasn’t a stretch to say that you were immediately smitten. With eyes like the ocean and a face that had to have been crafted by the gods, you were almost too distracted to respond when he asked you for a pencil. But when he winked at you after giving his thanks, it only solidified what you had already suspected: you had known this man for all of five minutes, and you already had a crush on him.

Little did you know, it was going to turn into the most infuriating crush you had ever experienced.

You and Sokka became fast friends even though calculus was the only class you had together. Unfortunately, it was also something that you completely sucked at. Bad news, it was required for your major. Good news, Sokka was some sort of genius and offered to tutor you — Wednesdays in the library turned into a weekly occasion, and served as an opening for your calculus skills, your feelings for Sokka, and your exasperation to all grow stronger.

You normally weren’t someone to beat around the bush. If you started to like someone, you told them and dealt with whatever happened after, but something about Sokka just kept you from spilling your feelings outright. You knew that if he didn’t feel the same way, your relationship likely wouldn’t change, but there was still that tiny voice that said it’s better to stay like this in case things do go wrong — and this was the first time you listened to that voice. You simply valued your friendship too much.

But that didn’t mean you were going to be completely quiet about it — you hoped that if you did enough, he would be able to realize you liked him and do the whole process for you. A bit of a dim hope, but crushes make people do stupid things.

Things like bringing an extra coffee to every session, laughing at all his jokes (even the bad ones), sitting a little closer to him than usual, not dropping out of this wretched class so you could spend time together (it might’ve been required, but you still counted it). He didn’t make a point to object to anything, so you knew you weren’t making him uncomfortable — but you had concluded after nearly a whole semester of working and studying together that he was the most oblivious person in all of Ba Sing Se. He could teach you all kinds of formulas, but had no idea that you liked him. Grand.

Today was arguably the most important session out of any of them, seeing as your next class was the final, so it was only fitting that Sokka unknowingly made himself more interesting than any material you could’ve been working with. His arms were going to be the death of both you and your calc grade. You swore that the heat rushing to your cheeks was actually emanating off of you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sokka grinned as he saw you and raised a hand in greeting, a sentiment you would’ve returned had it not been for the coffee cups in your hands. You settled for mirroring his grin and settled down in the seat across from him. You slid his coffee cup over, set your own down, then shrugged your bag off all before taking a seat.

“You ready to study ‘till your eyes bleed?” he asked, prompting a nervous laugh from you.

“You jest, but my eyes might actually start bleeding depending on how long we go,” you sighed. “There’s a reason I got an extra shot of espresso today.”

“Come on — by now you should know that you have nothing to worry about! I am the best teacher there is, and you got me all to yourself.”

Your eyes widened momentarily and you coughed, purposefully averting your gaze to give yourself some time to recover. Okay, he was going to make it really hard to focus today. “Let’s just get into it.”

He nodded and flipped open his notebook, beginning to talk as he rifled through his bag for a few extra things. “Okay, we’re just gonna start with going over the basics, then we’ll work our way up. There’s a couple practice problems on that page, so you can go ahead and answer those as a warmup.

You slid the notebook over in front of you and after approximately five seconds of looking at the first problem, found yourself studying Sokka rather than the material. Who could blame you? In the battle of cute tutor boy versus calculus, he was going to win every time.

He turned around and you immediately averted your eyes once again, trying to appear extremely involved, but you found that your mind was empty on anything to do with math. “Hey, uh— how do you do this first one? I’m totally blanking here.”

“We use limits in everything — this is actually something you’re really good at!” He studied you intensely and frowned. “Are you okay? Like, you’re not sick or anything, are you? You seem kinda out of it.”

You choked out a laugh and shook your head. “No, no — I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired.” As if to demonstrate your lie, you took a sip from your coffee and cringed internally. Love had turned you into an idiot.

He seemed to buy it as he nodded and picked up the pencil, scribbling a couple of notes as he explained the first problem to you. “Does that make sense?” You nodded and he handed the pencil back to you. “Okay — the other ones follow the same kind of process. It should be easy enough.”

You managed to get a little further in the second problem, but your lovestruck mind would not stop focusing back on Sokka every time you tried to do, well, anything. Curse him and his perfect arms, and eyes, and hairstyle, and everything.

You shook your head and set the pencil down once more, letting loose a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Yes, you did. “I just can’t focus at all.” Because of you. You picked up your cup once more and took a sip, hoping it would do something to get you back into the math state of mind.

Sokka frowned once more as he put the back of his hand against your forehead. “God, you’re hot.” You nearly choked on your coffee as your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets — he had to know what he was doing by now — how could he not? “Like, you’re completely burning up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I swear— I just…” you set your cup down on the table and heaved a sigh that was a touch more exasperated than necessary. “Are you telling me you seriously haven’t noticed? Like, not a single thing this whole year?”

“I’ve noticed a lot of things this year,” he chuckled. “It’s kind of our whole job, so you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific.”

You finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Sokka, I’m not— I’m not sick! Haven’t you noticed that I’m only ever flustered, or running into things, or forgetting info, or— or just a complete idiot when I’m around you? I like you, like, a lot, and I have for an embarrassingly long time! The reason I can’t focus is because I am hopelessly attracted to you in every single way.”

His brows creased for a moment and you clamped your mouth shut, worried that you had just ruined everything. It was only after a pause that felt like a century that he finally responded, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Well, why didn’t you just say something?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in pure surprise before the annoyance set in. You set your jaw as your brows furrowed and you hit him lightly on the side of his arm with the back of your palm. “You can’t be serious! You— you’ve gotta be messing with me by now. I really can’t believe that you can be that smart but this oblivious!”

He finally let the grin play across his lips in full force and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I don’t know how you don’t expect me to mess with you when you scrunch up your face all cute like that every time you get mad. Besides, I started liking you after that fifth class; I offered to help you out so I could spend more time with you! I didn’t realize you felt the same way. I kinda just enjoyed the free coffee and getting to look at you all the time.”

“I can’t believe you!” you cried as you hit his other arm. “You’re telling me that I had to deal with this- this mental turmoil about whether you liked me back, while you were just enjoying the free eye candy and coffee the whole time?”

“You have nothing to worry about! I enjoyed the company far more than the coffee,” he joked, a certain twinkle in his eye. “But, you are probably out a couple twenties after all of that. So, what do you say about this Saturday, the cafe by the shoe store? My treat.”

“Damn right it’s your treat,” you shot back, though you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your face. “You owe me a lot — you have to make up for those coffees and all the emotional distress you caused.”

“Oh, I think I’ll have plenty of time to make up for lost time. After all, we do have a lot of coffee dates to get through.” And when he winked at you just like that first day, you remembered just how impossible it was to be angry at Sokka. “But first, we kinda have to get through this study date. The final’s still happening tomorrow.”

You responded with a raised brow. “This is a study date?”

Sokka shrugged and grinned. “They’ve all been study dates. You just didn’t know it.”

-

idiots in love idiots in love idiots In LOVe

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

atla: @marianne1806

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #sokka fic #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

[virtual-luvr]

Gala

☇Pairing: Jumin Han x Reader

☇Pronouns: male; he/him

☇Warning: none that i can think of <3

☇Description: Jumin wasn't planning on getting this emotional, especially at a gala.

☇Note: part two of couch nap for @luckymunchkin ! I got a lil emotional while writing that ending though-

------------------

Poor Jaehee, she had to see all of your guy's advances towards each other

Like right now too.

Jaehee currently stood in front of her boss and best friend, said best friend leaning on heR bosses desk and sending flirty remarks.

'OKAY WE GET IT YOUR G A Y AND IN LOVE', that's what she wished she could scream out right now.

But, alas, if she did she would get embarrassed by all her coworkers AND she knows you would just say

"Is someone jealous~"

And she is not about to deal with her bullshit.

Jumin sits there leaning out of his chair while conversation with you looking like he about to fall off it. Especially when you grazed your hand against his cheek to swipe a strand of his hair behind his ear.

You guys just wouldn't stop flIRTING.

Jaehee grunts as she holds on as tight as possible to the documents in her hands. Quite frustrated with the fact her boss stole her best friends attention from her and also now she has to deal with you flirting every two seconds.

You were still flabbergasted by his actions so you basically heard not even half of what he just said.

At this point people thought you worked for Jumin, i mean, you did spend a lot of time at his office now a days-

You and Jumin hurridly try to collect yourselves as you hear Jaehee give out a small coff.

"Jaehee yes, what is it you need?" Jumin says

You play and fidget with the things on Jumin desk as Jumin and Jaehee talk. Jumin tries his best not to get distracted by it but your excessive pen clicking was hurting his ears.

As Jaehee backs away to her desk Jumin lets out a grunt and puts his hand on top of yours.

"Stop that"

"Heyyy, i can't help it"

"Ill buy you something to fidget with just not my pen"

He always tried to buy you stuff, and even thought you knew he was rich RICH, you still didn't want to annoy him or something.

As you open your mouth to decline him he shushes you up, putting a finger to your lips and standing up from his chair he gives you a small glare

"Shush, also I need you for something"

"Hm?" You hum out and as you look up at him you're surprised with his face close to yours and his hands trapping you on the desk.

If i could accurately describe your thoughts right now im pretty sure it would be something along the lines of "&*$'.×$:_×€:(*€:*_:$*€:,*_€**€#,_*"

His stare is intense as he talks, "My father wants me to bring someone to a gala he's prepared. I don't have anyone, but im sure you might like the idea of a good evening or something"

He stands back from you, slightly adjusting his nicely done cuffs and waits for your answer.

You were not expecting that.

Giving out a small, "sure", and running off your face as hot as the sun and your breath shaky. In the small portion of time you had been obviously flirting he had NEVER done something like that.

------------

As you pick out your clothes Jaehee is screaming through the phone.

"(Y/N)...we are talking about a HAN gala, there is no way i can calm down. This has to be as perfect as can be"

"JAEHEE CALM DOWN" you yell out as you hurriedly put on your clothes.

"Ill tell Jumin to go easier on you okay, you've been working really hard. Take a break, everything is perfect already anyways Jaehee"

Her words elicit an ugly laugh out of you, never in a million years would you believe that, there's no way.

You hear Jaehee heavily sigh through the phone, "thank you..i know he'll listen to you. You have him wrapped around your finger, you know that right?"

"Its the truth!!"

"Whatever Jaehee, ill see you there" you lightly shake your head and hang up, doing any last details and shaking off any dust that might be on your clothes.

When you get there you're met with the beautiful sight of fairy lights and different colors.

As you walk out you meet Jumins eyes and he softly smiles at you. He usually doesn't do that but he's been doing it much more lately.

Giving your hand a kiss he pats the seat beside him, your blush does not go unnoticed and he lets out a light chuckle.

You grumble as he tells the driver to start the car, after a while you get more comfortable and you make conversation as you get to the gala.

Opening the door you're met with flashes and blinding light. You try to cover your eyes but you flinch as Jumins hand comes into contact with your back.

He ignores everyone around him except the corporates who gave out a wave and nice greetings, leading you to a less crowded area he tells you he has something important to do and now you sit there waiting for him to calm back.

He doesn't give out any reaction, he just slowly walks you through the crowd of people and leave you to the grand entrance.

Zen excitedly picks you up, your feet hover over the ground as you try to hug him as best as possible.

Damn you Jumin, im not good at this stuff.

Hearing an oh so familiar laugh you look all around you, trying to find the culprit as soon as possible.

As you walk around a corner you see familiar head of hair.

There he was!

Giving a light tap to his shoulder you smirk when Zen gives you a bright eyed smile

"Miss me?"

No matter what, damn this man is strong-

"He's here!"

All of you were having a good time until Jaehees breath hitches and she hurriedly gives you the champagne bottle she had in her hands just moments ago.

As you look beyond Zens shoulder you see Jaehee.

"Oh im so sorry, was I interrupting your conversation?" Oh god now you feel bad. You thought he was alone-

"No no, you were just the person i was looking for. We missed you"

You smile at Zen and Jaehee, giving Jaehee a quick hug and engaging in conversation. It was more of Zen flexing his acting and you and Jaehee both being amazed.

Both Jaehee and Zen turn a pale white. Zen stutters before giving you a, "peace out", and running away. Jaehee chasing him, right on his tail.

"Is everything okay-"

You were about to ask up until you felt a slight warmth behind you, looking behind your shoulder you're met with Jumins cold glare.

Damn, so that's how it is huh.

That hurt, thats hurt more then it should have. He doesn't even try to look at you in the eyes, he just keeps looking out at the scenery.

You chuckle nervously as you turn around to meet Jumins eyes

He notices your eyes piercing through him and he huffs, he turns away from you and walks through the crowd. You follow as best as you can, trying not to lose sight of him.

You reach a balcony and you see him resting on the railing, the wind made his hair flow beautifully.

But as much as you wanted to admire him, you knew you guys had to talk.

"Whats wrong?" You go and put your hand on his back like he did to you less than an hour ago but he only pushes it away

"Its fine"

"No its not, whats wro-"

"Can you leave me alone please? I don't want to talk to you or see you right now, its annoying"

It works a little but he knows he needs to go look for you now. Budging the door open he swiftly walks through the crowd once again and as he maps out the second floor of the mansion he knows you're not around here.

When Jumin hears the door to the balcony slam shut he knew he had fucked up.

He panics for a second, running his hand through his hair. Trying to calm his laboring breath and bad thoughts.

"Im sorry, i was jealous of your interactions with Zen. I know you're entitled to all your own emotions but seeing you with him makes my heart ache. I don't know what this feeling is, its so foreign. But i know i don't like seeing you so close to him, I thought we were close-" he chocked up while confessing to you, you grab onto the fabric of his vest as he cries into your shoulder

His shoes click each time he takes another step and he practically skips as many steps as he humanly can while walking down the staircase.

The gala was a big, and so was the crowd. But even so, he was able to pinpoint your head through the whole crowd and he runs after you. Not giving a single care about what everyone in the crowd thought.

He tries not to make a scene so with his long legs he goes up behind you and takes you into one of the spare bedrooms.

"Jumin let me go" you barely fight him off, you don't have any energy to. But you know he would obey what you had to say, and just as you thought he let you go.

He suddenly grabs onto you and hugs you close.

You run your hands through his hair. As much as his words hurt, you also know he would never be this emotional around others. So you know he's telling the truth

"Im sorry, please, I didn't mean that I swear. It just came out, I promise i wont do it again. Please don't leave, please-"

Well to him at least it did seem embarrassing, he was raised this way after all.

"Sh sh, i forgive you"

"You do?" He hiccups, his voice is groagy now, he hasn't cried like this in so long. It felt good but also so incredibly embarrassing to do it in front of the person he loved so much.

His hands were glued to the small of your back and his thumb rubbed soft and smooth traces against your skin.

You give his forehead a soft peck and the smile he had that evening finally came back.

He barely thought his actions through before he had you in a close embrace and his lips were against yours.

Your hands were still in his hair and a sigh slips past his lips as he presses his lips harder against yours.

You eyelashes flutter open as he pulls away, but when your eyes meet he closes the gap once again.

If you could stay like this forever you would.

You push away from just a little so you can look at his expression better, his expressions tells you everything. He truly is so, so happy in this moment.

After another passionate kiss he gives out soft pecks to your lips as you both smile, hearts content

"I've never been this happy"

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Seeing Jumin this happy made you just as happy.

You can't help but kiss him again as you see him smile and look at you with soft but loving eyes.

"Is this a good time to say I love you" you say as you chuckle

[1956 words; aug/25/2020]

#virtual luvr is typing #ahh ive barely written these daysss #so sorry its schol fault though so much wORK #anyways i love this #jumin han #mysme jumin #x male reader #x reader #male reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han x male reader #jumim hand oneshot #jumin han imagine #mystic messenger imagine #mystic messenger oneshot #mystic messenger x male reader #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger

[yodawgiherd]

Love

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: T

Setting: Canon, chapter 138

I got the idea for a story the moment I saw the leaks, and because of how wrecked 138 made me, I stayed up and wrote this instead of sleeping. What if Love was truly the main point of the story? What if Love could change the cruelness of the world? What if...

The explosion roused Eren from the strange hibernation he was in just in time to see the colossal teeth crumble. A figure jumped through, blade in hand, obviously going in for the kill. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

And as Mikasa’s blade cut through his spine, as the world went black, Eren was completely at peace.

Until something coarse and rough scratched his skin. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was back in the paths, lying on his back. He stood up, shaking the sand away from his clothes and looking around. Ymir was there, watching him with her judging eyes, but Eren was no longer intimidated by that. He was dead, what fear did he have of gods?

Crossing the distance, he approached the child.

“I’m sorry kiddo, I did my best.”, dropping to one knee, Eren ruffled Ymir’s hair playfully, “But I couldn’t destroy the world. They stopped me.”

The little girl stomped her foot.

“You planned this since the start!”, she accused him, “You knew that they would kill you in the end!”

“I didn’t know.”, Eren countered, “I hoped.”

Ymir fell silent after that, pouting. Eren stood up, looking over the endless sands of the Paths, over the pulsating crystal tree in the middle. It was a beautiful place.

“Why did you send her the vision?”, Ymir spoke from behind him, “The Ackerman girl. Why show her what was not real?”

“It was my parting gift. Mikasa had to know how I really felt about her, I couldn’t let her think that I hated her.”

“What was that emotion you felt when you looked at her, the one that made your heart beat faster?”, Ymir pressed on, “What was the thing you two shared?”

Gazing into the endless Paths, Eren’s lips curved into a sad smile.

“Love. It was love.”

The girl’s breath hitched.

“Love is beautiful.”

“It sure is, even if it's as short-lived as ours was.”, Eren sighed, running a hand over his face, “There are so many things I would like to do with her that I’ll never get to. So many memories we will never create together. It hurts, but the pain is delicious in its own way.”

Ymir was silent, so Eren continued.

“I just wish that she will learn to let me go. That she will experience this with someone else, now that I’m gone. I don’t want her to keep loving a ghost.”

“A ghost?”

“I am consciousness trapped in the Paths. Is there a better way to call myself?”, his fists clenched, “I’m dead. I tried to destroy the world and failed. I fought against everyone and got killed for it. It’s time for me to fade away and be nothing but a memory.”

He turned to Ymir, extending his arm towards her.

“You don’t have to keep me around anymore, founder, you have no use for me. Release me.”

“No.”

Eren blinked a few times.

“Why?”

This time, Ymir met his gaze with her own.

“Because I’m jealous.”

“You are a god, what can you be jealous of?”

Ymir’s hands tightened on the handle of her bucket.

“I never got to experience love.”

“I’m sorry...”

The little girl sniffled, drying her eyes.

“When I saw what you two have, I never felt so lonely in my life. I want it too, I want to share that wonderful feeling with someone, I want to love and be loved back….”

Overwhelmed by the raw emotion in her voice, Eren hugged her, feeling the tiny body shake with sobs in his hands. Not sure what to say, Eren did what he had often done in the past and used the words that always gave him strength in the darkest moments.

“The woman I loved, Mikasa Ackerman, had a saying – “the world is cruel but beautiful���. It’s the beauty that you must look for, not the cruelty. Because if you don’t, there is no point in going on.”

Ymir thought about his words for a moment, while the time stood still.

“Eren?”, she spoke up from his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want this.”

“What do you mean?”

“This world, this cruelty, I don’t want it to exist. I don’t want to be unloved for eternity.”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”, he confessed, but Ymir was shaking her head.

“I can.”

“Ymir, we tried to…”

She didn’t let him finish.

“I don’t want to destroy the world anymore. I want to remake it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My power comes from the titans, and now there are so many in the outside world….”, she took a shuddering breath, “So many people transformed, I’m stronger than I ever was.”

Looking over her shoulder, Eren could see the crystal tree, shining brighter and brighter with every pulse.

“You realize it now?”, Ymir asked, “The lights in the tree, they are….”

“Souls.”, Eren finished for her, “Souls of the Eldians.”

“Exactly. Now when that strange being transformed every single Eldian into a titan, it’s crackling with power. In its last effort to save itself, it gave me the strength to do what I want.”

Eren shouldn’t be scared. He was dead, there was nothing Ymir could do to him. So what was the cold feeling creeping up his spine?

Of course. He didn’t fear for himself, there was no point in that. He feared for those who survived. He feared for Armin, for Levi, and most importantly….

He feared for Mikasa.

“And what is the thing that you want to do?”, he asked the goddess in his arms cautiously.

“Erase this world and all its cruelty, take the souls and create a new one, one where we can all be free.”

“Will they remember it?”

“No. Well, the Ackermans will, in some way or form, I can’t influence them as much.”

“I see.”

“I will do it on one condition though.”, Ymir said, pulling back so their eyes could meet.

Taking a step back away from his kneeling form, the goddess extended her open hand, strange light gathering in her palm.

“Eren Yeager, when I create this new world for us, will you show me what love is?”

New world. New chance. New life with her. To have that, Eren would strike any bargain. He nodded.

“I swear.”

Ymir smiled. And closed her fist.

The crystal tree behind them exploded into million pieces, and the wave of energy that ran through him was the last thing Eren felt, his thoughts filled with a certain raven-haired girl.

When the reality began to disintegrate around Mikasa, she didn’t even question it anymore. When her own body started to unravel, she kept her gaze trained at Eren’s head in her hands, a faint smile pulling at her lips.

“See you later, Eren.”

“Okay, I can see the head. Push, missis Yeager, push!”

“Oh god, Grisha I hate you so much!”

“I’m so sorry dear, but please listen to the good doctor.”

“Deep breaths, deep breaths, almost there….”

The room was filled with cries of a newborn.

“Congratulations, you have a son!”

Carla took the tiny bundle from the doctor’s arms, breathing heavily. She was met with an intense stare of green eyes and a red face, angry at everything. He was adorable.

“Hello Eren.”, she said, gently rocking him, “Welcome to the world.”

“This was a bad idea.”

“Dude, we are in college now, we can’t just sit at our dorm all day.”

“Please, tell me that you wouldn’t prefer having your nose in a book right now.”

“You are the one to talk! When was the last time you even spoke to a girl, you studying tryhard.”

Eren sighed.

“Being a doctor doesn’t come from nothing, Ar.”

“I know, I know,”, Armin calmed him, “But you really should find a girlfriend. I’m not sure I can survive any more of Jean’s jokes aimed at your repressed homosexuality.”

“And I told you, like a thousand times, that I’m not interested in dating. I just…”

Holding a red cup identical to his own, a visage walked into the room. With midnight hair pulled into two braids at the top, dark shirt and skirt and a multitude of necklaces around her neck, she was obviously nervous, slanted grey eyes darting around the room, absent-mindedly turning the rings around her fingers. Eren took her in, all of her, from the tips of her boots and over her black tights to the top, to where the piercings glimmered in her ears. He took her in, and he realized that girls are an incredible species, especially the goth ones.

“Dude,” Armin tore him for his trance, “You’re staring.”

“She’s so beautiful…”

“Who?”, his friend followed his gaze, frowning, “The strangely dressed Asian?”

He just nodded. Talking was hard when the girl was occupying all of his brainpower. The little irritated twitch of her nose, the way she took a sip from the cup and grimaced, that was Eren’s whole world.

“Jolly good.”, Armin nudged him, “Now go talk to her.”

“Me? Are you insane? No way dude, no, why would such a beauty be ever interested in me? Me and her? Nah, but you’re crazy man, that could never work.”

“Fine.”, with a resolute move, Armin finished his drink, “I’ll do it myself.”

And he was gone, walking towards the girl. He said something, she said something back, and then the traitor was pointing at Eren who did his best to shrink behind the cup in his hand. The girl smiled, reached up to smooth some strands behind her ear and Eren felt like he could die from how flawless that move was. Oh god, she’s moving. She’s moving towards him. He should… He should….

“Hello, your friend said that you wanted to talk to me.”

Heavens above, even her voice was attractive. With brain fried, Eren extended his hand mechanically in a way of greeting.

“Hi, I’m Eren.”

She took it, the edges of her rings gently scratching at his skin.

“Mikasa.”

And he was lost.

“Eren! She’s kicking again!”

“Now?”, there was a tumble from the bathroom and then he was here, face half-shaved, “Let me feel.”

Mikasa took his hand, placing it on her round belly. True enough, there was a kick soon after, making him grin like an idiot.

“Do I have to work today? I want to stay here and feel Ymir’s kicking.”

Mikasa looked up with a raised eyebrows, smoothing her bangs away from her eyes.

“Ymir?”

“Huh?”

“You just called our baby Ymir.”

“I…. I guess I did?”

“Eren, there’s already a girl called Ymir. You know, the tall freckled one from your work, dates the cute little blonde Krista? Ring any bells?”

“Please Miki, I know who that demon is woman’s body is. But I…”, he rolled the name around in his head, “I still like it. The name that is, not the old Ymir, she’s a natural disaster in human form.”

“Ymir…” Mikasa was the one thinking now, her hand rubbing her belly.

“Ymir.”, Eren agreed, putting his hand over hers.

“Fine.”, she said, looking down, “Hello there, your name is Ymir now. Are you going to kick your daddy again?”

She did.

“Mikasa, you have to push!”

“I don’t want to! Eren said that he will be here! I..”, her back arched in pain, teeth gritting, “The bastard!”

“I know.”, Ymir’s eyes were calm above the surgical mask, “But I can see the head already, you have to push the girl out.”

“Eren!”, Mikasa screamed in pure desperation, “I swear that I’ll kill you!”

The door cracked, letting a disheveled figure in. It immediately crossed the room to stand at Mikasa’s side, taking her hand.

“I’m so sorry.”, he whispered to her, “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Okay Miks, Eren is here, so it’s time to push.”, Ymir cut in, “Come one, deep breaths, and let’s go.”

And Mikasa pushed and tightened her hold on Eren’s hand. With a scream, the baby fell into Ymir’s waiting arms, while a certain crack could be heard.

Ymir Ackerman-Yeager came into the world at the exact moment when her mother broke two of her father’s fingers.

“Look, Krista, she’s eating me.”

“We are supposed to watch over the baby, not feed it body parts.”

Ymir just giggled like crazy, watching as little Ymir chewed on her fingers with toothless gums. Soon she was joined by her wife, who sat down on the couch next to them, a faint smile on her lips.

“She’s a tiny monster.”, the freckled girl said, “Mark my words.”

“Well, if she has the strength of her mother combined with the recklessness of her father, we might be in for a treat.”

“Yes and…” whatever Ymir wanted to say got interrupted, as she quickly pulled her fingers out of the baby’s mouth, staring at the bloody line.

Uhm... I think that she has her first tooth.”

“Oh babe,”, Krista was trying and failing at holding her laughter in, “You want some ice on that?”

“I told you, she’s a monster. Eating her own auntie.”

“She’s a toddler!”

“Won’t be one forever though.”

Leaning close to the baby, Ymir dropped her voice in a whisper.

“You and me? We are going to rock this world.”

“Uncle Armin?”

“Yes, Ymir?”

“Why am I sleeping here tonight?”

“What, you don’t like it here?”

“I do! I was just wondering…”, the little girl looked up from the picture she was creating, “Why tonight?”

“Well, you see…”, Armin scratched the back of his head, looking for an answer that was NOT the truth. Ymir was way too young for that.

“Your parents just want to be alone for a while.”

“Why?”

“To have some time for one another.”

“Why?”

“Because they love each other very much.”

“Oh, and they don’t love me?”

“Of course they do! What I’m trying to say is…”

“Please, this is embarrassing.”, Annie appeared from the bathroom, toweling her hair, “You see Ymir, your parents left you with us because they want to spend the whole night fuc-“

“Fun! They want to have fun!”, Armin interjected, spearing Annie with his blue eyes.

“Fun?”, Ymir repeated, “I want to have fun too…”

“But they are going to have adult fun. Like these boring movies that you don’t like, or some of my books that have no pictures.”

“Ah. Okay.”, successfully fooled, Ymir picked up the crayon and almost went back to painting. But then Annie did what she does best, and completely wrecked the situation.

“Ha, the only book that they would be reading tonight is Kamasutra.”, she nudged Armin with her elbow, who groaned and hid his face, “Although they probably have it memorized at this point.”

Still laughing, his wife disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Armin alone with Ymir. And everything was fine for a moment, the little girl was coloring the strange crystal tree that she drew, but then the crayon was on the table and her eyes were once again meeting Armin’s.

“Uncle Armin, what’s Kamasutra?”

Even after seeing the ultrasound pictures, Ymir had a hard time believing it.

“There’s my brother in here?”, she asked for like a thousand time, touching Mikasa’s belly, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, we are quite sure.”, Eren said, running his fingers through his wife’s long raven hair.

“And how did he get there?”

“With love.”, Mikasa answered, gently smiling, “Lots of love.”

“Well, that’s one way to put it.”, Eren snickered behind her, making her frown at him.

Ymir ignored that, still staring at her mother’s smooth skin.

“Mommy? Did you also make me with love?”

“Of course.”

“And do you still love me?”

“Ymir, you are our daughter.”, Eren spoke, reaching over to pat her head, “Daddy and mommy love you more than anything.”

She could feel it. She could feel the warmth, spreading from them both and into her entire being. They loved each other so much, it was like standing near the sun. But they loved her too, so magically, loved her in a way that Ymir was never loved in.

Closing her eyes, the little girl splayed her fingers on the warm skin of her mother.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

A long, shuddering exhale, one that Ymir was holding in since….

Since forever

“Love is beautiful.”

#eremika #snk #ch138 #fanfic

[kaepop-trash]

the miscellaneous are back! please ever since you made doyoung an absolute no in of snakes and lions i've been a mess. i need more of him anything but maybe doyoung and oc getting together or breaking up? i know i shouldn't but i feel so sad for him.

The Miscellaneous never left! My inbox is always open for them. Send any whenever you want, if you’re curious about something about the character. I can’t promise to always be as quick to reply as I was with this, I just happened to have some time and and the moment I read your ask the idea came to me. But irrespective, I will reply to all asks.

I did both getting together and breaking up. I was hoping this both justifies you feeling bad for him but also explains why it was one of the doomed ones. Kim Doyoung truly my king of doomed romances (haha) In case you want a genuinely well-written story that has a lot of similar elements but has Doyoung as the main lead, you should go read @notnctu‘s hogwarts au Push&Pull. It was incredible and I’m still not over it. For now, here’s what you wanted.

--

"No." (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

"No?" Doyoung raised his.

"No." She repeated herself.

Doyoung frowned, caught off-guard by her response. He chewed on the flesh inside his mouth till it was swollen.

He took a struggling breath, trying to keep his voice patient. "I'm asking you out on a date, (Y/N). After we've been sleeping together for three months. And you're saying no?" 

"Precisely." She didn't seem phased.

"Why?" His brows furrowed further, a look only Kim Doyoung could pull off.

"Because." She blinked twice, fluttering her gaze away from his intense stare, "You're clearly infatuated with that Gryffindor girl. You have been since 7th year. Sex is fine. But I'm not going to be anybody's emotional substitute." She stared at the grains of the wooden table before looking out the window, the library overlooking the grounds.

"You aren't a substitute. I used to like Jisoo." He sat down on the chair beside her.

She scoffed, turning to him. "And now, what? You like me? Why because I let you fuck me when she won't?" She scoffed again, a lump forming in her throat despite herself.

"No." He put his hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. "Because we're the same, you and I. Because I thought that you understood that I was falling for you despite me having to say it. Because despite myself, I found myself coming back to you over and over." He blinked.

A bitter smile formed on her lips, "I don't want to be someone a person likes despite their better judgement."

Doyoung groaned, "You're making this so much harder than it needs to be." He frowned again.

"Good." She interjected. "I didn't ask for this." She groaned herself when her vision blurred from tears she tried to blink away.

She hated him. 

She hated him for kissing her that one night three months ago in the library. She hated him for leaving without a word and then coming back the next day for more. She hated him for saying all the right things in her ears while he was deep inside her. But most of all she hated herself for allowing herself to grow feelings for him while knowing better.

"Please." His voice was a soft plea, it made her heart flutter. "Just try it. Go out with me once." He took her cold hands in his clammy ones, the heat spreading through her, "If at any point I do anything to hurt you then put some dreadful potion in a glass and give it to me. Or hex me. But don't just push this away without giving it a try." 

She knew this would be wrong. She knew she should say no. But against her better judgement, she kissed him instead.

_

Doyoung knew that out of all the way to deal with fights, walking away wasn't the best. But he also knew himself, he knew it was better than saying things he did not mean in a moment's anger.

He drew in an irritated breath, frustrated with everything. Everything was impossibly hard with (Y/N). They both felt with equal ferocity but stayed silent about most things. It was one of the similarities they had that had turned into a vice over the years; a long relationship of bitter things left unsaid till it was spat in a fit of rage. 

He looked over the viaduct at the gaping precipice it stood over. Caught off-guard by the sound of shuffling footsteps as they came and stood beside him. He wasn't sure how he missed it.

"Oh hey it is you! I was wondering if I was seeing correctly." A voice he knew too well made him look away from the edge to upturned eyes.

He hadn't seen her in a while, the castle was large enough for that to happen sometimes, but age only made Jisoo more beautiful. He blushed when he realised he was staring at her.

"I haven't seen you ever since I dropped potions for divination. I used to think the castle wasn't that big, but I guess not huh?" She bumped her shoulder with his as she placed her elbows on the balustrade, looking down at where he was looking before. "What are we looking at?" She questioned, eyes focusing on searching whatever he was looking at.

"Nothing." He spoke too soon, his voice too gruff.

She looked up at him, lips parted and eyes wide. Then something seemed to click inside, "Oh. I interrupted some deep thought, didn't I?" She winced.

"No!" He defended, again too quick. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to level his voice, "Nothing too deep." He dismissed.

She scoffed, “You’re always thinking something deep. You’re the smart one.” Her words stirred something inside Doyoung. 

He cursed himself.

"You look good, Doyoung." Her words made his neck snap to face her. She bit her lip, fluttering her gaze away from his. He noted the pink tint of her cheeks, eyes furrowing in confusion.

What was going on?

Jisoo took a step back from the edge, her form lingering as she turned to him, "It was nice to see you again Doyoung. Really nice. You've really grown into yourself." Her eyes brushed against his shoulders and it was his turn to blush.

"Thank you." The words were spat out, distracted. She gave him one last breathtaking smile before turning and walking into the fog that had settled on the grounds.

_

Doyoung was sure he had forgotten to breathe when he heard his door open. (Y/N) stood at the door, first with a look of devastation in her eyes and then nothing. Her hand gripped the handle so tight that it creaked under the assault.

"(Y/N), baby." He pushed Jisoo off his lap with a swift motion. Getting out of his bed and following her while she walked out of his rooms and to the stairs. Not caring that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"(Y/N)!" He cried out, grabbing her arm desperately. A pain shot through the arm he used to grab her, noticing her wand in the other hand.

“Touch me again and I will honour your promise and hex you. Go back to your room, Doyoung. You are shirtless and have an erection. Don’t embarrass yourself and more importantly, do not embarrass me.” Her eyes welled up but her voice was hollow.

Panic clawed up Doyoung’s throat till it burned worse than his arm, “Darling, please.” He begged, grabbing her shoulder. He flew back from another unspoken spell, hitting the wall beside his door with a loud thud and a vicious crack in his arm. He sat helplessly and heard the echoes of her rushing down the stairs of the tower.

When he walked back into the room, Jisoo was sitting at the edge of his bed. Her shirt still had the buttons of the top half open, her chest exposed.

“You’re hurt.” She looked at her arm, twisted at an excruciating angle.

“Leave.” His voice was frigid.

She ignored his words, “Let me look at your arm.” She got up.

“Get out, Jisoo.” He repeated with more anger. Her steps faltered.

She looked up at him, her eyes fighting between guilt from what happened and the hurt his voice made her feel, “She’s gone, Doyoung.” She felt small as the words left her, “I’m still here.” She took a few steps closer.

“Exactly.” He spat the word at her, “I was wrong. I made a mistake. Now she’s gone.” There was a passing pain in his eyes, one that turned to bitter ice when they met hers, “And you’re still here.” While he felt utterly ashamed at the moment, it was easier to lash out on the person in front of him.

“Doyoung.” Her voice quivered as tears fell from her eyes, “Please.” She looked to the floor.

“You aren’t her, Jisoo. You’re just a beautiful face I was infatuated with my entire childhood. (Y/N) is my other half, you can’t be that.” He turned away from her, searching for his shirt on the floor.

“Then why?” She whispered, “Why did you sleep with me? Why did you do it thrice?” Her voice gained in volume and hatred. Doyoung was glad he wasn’t in front of her when the words made him wince.

He looked up at her and shrugged, “I told you. I wanted to know how it would feel to have what I wanted for so many years. It wasn’t that great.” He tried to keep his eyes bored.

She stared at him in disbelief before biting down her jaw. She looked away and buttoned her shirt back up, “Then I guess you just saved two people from wasting their time on a vile person like you.” She looked up when she was done. He suppressed the effect of the sting her words caused again, giving her nothing in his eyes. She huffed one last time, picking up what she had left of her dignity and left with the head held high.

Doyoung slowly sat down on his bed, putting his head on the palm of one hand, while his broken arm stayed limp beside him. Taking a shaky breath, he let the pain that seared from the fractured bone feel like a well-deserved punishment..

#of snakes and lions #jaehyun #doyoung #nct #miscellaneous #hogwarts!au

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Just Friends?

note: this is for @jaketapperstan, I hope you like it :)

words: 3961 (sorry, I got carried away)

warnings: swearing, thoughts of cheating, smut

The knock on the office door pulled you out of the little nap you had treated yourself with after a nearly sleepless night.

„Come in.“you called out, and Jake appeared through the door, carrying two steaming cups of coffee, smiling at you.

 "Hey, you looked so tired back in the studio, so I thought I’d bring you a little caffeine boost. “

 "You’re an actual angel, Jake.” you exclaimed, jumped up from your office chair and basically tore the mug from his hands, sighting in bliss as you smelled how strong the beverage was. Perfect, he just knew how you liked your coffee.


“And sorry for the way I look, we can’t all be like you, Mr. Perfect.” You joked, and Jake just shot you a grin. There was always a bit of flirting going on between the two of you, but you were keeping it professional.

You were the head of the production team for CNNs The Lead, so Jake was basically your boss. But over the years that you’ve worked together, you grew pretty close.

Having Jake as a friend meant always having a shoulder to lean on, the perfect counterpart for heated political discussions and, of course, the best coffee delivery service in the whole city.

And it was because you valued your friendship with Jake so much, that you vigorously suppressed all thoughts of getting closer to him. And because of Tom, your boyfriend, of course.

Thinking of him made your stomach churn. You’ve gotten together about a year and a half ago, and a few months ago things started to go downhill. Last night has just been another one of many fights in recent time, he complained about you being at work so much and you had the feeling he wasn’t valuing what you were doing at all.

"Earth to Y/N. “Jake’s voice called, and you snapped back to attention.

 "Sorry, I zoned out. “

 "Rough Night? “Jake asked, worry evident on his face and in his voice.

 "Another fight. He doesn’t understand why I’m here all the time, he doesn’t see the things Trump says as “you made quotation marks into the air „that big a deal. Imagine that. “you said angrily.

"I’m really sorry, Y/N, and I’m obviously no expert on that stuff given my record but talking things through is always a good way to start. I really hope you can work this out. “ he patted your arm, and you suppressed the urge to just hug him. You needed comfort, and Jake was that for you.

During and after his pretty messy divorce little over a year ago you provided the emotional support he needed back then, and the amount of time you spent together had made emotions rise in you that you were now desperately trying to bottle up.

"Thank you so much, Jake, I will talk to him and hope he sees my point. I want to make this work. “ You really did, because Tom was still a pretty nice guy and you had many fond memories with him. 

You gave Jake a small smile and tried to ignore the butterflies and the feeling of guilt that came with them when he smiled back at you.

 "I’ll be heading home in 20 minutes, you should go as well. The job is done for today, get some sleep. “

Jake said, emptying his coffee cup.

 "That’s actually a good idea, I’ll meet you at the elevator in 20? We can ride down together. “

 

"Sure. I’ll see you there."

With that, Jake left your office and you quickly turned off your computer and started packing up your notes.

 

Twenty minutes later you met up with Jake to take the elevator down to the lobby. Even though you were the only two people in the cabin, you stood right next to each other, and you suppressed the urge to touch his hand that was so incredibly close to yours.


The thought of what it would feel like to be pressed against the wall of the elevator by Jakes strong body entered your mind without any warning, and you could feel a flush creeping over your face, the cabin was suddenly feeling extremely hot and narrow.

“Just let me out of here before I jump him.” You thought, and your prayers were answered when you arrived in the lobby seconds later.

The doors opened, and there stood Tom, carrying a bouquet of flowers. You approached him with a questioning look, Jake dragging along behind you.

„Hey. “Tom said, giving Jake a short, irritated glance and continued.

„I wanted to apologize for last night. “

Before you could reply anything, Jake pitched in.

"Uhm, folks, I forgot my car keys up in my office, I need to go back and get them, you two have a nice day. “he said quickly and hurried back to the elevator without waiting for an answer.

 

 

As the elevator doors closed behind him again, Jake let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. He could not do this anymore, seeing you with another guy felt like a punch in the gut every time.

He hadn’t actually forgot his keys, but he needed to escape the scenery. The urge to tear you away from him and pull you into his arms was too strong . He hung his head, at loss on how to continue this situation.

 

When you made your way to the office the next morning, you were in better spirits.

You had a decent evening with Tom, no further arguing for a change.

There hasn’t been any substantial talking either, but you had to appreciate what you had.

 

Jake approached you in the briefing room with another mug of coffee.

"Everything alright? “he asked quietly.

 

"Sure, I feel better already, let’s just not talk about it now.“ you said, not wanting to discuss your boyfriend with Jake any further.

 The morning meeting started and soon you were in full work mode, making finishing touches on today’s episode and briefing the team about the latest developments concerning the guests.

You didn’t notice the longing looks Jake was giving you from the other side of the room.

It was a couple of weeks later when you knocked on the door of Jakes office an hour after the Friday show. There were some papers you needed to talk with him about, and above all you just really wanted to see him.

You hadn’t had the opportunity to really talk to Jake in days, work was stressful and things with Tom were going downhill at a fast pace again, leaving you sad, exhausted and in need of a friend.

When nobody answered, you slowly opened the door. Jake was sitting on his desk, leaned back in his chair and obviously asleep.

You quietly closed the door and made your way over to him, stopping right next to his chair. He was breathing softly and actually looked relaxed, something that was extremely rare.

He still wore his glasses through, so you carefully reached out to remove them from the bridge of his nose. But he sensed your touch and woke with a soft gasp, looking around for a moment before realizing you were there.

“Hi.” You whispered. "I’m so sorry for bothering, I didn’t want to wake you up, I’m just dropping of some papers."

 

Jake let out a yawn and stretched his arms over his head, and you were unable not to stare at the way his light dress shirt stretched around his muscular arms and shoulders. You felt a light blush creeping across your face at the thoughts invading your mind. The things he could do to you with those arms…

 "Don’t worry. You never bother me. “

Jake replied softly, bringing your attention back to his face. 

His hair was bit tousled, and you wanted to run your hands through it so bad.

Jake gave you another questioning look, somehow sensing that something was wrong.

"Are you really just here because of the papers, Y/N? Or is there something else? You look exhausted. “

He was clearly worried, and a warm feeling fluttered in your chest at sending his concern.

"I just..." you tried, and to your horror, you felt tears welling up in your eyes, the stress of the last weeks flooding to the surface.

Jake saw your tears right away, jumping out of his chair and pulling you into a close hug. You could not deny yourself this, not today, so you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and just cried. He stroked soothing circles across your back and you just stood there, letting the tears fall.

After a couple of minutes, you calmed down and told Jake about how work was killing you and your relationship was basically on the verge of collapsing.

He listened, holding your hand the whole time. It felt warm and comfortable, but also like your skin was almost burning where he touched you. Without realizing it, you had started stroking small circles across Jakes palm with your thumb, totally unaware that no one of you were speaking anymore and that Jake was staring at your joint hands instead.

The both of you were looking up, your eyes meeting. And in Jakes eyes, you could see it. They were dark, the pupils blown and staring right into your soul. You felt your own want reflected right back at you, and the intensity of the situation was almost too much.

"Jake. “you whispered, and his face took on an almost pained expression at hearing you say his name. You leaned closer, drawn to him like by an invisible string, until your faces were only inches apart.

Suddenly, the shrill sound of your mobile broke the spell between you. You hastily let go of his hand and fished your phone out of your pocket.

It was Tom.

"Yes?" You answered, bringing some distance between you and Jake, who just kept standing there like he was frozen.

Tom was annoyed, ranting on about how he would spend the upcoming weekend with his friends because you would not have any time anyway, and that you shouldn’t bother calling him for the next days.

After angrily replying something that was mainly curse words, you just hung up.

You were upset, and you did not want to pull Jake into this mess, especially not after what had just transpired between you.

"I am so sorry Jake, but I have to go now. I’ll see you on Monday." you said, quickly making your way to the door. 

He called your name after you, but you were already storming out into the hallway.

You needed to bring distance between the two of you, to clear your head.

Back in his office, Jake was still standing there, fists clenched at his sides.

He had you so close, almost able to finally kiss you, and yet you were so far away.

You were with someone else, and he just had to suck it up, no matter how intensely you had looked at him just minutes ago.

 

He let out a deep sight and started packing up for the weekend, his cold, lonely flat looking even more uninviting now. 

You made your way home to your apartment, feeling sad and empty inside. You had some dinner and settled down in front of the TV, unable to pay any attention to the movie you picked because your thoughts were revolving around your current situation.

You clearly weren’t happy with Tom, but what made you even more doubtful of your relationship was how indifferent and uncaring you felt at the thought of him spending the weekend apart from you. Your phone started ringing, Tom’s caller ID showing up on the screen. There was a small surge of disappointment because it wasn’t Jake, but maybe Tom wanted to actually apologize, so you picked up.

“Y/N. Wow, you’re not at work for a change?”

Tom was drunk, you could hear that from the way his words were slurred, there was loud music and the voices of what sounded like multiple people in the background.

“What is it?” you asked, starting to get annoyed.

“I just wanted to tell you that I have enough of your shit. You never make time for me, or for us, you’re just stuck at that stupid ass job of yours all day. Whatever there is between us, it’s over.”

You were quiet for a moment, your stomach clenching, then replied.

"You know what, fuck you, Tom. Good luck finding someone who puts up with your bullshit. “ with that, you hung up.

 

You felt a strange mixture of relief and incredible sadness because of his words. Tears started to fall and didn’t stop until you fell asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you already felt better. Fuck Tom, you deserved more.

When you checked your phone, there was a new message on it. Surprisingly it was from Jake, and your heart did a funny little twist when you opened it.

 

Hi Y/N, I just wanted to check in with you after how upset you were yesterday. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Jake

 

You thought back and forth about how to reply, feeling like some silly schoolgirl texting her crush. Telling yourself to get a grip, you typed a reply, hitting send before you could chicken out again.

Thanks for asking, means a lot. I’ve had better days, but it’s alright. Would you want to grab a drink somewhere this evening? some wise man said talking about things is always a good way to start ;)

You waited anxiously, but Jake texted back really quick, sending you a time and place to meet him.

When you got ready in the evening, you had to remind yourself that this was just a meeting between friends, and not a date. Jake was still your boss, and you didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship either.

The place he had picked out was nice, not too fancy but comfortable with many small booths providing privacy.
You had a good time chatting over drinks. To your relief, Jake didn’t pressure you into talking about what was going on, instead he offered to take an evening stroll together after you left the bar.

You walked the length of the national mall, admiring the lights in the reflection pool, and finally sat down on a bench near the Lincoln Memorial.

 

“We broke up.” You said, breaking the comfortable silence.

 

“I am really sorry, Y/N.” Jake said, and he was. Seeing you sad always hurt him as well. But inside him, there was a part that was full of glee about the fact that you were no longer with that guy.

“Don’t be, I’m actually glad it’s over. We weren’t good for each other, and he did not appreciate me.”

“Idiot.” Jake murmured under his breath.

“Apologizes.” He quickly added. “It’s just…what kind of fool would treat you like he did. You are absolutely amazing, and you deserve everything.” The last part was said more to himself than directed at you, and his view wandered over to where the Washington Monument was standing out against the dark sky. You tried to make out what kind of emotion lingered in his voice. It sounded a lot like longing, and your heart gave a small jump at the thought.

“Jake” you said quietly, taking his hand. Again, the air between you was buzzing with a strange kind of energy, and when Jake turned his head to meet your eyes, looking absolutely breathtaking illuminated by the lights surrounding you, you could not help yourself anymore. The magnitude of your feelings came crashing down on you, and you surged forward, pressing your lips to Jake’s.

He was onto you in the blink of an eye, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. You gasped at the intensity with which he was kissing you back, as if he were starving and you were a feast laid out in front of him. His hands were grabbing your back while yours were around his neck, one buried in the hair on the back of his neck.

Kissing Jake felt like a firework went off inside of you, goosebumps were all over your body and the feeling of his tongue sneaking into your mouth made heat coil between your legs.

You broke the kiss, breathlessly looking at Jake. His hair was disheveled, and he was breathing heavily as well.

“Wow.” He chuckled, but still looked wary, like he wasn’t believing that this was actually happening.

“Jake.” You just said, “Please take me home with you.”

As he realized what you were implying, he ran his hand through his hair, looking torn.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Y/N? I don’t want to take advantage of how you are feeling right now.”

“Dead sure. I want this and I want you.” You stated, taking his hand again and squeezing it.

He just groaned and pulled you into another passionate kiss before standing up from the bench, tugging you along.

“We better not waste any time then.”

The taxi ride to Jakes apartment was short, but it still took everything in you not to climb into his lap in the back of the car. Jakes hand rested softly on your tight, but you could see that he was holding himself back as well by the way his other hand was clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles turned white.

When the door of Jakes apartment finally closed behind you, he instantly pressed you against it, lips on yours in a bruising kiss. You moaned as his hands landed on your ass, squeezing it and pulling you flush against the hard bulge in his trousers.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He growled against your lips. “You were so close, but I couldn’t have you. It drove me insane, Y/N.”

“You can have me now, Jake, so take me, please.” You moaned, pulling him down into another kiss while simultaneously tugging his dress shirt out of his trousers.

His suit jacket was already on the floor, followed swiftly by your blouse and his shirt.

Then, with one quick move, Jake just picked you up and carried you through the hallway to his bedroom, carefully laying you down onto the bed.

 Lying there, you just stared up at him as he pulled his trousers down his legs, revealing his boxer briefs, already tented by his erection. Seeing him in that state of undress in front of you made your mouth water.

“Come here, please.” You whined, dying to finally feel his skin on yours.

He quickly got rid of his boxers and moved over to lie on top of you. He grabbed your breasts through bra, squeezing them and kissing your neck. Reaching behind you, he swiftly unclasped your bra and then leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You groaned, tugging on his hair.

It felt like he was everywhere, touching, tasting, leaving a trail of fire with his tongue and his fingers, and when he finally pulled your underwear down, you were already so wet that he was able to effortlessly push two fingers inside you.

Jake groaned at feeling your arousal and warmth, slowly plunging his digits in and out of your pussy.

You were squirming under him, his fingers felt incredible, but you needed more.

“Please, Jake.” You whimpered, “Please, I need you inside me.”

He swore under his breath and withdrew his fingers before reaching over to the bedside drawer to fetch a condom. He quickly rolled the rubber over his hard cock and positioned himself at your entrance.

Jake locked eyes with you and your mouth opened in a silent cry as he slowly pushed into you. He let out a hiss as he bottomed out, his dark eyes never leaving yours. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, and as he started to move you could swear that you were seeing stars. Your hands clawed into his back and he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his heavy breath hot on your skin.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’ve waited so long for this, you feel so good, amazing, you are so beautiful.” Jake continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, how perfect you were, how soft your skin was, and every word made your heart soar and your arousal rise.

You moved in perfect unison and Jake gradually sped up the pace, deepening his thrusts until you were a whimpering mess beneath him, chanting his name over and over again.

You wrapped your legs around Jakes hips, creating a new angle that made both of you moan as he was thrusting into you relentlessly, his breath growing more erratic with every move.

A tingling sensation started to spread in your belly, a sign of your approaching climax.

“Jake, I’m close, please don’t stop.” You begged, clawing your nails into his back.

“Say my name when you come, please, Y/N.” Jake groaned, propping himself up on his arms to look at you. His hair was tousled, and his face was glistening with sweat. He looked amazing, and seeing him this unhinged while he was fucking you was the last push you needed.

You came, crying out Jakes name, head thrown back as the pleasure of your orgasm washed over you like a giant wave.

Feeling you clench around him and hearing his name fall from your lips did it for Jake, and with one snap of his hips he thrust his cock deep inside you and came as well, muffling his shout by burying his head in the crook of your neck.

He slowly rolled to the side and lay down next to you. You promptly snuggled up to him, caressing his face as he pressed a kiss to your hair. When your eyes met his, he smiled at you and you could feel your heart racing. You really just had sex with Jake Tapper, and you didn’t feel an ounce of regret. Now you could just hope that his sentiments were the same.

You lay in silence for a while, but your mind was working hard, so you spoke up. 

“Penny for your thoughts.” You whispered softly, looking up at Jake who was staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. 

He turned his head to face you, and you could immediately see the worry on his face.

“Hey, what’s wrong.?” You asked, cold fear in the pit of your stomach. Please don’t let him regret this.

 “This was amazing, Y/N. But I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, or just sex. Like I said, I have thought about this, about you, for so long now. But you just got out of a relationship, and I’m not sure- “

 “You’re not my rebound, Jake.” You interrupted him. “I’ve had feelings for you for so long now, and I was too scared to admit them, even to myself. But not anymore.” you said, trying your best to let your voice sound sure and steady.

 He just looked at you, speechless for a moment. Then he reached out, cupped your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. You embraced him, responding enthusiastically. Kissing him was so wonderful, you could get used to it.

“So we’re doing this then?” Jake asked, after breaking the kiss, his voice still a bit unsure.

“Absolutely.” You smiled and pushed the worries about work and everything else to the back of your head as you pressed another kiss to Jakes smiling lips.

For now, you just wanted to be happy.

#jake tapper #cnn #cnn anchors #jake tapper x reader #jake tapper fic #fanfiction

[the-autisticats]

Autism and Borderline Personality Disorder: how are they linked?

This is a complex question with many answers, and unfortunately there hasn’t been enough research done to evaluate what percentage of autistic people have BPD. However, there are some known neurobiological links, and life experiences common in autistic people which predispose us to develop BPD.

I figured out that I have BPD around a year and a half ago, which was honestly quite a relief. It explains the anxiety and intense fear of abandonment that I experience in close relationships. It explains why my moods fluctuate depending on how I perceive others’ likelihood of abandoning me, which has historically snowballed into suicidality. It explains why I have a history of unstable and intense relationships. Most of all, it explains the way that trauma from my childhood continues to affect me and my relationships every day.

Up to 60% of people with BPD also meet the criteria for PTSD. Whereas many people with PTSD develop it after events that occur later in life, people who experience traumatic events in early childhood are much more likely to develop BPD. Because of how common early experiences of abuse, maltreatment, and neglect are in people with BPD, many professionals have argued that it’s a unique form of PTSD. I agree with that.

The likelihood of developing BPD is high in people who are naturally more emotionally sensitive, and then experience multiple traumatic events in close relationships, starting in early childhood. And because of their natural emotional sensitivity, people with BPD may have been traumatized by events that others wouldn’t be traumatized by. So, the way I understand it, BPD is relationship-focused PTSD, exacerbated by a person’s natural emotional sensitivity.

This makes complete sense when I look back on my own childhood.

For starters, my home environment was often hostile and did not meet my needs as an autistic person. I had frequent, violent meltdowns as a child due to my sensory needs not being met, and me not being listened to. During those meltdowns, I was often locked in my room alone for hours on end, while I screamed and cried. Sometimes, I would be pinned to the ground and sat on by my parents, often to the point that I struggled to breathe. After meltdowns, I was often grounded for weeks on end. No TV, no dessert, no playdates, no fun activities.

All of this was traumatic. I felt abandoned, invalidated, and betrayed by my primary caretakers. They didn’t listen to my needs, and didn’t believe me when I talked to them about my experiences. Then, they punished me for having meltdowns after they had pushed me to my breaking point.

That sort of thing went on consistently until I was around 12 years old, and has slowly improved over time, as I’ve taught my parents more about autism. They also recognize that the way they treated me in childhood was traumatic to me, and we’ve had good conversations about that. But my parents and I still have trust issues, and I find that they’re still frequently dismissive of my needs and thoughts.

That was just my home environment. At school, I had trouble too. Starting in pre-K, at 4 years old, I was bullied by my peers. One of my most distinct memories from preschool is a girl telling me that I couldn’t sit with her and her friend, because, as she said, “you’re weird!”

That sort of experience started at age 4, and continued through middle school and into high school. I’ve been talked about behind my back, called names, un-invited from parties, flat-out not invited to parties held by the other members of my friend group, laughed at, ignored, lied to, gaslit, ghosted... the list goes on.

It didn’t help that I moved across the continent, from Texas to New Jersey, when I was 9 years old. I was uprooted from my friends in Texas, who I was actually beginning to feel secure with, and plopped in the middle of a new social landscape with people who already had established friendships with each other.

So, just to recap:

I felt abandoned by my parents, who didn’t listen to my needs and punished me for entering uncontrollable states of overstimulation brought on by their invalidation of my experiences. I was shut out of friendships and positive social interaction from a young age, and then often literally abandoned and ignored by the few people I actually had become friends with. I felt unstable and isolated when I was uprooted from my home in Texas, and forced to navigate an entirely new social landscape in New Jersey. All of this was at least in part due to the fact that I’m autistic.

So it’s not as if I’ve just now developed BPD. It started in elementary school. But it really became a problem in 8th grade. I was already anxious and insecure in relationships due to all of my prior experiences, and when my new friends began to exhibit patterns of exclusion that I was already familiar with, this resulted in me making further attempts to avoid abandonment- which inadvertently pushed them further away.

Then, at the end of my freshman year of high school, I lost the vast majority of my friends. I think it was probably a combination of their inability to understand & accept my autistic traits, and my poorly managed anxiety & impulsivity that kept being triggered by what I perceived as instances of exclusion and abandonment. That collapse of my friendships in freshman year was the lowest point in my life, and I believe it’s what caused my nervous system to fritz out to the point that I’ve started having panic attacks so intense that I vomit. I’ve dealt with that unfortunate symptom since late 2017.

My current close friendships haven’t been spared from BPD, either. I think the most difficult part of BPD is the fact that the people I love the most are also my worst triggers. And I know it’s probably very hard for them to cope with my clinginess, anxiety, over-communication, and panic attacks. I would give anything to stop vomiting during panic attacks caused by my brain flipping out about microscopic interactions with other people. Because it’s miserable for me, and alienating to them.

Luckily, I’ve stopped vomiting (for the most part), thanks to my psychiatrist increasing the dosage of my anxiety medication. But I still have panic attacks, I still overthink interactions, I still get overly attached to specific people, and I still fear abandonment.

This is why communicating with people about my BPD has been incredibly important. Through knowing that I’m traumatized from historical experiences, they can recognize that what’s happening to me isn’t really about them. My irrational anxiety and over-communication shouldn’t be taken personally. When I get overly focused on and attached to one specific person, it’s not just because I really like them, it’s also because they have a history of treating me well and I’m therefore extremely afraid that their care for me won’t last and they’ll abandon me.

I suspect that many autistic & otherwise neurodivergent people can relate to a lot of what I just shared. When I hear people talking about “rejection sensitivity” in relation to autism and ADHD, I wonder how many of them have considered the role of childhood trauma in shaping the way that neurodivergent people experience close relationships. In my view, rejection sensitivity isn’t an inherent aspect of neurodivergence. Rather, it’s something that’s created by our social circumstances.

As I discussed in-depth in my post about autism and psychosis, the role of trauma in shaping the way autistic people’s brains function can’t be discounted. I hope that more research and writing is done to explore that connection. And in the meantime, I’ll continue publicly exploring my own complicated brain.

~Eden🐢

#actually autistic #autism #autistic #borderline personality disorder #ableism #trauma #complex ptsd #ptsd #childhood trauma

[zigtheeortega]

to hell and back

✿ pairing: logan x mc

✿ word count: 4174

✿ warnings: mentions of violence from book one & angst

✿ tags: @diamondsless ; @agentsewell ; @violinet ; @messofakind ; @hudush ; @roguemal ; @troublemakerinspace ; @choicesarehard ; @litgpop ; @auroraemery 

✿ author’s note: i’m incredibly nervous to post this, as this is my first ever logan fic so please be gentle! i got the idea for this fic after watching portrait of a lady on fire, after being reminded of the myth of orpheus and eurydice, which if you haven’t ever heard of it, read up here! the idea of a forbidden love always breaks me but i’m a sucker for punishment, so i thought i’d apply that myth to future logan x mc (my mc’s name is raquel). i hit a follower milestone, too, so i thought i’d celebrate by pushing myself out of my comfort zone! woo![disclaimer: i’d never want to accidentally upset anyone by writing him ooc, so if you have any pointers, please dm me] 

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

He was the last person she’d expected to hear from. It’d been years. Her life was finally getting back on track, and she was moving on.

She white-knuckled the steering wheel, her hands slick with sweat, and peeled out of the parking lot of her dorm, leaving her world to enter his again.

Some days, her time with the Mercy Park Crew felt like a distant dream, a day dream she’d conjured while bored at school. Other times, she’d reminisce on his specific features to make sure she’d never forget what he sounded like, how he looked, how he felt.

Some days, she’d zero in on his eyes, the way the brown tones were multidimensional, layered, and how dark and full his lashes were, shading his dilated pupils when he’d stare at her lips before leaning in for a kiss.

Other days, she’d focus specifically on his hair; the strong coconut smell of his deep conditioning mask, which he unabashedly used, a secret she swore to keep, and the silky feeling of his thick waves beneath the pads of her fingers.

She’d spent years mulling over her time with the Mercy Park Crew, spilling tears every time she came across her prom photo with Logan, so often that she had to lock it up in a journal she’d filled long before. She was used to the feeling of a choked sob, the tension in her lungs and the soreness that came after a good cry: a comfort so familiar to her that it was one of the only things that reminded her she was alive – that she was human.

She’d spent so much time grappling with her morality, the guilt of her involvement weighing heavily on her for her entire freshman year. The depression that came with it was unrelenting, the loneliness of moving across state lines settling in almost immediately. The nightmares were worse.

They came as quickly as they went – in short blips, interwoven with her worst memories. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up in cold sweats, vivid details of bullets ripping through flesh, the metallic smell of blood burned into her memory.

She often woke up trembling, panting, always quick to muffle her cries with her pillow as to not wake her roommate.

She spent the majority of her first year in isolation, a self-inflicted punishment for the people she’d harmed in such a short span of time. Thankfully, her roommate was rarely there.

She was homesick, but not for Los Angeles. 

No matter how much she wanted to go back, she wouldn’t allow herself to go. Not for holiday breaks or summer.

For the first year, her chest felt like a gaping wound, and she struggled with aimlessness, the thoughts of her purposelessness a constant mental burden. She toed the ledge, always close to jumping but never committed.

It took intense therapy to get her to a safe distance.

She slammed on the brakes, the red hue of the brake light in front of her the only thing warning her to stop. The burst of adrenaline she got from almost rear-ending another car was the most she’d felt in a long time.

She had chased the high relentlessly, either isolating herself completely during depressive episodes or throwing herself into high risk situations to feel something – anything.

Driving had become a utility to her, transportation and nothing more.

She associated the exhilarating sensation of pressing the gas pedal until her foot was nearly pointed, the smell of burning rubber, her tangled, windswept hair caught in her lip gloss – with Logan. It was wrong to try to recreate it without him.

When she’d left for Langston, she’d never looked back. Partially because she felt like she had nearly nothing anchoring her to L.A., but also because her last semester had a sense of finality to it. The crew vanished without a trace, and her inhibitions returned.

It took her five days of driving and stopping to make it to the campus. Her once intimidating, tightly packed car barely filled her half of the shared dorm room. And once she was on campus, she rarely drove anywhere, unless absolutely necessary.

She clung to the hope that she’d be able to find a crew of her own in undergrad, and that she’d hear his voice again. Envisioning Logan’s lips enunciating her nickname gave her a rush close to adrenaline, but not quite.

The soft pattering of rain on her windshield drew her out of her reminiscent thoughts. She blinked, glancing around the pitch black road, searching for a road marker. She flicked her high beams on, bouncing off of a distance marker. “Greenwood – 13 miles”.

He’d called at nearly midnight, his voice trembling, quiet, the bass of his voice keeping him from a true whisper. “Raquel, I need you.”

His tone was pure fear, the four words dripping with the subtext of a flubbed deal, a job gone wrong.

She kept the same phone number, clinging to the belief that maybe, just maybe, she’d hear her name roll off his tongue one more time. 

It took three years for her to hear his voice again. And he was terrified.

She’d spent three long years dealing with the aftermath of the spring of her senior year of high school. A couple months of living in a new world had left a lifetime of damage, and she’d come out of it changed. The damage had festered, so much so that she had to seek help.

She’d promised herself that if she ever saw him again, she’d stand her ground, and try to pull him out of the deep end. She was strong willed, and well intentioned, that much she was sure. She learned so much about herself during that last semester, and she was grateful for it.

And all of that was abandoned the second he spoke her name.

She turned off the highway, and after a long stretch of backroads framed with gravel driveways, the bar came into focus. The open sign flickered, overshadowed by the numerous draft beer logos shining brightly around it.

The parking lot was nearly empty, a couple of reverse-parked pickup trucks scattered across the gravel. The muffled music met her ears, barely audible over the electric bug zapper near the entrance.

She still couldn’t get used to the muggy, swampy weather of the east coast, much less the mosquitoes and the irritating itchiness of a fresh bite.

The chill of the air conditioning hit her before her nerves did. With nothing but a few bills, her driver’s license, phone, and determination, she’d set out to save him. She hadn’t even prepared.

What was she supposed to say to the one person who burrowed his way into her subconscious and never left? The one that she was forced to live without, even though she craved daily him like the sweet bitterness of nicotine, the fleeting high enough to keep her coming back, no matter if it’d eventually kill her.

In the back booth of the dingy bar, she saw him.

She noticed the stubble first, so foreign from the smooth tanned skin she remembered running her fingers across. The dark circles under his eyes aged him, the years of trauma finally catching up to him. It’s like his light was dimmed; she thought he was broken before, but whatever healing journey she’d had, he’d endured the opposite over the years.

His cheeks looked hollow, like he hadn’t eaten in days. From the look of his greasy hair and dirt stained white tee, he’d been on the run nonstop.

“Logan?” She called out, just loud enough for him to hear.

He met her eyes, and for a brief second, they were empty, devoid of emotion, just long enough for her to notice, before they filled with tears. He jumped up from the tattered booth seat: grabbing her in a crushing hug, burying his face in her neck.

He murmured her name into her neck over and over, like he couldn’t believe she was real. She wrapped her arms around him, his familiar warmth bringing her to tears. 

And they stayed like that, enveloped in each other, not a single thing around them mattering, except the feeling of being in each others’ arms after years apart.

When she pulled back to look at him, he stared at her lips, and ran his thumb across her chin. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she breathed, her arms snaking around to his front, and she grazed the tight muscles of his torso.

A drunken man shoved past them towards the restrooms, taking her out of the moment.

“Should we sit?”

He nodded, sliding onto his side of the table. “Do you… want a drink, or?” He asked, a bit nervously.

“No, I’m driving.” She fiddled with the braided keychain attached to her car keys, pulling at the frayed edges.

“That’s the responsible Raquel I missed,” he chuckled, breaking the tension a bit. He took a deep gulp from the beer bottle in front of him.

“I missed you so much,” she sighed, watching his face intently, committing every new detail to memory, tucking it away for later.

“I missed you, too.”

It was a hard conversation to initiate, much less navigate. She was still deciding if he was real – she’d dreamt of the moment she’d see him again, and it wasn’t anything close to what was happening.

She’d daydreamed of him pulling up to her dorm, parked out front like he did when they first met, as cliche as it sounded. Donned with the same white tee and jeans, he was leaning against the car (in her dream she pictured a convertible, so she could watch how beautifully the wind’s rough caress styled his hair, able to tousle it in a way a pair of hands never could), a smirk on his face, his arms folded, but his body language was never uninviting. He was relaxed, untroubled, as she kissed him, and they drove off into the sunset. A cliche, but at least they were both happy.

“So…” she started.

“I know you have a lot of questions, but I don’t know if I can answer all of them right now,” he finished, apologetic.

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say that… subter-fudge doesn’t always work to get you out of sticky situations.”

“You mean subterfuge?”

“Okay, truth be told I’ve never used that word in my life, but it was the word of the day on this dictionary app I have. And I was saving it for a good time, but I think I fucked it up,” he smiled, shaking his head.

She reached across the table, covering his hand with her own. “Let me get this straight. You not only learned a new word to use on me, but you have a dictionary app? You know you can just Google words, right?”

He shrugged. “I try to learn a new word as often as I can. It’s not much, but I feel smarter, even if I never use the word.”

“I thought it was cute.”

He chuckled, tracing his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re just trying to flatter me because I messed up.”

“No, I’m flattering you because you tried… and I missed you,” she said, squeezing his hand, the roughness of his skin comforting to her.

“God, I missed you more,” he whispered, eyes roaming over her face. “You really answered after all that time?”

“Yeah, of course. I knew you’d come back for me, eventually,” she smiled, burying the years of grief underneath the momentary gratification.

Her life since meeting and leaving Logan had been a probability. The numbers were infinite, the outcomes varied. She thought her psychology class would’ve been more rough on her mentally, but numbers didn’t lie.

Her calculus and statistics classes had been terrible – not just because she had to work twice as hard for a good grade in math classes, but because the problems so well translated to her life.

There were so many times that she could’ve died – so many times that she could’ve gone to prison for working with “criminals.” So many times that she jeopardized her future. And she was offered a way out, to start fresh.

But as many times as she tried to scare herself into feeling lucky and grateful for being steered back onto her path to success, she felt hollow. She had a one in a million chance of getting out of that life alive, but she had a one in a million chance of meeting Logan, too.

There were millions of people in Los Angeles County – she could’ve gone her whole life without knowing him, blissfully ignorant to the rough underbelly of the city she’d grown up in.

He changed her from the second he met her. Her probability split down the middle, branching into paths and subpaths, and multiple more until each move she made was critical. And the moment he left, she clung to him, despite the probabilities of them ever meeting again slimming more and more with each passing day.

He squirmed a bit, looking uncomfortable. She could tell that he was holding back. “Look, Raquel, I have to be completely honest with you, or it wouldn’t sit right with me. I know you haven’t seen me since you left for college, but… I’ve seen you.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, all of the jobs I’ve taken since leaving L.A. have been on the east coast, so I could stay close to you. To protect you.”

It shouldn’t have been music to her ears, but witnessing those words fall from his lips filled her soul with a sensation she could only describe as tranquility.

Her first year of college was riddled with depressive episodes, but the ensuing paranoia that came after she was reminded of The Brotherhood was even heavy, even more suffocating. She watched her back so much that her body was covered with bruises from the times she’d run into door frames, trash cans, people, sometimes causing her to trip and fall.

She was so unhealthily fixated on all of the possibilities and outcomes that she withdrew, not wanting to be the reason anyone close to her was harmed. She spent so long worrying that it nearly ruined her.

But hearing that he was always there, close enough to keep her safe, alleviated her, renewed her, replenished her. It nearly undid the hurt, minus a critical detail.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me?”

“I couldn’t… hurt you. The crews I ran with… it would’ve –” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, throwing back the bottle to finish it off.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Logan,” she whispered, watching his labored breathing, like he was so close to crumbling before her eyes.

“No, I can handle it. It just might take me a few tries to get it out,” he smiled weakly, gripping her hand, and she held firm, grounding him.

“Truthfully, I wanted to call you. You don’t know how many times I typed your number out and deleted it. I know your number by memory now.

“I was already here by the time you moved in. I’d been recruited by one of Teppei’s old friends, if you could call him that. He seemed like a great guy at first, but…” he trailed off, pained.

“It got really bad. This guy said he never worked with the same crew twice, and I thought since he kept calling me back that I was special.” He laughed curtly, the familiar look of brewing rage bubbling beneath the surface. “It was stupid, but each time he kept pushing me into doing more than I bargained for. I did a lot of things I couldn’t stomach, but by the time I realized what I was doing, I was already getting orders for the next job.”

He watched her hand on his, refusing to meet her eye.

“I always thought I’d dip when things got too rough, but I couldn’t give up being so close to you.”

“You didn’t run?”

“I told you I was tired of running,” he grinned, and it seemed alien on his gaunt face – like it’d been so long since he smiled he’d forgotten how to do it.

“So, what are you doing now, then?”

“Running.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, so deadpan, so pragmatic, that she knew not to pry. He was at rock bottom, and she was his only way out.

“What can I do?” she asked, no hesitation, ready to throw herself in the line of fire for him.

“I just need a ride to the used car lot on the other side of town. I have cash and someone there waiting to sell me one, so all I need is a ride.”

“You could’ve just called a cab or something, though. Why do you need me?” She prodded.

“I don’t know if you’re gonna like what I’m gonna say,” he hesitated, clearly torn.

“I can’t like or dislike it if you don’t tell me.”

He sighed. “Well, this might be the last time I can see you… for a while.”

“Can’t you just hide out and wait out till it’s safe? You can’t leave now, I just… I just got you back,” she choked, panicking and grieving all over again. 

“I have to. There’s a pretty hefty warrant out for me. And I’ve got people looking for me. I can’t drag you into that,” he said, solemn.

“No, you can get out, Logan, we just have to plan it out. We can beat this, we just have to try,” she whispered, vision blurring with tears.

“Hey, hey, Raquel, it’s okay, I’ve accepted it,” he soothed her, reaching out to stroke her face, swiping his thumb across the streaks of water the teardrops left behind. “I just wanted to see you before I left.”

“Logan, I can’t say goodbye again. I just got you back,” she repeated, the familiar sense of dread creeping in, her chest tight.

“I can’t. I’m in too deep.” And he left it at that.

He left a tip, and they walked to the car, hands intertwined. She wanted so badly to just talk – to catch up on the years he’d missed, to make him proud, but it wasn’t the time. There’d never be a time. Being together in that moment was precious, every minute counting.

She’d have to memorize every second; they would have to last her a lifetime.

“Do you want to drive?”

He chuckled in response, a spark of his old self coming back. “Nah, I’ll be doing enough of that. I really missed seeing you behind the wheel.”

They slipped onto the warm leather seats – the moist air left over from the rain had seeped into the atmosphere of the car. She cranked up the AC, sweat beading on the back of her neck.

She peeled out onto the gravel backroad, not knowing what to say next. Thankfully, he leaned forward to tap the volume knob, turning on the radio, but the soft hum of the engine drowned it out, white noise in their silence.

He slipped the dog tag from around his neck, ruffling his hair, and placed it on the neck of the rearview mirror. It dangled, catching the occasional light of the passing streetlight.

“Is that a new necklace?” she asked, watching it sway as she turned onto the ramp to merge onto the highway.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird.”

“I think we’re past that.”

“After I gave you my last necklace, I wanted something of my own to remember you by, so I got this done,” he rotated the piece towards her.

“Troublemaker” and her phone number was carved into the metal, scratched and slightly rusty.

“Oh, Logan,” she breathed, gripping the steering wheel harder. She couldn’t tell him bye. She’d just gotten him back.

“I want you to keep it.”

“No, you need it to remember me by, like you said,” she forced through a sob, the composure she’d thought she’d had a grasp on crumbling with each syllable that fell from his lips.

“I don’t need it, Raquel.”

“If I take it it means that…” she couldn’t say it.

“That it could get ugly. And I might not ever come back for you.”

“I want you to, though, Logan. I’m so close to finishing college, and I’m going to start med school soon, and I’m gonna have a great job, and I can take care of us and I–” she cut herself off, crying, her body heaving.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, and was met with the calloused pads of his fingers on her jaw.

“I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. You’re way stronger than you think. I know you made it through some hard ass classes without anyone’s help,” he joked.

“You are too.”

“This isn’t about me anymore. It was never really about me,” he said, tracing a hand down her shoulder to rub the nape of her neck lovingly. “I know you never moved on. Hell, I didn’t really let you move on since I was secretly playing bodyguard for years. But this time I’m serious. You’ve gotta let me go, Troublemaker.”

“You know I’ll never do that,” she laughed feebly.

“You have to at least try. For me.”

She didn’t answer him. She pulled off of the highway, begging for the car to break down, for some divine intervention to happen to prove that they deserved to be together.

When she parked in the empty lot, the only light coming from her headlights and the flashing streetlight, he turned to her, a softness in his haggard appearance.

They stared at each other, drinking in every inch of their bodies. She wanted to remember him as bright, more vigorous, more alive.

And before she knew it, their lips were on one another’s, fervent and hungry. He smelled exactly the same, and she breathed him in, lacing her fingers in his hair, taking full advantage of their brief moment of solitude.

He parted his mouth, tasting her, groaning. They kissed over and over, reacquainting themselves. It morphed into her breaking down, yet again, kissing and embracing him over and over, trying desperately to reclaim the moment as healing. But she couldn’t see it that way, even as he whispered affirmations in her ear, reminding her of all of the things he loved about her.

The rain picked up again, tapping insistently against the windshield, setting a much more soothing ambiance than the situation called for.

Finally, she leaned back, so unwilling to part from the warmth of his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he breathed, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I need to hit the road so I can make it over the state border by sunrise.”

“Logan…” she whispered, begging. “I know we can make this work.” She sounded like a broken record, proposing empty ideas with no solutions. She knew there wasn’t a solution, but she preferred empty words to the stinging slap of the truth.

“I’m a fugitive. You’re going to be a doctor. I can’t compromise that. It’s selfish.”

“But I want you to be selfish,” she clasped his hands in hers, holding it to her chest. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the problem, Troublemaker. I can’t let you do that,” he brought her hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles once, twice, before unlocking his door, and stepping out. “You were always too good for me, Raquel.”

He circled to the front of the car and smiled at her one last time, the tears in his eyes glimmering, reflecting the headlights. She watched the rain dot blotches all over his ratty tee, clinging to his form, and it made her wish she’d been able to see all of him. 

Then he turned, and walked further and further into the lot of cars, his form becoming hazy before disappearing completely. 

And she couldn’t stop him. 

Probability always won in the end – the numbers didn’t lie. She could’ve seen it coming from a mile away, but she didn’t want to see it.

She was paralyzed in fear, knowing that there was no way she could save him from the hell that’d engulfed him, but refusing to believe it.

#playchoices #rod logan #choices rod #logan x mc #my fic #jade writes choices fics

[bebewheezy]

Somebody Loves You

Notes: hi guys! so liam payne is apparently engaged now and 1- I WANNA GO TO THE WEDDING  2- it inspired me to write :) enjoy folks

word count:  1,386

My phone was buzzing manically on the coffee table in front of where I sat on the fluffy couch alone. Harry and I had been stuck in our LA home since March due to quarantine, and I was starting to become mad. We had seen hardly anyone besides one another for five months at least, and even though I had Harry with me the entire time, I felt lonely and almost as if our relationship was stuck in a rut. Even though I was most likely overthinking the entire situation, the thoughts of Harry feeling sick of having me around were still present. I couldn’t stop thinking that while we were alone together for this long, he had realized I wasn’t someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

These thoughts only increased as I checked my ever-beeping phone. My Twitter was exploding with tags and hashtags that were trending. All of them were about the same thing: Liam Payne was reportedly engaged to his girlfriend. I met Liam and his girlfriend a few times at different award shows and such, with him and Harry being close friends so long ago and still good friends now. 

My heart felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. Two people I considered friends were in love, engaged, and I was questioning where my relationship even stood. Before I could become fully lost in my overbearing thoughts, Harry came into the TV room holding two glasses of wine and some popcorn. It was Friday night, and while we would usually be out for a whimsical dinner or at a bar with friends, our routine had changed into a movie night to catch up on films at the end of every week. Harry silently handed me one of the glasses and sat down beside me. His phone buzzed on the coffee table where mine sat not five minutes ago, and he made a face into his wine glass as he read the notification.

“Did you see that Liam is engaged?” He curiously glanced over to me.

“Yeah, my phone has been blowing up for the past half hour,” I spoke softly and took a sip of my wine. He must’ve sensed something was wrong with my mood as he set his phone down and turned his frame more towards me.

“Are you okay my love? You’ve seemed a little bit off the past few weeks,” His green orbs worriedly searched mine for any sign of distress, and unfortunately it was written all over my face.

“I don’t know,” I tore my head away from his intense gaze.

“You can talk to me about anything, love. This is an incredibly difficult time we’re currently facing and I don’t want you to hold your emotions back from me,” His free hand grasped mine while he continued to speak. “I know you tend to get all up in your pretty head about things, and I don’t want your mental state to deteriorate because you’re keeping everything bottled up.”

“I know, thank you for always being here to talk with me,” I said as I got comfortable next to him for our movie night. “I’m just not sure if I’m ready to talk just yet.”

“Well whenever you are ready, I’m here.”

While the night went on and we watched a handful of movies, the thoughts of loneliness and unlove got worse as I was left alone with them. I knew I was going to need to inform Harry soon, I was just terrified to admit my feelings. What was I going to do if my speculating was all correct? I don’t know how I could live knowing the one man I was fully head over heels in love with, didn’t want me like I wanted him. I went to bed that night unsure of my future and more distraught that I had been in months.

*****

I woke to sunlight peeking in through the cream colored curtains of our bedroom. I tried turning onto my opposite side in avoidance of the everwaking light, but to my dismay I was stopped by a tattooed arm pulling me closer to his warm body.

“Good morning, my darling. How did you sleep?” His groggy morning voice always made me weak in the knees and sent pangs through my chest.

“Not the best,” I admitted, if it was going to happen, I might as well get it over with so I could begin to sleep well in the coming weeks.

“And why is that love? You had me to keep you warm and cozy all night, you should’ve slept like a rock.”

“In my head again.”

“Do you want to talk about it yet?”

“Yeah. I guess I’ve just sort of been having doubts about our relationship and where we stand after quarantine ends.”

“What do you mean, love? Once quarantine is over, hopefully sooner rather than later, we’ll just try to go back to our regular life.” “So nothing’s changed during the five months of us being trapped in this house together?”

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Do you still love me?” I was trying my hardest to keep the tears at bay. “I feel like since you’ve only really seen me for the past five months, that you’ve realized you don’t love me anymore and I’m going to get my heart broken again like so many times before.”

“Y/N, why would you think that, love? I’m so sorry I led you to feel that way, I’m such a shit boyfriend,” He responded and pulled my head to his chest as the tears began to fall.

“This isn’t your fault,” I cried. “I’m just unconfident in myself and you can do so much better.”

“No, I really can’t do much better than you, my love,” He cooed and caressed my hair in a calming manner. “I was waiting until this was all over, but I supposed there’s no time like the present.”

Harry placed a kiss on the crown of my head and gave me a light squeeze before he rolled over and reached for his nightstand. I was left lying in our oversized bed, wiping stray tears from my flushed cheeks as he rummaged around for something in the bottom drawer. Once he finally stumbled upon it, he tried to quickly hide the velvet box behind his back before I could catch sight of it, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“What are you doing, Harry?” I questioned as I sat upright against the many fluffy pillows that lined the headboard.

“First I wanted to apologize again for making you so upset and in the dark about my emotions toward you. Y/N, you are the most wonderful, kind-hearted and loving person I’ve ever met, and trust me when I say that because I’ve met a lot of people in my day,” I spared a small laugh at that. “I’m just gonna get to the point now so, second, I want to spend the rest of my life with the best person in the entire fucking world.

After his final sentence, he crouched down onto his right knee and brought the little box out from behind his back.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” He opened the small maroon box, and inside was a rock of a diamond. The gem itself was cut into a long rectangle, and shone brighter than the stars in the sky while the band was skinny and engraved with smaller jewels. It was the most perfect ring, simple, but just flashy enough to show off its worth, much like the man who had purchased it.

“Oh my god,” I covered my gaping mouth with my right hand. “Of course I’ll marry you Harry Edward, I knew I wanted to marry you after our second fucking date!”

He slipped the delicate ring onto my left hand and stared at it for a minute before kissing me harder than he ever had before.

“I can’t wait to make you mine for eternity. You’re going to look so goddamn beautiful with this ring on for the rest of your life, and I can’t wait for everyone to call you Y/N Styles.”

God, did it feel good when somebody loved you.

taglist:

@calleighat  @mukeillusions  @livlovesflowers 

#harry styles #harry one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry one direction #harry styles fic #one direction #one direction harry styles #liam payne #engaged2020 #engagement #harry x reader

[cardigan-guy]

Something I need to talk about or I’ll literally evaporate

Around the time this all started I was 14. I had only recently discovered a passion for theater (and fashion) and as a result I wanted to get in good with the theater kids. Sure enough, my closest friend also did theater. We auditioned for the Fall play, and I made it. I got to know some people pretty well. They liked me too, at least, I think so. Can’t be too sure of who to trust when everyone around you is an actor. Regardless, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

One of my struggles, throughout most of my short life, has been that I am an incredibly picky romantic. Maybe it’s just my intuition, but if I don’t think something is going to work out between someone and myself, I snuff it out at the first possible opportunity. It’s a skill to be able to break up with someone, that’s for sure. However, I had a bit of an entitlement complex. I thought I deserved love just for being who I was. My 14-year-old ego was raging. It wasn’t cool. It probably wasn’t helped by the next person I met, whose influence on my life has been astronomical. 

I can’t use her real name (I like to remain semi anonymous), so we’ll call her Marie. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. How we met was a complete accident.

 It was the first day of winter. I had just entered a relationship. I was walking to where my friends ate lunch at. There was an eating area, surrounded by some bushes, in between where I was coming from and where I was headed. In this bushy area, I saw an old friend of mine and 3 of her friends. While I walked past she was in the midst of saying “My dog almost died last night.” Upon hearing this, I replied “Oh no, I love your dog!” And I walked away. Behind me, I heard -- or at least thought I heard -- someone say, “I love you [my name].” To which, of course, I replied “I love you too!” Biggest mistake of my life. I thought -- and secretly, hoped -- that it was Marie that said it. 

School was let out for a two-week break. During that time, I tried connecting with my ill-fated match (truly, we were not meant to be), all the while I couldn’t shake what had transpired on that island in the middle of the parking lot. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know if Marie said it or not. I messaged her over social media, and asked, very bluntly, “Was it you who said ‘I love you [my name]?’” and she replied with “I don’t know. I say ‘I love you’ a lot.” After that interaction we just kept talking. I was fascinated with this beautiful girl who I had only ever met once. And she certainly loved the attention. I would text her nonstop, for weeks on end. One day, she gave me her number and asked to facetime. That only deepened my affection for her. 

My previously-mentioned girlfriend at the time broke up with me. Not because I did anything, just because we wanted very different things. This, though a little sad, was more freeing than anything. It meant that I could put everything into this new girl that I’d met. And I went crazy. I was texting or calling her every minute of every day for months. We’re talking around the middle of December towards probably the end of February. In mid-January, it became pretty obvious to her that I had feelings. 

“But I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen,” I said. She said she’d wait. I wasn’t going to be sixteen for another year-and-a-half, and here she was, saying she’d wait for me. She even put a little ‘two years’ after my name in her contacts. My heart was fluttering. I was so hopelessly, desperately infatuated with this girl. We kept going. I’d text her day-in, day-out, and there was never a problem.

But that was the problem. I was very, very, interested in Marie. My entire mood depended on her. Late one night, around the end of February, I called her. I told her I couldn’t talk to her anymore. That it was too painful to spend every day talking to someone I loved but could never have for myself. And what I said to her, while she cried over losing me, was,

“Eat your greens.” and I hung up. 

Thus, I entered the pit of despair that the Gregorian calendar calls “March.” It sure as hell felt like a March. Every day I was trudging through feelings of loneliness, longing, anger, self-doubt. I wasn’t doing better. It felt like it would be easier to just go back. And guess what I did?

I went back.

It took me less than a month to go back to Marie -- partially, because I was thoroughly convinced that I loved her, but partially because I knew that her presence in my life made everything a lot easier. It gave me a small sense of purpose. And it was a never-ending cycle of one of us leaving because our feelings were too much. Because I loved her or because she didn’t love me. Because of how she felt about herself. It was torment, and it was a lot of back and forth. 

This brings us up to the night before memorial day that year. Her brother was in my grade, and we had known each other because we both were in the Fall play together. He invited me to sleep over at his house the Sunday prior to Memorial day. I’d slept over at their house before. Seeing her there was a regular occurrence, but, more often than not my attention was turned to whatever her brother wanted to do out of politeness. Though, vine compilations do get boring after a time.

Somehow or other, all three of us ended up cuddling on their trampoline in the backyard. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but I got used to it. We just sat there, talking, staring at the sky. It was a beautiful May night. Her brother had fallen asleep spooning me, so it became just her and I talking. She said I was a good to cuddle. I looked at her. She looked at me. She told me she wanted to kiss me. She said she was afraid to kiss me. I said it was okay. I lied. We kissed. We kissed again. She went inside. I stayed there and watched stars fall from the sky as I felt my heart soar into heaven. 

When I woke up, I was in hell again. 

After that I don’t remember much. I know we stopped talking once the summer began. I don’t remember why. I know we went to the pool once. I remember thinking she was beautiful. I remember visiting her house a couple times during the summer. After that, it’s nothing. 

We went back to school, and it was very unlucky that we were basically apart of the same friend group. I had yet another girlfriend (at this point I’d given up on ever dating Marie) and my girlfriend’s friends, my friends, and sometimes Marie and her friends, all ate together. Time passed, my girlfriend and I broke up and my best friend and I were eating somewhere new. 

Eventually, we all got resettled and started eating with a teacher we all liked, called Mr. Johnson. He was a really great teacher and a really great, caring guy. 

It was around this time that I lost my grandfather. He was a huge influence on my life. My grandfather was so full of compassion and a lust for life. He really believed in helping other people. I can’t remember much from this period of time either. My memories start to recollect around November of that year. 

My best friend was done with me. So was Marie. So was everyone else I know. They wanted nothing to do with me. They were upset that I was upset. That’s all it really was. Marie was upset that I was upset with her and my best friend was upset that I wouldn’t talk to him about how upset I was. So I was going into the new year with a very minimal amount of close friends and tons of grief. 

It went on like that for a month or two. My best friend eventually forgave me. Marie came around too, but that took a little longer. 

I remember, one night, I was with two of my good friends when Marie called me. She said,

“[My name], I cut myself, and it’s really deep. I’m scared.”

When I got home, I snuck out the back door and ran to go see her. She was at the local park, smoking with her friend and her brother. I was a little disappointed. I ran up to her to go see her. she invited me to come smoke with them. I obliged. I hated every second of it. The fact that she was using the drugs as a way to hide from what had happened. It didn’t sit well with me. I was worried about her. I was terrified for her.

I just remembered that happened before my grandpa died and not after, sorry. 

I guess the clearest point of this all that I can think of was March of the new year. We were pretty close.

Things got intense. More intense than they had ever been before. We started exchanging photos. Sexting. At the expense, I think, of really confronting how we felt. We settled for something that bordered on reality, but was very far from it in practice. However, an almost-good thing can never really last. 

In late April, she came out to me as a lesbian. 

I don’t have anything against lesbians. This particular occurrence has happened to me numerous times, in fact. It’s a little sad but I try not to think about it too much. I actually talk to one of my lesbian exes a lot. It’s nice. Their love for women is much more akin to mine than any of my straight male friends. 

Marie and I didn’t talk to each other for three months after that, until late one night when I was traveling. According to her, my timing was excellent. While I was across the country, she was staying with a friend, and one of the people who was with her was applying great pressure to engage in some activities. Knowing that I prevented this was a small little victory for me.

I called her again the night after that. This time, she was at home. It didn’t take long for things to get intimate. At least, as intimate as you can get over the phone. Writing this right now, all I can think of is how much I hate that it happened. 

Things went on like this for some time. We were semi-intimate with each other and we were each other’s emotional punching bags when we needed one. And we were both okay like this until one day, things really took a nose dive. 

I was sitting in one of our schools many outdoor areas, leaned up against a fire hydrant, talking to my friends. I’m always looking for Marie at this point, and eventually she comes up to me and she says,

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“My friend invited me to have a threesome with her and her boyfriend. I think I might go. Please, don’t be mad.”

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” I was furious. 

My inability to confront people is one of my more toxic traits. I feel that this particular instance really demonstrates that.

The bell rang, and she walked away, and I walked away. I spent my next two classes with nothing on my mind but how mad I was. When I didn’t see her at lunch, it only upset me more. I felt like I was nothing to her. She was my rock, my everything, but I was always secondary to her. It’s not like we were together or anything, but it still hurt quite a bit. I thought we had some sort of understanding. 

I was walking to my locker, just trying to put all the extra energy I had somewhere. I had to get books for my French class, which Marie and I had together. As I’m walking, I’m not really looking up or around me because I’m so withdrawn from everything. So, it’s not surprising that I didn’t see her walk up to me. But I did see her try to hug me, and my immediate response was one that I will regret for some time. 

She comes up, out of nowhere, to hug me, and instead of embracing her, I catch her arm before it can come up under me, and push her away. And she goes back about two feet. And I walk away. And I’m about twenty feet away before I realize what I did and call her to apologize. And the she comes and finds me and yells at me. And then we didn’t talk for another two months. 

But come November, we’re talking again. And come November nineteenth, I’m her boyfriend. And we slept together. And we were always on top of each other wherever we were. And I think it distracted me from how much I sucked. I changed, and for the worst. I no longer tried to love her. I don’t think I wanted to. I think that everything that happened between us made me a much worse person. 

Eventually, we did break up. It’s been, I think, a year now since then. I’m sorry if this isn’t a very well-put piece of writing. I did try to make it enjoyable. The details get a little fuzzy. I just needed to get this out there. 

For whoever ends up reading this. Trust me, it gets better. There is better out there for you. If something isn’t meant to be, it really isn’t meant to be. True love waits. 

#love #true love #soulmates #twin flames #hopeless romantic #romance #tw: abuse #tw: self-harm #sorry

[homogrimoire-archive]

Exhausted Wings / Good Luck

I wanted to explore how pacts (found in the Drakengard series) could work in the RWBYverse, since its just all magic. I also just want clover to live, but I also wanted to explore this. Besides, the literal binding of two souls has some nice romantic potential.

AO3 Link to Full Fic

Chapter 1: Exhausted Wings / Unknown Tunes

In an instant, the cold and desolate white landscape was marred by the crimson stain of warm blood. The bloody weapon was yanked out of the body it pierced with a bit of resistance, just as Tyrian liked it. He only wished he could see the look on Clover’s face. A dying man’s eyes were his most favorite to look at, besides the eyes of his Queen, of course. If it was any consolation, he could see Qrow’s eyes. Shock, fear, regret, and the faintest hint of hatred. An absolutely delectable concoction of emotions that gave Tyrian an absolutely euphoric feel.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Qrow said as he lunged at the chaotic killer. As he dodged the pathetic punch, he could more clearly see the shift in Qrow’s emotions. Hatred was on full display now. Mixed in was also desperation and despair, another delectable sight to the scorpion. Tyrian had the feeling he would be sleeping well with some wonderful memories of Atlas in the coming nights. With an Atlas airship nearing, he decided to leave the black bird with a few choice words and a maniacal laugh. He knew he would have another chance to cause that bird some more pain. A moment later he heard a blood-curdling wail that made him smile from ear to ear. He had the feeling he would be sleeping very well. He considered it rather unfortunate that such emotions were difficult to produce in his conquests. With that, he continued his trek across the snow and ice to see what more chaos he could induce.

-

Raven… sensed something, and it concerned Qrow. Odd, she thought. He is a grown man and he abandoned the tribe. He can do whatever the hell he wants. If he ends up dying, then it’s his own fault for letting himself be so weak. she reasoned with herself . Despite this logic, she still felt that she wanted to see what was happening to him. He obviously wasn’t dead, yet, at least, as she knew she could still open a portal to him. Whatever he was going through was intense and distressful. She could tell that much. The Maiden’s powers had a strange interaction with her semblance. Not only could she also open a portal to their location, she could get a sense of how they were feeling in the moment and the state of their aura, among other things. She was also able to tell that he was somewhere near Atlas. Hmm… his aura is low, and in immense distress, I perhaps have something to gain. I could finish him off and show what happens when people abandon the tribe, their family. If I’m lucky, he’ll be near some dust shipments I can raid. With her reasoning sound, and nothing better to do, she notified her subordinates that she had business to take care of. She returned to her the privacy of her tent and stepped through a crimson-black portal.

She told herself this was a mission to help unify the tribe, a noble goal, but deep down, locked away in her subconscious, she was concerned. Qrow was her brother. They had grown up together and survived all that life had thrown at them thus far. Why? She would think on quiet nights when pondering on Qrow and his decision to leave the tribe. Why would he leave the tribe? Why would he leave me? Why? We had been through so much together. We grew strong together. We grew strong together until he decided to be weak . Corrected another part of her mind. To her, that part of her mind was the one she should listen to. To her, it was logical and would ensure the survival of the tribe. To her, it had no weaknesses.

-

In the midst of his tears, he heard the telltale sound of his sister’s portal crimson-black behind him. “Now is not the time Raven.” he said without turning his back to face her, voice straining. Just my luck. Clover’s dead, Tyrian has escaped, and now Raven shows up.

“You really have let yourself become weak.” she said, voice almost as cold as the Ice Queen. Qrow could see the airship landing, though he didn't really care. No one needed him anymore. Team RWBY is stronger than I’ll ever be. They’ll be better off without my bad luck anyways. Oz still has his mind locked away. James has taken a dive off the deep end and wants him captured so he could just be thrown into a jail cell. James… what happened to you, you monster.

“Can't you ever do something useful-”

“Halt!” cried the people in atlas uniforms who had their guns aimed at the avian siblings. But before they could do anything else, a slash of energy knocked them out, and a thrown sword knocked out the pilot through the windshield. As she walked over to retrieve the sword embedded in the military-grade windshield, Qrow realized something…

“Raven. Help me form a pact.” Their tribe had a story. It was the story of the origin of their tribe. A pact was first made by two people who became lovers. These two men, strangers at the time, were said to be near death as grimm surrounded them. However, they made a pact to live on, with each other, for they had no one else. With their strength renewed, and more powerful than ever, they killed the hoard of grimm. As they traveled, they allowed other strong souls, pact or not, to join them in their journey to survive. And the rest is history People could obtain power by binding themselves to another and forming a strong connection. That was its moral, hence the emphasis on family within the tribe. Those connections with each other are what made the tribe strong. However, the specifics on how to form a pact were lost to time. What remains can be found in their wedding ceremonies.

That was, until they met Ozpin, and told them a more complete version of the story, including how to perform the ritual. It demanded the blood of the people who would form a pact, words with meaning to the pact partners, physical contact, and a great deal of magic. It could not only bring back someone on the brink of death, it could bring them back from death itself. However, it was also very dangerous, resulting in the death of the pact partners if done wrong. This was also typically formed by one who had magical abilities, and one who did not. The one who did not have magical abilities would often bear a mark on their body and lose something about them. Oz told them this in order to gain their trust. Granted, he still withhold other information, like how their tribe does not actually descend from that original tribe. They were also wiped out when the Brothers Grimm left long ago. He imagined that neither would be able to perform it since they couldn't do magic, and had no idea how it would interact with aura and semblances. But regardless, here was Raven, a maiden with the magic capable of forming a pact.

“And why should I? I have half a mind to just finish you off here and now, and I’m not even sure it will work.” she said as she pulled the sword out of the windshield.

“I don’t care. I’ll return with you to the tribe, and follow your every order.” He could see that caught her attention. It’s a win-win for both of us. Either I’ll end up dead and be one less thorn in her side, or Clover will be alive and I’ll be at her every beck and call.

“Alright then. Get what we need.” Qrow went to grab Kingfisher, and the bloody Harbinger. He could feel the tears coming as he passes Clover’s lifeless body, Harbinger in hand. He used Kingfisher to make a cut on his arm to gather some blood. He could hardly stand to look at his sister’s face as he gave her the weapons.

“Any request for the words?”

“Good luck.” It wasn’t much to work with, but it’s all he really had. He moved to lie down next to Clover, and took his still warm hand into his. He could really feel the warm tears rolling down his face now. Raven didn’t say anything about it as she crossed the weapons at her chest so that dead and live man’s blood was touching.

“Someday,

I knew

That I

Would find

You Whom

I Would love in the days of the new ”

Qrow let out a small chuckle, almost a sob, as tears streamed down his face. This was the beginning of a wedding song. Heh. Damn you Raven. I always did want to get married. His body began to feel odd, now that he noticed it, and the sky above him was turning to a reddish-purple too. I’m not dead, so I guess that's a plus.

“May

I find you in the new life

Where

We

Can exist without the fear of my death.”

Now he was really crying, trying to at least hold back his sobs. At least funeral songs are an appropriate thing to cry at. A funeral song meant to be sung by the one who lost their love. And since he was crying, that meant he was still alive, and the ritual was persisting. The sky was a deep read now, almost like his eyes. What he did not see was how a sliver of the horizon was now a brilliant green, much like Clover’s eyes. Raven could see, and had to admit it was an awe-filled display of her power. She could also see that the blood stained weapons were also glowing with magic, her brother and the dead guy too.

“Sing a song with me

We

We can find new life

One away from Strife

They can hold their own

Loan

Loan us your loved luck

With you our lives won't suck

And with this farewell,

I

Hope

That

You

May find

All your hopes and dreams,

Yes,

And for this I wish

You good luck.”

How Raven came up with that song, he did not know, and neither did she. Perhaps it was the magic. They could feel the ritual finalizing. Raven could see something rather interesting. Their auras were beginning to mix. Red met green, and green met red. And Raven dropped the weapons. They were incredibly hot now. And the sky was an odd gradient of red and green. In a sudden blast and a flash of light, the pact process was complete. Qrow felt… revitalized. His body wasn't sore. He checked his scroll, and found both his and found both his and Clover’s aura at one-hundred percent. Just to be safe, he checked for a pulse on the still unconscious Clover, and found steady beat. He felt ecstatic, though only for a moment. He was honor bound to follow his sister now, for better or worse. Considering all he was leaving behind, he felt that it was for the better.

“What now, big sister?” He wiped the smile off his face. She doesn’t deserve to see it.

“Know any places to get some dust?”

-

Clover feels himself begin to awake. His eyes are still adjusting. The sky looks… red? It is cloudless now and he swears he can see two black dots flying to somewhere in the red sky. It looks less red now. He moves his hand to his stomach, and remembers. He jumps up. Is this the afterlife?! He thinks, eyes wide and adjusted now. He looks around and finds that his uniform still has a gash in it and is colored crimson like the ground beneath him. There's also a nasty scar. He also finds some Atlas officers lying on the ground and an airship nearby. This is not the afterlife. Weapon. I need a weapon! If he was still alive, that meant he could die again, and the downed officers were not a good sign. In the snow, he found the bloody Harbinger. He scanned the area and found no threat. He proceeded cautiously to the aircraft, on edge for any threats. He searched it and found nothing odd, aside from a damaged windshield. Robyn. He moved quickly to search he downed airship for her, but as he turned around, he was met with an arrow to the forehead.

"What happened here?!” she said as the man toppled back, dropping Harbinger. As he toppled back, he hit one of the seats, causing some of the items in the storage above him to fall onto him.

“Tell me NOW, or I’ll make this one break your aura.” she threatened as she loaded an explosive arrow.

“I-I don’t know,” he said as he was shaking his head, “I thought I was dead! Qrow, Tyrian, and I were in a fight after we crashed, then Qrow broke my Aura, a-and then Tyrian killed me with Harbinger! I don't know what’s happening either!” Please believe me, please believe me.

“That's a load of crap. You died, but know you're alive? I don't need my semblance to know that's a lie.” Clover closed his eyes prepared himself for his aura to break, but heard a click and felt nothing. Another click, and another, and a few more in rapid succession. Nothing. He opened his eyes to find Robyn frustrated with her weapon.

“Why aren't you working?!” she demanded. With a strong hit to its side, the arrow flew, narrowly missing Clover. He could feel it whizzing past his cheek and hear its sharp sound as it passed his ear. Lucky me.

“Robyn please! Listen to me.” he extended his hand out to her. She took it, her grip like a vice.

“What happened here?”

“It was just as I said earlier. Me, Qrow, and Tyrian were all fighting each other. Qrow broke by aura, Tyrian stabbed me with Harbinger, and I died. And for some reason, I’m alive now. I don't know where Qrow is, and Tyrian has escaped.” Their arms glowed in approval.

“How? How did you come back from the dead?”

“I don't know. I-” My hand… it has a ring? This… is one of Qrow’s rings, and on my ring finger no less.

“When’d you get married?” she asked. He noticed he was now holding his hand to his face, right in front of Robyn.

“I never was. This is one of Qrow’s rings.”

“I'm guessing he’s alive then, and that he has your weapon, and your four leafed clover pin, cause I don't see them around.”

“My weapon?” My weapon? I'm a huntsman. Huntsmen have weapons, but I don't?

“Yes, Kingfisher.” He gave her an inquisitive look. “Your fishing rod!” she shouted.

“It… doesn’t ring any bells.” I had a fishing rod for a weapon? I do like fishing, but that sounds impractical.

“Ugh. Whatever. You probably hit your head. You'll remember soon enough. Now help me get these guys onto here.”

“Affirmative.” As Clover loaded the last person, he tripped at the entrance of the ship, throwing the officer into the air and landing face first onto its cold metal floor. Luckily, Robin was able to catch the unconscious, airborne officer.

“Since when do you trip? With your luck, you never trip.”

“That is odd. Ever since my semblance manifested, I've never tripped, to the best of my knowledge.”

“We can look into it more later. We've wasted enough time as is. We have to go save Mantle.”

“Bu-” An explosive arrow was launched to meet him square in his face. She didn’t even turn around to aim. Despite this, his aura didn’t break. He flew back in pain, but was able to cushion the blow by landing on one of the seated officers. Ow.. I would hate to be this unlucky guy when he wakes up.

“Say ‘Ironwood has ordered us to Atlas’ or whatever, I’LL KICK YOU OFF THIS SHIP AND LEAVE YOU STRANDED! And if you're stuck out there alone, THEN GOOD LUCK!”

Good luck… good luck. He was taken aback a bit. He remembers that those were his last words to qrow. He also remembers how Qrow cried for him. And that scream…

“Why are you crying? I know you're not that soft.” She had no sympathy for him. He didn't blame her. He looked out the window to see Mantle in Chaos. And Atlas safe in the sky. He wiped his tears and got up.

“I'm with you. All of you.” He extended his hand to her.

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Qrow and his kids, they're right. And I want to do this for Qrow. He wanted me to do this. To think for myself, and do what is right. When I died, I could also remember him crying for me. No one’s ever cried for me. I can almost feel his pain. I don't want to make him feel anything like that when I find him again. I want him to be proud of me.” Their arms glow approvingly.

“Maybe you have gone soft, but I think its for the better.”

“Thanks.” He looked at the ring on his hand. What did happen to you? To us?

“But don't be dumb this time around. If you can choose between fighting the homicidal murderer or your boyfriend, choose the homicidal murderer please.”

“B-boyfriend?” He feels the blush across his face, though is lucky Robyn is too busy getting the ship off the ground to notice. For all the flirting he does, he can't say he’s had one. Boyfriend does sound nice. Especially when it’s Qrow. Hmph. Wouldn't it be funny if this ring meant that were married. He could not help but admire the band. Qrow’s favorite one , if he was remembering correctly. Where are you?Wherever you are, know that I love you. Good luck.

“Enough daydreaming lover-boy.” she said with a smile on her face. She was happy to see her old friend on the side she was on. The side of the people. “We have a country to save.”

Clover looked out the window at the sky. In his reflection, he noticed that one of his eyes was red. Qrow’s red. Quietly, he said “Good luck to us.”

#Won't You Come To Me - Island Country of Adornments #The Shaowlord's Wife - And Then The Moon Flew Away #fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #wow I hope thinking abt drakenier/rwby doesnt awaken anything in me #3k words #I cant believe I tricked all those people into reading something inspired by drakengard #rereading it though... #kinda cringe #but i was sure as hell having fun #fun facts! #this was just supposed to be its own fic #and nothing more #also i named the first tune as on my phone #bc the first part matched the tune and the second part because it the music box was a part of a japanses jewlery box that I unfortunately n #i named the second tune #the first pat because on the music box's lid is a thread picture of a woman and the tune reminded me of the shadowlord's theme from nier #the second part of the name is because i thought it matched the tune #also i still have this music box #i love music boxes #Exhausted Wings / Good Luck #rwby

[honestlyhufflepuff]

A Different Kind of Fight

Fic request from @im-just-like-other-girls. I got a little emotional writing it, as the premise to the request was pretty intense, but I like where it ended up. Warning for suicidal thoughts and some swearing.

***

Steven’s knuckles were bone white as he gripped the steering wheel, so tight that Connie thought the wheel might break in half. He turned off the music when a song by Sadie and Shep came up, and now the only sound was his uneven breathing, and the accelerating roar of the old engine.

“It’s a nice night,” Connie muttered, glancing up at the full moon hanging in the sky. The forest and the ocean blurred by either side of them up the curving mountain road.

Steven gave a curt nod, gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Thanks for letting me come with you. I know you wanted to be alone, but you’ve been alone so much lately.”

Another nod.

She wanted to press more. She wanted to demand that he tell her everything, but she knew to tread carefully. If she pushed too hard, he would shut down, like he’d done many times over the past few months.

“So, where are we going?”

He shrugged. The motion was stiff.

“Ok, then why are we going?”

“Why?” he glanced over at her for the first time since she’d gotten in the car, “I needed to get away from them. I’m no good for them anymore.”

“Steven, they’re your family! They love you and-“

“I hurt him, Connie. I hurt my dad.”

Steven’s voice and his hands shook now.

“And then you healed him,” Connie said, offering a weak smile.

“The van wasn’t so lucky. That was his home.”

“That van was older than you. It didn’t have many miles left, anyway. And he can afford a-“

“Argh! You don’t get it!” Steven’s skin flared pink, casting an otherworldly hue on his dashboard. The car lunged forward as the gas pedal hit the floor and they swerved as he overcorrected for the curve in the road.

“Steven, be careful!” Connie gasped, bracing herself by placing her hands on the ceiling of the car.

Her breath caught in her throat as his breaks screeched, whipping into a gravel margin at a scenic overlook.

“Get out,” he said in a low, shaking voice. His pink skin faded in and out, struggling to return to its normal color.

“What? Here?”

“You were scared of me just now, right? That’s probably smart.”

“I’m scared of reckless driving, yeah! Why don’t you let me drive? We can go anywhere you want.”

Steven shook his head violently, tears spilling over his eyes. He was shouting now, “I shouldn’t have brought you. Get out of the car!”

“Like hell you shouldn’t have brought me! You’re gonna kill yourself driving like this.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and?’” Connie demanded, and when Steven said nothing added, “What are you planning on doing when I get out of the car?”

“You know I’m stronger than you, Connie,” he stared straight ahead, refusing to look at her, “I’m asking you to get out of my car. If you don’t do it on your own, then I’ll carry you out.”

“And then what if I do get out?” she demanded, “What are you gonna do, crash the car off the mountain?”

“I,” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, “I need to do this before I change my mind. It will be better for everyone. I wish you could see that.”

Connie felt her throat swelling, and her tears came so quickly that everything looked like she was underwater, sinking into the ocean.

Steven’s blurry form reached for her hesitantly and stopped just before touching her.

“I shouldn’t have brought you with me,” he repeated. His voice was softer now, in a way that was more broken than gentle, “I thought maybe with you here I wouldn’t want to- I thought that- Connie, all I do is hurt people. Even now I’m hurting you.”

“That’s not true, Steven! You saved my life the first time you met me! I said you were incredible, remember? I still think that.”

“That was then. That was before I was so messed up! I’m no good at helping people anymore. I’m not incredible, I’m not anything good. That’s why you have other friends at school that you see more than me. That’s why you’re going to be leaving for college. Because it’s better for you that way to get away from me!”

“Shut up!” cried Connie, flinging her arms around him and curling up in his lap, soaking the shoulder of his jacket with tears and snot. Steven’s hands froze in the air until they gradually lowered down to touch her back. Instead of embracing her, he plucked her off of him and placed her back in the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry I made you cry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You’re my best friend, Steven,” she whispered, “You don’t have to be saving an entire species or galaxy or person to be worthwhile to me! I just want to keep growing up with you. Time may change how often we see each other, but it won’t change how much I love you.”

Steven did not act shocked at her love confession. It was said between them countless times over many years, albeit mostly from him since he was the sappier of the two. The word “love” had grown a few more layers of meaning than it had from their childhood, although neither of them knew the moment the transition took place. Maybe it was in the days locked inside Pink’s tower, not knowing if they would make it out before starving to death. Maybe it was after he had his gem pulled out by White. Maybe it was when he returned from space- a broad, strong teenager in place of the cuddly child.

“I love you, too,” he croaked, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!”

“Ok, I’m sorry for apologi-“

“Steven!”

“R-right,” he choked out a weak laugh and stared at his lap, “It’s hard not to when I’ve felt like I’ve had to apologize for my existence my whole life.”

“Some parents bring kids into the world without thinking about the consequences,” she thought of Rose Quartz with her saintly image now eradicated from Steven’s house, “That wasn’t a choice you made.”

“I know.”

“And some parents,” she paused, choosing her words slowly, “don’t really know how to parent, even if they love their kids more than anything. Especially if these parents are traumatized aliens from space all dealing with their own shit.”

He nodded.

“I think they’ve taught you- unintentionally- that you had to put everything you felt on the back burner in order to be a Crystal Gem. You had to be useful in order to spend time with them. It was like you were filling a bucket for years, and now it’s overflowing.”

Steven started crying then and continued for several minutes. When Connie’s delicate hands wiped away the tears, he didn’t stop her.

“You’re not going to get out of the car, are you?”

“Not without you.”

“I figured as much. Stubborn.”

“Like my mother,” she said proudly.

“Does it bother you,” he asked in a small voice, “that I still want to do it? That I think about it every day now? About how nice it would be to not worry about the future? To not have to deal with all this change?”

“It does bother me,” she took his hand, “But you know, everything changes. And this will change, too. You won’t always feel like this. So please, just don’t give up. You are still my first and my best friend. And I would never be the same in a world without you in it.”

Steven sank his face into his hands, and all Connie could do was hold him. She didn’t know how long he sobbed for, but it was long enough that her arm he was leaning on fell asleep. She couldn’t stop marveling at how this boy who was stronger than any human on the planet could seem so small.

Once Steven’s breathing was steadied again, she said “I’m sworn to be your knight and fight by your side. That includes this kind of fight, too.”

He nodded, burrowing into her soaked shirt. His arms entwined around her tightly, pulling her closer, and he let out a shaky exhale she hadn’t realized he was holding in.

Connie pulled Steven’s chin up to meet her eyes, giving him a little smirk, “And if you shut me out again, I’ll fight you.”

This earned a little laugh out of Steven, and it was like music to her. There was a time when they were even sparring partners, but with Steven evolved into his full powers, Connie couldn’t hope to catch up to him with any amount of training due to her 105-pound wiry human frame. Luckily she had learned other ways to contend with him when needed, and she felt she’d won their match that night.

Steven straightened in his seat, grabbed a bottle from the cup holder, and splashed some water in his face. He wiped himself off with the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes were still red and puffy, but there was a life back in them that Connie hadn’t seen in sometime. Then he got out of the car.

“Steven,” Connie rushed after him, “where are you going?”

“It’s ok, I’m just getting some stuff.”

He walked to the back of the Dondai and creaked the trunk open, “I can’t go back there tonight. I need some time. I’ve kept all this camping stuff in my trunk for a while now, just in case I needed to get away. It’s really kept me sane a few times.”

Connie looked into the large pack stashed in the car. There was a sleeping bag, a lantern, freeze dried food, a large jug of water, a knife, some extra clothes, and a filter to get more water from the river.

“I can go ahead and take you home. I’m sorry I was telling you to just get out earlier with no ride. I wasn’t thinking straight. I promise you that I won’t do anything rash tonight, ok? I’m just going to camp. And I will call you first thing in the morning to let you know I’m still here.”

Connie crossed her arms, “No way in hell am I leaving you alone tonight.”

“B-but I promised I would-“

“Nope, not doing it,” she struggled to sling the pack over her shoulders before Steven easily lifted it from her, “I’m camping with you.”

“Well, the only problem with that is that I just have one sleeping bag.”

“And? We’ve literally shared a body before. You think I draw the line at sleeping bags?”

Steven’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and it sent a thrill through her to see him get so flustered, “That was when we were kids.”

“Well, if sharing a sleeping bag sounds crowded we could fuse.”

His eyes snapped up to hers, wide and hopeful, before they fell again, “I don’t think I’m ready to fuse right now. With anyone. I’ll just let you have the sleeping bag. I’m ok without it.”

Connie rolled her eyes, and they began their hike into the forest.

Steven lightened up little by little as they walked, pointing out his favorite spots to her, and wild plants he’d learned to forage from. His mind became clearer as the air did, rising above the pollution of the city and its inhabitants.

He shrugged his jacket onto her shoulders as she shivered. The mountain got a lot colder than the beach did at night.

“We’re almost there, Connie. There’s the perfect spot right up ahead.”

She could hear babbling water as they approached a clearing right by the bank of a mountain stream filled with wildflowers. The water glittered in the moonlight, and a herd of deer stared at them cautiously from the trees.

“So, this is home for the night,” he said.

She watched him as they set up camp, conversation not coming as easily as it used to. There was a tension in the air that didn’t used to exist between them, and Connie felt like she was studying him to see how much of his calmed mood was genuine.

They gathered wood, built their fire, and ate re-hydrated mac and cheese with canned vegetarian chili for dinner. Only the occasional phrases passed between them to relay needed information for the tasks at hand. Connie got the impression that he did appreciate the company, but that he was also relieved they weren’t talking too much. She figured it was fine to go at his own pace in opening up, as long as he was safe, and eventually the silence became serene and welcome.

“It’s so quiet,” she said as their food settled.

“It’s not,” he said, eyes staring at the dying embers of the fire, “Listen.”

When she stopped focusing on their lack of words, the sounds of the forest filled her awareness. Crickets sang, water ran, leaves rustled, fire crackled, and wind whistled. She closed her eyes, taking it all in.

“You like listening to everything out here?” she said, smiling.

He nodded.

“Do you come out here as a kind of grounding technique? I was reading about those in my psychology textbook.”

“I guess you could call it that. Talking is hard for me right now. But the sounds out here talk to me, and they don’t expect me to talk back. They’re not disappointed if I don’t say anything at all.”

“I’m not disappointed, Steven.”

He blinked and stared at her with wide eyes, “I’m glad.”

Connie was trying to put together something else to say when Steven stood up suddenly and furled out the sleeping bag.

“I’m going to go to sleep. Goodnight, Connie.”

“Oh, goodnight…” she wiggled herself into the sleeping bag and watched Steven lay on the grass.

“You sure you don’t want to come sleep by me?”

“N-no, that’s ok. It’s a nice night,” he said, despite that he was visibly shivering.

Connie was glad he could not hear how hard she rolled her eyes.

“It’s kind of cold tonight,” she said.

“You’re cold?”

“Yep, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

She gave a fake little sneeze and grinned as she heard Steven sigh and get up. She rolled over and looked at him standing above her, clutching one arm and averting his eyes.

“I have a feeling you’re manipulating me,” he said.

“Don’t worry, Universe, I won’t take advantage of you.”

“I guess it would make sense. To keep warm,” he said slowly.

“Sure would. Now shut up and get in.”

She unzipped the bag and let him sidle in beside her before closing them both in like a toasty cocoon. She twined one arm around his waist and the other tangled in his soft pillow of hair, stroking his scalp to make his body soften and relax like her mother use to do for her when she had a nightmare.

She stopped when a sharp point pricked her hand, and looked down to see a small horn barely protruding out from his curls.

‘Great,’ she thought, ‘yet another new and mysterious thing about my half-alien best friend.’

She considered telling him about it only for a second before deciding whatever the horn meant could wait until morning. They had both been through enough, and Steven looked so peaceful.

She laid awake for much longer than he did, repeating in her mind what Steven wanted to do to himself just a few hours before. Her entire chest ached even considering a world lacking Steven. Laying in the forest with him, she knew the night had ended in a small victory, but they were not out of the woods yet. She had a feeling the new pointed growth on Steven’s skull represented that.

“Connie?” he said in a bleary voice, thick with sleep.

She startled, “Yeah, Steven?”

��I was a little cold, too. Thanks.”

Connie smiled and kissed his forehead as he drifted back off. A small victory was a lot to be thankful for.

#tw: suicide #suicidal ideation #fic request #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #connverse #lizzywrites #suf fic #su fic #steven universe future #su leak

[slashers-hell]

PLEASE, Billy whose SO gained quite a bit of weight from school stress + a few nasty people bullying her. She loves Billy but thinks that he finds her repulsive so she wears baggy clothes and stops being as affectionate with him. Then one night he climbs into her room and she flinches when he puts his hands on her waist. He asks what's going on and she cries telling him everything. By the end, he goes: "You think I don't find you hot? Let me prove you wrong." Smuttiness and fluff ensue

I wasn’t very motivated because my mind is focused on other stories. I am not satisfied with the outcome, and I couldn’t put much more energy into this. I hope you like it. I’m really sorry. :(

Note: Slight dysphoria, body image issues and so forth.

The Sweetest Summer

Billy Loomis x female!reader (NSFW)

You couldn’t bear the pressure anymore. Why couldn’t you be like the other girls? Why were you the one your classmates had to pick on? You had been oblivious to your recent weight gain. Though one day, when you walked past a mirror in the shopping mall, you realised that the person that was looking back at you was, in fact, yourself. Not a stranger with slightly more meat on them—no, it was you. 

You were lying in your bed as these thoughts crossed your mind, tears trickling down your face. And you couldn’t help but repeatedly ask yourself if Billy was still attracted to you. After all, you were a lot thinner when you both became an item. Not to mention that you were confident. Billy had fallen in love with your appearance. But most of all, he had fallen in love with the way you carried yourself, often complimenting you for your personality. However, it was radio silent for weeks between you and him; you were trying your best not to hang out with him, given your shame was far too great to look past your issues.

The last few times you had met him, you were doing your best to hide what your body had become. Oversized hoodies and loose shirts were your best friend. With that thought, tears filled your eyes again. You were afraid Billy wouldn’t find you beautiful. Fearing your parents would hear you, you decided to bury your head on top of your pillow, hoping you would eventually fall asleep.

“Ey.”

It was the sound of an unmistakable voice. 

You shrieked—the surprise evident on your face—and turned into the direction of where the sound was coming from. Billy was casually lying against the half-open windowpane; his expression didn’t allow you to read his emotional state. Instinctively, you pulled your blanket over your body in fear he would notice how you had changed. 

“Hey, Billy…” you replied to him half-heartedly.

“Are you gonna stop ignoring me now? I’m sick and tired of this bullshit. Just tell me what’s going on.” Billy’s anger was palpable.

“Look… I… I am busy, okay? It’s not exactly easy to study for my exams.” You hoped he would buy into your white lies.

“Liar.” Too late. “You finished your exams a month ago,” he continued. Since then, he had worked his way up to your bed, putting his hand on your waist. You flinched. “What’s wrong, babe?” 

His dreamy eyes were hypnotising; the intensity of his stare brought the hairs on your neck to stand up high. And the fact you were able to smell him didn’t help the situation either. It was as if he could seduce you with his presence alone. 

“Fine,” you resigned. “I’ll tell you everything.” And you gave in, explaining to him every little detail. From how you felt incredibly insecure since you couldn’t wear your favourite clothes anymore to your rude classmates. Billy listened to you from beginning to end without uttering a single word. 

“Is that the reason you’ve been avoiding me?” He sounded baffled.

And you felt stupid. “Billy…” 

“You think I don’t find you hot? Let me prove you wrong.” 

You nearly jumped up when his hand found itself between your thighs. Although you were plagued with insecurities, you couldn’t help yourself but moan at his soft touch. The way he moved his fingers between your legs was one you weren’t prepared for. His eyes were fixated on yours whilst he quickly pushed your panties away to have free reign over your wet entrance. Deeper and deeper, he worked his way up inside your walls that were aching in arousal around his fingers. At first, he was slow and passionate, then his movements grew impatient. Gently, he removed his fingers and skilfully began to encircle your clit. Every time you thought he would touch the sensible place that made you see stars---and every time he refrained himself from doing such. You wanted to yell, to beg for it. But when he finally moved his finger in an upwards motion over your sweet spot, you couldn’t hold it back.

You unashamedly came in front of him, clenching your thighs together.

Billy understood and licked gleefully over his fingers to taste you. He leaned over you; your legs were spread apart in a lascivious manner. Only the pallid light of the moon gave glimpses of what had happened between you and him. 

Now that you were with Billy, you had experienced the sweetest summer of your life.

#billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader #scream #slashers x reader #slashers #anon

[ohnohetaliasues]

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 1}

(Kat)

This is going to be the worst thing I’ve ever read, isn’t it?

Am I going to actively want to die? Yes, most likely. But apparently, because I run a blog like this, I can endure suffering.

Flashbacks to Blood Raining Night.

Here we go. We will start with the introduction, written by the onion lord himself.

I want to be direct, my name is Greg. I go by “Onision” online.

Okay, I dunno what it is, but something feels off about this sentence.

This book is made up of events that occurred in my own life mixed with fiction from the made up life of James. James is essentially a better version of myself.

I can’t imagine how good that could be, seeing as the man who wrote this is a child predator and is just an overall piece of hot garbage.

His home, his school & his life all resemble my own at his age.

Don’t ever use a fucking ampersand instead of the word ‘and.’ It’s just bad grammar.

The people James analyzes and is surrounded by are not so unlike those I’ve known as well.

Analyzes?

Why?

I have experienced much of the loss James has however his happier moments are more often than not also mine.

Then write a memoir. Not this.

I want to share my story without it being purely non-fiction.

I mean, some people do this with books about their lives, but this feels... Odd?

I simply felt this approach would make for a far better book. At points I cried while writing this, at others I laughed.

Congratulations.

I don’t care.

Stones To Abbigale is not just a book I wrote, it is a piece of who I am.

That’s a given for all writers, but I still don’t care. 

I’m going to rip this book to shreds.

Okay here we go.

I was asleep until I met her, but when I woke, I learned the meaning of "perfect imperfection."

Is this Onion boy trying to be poetic?

It actually made me want to die.

I've always been the type of person to focus on stars as we spin beneath them, the cool breeze on a sunny day, scattered patches of grass under my feet, the world around me, often forgetting to even glance at the one within.

‘The one within.’

Okay so the way this is written makes those three things seem disconnected. I often do stuff like this when I write, but I’d write it like ‘as we spin beneath them, focus on the breeze on a sunny day, on the scattered patches of grass, etc.’

You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to rewrite that garbage sentence. This is all very waxing poetic and not in a good well structured way.

I had remained emotionally unexplored for so much of my life.

That must’ve been boring, not experiencing human emotions like the rest of us.

You sociopath, you.

It's painful knowing some can go an entire lifetime without understanding their own heart, an internal lock waiting for the right key to change everything.

Yeah, whatever, shut the hell up, you whiny idiot.

This is like an introduction by a teenager who just opened a poetry book and was like ‘yup. I wanna write like that.’

Except you aren’t William Blake or Walt Whitman and you never will be.

Sorry, Onion boy.

Except I’m not.

Die mad about it, grease ball.

It was the first Monday of November. I opened my eyes, blinded by my recently painted wall-to-wall white room. Even my bed frame, constructed of purely metal, was painted white.

Okay, cool. I’m a descriptive writer and I take every chance I can get to mention details, but even I find this description awkward. It feels irrelevant in this situation.

It bounced off the walls causing my eyelids to desperately clamp together. Painting my room like this was a clear act of subtle self-inflicted psychological torture.

Then why in the sweet hell did you do it? Do you enjoy suffering?

Actually, he probably does.

Because this is edgy as hell.

I was going through another phase, from darkness to light, and repeat. Seemed like the story of my life.

This is so edgy I am in physical pain.

You know your symbolism is good when it’s so random that you have to point it out and explain it to your audience.

My mom could see the darker colors were depressing me, I felt comforted by them, but found there were good aspects of both extremes. I was happy to visit either side, they are both so simple. But right now the intense light bouncing from wall to wall felt like it was ripping my mind in two.

Am I an idiot or is that just... word salad?

My mom didn't wake me. My alarm clock sat on my dresser with no explanation for it's failure to function. The clock only illuminated a blank stare with 8:17 written all over it's face. While entirely robotic, I imagined the clock to have the dumbest possible expression, one complementing its failure to behave any way outside its random glitch-infested nature.

That was the worst way to write a personification ever, but okay.

In the reflection of it's plastic face I could see myself unconsciously making the dumb expression I was imaging the clock to have. I laughed in my casual dorky tone and began to get ready to leave home.

I’m not laughing, idiot.

Without breakfast, I left for school with a bogus note in hand to idealistically explain my tardiness.

You... You wrote a fake note?

Do you realize you could get in trouble for that?

You’re an idiot.

I think most of my teachers were too exhausted to worry about small variances in our appearance from time to time. With how low their pay likely was, I imagined there were very few rules most teachers cared about.

That isn’t true at all. Teachers have to pay attention to rules unless they want to get, I dunno, fired.

It was another cold day in Lakewood. The wind hit my eyes forcing tears to form in the corners as I sped along the sidewalk at a no-doubt unreasonable speed.

I cannot imagine any good imagery for this scene. I’m just imagining this gif:

I passed Lauren and Raymon walking the opposite direction, no doubt headed toward the nearby church where all the students go to smoke, make out and hide out till school ends.

Um okay. Does this guy know that if characters don’t have relivance to the story, if they have no reason to be named, than they don’t have to be?

No.

Because he’s a 34 year old man baby.

They seemed so childish as they held hands and smiled excitedly as if they had gotten away with some tremendous crime.

That sentence seems so robotic I genuinely can’t.

Mr. Hanson, my heavy-set, middle-aged history teacher, rolled his eyes as I walked into class. "James, talk to me after class" he said quickly, looking away from me as if I were an undervalued employee who was barely important enough to make eye contact with let alone deliver a full sentence to.

It bothers me so deeply that a new paragraph wasn’t started when this character talked.

"I have a note," I said. He ignored me, and continued his lecture on yet another topic that would not only be completely useless later in life, but wasn't even relevant for even a few seconds after the words left his mouth.

Why is this teacher acting like a petty teenager?

I’m deeply annoyed by this.

And yeah, it’s relevant. You have tests, you idiot. Take notes. And it’s also history, which is, again, relevant.

In conclusion, shut your mouth and stop bitching.

There was only 15 minutes left in the class, but I felt it would be more stimulating to integrate myself into the room to yet again study my classmates' behavior than to sit in a hall watching the rows of scum covered tiles inevitably slide off the decaying walls.

That’s a health code violation, friends.

Or Onion is an awful writer and he thinks describing a school like this is a good idea. My money is on that.

For as long as I remember I've enjoyed seeing how people move around and talk to each other, like they're all animals at the zoo.

Something is wrong with you, friend. Liking to people watch is one thing, but doing shit like this is something else entirely.

Uh, try sociopath-like?

Creepy as hell?

We’ll go with both.

I would try to deliver a more accurate analogy if I felt there was one

Bitch, there is. I can’t name one off the top of my head because reading this makes me feel like my brain is melting out of my ears, but I’m 100% sure there is a better analogy. Even though this feels more like a simile.

but so many of them seemed incredibly unaware of themselves, just living life as if it were some generic predefined routine.

Oh, and you’re so much better obviously, you pretentious bastard.

Sometimes I felt like an alien who had a VIP pass to submerge myself in primitive human culture just for entertainment.

Congratulations, that’s also what you sound like.

I sense everything I can take in around me. The seemingly limitless audible tones, tremors in the voices of growing children rang in my ears. In studying people, I found myself gradually learning to literally feel the various personality types I encountered.

Do you... Do you have psychic powers?

If not, shut your damn mouth.

I hyper analyzed every inconsistent smell, the seemingly random clothing styles, freckles, and assorted hairstyles filled my mind with questions. Trying to rationalize and understand what sequence of events led them to decide who they would become.

You are the most pretentious protagonist I have ever read. I’m half a chapter in and I already fucking hate you.

This character is so poorly written and immediately unlikable. i cannot relate to him at all and if someone does, I suggest you go get some help because how this asshole is behaving doesn’t sound human.

I took favor of categorizing most everyone around me. The socially inept know-it-all, the dumb attention-seeking drama kid

On behalf of all drama kids, go fuck yourself.

and the bleach blonde bimbo who gets overly defensive at the slightest hint of criticism.

Do you mean you?

Onion obviously didn’t let anyone edit this garbage.

Then there were the kids who just hoped no one noticed them at all. There was so much to be seen, to be considered and organized in my mind.

Mhm.

I don’t care.

Class had just ended so I walked over to Mr. Hanson's' desk &

And*

placed the tardy note down in passing. As I walked out with the rest of my class, he called after me. "James! We still need to talk!" I responded but continued to walk outside the room. "I have to be early to my next class! Let's talk tomorrow!"

You’re an asshole.

And I hate you.

I walked quickly down the hall towards my art class, which was awkwardly placed in a trailer outside my clearly poorly funded high school.

Um.

Okay.

On my way to the class a fight had already broken out between two jocks who, no doubt, both had controlling, iron-fisted fathers who brainwashed them into believing conflicts between men are best resolved with the bloodying of their fists.

That’s a bold thing to assume, dear Onion.

These kinds of men plagued my mind with wonder. I could not conceive a scenario in which they could justify their primitive & pointless mentalities yet they would always continue to perpetuate their self-destructive attitudes as if it offered the slightest legitimate benefit.

Oh, shut your pretentious mouth.

Most everyone nearby crowded around the fight. None of them likely cared who was winning, what it was about or how far it went. All they ever seemed to show concern for was their own amusement, always excited to see violence without having to pull out their wallets to pay for it.

Are you joking?

Where are the teachers?

This is complete bullshit.

This is high school, not a fucking fight club.

Does Onion even try to make this believable? Or is he just vomiting all over his keyboard and just accepting whatever nonsense that makes?

As the sounds of flesh collided fist to cheek & chest quickly followed the howls from the surrounding students. They would scream "Oooohhhh!" as if it were sincerely delightful to witness creatures like themselves suffer & fall apart before their eyes.

The use of ampersands is making me lose my goddamn mind.

Even if I had time to stop, I never really took pleasure in seeing strangers hurt each other. Most all fights seemed avoidable and were often initiated for a senseless reason.

Go choke on air. This protagonist annoys me more than any protagonist has. I’m not joking. Fuck this dickwad.

I know, you could say it's more complicated than that, I would like to think it were as well, but reality trumps the way I wish things would be. There's no sense in fighting it when doing so rarely helps anyone.

While this is true, this is worded in a way that’s so pretentious it’s painful and also in a way that paints this protagonist in such a white knight-y way that it makes me want to die.

As I approached my next class the image of Abbi's face illuminated the neon walls of my mind like a projector teasing a theatre screen with fleeting moments of depth & purpose.

That is complete and utter word salad. Stop immediately.

Ever since I met her, she had occupied a part of my consciousness; whenever I wasn't near her I missed her to an unrealistic extent. You could call my longing sad especially considering we had barely talked; she just had a strange effect on me, one no doubt similar to a willful addiction.

That’s called a crush, but the way that was just described is so creepy.

There are people in life which we pass by on a daily basis, barely aware of their existence, but on an exceptionally rare occasion you can find a person who fills an area inside your little world you didn't even realize needed filling.

While that’s technically not untrue, it feels like a lizard person is trying to tell me what having a crush on someone is like.

As I walked up the creaking stairs into my art class trailer I could see Abbi was sitting at her shared-desk, alone, same makeup, hairstyle & general appearance I had thought about repeatedly over the last couple days. She was drawing pictures on her blue-lined paper, distracting herself from the cold that filled the oddly glowing room.

This... This imagery is so fucking weird.

I smiled slightly trying not to be too obvious and sat down on my chilled metal chair positioned a few seats to the left in front of her. Glancing over, I could see she hadn't moved at all, I felt like she didn't even notice me come in.

You aren’t the center of her world, so yeah, she’s focused on something else. That’s just how it is, asshat.

I wanted to inspire some acknowledgment of my existence from Abbi so I opened my mouth to greet her when my fingers brushed up against freshly smeared gum under my desk. "Eeew!" I shouted out on impulse. She looked up at me with a blank expression.

I’ve accidentally touched gum on the bottom of my desk before, as I can imagine everyone has, but I’ve never shouted about it like a lunatic.

Bursting into the room came a group of boys. "Dude I think John's done bro!" one of the other boys laughed, saying "Won't see them for a week at least."

Nobody talks like this. Have you ever spoke to another human?

I looked back at Abbi to see she also didn't react to their outburst. Strangely knowing that her apathy was generalized and impersonal gave me comfort.

There needs to be a comma after ‘strangely,’ but whatever.

Her influence on how I felt was obviously dangerous but I didn't care as no matter how fond I was of the idea that I was not of the world, I knew my place and had no real interest in pretending otherwise.

Explain to me how in the hell that’s dangerous.

Jason, one of the boys energetically praising the fight they had just seen, sat in his seat next to Abbi. I smirked watching her shoulders shift away from him. Her body language sent a loud message that she had the same impression of Jason as I did. He was just another moron, placed on this Earth to live his life completely unexamined,

That word is not used properly in that sentence.

a pawn that had no awareness of its own role let alone that it was just another tiny component within a massive unstoppably twisted game.

Shut your pretentious mouth because that doesn’t make any goddamn fucking sense.

I know it sounds morbid and condescending but my attitude was just something that naturally developed the more I studied human behavior.

Bullshit.

I would be more optimistic but I find doing so would be like walking into a room with no windows and turning out the light. If you refuse to see the world around you for what it is you're just wasting your eyes.

Being optimistic means looking on the good side of things. You’ve heard the glass half empty or half full thing. it’s that. And as someone who jumps between optimism and pessimism, being optimistic isn’t like this at all.

Don’t try to be poetic or funny, Onion. Those are two things that you aren’t.

Art class was about to begin. My teacher, Mrs. Stanley, who looked like she should have retired a ridiculous thirty years ago, approached the front of the room talking about how art is sacred. She also discussed the random object she had us all draw the previous school day and ironically graded it by using her own narrow-minded definition of art.

That isn’t ironic.

I always wondered how teachers could even attempt objectively grading art. Is there any logic behind validating a form of self-expression using a cold black and white mathematical system?

It’s a class where you have to follow the curricula. Shut your damn mouth.

And this is coming from someone who hated her art teacher. But this art teacher was so utterly closed minded that she didn’t accept anyone else’s creative process. She basically told us that if we didn’t follow her process, we weren’t real artists.

"Today I'm going to place you with partners" Mrs. Stanley said as she pulled out sheets of paper outlining our activities to come. "To keep this simple, I'm going to partner you with the person you are currently assigned to share a desk with" she said. I sighed knowing I was bound to be paired up with Alex, a guy I had specifically asked to be seated away from ever since he peed in a jar literally right next to me under our desk, acting like he was so cool for publicly exposing himself while simultaneously urinating.

That... He expected to be treated like he was cool for this?

That’s fucking disgusting.

It happened weeks ago and I still can't figure out what kind of crazy it takes for you to, in the presence of people you barely know but have to see nearly on a daily basis, pee in a jar held in your hand just beneath your desk in the middle of a classroom.

At first when I read this, I thought that the wayit was worded made it sound like Alex forced James to hold the jar while he peed in it, but okay, whatever.

What then? You show it off like you will be praised and accepted as if it were an accomplishment? Alex, despite being borderline mental, was one of my least favorite people to study.

It is actually physically exhausting to read this shit. James is a pretentious asshole.

I couldn't help but feel there was some defect in his mind that invalidated the point of conducting a thorough analysis of him.

This just makes it seem like James has mind reading powers.

He was completely irrelevant when considering the realities of normal human behavior.

Behavior you don’t act according to, you lizard person sociopath.

As I was off on a tangent in my own mind I heard a familiar voice ring out, one that inspired the very same emotion you experience when a song you had forgotten you loved, randomly plays in the background of your daily life. "Can I be paired up with James?" her voice was just as I remembered.

Is this Abbi?

I have a friend who spells her name like this, so I really hate that there’s a character in this shitty book who shares a name with her.

Despite her having not spoken in class in some time, she hadn't changed a note. Abbi had interrupted the teacher just to partner with me, but I asked myself if was it really just to work with me or just to get away from Jason.

Um. Okay.

The teacher, looking irritated but understanding Abbi's discomfort with Jason responded "Alex and Jason, you'll be partners. James, switch seats with Jason" "Thank you!" Abbi said with a slight smile. With a cocky grin Jason stood up and in a comedic fashion smelled his armpit. "Wow, I didn't know I smelled that bad" Jason said as he walked over to sit by Alex.

That isn’t funny and Onion boy isn’t funny.

Approaching Abbi was no doubt a way scarier act in my mind than it was to everyone around me, I felt like my head was burning from the inside out.

That’s a little extreme.

Nevertheless I continued to remind myself that her public outcry to partner with me could have meant nothing. I sat down next to her and did all I could not to turn into a complete dork on her. She reached out and grabbed the project outline that was being passed out. Mrs. Stanley began to read the description of the assignment. "Today you will both be taking something meaningful, but expendable, from your own homes."

If something is meaningful it isn’t expendable. Stop.

Mrs. Stanley looked up and emphasized, "That you own!" then looked back down at her paper. "You will tear those items apart here in class. You will then take those items and, using the adhesives, staples and the strings available in class, find a way to create something new out of those possessions."

That’s actually kind of an interesting idea. But like. Maybe with a cup? I don’t wanna rip apart something I care about.

She looked up and said in a low voice sounding somewhat like Dracula "Two, will become one."

That is unnecessarily creepy. It reads like an innuendo.

Also, what in fresh hell does Dracula’s voice sound like?

Did she say it with a Transylvanian accent? I’m confused.

Jason raised his hand objecting, "All due respect Mrs. Stanley I'm not breaking something of mine for this class."

Jason has the right idea.

She replied putting her hands on her hips, "That's fine Jason. We'll supply you with a toilet paper rolls, we have plenty of extras around here." Jason suddenly looked disturbed and sarcastically spouted "Freaking great!"

Why???

That’s better than ripping apart a t-shirt.

Mrs. Stanley asked, "Are you sure? Your grade shouldn't suffer that much if you two just take Alex's piss jar and tape it to a toilet paper roll. You're already failing this class."

What in the literal fuck?!

You cannot say that to students. No, you can’t say that to anyone.

Jason couldn't believe what she had just said

Same.

and Alex maintained an awkward frozen facial expression with his mouth slightly open in his normal weirdo somewhat robotic fashion.

"Oh my god" Abbi whispered under her breath with a slight smirk. I grinned uncontrollably; just seeing her amused was amazing to me.

That wasn’t really funny, it was just shocking.

I could hear a scream in the back of my mind reminding me my dorkiness and borderline obsession was escaping through my face.

It's not that I couldn't help being in awe of Abbi and basically every little thing she did, I simply didn't want to change how I felt. In a way, she was like your favorite song or book, you could pretend not to like it and in time with the right mental coaching maybe you would sincerely dislike it, but life just felt so much better embracing your condition entirely, letting all your nerdy admiration flow freely.

This just reads like an obsession. I don’t have the energy to actually express how romantic feelings actually feel, but this is terrifying.

Mrs. Stanley continued, "If there's anyone else who has an issue, please take it up with my 1800 number which is?" She put her hand up to the air signaling the students to react but only a couple kids replied aloud with her catch phrase. "1-800-BOO-HOOO" they mumbled.

Sweet Jesus.

So this is what it feels like to lose my mind.

She continued, "Good, now for the rest of class please work with your partner on what you plan to bring and draw up a prototype sketch of what you feel your final piece of art will look like." Mrs. Stanley walked to the back of her room and sat down at her 1950's looking rust-infested desk.

Is this school just a giant health code violation? And what the hell do you mean by ‘1950′s desk?’ All I got when I googled that were pictures of wooden desks.

I would always laugh internally when I looked at the old thing. Maybe it was my way of coping with the fact I attended one of the most run down schools in the state.

I have nothing that isn’t full of curse words and fact checking to say here.

"What are you going to bring James?" Abbi asked.

This sentence is put so Abbi looks like she’s asking if James is going to bring himself without the comma after the word ‘bring.’ Did Onion really not edit his book at all? These are simple and fixable grammatical mistakes.

It was amazing hearing my name pass her lips but I had no time to think, if I didn't respond right away she would think I was totally awkward. "I... have no idea..." I responded. Smiling she said, "I'm going to bring my hamster cage", I asked, "Did he die or something?" she laughed, "No, I never got one, the cage was just a gift from my dad."

But you’re supposed to cut it up.

Hamster cages are made of metal.

Does Abbi just have superhuman strength? Is she going to bring a pair of bolt cutters?

"Your dad didn't get you a hamster... for the cage?" I asked.

My question exactly.

Sometimes you just...

You just gotta give your daughter a hamster cage but no hamster.

She paused and started to lose her smile.

Oh fabulous, she’s one of those characters.

At the first sign of her smile fading I felt a crushing pressure in my chest. "Hopefully you can find something that will work with that," she said. I couldn't help but feel like a total jerk despite not even knowing what I did wrong.

That interaction was so... Weird? Robotic? i don’t know. Something felt wrong about it.

I had the overwhelming urge to fix how she felt so I took a gamble, "Well, I could always bring that weird vibrating thing my mom hides in her drawers all wrapped up in a cloth" I said.

What is wrong with you?

I cannot fathom what made Onion think this joke was funny.

She busted out laughing hysterically as a huge grinned filled my face. I was so happy I could get her to smile again. "Eeew! James!" she continued to laugh as the extent of my grin began to stress my cheeks. I couldn't remember a time when I was this obvious about how I felt.

This... Something is wrong with just... all the dialogue.

And with the formatting. You make a new paragraph when someone starts talking. A 34 year old man should know this. He writes like me when I first started writing, and while this probably means he just started writing, I was 11 years old when I wrote like this.

He is a 34 year old adult. There is no excuse for how bad this formatting and how generally terribly written these interactions are.

Abbi's laughing trailed off and she paused. Turning to me she said, "You... you didn't actu- ally... your moms?"

*Pained groaning.*

I responded, "No, I wouldn't know about that, but I'm glad it made you laugh." She responded, returning to a soft laugh "You're more goofy than I thought James." I sat next to her looking at my fingers interlaced in front of me; my wide smile relaxed but still filled my cheeks with warmth.

This entire chapter, everything here, is so awkwardly written.

As class came to a close Abbi patted me on my arm. I turned and she handed me a note. Instinctively I put it in my pocket and said "See ya tomorrow", she just smiled and walked away.

????

On my way to my next class, I opened the note. I didn't understand why, but it read "NISEONE."

Not knowing what to make of it and with little time, I stuffed it back in my pocket to look over later.

Yeah, that’s cryptic as hell.

Not feeling like skating home,

Oh, we’re really getting into edgy 2000′s shit now.

I got on the bus to see all the normal rejects and misfits waiting. Davis, a short and scrawny kid who had been my best friend since middle school despite being one grade behind me excitedly waved me over.

Oh, good, more terrible characters.

"James! Nice to seeeee you!"

Oh, this bitch needs to die.

he said in seemingly the dorkiest way possible. I smiled as he stood up giving me the window seat, knowing very well by then that I preferred it.

Um. Okay.

As I sat down I began looking out the window, analyzing the little humans running left and right to get on their busses.

Buses*

And I am going to eventually kick your ass for this pretentious bullshit.

Something reached out and caught the corner of my eye. I immediately shifted my head to see what it was and quickly realized it was Abbi standing in the parking lot by some beat-up sedan.

"What'cha looking at James?" Davis asked. Without hesitation I began to respond, "Oh, it's Abbi, she's in my art..." my heart sank as I witnessed a boy I barely knew, named Seth, walk up and kiss Abbi on the lips.

Oh, boo fucking hoo. Get over the fact that she has a life outside of your crush on her.

"James?" Davis said, but by that point his voice was a faint echo in the darkness my mind instantaneously lost itself in. I felt like after a life of numbness I was finally about to truly feel warmth for the first time only to have it all taken away in an instant, leaving me hopeless in the shadows, alone once again.

Cry me a goddamn river.

You angsty pretentious idiot.

Don’t give me angsty word salad about how sad this makes you, I don’t actually care at all.

I looked down at my knees feeling as if I lost all muscle control in my neck.

That isn’t a thing that happens ever when someone is upset.

"Are... you ok?" Davis asked. I responded with hesitation "...I'm... just stupid."

You spoke to her once, you fucking dumbass.

"No you're not. You're one of the coolest guys I know!" Davis replied. I continued my silence as he offered words of encouragement. "Okie dokie, well, you're awesome and should be super happy so if you want to talk, I'm your buddy so... so I'm here to talk."

That’s uh, nice of him.

But the way he’s talking sounds like... almost mechanical? All he’s done since he was introduced has been compliment James.

I was too focused on the con- flict raging in my mind to hear anyone at that point. I couldn't think about anything but Seth kissing Abbi the entire trip home.

Oh, get the fuck over it.

That night my mom was literally just serving lentil beans she prepared on her crock-pot for the billionth time, a fair exaggeration but still, it was excessive to say the least. My sister was behaving as she usually did at the dinner table, talking about how stupid she thought school was and how she couldn't wait for college. "How was work mom?"

I mean, I’m also tired of high school. I’m really done with judge-y teenagers.

I asked trying to keep my mind off the haunting images looping in my mind.

YOU HAVE HAD ONE FUCKING CONVERSATION WITH HER. CRY ME A FUCKING RIVER, YOU BITCH.

Any normal person would express disappointment over the fact that a person they like has a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner in general, not go into a damn depression about it.

"Well, no one at work respects me or listens to me and I generally can't stand it, but you know, we still have food on the table" she said in a stern tone.

That

That is weirdly passive aggressive and mechanical.

My sister barked as food flew out of her mouth, "Well at least it's not high school. I'm learning how to be a successful person from a bunch of low-income losers."

Oh, I guess bitching runs in the family.

My mom replied "Whatever your teachers are, they have full-time jobs, which is more than a lot of people can say." My mom gave my sister Lisa a disap- pointed look. Lisa was well known for showing little respect for hard-working people. To her it didn't matter how much you gave back to society, it only mattered how much money you made.

That’s a very black and white way to look at things.

After the rerun of lentil soup I washed the dishes per my mom's orders and headed to the shower. I sat on the floor of the tub thinking about Abbi, barely feeling the water as it hit my chest.

Sat on the floor... while water hits your chest? Are you like sitting with your back arched so the water can hit your chest?

This imagery is so odd.

I was so consumed with what I had seen that I had completely forgotten the note until that moment. I quickly reached over to my pants resting on the toilette.

Why the fuck did you spell toilet like that?

That’s literally the word for ‘toilet’ but in French. It isn’t a spelling used in English. It just makes you sound even more pretentious.

Also, he reached over to the toilet to grab the note from his pants while he’s in the shower?

It’s gonna get wet, you idiot.

I had hoped I read it wrong the first time and that it would make sense with a second look only to see it read exactly what I gathered in my initial passing glance. "NISEONE"

I fucking hate you, Onion.

This literally looks like you scrambled your screen name up.

Die.

In a fire.

I mumbled to myself. I joked with the idea in my head that she handed me the wrong note but still assumed it wasn't a failed attempt to say "Nice one," which could be taken as a compliment if you were desperate enough.

That joke, while just a little funnier, is still fucking lame.

Seconds into looking at the note my eyes widened, having figured out what it meant, I jumped up slipping to my feet and screamed "YEAH!!!" I had cracked it, only to immediately after feel completely stupid for not having figured it out sooner.

I’m just done functioning.

My mom screamed through the door from her bedroom "WHAT?" I responded "Sorry! Nothing!" I hurried to finish showering.

I’d just assume he got really into jerking off.

I’ll see myself out.

Staring at my phone wearing only a towel, I smiled as I typed in "NISEONE" or "647-3663" into the number keys.

That is the most cryptic and strange way to give someone your phone number.

I assumed we shared the same area code otherwise she likely would have given me a longer sequence of letters and I was right. After two rings I got an answer.
"What do you want?" a disgruntled man's voice asked.

This... This girl gave this guy a home phone number?

I guess that’s fine since this is probably set in the early 2000′s, but it’s still odd.

Like a bad engine struggling to start in a monster movie I clumsily belted out a response "I... uh... I was looking for..." An unenthusiastic female voice in the background said, "Give me the phone." "Whatever" he said dropping phone in front of her.

James can apparently see through the phone, or he wouldn’t know that probably Abbi’s dad did this.

"Hello?" I could recognize the voice now it was Abbi.

Trying to hide my excitement by maintaining a normal tone I said, "This is James." Abbi excitedly screamed

Like how girls screamed in Disney Channel shows?

That’s ridiculous.

and responded "Oh my god you figured it out!" Hearing her optimistic tone I laughed saying, "So... why..." She interrupted. "I was hoping to find out if you figured out what you're bringing to art class."

Why the hell didn’t you just fucking ask? Or give him your regular phone number? This is just unnecessarily complicated.

I said "Oh!" and looked quickly around my room. I couldn't see anything immediately so I just said, "I'll... surprise you!" She then replied "Oh come on, tell me." My eyes locked on to a plausible item for the project. "How about my... bear... I'll bring my bear!"

You’re okay with destroying a teddy bear? Okay, I guess.

I said. She replied "Oh, ok, oh! I have an idea. Instead of the cage, I'll bring in a stuffed animal of mine and we'll make like, a zombie bear."

Sounds fine.

I don’t care.

You guys are fucking boring.

I laughed "Awesome" I said. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow ok?" she replied happily. I answered "Ok, byeee."

I would appreciate it if you would fuck off.

I can’t believe this shit is on GoodReads.

Just before she hung up I could still hear her laughing, leaving me with a sense of accomplishment and a lasting smile as if it were painted across my face.

That’s the end of chapter one?

Oh god, okay.

That was.

Terrible.

The characters are bland and flavorless and I cannot get attached to any of them. I can already tell I’m going to completely despise this.

I’ll see you next time. I need to go think about my life.

~Kat

#self-insert #onision #i want to scream #mod kat #i'm dyin here #what is this #Why am I doing this to myself? #this is terrible #burn this #in a fire #end it #I like literally none of these garbage characters #mary sue #gary stu #huge self insert #like actually end my suffering now #i want to die #Mod Kat reviews stuff #Mod Kat reviews things #stones to abbigale #bad fanfiction #except it's a bad book #bad books

[shyawaytyler]

here is my rundown of Bandito Minneapolis, it might be emotional, annnd I was super fucking lucky so i dunno. it was amazing so here we go. 

+After the M&G, we went and lined up, it was about 5:15 and doors were at 6:30. A bunch of people were already in the venue because something like the first 100 got let in early but I was literally floating from having just shook Josh and Tyler’s hands so I didn’t care. 

+There was a big line down by the doors and then a line up the escalator that was the spillover from that so our line was fairly short but we had no idea where other people might be lining up or what exactly was going on.

+Hannah went and bought us merch which was right down the escalator, apparently she was like spilled her guts about meeting them to the merch guy hahah

+I went about figuring out who we were giving our extra tickets to(We both won the contest so we each had two tickets to give away), I ended up giving them to like exactly who I had said I wanted to give them to originally. Two teenagers from the theater company my brother runs who are big Twenty One Pilots fans. They messaged and asked and I told them as long as they were here before we went into the arena they could have them. They were so thankful and sweet and we met up with them and they were just so cute and I was happy to give them away, I wished they had been better seats for them but you know.

+Eventually the line started moving and we went in. We went for the least populated part of the pit. We were about eight “rows” back to start standing behind a dad and his 12 year old daughter. We immediately made friends with them, they were so funny and cute. 

+Waited, waited, waited.

+Misterwives was really good, the lead singer was so hot I had an immediate crush.

+They came on RIGHT at nine and the crowd shifted and we got pushed up a lot. The dude to my right was  A LOT taller than me and super nice, I kept bumping him when I was trying to see so he let me move in front of him and bring Hannah right next to me. he was so sweet. 

+I LOVED the new intro into Jumpsuit. I have it on video so I might post it but it was SO good. I loved Josh alone on stage with the torch and Tyler’s body double stunt thing but this new one was so them

+The flower petal confetti. The. Flower. Petal. Confetti. The flower petal confetti. 

+Leaning back and letting them just wash over me literally changed my life. It felt so good.

+Heavydirtysoul hit DIFFERENT. It was SO fucking good. 

+Loved all the plaid visuals for The Hype and the video of the fans was so cute. It was fun to watch the people around us recognize themselves from earlier. 

+This whole time we were getting closer and closer. A couple moved or left so we just filled the space and kept moving forward. We literally could not believe out luck at all.

+CANT. HELP. FALLING. IN. LOVE. 

+We literally couldn’t believe it. he started playing it and Hannah was liek “OH MY GOD CARLYN” and I was like “What? This is norm-” and then I was like HOLYSHIIIIIIT and it was so good and pretty and ughhhhh<3

+We danced with some cool people during Lane Boy, Stressed Out and Heathens...and then things got nuts. 

+I barely heard Nico and the Niners because the pit got SUPER squished during the Nico walk. Like intensely squished. Like cannot move, can barely breath, pressed in at ALL sides. 

+I am not a fan of the Nico walk partially for this reason and it made it so I couldnt turn to even TRY to see the B-stage. Admittedly the girl behind me made that impossible too because she was leaning back into me so she could film annnd yeah that sucked. 

+I did dance to Smithereens and Bandito with this awesome girl next to me. Multiple people had to get out of the pit because they were fainting or dehydrated. It was fucking crazy. Mostly people were REALLY good about getting water to people or helping them get out. I felt okay because i knew there would be relief later. 

+Could not enjoy migraine as much as I wanted but it was still wonderful.

+Second half of Pet Cheetah popped off. It was fucking crazy, Tyler was so cool and Josh was NUTS. 

+Tyler kept teasing us about the score of the Vikings football game and we were all “haha jokes on you, none of us care.” 

+At this point Hannah and I were like four rows away and it was starting to sink in that we would be RIGHT in front of drum island if not holding it. 

+We thought momentarily Tyler was going to HOTY on Josh’s side but he went to his regular side. I didn’t get to see the backflip because I couldnt see like...at all at that point and I didn’t want to watch through my camera which was a mistake because I couldn’t see otherwise but I did get it on film. Tyler brushed off Josh’s shoes for him, it was cute.

+Fall Away changed my life, his voice...it was fucking incredible. I never thought I’d see that one live and it just felt so special, he sounded so incredible. It was truly something. I got the whole thing on video because I’m obsessive. Also I wrapped nearly the whole second verse and i was v proud

+They did stupid dances with Misterwives during Cut My Lip, Tyler doing the can-can was my favorite. 

+I openly wept for the first time during the beginning of Ride. Literally tears streaming down my face. It was so beautiful and it broke my heart and it was SO good. 

+Before the bridge of Ride he said thank you about giving them our time etc etc and then he was like “Enough for this sap” (like sahpP) and then he went “its ironic i say that right before the sappiest bridge ever” 

+My Blood, always good.

+Morph...oh...Drum Island. I was convinced we would never be close enough to touch the drums or hold Josh or anything because of how late we had lined up but some kind of luck was on our side because we  were RIGHT there in front of him, I had to crane my neck to look at him and I got it all on video and he makes THE BEST faces while he drums. SO SEXUAL. It was like...it shouldnt be ALLOWED. I held the edge of the drumset for like just a little bit. It was so good. I just cant even believe it. I just kept screaming “OH MY FUCKING GOD! OH MY GOD!” Afterwards

+Josh is just so fucking talented, hes SO talented. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him, he really was..so good. 

+Car Radio was beautiful and meaningful of course. When Tyler was climbing in the back I stared at Josh and he kept pointing towards where Tyler was with his drumstick and it was so wholesome. I cried again.

+Chlorine was...so good. It popped off in the beginning and then the end was just Tyler singing “Can you build my house with pieces, I’m just a chemical” over and over and over all soft 

+I cried during Trees too. The beginning was beautiful. He promised new music and asked if they could come back and play to us soon and my heart was just breaking but not for long because they were bringing out the platform and drums and again Josh was going to be DIRECTLY in front of me. It was so beautiful and just giving covered in confetti and watching him drum and just be RIGHT there was so nice and I’m running out of words but i dont know. it was all so beautiful. I loved it. Every second. I feel like I really experienced every second. 

I’ll post some pictures soon. <3<3

#Twenty One Pilots #TOP #TØP #Tyler Joseph #Josh Dun #Bandito Tour #Bandito Minneapolis #Bandito